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Showing content with the highest reputation since 03/28/17 in all areas

  1. 55 points
    I pulled my car to the curb as the headlights illuminated a scene I’ve seen far too many times before: the main street of a small Midwestern town – demolished. The acrid smell of smoke hit me immediately as I got out of my car and I could see one or two fires that the fire department was still putting out. There were huge craters and steaming crevices opening up all up and down the street. Cars flipped on their sides, on their backs, or smashed to hell and scattered in pieces across the entire area. There was even a Ford sticking half way out of a building’s shattered second story wall. Hmmm… that was a calling card. I’d seen it before. This thing had a Hard Rock Café fetish. Most of these buildings were seriously damaged with huge gaping holes in the side. Some of them had been completely demolished. Powerlines were down and sparking. And of course, there was the usual scattering of dazed and bewildered people wondering the streets. I did a quick survey of them to see if any of them were naked or near naked. That was always a give-away, but no such luck. I did a second pass to see if any of them looked nervous our guilty. Again, I came up empty. I guess I’d have to do this one the hard way. The harsh flashing of red and blue emergency lights lit up the street. I made my way to one of the cop cars and quickly identified the man I was looking for. “You the Sheriff?” I asked, getting the man’s attention. “Yeah,” he said, looking me up and down and giving me the standard lawman’s appraisal. He was a middle aged man, tall with a big frame and surprisingly still in good shape. Usually, the small town law men let themselves go and developed doughnut guts, but this guy had managed to avoid that fate, filling out his tight fitting uniform nicely. “You the guy?” he asked. “Yeah,” I said, producing my ID card. “I’m the guy.” The Sheriff took it, looked it over and handed it back to me. “A Hunter, hunh? I hope you can help us,” he said. “We’re not used to this kind of thing around here.” “Sheriff,” I said. “They’re not used to this kind of thing anywhere.” I looked around at the professional efficiency of the local emergency response team. “Still, your people seem to have things well in hand.” “They’re accustomed to tornados,” said the Sheriff. “But this is a little different.” I looked back out at the scene. Yeah, the destruction here could have easily been caused by a tornado. But it wasn’t. “Anyone killed?” I asked. “Not that we’ve found,” he said, “but we’re still surveying the damage.” “Any witnesses?” I asked. “Plenty,” said the Sheriff. “Where would you like to start?” I’ve had a lot of experience interviewing dazed people. The challenge is to keep them on topic and ease up before they get hysterical. And they tended to get hysterical. But as the interviews progressed, I got pretty much what I was expecting, descriptions of a massively muscled green giant 8 to 12 feet in height, with a stomach like a cinderblock wall, gigantic, striated, globular pecs, biceps carved, veiny and maybe 60 inches around, impossibly thick neck with mountainous traps and colossal shoulders, a back wide as a building and made from enormous concreate slabs of muscle, and a pair of legs like bulging twin muscle pylons. This thing tore through buildings like they were paper, picked up and tossed cars like they were Matchboxes, and pounded huge craters into the street with just his fists. No one had seen where it’d come from and no one had seen where it had gone. Typical. And that’s the problem: It was typical. And this time, I wasn’t looking for typical. “Did you see it, sheriff?” I asked. “No sir,” he replied. “Too bad,” I said. It was always helpful to get a description from someone who was trained to make quick and accurate observations, the way law enforcement officers were. The civilians were describing a creature 8 to 12 feet in height. But these people were unable to judge size accurately, and often, the size of these hulks got magnified by fear. Now most of your hulks were 8 or 9 feet tall, weighing somewhere between 1 and 2 tons. Once in a while you’d get one as big as 10 feet, but that was very rare. Lately we’d been hearing rumors of an uber hulk, 12 feet tall and more massively muscled than anything on record, 4 maybe 5 tons. If this were true, it meant that the hulks might be continuing to mutate. There was even the chance that they’d found some way to make themselves bigger and even more impossibly jacked. That would be bad. So, we needed to know if this was just a rumor or if there was any truth behind it. But as the interviews continued, all I got were height estimates in the 8 to 12 foot range, completely unhelpful. “I don’t get it,” said the Sheriff after our last interview. “How do you stop a thing like that?” “You don’t,” I said. “You see one; you run and hide. Don’t come out til they’re human again.” “Now, that’s where I have a hard time with this,” said the Sheriff. “You’re saying these things are sometimes human?” “Most of the time,” I said. “That’s how they hide.” “And they just get huge and green whenever they’re pissed off?” he asked. “Yes and no,” I said. “It’s easier if you think about it like shouting.” “Shouting?” “Sure, you can shout whenever you want, right? But you don’t. Sometimes you do when you want to be heard a distance away, or you want to get someone’s attention, but most of the time you just use a normal conversational tone. But when you get mad, you just start shouting automatically. You don’t even think about it. It’s kinda like that.” “You been doing this a long time?” he asked. “20 years,” I said, “since The Event.” “Yeah,” said the Sheriff. “What happened there?” “Small town, like this one, accidental catastrophic Gamma Radiation exposure and tada, thousands of these things running loose in the countryside.” “Everybody in the town?” asked the sheriff. “Yup, every man, woman and child.” “You mean there are women things like that?” “Oh yeah,” I said. “But you wouldn’t know they were women by sight. When they change, any boobs they had are completely overwhelmed by massive, shredded, pectoral muscles. Their larynxes expand and their voices drop about 5 octaves. The only way you could really tell is to pull down their pants… and I really wouldn’t advise that.” “…and kids?” “Well, The Event was 20 years ago. They’re not kids anymore. But back in the day, they were still pretty dangerous. I once saw a toddler shoot up to 5’ 4”and grow biceps big as your head. He picked up an SUV and hurled it at me.” “What about… their kids?” “They can’t have kids. Gama irradiated sperm eradicates eggs and vise versa. They’re essentially sterile.” “So there are thousands of these things running around?” “Not nearly so many these days. I’ve caught 523, myself, and there are dozens of us out there hunting. But, you know, all modesty aside, I’m the best.” “Well, we’re certainly glad to have you with us. You let me know if there’s anything we can do to assist.” “Actually, there is. Most of the time, these guys are loners, living off somewhere by themselves. Usually, they move around a lot. So, if you’ve got anyone new in town who fits that description, or maybe a vagrant?” I was just hunting a vagrant hulk out on highway 12. But he hitched a ride with some trucker and I lost him. But, I’d get him eventually. I always did. “Anyone like that…?” “Not that I can think of offhand, but I’ll ask around,” he said. “You do that, Sheriff,” I said. The man tipped his hat and walked away. That was ridiculous; every town had someone like that, every single one! So, why is the sheriff holding out on me? I mentally added the sheriff to my persons of interest list. You could never be too careful, never. I had one guy who lived in a small town for a decade without incident. Then one day something happened and he just let loose in a bar right in front of all his buddies. He nearly doubled in height and exploded into about a ton and a half of mountainous, chiseled muscle, writhing beneath paper thin green skin. Roaring and gloating over his impossible mass and power, he proceeded to put several of his “buddies” through the wall and then to take apart half the town. The guy felt sorry in the end, though. Actually turned himself in. Hard to take credit for that one. But, you know, I did. For these people, the temptation to change is always too much. All that muscle and power raging just under the skin is ultimately impossible to resist, gets them every time. And that’s when I get them. I began to inspect the area, looking for anything that might give me a clue as to where it started, where my guy blew his gasket, muscle exploded right through his clothes and began tearing apart the town. No place really seemed any more likely than another. But I did notice one or two puzzling things. With hulks, you got your pounders and your hurlers. Your pounders like smashing things up with their fists; nothing they like better than ripping apart a building with their obscenely muscled arms and their giant, bare, power shovel-like hands. Your hurlers like throwing things, the bigger the better. Their massive backs heaving with tectonic plates of muscle as they hoist a car or a pickup over their heads and let it fly right through the local post office, annihilating both vehicle and building. Don’t get me wrong; they all did both. But each hulk seemed to favor one or the other. But in this case, there appeared to be plenty of both pounding and hurling. Hulks almost never mixed. I guess it was because they liked being the biggest, baddest thing around and didn’t want any serious competition. But in this case, could I be dealing with two beasts? I’d run into two hulks only once before, not something I’d like to repeat. The creatures leveled an entire town trying to prove which one was bigger and stronger. Got them both in the end, though. And then I saw it, the gas station. There was a demolished building on the right side of it and one on the left side, but the station with its minimart was untouched. My first thought was, “Lucky thing, if those tanks had blown, it could have taken out the whole block.” But then I thought, “Maybe it’s not luck at all. Maybe that place was spared for a reason. Even the lights were on… and hell, it was open for business!” I moseyed on over there and in through the small store’s open glass door. The bright florescent lights over lit the place, making me squint and giving my cranium notice that a headache was on the way. The store was pretty much like every minimart you’ve ever seen, completely ordinary. Shelves lined with junk food, pain killers and magazines; there was no indication as to why it might have been spared by the titanic raging muscle beast who had destroyed the rest of the street. A couple of emergency workers were lined up at the cash register buying coffee and snacks from the teenage cashier. Other than that, the place was empty. When the Emergency Workers left, I walked up to the kid at the register. He was about 5’ 8”, thin as a rail and needed a haircut. He had a boyish face that made him look too young to be working there. He was letting his side burns climb down his round cheeks and trying to grow a Van Dyke – looked pretty scraggly. The kid was obviously trying to look older than he was; a boy apparently frustrated by the slow pace of his burgeoning masculinity. He looked up and smiled as I approached. Dazzling blue eyes and a killer smile, if he added a little beef to his frame, he’d be a real knockout. I peered at the name tag on his shirt. “Ollie,” it said. “See the show, Ollie?” I asked. “Hunh?” he asked. “Did you see what happened? Outside. All the damage?” “Oh, hell yeah,” he said. “Most fucked up thing I ever saw. The size of that dude and his fucking enormous-ass muscles… And he just kept roaring and throwing cars at buildings and there were explosions and fuck…!” Hmm, the sheriff didn’t put this kid on his witness list, another red flag. “Lucky he missed this place,” I said. “I guess,” he said. “You guess?” “Well, if he’d smashed it up, I wouldn’t have to work tonight,” he said, smiling sheepishly. God, that smile… “You often work the night shift?” I asked. “How old are you?” “I’m old enough,” he said. “I’m 18.” “You got ID?” “Yeah, sure,” he said pulling out his nylon and Velcro wallet and handing me his drivers license. I looked it over carefully. Yup, it was genuine. I checked the birth date. This kid was actually 18. No wonder he was trying to grow a beard. With that pretty baby face, he hardly looked 16. But I had to check anyway. I’d seen guys who looked this young who were actually over 20, and if he were over 20, he’d definitely be on my list. “Hey, are you a cop?” he asked. “No, I’m not a cop, kid,” I said handing him back is license, “but I’m helping them.” “Helping them?” he said. “What? Find the giant green muscle guy?” The kid cracked a smile. “Yeah,” I said. “What’s funny?” “Mister, that guy had massive carved biceps the size of truck tires. You go against him and you’re gonna wind up a stain on the bottom of his giant, green foot.” “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said. “No wonder your boss has you working nights.” “Oh, I don’t usually work nights, because we’re usually not open nights. Just, you know, all the shit going on. My boss, Mr. Gunderson, thought we’d make a killing on coffee and doughnuts – you know, all the cops.” “Your boss, this Gunderson, you see him tonight?” “Nah, he just called and asked me to keep the place open.” “You see him a lot?” “No, he kinda keeps to himself. It’s one of the best things about this job.” And the kid didn’t think that was a little strange? Well, at least the boy still had his looks. “Does he live near here?” “He’s got a place just outside of town, lives there alone.” The only undamaged business on the street and it’s owned by a loner. It was perfect, a little too perfect. I began to smell a trap. It wouldn’t be the first time one of these things had tried to set me up. “Are you being straight with me, kid?” I asked, looking him in the eye and trying to read him. “Whaddaya mean? Yeah… course, I am,” he said, but those sparkling blues of his were darting around a little too much. I wasn’t buying it. There was something about this kid. He was definitely hiding something. “It’s got some kind of hold on you,” I said. “A hostage, is that it? Maybe a girlfriend or a relative?” The kid looked terrified and glanced up. I followed his gaze. Damn, a surveillance camera. I should have thought of that. This whole thing had been on hulk TV. I pulled out my gun and shot the lens out. “Come on, kid,” I said, “we gotta get outta here.” “But… but…,” he said. “No buts,” I said. “It’s gonna assume you told me everything, and it’s gonna be coming! We gotta go. NOW!” I grabbed the kid and dragged him bodily from the store. We ran a couple of blocks and then ducked into an alley way and hid behind some rubble. The kid was nearly in tears. “My ma!” he said. “You’re what?” I asked. “My ma,” he said. “The massive green muscle guy’s got my ma. And now he’s gonna squish her. That’s what he said; he said he’d squish her!” “What else did he say? What were you supposed to tell me?” I grilled him. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you nothing,” said the kid. “I was just supposed to get you to go out to Gunderson’s.” “Why? What was going to happen there?” “I don’t know. I was just supposed to get you to go there, and now my ma…” the kid trailed off as the ground shook and we heard an earthshaking thud. The thing had arrived at the minimart. I pulled the kid down into the shadows behind the rubble. We head the sound of smashing glass and metal followed by a bellowing roar, probably as the thing discovered we’d gone. “It’s gonna come lookin’,” said the kid. “What do we do? It’s gonna come lookin’.” “Don’t worry, kid,” I said softly. “These things are great at smash and grab, not so good at hide and seek. We’ll just stay here quietly for a while, until it goes.” We peeked up over the rubble pile and saw the thing. It was massive, but just an 8-footer, not my Uber. No matter, it still had to be stopped. The impossibly muscled behemoth was stomping around overturning cars and dumpsters, with just the slightest effort of its massive, corded forearm, just a flick of its giant green wrist. And letting out the occasional bellow of frustration. Stealth was just not an option for these guys. We shank back into the shadows. “Hey, what do I call you?” asked the kid. “I’m a hunter, kid. Best if you just call me Hunter. It’s too easy to track a man by his name these days, and I’d just as soon no one tracked me.” “Hunter, that thing scares the shit out of me,” said the kid. “My stomach… I think I’m gonna be sick.” “Hold it together, kid,” I said. “Or you’re gonna be useless to me.” “I’m not useless,” he said, “just a little scared.” Fuck, looked like I hit a nerve. I’m not too good with Millennials. Another bellowing roar. “He’s probably not scared of anything,” said the kid. “He’s afraid of me.” “Then why aren’t you out there looking for him, instead of him looking for us?” “Because I meet these things on my terms, in a place and time of my choosing, not theirs.” We head another roar and a tremendous crash. The thing probably tossed one of those dumpsters through a building. They usually did that kind of thing when they got frustrated. “But, don’t worry,” I said. “This one’s not really serious about finding us.” “It sounds pretty fucking serious to me!” he said. “No, I had one destroy an entire city block trying to flush me out… or crush me beneath the rubble.” “No shit. How did you stop it?” “The same way I always do, kid, by using my head.” “You mean they’re stupid?” “No, not stupid. They just think with their muscles.” “They think with their muscles? That just sounds like another way of saying they’re stupid.” “No, kid, it just means they think their muscles are the answer to everything.” “And muscles like that? They’re not…?” “No.” The kid looked scared. I obviously wasn’t convincing him. “Don’t worry kid; we’ll get through this.” But I kept thinking about what I’d said to the kid. This hulk really wasn’t serious about finding us. Why not? Why wasn’t he tearing these buildings to pieces looking? I looked down at the crouching kid. Was he the answer? “How well do you know this thing?” I asked. “I don’t know him at all,” said the kid. “He just grabbed my ma and started giving me orders.” “Did you know him when he was human?” I asked. “Human? That thing’s not human!” he said. “Not now,” I said, “But I’m beginning to think he knows you. Maybe he’s sweet on you.” “What?” said the kid. “Fuck no!” “Well,” I said. “You are kinda pretty.” “Fuck you!” he said. “You think you’re hot shit, don’t you?’ “Kid, I am hot shit. I’ve stopped hundreds of these things. They may seem like impossibly powerful and unstoppable creatures, but by the time I’m done with them, they’re whiny, sniveling little bitches.” I put my finger to my lips, shushing the kid and we sat there for a moment listening to the silence. “I think it’s gone for now,” I said. “It should be safe to go out.” “What do we do?” he asked. “We’ll get your ma, kid,” I said patting him on the back. “Know where he’s got her?” The kid nodded. “Warehouse, ass end of town.” “Show me,” I said. I wasn’t convinced I wasn’t still heading into a trap, but one way or another I was going to get this beast. And if I kept my wits about me, I should still be ok. We made our way stealthily through the back streets and alleyways toward this warehouse. “I don’t know what I’d do, if I ever lost Ma,” said the kid. “Pa, he comes and goes. Sometime he’s there, sometimes he’s not. A free spirit, Ma calls him. But Ma, she’s always been there for me, always.” “Don’t worry, kid, I’ll get this thing.” “How?” he asked. “Sorry, kid,” I answered, “trade secret.” “What if I became a Hunter?” “Sure, kid,” I answered, “maybe someday… when you grow up.” “I’m 18!” he protested. “Kid, I’m gonna keep it real. It takes nerves of steel to be a Hunter, and I gotta tell you, getting sick under pressure… just ain’t gonna cut it. I don’t think you’ve got the balls for this.” The kid scowled and muttered, “I got balls. I got plenty ‘a balls…” But I just let it rest. All the way, I was on the lookout for anything that hinted at massive green muscles, but we arrived at our destination without incident. “In there,” whispered the kid, while pointing at a derelict building. “My ma’s in there.” “Stay here,” I said, and I crept up to a small window by the door and peered in. Sure enough there was a middle aged woman tied to a metal folding chair. The massive green behemoth was nearby doing shoulder presses with a Buick. I strained to get a good look at it. No matter how many times I saw one, these things never failed to awe me. It had truly massive shoulders and I could see every ridiculously thick muscle fiber bulging in its enormous delts as it pressed that car up and down. I followed garden hose sized veins down off those pulsating shoulders and over colossal biceps, which changed from thick veiny slabs to chiseled, throbbing boulders, as its arms bent and then straightened out. It had gigantic globular pecs which flexed and bugled enormously as it lifted. Its stomach was like armored steel plating clenching together and releasing as it moved. Its legs were slightly bent causing its enormous sculpted quads to bulge out to impossible proportions as they handled part of the load. The thing was clad only in a pair of ragged tattered shorts, practically the hulk uniform. Most of these things retained enough intelligence that they could clothe themselves properly, but none of them ever did. I think they wanted everyone to see their impossibly overdeveloped physiques… and I imagined they enjoyed looking at it themselves. “Are you going to need help? Should I go get the Sheriff?” I looked over and the kid had ignored me and followed; he was now peering in the window, too. The sheriff? What did he think the Sheriff could do against that green, carved mountain of muscle? Wait a minute. Things were starting to click into place. This was definitely a trap and I was almost in it. There had to be two of these things; the one in the warehouse was a distraction. They were expecting me to assume this hulk was acting alone. The Sheriff had to be the other one. They were gambling I’d be so focused on the obvious hulk that I’d never see the Sheriff explode into a muscle beast until it was too late. The kid was setting me up. I wondered if he even knew it. I hoped he and his mother got out of this alright, but once the hulks started smashing, nothing was certain. Fortunately, I had an ace up my sleeve they had no idea about. “Yeah, kid,” I said. “Go get the Sheriff.” The kid disappeared and I briefly contemplated trying to get his mother out of there so she wouldn’t get injured in the crossfire. Well, I say crossfire, but it’s only an expression. Bullets didn’t have any effect against these monstrously muscular things. Only one thing did. The kid was back quickly with the Sheriff. I would have said too quickly if I hadn’t already figured out what was going on. “What’s the situation?” said the Sheriff. The time for roleplaying was over. I reached into my jacket pocket, removed my injector and injected the trank right through the Sheriff’s shirt, directly into his forearm. “AH!” he yelled, instinctively recoiling and grabbing his forearm. “What the hell was that?” I wasted no more time. I hit the sheriff in the chin and knocked him on his ass, and then swiftly grabbing the night stick from his belt, I rendered him unconscious with it. “What’d you just do?” gasped the kid. “What the hell did you just do?” “Keep calm, kid, I know what I’m doing,” I said. “Now we’re gonna go in there in a minute and I want you to concentrate on getting your mother out of there. Let me worry about the big green muscle beast. He’ll be far too busy with me to pay any attention to you. So get your mom out of there fast, and the two you don’t stop running until you get home, understand?” The kid nodded rapidly. “Good.” I reached down, disarmed the sheriff and then cuffed him with his own handcuffs. He was starting to come to. I slapped him back into semi-consciousness and pulled him to his feet. “Come on, buddy,” I said. “You’re coming with me.” Shoving the Sheriff in front of me, I kicked open the door and went inside. The kid followed behind. “What the hell is this?” I heard and felt the over amplified base this thing used for a voice. There was discernable wind and even a slight rumble in the ground. “He’s got me,” said the Sheriff. “I feel woozy and… I can’t change!” “That’s right, Jumbo,” I said to the green muscle beast. I leveled my gun at the Sheriff’s head and said, “Now you’re gonna shrink down or I’ll ventilate his ear drums!” “I’ll fucking smash you!” thundered the beast. This threat was remarkably consistent and I’d probably heard it about 523 times before. “You can’t smash me without also smashing the sheriff, here,” I said. “Maybe I don’t care about that,” it said. “If that were true, you’d have smashed me already,” I said. “What’d you do to him?” it roared. “And now we come to it,” I said, “the reason for this whole elaborate trap. I catch you guys for a living and you don’t know how the hell I do it, do you? It defies your limited hulk logic that a little puny guy like me could lay out your over muscled asses. You’re scared to risk a direct confrontation because you don’t know what you’re going against.” From the look on the creature’s face, I knew I’d nailed it. “Well, as soon as you shrink down,” I said. “I’ll be pleased to demonstrate… AH!” I suddenly felt an iron grip on my arm as the gun was ripped from my hand like a toy might be taken from a child. I whirled around and saw the kid had grabbed my gun! “Hey Hunter,” he called mockingly. He grinned evilly, and flexed. RIIIP! Massive veiny biceps erupted out of his skinny arms and blew apart his sleeves! He laughed, gloating over his suddenly powerful, chiseled appendages. Fuck! The kid was one of them! He was goddam one of them! But how..? He was too young! “Didn’t see that coming, did ya, Hunter?” he said. “How ‘bout this?” He threw back his head, let out a euphoric moan, and suddenly blew up bigger, much bigger. He shot up at least 4 inches, his weak chest and narrow shoulders exploding into huge pecs and bulging delts. His formally loose minimart shirt was instantly skin tight, or maybe I should say muscle tight. Then his stick legs blew up into huge quads and hams, showing their deep cuts and thick ridges right through his uniform pants. “Fuck, that feels good!” he roared! Damn, I’d been right. Those boyish good looks and all that muscle… This kid’d stop traffic! Then he reached into my pocket, pulled out my injector and easily crushed it in his suddenly huge and powerful hand. “That’s the end of your secret fucking weapon,” he gloated. “Now see mine!” Grinning he flexed his giant carved biceps again. I watched the shreds of his sleeves slide off those, large, expanding boulder-like biceps and bunch up below his expanding bulbous shoulders, getting caught for an instant between the two ballooning masses of muscle, until… Pop, pop, riiiip, and his sleeves just broke apart, shredding and rolling back like the peel on a banana. “FUCK!” he bellowed! “That feels SO FUCKING GOOD!” I had to get out of there! I hadn’t taken a step before he grabbed me by the front of my shirt. "Where you goin’, little man? I played your game; now you’re gonna play mine.” With that he hoisted me up by the front of my shirt with both hands and started doing curls with me. “Check out the bi’s, Hunter,” he gloated as we both watched them expand another chiseled inch. “My nerves might not be steel,” he bared his teeth in a manic grin as, with every rep he completed, his huge biceps bulged bigger and bigger and bigger, “But… I make up for it… with my HUGE… FUCKING ARMS!” The kid’s breathing grew heavier and he began growling softly as he watched them evolve into carved, iron mountains of flesh and huge veiny peaks began to form. And with each rep, the kid got taller. “Oh fuck, I like this!” he roared, his voice booming with a new power, as he bulged bigger and bigger with sculpted muscle. “What do you think, tiny?” Ever seen one of us change like this before? “No,” I gasped. “Usually happens a lot faster.” “I know,” he said, smiling. “I’m drawing it out, taking my time, having some fun.” Fuck, they could do that? I didn’t know they could do that! Then, his dazzling arrogant smile getting almost as big as his arms, he dropped one giant bulging arm and carried on curling me with just the other one, enjoying the sight of his own biceps continuing to expand and bulge into huge and veiny, muscular sculptures. “When I was a kid, Hunters were, like, the fucking boogie man,” he said. “I was fucking terrified of you! But now… Without your fucking toy…!” He smirked down at me and then laughed. “What can you do but watch me become a god?” and as he spoke his voice got deeper and deeper, dropping at least an octave and it wasn’t hard to see why. His neck was getting wider and wider with thick, corded muscle. His larynx was expanding, his Adams apple enlarging. His straining collar finally blew apart as bulging, mountainous traps erupted out of his back and tore it to pieces. Then, striated boulder-like shoulders swelled up and blasted out the rest of his sleeves. The kid paused in his curls and looked down at his hugely muscled chest which had finally stretched his shirt to the limit. “Watch this,” he said, as giant juggernaut pecs swelled up and exploded out of his shirt front, shooting buttons everywhere. And yet somehow the garment remained intact around his remarkably narrow waist. He started flexing his huge pecs, making them bulge bigger and bigger, and holding me up with one of his gigantically muscled arms so I could see. And I couldn’t miss them, not even if I tried. He wouldn’t let me. He started curling me again and as his monstrous carved and shredded biceps brought me up with each curl, he rammed me into his fucking iron-hard chest, which got bigger, rounder and harder every fucking time. “Ops!” he said, “Sorry. Ops! Sorry. The pecs are getting so huge I just can ‘t help hitting them!” he laughed, putting me down on the ground. I looked up at him. Damn, that magnificent muscled out kid was almost 7 feet tall. “Feel this!” he said taking my hand and placing it on one of the warm, pulsing, striated boulder-like pecs. It was stone hard. “Go ahead show me how you’re gonna beat me with your head! Sounds like a match to me, your head against my pecs! It’s about the same size as one of ’em,” he snorted derisively. Then suddenly he shoved my hand in between his two boulder like pecs and squeezed. “AHHH!” It was like a vice! Then laughing, he started getting taller again. I had to stretch my arm higher and higher as he rose up and up, my hand inescapably clamped between those two steely orbs! I tried and tried to pull lose, but it was no use. And suddenly I was lifted off the ground and found myself dangling from his monstrous, shredded pecs. “Well, what are you gonna do now, Hunter?” He laughed. “Nothing you can do, is there? I’ve already beat you with my pecs, just my pecs! What are you gonna do about the rest of me? What are you gonna do when I’m twice this fucking big? He squeezed his pecs a little harder and I thought my hand would break. “AHHH! You better stop this right now,” I gasped. “I better…? Oh wait, I was forgetting; Hulks are scared of you! That must be why my stomach feels so funny, ’cause I’m so scared of you. Hahaha! Whoa, somethings definitely happening to my stomach!” From my position, hanging beneath his massive chest, I suddenly saw big chiseled abs explode out of his waist. The big impressive muscles pressed against the lower shirt front for just a second before they blew the last remnant of the garment apart, shredding it to pieces and releasing the powerful brick wall of muscle which continued to throb and bulge and expand. “Ah, that was it!” he said with an exaggerated tone of discovery. “It was just more fucking muscle!” He relaxed his pecs and I dropped to the ground. The kid leaned over and shoved his brick wall stomach right in my face. “Like my abs, Hunter? They’re hard like diamonds, like diamonds. I had a car hit me in the abs when I was 12, just 12. I totaled it. Ever total a car with just your abs, Hunter. Know what that feels like? Hey, about another contest, you against my abs? Yeah, you’re right. Eight abs against one Hunter, that wouldn’t really be fair. Ops,” he said as 2 more dense, carved muscle bricks exploded out of his mid-section, “make that 10 against 1.” He laughed again, stood up and wiped the last shreds of his destroyed mini mart shirt from his titanic, muscled frame. “Ah, that’s better! Fucking tiny, cheesy shirts! I hate em! And I also HATE CHEESY PANTS!” He bellowed as he blasted his pant legs into shreds with his behemoth hams and quads in all their veiny, chiseled, ripped-up glory. “Fuck! I hated being small,” he thundered. “I don’t know how you fucking stand it all the fucking time!” He raised his arm and blasted out a colossal bicep flex. “Fuck that feels good! Muscles feel so fucking good! Gonna have to take my word on that, Hunter, ‘cause there’s no way you’d fucking know.” Damn, those things had to be a massive sculpted 40 inches… and they were still pulsing, throbbing and growing… “Gonna, get bigger now, Ma, right?” he called across the room. “Gonna show the little man just how big I can get!” Then he grabbed me. I felt his hand on my arm like a padded steel pincer. I tried to break away, but forget it. He was already so inhumanly strong he could’ve broken me into pieces without even thinking about it. “I bet you’re sorry you fucked with us now,” he said, grinning that boyishly beautiful cocky grin. “Let me go,” I said. “Let you go?” he repeated mockingly. “But I want you to have a front row seat!” Then he swung me up and dropped me on his flexed bicep. Damn I was straddling this massive kid’s gigantic carved mountain of a bicep. It was hard and warm and he didn’t even seem to notice my weight. “Try squeezing it with your legs, Hunter. Go on! TRY IT!” The force of his voice almost knocked me off my perch. Left without a choice I squeezed it between my legs. It was like squeezing granite. “Give it up, Hunter,” he laughed. “You’ll shatter your puny little legs before you dent one of my massive biceps! Ready for a ride?” He grinned down at me once again and suddenly threw back his head and let out an almighty roar! His body began exploding with muscle. Fuck. I mean I’d seen hulk-outs before – plenty of ’em. But nothing like this… Veiny, carved muscle just kept erupting up out of this kid, as he roared with ecstasy, growing bigger and more sculpted and vascular-- all over. And beneath me his bicep kept surging and pulsing huger and thicker and harder, making it difficult for me to straddle. And as the roar died, he started flexing again and again and laughing as his mountain of a bicep tossed me in the air again and again like a mechanical horse at a western bar – except I’m sure the horse would have been softer to land on. Fuck his arm was impossibly gigantic, carved iron! I would have been thrown off, if I hadn’t grabbed on to the firehose sized vein that was snaking over his stony bicep peak. “Watch the little Hunter bounce,” he laughed the behemoth sculpted muscle boy, his massive abs bulging and heaving. “Can you hold on, little tiny Hunter? Can you hold on through this?” And suddenly he threw back his head and roared again as monstrous traps rose out of his broadening back and his chest grew from concreate melons to basketballs to fucking medicine balls. His chiseled abs bulged up to the size of my fist, then doubled in size and doubled again. I saw his shredded pants completely fall apart, destroyed by ridiculously huge, carved hamstrings, quads and glutes. He was wearing something under there resembling black boxer briefs. I don’t know what it was made of but it sure as hell stretched. And as all these muscles erupted out of him, he was shooting upwards, getting taller and taller, while all the time his massive stony bicep stretched and thickened and grew until I couldn’t hold on any longer and just flew off. I hit the ground and looked up at the monstrously muscled, baby faced beast. “Haha, little Hunter,” he called down to me. “You said I could join you when I grew up. Am I grown up enough now? Or maybe I should grow a little MORE!” He howled with rumbling, mocking laughter as his lats broadened and his entire torso widened like the hood of some massive mutant cobra. He laughed again and flexed as his biceps bulged up even more inconceivably massive and his shoulders swelled into colossal, striated orbs. His pecs evolved into beyond monstrous iron-like masses. And still up he grew. “Am I grown up enough yet?” he bellowed down at me. “No? Okay, just for you I’ll get BIGGER!” Taller and taller and wider and thicker, he got. And as he regarded his impossibly massive, insanely beautiful and tyrannically powerful physique, his laugher changed back into a bellowing ROAR! The power in this kid’s body was inconceivable. His muscles size and definition defied description. He flexed every muscle in his impossibly colossal physique at once. I couldn’t imagine what the physical sensation of that much power must be like. I’d wager it would drive anyone insane! “I’M THE FUCKING MAN!!!!” he bellowed, shaking the building as he gloated over his carved up, veiny, mountainous biceps! “THE BIGGEST FUCKING HULK THAT EVER EXISTED! AND YOU’RE A HELPLESS LITTLE ANT I WANNA STEP ON!” I stared up at this beast, who absolutely topped 12 feet and who had biggest, thickest, most ripped-up, impossibly muscular physique I had ever seen. The kid had become a titan of unstoppable massive, heaving power, and I didn’t know how I, or any other Hunter (or any army for that matter), would ever be able to stop him. I’d finally found my Uber Hulk. But I’d fucked up and he’d found me first… But how was that even possible? He hadn’t been at The Event. He was too young! “Look, ma,” he bellowed in an impossible base. “Look how big I got this time! Bet I could crack the world open with one fucking punch!” The kid flexed and posed his outrageously massively muscled body. “Wanna see me try?” Fuck, the kid’s thunderous voice, alone, was almost shaking the building to pieces! I looked over at the poor terrified woman, tied up in her chair, just trembling. “You think that’s gonna make your mom proud?” I said. “Look at her. She’s terrified of you!” The kid laughed, a big thick rolling sound like a diesel engine just turning over. “You’re pretty stupid, aren’t you, puny man. Maybe it’s because you got no muscle to think with. That’s not my ma,” he said pointing at the terrified woman. “She’s just window dressing, bait for the trap.” The kid reached over and, with one giant finger, snapped the woman’s bonds. She lost no time in running for her life. The kid chuckled. “That’s my ma,” he said pointing to the other hulk. Holy crap! That thing was his mother? My head reeled. This had huge consequences! “But all the tests…,” I muttered, nearly incoherent with shock. “They proved it. You can’t have kids.” “Oh, it doesn’t work with a human,” said the mother-thing. “But with each other, when we’re hulked, that’s a different story.” Hulk sex? I could barely imagine what that must be like. The act would probably level a city block! What hadn’t anyone ever thought of that? Because these things didn’t associate with each other, hardly ever! I suddenly looked over at the sheriff. “You mean…?” “Yup,” bellowed the impossibly massive muscle kid. “Meet my Pa, the free spirit.” Holy crap, a whole freaking family of hulks. “You’re a family?” “We are,” said the mother-thing. “’Course it wasn’t easy. Raising a family was such a challenge. When I first pushed him out, he was so puny and pink and weak. Poor thing was so fragile when he was a kid. Kept thinking I was gonna break him. He didn’t start hulking til he hit puberty, and now… well, look at him! He’s way bigger than either of us!” I could see her set of enormous, shredded pectorals swell with pride. And I think the beyond massive muscle kid was blushing. His green turned a little greener. “Of course it wasn’t until high school, that we discovered his special gift. He was fooling around with one of his little classmates, as boys do, you know, being boys, when… Oh now wait a minute. I’ve almost gone and spoiled the surprise.” Surprise? Not another one. “Can I play with him first?” asked the young muscled nuclear powerhouse. He leered evilly in my direction and advanced toward me. Crap, this kid was so big I could feel the gravitational pull off his bulging, vein-covered left quad, alone. “I wanna play with him some more!” “Haven’t you had enough fun already, Ollie,” the mother-thing said. “But look what he did to Pa!” Ollie protested. The Sheriff staggered around and looked up at his mountainous, chiseled, muscle son, and said “Don’t eat any green bananas!” “See Ma, he’s gone all funny!” Suddenly his deep tone turned from maliciously playful to threatening. “And I sure hope for your sake that’s not permanent!” Suddenly, a light at the end of the tunnel. I might get out of this yet. I had a bargaining chip. “I could help him,” I said. “There is an antidote. But you gotta release me to go get it.” The impossibly huge, carved, veiny, young juggernaut looked uncertain. He turned to his mother. “Ma?” “Hell no, Son,” she said. “I think it’s time to show him your gift.” “YEAH!” thundered the gigantic, colossally muscled boy-thing. “Check this out, Puny Hunter!” And he reached down and ripped those boxer briefs free from his massively muscled groin. Out tumbled the biggest broadest cock that could possibly exist. The thing was at least 3 feet long and hanging low across a set of melon sized balls. “Whadaya say, Hunter? Still think I ain’t got the balls? Haha. Just one of my balls is fucking bigger than your entire puny little head!” As soon as it was free, his cock instantly started to fill with blood. The kid got a kind of hungry leer on his face as he watched his giant veiny shaft swell bigger and thicker and longer, oddly echoing his own recent transformation. When it was done, the kid had what looked like a 5 foot long, 4 foot around massive green battering ram extending from his groin. His lips parted slightly and his eyes rolled back in his head and he moaned, “Oh man, you have no idea what it feels like to have a gamma cock. Think how much more power my arm has than your puny little twig, then apply that to a cock—the sensation, so dope.” So this was the kid’s gift? I had to admit it was one hell of a gift, but I didn’t quite get the relevancy. “Now, son, do it now,” said the mother thing. The kid’s eyes snapped open and he grinned down at me. Oh shit, I began to guess what was coming next. My eyes instinctively sought out the exits, but I knew I’d never reach one in time. Fuck it, I tried anyway. But like I predicted I didn’t get two steps before the humongously built, ridiculously hung and impossibly muscled youth snatched me up in one of his power shovel hands. I knew I was fucked—literally. I struggled, but all I could offer was a token resistance. Fuck, this kid’s forearm was wider around than my entire body. I could see muscles and tendons bulging and flexing inside it that were bigger around than my legs. “How does it feel, hunter?” gloated the impossibly massive and muscular boy. “How does it feel for you to be so small and weak, like a sniveling little bitch, to be completely helpless and hopeless, like you left my poor Pa?” He squeezed a little and I felt like my bones might shatter. “I could crush you right now, puny man,” he said, “easier than squashing a bug would be for you. I can’t believe I was scared of you, afraid you’d take my ma away. I can’t believe my whole life we’ve been running from puny little Hunters like you!” He squeezed again. More pain. “Feel how strong I am? Know how much power I have? I’ll give you a hint. If I let loose and squeezed as hard as I could, you’d be completely pulverized, crushed into atoms, gone forever without a trace! And I can do it anytime I want.” I nodded rapidly. “If only I’d known, when I was a kid, just a scared little kid running from Hunters… If only I’d known this was waiting for me.” and then he flexed one of those planetoid biceps of his and swung me around to get a close look at the sculpted, veiny, mountainous mass. “I know now,” he grinned. Then with one stroke, he ripped off my pants. Fuck that hurt. I remember thinking I was lucky my belt snapped before my back broke. But there I was, naked from the waist down and clamped inside this beyond massively muscular kid’s giant paw. “I’ve been waiting for this,” he sneered. “All fucking night I’ve been waiting for this. Ever since I first saw your puny ass walk into the minimart, I knew this moment would come. All night I’ve been listening to you hate on me, hate on the hulks… I wanted to muscle explode and stomp your ass so many times… But I held back. We had to know how you did it. But, I knew this time would come… when I would be all enormous, veiny, and iron-hard, and your puny little ass would be my helpless little toy. I knew it would come and now it’s FUCKING HERE!” And then suddenly he took that battering ram of his and rammed it up my butt! “AHHHHHH! FUCK!” I yelled! It was iron-hard! So much pain! It felt like my pelvis would split in two! The he started pumping. FUCK! This kid was gonna rip me apart! He was gonna rip me apart on his massive iron cock! That was his revenge! Who’d have guessed that’s how I’d go out, fucked to death by a hormone ravaged, teenaged hulk? And then something began to build in the atmosphere. Even through my agony I felt it, a kind of vibration, a thrum… It kept building and building, permeating everything around. It was the kid. Somehow I knew it was emanating from the kid and his monster cock. And as it got more and more intense, rattling the very air, his heavy breathing took on a kind of carnal snarl. The vibration was now world splitting. His growls grew in intensity until I thought the deep rumble would explode my eardrums. Then every muscle on that impossible mountainous body tensed, massive arms bulged, veins popped, pec striations deepened, brick-like abs clamped together and with a universe shattering bellow he came like an erupting volcano! The building shook to its foundations. Windows shattered! Debris fell from the ceiling! There was a rumbling all around like an earthquake as I felt him coming inside me. It was like acid, like acid under an insane pressure, shooting up through my body, all through my body. I was burning inside! It seemed to go on forever. Then he popped me off his impossibly massive cock and let me tumble to the floor. I looked up through the haze of intense burning pain and saw his giant engorged cock head. The fucking size of it. It was wider around than me! I remember thinking, “I had that thing inside me? How am I alive?” And then I felt it. The burning was changing, not lessening, but changing. It was becoming more electric, more charged, like energy, like an insane burning energy! “Are you on fire yet, Hunter?” said the insanely mountainous muscle boy. “You’re sure squirming like you are.” “I’m burning!” I gasped. “Hey Ma, Pa, come here,” cried the kid. “This should be good!” His cock had deflated and he was now standing over me looking like kids usually look when their favorite TV show is about to start. And then I felt it. I’d like to say I was swelling, but it was more like I was exploding in slow motion. Muscles were surfacing and swelling, turning my ordinary limbs into throbbing landscapes of cords and tendons. I could feel my sleeves getting tight as my upper arms swelled into large, hard masses. And under my shirt, my pecs were pushing out of my chest, growing rounder, fuller, and harder. The burning sensation was getting stronger and stronger and I could feel my body getting harder and thicker from top to bottom. And yeah, I was getting taller. I felt myself stretching. Those bastards! They were making me into one of them! And then I felt my growing body surge inside a shirt that suddenly was way too tight. I could feel my iron-hard body pressing against it. The cloth was straining. Seams were stressing. I felt compelled to flex my arms and felt the sleeves get so tight, they would normally have cut off my circulation. But not now. And suddenly RIIIIIIIIP! I felt the sleeves explode as big veiny balls of rock hard muscle just erupted out of them. Now I felt two boulders pushing their way out of my chest. I watched the front of my shirt stretch out as I felt my pecs grow inside it like expanding globes of steel, pulling it tighter and stretching it to the limit. Fuck, the problem was, this didn’t feel bad, not bad at all. In fact, I kinda liked it… I flexed my new huge iron-like chest, and enjoyed the feeling of it bullying the flimsy cloth, pushing the front open, making those buttons hold on for dear life. Then POP! One of the buttons exploded off. POP! POP! POP! The rest of the upper buttons flew off and my shirt peeled back revealing those two expanding, striated globes of muscle thrusting out from beneath. I rubbed my hand over my giant pecs. They felt like iron, like fucking iron. Fuck! I was really starting to enjoy this! I ripped open the rest of my shirt, sending buttons flying and revealing my stomach. At first it was as svelte as always; but then I felt it, steely lumps forming under the skin as the outline of a six pack started to appear. Man I could feel the muscles just growing bigger and harder until I actually had abs. I passed my hand over them. They felt hard and solid. But it didn’t stop there; they kept getting larger, pushing out, and bulking up, like huge swellling rocks. In seconds my stomach had solidified into a wall of powerful, iron abdominals. Why did I like this so much? And then I felt my back grow wider and thicker, and stretch the hell out of my shirt. Threads began popping and cloth began tearing as I felt great, thick lats erupt from my body. “Oh fuck!” I cried. Seconds later I felt my shirt rip open releasing my thickening muscular back, “DAMN!” I yelled and huge globular shoulder muscles exploded from my body and tore out of the sleeves. “FUUUUUK!” I cried as my expanding muscled torso continued to rip my shirt into shreds and reduce it to pathetic rags which slid off my heaving, throbbing, swelling iron-like bulging muscles and fell into a heap on the ground. And suddenly I was dizzy again. I could feel myself stretching. Legs, arms, everything was getting longer, and the big warehouse seemed to be getting smaller, closing in on me. I stood up. Fuck, I was way over seven feet tall now. The sheriff was now looking up at me past my huge shredded pecs—He looked so tiny, but that was because… I was fucking gigantic! “Oh my fucking God!” I shouted and flexed. My upper arms swelled into gigantic twin granite peaks. The shoulders above them were the size of cannonballs. My forearms were great wedges of muscle leading up to my thick heavy fists. Ahhhhh….AHHHHHHHHH! FUCK!” I yelled and exploded upward, my mammoth muscles expanding in proportion, making my newly monstrous frame unbelievably massive. “SO FUCKING BIG!” I shouted as my shoulders stretched out further and further as grew into huge balls of rock hard flesh. Colossal traps rose up and merged with my thickening neck and I could feel my back getting thicker and wider behind me. And God, I had to be more than eight feet tall! My pants tore up the sides, releasing two Goliath-like thighs which were bulging out to an amazing size. In a moment those huge muscles, writhing and swelling under my skin, shredded my pants to bits, leaving me naked. I felt my cock begin to respond to the change, to the all-pervading feeling of impossible physical power that was racing through every inch of me. And as it started to swell and throb, I couldn’t believe the sensation! The kid had been right! My old cock had been but a pale reflection of the giant gamma shaft I now had exploding from my groin. How had I lived my whole life without this fucking feeling?! It was fucking glorious! I flexed my gigantic arms and let out a roar. I felt like the embodiment of male physical perfection! But I wasn’t done yet! I flexed my already massive arms and watched them bulge up into veiny peeked mountains and then grow even larger. My shoulders continued to stretch outward, further and further, exploding into incredible globes of an unbelievable size that could only compare to my titanic pecs. My back pushed out further, causing my entire upper body to grow wider and wider as I continued to grow taller and taller. I was just fucking mountainous now. I looked down at the sheriff now, way, way down. He was like a toddler, lost in the shadow of my massive, expanding form. And then it was over. I pulled a most muscular and every one of my incredibly large, incredibly powerful muscles bulged out all over me. It was a feeling not to be believed. I let out a roar and my gamma shaft exploded. The force of the inconceivable orgasmic sensation almost knocked me on my gigantic bubble butt! For a second I got completely lost in how huge, and impossibly muscular and powerful I felt. I had to be somewhere near 10 feet tall, weighing a couple of tons. The fucking size of me… I was a fucking monster… and I loved it! I looked over at the magnificent kid. He still towered two feet above me and his muscles… well, fuck, he must weigh at least twice what I did! But the mother, she wasn’t more than 8 feet tall and actually looked kind of small, even dainty, to me now. “See, dear,” she said to the kid. “He’s one of us now. Try asking him about your Pa again.” I looked back down at my monstrously muscled body, and the consequences of what had just happened began to sink in. I was a hulk now, a pretty damn big one, massively muscular and powerful beyond imagining, and it felt good, real good. I reached over and grabbed the Buick the kid’s Ma had been using for shoulder presses and easily lifted it up over my head with one massive, bulging, veiny arm. It was so light, so easy. I was so fucking powerful now. I laughed with exultation. I couldn’t help it. I don’t know if it was the thrill of lifting the car or how amazing all those massive iron-like muscles felt bulging out of my body. But I was a Hunter, had been for 20 years; what did I do now? The phrase, absolutely any fucking thing I wanted, came to mind. It was ironic, I thought, looking down at my massively muscular and veiny arms, I’d been a Hunter for 20 years, and now that I finally had the tools to do my job properly, I was no longer qualified to do it. And to top it off, I had information that would revolutionize the Hunter profession. Hulks could mate with other hulks and they had Uber Hulk kids, and their Uber Hulk kids – at least the boys – could make other hulks. I could just imagine the uproar. But none of that mattered now. As soon as they discovered what I’d become, I’d be tranked and sent to live in the camp, just like all the other hulks. No way, no fucking way! “Your Pa’s gonna be fine,” I said, marveling at the deep timber of my voice. “That shit wares off. He’ll be dizzy and confused for a couple of days, but then he’ll get over it and be like he was. He’d need to be constantly dosed to keep him from changing permanently.” Both the kid and the mother looked relieved, but the Sheriff just looked up and said, “Is it Tuesday? I thought it was Tuesday.” And now I felt a burning energy and an impossible strength. I just had to know what this massively muscular behemoth body could do. I reasoned that the town had already been largely demolished before I’d even gotten there. What harm could it do to crush or throw a couple of previously wrecked cars around? Actually, I thought, feeling my massively powerful arms flex, I wouldn’t mind finding an oppressing army to lay low either. But, you know, one step at a time. “Hey,” I said to the kid. “You down for a game of Toyota Toss?”
  2. 44 points
    Hey guys, my first story on the forum, hope you enjoy, will post up a part 2 shortly. “Sam… SAM, GET IN HERE!” I hadn’t realised that I been instinctively cowering when his voice boomed across our flat. My friends first pointed it out when my hulking roommate invited himself out for drinks with us. It did come as a bit of a surprise to me when they told me this, mainly because Nick had never actually hit me or even threatened to, it’s just that I felt, like somehow, Nick could just bend my will. One of my closest friends at the time said I shouldn’t cower, like a puppy, but stand up to him. I could hear the strain in Nick’s voice though and I hurried into his bedroom. The sight and smell assaulting my senses as I entered; the smell of man went right up my nose in the first inhalation. It was sweat, stale sex, rich testosterone and damp, a kind of damp that you can only find in a student rugby players bedroom. It made my cock kick in its loose, thin, cotton sweats. Then of course, there was Nick, dressed only in a pair of boxers, with his weight bench sat upright, holding one of his 45kilo dumbells in both hands and grinning devilishy at me. “Dude, shoulder press… hand me the other 45!” his dark brows and long but spiked hair giving him a wolfish look. Dodging an empty takeaway carton, a discarded jock, a heap of college notes and at least one used condom, I picked my way to the dumbbell. The smell intensified as I got nearer to him. “Come on man, gotta get this done before Jen gets here” he grunted. I bent down, carefully raising the heavy dead weight. I hefted it over to Nick’s waiting hand as he got into position. I licked my lips as his biceps bulged as he flexed his arm into position. Both his thick pecs flattened out and his delts swelled freakishly, choked with veins from a pump. “Stand back” he ordered. I would like to say I watched, to say that I spotted him, but Nick was a tornado of male energy. A guttural roar emanating from his chest as he flexed the weight soaring toward the ceiling, his form disturbingly accurate. As his arms reached the maximum height, the clink of the dumbbells and the exposure of his forestry of pit hair, made my organ start to pulse in my shorts. As he went for more reps, so the smell escaping from his pits intensified over and over. The room filled with his scent. Looking back, I think that is one of the things that made me capitulate to Nicks demands as my flatmate. As the grunting continued, his shoulders and arms steadily bulging bigger from the pump, I quietly left the room wordlessly. I crept back to my smaller bedroom, put my hand gently on the top of my strictly average, rigid member, and felt it fire off into my pants. My legs weakening, I sank to the floor. My own varsity swimmers physique, feeling childlike compared to Nick’s hulking body. Soon, Nick’s girlfriend would be here, and I would be listening to them go at it for a few hours. I realised that I should probably try and get some sleep before it all kicks off. After cleaning up my own mess I walked down to the kitchen for a pre-bed snack, as I did, I thought about how Nick and I started off fairly evenly matched, how we were actually good mates who moved into this small, penthouse flat, off campus together. The weight set, the benches, bars, all bought with combined part time job salaries of both me and Nick. Now I barely get to use it. As I walked into the kitchen, I noticed his array of proteins adorning the top of the fridge. Is that all it took to make him bigger than me? Irritable, I escaped back to my room, snack in hand. I woke with a start. The all too familiar, rhythmical banging of Nick’s headboard against his wall had woken me. I decided against languishing in bed, getting a semi from the image of Nick’s powerful body fucking Jenna, his fitness-model cover girl. I skulked off to the kitchen and started making pancakes. Down the corridor of the tiny flat, I could hear Nick step up his rhythm and the grunting got louder. “He’s close…” I thought, before immediately regretting it, as I felt my cock thicken. I poured the milk into the blender and turned it on, which nicely drowned out the noise of Nick’s big finish. As I waited for the mixture to thicken, I again glanced up at the top of the refrigerator. Nick was reasonably busy, so I reached up and pulled down the white looking container. I had listened to Nick extol the virtues to protein, and pre-workout and whatever happened to be flavour of the month at the time. But this… this I didn’t know about. Which was out of character for Nick. I looked over the label, it was plain white with black text. Plenty of scientific writing, this was clearly not something picked up off the supermarket shelves. I couldn’t really argue with the results though. Nick had been getting bigger and bigger, much stronger too, all in the last few weeks his progress seemed to have jumped. But he wasn’t just getting bigger, he was getting leaner too. Most of all, Nick was getting bullish, ordering me around, demanding stuff, doing whatever he liked with little consideration, his new strengthened frame easily backing up his command of me. As that last thought lingered in my head I decided I should try some of the shake. Quickly, not wanting to get caught by Nick, I spooned two tablespoons of powder into a protein shaker and quickly poured water in on top. As I was shaking it, excited to see if I could catch up to Nick, I realised the sound of the blender had been masking the sound from Nick’s room. I reached and clicked the blender off and the swirling pancake batter came to a stop. I could hear the sound of my own breathing, and feel the beating of my heart inside my chest. But nothing else, Nick was clearly finished with his girlfriend. I had to get the stolen protein shake back onto the shelf before Nick came into the kitchen. I hefted the white tub into my hands and raised it above my head. “Dude… you made me a post-fuck shake!” I, almost froze at the sound of Nick’s voice, but managed to get the tub back on top of the fridge. My heart pounding at the thought of being discovered, sinking to the level of deception to try and catch up with Nick’s recent gains. As I turned to face Nick a further reality dawned. Stood there, semi hard, straining his boxers, a wet spot visible, his thick muscular topless torso, hard and glistening with sweat from his recent exertion. Nick’s look was not truly one of thanks. He observed me from underneath his thick dark brow, his bulging muscle giving him a menacing look. “Thanks for making it for me, but next time, don’t… it’s special stuff, only designed for me…” Nick almost growled through gritted teeth. “Tomorrow… you…me… college gym… chest day…” Nick continued between big gulps from my protein shaker. Thumping me on the chest with a meaty paw. I said nothing, as I watched the behemouth, swig the luminous orange coloured shake, small droplets escaping as Nick guzzled greedily, landing hapharzardly on his bulging pectoral muscle. “OK!?” Nick yelled, eyes narrowing, before belching loudly. “Yeah, sure Nick, sounds good” Nick eyed me for a few more seconds, turned on his heel and bounced off back to his room. I quickly retreated to bed, the pancake mixture left languishing in the blender. Tomorrow would be a heavy one. The next morning, I was awoken by the deafening bangs on my bedroom door. My head raised from my pillow to find my unimpressive dick had been erect and oozing all night, probably as a consequence of the thought of a gym visit with Nick. This crush had come out of nowhere, but it seemed to be growing stronger the bigger Nick seemed to grow. I dragged myself to the kitchen; Nick was already there, his tight muscle tank straining to hold back his bulging chest. “Time you got up lazy…” grinned Nick “Ready to go?” I croaked “What do you think little man?” he grunted, pulling a crab pose bursting with ripped muscle. As we walked to the campus gym, across the very quiet and expansive campus, the cold bit into my skin, but Nick seemed not to notice. Somehow, the elements only sought to make Nick even more brutally masculine and dominating. Reaching the gym, we headed straight for the weights section, deserted except for a lone American football player grunting softly between reps of squats. I did my level best not to stare at Nick, but mostly failed. His deep golden tan and his coarse dark hair gave him a wealthy exotic appearance, even as he began to warm up his veins pulsed and distended as his a gentle swell began in his muscles. “Chest today…” Nick said visibly bouncing ready to exercise. I berated myself for once again not suggesting a different body part. I only ended up working chest and sometimes shoulders because these are the exercises that Nick wanted a spotter for. I loaded up the bar precariously with extra 20kilo plates just for Nick. Trying his best to ignore me, Nick swung himself down on the bench and got into position in order to begin the workout. In this position, I was rewarded with the vision of the swell and heave of Nick’s chest. Nick on the other hand, would have had to settle for my crotch disturbingly close to his head. “Ready?” Nick grunted, and grabbed the bar, not really giving me time to react. As it transpired I was not immediately required. The new 20 kilo plates seemed like only an extra 5 to Nick’s mounding chest. He couldn’t help himself but smirk as the weight, no doubt felt lighter and easier to manage, than expected. I watched as Nick revelled in the all too familiar sensation in his chest, the pump soared through him, his triceps bulging as his chest bloating from the impact of the weights resistance. Again he pressed it up with ease, his big python plumping down the taught rugby shorts. This had quite literally meant, that whatever he was taking, maybe that new shake, had made him even stronger since last week. “woah dude… this is insane…” I said quietly murmuring watching the spectacle unfold. I watched on, Nick’s chest bulging and swelling as he grinningly pressed the weight, seemingly with growing ease. His arms didn’t shake and his form didn’t falter. His triceps flared, the veins distending along his arms giving him a look of sheer unstoppable power. He racked the weight without any help from me. When it was my turn, plates came off and I got into position, my head now close to Nick’s obscene bulge in his sweats. Not only did it look big, but this close, I could smell the incredible scent of the contents of his jock and it make the usual feelings bubble to the surface. I did my usual workout, my pecs fraught with effort and arms struggling with my usual weight, I watched Nick spot me, as my arms shook with almost half the weight he used, I looked up to him grinning down at me. This gave me the strength to finish my last few reps, but still, it served only to highlight the growing disparity in our muscle strength. The rest of the workout, I was feeling increasingly unhappy seeing Nick blow through all of his maxes and continuing to set new personal bests. I watched, uncomfortably as he nailed every chest exercise with greater than ever strength, amazed as he seemed to cope with anything thrown at him. I was so envious of his success, I figured I had to make a drastic change in my life or I’d get left behind. As I watched Nick strip for the shower, a common ritual after our workouts, that actually, maybe I needed to even the score. Later that night, Nick was out of the flat on a romantic date with his girlfriend. So I sneaked into his room while he was away. If Nick was taking this experimental supplement, there had to be some physical proof, letters, brochures, consent forms; there just had to be something to give me a clue. I needed to get on the trial. As I picked my way through Nick’s room, I found a cryptic letter from the andrology department of our university, now, SCU wasn’t exactly known for its research but, clearly, they were getting something right. However, before I had chance to read the information, I heard the familiar rattle of keys outside of the flat door, in a panic, I threw the letters back into the draw and slammed the draw shut, however in doing so, the cupboard rocked backwards then forwards. I looked upwards, in time to see the contents of one of Nick’s used condoms flow back out of the untied end and splash onto my forearm. I didn’t have time to react; I just bolted from Nick’s room out into the corridor and ran straight for my room. As I closed my door, I could hear Nick and Jenna come home and begin some post-date “activities”. My breathing calmed and my pulse slowed. My attention was drawn to the burning sensation on my right arm; I looked down to see the bright red streak across my supinated arm. I kept looking at it, it was red, and glowing, but there was seemingly no evidence of the disgusting contents of the used rubber. I was feeling hot all over, not just from the burning sensation on my arm, my clothes didn’t feel right on me. In the privacy of my own room, I shucked my clothes and went over to the mirror. I felt a spasm in my gut, then, suddenly, an intense warm glow spread through my body. I looked at myself in the mirror, my pecs hardened, abs tightened. I looked on in amasement, feeling sheer power tear through my body. My traps seemed to thicken, my delts pushed out from shoulders, giving them a fuller, rounded look. I was even convinced I was taller. I felt my legs precipitously thicken, I watched the inner head of the quadriceps surge into view, which only happened when I flexed, and yet, I wasn’t flexing. I looked up at my face, for the first time since I started college, I felt that I looked handsome and healthy. A grin unconsciously spread across my face. I had no idea how this happened, but I absolutely loved it. I posed for a little while longer. Feeling the bulge and play of my newly developed musculature, the heady experience of being taller, if only a fraction… Best of all the sensation that I must have a semi, except my cock was fully flaccid. I gyrated my hips watching the new piece of meat bounce around. It got hard easily and I wrapped my hand around it. My legs nearly gave way as my cock began firing round after round across the room, ribbons of pure white spunk blasted out and still my cock bounced in front of me, as if to fire again. I tucked the raging pole back into my strained boxers and glanced in the mirror. “Fuck yeah” I grunted, trying to flex my abs. Only, I’d never sworn into the mirror before… or actually… in many years. My stomach growled so I went to the kitchen dressed only my boxers. The bulge still present as I walked, for the first time, it seemed to bounce up and down gently as I walked along. I got into the kitchen, surprised to find Nick there, sat alone at the table, also dressed only in his boxers. He looked pale, and not in his usually arrogant vigour. The pale palour even made him look a little less masculine than normal. “You ok bro?” I said, sounding surprisingly manly. “Yeah, yeah, just had a bit of a funny turn…” Said Nick cryptically. The next morning, I woke up for the gym. I casually wrapped my hand around a raging morning erection, the cock, seemed bigger and stronger than I ever remembered. I brushed my hands up my thinner waist, across my flat stomach to the new shallow contours on my chest from my thickened pectorals. My hand found its way to the alarm clock, but it seemed I had awakened before my alarm clock, before Nick had the chance to wake me. I felt incredible after last night’s dramatic turn of events. Not only mentally but physically. I could feel energy just seem to stream out of me, I was ready to lift. The thoughts of stealing Nick’s new experimental protein shake could not be further from my mind at the moment, as a night’s sleep and deliberation had led me to the conclusion it was probablyresponsible for the effects of his potent spunk. I dressed, in front of the mirror, looking at my new body. I smiled as I quickly gave my arms a flex and my fresh, new biceps jumped up in my arms, now slightly less egg like, now definitely more fusiform in their appearance. Quietly dressing and walking out into the corridor, there was no Nick waiting with an annoyed glare, so I made for the kitchen. Nick’s half eaten breakfast was still on the table as he was filling up his protein shaker. “Y.. you’re up?” he croaked. I looked at him, he looked sleepy and tired. He rubbed his eyes and kept blinking at me. He was haphazardly dressed and his hair matted down to his head from the sweat of his night time activities with Jenna. “Are you ok dude?” “Err, just feeling a bit rough.” He answered, still staring at me. “Dude… did… you look like you, *ahem*, you’ve been making progress in the gym…” He continued, still staring at my chest. “Yeah, I think you might be right dude.” I replied, desperately avoiding the urge to show off my chest by flexing in front of Nick. He prepared his shake and we headed out. In the car, as we drove, I could feel Nick’s eyes stealing odd glances at me. I began to regret wearing the sleeveless top as I wasn’t sure if he was actually paying attention to the road. I could feel my balls tingle at the thought of a workout, I couldn’t wait to test my new muscle and I couldn’t wait to show Nick that I was capable of catching him up. As we arrived at the gym, he turned to me before we exited the car. “How did you do it dude?” “Do what Nick?” “How did you get bigger, we only worked out together yesterday, and now, you’re bigger… how?” “Nick, are you ok? I’m the same, just been working out hard.” “Dude, seriously?” “You’re delusional, now drop it” I growled with an uncharacteristic aggressive tone in my voice. Nick clearly got the message and promptly stopped asking questions, but his dark stare intensified. In the gym, Nick’s chest workout was woeful, his lifts were slightly down, he grunted and flailed with his usual weight and made much use of me as spotter. Clearly this bothered him, because he was getting progressively sharp in his statements as the hour wore on. When he had first removed his hooded jumper, he looked sick and, almost smaller. I however, was having a great workout, I loved the feeling of my chest bulging outward, the stretch of the fabric against it, the surge of the feeling of power and pride throughout me, setting new strength goals, took all my focus not to get rock hard. Whilst this was going on Nick, eyed me jealously. I could feel his cold dark eyes burning into me as he reluctantly spotted me for a new personal best. Before we could hit the showers, Nick insisted we do a flat bench press. I felt this was more of an exercise to prove a point instead of the training value of adding in another heavy set, complex lift at the end of the workout. As I pressed the weight up, I felt my body burn with exertion, I felt amazing. I added almost 10kg to my previous bench from yesterday, even with exhausted pectoral muscles from the previous hour workout. Nick racked up his usual weight, and through much straining and gritting of teeth and of course, some help from his loyal spotter, was able to do a few reps at his usual weight. As he racked the weight, it was clear the point he was trying to make, had not been as clearly illustrated as he had hoped. As he stared at me I obliviously fondled my swollen chest muscle. “What?” I asked “Nothing, lets hit the showers…” he said grinning for the first time today. Nick’s mood seemed to improve here as we entered the changing room. As he rather quickly undressed, I rolled my eyes, knowing what was coming. “Coming to shower?” he asked, grinning at me, as he intentionally groped his thick, soft cock, though wanting me to believe it as a mere adjustment for comfort. I undressed at the normal speed, grabbed my towel and followed him into the shower. As I walked in, I watched him slowly lather soap into his thick musculature. His soft cock, swinging gently back and forth as his arms worked above him. I turned my head, to glance at his cock, figuring the water must be colder than usual, as it seemed a fraction smaller than usual. As I got myself under a shower head, I looked over at him again. He was looking at me, but our eyes didn’t meet, he was looking downward at my groin. “Dude, come on, you took some of my protein didn’t you?” he said unexpectedly “Look, Nick, I didn’t…” “Listen, I told you to stay away from it.” He grunted, his eyes looking cruel with a darker hue. I glanced down at me, across my now swollen pecs, my flattered stomach, to my soft cock, I then glanced over at him. His cock looked back to its old size if not bigger, as our eyes met. I realised, that his cock was thickening. Never before had I seen Nick like this, his skin flushing, his cock becoming increasingly aroused. “You uh… need a hand there bud?” I snickered. Within a second he was on me, his powerful hands grabbing both my shoulders. When they wouldn’t yield he dragged me, hanging onto my smaller frame, causing us to collapse to the floor. I struggled against the huge bulk of his weight on top of me. A leg each side of my chest, he positioned himself on top of my pectorals, his big, thick cock growing up and outwards towards my face. His cock brushed my lips. “Is this what you wanted? Stealing glances at me all the time? Well, how does it feel now? Enjoying?” He grunted, thrusting his hips forward at the upward inflection of each question. He took hold of his long, engorging rod and smacked my lips with it. “Please st-“ before I could finished speaking, the salty, musky flavour of Nick’s thick member exploded forth as he sunk the head into my open mouth. His powerful thighs extended on top of me as more of the colossally large pole slid into my mouth. I tried to speak, but the organ took up all of my mouth, I tried to remove myself, but his huge legs pinned me. As he held himself up with one of his mighty arms, another steadied my head as he began driving the mammoth shaft in and out of my mouth. As he began pumping, I could feel a familiar burning throughout my limbs that I felt the other night after getting his cum on my arm. I could feel the precum drip down my throat, rather than fight this, I knew to let it happen, I would reach my goals, and Nick, total unknowingly, would help me. If I hadn’t had his huge rod in my mouth, I’m not sure I could hold back the grin I would have had on my face. I felt trapped as his mammoth legs pinned me, as he pumped himself into my face. I had to focus on breathing, but I could feel his pre already start to work on me, the power swelling within me like a tide. Nick was absorbed in sating his carnal urge, I brought my arms up around his muscular waist, I watched as the veins snaked and squirmed their way to the surface of my biceps, muscle fibres thickening, the individual muscles becoming visible in my forearms. I felt great, I wanted this, I urged it to happen. He grunted above, clearly enjoying himself, just as the effects of his pre began to slacken, I felt his hips increase speed an intensity. As his orgasm ripped through him, I could feel his seed fire into the back of my throat again and again. Greedily, as best that I was able, I sucked down as much as I could handle, gleefully knowing it would be my flatmates undoing. He grunted once again and then withdraw his mighty organ from my slickened mouth, shook the last remnants of his pure white spunk onto my chest. “You tell anyone about this… and I’ll end you…” His powerful body swaggered off back to the changing room, but yet as I watched him leave, I thought I could see a little less definition in his expansive back. As I lay there on the shower floor, I felt the seed I had just swallowed get to work on me. Slowly it burned in my guts, filling me with ever increasing power. I knew then, his act had given me strength beyond anything I could have achieved in a year of gym visits. I felt my ass thicken, broaden and push me up from the floor, I felt less of the floor as my back broadened and dense muscle moved in to cushion the bone. I jumped up, my stronger powerful legs growing at a pace. I glanced down to see my pecs swell, my flat stomach, flatten even more, the first hints of my abdominals erupt from beneath the skin. I grabbed onto the shower bar as more power bolted through my body. I felt the room lower as my entire body lengthened. My mouth let out an involuntary grown as my neck muscles bulged, reaching my arms up to explore my thickening neck, my new, stronger biceps bulged with power. I raced into the locker room, but I was alone, Nick had long since left, I looked into the mirror and didn’t realise the new, taller, stronger and all round more masculine Sam staring back. I pulled a double bicep pose, amazed at the sheer size and power contained within my arms, I’m not sure the average person on the street would consider them big, but I was on my way. They had to be 15 inches around, I estimated. Best of all, the familiar hardening of my cock, had a most unfamiliar quality to it. Looking down, my erection strained the now tighter swimmer trunks, the bolder individual leg muscles fought the elastic. I as I slipped down, the apparently looser waist band, I was more than happy to see my usually unimpressive erection, looked super hard, but also both longer and thicker. My bigger balls pulsed below it, urging me to lift, urged me to fight and to persue. I resisted however, and redressed myself and made for home, I had a plan. (to be continued)
  3. 37 points
    It has been many years since I have written a muscle-growth piece! I'm happy to be part of the storyversary, this one written for the purpose of the forum... it gets pretty kinky, but I hope you enjoy! - Achilles aka BeastPup http://beastpup.tumblr.com MEAT “Tell me what you want… what you really want…” his voice said, whispering in my ear from behind. I could feel his heat upon me; my cock throbbing painfully tight in the confines of my jeans, harder than it had ever felt. He had me right where he wanted me. Painfully aroused… heart beating in my chest like crazy. I didn’t answer him right away; couldn’t, a moan was escaping my lips. His hand had reached around from behind, and was not only exploring the mounds of my pecs, but was actively teasing the nubs of my nipples through the fabric. It was like he knew all my buttons. Shields were down. Direct hit. “I want…mmmf…” “Say it. I want to hear you say it, puppy… just like you said online last night…” I swallowed, some of his saliva from our frenetic kissing mixing with my own. Turning to look him in the eye; he was nothing like me, half my size. Yes, I was a bodybuilder; I’d done a few shows, but still a long way from my full potential. 260lb offseason was nothing to sneeze at, but still a long way from the monster pros that I admired. Would look even more impressive if I wasn’t so tall, being 6ft 3. But he was so…. Unassuming. Yet so powerful. His head only came up to my chin, weighed about as much as I could shoulder press for a max. But he caught me with his captivating, knowing gaze from the moment we met, deep steel-blue pools that were windows to an inner strength and confidence I’d never had. For though I had blown myself up into the epitome of the alpha male, underneath all that flesh I still felt like a boy, sometimes. Stumbling through the world. But he… was a man. And what a man… nibbling even now at my earlobe, waiting for my response… “I… want to be meat… I… want to be used… a playth-” I wasn’t able to finish my sentence; my head was commandingly turned, and my lips were locked with his again, hungrily devouring my mouth, my words of wanting, taking them into himself. I had no choice. Finally he parted. “Are you sure that’s what you want? Say it one more time and it will come true.” He thumbed my nipple again and I melted. No hesitation. “Y-yes! Please Sir… I’m yours! Just make me…” “... meat.” he finished, with a grin. “You are going to be my meat.” And true to his word, that is exactly what I became. And this is that story. * * * Before that night - the night I gave myself over to him - we were very much more than strangers. By then he was already deep inside my skull. When I got his first message, I thought he was another online fan. There were plenty. Though I shied away from the exposure of dating apps, I kept my own little blog keeping track of my progress, my aspirations, and slowly hundreds of guys came to cheer me on. Not all wanted to get into my pants, but many did. I enjoyed answering their notes. I don't know how he sniffed out what it was I truly craved - a man to own me, a man to guide me. I didn't even realise it myself. But he surely did. He casually introduced himself as an admirer. A few more notes were sent between us and he shared little glimpses of his life, and it turned out we lived in the same city. He was nice… polite. Not straight to sending me pictures of his cock or ass like most guys. Then we started messaging in real time and things really took off. I'd send him pics when I was hitting the gym and he would lap them up, telling me how good I was looking, telling me how much he wanted me to get even bigger, as did I! He started filling my head with growth and worship fantasies, telling me I could never be big enough for him, that he would love to see me four hundred… five hundred pounds thick! And I lapped that up in return. It was a spark, alright. Eventually he got me opening up… telling him about all my deep desires. Spilling out how much I wanted to just surrender control and grow for someone forever… be their plaything… be… Meat. Meeting up with him was inevitable; I put it off for awhile, work and training kept me pretty busy. I was shy. But eventually he could not be denied… the date and arrangement was made. A bar in town… a place I felt comfortable… An awkward introduction on my part; confidence and ease on his. His name was Craig; he already had a beer waiting for me when I arrived, in my too-tight white t-shirt, pectoral cleavage visible in the V. I wanted to impress him. Be the object of desire I tried to be online. I needn’t have gone to so much effort; two drinks in and I was very much putty in his assured, accomplished hands. He could make me laugh, make me blush… always so easy to talk to, but with a knowing, ever-present smile on his lips the more we chatted. By the time we moved from the bar, into one of the more private rear booths, he wasted no time in getting his hands on me. I flexed… I let him touch wherever he wanted… and he turned me on so much, this little guy… knowing he wanted what I wanted… That was when he whispered in my ear. That was when I felt the first wall of any resistance to him crumbling away. It would not be the last. * * * “Drink, meat.” I heard his voice say, commandingly. I looked down at the full shaker cup thrust before me. My body was shaking - every muscle aching, pumped, rivulets of sweat covering every thick inch. My stomach was so tight - I suppressed a groan - but the cup was brought to my lips, being tipped into my mouth, and I parted my lips, finding the thick sludge mixture being force-fed, he wouldn’t stop. I lifted a shaking, engorged arm, putting my hand to the cup to steady the flow, the thick iron chain around my wrist jangling where it dragged across the concrete floor. “Good boy. Such a good boy. Drink. Grow.” Drink. Grow. It had been a week. Drink. Grow. Lift. Inject. I had gained 40lb. In a week. Drink. Grow. Lift. Inject. CUM. I had no clothes; I was meat. I didn’t get clothes here. I was a prisoner to my own desire… and that was how I wanted it. And who could argue with the result? 300lb seemed so far away before… but whatever he was feeding me… injecting me… was making all my… our desires for size come true. Once the cup had all gone, he lowered it again, smiling and wiping away the excess from my lips. “Good boy,” he said again, lovingly, like a farmer to his prize bull. “You are such a good boy. You know what time it is now, don’t you meat?” He brushed his thumb over the throbbing weapon between my legs, making me groan as I nodded dumbly. My muscles weren’t the only thing that had grown, and yes, I was rock hard. He measured his meat every day, and my tool was on the verge of hitting 13” and showed no signs of stopping. None of me did. “I’m never going to stop growing you, meat,” he said to me, the first time he chained me up in that basement gym - my home, my world now. The lock went on. “You want that, don’t you?” “Y… yes…” I shakily replied, my desires betraying me. “Yes? Yes what?” He touched his ear. “Yes Sir!” I blurted, blushing. He was still training me. I wouldn’t make that mistake now. “Good boy. You’re going to get everything you want. I love you.” Pulling me in for another possessive kiss. My heavy chains around me shook as I took in my new home. It seemed like a dream come true…all the weights I could ever use. Full length mirrors with perfect spotlights. Benches with straps… a stocked fridge… nipple pumps… cock pumps… All I had to do was give him everything. I am not crazy; when he asked me to give up my job and move in with him so he could focus on growing me into the meat trophy he knew I longed to be I was… hesitant. Things were moving so fast. But there was such peace in his presence… such reassurance… it was like he had me under some kind of spell, and certainly he had such magic fingers the way he milked my cock… whenever he could… in the bathroom… in the bushes at the park… we had a couple more dates and I knew in my heart what I had to do. I had to give it a go or I would regret it the rest of my life. So here I was; 300lb of blown, roided muscle slave, my engorged cock being played with as he led me, waddling, to my “recovery” bench. It was set at a 45° angle to the floor, thick with black upholstery. I felt it’s cool fabric on my sculpted bubble butt as I positioned myself like willing cattle. Glad to rest. Within moments my ankles were in the restraints. He was slowly jerking my drooling cock as my aching, 26” arms were lifted into position above my head for the wrist restraints to go on. Before my neck was strapped in I could look down slightly, and my now-plumped pecs were brushing against my chin. I loved every sensation. Completely captive now, a muscle toy, he forced such kisses onto me. “Good boy. Good meat… time for your programming…” He spat on his hand, lubing it up, as he began to wank my incredible cock, worshipping it, growling in my ear. “You’re meat. Meat, boy. What are you?” “M… meat!” “And what is meat for?” “Meat is… for use!” Faster. My eyes rolled back in bliss. “Who does meat belong to?” “Sir!” “What does meat have to do?” “Grrr...grooow!” “You’re for use…” “Meat f-for use…” “And you are going to keep growing for me?” “Y-yes Sir!” “How big is meat going to grow?” “N...never stop…” Faster. Faster. Words deep into my mind. “Never ever. Grow your cock until it is useless for topping. Huge meat trophy cock. Bottom meat for use. Too huge to move. Is that what you want?” “Y… yes!” “Do you want your programming, meat? Do you want me to stop?” “N… no!” “Tell me what you want, meat.” “I… w… want… t-to grow… w-want… to be used… meat for use… meat for use… meat for…. Ahhhhaaa!” My words mixed with pleasure as I had my third orgasm of the day at his hand; heavy over-productive balls contracting to spray thick wads of my roided bull cum all over my stomach and pecs as he aimed my cock precisely to coat myself. I grunted and huffed in exquisite pleasure, the happiness not fading as he brought his sticky cum-streaked fingers up to my mouth to clean, which I did, gladly. Drinking my own essence; I needed every drop to grow. I didn’t have too long to bask in the afterglow; he used my own fluid to slick up a mighty pair of nipple pumps, and soon had them twisted onto my sensitive bull nipples, plumping them out with engorged force. I gasped every time at the mixture of pleasure and pain. But it felt so good when they came off and he would spend an hour just suckling on them… I finally settled in as he kissed me one more time, my cock finally starting to go limp. “Good meat. Proud of you today. Rest. Grow.” From behind the bench, he slipped on a pair of headphones, followed by a blindfold. A gentle peace washed over me every time as he gave my arm one last reassuring squeeze. In darkness I was left to doze, muscles absorbing my fuel… and over the headphones came his comforting voice. “Grow meat. You have to grow. You love Sir. Such a good boy. You love Sir. Meat for use… growing meat… meat for use… meat for use…” * * * I lost myself. Lost track of time. The days blurred together; he was injecting me more often now, all over my body. More food. More roids. More training. I wore a hood all the time now. Black leather, like an executioner’s hood The person who had come into that place had gone; all I was now was meat. A huge roid monster with a blown out gut… the numbers on my daily measuring climbed higher and higher… at some point blowing me past 400lb. 33” arms, lined with veins and stretch marks. I think he had started putting viagra in my food as well as roids; I was perpetually horny, saturated with testosterone and my own musk. The whole basement stank of it… stank of sweat, stank of sex, of me. I hadn’t been allowed to shower, you see. He liked my smell. Made me feel even more like the animal I was. I wonder what they made of it. The men who he brought in to have their turn with meat… I never got to see their faces or ask them questions it started sometime after I hit 400lb. I was blindfolded on my recovery bench… but instead of headphones, a gag was put on me instead. I couldn’t talk. Couldn’t tell Sir how much I wanted to keep growing for him. But I would hear the door to the basement open… footsteps, more than just his… Some of them couldn’t help but make remarks. “Fuck. Look at this roided pig…” “Jesus. It’s hanging past his knees. How…” “Oh god. I thought you were sending me morphs… he’s real!” “Fuck yes…” That was when meat was used. Every which way. Some of them wanted to just worship my body… tongues and lips over every inch, especially my nips which had grown fat and begging to be sucked. Others would have a go at wrapping their hands around my two-foot long throbbing pole. Taking two arms to jerk me off so they could get a taste of my bull milk. Trying to suck the head but too big for ordinary mouths now. Or being untied from the table and being fucked, used as a cumdump for others. Rimmed over and over again. The one thing I could never do again was top; I was too big for it now. My cock was now a trophy cock. Trophy meat. I kept growing. One worshipper at a time became two. Three. Eventually I’m sure my Sir must have had me milked up to eight times a day by over thirty different guys. I was never addressed as anything other than meat; never permitted to talk. Just used, as I’d been programmed. Sir never stopped programming me, loving me. I loved Sir. Loved being meat. But more was yet to come. * * * “What does the scale say, meat?” “I… I can’t…” panting, grunting, my breath coming up short. “Can’t what?” “Can’t… see… chest… in the way...” “I know, meat. Just teasing. You want me to tell you, don’t you? I’m so proud.” “H-how much today Master… did… did we make it?” I felt his hand on my rear. Could hardly bend any more to see him next to me, just frozen like a muscle statue on the customized scales, the full length mirror on the other side of the room transfixing me with my inhuman, overblown shape. A pat of reassurance. Of love. “Yes meat. Five hundred and one. I’m so proud of you.” I shook a little with excitement. My cock, which was semi-hard, got harder at his words. I could feel the monster stirring. He stroked my thigh, and my already bow-legged stance got a little wider as I allowed my owner access. Grunting pleasure. I was fully programmed meat for use. Meat for use. And yet, his hand pulled away. “Mmm… no meat. No milking today. Today you have reached a milestone… just in time, as I planned. Today is going to be different.” “... Sir?” “Go to your bench press, meat. While you were training… I have laid some things out for you.” Through a fog of lust… I could make out his words, slowly understanding what it was he wanted me to do. Anything not part of the routine… of endless lifting and sex and growth… took my brain time to process. I turned, like a battleship maneuvering in the water, and began waddling to the other side of my captive environment, cock leading the way followed close behind by my jutting pectoral shelf, arms stuck out at my side at a sharp angle by the swell of my lats. Stopping short of the bench press - still racked up with a 750lb barbell - I bent at my roid-gutted waist, grunting, to look down at what was laid there. A big shiny piece of purple fabric. A pile of leather straps. A large chain and lock. And… what looked like another hood. But this wasn’t like my executioner hood. No… it seemed to be something custom. Something beastial. With horns. A bull hood. My mind raced, dribbling a little as I grunted again, taking it in. Finally I heard my owner’s voice behind me. “These are your clothes, meat. We’re dressing you up today. Remember clothes?” I grunted. “I… why do I need…” The door opened. Three men came in… younger, twink-ish guys… they were shirtless with leather harnesses on, carrying buckets, sponges, towels. They approached… looking so small… making me get hard. It was the first time I had looked another person in the eye apart from my Sir since I had given myself over to him. They blushed and looked away, standing to the side, as if waiting for their own orders. “You’re going out, meat,” Craig said with a grin. “Time to celebrate your milestone. Be good meat and let them wash you; no cumming. You are going to save that for later. Is that understood?” “Y-yes Sir!” “Good boy. I love you so much my property.” He pulled me down for a passionate kiss, making me throb, before finally he let me go to the tender care of the assembled boys. For even though they were in their twenties, they were but boys compared to me, a hypermasculine bull. I knew that was why he had gotten me the hood; I was milked like a cow daily. Only fitting I would look like one when he took me… wherever he was taking me… They got to work in silence, furtive glances exchanged as I lay back and let them wash over every inch of my swollen form, sponges working their way over the mountains of my flesh, in between the cracks where muscle trapped muscle and skin, over the veins. As much as I had enjoyed my time as an unwashed sweaty animal, it was such a good feeling, all their tender hands over me. I could feel myself getting hard, and they were obviously all tenting hard in their jeans as they washed me, but I tried to focus and didn’t lose control. Eventually they were done; the last thing they did was “dress” me, if you can call the scant garments put on me covering for clothes. The harness went on first; it took all three of them to put it around me, going over my torso in an X shape. It must have been custom-made, the biggest of its kind ever produced. Studs of metal along the thick black bands, the whole piece enhancing my freakishly inhuman shape, putting my immense muscle-tits even more prominently on display. Then they put on my pouch; it was an engineering marvel, really, how it wrapped around my colossal, practically floor-dragging cock, football-sized balls, the whole package thrust forward by my quads which were each thicker than the boys were wide themselves. The blimped bulge hung there in purple in front of me obscenely, the fat head outlined for all to see. To top it off, it was cut like a jockstrap at the back, leaving my outrageous shelf-like rear exposed for all to see. These two items completed, they withdrew, parting with longing touches as I stood admiring myself. I was in the motions of my arousal testing the fabric and my hands wandering across my nipples when I felt the presence of Sir, his hand wandering over my back. Hadn’t even noticed him coming in, I was too distracted, which elicited a heartfelt blush from me. “It’s okay meat, you were enjoying yourself. But you are not yet ready; kneel.” He spoke in the tone that made me obey instantly. Meat for use. I grunted with the motion of getting down on both knees in front of him, my mass competing with itself in both lower and upper halves as parts of me that didn’t want to fold any more were forced together by my limbs. Breathless, I felt his hand on the back of my column-like neck, traps reaching for my ears… followed by a heavy chain draped over the nape, the cool metal like ice on my super-heated, bronzed skin. I shook as he brought the chain around my neck, and brought it together fastened with a sturdy, huge padlock. The kind you’d put on an outbuilding or safe… not a person. But on me, with the thick metal links in place, holding it above my impossibly swollen pecs, it looked perfect. Beastial, masculine. “So that everyone knows, you are owned when you are out there… and this…” I felt something heavy going over my head. The bull hood. The dark leather slid over my brow and eyes, putting me in pitch black for a second, before the holes lined up and I could see my Sir again. “...is so everyone knows what you are. An animal. Meat. Come, stand…” Heart beating fast at all the new stimuli, I put my knuckles to the concrete floor, and had to give myself a giant push to get my mass with momentum enough to stand, my body a symphony of rippling muscle as I slowly rose up and up. The mirror was still there in front of me, and I couldn’t help but stare at what I’d become for Sir. What he had made me into. Now decked out in all these garments… I looked like something out of a fantasy… the kind of morph I used to masturbate to, back when I had a life… back when I had been small… another life… He took my hand in his. “Come, meat. Before you get too worked up… it’s time the world saw you for what you really are,” he said with a wicked grin. * * * A horse trailer. They actually loaded me into a horse trailer. For livestock. An animal… I couldn’t help but let myself muse upon it deep in my meatspace as I sat on the floor with my gargantuan thick, wide back pressed against the wall. Sir gave me a portable mp3 player and headphones while we travelled. I could see it was dark, night-time outside. In my head his words were repeating; similar to my basement programming, but subtly altered. “You are meat. You are such a good boy. You love being meat. Love being on display. You love making your Sir proud. You like showing off. You are for use. You are for touching. Meat for use…” Breathing heavily and feeling my cock twitch inside the pouch, I couldn’t help but play with my oversized nipples, drooling a little as we travelled. It didn’t seem to take long… the vehicle slowed to a crawl… the night sky seemed to begin to be filled with flashes of color, and despite the words playing in my head I could detect the heavy thump of loud bass music coming from the street. My curiosity grew, and suddenly my dark prison burst open as the door was lowered, practically blinding me. Standing there, a silhouette against the gaudy profusion of neon lights, was Craig, my beautiful, perfect owner. He had his hand extended. His recorded words were still looping, but I saw his mouth open and lip-read his simple command “Come.” Getting to my bare feet with the same heavy effort as before, I staggered towards him like a toddler learning to walk for the first time, my constant gait at over five hundred pounds blown up on my frame - still 6ft 3 even then. The headphones dropped from my ears, falling to the floor as I left the Mp3 player behind, and the music grew louder. A wonderful dance beat… there was glitter around Master, lots of people behind him… some kind of celebration? A street party? As I walked out from the float into the street, everything overwhelmed me at once. So many bodies walking and dancing… fat and thin, fit and toned, muscular, bears, twinks, young and old… so many in costume in front of me, and lining either side behind barriers a huge crowd of people, from behind my hood I saw the incredulous looks start to ripple through them, fingers starting to point in my direction, while the lights swirled and the music was a fierce beat that drowned out the pounding of my heart. “Welcome to Mardi-Gras meat,” he slipped behind me, sensing my hesitation, my awe. A firm hand patted my beach-ball sized ass-glute. “Gay pride day. And you’re my parade float,” he whispered. “Sir…” There was a clink. I didn’t realise it, but he had in a second attached a long, silver leash to my chain collar. I was still standing around in a stupefied gaze when I felt the first insistent tug in front of me. “March, meat. Walk for these people and show them what a real freak looks like.” My chest tight, my legs were forced into motion… with every step my cheeks behind the hood reddening as my freakishly enhanced junk bounced over my quads and knees, obscenely leading the way. My arms forced to the side… barely able to see my feet in front of me due to the breadth of my chest, I really did feel like an overblown parade float. We weren’t marching alone; we were flanked by many more harnessed leatherboys of the kind who had washed me. Friends of Sir? How many of them had blown me, milked me in the dark I wonder? None of them seemed phased by my appearance as I waddled along… but the public… oh the public… I was such meat for display… I wasn’t able to avoid them. Master tugged me up to the barrier. He had me stop still in front of them… and flex. Their eyes bulged out of their sockets. They gasped. Some recoiled. But mostly they looked on me with awe and lust. I heard their words burying deep into my skull. “Wow man… what a freak! He’s a real prize bull!” “Oh my god is that thing between his legs real? How does he even…” “Woof! Oh I gotta get a photo of this… and Mark thought he was big, your arm is bigger than his whole body!” They lavished praise. Some jumped the barrier just so they could get close to me. Photograph me. Master ordered me to flex again and again and again… popping pecs.. Arms ballooning while they were groped and fondled… the boldest gays were hefting my junk, pulling away the fabric slightly just to see how real it was. I was such fucking meat! And not asked to talk… just objectified… used… My slow waddle went on and on… the night grew late and I grew dizzy and overwhelmed with sensation. My feet ached from having supported my bulk for so long, body glistening sweat and shining from exertion. We reached the march terminus; hundreds - thousands - of gays clustered themselves at the finish, celebrating with their floats, kissing each other in abandon, riling themselves up for the after-parties to come. I paused, groaning with pent-up lust, as the leather-brothers I had walked with drew tight around me as we were cooped up together. I felt familiar hands wandering all over me. Tweaking my fat nipples… cupping my cock and making it swell even more… looking around for Sir, I gasped and realized the leash had slipped off and he had gone, at the same moment feeling hands yanking down my pouch, leaving me fully exposed. “Meat for use… meat for use… meat for use…” they chanted, ringing me in, hiding what was happening from view of the crowd even as I felt a hot wet tongue enter my rear, a forced mooing moan of pleasure escaping my lips, my cock having no choice to swell to fully erection as three… four pairs of hands began to jerk me off! Sir had planned this whole thing! I closed my eyes, shaking, groaning, flexing, feeling like a god amongst ants, the music around us surging as I was forcefully milked and used in public. I could feel my heavy balls desperate to release and draw tight, an orgasm seemingly inevitable, when suddenly they stopped, leaving me on edge and fit to burst. To the side, I heard his voice, clear as day. He had come back. “Have you had fun, being my meat? Did you have a good time?” “Y… yes!” “Good meat. But now…. You have a choice.” “S….sir?” I throbbed uselessly, the boys holding fire, just teasing me enough to stop my dick from going down, or move an inch. I couldn’t even turn to see his face due to the hood. “Once this parade is over… you can leave. You don’t have to be my meat any more. You have made me so proud; but after today, there is no turning back. If you come back with me to the basement… I’m never going to stop growing you. You will never breathe free air again. You will get so big you won’t even be able to move. You will be that big. Is that what you want?” My heart lurched. I knew what I wanted. I wanted to cum… I wanted to be his… but… there was a shard of me left. The old me… before I walked into that bar… before I’d given myself to him. It fought to ask one simple question, through the fog, through the programming. “H… how…” I felt his hand in mine, squeezing it. I knew his palm so well. “You know enough to know none of this is possible… good meat. I am an incubus; I feed on your desire, your sexual energy. I have looked a long time to find the partner that is right for me. The energy you give sustains me; some of it I feed back to you… growing you as you desire… it is the perfect harmony. Balance between us. But now I can release you… if that is what you want.” “No…” He squeezed harder. “You are sure? You need to think about this… are you ready to give yourself, completely? “I’m ready…” I murmured… “I’ve always… been ready… I…. am… meat… I love you…. Sir…” His hand slipped away from mine. “Then I’ll do it. I’ll take you away… the pleasures you felt before… are nothing of what to come… my growing monster… my partner… my lover… my meat… forever… and when you cum… the energy of your release will be the start of a new age for us both…” Their hands started again. The pleasure grew and grew… and grew… and grew… I felt myself expanding in size, the harness snapping off… and it was true, it was really true… he was feeding the sexual energy of the crowd into me… making me blimp, balloon… giving me what I wanted…had always wanted… locking my muscles even further in mobility… And all I had to do was give him me. But there was no me any more. I came, my world exploded into pleasure and release. My mind let go. Only meat remained. Forever. END
  4. 36 points
    Hard to find but not impossible. My partner is bigger than me and arguably has even more drive than I do to get absolutely huge.
  5. 35 points
    CHAPTER FOURTEEN: SUPERHERO MOVIE All day long at work I kept thinking about my dad. This morning we had measured him at almost 6 ft 11 inches tall! My own father was almost seven full feet of bulging bodybuilder beef. Unlike most super tall people who look stretched out and skinny, my father was amazingly well proportioned. If you saw him from a distance you would've thought he looked like a normal, heavily muscled 6 ft tall man. But when you got up close and realized that your eyes were below the tops of his shoulders, it becomes apparent just how enormous this man was. And what was most amazing of all, he was likely still growing! I remembered back to a few months ago once when found out Dad's height was increasing. Doc discovered that my Dad's bones never fused because he never quite finished puberty due to a freak spinal injury in high school. The typical bodybuilding hormones treatments given by Dr. J had seemingly restarted his puberty. Back then the Doc predicted a couple of inches of growth. My father had already blown that estimate away and had grown nearly 10 full inches in height! I couldn't imagine what it must be like to be a full foot taller than the average person. And not only was he tall, he was thick and wide with muscle too! Finally the work day ended and I headed home. I was the first one home so I began to heat up our pre-workout rice and chicken meals. A few minutes later I heard the front door open and Dad stomp inside. As I was setting the timer on the microwave I heard my father from behind. “Hey Son! Have a good day at work?” “It was alright, Pops. Glad it's Friday though. How was your day?” I said as I turned around and saw Dad. Well, most of him anyway. He was standing behind the kitchen doorway with his hands on his hips. I could see his legs and most of his torso. But the doorway was too small to reveal the entirety of his hulking form and he knew it. By now his shoulders were much wider than a standard doorframe and he was getting big enough that even his chest now nearly reached from one side of the door to the other. As I looked up I could see his chiseled jaw and that permanent manly stubble that covered his cheeks and surrounded his mouth. I could see his nose and then...no more. Just the wood trim at the top of the door. With the extra little bit of height afforded by wearing his shoes, my fathers eyes and the rest of his head were hidden behind the wall above the door!. Dad's handsome mouth was crooked sideways in a wry smirk as he played with his new height and size. “Oh, Son it was pretty good. Some of the people at work are starting to get freaked out by my new size. I love it.” Dad continued to talk to me from behind the wall, all I could see was his mouth. I huffed, “Will you come in here and stop being weird?” My father's mouth opened as he cackled with delight. He then stood back, tilted his head down, hunched over, turned sideways and stepped into the kitchen into full view. The simple process of walking through a doorway for us normal people had become a complicated symphony of flexing muscle maneuverability for my gigantic father as he continued to outgrow the normal, small word. He stood up to his full height and smiled handsomely down at me. Wow, the effect was no less impressive than when I first saw his new stature this morning. My eyesight was right at his massive chest that filled the taught green polo he had found this morning. I noticed that the unbuttoned v-slit of his polo shirt looked like it had indeed torn open another half inch or so, obviously unable to handle a full day of the wear and tear that came with trying to contain his overabundant chest meat. The arms of his shirt too looked like they were on their last legs as well. I spied some frayed threads on the ring at the bottom of his sleeve, a sleeve that looked to be cutting into this arms. His forearms were looking more vascular than ever. I wasn't completely sure if it was because the sleeves were so tight that they were constricting his blood flow or it were due to our dietary reduction in fat and carbs and the extra cardio. Dad joked as he stepped in front of me. “I can't believe how small these doorways are. I might have to do some remodeling soon, haha. I'm getting worried that I might forget how big I am and knock out half the wall when entering a room! I've already had some issues at work running into things and other people. Some of my work buddies, the ones who aren't terrified of me, has started calling me 'destructo', HAHA!” I laughed with him. “Yeah, that certainly sounds like a unique problem, big guy. You're just going to have to be careful I guess.” “Man, Son. I can't tell you how much happy I was today. Sure there are the little inconveniences with being so big. But even those give me a little thrill. Plus if I was too big to do something, I could easily make some small guy do it for me and they would because they were be too intimidated to say 'no', haha!” I frowned slightly, “You're not bullying your coworkers are you, Dad?” He protested immediately, “NO! Absolutely not. I would never do that, even though I could and it would be easy... It just seems that the more I grow the more people are eager to appease me. For instance today I dropped my phone on the floor and it bounced way under my cubicle that even my long arms couldn't reach. There's this squirrelly little younger guy who sits across the aisle from me, he's only about 5 ft 8 in or so. I nicely asked him him if we would crawl under my desk to get my phone. He practically jumped out of his chair and came over, got down on his hands and knees and crawled under my desk and got my phone. He came back out stood up and handed me my phone with a bright happy smile. He said, 'Here ya' go Mr. Graves! Let me know if you need anything else, Sir!' HAHA! He seemed so happy to help me, it felt amazing!” It seemed my father's increasing size was affording him with a subliminal dominance of those around him. “So I thanked the little guy by patting him on the shoulder. He practically beamed with satisfaction up to me. Gosh, Son. It made me feel so powerful. This guy is one of the smaller guys in our office and the top of his head didn't even reach my shoulders! I realized I was over FOURTEEN inches taller than this little man! And probably almost three times as heavy! Ya know, I'm used to hanging out with you and Ted and you two are actually pretty big guys. When I go out in public and to work and am out with the normal people it even shocks me how truly fucking HUGE I am getting! When you factor in women, the average human could actually stand UNDER my pecs!” He emphasized this point by bouncing his pecs under the polo, further testing the V-notch of the shirt. As Dad continued to explain his day an unmistakable tube began to creep down the left side of his jeans. My father was again getting off on his own size and power. I was wondering how much longer he could control his urges. Dad too noticed he was again getting excited, chuckled lightly and exited the kitchen to put on his gym clothes. When he returned it seemed he had calmed himself down enough that he was no longer completely obscene. After we ate I put on my gym clothes and we headed to the gym to blast our arms. Ted was aghast when he saw my father once again have to duck down further than he remember to enter the gym. “Are you serious, Chad?!? Another growth spurt!? Holy crap you are becoming a true giant. You look like you are seven feet tall, I can just barely reach the the top of you head with my hands!” Ted gestured upward to try to ruffle my Dad's short hair. My father just chuckled an leaned slightly back so that Ted really couldn't reach. “Not quite seven feet, shrimpy!” Dad successfully returned the favor and mussed up Ted's hair with his dinner plate sized hand. “Maybe soon, though,” Dad winked at Ted as we walked past to drop our bags in our lockers. Dad's recent growth spurt had seemingly given him another boost of energy. He was heaving up weights that I had never seen him do on pretty much all movements. He started off by curling the 100 lb dumbbells! Weights that I could just barely bench press! By his final set he was curling the 140 lb weights! His arms were looking bloated, veiny and huge! The fat was continuing to melt off and his veins were starting to look like worms crawling around under his thinning skin. We moved on to some tricep exercises which further engorged his arms. He was getting to a point that you could start to see the feathers and striations of his muscles under his skin, looking like a true contest ready bodybuilder. I was getting worried that my status as the most ripped Graves family member might be in jeopardy. We measured his pumped arms at almost 26 inches a few days ago. With his proportionally increased size due to his latest growth spurt he had no doubt passed that number. His arms truly were larger than my legs and could soon eclipse my waist measurement! It was starting to become comical to see Ted spotting my Dad. Not because he couldn't do it, but because the size difference was becoming so extreme. For instance, Ted would stand behind my Dad to spot him on standing alternating dumbbell curls. My Dad was now so large that if you were facing hs front, you would have no clue that there was a 2nd place bodybuilder standing behind him. Also, Ted was having to adapt his spotting procedure. My father was now so much wider that Ted could not just stand there behind him to put his hands on my father forearms to spot him on the curls. Ted actually had to take a step left, then right, then left in sequence with my father to be able to spot my Dad as he alternated curls between his own left and right arms. It was crazy to think that this studly, far larger than normal man could look so small next to the behemoth that was my old man... Then, I realized that I was about the same size as Ted! That's how small *I* look standing next to my father! It almost felt like I was aging in reverse, becoming smaller and smaller to my Dad as time went by. Dad finished his set and Ted had him bring his arms up in to a herculean double-biceps pose. His arms were so engorged that he was visibly aching holding the movement. As he held the pose Ted reached up wide and clapped both his arms on my Dad's peaked biceps! “GOOD. HOLD THAT POSE! SQUEEZE THOSE PEAKS. DON'T RELAX YET BIG GUY! C'MON! REMEBER, SUCK IN THAT WAIST, FLARE THOSE LATS, CHEST UP!” After a few more seconds he mercifully let my Dad relax. Big Chad exhaled loudly, bent over and shook out his arms. Holy crap. I remember a few weeks ago and when Did this thigh shake and leg pose in our kitchen. Now, that's what his ARMS looked like! As he shook his arms the huge loose mass of triceps and biceps swayed back and forth. After swaying them for a few second more, since he was already leaning over, he brought his fists forward and quickly performed a short lived most muscular pose with a low growl. The swaying muscles instantly tightened and threatened to bust out of his taught skin. The following morning we headed to meet up with doc for our treatments. As Dad ducked into his office Doc was just as surprised as the rest of us. “My, my, my, Mr. Graves, you certainly are one amazing specimen. You're growth has far surpassed even my wildest estimates. You truly are one of a kind.” “Thanks, Doc. I owe a lot of this to you so I can't say thank you enough. I LOVE being a big man!” Doc gave us our treatments and we started to weigh in to get our stats, first Ted then me. Ted weighed in at 230 lbs and I was right behind at 226 lbs and 6.5% bodyfat! By far the biggest and most ripped I had ever been. “Excellent work, young man! You keep this up and you may just take the teen juniors overall.” Doc praised my physique and I couldn't help but stand up a bit straighter with pride. Before Dad stepped on the scale he stated. “Wait Doc. Don't tell Ted or Jed my weight. I want it to be a surprise when I weigh in for the competition.” “Will do Mr. Graves. It's not like you need to watch your weight anyway since you are far above the limit for the super-heavyweight division. Heck, you are almost TWICE that limit,” Doc chuckled. I, on the other hand, would need to pay closer attention to my weight. Apparently the cutoff between the heavyweight and super-heavyweight division was 226 lbs. Ted and the doc both agreed that I would be best suited for the light-heavyweights which means I would have to come in under 226 lbs. Ted told me he would help adjust my diet and cardio to maintain that goal. Dad stepped on the scale and both Ted and I saw the doc raise his eyebrow in surprise as he recorded Pops' weight, which only fueled our curiosity. “Oh, c'mon Dad, just tell us what you weigh.” My father looked over his shoulder at me and smirked, “Nope. You and Ted will just have to wait for the BIG reveal a the contest.” I rolled my eyes and groaned. A few seconds later the scale had calculated his bodyfat. Dad didn't hide that from us. “Dang, Son! I'm almost as skinny as you! I'm down to 7.5% bodyfat, no wonder I've been looking so shredded!” Dad reached down and pinched his skin. He pulled a a thin fold from his waist to demonstrate his new leanness. It certainly was impressive, especially on his massive frame. The combination of the new diet, the additional cardio and his self imposed sexual repressions had led him to shed at over two percentage points of bodyfat in the last week or so. Dad then reached over to me and pinched an even thinner fold of my own skin. “Damn, Son. You are ripped, stud!” After we left the doc's office Ted had us follow him downtown. He parked on one the side streets in front of a row of small shops in old brick buildings. We parked behind and climbed out of my Dad's pickup. Since it was Saturday there were plenty of people out shopping and and running errands so many people got a glimpse of the new giant man that inhabited our small city. I saw several shocked and awed faces from men and women alike as they gazed upon this towering, handsome pillar of raw male power. We followed Ted into a fabric shop named “The Stitch Witch.” We entered the store and small bell jingled above our heads. Well, above Ted and I's heads, anyway. A moment later a small grandmotherly woman with gray curly hair sauntered out from the back room. Ted spread his arms wide as he saw her and excitedly proclaimed, “Rose! It's so good to see you!” He reached down and gave he a quick hug and peck on her cheek. The older woman smiled brightly back. “Teddy, young man! I haven't seen you in ages. It's been what, almost a year since you last were here. You haven't been cheating on me with another seamstress have you?” Ted laughed, “No, Rose. You know I wouldn't dare cheat on you. You would never let me live it down if I did.” “You're damn, right I wouldn't, Sonny. Well I'm sure you didn't come here to stare at my chest so what can I do for you?” Dad and I laughed at the old woman's sudden crudeness. “Rose, I've a couple new clients for you. I've been training these two guys for a competition in two weeks and they need some posing suits.” Ted introduced us to Rose. When Ted was growing up Rose was his next door neighbor. Rose shook my hand then my Dad's. Rose was a small woman, only about 5 ft 2 in, and the top of her head was at my Dad's abs. “My goodness you are a big fella!” Rose exclaimed as she greeted my father. “Pleasure to meet you ma'am,” my father greeted. “Yes, he is Rose. I have a feeling he's going to present a new challenge for you,” Ted said. Rose led us to the back room and whipped out a measuring tape. She had us strip to our underwear and began measuring our waist, hips and our legs. My waist was down to 28.5 inches and my leg were up to 26 inches! Damn, my own legs were nearly as big as my waist! Dad's waist had crept down to 34 inches and his redwood trunks legs were up to 38 inches! Holy shit, my Dad's thighs were huge, bigger than his waist! With his enormous thighs and chest, his 34 inches waist looked amazingly tiny proportionally. “Ok young men,” Rose began. “Now comes the awkward part. I need to you slip down your jockeys so I can see what I'm working with. I promise its nothing I haven't seen before so don't get all weird on me.” Ted chuckled, “Oh I don't know about that, Rose.” I went first and slipped down my underwear so Rose could see my junk. She didn't make any sort of reaction and professionally jotted down some notes on a sketchpad that also had my measurements. “Thank you Jed. Ok Mr. Graves, your turn.” My Dad turned to the old woman and also slipped down his shorts. This time she couldn't contain her surprise. “Oh my goodness gracious! You certainly are a big man everywhere aren't you!” She laughed as she began scribbling down some notes on my Dad's designated sketchpad. “My, my, my. I haven't seen one that big since the early 1980's...” We all laughed at this. “I met a man from Toledo during one summer and he was just...oh my, I'm sorry boys, I'm sure you don't want to hear about it...” Ted jumped in and joked, “Now, Rose, we don't need to hear about your many escapes from decades past...” Rose quickly cut him off and shot him back down, “Teddy, I don't need to hear you implying that I was some sort of whore. I had my fun, yes. But I don't need your sass, especially after the MANY young girls you snuck into you house through our backyard when you were in high school. I don't know how your parents never did catch you with one of them floozies...” Dad and I burst out laughing. We liked Rose. “It's true, Teddy was basically his high school's bicycle, every girl took a ride.” After we settled down Rose continued to take some notes. “I see what you mean by a new challenge, Teddy. It's going to take some creative fitting to keep Mr. Graves here presentable. Hmm. Mr. Graves, this is going to be extra awkward but would you mind measuring your length and reading me the number. Dad took the tape and ran it along his soft hanging appendage. The result was 8-3/4 inches! My father's SOFT cock was bigger than most porn stars! “Rose shook her head as she recorded the number. My goodness, if I were 30 years younger I would have loved to meet you...” “HAHA, ROSE!” Ted shouted, breaking her from her trance. “Sorry, young man.” Ok well I've got what I need. I should be able to put together a couple of suits by tomorrow afternoon. Stop back in and we we'll try them on. Oh, what color were you gentlemen thinking?” Dad and I looked at each other. I shrugged. “How about black, for the both of us.” Rose shook her head and took note. “Ah, the classic look. Very good, you two will look stunning in black. We'll see you tomorrow, young men.” As we walked back to car we chuckled at our encounter. “Well, guys that's Rose. I love that 'ole bitty. She looks like a typical grandma but she has the dirty mind of sailor. One of the many reasons I love her. Plus, she is the best seamstress I know. I have no doubt she'll even be able to come up with a suit that will hold your, ahem, assets, Chad.” “For Dad, she'll probably have to start with a bedsheet, “ I joked. Dad just smirked and shrugged his massive shoulders. “I can't help it that I'm blessed,” he said. - Dad and I enjoyed a nice relaxing night in that Saturday. We watched the new superhero team movie that came out. I couldn't help but notice that Dad was FAR more handsome and muscular than the any of the male superheroes on screen. Whenever one of the female superheroes came on screen Dad again couldn't resist the urge to fondle himself. Once again I was treated to the site of him subconsciously rubbing and caressing what looked like half of a baseball bat through his baggy 4XL basketball shorts. At one point I called him on it. “Dad, you are seriously going to have to take care of that! I don't need to see you groping yourself all the time.” He laughed and looked over at me from the movie, “Sorry, Squirt. I think you're right, too. This big thing here is becoming a bit of a nuisance, it's getting hard to think straight. Even today in the sewing shop it took all I had to keep this thing down even with that funny old lady right in front of me. I've even been having some wet dreams the last couple of nights.” “Gross! Yeah, blue balls can be the worst. Or in your case, blue softballs...” “HAHA! Yeah, that's true. EVERYTHING on me is big, isn't it. I'm curious to see how I'm going to fit all this into a poser. We'll see what Rose comes up with.” We continued to watch the movie and my father continued to fondle himself. About halfway though the movie there was one of those gratuitous scenes where two of the hot female superheroes had swam to a remote island where the main villain was hanging out. As they stripped off to their swimming suits on screen I heard a deep, low groan and looked over to the other end of the couch see Dad sweating and double palming himself. As he watched the supple women on screen his breathing increased and his skin was fully flushed. Never taking notice of me he was now visibly reaching into his shorts to jack his monster cock. As I watched the shocking display I saw his entire body go into a drawn out shudder. I could see him trembling all over with sexual energy and frustration. He let his head fall backward, closed his eyes and groaned again, not caring that I was only feet away. Again his entire body trembled like he just come inside from a blizzard. As he trembled, I couldn't be sure, but it looked like he was...expanding?!? I wasn't positive, but it looked like with each tremble that he got almost imperceptibly wider and thicker. Perhaps it was just my eyes playing tricks on me, but his already pumped bod was looking even bigger, like he had just finished a grueling full body workout! He groaned again and decided he was past the point of no return. He yanked down his shorts and freed the massive cut schlong that looked more suited for a donkey than a human. He finally acknowledged my presence, “I'm sorry Son, I can't take it any longer...” He grabbed the remote control and paused the movie with the two swim suited, busty ladies frozen on the screen. Dad leaned back on the couch and I watched as he slowly massaged the enormous tube of flesh connected to this groin. He used his huge left hand to slide up and down the shaft. Even with his huge hand he couldn't fully close his fingers around it! While that occurred he used his right hand to massage the head. With his right hand he was making a twisting a motion almost like he was trying to unscrew the worlds biggest soda bottle cap. If I weren't watching a live pornographic display right in front of me I wouldv'e been impressed with his ability to do two different motions with his hands at once. My father was now sweating bullets as he beat himself off. He would run his fingers up the and down the purple veins snaking up and down the shaft. He continued to shudder, groan and tremble and I swear his muscles were pumping up and growing as he continued. Finally after a few minutes he could take now more. He stood up and started double-fisting his throbbing tube steak, which had to be well over a foot long now in its fully engorged state. As he neared completion my father realized this was going to a messy situation. He reached up and TORE off his massive 5XL baggy t-shirt, exposing his newly pumped, sweaty, hairy, herculean upper body. I could smell the manly sweat and pheromones saturating the air of our living room. As he stood he arched his back, tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling, which which was now only a couple of feet away due his towering human height. All his pumped muscles clenched and I swear his bodyfat suddenly dropped by a couple of percentage points. Dad bellowed “RRRAAAAAAAAGGHHHHHHH!!” I saw his basketball sized ass muscles clench and he thrust forward unleashing the first firehose volley of superhuman cum. It launched forward and splattered right onto the middle of the TV screen, covering the frozen face of the sexy blond woman on the screen. As he finished the first volley it left a trail from TV across the carpet and back to where he stood. He yelled again and the second stream, just as heavy as the first, erupted forth. Dad was howling so loud I was worried someone would call the cops on us. After the second volley Dad grabbed the ripped shirt and used it catch as much of the third, fourth, fifth sixth,... HOLY SHIT! I know he had been holding back but how much semen can one man produce! Dad continued to clench and thrust repeatedly, contorting his face in abject pleasure. Finally, after a what seemed like many minutes, my father's orgasm to end all orgasms was complete. I stared at him wide-eyed at what I had just witnessed. As Dad's breathing slowed down he started to smile and deeply chuckle. I swear I could FEEL his chuckles in my own chest due to the extremely low frequency. He looked at me and smirked as I saw his pecs heaving slowly up and down as his breathing came back to normal. “Damn, boy. That's sure was something...” He looked down at the completely ruined, sopping balled up shirt in his right hand. It looked like a towel that had been dropped in a swimming pool, only it was white with semen instead of dark from water. “I'm gonna go drop this in the shower and grab a towel to clean this up. Sorry you had to see that, Sport. I guess I had reached my limit, haha.” Dad brushed past me, slicking my left arm with his sweat. I watched as his semi-hard bull cock bobbed in front of him, still looking to be at least 10 inches long. It was still dripping as well. In fact as he brushed past me, I felt some wetness on my bare feet. He had unknowingly dripped some of his essence on my left foot. Dad came back with one towel around his waist and one in hand. I then took a good look at him, he was clearly just slightly bigger and more muscular than before his little escapade. It looked like he had packed on maybe another 7 to 10 pounds of muscle. Or maybe he somehow suddenly burned off some bodyfat. Whatever it was, he looked just a little more muscular than he was before the movie started. I couldn't tell if he was taller, but I suspected it was very likely. My father began wiping up the TV screen and the carpet in front of him. I went to the kitchen and brought over some wetted paper towels. I still hadn't said anything and seemed to be in shock. Dad noticed my silence. “Hey buddy, I'm sorry you had to see that. It must've felt pretty awkward to see you're old man beat off like that. I'm really am sorry. Apparently my body had decided it had had enough and needed release.” “No Dad, it's Ok. I could tell that you seemed to be somewhere else while it was going on. Plus, you are so damn huge and manly that I can help but watch. The whole show was pretty impressive...” Dad smiled handsomely. He always loved to impress me, even it were in the most awkward way possible. “Thanks, Son. To tell you the truth, I shot WAY more than I expected. That poor shirt in the bathtub is completely ruined. Haha, there's probably ½ gallon of my juice soaked up in that shirt!” I added, “Yeah, maybe, plus another ½ gallon out here. You better not have ruined the TV screen, Dad.” “Yeah, Son, I hope I didn't either.” Dad and I continued to clean up his mess. I went to the kitchen and grabbed a can of air freshener and sprayed it around the room in an effort to get rid of the musky sex smell. Dad put the towel in the washing machine. As he walked back toward the bathroom he stepped and looked down at his feet. Apparently he had missed small puddle of his juice on the floor. He whipped off the towel that was around his waist and soaked it up exposing himself once again to me. He caught me staring again and gave me a smug grin. He then put one fist on his side and flexed the other arm to give me a classic one-arm pose in the nude. “Damn, I feel pumped as hell!” “You are pumped as hell, Dad. I swear you look bigger than just a few minutes ago...” “HAHA! I wish, Son. We both know that's impossible, though right?” as he finished this thought he gave me a sly wink. He switched arms and flexed the other arm this time, watching the ball of muscle erupt upwards. I still swear the peak reached even further up toward his balled fist than before. Dad added, “I guess I'm going to have to reset my growth spurt clock now. I may not get any of those growth spurts in the next few days, so that sucks. Oh well.” Dad dropped his arm and looked down at his cock. “The good thing about this, though, “ he started, “Is that now I should be able to keep my huge cock and balls under control tomorrow when we try on our new posing suits. I would probably give Rose a heart attack if I got a stiffy in front of her!” With that Dad stomped off to the bathroom to clean up. While tonight certainly helped, tomorrow we would see if Dad's junk could actually be contained. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ There ya go! Again, sorry for the delay. This chapter wasn't my favorite so hopefully I make up for it in the next one.
  6. 34 points
    [Selfishly, this story has things I love - older men, romance, sex, and strength. I humbly submit it as my offering to this great event.] His big beefy calloused hand wrapped around the back of my head and pulled my face into his concrete-hard right pec. There was a loud smack as I hit his unyielding tight flesh. I couldn’t have pulled my head away even if I had wanted to – he was just that strong. His fingers tightened on my skull and he rubbed my nose, lips, cheeks, and forehead back and forth across the wide expanse of his chest muscle. It seemed as big as a continent. I had become something akin to a washcloth in his hand. My crushed nose got some temporary relief as it slid down into the deep, seemingly unending crevice between his mammoth mounds of meat, but then he started flexing and squeezed the holy hell out of my face. I was suddenly shocked by how powerful pec muscle could be. Meanwhile, his other equally large, strong hand slid slowly down my back and found its way into my ass crack, easily parting cheeks and pressing dangerously against my tight hole. His first two fingers toyed with me as both hands moved slightly upward, making me go up on the tips of my toes. “Unhhhh . . . yeaaaaah,” he said in a low deep growl-like whisper, clearly pleased by how my bubble butt clamped tight in response to his invasion. He stopped the advancement at my ass, pulling his hand away – obviously, that particular part of my body would be a special reward for a later time. I fell back down on the soles of my feet, no longer supported by his strong hands. The fingers at the back of my skull moved again, my face was pulled from its resting place between his tensed pecs and roughly dragged through the heavy salt-and-pepper fur covering his mammoth chest. I knew where I was headed before I even got there. The big muscular paw led my saliva-leaking mouth directly to his massive right nipple – jutting from his pec like a huge knob of granite flesh waiting to be adored. My lips instantly parted to accept the hard thing and I was surprised by its size. “Suck,” he ordered, in that same sexy-as-fuck low voice that seemed to rumble loudly from his enormous chest. I marveled at how a man’s voice could sound so powerful and full of testosterone. My mouth immediately became like a high-powered vacuum. I latched onto his hairy pec like I was in a contest to see who could leave the most nipple hickeys – even though I knew his skin was too hard for me to do any damage. The big man let out a deep animalistic growl that made it clear I was doing a good job. The grip on my head tightened even more and my face was compressed into his hard muscle so deeply it hurt. Evidently, my oral skills became too much for the big man, though, because he suddenly let his fingers grip my hair and he pulled my head backwards, forcing my face to turn up towards his. He brought his lips down to mine and immediately his mouth became a much more powerful vacuum than I ever could have dreamed of being. He sucked so hard I swear my feet came off the ground again. His tongue didn’t just dominate my mouth – it ignored the fact that I was even there and had its way with me – jabbing deeply into my throat. I started to become alarmed that I would soon lose teeth, tonsils, or possibly my own tongue – his kiss was more like an ancient army with a battering ram. Still, it was thrilling beyond belief. Obviously, the massive man liked it too, because he pulled his face away from mine and again emitted a pleased low growl before slamming my face back into his pec, so I could return to pleasing his nipple. This was the third time in three weeks I had summoned the huge man known only as Papa Bear to my condominium. He was an expensive hustler, but his particular specialty was way beyond what my fantasies could ever have begun to conjure up. The three hundred and fifty pound muscled bear was somewhere around fifty-five to fifty-eight and had the kind of manly beard that would make any lumberjack jealous. A silver crew cut that seemed to emphasize his masculinity even more and a body that seemed like three huge power lifters molded together just added to the overall package. When you touched his muscles it felt like they were perpetually tensed – as if he was flexing for you all the time – but then you realized he was just hard as hell . . . everywhere. When I stood beside him it felt like I was a five year old hanging out with his monstrous father. He wasn’t much into conversation, a definite plus, and – somehow – the guy instinctively always knew what I wanted . . . or needed. The first week I had told him I was in the mood for lots of sex, so he banged me hard numerous times in different spots around my home. I was in so many different positions that night I saw my place from angles I had never even imagined. We actually didn’t make it to the bed in the master bedroom. I lost count of his orgasms somewhere around two o’clock when I was being pounded so hard on the dining room table my eyes were rolling back into my head. I did, however, remember groping his hard-as-stone guns through the entire evening – somehow their obvious strength and size anchoring me in reality. I swear the already massive things swelled even bigger during the sex that night. The next morning, as I lay nude and totally spent on the carpet in the middle of the living room and Papa Bear prepared to leave, he apologized for how sore I was going to feel for a few days. He also reminded me I had asked for lots of sex. I ended up calling in sick at work for two days - just because every muscle in my body was in agony and I found it very difficult to walk. It had been exactly the kind of evening I had wanted. When I called him the second time I swear I detected a pleased tone in his voice and I was impressed when he said he remembered exactly who I was and where I lived. Before we hung up he asked what I was looking for from the evening and I told him it had been a rough week and I was looking for some romance and cuddling. When I opened the door a few hours later I was greeted with a dozen red roses, a bottle of wine, and Papa Bear dressed in an insanely tight crisp white button-down shirt – opened more than half way down to show off his mega furry pecs. I was pretty sure my entire head could’ve disappeared between the man’s mounds of muscled chest beef. When he bent his arms I swear you could hear the material in the sleeves screaming because it was stretched almost to the bursting point. One of the hottest things in the world, to me, is a guy wearing clothes and his muscles still being so defined that you can actually see veins and striations. I had a feeling if the senior muscle man had inhaled too deeply the poor shirt would have instantly been a pile of shredded rags on the floor. Once the flowers were arranged nicely in a vase and the wine had been poured, the big man picked me up in his arms as if he was just giving a shrug, motioned with his head for me to take the glasses, and then carried me to the large master bathroom. I could sense that my weight barely registered to his bulging guns. He held me with one arm as he started the water in the large Jacuzzi bathtub, and after checking to make sure the temperature of the water was just right, he set me down, kneeled, and began to lovingly undress me. He stroked my body as he undid buttons and zippers. Once I was standing there nude, he stood up – his full six foot four inches – and slowly took off his own clothes, making sure he tensed every bulging muscle as it was uncovered. He knew watching him undress would turn me on completely – and the skyrocketing rod at my crotch confirmed that assumption. To tease me, he flexed his gigantic arms when he was fully undressed, knowing the show would make my night. He, again, easily lifted me and then placed me in the tub – cupping warm water in his hands to let it cascade over my body to help me get used to the warmth. The temperature of the water, however, seemed to soar to boiling point as soon as he joined me in the tub. I was just as turned on by his soft caresses as I had been by his all-night power plowing the week before. Once he was nestled comfortably in the big bathtub, he pulled my smaller body onto his, his bulging chest becoming a pillow for my head. We sipped our wine in silence as he softly pinched my nips, fondled my balls, massaged my shoulders, arms, and legs, and kept my cock at full mast with loving thick-fingered strokes every few minutes. Even though his body felt harder than stone, it was so comfortable lying there – feeling my body go up and down as he inhaled and exhaled. I fell asleep resting on him and about an hour later I woke up to find myself in bed and him propped up on one big arm beside me – staring at and caressing me as I slept. He leaned his face down to mine and gave me a kiss on the lips. He then moved his mouth near my ear. “Would you like this big man to be inside you?” he asked in a soft sultry voice that was full of love, need, and extreme power. I simply nodded my head, too turned on to say a word. He reached over and pulled my body on top of his as he lay on his back. It was as if he were merely pulling up a light sheet. Resting on top of his mountainous torso was quickly becoming one of my most favorite things in he world. He then slid both hands down my sides and grabbed my hips. He easily lifted my body in the air, turned me upright, and then I felt his hardening cock slap against my ass with a loud thud. He lifted my body higher and then moved my ass so it hovered over his straight-as-an-arrow steel-like thick rod. He lowered me slowly – until the wide tip of his penis poked teasingly into my tight hole. I clenched my ass even more – determined to block his passage, with the intention of giving us both more pleasure. This made him smile and chuckle – me thinking I could prevent him from getting what he wanted. His grip at my hips tightened and he pulled my body downward – slowly and methodically. His cockhead easily pushed its way through my tight love hole and I threw my head back as I let out a defeated scream. Papa Bear had penetrated my inner sanctum with a mere tug of his mighty arms. The big man’s cock was clearly as strong as the rest of him - because it didn’t waiver at all during the invasion. The big man let me rest there – impaled by his big hard weapon – until the initial pain turned into something closer to tortured pleasure. He was only slightly inside me and, yet, it seemed like I was being plowed by the thick end of a baseball bat. His smile grew bigger and I quickly figured out that my tight hole was also giving him much pleasure. His cock was leaking so much pre-cum it was like an instant full tube of lube had been emptied for the plowing that was to come. I felt my chute slowly accepting Papa Bear’s big hard tool and the huge man slowly pulled my happy body lower – making me moan loudly with pure joy. I was breathing heavily and pinching the shit out of his nipples by the time my butt cheeks felt the bristles of the thick fur around his balls. And then he was completely inside me and I rested securely on his crotch. Papa Bear released his grip at my hips and my body stayed in place – like the sheath of a sword. That’s when the big body beneath me began to roll like giant gentle waves hitting the beach. The motion of his pulsing crotch gave me unfathomable feelings of ecstasy and I squeezed his nipples even harder. “You feel so fucking good,” he said in a voice that seemed to soothe and empower at the same time. It was like the low strong hum of a powerful jet. Papa Bear finally melted into a rhythm that made it seem like we were on a waterbed enjoying the constant swishing back and forth of heavy liquid below. His strong broad body supported me easily and every time his hard tool thrust deeper into my body I would tug on his nipples to make him arch his back even more – sending his cock further into me. We had become one entity – a cycle of pleasure running through both of us, constantly exciting the other man to new levels. His pulsing cock caused me to tighten and push down heavily and that just made him want to shove in harder. I was so ‘on fire’ from his slippery cock moving in and out of my ass that I didn’t even realize how close I was to ejaculation. Suddenly, my body tensed up all over and rockets of cum started shooting out of my hard as stone cock – held tightly in the grip of Papa Bear’s right hand. Huge splotches of cum shot up past the big man’s face – hitting the wooden headboard of the bed, like some orgasmic art project. I blasted off about twenty rounds and somewhere in the middle of my release the big man started spurting gobs of his manly juice into me. Watching me get off had been too much for Papa Bear – he responded with his own cannon shooting off a big load. With every super orgasmic release his crotch bucked upward, which only rammed his rod harder into me and sent me reeling even more. Finally, after what seemed like forever, the big man stopped spewing and when his breathing finally returned to normal he lifted my body off his tool. Papa Bear then, again, laid me on top of his big torso. His hand immediately returned to my ass and started caressing my cheeks – as if to tell me he was waiting for a chance to return. “Did Papa Bear help his boy forget about his ugly week for a little while,” he asked softly – true concern clearly in his words. “Yes sir,” I replied. “Good. You rest now, son. You deserve it. I’ll be right here to comfort and protect you while you sleep,” he added. “You don’t even have to worry about work. We can talk about me going in with you one day and taking care of anyone that bothers you. I’ll not wear a shirt and that’ll intimidate the hell out of anyone that’s a pain. How does that sound?” I didn’t even respond because by that time I was fast asleep – surrounded by hard warm muscle and the comfort of his soothing voice. It hadn’t been a difficult decision to call Papa Bear the first time. A friend of mine had given me a flyer for this dude that he said was the exact man I was looking for. I was impressed with the picture of the man’s arm – I was gigantic and it didn’t look morphed in any way. But it was the written invitation to have a true older alpha come take care of you that really intrigued me. God, I loved huge mature men. There’s just something unbelievable about a white haired muscled monster that gets me going big time. I’m sure it has something to do with them being experienced – years meaning they have learned a lot about life, about themselves, and about pleasing others. I was a big sucker for white, fur-covered mountainous pecs, too. A generous dusting of hair surrounding plump nipples made my mouth water. A massive muscled grandpa-looking dude could be fodder for my jerk-off sessions for the rest of my life. The friend who gave me the flyer had heard me pour my heart out numerous times. He was the bartender at one of my favorite gay hangouts in the neighborhood, so he had learned a lot about what I liked and what I didn’t. He also knew how often I fell for older men that just wanted a quickie – and usually ended up getting my heart broken. I trusted my friend to help me out, so it was easy to take the flyer. When I dialed the number on the advertisement, a deep alpha voice said, “You better like muscle and what it can do if you’re calling this number. You’re talking to Papa Bear.” “Um . . . excuse me,” I said, a little caught off guard by the answer. “The name’s Papa Bear, kid. You want me to take care of you?” came the reply and the gruff voice thrilled me again. “Uh . . . um . . . yes . . . sir.” I responded. “Oh good, I like polite boys,” Papa Bear answered. “Text me the details – name, address, what you’re looking for from my visit, and anything that might be off limits for you.” “Um . . . off limits? Like what?” I replied, clearly inexperienced in this kind of business transaction. “Like, is it not okay to break furniture or be rough enough to cause bruises or make sure you share any particular fetish you may have,” he replied – and the idea of him crushing furniture made me harder than I already was. “Got it, sport?” “Um . . . yes sir,” I replied. “Try not to beat off too many times thinking about our upcoming meeting, kid, or staring at my big arm on that flyer,” he said before hanging up. “I want you to be juiced to the max.” Thankful for silence, because my cock needed time to back off from the edge, I immediately texted him the details, including how I hoped it could be Saturday night. I was a little surprised when I got an instant reply. The message only said, “I’ll be pumped,” and there was an icon of a flexed biceps. I stared at the screen for a while – unable to control the excitement that was gushing through my body – specifically returning to a part of me below the belt. I wanted to beat off to the flyer of Papa Bear’s arm, but I could still hear his deep voice telling me not to. I knew I would have no concentration at work or home for the next four days. I also knew I’d clean my place better than it had ever been cleaned before. That had been how it all began and now we were in the middle of our second visit. I dreamed about Papa Bear the entire night after our romantic time in the tub and the slow, toe-curling sex in bed. When I woke up, I immediately sensed that the big man was not there. It was kind of like when you’re sitting in traffic and a huge dump tuck beside you finally pulls away – you instinctively can feel the absence of something so gigantic. I started to get a little sad, thinking the older muscleman had left, but then I smelled freshly brewed coffee and what I’m sure was bacon and eggs. My morning wood stiffened even harder when I imagined Papa Bear working away in my kitchen. Then, as if on cue, the mountainous bulging man walked into the bedroom, wearing only the apron I had been gifted with at the end of a weeklong cooking class in Tuscany. When I wore it, the red and blue material almost covered my entire body – coming down below my knees and the opening at the neck hanging down below my chest. On Papa Bear, however, the apron didn’t even cover his crotch and his chest was so big it made the top part of the material look like a small tight bib. The man’s huge dong was hard and arched out like some kind of pornographic crane. Papa Bear smiled at me when he saw I was awake and he stood by the bed, reaching down to tug on my raging hard-on through the sheet. “Looks like we were both thinking about the other,” he said and I simply nodded yes – enjoying his big paw roughly fondling me below. “I’ve got breakfast and coffee ready, but I was hoping you might want me to fill you in another way, first?” I didn’t say a word. I merely reached out and started stroking his hard cock – marveling at the fact that my hand couldn’t reach completely around it. Clearly, the man had not built his muscles to compensate for inadequacy in other areas of his body. I, again, didn’t say a word – I just nodded my head and brought my mouth to the tip of his cock, kissing it lightly. In such a short time that I wouldn’t be able to tell you how it happened, he had lifted my body off the bed, taken off the apron, sat down on the edge, and was lowering my ass toward the big penis tower between his legs. I bent my knees so I’d end up kneeling when he was completely inside of me. By now, I was used to the moment of impact from his unyielding power stick. The head of his dick felt like stainless steel or something even harder when it poked teasingly at my hole. I shocked the older muscleman a little when I suddenly jerked my body downward in his hands and forced the plump head inside of me with one quick pop. I shouted and he grunted in pleasure as soon as I forced the invasion. Papa Bear, however, took my lead and with his powerful arms he plunged my body down his long thick rod with one quick jerk. For a few seconds my mouth opened wide, but no sound came out. It took only a few more seconds for me to register the extreme pleasure of having him all the way inside of me and I began to moan happily as he rolled his hips on the bed and forced himself back and forth in my love canal. “You feel so good, babe,” he said – and I swear it was one of the most loving things I had ever heard. “How ‘bout being a good boy and sucking on these huge pecs while I rock your world.” Most people would have considered those words cocky. Not me. I understood this man almost as much as I understood myself. He knew his words would please me – and they did. They pleased me very much. And pleasing him always made me happy. He also didn’t need to ask me twice about his thick plugs. My mouth was on his right nipple in no time at all. A confident man knows what he wants and what he likes – and he’s not ashamed to ask for it. Papa Bear loved having his nipples abused. I had learned that already in our few times together. I clearly got the balance of teeth and sucking just right because the big man’s body uncontrollably responded to my work with shivers, goose bumps, and a racing heart that pounded loudly through the man’s mega pecs. “Aw fuck, you’ve got a hot mouth, son,” the big man said in between low, animal-like moans. Papa Bear also clearly had glutes of steel. His ass was pulsing up and down on the bed, with an added crunch from the man’s cobblestoned abs, and that was creating a rhythm between our two bodies that quickly edged us both toward release. It felt like I was on the back of some giant horse that was galloping wildly. I continued to chow down on his nipples – moving from right to left as he held tightly to my hips, thrusting my body up and down on his cock even faster and harder than before. I was a guy that had had lots of sex before this man. That’s not boasting, it’s just a fact. But sex with Papa Bear wasn’t even an action – it was more like something that just happened – like breathing or swallowing. We were natural together. It was a matching of giving and receiving that blended perfectly. My cock was tightly pressed between our bodies – rammed continuously against his hard stomach - and, like the night before, I was so excited by this man and his body I started cumming before I even realized I was near ejaculation. Suddenly, my cock was spewing hot milky jizz between our torsos. I continued to tug mercilessly at the man’s thick, hard nubs and finally Papa Bear could take no more. It was probably a mixture of the abuse at his chest, the clenched ass around his thick tool, and my hands savagely kneading his hard massive guns that sent him over the top. Again, I was filled with the love juice of this muscled senior and it seemed like I was being injected with the nectar of the gods. I swear I could feel how his cum immediately energized and fed my body. It was like he was the conduit bringing some kind of life force to all of me. I received every drop he had to offer and never stopped sucking on his pecs. Soon, our heartbeats had settled into a normal rhythm and I pulled my face from his chest. We simply stared at each other for a few minutes. “You make me want to be big and strong,” he said softly. “You already are big and strong,” I replied. “Yes I am. You make me want to be bigger and stronger,” he answered. “That turns me on like you wouldn’t believe,” I said, smiling at the big man in a way that made him smile, too. “Want some coffee? I made it strong . . . like me,” he said, chuckling at his own joke. “That sounds great, but I don’t want to separate from you, just yet,” I replied. “You don’t have to,” he said and then stood up – easily taking my body with him. “You’re so light it’s like only having a sweater wrapped around my waist.” To be carried – with a thick rod still plugging your hole and strong arms wrapped around your lower back – is one of the best feelings in the world. It means the man holding you is big . . . and strong . . . and in charge. There’s something about a powerful air fucking that is simply amazing, but sometimes just to be carried or held can be so much more exciting. Papa Bear bounced my body up and down in his big hands a few times - just to emphasize how I weighed no more than a beach ball would to a normal man. I had the strong feeling he could have tossed me through the ceiling, but I knew he wouldn’t. That wasn’t the kind of guy he was. He loved his strength – and showing it off – but he wouldn’t ever think of hurting me. Once we made it to the kitchen he placed me in a chair and then poured us both some coffee. He sat in the chair next to me – swinging his leg over the back of the thing in that macho alpha kind of way. A plate with breakfast food was placed in front of me. He then started eating, but flexed his free arm right beside me – the peak swelling to hugeness. I immediately knew it was for me to have something to grope while I ate. The man certainly knew how to please. I reached over and placed my small fragile-llooking hand on top of his monstrous biceps and then tried desperately to press the skin inward - even a little bit. This made Papa Bear grunt a small chuckle, as if he was saying ‘no way, kid,’ and he flexed the thing even harder. We ate our food in silence – my hand caressing his big gun the entire time. Every now and then I’d lean over to kiss the big mound of muscle and Papa Bear would lean in to do the same thing – our eyes meeting over the giant peak. It wasn’t until that moment that it registered we were both sitting there totally nude – raging hard-ons poking upward in our laps and still sticky from my earlier explosion. My hand went back to the top of his bulging arm and tried desperately to grip the muscle – but to no avail. “Big enough for you, son?” Papa Bear asked. “Yes sir,” I replied, “and then some.” “I’m always forgetting how big they are and busting the seams of my sleeves. I probably ruin two shirts a week,” the big man said as we both stared at the mammoth mound, which he was tensing upward and then relaxing. It was mesmerizing. “Most folks say biceps are the muscles that most exemplify strength. What do you think, boy?” “When they’re as big as yours, sir, they certainly shout power – lots of power,” I answered. “They used to be my favorite muscle on a huge man, but you’ve helped me see there are lots of other great muscles, as well.” “Yeah, like what?” he asked. “Well, after your arms, it’s kind of hard not to be immediately attracted to your tremendous chest, sir,” I said. “It seems to go on forever. But then, you’ve also got some keg-sized muscled thighs, abs of steel, shoulders wider than most doors – oh, and forearms that would even make Popeye jealous. And then let’s not forget your insanely thick and powerful calves – they turn me on a lot. So, I guess in answer to your question, I am attracted to all of your muscles. “That’s a great answer, kid,” he replied and leaned down to give me another kiss. “It’s starting to feel like I finally found the real reason I’m so big. I got to get going, sport. Shall we clean up this kitchen?” “I’d rather you leave that for me to do and, instead, we take a quick shower together,” I suggested. Before I could say another word I was back in his arms and we were headed back to the master bedroom. My supersized shower – with two powerful jet showerheads seemed small as soon as Papa Bear stepped inside. We spent the next fifteen minutes soaping up each other – his body taking a lot more time than mine because there was so much of him – and then we rinsed. He picked me up like a child after wrapping me in a towel and dried me off while I was held aloft in his arms. I watched him dry off, then dress, and finally we were standing at my front door. It was obvious neither of us wanted the time to end. He gave me a long kiss and then there was the exchange of a white envelope. I could have sworn he found this moment as awkward as I did, but I knew that wasn’t possible. As soon as he was gone, my place felt empty – such a huge presence had disappeared. It was like knocking down a wall and then immediately missing it. That night I called him to set up another meeting – for the upcoming weekend. He picked up after the first ring. “I was hoping you’d call and yes I’m available for any time you say,” was how he answered the phone. This thrilled me more than I could have imagined. It seemed like he was genuinely into me – and not just playing a part for the money. I had thought hard about this conversation since I knew he would ask me what I wanted from him at our next visit. And sure enough, after we had settled on the date and time, the big man asked his usual question. “What do you need from Papa Bear this week, boy?” he growled. “I would like you to be a dominant alpha, sir. If that would be okay with you,” I said and I swear I could feel him smile. “Are you sure, bub? That’s my favorite role to play. I can really get into the part,” he said – and I could tell he was very excited about the possibility of being allowed to be free to be the huge alpha he was. “I’m sure, sir. I can handle it,” I replied – and this seemed to please him very much. “Then listen very carefully, son,” he began. “I want you to greet me at the door stark naked. No underwear, no socks, and not even a ball cap. I don’t care if neighbors are walking by or if there’s someone else at your door. I’ll be there at eight. Remember, you better be nude. I want immediate easy access to all of you. I don’t want to have to punish you right from the beginning. You understand your Papa Bear, son?” “Yes sir,” I replied, my excitement clearly obvious in my answer. “That’s a good boy. I’ll see you Saturday at eight,” he said and then hung up. A week can sometimes fly by or feel like an eternity. That particular week felt like ten years. I could think of nothing else other than groping Papa Bear’s huge arms, sucking on his massive succulent chest, and feeling his strong body underneath me as I was filled with his loving tool. Twice, while sitting in important business meetings I had been asked a question and I said the word ‘muscles’ as my answer before I even realized what I was doing. Another thing that made the week drag was the fact that I didn’t once let even a drop of my sweet juice ooze from my cock. I wanted to save it for Papa Bear. I wanted to explode so hard for him that night that it would be perfectly clear I had saved myself just for him. When it was finally Saturday, I did more chores than ever in my life, just to fill the day so I wouldn’t beat off in anticipation of our meeting. An hour before the big man arrived I stripped to my birthday suit. I was so worried about disappointing the man that I walked around for sixty minutes completely naked. At ten minutes until eight I stood by my front door – like a puppy waiting for its master to return. The man’s loud knock ten minutes later made me jump and my cock shoot hard at the same time. I opened the door quickly – ready to show my alpha what a good boy I was. It had not dawned on me that Papa Bear might have chosen to do the same thing he had requested of me. When I looked out, he stood there in all of his powerful glory – just as naked as I was. A raging hard-on poked upward from his crotch and I immediately realized he was just as excited to be there as I was. “Good boy,” he bellowed in a low voice and I swear a big gob of pre-cum oozed from my cock in happy response to his pleased look. “I have a feeling some of your neighbors are busy beating off right now. I might have been too much for them.” The man reached out, grabbed me under my arms, and then lifted me up to plant a big kiss on my face. As usual, it wasn’t a pleasant caressing kiss – it was more like a cannon ball blasting through the side of a ship. I was held aloft like some kind of child’s doll while the big man’s tongue pillaged my mouth in a way that made it clear Papa Bear was in total alpha mode. He carried me a few steps into the place while using his foot to close the door behind him. He pulled his face from mine and tossed my body to the ground – fortunately I was able to stay standing. The big man’s chest was heaving up and down – like some kind of massive battleship riding waves in the ocean. Again, it was clear that Papa Bear was just as excited as I was – and I briefly wondered if he had spent the entire week thinking about this moment, too. “Come here,” he ordered, since his toss had sent me a few feet away. I walked up to him and he immediately raised his arms into a full-on, mountainous double biceps pose that made my knees immediately begin to wobble. I moaned out loud and this made he big man smile. He tensed his arms so hard that his face turned red and I swear his biceps seemed to swell higher than they ever had before. Papa Bea then let out a loud growl and threw his body into a frightening most-muscular pose. Every part of his body seemed to scream power as it exploded in supersize. If I hadn’t been turned on so much I clearly would have been petrified. The man released the pose and then just stood there – bulging like some morphed version of a normal man. I suddenly got the feeling he was calming himself down. It dawned on me that the man clearly knew what he was capable of – how powerful he could be if he let himself go. This was his way of not losing control – containing the alpha beast within him so he didn’t hurt something in my home or me. And that brings us right back to where this story began. Papa Bear’s huge hand cupped the back of my head hard and then smashed my face into his massive pec. I sucked his hairy nip with all of my might – ignoring the pain his hard-as-stone flesh inflicted. I was in heaven, totally dominated by this older muscleman – used like a toy, yielding to his grip like a plaything abused by a toddler. Papa Bear was grunting and moaning in a way that only fueled me on. To know I was giving this man pleasure excited me so much. To know he controlled the situation completely only made it that much hotter. “More teeth,” he ordered and I started roughly chomping down on the hard nub in my mouth. “Hell yeah, that feels real good. Don’t be afraid to use your molars, boy.” When you parachute from a plane there must be this point – soon after the initial moment of utter panic – when you simply give up all worry and completely give yourself over to the air around you. You submit to gravity and begin to enjoy the act of falling – the joy of being utterly free. Held tightly in the steel like grip of this elder powerful man gave me the same kind of feeling of freedom. I submitted myself completely to his lead – his control. Every molecule of my being seemed to be fully erect – totally tuned in – to his dominance. To be that free was a gift only a strong man could give. Of course, Papa Bear was aware of this fact, as well. It was clear he knew he had me in the palm of his hand – both literally and figuratively. He also didn’t abuse his power. That was not his style. He simply accepted the situation, as the way things should be. He was bigger. He was stronger. He was older. He assumed his rightful place as mentor, master, and dominator merely because of these concrete facts. I was his Gumby doll to be folded and manipulated in any way he desired. I was lucky to be his toy. I was privileged in my submission and we both knew it. I was the one paying for his services, but I was the product being used and not the other way around. The strong hand gripped my hair again and jerked my head back – causing my teeth to pull his nip roughly at the same time. The hard thing popped from my mouth as Papa Bear brought his lips down again for another round of face sucking. His mouth suctioned onto mine like some kind of high-pressurized interlocking doors on the International Space Station. There are kisses you remember because they are warm, gentle, and incredibly romantic – and then there are kisses etched in your memory because they are so manly and rough that you feel your own testosterone level has increased considerably. Papa Bear didn’t really kiss – it was more like his mouth ravaged your entire insides. His tongue dominated in the same way his powerful hands did – as if there was little awareness of the small being he plundered. It’s not that he didn’t care – you could feel his passion even in the dominance – it was just that you were unable to resist him in any way even if you had wanted to. By now, my stiff-as-a-board cock was leaking copious amounts of gooey homage to my muscle master. I couldn’t have turned off that pre-cum faucet even if I had squeezed my dick with all my might. Papa Bear’s other hand – the one not strongly interlocked in my hair – slid down to my ass and one of his thick fingers teasingly caused my pucker hole to clamp tightly shut when it, again, brushed roughly across it. My body was being stimulated simultaneously in so many areas that my eyes were beginning to roll back into my head. The big man was like an orgasmic lightning bolt shocking the hell out of my body every few seconds – causing me to jerk up on the balls of my feet in excitement. He again pulled his face from mine. “Gonna make you my boy-sicle on a thick stick,” he said, gruffly. His long powerful forefinger forced its way into me and I let out a loud moan that filled the room – making it clear that the invasion had been satisfying. My poor clenched asshole had been defenseless against his penetration – again showing my weakness and his strength. Papa Bear’s mouth clamped back down on mine, so his tongue could mirror the exploration his finger was doing below. I was now his finger puppet – controlled in every way. Submission isn’t weakness – no matter what anyone says. It’s a gift that you have to choose to give. There was no part of my body offering any resistance whatsoever at this point. I submitted my entire being to this elder muscle god – in hopes that he would give me pleasure beyond my wildest dreams. I didn’t just let him have his way with me – I encouraged him to completely view me as his. My moans begged for it. My open mouth and open ass screamed for it. Every turned-on inch of my body gave permission for it. At this point we both knew he controlled my orgasm, too. I was his loaded gun and he could pull the trigger any time he wanted. His thick finger exploring my ass shaft or his tongue invading my throat could have easily sent me over the edge at any moment, but Papa Bear wasn’t done playing. He wasn’t through showing me how he could dominate me on so many levels. Suddenly, his finger retreated from my hole and I immediately missed its presence – its power. I could tell he was amused as soon as I let out a disappointed whimper. He liked making me need him so much. His mouth left mine and again I profoundly felt the absence. Luckily, his muscled body still pressed against me, so I continued to be consumed by his presence. “You’re completely mine now, boy,” he said, peering intensely into my eyes. “I own you.” “Yes sir,” I instinctively shot back – even though we both knew his words had been a statement and not a question. “I make your sun rise and your sun set,” he added. “Yes sir,” I answered – again, merely to show him my obedience. Papa Bear rolled his monstrous pecs up and down just to give me a thrill. I watched, mesmerized, as the hard muscled beef tensed upward and then tumbled back down like huge waves lapping onto a wide sandy beach. The big man clearly knew his pecs could cause a muscle trance in any man he cared to show off for. My mouth was open wide in awe as I saw the hard muscle tense and release – controlled completely by its master, just as I was. It was the kind of perky bulging chest all pro bodybuilders dreamed of having and it was covered in his delicious salt-and-pepper fur. The word ‘seasoned’ popped into my head as I stared at the bulging mass that had been shaped into perfection over many years in the gym. I thought about all the incredible poundage that had been lifted day after day to make this man’s body pop out in such mouth-watering goodness. Every fiber of his frame seemed to be hard and massive, but then he’d tense different parts and they’d grow even bigger. The huge god raised his right biceps and flexed it hard near my face. “Taste the power, son,” he said – again it sounded more like an order than a suggestion. If your lips have never kissed warm, hard-as-hell muscle before then there is no possible way to explain the experience. It’s like trying to explain the ocean to someone who’s never seen it – until they stand on the edge and see the incredible expanse, the majestic beauty of water going on and on, and hearing waves roll in they’ll never fully understand. It’s the same when your mouth touches the expanse and majestic beauty of an older man’s huge rock-hard gun. It’s when you finally do it, that it all makes sense. When my lips pressed into his manly tight skin it was like a million little pins suddenly poked every part of my body in unified excitement. There’s something about a flexed biceps that reeks of power, masculinity, and pure beastly dominance. Both the worshipped and the worshipper feel this – it’s where the huge bodybuilder and the smaller plaything meet completely on the same level – and experience the same unleashed enjoyment. The bigger man knows his gun is a giant magnet and the other guy gladly yields to the unbreakable force that pulls him into the muscle. Papa Bear’s massive triceps looked like the hull of an ocean liner – hanging down all tensed and enormous. The blasting peak on top looked like a flesh covered mountain range. His upper arm was much bigger than my head. My face pressed against the hard skin and the only thing that filled my view was muscle. I closed my eyes, inhaled deeply, and began kissing and licking the marbled wall before me. I swear I could feel the testosterone oozing out of every pore of the huge man’s body. It felt like my face was pressed against a bunch of bricks – or more like bricks covered in steel. If I could have bottled the man’s aroma I would have called it ‘Strength’ because that’s what he smelled like. Again, it was hard to explain, but you could sense the power of his arm and his entire body just by inhaling his sweetness deeply. He radiated confidence, security, and something akin to an unstoppable force. Papa Bear picked up on the fact that I was taking deep soothing breaths through my nose so I could savor his masculine scent. “Let’s take you to smell central, boy,” he said and I could tell by something in his voice that he was smiling. Again, a big paw grabbed the entire back of my head and, pushing my face harder into his skin, it slid me across the huge biceps and into his hairy, sweaty, muscled pit. The man clearly knew it was exactly what I would want. Even the bristles of hair in his arm cave seemed hard and powerful. I immediately took a deep breath and my body shook with excitement as I inhaled his powerful bear musk. It was the perfume of a Greek god – a mixture of sweat, muscle, manliness, and something that could only be described by the word ‘security.’ I could have stayed pressed into that man-cavity for the rest of my life. I let my tongue dart out many times just to lap up some of the delicious taste of pure masculinity. I was sure my own muscles would grow a tad bigger just from licking some of his testosterone-laden pits. I also had a feeling I’d be sprouting some thicker hair all over my body, as well. It was obvious that Papa Bear liked having his pits cleaned – he was grunting and moaning even louder than before. This only made me want to bury my face deeper into the pit. I started kissing, licking, and sucking his underarm like I was some kind of muscle pig. “Gotta fucking kiss you again, man,” he grunted suddenly. It was as if Papa Bear could no longer restrain himself for some reason. He quit flexing his gun, pulled my face from his pit, and then grabbed me roughly by the ass and lifted me into the air. He slid his hands down my legs – encouraging me to wrap them around his waist. He latched onto my thighs tightly as he walked towards the wall. Once he had my back firmly against the solid plaster he let go of my legs. My body was held in place merely from the force of his powerful body pressing into me. It was difficult to breathe, but I didn’t care. Being surrounded by all of his muscle was pure heaven. He brought his hands up to my cheeks and then pressed his lips against mine. I had thought he had kissed me roughly before, but all of that was child’s play compared to this super hyped-up suction kiss. Immediately, it felt as if Papa Bear’s tongue was going to push my head through the wall. Even this particular muscle in his mouth seemed to be super powerful. His hands squeezed my head tightly and his body pressed me against the wall even harder. Again, Papa Bear suddenly pulled his face from mine and spoke as if his life depended on his next move. “Gotta be inside you, son,” he growled, and I swear I almost came. While keeping my body in place simply by pinning it between the wall and his huge chest, Papa Bear reached down and latched his big hands on both of my ass cheeks. He then started pulling them apart – opening me wide. Soon, I felt the stone-like tip of his thick long cock press into my hole. People often forget that a man’s dick is a muscle, too. It needs to be worked out and trained just like a biceps or a quad. Papa Bear had clearly been pumping his tool for many, many years. It was powerful beyond words. The fat mushroom head felt like it could puncture steel. He pulled his chest back a little and let my entire weight fall down on the hard head. I sat there anticipating some kind of loud pop when he plunged into me, but Papa Bear had a different plan. He let my body sit on top of his hard tool for a while – teasing me and making my body ache for his manly invasion. It was only when I began to whimper like a begging puppy – in need of his plowing – that he finally acknowledged me. “You’re mine now, son. You wanted to be dominated tonight – controlled – and now you’ve met your master. I’m gonna make your every thought and desire come true. I’m gonna make you wish I was inside of you twenty-four-seven.” This was exactly what I had wanted when I called the man earlier that week. I had said I needed him to dominate me, but what I had really wanted was to give myself up to him in an orgasmic offering. I wanted to submit myself in a way that would please both of us beyond anything we’d ever experienced before. We were about to meld into one. Very soon I would be like one of his huge muscles hanging all over different parts of his body. It would register to him that I was another human – but I would be part of the big man – something wrapped around his cock to give him pleasure. I had no way of stopping what was coming – even if I had wanted to. I was his gift to open – his man to plow, as he wanted. I could feel every part of my being giving itself to him – my ass, my thoughts, my desires, and my love. I needed him inside me in the same way I needed air. It wasn’t something I constantly thought about, but once I was awakened to the need it consumed me completely. It was clear that Papa Bear understood how I felt – and not just because he was being paid. He sensed my devotion – my total submission. I also got the feeling that he gave himself to me in the same way – becoming my protector, my rock, and my muscle guardian. Of course, my brain kept saying he’s a paid hustler and he’s just good at his job – don’t think he’s fallen for you. But my heart kept saying the man had desire for me that went way beyond just doing a good job. When his cock head burst through the gate of my love chute it was like the most dramatic part of some kind of celestial symphony or the highlight of a magnificent firework’s extravaganza. We both moaned in unison and then I gasped out loudly as my body slid down his long thick tool. To be filled by a strong muscular man is such a reward – such a real-life fantasy coming true. But to be filled completely while being held in the air – strong arms holding you and huge legs supporting the weight, and a giant chest pressing into you – now, that is beyond heaven. Being connected to an older powerful muscle bear in such an intimate way could be fodder for all the jerk-off moments of the rest of an entire football team’s lives. As wonderful as it was to be in this position there was also part of me that wished I could be across the room watching it. To see this big man impaling me while he easily held my body in the air would have been a picture I wanted in my mind forever. And then Papa Bear did a strong pelvic thrust that sent my body upward and I slid back down his tool with a big smack at the bottom. It was as if his crotch now controlled everything. The friction made in my ass from his move was almost too much to handle. I was afraid of spewing. It took all of my concentration to not unload my entire cum-bank in one huge explosion. The big man clearly sensed this and knew how to prevent it. “You cum when I say you can, son. And only then,” he growled as he continued to bounce me up and down on his cock with successive thrusts. The man was powerful enough to easily lift me in the air and keep me there for a long time. I also had the feeling I hadn’t begun to see the total strength in his body. But it was his intention – no, his complete acceptance that he could control my orgasm - that excited me beyond what I could have ever imagined. My body instantly obeyed his command. I immediately knew my jacked-beyond-belief cock would await his ‘okay’ before it exploded – no matter how close he edged me towards release. Papa Bear, of course, controlled the tsunami that was building within me. My release was his and only his to control. Every fiber of my being submitted itself to him. He realized this fact. He sensed how his words had made my cock obey – instantly. He let out a loud grunt – continued to thrust his crotch even more – and pulled my body away from the wall. He walked us both to the middle of the room – my body still impaled on his strong tool and still bouncing up and down in response to his powerful thrusts. Every time I came slamming down on his cock after his crotch jerks would send me upwards I’d moan loudly – uncontrollably egging him on. Papa Bear began to air fuck me even harder – grabbing me at the waist so he could enhance the bouncing of my body with his powerful arms. I would slam down on his tool even harder – giving him more pleasure than the time before. My clenched ass was basically his tool for getting off – as if it was just a coincidence I was a human being. The goal of the entire pounding process was to give himself the kind of release fit for a huge muscle god. I was his orgasmic plaything and the pleasure I was getting and would receive just happened to be a by-product of his own powerful titanic release. I had ceased to be the client – I was the means to an end, a very big, pleasurable end. Meanwhile, I just enjoyed the ride - groping his big hard arms as he easily manhandled my body up and down on his big tool. Seeing Papa Bear’s body getting jacked even more as he pumped me up and down and in and out was like porn heaven. A light sheen of sweat now covered his entire bulging body – only enhancing the size of his rock-hard muscles. My giant elder dominator was now in his own world. He, of course, still knew I was there – still knew his job was to please me – but he also knew getting himself off was what I wanted most. My much-needed orgasm was important – but not nearly as important as seeing Papa Bear pump out a testosterone-laden eruption of his powerful juice. I wanted to be filled with his sweetness – and then I wanted to hear his command allowing me to cum. My body was now full of boiling man honey – fueled completely by Papa Bear’s muscles and confident attitude. I was a dam ready to burst – begging to explode – and he was the superman capable of busting through. The bucking of the big man’s hips increased to what seemed like super sonic speed. My ass was being pounded heavier than it had ever been before. I tightened my sphincter just to give him more pleasure. At the same time I continued to run my hands all over his tensed bulging biceps – his muscles causing me to get excited way beyond what I had ever imagined possible. I was bouncing up and down so hard I was afraid I was going to break something. The big man’s moans were getting louder and louder and I could tell he was close to his titanic eruption. His body was tense all over and this caused giant veins to pop out everywhere. He looked like some Greek god pulling down the pillars of a huge temple. I could feel the intensity of my on orgasm building just from the way his body now looked. Suddenly, his moans stopped and his body tightened up even more. He slammed me down to the base of his cock and kept me there with a strong grip – and then he bellowed loudly. “Cum, boy!” Happier words had never reached my ears. My body obeyed its master immediately. A volcanic eruption shot forth from my cock – sending a huge blast of cum into the air, which then rained down and splattered against his huge pecs with a loud smack. As I continued to send out volley after volley of my warm seed, the big man’s giant tool pulsed strongly in my ass and then spewed forth like some kind of untapped fire hydrant. I was instantly filled with a hot wet lava-like sensation. It definitely felt like some dam has been burst – wave after wave of his love juice shot into me with a fierceness that was unfathomable. The loud beast-like grunts that accompanied each thrust of his hard-as-hell cock added even more pleasure to the moment. Again, Papa Bear was lost in his orgasm. I was now only the little plaything that was getting him off. I’m sure it registered to the giant elder man that I was there, but it didn’t matter – his body was so on fire with his ejaculation he pounded me like a heavyweight boxer taking out his frustrations on a punching bag. Each thrust of his crotch sent his massive rod deeper into my love canal and this caused me to cum even harder. The strong elder man started to walk around the room as his rod sent a few last missile spurts into my body. My own still-hard cock continued to gurgle out cum – even though I was sure my body had never been emptied the way it just had. “Fuck . . . I’m so jacked, boy! Take a look at all that power, babe,” Papa Bear said, and I immediately knew he was staring at our reflection in the giant mirror on the far wall of my dining room, since he had stopped all movement. The first time you stand at the edge of the Grand Canyon you immediately understand your own insignificance in the scheme of the universe in a new way. At the same, time, however you realize you are part of the beauty of the cosmos, as well. Seeing my small frame being held in the gargantuan pumped-to-hell arms of this super Gramps caused the same exact reaction in me. I was being held by a force . . . a power . . . a beast so big it made me feel like a tiny insect. At the same time, however, the enormous man’s strength empowered me in a way that was hard to describe. It was like his testosterone was infectious. Because his herculean body was so easily holding me, I felt safer, more secure, and more supported than ever before. Papa Bear was, indeed, ‘jacked’ beyond belief. I could see why the elder man had been so pleased. Muscles didn’t just bulge out all over his body – they were more like some morphed-up 3-D version of the man being projected onto an immense IMAX screen. My entire upper torso was puny compared to his granite-like massive beach ball sized biceps. His gun looked like he had just finished some three-hour lifting session – focused only on his arms. For a second I actually thought the man’s powerful biceps and triceps would make the Grand Canyon look lame. This senior man had held me aloft for so long I had forgotten that most people are not able to carry grown humans around for that amount of time. And there was no evidence of the man being even the least bit tired. I was still impaled by his stiff rod and it was obvious, from the pulsations below that Papa Bear was turned on by our reflection. He noticed that I was staring at the huge hard peak of his arm, so he let go of my ass with one hand – easily holding me in place with the other – and then balled up his fist, and flexed the biceps at his side. “I’ve always been big, boy,” he said – in a low growl-like voice – like he was starting a fairy-tale story for a child. “My mom said she could feel me flexing in her womb. The doctor said I came out already chiseled like a tiny gymnast – a six-pack and bulging biceps. No one knew what made me so muscled – they said it must have been lucky genetics. The medical profession was a little taken aback by howmuch weight I gained those first few months and how I skipped the baby ‘fat’ period and went straight to being stacked. They said I used to crawl under my playpen and bench it up and down before I could even walk. My dad said I liked to crush and bend things before I could even sit up. He said he could tell that my unformed brain still understood that I needed to work out. At three years old I could whoop the asses of my two brothers – who were six and eight. They said I used to pick them up and toss them across the room and then stand over them flexing my body. I don’t really remember that, but I do remember always being stronger than my friends and other kids in my grade. When I was six years old I could beat my dad at arm wrestling. At my elementary school there was this big burly janitor named Stefan, who noticed how big and strong I was and encouraged me to start lifting weights. He had a basic set of dumbbells and barbells at his office in the boiler room. I would go there every afternoon and he’d show me the correct way to lift for maximum growth and strength. He couldn’t believe how quickly I caught on or how fast I grew. When I left for junior high he said I was stronger than most college dudes and I was already bulging through my clothes so much that many teachers thought I was wearing multiple layers. The day Principal Donovan told me to take off my sweatshirt because he thought I was wearing padding was the best. I slowly pulled the thing off and then bounced my beefy pecs a few times followed by a few flexes of my arms. Old man Donovan looked like he had seen a ghost. He turned red, moved his clipboard down to his crotch, and stammered as he told me to put my shirt back on. Is my little story making you happy boy?” “Yes sir. Very much, sir,” I whispered back as I looked up to his bearded manly face. “Good, I like it when you’re happy,” he said, smiling down at me. “I bumped into Mr. Donovan about twenty years later at the supermarket. His open-mouthed stare and wide eyes made it clear he was shocked – and pleased – by how big I’d grown. He had to actually crane his neck back to look me in the face and I was about twice the size of him. We chatted for a while and one thing led to another. Soon, I was at his house - squeezing his face between my pecs, crushing his head between my biceps and forearm, and compressing all the air out of his body between my tree-trunk sized thighs. I’d never seen a guy so into being dominated – well, up until you. He’d beg me to shake hands with him and squeeze so tight that I worried I’d crush his bones. It was wild. He didn’t want sex and I was shocked that he never spurted – not one time while I was there. But he told me when I was leaving he had never been with someone so huge and strong. He said it would be a night he would never forget and I have the feeling that old man Donovan still thinks about me and our time together and busts out huge wads that bring him close to blacking out. “I know the feeling,” I said, smiling. “Yeah, you do,” he said, still holding me in the air. “When I was nine there was this kid named Jared who got his mother to make us superhero costumes. He insisted I wear the Superman outfit and I don’t even remember what character he was. It wasn’t important to Jared, either; he just wanted me to dress up as Superman. He then insisted we wrestle, even though I outweighed him by over a hundred pounds. He was groping my muscles big time as we wrestled and I started to get my first major boner from showing off. At one point I had him pinned to his bed and he whispered in my ear, ‘Lift me over your head.’ My cock shot rock hard at the thought and a few seconds later I had his smaller body easily in the air – held aloft by my bulging arms as if he weighed nothing. I started walking around the room and as soon as we both got a look at ourselves in the mirror over his dresser we simultaneously shot through puberty. We both busted out our first boy wads – dumping major amounts of hot cum into our costumes. I couldn’t believe how fucking huge and strong I looked holding him in the air. My arms didn’t drop even a fraction of an inch as I spewed my torrential load. Jared’s body continued to flop around in my strong hands long after my explosion had ended and that’s the first time I realized my supersized muscles had a mysterious power over some fellas. At first, I worried about what my penis had just done, thinking I was sick or something, but then I remembered hearing some older boys talking about ‘getting off’ and I quickly figured out this is what they meant. On top of that, it felt so freaking awesome I knew it must be something good. We both spewed about four more times that night, from me curling him, doing push-ups with him on my back, and a lot more, but nothing got us both off as much as each time I lifted him over my head. Jared needed little time to refuel his body – especially when I would lift his body up and down, easily using him as my boy-bell. When his orgasm would finally end he’d look at my reflection in the mirror and say something like, ‘Toss me on the bed, Superman.’ It was such an incredible night. “I’d love to see you in a superhero costume sometime,” I said, smiling. “We can make that happen, “ he said, just as happy as I was at the idea. “High school was better than I ever could have imagined. I was the biggest guy on campus. Who knew so many horny athletes would dig my muscles so much. I lasted two weeks on the wrestling team, but Coach Williams told me I couldn’t do it anymore after that because I was just too strong and too big. Nobody wanted to practice with me and he knew other schools would swear I was in my twenties. At first I was pretty upset, but then Coach told me I could use the Senior Gym any time I wanted. A freshman in the Senior Gym was unheard of and they didn’t like it one bit - that is, until I came in, stripped down to my shorts and started lifting. I curled with one arm what the strongest guy could bench – so they immediately became submissive little gymbos trying to win my attention and affection. Ryan Smith, the captain of the football team, seemed to adore me the most. He constantly begged me to show off my strength – lifting benches loaded with ten guys, hoisting up the back of some car, and picking up his tight jock body with one hand and holding him overhead. That last feat used to please him the most. That’s pretty much when I started learning exactly how to please fellas. Guys would invite me for sleepovers and insist we play gladiator or superheroes, just like Jared. They always wanted to be the bad guy and have me use my powers to subdue them. It’s when I learned to role-play. Can’t lie, son, I got off on it, too.” “How could you not?” I replied. “Exactly. College is when I got into bodybuilding and dominated the amateur circuit in my state. It was fun for a while and I loved having auditoriums full of screaming fans, but there was something about one-on-one muscle worship that got my juices flowing more than anything else in the world. To have a smaller guy begging me to flex, needing me to show off, and wanting my muscles more than even air, itself, was like the biggest adrenaline rush I’d ever felt. Suddenly, I wasn’t just building huge muscles for myself anymore, I was doing it to please guys that would never get the chance to know what being big felt like. I viewed it kind of like charity work – helping dudes live out their fantasies. That’s also about the time I met Doc. I was about twenty-two and I literally bumped into this wall of muscle at the gym one day. When I glanced up from where I was knocked down on the ground I beheld a strapping white-haired behemoth. He smiled down at me, said ‘sorry little fella,’ held out his hand and told me everyone called him ‘Doc.’ My feet came off the floor when he pulled me upward and I had never felt a grip so tight – or seen paws so big. Doc reached around and squeezed the back of my neck hard and told me I was a cute little man. It was the wildest thing – every time he referred to me as small my cock pulsed harder than it already was and I felt giddy as a schoolgirl with a first crush. “How old was Doc?” I asked, and Papa Bear smiled, knowing older muscle men turned me on. “Older than I am now. He was probably sixty-seven or sixty-eight and built like a tank. He wasn’t a pretty-man bodybuilder – no, he was a sexy-as-fuck powerlifter who was thicker than a building. I was bigger than most men, but he was a giant compared to me. I followed him around the gym like a puppy that day – hoping to learn anything I could, but secretly hoping I could win his favor or something more. It was the weirdest experience for me – to be on the other side of muscle adoration. Suddenly, I wasn’t the alpha. I was the smaller guy begging for a show or some kind of attention. When he was finally done with his strong-as-fuck put-me-to-shame lifting he grabbed his bag and headed toward the door. He turned around near the exit, looked at me, and only said, ‘Heel boy.’ I was at his side in mere seconds and I never left it. Doc trained me for twenty years. He taught me things like how to make a man cum by lifting him with one hand around his neck and how to give a man maximum pleasure while fucking him in mid-air.” “I’ve had first-hand experience of how well you learned that, sir,” I quickly said. “Indeed you have,” Papa Bear replied – smiling down at me. “What happened to Doc?” I asked – and I swear I saw Papa Bear’s eyes mist up a little when he spoke. “The man was lifting until age 90. He was still huge and powerful. Five days after his ninetieth birthday he died of a massive heart attack. Your Papa Bear has never been so sad in all of his life, son. This is the man that molded me more than anyone else. He helped me to zoom beyond what I thought were growth and strength plateaus. He also taught me how to be as gentle as a kitten and how that can be as much of a turn-on as tremendous power. Doc always said his proudest day was when I finally lifted more weight than him. Granted, this wasn’t until I was about thirty-four. The man just never seemed to stop growing or getting stronger. But the day I out lifted him he did something I never expected – he let me plow him. It was like finding the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow – the big man offering his ass to me. The man was so big and strong I was able to go wild and fuck him with all of my power – and that pleased him more than either of us expected. That night, while we lay in bed after having sex for the fourth time, he looked into my eyes and said, “You’re the alpha now, kid. I’m still the boss – just because of my age – but you’re the top man. I’ve plowed so many asses – including your own – it will be good to be submissive for a while. Who knows, maybe I’ll get stronger than you again one day, but I doubt it. My kid’s growing up to be a fucking beast and one day men will cream in their pants simply because you bent your arm in a tight t-shirt.” “That, alone, can make me shoot,” I said. “Son, you squirt when I only bounce my pecs once,” he said teasingly, but we both knew he was right on the money. “Simply because of their size, sir” I replied and then asked, “Aren’t you getting tired of holding me?” “Not at all, son,” he answered. “As a matter of fact, I completely forgot about it.” “Just how strong are you, Papa Bear?” I asked. “How strong do you want me to be?” he teasingly shot back. “The strongest,” I quickly said. “Done,” he replied and jiggled my body up and down in his hands as if to emphasize the point. “I need to tell you something, son. And it might make you a little mad, so I apologize in advance.” “Okay . . .” I said, tentatively, not sure where the conversation was headed. “I’m not a real hustler,” Papa Bear said. “What?” I asked, very confused. “About four weeks ago you were very drunk at The Eagle. Do you remember?” he asked, referring that favorite haunt of mine. “Yes,” I replied, knowing exactly what night he was talking about. “You were at the bar pouring your heart out to Sam, the bartender – going on about how stressful work was and how you didn’t have time for dating. You told Sam you wished you could just find someone you could pay to have sex with – someone huge and older. Those were your only conditions. Do you remember,” Papa Bear asked. “I do,” I again replied. I had been drowning my sorrows about another ended romance and how there didn’t seem to be any true alphas in the world. “I had been watching you all night, kid, but you were too drunk to notice. When you left I asked Sam about you and he said you were one of the nicest guys around. He also said you made lousy choices when it came to men,” the elder big man said, laughing. “That’s last part is pretty accurate,” I replied. “Well, two nights later I asked Sam, who happens to be a good friend, to slip you a fake flyer I had created the next time he saw you. I knew what you were looking for, so I put a picture of my biceps on the paper, along with the invitation to have a true alpha make all your dreams come true. A day later I was ecstatic when you called,” he said. “I’m really sorry and I’d understand if you didn’t want to see me again.” “What?” I asked, honestly surprised by his words. “Why wouldn’t I want to see you?” “Well I did lie to you,” he answered, “and I kind of took advantage of the situation.” “Yes, yes you did. However, it didn’t feel like the sex or the conversations were ever a lie,” I said. “No, all of that was real . . . and the best sex I’ve ever had,” Papa Bear added. “Same for me,” I answered back, “but I do have one important question.” “What’s that?” Papa Bear asked and I could tell he was nervous about what was going to come. “Where’s my money? I paid you a lot of money for two visits,” I said, smiling at him. “I put it in a safe place,” he answered. “I was hoping we might use it one day for something fun . . . like a vacation.” “Or maybe a honeymoon,” I replied and the smile on big Papa Bear’s face was priceless. In response he bounced his monstrous pecs and squeezed my ass tightly.
  7. 33 points
    Many thanks to the admins who approved of me posting this story. I dedicate this to you! ~SW THE DILDO OF THE DEMIGODS My heart was beating so hard I wondered if it was going to shatter my ribcage, not that that would matter if I succeeded tonight. So the rumours were true – all of them – but the singular fact that Jarrett Nicklinson hadn't yet abused the awesome power of the artefact spoke wonders about his naivety. To his credit though, the once scrawny captain of the chess club was now a broad-shouldered, musclebound hulk of a man who literally benched trees for fun, but to think he could have done so much more and chose not to! Shrouded in the dark of night, I pulled over in the school's parking lot and hurried up the stairs that led to the hidden, faculty-only entrance. To think Nicklinson would keep the relic in the locker room, of all places, the very thought threatened to blow my mind but still I forced myself to remain calm. First things first, I stopped by the vice-principal's office, kicked down the door, and grabbed the crowbar he had confiscated the other day. I was going to need it, not because I expected anyone to stop me, but because I wasn't going to waste any more time trying to do this quietly. In all my years as a gym teacher, nothing was going to come close to what I was about to accomplish! Nothing! The stink of musk and sweat hung in the air as I barrelled into the locker rooms and made my way to locker 969A. This close, I could almost feel the power emanating from the artefact, and so I rammed the crowbar into the lock and all but wrenched the door off its hinges. As if acknowledging its new master, the relic unleashed a blinding burst of golden light, cleansing the air of stink and causing my heart to flutter. There, sitting inside Nicklinson's locker was the legendary Dildo of the Demigods – a legendary artefact from ages past said to grant the wishes of anyone who could take it up their wanting rumps. Despite the urgency of the present situation, I couldn't stop myself from pausing to appreciate the magnificently sculptured, gleaming-gold phallus before me. To describe the Dildo as colossal would have been the understatement of the year. Fully two feet in length and thicker than my forearm, it was small wonder how Nicklinson managed to take this in with his build and his alleged lack of experience. Not that I would have such a problem of course, for twenty years of selling my ass on the side had prepared me plenty! And so I grabbed the enormous Dildo and sprinted back to my ground floor office, locking the door behind me and kicking my chair away so I could place the relic behind my desk. It was still dark and quiet; the only illumination in my office came from the parking lot just outside and the slightly glowing Dildo. There was enough light for me to regard my reflection in the mirror, and I couldn't help but smirk at the forty-something gym teacher staring back at me. I still looked good for my age – I had retained my huge quads and thick arms and broad shoulders – but my belly had gone soft, my pecs had started to droop, and my hair had started receding fast. With the Dildo of the Demigods right there before me though, it almost felt as though I was young again. Why, my cock had grown so swollen with blood at the prospect of taking this thing up my ass it was actually starting to hurt. Sure enough, when I all but tore my trousers off I saw a cock so engorged with blood that it had turned a deep shade of red. At six inches solid, it was a respectable if not average size... for the moment. The Dildo of the Demigods seemed to gleam as I eased myself against it, almost purring with delight as the unnaturally slick surface kissed the rim of my hole. I would not need any lubricant for this, so I began breathing deeply, enriching my limbs with oxygen as I coaxed myself to relax. All those years getting my ass pounded was beginning to pay off, for I was soon tugging my chute further and further apart, stretching the sensitive flesh and wrapping the bulbous mushroom head as much as I could. "J-Just... a little... more...!" I breathed, grasping at my nipples through my polo as I wiggled my way down the monstrous phallus. With a soft pop, the cockhead of the Dildo plunged into my hungry hole, so smooth was its surface that I sunk four whole inches of it into my ass. "WOOAAHHH!" I wailed, loudly and shamelessly, my cock firing off a thick rope of cum as the Dildo punched me in the prostate. There was another blinding flash from beneath me, and the Dildo of the Demigods made its connection with the core of my being. As untold power surged through my prostate and burst through my quivering hips, I felt my consciousness expanding, reaching out until I was acutely aware of every cell in my being. I breathed, slowly and deeply, and made my first wish. At the other side of town, Jarrett Nicklinson found his muscles deflating like popped balloons, punishment for all the damage he had caused once he turned into a gigantically muscular, yet cocky and violent sonofabitch. Once satisfied, I shifted my attention to the destruction he had wrought. I regrew all the trees he had ripped from their roots, repaired the equipment he had broken, before finally mending the bodies of the jocks he had put into hospitals. Tomorrow, some semblance of normality would return to the school. No more fallen trees, no more broken bones, and no more government agents swarming the campus with strange machines, hopefully. I did feel a little bad for Nicklinson, having lost those amazing muscles and all, but he did beat a hundred high schoolers half to death, so I suppose he had this coming. With the housekeeping done, I poised myself to satisfy some more... intimate needs. At my command, the street lamps outside ceased to be, bathing me in darkness save for the soft glow of my precious Dildo. With a wave of my hand and the snap of my fingers, my desk drifted off to the side and my office was bathed in warm lights only I could see. As I beheld myself in the mirror, still wedged on the monstrous Dildo and clad in nothing but a bright green polo, I couldn't help but smirk. So I parted my thick legs a little more, gasping as another inch of Dildo was stuffed into my ass, and made my second wish. It came slowly at first, but I felt it instantly – some kind of vitality surging through my veins from where the massive Dildo was splitting my ass apart, charging me with a youthful virility I had not felt in decades! I wanted to go for a sprint, or a workout, the last thing I wanted to do was sit here but I forced myself to remain. The pulsing was getting stronger now, every second of it feeling so frigging amazing I just wanted to spring up and whoop. Tight on cue, the clock began turning back on my body. All over my skin began prickling, tightening around my now firmer flesh as old blemishes began to fade. My eyesight came back so quickly I soon had crystal clear vision without the need for my glasses. Upon my crown, a great burst of crimson sprouted from where my hair had started to thin, my glorious new mane tumbling down the sides of my face and feathering down the back of my neck. Then, I chiselled myself a harder, manlier jawline before dusting on a grizzled coating of lush facial fuzz. The sensations that flooded me next were unbelievably intense, accentuated by my now youthful virility. My tingling muscles were growing so pumped, engorged with blood as though I had just put myself through a brutal workout. I drew in a deep breath and let myself moan as my body began expanding outward and upward. My polo tee felt it first, the soft cotton stretching and straining as my arms began bulking up. They had always been big, but now my biceps were growing into huge, rippling moulds that made my sleeves ride up to my shoulders, which were swelling into massive, cannonball deltoids! Aww fuck yeah this was good, this was very good. I brought my arms back and arched my back, shuddering as the Dildo's power poured into my chest and shoulders. Before me, my sizeable pecs began growing so huge and thick with mass that they pulled down the collar of my polo. I inhaled, flexing my shredded new muscles and marvelling at how tight my shirt had become. BANG! POP! The upper two buttons burst free of the polo! My pectorals were so big now, so big and strong and ripped that they pulled the material as far apart as it would go! Across my stomach, all the fat I had accumulated since varsity melted away, revealing the faint, cobblestone abdominals I knew were hidden beneath my shirt. The energy pooling in my gut began to roil, my entire body tensing and flexing as I grew myself the six... no, eight-pack of my dreams! Rock hard muscle began pushing out of my gut like chiselled ridges and deep valleys, showing through the shirt due to me keeping my waist narrow and taut. I gasped, suddenly realising I had been holding my breath all this while, before going right back to growing my muscles even more! My shoulders continued to expand, filling with mass as my biceps and triceps fought for their share. Beside me, the lats I had been neglecting for years began swelling with size, pushing my arms away from my body until almost thirty extra pounds of muscle bulged from my torso! Fuck! I looked like a frigging bodybuilder now, so huge and so ripped! I was built like a shithouse and eager for more! Directing my attention earthward, I began pumping up my awesome, gym coach quads, causing great slabs of rippling muscle to bulge from my thighs. They fused quickly into my quads, heaving and straining as they split into their individual muscle groups. I couldn't resist crushing my cock as the huge muscles surged past thirty inches around. If my cock was harder than a rock then my massive quads were even harder! Needless to say all this grinding resulted in hot a, if brief, eruption of seminal fluids that spilled into a puddle from between my heaving thighs. Willing my orgasm in check, I quickly spread my legs apart, wiggling my toes as my growth shot down my calves and into my feet. Bones began popping and snapping and suddenly I found my shoes uncomfortably tight and showing no signs of breaking. I wished them away, oohing as my bare feet stretched across the parquet until they were one size too big for anything I had at home. As my transformation slowed to a close, the sight in the mirror before me was positively orgasmic. I hadn't grown any taller, that was for sure, but I must have packed on fifty pounds of pure muscle! My shirt was comically small now, my chest and shoulders so heavily muscled that the soft cotton had ridden halfway up my waist, exposing the lower four of my glorious eight-pack. I grasped at my massive arms, arms with muscles so huge they were threatening to bust the sleeves of my shirt, knowing that they measured almost twenty inches around, all of it solid cords of iron that rippled and swelled with every flex. Fuck! How long had it been since I felt so alive, so big... so strong... so virile? I needed to free myself of this polo, to strip myself naked so I could bask in the glory of my musclebound new body. And so I planted my feet firmly on the ground and lifted myself off the Dildo of the Demigods, a gentle flash signalling the end of its connection with me as I reared to my full height. In the soft lights of my office, the sight of myself still stunned me. I was an inch from the mirror in a moment, running my hands across my new face and flexing my enormous, trembling muscles. And then I ripped off my polo, the cool air caressing my magnificently sculpted muscles as I ran my huge palms all over. So close... so close to the point of no return, that I was turning myself on and on was doing my swollen cock no favours. In a bid to distract myself, I strode over to the weighing scale, gasping when I realised I now weighted two hundred and twenty pounds, almost all of it muscle! My dick throbbed angrily between my legs, before gorging itself on so much blood it turned a deep shade of purple and began arching upward. I momentarily considered stroking myself off right there and then, blasting my seed all over the mirror in celebration of my massive, youthful new body. But then the Dildo of the Demigods caught my eye with a subtle shimmer, and I was instantly reminded of just how huge and monstrous Jarrett Nicklinson had gotten. That now-scrawny nerd was literally an entire head and shoulders (and half of his chest) taller than I was when he tore through the gym last week, to think I could be that big in a matter of moments! I bounded back to the Dildo and caressed its gleaming, golden surface. Just looking at it relaxed the sphincter muscles guarding my ass chute. Holy shit was I really going to do this? It had long dawned on me that, with but a simple wish, I could be a hundred times bigger than Nicklinson ad been, with colossal muscles the size of tanks exploding out of my body as I hulked up bigger and harder and stronger! The thought was drowning my cock in so much pleasure and I couldn't say I wasn't at least a little tempted. I considered my options. There was a good chance I would not be able to carry this massive phallus with me everywhere, which meant I would have to leave it unguarded when it wasn't pleasuring my hungry hole. Growing into a gigantically muscular bodybuilder-god wasn't a feasible idea either, judging by how quickly both the FBI and CIA had responded after hulk-Nicklinson began posting pictures of his new body to the internet. To top it all off, I was keenly aware that the legends surrounding the Dildo were slightly exaggerated. Its power was incredible beyond measure, that much was certain, but even this power had limiters it could not circumvent. Nicklinson could not wish himself to godhood (although he definitely would pass for one), and he could not scrub clean the memories of those who had witnessed him using the Dildo. Which pretty much meant everybody come to think, he had been posting tons of videos as of late. I was still contemplating the next course of action when the Dildo shimmered softly, as if in warning. Sure enough, when I turned to glance out my window I spotted the headlights of a car careening down the road to the high school. No time to waste! This time, I had a much easier time plunging myself onto the gargantuan Dildo. So pleasurable was the feeling of it pounding into my prostate that it put stars in my vision and made my cock spit out another wad of thick cum. Somehow, I managed to make my wish, the Dildo casting my mind out so I could better regard my unwanted visitor. Sure enough, it was Nicklinson – the meek and scrawny version of him – furious and out for blood. Hot on his tail was a small army of cars, mostly coppers with one or two FBI or CIA vehicles trailing behind them. If any of them so much as spotted my car I would be royally screwed! Without skipping a beat, I wished my humble wheels home just as Nicklinson came speeding into the parking lot. He didn't even bother waiting for his car to stop, all but tumbling out and scampering up the stairs to the front door. That suited me just fine, more time to begin undoing the very slight damage I had- Oh wait, looks like someone forgot to lock the front doors again. Quickly as I could, I put the door back on Nicklinson's locker and returned the crowbar to the vice-principal's office. The Dildo's former owner was charging through the corridors so fast now I only just managed to wish the VP's office door back in time. It seems the police and the FBI had split into teams as well, each one pouring through different routes of the school. They had left their CIA buddies back at the parking lot, although judging by the way those two were just standing about I figured they had decided to sit this one out. Beneath me, the Dildo gave me another cautious shimmer. The police had taken a detour and were now stumbling through the sports wing, where my office was. I breathed in deeply, drinking in the dangerous thrill of discovery. I double checked that my door was locked and that my lights were off, before shifting my mind to the intruders. Oh... Oh wow some of these guys were stacked! No wonder they moved so much slower than their FBI counterparts. All my life I had been such a sucker for muscle and today was no different, magic Dildo or not, and just watching those heavy pecs bounce and flex as those big boys sprinted... damned! I couldn't help myself now, having peeled away their clothing with my mind's eye, even as they came dangerously close to uncovering me. One simple wish couldn't, wouldn't hurt. The throbbing in my cock intensified and I gritted my teeth as liquid testosterone was pumped into my swollen member, causing the sensitive flesh to stretch and thicken and grow. "Oooh yeees!" I whispered, pinching my nipples as I pushed out an additional inch of cock from my muscled crotch. It was time to get big, real big! My mind's eye continued to follow the larger, more muscled members of the police, my tongue rolling out from between my lips as I imagined myself crushing those hard, firm butts. Those asses almost demanded the biggest and juiciest of cocks, so I began growing my erection even further. I moaned out loud this time, blatantly and indiscreetly as huge veins pulsed across my fat, bloated cock. They were feeding my cock with hot growth juice, more and more flesh building at the base until another inch of dick surged from my crotch. Fuck! Eight inches of man throbbed and pulsed in the air before me, angry and red and hotter than sin. Could I use another inch of cock? Damn right I could! I thickened my dick and commanded my hardest muscle to grow another inch! "Aaaaahhhhhh!" I cried, my hips bucking and causing me to sink even more onto the Dildo. The sensations of cock growth were orgasmic! It was almost as if I was having another orgasm right there and then! That my trembling body craved so much more mass up my ass only served to pleasure me further! Nine inches of cock, I had a nine inch tool drooling cum onto my floor! By the gods I almost felt like storming out of my office and tackling down one of those buff-ass studs trying to capture Nicklinson. Thankfully, I had sufficient clarity of mind to know that would be a terrible idea. In an attempt to distract myself, I turned my attention away to where Nicklinson had just tumbled into the locker rooms. With the police and the FBI so close, it was no wonder he moved much faster than he ever did in my classes, but he was still going to find a locker bereft of the Dildo. Unless... With a grim smirk, I wished into being a perfect replica of the Dildo and placed it into his locker. This one lacked the life charging magic currently surging through my prostate, but would nonetheless serve as both a deserving punishment and a perfect distraction. Nicklinson reached his locker with a triumphant shout. Almost immediately he hauled the thing out and dropped his pants, revealing his bony legs, bonier ass, and a member that was undoubtedly the primary reason people picked on him in the showers. "Freeze!" shouted the first FBI agent to see him, brandishing his firearm. Uh-oh, that wasn't good. I quickly wished for every gun on campus to jam the moment their triggers were pulled. "You'll never take me alive, coppers!" Nicklinson squealed as he hopped onto the Dildo threateningly, "I'm gonna break you all just like I did to the rest of those freaks!" The police showed up next, squeezing into the opening at the other end of the row. "Get off that uh... dildo... Nicklinson!" yelled one of the policemen, who waved batons as opposed to guns, "Let's talk this out like men!" "The only talking man tonight's gonna be me!" Nicklinson declared, before plunging himself down on the false-Dildo, "AaaaaAAAAHHHHHHH!" "Fuck that shit!" yelled an FBI agent standing in the back, "Waste him!" "My gun's jamming chief!" was the reply, "I can't get it open!" "Mine too!" voiced another. Nicklinson was beside himself. "Yes, YES!" he screamed, almost convulsing on the pseudo-Dildo, "I CAN FEEL THE POWER OF THE GODS SURGING THROUGH MY VEINS!" "Someone do something!" yelled the FBI chief. The police were the first to move, barrelling down the corridor like a living wall of muscle. Nicklinson wasn't even slightly shaken, for he immediately yelled again. "YES, YES COME AT ME!" he roared, raising his flimsy arms, "HERE ME BODY, GROW ONE THOUSAND POUNDS OF MUSCLE! RIGHT! NOW!" Needless to say I had to spend the next few minutes subtly repairing the damage Nicklinson's ribs had sustained, not too much and not too little, but enough such that he wouldn't go into shock while waiting for medical care. The FBI had wasted no time reporting their success to whoever they reported to, even as the policemen bundled Nicklinson up in some kind of straitjacket and hauled him from the locker room. "I don't understand!" wailed Nicklinson from inside the police van, "I was worthy! I AM worthy! I even felt the power! Why didn't I grow?! This isn't fair! THIS ISN'T FAIR!" As the police drove off with Nicklinson, I returned my attention to the locker rooms, where the remaining FBI agents were nervously trying secure the Dildo without, as I imagined, being tempted by its incredible power. Phew, crisis averted. If I had pulled this off right the government would think the Dildo to be in the possession of the FBI and not with Nicklinson's dashing, hard-bodied gym coach. I continued following the FBI as they cradled the Dildo out to where a large armoured truck had arrived. Just about every vehicle outside belonged to the FBI now, and there was even a helicopter puttering about. For some reason, I couldn't find the two CIA fellows or the little car they had arrived in. They must have gotten chased off by the FBI, rivalries and all that. Not that it mattered to me. My work here was done, and I still had all night to play with my new toy! Smirking, I wished myself home and mused as my office melted away to reveal the soft brown tones of my apartment. It wasn't a very large one since I lived alone – one bedroom, one bath, and one living room with an attached kitchen – but it did occur to me that with the Dildo I could soon be living in a palace worthy of kings! What fantasies I might have had about my accommodations were quickly superseded by the glistening Dildo skewering my ass. All alone in the privacy of my apartment, where the deepest and darkest of my fantasies had borne many fruit, it wasn't long before my mind was running and running wild! How many times have I wondered what life would be like if I were a colossal muscle-beast? To have muscles that constantly exploded with more size, more mass? I was breathing hard now, my deep breaths made all the stronger by the huge muscles brimming from my new body. Fuck this was too hot, too sexy! I needed to cool off before I made a wish I was going to regret! Detaching myself from the Dildo, I left my toy in the living room and sauntered over to the showers. Even with the water set to freezing I felt my loins burning with a fire that would not ease. Oh to hell with discipline! I shut the shower off and threw myself onto the john, grasping my monster dong with one hand and pinching a sensitive teat with the other. I was shooting in seconds, loud moans and louder gasping filling the air as I rocked my bod with one orgasm after another. It almost felt as though I was in the throes of puberty again, only this time my very muscles were turning me on endlessly and my huge fucking cock burned with a need I could not satisfy. Over and over again did I cum and cum, until suddenly it dawned on me just what was keeping me from my much needed satisfaction. My cock still spurting cum, I stomped out of my bathroom, my face twisting with glee at the gigantic sex toy sitting innocently in the middle of my living room. With my new strength, I hefted the Dildo up with one arm and made for my bedroom, not caring that I was somehow still wet and drippling water everywhere. Just as I left it, my cosy bedroom comprised a single queen-sized bed and a small desk for my computer. After shuttering the windows, I plopped myself onto the bed and readied the dildo before my hungry hole. I was alone here, fuck discipline! And then I slammed my ass down. "OoooooOOHHHH YEEAAAH!" I roared! I came, I came harder than ever as the Dildo crushed my prostate flat and plunged deeper than it had ever gone. My dick, oh god my huge fucking dick, it was spitting juice like crazy and I haven't even made my wish yet! Not wanting these waves of euphoria to end, I wished for my Dildo to fuck me, to thrust through my ass as I moaned and convulsed. And it did so, slowly yet steadily, the huge fucking girth splitting my ass wide open as it ploughed through my cheeks and pulled out for another go. I must have laid there for hours, squealing like a pig in heat – a big strong bodybuilding stud and his enormous golden sex toy. To say I was delirious would have been putting it lightly, but even in my delirium I could feel my dark fantasies growing stronger by the minute. My mind was filling with visions of size, of having colossal muscles that would not, could not stop growing and bursting and bulging out from all over my monstrous, heaving body. I bore witness to myself hulking out of my skin, a gargantuan god of brawn whose ludicrously huge muscles bust through his clothes on a regular basis. "Aww... Fuck... YEEEAAAHH!" I bellowed, after the Dildo pumped out what must have been my tenth orgasm that night, "Grow me... Grow me! Into... grow me into... into a must... into a MUSCLE GOD!" A suddenly stillness consumed the Dildo, and then... "WOOOAAARRRGHHHH!" I screamed, convulsing on my bed as a tremendous explosion of raw power surged through the Dildo, EXPLODING into my prostate before rocketing across my thrashing, sweating form. It was like an adrenaline rush only a thousand times more intense. I could feel it in my arms, my legs, every muscle in my body was brimming with pure strength. It was filling me to bursting and overwhelming my senses, but it was so frigging amazing, so frigging intoxicating I just cast myself back as the sensations consumed me. And then I was heaving, bulging, pulsing, my body trashing against the bed as the incredible physical power of my muscles magnified tenfold. My massive, rock hard muscles, already pumped the limit, rapidly expanded as the Dildo slammed into my ass with a force of a thousand men. "RRAAARRGHHH!" I boomed, my voice low and guttural. My monstrous arms were erupting all over, herculean boulders of shredded muscle bursting out as though muscle bombs were going off under my skin. They were going so huge, so long, so much rippling mass exploding from my bones my fucking biceps had biceps! Aww fuck yeah grow me big, grow me hard! My triceps were swelling past the thickness of car tires, my arms were bulging out with mountains that split into frightening peaks, my giant hands were huge enough to crush my own head, fuck! I drew in several monster breaths, growling as huge cords of muscle surged through my shoulders like iron cables, causing them to explode with size and surge across the surface of my bed. The Dildo was pumping me full of molten muscle mass, bulking my shoulders up until my delts swelled to the size of beach balls – hulking, massive, muscular beach balls. Oh god yes, give me more, MORE! Gargantuan muscles blew out from my traps, devouring a neck that was thickening to the girth of a pillar! My chest, fucking hell my pecs were huge and flexing and growing! Ggrrr! RRRGGHH!! Swell! Bulge! Grow! My pecs were fucking mountains now, twin peaks of swelling, heaving brawn. I had gotten so muscular that my nipples were forced to point down! Holy shit even my nipples were growing muscular! They were thickening, hardening, lengthening as the pulsed with my power and quivered with need. No! There is only one need! I needed to grow! To get bigger, stronger, HARDER! "MOOORRE!" Great big wings of pure power exploded from either side of me, my fucking lats growing so thick and so heavy with muscle they dared to force my hulking arms away from this glorious body. I commanded the Dildo to fuck me harder, to pump me with even more muscle! There must be more muscle, more size, more power! Huge slabs of muscle began bugling out of my back, growing my body thicker, wider. They were fusing into my lats, reaching down to where my narrow waist heaved with incredible power. My abs were bulging up like slabs of prime meat, punching their way out of my gut and morphing into titanium bricks that gleamed and glistened with my sweat. As the rest of my torso stretched up and out, incredible amounts of sinew streaked around my lower back, retaining my pillar-like waist and giving my body the legendary Y-shape I so craved. "LEGS!" I thundered, 'HUGE, FUCKING LEGS!" Gigantically muscled quads exploded from my amazing thighs, roiling and heaving. Monstrous mountains were surging out, growing my thighs to freakish proportions and causing my bones to lengthen in a desperate bid to contain my new power. I stretched my legs out, causing them to grow over the edge of the bed. My calves began hulking out, diamond-shaped boulders bursting into being from beneath my thin skin. My feet crashed into my floorboards, shattering them as they blew out to the size of tennis racquets. "OH MY GOOOOD! YEEESSS!! ARRRGHHHH!!!" My body convulsed, monstrous biceps flexing with impunity as I flexed and roared and arched my back. So much size, so much muscle, just blowing up all over me! I was growing into a massive, monstrous muscle god! My shredded, freakish thighs were so fucking huge I could crush girders between them! My biceps were huger than basketballs, just bunching and rippling with even the slightest thought! My forearms were humongous masses of rippling, shifting sinew that were growing bigger and bigger and bigger! FUCK! I was wider than my fucking bed, than my fucking doorway! And I was still GROWING! My abs continued thrusting out of my gut, growing and widening into monstrous anvils of bulging brawn. They heaved violently with every monster breath I took, growing in the shadow of the hulking pectorals that were erupting with barely contained power! In seconds they surged past the size of wrecking balls, huge and ripped and fucking glutted with monstrous mass. Such strength, such power! I raised my gargantuan feet and threw myself off my bed, smashing craters into my floor as I morphed into a colossal muscle-giant. "ONE... MORE... BURST!" I commanded, before crushing more and more of the Dildo into my musclebound ass, "AAAHHHHHH!! AAAAARRGHHHHHH!!" Every gigantic muscle of my body, clearly defined and heaving with power, began pulsing with renewed vigour. My body began blowing out, giant blocks of boulder-sized brawn bursting out of my back as the rest of me rocketed toward the ceiling. I was a fucking massive muscle monster now, with a thick fucking sequoia neck and planetoid pectoral muscles bulging out of my chest. My arms were punishing world-destroyers huger than my monstrous quads were thick! I was growing, thicker and harder and taller! Fuck yes, FUCK YES! Finally, as my head graced the ceiling of my room, the awesome power of the dildo, now fully plunged into my pulsing hole, surged back from my limbs and seared a path down to where my cock – pitifully small compared to the rest of me – sat ready and eager for growth and power. "OOOHH FUUUUUUUCCKKK!!" I exploded, falling to my knees as the Dildo drowned me in pleasure and caused my cock to shoot out by the feet and fatten by the inch. In a single second it had doubled in size, a hot river of cum sloshing from my quivering cock hole as my hips bucked and thrusted. My godly Dildo was still fucking me senseless, now a perfect fit for my brawny new butt, and every time it slammed into me my cock just hulked out more and more! Ggrrrr!! GGGGRRR!! More cock! MORE MUSCLE! That's it... grow... GROW! My superhuman schlong exploded to the thickness of a fire hydrant, white hot sperm spraying onto my floor as it trashed and flexed before me. More pumping, more growth! Yes, yes, YES! The monster that crashed against my pecs almost rumbled, heavy with the weight of potential as my puny balls began swelling monstrously, shooting past the size of basketballs and growing amazingly hot against my massive thighs. The power within was building, boiling within my growing pair, my colossal testes visibly churning with my seed until the dam suddenly broke. I bellowed, enraged that my balls would dare defy me, and threw myself back just as my cock exploded in a storm of sex and cum. As my humongous testicles crashed against the floor, roiling and flexing and pumping me full of liquid testosterone, my cock surged with newfound power, shooting past four feet, then five feet, until the swollen mushroom head grew past my head and denied me the pleasure of mouth-fucking myself unconscious. But at this point I had gotten so muscular, so monstrous, so overcome by the most primal of needs that I didn't give a fuck. Two titanic hands crushed against my tree-sized tool and flogged it for all it was worth, each deafening stroke causing a shockwave to erupt from my godly bod as my eruption tore off great chunks of ceiling. As my orgasm reached its climax, my cum jets grew so great they lasted almost five whole seconds each. So much spunk erupted and sprayed from my monster that my bedroom was soon flooded with my power, even spilling out into my living room as I painted the walls and ceilings white. And then a dark fantasy returned, and with guttural moan did I make yet another wish. Before my massive chest, my gargantuan pectorals began flexing and bouncing beyond my control. A great streak of white split my senses apart, blinding me with lust as my nipples thickened massively and began exploding with orgasms of their own. Out of sync with the eruption taking place between my huge quads, I was soon flailing and screaming, unable to control myself until the electrical storm crashing through my neurons grew too great even for me. I made one last attempt, one last try to form a wish in my head such that I could continue this orgasm to end all orgasms, but in the end my nerves gave out first, hurling me into the abyss as my body finally calmed. I didn't know for how long I had slept, no more than five minutes if I guessed right, for no light streamed through my windows and the great stench of man and sex was still fresh and strong. There was a loud pounding coming from somewhere. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK! Aww shit I could barely thick straight after such a release! My entire body was drenched in seminal fluids and practically smouldering! Why the fuck was something at the door now? I couldn't let anyone see me like this, no matter how I wanted to! Struggling to regulate my breathing, I wished away all the cum coating my apartment, reversed the damage I had caused and, after much deliberation, reluctantly wished away my superhuman musculature and the cardinal crown of hair I had been wearing. The feeling of my herculean brawn just draining away left in its place an emptiness that only worsened the sensations of weakness that now stung at my arms. Once satisfied that my house and body looked as unsuspicious as possible, I propped myself off the Dildo and left it by my bedside, but not before wishing myself a fresh set of clothes. Just another polo shirt and some khakis, nothing fancy. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK! Geeze I'm coming already! Hold on to your horses! Fuck, it sucked being so small and weak, once I got rid of whoever these were I was going to get right back on my Dildo. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK! "What?!" I hollered, all but wrenching my door open and then doubling back when I realised I recognised the two men standing before me. "CIA!" one of them barked, brandishing his golden badge, "Put your hands up chump!" Fuck! I complied, my still-trembling hands shooting up at the sight of the gun barrels mere inches from my face. Oh god oh shit oh fuck how could I not have checked my visitors first? How could this have slipped my addled mind? "Why're you shaking bub?" challenged the taller of the pair, "Got some drugs in you don't we?" "I think we both know what he's got," chuckled his partner. The shorter agent pulled out some kind of photograph, utterly black save for blotches of red, blues and greens in the shape of a man and a sex toy. "Yeah you know what this is," he sniggered. And he was right, the thermal image was clearly of me – well, a much more muscular and long-haired version of me – with my legs far apart and my ass plunged upon a very long, very thick, very familiar shape that radiated an unusually uniform heat signature. "How?" was all I could muster. "You were so distracted you didn't even notice us by your window," answered the taller agent, "To think you managed to replace the FBI's Dildo with a fake, clever, but that's what the CIA's for." The two men pushed their way into my apartment and locked the door behind them. They then led me to my sofa and handcuffed my wrists behind my back. From here, I was only slightly relieved to see that my bedroom door had partially closed, blocking the Dildo from sight. If I could just reach it... "Keep your gun on him at all times," ordered Mr Tall, "I'll search for the package." "What?" retorted Mr Short, "Why do you get to look for it?" "I was a detective for years before this," countered Mr Tall, "And besides, you need to learn the ropes, and guarding the arrestee's part of that." What hopes I had had for a confrontation were dashed when Mr Tall seemed to relent. "Alright, alright," he breathed, before pulling away from my bedroom door, "You can search, but remember the mission." Mr Short was almost bouncing with glee at the news. Without another word he lowered his gun and sprang off toward the kitchen. The thunderous crashing of many pots, pans, and plates soon followed. "While he's busy," whispered Mr Tall, the barrel of his gun kissing the sides of my head, "You'll tell me where you're keeping the Dildo." I drew in a deep breath, trying and failing to still my nerves. "It's in the kitchen," I lied, "He's going to find it soon." "No he's not," chuckled Mr Tall, "I spent the first fifteen years of my career a detective, you aren't fooling me." The agent pressed the gun against my forehead, more forcefully this time. "My bedroom," I hissed, still shaking, "It's in my bedroom." "Ah, that's a good boy." Still training his firearm on me, Mr Tall began inching away from the sofa and toward my slightly ajar bedroom door. His eyes were not on me though, utterly fixated on where his partner was turning my kitchen upside down. I swore under my breath. How could it have come to this? How could I have been so... careless... like Nicklinson was?! Staying back at the school instead of wishing myself home immediately was a mistake I was never going to live down. I should never have stayed back, I should never have gawked at those police officers as they chased Nicklinson to the locker rooms, I should never have... jammed the guns of... everyone on... campus. I threw the CIA guy an angry stare, and saw to my horror the gleaming golden Dildo shimmering as he pushed the door apart. "Oh..." he gasped, "Oh yes." "NO!" I bellowed, springing off the sofa and charging him with all the strength I could muster. Even with my arms tied behind my back I knew how to throw my weight at someone, and in the scant two seconds it took me to close the gap I had shouldered Mr Tall flat onto the floor before rolling off using the leftover momentum. "WRONG MOVE!" shrieked Mr Tall from behind me. There was a loud click as his gun jammed in his fingers. "Fuck!" he snapped, before I kicked my bedroom door against his head, "FUCK!" It wouldn't shut, and suddenly it just burst open again as Mr Short came barrelling through. His eyes grew wide at the sight of the Dildo, just sitting there unattended. Mr Tall seized him by the ankles before he could take another step, sending his body to the floor and his hands to my trousers. I was still moving, and despite two grown men trying to hold me back my big, strong legs proved stronger! RIIIP! My pants were torn clean off, Mr Short's fingers tugging the waistband of my underwear all the way down and exposing my gaping, winking hole. Hah! This was almost too perfect! I gave Mr Short a swift kick, freeing me from his grip and causing me to stumble backward. "NOO!" they cried in unison as I threw myself onto the Dildo. "FFUUUUUCCK!" I screamed, "I CAN FEEL IT!" The very building seemed to shake as the Dildo's power exploded into my prostate once more. "AARRGHHHH! THE POWER! I CAN FEEL THE POWER SURGING THROUGH MY VEINS!" My cock began gorging itself on my blood, thickening and swelling and arching upward as it hardened like iron. And then they were off, falling and tripping over themselves as they fled from my apartment. I could hear them cursing and swearing even as they reached the hallway. They were calling for backup, for all their backup, I could have sworn I even heard them trying to call in the National Guard! Gods, I couldn't stop myself from breaking into laughter, tears of relief streaming down my face. My body was still the bulky-yet-flabby body of a gym teacher. I hadn't even made any wishes yet! While it was true I could feel the Dildo's power surging into my body through my prostate, the truth was so much simpler. I was a fucking ass-man, man! Having such a massive, oversized cock up my ass was just turning me on beyond belief! I wished away the handcuffs from behind me and flexed the muscles of my old body. Fuck I could be so much bigger, so much stronger and so much harder in mere moments! But first... Mr Short was the first to cry out as his shoelaces miraculously untied, his face leaving quite the impression by the curb and sending Mr Tall tumbling over him. I then swiped their radios away and, imitating their voices with the aid of the Dildo, directed everyone at the other end to 18 Pounding Boulevard, where a very drunken, very under-aged party was just about to hit its climax. Teach those kids to purchase alcohol with fake IDs, I was gonna! Still magically interfering with their radio, I borrowed the voice of someone else on the airwaves and practically yelled about how Mr Tall and Mr Short had gone rogue. I wasn't usually one for schemes, but twenty years of high school would teach you a thing or two about that. The CIA responded awfully quick, especially since Mr Tall and Mr Short's car was now shooting down an empty highway at breakneck speeds toward a certain foreign embassy, with the totally-legit Dildo of the Demigods in the boot, no less! As for the dynamic duo, they were off spending some time in a foreign country somewhere. I had heard many nice things about those... international prisons facilities, and I figured the two would benefit from some time off work after all that's happened. I inhaled deeply, savouring the sweetness of my victory before dusting my hands off the matter. At last... at last I was alone again... along and ready to grow so big, so fucking big... I held myself back, closing my eyes and trusting myself to wish a small, simple wish. A wave of static swept over me, and once again I felt the vigour of youth returning in full. This time though, I chose instead to retain the flab around my belly and the glasses upon my face. No all-consuming muscle growth for me, not with sunlight starting to stream through the shutters and not with my principal blowing up my phone with pictures of the FBI swarming the school. There were still hockey teams to nurture, swim teams to coach, and plenty of frantic high schoolers who no doubt needed a firm guiding hand through this phase in life. I drew in another deep breath, pulling in the Dildo's power and releasing it deep within my gut. All over me my muscles began to tingle, growing hard and strong and firm as if I had never once slacked off since the start of my career. The strength that filled me now was nothing short of incredible, even after I had tasted the monstrous potential of the Dildo, and was made all the more delicious by the flabby 'disguise' I now wore. They would be none the wiser, all of them, and so long as I presented myself as I did in my old life they would remain so for as long as I needed. And yet, I suppose now would be a good time to start... exercising and dieting again. How would the bodybuilding team feel if their coach wasn't big and buff and just bulging with brawn? It was going to take time to lose all this excess baggage after all. Surely they wouldn't mind if their coach joined in on their weightlifting sessions. I was actually growing harder at the thought. They were going to gawk and gasp and gurgle in awe as my progress outpaced their own. I was going to get lean and tight and hard, and then I was going to get huge and hunky and harder. Soon I was going to start wearing speedos again, makeshift posers for when I had to teach the senior team just how to show off their magnificent bodies on stage. The Dildo of the Demigods thrummed against my prostate. Oh... why had I not thought of that? I've been so selfish... too selfish. My tongue actually quivered in delight as I wet my lips. I could see them now – Jerrold, Yates, Corrigan, Tomas, and even wee little Ronaldson – slowly broadening, thickening, their athletic frames growing heavy with the weight of more and more brawn as I showed them just what time in the gym would do to them. The coiling smirk returned to my face as I lowered my head to regard the Dildo. It was time, time to see just how big and strong those young gods were going to get!
  8. 33 points
    Hey guys, I am so sorry for posting so late, but I came down to the wire on this one. My original idea was more expansive but I had to rework it make it more manageable. I hope it still works for you guys. Enjoy! A Stranger's Fantasy The bus rolled along as it carried me to work, my face looking down at my phone, doing anything I could to alleviate the boredom of my long morning commute. Besides liking dudes I lived a pretty ho-hum life. Average job, average love life, average apartment. I longed for something to shake my world up and shake me out of this rut I lived in. But that wasn’t likely going to happen to me on the bus while I played games on my phone. Still about 40 minutes from my destination it stopped to let on a new passenger. I glanced up in slight curiosity to see the person getting on as is my usually my instinct, but instead of quickly returning my sight to my phone like I usually do my eyes froze on a perfect vison. He had messy short blond hair and deep golden tan which he showed off with a tight ribbed white tank top. The body the tank clinged to was rippling with muscle, veins criss crossing all the way down his arms. He wasn’t as big as a bodybuilder, but more of a fitness model. He wore black jeans that had to be custom fitted the way they perfectly followed every bulge and curve along his legs. He paid the man his fare and turned to walk down the aisle. Walk was the wrong word. It was a swagger. Every movement oozed confidence and sex. His mouth was set in a certain smirk that said he was the sexiest person here. As he came further down the bus his stunning face became more detailed. He had piercing green eyes that shined with mischief and sensuality. His smirk was causing two small dimples to form just under his high cheek bones. A darker blond 5 o’clock shadow covered his face down to his square jaw with a dimple in the chin. He continued down the aisle he stop just short of where I was sitting, turned his head and then locked eyes with me. His look penetrated me. Boring deep down into my core like he was searching for something. I stayed captured in his gaze until his voice brought me out of the trance. “Is this seat taken?” he said. “Um..yeah, sure. I..I mean yeah, it’s open.” He smiled a perfect smile and proceeded to sit down next to me his hard broad shoulders brushing up against me. . I noticed a glint nestled into cleavage of his pecs. Some sort of metal disk on a silver chain. It had a sinuous line running down the center making resemble a yin yang symbol with one side gold and the other silver. There were strange characters etched along the outer edge. I looked around and wondered why he chose to sit next to me. The bus was pretty sparse this trip with maybe ten or twelve people tops with plenty of open seats. I guess I was just lucky. Or unlucky depending on how you looked at it. This guy was designed to push all my buttons and the last thing I needed was to pop some embarrassing boner. I decided to bury my face into my phone to distract from him so I wouldn’t humiliate myself when I heard his deep, sultry voice vibrate me to my core. “So, do want to hear my fantasy?” I turned my head. “I’m sorry, what?” “A fantasy. Something you keep buried in that deep, dark corner of your mind” His look and smile were absolutely pornographic, leaving little doubt what kind fantasy he was talking about. “I don’t really think…I..I mean I am not really comfortable with…..” “Shhh…” he said as he pressed his finger to my lip. “Just let me share my fantasy with you. I’m sure you’ll love it. You see I’m sitting on a bus with this unassuming guy next to me. I can tell he’s into my body but he’s afraid to say or do anything.” He began to subtly squeeze and flex his various muscles increasing the tension in the air. “But eventually he works up the courage to just brush my thigh, so he can feel if this muscle is real.” To my surprise I found myself slowly bring the back of my hand back and forth across his denim encased leg. I didn’t even think about it, it just happened. My eyes darted around to see if the other passengers where staring at me but they all seemed to be occupied with their own thoughts. “He grows bolder and just full on grabs and strokes my leg, kneading the muscle.” I looked back down and…and it was true. I was now just rubbing my paw across the top of his thigh. Just squeezing and messaging it as he flexed his quads for me. I tried to pull my hand away but when I did I just couldn’t. Moreover I realized I didn’t want to. What he said is what I wanted to do. I was scared and….excited. “Oh, yeah!” He exclaimed as he bit his lower lip and watched me work his legs. “But do you know what the best part is? What this guy doesn’t know is that when people touch me I get super turned on and when I get turned on I grow.” I could feel a rippling in his thigh. I thought it was him flexing but I could soon hear the material of his jeans creaking and groaning. The subtle sound of stiches popping began. It grew louder until the seam on the side was rent open exposing the flesh of his increasingly striated leg. The rips grew more numerous as now both his legs were expanding from my attention. One of them was forming just beneath my hand. I griped it and opened it further so I could get direct contact with hot writhing sinew. As I slid my hand into the ever widening hole the direct contact seemed to cause the growth to accelerate. More tears and stretching were coming from his other leg and spreading all the way down to his calves and feet destroying his shoes and turning the rest of his jeans to rags. “Fuck! Oh shit!” the guy said in a breathless voice. The growth itself must have been pleasurable for him. Every time I stroked his muscle he groaned like I stroked his dick. It was like he was a living full body hard on. Part of me registered that the whole bus should have been staring at us, disgusted with us. Hell someone should have called the cops at this point and have us arrested. But now the greater part of me didn’t care. Whatever this fantasy he was telling me about I was now fully enthralled in it. “Next he works on my upper half.” He scooped me up in his left arm handling me with a strength that is much greater than his size, or at least his upper half. He sat me on his lap facing him. Though the growth in his legs had slowed down I could still feel the muscle fibers splitting and shifting underneath me. He ran a hand up back until he grabbed me behind the neck and brought me in real close to his face and turned my head so he could whisper in my ear. “Now he starts feeling me up all over my torso, worshiping me, making sure I can catch up with my lower half, and I’m already so excited so start growing even faster.” Before he even finished the sentence my hands went down to his hips and I slowly brought them up his sides. My thumbs slid past the deepening ridges of his Apollo’s belt and past the growing definition of his obliques. As I grabbed on to the lats I could feel the increasing size weakening the seams of his tank as tears form under his arms rending the fabric down the sides. I squeeze them hard, unyielding to my grip and beginning to spread my hands apart. He began to nibble and lick at my ear to egg me on. I continued to work his lats until his back was wide enough to cover half of my former seat and the sides of his shirt were almost completely blown out. I moved up to his pecs caressing his already considerable plates of muscle and felt as they inflated like balloons, and stretched the front of his shirt taut. A tear began to form at the top and unable to wait I grabbed it and ripped it open so I feed his muscles with my desire more directly. As I squeezed, grabbed and punched at his pecs he would flex them causing a tidal wave striations to roll across my hand and letting me feel each of the individual muscle fibers shift and grow. When his chest had grown so big that I thought I might be pushed off his lap I moved up towards the head. I rubbed his traps causing them rise up his neck like a second set of shoulders that were growing out the top of him. It spread to his neck causing it to thicken like a column. The necklace I had noticed before was now like a choker, almost digging into his neck. I moved down to the shoulders and felt as the separations expanded and multiplied, broadening his frame further growing to the size of basketballs. As I continued to massage his shoulders I leaned down to begin to bite and kiss his neck, enjoying the feeling of the stubble against my face and the pulsing of the veins on my tongue. His shoulder rippled and moved and I knew he was moving to a double bi pose. I took my cue and worked my way down his left arm. His bicep was already at least 17 or 18” but as I moved my hand across the peak I could feel the skin stretch tighter and fill up my hand. The split grew deeper as felt the fibers of the muscle grow more distinct. 20”, 21”, 22” his bicep and tricep grew until it was as big as his head. I moved on up the forearm and watched as it pushed out my grip along the way. Thick veins branching out from the elbow fed the growth as I worked my up. I repeated the process the on the right arm until they were matching mounds of muscle pulsing with power. I leaned back and took a look at him. Where there was a hunk before there was now a god. A veritable Greek statue of a man cover in inhumanly sized, deep, ripped muscle draped in the tatter and rags of his former clothes. He pulled me in close with his newly enlarged arms and brought his face to mine his lips less than half an inch away from mine. I leaned and press my lips to his. He moaned into me with his now impossible deep voice and opened his mouth to let his tongue invade mine. We kissed deeply for a couple of minutes when I felt a stirring between my legs. The crotch and waist of his jeans was still relatively intact but now I could see the zipper begin to bulge apart. The guys smiled at me and said “And then he moves on to one last thing to complete the package.” I reached down and began stroking him through tortured material and he responded with deep growl. I could feel the shaft swelling in my hand followed by the sound the zipper teeth snapping causing the fleshy head to peak through. I reached in and pulled his fly apart further to help free his hardening monster while my other hand reached up to tweak on of his huge silver dollar nips to arouse him even further. The blissful yell I received in return confirmed that is was working as did the increasingly large rod that grew up between us. It shot up like a magic bean stock and wedged its way in between us. I continued up until the softball sized head wedged firmly inside the crevice between his pecs a river of precum flowing down the shaft. My hands stroked up and down his thick cock getting coated in the pre. I stuck my fingers into my mouth for taste and found myself intoxicated. I lapped up the copious flow with abandon and worked my tongue all the way to the top while he shivered with pleasure the whole time. Finally, at the top I reached the bulbous head where I stuck my tongue into the slit to take it in from the source. But it was this move that finally sent him over the edge. I could feel him tense all his muscles before yelling in orgasmic bliss, “And…then…I…CUM!” I felt it race up in great pulses with the first shot firing towards the back of my throat and filled my mouth a thick creamy load. I tried to take in as much as I could but the volume overwhelmed me and removed my mouth and let him shoot his load freely into the celling. As his jizz splashed against the celling of the bus and rained back down on us, I let loose my own load soaking the inside of my own pants. His load continued to spurt strong for another minute and then slowed down until it just dribbled out and slid down his cock. After the bliss wore off I realized we were in the middle of a bus but as I looked around in panic I saw that everyone else on just seemed to continue on like nothing was happening. The guy saw me looking around and said, “Don’t worry about. They’re not really paying attention.” “What just happened?” I said now more lucid. It seemed this guy’s thrall was wearing off. “Well, that’s a little complicated. For right now let me just say thanks for helping me out.” He leaned down and gave me a deep kiss taking extra time to lick up the cum that had landed on my face. When he broke the kiss I saw that his necklace had changed. The gold half of it was there but the silver half was missing. “Look down.” He said as if he could read my mind. I did and I saw the other half of the necklace on chain around my neck. “What is this?” I asked. “Think of it as an IOU for what you did for me. Now it’s time to WAKE UP!” I sat up with a start. I was back on my seat on the bus and by myself again. I looked towards the other seat and saw the mystery man wasn’t there. Everything looked the way it was before. No puddles of cum. No shredded clothes. ‘Oh God!’ I thought ‘Was that really all a dream? It felt so real’. Everybody on the bus seemed to be acting normal as they were before. I thought maybe it was dream. Except, I could feel something around my neck. The necklace! It was real enough. The same one he had given me. As I held it in my hand I thought about what he had said about an “IOU” and wondered what he could have meant.
  9. 33 points
    Two days had gone by since Danny had given Dwayne the supplement he got from his trainer Ivan. It was still early in the morning, and Danny was working out in the garage. He had promised Ivan he wouldn't lift weights while Ivan was visiting Poland, but he hadn't promised not to pump up everyday, so he'd been busy doing handstand pushups, bending rebar, breaking lumber and crushing brick. He'd just finished his 6th set of deadlifting the front of his dad's Range Rover, when he got a text from Dwayne. "Dude, that stuff u gave me is kickn in," he wrote. "I woke up at 6 this morn and went for a run. A run, man, and no one was chasing me. I ran all the way to the city park." "Isn't that like 5 miles from ur house," Danny answered. "Yeh and I didn't even get winded. U know that fitness trail at the park?" "The one with chinup station and monkey bars, shit like that? Yeh I know it." "I hit that thing like an American Ninja. I did 40 chinups. Remember how many I could do in PE?" "5?" "3. Sometimes only 2. And even they were bad ones kicking my legs all over. Everyone mocked me. Now I fly thru the monkey bars. I'm stoked man, that stuff is legit." "Told u" "Yeh but now I'm insane hungry. Meet for food?" "OK, how bout McDonalds there by park?" "OK, but shouldn't we be eatin lean or oatmeal or something?" "Yeh probably but it doesn't seem to matter. C u there." Danny got the keys to his dad's car and headed out. He wasn't supposed to drive the Rover, but what was the old man gonna do, spank him? Danny chuckled at the thought. He pulled into McDonald's and saw Dwayne waiting outside in a sweat-soaked running shirt and cargo shorts. "Hey, man," Danny said as he got out. "Dude," said Dwayne, "you got no neck anymore, you're just huge traps clear up to your ears." "Yeah, I was doing deads with the truck, it swells up my back and traps pretty wicked." "This truck?" "Yep." "Geezus, man," said Dwayne as they headed inside. "What's in your gym bag?" "My mass gainer shake. I'm gonna have it with about ten McMuffins." They got their food then sat down at a table. Dwayne said, "Did you see the way that cashier was checking you out?" "Nah, man, I thought she was looking at you. You're looking jacked." "I know, right? Look at my forearms." Dwayne held out his arms, his palms upward. Veins were showing all over the underside of his forearms. "Any maybe you're right, she was looking at me. I noticed it at the park, too, girls looking me over with that 'look'. Some guys too." "Get used to it, bud, I get it all the time now." "Well, yeah, you. Look at you in that stringer. I never had anyone look at me with hunger in their eyes before." Danny was already through with half his McMuffins, and was now downing his mass gainer. He saw Dwayne looking at him, and he said, "It all turns to muscle. It's crazy. I had 3 large pizzas and a gallon of this gainer shake last night around midnight." "It doesn't bloat you up?" "Yeah, fiercely for awhile. Take a look," said Danny, pulling up his tank to show his gut, bulging out like a balloon, the skin stretched tight, but with abs ridges making his stomach look like a tortoise shell. "I shaved it down this morning. Wanna touch?" "God yeah," said Dwayne, coming around the table and laying his hand on Danny's muscle gut. "Holy shit, dude, it's like a Buddha belly, except hard as marble!" Dwayne rubbed his hand on the smooth hard mound. "Yep. Except in about two hours it'll be flattening out and I'll be starving again." "My hunger's been thru the roof too, and I've never been much of an eater." "You know what else?" said Danny, "Your skin's all cleared up, too." Their faces were only a few inches apart, and Danny couldn't help but notice Dwayne's complexion, which was smooth and healthy looking. He had always had a lot of skin problems. "You're actually kind of a looker now." "Shut up," said Dwayne, going back to his seat. "You're right though, all my zits cleared up almost overnight." "Hey, I heard from Ivan last night on WhatsApp. He's taking another week over there, to go to Russia. He might be getting a supply of something new." "Stronger than the stuff we got now??" "Not sure. Guess we'll see." They finished eating, and headed out of the McDonald's. When they got outside, Dwayne said, "You want to go check out the fitness trail at the park?" "Sure." "We'll see if I can beat you on some of the stations," said Dwayne. "Yeah, ya think? Think you can beat these?" Danny flexed his arms, his biceps rising into mountainous peaks. A car that was pulling into the parking lot rear ended another car. "Dude,"said Dwayne, "your arms just caused an accident!" Danny laughed. "I think you're right. Let's go to the park. You wanna ride?" "Nah, man, let's run. It's less than a mile. I'll race ya." "You're on," said Danny, and the two friends started running up the hill that led to the park. Danny couldn't believe how fast Dwayne was. It was like he was racing the Flash. By the time Danny got to the hilltop park, his smaller friend was resting on a bench. "What took you so long?" chided Dwayne. "Very funny, pip-squeak. I'd a beat you if I didn't have 150lbs more muscle to schlep." Danny went over to the back of the bench, picked it up and tipped it up until Dwayne fell off of it. Dwayne landed on the ground in a heap, but he wasn't hurt. He looked at Danny in awe. "Man, that bench is made of cement...it must weigh 450lbs! . "Does it?" asked Danny. "Doesn't feel that heavy," and he pressed the bench up over his head and started pressing it for reps. "Fuck," said Dwayne, watching his huge friend from the ground. Then he said, "Geezus man, your legs..." Danny tossed the bench behind his head where it landed on the grass and sank in about a foot. He looked down and saw that the run up the hill had bloated his legs full, and had brought out a whole new level of vascularity. His massive quads were covered with them, snaking in and out of thick layers of muscle, and his big calves each had a garden hose sized vein running across the outside sweep. "Hoo yeah!" said Danny, bringing his right foot up and flexing his calf. The thick muscles bulged outward, shifting the vein to one side as it swelled. "Let's skip the fitness trail, and go into the woods behind the park. I'm feeling like I could uproot a tree or two," said Danny. They crossed thru the park along the jogging path. Almost every jogger they passed turned back to get a second look at the two young friends. One guy looked for so long, he ran into a tree. Dwayne went back to help him up. "My friend is so huge, it's hard not to look, isn't it?" Dwayne said to the guy as he got him back on his feet. "He is yeh, but I was looking at you. You're jacked up so lean and hard. You look real strong for your size." The guy jogged off, embarrassed but unharmed. Dwayne stood there for a second, stunned. No one had ever complimented his physique. "Dude, come on," yelled Danny. "Did you hear what that guy said?" asked Dwayne as he caught up. "Yeah, I heard. You got him all atwitter inside, stud." "I did, didn't I?" The two of them headed into the woods, with Dwayne walking with an exaggerated swagger like Vince McMahon heading to the ring. They made their way thru the trees, until they came upon a stand of birches. "Think I could rip one of these outta the ground?" asked Danny, stripping off his stringer tank and tossing it to the ground. "Just one? Why don't ya try two at once, ya cocky brute." "Yeah? You wanna see cocky?" Danny found two birches, about five feet apart, and stood in between them. He reached out his arms and grabbed their trunks, one in each hand. He tightened his grip around the trees, each trunk about 20 inches in circumference, his meaty fingers crushing into the crunchy bark and almost reaching completely around the trunks. He squeezed harder, adjusted his stance, and began to lift. Muscle all over his body tightened and clenched, and his nostrils flared, as he lifted upward with his huge arms. The leaves on the two trees started shaking, and more bark flaked off as Danny's powerful grip dug in. Dwayne heard the ground start to rip around the base of the trees. "Dude...." he said in awe, as his Herculean friend began to force the tree trunks upward, inch by inch. Danny grunted deeply with each effort to lift the trees more. Thick veins popped out on his neck and across his chest and delts, and down his big arms. He threw his head back and his neck bulged like a column of sinew. The trees lifted higher. The ground around them tore apart faster as Danny lifted them up, up, up. He shook the trees back and forth, freeing the roots from the earth. Finally, he ripped them free of the ground and held them midair like two trophies. "Dude..." said Dwayne, leaning against the trunk of a third tree."You a freak..." Danny let the tree trunks go so that they both fell behind him with a crashing thump. "Yep," he said brushing his hands together to knock off the bark flakes. Sweat rolled down his thick muscles, dripping to the ground. His huge barrel chest heaved in and out. "You got me all riled up now, man," said Dwayne. "I got to try something myself." "You gonna try to rip up a tree?" "Nah, I ain't no rhino like you. But I've been watching mma vids, and I've been aching to test out a roundhouse kick." Dwayne was already circling a birch tree. Not as big as the ones Danny had taken on, but not a sapling either. He squared himself up to it, then swung his leg into it, whacking the trunk with his shin. The tree snapped in half, the top part toppling down next to the two trees Danny had uprooted. "Aw, yeh!!" growled Dwayne. "Man, didn't that hurt your shin?" "The weird thing is, it didn't. I felt it, but it's not like real pain. I've been kicking and punching stuff at home, like walls and columns, and it doesn't hurt me." With that, Dwayne stripped off his running shirt and flexed into a most muscular pose. "Man, you are definitely jacked up! You look like Conor McGregor without the ink!" "Who's that?" said Dwayne, looking down at his newly sinewy arms. "You've been watching mma stuff and you've missed McGregor? You gotta look him up. Fuck, you could probably take him if you can snap a tree in two with one kick." "I doubt that, but I am starting fighting lessons at that UFC gym downtown tomorrow. I met the manager who thinks I have potential." "You definitely have that. Flex your arms for me." Dwayne grinned and lifted his arms into a flex. "Man, you got peaks! I bet those things are 16 inches of pure muscle." Danny reached out and put one hand on each of Dwayne's arms. He squeezed them. "Fuck, dude. They don't even dent." "Oh come on, those sausage fingers of yours can't dent my little arms? Squeeze harder." Danny crushed down on the biceps, digging his big thumb into the belly of the muscles. "They're like rock," he said. "This isn't hurting you at all is it?" "Nah, man. I feel it, but it sorta feels good. it's kinda fucking turning me on." Danny lifted Dwayne up off the ground by his two arms. Dwayne smirked. "Awww, yeh man. Harder!" Danny walked with his friend in the air, over to an oak tree, and pinned Dwayne high up against the trunk. His crotch was even with Danny's face. "You ever have a bj, Dwayne?" "Heck no man, you know I've never had sex yet. Neither have you." "Let's change that," Danny said, and he started unzipping Dwayne's cargo shorts with his teeth by biting down on the tab and sliding Dwayne higher up the tree. "Oh god yeh,"groaned Dwayne. Not only had his muscles gotten bigger and harder, so had his cock. Thicker too, and able to muscle its way out of his pants and plop onto Danny's face. Danny took it into his mouth. He'd never given a blow job, but he figured there couldn't be that much to it. He just started sucking and bobbing, while pinning Dwayne's arms against the tree. Dwayne arched into his big friend's face, as a feeling of total ecstasy flushed thru his body. Nothing had ever felt so good. "Goddammmm," he grunted over and over. "GodDAMMMM>" It didn't take him long to bust like a fountain down Danny's throat. Danny took it all like a seasoned pro. It was like being force fed a protein shake, so he continued to milk his friend until he was totally dry. Then he lowered Dwayne to the ground. Both of them were a little lightheaded. They laid down on the mossy ground, both smiling like deflowered virgins. "You want payback?" Dwayne asked Danny. "Eventually," said Danny,"but now I have to get going, I'm running late." "For what?" I have to drive out to the university. I have an appointment with the wrestling coach." "You're going to try out?" "Yep. And I'm going to make a deal with the coach. I'll be his heavyweight champ, but only if I get to use Jack as my training partner." "Dude, that's too wicked good," said Dwayne, getting to his feet and zipping himself up. "Definitely let me know how that goes."
  10. 32 points
    I've tried writing this story 3 different times and every time before I can complete it, I get logged off and lose it. Hopefully you guy will like it. Partially based on true story as there really is a guy that exists like Kris. Resident Muscle He moved in a few months ago. I work at an apartment complex and was doing a lease signing for Kris, a 27 year old oil field worker. He came in right after work and so was in full uniform, but he looked like he stretched those seams to the breaking point. Didn't know if it was fat or muscle, but he was a gorgeous man. Round cherub like face, but with a full beard. And beautiful eyes. A month or or two went by before I saw him again. He was walking to the laundry room and had shorts on. My god. He wasn't tall, in fact was only about 5'7". But his calves were huge and ripped. And coated in a dark layer of hair. I thought he caught me looking but I wasn't sure. Now Kris was a cowboy through and through. Big cowboy hat, tight jeans, flannel shirt, big belt buckle, and heavy cowboy boots. And a body that stretched every seam. Summer came and I was working one weekend and saw him and his friends out by the pool. This was the first time I had seen him shirtless. A god there before me. His arms had to be at least 20". Huge pecs that stood out half a foot from his body. 8 pack abs. A back that would rival a plane. And all ripped. The hairiness, which I love was trying to manifest itself as well, but it was obvious he shaved his chest and most of his back, but still some was missed. And the swimsuit seemed to be covering up a massive sea creature. The bulge was enormous. Now I also do a bit of maintenance so when a work order came in for Kris, I jumped on the chance to do it. as I entered his house, it smelled of man. Sweat, musk, outside, gym, all rolled into one. It was wonderful. Glancing around his kitchen, I saw a syringe and bottles of testosterone. So that's how he was getting bigger. Oh well, to each his own. As I went into the bedroom to do his work, I noticed his dirty clothes all over the ground as well as used Magnum condoms everywhere. I had seen him with some girls so no surprise there. I would jump his bone too. But the thing that really caught my eye was the almost full set of clothes set off to the side. I couldn't help myself, I had to try them on to be as close as I could to this muscle cowboy beast. Now I am 6'4", 195 lanky build, very little hair on my body to speak of, and a average 6" cock. The one part of me that is big is my feet. I have size 14's. If only other parts had grown into that. i stripped my own clothes off, and then put on his underwear. They were bikini style, but the pouch was stretched out that there was so much room with my little dick. Next I put his socks on. They were the knee high white socks. My feet more than filled the bottom, but the tops were stretched out from his calves they had a hard time keeping up. Next I put on his undershirt. It too had the pecs stretched out, and the tshirt I put on over it, the arms were stretched from all the muscle put into it. The jeans were a task. Him being a lot shorter than me, I pulled them up and had half my legs showing out the bottom, well half the socks. Finally, I squeezed my big dogs into his cowboy boots. He only wore a size 10 so they were crammed. Standing there looking in the mirror, I was getting so aroused. To think, my body was sharing the same space as this beast. I tried posing and it was laughable. While I was doing this, I didn't hear the door open. I heard behind me "Well what do we have here?" In a low booming voice. My god I'm dead. before I turned around I felt a need jab into my neck. When I get turned around, I hear him say "You ready for the big rodeo?" Not knowing what he meant, I was going to try and explain, but started to feel really hot. "How do you think I got to look this way?" He said. "Since you like the way I look, I'm gonna make you look just like me. Well not exactly like me. You see I just shot you with an experimental steroid that amplifies your testosterone levels and mutates what you already have. In short, you are about to become massive in all ways." I didn't know what to say, all I could do is freak out over being caught in his clothes and with whatever he stuck me with. "You see, I used to be a runt" he continued "Then I found this. Don't worry, it's permanent. And I'm gonna enjoy watching you unwrap yourself. Just wish it had been your clothes instead of mine, but no way we are getting you undressed now" i know what he meant everything was getting tight. I looked down at my feet squeezed into his boots. The pain was exrutiating I saw the leather bulge and buckle as my feet, my already 14 size feet were swelling and getting bigger. The tops started to seperate from the soles as toes, heel, and the whole damn foot just exploded out. I watched my feet grow to a size 20 or bigger and then start to rip the dirty white socks. Massive flipper feet immerged from them. While watching this, they seemed to be getting further away from me. I was getting taller. It sounded like a hand running over a balloon. I looked up and was only 6" away from the 8 foot ceiling. Then the growth started. my legs were suddely gripped in a terrible vice. That vice was his jeans. Already they had been turned into capris from the height growth so my calves grew and grew until they ripped apart the socks. Fankhouser would look like he had chicken legs next to these cows. My thighs started growing next. Firecrackers of sounds echoed as the tight jeans just exploded off my legs. My legs had taken his jeans and turned them into daisy dukes. My poor cock was being crushed, so I had to lift it on top of my massive thighs. I would forever walk rolling my legs around one another. I looked at Kris and asked how much longer does this last. "Oh you have a lot more coming to you." I also noticed his jeans bulging a bit. Was he getting horny watching this? while that was happeneing, my upper body swelled like a Macy's balloon. His shirt became under armour in a few minutes by my arms and chest engourging with pounds and pounds of muscle. I flexed my arms and heard the shirt just explode. My biceps had to be over 25" and not stopping. My forearms were like bowling pins. My chest was starting to stick out from me and my nipples were turning downward. The shirt ripped completely down the middle. The undershirt was hanging on for dear life, but not for long. My abs, lats, and back inflated and ripped it to shreds. Speaking of ripping to shreds, I could see every vein and stiration. I couldn't put my arms down. They hung at my side at a 45 degree angle. My neck started to swell and my Adam's apple grew. I couldn't even with my enlarged hands, get them around my neck. It was so massive. I was easily 7'6", 400 lbs of ripped hulking muscle, and size 24 feet. As my cock started stirring to grow, Kris jumped up and grabbed a needle from his nightstand and jabbed it into me. "Now for something extra. I haven't tried that one full dose, but since you dressed up as me and now look like me, let's make you a super me". Fire in my veins. That's the only way to describe it. My cock just started growing longer and longer and thicker. It swirled up in his bikini briefs and looked like bisquits about to pop out, and then they did. The underwear exploded and my cock, or my third leg, emmereged. It hung down to my knees and was as thick as a beer can. My balls grew to the size of baseballs. With the extra testosterone from the change and the bigger balls, in addition to god know what he shot me with, my body went into overdrive. Millions of pin pricks went all over my body and I looked down to see hair. Hair everywhere. A forest of dark hair sprouting on my chest. I lifted a leg to see it get coated with the same. I was starting to look Italian or Indian, there was so much hair everywhere. But my muscles were not to be covered up. I grew another 50lbs of muscle, inched a bit higher to the ceiling, and my cock added a few more inches. My face grew out a thick lumberjack beard that framed my face perfectly. Finally, it all slowed down and I looked in the mirror. Fuck the Incredible Hulk. He looked like a shrimp compared to me. I was a heaving, hairy, hung god. Strips of clothes hung on me from the destruction. My cock started to inflate from the sight and it went perfectly between my pecs and right to my mouth. I could self suck. I swung around and saw Kris there naked and jacking. I never knew he was gay, but all those time jacking to the image of him and now he looked small. "Kris" I said with a deep booming voice "you want to help me break this body in?" "What do you think?" As he came his first load. "Ok close your eyes" I bellowed He did. I reached into his nightstand and pulled out another needle and stuck stuck it in. His eyes flew open "Now the real show begins" Thoughts? Continue?
  11. 30 points
    Revulsion Hi, MG forum. I've got a kind of opportunity for you. But I suppose I'd better start at the beginning. So...right. The auditorium. Man, that seems like a long time ago now, though it's only been a couple of hours. The auditorium, when the music began. Here we go. * The music began and Paul shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The plastic chair groaned in protest under his tremendous bulk, each of the metallic legs offering a pitiful creak as the metal warped. Like most things on the planet, it hadn’t been designed with men like him in mind. He was surprised that it had held up this long, and knew it wouldn’t for much longer. But it wouldn’t have to. Soon he would be leaving the chair and – if he didn’t throw up first from nerves – getting up on stage in front of all these people. He wasn’t nervous about showing off his mass. Hell, what was the point of being 620lbs of striated muscle if you didn’t like showing off? All bodybuilders have a narcissistic side to them, and Paul was no different. No, it was the feelings that he was nervous about. The emotions of the audience. He had never exposed himself – was that the right word? – to such an enormous crowd, and he worried about that much revulsion directed towards him. He could handle such raw disgust from groups of people, trios and quartets, when he lumbered through the city streets. At the gym, he was used to working out with over twenty people watching him, flooding his brain with their abhorrence. But this auditorium was on another level. There must have been – what? – five or six hundred people here to watch the Olympia. That was a lot of revulsion to take. But it could be his only chance. The music rose to a crescendo and the hall about him erupted into clapping and whistles as the announcer read out the list of superheavyweights. The little people around his broad shoulders had come to their feet to better view the stage, and there was a bit of an altercation between them and the people behind them, whose view they were now blocking in turn. All arguments stopped when the mass monsters strolled onto the stage. Ten there were, the biggest, most freakishly muscular men on the planet (well, compared to the average person). Paul’s big brown eyes flicked from one face to another, from one clenched sweep of pectorals to another, from one hyper-flexed, steel-hard, skin-straining thigh to another. These men had been his heroes. The gods he had idolised, the standard of muscular perfection he had once devoted his life towards attaining. These days, of course, he was twice as big as the biggest of them. Paul knew that when he reached the stage – when he fought down his goddamn nerves, stripped off the layers and layers of thick clothing that hid his musculature, and didn’t throw up in the process – he would dwarf every man up there. Gritting his teeth so hard that the tendons in his pale neck stood out, the giant bodybuilder hauled himself out of the seat. Seven feet of man doesn’t go unnoticed and Paul felt the steady trickle of curiosity from those around him rising to a stream, then a torrent, as more and more heads turned to face him, eyes drinking in his enormity, his misshapen mass bundled under a motley of oversized clothing. Curiosity he could handle. It felt like rain on his skin. Mildly uncomfortable, but tolerable. Trying to stop his big fingers from shaking, Paul strode towards the stage, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. * His best friend Ben had called it a super-power. Paul didn’t know what to call it, but he had to admit, his origin story did read like a comic book. Being both overweight and something of a computer nerd, Paul had been the victim of school bullies on and off for most of his teenage years, and had finally taken up bodybuilding shortly after his seventeenth birthday in order to put some muscle on. His hope, initially, had been to get big or strong enough to make the adolescent bullies think twice before jumping him. But the bodybuilding bug bit him hard, and suddenly simply getting big and strong enough wasn’t good enough for him. He wanted to be the biggest in his class. Then in his school. His goalposts moved, and moved again. As his eighteenth birthday rolled around, Paul found himself at 170lbs of iron-hard, shredded muscle, and eager for more. A lot more. “Who knew a body like that was hiding under all that flab!” Ben had joked. The problem was, Paul’s body stayed “like that” for the next few weeks. He had reached a plateau. Sure, everywhere he went, he could feel the eyes upon him, could sense the admiration – and sometimes, from the women, the lust – that his ripped teen physique drew. Most people would have been satisfied with that, but it wasn’t enough for him. Every day he would return from the gym to face the hulking superheavyweight bodybuilders gazing down at him cockily from the posters on his bedroom walls, and wonder what it would be like to look like them. To be regarded not just with admiration and lust, but awe, respect…and maybe even a little fear. That was when his best friend pointed something out to him. Something that would change his life forever. “You can sense what people are feeling?” Paul hadn’t thought about it much, as focused as he had been on his bodybuilding goals. But yes, sometime around his eighteenth birthday, he had started to pick up on people’s emotions. Only those directed at him, and only if people weren’t trying to hide their feelings. His maths teacher, for example, was a closed book – but he knew for a fact that she had a crush on him, because he had overheard a conversation between her and a colleague where she had gushed about his body, barely contained in the school uniform, and what she would like to do to him – in detail – once he graduated in May. Yet when she was standing in front of the class, lecturing them about algebra and quadratic equations, Paul could feel no more from her than he could from the waste paper basket. She was an emotional blind spot. It was during this thread of the conversation that Paul admitted he couldn’t read Ben’s emotions either. Then, following a rather long, uncomfortable silence, Paul leaned forward – he was a lot more confident now than he had been one year earlier – and gave his best friend a small kiss. “I didn’t know you were gay,” Ben had whispered. “I didn’t know either,” he had whispered back. * So. Anyway. Back to the auditorium. * It was like a scene from a cowboy film. The cheering stopped, the bodybuilders stopped, and finally the music stopped, when Paul stepped onto the stage in his too-small posers, the only sound the straining of his massive thighs clenching into freakish hideousness beneath his pale, paper-thin skin as they supported his weight. He had planned on speaking. Something arrogant, cocky – that always seemed to get the best reaction. But he could feel the pin-pricks of revulsion slicing against his skin, spreading across the vast, twitching mass of his swollen physique, growing into tiny razor-blades of disgust as more and more of the audience recoiled at his appearance. And he knew he had to get this done quickly. So he turned, and, smirking down at the thousand eyes glued to his unreal body, raised both arms into a double bicep. Everything about the pose was practised, from the stance, to the smirk, to the flex itself. He may have been thinking “I hate this; I can’t take it – I just want to crawl off stage and hide myself away forever”, but he was exuding “LOOK AT MY FUCKING GODLY MASS, YOU PUNY LITTLE SHITS!” His arms – 58 inches around at last count – nearly erupted from the skin as they swelled and hardened into twin Everests of pale flesh, seeming to grow bigger and bigger still as he SQUEEZED mass into them. Thick veins, pushed to the surface by the grotesque swelling of the unimaginable muscle mass of his biceps and triceps, spread out across the steel-hard surface of his giant arms, pumping hot bodybuilder blood into the muscle, causing the brawn to harden still MORE, the clenched mass to STRAIN BIGGER. 60 inches of god-muscle. “Nggggggggg,” was all he was able to manage. The razors became knives of loathing as the audience emoted their disgust. “Look at him – he makes the other Olympians look puny!” “He’s a monster!” “A freak!” “How can anyone stand to have that much muscle mass?” “He’s so huge he makes me want to puke!” Paul slipped effortlessly into an ab and thigh pose, the adamantine cubes of his ten-pack hardening into INHUMAN FREAKINESS as he strained the sinews to near-breaking point. His thighs, writhing like thick, striated pythons beneath the skin, bloated outwards hideously, gargantuan quads GROWING past 100 inches, 110, and finally, legs looking like they were about to split apart with so much muscle fibre vying for godlike growth, settling at a vomit-inducing 118 inches of straining, freakish mass. Revulsion slammed into him, a wall of jagged knives that cut him to his core. Through clenched eyes Paul saw the faces of the audience, some pale with disgust, others turned away from the sight of his steaming, iron-forged god-mass in horror. He slipped painfully into a most-muscular, the great mass of his brawn shifting like continental plates, his grunts and strains becoming words: “I’M FUCKING MASSIVE! AND I’M ONLY GONNA GET BIGGER! SO MUCH BIGGER! I’M GONNA TEACH YOU PUNY LITTLE SHITS THE MEANING OF THE WORD HUGE!” It wasn’t only revulsion that he felt slicing into his sinews. There were other emotions. Jealousy, of course, from the superheavyweights cowering in his shadow. Admiration and not a little awe and excitement from some of the more hardcore bodybuilding enthusiasts in the audience. But these emotions were mere particles, lost in the furious maelstrom of revulsion that threatened to drive him off the stage. And besides, they weren’t the one emotion he was looking for. The emotion he craved. The emotion that had enabled him to grow this size. Lust. * Yup, you read that right. Lust makes Paul grow. Well, when combined with sex, anyway. And you thought reading people's emotions was the stud's only superpower? (And what, he got his mass after being bitten by a radioactive protein shake?) Here's when he first figured it out: * To most people, 10lbs would not have been that noticeable. Paul, ever body-conscious, had noticed immediately. “You’re telling me that sex with me made you grow?” Ben had asked, nuzzling one of his lover's striated teen pecs. The two were intertwined on his bedroom floor, some forty minutes after their mutual declaration of affection. Paul was immediately keen to try again. Forcing his lover’s skinny legs back and allowing them to rest on his twitching delts, he pushed his thick cock inside his best friend’s sore anus. The first time they had fucked, he had to force the sphincter to stretch to accommodate his cock, but now it fit deliciously about his erect member, like a tight, warm, fleshy glove. Almost. “Ngg,” Ben had said. “Your muscles aren’t the only thing that have grown. You feel…bigger inside me.” Eager to grow once more, Paul started to rut furiously, the sound of his big balls slap-slap-slapping against flesh nearly drowning out his grunts and his best friend’s squeals of pleasure at being stretched, ravaged, dominated so effortlessly. It took longer for them both to orgasm the second time, but it was well worth the effort. Whereas before, Paul had only noticed the growth after the act, this time, he actually felt his muscles dividing, thickening, hardening, his ripped mass broadening into something new, something stupendous. Ben felt it too. “Fuck…your penis…ow!” The little man had gasped, eyes screwed up in pain. It had taken Paul a moment to feel it himself. His dick was growing, swelling into a thick, vein-coated log of man inside his lover’s already-stretched anus. He pulled out with some difficulty and let Ben’s legs rest back on the floor. The poor boy’s arse looked enflamed. He had really done a number on it. Paul’s gaze didn’t linger on Ben’s rectum for long, however. His eyes caught his physique in the mirror. “Holy shit,” he had murmured. “I’m huge.” He flexed a bicep and watched the peak swell into a hard ball of mass. “Fuck.” He had Ben fetch a scale for him. “200lbs. Heh, that’s 30lbs more than I weighed when I woke up this morning. The effects must be cumulative – the first time we had sex I gained 10lbs, the second 20lbs…” Ben was in awe of his much more muscular best friend, though he was in too much pain to do much more than offer a wincing nod. Then Paul had turned back to his small lover. Ben looked so cute, so delicate, so weak – the thoughts made his newly-forged cock stiffen and thicken to its full 11-inch length. He grinned down at the shivering teenager before him. “Fuck, if we keep having sex, I could be over 500lbs by the end of the day. Or maybe even bigger.” “Bigger?” “Yeah! I mean, who’s to say I should stop at 500? I could keep going…I mean…well, forever!” His handsome, pale face split into a broad smirk. “I could become a GOD OF MUSCLE!” * Ok, ok, I'll get on with it. Just don't forget about that opportunity I was telling you about earlier. So, anyway. The auditorium. Olympia. Horrified crowd. Paul's most muscular. Here we go: * Paul’s most muscular caused his striated mass to swell so much that he completely blotted out the Olympia logo on the stage wall behind him. At 620lbs, some might have called him a god. His last lover had called him a freak. Not at first, of course. Not when he had been 520lbs. Then, he had been a "Titan". A "Stud". Nice nicknames, spilled from drooling lips while the man fondled Paul's pecs. But afterwards. Stretched out, exhausted and horrified, with barely enough energy to muster a disgusted tone, he had said it. "You GREW when we fucked? You're..." Here we go, Paul had thought, beginning to feel the icicle of emotion stabbing into him. "You're a freak! You're too big." Paul was brazen to revulsion like this. It's what he told himself, anyway. From Ben on the bedroom floor, to the personal trainer in the locker room at the gym, to the hulk in the back of his van parked outside B&Q, to the size fetishist on a yoga mat at the YMCA...everyone radiated smoldering lust at first, an emotion that quickly gave way to revulsion once he grew. These days, though, even a spark of lust, a goddamned cinder, was getting harder to find. It had been nearly three months since the pec-fondling size fetishist. He had even tried to entice his former maths teacher to jump in bed with him, but the spear of revulsion that she had thrown at him the minute she opened her front door as gazed with horror on his twitching, sweat-drenched hypermuscularity was so sharp he had nearly passed out from the pain. Ben was no better. They were still friends - to an extent - but the little man had made it clear that Paul was simply too big for him, and he didn't find him attractive any more. Hadn't done since he'd helped the bodybuilder - with no small amount of coaxing, or lube, on Paul's part - reach a jaw-dropping 320lbs of mass. Paul grunted, SQUEEZING his most muscular as though coaxing his blood-engorged muscles to EXPLODE out across the auditorium. Like there was any such thing as "too big". Which is what had brought him to the Olympia. If there was one event sure to attract guys into huge, freaky muscle, it was this one. So here he was, on stage, a superhuman, muscular god compared to the oiled up wimps cowering at the side of the stage, putting himself on display like a piece of meat, exposing himself to wave after dolorous wave of loathing and disgust, on the small chance that someone out there...someone among the hundreds of faces twisted in revulsion...would be attracted to him. It was the single most glorious, and painful, moment of Paul's life. * My most painful moment was when I took him up on it. I never thought I'd ever find a man big enough for me, but Paul proved to be just that. And then some. It was really embarrassing, being singled out by him like that. Well, kind of embarrassing and exciting at the same time. He stepped down off the stage, muscles pumped bigger than the Hulk's, that big battering ram of a cock of his swinging side to side in anticipation, barely contained by his overstretched posers. The crowd parted like the red sea. It was like they couldn't stand being touched by him. By the freak. The monster. And then he thundered over - I have to say thundered; there is no other verb that adequately conveys the sound of all that muscle approaching - and was suddenly standing before me. "You like huge muscle?" He said to me. An odd sort of first sentence, really, soon to be outdone by the second: "You want to fuck?" Now I can't sense people's emotions the way Paul can, but I swear I felt my skin prickle as some of the crowd's revulsion was directed at me. So here we are. I've got him to 720, my fellow MG forum chums. Seven hundred and twenty pounds of striated man. We broke the hotel bed. I mean, almost immediately. And then Paul proceeded to nearly break me. He wants to go again, to get to 830lbs. But I'm too knackered right now. I feel like my insides have been rearranged - which, in a way, I guess they have. My lust has been sated. I persuaded Paul to tell me his story while I - what? - recovered, for want of a better term. Then I thought about you guys. You see, pretty soon Paul's going to be too big for me. Maybe not the next growth spurt, or the next...but everyone has a limit, and soon I'll reach mine. But I know that some of you have limits beyond mine. You want your men to be huge. To be gods. I think Paul is almost there. He says he's nowhere near. I don't want him to experience revulsion ever again. He's had enough for one lifetime. So when I start to feel he's getting "too big"...I want one of you to take over. To keep growing him. And then, when you reach your limits, pass him onto the next MG forum member. And so on. Paul says he feels a bit embarrassed, being treated like a piece of meat, but if his erection is anything to go by - damn, my arse is hurting just looking at that thing - he's kind of excited by the idea. ... Anyway. Those 17 inches aren't going to take care of themselves. I'd better sign off. Let me know if you're interested in an 830lb bodybuilder. Or maybe a 950lb one, if my lust holds out. ...ok, maybe 1080lbs. We'll see. Catch you later, MG forum. Goremeridian
  12. 29 points
    CHAPTER FIFTEEN: SUIT UP That night I had trouble going to sleep after what I had seen. I had literally just watched my own father jack off and cum with a ferocity that surely could be matched by no human man. It was the ultimate display of masculine sexuality and it left me conflicted. On one hand it was one of the most impressive things I have ever seen. On the other hand I couldn't help but feel smaller and smaller in the presence of my father, which was a complete juxtoposition to my actual physical development as I was actually the biggest I've ever been. I had to continually stop and remind myself that I was a man. A big, studly, handsome man. But when you live with one of the most developed men on the planet I was realizing that your mind can play tricks on you. While most men grow up to to surpass their fathers height, that thought never seemed further from possible than it did right now. It would be easy for me to hate my father, to seethe with jealousy. And yet, I couldn't help but feel extremely proud. I know I'm biased, but my Dad was truly one of the greatest men on the planet. He was kind, protective, honest, sincere, hardworking. All the qualities that make a great man. Combine that with the fact that he gave up so much to give me a comfortable life. It dawned on me that I was extremely happy for my father and to my own surprise I realized that I actually WANTED to see him get bigger, even if that meant I would never catch him. Although, I also decided then and there I would give it my all to catch him, not only to grow myself but to push him to his absolute limits. I drifted to sleep with a sense of calm and dreaming of what the upcoming days would entail. The next morning I woke up feeling radiant and well rested. Dad had awoken before me up and was making a hearty plate of eggs for himself in just his WEM underwear, which were looking exceptionally tight once again. He was going to have to order another size up very soon to fit them over his massive ass and legs. I walked in the kitchen and raised my arms up in a big stretch. “AAHHHHHHHhhhh... Mornin' Pops!” I stated cheerfully. At first my Dad gave me a bit of a side eye. I wasn't known for being a morning person. “Well, good morning to you, Champ! You seem to be in a chipper mood today.” He reached over and ruffled my already matted hair affectionately. “I am. I have a good feeling about the next few days leading up to our competition. You and I are going to crush it, big papa bear!” Dad chuckled. “Big Papa Bear? That's a new one. I think it suits me though, don't you? Well, at least until I shave down anyway.” I chuckled back and agreed. Dad sat down at the table with his two plates of eggs and healthy breads and I went over the stove and began making my own plate of eggs. I decided to add three more egg whites than usual as part of a sly plan I had come up with. Once my eggs were cooked I joined my father at the table and began eating. As we sat there I asked him how many egg whits he cooked up. He replied that he had prepared 16 egg whites and three yolks. I smirked back at him and put my plan into action. “Is that all, big guy? I heard Dallas Winters eats 16 egg whites each day, I thought you were bigger than him...” Dad suddenly stopped eating, grinned and stared back at me. He knew what I was doing but also knew he was powerless to resist. Dad's competitive nature would prevail in this situation. Even if he knew I was bullshitting him, he couldn't let me or Dallas win this situation. I grew up knowing that the ultimate way to get Dad to do something is to tell him he can't do it or make it a challenge. “Does he now?” Dad asked. “Well then I guess I'll have to eat 18 eggs, huh. Then we'll see who's the biggest on stage once and for all!” “Well, you're in luck pops, I cooked a few extra eggs. Here I'll give you some.” I held up my plate and scraped another two to three eggs onto his plate which he gobbled up no problem. As he took his last bite he winked and me. This was going to be fun. Early that afternoon Ted pulled up into our driveway and honked his horn, his traditional way of signaling his arrival. We loaded up in the cab, Dad's knees shoved up toward his chest due to his imposing size, and headed downtown to the thread shop. We arrived as Rose was helping another old woman pick out some fabrics. Once she had checked out her client she led us all to the backroom where there were two, shiny black posing trunks on the large wooden table. “Ok fella's here they are.” She handed me the smaller one and instructed me to head into the nearby cubicle and put it on. “Right here, right now!?” I said and Rose laughed. “Of course, young man. Did you forget I saw your tallywhacker yesterday? No need to be shy. We need to make sure it fits.” I headed into the cubicle, closed the curtain and undressed. It took me a second to untangle the posing strap and figure out which side was the front. It looked so small, I was starting to get some anxiety thinking about standing up on a stage in front of so many people clad in such a small garment. I held the posing suit low the floor and stepped into the straps. I slid it up until the fabric could go no further against my taint. I reached down and inside the suit to cup and adjust my junk to make it fit comfortably. It felt like wearing one my football jockstraps from high school, only with the ass filled in. After a couple of minutes Rose grew impatient. “Are you playing with yourself in there? C'mon out young man so we can take a look.” I was still feeling very timid, even though I knew it was just Rose, Ted and my father out there in the back room. I took a breath and slid back the curtain, exposing myself. The three of them looked at me. Ted and my father's face were both blank as they stared. Rose had a finger on her mouth in a look of contemplation. After a few awkard moments Ted broke the silence with some clapping. “Wow, Jed. You look...fantastic! Rose, you still got it. The trunks fit the kid perfectly.” I looked at Dad, he still was blank. “Is it alright Dad?” He looked me in the eyes and it almost looked like he was tearing up. He composed himself and gave me a bright smile and stepped over and clapped his huge hand on my shoulder. “Wow, Son. You look amazing. You look so, powerful and strong. I've never felt so proud, of you buddy. I've never seen a 19 year-old look at buff as you do. I wished I looked like that at your age!” The comment struck me as entertainingly ironic, considering that I wished I could look like him at his current age! Rose directed me over to a bank of three angled mirrors. When I saw myself I could see why everyone was silent. I could see it. Since I was young and relatively hairless, I looked like a true bodybuilder! I could hardly believe that the studly, muscled young guy in the mirror was me. Due to our posing practices I was used to posing in gym shorts or my underwear, but the posing strap really seemed to bring it all together, exposing my ripped legs. And the pouched cupped my cock and balls perfectly and was comfortable. In fact, it felt like they were being cradled in soft satin. And, if anything, Rose's sewing talents made the suit so it amplified my manhood just a bit. I turned to the side to check out my ass. Rose was by my side the whole time. She reached down and stretched the fabric over my ass, giving me a shock as her cold fingers brushed my ass. Rose chuckled at my reaction. “Sorry young man. I promise I'm not trying to cop a feel. Although I certainly wouldn't mind...” Ted guffawed. “Rose, stop! You'll scare the poor young guy.” Rose stretched out the fabric and stood back, appraising her work. “Well, I don't think we need to make any alterations. Does it feel all right, Jed?” “Yes ma'am. In fact it feels really good, I didn't expect that,” I replied. “Good to year. Ok. I'll make a two more so you have a one for your different shows and for practice. Feel free to take that one. Ok Mr. Graves, your turn.” Rose handed my father the bigger thong. When she picked it up and I saw it dangling, it looked MUCH bigger. “We'll see how this goes. This was the biggest man bikini I've ever made, so you've even got me curious as to how this will fit,” she cackled. Ted joked, “I'm sure it's perfect, Rose. You've seen a lot of male genitalia so I have no doubt in your abilities!” Rose raised her eyebrows and shot daggers at Ted as Dad and I suppressed snickers. She struck back, “Well that may be true young man. I certainly did NOT have sew in nearly as much *FILLER* fabric into Jed's and Chad's posers and I had to YOURS! They fill theirs out just fine.” BURN!! Both Dad and I reared our head back in laughter. Even Ted had to laugh and just shrugged his own meaty shoulders as he acknowledged the slick comeback. “You got me, Rose. You got me.” Rose grinned, “That will make you think twice about challenging me on sass, young man.” Dad turned and stepped into the cubicle and began undressing. He was so tall that we could see the top half of his head above the curtain. Unlike me he didn't spend a lot of time in the small room. He quickly whipped off the tentlike sleeveless shirt he was wearing. Dad had long ago given up the visage of humility when it came to his body. He had no fear of who saw him and in what state of dress, or undress. And who could blame him? I don't think there is a man on earth who wouldn't trade all they had to have his ruggedly handsome face, his chiseled jawline, his ever present 5 o'clock shadow, his naturally olive complexion, his ultra superior height and, oh yeah, who could forget his titanic, powerful frame overstuffed with rock hard muscle. After a quick strip down he bent over and hid from view briefly, presumably as he pulled up with own posing thong. He quickly slid back the curtain and ducked under the bar and stood in front of the three of us, looking down at us, proud as a fucking peacock. We all remained silent as we took ALL of him in. He had his feet situated a bit wider than shoulders. No doubt not just to support his uberweight frame, but because his thighs and crotch meat was so large he physically needed the extra space to remain comfortable. As I looked up from his feet, his enormous calves were evident even from the front. As you approach his knees his legs suddenly widen from all the built up mass of his quadriceps and hamstrings. His kneecap nearly being engulfed by the overdeveloped vastus medialus, the 'tear drop' muscle, as Ted referred to it. His legs were still covered in a thin layer of fine dark hair. Ted had mentioned he would need to start shaving very soon to get used to the inevitable itchiness that would strike him post shave. Finally my eyes reached the coup-de-grace of his masculinity. An almost comically huge mound of dark shiny fabric protruded from his crotch, the sides of the fabric encroaching on and even hiding a bit of the enormous high muscles. And yet, it wasn't obscene at all! Rose truly was a master with the needle and thread. He was perfectly presentable, you couldn't make out a definite indication of the rolled up tube of flesh or the outline of his plum sized dickhead through the fabric. Most people at first glance would probably think he was wearing an oversized cup for a jockstrap. But when you look again it would dawn on you that this man is just so MASSIVE in nearly every way and that the suit Rose had some up with was the only possible way to keep things PG-13. Traveling upward my eyes passed my Dads huge balled fists resting on his waist. I passed row by row of bricklike ab muscles, also covered in a consistent layer of fine dark fuzzy hair. Continuing upward even from a few feet away you felt like you had to step back to get up and over the heaving shelf of his pectorals, which were large enough that his nipples nearly pointed strait down. Of course, since my father was almost a foot taller than us, we could still see them from our shorter positions. I passed his bull like neck and reached his face. He was staring at me straight in the eyes with a smug grin. Finally Ted broke the silence. “Holy crap, big guy! I knew you were looking better and better but this is crazy!” I opted not to tell Ted about Dad's possible growth spurt during his jack off session last night. “When did you get so damn ripped! Even if you were my height you look like you could be a national-level competitor, man!” Dad continued to smile taking in the praise. He thumped past us to the mirrors and we followed along. He stood in the mirror and twisted his body back and forth to get a good look. I still couldn't get over that posing suit. How it bulged so far outward and downward and still accentuated his assets without looking he was obnoxious flaunting it. He turned and performed a chest pose in the mirror. Holy cow! On him it the pose could be renamed a “side chest and cock pose”. Even with his enormous legs shoved up against each other the black pouch pushed well out past the edge of his legs in the mirror. He turned and we could see his ass. His giant glute muscles were swallowing up the backside of the posers, revealing much of his lightly feathered glutes. “Geez, big guy. You are even getting striated glutes! That is some pro-level achievement right there,” Ted gushed. Finally Rose was able to speak up. “So how does it feel Mr. Graves. Are you comfortable? Is everything...um...supported?” Dad turned to face Rose who was at eye level with his brick-like abs, and spoke “Uh, yeah in general it's ok. Actually, if anything, it's a bit...small.” I huffed in surprise. SMALL!?!? He was wearing possibly the biggest thong on the planet and he was complaining that it was too small!? Rose walked around him examining the suit. “Yes, I see. Especially in the rear. I didn't account for you having such a large booty, young man.” Dad laughed and gave it a quick shake, “Yeah I have some junk in the trunk.” Gawd, what a ham. “Also, the pouch feels a bit, tight and constraining.” “Well, young man that's sort of the point,” Rose began as she turned to face him. It was an odd site, to see an old woman who's face was just above eye level to one of the largest crotches in the world giving it a visual examination. She spied the suit and even reached out and felt the straps at the side. “Hmm, I see what you mean though. I think I will have to beef up the waist band to be to, well, hold you up better. And I will make the pouch a bit roomier too. That should help.” “Thanks, Rose! He Jed, my boy, come over here.” I hesitated before stepping over beside my father, both of us still clad in our posing suits. He threw one arm behind my neck and over my shoulder and faced us both to look in the mirror. Side by side it was astonishing how much bigger Dad was than I. My left shoulder was jammed into his right armpit and my face was level with his shoulder. We shared the same body type and facial structure. With his incredibly youthful visage he really could pass for my older brother. My much bigger, stronger holder brother. Dad look like someone aimed a growth ray at me and enlarged me nearly a foot in height. Then on top of that proportionally increased the musculature greatly too. Same could be said when comparing the bulge at our crotches as well. It looked like you could fit three of my pouches in his. “Damn, look at us, Son. Two of the studliest guys in the world. There may not be a bigger or better father-son duo out there, champ!” I knew he was likely right, but I also knew that he was carrying most of the weight of our duo. That is was true because of his size, not mine. The only other difference was Dad's lightly fur-covered body compared to my mostly hairless one. Another sign of his ultimate masculinity and pure unabashed pulchritude. “Let's see that big 'ole bicep of your son,” he requested as we continue to stare at ourselves in the mirror. I somewhat reluctantly flexed my right arm. A large, defined bulge grew from my arm. Ignoring the man next to me it was impressive site. My friends had been constantly complimenting me on my newly muscular build whenever I hung out with them over the summer. Even though I was a fairly modest guy and never wore clothes that were purposely tight, my build had reached a point where it was evident even when wearing baggy clothes. “Dude, you're looking jacked!” “Damn man, what are those lumps under that shirt?” “Have you been living in the weight room this summer?” These were some of the things I had heard. Each time I would redirect their attention instead of basking in it, but it was nice to know I was being noticed. I snapped back to the reality of looking at my own nicely bulging arm. I heard by voice deep voice rumble beside me, “Real nice, Sport. Look at that peak. Can't say there are many guys you age with arms like that. Makes me real proud, Jed.” Dad reached his giant hand over and patted the top of my biceps. His big mit could cover the entire top half of my flexed arm. Dad then added, “...and of course, no man has arms like THIS!” Dad took his arm off my shoulder and flexed his own godly biceps right behind my own. Once again the comparison was almost laughable. Even though my arms were top notch his were so far beyond mine it was becoming hard to think up adjectives. His planetary arm muscles completely overshadowed my own. He probably had more mass in his arms than one of my legs! I was curious to how huge his arms were now. I resolved that we should measure when we go home. We broke from our mirror inspection and Rose made some more notes on Dad's file. She let him know that she would makes some adjustments and that we could pick up the new trunks tomorrow evening. Dad and I retreated to the cubicle and changed back into our clothes. Ted took us home where we ate and then rested before our Sunday afternoon leg workout. A couple of hours later we met up Ted at Urbanflex and blasted our lower halves. We were no longer squatting for power. Our workouts were now about pumping the most weight for the most reps to force as much blood into the muscles as possible. However, Dad was now squatting for many reps what he was doing a few weeks ago when maxing out. Ted had warned us that our strength might level out or even taper off, but my father's strength still seemed to be slowly climbing, even though we were eating less carbs and doing more cardio. It's like his body had become a sleek machine and it's only function was to grow muscle and bone. Now that I had come to terms with my growing father I was happy to get in his face and mentally push him along like Ted was. Instead of Ted just screaming at him I was joining in the fun thinking of things to say to spur him on. Even though Dad's intensity was astonishing, I had been noticing lately that he had been letting off just slightly. The normal person, or even Ted, would likely not have thought this, but I knew my father and I could tell. It was perfectly reasonable, being as huge and powerful as he was, to feel sated and content with what he had achieved, but I resolved to not let him get away with that attitude. He was Chad Graves, the man I had never known to back down from any challenge, so I wasn't going to let him coast along to our show. “C'MON POPS, PICK UP THAT WEIGHT. DALLAS WINTERS TRAINS WITH TWICE AS MUCH INTENSITY. YOU GONNA LET HIM BEAT YOU?,” I screamed as Dad worked on some straight leg deadlifts. Before he began his last set Dad turned his head to me and gave me a wicked grin. I knew with my extra push he wouldn't let me down. He then proceeded to blast out a set, doing nearly twice as many reps as he had planned. He screamed in furious excruciation as he hefted the weight up and down. He set the weight down and took a minute to collect his breath, streams of sweating beading down his face. “Where'd all this extra energy come from, Son? You're usually such a intensely quite dude, even here in the gym?” I stared UP at my giant flesh-and-blood and glared at him intensely. “I've just noticed that you seem to be slacking off lately. I know you, Dad. I know you can do more. I know you can lift more, and I think lately you've settled a bit in your effort. I think that big musclebound frame of yours has gone to your head. You hide it well, but I know you too well, you big lug. You've always taught me to never do anything half-assed, and I'm going to make sure you don't.” Dad cocked his eyebrow and stared back down at me straight in the eyes. His mouth slowly curled into a grin and he acknowledged, “You're right, Champ. You caught me. I think I can do more too. I don't even think I realized that was coming complacent. I'll do whatever I can to push myself for you, little buddy. I wouldn't want to let my drill sargent Son down.” I growled in response, “Damn, right big man. You're ass is mine!” We both laughed as Dad saluted me and gave me booming “YES SIR” that echoed throughout the gym, and possibly the block. And so we continued what became a pre-contest leg workout from hell. I made sure Dad put every bit of effort he could into every single rep. Conversely, he had picked up his intensity in spurring me on as well. There was so much screaming between Ted, Dad, and myself that I was worried we would be horse the next day. The second to last exercise we did was the leg extensions. Dad sat in the apparatus, adjusting to its largest size. Even then he seemed squeezed into the machine. If he gained anymore height it was possible he would no longer be able to use the device. We had the entire stack loaded up, along with another 45 lb pinned to the stack. Dad proceeded to perform rep after rep. From the other exercises his legs had completed filled the XXXL basketball shorts he was wearing with a muscle expanding pump. We could see the fibrous muscle of his upper legs flex into bold relief as he extended his feet straight out. After 30 reps he was going strong. Afraid that he again wasn't giving his all, I suddenly reached and pushed on this feet as well. Dad noticed and glared at me as he felt the extra resistance. I saw a smug grin creep on his face and resumed the exercise, more slowly, but he began to grit his teeth and I knew the resistance was now where it should be. “WHAT'S THE MATTER POPS? IS MY EXTRA WEIGHT TOO MUCH FOR YOU? I BET DALLAS WINTERS LEGS ARE GONNA DWARF THOSE LITTLE CHICKEN LEGS OF YOURS IF YOU DON'T START WORKING THEM LIKE A MAN!” I egged him on. He picked up the pace. I leaned further down on his shins putting more of my body weight into the exercise. Dad continued. It looked like his shorts were now creeping upward as the muscles of his legs pumped bigger and bigger. His face was in a painful grit as he continued, now at well over 50 reps. “FUCK NO SON. WON'T LET WINTERS WIN. GONNA MAKE THESE WHEELS SO FUCKIN' BIG LITTLE DALLAS COULD HIDE BEHIND THEM...” Dad was continuing, in fact it almost seemed like the weight was getting easier for him! Did this otherworldly man have any limits?!? Finally, I adjusted myself upward and put my own feet on the pad of machine. I was curled up into a ball on top of my Dad's shins. My ENTIRE weight was now off the ground and on his lower legs. “DO IT DAD! SHOW ME YOUR POWER!” Dad now screamed bloody murder and continued the exercise, although much slower. He raised my entire body weight, plus the machine's weight stack, plus an additional 25 lbs. I was almost worried we were going to break the machine. I slowly felt myself being raised and lowered, my father bellowing a deep blood curdling roar with each rep. I yelled back to keep him going. Finally after 12 reps at this weight he let me drop. He rolled off the seat and fell to the floor in agony. He covered his hands to his face and rolled onto his back, straightening and extending his LONG legs to relieve the pain of the pump. As he did this motion Ted and I heard another familiar tear. Dad's hyper-pumped quadriceps had torn a slit in his shorts. Another pair of clothing destroyed by my father's muscles. As Dad came to after groaning for what seemed like two minutes he removed his hands from his eyes. His eyes were red from the tears of pain. I stood proudly over him and glared down. “Nice work, Pops! That's how I want you to feel after EVERY exercise, big man.” Dad smiled back up at me proudly. He rolled onto his knees and gingerly rose to his full height. He had to grab onto the nearby machines to help himself us, his legs still wobbly. Ted instructed him to walk around to keep the engorged muscles loose. Dad waddled around the gym and came to back to return the mental favor as I completed my set, with a still impressive, but MUCH less amount of weight. I too fell to the floor in agony. As I came too Dad reached down his titanic arm, took my hand and easily pulled me to my feet. My legs also just about gave out and I reached out my hands to grab him, one on his forearm and the other against his solid abdominals, to steady myself until the feeling returned to my legs. It was probably the most intense workout that my Dad and I had shared, which floored Ted since we were so close to the competition, now just under two weeks away. After our workout we rode exercise bikes for 15 minutes to keep our legs muscles from cramping up. Two hours later, if you could believe, we were back at the high school tracking getting in our cardio. It was a long, but very satisfying day. Now that I had come out of my shell a bit at the gym I felt that my Dad and I shared an even stronger bond. We relaxed on the couch that night and watched some TV in just our basketball shorts. Dad was wearing the largest pair he had and they were fashionably tight. He would have to make another clothes investment soon. At one point my father got up to get some water. Well, he tried to anyway. As he started to raise from the couch he growled in sudden pain and dropped to his knees. I was instantly worried so I tried to get up to check him out too. Only I experience the same thing! My legs gave out and I dropped to the ground, catching myself. Our legs had been so blasted today that they were not cooperating. Dad and I grimaced and caught each others eyes. We started laughing at the amusing situation. Dad shook out his legs and painfully rose to his mighty height. He then reached down and grabbed my should and easily rose me up and set me on my feet as if I weighed no more than 50 lbs. “Damn, we really killed our legs, today, huh.” “Yeah Dad. We'll just have to keep walking around and stretching them out.” We hobbled to the kitchen to chug down some water. We also decided to eat and extra banana to help keep from cramping. As Dad stood in the kitchen and swung his legs around I couldn't help but comment on them. “Geez, Pops. You tree trunks legs still look as pumped as they were at the gym. Those shorts aren't going to last long.” “You may be right, Son. They are really tight. Wanna see how big they are?” “Yeah, Pops, I've been wondering all day who big those wheels are since I saw you in your poser earlier today.” “Well Son, it has been a while since you and I took stats. Grab the tape measure and book and let's see where we are.” I grabbed the tape measure as I heard my Dad slip down his basketball shorts. I turned to see him standing there in some ratty WEM underwear. The underwear almost looked more like a pair of briefs or a Speedo with rough threads hanging asunder. “What happened to your underwear, Dad?” “Oh, yeah they look pretty bad, huh. I had to take some scissors and make some alterations. The legs were way to small so I mostly cut them away. They were starting to dig into my groin.” “Cripes Dad. You are outgrowing underwear that is meant to fit overgrown men like yourself.” He grinned and chuckled. “Yeah I know. I may just have to forego underwear soon I if I keep getting bigger. Give me the tape measure, Sport, let's see how big 'a boy you are.” I handed him the tape and stripped off my shorts to normal, human sized XL boxer briefs. As extra practice, he had me run through my mandatory poses as he took my measurements and recorded them in our progress notebook: Sunday, July 16: Jed Graves Chest: 49.5 inches Arms: 19 inches Waist: 28.5 inches Thighs: 26.5 inches Calves, 19 inches “Wow, Son. You put an entire inch-and-a-half your legs big guy! And your arms and your calves match. Just perfect proportions. Just studly as hell, my little man!” I beamed with pride. I knew my legs were always strong and they seemed to be growing more and more than the rest of me. No wonder my jeans all felt so tight. Good thing it was summer and so I could get away with wearing baggy shorts most of the time. “Thanks Dad! Alright Dad, your turn. Geez, I hope this tape is long enough for you, haha!” Like me I had him perform his mandatory poses as I took his measurements. I purposefully didn't tell him the results as he posed and I measured, instead writing the numbers in his notebook. Once completed, again I decided to embrace my new drill sergeant routine, I ordered him to run through his poses again and told him I would reveal the results as he posed. “Front double biceps!” I ordered and Dad complied. From his lofty height I looked up at his peaked biceps. He was so big his armpit caves could be opened for some recreational spelunking. “That's it, Dad! Show off those huge TWENTY-SEVEN INCH MONSTER BICEPS!” Dad's gritted mouth curled into a cocky smile as I announced the measurement, his arms now just 1.5 inches shy of my own waist measurement. “Now, let's see that side chest, big Poppa! Good! Damn, I could set a Big Gulp on the shelf of that SIXTY-SIX INCH AMOUR PLATED CHEST!” Dad growled in effort as well as excitement. From this side pose I could see the bulge of his already tattered underwear growing. “Lat spread, Dad!” Dad turned around, put his balled up fists on his hips and spread his back muscles wider, then wider. THEN WIDER! “Shit, Dad. We could project a movie on the barn door back! And it looks even bigger tapering down to that relatively tiny THIRTY-FOUR INCH waist. How can you have such huge, brick shaped abs and such a tiny waist?” “HAHA, Son.” Dad turned to look at me from over his shoulder. “Like I said this afternoon. I guess I'm just blessed.” Understatement of the year, that was. “OK, turn back around. Hit your abs-and-thighs, pose. Dad raised his arms and crossed his hands behind his neck, again revealing those musky deep pits of his. His lasts flared out as did his triceps. He crunched down that eight-pack of his. I looked down and tensed the granite pillars of his extraordinary legs. I swear his two legs side by side were wider than my shoulders! I gasped as I saw them both posed at the same time, the lines and sinews of his muscles running up and down the upper half of his legs. Again, he was continuing to bone up as I read the unheard of stats he now possessed. I continued working my emcee skills. “There they are. Those legs that stomp so hard you can here this big man walking from around from a block away. Those legs that give the phrase thunder thighs it's origin. Those muscle pillars that shred jeans with a simple flex. But that's understandable when you sport legs that measure THIRTY-EIGHT AND A HALF inches around!” “GGRRRRRR! FUCK YEARH SON!” Dad continued to bone up and finally the already ruined underwear could take no more. We both heard and rip and very quickly his even more tattered WEM underwear was dangling off of his full erection. That same erection that rival a typical three tennis ball container. Dad dropped the pose and looked down laughing. “Oh, sorry, Son. Haha. I guess I get excited when I think about how BIG I am.” I sighed and replied. “It's OK Dad. It's understandable. I get excited at how big I'm getting. I can't image being as huge as you. Plus, it's not like I haven't seen it after last night.” “Oh yeah. I forgot about that, haha.” Dad slipped on his basketball shorts, his erection creating a tent big enough for a three ring circus. Thanks for measuring Son. And for the extra motivation at the gym. I like this new 'Drill-Seargant Jed'. You've always been such a introspective person. It makes me happy to see my little man come out of his shell.” I reached over and gave my father a quick side-hug in appreciation. Dad added, “Plus, I feel even BIGGER things coming if you keep pushing me like you did today. Thanks, Champ!” This was going to be fun. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Hope you like! Leave comments!
  13. 28 points
    Happy Storiversary. It is a bit long...but I hope you all enjoy this piece. - Fraank Foolish Muscle by F_R_Eaky Many years ago, in the time they called the Dark Ages, there was a couple who ran a troupe of traveling minstrels, jokesters, and mummers named Cadman and Beca Howels. They had limited success with their troupe, but still managed to garner requests for performances at some of the well to do halls and churches. Now it just so happened at one semi-well to do hall, that the Lord was indeed very, very old. So much so in fact that upon some brilliant performance by one of the members of the troupe, it excited him so much that he expired on the spot. As he fumbled his way toward a hall corner, he cried out the name, "Amlodd" (ahmloth) and collapsed just in front of a crib. Inside this crib was his son, Amlodd Pryce. It was reported that his mother, a mysterious woman who came, and left, in the darkness of the night, was perhaps some kind of Elvin princess who wished to disobey her father. She was very tall for a woman, with a long, though quite beautiful form, and they say her face had elf like features, but on moonlit nights, in the streams of moon beams, she was absolutely breath taking to behold. But whether that was true or not, she was not to be seen for ages, and what was to become of the poor child? Like his mother, the baby Amlodd was long and lanky for a child, particularly for a baby. This only added to the mystery and fear folks had about the child thinking Amlodd would grow into something fearsome or disgusting looking like a changeling. As it was one of the performers who had, by accident, killed the Lord of the hall, and nobody there wished to care for the child, it was deemed that some member or couple of the troupe should take care of him. Thus the townsfolk snuck him into one of the troupe's pageant wagons and when the discovery of him was made half a day's ride away, Cadman and Beca decided to adopt him as their own. Although, they did keep his original Christian and surnames, lest any powerful dark magic become attached to them. If there was any dark magic connected to Amlodd, it was kept firmly inside him and turned on him over the years. He was eighteen years old now and grown into a fairly tall man, if one could call him that. Six feet one inches tall from his bare feet to the top of his head. Taller than most in any village they visited, but still a number of men taller than him, and they were almost all much bigger built than him. His limbs were spindly like a willow. His skin was white like birch and smooth like hazel. His hair was this drab blond, the color of dirty water or linen and hung straight like moss or vines that was lifeless. His face was smooth, soft, and round, still much like a child's, and the same could be said for his body and build. The only thing that was striking about him was that he had these piercing green eyes, bright as a field and yet deep as a forest. Perhaps it was because of his drab and unhealthy looks that he seemed invisible. Most people ignored him, even most of the troupe members. Although Cadman and Beca loved him, as he got older he was given more and more behind the scenes tasks when travelling, packing up or down, or during performances. If he was skin and bones before, Amlodd thought he would surely die soon one day from pure exhaustion. Now, no one is sure exactly how it happened. Had the other neighboring kings hired all the best troupes before him? Had all the other troupes become ill with the plague or something less severe? Were all their paths blocked by dragons, trolls, or brigands? Whatever the reason it seemed the only folks King Cai Trahern could book for his Twelfth Night celebration were Cadman and Beca's troupe. And thus the troupe found themselves in the royal palace hall of King Cai, entertaining him, his son, Prince Rhys, and many of the kingdom's Lords, Ladies, and Knights. It was during shows such as these, Amlodd was relegated to being the "silent jester." Not a mime as some would guess, but a quiet behind the scenes jester. He would be the one to come out and do clumsy summersaults in order to show how good the acrobats were. He would be straight man for jokes, pie slams, pitcher dumping, water buckets, and depantsing. Of course he was also the gofer and prep person for the acts when they needed items brought to them or to be told they were up next. All of this done in a second, third, fourth hand me down jesters outfit whose vibrancy was so low, one almost swore his outfit was black, white, and gray. As the acrobats and jugglers were performing, Amlodd was rushing in to bring the props needed for the magician & herbalist, Baeddan (bAthan) the magnificent who would be next. Amlodd was crossing the back of the hall, when a floor candelabra snagged a corner of one of the handkerchiefs of a long trail of them that were connected. It broke free but left a tail of silk streaming behind Amlodd a good several feet. At the same time as Amlodd's crossing the hall, a man rose from his seat... and rose...and rose.... It was Macson Roderick, the tallest, biggest, bravest, and most boastful of all King Cai's knights. His figure cut broad at the shoulders and tight at the waist on a six foot four inch frame. His chest barreled out so that his tunics were stretched tight at the collar and those tunics nearly fit like dresses upon normal sized men His arms were such it was difficult to create sleeves for them, even worse to create a rerebrace, upper arm armor plate, that fit his arm relaxed yet allowed freedom of mobility of his biceps when he raised and flexed them during combat. The same could be said for a cuisse or greave to fit his thighs and calves respectfully. He had jet black hair with streaks of white mixed in. His eyes were beady, narrow, and so dark brown folks often mistook them for black. And his teeth.... although nearly perfect and white, had canine teeth were large enough it seemed as though he had fangs and might be part wolf or perhaps daemon. So, as Amlodd was crossing the main hall, Sir Roderick was crossing Amlodd's path. His right foot came down upon the tip of the silk handkerchiefs, which became taught as Amlodd continued to walk forward, and his left foot then became caught in the silk handkerchiefs and Sir Roderick went down upon the stone floor with a mighty thud. The hall became deathly quiet. Everyone looked towards the fallen knight. He spilt his ale all over the floor, himself, and his own body weight crushed his wooden goblet into many pieces. Roderick turned his face from the floor and glared at Amlodd with a gaze that would freeze a man's heart and kill him the very instant their eyes met. Rising up from the floor, Roderick let out a string of expletives as he called out to the unknowing and unwitting Amlodd. "You witless, walking willow! You ass gas full-gorged hugger-mugger!" "What?" "What? WHAT!? You make a string of second hand silken kerchiefs to trip me and after I fall flat on my face, crushing my goblet, and you say WHAAAAAT!?" And although Amlodd is extremely thin and lithe, Sir Roderick still displayed quite a bit of strength as he hoisted Amlodd by the throat into the air with one arm. The young man hangs there choking as Sir Roderick bellows at him, "Tell me why I shouldn't have at thee, now?" "Because, it is Twelfth Night. It is my house. It is my hall. It is my table, and I, the King, for one, care not to see battle nor bloodshed on the last of the blessed nights of Christe-mass! Now put him down, Sir Roderick." Sir Roderick glanced over to King Cai but still held his grasp on Amlodd's neck firm and kept him supported in the air. "Macson!" Reluctantly Sir Roderick brought Amlodd down, but did so by way of flinging him half-way across the room. "I will have recompense. He caused me to crush my one and only good goblet. I have nothing and there is nothing else in this kingdom that will hold enough to quench my thirst like my goblet could. And although I can order one it will take months to carve it, stain it, weather it, reset jewels from the old one into it." "Then we shall ask the boy to pay you. Young man, do you have anything to cover the expense?" To stunned for words, Amlodd stood up, bowed towards the king and softly muttered, "No, sire." "Sire," Cadman came forward and spoke. "He is an orphan boy, adopted by myself and my wife. As he stays with us and we feed and clothe him, we keep most of his earnings. The only thing of value that he has is a small amulet, but that is the only thing he has connected to his father who passed away when he was just a baby, and it certainly will not cover the cost of replacing Sir Roderick's carved and bejeweled goblet." "Then he shall face me." bellowed Sir Roderick. "If he has no material worth, his human worth will do. If he survives the combat, he's paid off the debt. If he does not survive, again, he's paid off the debt... ... ... with interest." King Cai spoke out again. "Surly you can see that he would never survive. He may be a man, but just barely. He has no beard. You said so yourself that he was a walking willow. I've seen you snap logs four, five times in thickness compared to him with your bare hands, and you wish to go to combat with him in armor and weapon? I implore you. For Christmas. For Chivalry." Macson Roderick stood there looking Amlodd up and down before finally scoffing and sneering at him. "Alright. In honor of Christmas and chivalry, I will concede, with this caveat: There is no doubt that he owes me for the cup; accident or no it was his fault. He has nothing to pay me back with save himself. He is, surprisingly but a few inches shorter than me, so that should make him man enough to be able to face me. I will allow him one month per each year it took me to develop and double it. That would give him ten months. And since it is the last day of Christe-mass, I will even give him a gift of two more months to train. One year to train in total, however he can, see if he grows any, see if his beard comes in. As an added bonus he receives one extra day, for my Liege would not have us fight on Christmas so then on January sixth the beginning of Epiphany, not the morrow, but the next, we shall have our duel." With that Macson pulled out a rather tatted and worn glove, not one of the fine ones on his hands, and threw it down at Amlodd's feet. Amlodd nervously bent forward and picked it up as he knew he had to and placed it under his belt. Toward the end of the evening, when many of the guests had left, retired, or flat out fallen asleep at the tables, Amlodd darted from this end of the hall to the other gathering bits and pieces of props, costuming, and equipment and packed them away in their proper boxes and trunks. After setting a number of the trunks near a side door, he began to notice he was being watch by someone in the shadows. He was more average in height, around 5' 10" tall, his frame had a slight build to it, but was much more lithe than what Sir Roderick was - he was more like an acrobat or tumbling jester. His clothes seemed as though they may be fine, at least in cut if not in material. It was too dark to tell the quality. The silhouette of the man's hair was definitely cut in a well to do fashion. As Amlodd stood there staring at the man in the shadows, when the wind came wafting from behind the man towards Amlodd he could smell a pleasant and heady fragrance coming off the man. The man leaned his head forward ever so slightly and Amlodd saw a silver glint from the man's forehead. "Come." The figure took to walking down a spiraling staircase until it came into a storage room, where upon he lit a torch and used it to light a few more within the room. There were a number of trunks and several casks stacked here and there, but was still fairly bare. After lighting the last torch, the figure turned around and Amlodd could see it was Prince Rhys. Grabbing Amlodd's tunic, he pulled the young jester around and backed him against a wall. Then with one hand running down the neck of Amlodd's tunic and one running up the bottom hem of the tunic, Rhys began to rub the chest and crotch of Amlodd. "I like men who are bigger than me... ... ... but not just any big man; I want one who is not only large but has a decent heart and soul. You are somewhat tall, you may become big and muscular or not, but you definitely have a decent heart and soul. You knew you should and wanted to pay Roderick back, but really couldn't. Yet, Roderick didn't need to make you owe him as it was an accident. He could've watched where he was going. "This is the start of my private treasury. The one separate and apart from the kingdom's treasury. My father isn't fond of my lifestyle. I know it's your lifestyle too. You eyes never went to any of the women, including the dancing wenches, but when the acrobats came out in their tight tights and tumbled... Your ratty-tatty clothes didn't hide much, if you knew when and where to look. If a man could beat Sir Roderick... ... ... he could possibly be my champion as well. You're kind of cute when you lift your head up. I like your eyes." Amlodd almost couldn't breathe. He felt the blood rushing to his face, and rushing to his organ, and yet at the same time all that blood felt as though it was streaming through all his limbs and chest trying to inflate them as well. "I don't want to see Roderick win in anything. He's too haughty. He bullies too much. And I think he's after my father's throne, certainly wants to make sure I don't inherit it. I don't know if you could grow large enough and powerful enough in a year to protect my father and me, but you could grow big enough and learn enough skill and strategy to possibly defeat Roderick. To that end, you have my permission to come in and borrow as much as you need from my treasury. Just leave me notes or receipts for what was paid. Course how are you to get in here? The guard was in the middle of shift change when we came down and they certainly won't let you in, so follow me." With that Rhys led Amlodd to a lone cask in the corner. It appeared to have a leaky tap that constantly dripped wine. "It's hooked up to a miniature aqua duct that brings in a tiny stream of water that passes through iron ore. If in here, give this tap a twist.... and the cask front opens. Step inside.... close the door and turn this knob the other direction. Same thing but backwards when you come back unannounced." They walked down a tunnel for quite some distance until the corridor ended and Rhys pushed open a smooth marble section of wall. This allowed them to step into another room full of sarcophagi. "Take this key. Head up the stairs and as quietly as you can unlock the gate. This is the royal tombs, no one ever comes down here. Relock the gate once out and go to the right. Push at the wall within the frame and it will open to the outside. It will look like you're coming out of the memorial stone for one of our great poets. If any of the brothers from the church catch you near the gate, tell them with a confused look that you were looking for the shrine to Saints Bacchus and Sergius. After they redirected you, act like your praying, and after they leave come back to the gate." Rhys stared fully at Amlodd now. "Tell me... do you find me striking?" Amlodd nodded and stammered out a yes, to which Rhys grabbed him by his crotch again and then looked up in delight. "You may be a few inches shorter and much, much lighter than Sir Roderick, but I do believe your lance is more than equal to task than his...." With that Rhys gave Amlodd a full kiss, which caused the room to spin, stars to move across the heavens, the air to be removed from Amlodd's lungs, and time to be frozen. When Amlodd finally woke from his bubbling feeling of awe, Rhys was gone. ***************************************************************** Late that night, after finishing the packing of things away within the pageant wagons, Amlodd squeezed himself into the rigging attic of his and his parents' wagon. Upon reaching the decent height of 5' 8" he was slightly too big for this space, now at five inches taller, it was impossible for him to even really sit up in the space at all. But with it being winter, it was easier for him to roll and slide his way into position to sleep from the trap door and over the furs he used for covers. He also like the space in the winter time because with the furs, it was easily heated up just enough with only one or two candles, as opposed to the summer when it never became cool. It was relatively quiet around the wagons tonight, most of the troupe seeking rest within the castle's great hall. Amlodd however had been told to sleep out in the wagon in order to help keep watch over them. A couple of the acrobats in two other wagons helped to keep watch as well. Halfway through the night, the wind picked up slightly and Amlodd awoke to what sounded like a moan on the wind. At first Amlodd was exceedingly frightened as he thought he heard his name on the wind. When he was sure of it, his mind thought it must be a banshee come for him, but soon he realized it was a man's voice that was calling. Hopping down from the rigging attic, Amlodd went to one of the side window shutters and opened it up. The moon was dancing in and out of clouds creating quite the light and shadow show that to modern eyes might have almost look like some kind of slow strobe effect. Standing in the middle of the square the pageant wagons encircled was a man in flowing white robes who pointed a finger towards the window and Amlodd and then made a "come hither" motion, after which the man began walking. Thinking that he surely must recognize this man, Amlodd quickly put on his boots, grabbed two-three cloaks to brace himself against the winter weather, put them on and then left the wagon. Following the white robed figure out the gate, Amlodd walked down the road, then onto a path for quite some time. Eventually he found himself in a clearing in the forest, located beside a stream. It was cut into a circle and at the outer perimeters the young man noticed there was a ring of trees: Elder, Birch, Rowan, Ash, Alder, Willow, Hawthorn, Oak, Holly, Hazel, then some Vines growing upon one Beech tree, Ivy growing upon another Beech, and Reeds springing from the bank of the stream. There in the center was a large stone block and standing beside it was the white robed man. Amlodd went to approach the man, but as he did so, flits of light began to dodge to and fro in front of his face, grabbing his hair, pulling his cloaks, undoing the laces at his boots. Eventually there was such a great swarm of the lights bobbing and attacking Amlodd folks would swear he himself was glowing, but poor Amlodd was nearly blinded. Then they began to prick and poke, cut and jab at him, rip and tear at his hair and tie it into knots. Finally Amlodd could go no further, and he wondered why the man who had led him here wasn't speaking out or assisting him. "Please! I mean no trouble, good sprites. This man came to me and I want to ask why and who he is. If this is wrong, communicate with me, let me know what I should do." At that moment the flits of light all left Amlodd and began to form two rows a person's width apart from the stone to the outer ring of the circle. A silvery figure appeared who flashed and shimmered as it approached until the silver light was gone and a woman with auburn hair coated or made in Autumnal leaves, a gown made of deep rich moss, and a tray of many miniature pitchers stood in her place. Setting the tray upon the stone, she walked towards Amlodd, poured just a drop from one pitcher on top of Amlodd's head, then smiled at him and kissed him. Suddenly it felt as though Amlodd was in a shower, and all the small cuts and scratches he received were healed and disappeared. "My Lady..." said the robed man and he bowed deeply to the woman. Amlodd looked up and over to the man in white and then stammered, "Bae... Bae..Baeddan?" "Yes, young sir. It is I, you whom you know as Baeddan the great magician and herbalist. However I am actually a druid and today I have come to petition for you. My Lady, I fear for this young man's life. Through a small accident it is threatened and not only do I fear this to be a great tragedy, but the man who has issued it is cruel, harsh, hard, and has little regard for human, let alone animal or plant life. On top of that, I feel something for this lad. I feel him connected somehow to this land. He is needed. The cur that bids him to fight has only allowed him a year to train, where he has had several years to work on and grow into the tower of strength he is today. I beseech and implore you, Lady. Is there naught you could do to help him?" The woman smiled again at Amlodd and then a female's voice was heard on the wind as she took Baeddan's hand in hers, and the other hand twirled and waved over the small pitchers on the stone. "In a cup of oak to provide stability and strength..... Birch bark to make you the Achiever, one who strives after and completes his goals... seeds of a Grand Fir to grow straight and tall.... the seeds of willow to observe and move with agility.... Hazel nuts for wisdom and knowledge.... Rowan berries so that you can think clearly and learn of strategies... Holly berry for cutting and piercing and to know how to lead and rule.... the grape of vine to help you see both sides of situations and thus equalize things out... the berries of ivy to be a survivor, to overcome your adversaries and their plots.... .... Lavender and Lemon for attraction, grace, and sexual prowess.... a pinch of thyme so time may be on your side. To be heated by fire!..." And lightning struck the inside of the cup. "Stirred by air!" A gust of wind caused the liquid to swirl. "Made consumable by earth and cleansed by water!" A patch of moss rose out of the river bank and the liquid rose out of the cup landing and straining itself through the moss, flowing back into the cup. "Now drink, my handsome young lad...." Amlodd wasn't sure why he felt safe in drinking the oddly mixed concoction, knowing some of the items were surely poisonous to men, but he felt that the lady could do no wrong and Baeddan urged him to do so. He tossed back the contents of the cup. It felt and tasted like mulled wine. As soon as the last drop was down, his head spun, things began to go in and out of focus, his knees gave way, and he felt as though he would sleep for a thousand years. Looking up he saw Baeddan's face for just a fleeting moment. "I must take leave of you and the troupe now. Tell them you followed me, but that you lost me and have no idea where I was heading. Tell no one about this night or sight. If you wake late, tell folks you had to much mead." ************************************************************* Amlodd awoke the next morning just before the break of dawn. A mist was rising from the river and in eastern distance a rooster could be heard crowing. Glancing around he could see the clearing, the trees still standing, but the large stone was gone, likewise the Green Lady and Baeddan. But as his vision cleared his stomach roared and roared so long and so loud it sounded as though thunder was rumbling in the distance. He wasn't just hungry, he was downright starving. He was craving food, any and all kinds of it, where as normally he ate lighter than the smallest bird. He couldn't hunt in these lands, they might still be the king's. The wagons didn't have enough food. He knew what he must do. Running back to the grave, the church, the catacombs, the treasury, Amlodd took a healthy amount of gold, leaving a note saying it was for the purchase of food. He then took a basket from the wagons, took it to the market place, and began to buy pies, bread, and anything else; one item from each stall so as not to arouse inquiry, and hiding it in the basket beneath a towel. Once that was done he returned to the wagon where he began to pull out each item and devour it quickly as though he hadn't had a meal in weeks, months, perhaps a year. He ate all of it. He ate so much his stomach felt like it would burst. He thought he might be sick. He lay down on the floor and soon fell asleep. The season of Christe-mas over, things would be quiet for a while until a couple of days around Mardi Gras and Shrovetide, and then quiet again until the celebrations of Easter. January would be a time of rest and maintenance. No performances, but the repairing of rigging and props, re-sewing of torn costumes and clothes, the decision of which Biblical stories they shall present in each wagon for Easter and thus change in sets and paint. However it wasn't tasks as usual for Amlodd this January. At first things were normal, except for his appetite being ravenous, especially a newly large craving for milk. It was so extreme that not only did he start getting up early each morning to work at a couple of farms milking cows, he nearly, on more than one occasion, went to drink directly from a teat like a calf. Amlodd truly wondered and almost feared this craving, but felt he could keep it in check and the extra money didn't hurt anything either. But then there were the stares... ... ... and the new accidents. Originally folks would turn and look up at him, but their glance would quickly turn back away, not because they felt ashamed for looking, but because Amlodd wasn't that tall nor huge as they perceived he might be from peripheral vision. However as the days of January faded into time, more and more people began to stare at him. Their faces began to carry more awe and fear. They began to part the way for him without any request to do so. Amlodd kept getting this feeling that their faces were getting farther and farther away. Other things were happening too that were confusing and frightening to Amlodd. He used to be able to simply bow his head and bow slightly at the waist, as though bowing to the king, when walking through a doorway, but more and more he kept banging his head on door frames, needing to bend over perhaps even more than Sir Roderick had too. Signs from on high became attackers and Amlodd wondered why people were hanging them so low. The rigging attic was getting smaller and smaller, harder and harder for him to slide into and even then, he couldn't get comfortable as his feet were growing longer and wider and now being pushed out further by the longer legs, kept getting caught in the rigging ropes, or smacking props, pulleys, and winches. Shrinking clothes, shrinking chairs, shrinking beds. Bowls seemed like cups, cups looked like thimbles. It seemed as though everything were getting smaller and smaller. Why even the horses for the caravan began to appear almost dog like to him, great Dane type to be sure, but still the equines did not seem so large and domineering as they once did. Amlodd's tunic was riding up higher and higher on his thighs, so too did his pants on his calves. His shoes kept bursting side seams ripping all the way around his feet. What had started out as mid calf boots were now simple shoes that only came up to the bottom of the ankles. By the end of January folks couldn't help but stop and stare, whisper, and gossip. Amlodd now had to bend at the waist and the knee in order to come through doors as the door frame only came up to the top of his shoulders, His parents... well, his adoptive father, only came up to just under his arm pit. Even though he was still very skinny and slight of build, he had grown as tall as some trees said some folks, but most everyone was certain he was taller than the largest man of the kingdom, Sir Roderick. Amlodd's possessive craving for milk subsided quite a bit at the beginning of February, but his appetite for bread, meat, and vegetables only became stronger. He would trek deep into the forest, beyond what was listed as the bounds of the king of course, and set snares, traps, and hunted for animals. If townsfolk could see what Beca saw, they would think Amlodd was catching and eating all the wild game of the forest, if not the world. Two to three quail plus eggs in the morning; an eighth of a boar or a couple of pheasants for lunch; meat, vegetables, and bread for dinner and going back to finish all the leftovers. It was at this time that the troupe began to practice for the pageant plays they would perform at Eastertide, and it was also at this time a number of accidents began to happen to all members of the troupe. The first time it happened to the man in charge of the thunder and clouds. He had fallen out of the top rigging on one wagon and broke his arm. Amlodd was sent to replace him, but he couldn't quite fit due to his height. And so he reached in to grab the pulling system with his right hand and began to pull it one handed, then reached with his left hand for the other and began to alternate curling his arms up and extending them out back and forth to make the clouds move. Next came the two acrobats. At the same time they both took a tumble wrong spraining and pulling muscles here and there. The men who lowered and raised the Angel Gabriel during the Annunciation Play had to go forth and replace them. Amlodd was called upon to handle that, which he did after reworking the system with several pulleys. By the end of the reworking, Amlodd was standing on the ground, behind the wagon, back to it, pulling on two ropes walking forward to raise the actor up and backward to lower him down. Later in the year the act and motion would evolve into Amlodd simply pulling his arms forward in front of his chest and squeezing hard and then extending his arms back behind him again. In The Temptation of Jesus, the man who pumped the bellows for Lucifer's smoke and fire, caught his pants leg on fire and had to recuperate due to small burns. Again Amlodd was called upon to fill in, but his arms were already too tired and aching from moving the clouds and Gabriel, so he stood upon the billows and began to alternately press down with his legs back and forth, back and forth. The men who raised the whale's mouth from the floor and thus lowered and rose Jonah, got caught and pinched in the rigging and were laid up for several weeks. Poor Amlodd was again called in to replace him, but his arms were already so taxed and his legs worked that he would crawl on his back to the position under the wagon and he would alternate between hoisting the whale and Jonah up by pushing up with his hands straight out from his chest, or move up further and push with his legs and feet straight up from the hips. Then there was the typhoon from Jesus Calms the Sea. No accident to anyone there, but the system froze up and thus the waterspout was completely motionless. That is until Amlodd realized the cloth formation was as long as he was tall, and so he would climb up onto the roof of the wagon, drop down into spout, with arms outstretched upon the roof to hold him and then rotate his legs round and round to make the waterspout move. After each performance poor Amlodd thought he would vomit whatever he had for lunch his stomach and abs felt so sore. And thus on and on it went, poor Amlodd was worked to death, so one would think. Yet, over time the tasks became easier and easier for him to accomplish and changes began to happen. By the end of February Amlodd looked broader in the shoulders although not much beefier. There was some definite definition to him which people would marvel at and yet still proclaim he looked like death, all skeleton like. By the end of March he had ballooned out to where his abs began to stick out a little bit, his chest began to hang in two very slim crescent moons, his back was a little wider, his arms although not huge looking had taken on a solid firm ball shape with a vein riding across the top. He finally had a look to him like he wore his clothes instead of his clothes hanging from a pole, and he was eating more. It might have been said that he eating four to five quail plus eggs in the morning; one fourth of a boar or four pheasants for lunch; meat, vegetables, and bread for dinner for three men and going back to finish all the leftovers, but Lent had now started so instead Amlodd was swimming in streams with nets and baskets and while one to two baskets could help feed everyone in the troupe for the day, Amlodd was eating about three baskets full all by himself. At the end of April, Amlodd sneaked into the vault for a fairly large sum of money. The troupe needed a new food wagon, primarily because of how much food Amlodd was bringing in or buying just for his growing needs. He could polish off six quail now without thinking about it, three-eighths to one-half of a pig or boar satiated his stomach at lunch. and they began fixing one whole cauldron full of soup or stew and bread just for him. His body was assuredly becoming very athletic with his pants hem beginning to cut into his calves while his thighs filled out the pants nicely. His chest that looked like two large crescent moons began to pull his tunic tightly across, while his upper arms were filling tightly the sleeves of his tunic. and they had begun to hang out away from his body. In May his clothing troubles began. His chest was now that it looked like he was trying to steal two large platters underneath his tunic, that is until he breathed deeply and arched his back slightly and suddenly the tunic tore down the front. This was not to be out done by the sleeves which were constantly making small popping and ripping noises complaining about the developing and balloon size of Amlodd's arms. They too would at times eventually burst wide open. Of course how could one hear that? Whenever Amlodd reached for something in the rigging or leaned over to grab more food, a tear could be seen and heard right under his arm pit and the formation of what some folks called wings would poke through. Beca had to take time to mending all Amlodd's clothes, who never thought about himself as he was too busy helping cover accident after accident and problem after problem and when he wasn't doing that he was busy hunting, catching, or scarfing down his food. Quail were gone being replaced by three chickens or pheasants; one-half to three-fourths of pig for lunch; a vegetable stew, bread, and the meat was left whole in the forms two to three extra large steaks. This didn't take into account the small quantity of fruit and nuts being snacked on in between. The towns folk began to comment on how Amlodd not only stood taller than a doorway, but could fill the entire space that a door did and then some. Five chickens, dozens of eggs and biscuits were eaten at breakfast daily by June's end, along with an increase of food at lunch and dinner. Doctor's and clergy began to speculate that Amlodd was the daemon of gluttony personified in human form or that he had a spiritual hole in his stomach that made the food disappear. Meanwhile his arms had grown thicker and filler, making a noticeable peak whenever he moved them into a curled position. Beca by now had banned him from having any sleeves as he kept bursting out of them. Two small half-globes filled Amlodd's tunic, making it look as though he was now sneaking good sized bowls somewhere. The tunic would split down the front save Beca now used the sleeve material to add fabric to the front and then embroider heavily a design down the middle. She did have to contend with the fact that now whenever Amlodd bent over his back would tear down the middle, as well as the fact, she kept forgetting to account for his odd developing wings, which made his back much wider and thicker and pushed his arms up farther away from his body that a normal person's should ever be. Not to mention that his calves were set on ripping his pants hems every single day and they were becoming so full, Beca wondered if Amlodd wasn't becoming built so weird way around as they seemed the size of arms, and not just any arms but the size of his own upper arms. This doesn't even take into account Amlodd's thighs which Beca swore were larger than most men's waists, perhaps even their torsos. They were so big, it gave Amlodd this odd, near hourglass shape but not with the soft curves of a lady, but with hard slanted angles. The thighs were becoming a problem to Amlodd as the neighborhood children started to make fun of how he walked, which was now with him kicking his legs out to the side a little bit. At the festivals at the end of July, more teasing came from the children, but gasps of awe and wonder from the people in the villages the troupe visited. Carrying in a large tree sized pole for a pole dance, folks couldn't believe Amlodd was able to carry it by himself. They couldn't believe how his neck looked as thick as the pole. They marveled that the silhouette of his shoulders, back, and deltoids looked like the same shadows cast at sunset by the mountains. That his arms were hanging at near forty-five degree angles from his body, pushed away but those growing wings that made his waist look smaller and smaller. His chest now looked as though he was carrying out two hogsheads, or small barrels. His arms looked like boulders, almost as large as a man's head. Any amount of physical bending, twisting, or work made him swell and inflate slightly larger than when at rest and he frequently ripped his tunic here there and everywhere until it would suddenly just fall off of him, revealing a pair of pants that were ripping in the crotch, around the thighs, up the calves, and even around his ass which had begun to bubble out harder, firmer, and larger. Beca didn't know what to do, the base for Amlodd's clothing was being shredded to nothing and she was running out of scraps to use for repair. And still, Amlodd was loading more and more food onto the spit and onto his plate to eat, and Beca wondered what Amlodd was turning into. End of August and Amlodd is walking around in a full sized cloak that fits him more like a cape and will not close in front and a pair of pants that look more like three-quarter length shorts. Breakfast consists of several chickens, two dozen eggs, and about half a pig, while lunch and dinner are even larger, and some are betting that Amlodd is to the point of eating half a cow. His neck is as thick as his own head, but it's hard to distinguish that as his traps rise so high they almost touch his ears. His deltoids look like small boulders connecting his arms to his shoulders and his arms are now so large the biceps are beginning to take on almost a square appearance and the triceps simply pop and stand out from behind. His back and lats are making him look twice, three times as wide as any man he stands next to and his abs look like the side of a castle wall, which is topped off by two barrels that are Amlodd's chest. So full, round, broad, and thick they are that Amlodd's nipples have begun to point down and out from his torso. His forearms look like a whole cow or pig's leg cooked in size and shape, yet still have veins criss-crossing all over them so that when Amlodd moves his hand at the wrist, it had the appearance of one of Baeddan's old magic tricks of a bag full of writhing snakes. Amlodd wishes Beca could make him a tunic again as his thighs cause his pants legs to become very tight, and not only can one see their three-four tear drop shape definition, and also that of his thigh biceps, and how firm and round his butt is, but also the outline of his soft cock hanging down. Between that and him walking around shirtless, flashing his increasingly hairy torso and arms now to the world, townsfolk began to call him barbarian or Viking behind his back. At the end of September Cadman has added two new acts to the troupe's entertainment repertoire: The Giant Jester and Guess the Weight. Beca doing the best she can, Amlodd is sent out on stage with a patchwork pair of pants, matching jester's cap, and his torso painted here and there with matching colored diamonds. However he isn't turning flips or telling jokes, he is doing a strong man act: lifting boulders, snapping large pieces of wood, hoisting people in the air one handed. He goes out to fields and has a yolk placed over him and runs a challenge between him and a local farmer's horse or oxen team to see who can plow the most on a field. It is fitting that last act as the horse used for pulling the troupe's food wagon sprained his foot and thus, as Amlodd did for many of the other members of the troupe, replaced the horse in pulling and pushing the wagon here and there. And of course, Guess the Weight is there to see who can guess how much Amlodd weighs, a particularly hard job as not only does muscle weigh more than slim and fat, but that Amlodd is still eating, still performing muscle grueling tasks left and right, and thus is still growing bigger, harder, denser, fuller, thicker and stronger. During October the town the troupe was staying in, the local Archbishop hired Amlodd for two things: one during the day to help some local stone masons with moving blocks of stone while making repairs to the cathedral and adding to the structure. In the evenings, the Archbishop allowed the townsfolk to have a festival in the square in front of the church and he dressed Amlodd up to look like a gargoyle come to life. During the day he was hoisting and hefting and lifting and carrying huge stones of granite hither and yonder, and during the evening he could've relaxed in his role but found the children were more frightened and thrilled if the gargoyle picked up heavy stones. Of course the stones weighed so much more than the pull of the rigging or the pulling of the food cart and it caused Amlodd's muscles to hunch and bunch and swell and grow in newer, faster, and more challenging ways. There were times having Amlodd help out brought work to a standstill. The other workers, the master masons, even the brothers of the church would all just stop and watch Amlodd work. When moving his arms, whether loaded with weight or empty, the shape of them changed from something almost block like to this sudden towering mountain peak. His chest barreled out more and more as the day wore on until his shirt would split down the front center. Amlodd would sometimes take his shirt off and everyone would marvel at his torso which looked like a brick wall topped with two meaty and hard slabs making the merlons of a parapet castle wall. His legs swelled, everyone could see even with pants the pull and strength of his hamstring. His calves simply pulsed and throbbed with size and strength. Some thought it looked like a heart, but if it was, it was the heart of God himself as it was far too large to ever be that of a human. Every day the builders and clergy men saw Amlodd's form grow bigger and thicker on a daily basis. The Archbishop and his men frequently had discussions on how this must be how Goliath looked, how Amlodd was a walking statue like those of the giants mentioned in Genesis or those of the archangels, except they were never so fully built, or riddled with so many lines scored across their muscles, or criss-crossed with so many throbbing, pulsing, veins. And of course there was discussion that maybe Amlodd was a fallen, as in fell in an accident not cast down to Earth, angel as there was no man who could be so.... "blessed"....by God in the groin. These changes were not lost on Amlodd. He noticed many of them over the course of time: doorways were a foot shorter and he was twice as broad as them, seats barely fit, tables were raised by his knees, he needed double the fabric for clothing, tubs only came up to his waist when he sat in them and his form sent half the water spilling out. If he attempted to stretch his legs just the slightest, either his feet would kick out the front of the tub, or his thighs winged out and the tub split from the sides, but it wasn't until one evening in November that it really hit home. This November evening, he was sneaking back out of the vault and the catacombs after grabbing a large sum of money. He had to get it. There was simply no way his clothes could be pieced together like a large patchwork quilt any longer. Just the slightest movement, the shortest intake of breath and his clothes would scream, give up their hold and life, and fall away to the floor. He desperately needed new shoes before the winter set in harshly and the Christmas Pageant and Twelfth Night festivals would begin once again. But this last time it was hard to leave. Amlodd was still having problems adjusting to his new size and strength. He thought he was pulling the royal catacomb gate slowly and quietly, but the rusted gate was no match for his bulging arms and hulking-bulking body and the gate swung closed quickly and clanked loudly. He ran down the corridor to the secret door to leave, but this made it worse for no matter how quietly he attempted to run, the heel to toe movement of his massively muscled body caused his feet to thud with thunder! After barely making it out of the Royal Cathedral, Amlodd ran and ran and then stopped and rested by an ancient looking pool. He pulled one knee up and held it, trying to rest his head upon it, but this was difficult to do because his chest mounding out so thick made it near impossible to grasp his knee or get his head to his knee. He had extended his right leg out fully and he could see his massive foot, nearly half a floor tile wide and perhaps a tile and a half long. He took off his cape and felt the cool breeze caress his body. Closing his eyes to the wind's touch, he couldn't believe how good it felt, how many mounds and crevices on just his body alone the wind had to caress and swirl into and over. He bent over and looked into the pool and was so shocked by what he saw. His hair had become lighter, in the moonlight it looked as though it glowed a bright honey-golden color. It was long. It was thick. It was a like a mane that surrounded his head and it blew this way and that, so carefree, and yet perfectly in place at the same time. His nose had defined into classic arrow point. His cheek bones had raised up a little higher, but his jaw had become a bit wider and much more square which was now outlined in a nice bit of a three day stubble beard that was just as golden hued as his top hair. Hair continued down his chin, over his throat, spreading across his chest and down his abs. In wonder, Amlodd touched his jaw and then moved his fingers down to his chest. A shock ran through his system when his hand grazed his left nipple. Amlodd shuddered and took in a gasp, but he brought his hand back quickly and began to massage, fondle, outright grope his own left pec. He could feel it swell slightly to his touch. He could feel his nipple lengthen and harden. Continuing to run his hand down his abs, he stopped just before his cock base and ran his hand backwards up, up, up, through his ab and chest hair. Once that happened it started another swelling action. Feeling a stretching in his groin, Amlodd let out a soft "oh no" and attempted to grab a hold of his cock as though perhaps he could squeeze it and stop it from becoming erect. This only resulted in keeping what little of pants cloth he had from moving while his cock continued to stretch and grow. "Auuuuuuuuuuugh" Amlodd moaned as his traveling cock head rubbed against the tightened pants. Letting go of his cock, Amlodd bucked his hips up at the rubbing sensation the cock head received, and with that his cock shifted in the pants while springing fully to length and girth, tenting his pants out tremendously and then ripping a hole in them. As the evening breeze whipped and swirled, filling Amlodd's crotch with newer, cooler, fresher air, Amlodd yelped in ecstasy, his hand knee-jerk reactions went straight to his cock, catching a hold of loose fabric still clinging to his peen and began to rub it and rub it, stroke and caress it. The touch and sensation coming from this mighty and thick rod of sexual pleasure overwhelmed Amlodd's senses. His stroke brought a buck from his hips, a moan from his lips, and quiver from his mega frame. Over and over he stroked that club, that was almost too big for his own hand, until finally that jolt went through him. The jolt that went out from the groin, around the balls, across the ass, up the back, around the neck, up the chin, over the lip... ... ... before suddenly taking a dive straight back to the cock base where it then shot straight out from it. His ample balls suddenly pulled into his body and then felt as though they were being softly squeezed, deflating, but they would pop back to size and squeeze in again, over and over. Leaning back and crying out, Amlodd's right hand reached out, accidentally grabbing an ancient stone pot and shattering it, nearly crushing it to dust. His left hand tightened his grip on his cock, but that didn't stop it from shooting out stream after stream after string after string after ribbon after ribbon. As Amlodd shook and convulsed, it felt as though he was getting hit by strips and strips of hot leather that had fallen and now lay across his groin, his abs, his chest, his neck, his chin, his face, and perhaps even shot beyond! After several, no, dozens of convulsions, Amlodd collapsed and when he began to feel a film forming over him where the copious cum strings had fallen, he flipped himself into the brisk pool, washed himself off and then, seeing he had destroyed his pants, wrapped the cape around his waist so it hung in front like a loin cloth and ran back home to the wagons, with money in tow. The month of December progressed along. The work at the Cathedral kept working his muscles out to the max, mainly because when the master masons began to notice the load was become light for Amlodd, they'd pile more stone and brick on. The first three weeks of December they had to make him work inside the enclosed cloister courtyard as he had no clothes. The Archbishop took pity on him, it was said, and ordered enough fabric to make him a descent respectable outfit. With the money Amlodd took from Prince Rhys' stores, he bought enough cloth to make him a work outfit, something he could wear at the Cathedral or quarry, and another bolt or two to make him a new work outfit for the troupe. The people of the villages and towns he went to stared at him in awe and wonder now, but with all the work he had done at the church, the dairy farms, and other areas, people knew that although he was a mountain of a man he had a most caring soul. Thus whenever they saw him, although they made way for him to pass, they always looked up at him and smiled and greeted him: "Wes Hael, Great Amlodd!", "Good morrow, Giant Amlodd.", "Well met, Mount Amlodd.", and from the children, "Pop your arm, Amlodd, pleeeeeeease!" And they would take turns squeezing it and then run away giggling. This of course all had an effect on Amlodd. He stood straighter and taller when walking, with his head up high. His chest that already barreled enough, was stuck out further when he walked now, with his shoulders back and broad. He had become used to his size and fallen into the giant and broad man's gate: his arms having gone from straight, acute, right, to damn near obtuse hanging angles from his body; his stance becoming set with feet shoulder, his broad-broad shoulders, width apart; and when he walked he kicked his legs out to the side and then rolled them around and forward in order to move. Indeed for the last some folks swore that if one put a pair of sticks between Amlodd's legs while he walked, a fire would soon be struck. And then came all of his new clothes, which despite being measured just shy of month ago, still did not quite fit. The poor giant still stretched them very taught and although they held together and did not burst, it still looked as though he were wearing clothes that were one to two sizes too small. **************************************************************** Finally Twelfth night of the next year was upon them. Amlodd and his troupe were back in the great hall of His Majesty, King Cai Trahern. The fires were stoked to a roaring blaze, the cooks had slaved over many a delicious dish for weeks, whole roasted pigs and towering cakes were laid out, nobles and guest from every corner of the kingdom had arrived to celebrate, even Baeddan the magician was there, although he looked to be more of a close advisor to King Cai, and was dressed in brilliant white robe with golden torse. Sir Macson Roderick was there, of course, bully barreling his way across the hall, knocking men and women down, taking the largest portions of the feast and giving a nod shrug off to folks who had to wait for seconds to arrive now, in order to eat their first. First course out, the salutations to the King, the Prince, and other fine Nobles, as well as to God and Kingdom made, it was now time for the entertainment to begin, King Cai made the gesture and his herald made the announcement, "Lords and Ladies of the Court and Kingdom, it is time now for the Green Rose Entourage!" Cadman and Beca came in followed by their troupe making a mini parade around the inside of the tables until all, save Amlodd, were in and Cadman and Beca we once again standing in front of the King. They all graciously bowed, some pleasantries were exchanged and then Cadman clapped his hands, the troupe members disappeared, and the Herald made the introduction of the first act. "Lords and Ladies, here for you now are Tyler and Taylor the Twin Tumbl...." "Yes, yes, yes, yes.... oh let's do forego all these in between acts and get to the main attraction everyone has come see." Said Sir Roderick as he stood up from his seat and glared at the Herald. "As we're awaiting the oh so one-sided match tomorrow, everyone watches to see what our man, Amlodd, has become so they can make appropriate wagers tomorrow. Let us just cut to the chase and have him perform his act. What is it... he's supposedly a great, mountainous strongman now?" Sir Roderick's group of men cackled and guffawed with laughter and snorts. "Bring him out now and the other acts can fall in line behind him." Just then the hall's main entry doors opened and the Herald announced, "Her Majesty, Queen Ifanna Appleonia of Ælfanweald." Under the arch of the doorway, there stood the most enchanting woman ever seen. Tall, quite tall for a woman, although still shorter than Sir Roderick. Her gown was full and shimmered with several layers of translucent colored fabric? A magnificent strand of diamonds and amethyst hung about her pale neck while small clusters of the same hung from here ears. They matched her eyes which sparkled in her comely, ivory-like face, above her lips of ruby. She wore a crown that looked like lace made out of golden threads, which rested upon great buns of hair spun of silver, combed perfectly, glowing, studded with diamonds or was it fireflies? The Queen half-way across the hall without making a sound and then politely curtsied to King Cai. Sir Roderick however was incensed that his calling for Amlodd had been interrupted and shocked those assembled by turning addressing Ifanna in an extremely unchivalrous manner. "Regal wench. You need to learn your place, in line behind a man and after he's finished." He turned to actually take his hand and smack her face, and the crowd gasped in shock and awe, twice. The first time was because he dared to openly strike a woman, and one that was a queen at that, and second because Ifanna took her hand to grab his striking wrist and stopped it cold. Made more impressive that her hand upon catching his didn't even budge inward towards her. Just before she spoke some of the assembled guests swore her face glowed and flashed, as though her complexion were made of tumultuous skies filled with storm clouds and lightning. He voice then boomed and echoed throughout the hall. "I am no wench! Regal or otherwise! I wait for no man and I am never in queue, waiting in a line... ... ..." and looking towards King Cai, "Save when protocol calls for it from me for my most gracious host." King Cai nodded his head, "You are most welcome, cousin of crowns. We shall arrange a seat for you at my right." With that the crowd saw a sight that once again caused gasps to grasp the air; Ifanna still holding Sir Roderick's hand, turned and twirled herself and him as though they were doing some sort of dance, and suddenly Sir Roderick was thrown back and onto his awaiting stool and appeared somewhat stuck there. Ifanna passed gracefully by and looking down upon Roderick said, "You need to learn your place... knight." After another throne like chair was placed at the head table and Ifanna sat down, apologizing sweetly for arriving so late to the festivities, the herald turn to see what should be done, the acts in order as the troupe wanted to present them or ask for Amlodd to be brought forward. Reluctantly the King granted Sir Roderick's request, but stating loudly much to Roderick's embarrassment, "Let's see this newest act so Macson can see the man, his challenged opponent for tomorrow, and once viewed perhaps the blow hard will go home to prepare and the rest of us can enjoy this feast in merriment and peace." Although he somewhat growled a response back, Macson Roderick ended it with a "It'll be good to see the small willow twig once again...." and then let out a series of laughs, chuckles, downright obnoxious blasts of mirth as he sat back at his table and had all his men laughing as well. Many of the gathered guests laughed at his remark as well, but they soon began to taper off into silence. Even Roderick's men fell into being as silent as church mice as they saw Amlodd approach and come to stand in the center of the hall. Still chuckling as he turned and started to speak, it faded away and became very timid as Roderick finished his question and stood there looking up to the face of Amlodd. "So this is the mighty... ....mountain.... Amlodd?" Roderick had gone to stand toe to toe with Amlodd was stuck dumb at the fact he only came up to just under Amlodd's nose. He noticed that Amlodd's torso extended wider than his shoulders, by a good bit, and that didn't even begin to include Amlodd's boulder like shoulders, wing like lats, or his upper and forearms. Scanning him top to bottom, Roderick was going through a mixture of shock and rage as he could see that the costume, jester booties, tights, tunic were all brand new, but they clung closely to Amlodd's skin leaving nearly nothing to the imagination. The diamond shapes on the tunic were pulled so taught across Amlodd's chest, they looked more like some kind of misshapened trapezoids. Both in the chest and in the arms, if Amlodd breathed one could see the rise, the fall, every twitch and movement of the bulging, bulking muscles. And the tights were even worse, looking as though they were thoroughly painted on showing every absolute crease, crevice, bulging mound, popping muscle, throbbing vein, cable like ligaments and tendons as if Amlodd were nude. Only the striations were missing and some weren't so sure of that. Not knowing Amlodd's new size, he had stepped up a little too close and place, what most used to think were ginormous feet, on top of Amlodd's toes. Amlodd wiggled them a bit, rising Roderick's feet as his did so. Then looking down as Roderick did, when they raised their heads Amlodd stared at Roderick's face and gave a soft and non-meaning, "ow", with an arched eyebrow down to Roderick. Roderick didn't speak but had he, he would've stammered, and he slowly so as not to look afraid, backed off of Amlodd's feet. While everyone laughed lightly, Roderick went into a tantrum directed towards King Cai. "It is just as I heard. He has turned into a beast. A beast within a year! This is most unnatural! This is magic! His body is enhanced by the fae and I know it was done on the early morning of Epiphany last by that mad mage!" Baeddan stood up to protest. "I did no such thing, Your majesty. The contest between them tomorrow is as fair as can be!" "You didn't feed him a potion then? One that would make him grow into a giant? To give him muscles like granite? To have him cheat so he could best me? Brother Relgo, now!" With that a priest, built nearly as large as Roderick himself suddenly hurled a large iron cross at Amlodd. While Amlodd held it after catching it, the priest began to chant sternly and quickly, "In nomine Patris, ut deleret omnes magicae et dryadalum sanguinem de corpore... In nomine Patris, ut deleret omnes magicae et dryadalum sanguinem de corpore... In nomine Patris, ut deleret omnes magicae et dryadalum sanguinem de corpore!" There was a glow from the cross, and then one around Amlodd which then began to form a line, a stream at the top of his head, but after gathering for so long it receded back into Amlodd followed by a blinding flash. When everyone could see again, there was Amlodd still standing in the center of the hall, still as large as ever. "Brother Relego, I thought you said iron and that prayer would cast out all fairy magic and fairy blood from Amlodd!" Relego stood there dumbstruck, but the question wound up being answered by Baeddan. "It didn't work for two reason, Sir Roderick. Number one there is a small bit of magic here, but you allowed it. You did say when making your challenge last year that Amlodd had a year and a day to build himself up in any way he saw fit. You knew that although he would become a titch healthier, maybe even a tad bigger in a year, he would never gain the size needed unless he could have the training for years like you did. But you gave him that. You said you would give him a month for each year of training it took you to become the near giant man you are today, and you even then gave him a couple of months extra. So I did give him a potion, one that would make his body work and grow a year's worth within each month, but that was decided to be legal and just by the universe, otherwise it wouldn't have worked. The second reason why it didn't leave? He was a late bloomer. The height he has and the frame he has would've naturally happened to him in the next couple of years. He was indeed to be a giant of a man." Sir Roderick roared, "Auuuuuuuuugh! I will not have what was once a twig of a fool ruin my plans! He will not best me, and I still declare he cheated! I shall have this kingdom and rule over it!" With that his men, plus a few hidden ones, held swords and knives to key nobles, the king, and the prince. Roderick then grabbed a quite heavy, long oaken bench and smacked Amlodd upside the head with it. Amlodd having looked to see how Prince Rhys was doing didn't see it coming. Seeing stars Amlodd collapsed to the floor, attempting to shake off the blow. He just barely got his vision cleared to see the next strike with the bench and catch it with two hands as if he were hoisting a bar over his head. Roderick jumped and landed on the bench causing Amlodd to go into a crouching position, the bench in his hands and resting upon his broad back. He began to easily lurch back up, but then some of Roderick's men came to assist and jumped onto the bench as well. When even those three men didn't seem to slow the lurching down, Roderick bellow to all of his men to come over and assist. "Pile on. PILE ON! We keep him down we can take him out and the kingdom will be ours; the king too frail and the Prince a scullery maid!" Other men joined five men on the bench, eight men on the bench, twelve men on the bench... Roderick's dog handler jumped on. Thirteen men and two dogs on the bench. For a brief moment it seemed that Amlodd was pinned and the men could draw swords and daggers and stab him through. But Roderick forgot his time given for Amlodd to build up was still going. The challenge day wasn't until tomorrow, and Roderick and his men, left Amlodd in a grand position to work out and grow. The crowd began to speak in whispers and cries wonder what was going to happen? Was it a kingdom over throw? Was poor, poor Amlodd dead? When suddenly they began to hear grunts and moans from a low pitched voice followed up by some "whoas" from Roderick and his men. More grunts and groans, heavy labored breathing, whoas. Soon the sounds became on long string being chanted over and over again. The bench and the men on them began to bounce and bob as if they were actually in a small boat out on the water. It was Amlodd. He had positioned himself when they piled on to have his bulbous bubble butt resting on his ankles, while his arms were up and holding onto either side of the bench. He was currently bouncing on his legs... more and more he bounced... more and more and every ten reps or so higher and higher. Soon guests began to see his legs and they began to hear his tights. A rip here and zip there. Each rep, each bounce his tights became tighter and tighter, exceptionally form fitting. The guests could see as the tear drops of his grew larger, fatter, fuller, almost as though they were two, three, four wine skins being filled to capacity and prepared to burst. His thigh biceps mounded out more and more making his thighs look twice, three times as big as his waist, each! The hamstring pulled so thick and taught it could be used as an instrument string, probably a bass as big as it was. The diamonds on his calves grew wider and harder losing that shape and moving to large hearts with rising veins, making his calves appear to be two large sacks holding pythons that writhed and wriggled. With each bounce and size increase the seam of the tights popped and spread apart. Runs in these tight hose began to sprout on every side, soon one appeared every inch or so and pulled and ran the entire length of Amlodd's legs until it looked as though he wore leggings made of ribbons that were only attached and gathered at his waist and his ankles. By this time Amlodd was able to get his legs fully extended and standing straight despite the bench and its occupants' weight. Now it was time to get the bench up off his back. Still stooped, he began to once again bob his attempting captors and killers up and down in the air. Moaning and groaning, breathing through clenched teeth, Amlodd nearly swore as it seemed to be taking him so long to get them lifted, but eventually he did, but being in a stooped position began to lose some balance and so he somehow switched the load over his head and the pressing up came more from his chest and not his back. Now the bod and ride up and down was becoming really wide as Amlodd pushed them far up and out when his arms extended, but lowered them long and slow with his elbows sticking far behind his back and the bench resting on his chest. This too became quite cumbersome and soon Amlodd began to hoist them over head quickly into order to alternate between back and front, chest and back. As this was done he began to swell larger and thicker in his torso. The chest and back pulled, stretched, tore the diamonds on his tunic. In one sudden movement his back snapped the collar and started a rip down the center back. Next switch the chest snapped it and produce a rip all the way down to Amlodd's upper abdominals. This was followed by long ripping strips happening under the arms as Amlodd's lats spread out wider and wider as though a pair of wings were being unfolded. So it was just strips of multi diamond ribbons that were hanging off of Amlodd's shoulders that eventually fluttered to the floor and revealed a colossal column of cobblestones and bricks that a horse could walk across as a road, a chest that appeared as hard and to barrel out as large as any of the mead or wine casks created to hold hundreds of gallons, and a back and lats that grew into an upside-down evergreen tree that had grown on the bottom as wide the tops of 400 year old oaks. Through all the bouncing and bobbing, many of Roderick's men now yelped for fear, dropping their knives and swords and holding on to each other for dear life, not sure they wanted to find out what a ten to eleven foot drop in full armor would feel like. For Amlodd had now worked his way up to having them hoisted above his head. And he lowered them on his back and neck, then back up and down on his chest, over and over and over every time his biceps, triceps, forearms grew, expanded, became thicker, harder. So full were his biceps now when relaxed or full straightened they looked nearly square. Combine them with the clydesdale sized horse shoes Amlodd was now sporting for triceps, it looked as though Amlodd had the blocks he was hoisting at the Cathedral for upper arms. His fore arms grew as well, coming in thick, hard, veiny, pulsing and popping looking like most men's legs and calves, or gigantic roasted turkey legs were attached at Amlodd's elbows. The sleeves, the only thing left to Amlodd's clothes besides the crotch of his pants and his booties, everyone watched them stretch and pull and shrink wrap the mighty upper arms and tops of the forearms until when in the down position of holding the bench and knights on his chest or back they finally simply tore the fabric across the top of the bicep, or along the side exposing the crevice between bice, brachialis, medial and long heads of the tricep, or creating rips from the elbow up to the wrist, or snapping the cuffs. Eventually the sleeves having been shredded to threads drifted to the floor and there stood Amlodd nearly naked with his hands and arms held high above his head holding the bench with the knights and dogs. He stood motionless, his muscles, all of them totally swollen, fully hard, veins crossing over their valleys and dales, and streams of sweat winding and rolling in and out over the mountains and valleys of Amlodd's body. Hair matted from the sweat all over his body: across the expanse of his colossal chest, down the abs to his waistband, feathering over his quartz like quads, his block like biceps, his freakish forearms and concrete like calves, not to mention the five o'clock shadow on his jaw line or his mane of head hair. His neck looked like it had ballooned as well, becoming possibly thicker than his own head, and suddenly it looked to be pinched off by his trapezius which was mounding more and more mountain like as he held his attackers mid air. He was a living walking statue of the ancient Greco-Roman gods that folks had seen, except he was two...three...four...five times as built and broad as any of them. Finally Amlodd's gritted teeth came open and a low growl that became a scream came out of his mouth as his arms swung back and dipped down a little bit, only to instantly push out and swing forward at the same time, sending the bench, knights, and dogs hurtling through the air across the hall to land near to the double entrance doors. And now Amlodd stood there, breathing heavy, his chest heaving, his arms slightly bouncing up and down, up and down. Finally, he clenched his fists, bent his torso slightly forward, and brought his hands down and in front of his abs, flexing and crunching everything at once with a primal scream. "eeeeerrrrrRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAUGH! .... .... ..... huh.....huh..... The....huh....huh..... challenge..... huh....isn't......huh.....until to.....huh....to.....huh...huh.....TOMORROW!" And having been somewhat bent down in this pose, Amlodd picked up the Iron Cross from the floor, took in both hands on either side of the side bars, and making the same pose and growling louder, proceeded to bend the iron cross until it looked like two of the letters thorn for "th" (þ) placed next to each other in mirror image. Although Roderick's men were shaken and fumbling still from the thrown fall, Roderick was back on his feet screaming and rushing towards Amlodd. He went to strike with his left hand, Amlodd caught it. He went to strike with his right hand, Amlodd caught it. There they stood pushing one another with their hands together, fingers intertwined. A couple of times it seemed Roderick was winner and pushing Amlodd's hands backwards to touch his wrists, but this was only because Amlodd still was unsure of how large his body and muscles were or how easy it was to execute some movements with them. Still it wasn't too long of them going back and forth before Amlodd had the idea of basic fighting principles, and with a loud yell, moved forward, bending Roderick's hands back to the wrists and then twisting his arms down and out, nearly snapping Roderick's forearms off. A simple push sent Roderick then stumbling backwards towards the entrance door again. Amlodd turned to face King Cai and to apologize for having to fight on this last day of Christe-mas when he knew and understood the King's order for no fighting to occur until the first day of Epiphany was being disobeyed. But Roderick wasn't done. His coup wouldn't be stopped by a lowly jester... no, a jester's lackey. Screaming he snatched up two spears and chucked them at King Cai and Amlodd's back. "ENOUGH! NOUGH Nough nough ough gh gh gh....." It was Queen Ifanna who had stood up and with her hand stretched out. There was a flash of light and as her voiced echoed near endlessly throughout the hall, the spears stopped midair and then suddenly changed course flying into the back of two empty server's chairs. Stepping out from behind the head table, Ifanna walked towards Sir Roderick with a cold and stern look like a mother reproving her child. "I will not be undone! I will have..." "SILENCE!" and her voice again seemed to echo eternally throughout the castle halls. "You have caused men to fear you, not respect you for your size. Instead of helping your fellow man with your natural gifts of size and strength you have bullied them and taken from them to preserve yourself and never to help out your fellow man. Your king gave you a powerful position so you had something to occupy your time, to keep your idle hands busy and not turn to pursuits un-noble and wrong. And you repay him thus? Belittling him, his people, his son, and attempting to overthrow and become king yourself? Your king.... .... .... the Earth and Universe are much displeased with this." "And what will you do about it, witch?" "I AM NO WITCH! I control power of the Earth and Stars as guided by them to ensure harmony, prosperity, and peace. And this.... shall happen this eve." She gave a nod and motion of her head to have Amlodd stand near or over Roderick. Roderick stood up, presumably to take yet another swipe at bringing Amlodd down, but before he could, he felt a chill and a lack of ability to move. " Macson, oh, Macson, so vain with your size, It's blinds you to seeing life's true and great prize. Belittle and bully those weaker than you, Now called one a cheat, when his actions were true. So abhorred were your deeds, we now place this curse, To take what your prize away with a verse. And grant it unto your most gracious foe, To ensure you're in check, he more now shall grow. Your lack of chivalry tis now your downfall, live life here among us so tiny and small!" Sir Roderick and Amlodd both began to feel a tingling sensation all over their body and before he knew it, Roderick's worst nightmare began to take form. Two minutes pass and suddenly he realizes that his head only comes up to the bottom of Amlodd's jaw or chin. Two minutes pass quickly again and it becomes much worse, he just barely stands taller than Amlodd's shoulder. He cries aloud in protest, but once done realizes that now he only stands as tall as the top of Amlodd's chest. A string of expletives towards Ifanna and then he only comes up to the join of Amlodd's deltoid and upper arms, or right at his underarm. A defiant cry of "this is not happening!" and suddenly he's only as tall as the bottom of Amlodd's chest and it seemed to just out feet to him like some great awning stretching out above him. He now cries and sobs as pieces of his armor slough off of him as though he were a tiny child playing dress up in his father's clothes. And then Roderick only came up to where Amlodd's lats and mid torso meet. "You are a bitch and you will undo this right now!" And Roderick picked up dagger and as best as his much smaller and shorter arms could do, threw it at Queen Ifanna. It clattered to the floor well short of its mark, not due to magic but because of how weak and small he was. "Auuuuugghh...." Macson stood up straight for a second and then suddenly, he watched as the next row of Amlodd's abs rose above his vision and his head. "The curse shall stay upon you and for every time you are again bullying, arrogant, or abusive towards someone, you shall shrink another two inches, lose more muscle size and strength and it shall be given to your perceived foe or more to Amlodd should you cause that person to cross over. It shall do this until you have learned your lesson or your are as small as a fae, and then you will have to come to live in my realm." Macson let out a small yelp and as quickly as he could pulled his tunic out from under his armor, wrapped it around himself and then left the hall. Meanwhile servants were running into one another as they attempted to bring Brandywine and snifters for what with all the growing just added to Amlodd, none of his clothing was left intact. His feet had exploded out of his shoes, and if not his bubble butt, his more than enough, ample package caused the last bit of his pants to split and give way. He was now standing totally nude and with a pendulum greater in size than perhaps the town clock swinging in the breeze. Dozens of women fainted, many men looked despondent and depressed now, and it was rumored that even Prince Rhys let out a squeak of pleasure and then passed out in his chair. Amlodd went to grab the bench and hold it in front of his groin, but Queen Ifanna waved her hand and soon dew drops swirled all over him, the breeze blustered and gusted all around him and he was clean and well wash from his ordeal and then all his scraps of cloth from his torn clothing, along with a few of the banners on the wall, combined together to make a brand new pair of pants and tunic that fit him well and just snug so that he was dressed both with comfort and move ability, but all could see he was a man with extreme muscular size and strength. Amlodd approached the high table, bowed before King Cai and issued an apology for having burst through his clothes and being nude in front of everyone. The King chuckled and said there was no need to apologize as number one, the growth really wasn't in his control and two, because he had just saved the king and the kingdom. But at that very moment one last pop was to be heard, It was the pop of Amlodd's necklace. His neck had grown too thick and strong for the necklace and it had managed to stretch the chain, some of the links apart and release causing his amulet to fall onto the table in front of King Cai. Cai looked down at the amulet and then his eyes grew wide. "Who gave you this amulet, boy?" "I assume my actual father did, sire. It was around my neck when Cadman and Beca found me." "Cadman, Beca, come forth. You say you found this child?" "Yes. As we said last year, it was half a day's journey from the last great hall at which we performed that season." "Young man, what is your last name?" "Pryce, your majesty, why?" "That amulet contains the crest of the Duke of Langberch, Sir Islwyn Pryce. I know this for that duchy is part of my kingdom and Islwyn is a distant cousin, thus part of the royal family. Something like the mid thirties or so in line for the throne. I had heard of his death, but nothing about you, except how you had gone missing." "Your Majesty," said Beca. "We didn't take him, truthfully. We found him amongst props and other thing in one of our wagons. The staff of the household feared him to be a changeling due to his long size as a baby. We accidentally caused the death of Sir Islwyn, so the staff thought it was our responsibility to take care his child. We told them no. When we discovered Amlodd, we saw his name on the back of the amulet and knew he was Sir Islwyn's baby boy but we didn't think anyone there wanted him. We only knew Islwyn as some great local Lord... by name.... we didn't know him by title." King Cai sat back in his chair and sighed. "Well then, before festivities resume, we must take care of some business. I want all to hear me and hear me well and good. These are formal and royal proclamations and the scribes shall do well to note it, as well as the Chamberlains and Heralds. First, for saving us and the kingdom this day, Amlodd Pryce is here by granted knighthood in our most prestigious order. Second Sir Pryce is hereby to assume his station as his father's son and heir and it to be Duke Pryce of Langberch. Third, the regent whom I appointed to govern Langberch until the heir be found, has sided with the former Sir Roderick, so I will send you immediately to take back your duchy, trounce the regent, and restore order and control of the duchy as quickly as you can. Fourth once you have done that, you are to find someone to act on your behalf in those lands for you are to move back here for two reasons: reason A. You are to take control of my armies. A man of your gigantic stature, size, build, and strength, just by being here will surely dissuade any enemies for thinking to attack. We shall have the best of my warriors help teach and train you in fighting and tactics. and B. In as much as I'm not sure about this.... lifestyle.... I certainly cannot change my son, nor where his feelings of adoration and passion take him. I have no idea how you feel, but given that we now know you are of royal and noble birth, not to mention the addition of physical stature to the royal line wouldn't hurt, if you manage to come to some agreement on having children somehow, then I have no problem with an arrangement of marriage between you and him, if you'll have him." The giant, Sir Pryce blushed deeply and sheepishly said, "I thank you, your Majesty for all these gifts, and.... yes if he will have me, I will have Price Rhys." Shouts of joy and laughter filled the air. King Cai ordered the armor of Macson taken away to be reshaped and used to make new, larger armor for Sir Amlodd Pryce, Duke of Langberch. Amlodd was asked to sit at high table, Cadman and Beca and all members of their troupe were given extra payment at the end of their performances for not only being such good entertainers but for having restored the Duchy of Langberch, a branch of the royal family, and the reason why the kingdom was saved. Prince Rhys was finally roused awake and spent the remainder of the evening sitting in Amlodd's lap, who prayed all night that he would not pop and erection in front of the crowd in the hall, even with wearing well fitted pants. Later the Prince and Amlodd went strolling up the Prince's bed chambers. Amlodd remembered first meeting the Prince, when although taller than the Prince then, the Prince at least came up to Amlodd's brow. Now the Prince just barely made it up over the bottom of Amlodd's pecs, just under the arms or right where the deltoids and upper arms meet. Speaking of upper arms, the Prince went through his yearly clothing allowance that night, having Amlodd pull his pants up over his arms, lacing the pants shut, and then flexing his arms and watching the laces or the waist band snap. Rhys nearly went into orgasm when they compared the tattered challenging glove of Macson to Amlodd's hand which dwarfed it considerably well. However Rhys became quite the surprise and great lover to Amlodd. Bringing Amlodd into the castle, several things had to be redone. He now stood head and pecs taller than the doorways, the end of the beds hit him at the knees, if his head was completely against the headboard, his knees tilted tables so that he tipped them over, and chairs frequently broke under his size and weight. Of course, it was still a chore to make clothes for him as well, and most horses shied away from now, so he rode into battle not upon a horse, but drawn in massive chariot pulled by four great plough horses. Nothing ever truly fit Amlodd.... .... .... save Prince Rhys. Amlodd wasn't sure how it was possible, but Rhys would slide down, taking Amlodd's mighty rod all the way to his globe like balls. It seemed that Rhys never tired of Amlodd and his great physique. Every night all Amlodd had to do was to bounce a pec here or pop a bicep there, or let his trews drop and let his staff sway. Within a heart beat Rhys was there, climbing him to reach his mouth and kiss him, clinging to his neck, groping his shoulders, cupping his pecs, pinching and sucking his nipples, sucking or squeezing his biceps and upper arm, tracing his abs, grasping his buttocks, caressing his thighs, following the contour of his hamstrings, kneading his calves, massaging and comparing his feet or hands, combing his chest hair with fingers, or stroking, sucking, or sitting on his colossal cock. The pair were frequently late for morning breakfast and meetings because Prince Rhys usually had to perform all these actions and he took his time doing so, sometimes even stopping and waiting, reducing Amlodd the giant to moaning and tears. During festival times, Rhys would work Amlodd up for several nights in a row and then leave him hanging and on the last evening of the festival, perform the ritual of caressing again and then Either shimmy his ass slowly and bouncing down Amlodd's royal scepter or take his average prick and fuck Amlodd's mighty anaconda until Amlodd screamed and roared in ecstasy. It's been said they have broken five beds, up to ten tables, and nearly a gross of chairs, and those festival nights, Amlodd fills at least two chamber pots completely full, but not with piss or poo. It is this they have used to impregnate the "Proxy Queen", a fair lass selected by both Rhys and Amlodd to be the surrogate mother for their child... make that children. All of them strapping young lads who matched in height, if not stood taller than their father Rhys by the age of eleven, and sometimes given to small bursts of growth, probably due to small ones Amlodd continued to have. Yes.... no one is exactly sure how long it took, or how much size Macson gave still to Amlodd. He was able to live decently and alone after selling the jewels that were once incrusted into his goblet, but oh he still had an attitude. A man here, a young lad there, he still threatened and picked fights, becoming more and more upset and jealous because these fights left him smaller and weaker than before. Of course there were the few who came back hoping to gain more height and strength from Macson, only to be extremely pissed when they didn't grow again and took it out on him. The royal family wasn't sure how long it took before Macson caused his own disappearance, but they guess he killed at least three men in his fights from the size Amlodd had grown, which in turn affected his son's growth. The local townsfolk say that the last time they saw Macson Roderick was at a tavern one festival night. He had ordered his usual large tankard of ale which he could barely hold let alone consume. His stature having shrunk so small, this tankard alone was enough to make him a rude angry drunk and picking an unwarranted fight with three men. They say he stumbled home that night only to discover that he was now so short he couldn't even reach the door handle to his house. As he cried and pounded on his door in frustration, there was a blinding flash and he was faced by Queen Ifanna who took him into the fairy realm with him screaming and kicking. And those folks who live in the woods warn travelers that Macson still didn't learn for he came in as one of the biggest fairies that night, but now there are a band of fairies that stand nearly two feet tall and poor Macson now sits in a fairy sized bird cage, a pet to Queen Ifanna. And that's the story of how our fair kingdom came to be ruled by a giant, mountain of a man. Some took him for a fool, a real fool, but he grew into a powerhouse! And now only a fool would attack our fair kingdom and Kings Rhys and Amlodd, for not only is Amlodd a huge and powerful man to contend with, but their five sons are all grown now and mountainous giant each in their own right, equal to the size of their father, if not a wee bit bigger. If you ever want to see what gods look like in all their glory, it's nearly sun rise now, and that near hidden path leads to Loch Cyhyrau, the loch where the royal baths are built over and almost every morning at dawn you can see Kings Rhys and Amlodd and their five sons: Glanmor Foawr, Drystan Famhair, Efrog Arafa, Kyledyr Fathach, Caswallawn Cawr, and their five husbands, taking a bath.... amongst other things.
  14. 27 points
    CHAPTER SIXTEEN: SMOOTH The rest of the week continued on as we rolled toward the competition. Ted had adjusted our diet again and carbs were becoming a blessing when we actually got to eat them. I could tell I was experiencing a drop in energy due to this. I wanted to say my father was too, but he was such a freak of nature that I couldn't be sure. The veins, sinews and fibers of our muscles were starting to become more and more evident. I've great had abs since the beginning of summer, but now I had veins running across my six pack! Dad didn't yet have a vascular set of abs, but veins were beginning to erupt everywhere else. We already got a glimpse of his striated glutes on Sunday, the rest of him was beginning to show that same look of ripped dense mature muscle. I had many reasons to be jealous of my father, but right at the moment the biggest reason was because he could still eat whatever portions he wanted. He was in no danger of falling out a weight class like I was. In fact, his weight was laughably higher than the next cut off down for the heavyweight division, even though I didn't know exactly what it was. This meant that he could still eat whatever amount of food he wanted provided it fell within Ted's protein, carb and fat proportions. What was most amazing about this was that it seemed that Dad was still growing! Ted was flabbergasted as everyday, even though he was tightening up and losing fat, my father seemed to be incrementally expanding every day. I on the other hand, had to keep watching my weight to make sure I didn't fall up into the next weight class, so I had to limit my intake and was constantly hungry. We had also began other preparations for our competition. On Monday my father and I started going to the tanning salon at Ted's instruction to further darken our skin. Dad and I already had a light olive complexion just from our shirtless jogging sessions, but Ted told us that the darker we were the more our muscles would show. I didn't particularly think Pops needed any help in that regard but Ted was the boss! You should've seen the looks on the faces of the two young, busty, darkly tanned, expertly made-up college girls working at the desk when my father ducked into to salon. A look of pure lust flowed over their faces, jaws dropped and eyes glazed over. Dad was wearing just a stringer tank top so most of his titanic, rippling muscles were on display. A lot of women don't go for the big muscles, but these two tanned bimbos looked like steriotypical guidettes who went for big men. And men don't come much BIGGER than my father so they were understandably in awe. I would not be surprised if they were rubbing their cooches from behind that desk as my old man smiled way down at them from his lofty height. “Good afternoon ladies.” Dad stated sultrily, purposefully lowering his already basso profundo voice. “My son and I are doing a bodybuilding show in a couple of weeks so we need to do some tanning. Think you can help us out?” “Uh...uh...yes, sir. Of course we can,” the one of the left was able to collect herself and speak first. “A bodybuilding show you say? Well good luck. Although looking at you I don't think you need it.” Dad chuckled softly and I saw left girl bite her lip. She continued, finally settling into some sense of a tanning professional, “Well, it looks like you already got a good base tan. We do get some bodybuilders in here so we have a pretty good idea what you will need. “We get you two set up in a couple of tanning beds.” She looked at the girl next to her. “Jenna, will you go set up two tanning beds for them?” Jenna looked her friend and said sarcastically, “Really, Amber? Don't you think that will be a problem?” Jenna looked at Amber blankly. “Amber, there is no way he will fit in the tanning bed, he'll have to use the standing unit.” Jenna looked at my father, “Sorry, Sir I hope that's a not a problem. We don't get people your size very often. For the tanning beds you are just too big.” My father smiled brightly at the two barbies behind the counter. “You know, I seem to be hearing that phrase A LOT lately.” Dad then raised his left arm and FLEXED his cannonball muscle for the awestruck ladies whose eyes widened in disbelief. “But, I kind of like hearing it. Suits, me well, don't you think?” The two girls could only nod and moan. As they nodded I swore I could see some drool fall out. “But, that's OK. I like being 'TOO BIG'. The standing unit is just fine.” Dad dropped his flexed arm. “Ok great, Sir.” Jenna looked at me, “...And it looks like your son will be able to use the normal beds. It was weird, in that moment 'normal' seemed like the an insult. Like I wasn't man enough to use the standing tanning units. Amber handed us a couple of forms to fill out. Once completed we handed them back to the girls. I'm sure both Amber and Jenna quickly memorized my father's information. “Ok, Chad and Jed Graves. Fantastic,” Jenna said. Alright, Amber you take Jed to unit 12 and Chad, if you'll follow me to booth 18. Amber shot Jenna a quick dirty look and Jenna returned the look with a knowing smirk. Amber knew that her friend had purposefully took it upon herself to help my father over me. Again, I felt emasculated, like I was the booby prize of some hunkiest man competition. Amber led me down the hall to my room and showed me how to work the tanning bed. A few rooms down I could hear squeals of laughter and delight emanating from Jenna. My father was no doubt flirting and charming the young woman helping him out. As Amber finished I took off my baggy t-shirt to start getting ready. “Wow.” Amber said giving me a quick once over. “I see good genes run in the family. Lookin' good stud!” Amber gave me a wink and walked out of the room. As she entered the hallway Jenna appeared right by her side, looking excited as ever. I gave the door a light push to close it. As the door closed I could hear Jenna talking to Amber excitedly. “Omigosh, Amber, you should've seen the size of his...*SLAM*” The door closed and cut off the last part of her sentence, leaving me wondering just how much of my father she had seen. I was happy though that at least Amber had acknowledged my own development. She had to be two to three year older than me, so it was nice to be complimented by a hot, but shallow older college girl. Fifteen minutes later my tanning bed shut off. I got dressed and walked out toward the lobby where my father was conversing with the young women while waiting for me. As I entered the lobby I saw my father bent over with his massive left biceps flexed with both of the young ladies tiny hands on his arm. The two girls were both less than five and half feet tall so he had to bend over so they could reach. They giggled excited as they attempted to squeeze the muscle, but to no avail. “Oh hey, Champ. The ladies here wanted to feel my guns. They say they have never seen such big arms before! You ladies want to see another trick?” They both screamed “YES!” in unison. “Ok, both of you wrap each hand around my bicep, one on each side. Good just like that. Ok, hang on tight!” My herculean father than stood up straight to his full colossal height, raising his left arm to shoulder level and maintaining the one arm pose. The feet of the TWO young women rose a few of inches off the ground as they BOTH hung from Dad's granite arms! The two girls both squealed in delight. My father then extended this fist outward, unflexing his arms. It looked like he was exerting no effort at all. As he unflexed I watched the two girls feet lower slightly toward the ground. Dad then suddenly raise the balled first back toward his shoulders, re-FLEXING the massive ball of meat. As his arm grew again the two women again rose upwards further from the floor. After a few seconds of their giggling, Dad lowered his arm and the two girls let go, hysterical with laughter and lust. “Omigod, Chad. That was amazing. You are so, so BIG and STONG. You have to be, like, totally the strongest man in the world!” Amber spit out between giggles. Dad laughed with them and replied, “Well I don't know about that. Maybe some day though!” I wasn't so sure I didn't agree with Amber. Well, my boy and I got to head home. We'll see you next time! The girls just then realized I was standing there. They were so caught up in the built sexy man that I hadn't even fazed them. It's like my father sucked in all masculinity from the room and kept it for himself. “Come again soon!” Jenna squealed pleadingly as we left. “Nice girls,” my father said as we headed toward his pickup. “I'm surprised you were able to contain yourself in there.” Dad rolled his eyes at me. “What do you think I am, so horned up pervert with no self control?” I rolled my eyes back. He added, “But, haha, I will say it was VERY difficult! Jenna was all over me as I stripped down in there. I'm actually surprised I was able to keep this huge baseball bat soft!, he he. Gotta stay strong though, Son, at least until the competition is over. Need to fuel as much growth as I can before I hit the stage!” “Well, maybe I'll have to escort you around to keep all the rapid women off you!” Dad guffawed at my proposal. “I may need that, Son. I do feel like I'm about to get jumped by some horny chick pretty much all the time nowadays!” “Oh, poor you,” I said, dripping with sarcasm. Dad just chuckled and then reached over and ruffled my hair as we drove home. - Our workouts continued on just as it had on Sunday. I was much more ferocious and vocal not only in my treatment of my father but in my treatment of my own body. I certainly needed it too. As the carbs were being ripped away from my energy level was dropping and it was taking more and more mental fortitude to get in the right zone for training. I know it pleased my father as well. He would smile happily whenever I fell into my drill sergeant mode and yelled at him. Once I called him on it, “WHAT ARE YOU GRINNING, YOU NANCY BOY!” I shouted. Dad stifled a chuckle, as did I, honestly. He then saluted me and got back to attacking the weights. And of course, again the weights Dad were using were ticking up! How could this be? Was I that good of a motivator? Dad was inhuman. His quest for size and strength seemingly couldn't be sated. How many 1.5 week out bodybuilders have you heard of that curl the 120 lb dumbbells for reps with perfect form?!? Clothing was becoming more and more of a challenge for him as well, as expected. Now, even regular trips to the big and tall store were becoming more and more fruitless. If Dad did find something that fit he had to have it tailored in some way. I swear he wore the same five work shirts each week because he only had five that could contain his bulging masses at an appropriate level. And even then if you looked closely enough you could see holes and tears beginning at many of the seams of his button downs. His polos were faring slightly better since there were fewer points of distress on them, but they were all skin tight as well. When he wore his polo shirts it was truly an intimidating site. He looked like a super tall, handsome, overdeveloped, hyperactive young football coach. Dad liked to wear baseball caps too and kept a few in his truck. Sometimes after work he would throw on his baseball cap for the drive home. When he would come home wearing a baseball cap with his muscles bursting out of his polo shirt, it really drove home the football coach look. After work on Tuesday I stopped by the sewing shop and picked our posers. I drove home and saw that Dad hadn't made it back yet. I went into my room and threw bag with the posers on my bed and changed into my workout clothes. I picked up the bag and fished out my posers and tossed them on my desk. I held the bag in my hand and thought about how Dad looked in his posing thong. I got curious again and reached in grabbed one on my father's posers and set the bag with the others on the bed. I held it up with both hands like a young teenage boy does the first time he holds his first bra. It was astonishing how much fabric there was in between my hands for what was supposed to be a tiny garment. The fabric of the ass part looked like it could cover my computer's oversized monitor. And...HO LEE CRAP. The POUCH! It was huge! And deep! I'm not even joking, that pouch looked like it could cup a basketball! In fact, at the moment I got curious. I looked around my room. I didn't have a basketball but I noticed a soccer ball in my closet. I walked over and grabbed the soccer ball and set it in the pouch...AND IT FIT! I could easily hold my father's oversized posers by the butt fabric and swing around the pouch and the soccer ball would not fall out! My father had so much manhood that he had a half soccer ball sized bulge! Pops was reaching a level of masculinity that very few men in history could have ever achieved. As I lightly swung around the soccer ball in pouch of Dad's posers I couldn't help but think of the story of Goliath, one of the biggest men in history. The posers reminded me of an oversized sling and my father was a modern day Goliath himself. I rolled the soccer ball into the closet and threw the posing strap on the bed where it landed on my own. I tried to resist, but another wave of morbid curiosity swept over me. I picked Dad's posers back up, and my own as well. I grabbed the waist band of both, one in each hand and held them both up. My gawd. My posers looked to be less than HALF of the size of my Dad's. Once again immense emasculation swept over me. I couldn't image how tiny I would feel if I were one of those even smaller guys myself. I was decently hung and well built, but comparing the two garments felt like comparing my own underwear to that of a toddler. I was living with a huge, virile, muscle monster who embodied everything that is male. And I was the fruit of that man's loins. His gargantuan loins that were literally twice the size of my own. Again I felt like a little boy who dreams of growing up to match his hero father, but deep down know that would probably never happen. I heard the front door slam. “I'm home, Sport,” I heard Dad's deep manly voice rumble from the front room. With his growth his voice seemed to be getting slightly deeper and more masculine itself, just like the rest of him. I instantly panicked and threw the two garments on my bed right as Dad walked by my room. He poked his head in. “Hey Jed, good day at work?” I nodded my head yes and he noticed the articles on my bed. “Oh, great you got our posing straps.” “Yeah Dad.” I reached over and separated his thongs from mine and handed his to him. “Awesome. Hopefully they fit this time. They were really tight on Sunday. I got a lot of beef and other things to contain,” he humble-bragged and then winked at me as he walked out of my room, posers in hand. I just shook my head as I remembered that Rose actually had to make his posing strap BIGGER than it originally was. BIG. BIG. BIG. I felt like that word was going to get worn out living with this hulk. The next evening, Wednesday, was only cardio day. Dad and I headed to track after we got home from work and began running laps. We stripped down to our shorts to enhance our tan the natural way. My father was looking stunning as he ran laps. More and more veins were beginning to criss-cross his body. Also, surprisingly he was a very graceful runner for such a big man. In fact, he was now able to easily keep up with me and his cardiovascular endurance improved each session, even as the carbs were being stripped away. It's like my father's body only had one purpose: To improve. And no matter what he did that's what would happen. I felt like he could start eating a diet consisting of Skittles and Snickers bars and he would still be growing and getting more ripped! We jogged for 40 minutes, after which we were both covered with sweat, which again, only enhanced Dad's sexual appeal. As we walked back to the parking lot I saw a gaggle of young mom's who were also at the track to jog, swoon heavily. I had seen them here the last few sessions and I was beginning to suspect that they had been planning their jogs in sync with ours. Their little group seemed to growing and I suspected they were sharing that news of Dad's eye candy with their friends. As they stretched out on the bleachers we walked past on our way to the parking lot. I could tell my father had purposely slowed his walk and he sauntered by them confidently. “Have a good evening, ladies.” As he spoke this he purposely lowered his voice even more to enhance it's sultriness. Even I couldn't deny his deep voice's lusty power. If the ladies were not wet from jogging, they sure were now. We got home and ate a quick meal consisting of nothing but meat and vegetables, again. As we neared the competition I was gaining more and more respect for competition bodybuilders and what they have to go through. At that moment I could've killed somebody for a nice juicy hamburger and some fat potato fries with Heinz ketchup. After we ate, Dad announced it was time for him to shave. I joked, “I hope you have enough cans of shaving cream.” Dad chuckled at my lame joke. “Have fun shaving down, you big fuzzball. I'll watch TB while you do that.” I sat down and flipped through some channels and took is some sports. A few minutes later Pops hollered from the bathroom. “Will you come help me out, Son?!” “What!? I don't want to shave you, do it yourself.” “C'mon, Son, I can't reach everywhere. I wouldn't even if I weren't as big as I am. Plus, I'm so damn big if you don't help me out I'll be in here all night! Now get in here and help me and then I'll help you out as well. Get in here, Squirt!” I stepped into the bathroom. Dad had shaved the hair off his arms and shoulders leaving them smooth. He had stripped down nude letting that bratwurst hang between his legs and stepped into the tub/shower combo. I couldn't help but notice that the shower head was below his shoulders. “Geez, Dad. How do you even take showers in there anymore?” “Ha! Well's it's getting harder, that's for sure. My shoulders are always brushing up against the tiles and curtain. My big body seems to outgrowing our little house. It's a good thing I got this new showerhead with the detachable handle otherwise I'd have a real tough time in here.” Dad turned on the shower and brought the temperature up to a warm, almost hot temperature. He closed the curtain and took a quick hot shower, washing away the salty layer of sweat that covered him after our jog. A couple of minutes later he shut off the water and opened the curtain. “Ok, Son. Grab the can of shaving cream and a couple of disposable razors. I'll do my front and you shave my back.” I squirted a huge dollop of the blue gel into his hands and he started foaming up his big heaving chest. He turned sideways in the shower and I squirted a big line of gel across his upper back and it was probably almost four feet long due his back's immensity. His back just had a very light dusting of hair, so luckily the back shouldn't take so long. Well, it shouldn't except that the square footage of his back flesh was so large that it probably would take awhile. As I spread the gel out over his upper back I was amazed at just how big and developed his back was. With the gel my hands glided smoothly over the various mounds and bumps, into the arroyos and glens between each individual muscle as I spread out the gel. His back expanded and bunched up in various ways from his own movements and he lathered up and shaved his chest. I had covered a the upper quarter of his back when realized that the gel was starting to be spread to thin. That huge line of shaving cream could only cover the very top portion of his expansive back! I took the razor and shaved off the upper quarter of his back. I then repeated the process three more times, removing every bit of the small of light hair that was on his back. I finished just as Dad finished his chest. His front was taking a bit longer because he had a lot more hair there. When I was done my father turned to face me while still shaving his left pectoral. He asked if I would go ahead and start on his abs. I lathered the gel onto his taught stomach, which was now almost as ripped as my own. Like his chest and unlike his back, his stomach was much furrier. As my hands ran up and down his abs spreading the shaving gel, my fingers worked their way into the deep crevices between each solid block of muscle. While I was lathering the upper part of his stomach the back of my hand briefly brushed across his pert silver dollar sized nipple. This was because his pecs were so huge his nipples were nearly pointing straight down towards his abs. He jumped and made a light “whoop!” sound as this occurred. “Sorry, Son. My big man nips have been more sensitive lately, you caught me off guard there, little guy! Haha.” I noticed his thimble sized nubs had engorged themselves from the sudden stimulation. I apologized and began shaving his abs. It did take much longer in the front due to the density of the fine light hair that only enhanced his manliness. It was almost a shame it all had to come off for the competition. Little by little I sheared strips of fur off his abs. I was about three quarters done when Dad finally finished his pecs. He then raised his right arm and held onto the shower curtain rod and lathered up his hairy right armpit. Since we jogged earlier I was met with a blast of manly sweat odor that was even overpowering the scent of the shaving gel. He shaved down his right pit while I shaved away the last bit of hair off this abs. He then repeated process and removed the hair from the deep cave of his left armpit. When I was done Dad handed me his razor, shut the shower curtain, turned on on the shower and soaped and rinsed his upper body. Once done I handed him a towel from around the curtain. He whipped the curtain back and dried of his front giving me my first glace as his hairless torso. Wow. He looked like a serious, giant bodybuilder. The big kind you would see on TV. With the hair removed I could make out the striations and sinews of his chest as it bunched and mounded from the motion of drying himself off. The absence of hair made his abs look even deeper and more pronounced. Without the hair he looked even younger, like an ultra tall, stacked 25 year old. People would really think he was by big brother now. As I stared I breathed out a faint “wow” and Dad had apparently heard. He grinned back at me smugly from the shower, naked as jaybird. He hung the towel on the curtain rod and looked down toward me. “Do I really look that good, Champ? GRRRR!” He grabbed his wrist in front of him and performed the definition of a most muscular pose, with his huge pecker flaccidly hanging 2/3 of the way to his knees. With the hair gone the fibers of his chest all individually tensed with the flex. I could make out far more veins and blood vessels being pressed upward into his thin skin by the granite masses underneath. “Wow, Pops! Ted was right. I didn't think you would look so much different without your fur but shaved down you look AMAZING! I can see cuts and veins on you that I've never seen before.” “Well that's good, Sport. I was a little worried about shaving my hair. I felt like I was losing a piece of my masculinity.” “Haha, Dad, you could lose a big piece of your masculinity and you would still be more of a man than any guy I know.” Dad grinned and chuckled at my praise. “Ok, sport come over and help me shave my legs.” I hesitated for a split second as I knew I would now be VERY close to that thick rubbery tube hanging from his crotch. I instinctively moved toward his left leg since I knew his cock had a slight bend toward his right leg. I grabbed the can of shaving gel and squirted a dollop onto his left leg and handed the can to him so he could begin on his right. I lathered up the outer sweep of the massive tree trunks in front of me, giving them a slippery massage in the process. Like his back I couldn't get over just how solid and heavy the mass felt under my hands. When Dad would slightly shift his stance the mass under my hands would instantly tighten into what felt like solid rock. I had to grab a new razor for the each of us, the two ones we had used on his upper body where already ruined from the overuse endured shaving his upper body. I began taking care of his left leg while he took care of the right. A couple of minutes later his outer legs were shiny and hairless. “Ok, Bud. You're going to have to do my hamstrings.” Dad turned around so I could shave the backs of his legs. I couldn't believe someone's hamstrings could be so pronounced. The ribbed bumps left no doubt this man could deadlift unreal amounts of weights. Next it was time to tackle his huge, striated ass. A few days ago I would've referred to it as the ultimate bubble butt. While his ass was still HUGE, however, I don't know any bubbles that have jagged edges from the sinews of muscle so that term could no longer apply. Without his prompting I gelled my fingers and brought them up to lather up his big daddy muscle butt. For some reason I started hear his crack. When my fingers touch his flesh it gave him another minor startle. He instinctively “whooped” again and involuntarily flexed his ass. The tips of my finger were instantly compressed in a vice like grip between the two rock hard mounds! Lucky the action was so quick that he instantly released them, but I could see the tips of two of my fingers were red from the quick but ridiculously forceful pinch. I swear if you were to put a lump of coal in between his butt cheeks and had him flex you would get a diamond! Dad relayed his apology at the jump-flex and I shaved off the light brown fuzzy hair from his ass. “Ok, Son. Just need your help in one more area. You gotta do my inner thighs.” I knew this moment was coming and I had been mentally preparing myself. For the next few minutes I would have to hang out in between his monstrous legs, in the lair of his monstrous cock and his tennis ball size testicles. “Ok, Dad, spread 'em” I said as I gelled more of him. It was then that I noticed the can of shaving gel was nearly empty! We really did have to use multiple cans just to cover the spectacular amount of surface of man flesh because Dad was so, so BIG! Dad spread his legs with one foot at each end of the bathtub giving me access to his groinal region. “Ok, Pops, um, can you hold your...uh...stuff out of the way.” He smugly grinned down at me. “I'll my best, there's a lot down there to hold, 'ya know.” He reached down held his junk in both hands off to the side of his left leg. I sat on the edge of the tub and lathered up the inner thighs and groin of his right leg and began shaving away. The hair down there was much more wily. It often became entangled in the razor and required a lot more rinsing of the blade. When I was finished I tilted my head up to let him know. From my position down below and with him towering above me, as I looked up all I could see was his meaty arms, abs, and the underside of the beefy protuberance of his pecs. His head nor face could not be seen. Once again I was overcome with awe at his huge presence. From sitting down he looked like a true goliath, a titan among men. After staring up at him for a bit too long his head came into view as he leaned lightly forward and looked straight down at me from way up above. He grinned as he looked straight into my eyes. I'm pretty sure he knew that I had been caught in another moment of awe. He spoke softly, but his powerful voice still resonated throughout the bathroom, “Hey little guy. Let's finish the other side shall, we?” Look straight up at his movie star handsome face, the term he used to describe me, 'little guy', never felt more apt. Dad shift his stance and moved his junk over to his opposite leg. I twisted on the edge of the tub to take care of his other inner leg. As I was in process of shaving I reached up to grab the can of shaving cream and accidentally knocked over a bottle of talc powder than was on the counter, sending up small white cloud into the air. “Oops!” I said, thinking little of the incident and continuing to shave his groin. A few seconds later I heard my Dad make a sharp gasp and looked up to see his chest expand rapidly as he inhaled. The small white cloud of talcom had apparently reached his nose and tickled his sinuses as he prepared to sneeze. He then instinctively brought both hands up to his face to cover his mouth releasing this monstrous Dad dick and balls. As he sneezed his body lurched forward, swinging his massive schlong pendulum. It suddenly swung forward and struck my right hand, knocking the razor from my grip. The cheap plastic utensil clinked on the floor. I sat there wide-eyed in shock. I had touch Dad's cock! Or rather, it had touched me! And with such force that it knocked the razor from my hand. I couldn't believe how heavy it felt even in the fraction of second that I had made contact with it! I should've moved in that moment but I was frozen in shock. I didn't even process that Dad was again inhaling sharply. He sneezed again, this time with even MORE force. His hips thrust forward slightly, and since I was still sitting just in front of and underneath his crotch, this time his cock and balls swung forward and smacked me in the side of my head! Omigod! I had never felt so embarrassed and awkward in my life! If felt like one of those wet pool noodles had struck me, it was that powerful! Luckily I don't think Dad noticed what had happened. When he came too I had leaned forward just enough to stay out the path of his still swaying genitals. Dad glanced back down at me, “Sorry, Son. Should've given you more warning. Thanks for not slicing up my crotch while I sneezed.” “Uhhhh...no problem Dad.” He reached down those huge hands of his, again scooping up the fleshy tube and orbs so I could finish with his inner thighs. “Thanks, Champ!” Pops said cheerfully. Now, you shave off what you can at the sink and I'll take care of these hairy calves of mine. At the sink I shaved my own arms, shoulders, chest and even abs by the time he was done with his two calves. Since I was still young I just had a light dusting of light brown hair on my arms and practically none anywhere else. I was fairly certain Dad had more hair on his calves then my entire upper body. I noticed he had also lathered up his crotch to give it a quick shave as well. While not completely smooth down there, he apparently kept it nicely trimmed up. He quickly sheared off his upper pubes leaving everything below his stubbled face smooth and hairless. He grabbed the shower hose and rinsed off his nether region and concrete legs. He dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist, mercifully shielding me from continuing to have to see his weapon of unintentional emasculation. “Ok, Sport hop in the shower and I'll do your legs and back.” I stripped down, grabbed my junk to hide it, partly due to modesty and partly because I felt awkard and small, and stepped in the tub. Dad lathered up my back after I turned away from him. At the same I was shaving the my upper legs. I could feel the rough callouses of his palms slightly scraping along my skin as he did he foamed up by back. Once again it didn't take him long to shave my back as I had very little hair there. “Ok, Son I'm going to do your ass now.” I hard him chuckle deeply and then he gave me real quick spank. *Thwack*. His hand stuck my ass leaving me with a light sting. “HEY!” I shouted. “What was that for?” “He he. I was just thinking about how I used to see your little butt all the time when I was changing your diapers. Now here we are 17 years later and I'm staring at my little man's bare butt all over again!” He gave me another quick, light spank. “Ouch! Stop that!” I directed. “Oh relax, my little baby boy.” I know he used it as a term endearment, but the double meaning gave me another wave of inadequacy as I felt his his hulking presence standing behind me. He lathered up and shaved my butt and I finished my legs. He then squatted down and sat on the edge of the tub like I had. I spread my legs and he shaved my hard to reach underloins and hamstrings from behind while I cupped myself in front with my hands. Finally I bent over and shaved off the light hair from my calves, leaving me hairless from the head down, like him. I shut the shower curtain and quickly soaped up and rinsed off the remaining gel and loose hair. I dried myself and wrapped a towel around my waist as well and stepped out of the shower next to my old man. Looking at ourselves in the large bathroom mirror Dad got his first look at my own hairless torso. “Wow, Son. You were right. You didn't have much hair to begin with but getting rid of that light peach fuzz of your makes you looked even more shredded. Look at that tiny waist!” Dad reached out and pinched a very thin fold of skin covering my abs. “You may have the best abs in town, Sport. I certainly have one studly son.” I basked in his praise as we checked ourselves out. I looked at him in the mirror and returned the favor. “I may have the best abs in town, but you definitely got the biggest muscles!” “Haha you may be right, there!” Dad brought up his arms into a quick double biceps flex, his newly shaved arms looking massively pumped, shredded and vascular. “Ok, one more thing. Ted said we need to heavily moisturize to keep down the itchiness and keep our skin clear.” He grabbed the big bottle of lotion, squirted a bunch into my hand and his. I lotioned up my front while he rubbed down my back. His hand were so big that they could completely cover my own meaty shoulders as he worked in the white goo. “Ok, now you do me.” We both tuned 180 degrees and repeated the process. Of course I had to use a lot more lotion for him. I took my time really feeling the bulging lumps and spreading the lotion on his back. Dad apparently worked much faster as he dropped his arms and waited for me to finish. He was facing the mirror and as he grew impatient with me he put his fists on his waist and performed a lat spread as I continued to work his back. The huge wall of flesh right in front of me began to expand outward wider...then wider...then WIDER! I swear his back was now five feet wide at full flex! I worked the lotion into the beefy slabs of porterhouse steak that made up his lats. He dropped the pose I moved lower and applied the lotion to his lower back, marveling at the two thick rows of muscle that had been overdeveloped from his deadlift work. Dad continued to stare at himself in the mirror. He could only just barely see the top of my head behind his shoulders and traps, as his massiveness completely hid my own muscular body from view. As I was just about done Dad took it upon himself to peform another muscle-steeped double biceps pose. Since I was behind him to me it was more of a back-double biceps. I finished his lower back but my hands were still a bit gooped up from the lotion. So I reached up and rubbed both of my hands on the top and back of his soccer ball sized biceps, rubbing the last little bit of lotion onto his arms while copping a feel. My father did not move as I felt up his arms admiringly. “Man, Pops. You sure got some AWESOME arms!” I heard him chuckle and from behind and could see the side of his mouth curl into a smile. “Thanks, Sport. So do you. Come 'ere.” Dad lower his arms and twisted his torso toward me. He grabbed my shoulders and stood me next to him and had us admire our two uber manly bodies. My own muscular frame that would put most college guys to shame and his herculean, towering build that would do the same to ANY man. “Look at us, Son. Two of the best looking, buffest dudes on the planet!” I smiled appreciatively as I took us in, filling up the bathroom with masculine power. At that moment I felt so proud to be his Son. We looked fantastic and I could help but nod in agreement. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ We're creeping up on the competition!
  15. 27 points
    (Hey guys, this story is a collaboration by Mguy and Gaiser. We came up with the story, Mguy wrote it, I did the art work. I may be the one posting the story, please remember to credit and give your compliments to Mguy as well. Enjoy. Mguy: https://muscle-growth.org/profile/183-mguy/ ) Erik got to the gym later than most. It had been a long day at work. As usual he was the last to leave the office, working longer on his projects than anyone else. Not that his co-workers would notice as they routinely left him on his own, not trusting him to be able to think about anything but his next meal. This same isolating social behavior had dogged Erik since high school. Starting out small, Erik took to weights like a duck to water. It was only a matter of time before he fell in love with bodybuilding, and when he did, he fell hard. Never a social butterfly, the discipline required to be a success in bodybuilding isolated Erik at a time when his peers could be their cruelest. Though college was easier than high school on a social level, Erik stuck with his true love, the love of muscle. He took his body to the limits, broke through all barriers, and then went beyond until there was no going back. As he became big and then even bigger, Erik was able to get his way simply by using his muscles to intimidate and at times outright bully others. If people couldn’t appreciate what he had accomplished or shunned him because they thought he was a brainless musclehead, why not give them a taste of what they expected. ”The gym feels cool tonight,” thought Erik, "but I’ll be overheated and dripping with sweat inside of a quarter hour anyway." Walking down the hallway into the locker room, Erik felt like a gladiator entering the arena from the tunnel under the bleachers, the strong, chosen one, ready for all challenges. Erik was at his best when alone. He barely noticed that there was a new kid, who was working the late shift at the gym. As he passed the mirrors, Erik checked out the physique that would give any guy whiplash as he walked by. Erik raised his left arm, creating a peak of absolute perfection as the steely hard bicep bulged skyward. He swung the other arm into a stunning front double-biceps pose. Erik flexed his huge upper body followed by the sound of fabric tearing. His tight dress shirt, once capable of containing his torso, lost its ability to do so. Erik's 23.5 inch biceps exploded out of the seams. The tear in the sleeves grew and opened up like a peeling banana. He began twisting his wrists to show the thickness of his bowling pin forearms. Erik grabbed his left wrist and brought his arms under his chest for an outstanding side-chest pose. His flimsy shirt stretched to its limits as his huge pecs ballooned outwards. The buttons began to vibrate like a glass in an earthquake. Erik struck a jaw dropping lat-spread that defined the letter V. He then did an impressive most-muscular which ripped the shirt collar around his neck and exposed his mountainous trapezius muscles. His massive deltoids literally capped off the top of his V. Erik tore the remains of his shirt off tossing them in the trash not noticing that there was a new guy working the late shift and that he had seen everything. Erik turned his attention to his lower body. Removing his dress shoes, socks and slacks, he flexed his feet, calves and massive quads. He extended his right leg forward shaking his thigh into a rippling mass of superhuman muscle. His quads, like his biceps which filled out the shirt sleeve, filled out the shorts he has squeezed into. His calves were ripped and finished with feet that could only be described as equally ripped and muscular. Erik flexed his hamstrings bulging rearward and his rounded glutes which were high and tight and reeked of power. Before the mirror stood one god of a man: blond haired and 6'2, 265 lbs of rippled striated contest muscle that only top pros achieved – but better. At 25 years old, Erik was proud of his achievement. He flexed so hard that his veins were engorged with blood. Erik took pride in his well developed and defined abs which were hard and taut, forming an 8-pack with very well defined obliques. As Erik flexed, his red shorts grew tighter as his crotch bulged outward. Erik's glutes were stretching out the ass of his shorts. Erik was fucking pumped! He knew he could spew hot cum all over the mirror, but that would have to wait. First Erik needed to attack the weights which would reward him with the muscle he was so in love with. Erik set his bag down pulled out his water bottle, shake bottle, workout log, pen, sweat towel, gloves, and tank top. He slipped the top on adjusting it so that it fit snug accentuating each muscle on his torso and entered the gym. Erik moved through his workout with the precision of a skilled athlete. He instinctively knew what his body needed. An extra rep here and additional weight there. His body hummed like a powerful BMW. Nearing the end of his workout, Erik grabbed the 90 lb. Dumbbells , taking deep breaths…Clang! “Shit, that new kid banged some weights.” Erik looked over to see if the kid was OK and started over. Erik said to himself, "Focus. Fall back and leverage the weights above shoulders. How bad do you want it?" Nine reps. Rest for ten to fifteen deep breaths. Twelve, thirteen go! Heave the dumbbells up. At least four this time, dammit. AAARGH. Four. Drop the weights. Rest again. Longer. Fourteen deep breaths. Three reps, fouuuuuuur, slow slow slow down… fuck! Now extreme stretch with the 35s. Arms hanging off the sides of the bench. Stretched out like a crucifix. Fuck, the pec muscles feel like they are ripping off the sternum … pain… 58… 59… 60 seconds! Chest done! The workout complete. Erik sat up and flexed in the mirror. The tank top stretched so tight that you could see the upper pecs all engorged and vascular. Erik flexed again. He told himself that he wasn't showing off, but hell, yeah he was! "But it’s also good to squeeze and force the blood into the muscle after hitting it," Erik said to himself, "Most guys are too shy to do this, but fuck shy, fuck what anyone thinks. Is this not bodybuilding?" Erik thought about the other guys he had seen while working his way up just flailing about. Erik didn't look down on anyone, but if they want big muscles, why couldn't they be honest and train for that, instead of just doing the same useless crap over and over. Erik focused in the mirror and told himself, “I mean, Fuck! Look at me! You know what I am about. You see me train, and everything is focused on one goal: MASS. You gotta have it in you. They just don’t get it. They want to know my ‘secret’. Fuck Dudes! It’s a feeling, the way you move the weights. Takes years of dedication. Few guys make it that far.” By the time Erik left college, he knew he had crossed over. Erik was a stunning mountain of muscle. Erik peeled off his sweaty tank top, tossed it on the bench, and centered himself in the mirror. He brings his arms up for a front double biceps. Not bad, he says to himself, maybe arms farther back. Yeah, there it is. The peaks were high and sharp. Erik noticed that kid was looking on. “Damn!!!” was all the smaller man could muster. He looked at Erik's legs. “Fuck, your wheels are sick!” Erik jiggled his huge quad muscle like a huge piece of meat from one side to the other, then he tensed “Bam!” His thigh rippled into a solid, corded mass. Stupid bodybuilder tricks. Erik just smiled, and started over. Front double biceps, front lat spread, turn to the side, side chest pose, side triceps… Erik couldn't see his own back, but he did the poses anyway. He hit the “most-muscular” pose, and the look on that twinky gym employee’s face said it all! The kid straightened up shaking out the tension. He looked like he was deciding whether to flee, but in truth he was hooked. “Damn you look good! How much longer till your contest?” Erik gave himself an appraising look in the mirror and snarled, “Fuck! I do this for me!” “Well, you look… good now… to me… “Yeah? Who made you the expert? What’s your name?” "Tim." Tim was not here by chance. He had taken this job in the hopes of finding a big man. Tim wanted muscle – and lots of it. He was working this shift because he had heard about the mysterious mountain of muscle called Erik and needed to check him out for himself. As Tim watched Erik in the mirrors, he took a look at himself in one of the mirrors. He was medium height, on the thin side, but tight and nicely defined. His legs were a little thicker than you would expect from the size of the rest of him, because he was a dedicated biker. His hair was closely cropped and was a light brown color. From an early age, Tim had been fascinated by musclemen, he collected old comics, but paid more attention to the Weider ads in the back of comics than he did to the Marvel superheroes. He had a collection of muscle magazines and YouTube clips, but he always hungered for the real thing. A few times he had been lucky enough to meet up with a guy who was muscular, but only once or twice were they really into showing off. Tim loved the thought of a big strong man posing for him, getting off on how much Tim was turned on by the muscle display. He didn't have to be Mr. Olympia – though that would be great! – he just had to have an attitude! When he first saw Erik enter tonight, Tim's heart immediately started hammering in his chest. The man's back was wide from the sweep of well-developed lats, and tapered down to a taut looking waist. The stud's triceps flexed slightly as his arms swung at his sides as he swaggered down the hall. Thick deltoids capped his torso, and as he turned the corner Tim got a quick look at a broad chest. Tim continued following the guy ahead, and his cock was already beginning to fill out a little. When Tim turned the corner he saw that the big man finishing his work out, he was hooked. Watching Erik pose, Tim could make out the definition of the slightly flexed thick quad muscles and a nicely defined six pack which gave way to the thick muscles of his pecs. Tim guessed that Erik was a tad taller than his 5'10", and far outweighed him and all of that was muscle! Eric looked at Tim, and then he tensed his arm straight down. If Tim had been impressed with the rippling triceps before, now that the horseshoe was fully flexed he became excited. Even from this distance Tim could see the veins in the guy's forearms starkly revealed, and the tie-in between the delts and the triceps was like a chasm between two mountains of muscle. Tim's mouth was dry. He didn't want to get his hopes up, but this guy was so hot. As Erik stared into the mirror, he realized that Tim was quite good looking and had a good build, but there was something else. Erik sensed that Tim had a profound appreciation of muscle. A few more poses validated that thought. Tim was in awe. And what's more – the growing mound in his shorts proved it. Having done every conceivable pose, Erik's body was pumped! All of his muscles bulged with power. Erik knew he had done well as he left the gym and headed to the showers. Tim followed Erik, this time even more in unafraid of the pumped physique that stood before him. Tim started to slowly walk toward the beefy man, who suddenly turned his way, now with a little smirk on his face. Eric immediately flexed his pecs. Tim sucked in his breath as he saw them bunch up into humps of sexy muscle. Erik's arms rested at a different angle than they had before, pushed out by his flared back, and his steps had taken on a rolling gait so that his thighs could get around each other. In the shower, Erik lifted his face to the spray, feeling his biceps flex and grow as he brushed his hair back. Slowly, he let his hands roam down his water-slick body, feeling his pecs as they heaved with each breath. He gently squeezed his left nipple with his right hand, and then twisted it fiercely, gasping with pain and pleasure. The muscle beneath his flesh was rock-hard, his chest two massive slabs. As his right hand played with his nipple, his left dropped below his rib cage, moving up and down his abs, feeling each mound. He flexed, stretched, then flexed again, his whole body absorbed with the pleasure and the feeling of this pumped muscles. He was oblivious to everything as his right hand left his chest and slowly grasped and squeezed his hard dick. A lightning bolt of pleasure filled him at the contact, and slowly he began to stroke. His dick was long and thick. It pulled at his groin and was such an incredible sight which grew with every lengthened stroke. It felt so sexy, and that with his pumped up muscle, made him feel so masculine and powerful. He felt like there was nothing he couldn’t do. The only thoughts in his mind were about how good this felt. His breathing and stroking sped up, as he realized that his whole body felt made for this, for the approaching orgasm. He felt like someone had injected pure sex into his body. The weight of his body and cock made him feel like a lumbering giant, a beast of raw sexual energy, sated for now, but he could feel the stirrings of arousal rising in him. Erik opened his eyes and saw Tim buck naked outside the shower and staring at him, his own hand covering his mound. Erik opened his eyes and grinned lustfully at Tim. "I know you want to touch me," the hunk said. Tim tore his eyes away from the huge muscles and looked Erik in the eyes. "Can I?" "I don't know. What makes you think you are worthy to touch these muscles?" “Fuck!! I am a complete muscleaddict!" "Yeah I can tell," Erik said, and smirked. “I’ll bet you dreamed about meeting someone like me." Tim's heart was pounding. "Oh Fuck, yes!" "Your dream is about to come true,” said Erik, as he flexed his pecs and spread his thick lats. Without waiting for a reply, Erik reached down and grabbed Tim's perky ass in his hands and lifted the smaller man up. Tim placed his hands around Erik’s thick muscular neck and wrapped his legs around his waist. Erik stood in the shower and held Tim up with ease. Tim felt the powerful trapezius muscles as he slid his hands down and moved one over to Erik's shoulder. Tim was getting excited by the feel of the solid flesh underneath his hand. He thought of the power contained in those muscles. “Check out this bicep,” Erik said. He raised his arm out straight and clenched his fist. Tim saw the cords in Erik's forearm appear. Then Erik suddenly brought his fist toward his shoulder and the bicep muscle jumped and thickened into a hard, round mass. There was a small knot on top; Erik worked hard for that great peak on his bicep. Tim felt his mouth going dry as Erik relaxed his arm, then slowly flexed it again, so that the bicep contracted just inches away from Tim's face. "So what do you think?" Erik asked. “Fuck it’s so thick!” Tim said. "Yeah, and cut too. Look at that vein crossing the top there. Just waiting for your tongue." Erik needed no further invitation and his face dove toward the muscle in front of him. He traced the length of the vein as Erik whispered, "Suck it boy.” Tim placed his mouth on the hard peak of muscle which flowed under his lips as Erik relaxed and flexed it a few times. Erik lifted up his arm and Tim’s mouth instinctively travelled down to the hairy pit that was revealed. Tim rubbed his nose and face there, breathing in the musty male scent. Tim’s eyes were wide open as he continued his exploration of Erik's hard body. His hot mouth moved over to Erik's rippling right pec, and the big man tensed it so that it hardened underneath his lips. "Suck my tits, boy! Work this big man's chest!" Tim felt Erik's hand clamp onto the back of his head and then his face was pressed against the unyielding pec muscle. Tim's head was surrounded by muscle as Erik worked his arm behind his head and smashed his face into the side of his muscular chest, and into the armpit. After breathing in the musky scent of Erik’s pit, Tim had to gasp for air through his mouth, not wanting to let go of the nipple he had been sucking on, but needing to breathe nonetheless. Tim reached his hand up to run along Erik's side and around his back as far as he could reach. "Yeah feel those lats. Wide as a handball court," said Erik. He arched his back slightly and spread his lats, which Tim now stroked on both sides. "God, you are so hot!" Tim moaned. "I could feel your muscles all night long." "I bet you could, little man," Erik replied. "A fucking stud flexing, posing – you would spend all week worshipping me if I let you." Tim had a raging hard on at this point. His 7 inch dick was pulsing, pressed hard against Erik’s pecs. His cock stuck out stiffly, a bead of pre-cum glistening at the piss slit. Erik reached over and brushed Tim's hand aside and squeezed Tim's cockhead. After that, Tim was lost to sensation. Erik smirked and said, "Not bad for a little guy,” but in reality, Tim had reached a depth that Erik didn't know existed. Erik knew how to build muscle, but Tim masterfully worked them into a sexual frenzy. Erik lowered Tim he pressed his fingers around Tim’s cock. Tim’s hand brushed against the ridges of the abdominal muscles that rose above the Erik’s pubic hairs. Erik’s cock was not quite erect yet. Tim watched as it grew longer and thicker. It was a beauty, very thick around with a large mushroom head that was a deep purple as more blood pumped into the cock. Veins ran along the shaft, as prominent as the veins that ran along Erik's forearms. Tim saw the heavy balls hanging amid a bush of pubic hair. Tim attempted to encircle the big tool with the fingers of his right hand, while his left continued to play along Erik's solid midsection. The sensations from Erik’s cock and his muscles melded together exploding into a sexual sensation that Erik never experienced. As Erik had been talking Tim had continued to stroke Erik's cock until it was its full rigid length, at least two inches longer than Tim's and much bigger around. Tim looked up from the cock into Erik's eyes. "I will do anything you want, just as long as you flex for me, pose and show off for me, and keep talking!" "For starters, get on your knees before your musclegod," Erik said. Tim immediately dropped down and pressed his cheek against one of Erik’s heavy thighs. His hand caressed Erik's calf muscle, which felt like a rock when Erik stood on his toes to flex it. "You know what to do boy," Erik said coldly. Tim slid his face across the muscular leg, appreciating the definition of the quads, until he was facing the stiff cock. He opened his mouth wide and started to take the dick in. A drop of pre-cum on the tongue tasted slightly salty as Tim took the whole tool into his mouth. Then he began to suck on the big man's dick, taking the balls in one hand while his other felt along the semi-flexed quad muscle of Erik's right leg. "Ooh yeah, baby, you like to suck a muscleman's cock. Love to give me head, make this man feel good." "Mmmmmm," came out of Tim's throat as he continued to work on the rod. He looked up and saw that Erik was looking down at him. Erik's thick pecs jutted out over the rippling ab muscles and Tim reached a hand up to stroke the bottom of the heavy chest muscles. Erik brought his arms up and did a double biceps pose, which made Tim start to emit high pitched snorts. "Jesus, what a stud this guy turned out to be!" Tim thought. "Look at those fucking arms. They are so strong, the way he picked me up like I was nothing!" Erik pulled Tim up to his feet, and the smaller man actually felt wobbly from the intensity of the experience. Erik wrapped his big arms around Tim and squeezed him tightly. Then he brought his face down and started a long passionate kiss. Their tongues were swirling against each other, Erik’s tongue thrusting into Tim's mouth. During the kiss Erik looked directly into Tim's eyes. Erik was hooked. Tim had the whole cock slick with saliva, and had been jerking the base of it while he tongued the purple head. Now Erik put his hands on the sides of Tim's head and pushed Tim forward all the way on his dick. Tim started to gag a little, but then he was able to get a breath and keep up the suction as Erik grabbed his head and held it in place while he used his hips to thrust his cock down Tim's throat. Tim's nose was being slammed into the bush above Erik's cock every time the muscle man powered his crotch forward. He took in deep breaths of the acrid smell and once more tried to look upward. He was grabbing onto Erik's thick thighs to help keep his balance from the onslaught of Erik's hard thrusts. “Enjoying your face fuck?" Erik asked. “Big muscleman shoving his horsedick into your mouth, so you get an idea of what power can do. Yeah, take this cock all the way. I said all the way!" and Erik rammed his dick extra hard into Tim's eager mouth. "Oh yeah man, stroke my balls so I can work up a big load for you. Big load of cum to shoot into your cocksucking mouth. Service this muscleman like he deserves. Oh yeah, feel it, dude. Feel my cum getting ready to shoot. I see you watching me, big fucking muscles flexed, know that you love it man, love to suck a muscleman's dick. Shit, feel my nuts tightening up, here if comes! Unh, unh, UNH, aww FUCK!" Tim felt the first gush of cum out of Erik's cock and made a whimpering noise. He kept his lips firmly clamped around the dick as Erik bucked and squirted more jism into his mouth. Tim was surprised that Erik's leg muscles got even harder as they flexed during his orgasm. As the cum kept squirting into him, Tim looked up again at the rolling ab muscles just above his head, rippling each time Erik shot, his dick now shoved all the way down Tim’s throat. "Shit! Drink my cum," Erik commanded as he pressed Tim's face against his crotch. Finally he released his hold, but Tim kept the slowly softening dick in his mouth. "Oooh yeah, I knew that you would be a good cocksucker. Here's a little reward for you," Erik said. Then he stepped back so that Tim had to reluctantly let Erik's cock slip out of him, a thread of cum and saliva dripping off it. As Tim, still on his knees, looked up, Erik did his version of a most muscular pose. The muscles seemed to explode on his body: striations fanning across his pecs, the three heads of the deltoid muscles starkly exposed, Erik's dense biceps hardened into baseballs, and everywhere a network of veins lay beneath the thin skin. Tim grabbed his own cock in his hand and started jerking it. It felt like he had a nightstick in his hand. He was so turned on from the face fucking service he had just given that this final display of raw muscle was all it took to have him shooting his load after fisting his cock just a few times. The cum flew out of his rigid boner further than he had ever shot before. Landing on Erik’s solid wall of bricks. "You fucking hot animal!" Tim gasped. His eyes were darting everywhere, trying to catch every inch of flexed muscle, and then they lingered on Erik’s face. Erik had a smile again, that look of superiority that made Tim's balls pump as hard on the fourth squirt as they did on the first. Erik stood straight up, flexed his right arm, and sticking his tongue out, licked along the hump of muscle as he looked out of the corner of his eye at Tim. Tim moaned as the last drops of cum dribbled out of his dick. Erik pulled Tim up to his feet, and the smaller man actually felt wobbly from the intensity of the experience. Erik wrapped his big arms around Tim and squeezed him tightly. Again, Erik brought his face down to Tim’s and he locked his lips onto Tim’s and gave him a long, passionate kiss. Erik looked directly into Tim's eyes again, but this time with a tenderness that belied his strength. He knew he had found his man. When Erik released Tim from his grip, Tim raised one hand so that it rested lightly against the huge pec of the man before him. He had also found his man. His muscleman! "God, that was so hot. Fuck you are my fantasy come true! I could give you the adoration you really deserve at my place," Tim said. Erik smiled and said, "Sure, why not?” Erik thought to himself, “Who knew a fucking twink could be so hot!”
  16. 27 points
    Deep Dish, Extra Beef By Lidort As usual I pulled the short straw so here I am going to get pizza for me and my roommate. Well at least I found a place that had a special so I at least don’t have to pay for the pizza. Today is supposedly National Deep Dish Pizza Day and this local pizza place is giving free ones away today. I guess the place is new since I’ve never heard of Lidort’s Pizzeria before but who can argue with free pizza. I find the place easily and I swear there was an empty lot in this location only one week ago. I head inside and see the buffest man I’ve ever seen besides my dreams. I’m only 5’10” and 130 pounds so I’m was a twig compared to this man who must be six and a half feet tall at least. His shirt was tight enough I could tell he had little body fat yet he must weigh 300 pounds. I felt the shake of the floor as he came over to me. I stood so the hostess station blocked my crotch from the man’s view as I got hard seeing all that muscle. The big man approached me and with his deep sexy voice he said, “Dine in or carry out?” “C...carry out. A meat lovers deep dish pizza.” I say once I find my voice. “Oh yes the special today.” He goes to the back and returns with a pizza box. “Here you go. Your Deep Dish, Extra Beef. Please do come again” “I will” Even if it is just to look at the eye candy that is this man. I take the box and start the journey back to the apartment. When I get back to the apartment I see my roommate, Alex, on the couch shirtless like usual. He may not be as big as the pizza guy but he was still buff. I’ve had a crush on him since high school but I settled for being friends. Odd friends but friends, I was his tutor and somehow during our sessions we found common likes, video games and anime mainly. We would hang out regularly except when Alex had a hot date with one of the cheerleaders. At that time I knew I was gay but would never tell anyone. But I did wonder why Alex never commented on me not dating. I’ve been told I’m real cute and I have had girls try asking me out to which I had to turn them down. “Hey are you going to stand there or are you going to bring in that pizza so we can eat?” Alex said to bring me out of my thoughts. I hurried over and set the box on the coffee table. “I’ve never seen a pizza like this before” He responds when he sees the pizza. “It is a Chicago deep dish pizza. The place I went had a special since it is suppose to be National Deep Dish Pizza Day.” I answer him. “Well it does smell great. Let’s dig in!” We each grab a slice and sit back as our movie starts up. I don’t know what superhero movie it was since I was watching my roommate as we ate. As I look at him I also see images of the pizza guy making me swear that Alex is growing right in front of me. A loud explosion comes from the tv bringing me to my senses and I have to blink because Alex does look bigger. All the while we are both eating up the pizza. “Man I’m going to have to hit the gym hard after eating this pizza.” “Look like you have been hitting the gym hard” “Thanks man. I swear my pecs seem fuller” Suddenly there is a rip coming from my shirt and we both look to see that I have pecs with the cleavage now exposed. “What the!!!?” “Dude you’re growing!” I flex my bicep and the sleeve rips. “Wow this feels so erotic” Alex then reaches over and touches my bicep. His touch feels so good I let out a moan. “You like that? How about this?” He then move up next to me and start licking my bicep. I could feel my cock getting hard in my pants. It took a moment to realize that it was tighter than normal. “Here let me help you with that” I watch as Alex slowly unzips my pants letting out a cock that is at least 10 inches long and still swelling. “I must be dreaming” “If you are then I am sharing the dream with you. I always thought you were cute but now that you have muscle your damn HOT!” “I thought you were straight!?” “I thought I was too but after high school females lost their appeal to me and I wanted to hang out with you more.” I blush as Alex gives me a deep and passionate kiss. In that moment I know that this is way too good to be a dream. With Alex’s help we remove our clothes and head to the bedroom. I make sure to give him a good view of my muscle ass. As he takes me to heights of pleasure I’ve never known I know that we will be having pizza again tomorrow only I will make sure to bring Alex with me to see the pizza guy in the flesh.
  17. 26 points
    Andre stepped back from Evan as he felt his body processing a second surge of growth. He could feel the new muscle DNA bonding with his, and it felt exhilarating. He was amazed at how deeply he could inhale, and how with each breath, he felt his core getting more solid, as if he was made of steel cables that were being wound tighter and tighter. With each breath, Andre’s DNA would remap itself so it became more compatible with Evan’s, and that only increased the density of his muscle and his strength. With each inhale getting deeper, Andre felt his abs popping, as his skin pulled tight over the deep new grooves. He felt like a wall of dense, impenetrable muscle. He stretched out his arms at a ninety-degree angle from his body, bent at the elbows, and watched his clenched forearms swell with new muscle, the veins thickening to carry the rushing blood. He felt the new weight in his chest too, and how his thick pecs heaved in his newly tightened shirt. With his thick arms now hanging by his side, he felt the growth spreading to his lats. The muscles were lengthening, getting denser, and pushing out wider, giving him a broad and imposing Y physique. All the new muscle was devouring any remaining body fat on him, and he felt his waist getting leaner. The fat on his face melted quickly as well, revealing a powerful square jaw and high cheekbones. Andre pulled up his shirt to admire his new six-pack. He inhaled deeply again, and crunched his core, forcing the abs to pop out even more prominently. Even Evan was impressed. Feeling the growth subside, Andre smiled calmly at Evan. “Time to get back to work,” he said, in a very deep voice. He saw his eyeglasses on the ground, and crushed them under his 215lbs. “Won’t be needing those anymore,” and he went back to work behind the counter, making a smoothie. He had a new sharpness and clarity on his surroundings, and acted as if his life as a chubby, defenseless nerd had never happened to him. “That was amazing Evan,” he said, and handed over the smoothie. “I was holding back a couple of ingredients earlier. Now that I see what you can do, try this one.” Evan took the cup, which felt much heavier and denser than it looked. He started to chug the drink, which had the density of wet cement. It was hard to swallow at first, but once his body realized how potent it was, his throat instinctively opened wider and he almost involuntarily inhaled it. Within a few seconds, he could feel his muscle fiber getting even denser. That should build some more muscle, thought Andre to himself. “Thanks, I needed whatever was in that Andre,” he said. He put the empty cup down and placed his hand on Andre’s shoulder, and gently squeezed. Andre did indeed feel like an impenetrable wall of muscle, and Evan could tell that his body temperature was elevated. Applying just a bit more pressure, Evan said, “Are you feeling okay Andre?” “I’ve never felt better Evan, thanks to you,” he replied with a calm smile. If Evan’s powerful grip was hurting him, he sure wasn’t showing it. His wide shoulders and broad chest looked impressive in his t-shirt, and Evan was proud of his work. “I think you are a very gifted guy Andre. Once you start a workout routine, your growth will really take off. I’m going to talk to Todd now about a program for you.” “Thanks Evan, I really appreciate it. I hope I can live up to your expectations.” Andre put his hand on top of Evan’s. “I have to get to work. I’m sure those football jocks will be back soon.” And with that, he applied some pressure and easily moved Evan’s hand from his shoulder, staring right up into the Asian god’s eyes. Evan smiled. “That’s quite a grip you have Andre. Later on, let’s go next door and let you really work out that new strength.” With that, Evan turned and walked into the stockroom to see Todd. Meanwhile, Andre’s DNA continued to slowly remap itself. Todd was doing some paperwork when Evan barged into the room. The desk was a mess and Todd seemed frazzled. Looking up at Evan, all 6’ 6” and 345lbs, Todd lost all focus. “Andre mixed up some new recipes for me Todd.” “I’m trying to get this paperwork for the gym done Evan. I know you want to open up quickly.” “I think you are going to want a taste of my output Todd.” Evan didn’t say a word, just pulled off his t-shirt, revealing his stunning 12-pack. Todd knew what he had to do. He walked over to Evan and got on his knees and started working his fat dick greedily. Evan firmly held Todd’s skull and blew load after massive load down Todd’s throat. Once Evan was finished, he reached down and easily helped the 175lb Todd up to his feet. He cradled his head gently but firmly. “I have a lot of powers Todd. Some I’m still discovering.” Evan gazed down into Todd’s eyes. “Those loads were really thick, right?” “Yes Evan – even for you.” “I just pumped two gallons of superhuman cum into you. You want to get bigger, right? You see me, my dad… and wait til you see Andre,” Evan said chuckling. The images flashed through Todd’s mind as he quietly gazed up at Evan and nodded. He could feel Evan somehow invading his brain. “From now on, you only think about me. I’m your number one focus, and you run the shop and the gym. But everything else you’ve ever known… will start to fade.” Todd just nodded. “That’s how Dad got big. He let me into his brain and let me take over. All he knows now is the business… what I instruct him to do… and me. With nothing else on his mind, he’s able to grow more easily. So are you willing to do that too Todd? Let me into your brain?” said Evan, as he tapped Todd’s temple. Todd just nodded again, silently giving assent. “I feel really warm Evan,” he said. Evan chuckled and said, “That’s my superhuman cum. That means it’s working.” Todd looked up at Evan, and everything started to get fuzzy. Years of knowledge and experience started to fall away as he yielded to an 18 year-old god. And even though those things got fuzzy, he started getting much sharper on his new reality: his universe was now Evan. He started to feel Evan’s DNA invading his bloodstream. After a few minutes, his knees buckled and he fell into a deep sleep. Evan easily hoisted him up on his shoulders and carried him home. Let that DNA do it’s job, he thought, leaving Todd in bed. Evan returned to the shop a few minutes later. Joe, the football jock, was talking to Andre, drinking a shake, and marveling at his new muscle. Andre was enjoying the worship. Whenever I saw Joe on the street, he looked right through me, thought Andre. Now, he can’t get enough of me. “Let’s go next door, the gym needs some demolition before the contractor shows up.” They walked into the abandoned bank building, and it was full of marble walls and columns. “Well that will all have to come down,” said Evan, tossing a sledgehammer to Andre as Joe watched. Andre caught the sledgehammer and got to work right away, knocking it hard into the marble walls, which started to collapse after a few blows. Joe marveled at how powerful Andre was: with each effortless blow, his body was able to absorb it all without any movement. Andre felt himself getting stronger, as the work sped up his DNA remapping, and made his muscle fiber more and more dense. He approached the central column, which was about eight feet in diameter of solid marble. He tightened his core and with one solid blow, destroyed the structure, much to Joe’s amazement. Andre was intoxicated with his own muscle and power. He stared right at Evan, holding the sledgehammer. He began to toss it up and down with total ease, as if it was a light as a tennis ball. Then he grabbed the sledgehammer just below the steel head. He extended his arm and slowly started to apply pressure, and snapped it off the wooden handle in just a few seconds. “I knew your grip strength was impressive,” said Evan, with his arms crossed. Andre smiled coolly and thought to himself, “I’m not done.” And with that, his huge hand encircled the steel head of the sledgehammer. Andre’s forearms and biceps began to swell with a remarkable amount of power, as the steel started to crumble in his grip. Tightening his core, he slowly applied more and more power until it just crumbled into pieces, falling on the floor. The surge of power just increased the speed of the DNA remapping, and that, in turn, made him even more powerful. He started to walk over to Evan slowly but deliberately. “I need more muscle,” he said. Not waiting for a response, he reached his hand up to Evan’s neck and applied some pressure. Evan felt the powerful grip and stood up straight, digging his feet into the floor. Andre just smiled and slowly forced Evan’s face down towards his. He placed his open mouth on the Asian god’s mouth, and started to inhale.
  18. 26 points
    Hey, guys, it's finally going up here! It's technically the 10th here, so I'm a day late, but YOLO. I guess this also counts as my virgin story post on this site, so hurrah! I had to start again this weekend, as I lost my original file, so I'm afraid there's no epic storyline here, and probably nothing new or original. Hopefully, though, you'll be able to read this as a 'good ol' fashioned' - that'd be swell. Enjoy! ---------- His hands were shaking as he pressed his bedroom door shut, flipping the lock almost as soon as he heard the click. Even though Chris rarely came to his room, especially straight after a meal, Gavin couldn’t afford to risk him walking in on… well, on him. A couple of years ago, it wouldn’t have mattered; when they’d arrived fresh into university, they’d still been horny teenagers, pretty much. Everyone knew it, everyone did it, no questions needed to be asked. Now, though, after that stupid night in the warehouse… “Ah!” He could feel the front of his jeans beginning to chafe. Why didn’t he wear shorts? It was all part of his image, trying to impress the guys in town. The few times he’d been lucky had almost made it worth it. That said, fumbling with the buttons on his fly, he cursed his vanity. Was it this bad every time? No, he thought, swearing under his breath as a stubborn button caught on a stray thread. It had been longer than usual since he’d… much longer, in fact. He’d been out almost every night that week, managed to distract himself with some new craft beers at his favourite bar… but not tonight. In fact, he’d been sure of it since sitting down to dinner. Sure, making small talk with Chris had been easy enough, but at the back of his mind, he’d been praying for the meal to be over so he could dash upstairs, back to privacy. With a sigh of relief, he finally freed his already throbbing cock, breathing heavily as he watched his boxers tent up into the sudden space. It was hard for him to believe he’d once only been a measly four inches – and he’d considered that average! If he had to guess, he was currently sporting a much more reasonable six, but he knew that even that was temporary. Last time, he’d even got to… no! He’d promised himself that he wouldn’t think about it. He wouldn’t reflect back on what had happened to him. It was hard enough going through it in the present. Reaching a hand down, Gavin slowly wrapped his fingers around the shaft. Immediately, vibrant sensations swept through him, and he let out a gasp as he turned and fell against the wall. His back had gone rigid, tensed up from his convulsion, and he could barely feel the friction as he slid down into a sitting position. It was like he’d squeezed on a nuclear rod. After a couple of seconds, he opened his eyes again, and looked down. He could see his cock in his grip, and it looked innocent enough, but even through the fabric of his underwear, he could feel the blood pulsating up and down its length. It had already begun. Just then, he spotted a shift in the mirror, over his drawers. Had a bird flown past, or -? No, it was definitely darker, like something was shading the surface. He let go of his dick – immediate protest from his body – and passed his hand over his face. He was already starting to sweat. Pulling himself up on the side of his desk, he took tentative steps towards the drawers, blinking furiously to try to dispel any trick of the light. If anything, he thought, it seemed to be getting darker as he approached. It was almost as if something was closing in on the other side. Stop that, he thought, shaking his head to try to clear it. Mirrors aren’t portals, there’s nothing there. It would have been a lot easier to convince himself if he wasn’t already freaked out. It definitely hadn’t been this vivid last time, had it? No, but he’d been safely tucked up in bed when it’d hit him, rather than brewing for a week or more. As he reached the mirror, he immediately took in the bags under his eyes. God, the week on the town had really hit him hard. He needed a shave as well, he thought, rubbing his jaw and frowning. Thankfully, it had come out dark on his face – he’d dreaded growing a ginger beard, like his uncle – but it still leaned too far towards scruff for him to get away with it much longer. He narrowed his eyes, leaning in towards the mirror. It definitely wasn’t that dark in his room. What was going-? Out. Gavin flinched back, steadying himself with a hand on top of the drawers. There was no way he’d just imagined that voice; deep, sinister, it had echoed through his mind without warning. He’d never heard anything like it before. His dick, still demanding attention, twinged violently as it became, if possible, even harder than before. He shut his eyes, trying his hardest to beat back the pounding blood in his ears, and inhaled slowly. Dr Astor had told him to do this, if he could feel things beginning to get too much for him. He held the breath – one, two, three, four – and exhaled through his mouth, making sure to keep his eyes closed until the last of the air had left him. Out. It was no good. Hobbling back towards his bed, he flung off the various bits and pieces on the covers, scattering them across the floor. He’d tried doing this sitting down, but it was far easier when he was lying on his bed. As he lowered himself onto his duvet, he caught sight of the mirror again. Yep, still darker on the surface, but other than that, no real change. He’d been paranoid about mirrors since he was young – an episode of his favourite cartoon had involved the main character being sucked through into a grim alternate reality, which had freaked him out enough to avoid the bathroom sink for days. Since then, he’d been able to rationalise his fear, and managed to overcome it to a large extent. Even so, things like Lewis Carroll’s ‘Through the Looking Glass’ still made him shudder. In fact, every room that he’d slept in, he’d made sure that he was able to see the mirror from his bed, without exception. Nothing was likely to crawl through to his side, obviously. It was a stupid idea. Still, stupid ideas had a habit of sticking once his imagination kicked in. Pulling his trousers down to his knees, Gavin’s hand once again found purchase around his rod, which sent further spasms rocketing through his frame. If anything, the feeling had grown even more potent; this time, his eyes clenched shut and he let out a low moan as the endorphins began to dance inside him. His cock had to be about eight inches by now. He was probably biased, in such a position, but he couldn’t remember ever having anything stiffer in the palm of his hand. While his right began massaging the base – ooh, that was good, that was so good – he fumbled about with his left, hunting for the well-handled tube on his bedside table: Keys, no. Watch, no. Come on. Come on! Pen, no. Photo frame, no. Where the fuck -? Ah, there, finally, he had it, just within reach of his fingertips. He shuffled it towards him, grabbing hold as his right hand snaked down to cup his balls – holy shit! It was as if he’d stuck a low-level taser to his sack, such was the current that flew through every nerve in his nethers. He needed the lube, now! Quickly bringing it in towards him, he felt his left forearm collide with something cold, and heard a smash as it was knocked to the floor. Crap, he thought; probably the glass of water. Usually, he would have leapt up immediately to sweep up the shards, pad down the wood panels to mop up the spill. As it was, such instincts were pushed to the back of his mind as he let go of his dick – it didn’t growl at him, but it felt like it – in order to squirt copious amounts of creamy gunk into his palm. Five, six, seven. He had no idea how much he’d need tonight, but he knew that the initial sensitivity could turn to harsh rawness if he didn’t prepare accordingly. Once he could feel it dripping through his fingers, he finally stopped squirting and mashed his hands together. Not long now, he thought, though he already felt conflicted about wanting to get things over and done with. Taking the plunge, he began kneading his meat with both hands, giving his cock a liberal slime bath which it responded to with devilish glee. Indeed, with the lack of friction, it was almost as if the veins became more prominent, and each time he glided over one, he felt a responding pulse from within the shaft. Thus, the wank began in earnest, as Gavin felt his thoughts descend into the dark pool of his mental vault. Dan Mercer, his first foray into sexual deviance at a tender fifteen years old, gazing coyly over at him from a steamy gym shower. Was he still just slick with lube, or had the pre come out to play? Brett Whitney, his first legal lay, posing naked on his parents’ mattress, cock thrust accusingly in his direction, inviting, no, demanding his attention. Gavin moaned again, his right hand whipping into a frenzy as his left clung to the mattress. Klaus Eckhardt, his first year crush, chewing the end of his glasses while his ash blond hair tumbled over his shoulders, naked to the waist, leaning back in his desk chair, letting his pert nipples rise up to kiss the air – oh, fuck. He was close now, he could feel it, toes already bearing the tell-tale signs of involuntary curling. Seamus McLeod, running over from the field, uniform bulging tightly around his heaving chest, sleeves almost bursting against his cantaloupe biceps – ugh! – shorts riding up those pumping trunks of beef, till he could almost catch a glimpse of the prize Leanne had described as… as an anaconda – fuck, fuck! The cannon fired in hearty bursts, spraying his seed across himself, across the bed, before slowing to an ooze down his quaking cock. Gavin hovered in the moment, his back arched up slightly, before allowing himself to flop back down onto the bed. God damn, but that had taken it out of him. Weird, though, how quick it had been. Breaking his own rule, he thought back on the other couple of times this feeling had taken over. Although the increase in size had been about the same, his efforts towards relief had taken ten minutes – fifteen, even. Yet tonight, he’d managed to break through to orgasm in less than five! Something was definitely up. Probably the wait, he reasoned, dragging himself to a sitting position. I was so pent up, it was practically erupting out of me already. It had definitely been strange, in the last couple of months. Although he considered himself healthy in terms of libido, Gavin had instantly been aware of the difference between a standard wank and these… episodes. It wasn’t like he had trouble controlling himself, usually. However, when this urge came upon him, it seemed to consume him, so that it became impossible to ignore or deny. When had it started, though? That was easy. The night he’d got back from the warehouse, messing about with some friends, looking for props for Leanne’s short film. It had been particularly strong then too, he remembered; he’d cut his arm pretty badly when he’d fallen against the full-length mirror. At the warehouse, he’d barely noticed – they were more concerned about the noise, whether a guard would come and collar them. It had only been when he got back to the flat, shucking off his hoodie, that he’d seen the two shards protruding from just above the wrist. Of course, he’d removed them carefully, making sure to wash and bandage the wound. Still, just before he covered them up, he’d have sworn the two red dots looked more like… No. This whole mirror horror had to stop. Inanimate objects couldn’t bite people; such a ridiculous idea. When he found that he had to peel his left hand off his shirt, he decided it was definitely time to clean up. His jeans, having shuffled down to his ankles in his euphoria coil, were easy enough to kick off, landing several feet away in the middle of the floor. It took more effort to remove his shirt – his sticky hands made it hard to grab hold of the material – but his thin frame helped to slide it off quickly. Finally, taking hold of his socks, he was able to peel them off with only minor difficulty, flinging them over to join his other clothing. The bathroom was only down the hall, so he wouldn’t feel too self-conscious stepping out in just his boxers. With a satisfied nod, he swivelled to the edge of his bed and propelled himself up. Shit, what the fuck had he just-? Damn it, he thought, gingerly stepping to one side on the edge of his foot, trying not to knock the piece of glass already embedded into his sole. I forgot about that. Ugh, another bandage, I guess. Looking around, he spotted his towel draped across the chest of drawers. That would have to do to wrap round his foot, at least until he made it to the bathroom to take care of it properly. Luckily, the wound had remained plugged, so there were only a few drops of blood that had joined the small puddle of water. If he was very careful… One step at a time, he inched his way across the room, wincing as his foot gave a sharp protest with each shuffling movement. After a couple of metres, he had to lean against the desk for a moment, his hand making a soft squelch. He was starting to feel light-headed. This couldn’t have been from the wound, though, right? He’d seen himself how little blood he’d lost. Glancing back towards the bed, he couldn’t make out any sort of trail on the floor, apart from what looked like slightly damp footprints. Nothing to worry about, there. Then what -? Whoa. He bent further over the desk, grimacing as a moment of wooziness came over him. This didn’t feel right. For a moment, he debated calling Chris, before realising that he’d have to open the door for him anyway. Plus, he thought, taking stock of the liberal stains on his bedding, did he really want Chris seeing all of this? As soon as it came, the feeling passed, and he resumed his staggering steps to the drawers. Strangely, it felt like the pain in his foot had started to ease off as well, though he still didn’t trust himself to plant his weight on it at all. He tried not to look at the piece of glass, glinting as it caught the odd ray of light when he moved it. With a final awkward hop, he snatched up the towel and braced himself against the drawers with his hip. He figured that if he just slid out the glass with one hand, and quickly bundled the towel over with the other, that’d be the least damage done. Inhale – one, two three, four – exhale. He pulled out the glass. Far from the gushing torrent of blood that he was expecting, a slim trickle followed the shard out. Gavin was just about to lunge in with the towel, when he noticed the shape of the wound was narrower than he’d been expecting. In fact, it didn’t look long enough to match the offending piece of glass. He could only make out where the point had gone in from the fresh pinkness of the skin, and the thin red line travelling down his foot. Wait, not travelling at all, actually. Why had the blood stopped flowing? He’d heard about this sort of injury, with people moaning about how long it could take to heal over, even under a heavy bandage. Bending down, he dabbed it gently with the edge of the towel. There was an idea of pain, somewhere in the heart of his foot, but it was a dull twinge at best. Surely it hadn’t healed already? He glanced at the piece of glass in his hand. It looked to be a good inch, at least, with a jagged point on one end. That would cause some damage… right? Out. He dropped the glass shard, which bounced under the chest of drawers and out of further danger. Where was that voice coming from? At first, he’d put it down to his imagination, with the way that it echoed in his head, but no, his ears definitely picked it up from somewhere. Where -? Oh no, he thought. In looking up, he’d caught sight of himself once again in the mirror. There were the same heavy eyes, the same pale skin – paler, even, after the shock – and the same chipped front tooth from his first and last fight, during Freshers’ Week. However, the dark sheen of the mirror had come more into focus now, and he could make out more clearly what was causing it. It was a silhouette. Not just any silhouette, though, he realised, peering closer despite his misgivings. It was human in shape, if he had to guess, but far bigger than him. It was gigantic! Yes, there were the shoulders, completely dwarfing his own body as they loomed out from him. His head only seemed to reach the neck, as well, so that he could imagine the figure’s head on top, staring down at him. He snapped his head round, scanning the room behind him. Nothing. He really was alone. “Of course I am,” he said aloud, inwardly cursing himself for spooking himself like this. “Focus, Gavin.” He spun back. “There’s nothing there.” He couldn’t really believe this, of course. After all, the shadow was still there, hulking behind him like some monstrous predator. He raised a hand towards the reflection, waiting to see what would happen, but all that changed was his mirror self following the action, as well as copying his puzzled frown. “What the hell is going -?” Let us. Out. There was no mistaking it now. The figure – whatever, whoever it was – was the one speaking to him. God, that voice, though. It was the stuff of dreams and nightmares combined. Deep, but rich; warm, but brutal. He couldn’t be projecting this from a memory. He’d never heard anyone that sounded like this. “Who -?” Gavin cut himself off, wiping his hands quickly on the towel and tossing it to one side. He wanted both his hands free; he had no idea what was going on, but his hackles were raised, all right. “Who… are you?” Too long. You left us… too long. He could make out the edges of the silhouette becoming firmer, as if the man – creature? – was moving closer, on the other side of the mirror. “What?” We want… out. Need to come. Out. “What do you mean?” If Gavin felt stupid, standing in front of a mirror half-naked, talking to himself, it was quickly overridden with a deep sense of unease. Once again, the temptation to call for Chris rose up within him, but it just as quickly went away. No. It was more like something… killed it. Out. Now. He had to get away. He needed to run. He couldn’t move. For a moment, the shadow seemed to flicker, like a bad TV reception. Then, Gavin could only watch as it lunged forth, enveloping his reflection easily with its considerable size. His mouth opened, as if to cry out, but he couldn’t bring up any sound. He could feel his heart racing against his ribcage. Still, though, he was unable to move. It was like he’d been transfixed by his own reflection. After a couple of moments, two lights appeared in the shadowy mass, at about eye-level. They were burning green, and seemed like two neon bulbs against the black backdrop. In fact, Gavin wasn’t sure how he knew that they were eyes. He did know, though. They were watching him. A groan escaped his lips as he felt a surge rising up inside him. It was quite different to the one he’d felt earlier, however: there was no immediate pleasure in this, only an alien prickling sensation that seemed to flow with his blood, up and down his veins. Gasping, he buckled forwards, extending both hands out towards the drawers to catch himself. Deep breaths, he thought. This is all just a reaction to the weirdness. Dr Astor will be able to explain it all. It felt like his fingers were bending of their own accord. He opened his eyes, and focused on his hands, but as he did so, his breathing began to quicken again. All ten digits were beginning to crack outwards, stretching out from his palms, with muted pops as his knuckles adjusted to the increasing length. He blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the hallucination, but there was no denying the feeling riddling his bones. His hands, eager to catch up, began to widen, began to thicken, clenching against the wood of the drawers as they spread themselves further and further. Everything from his wrist down felt full of blood. More than that, actually: they felt pumped up with blood. His entire hands felt like they were having an erection. A sudden spasm rocked through him, and the same energy from earlier passed up his limbs and into the main trunk of his body, where it began to radiate out an intense heat. He tried to ignore the beginnings of sweat drops forming on his skin, especially on his feet, which had begun to get the same pumped feeling as his hands. Sure enough, with a crack, he sensed his toes inching away from his heels, as the long arch of his size 9s extended out bit by bit. He shut his eyes tight, determined not to watch as his feet reached a size 10… size 11… size 12… “What… the fuck…” he muttered past clenched teeth, still fighting the urge to look. It was beginning to feel like his hands and feet were racing each other, both determined not to be the first to stop growing. Snap! He howled out, confused and scared, as his back suddenly clicked, and he could feel his spine moving in a way that he’d never even dreamt was possible. With such ample platforms as a base, his body seemed to feel that the time was ripe to being its own lengthening act. Although he’d hardly have called himself short before, there was no denying that Gavin was hardly a giant among men. Now, though, as he felt his stranger’s hands and feet getting further and further from himself, he was quickly being forced to revise that opinion. The tallest man he’d ever been up close to had been around six and a half feet tall, and to Gavin, that had felt almost too big for a person to be. The man had been a gangly specimen, and everything had looked awkward for him. Gavin forced his eyes open, noting that he was practically bent double over the chest of drawers now, just to keep his hands flat against them. Moving his hands up along the wall, in an effort to straighten up, he realised that he must have shot straight past six foot, as his head was already about level with the top of the darkness-filled mirror. As he glanced down, he made out the pulsing veins adorning his new hands, almost daring his skin to contain them. They were barely recognisable to him; without the slight scar at the base of his thumb, he would have sworn that he was looking at another man’s hands. A beast’s hands at that, he thought, noting the ridiculous scale of the appendages. For a moment, it felt like everything had slowed down, to his relief. What the hell had just happened to him? He’d only ever imagined sudden growth spurts like this, but his logical brain had always insisted that it would be unbearably painful. Skin and bones weren’t designed to grow that quickly, right? With a deep breath – Dr Astor would be proud – Gavin slowly pulled his arms back, away from the wall, and straightened to his full height. Holy shit! The top of the mirror only came to about his chin now! At a guess, he would have placed himself a little over seven feet tall, if not closer to seven-and-a-half. People didn’t grow that big, though. It was impossible. The darkness of the mirror was starting to irritate him, though. Why couldn’t he see anything? Deciding to try a farther vantage point, he took a shaky step back with his new lankier leg. As if in response, he felt the energy begin to flood down through his thighs, past his knees, right down to his ankles. There was the pumped feeling again, though there was no disguising what was causing it this time. Faint lines began to appear against his skin, where smooth hills were replacing the flat plains he’d previously possessed. These lines quickly became striations as his thighs began to balloon, plumping up assertively as his quads headed in different directions. God, they were getting big now. He placed his hands on top, unable to believe the extent of the swelling mass he could feel pushing back against them. And not just that, but the veins! Not content to be outdone by his hands, they snaked along the huge expanses of meat, fighting their own battle as they were pressed up against the ever-stretching skin. With an explosive surge, his thighs flared outward, each now extending a good six inches wide of his knees on the side. Perhaps at risk of buckling under this weight, his kneecaps thickened quickly, solid bone supporting the equally solid range of muscle above it. Below this, his calves were stretching up and out, filling with muscle as quickly as a stuffed sock, peaking out with a hardy diamond shadowed only by the mountainous thighs above. To crown this, he felt his once non-existent buttocks start to ride out on top, swelling into two thick bubbles with an ever-tighter seam running down between them, threatening to rip his boxers clean off his frame. From bubbles to globes, he was certainly packing a hefty rear – it was unlikely it would ever go unnoticed in any trousers again. Gavin could hardly keep his balance, with his rake-thin body atop such godly legs. With his much-enhanced stride, it was only a couple of paces to his desk, where he pulled out his chair and sat down. He couldn’t believe it, looking down, seeing the sheer size of the pillars stretching out from him. His thighs were rubbing up against each other, for God’s sake, fighting for room even while fully extended. They must have been thirty five inches round, at least! However, this awe was quickly turning to frustration as he caught sight of his meagre torso. What the hell was he supposed to do like this? Even staying standing up was a huge effort. “I’m a freak,” he whispered, the confusion returning with a vengeance, “a fucking freak.” These emotions continued to swirl around, hotter and hotter, until they were practically burning a hole through his chest. Still they battled, rampaging out until they filled his body with a scalding fire. What the fuck was he supposed to do? Why was this even happening? So caught up in these thoughts, Gavin barely noticed his chest beginning to rise. Every heaving breath he took, it was as if his chest refused to fall back down, mounding into two distinct pecs that began to pulse as they grew. Soon, they were the size of dinner plates, bouncing and stretching with the rhythm of his body. Soon, they were more like manhole covers, as thick and solid as the steel out in the streets. His nipples were struggling to keep up, getting tighter and tighter even as they thickened, but quickly becoming overwhelmed and forced downward by the expanding meat imposing upon them. This same shelf loomed heavily over Gavin’s abdomen, which in a similar manner to the thighs, was beginning to show faint lines pressed against the skin. The first mighty bricks had already begun to take form beneath his booming pecs, with the edges continuously being tightened and redefined as any remaining fat was cast out. Below these two, another two appeared, then another two, squashing against each other for room, sending ripples out beneath his ribs where diamond-cut obliques were already exerting their presence. Finally, another two bricks completed the rack, tempering his stomach into an indomitable wall which tensed and clenched in perfect formation. Another crack caused Gavin to bend forward, abs folding in on themselves as his pecs came down to kiss his knees. His back had begun to thrust outward, hard mountains pressing up beneath the skin as the map widened… and widened… and widened. Without thinking, he pulled his arms up, wrapping his gigantic hands around his head; this afforded his lats room to take flight, bowing out in a magnificent sweep that fed into the glory of his back spread. Before long, his shoulder blades had almost been lost under the sheets of muscle adorning them, and his spine lined the bottom of a canyon separating the two tectonic plates. With the widening of his back, his shoulders had followed suit, broadening in tandem as they rounded out, from cannon balls to bowling balls, the definition scored into his skin around the hunks of muscle. Traps that had lain dormant rose higher, higher, practically choking his scrawny neck as they bullied their way up towards his ears. Still in their raised position, his arms had begun to bulge. Where once he’d wielded twigs, now Gavin was growing guns of monstrous capability. The veins from his hands were flowing up through his forearms, filling them with blood, with energy, as they rounded out, striations rippling along them like waves. His biceps were already showing their split, thickening, spreading, feeding on the power being force-fed into them as they reared up. The juiciest veins of all snuggled tightly against the peaks, while his triceps hulked out beneath to form a mighty horseshoe hold around the bone. Another spasm flung Gavin back into his seat, and he raised his head, letting out a long moan that began to growl as his throat widened. At last, the elixir-like blood had found his neck, broadening the column as the veins began to funnel life up and down. A sudden surge thrust his Adam’s apple forth, creating a deep crevasse down to his collarbone that throbbed with power. His voice, already deeper than ever, began to thicken in tone; harder, rawer, more bestial with every moment, until his initial cry had given way to a fully-fledged roar that shook the foundations of the room. At last, Gavin felt the force begin to ebb. His breaths were coming out in heavy grunts, and he could feel the titanic efforts of the lungs beneath his swollen pecs, gulping in oxygen to be ferried around his new form. For a few moments, the deep sound of his breathing was all that filled the silence, but then a hurried knock came from the door. “Gavin? Everything alright?” Fuck, he thought, rising to his feet unsteadily, unused to his new mass. Not now, Chris. The mirror above the drawers had begun to clear, and even through the dark cloud, he could make out his figure filling the glass. He was huge… easily as big as the silhouette he’d seen earlier. Another knock at the door. “What’s going on in there? Gav?” As he stepped towards the mirror, Gavin felt an odd tightness seize his jaw. It pressed down, thickening out the bone, while raising his cheeks to accentuate the hardening edge. With another step, this tightness moved up his face; pulling at his lips to puff them out, widening the set of his nose, and forcing his brow forward and down. Upon reaching the mirror, an odd click sounded from his mouth. He opened it, and immediately noted the perfectly straight teeth, no longer chipped. His tongue lolled back behind them, incredibly thick and strong, with his tip teasing the tops of his canines, which definitely appeared sharper than usual. On top of his head, his short ginger bristles had thickened out, flowing back in a short fiery mane that ended halfway down his neck, where it met the same initial stubble; only now, it was definitely more than scruff. It was his eyes, however, that most captured his attention. Gone were the murky browns of old – neon green bulbs gazed back at him from the mirror. “Is this… me?” He could hardly believe it, and began to feel his face, his hair, his shoulders. Everything was real to the touch, and was shown as clearly in his reflection. Knock knock. “Gavin?” A new urge had begun to rise within him. He could feel it bubbling just beneath the skin, weighing on his bones, throbbing at the back of his mind. Flex. It started small, but became quickly more urgent, pounding against him with insistent blows. Flex. As he reached across his torso, he watched the mound of his arm rise up, tensing, the rippling sinew practically bursting at the seams. So powerful. Flex! Without him even thinking, his left pec bounced, rolling over itself with a wave that could dash boats against cliffs. Before he could stop it, his right pec repeated the motion… then his left… then his right… passing the motion between them like a slow, steady, bulging tennis match. Flex! He lifted himself up onto his toes, relishing the stre-e-etch in each part of his legs as the muscles rose, colossal, dominant. FLEX! Unleashing another fearsome roar, Gavin pulled his body tightly inwards, pushing each part to an extreme as his new mass came together in a hulking symphony of awe. He could see a spark dancing in his reflection’s eyes – something savage, wild, had taken hold of them. It had taken hold of him! He could feel it, pulsing through him with his blood, bringing him almost to the brink of ecstasy off his own power. “What a rush.” Knock knock knock. “Gavin, seriously, answer me!” He relaxed his body, rolling his shoulders back as his heels touched the ground. A grin appeared on his face. Hardly his first choice, sure, but why bother hanging around? The beast had to be sated. Gavin slowly turned, and began making his way to the door. With each pace, his cock began to pump up, began to swell beyond any size it had ever been. Eight inches… nine inches… His underwear, already under considerable strain from his massive glutes, was tenting beyond belief at the front. Ten inches… eleven inches… Rips were beginning to appear around the crotch as his meat became more and more engorged. Twelve inches… thirteen inches… His underwear was barely hanging on at this point, leaving nothing to the imagination as the protruding outline of his shaft pressed out against the fabric. Fourteen inches… fifteen inches… RRRRRRRIIIIIPPPPP! Finally freed, his erection bobbed hungrily along with his paces, swollen bull balls swinging menacingly beneath. At last, Gavin reached the door, and drew himself up. Fuck, he was bigger than the door now. No matter. “Gavin?” - END -
  19. 25 points
    The Perfect Workout for the Perfect Man by iceman751 shaneomacfan.3 on Skype A video that is too good to be true. The camera shows a close-up of a man, a man whose facial features many could say were beautiful, if there weren't the edges, the angles of a completely masculine, handsome man. One that is at the same time youthful yet mature looking beyond his years. It showed his close cut golden hair, his tan complexion, his perfect nose, high, wide cheekbones like those of a model/actor, a deep cleft chin on a wide, masculine, squared jaw that looked like if you had punched it, your hand would shatter into a million pieces. He smiled wide, showing perfect, gleaming white teeth that looked sharp enough to cut through steel like it was marshmallow fluff. He had deep blue eyes that looked like pools that one could swim inside forever. His ears were perfectly proportional, you imagined that they could hear a whispered word across a fully crowded, noisy room. “Hello ladies and gentlemen, welcome to my new show, my name is Jake Parker, and today, you get a great present, see, I'm a bit of a show off, and you get a chance to see just a small example of what I, the most powerful, smartest, fastest, most agile, most perfect man on the planet, is capable of. Now, be forewarned, as of yet, you haven't been allowed to see my body, that's because it's so incredible, so perfect in every way, that the sight of it has caused people to cum so hard that they fall to their knees and often pass out, so if any of you are standing, I urge that you sit, kneel, or lay down. Don't say that I didn't warn you. Everyone sitting? Okay, Johnny, time to zoom out.” Jake wasn't lying, his body could simply be termed as perfect, but that wouldn't be doing it justice, not by a long shot, it was achingly beautiful beyond words. Everyone watching, man, woman, gay, straight, young, old, all went through orgasm after orgasm just gazing at it's pure brilliance. The first thing that one would notice is that he was wearing nothing but a pair of lycra shorts that did nothing to hide what he was packing. The second thing of course was the fact that his body was 100% ripped, huge, ungodly powerful muscles, from the tip of his head to the bottom of his toes, there was no fat visible on him. He looked bullet proof, his 8 pack of abs deeply etched with striations and veins running every which way, his abs, as Godly as they were, were overshadowed by his enormous pectoral mountains, each the size of a basketball, standing at least 9” deep, with even more striations showing. The thing was, he wasn't actively flexing, every striation, every vein was there because his skin was so thin, there was no masking his pure muscular magnificence. “You want to know how I got this way, I bet, well, genetics played a big part, but I also worked hard for every single inch of this perfect body, and yes, I know what you're thinking, I've got a big ego, it's kind of hard not to when you have the body that I have, when you are able to do the things that I'm able to. Like just last week, I played the NBA Champion Cleveland Cavaliers, a 5 on 1 exhibition match that I won 240 to 0, I blocked, stole or rebounded every single shot they took, but they couldn't do anything against me, simply because I was just too fast, just too strong, just too agile, my shots so perfect, I never missed a single basket, even ones that I launched from three-quarters the length of the court. Whenever I was on defense, which wasn't quite so often because I usually just stole their inbound passes, I almost never let them get past half court, the only times I did were just to humiliate them even further by stealing the ball and dribbling circles around them, before slam dunking the ball, several times which I did while launching myself from beyond the three-point line! I even gave them fouls, they literally hung on to me while I drove to the basket and dunked with Lebron James and Kevin Love both hanging off of my 6'8, 385 pound body. Of course, I don't expect you to believe that, obviously, they didn't make it public, but would you doubt someone who could do this?” With that, Jake got down on the ground, and rose himself into a handstand, then he lowered himself down to the ground with perfect precision and control and performed a picture pure handstand push-up, his arms never quivering a bit from the exertion, but his muscles flexed with the movement, maybe not so much the effort, simply because the 385 pounds that he held on his body was just so light to him, so miniscule to his arms that he barely felt any weight on his arms at all. In fact, it became even clearer when he removed one arm from the ground and still lowered himself down to the ground with a single arm, still with perfect control, and no effort showing on his face. He continued to do the one armed handstand push-ups for 5 minutes before performing something even more insane, he extended his fingers until they held his body fully, and then he removed every single finger except his forefinger, which he balanced on for several seconds with seeming ease, then he looked right into the camera and winked. It was said afterward that the wink had launched a billion orgasms. He used that one finger to push himself up into the air and with perfect balance landed on his feet, a smile on his face. “Now, the reason I'm making this video is because when someone actually has the guts to ask me a question, one of the most asked questions that I get is exactly how strong am I? Well, to be honest, I don't know, strong enough to lift cars with ease, strong enough to win tugs of war against a group of 20 men with one hand. Strong enough that steel is more like clay to my big, thick, muscular fingers. But I decided, as a way to show off exactly how strong I am, or at least give you people a clue as to what I am capable of, I am doing a little bit of a workout. Somewhat unconventional, because the iron weights that people use in most gyms don't make me try at all, even when I'm doing this.” He grabbed a 45 pound plate that was just out of camera range and came back into the middle of the picture, he held the plate in his large, manly hands and started pressing in on it. Amid the sounds of metal shrieking, as if in pain, the plate was being crushed inwards, like it was an a piece of paper. But just like he said, while he must not have been using a lot of power to destroy the plate, his pecs bunched up hugely, with striations rippling and veins pulsing for the few seconds that the plate was being crushed by Jake's ultra-manly hands. “So yeah, that's just a small sample, just a tiny example of how strong I am. That plate was nothing to me, it was little more than a cardboard plate that you take to family picnics. In fact, probably less than that, more like a paper plate, since some people find it hard to bend the thicker cardboard plates, but that was easy as hell to me. Now you will be able to see why, zoom out Johnny” The camera zooms out until the viewers at home could see various items, cars, trucks, anchor chains, and huge barbells with plates the size of car tires. Then it zoomed back into Jake's handsome, confident smirk as he walked over to a Volkswagen beetle, he got a good grip on the front bumper and then straightened up, raising the front wheels off the ground, there was no effort shown on his face as the wheels went higher and higher, little by little, he brought the bumper up to his tiny, sculpted waist, and then, in a controlled, but seemingly easy movement, he curled it up to his chest. He repeated this with a smile on his face, and the camera angle showed that while he may not have been working that hard, his arms and pecs were still showing the results of the repeated movement of the over half ton of metal he was hauling around time after time. After 50 reps, he raised the bumper farther up until it was just above his chest level, then he let go of it with his arms and it came to a rest, the bumper dropped down and after bouncing a while it rested on his huge shelf of pectoral meat. “Look at that boys and girls, I'm holding this car up with nothing more than my pecs, do you think any 5 men in the World can do that when they put their efforts together? No! But me, this is so light that I can barely even feel it, look!” With that, his hands on his hips, he started bouncing his pecs, which made the car jump, and each one was higher and more forceful than the last, eventually, the car went completely vertical, and he used one hand to push it over onto it's roof, a big smirk of satisfaction on his face that he showed his superiority over this object. He walked over to a pick up truck now, this was at least twice as big and heavy as the Volkswagen he had just lifted, he went to the side of it and pushed his shoulder into it while gripping the step up gate, the side wheels lifted off the ground and he lifted it higher and higher until he was able to find the middle of the bottom side of it, he then shifted his stance so that he could place it on his shoulders, and squatting down, he started raising the other side off the ground until all 4 wheels were 6 feet off the ground as the at least 3800 pound vehicle was now on his shoulders. He started walking around with it, showing that it was a little heavier for him than the Beetle was, but still not to the full extent of his power. He started doing squats with the big truck, up and down, up and down he went, his legs bulging hugely, fighting for space with each other as he continued to rep out the nearly 2 ton vehicle with steady reps. “Yeah, how many men have you seen even lift this kind of weight off the ground? But here it is, on my shoulders, my weight as I do squats with it. What do you think of that folks? You think that's the extent of my power, well think again!” Jake stopped doing the squats, standing up straight, then he flattened his palms on the bottom of the truck, finding a long pipe in the middle to get a grip on. Then he took a couple of deep breaths and in an instant changed his stance to that of a clean and jerk and drove his hands over head, which meant that he was now overhead pressing nearly 2 tons. He spat and roared, showing that he was now close to showing off just how strong his spectacular body was, but of course, he had more to show. He put the truck back on his shoulders and then heaved it backward, leaving it on it's side. He was now breathing hard, which made his pecs bulge and ripple, and his 8 pack abs to go in and out, almost hypnotically. “Alright, for this next show, I'm going to need some help. Come on guys.” 4 big men, who looked to average 6'4 and 300 pounds of thick, bulging, powerlifter style bulk went over to the huge, 4” thick looking anchor chain which was 7 feet long. They lifted the chain with some grunts and groans as to how heavy it was. They carried it over to Jake and he put his arms up in the air, showing off his perfectly chiseled abs to the viewers at home, the 4 strength athletes wrapped it around Jake's chest and while the three held it, the fourth locked the chain in place over Jake's pecs. They stood back and watched in awe as the huge muscle man who had 4 inches and probably 80 pounds of pure muscle on the biggest of them, attempted to free himself of the huge, tough, heavy chain, with no use of his hands or arms, just his insanely huge, ripped chest and his wide, winglike lats. “Now boys, and yes, that is what you are to me, boys, I'm so much bigger and stronger than you that it's like comparing an adult to a child, stand back, I wouldn't want you to get hurt by the hurtling debris of the breaking chain.” The big men looked at him and looked at each other, wondering what the chances are that the 4 of them together could take him down, but looking at his previous feats, they thought better of it and got behind the overturned truck. When they did, Jake started breathing in and out loudly, puffing his chest up a little with each and every breath that he took, then he started actually flexing, making the visible parts of his pecs ripple, with striations and veins pulsing with every flex. The chain which was not completely tight when he began was now straining, the metal keening and vibrating from the power that Jake was putting on it. He was alternatively grunting and roaring as he did his best to ruin the lock and the chain that was laced around his chest. “Come on, yeah, I got this! Nothing can hold me back! I am superhuman, I am a muscle god! Rawr!” With that last roar, finally the chain couldn't take it any more, it burst apart directly in front of his inches deep crevice separating his two pectoral mountains. The cameras focused on the chest, bigger than it had ever been, more ripped, striations covering just about every square inch, four veins as large as breakfast sausages ran horizontally across his pecs, super charged blood filling his monstrous mountains of might. He smiled wide as he bounced them up and down, they thundered up and down like pistons in a car engine. “Now, we got one more thing to do. These 4 have 6 equally large, strong friends, they think that all 10 of them could beat me in a tug of war, well, I'm going to prove them wrong, it'll be my 400 pounds of perfect muscle against almost 3000 pounds of combined manhood, who do you think's gonna win?” The ten large men brought out a thick, long rope and threw it on the ground, Jake picked up one end of it and wrapped it around one of his arms and took a good grip on it and the 10 men on the other side did the exact same thing. The average viewer of this show had seen a great many things, including feats of strength that they were sure no 10 men put together could do, but these are 10 big, strong men going against one bigger, stronger man, one that made them look like normal men, if not little boys, but certainly combined, they should be able to match his power, right? “Okay guys, start pulling on 3. 1, 2, 3!” Immediately the 10 men started pulling with every single thing they had in their large, powerful bodies, and Jake looked at the start that maybe he broke off more than he could chew, he was pulled about 5 feet forward before he was able to dig his feet in and stop himself. The men thought they were going to win easily, but after that point, they just couldn't pull Jake the rest of the way, they jerked, they yanked, they grunted, they roared, but Jake wasn't moving. It was then that Jake started to pull, and to their utter disbelief, he was beating back their combined force with his single, incredibly buff body. He grunted, you could tell he was using all of his power to do so, but bit by bit, inch by inch, he was pulling the 10 big men backwards, soon the 5 feet that they gained evaporated and despite their yelling, their efforts were soon waning because of the fact that they had exerted all the effort in the first minute of the contest. They continued to lose ground as Jake walked backwards, pulling their resisting bodies in a steady rhythm, finally he had won, pulling them the required 20 feet. He dropped the rope and immediately went into a double biceps pose! “Fuck yeah, Superman! No one can beat me, I am the strongest!” He was also by far the biggest. His muscles made Mr. Olympia's look like toothpicks in comparison, especially his mountainous arms, with biceps that peaked near to his large, clenched fists and pecs that looked as thick as Atlanta metro area phone books. Jake settled down and looked at the camera, his face covered in a light sheen of sweat, his eyes brilliant blue, his teeth shining in the reflected sunlight. “Well, there you are folks, you wanted to know how strong I was, you wanted to see what my body was capable of, well, did you like it? Tell you what, if this video gets a billion views and a million likes, then there might be a part two coming. After all, there is plenty of stuff that can be lifted, crushed, and plenty of people that can be defeated, humiliated by my muscles. Bye for now all you normal folks out there, hope you enjoyed my video!” The End
  20. 25 points
    By Richard Jasper In the near future… Roger Jessup looked at himself in the mirror. It was the eve of his 59th birthday. “And likely to be my last,” he muttered. He didn’t look like he was dying. At 5’11, he was a beefy 215 lbs., with broad shoulders, thick chest, nice arms, big legs. His waist was thicker than he would like but it was still smaller than his chest. Not bad at all, really, he thought. But definitely NOT the body he’d dreamed of. All those years futzing around in the gym, all those diets (weight gain diets, weight loss diets, fasting diets, cleansing diets), multiple trainers. None of which ever got him close to what he wanted: the look of an off-season competitive bodybuilder. Too many distractions: work, friends, family obligations, relationships. And a lot of whacking off, looking at an endless stream of pix and vids. And now. “Six months,” the doctor had said. “Maybe a year. It’s all about statistics, of course, no one can give you a definitive answer. It’s whether you do better or worse.” It didn’t matter. As soon as he’d heard the verdict a month ago, Roger knew what he would do. He cashed in his chips and made an appointment with Fantasy Rides. +++ “How does it work?” Roger asked the salesman. “Is it like VR?” Brett Sullivan was about 25, model handsome, blond, well put-together, and completely condescending. “Oh, no, no, no,” he said, with you ancient dork written plain as day on his face. “In VR, you’re receiving realistic images, sounds and other sensations that replicate a real environment or create an imaginary setting, simulating your physical presence.” Well, at least he can memorize a script, Roger thought. “IR – Immersive Reality – connects you electronically with a real person’s sensorium,” Sullivan continued. “The actor, or, as we say, the carrier, is fitted out with nanoscopic devices that record his physical, emotional, and mental state, which is then conveyed directly to you, the Rider, via a similar set of devices that you will wear.” Roger raised an eyebrow. He’d read the research, he’d read the reviews, and nothing Brett said contradicted what he had learned thus far. “When the session is over, the devices are removed – if you’ve ever done a sleep study or an EKG the ledes are similar to those, slightly sticky but otherwise unobtrusive – and you’re good to go,” Sullivan said, adding. “Oh, yes, also: no wires! It’s really quite comfortable.” Roger thought for a moment. “It’s a lot of money…” he began. Sullivan interrupted. “Well, actually, for most of our customers, it’s pocket change,” he pointed out. “But it’s also the case that anyone really interested in the experience is entitled to a fifteen-minute test drive.” Roger perked up at that. The idea of handing over a cool half million bucks – half his cashed out life insurance policy – for a 24-hour adventure was causing him to have some second thoughts. “In that case,” Roger replied. “Where’s the car?” The totally blank expression on Sullivan’s face told Roger everything he needed to know – this city kid had never actually been for a test ride. “If you will follow me…” +++ This is amazing, Roger said to himself. Physically, his body was in what was the equivalent of a small treatment room. Low lights, lots of equipment, the very luxe equivalent of a dentist’s chair in the middle, on which Roger, in light-weight pajamas, reclined, eyes closed, a couple of electrodes (“ledes,” the techs called them) placed at his temples, two more behind his earlobes. Mentally, Roger was looking out of the eyes of another human being, in this case one Michael Wellstone, a Fantasy Rides employee responsible for client orientation. “Mr. Jessup, in a paid session you would not only see out of my eyes,” Wellstone said. “But you would feel everything that I feel. From snapping my fingers...” Wellstone held up his fingers and demonstrated. “To blowing my nose…” “To eating a candy bar…” It was amazing. He could see and hear everything Wellstone was doing, as if his consciousness was located two centimeters behind the bridge of Wellstone’s nose, instead of two centimeters behind his own! “What you won’t experience,” Wellstone continued, “are my own thoughts. And in a paid session, the carrier won’t address you since he or she won’t have met you, as I did, and won’t know who you are, thus preserving your anonymity.” Will I…? “As you will have noticed,” Wellstone added, not reading Roger’s mind but anticipating his question. “While you are connected to the carrier, in this case me, you are entirely passive. You won’t actually be under, as you would with anesthesia, but it will be as if you are in deep REM sleep. You won’t be able to move or gesture or speak. Which is why we have extensive monitoring a team of three techs with you at all times to monitor your condition. If for any reason we need to pause the ride, they will attend to it.” +++ An hour later Roger was back in Brett Sullivan’s office. “I’m in,” Roger said. Sullivan smiled his totally fake smile. He had known it the minute he set eyes on Roger. “Now, about your carrier,” he said. “As I’m sure you are aware, $500K is the ultimate experience, 24 hours with one of our five top actors. We certainly have other…” Roger interrupted. “Jake Hardman,” Roger said. “Or no dice.” Sullivan shrugged his shoulders. “I only suggest the others because the Ride can be a very overwhelming experience,” he explained. “Many of our customers repeat the experience three or four times or more. At least half repeat it at least once. And, as you have noted, it is a sizeable expenditure.” Roger’s smile was just as fake as Sullivan’s. “You let me worry about that,” he said. “Just get me Hardman. And I want him on April 11th.” Sullivan tapped his fingers together. “I’m not sure…” he began. Roger interrupted. “I checked his schedule already,” Roger said. “Unless you’re online scheduling tool is lying, he’s available.” Sullivan stood and extended his hand. “We will see you here at 5 a.m. on the 11th of April.” +++ Jake Hardman looked at himself in the mirror. What a fucking God, he thought. Jake, the most successful Immersive Reality actor in the short history of the field, was a bit conceited perhaps but most people would agree with his assessment. Twenty-nine years old, Hardman was 6’5” tall and weighed 275 lbs. with body fat in the single digits. His ridiculously wide shoulders framed a 55-inch chest that tapered down to a 32-inch waist, itself only slightly larger than his 30-inch quads, and perfectly offset by biceps that measured 22 inches. Plus wavy dark hair, brilliant green eyes, long curly lashes, full pouty lips, brilliant white teeth, a strong jaw with a chin dimple. Since taking up bodybuilding at age 16 he had kept his body completely shaven, the better to show off his glistening muscles, which was more of a production every year—if Hardman ever lost his razor, he would be furry as fuck. As it was, he kept multiple shave clubs in business. And then there was his dick. “Yeah, Monster, you like what you see, don’t you?” Soft it was nine inches but it was rarely soft when Hardman stood in front of the mirror. At full mast, as it was now, it was fully a foot long and nine inches in circumference, perfectly proportioned and smooth as silk, a drop of precum glistening at the very tip. Before joining Fantasy Rides five years previously, Hardman had modeled for Colt and similar publications and done a fair amount of softcore porn, mostly jackoff / muscle worship videos. He was resolutely straight and had zero interest in being gay for pay. When Fantasy Rides was announced and once he understood the concept, he was one of the first to sign up. “I don’t care who the rider is, male or female,” he pointed out. “I don’t have to interact with them, I just need to give them a good show.” From the beginning he had been FR’s most successful “carrier,” doing a couple of 24-hour shows per week along with innumerable shorter stints. His earnings to date were pushing $100 million and his investment portfolio was worth three times that much. “Why do I still do it?” he asked, when asked. “Because I love it!” Which most people interpreted as “he loves looking at himself…” And they were right. Even so, Jake had determined that it was just about time to hang up his hat. In six months he was turning 30 and he had decided it was time to branch out into something new, possibly something a bit more respectable. Go out on a high note, he told himself. Then rule the world. +++ Roger showed up at Fantasy Rides promptly at 5 a.m. on April 11th, his 59th birthday. “Your ride won’t begin until 8 a.m.,” Dr. Harkness said. A petite blonde, Emma Harkness looked more like a college co-ed than an attending physician with an MD / PhD to her credit. “Jake isn’t an early riser. We will spend the time between now and then getting you prepped, establishing baselines with the monitoring equipment, and so forth.” All according to the background reading, Roger thought to himself. “What about, uh, comfort needs?” he asked. Harkness had the decency to blush. “You’ve been fasting since 8 p.m., yes?” Roger nodded. “Then we should have no problem,” Harkness continued. “The IV will keep you hydrated. The fluid contains nutrients that will prevent you from getting hungry, plus they will keep your blood sugar in check and so forth. And then there’s this…” This was an adult diaper. Roger had intuited as much but the background reading hadn’t been specific. “Oh, lovely,” he said, rolling his eyes. Harkness favored him with a wry smile. “Chances are you won’t need it,” she said. “And believe me it beats the alternatives.” I don’t even want to think about it, Roger thought. “Shall we get on with it?” In addition to the ledes at his temples and behind his earlobes, others were placed: * Under his nose * At the corners of his mouth * At the base of his neck * On his fingers, palms, wrists, elbows, shoulders, hips, knees, calves, ankles, and toes * On his nipples “Really?” Harkness nodded. “Customer reports consistently indicate they are part of what makes it so real…” And last but not least: * His nads * His dick * His anus All of which took a bit more than two hours. “Mr. Jessup,” Harkness said. “Now that you are prepped we are going to use a mild sedative and an alpha current to put you into a light trance. You will be vaguely conscious of what is going on around you but it will feel a lot like a nap.” A technician tweaked the IV tubing and Harkness flipped a switch. “You’ll be in under in about five minutes and you’ll stay that way until we establish the connection with Mr. Hardman, at which point you will enter a deep sleep, although it won’t seem that way to you. At that point your consciousness will be directly linked with Mr. Hardman’s sensorium. From the point of view of your mind, you will experience what HE experiences. Any questions?” Roger shook his head. “Best birthday present ever,” he said softly. Harkness chuckled. “You bet!” +++ Jake’s bedside phone rang at 7:55 a.m. He picked up. “We’re ready when you are, Mr. Hardman,” the technician said. “Copy that,” Jake replied. “I’m good to go. Tell the Rider to fasten his seatbelt.” Jake threw off the covers, stood up and stretched, then padded to the bathroom. He stood in front of the toilet and waited for his morning wood to subside enough to let out his morning piss. While waiting, he cracked his neck, scratched his chin, fingered his nipple. “Aaaah, that’s more like it,” he said, as the stream began. Let ‘em have a look, he thought to himself and shifted his gaze downward. Monster, as usual, was going to town. Like a fucking fire hydrant. When the torrent subsided to a trickle, and then a drop or two, Jake wrapped his meaty hand around Monster and gave him a good shake. Like everything else about him, Jake’s hand was big and muscular and it still encircled less than half of Monster’s semi-hard length. Then it was time for a shave. “Hello, good looking,” Jake told the mirror, with a wink. He ran the hot water, ran a wash cloth over his rugged face, then lathered up. He had trimmed his body the night before – no time for that today. The blade felt good on his rugged jaw but the cleft in his chin gave him trouble, as usual. Fuck it, Jake thought. Maybe I’ll grow a goatee. Then he stepped into the shower. +++ Jake’s shower was the most erotic experience of Roger’s life. The water running down Jake’s thick, sculpted pecs. The feel of Jake’s meaty, callused hands as he lathered up his thick, wavy hair. The heft of Jake’s cock, the sag of his balls, the resounding thwock when Jake slapped his rock hard abs. Oh, yes, Roger thought. He knows his business. So thick. So muscular. So powerful. So hard. +++ After his shower, Jake toweled off and shrugged on a light-weight terry cloth robe. He sat at his kitchen island, switched on the television. He had a yen for Savannah Guthrie. He ate: * A giant bowl of oatmeal. * A twelve-egg omelet. * A pound of turkey bacon. * Six biscuits. * Three Sumo tangelos. * A handful of nuts. * A sleeve of Saltine crackers. Then he headed to the bathroom to take a dump. +++ My God, Roger thought. This is the most boring thing I’ve ever done! Savannah Guthrie, really? And how can he just sit here, waiting? Doesn’t he know how to read? Where’s the fricking Sports Illustrated. +++ Jake headed to Solstice Gym, top down on the Vette, as usual. This is worth the price of admission, Jake thought. It was push day, which had the advantage of pumping Jake’s two best features, his huge, perfectly sculpted chest, and his huge, perfectly sculpted arms. Incline bench. Decline bench. Pec deck flyes. Cable crossovers. It went on for a long time. +++ Roger was in heaven. +++ After Jake’s workout, another long shower, followed by the steam room and sauna, then another shower, dressed, and home again. Then time for an hour-long nap. +++ Roger was bored out of his mind. I’m paying, what, $20,000 for a nap?!! +++ Jake had a date that night with Priscilla, one of his first string girls, but he also had an afternoon appointment with Roxanne, one of his third-stringers. Roxanne was tall, dark-haired, green-eyed, and pale. Six feet in flats, she was nearly as tall as Jake in stiletto heels, and at first glance they could have been mistaken for siblings. Part of that was that she was gorgeous and she knew it. Part of was that she never smiled and her eyes were, quite simply, predatory. Her general expression was that of an eagle about to descend on a particularly well-fed rodent. That’s why she was third-string, not first. Jake’s first-string girls were the ones who accompanied him in public and Roxanne would never do, in that regard: she unnerved people. On the other hand, she was great in the sack. Roxanne, who came from a very privileged background, had studied opera before she realized the only parts she wanted were those of male villains. It had taken her no time at all, however, to learn an essential opera singer trick, being able to unhinge her jaw at will. (She had had practice.) So she gave remarkable head, even to someone as prodigiously endowed as Jake. Plus she liked it rough and, unlike most of Jake’s girls, she could take it rough. In fact, she could take it all, whichever orifice Jake felt like plugging. He often wondered whether she’d had some sort of surgery to make her accommodating “down there,” as he thought of it. When at last it was time to cum, Roxanne was incoherent but Jake was totally focused, his breathing ragged but his mind completely dominated by the power of his own pending… Orgasm. +++ Roger was fascinated. He was intrigued. He was repulsed. He was ecstatic. Before he had owned up to the fact he was gay, Roger had had a few fumbling attempts with women, each of which failed when it turned out his ability to sustain an erection completely disappeared the closer his penis came to a vagina. His sex life with men had been satisfactory enough over the years, some really great sex interspersed with mostly really mundane sex, and, over the past decade, as his years and gay male ageism caught up with him, very little sex at all. The feel of Jake’s hands on his enormous tool, the sensation of Roxanne’s hot mouth as she inched her way down its prodigious length, the power that thrummed through Jake’s body as he took her from behind. It was amazing. It was incredible. It was such a fucking turn-on. It was… +++ BEEEEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEP! BEEEEEP! The monitor shrieked as Roger’s body convulsed in the softly lighted room. “Crash cart, stat,” the technician shouted. “Clear!” “Again!” “Clear!” Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. +++ Jake convulsed, then fell across Roxanne. “Jesus Fucking Christ, Jake, get your big ass off me,” she shouted, coming out of her coital trance. Jake drooled. His eyes fluttered. “Jake? Jake, honey, what’s wrong?” she asked. Then… “Crap! Crap! Crap! I don’t fucking need this!” She reached for her phone. “This is Roxanne,” she said when her contact at FR picked up. “You guys need to get up here STAT! Your boy is having a seizure or something!” And I’m not sticking around, she added silently. Roxanne pulled on her skin-tight little black dress and her heels, grabbed her purse, and headed out the door. Her panties and bra were in a heap next to the bed when the medics arrived. +++ “Where am I?” he said when he opened his eyes. He was in a bed, propped up, in a room that smelled vaguely institutional and that sounded, now he thought about it, medical. The bright light coming through the large windows made it hard to focus but he could tell there were people – two men and a woman? Two women and a man? – standing around his bed. “You had a little incident,” a male voice said. “So now you’re here at St. Margaret’s.” He was trying to remember where St. Margaret’s was. “I need to ask you a few questions,” the man said. “They will sound dumb but this is perfectly standard after someone regains consciousness.” I lost consciousness? “What’s your name?” He licked his lips. “Roger Jessup,” he said. There was a muffled gasp. One man, one woman, he thought. “And what day is it?” the doctor continued. He groaned. “Beats me, doc,” he replied. “Last I knew, it was my birthday. April 11th.” Very softly, urgent voices conferred. “Doctor, nurse, we need a moment alone with Mr. Hardman,” the man said. Roger passed out. +++ “Tell us what you remember,” the woman said when he woke up. His eyes focused. “Oh, hi, Emma,” he said. “What the hell happened?” Emma Harkness licked her lips. “Well, you gave us quite a scare,” she replied, and it was clear by the expression on her face that she was still scared. “I was in the Rider room,” he said. “On the bed. I was under but I was aware that the lighting was dim, the machines were beeping, the techs were moving around. “Jake was with that woman, what’s her name? Roxanne, that’s it. They were really going at it. I couldn’t tell whether I felt stimulated or repulsed. And then…” The man standing next to Harkness erupted. “Oh, for crying out loud, Hardman, give it a rest! Tell us how you knew your rider was Roger Jessup and why are you bringing that up now?!” His eyes focused. “Oh, hello, Brett,” he said, biting off the words. “Great to see you, too!” You could steam coming out of Sullivan’s ears. “It’s not funny, Hardman,” Sullivan continued. “You know you’re not supposed to have contact with riders. You’re not even supposed to know who they are.” His eyes flew open. “Why do you keep calling me ‘Hardman?’” he demanded. Sullivan glared at him. “We’re just trying to figure out what’s going on,” Harkness said. “Your incident, with Roxanne, happened at the exactly the same time as Mr. Jessup’s, you know, and…” “What incident?” he barked. Harkness took his hand. His big, thick, meaty, muscular hand, the one with the great tan and the perfectly, professionally trimmed nails. “When you were with Roxanne, you had a seizure,” Harkness explained. “At the exact same time Mr. Jessup, who we didn’t know you knew, had a coronary.” He shook his head. I’m still under, obviously. “Coronary?” he asked. Harkness nodded. But this is no dream, he thought. I must still be riding. “Fatal coronary,” Harkness replied. His blood pressure spiked, the monitors started going off, the doctor and the nurse came in and shooed Harkness and Sullivan away. “I’m going to give you a mild sedative,” the doctor said. “You need to get some rest…” Lights out. +++ A few hours later, he awoke, needing to pee. He threw off the covers, untangled the IV tube and monitor ledes, and shuffled towards the bathroom. He was… Tall. He was… Wide. He was… (reaching down) Hung like a horse. My God, he thought. I really AM Hardman! Back in the hospital bed, he pondered. I am Roger Jessup, he said to himself. I’m 59 years old. I just paid half a million bucks to go for a Fantasy Ride. I live at 4607 Fairmont Drive in Fishers, Indiana. I have less than a year to live. He looked down at himself. “And I’m clearly inhabiting the body of Jake Hardman,” he said aloud. “How can this be?” Where does Hardman live? He asked himself. “1005 Ocean Boulevard, Penthouse 22A, Fort Lauderdale, Florida, of course,” he said. “But how do I know that?” Over the next half hour, Roger asked himself dozens of other questions about Jake Hardman: * His birthday * His parents’ and siblings’ names * The name of his first pet * His Social Security number * His bank balance Whoaaaa! That’s a lot! * Whether Roxanne was his girlfriend. He keeps THREE different strings of girls? That’s insane! And so on and so forth. By the end of the half hour, Roger realized he knew everything there was to know about Jake Hardman. Things, in fact, that only Jake Hardman could know. Jake, are you in here somewhere? Silence. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Am I still Roger Jessup? He asked the same questions about himself that he had asked about Jake. He knew all the answers. “This is too fucking weird,” he said to the room. But I think I’m going to have to play along with it, he told himself. +++ The St. Margaret’s doc – Jeffrey Bean, apparently – returned the next morning. “Let’s try the questions again, shall we?” He nodded. “What’s your name?” Jake Hardman. “Where do you live?” 1005 Ocean Blvd, Penthouse 22A, Fort Lauderdale. “What day is it?” I’m assuming that yesterday was the 12th and that today is the 13th. Of April, that is. Unless I was out longer than I thought? “No, you were unconscious for about 12 hours, that’s all,” Dr. Bean said, reassuringly. “Who’s the President?” Last I checked it was still the Orange One, God Forbid. Bean chuckled. “We still don’t have any idea what caused you to seize but we have monitored everything there is to monitor for the past 24 hours and can’t find anything wrong with you,” he continued. “I’m going to arrange for your discharge papers but I would like to see you in my office later this week to do some follow-up tests, OK?” He nodded. “Whatever you say, Doc. I just need to get out of here and get some fresh air.” Bean patted him on the knee. “Good man,” he said. “But one more thing: No gym until AFTER you’ve seen me in my office, OK?” Jake Roger Hardman Jessup nodded. +++ He took Uber back to the condo. The clothes were all clothes that he recognized. Same with the jewelry, the watch, the wallet (stuffed with hundred dollar bills; Hardman apparently thought $500 was reasonable walking around money.) The doorman buzzed him in, his key fit the slot next to “22” in the elevator, another one opened the door. He plopped himself in the Eames leather recliner in front of a wall of windows and watched the offshore cargo ships and the close in jet skis and hang gliders and speedboats for a long, long time. Eventually, he roused himself for the recliner and took a seat at the kitchen counter in front of Jake’s laptop. He googled: “Roger Allan Jessup” And there it was. Roger Allan Jessup, 59, of Fishers, Indiana, died Tuesday, April 11, while visiting Fort Lauderdale, Florida. Jessup, a native of Oneonta, New York, received his bachelor’s degree from Emory University in Atlanta. He moved to Central Indiana after receiving his MBA from Georgia State University. He spent 20 years working for Eli Lilly before opening his own consulting firm. For the past 10 years he lived in Fishers. He is survived by his mother, Sylvia Jessup Nash (Herb), of Oneonta, NY; his sister, Karen Jessup Hart (Jim), of Raleigh, NC; a nephew, Christopher Hart of San Jose, CA, and a niece, Jennifer Hart, of Philadelphia, PA. Arrangements are being handled by Flanner and Buchanan, Broad Ripple. The family requests that in lieu of flowers donations be made in Roger’s name to Emory University or the charity of your choice. “It’s really true,” he said. “It’s a not a dream. There’s no going back.” But what to do, what to do? How to lead his life in another man’s body? How to lead his life when everyone he knew thought he was dead? How to lead a life when everyone who knew Jake Hardman was a stranger? +++ After he received a clean bill of health from Dr. Bean, he met with Sullivan and Harkness. “That’s it,” he said. “I’m out.” Sullivan’s mouth twisted in a snarl. “You can’t…” He raised an eyebrow. “You’re just lucky you don’t have TWO corpses,” he said. Harkness started to protest. “I don’t know what it was,” he said. “I don’t know why I know the Rider was this guy Roger Jessup. But I don’t believe in coincidences.” He held up a finger before Harkness could continue. “But I seem to have suffered no ill effects, Dr. Harkness, so no big deal,” he said. “I don’t hold it against you, Emma.” It was Sullivan’s turn to open his yap. “As for you, twerp,” he said. “Don’t even think about it. My contract is ironclad and it says I can walk whenever I like.” So he did and he started making changes in Jake Hardman’s life. First he dismissed the girls, the first, second, and third strings, all 15 of them. Priscilla, who thought he was going to put a ring on it, was the most miffed. She got $5 million. The others got a million apiece, except for Roxanne, who got $2 million and a pendant necklace with a solid gold shark on it. From one shark to another, the note read. It being South Florida, his attorney knew how to make work things that might not fly in other places. Like the multiple shell companies that purported to hold a life insurance policy on Roger Jessup, one that paid out $2 million each to Roger’s mother and sister and $1 million each to his niece and nephew. And Emory University was more than a little surprised to receive a gift of $1 million “from Jake Hardman in memory of my dear friend Roger Allan Jessup.” He had to chuckle over that one. The Immersive Reality world was totally shocked by Jake Hardman’s departure – “creative differences,” according to Fantasy Rides, “we wish him well…” – and even more astounded when he came out, announcing that he was taking a year off “to find myself” before pursuing his next entertainment endeavor. He buzzed his hair. He stopped shaving. He bought the local Solstice franchise. He spent almost all of his time at the gym. What do I really want? He had asked himself. The answer was simple, really. I want to grow! And in Jake Hardman’s memories were every tool, concept, idea, routine, and motivation that a man could use to make himself the biggest thing on Earth. The first month he put on 25 lbs. of solid muscle. At 6’5 and 300 lbs. he was moving out of the porn star niche and into the competitive bodybuilder category. Or, rather, he would have been if he hadn’t grown a pelt that would put the likes of Pete Kuzak and Carl Hardwicke – erstwhile crushes of Roger, with no idea who their current day replacements were – to shame. The second month he gained 35 lbs. He competed in his first powerlifting contest, setting a world record when he benched 1200 lbs., more than 3 ½ times his bodyweight. That was in June. Before Labor Day rolled around he was humongous, 450 lbs. of dense, steel-hard, ripped to shreds beef. His stats were off the charts: * Chest 90 inches * Waist 45 inches * Quads 50 inches * Biceps 38 inches * Neck 36 inches And he was benching 2000 lbs. By that point he had 75,000,000 followers on Instagram, which put him up there with Dwayne Johnson, Neil Patrick Harris, and Barron Trump. And he was still a virgin. It wasn’t like there weren’t plenty of men (and women) ready to fall at his feet. Too many of them, in fact. All of them, as far as he could tell, vain, shallow, avaricious, just plain vicious, or some combination of the preceding. The nice guys, if there were any – And I was one, he thought, so there must be others – were too afraid to talk to him, apparently. And then one day… +++ The handsome blond kid walked into Solstice Fort Lauderdale and asked to speak to Jake Hardman. He looked at the webcam monitor. Not bad. Tallish, shaggy blondish hair, sexy dark stubble, extremely broad shouldered, obviously very well-built. And vaguely familiar somehow. “Send him in,” he said, when the front desk staff buzzed his office. He stood when the guy walked in (who, now that he thought about it, was probably late 20s, early 30s, so definitely not a kid.) Probably 6’2 or thereabouts and even more muscular in person. 250 at least, he thought. I wanna see what he has under that shirt. “Jake Hardman,” he said, extending his calloused meat hook. The guy took the proffered hand and gave it an impressive squeeze. “Christopher Roger Hart,” he replied. Jake staggered. “I see the name means something to you,” Hart said with a wry smile. It can’t be, he thought. This can’t be MY Chris! “Are you, I mean, uh, could it be…?” Chris nodded. “Yessir,” he said. “That’s right. I’m Roger Jessup’s nephew.” But, but, but… “But, but, but…” Chris smiled. “I began to put two and two together after I was notified of your gift to Emory in Roger’s name,” Chris said. “I’m an alum, too, or maybe he never told you that?” Jake leaned against his desk, slack-jawed. “And, much as I loved Roger – he was a GREAT uncle – I knew he didn’t have six million in life insurance hanging around. There’s just no way he had resources like that. It came from you, didn’t it?” Slowly, Jake nodded. “You were lovers?” Chris asked. Jake snorted. “Uh, sorry, no, I didn’t mean it like that. He was an outstanding friend but we were never lovers.” Chris shrugged his massive shoulders. “I’m sorry to say I hadn’t seen him since I graduated from college 10 years ago,” he said. It was Jake’s turn to nod. “That’s right, you turned 32 this year, didn’t you?” he said, as much to himself as to Chris. “You were much smaller then!” Chris gave Jake an odd look. “He told you how old I was?” Jake shook himself. “He told me a lot and, the dumb jock looks notwithstanding, I have an outstanding memory,” he pointed out. Chris smiled. “Well, that’s really all I wanted to know,” he said. “That and to say thank you from the bottom of my heart. You’ve given all of us a great deal of economic security, especially my granny, and I couldn’t be more grateful.” Jake looked at the man -- the big, handsome, virile, extremely studly man – he had known since the day he was born. “Would you care to join me for dinner?” he found himself asking. “I’d like to hear more.” +++ October 11th The alarm sounded but he didn’t reach out for it. Any more that was Chris’ job. Besides, he thought. It’s my birthday. Thirty years old. His eyes flew open. “Jake?” he asked. Chris chuckled. “Last I checked, that was YOUR name, sleepyhead!” Chris said, prodding tugging on his lover’s gargantuan arms. He’d packed on 50 lbs. in the time he’d been with Jake but so had Jake. There was no way 6’2 and 300 lbs. was going to budge 6’5 and 500 lbs. of muscle. He tugged on Jake's dick instead -- that would get his attention! “Mom and Sis and Granny are flying in at noon,” Chris continued. “We need to hustle.” Jake? Yes. Do you know where you’ve been? Right here. All the time. Am I still Roger? I am you and you are me. Does it need to be more than that? “No,” they said. “I guess not.” Chris laughed out loud. “You’re funny when you’re waking up,” he said. “C’mon, Birthday Boy, let’s go GROW!” THE END
  21. 25 points
    Roman Torchmen walked through the halls of his school. Apprehension and anxiety hung in the air like the densest fog. Everyone’s eyes were either glued to their books, note cards, or some sort of other material. Testing day was upon them. Roman was currently reading up on his weakest subject: The History of American Politics’ Influence on Foreign Literature. A loud, boisterous voice broke his concentration. Not even having to look up, he knew who it was. Vance Gulls was laughing at the few of his jocks friends that were taking studying for the test seriously. Vance was one of the biggest guys at the school before the test, only inflating his massive ego from being able to get away with so much shit by being a congressman’s son. Cecil Gulls was a mountain of a man, as were most politicians. He was a big-shot Democrat in the Senate. Roman always thought he gave off a ‘Daddy’ kind of vibe with his salt and pepper hair on his head and his hair peeking out from the collar of his shirt. He was a known playboy, but people looked the other way. That kind of attitude rubbed off on his son. Vance had been pestering Tristan Nickelson, the senior captain of the rugby team. He was taking studying for the test seriously, having a last minute study session with his tutor, Reagan Upton. Tristan glared at Vance as he made too much noise. His heterochromic eyes in a steely cold gaze before turning his attention back to Reagan. The rugby player always had a bit of a rivalry with the footballer and he had secretly hoped the test would put him at an advantage. Both came from wealthy families, Tristan’s parents were both successful models, were sports stars at the school, and they were both considered very attractive. Vance definitely had the hot jock look while Tristan had the pretty boy model look similar to his parents. His coppery red hair accented both his green and blue eyes. He had pale skin, but his complexion was flawless. Tristan was a bit of a contrast, physically and mentally to his tutor. From Roman’s point of view, Reagan looked even smaller hunched over his book and standing next to Tristan, who was 5’9” and Vance who was 6’0”. The twig-like geek stood only 5’3” with big frame glasses on his face. His face was red from trying to ignore Vance’s taunting and joking. Roman felt bad for the little guy. He could tell Reagan had a bit of a crush on Tristan. It wouldn’t be so obvious if Roman were not gay himself. He could see the way Reagan would steal glances at him, but he never acted on it, not from fear, but because he thought Tristan was straight and did not want to ruin their friendship. “Earth to Roman,” he heard as a finger prodded the back of his head. He swatted the hand away, knowing that voice anywhere, “Ow. Stop doing that Linus.” Linus stepped in front of his friend, smiling, “You ready for the test today?” Roman relaxed a little and smiled back, “I see you are optimistic and peppy as always. I guess I’m ready as I’ll ever be.” He shrugged and walked down the hall with his friend, passing nervous student after nervous student. “Oh come on. You’ll do fine. You gotta go into this with a positive attitude, otherwise you’ll end up like Aiden,” Linus chided. Aiden Arya was an anomaly among children today, not because of himself, but his family. His father failed the test, but he still had a child, which is rare. Aiden had been fretting the whole year about it being ‘his destiny’ to fail. Today he was an obvious nervous wreck. Roman shook his head, his brown hair falling in front of his eyes, “I’m not that nervous. If you want to talk attitude, talk to Shaun. He is angry about the test.” Linus looked genuinely curious, “What’s he angry about?” An irritated voice spoke from behind them, “The fuckin’ affirmative action I get on the test. I get boosted an extra 10% just because I am black.” He fumed, the other two did not share his sentiment. “I wish I have that cushion,” Linus’s excited demeanor softened a bit. “Just a safety net like that.” Shaun shook his head, “That is nice, but it isn’t fair and frankly it is insulting. I don’t need a damn handicap to pass this test and I’m going to prove it.” Roman couldn’t help but smile, “Give them hell Shaun.” Shaun’s anger seemed to lessen and he waved as he entered his testing room, right across the hall from theirs. Both young men were filled with anxiety as the walked through the door and found the table labeled with their student ID. The room was eerily quiet, but that was too be expected with the strict no talking rule. One word without permission and you failed the test. Roman looked around the room to see who else was there. Linus was twiddling his thumbs at his desk. Several others were tapping on top of their assigned laptop. Vance had his feet propped up on his desk with his arms crossed, smirking cockily. Pietro Forza was looking understandably more nervous than most, being the first of his family to take the test, his family immigrating from Italy when he was younger. Someone clearing their throat broken the uncomfortable silence in the room. All eyes fell on the tall, bulky man standing at the front of the room. It was Coach Anchors, the football coach. Roman thought it was odd a coach was proctoring, but he also wouldn’t mind a little eye candy during the test. Anchors was wearing a tight suit and button up with the top three button undone to make room for his massive, hirsute pecs. “Ok time to begin. Anyone who was late has now failed the test. You may insert your student IDs into your computer and begin to fill out the information as I go over the outline for the test,” his voice echoed throughout the room. The sound of beeping and tapping filled the room afterwards as the students followed the instructions. “The Genetic Aptitude Technical Examination, or GATE test, will be administered to all high school seniors at Aldous Huxley High School. I am your proctor Logan Anchors. This examination will test your knowledge over all subjects ranging from the hard sciences to current events and culture. Your score will be compared to your national peers and then given a weighted score. Those receiving a score above 60 will be given an enhancement to improve the passing of your genes. Those who receive a score below 60 will be given a detriment for the better of society.” He stopped to clear his throat again. “This test shall remain objective and fair. Any cheating will result in immediate failure and expulsion from the exam. This exam has functioned as a benefit to society for over 30 years and shall continue to guide the way to the United States of America’s genetic future.” Roman couldn’t help but roll his eyes, thankfully before the secret webcam on the computer turned on. “Genetic future my ass,” he thought to himself. Those who passed got dream bodies, while the failures were reduced to what his community would call twinks, though some failures still got slightly lucky in their outcomes, but that was a rare occurrence. This exam was mainly a sexual rite of passage. Many would discover their sexuality or discover their sexuality has changed, there was no real way to predict it. “Good luck and you may begin your exam,” Coach’s deep voice shook him from his thoughts as he saw the screen change. Roman rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. “Here goes nothing.” He mentally braced himself. “Section 1/75: Muscular Anatomy, Physiology, Histology, and Imagery.” ------------------- “Section 13/75: Extinct and Extant Vertebrate Lineage Comparison.” Roman breathed a sigh of relief, seeing another science section. He just had to suffer through three pop culture sections on Madonna, Hip Hop, and Country Music and two literature sections that intersected with geography: Famous Sanary-mer-Mer Writings, and Modern Faustian Interpretations by Country. The sound of footsteps broke his line of thought. Coach Anchors’s footfalls would still be heard if this was a normal class, but those size 17.5s seemed to be extra heavy today. He was walking down the row next to him, towards Vance. It was odd to see a proctor move about during the test, so he silently hoped that Vance would get caught cheating or something. The coach stopped by Vance’s desk for a few moments, looked down, turned, and walked back to his seat up front. Roman returned his focus to the test. ------------------- “Section 42/75: Pre-Colonial US History” Roman was happy to see another pure history section. He had been calculating hits or misses by what the section was and he believe he would ace this one. Just as he finished reading the first question, he heard footsteps again. Coach was walking by his row this time, but when he reached the end, he turned and headed for the row from before, stopped, looked down, then returned to his seat. This bugged Roman, but he had more important things to focus on. ----------------------- “Section 50: The History, Terminology, and Physics of Rowing” Before he could even click next, he could see Coach Anchors’s pecs bouncing as he walked down the rows, doing the same thing as last time. The muscles were a nice distraction, but he had to tear his eyes away so he could focus on this section. Roman could not help but smile. He and Linus should pass this easily since Linus’s big brother was recruited to Yale’s rowing team who beat Eton and Cambridge’s teams last year. Seeing questions on boat parts really made him smile. --------------------- “Section 66/75: Calculus in Relation to Biology and Physics.” It wasn’t exactly a science, but it was close enough for Roman to get excited about it. Math was not his forte, but it was not so hard either. He had to really concentrate to do the calculations correctly. He didn’t even notice the coach stop by his desk. It was not until he could smell a musk coming from the coach that he realized he was there. He didn’t look up as the coach moved on and the footsteps moved farther away, towards Vance’s side of the room. -------------------- “Section 74/75: The History of American Politics’ Influence on Foreign Literature.” Resisting the urge to bang his head on the table, Roman entered the next to last section of the test. It had been eight hours already and he was feeling drained enough, even with the supervised lunch and restroom breaks. His most hated subject had to be the second to last. He mentally groaned. Leaning back in his seat, he stretched. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Coach briefly put his hand on Vance’s shoulder before making his way back to his desk. It seemed odd, but Roman thought it was none of his business. ------------------ “Section 75/75: Prominent 1990s-2000s Handheld Games and Gaming Systems.” Roman really had to hold back the shout that was building his throat. Such an easy subject for his final section. He wanted to cheer at the top of his lungs, but couldn’t risk doing it now. Just a few minutes later, he pressed the ‘complete exam’ button and watched the screen load. He thought he would get to see his results right away, but was directed to inform the proctor and get further instructions from him. He raised his hand and the coach came from the back corner of the room. He nodded and directed Roman towards the door. Stepping outside, he felt a sudden piercing pain in his neck and shoulder. He felt dizzy, but he could hear someone speaking once the door was closed. “Congratulations on finishing your exam.” Roman felt like he was going to be sick. “Your score has been processed and graded.” Not sick, he felt like he was going to pass out. “You will be moved to the selection facility.” He braced himself against the wall. “Where your genetic future shall be determined.” He could feel himself sliding down the wall as a strong pair of hands grabbed his shoulders. “Thank you for contributing to society’s genetic future. Have a nice day.” Roman’s vision went black. --------------------- The air in the room felt cool, but stale. His muscles ached and he felt sore to the bone. Even just opening is eyes seemed to test his facial muscles. He felt some smooth cloth over him. He shrugged it off and drowsily sat up in bed. Dim lights flickered on as they registered movement. He squinted and groaned again, then his eyes shot wide open. That didn’t sound like him. His hands darted to his throat despite their exhaustion. His fingers felt a thick lump in the middle of his throat. As he swallowed nervously, he could feel it bob up and down. It felt big, it had to be his adam’s apple. In his surprise, it didn’t even register that his fingers didn’t reach all the way around his throat. He stood up and wandered towards a mirror mounted on the wall. His eyes widened in shock and elation. Even though it look to be mounted higher on the wall, the tip of his head didn’t fit in the frame, but his flowing locks of chocolate brown hair did. They fell down onto his face, which still looked like him, but with some photoshopping. Besides the longer hair, his eyes remained mostly the same, just set a little further back into his head. His jaw looked more square with a little cleft in his chin. From the shadow lining his face, he definitely had the capability to grow a great beard. The thought made him smile, revealing his now pearly white teeth. “Awesome!” His voice boomed with power and confidence. If his face was any indication, his eyes had to travel down to explore his body. His neck was thick and corded with muscle. As previously discovered his adam’s apple was a prominent feature on his neck. Sloping down from his neck were hard traps that blossomed into cannonball-like deltoids and a wide, mountainous back. His lats had curves and ridges that would make a topographic map envious. In front, his pecs heaved with every deep breathe. He had to experiment and flex them. He found a natural ability to bounce the huge pillows of muscle. They were square, but had that roundness to them. Feeling them up, a finger grazed his nipple and that sent electrical waves to his cock. His eyes completely skipped his carved eight pack abs and serratus muscles and went straight to his crotch. Even though it was just getting hard, he could tell he was already bigger than he was before. Watching his meat swell and grow was a mystifying process for the first time and only served to turn him on more. Impatiently and consumed by a sense of lust, he wrapped his thick fingers and wide palm around his cock and furiously stroked it. His new form visually stimulated him more and more. He couldn’t help but flex his 25” biceps in the mirror and bring one to his face to lick it. The exposed pit let ot some of his musk, and he could feel its effects working. He felt like he hadn’t jerked off in year, his balls working overtime to cum. With a loud and lustful moan, his lemon-sized balls pushed their load through his, what he guessed to be 15” cock, and out onto the mirror, coating it in his man juices. His reflection was obscured as he looked at it, basking in the afterglow of his first enhanced orgasm. He rubbed his abs as his cock leaked more cum onto the floor. He felt renewed and rejuvenated. However, without the mirror he had to check himself without its aid. The first place his eyes darted was behind him. He twisted his large torso to look as his ass. It was big, perky, and bubbly, just how he dreamed it would one day be. And that one day was today, and every day from now on. Just past his ass, his could see the heart-shaped calves he now possessed. That moved him to look to his thighs. His cock had softened and now hung over them. Veins netted themselves over the teardrop-shaped muscles that pressed against each other as they moved. He experimented walking walking around with his new size, his thighs rolling over each other in a new, confident-looking swagger. In his practiced walked, he found his clothes with a note attached to them laying neatly at the edge of his bed. He head his shirt, pants, and underwear up to himself. There was no way they were fitting him now. He placed his shoes next to his feet and laughed. He had been a size 9 before, but his feet looked to be at least twice that now. He wiggled his toes, admiring how even them had defined muscles now. Tearing himself away from his body he had to read the standard typed note: “Roman Torchmann, Depending on the outcome of your exam, you clothes may or may not be of use to you anymore. Some prefer to keep them as mementoes, but we encourage you to donate them to be used for the less fortunate outcomes. Once you have become accustomed to your new body, please make your way into the atrium to meet the rest of your classmates and get your standard issue clothing. From, GATE Management” Roman crumbled up the letter and tossed it in the bin. His clothes were left behind as he exited his room into the hallway. It was quiet, but not as quiet as the testing room. Some doors were open and could be seen inside. Some had puddles of cum like his, others were more clean. Various noises could be heard from some. Moaning, cheering, crying both happily and sadly, could be heard as he made his way to the marked atrium. “Well look who decided to wake up,” A smooth, sultry voice said as Roman just entered the room. He spun to the side to see who called out to him. No one was to his left, but to his right stood a smooth, muscled man who looked to be only an inch shorter than him with blonde hair and warm, brown eyes. It took a moment for him to register who it was. “Linus?” The man grinned broadly and flex his long, strong biceps. “The great Linus Covers in the grown flesh.” His smile was just as white as Roman’s. He went in for a hug, their naked muscles and junk caressing each other. “You turned out to be a hunk.” Roman found himself blushing, “You didn’t turn out so bad yourself.” His friend’s smile only widened as he gestured to himself. “I know. I scored a 68, but they said score doesn’t correlate to your body. But look at me!” He gestured to himself again. He had strong, smoother muscles and he was completely hairless from the jaw down, compared to Roman only have a dusting of pec hair. “I’m built like an Olympic swimmer. Maybe I should try it sometime and see if I’m any good. I mean just look at my feet!” Linus lifted one of his feet off the ground and ran his long, thin fingers along it. Even though he was a little shorter than Roman, but they were definitely a few sizes larger. “They’ll be like fucking flippers in the water. And my cock…” He gave it a grope for emphasis. “It’ll be like a rudder in my speedo.” Roman smiled happily and nodded, looking about the room. “Has anyone left yet?” he asked. Linus shook his head, “Only one guy since I’ve been out. Pietro. You should have seen him man. So fuckin hot, a pure blooded Italian to the extreme. He was a little shorter than me, but damn were his muscles thick. He’d put any off-season bodybuilder to shame. To shame!” He shouted for emphasis. “Oh and his cock, it regrew its foreskin. Apparently a light breeze would stimulate that piece of Italian Sausage.” They both had to share a chuckle. Their horniness was definitely bumped up a few notches, or a few dozen. He surveyed the room until he found someone crying. He was sitting next to a burly red-head who had a thick arm over the smaller guy’s shoulder. Linus noticed where his friend was looking. “Poor Reagan. He didn’t make it. He scored a 58. So close.” Roman felt his heart ache for the small, hardworking guy. He had hoped he would be grown and make him more confident to be rewarded for his efforts. Sadly it didn’t look like that was the case. Roman squinted, he felt something was different though. He moved to get a more straight-on view of Reagan and he confirmed his suspicions. Reagan had grown, but he still would fall in the failed category. He maybe had an inch added to his height and his arms and pecs definitely were bigger and more defined. Perhaps a life as a gymnast could be meant for his new body, he’d have to ask to know. Suddenly, the bigger man who was covered in lightly colored coppery hair drew the smaller man into a full-on french kiss. That seemed to calm Reagan as the smaller man’s shoulders relaxed and he put his hands on the bigger man’s thunderous thighs. They broke the kiss and the ginger hunk looked Roman’s way. Their eyes met for a passing moment. Then a light bulb went off in Roman’s head. That hunk was Tristan Nickelson! His face was unrecognizable. It looked like it had had a triple dose of pure testosterone injected into it. His jaw was broad and square, looking like he could chew leather. It was covered in what looked to be a week’s growth of red beard. His heterochromic eyes remained, but they had a predatory gaze to them. Maybe Tristan wasn’t as straight as he and Reagan thought he was. Suddenly, he felt a large hand clasp around his shoulder, “Finally someone I can see eye-to-eye with,” A melodic baritone met his ears. Roman whipped around and found himself face to face with a tower of ebony muscle. He had deep, brown eyes that almost seemed black, like you could fall into them if you stared too long. His nose was wide and his lips were plump. “Shaun?! Holy fuck is that you?” Roman shouted in surprise. The black stud’s laugh rumbled in his massive chest. If Pietro put off-season bodybuilders to shame, then this man put stage-ready bodybuilders shame in the same fashion. “You got me man. Sure happy I guessed right it was you.” Shaun’s voice seemed to resonate right with Roman’s erogenous zones, “Shaun, but you are bald!” His friend chuckled again, “Yeah I know. Wild huh?” he rubbed his shining head. “But onto business. What did you score?” Roman thought for a moment. He realized he threw out his letter without checking his score. He facepalmed himself and it made an audible slap. “You forgot didn’t you?” Roman nodded in embarrassment. Shaun sighed, “Guess you’ll never know huh? Well guess what?” He held up his paper. “I got a 97, which means I got an eighty-fucking-seven before my boost was given. I didn’t need that damn thing and this proves it!” He put his hand up for a high five. Roman met it with enthusiasm, “Fuckin’ awesome Shaun!” He gave his friend the once over, “So it looks like we are the same height. Do you know how tall you are, Shaun?” “Probably about 6’7” by my estimates. Shaun Eagles 6’7” physicist. I like the sound of that.” He smiled and gave Roman the once over. “Let’s measure cocks.” He suddenly announced and grabbed his friend’s penis, placing it next to his. “I’m definitely like an inch or two longer than you, but I think you have me beat in thickness.” Roman chuckled and moved his now semi-hard cock away, “Maybe we will have to test our dicks out with each other sometime.” Shaun returned the smile, but his gaze suddenly narrowed, “Speaking of dicks, did you see Vance?” Roman felt a pit form in his stomach. He couldn’t imagine how bad an enhanced Vance would be to deal with. The thought of the guy growing a foot and becoming massively muscled, turned him on only a little. It was curbed by the thoughts of how insufferable he would be and how he didn’t deserve to be rewarded like they had been. He shook his head in the negative. Shaun’s grin widened, “Well why don’t you look over there.” Roman followed Shaun’s thick finger to one of the only clothed men in the room. It was definitely Vance. He was sitting on the bench, either sulking or brooding. He didn’t look to different. His still had his jock-like handsomeness. Maybe he was two inches taller. His body just a bit more muscular and defined, though it was covered in hair in odd places, like just his forearms and calves. Roman had seen his cock in the lockerroom and it was not much bigger. “I thought you were shrunk if you failed.” Roman remarked, looking back towards Shaun. “Vance didn’t fail. He barely passed with a 60. I don’t know if something went wrong, but he has to have some of the least improvements out of anyone who has passed… ever!” They both found themselves laughing, somewhat in relief of the outcome, “Apparently his dad is coming to pick him up personally. What a sight he will see. His son not even close to his size.” They laughed again, though Roman did feel some pity towards his former bully. Shaun patted Roman’s thick shoulder again, “Well I’m going to catch up with Linus. Remember, Will Tennet? The guy who used to pick on us when we tried joining the water polo team? Turns out he failed and he apparently is hungry for some cock. He went from 5’11” to a 5’2” twink.” He patted his thick, veiny tube of meat. “Time for some well deserved karma.” Roman waved his horny friend off, fighting the urge to fuck someone himself. He wanted to explore some more when someone came up to him. “Excuse me. Are you Roman?” He nodded and looked over his inquirer. The muscular man before him had deep caramel skin. Black hair covered his pecs, abs, crotch, and thighs. He wasn’t too bulky, but was very defined. If he shaved, he could probably be an exotic model. The hooded cock caught his eye, but he had to shake himself from being so sexual. “Yes I am.” The caramel hunk breathed a sigh of relief, “Oh good. I’ve been looking for someone familiar. You’re the first I’ve seen.” Roman nodded, “And you are?” The slightly shorter man blushed, “Oh sorry. I’m Aiden.” Roman had to pick his jaw off the floor. Aiden looked stunning, masculine beauty personified. His eyes were wide and Aiden averted his gaze while shuffling his feet. “Wow man you look amazing.” Aiden only blushed more, it showing on his deeply tanned cheeks. His half-Indian ancestry not able to hide such a rush of blood. Roman realized this and calmed himself, placing a hand on his classmate’s shoulder, rubbing it, “Really man. I mean it. You look great.” “Thank you,” he murmured. Aiden’s hazel eyes looked back up at Roman. The shy hunk began to warm up to Roman and become more confident, both talking about what they had experienced. The thought of how sexy each looked crossed their minds, but they controlled themselves for the time being. After talking for 30 minutes, Aiden asked, “So do you think the test is right?” Roman pursed his lips and shrugged, “I don’t know.” He stood up and gestured for the door. “But out there is a big, new world and maybe we will find the answer out there.” Roman extended his hand to Aiden and he took it. They walked hand in hand to the outside to explore it, starting with each other.
  22. 25 points
    Donuts & Karma by Ultrabeef Caleb walked quickly out of the coffee shop, his pale cheeks now beet red. His tousled reddish hair askew and his black frame glasses fogging up as they encountered the harsh frigid winter hair. Caleb pulled his black parka closer around his thin wiry frame and scurried across the desolate campus toward his apartment. He kept replaying the events of the last hour over and over in his mind as he braced himself against the biting wind. He was completely humiliated, and still in shock. Just an hour ago he had been in what he thought was a happy relationship. His boyfriend Bryce had been like a godsend to him. They had met their freshman year when they were assigned as roommates. Bryce was of Asian desent and an Engineering major, while Caleb, the pale redhead, was a Math major. When they discovered they both were gay and attracted to each other, the rest was history, as they say. But lately Bryce had become interested in fitness and working out and with his Asian genetics had actually packed quite a bit of muscle onto his once slender frame. As his muscle tone grew, so did a new cocky, arrogant, and hurtful attitude toward Caleb. "You are so puny! Why don't you hit the gym?" Was a frequent question Bryce asked of his boyfriend prompting Caleb to start joining him in the campus gym. But it was no good. Caleb didn't have an athletic bone in his body. No matter how much Caleb tried to workout out or how many weight gainer shakes he choked down, he stayed pretty much the same. Today, when Bryce asked to meet him at the campus coffee shop, Caleb had no idea what was in store. Bryce was already there when Caleb arrived, his thick muscular arms straining the sleeves of his black t-shirt, Caleb noticed the veins snaking acros Bryce's biceps and the line between his smooth pecs showing from his v-neck shirt. He was looking especially irritated but hot as well, his lips pouting out as he checked his iWatch causing his meaty pecs to bounce. Bryce looked up and snickered "About time scrawny! I was beginning to think the wind blew you away!" Caleb sheepishly took a seat at the table with Bryce, muttering "Sorry..." under his breath. In short order Bryce revealed that he simply wasn't attracted to Caleb anymore. He liked big muscular guys and in fact he had been secretly dating one for the past month. As he spoke a huge muscular black guy walked over and kissed Bryce. "You ok sweetie?" the hulking adonis cooed at Bryce. "Yeah, just saying goodbye to my ex DeShawn" Bryce motioned to Caleb whose mouth was hanging open. The guy was huge, easily a pro level bodybuilder. His tight red stringer tank and gray shorts struggled to contain his massive ebony muscles. Caleb could see the attraction for Bryce. DeShawn was a thick, jacked college aged bodybuilder and based on the obscene bulge in his shorts, Caleb knew he had him beat in every department. DeShawn looked at Caleb uneasily and then turned to Bryce. "This is your ex?" Bryce nodded grabbing DeShawn's thick beefy arm and running his finger down the bulging vein snaking across his bicep. "Sorry dude. I didn't know..." DeShawn trailed off and looked at Caleb with embarrassment as Bryce wrapped his arm around the big guy and laughed "Don't worry about him sexy! He'a WAY too small for me! Come on stud". Then the two muscular guys left the coffee shop arm in arm. Caleb was stunned. He had no idea his boyfriend had been cheating on him. What had just happened? As Caleb staggered toward the door of the coffee shop in a daze, tears starting to well up in his eyes he bumped into a small, strangely dressed woman; knocking her coffee cup out of her hand. "Oh, I'm sorry...so sorry..." Caleb mumbled breathlessly trying to hold back his tears. As he struggled on the floor mopping up the womab's coffee with a pile of napkins he had grabbed from a nearby table. the woman placed her cold clammy hand on Caleb's forehead and spoke in a thick foreign accent "I am sorry boy. Sorry you aren't big enough to be with the one you love." Caleb stammered in embarassment, his cheeks burning bright red. "I...I'm not sure...what you overheard...but..." Silence!" the woman growled with authority and shoved a small, greasy, brown bag into Caleb's hand. "This will give you what you want." Caleb opened the bag and saw what looked like a few greasy donut holes in the bag. "What the heck...?" Caleb started to say but the woman was gone. Stranger still, the coffee that had spilled on the floor was gone too. A chill ran down Caleb's spine. He grabbed the bag of donut holes and headed out into the frigid tundra toward home. Once home Caleb sat down to watch a movie on Netflix to try to get his mind off of Bryce but it wasn't really working. Caleb was really upset and mindlessly reached for the crazy old lady's bag of donut holes next to him on the beat up sofa. He popped two into his mouth, wiping the greasy reside onto his once clean white Oxford shirt. They were sweet and tasted good. As Caleb continued to browse Netflix he could feel his somach rumbling and he started to feel nauseous. Caleb looked over at the greasy donut bag and realized that there must have been something in the donuts. How stupid could he be to eat food from some crazy, mysterious stranger. Caleb was feeling warm and realized that although the room was warm, he was starting to sweat. It felt like his body was getting fuller, heavier. As he looked down he could see his legs straining against the fabric of his skinny jeans, his legs seemingly twice as thick as they had been just minutes before. "Wh...what the heck?" Caleb reached down and touched his thickening quads feeling the thick hard muscle struggling against the denim of his jeans. Caleb's attention was now occupied by his hands that were expanding and starting to look like big powerful paws. They looked ridiculous attached to his spindly arms; but suddenly his arms thickened straining the sleeves of his button down shirt as his pecs started to swell and bulge forcing a button to pop open. Suddenly the growth had stopped. Caleb moaned in pleasure as his body beefed up with new muscle. He could fill his once adequate dick bulging against his jeans and start to snake down his leg. With some difficulty Caleb lumbered toward the bathroom, looked in the mirror, and gasped. He looked so different. Gone was the skinny twink, staring back at him was a beefy college jock with clothes that looked ready to burst. Caleb struggled to remove his clothes and examined the results of the donuts. He was totally jacked with striated dense muscles straining against his pale ivory skin. He had the body a physique model would kill for. The weight of his plump pecs forced his large nipples toward the ground. His bulging arms radiated strength and power with purple veins crisscrossing them. His waist was still small and tight with a six pack showing through. As he turned sideways he could see his ass had grown into a cute bubble butt that flare down into his thick quads. Caleb cupped his bigger ass and bit his lip trying to hold back the waves of pleasure at feeling his hard, big butt. He marveled at his beefy pecs and tight six pack and almost lost it when his thick hand grazed his large sensitive nipple. Caleb flexed in the mirror and felt his big, hard biceps causing his dick to swell and stand at attention. His dick was much bigger with his auburn public hair denser and firming a treasure trail up to his navel. Caleb could see that the hair in his armpits was bushier as well. It was more than he could take. Caleb started stroking his big dick and finally letting out a groan of pure ecstasy, came all over the bathroom mirror. Caleb's first thought after cleaning up was Bryce. Although Caleb was no where close to the size of Bryce's huge new crush, DeShawn, but maybe this new muscle would be enough to salvage the only relationship he had ever had. Caleb struggled to find clothes to fit his new thicker frame, squeezing into some baggy jeans he had leftover from his high school skater phase. They just barely fit, looking like skinny jeans clinging to his meaty thighs and bubble butt. As Caleb searched through his shirts, he marveled at how his thighs now rubbed against each other, a totally new sensation for him. He squeezed into a once baggy t-shirt that now hugged his wider shoulders and chest. His thick arms filled out the sleeves nicely. He looked like an actual college jock, although one wearing dated, too tight clothes. As he crossed the campus quad Caleb could feel the stares of girls (and guys). Usually he walked around campus practically invisible, unnoticed, but not today. His parka didn't fit over his new bigger body but Caleb didn't even feel the cold. He felt so much bigger yet inside he felt just as small and weak as ever. The way Bryce had dumped him had really shattered his confidence. Caleb walked up the steps to Bryce's apartment and saw what must have been DeShawn's white pick-up truck parked out front. Caleb knocked on the door with some hesitation. Moments later the door swung open and there stood Bryce, shirtless, his perfect pecs and abs on full display. "Well, look what the cat dragged in!" Bryce snickered. "Who is it babe?" DeShawn called out from inside the apartment. "It's no one", Bryce called back. "Wait. Bryce. Can't we work this out. I loved you for all those years! You mean everything to me! And I even got bigger for you. See." Caleb flexed his arms in a double bicep pose to show off his improved physique to his ex. But Bryce was unimpressed. "Nice. But too little, too late, I'm afraid." Just then DeShawn came up behind Bryce. He was shirtless as well and completely filled the doorway with his black sexy pecs and boulder shoulders. He was so much bigger than Bryce. "I thought you said it was no one?" DeShawn looked at Caleb sheepishly. "Well, it is!" Bryce laughed maniacally as he ushered DeShawn back inside. Caleb, tears in his eyes turned and ran off the porch. DeShawn looked out the window at Caleb running away, his powerful legs and butt propelling him forward. "He looks different. Is he bigger?" DeShawn asked with interest. "Who cares big boy?" Bryce sneered. "Well, he looks good!" DeShawn rubbed the scruff on his chin causing his huge bicep to swell. Bryce just grinned taking DeShawn's face in his hand and kissing him passionately on the lips, "not as good looking as you stud!" Caleb ran across campus, tears streaming down his face. He was humiliated, hurt, and angry. He had loved Bryce but now that love was gone and Caleb had no idea what to do. Before he knew it, he was back home. He was barely out of breath. The old Caleb would have been winded walking to the corner let alone running all the way across campus. Caleb seethed with anger and his ex and his own foolishness at trying to make things work between them. As Caleb entered his apartment he saw the greasy bag of donuts still on the kitchen counter where he had left them. "Bryce wants big, I'll show him big!" Caleb grabbed the remaining donut holes and shoved them in his mouth. Washing them down with some cold milk right from the carton. Only after he swallowed and milk ran down his face did his head clear enough for his anger to subside and the realization of what he had just done set in. Fear crept into Caleb's brain. "Oh shit! What did I just do?" Caleb moaned as he clutched his stomach in pain. He winced and groaned in agony as his muscles began to spasm and swell. Sweat drenched his clothes and dripped from his forehead as he struggled to not pass out. "Urrgghh! Fuuucck!" Caleb grunted out as the forceful spasms dropped him to his knees. Caleb struggled to crawl across the floor to the bathroom as his body was racked with pain. He knew his only hope of stopping the pain was to try to throw up the pills. As he crawled he could feel his body swelling up with bigger, thicker, stronger muscles. He heard his jeans rip open and shred as his bourgeoning ass and quads exposed themselves to the cool air. His back swelled ripping his shirt straight up the back as he crawled toward the bathroom door. His swelling arms and shoulders shredded his shirt completely as he reached the door. Caleb grabbed the counter with his now huge meaty paw and pulled himself up the pain subsiding. He was too late. Caleb glanced toward the mirror to see what the effect of those donut holes had been. He was so much bigger and heavier now. As he looked at his reflection and gasped, "oh fuck!" His now deep rumbling bass exclaimed. His back was impossibly wide, filling the entire mirror. His bulging traps surrounded his wide, thick neck. He barely looked human anymore as mound of bulging muscle led to mound of bulging muscle. His huge arms flared out to the sides, held upright by his swollen lats that flared out like thick beefy wings. His waist was no longer small but appeared so by the mass of his shoulders and lats. His abs formed a thick 8 pack and distended into a big muscle gut. As he turned Caleb saw that his ass had grown as well into a huge thick manly muscle ass. His legs were so huge that they forced each other apart. Even Caleb's face was different. More masculine with a wide, strong jaw and high cheekbones setting off his full lips. With his glasses and reddish hair covering one eye, he looked like a nerd who went crazy overdosing with steroids. Reddish hair lightly covered his chest and abs and the bush sprouting from his armpits and crotch was dense and thick. Sexy reddish scruff dusted his jaw line. Something else had changed within Caleb along with his voice and appearance; he was no longer afraid or timid. He was an uber stud of a man. Just the thought of this made his huge fat cock leak precum. Gone was the cute, twinky math major. Caleb was easily the biggest man he had ever seen. As he flexed his freaky vein-draped arms and bounced his big juicy pecs Caleb roared and spewed gallons of cum all over the bathroom and himself. As he ran his finger across his chest and tasted his own cum, Caleb smirked in the mirror. It was time for his revenge. Caleb knew that nothing he owned would fit his huge new body. He found a ridiculously huge pair of white gym shorts his senile grandma had given him last Christmas and squeezed into them. They looked painted on and could barely contain his huge veiny quads. The white shorts clung to each huge meaty cheek of his magnificent ass and did little to hide his massive cock. Caleb could care less, the newly minted ginger muscle hunk smirked a cocky grin as he headed across campus to the coffee shop. The winter air was nothing to his powerful body. People on campus just pointed and stared in awe at the scantily clad freakish muscle beast walking across campus. Caleb knew Bryce's routine and that he would be at the coffee shop. Sure enough as he approached, Bryce and DeShawn were just coming out. They both looked so small compared to Caleb. Even DeShawn the bodybuilder who had seemed so huge to Caleb earlier, looked puny now. Caleb confidently strode up behind them. "You runts better hit the gym instead of the coffee shop". Bryce spun around to see who dared talk to him that way and came face to face with Caleb's massive pec. Purple stretch marks snaking across it's veiny striated surface. "Umm...I..." Bryce stammered. "Am I big enough for you now "sweetie"?" Caleb rumbled in his new bass, his voice laced with sarcasm and hurt. "C...C...Caleb?!" Bryce stammered, his eyes wide with fear. "But...how?!" DeShawn's eyes grew wide too "Oh fuck! Oh my god. So fucking big..." DeShawn moaned, his cock swelling up in his sweats as he took in Caleb's new freakish size. "Oh my god! Caleb...it...but how?!" Bryce moaned getting hard himself at the pure beefy mass of his former twink boyfriend. "I know you like your guys buff, "sweetie" Caleb sarcastically purred. Bryce mumbled, blushing in front of the mountainous Caleb. "You're so big!! So hot!! You did this all for me?" Caleb smirked an evil grin. "In a sense. Yes." Bryce was at a loss for words. His hand reached out to touch Caleb's swollen pec when Caleb forcefully batted it away with his meaty paw, almost knocking Bryce over in the process. "You know, I think you're way to puny for me bro" Caleb smirked using Bryce's own words against him. Shock and panic crossed across Bryce's face. Caleb strode over to DeShawn and playfully grabbed DeShawn's engorged, leaking cock in his shorts. "You in the market for new boyfriend cutie?" DeShawn just gulped and nodded yes, total lust in his eyes. "Let's go DeShawn" Caleb playfully smacked DeShawn's bubble butt as DeShawn wrapped both hands around Caleb's tree trunk arm, shooting his load and moaning loudly "oh fuck!" as he came in contact with Caleb's huge, thick, powerful muscle. As the mammoth Caleb strode away with his new black bodybuilder boyfriend, DeShawn looked back at Bryce's confused and devastated face. "But, what about him?" DeShawn sheepishly asked. "Well, karma's a bitch" Caleb laughed as he pulled DeShawn's face into his bulbous pec, kissing him deeply on the lips. DeShawn, in a total state of bliss, laughed. "Yep, it sure is!" The two studs sauntered away toward Caleb's apartment.
  23. 24 points
    Here is my offering for the Storiversary event. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to expand it as much as I would have liked. Also it's in a genre that I've never tried before, and is perhaps a bit darker than I've written in the past, but I hope you enjoy it all the same. Hunger Abe took the cigarette between his fingers and put it to his lips. He inhaled deep, savored it, and then let out the smoke into the cabin of his truck in one long, slow breath. Then he sighed. He was so hungry. As he drove along the interstate toward Texas, all he could see was miles and miles of flat empty scrubland and desert, along with the occasional tumbleweed rolling around to remind him just how empty this flat land was. It reminded him a little of his home of long ago, at least what he remembered in the furthest memories he could dredge up from the recesses of his mind. That was a long time ago, and a time best left long forgotten. One thing he couldn’t forget about, or escape, was the hot glare of the sun. Its hot light glared into the cabin of the truck and Abe pulled his dirty, battered Make America Great Again cap down a little further until the brightness didn’t shine so fiercely against the glass of his faded old shades. Everything felt old to Abe. Old, tired, and worn out. No, he couldn’t forget about the sun. And another one of those things you could never forget about was the road. The road and the sun. The sun and the road. And exhaustion. And it was flat country. So very flat. Worst of all, nothing distracted him. Not the sun. Not the road. Not his own sense of being tired. Nothing ever distracted from his hunger. He could feel that hunger gnawing inside him, like it might claw its way out, scratching through his very skin for release. He shuddered and took another puff, ashes falling off the tip and onto the lap of his faded Levi’s jeans. His hand reached down absent mindedly to an empty packet of potato chips, but all his fingers found was air. With a distracted sigh, he pushed the packet off the seat and onto the passenger side floor, where it added itself to a pile of other empty fast food wrappings and containers. He sighed again and took a last drag off the cigarette. It was down to the very end of the butt, and he lowered his window and flicked it out the window. Not really because it bothered him, or that he had nowhere to put it in the cab, but because the action gave him something to do. At least the cigarettes helped him feel less hungry. For a little bit of time. He lit another cigarette up and noticed the passing sign that let him know it was only a little over another thirty miles to the next truck stop. * * * Thirty minutes later, give or take, he pulled into a service station near the interstate highway that catered to truckers. He spent a few moments getting the big rig ready for refueling, and after it was sorted, headed over to a little diner to see about some grub. At least the place was clean and relatively decent. A few folks travelling and some other truckers were in the place, grabbing a bite to eat. Abe nodded at a couple of the other truckers he saw, especially a couple of the guys he’d seen around before. On his way to the toilet, he paused in front of a mirror and almost didn’t recognize himself. Who was this man looking back at him, like the very specter of death? Hair grey and straggly, hanging limp under his hat, without any body. A faded t-shirt, that might once have been white, covered his spindly ribs, partially hidden by an old button down shirt of a non-descript and very faded variety of plaid. The garments hung limply on his body, like his hair. Abe thought a person could be forgiven for thinking that he looked sort of like a corpse might a few days after dying. He was that sallow and pale. Well, fuck it he thought. What did they know? These people had no idea. And, he chuckled to himself, when was the last time any of those skinny fucks did a three-day cross country stretch in a rig? Still it wasn’t right, thought Abe. How had his life come to this? Once he’d been young. His heart had felt young. Now, inexplicably, he found himself hauling shit for fat cats. Not even caring what it was. He’d gone from living. And, oh had he lived. To subsisting. He was surviving…barely. And that was it. Maybe it was no longer worth it. Maybe it was time to give it all up. He slumped into his seat in the booth of the restaurant, skinny legs splayed across it. A pretty waitress hurried by him. “Got any coffee?” he asked after her. “No problem, sugar,” she said, turning. Abe could tell she was trying to be cheerful, but she was just like everyone else, tired and hungry, and busy. “Do you want milk or sugar?” she called out. He shook his head no, and she didn’t really wait for an answer anyway. Taking his silence for her answer. She moved to the counter. Grabbing plates, pouring his coffee. His eyes looked her over. Abe guessed she was in her early or late twenties. Definitely older than high school. If he had been feeling more like himself, he’d have wanted to fuck her. Men wanted to fuck, right? Wanted to feel his thick meat widening her hole. But all he could think now was that he could use the coffee. And she would be used up. Old before her time working here. Things weren’t looking up for anyone, were they? Or maybe they were. He turned to look out the window and saw a vehicle pull up. Dust was flying. But through the haze he saw an old Chevy truck. A couple of good old boys got out. Hooting and hollering and generally proud of the fact that they were young, strong, and fully dominant and in control of their world. However small that world might be. Young alphas. His favorite kind. Abe's interest had peaked up immediately and he felt rather than saw the pretty waitress set the cup of coffee down in front of him. “Anything else?” she asked him. He turned to look up into her eyes. Holly was her name, he saw, from her name tag. And Holly had surely seen a lot. He could read that his face didn’t shock her. No, she was not shocked. Nor was she even surprised by serving yet another cup of coffee to yet another ugly, old trucker. Even one as ugly and old as Abe clearly was, faded and as sickly looking as a terminal cancer patient. In her eyes though he could read the subtle reflection of her gaze, and he knew she felt nothing for him as she returned his gaze, nothing but pity or revulsion, or maybe a mixture of both. That’s when he thought about fucking her again. Must be the presence of the young stallions that had got his old juices flowing. Any moment between Abe and Holly was not to be though. Outside one of the young bulls let out a holler and the woman’s eyes were drawn upwards to the source of the noise. Abe could see everything about her change as her eyes drunk in the sight of those men with a pang of hunger he knew all too well himself. Her face flushed slightly, her breasts swelled a little in her old uniform, and she put her hand to her throat without thinking. “Nope,” he said. “That’ll do, thanks.” It had all been so sudden. “What?” she replied, looking down at him again. “I said, I’m okay.” Holly glanced outside one last time and then she managed to smile at Abe. The smile was at Abe, but it wasn’t for Abe. He knew it. He wasn’t fooled. “Well you just give me a shout if you need anything.” “Oh, I will.” She wandered away, a new swing in her step. Abe just chuckled. Oh, to make the girls swoon like that. It was one of the few things that was worth this timeless existence of his. There had never been anything else like the thought of a pretty lady who you knew was getting wet just for you. Abe noticed that the young men had wandered off. He almost went after them right then and there, but he was tired and needed to conserve what strength he had. And if time had taught him anything, it was the value of patience. Patience and time. But also the lessons of tiredness and hunger. And no matter what Abe’s world just kept turning. * * * Abe finished up his coffee rather idly, noticing that the young men’s truck remained where it was, wherever they’d gotten to. About fifteen minutes later he pulled a large bill out of his wallet to cover the cost of the coffee and to leave a very valuable tip for the waitress. He was curious where the two men had gotten to. And he needed stuff anyway. Across the lot was a convenience store, and he walked over. It was breezy and blowing up dust, and Abe wondered if there was so little left of him that he might just blow away too. He pushed the door open and heard the chime of a bell. There was mocking male laughter from the aisles, and a skinny kid behind the counter tending to the cash register. He looked like he might have still been in high school. Or maybe just out of it. Hell, he could’ve been anywhere from fifteen to twenty-five for all Abe knew. All these kids looked the same to him. Little more than children. The kid’s eyes acknowledged Abe as he walked up to the counter. “Gimme a pack of the Marlboroughs and a fifth of Jack.” The kid turned to grab the bottle off the shelf behind him when Abe felt a hand on his shoulder. “We were here first, old man.” The cashier set the bottle down on the counter. Abe didn’t need to turn around, but he shuddered. “Yeah?” breathed in Abe. The scent of testosterone was strong. “Yeah,” replied one of the guys from the Chevy. “Isn’t that right, Nick?” Abe finally turned around, or was turned around. He wasn’t really sure. The other man came up and took the bottle of Jack, flipping it and catching it. “Yep,” said the man who was presumably named Nick. Abe was not disappointed in either man, upon closer inspection. Nick must have been six foot five in his bare feet. And he had the width of a fucking college linebacker. The other dude was almost as big, and the hand upon Abe’s person was thick and solid. Connected to a muscular forearm, and a very impressive bicep and triceps, which were flexing involuntarily. Abe could feel his strength all the way through those fingers to the beat of his solid heart. Both of the men wore what would have been called a stringer top. A muscle shirt. It left little to the imagination, and was arguably worn more for the sake of saying their upper bodies were covered. “I don’t want trouble, guys.” Abe stuttered, feeling the man’s grip on him. “Just grabbing some smokes.” “Well you better wait in line, old man,” Nick told him. “We got things to do.” He gave the other dude a knowing wink. Abe put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “No problem. I’ll just go use the john.” Abe started to back away, and the two behemoths turned to the cashier. The one called Nick reached across the counter and pulled the skinny kid halfway across it. They were making fun of the young kid behind the counter, but Abe wasn’t paying attention to what they had to say. He was savoring the power radiating from them. With his earlier observations, he knew the toilets were near the end of the row, and he headed for the door. But not before getting some of his own back. “Fucking pussies!” he yelled to them. He took a deep breath, but his hand on the door, and went inside the bathroom. He knew he’d been loud enough to be heard. “What did he say?” Nick’s friend asked him. Nick only saw red. “Old fucker,” he snarled. “Time to teach that old bastard a lesson in manners!” It only took a moment. Abe was inside the bathroom, skipping past a stall and heading for the urinal. The overhead light was partly out, and the one bulb there was left was flickering, leaving the room dark and foreboding. Abe just had time to unzip his fly in front of the urinal when the door slammed open and the bright light from outside flooded into the room, momentarily blinding Abe. But the light was quickly eclipsed by Nick’s big frame filling the doorway, and plunging the room back into darkness. It was his chance. “You faggots or what?” asked Abe. “Come to watch an old man take a piss?” That was the proverbial straw and camel. “God damn truckers!” roared Nick, as he swiftly walked up to Abe, picked him up by the throat and landing a sharp right with all his power into Abe’s stomach. He dropped him to the ground as Abe crumpled and lay still. “I HATE TRUCKERS!” Nick was raging, but his big buddy, right behind him, pulled him back. “Dude!” said the big dude. “Stop! Did you kill him?” “Who the fuck cares? He’s not the first trucker we’ve handled.” “No, but….” They looked down as they heard a groan. Abe was moving. Nick broke free and kicked him in the stomach again. But this time, although Abe moaned in pain, he got up. Like a fighter who’s been knocked down, but who isn’t ready to give up the fight. “I’d stop doing that if I were you.” Abe picked himself up. The two bros couldn’t quite believe that any man, especially one as skinny as Abe was just dusting himself off like he’d tripped and fallen over. “What the fuck?” asked the big dude. Nick wasn’t having it though. He balled up his fist and let swing at Abe’s head. Abe grabbed his fist. Faster than Nick could have thought possible. “I want to thank you gentlemen for this. I really do.” Abe chuckled, holding Nick’s fist firmly in his fingers. “Gotta admit I was feeling down this morning.” Abe squeezed and Nick screamed. “But you boys have restored my faith in humanity!” The lightbulb flickered again. Almost going out. If Nick hadn’t been in so much pain, he might have started to fear from the look in Abe’s eyes. Those very particular looking eyes. His friend, however, was only concerned about saving Nick. He reached out to pry away Abe’s fist, and was surprised to feel himself caught within Abe’s cold, unyielding fingers. Even more surprise to feel his feet leave the floor. And as the lightbulb sputtered and died, as the feeling of being emptied began to overwhelm him, he looked into Abe’s eyes. The last thing he would ever see was that face that was looking back at him. It was the face that didn’t look at all like an old trucker…. * * * Matt was actually a lot older than he looked. It had now been several years since he was a senior in high school. He’d been born the runt of a litter that included his brother Nick. The very same Nick who’d just gone into the bathroom after that old trucker. Unlike Matt, Nick was the son who could do no wrong. Football hero; golden boy. Everything their father wished he could have been himself at that age. Matt knew Nick had a temper. It had very much become a part of his existence these many years. Even though Nick was his kid brother. And Nick enjoyed coming down here with his football buddies to give Matt a tough time and get free beer from the store. Well, free in the sense that Matt ended paying for it out of his own wages. He used to have dreams that Nick would die in a fiery car crash, or at least get maimed. He held out hope that his younger brother might start to let himself go, especially once his football glory days were behind him. As all the former school football stars seemed to do around these parts. But his brother seemed determined to not only keep his high school level of fitness, but to improve upon it. He’d started juicing a couple years ago when he’d started high school and been steadily putting on mass ever since until he was the biggest man in three counties. And he was huge! It was very disheartening, because Matt didn’t have any inclination towards the gym. And he knew that Nick would always be the bigger of the two. The old man had been asking for it, but Matt wanted to warn him nonetheless to run. He’d seen his brother take down big men with ease. The old dude didn’t stand a chance. When the screaming began he knew he should call the police, but he was really afraid of what Nick might do to him if the cops were called. Especially if Nick didn’t leave much left. Matt had just put his hand to the phone receiver, but withdrew it again quickly as the bathroom door opened. His jaw dropped as he watched a shirtless man walk out of the toilets. The man looked to be about twenty, flush and golden, and he was tall and thick as fuck. As he walked he was struggling to pull on a pair of jeans that looked like they were painted on his quads. His ass, like a shelf, was preventing them from being buttoned up. Giving up, the dude just zipped them up as far as he could and pulled tightly on a belt buckle to keep them from falling off. He just left the top button undone. A dusting of hair swept over pecs stretched wide and thick, bunching up and standing out further than Jenny Murray’s tits. And those were some big tits, thought Matt. Underneath was a brick like wall of abdominal muscles, which, along with his intercostals, danced while he pulled a muscle shirt on over his head. With a start, Matt realized it was his brother Nick’s shirt. On Nick it had fit well, emphasizing every roided muscle, and giving an opportunity to ogle the thick pecs underneath. But on this dude it was stretched across tightly and making Nick’s pecs look like those of a pre-teen child. He walked, no Matt corrected himself, the dude swaggered over to the counter. “I’ll take that pack of cigarettes now. And don’t forget the Jack.” His voice was deep like the ocean and his eyes were as dark. Matt was straight, or at least he thought so, but he could feel himself boning as he watched this man. The dude took the proffered packet of cigarettes and took out a smoke, lighting it with one of the lighters available for sale in a bowl next to the counter. “You can’t smoke in here,” Matt tried to say, remembering too late the rules. The massive dude just looked at him. Matt thought, how the fuck am I even gonna stop him? He decided to shut his mouth instead, before he got himself into trouble. As the man exhaled out a satisfying puff of blue smoke in Matt’s face, he picked up the Jack, opened it and took a long pull. Matt gazed at this god, realizing he was looking up. Way up. This dude must be the same guy as that old man. That was the only logic he could summon. But what the fuck was going on? And where was his brother? “H-h-how?” was all Matt could manage to stammer. “Believe me kid, you don’t want to know.” “Yeah. Yes. I really do.” Matt had felt his terror turn to surprise, and then interest, and then greed. With a power like that. Fuck, he could be king of the town. Just then the man snatched him from behind the counter and hauled him over it and up into the air. “No, man. No, you really don’t.” Matt could feel it. Something tugging at him. Like he was being drained. “Okay, man! Okay! Okay! I’m sorry. Please put me down.” To his surprise the man put him down gently and he backed speedily away. The man hauled a wallet out of his pocket and pulled out a couple large bills, laying them on the counter. “Thanks for a good time,” he told Matt grinning. “Sorry about the mess.” He pulled a red baseball cap out of his back pocket and put it on over his wavy, chestnut locks. He was rocking it like some kind of model. A fucking huge model. Seriously, what the fuck had just happened? As he walked out the door, Matt turned and went to look in the bathroom. The light was flickering again as it always did and on the floor, in a messy pile, were a couple pairs of jeans, shoes, and some shirts lying there. There was no sign of Nick or his friend Jeff. Just a lot of dust. Then Matt smiled. * * * Holly wished she worked anywhere but here. But jobs for a former Prom Queen with no college education were hard to come by, you know? At least most of the dudes who came through here were okay. And they tended to tip her well enough to get by. Some, like that trucker this morning, even left big tips if she smiled and flashed some cleavage at them. That old man was probably just sick, or had just won a lottery scratch ticket or something, cause why would he be giving out hundred dollar tips like that? Still even as she thought about the money, a chill ran down her spine. That man had been seriously creepy. He looked at her like he could see right through her. If she hadn’t seen that cute Nick Sargent out the window, she might have felt like she’d been captured forever in that trucker’s eyes. Damn, Nick. Why did she have to think of him? He was suck a prick. But such a hot prick. And a hot dick. Yeah, she’d let him fuck her. Which girl hadn’t? Even though he was still underage. And, yes, he’d ruined her for other men. Holly could only wish the fucker got what was coming to him. Even if she would have fucked him again in a heartbeat. “Hey, didn’t I see you here this morning?” Holly was just picking up the trucker’s empty coffee cup and putting it on her tray, while giving the table a wipe down. But that voice was electric and commanding. She turned to look, and almost dropped the tray, all thoughts of Nick vanishing. Shit! Dudes like this didn’t come to this restaurant in West Nowhere, Loserville, USA. But here he was. This was a man. No, a MAN. Standing there, looking like an avenging angel, and she felt herself get so red she thought she might ignite. Because this man was all man. One look at the bulge confirmed that. Holly knew without seeing more, that if that bulge was real, he’d make Nick feel small forever afterwards. “I said, didn’t I see you here?” Still no response. “You all right, girl?” Holly nodded yes, then no, then yes again. “Sorry,” she finally said, flustered. “I mean, yes I’m fine. And no, I’m pretty sure we’ve never met before.” “That’s a shame.” He was oozing sex appeal and kinda leaning against the counter in a way that emphasized everything he had on offer. “You know I was just passing through and wanted a bite to eat.” “Uh…sure…let me grab a menu.” She turned around and felt him coming up behind her. Felt his hand on her ass. Her first instinct was to slap his face, but then he whispered in her ear, the scent of him overwhelming her, “Are you one the menu?” And she just melted. She was his. * * * Abe felt himself cumming again. Fuck those two bros had been filled with spunk. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d blown his wad this much, or this often. And Holly was tight, or she had been before she’d take a cock as big as Abe’s was now, as Nick’s and Jeff’s put together. Holly screamed and screamed, her pussy contracting out orgasm after orgasm, until finally a few moments ago she’d passed out, overcome with the power pumping into her. As he rolled off her, Abe felt his cock still hard, cum dripping off the end and onto his abs. He took a deep breath. There had been so much power in those two boys, and for this day and night he’d felt the hunger was at bay. He reached over and lit up another cigarette, lazily patting Holly’s ass next to him. He liked his women with a little meat, and Holly didn’t displease him at all. His cell phone chirped at him and he picked it up and looked at the screen. A, it’s B. Where u at? Near Texas, he slowly typed his reply with one finger. How long until you can get to the Spot? Abe raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t very often these days that Buddy had anything urgent. Of course now there were cell phones everything seemed urgent. Five hours or so? Good, we’ll be waiting. We? It really was something special then. Abe turned back to Holly. She looked so long and good, and he’d have liked to fuck her again. But there were other waitresses out there. And Holly wasn’t that special. If Buddy had something worth contacting him over, then it was important. He got up off the bed and went to take a shower. * * * Five or six hours later he was in his cab again, wearing the same clothes that he’d been wearing since he stole them from the wonder bros he’d dusted. Already he could feel that they were starting to feel looser. And he knew his super dick wouldn’t have filled Holly tonight as much as it did last night. Such was the curse. This was the perpetual torment and the hunger. Never feeling full. Never feeling satisfied. Never big enough. Never able to keep it. Buddy and he had picked out a rendezvous spot a long way back when they’d started trucking in this country years ago. In those days they’d used the newspaper or phone to signal each other, but with cell phones they could travel further and still remain easily in touch. Crisscrossing the continent as they did, it was important to have a home base. It was way off the interstate, but his rig could handle the back roads. And as he pulled up he could see two other rigs already there. Buddy’s and Clyde’s. To anyone who happened to wander upon them, it just looked like three truckers out on the road, meeting up in an empty lot far away from civilization in an old town that had long ago lost the last of its inhabitants. Of course, no one knew that the three of them had bought up all the land for miles around years ago. Every old derelict building was empty. Except for the odd drifter. And one could deal with those easily enough. Except they weren’t alone this time. Abe could feel someone, something else besides Buddy and Clyde. Something he’d never encountered before. Next door was an old warehouse and Abe went inside. Far in the center, Buddy and Clyde were standing around drinking a six pack of Budweiser and laughing. “Fuck!” hollered Buddy, catching sight of him. “Took you long enough, man!” Abe caught the beer Clyde tossed to him and walked up to give each man a handshake. “Looks like you’ve fed recently,” Clyde observed wistfully. He was looking not far off the state Abe himself had been in a few hours ago. Buddy wasn’t though. He looked flush with muscle. Too flush, Abe thought. Bigger than Abe in fact. And that was unusual. What the hell was going on? “So what’s the rush? Don’t tell me you wanted to look at his ugly mug.” Abe indicated Clyde with his eyes. But Buddy just laughed. “Naw, man,” he moved closer, his tone hushed and conspiratorial. “I got some good shit.” Then he paused for second and added, hitting Abe on the shoulder hard enough to hurt, “Although it looks like you’ve had some good shit. When I met you in Sacramento a few weeks back you were looking like Clyde here.” “Yeah,” Abe told them. “I had two Grade A, farm fresh American boys. Finger licking good. But I have to admit I wasted some of it on a waitress.” Clyde snickered. “You always had a soft spot for the ladies.” “I wouldn’t call it a soft spot!” Buddy interjected, and they all laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. But Abe didn’t find it funny at all. And he didn’t trust Buddy or Clyde. They had known each other for an eternity, and when you are like the three of them, such people become your friends simply because the lot of you have outlasted everyone else and you cling to each other to avoid falling into the abyss. Abe knew the relationship between the three of them was like that. There was no genuine affection. Only survival. They simply had grown to need one another so much there was nothing else. “Imagine still caring about pussy after all this time,” Clyde said, just shaking his head. “You just need to feed, man” Abe knew this was the truth, despite Clyde’s protestations. “As soon as you get that young juice flowing in your balls again, all you’ll be able to do is think of getting off.” Clyde nodded. They all knew it was true. It was the only time any of the three felt alive. “That’s about to change, men.” “Why?” asked Clyde. “Yeah,” added Abe. “What is so special about this mark? What have you found?” “Wanna see?” Buddy was like a kid, dying to share his secret. He was almost jumping and rubbing his hands together he was so excited. “Sure!” “Yeah, man!” “C’mon!” Abe and Clyde followed Buddy out of the warehouse and round to the back of his big semi. The trailer was looking the worse for wear and Abe noticed some dents. That wasn’t like Buddy, he thought. He took care of his things. Buddy opened the back of the door and the other two peered into the dim light. A shirtless man sat there with a rope tied around his arms and torso. “Is that it?” groaned Clyde, clearly disappointed. Abe had to agree. This dude was rail thin, and looked almost as worse for wear as old Clyde did standing next to him. He’d hardly make a muscle, let alone manage to be their savior. Then Abe noticed something unusual with a shimmer that caught his eye. “Is that an Inanna rope?” wondered Abe, realizing immediately he’d said it out loud without intending to. “Yep!” “Where did you find it?” “Never mind. I’ve had it for a while. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.” “By Anu, Enki, and Enlil, who is that?” Abe was staring, open mouthed. You don’t really need to use an unbreakable rope for anyone other than a god. “The most amazing mark I’ve ever found. A drifter I ran into, and someone who will feed us until the end of time.” Abe looked at him. There was a light in Buddy’s eyes like he’d never seen before. Clyde looked confused. But Abe was at least curious. Buddy wouldn’t have called them here for nothing. This was no deception. Using his newfound strength, he pulled himself up into the trailer and walked over to the man. He put his big paw on the man’s forehead, and he pushed his head back to take a closer look into his green eyes. Abe could read a lot from a person’s eyes. “Don’t….” the man could barely speak “…make...me…angry….” Still Abe saw nothing. But there was a heat building. A sense of power. “…you…won’t…like…me…when…I’m…angry….” “Fuck!” Abe withdrew his hand like he’d been burned by something hot. “You captured a Hulk!” Buddy started to laugh. Clyde still looked confused. The power had started to build. Even Clyde could feel that. The man’s skin began to swell. He grunted, thickening inside the restraint of the rope. But as he started to grow, it quickly stopped. The man slumped forward, like he’d already been drained or prevented from growing. Then he fell on his face and passed out in silence. An Inanna rope could do many things. Apparently, it could halt his transformation. All three stood there for a moment, regarding their prisoner. “So,” enquired Abe, “you have clearly had a taste?” He turned to face Buddy. “Maybe a little.” Abe looked at Buddy again. I mean really close. There was something different about him. “How do you know it was wise? Surely whatever makes him like he is could be fatal to us?” “Well I’m all right. I’ve been feeding a small amount off him for days. I almost feel alive again.” Now that had both Abe’s and Clyde’s full attention. “His life force is incredible. Unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.” Abe noticed that Buddy’s American accent was slipping. An older pattern coming into his speech. “I want to try.” Abe could feel his hunger building, overcoming his initial shock and surprise. “Be my guest. There’s plenty!” Buddy always was a fool, thought Abe. Abe approached the man again. He pulled him up gently at first, with one hand steadying him, and with the other pushing his chin. “Wakey! Wakey!” He slapped the man across the face. The drifter’s eyes opened slowly. And then his pupils dilated as he realized it hadn’t all been a bad dream. “So what happens when you’re angry?” “Make me angry and find out!” the drifter snarled. Abe was still swole with slabs of muscle on his frame and the drifter was slight of build, almost a stick. He shook him, rattling him. “Undo these ropes and then I’ll really show you,” the drifter begged him. Abe’s hand had unknotted the rope before Buddy could even holler his alarm. The drifter’s eyes began to change, becoming very green, and Abe felt the explosion of power inside the man’s muscles. More than he’d ever felt in anything before. He was overwhelmed, giddy, and couldn’t even take it in at first. Before he knew it the drifter had grabbed him with a crushing power. Abe thought, for the first time, he might have made a mistake. Against him the drifter, already shirtless, swelled, his muscle rapidly inflating like a balloon. But it wasn’t a balloon, and it was anything but soft or pliable. The fibers were hard and thick and the power behind them hit Abe like a hit of narcotics. He couldn’t absorb it and the drifter was now snarling, and his skin began to change color. The arms, thickening, had become corded with muscle. Abe felt himself rising in the air as this creature grew taller, pulled up to a new height. His skin was fully green. The beast with Abe now in one of its massive hands, leapt up in the air, propelled by its mighty leg muscles, tearing open the roof of the trailer like it was tissue paper. Abe felt himself being carried through air, soaring like a bird, as they slammed down far from the rigs and far from the warehouse. “HULK SMASH!” It flung Abe across the field. He shook the dizziness out of his head, as he picked himself up and stared at the massive beast before him. Its eyes weren’t sane and an inner rage fueled its power and strength. It was also continuing to swell. “I had no idea…” Abe muttered. He regarded the beast as once had the gods of old. The creature must have now been over eight feet tall and well over a ton of heaving, dangerous, green muscle. Then Abe laughed. “Do you think I fear this?” He gestured at the Hulk with contempt, as the warrior instincts rose inside him. “You are nothing! I fought battles with angels and demons of the old world when your ancestors were still playing with stone and sticks, you stupid beast!” The creature growled, enraged, as whatever shred of its humanity left still understood the insult being hurled at it. Abe rushed forward. So did the creature. The Hulk, however, was not quite prepared for Abe either. He may have been caught off guard, but Abe had his own power. So recently used against those two young men only hours ago. Despite being the weaker, and by far the smaller of the two, Abe managed to grab and hold onto the beast. Opening himself fully to the gamma power that was fueled and augmented by the adrenaline flowing through the two of them. They rolled over and the creature soon realized that this little one was like the other one had been. There was danger to the Hulk and that is when the Hulk tried to run. Too little, too late though. Abe held onto the bigger beast and felt himself feeding off its near limitless power. At least there was so much. As it filled Abe’s body, he felt the already tight clothes he was wearing start to give. First the shoes as his feet grew, the soles coming undone and his toes tearing through rubber and leather to free themselves. The power ran up his already large calves and quads, hamstrings engorging, as the jeans on his legs shredded, filled with gamma muscle power. The beast was powering him like a battery as he held on. But the beast was growing too. Its power exploding out so fast that even Abe could not drain it quickly enough. As the gamma energy reached his cock, Abe felt it thicken and force the metal of his zipper apart. The jeans already were undone, but the belt around his waist snapped as the metal of the buckle was pulled apart, and then the awesome rush ran straight up the back of his spine to his head. Abe’s pecs exploded like a supernova, abs expanding, but also tightening, and becoming a dense impenetrable substance under his skin. As he lay on the ground, the beast in his arms, which grew from pythons to might cables, thicker than trees, his back expanded, lats pushing into the dirt and forcing it to move and give way. The beast was lifted in the air, and Abe’s neck and shoulders, ever thickening, ever widening, made his neck disappear into the wall of muscle beneath the entrapped Hulk. Still the beast roared, but so now did Abe. “FREE HULK! PUNY MAN!” But Abe was no longer puny. The feeling was incredible. It was like the beast had no end to its well of energy, a limitless supply and Abe didn’t know how long he could drink, but he intended to tap this keg as ride a bitch as hard as he could. The Hulk had torn through its own trousers and the two giant, naked beasts, one green and one white rolled around, caked in dirt, struggling for dominance. Abe felt the creature wrap its mighty wheels around him, power trying to crush him, but only allowing him to draw more, as he felt himself push under its balls, as its thick cock wedged inside the valley of Abe’s abs. His cock now tore into the beast. He was massive and the beast surrendered fully to him. It really had no choice. Abe could feel its own power slow, although whether that was because it was being drained or because it simply was no longer angry, there was no way of knowing. Abe knew that he would not stop. Buddy and Clyde ran into the clearing finally, taking in the scene before them. Abe, or what had been Abe, was on the ground with a massive green man, now smaller even than the thing that had been Abe, still feeding Abe’s growth, bounced up and down on Abe’s cock. “Save some for us!” screamed Clyde, rushing forward. Whether Abe cared, or was unable to hear, was a mystery. He was fully in thrall, absorbing power. As Buddy and Clyde grabbed onto the creature, then felt its power fill them too. Buddy, already big, was the first to explode out of his clothes. He leaned his head back and moaned, his own body receiving the gamma power, or what was left of it. Clyde late to the party as usual and already starving licked at the scraps on the table as he too exploded, his shirt ripped apart as it tore up the back to make way for his expanding lats. In both cases their cocks and balls were no match for their trousers, and neither were their expanding asses as the two grew, shedding their clothes as Abe and the Hulk had. The battery started to fail even as Abe finally felt himself back coming around to full cognizance. It was probably because there was so little power left in the beast to divide between the three and the monster was now shrinking, although it too was in a sense of ecstasy. He realized very quickly that they were in a dangerous situation. The lifeforce in the beast was fading fast. Soon it would be dust on the wind. The green faded from its skin and the beast shrank smaller and smaller until its muscles, that is to say the drifter’s muscles, were no bigger than those of a junior bodybuilder. Abe knew that he should have the presence of mind to act. He should hurl the drifter away from himself before he came, breaking the contact with the other two. But he couldn’t. Or he didn’t have the willpower. Or maybe he just wanted it all too much. He felt it slipping into him. Felt that core of power that had belonged to the drifter sliding down into his cock, as the drifter collapsed and broke apart, his body drying to dust and as Abe thrust smashed apart. Even as he enjoyed this moment. He felt Buddy and Clyde pulling at him. Trying to take what was his. He snarled. Every molecule of his being fought back against them. Abe grabbed onto Clyde, now much larger, and pulled him on his cock where the Hulk had been moments before. Buddy too he pulled tightly into his embrace. With so much power now greater than the others, he held them all tight. Feeling them fight against him. Buddy and Clyde dazed, and now angry, continued their inevitable climactic build up. They were all suddenly, unexpectedly in a fight to the death. Clyde was on Abe. He tried to pull Abe’s power into himself. Abe resisted the pull into Clyde. And Buddy connected to both, sucking in what he could, anything to absorb any of the excess energy. It was not enough and Clyde, already so much weaker, collapsed into Abe as with a howl borne of centuries he broke apart in the wind and ceased to exist. His energy swirled around both Abe and Buddy as both sought to claim it. Buddy now tried to pull away, taking what he could from the Hulk and Clyde, but he too couldn’t resist Abe’s new gravity. Nor could Abe let him go, for he had betrayed the two unintentionally. And it was every bit a betrayal. Buddy was now his enemy. He had to die. “What have you done?” whispered Buddy with his last breath as he could no longer resist Abe’s overwhelming force. Soon he too had ceased to exist and expanded into the swirling cloud of energy around Abe. The power was awesome. Abe stood up. He flexed his arms, a massive two tons of weight, and gamma power filled him. He triumphantly pulled all the remaining power into his own body. The dust, no longer held by anything, simply blew away in the breeze and Abe came. Massive shots of white, hot power flowing from his cock across the empty field. He stood for a minute, holding his flex. Muscles capable of total destruction and absolute strength. And then felt the weight of years upon him. He almost gave up then. Almost. What he hadn’t expected was the gift he had just received from the drifter. For the first time since it all began he was no longer dead, but very much alive and pulsing with power. Now he had a decision to make. Now he could at last become what he’d always been meant to be. What have I done? He thought, echoing Buddy’s sentiments. As his cock pulsed with power. He knew his answer and he roared his response to the universe. “Who the fuck cares?” The End
  24. 21 points
    (Authors note: Today is Holocaust Remembrance Day. Never forget! Never again! With the climate for LGBT folk looking less than positive (Trump/Pence) to down right alarming (Chechnya?!) I had hoped to write a related MG story. Unfortunately what I was concocting was very long and fairly dark. I felt that the story I am posting now is a bit more fun and definitely shorter, so much more in keeping with spirit of the anniversary. My thanks to all supporters out there, particularly RPJ, Muscledhorse, graniteknight, flamedelft and powerbeats. It is my pleasure and honor to participate in this forum. You all kick major ass!) The Scent of a Man By Bjort He schlepped off the gym floor heading for the locker room. Schlep was definitely the word. It had been a lack luster workout. He had been achy and uninspired right from the off. It also felt stuffy and warm in the gym, even though it was a beautiful early summer evening. The gym was newish and had high ceilings, large windows for natural light, and a top grade ventilation system. It was also kept quite clean, as corporate policy demanded, and generally smelled only vaguely of cleaning products. Tonight, however, he kept catching a faint whiff of some other scent on the air. It was nothing he could pinpoint or directly recognize. As he made his listless way toward the locker room door, however, it suddenly put him in mind of the first time he had ever entered into a gym. ********************************************************************************** It had been in junior high school. He had been taking swimming lessons one winter at the indoor pool in the basement of the old YMCA. He had felt distinctly self-conscious being the baggy trunks wearing whale amongst a school of Speedo clad proto-jock sharks. Nevertheless, he doggedly joined in with the group, including the inevitable running about before being corralled by the swim coach for lessons. The pool was located in the basement of the Y. There was a long central corridor that connected it to the locker rooms and rest of the basement facilities. It was ideal for the aforementioned pre-swim tearing around. At the far end of the corridor lay the weight room, known locally as the dungeon. It was small, cramped, shabby, ill lit, and painted with slightly peeling paint in a color he would later come to know as Soviet Hospital Green. It had a sort of “Here Be Dragons” kind of mystique among the young swimmers, enhanced by the fact that it was generally inaccessible to them. The door from their corridor was generally locked from their side—the gym entrance and locker rooms being located elsewhere. There was a small glass window in the “back door” to the dungeon however and often as they were racing in the corridors the boys would stop and try to get a peek into the dragon’s den. One day when the group reached the end of the corridor, they found something different. The door was open! All careening ceased immediately and they all clustered around to get a look. Nary a dragon was in sight. Indeed the dungeon was completely empty. Seizing the opportunity all scuttled in for a good look around. The smell hit them instantly, like getting whacked with a ball bat! “Jeeeezus it stinks in here!” said one of the lead sharks as he abruptly did an about face and made for the door they had just entered. The rest of the school quickly agreed with mutters of “Yeah!” and “Fuckin’ A!” He, however, did not immediately follow suit. Yes the smell was powerful, yes indeed, but also intriguing. He looked more closely at the exotic pieces of equipment and the bodybuilding posters tacked up over peeling paint as he tried to identify the smell that was invading his nostrils and teasing his brain. Sweat certainly. The place was clearly not well ventilated. He imagined men like those in the posters, nearly naked, bulging in all manner of ways, grunting with effort as they did arcane things with these strange machines and objects as the sweat poured off in rivers making them glisten in the dim dungeon light. He became more intrigued and started to examine these odd muscle-building artifacts a bit more closely. There was the smell of iron, which definitely has a smell. No chromium and naugahide here. This stuff was ancient iron scarred with long use. He discovered another small piece of the scent puzzle as he realized that the benches and pads were covered in either canvas or real leather. Ancient relics indeed! Another piece came from the floor, covered in rubber matting. It added a hint of the automobile tire showroom to the mix. Other smells provided accents. There was the smell of those now ancient and almost disappeared men’s products: Brylcream, Vitalis, Aqua Velva, Brut, Lancer, and (reminiscent of his old man’s generation) Bay Rum. There was also smoke…lots of smoke…cigarettes, cigars and even the unmistakable smell of a doobie. This was a time when everyone smoked everywhere. How many times had he listened to his mother bitch about people smoking in the checkout line at the super market or yell at his older sister to “Go smoke that shit outside!”? There was another faint smell that his young nostrils had not much encountered. In that heady aroma was the scent of what in his later life he would come to recognize as man sex. For many years afterward he would imagine in glorious detail what those muscle men in the dungeon had been doing beside hoisting iron and getting swole. That male scent was complex and had many nuances. At its base, acting as the foundation for the entire olfactory structure, was an odor that thundered through his brain. It was rich and earthy giving him an impression of something wild and powerful. It was a smell that went to his core and filled him with a wash of feelings, desires, and needs that he had never experienced before. He stood stock still as he breathed in greedy lungfuls of that “stink”. His mind raced and his body tingled with goose pimples as he absorbed it and let it wash over him. He felt wonderful... alive and powerful and, to his surprise, lustful! He realized that as he was lost in these thoughts he had begun to get hard. He was not at tent pole stage yet, but Mr. Mojo seemed to be on the rise. Just as he was contemplating a retreat to a toilet stall in the locker room, His swim coach poked his head in the open door. “Get yer lard ass out of here and in that pool now or you are gonna do laps until you sink like a stone!” All reverie gone and his promising hard on deflating like a punctured tire, he sprinted out and down the corridor leaving the mysteries of the dungeon behind. Thank God for baggy swim trunks he thought as he ran! ********************************************************************************** Now as he made his slogging way across the gym, he vaguely recalled this incident. He dismissed it as "just one of those things". Perhaps he was just in particular need of a shower. He hoped a hot shower would also make him feel better in general. Maybe he was coming down with something… As he was changing he spotted the new "supplement" bottle among all of his other supplements and nutritional whatnot on the locker shelf in front of him. The bottle was unlabeled and contained large neon green horse pills. He had been told they were highly secret super supplements obtained from some nutrition lab somewhere under murky circumstances. He had bought them after a high pressure sales pitch bordering on bullying from the Gym Stud. You know the guy. Every gym seems to have one. The Gym Stud is buff, hung, and seems to live at the gym. The Gym Stud wears really skimpy or tight workout clothes when he is not swanning around the locker room in the nude. The Gym Stud talks a lot at the big boys when they are working out and does not really give the rest of the gym goers the time of day. As such he had been completely tongue tied when the Gym Stud had approached him in the locker room a few days earlier. The Gym Stud had spun a take about having gotten a hold of these experimental high power super supplements through ways of his own. The Gym Stud was, however, skimped and needed to unload them for ready cash. The Gym Stud told of the potential marvels that awaited anyone who took these magic beans and that anyone who missed this opportunity would live to regret it and so on. He said nothing to any of the Gym Stud's blandishments, eventually wanting so much to get away that he silently forked over the requested amount. He stared at the bottle for a moment, and then in a flash realized that he had taken two of them with his other supplements and his pre-workout protein drink before the work out. He had not had any coffee before the gym and had been in a total fog as he came in to work out. He took the bottle and opened it. He immediately recognized the smell of the pills as the same one he had been catching a whiff of during his workout. The same scent that reminded him of his moment in the dungeon at the Y all those years ago. Damn! Maybe this was why he was feeling out of sorts. What an idiot to take something totally unidentified… without even realizing it! He took the bottle and sealed it, then tossed it in his bag. He would dispose of them properly rather than leave then in the gym for someone else to find. He considered for a moment. He felt hot and achy, but not as if his life were in danger or anything. He determined that the best thing would be to complete his routine here and see how things developed after he left the gym. The locker room was empty as he quickly stripped down. It generally was at this hour, which is why he trained at this time of day. He quick marched past the locker room mirrors and into the showers. The shower stall, however, had a mirror that was hard to avoid. He looked at himself as he waited for the shower water to get hot. He was big framed and reasonably tall. But he carried a lot of flab on that frame and it would take a long time and a lot of work to get rid of it. He would definitely need some miracle pill to achieve his true muscle dreams. As he stepped into the shower he chided himself for being such a sap. Hot water and soap did not make him feel any better. Nor did it wash away the smell of what he was now convinced were the so called "super supplements" he had stupidly taken. As the steam rose in the shower stall the scent grew more noticeable, no matter how he scrubbed and soaped. Soon he was engulfed in a cloud of reeking steam. The heat and achiness he felt began to increase. His vision blurred like his eyes were steaming over as well. The world closed in on him as the rushing sound of his own pulse began to beat in his ears. It got louder and louder and the ache changed into real pain all over his body. He felt as if he were reaching the boil as he desperately groped to turn off the water. The insistent pulse continued getting louder and deeper…strangely growing slower rather than faster. His whole body hurt now, feeling as if it was roiling like some primeval mud pot. His heart and chest hurt the most. It felt as if his heart were going to burst out of his chest as its pounding got ever slower, stronger, and deeper. He flashed on the John Hurt moment in "Alien" and he thought he could actually feel his heart expanding, pumping greater and greater amounts of blood out into his body. It was as if something white hot or electrical was spreading out from his heart through his arteries to every part of his body. The pain continued, slacking in the chest and moving out in all directions. The scent increased as well, more than ever like the smell of the old dungeon. He felt sweat pouring over him and blood surging through him. He could still not see, but he felt a new sensation, as if each bone and muscle in his body were expanding and changing. As the pain continued to subside this new feeling grew, and he knew it was the feeling of power, of pure masculine strength, entering and expanding each bone and muscle. The power moved out as well, starting in his chest, which felt as if it had expanded to accommodate his new muscular heart. His vision was clearing now. He could clearly see as the power focused on his shoulders stretching them wide while massive pecs emerged from his chest. His belly rumbled with the power in his blood as it shed fat, growing a tight sexy set of abs. Next his arms and legs ballooned with bulging muscle fed by thick snaking veins glowing faintly. As the smell reached an epic peak, filling his flaring nostrils, power reached his now rock hard cock. It stood at full attention arching out and up with new length and girth, his balls swelling to huge proportions, ripe with juice and raring to pump. Lastly he felt the blood surge reach his neck and head, capping his now enormous shoulders with glorious sweeping traps. He felt his face change as well, dark face fur emerging to compliment the luxuriant hair developing on his chest and abs. As the blood power subsided he felt it reach his final destination in his cranium. His brain soaked in this new power and his mind immediately embraced his new physicality. The scent he was smelling was the smell of a man, a true man, even a superman. This was his new reality and the scent and the power in him fully confirmed it. He was an ultimate man, saturated with strength and power, complete in his manhood and in the mastery of his environment. He emerged from the shower stall in a cloud of steam like some newborn god. He strode with pride, loving the feel of his giant thighs rolling around each other, the bounce of his massive pecs, and the wide swing of his mountainous arms. His huge cock lead the way, hard as iron and pointing toward the ceiling. As he stopped to pose in front of the locker room mirrors and fully revel his new glory, he flared his nostrils again, taking in once more that smell… the scent of a man! He struck his first monumental double biceps pose. His muscles immediately exploded into even fuller glory--his mammoth cock straining and twitching in ecstasy and approval. As he admired himself, he thought that he really wanted to fuck someone blind. As he turned toward the exit he wondered if The Gym Stud was around to become his first muscle worshiper.
  25. 21 points
    Hello All, We haven't talked in awhile, my personal life has been extremely busy but I've still been monitoring the forum and keeping up on everything. This month marks the third year that we've been in operation. In those three years we've grown to 13,000+ member, made 130,000+ posts, and millions of pageviews. Thank you all for the continued support and participation in the forum. This community is fantastic with how creative you all are from stories to images and beyond you all make this a great place to be. I want to thank each and every one of you for the support that you've provided to the site and here's to another great year. THANK YOU! --CMiller
  26. 21 points
    "And with a mighty swing from behind, Gor the barbarian beheads the necromancer. As the life bleeds out of her corpse, her army of skeletons crumples into a wave of bones that cover the floor in a layer few inches thick. Congratulations, you have saved the town!" There was wave of cheers from all around the table, everyone was very glad the fight was over, it has been a long and exhausting session. We finished the looting, the DM awarded xp for the dungeon, and we ended the session there. I started packing up while everyone was talking. Henry looked like he'd be able to talk with the others for the next week about the session and other things. Unlike me, he was very much a social butterfly . I came to him after I finished packing our character sheets, and putting away our cups and plates. I patted him on his shoulder: "Henry, I'll be going home now, I'm tired." "Oh, gimme a few seconds to say goodbye, okay? This session totally rocked!" "Sure, I'll wait for you in the hall." I went by the DM, thanked him for the great session and promised we'd show up next week, said good bye to everyone else and then I went ahead into the hall and put on my shoes. Shortly after that, Henry bounded into the hall, still high on the adrenaline of the fight, gave me a kiss on a cheek, put on his shoes, and we went to our car together, hand in hand. He climbed into the driver's seat and soon enough we were on our way home. On the way, he struck up a conversation: "Hey babe, you were more quiet than usual, did something happen?" "No, I'm just having a sad day." "Ah. Hmm... When we come home, you could bury your head in between my big muscle cheeks, eat me out, and then take my asshole to poundtown. Would that help?" I chuckled. He always had a way with words, and his neverending desire to keep my mood up was almost always appreciated. "Sounds tempting, but I'll take a raincheck on that if you won't mind. Tomorrow, okay?" "Of course Matt. Just wanted to lift your spirits." "Among other things." I playfully hit him in his meaty shoulder. "But I think cuddles would help me the most right now." "Alright, one order of cuddles and hugs coming right up! When we get home. Here in the car it could lead to an accident." "In your pants." This time it was his turn to punch my shoulder. But I saw that smirk. Good, he wasn't worrying much about me. After we arrived home, Henry started preparing dinner, while I put away our things, and picked a movie for the cuddles. As I came into the kitchen, he was putting down the plates, everything else already laid out. I hugged his waist from behind and rested my head on his upper back that was covered by the cotton of his t-shirt. He raised his hand to stroke my hands on his belly, and then he turned around and we made out for a while (he always stooped down, but he never complained). Then we ate the dinner (he ate most of it, as usual, somehow managing to shovel the food into his mouth while he talked about the awesome things that happened in the game. After we were done, he made me rub his belly that was now packed with the food and let out a loud belch to our mutual amusement. Then I started to clean the dishes, but he stopped me by grabbing them from my hands and putting them back on the table. "I'll take care of this after the cuddles babe, don't worry." With that, he scooped me up bridal style, and carried me to the living room. He sat me down, and I picked up the remote from the coffee table, and started the movie. I picked out the 2006 Hulk movie. It was pretty bad all things considered, but I enjoyed the green giant quite a lot regardless. "This again? Matt, you need to broaden your horizons, watch different movies, that kind of thing." I could feel him rolling his eyes at me. "I know, I just like the Hulk." "But the newer movies are better." "Well, I like looking at this Hulk the most. I think he looks best in this movie." "Hmm..." He trailed off. After a few seconds, he spoke up again. "I actually... have a bit of surprise after the movie for you. I think you'll like it." "Sounds intriguing... but if it isn't urgent, would you mind showing me tomorrow morning? I'm seriously exhausted and I might fall asleep before the movie finishes." "Alright babe, I'll carry you into bed if that happens." He kissed the top of my head that I rested on his chest. "You're the best Henry." "You too Matt." --- Sure enough, I dozed off before the movie ended. Henry did pick me up and move me to bed as he said, because the feeling and smell coming from around me was that of our bed, not of our couch. Despite waking up, I didn't open my eyes, I let my other senses soak up my surroundings. The light snoring coming from Henry, warmth on my back (most likely sun poking in) and from my front (Henry). The light breeze from the the window that was often at least slightly open. The feel of the sheets under my hand and then the warm and furry body lying next to me. I let my hand roam along his belly at first, and then up towards his chest. It was familiar, yet something felt off about it. I lazily opened my eyes, and had a moment where my eyes couldn't seem to focus properly... After I blinked a few times and rubbed them, I sat up, looking over Henry's body that was sprawled on the bed. It took me a few seconds to process everything. "Henry, wake up!" I shook him, but it had less of an effect than usual. He was harder to move. "Mn? Good morning babe. How was your sleep?" "Henry, you have grown!" "Yeah, I know, I wanted to show you last night, but you zonked out before I could." "You don't seem surprised." "It's just a thing I can do. I've known for a long time. I've thought you might like it after yesterday's little chat. I can shrink back down if you don't like it..." There was a pause as I looked at him. Then there was a slight movement, as he seemed to start deflating. I grabbed his hand. "Please don't. I do like you bigger, it just came out of a left field for me. Gimme some time to adjust." The shrinking has stopped, and quickly reversed, as he got to his previous bigger size. He was smiling widely now. "Awesome, take all the time you need babe. Can we have our morning kiss now please though?" His puppy eyes worked like they always did. "Yeah." I leaned over, putting my hand on one of his pecs. It was very warm, and it was bigger then what I was used to. He suddenly grabbed my waist and lifted me over, so that I sat on his belly, and then he moved his hands up towards my back, as he applied slight pressure. I didn't resist and leaned down so I could kiss him. It was like any other kiss we've had before. Except that there was more of him. He had bigger mouth, bigger teeth, bigger tongue... My hands went over his bigger neck, shoulders, pecs... I could very much get used to bigger Henry. I leaned back a bit to ask a few questions. "So, how long can you stay like this? Can you grow even more? Do you have any limits? Can you shrink under your normal size as well? How fast can you change your size?" He chuckled, rocking me a bit from the flexing of his belly under me. "I'll show you, don't worry. But yesterday you promised me you'd take my ass to poundtown today. Do you think you'd be up for that?" Well, with a smirk like that on his face and the big body under me, how could I say no?
  27. 20 points
    Amir walked along the beach that sunset, lost in his own thoughts. It was a beach like any other but for the special meaning it held to him and the love of his life, Tomás. It was the two-year anniversary of his passing, and for the 20-year-old college student, the pain of his death was especially bad on this day. Tomás was tragically killed by a group of racists who were not too keen on sharing their small town with someone they thought was an illegal immigrant. The fact that he was Puerto Rican and, thus, a U.S. citizen, did not occur to them as they screamed at him to “go back to Mexico.” His body was found, beaten and bloody, two miles from campus by local police. Amir knew that, had his killers knew Tomás was gay. His murder would have been much worse. Amir knew that Tomás would’ve put up a hell of a fight if pushed to defend himself. The young Latino was always the more athletic of the two of them. At 5’8” tall and weighing only 135 pounds, Amir would not be able to put up a fight with one average-sized person, let alone two. However, Tomás carried 200 pounds of ripped, rippling muscle on a 6’ frame, making him more than a match for them. If only it could make him bullet-proof… Amir tried desperately to keep from losing himself in grief and despair. He was so wrapped up in his sadness that he almost didn’t see the glass bottle sitting in the sand. Curious, he picked it up and inspected it. It looked elaborately decorated, like the kind Tomás’s Abuelita had on her dresser for perfumes. Sealing the bottle was a simple cork stopper, just big enough to keep its contents, if any, inside. On the side of the opaque glass bottle was some writing in Arabic. He couldn’t make out the words, as the writing seems to have faded with time. Something told him to open it, but he was unsure of what he would find inside. His curiosity won the day, and Amir uncorked the bottle. Almost immediately, a thick cloud of reddish smoke erupted from the bottle, surrounding him and clouding his vision completely. Sputtering and coughing, he dropped the bottle in the sand and tried to make his way to fresh air. As he cleared the smoke, he turned around and watched in awe as the smoke was replaced by something he could not believe. Out of the smoke emerged a figure who stood at least seven feet tall and was impossibly massive. He looked like a Photoshopped morph of a heavyweight bodybuilder with a red tint, as his skin was a bright scarlet color. His traps reached high towards his ears, while his broad shoulders and back made him look too wide for most doors. A few veins ran down each of his massive biceps, and his hands and forearms would make Popeye jealous. Thick pecs bounced absent-mindedly, protruding from his ribcage and providing just the right amount of shade for his obscenely defined eight-pack abs. What must have been an impressive set of tree-trunk legs were concealed by a pair of linen pants that look like they came out of the closet of a male belly dancer. What hair he had on his head was concealed by a white turban, accented by a red-orange gem. The red-skinned muscle-god stretched and smiled. “Do I have you to thank, little one, for my freedom?” he asked in a resonant baritone voice. Amir was slack-jawed as he drank in the sight of this scarlet behemoth, barely able to put two words together coherently. Dumbly, he nodded. The beast of a man embraced him joyfully, picking him up as one would a five-pound bag of rice. “A thousand blessings upon you, little one,” he said, overjoyed at his savior. “I thought I would never be free of that accursed bottle. As a token of my gratitude, I shall grant your deepest desire.” “Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Amir said, trying to make sense of what just happened. “Who or what are you, and how did you get into that bottle?” “Surely you know of the jinn?” he said incredulously. “I am Qadir ibn Qarim. As for how I became trapped in that bottle, I was trapped inside of it by a powerful, um… What is the word? Ah yes, sorcerer.” “This thing looks like something from an antique shop,” Amir responded. “How long have you been in there?” “Let’s see,” Qadir mused. “The last thing I remember was news from the West about an explorer sailing to the Indies by going west. I believe his name was Columbus or something like that.” “Columbus? Christopher Columbus?” Amir exclaimed. “You mean to tell me you’ve been in that thing for over 600 years?” “Has it been that long? I thought it had been longer.” the jinn responded. “You must understand, my friend, six hundred years seems shorter for me than for you because of my immortality. But anyway, onto your wish.” You thought long and hard about what your greatest desire was. “To be honest,” Amir began, “I want to wish that my lover, Tomás, could be brought back. He… died two years ago today, and it still hurts to be without him.” “I am truly sorry for you, my friend. Unfortunately, I am unable to bring back the dead. Such a thing would defy the laws by which all jinn must abide. But, I sense there is something else that you want. Something related to your lost love.” Now it was Amir’s turn to turn red. “Well,” he began, “I’ve always wanted to be built like him, if not bigger. Tomás was always into lifting weights and getting as big and muscular as possible. He talked about growing to 300 pounds of muscle. It was a fantasy of ours, but I never had the nerve to start working out. Hey, maybe I could wish to have the kind of muscles you have, sort of as a way to remember him.” Qadir ibn Qarim smiled. “As you wish,” he said as he snapped his fingers. Amir immediately felt a warm sensation spreading throughout his body from his chest. This warmth increased in intensity as he began to sweat profusely. A tightness begins manifesting across Amir’s body, centering on his muscles. No, not a tightness. A feeling of… growth, expansion. Looking at his arms, Amir saw that his clothes were not shrinking, but rather he was growing. He watched as his thin arms ballooned with muscle, filling the sleeves of his black T-shirt. His hands explored every inch of his swelling body that he could, reveling in the growth. His pecs began to inflate with brawn beneath his hands as his shoulders and lats spread his arms out wider and wider. His sweatpants soon started to feel more and more like tights as his swelling thighs and calves expanded with power. The sensation of every muscle in his body becoming more massive and stronger was intoxicating, almost like a drug in and of itself. So enthralled was Amir by the feeling of his muscles swelling with power that he almost didn’t notice the loud chorus of rips and tears emanating from all over his body. His shirt, once two or three sizes too big for him, not burst into pieces from being far too small, while his jeans suffered the same fate. The young man groaned as he hulked out of his clothes, his cock rock-hard as he did. His growing soon started to slow, signaling that he was nearing his final size. Amir thought that he had cum when he burst through his clothes. As his growth stopped, he looked down to see that he, in fact, had cum all over himself. “Most impressive, my friend,” Qadir said, as a teacher would say to student who had shown him a project that would earn him an A+. “You should see the new you.” With a snap of his fingers, a full-length mirror appeared in front of him from the same white smoke that brought the jinn from the bottle. There in the mirror was a massive beast of a man. The beast had Amir’s face, though it was more filled out with muscle. The body beneath his head, however, was a caramel-colored clone of Qadir. Amir raised one arm and flexed his biceps. The beast did the same, causing a mountain worthy of the Himalayas to erupt in the space between his shoulder and forearm. Wide-eyed, Amir did the same to the other arm. The beast in front of him copied his movement, creating a twin peak to the first as iron-hard as its brother. With a beat and a blink, he remembers that he’s staring at a mirror. “Woah,” Amir exclaims. “That’s me?” He blinks as the realization sets in. “Oh me God! How-- How did you--? This is unreal! I can’t thank you enough!” Amir embraced the jinn ecstatically, completely elated that his biggest fantasy has come true. “You are quite welcome, my friend,” Qadir responded. Amir pulled away as he heard the hint of loneliness in the jinn’s voice. “What will you do now?” Amir asked. “Visit family or friends or something?” “My family have probably forgotten about me by now, and I never had many friends,” Qadir responded as he caressed Amir’s newly muscular pecs. “But I would like to become closer to you, my muscular young prince.” “I’m not really a prince,” Amir said. “Is that not what your name means?” Qadir asked. Amir nodded, silently admitting that the jinn was right. “So, my large prince,” Qadir said, his eyes shining with lust as he tweaked Amir's sensitive nipples, “let us see what that body can really do.”
  28. 19 points
    By Richard Jasper Note: Since originally posting this one earlier today, I have gone back and added another three dozen lines, or thereabouts, just to, uh, put some meat on its bones! As of 11:49 p.m. EDT, Sunday, 4/16/17. -- rpj Part 1: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/1345-come-to-me-part-1/ Part 2: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/1352-come-to-me-part-2/ Part 3: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/1357-come-to-me-part-3/ Part 4: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/1668-come-to-me-part-4/ Part 5: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/3474-come-to-me-part-5/ Part 6: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/12065-come-to-me-part-6/ Part 7 Jesse woke to find himself floating down the hall, snuggled in warm arms. “Ai, Papi,” he said. “Is it time for bed already?” The low chuckle caused Jesse’s eyes to fly open. I am not five years old, he thought. And I am NOT being carried to bed by my father! “You know, I’m only 25,” said the Big Man. “I’m not sure I’m old enough to be anyone’s Papi.” Eric gently lowered Jesse to the California King occupying the large bedroom at the far end of the double-wide, then stood. He had lost the towel when Jesse fainted and… “Holy Mother of God,” Jesse said, looking at Eric’s soft dick. It had to be over a foot long and nearly as big around. “Now, now,” Eric cautioned. “You don’t want to get him all excited.” Jesse sat up on the bed. “Are you sure about that?” he asked. Eric just laughed. “How did such a fucking stud wind up out here in the middle of nowhere?” he asked. Jesse shrugged his impressive shoulders. “What else is there to do but lift weights?” he replied. “Turns out it’s easier in New Mexico to get a football scholarship than an academic one.” Which he could have wangled, of course, but he didn’t – for whatever reason – want to leave New Mexico. Not yet, anyway. “OK, now that you’re awake,” Eric said. “Stand up here and introduce yourself properly.” Jesse did so. His movements were pure athletic grace. He stood in front of Eric casually, automatically assuming a classic contrapposto stance, one foot slightly forward with most of his weight there so that his shoulders and arms were slightly off-axis from his hips and legs. (Eric might have an MBA but his undergrad original major – before he realized he would spend the rest of his life starving to death as adjunct faculty if he pursued it as a career -- was art history!) At 6’2 and 250 lbs., Jesse was built like a Greek God. His shoulders were nearly three feet across, his chest well over 50 inches, his waist no more than 30 inches, with huge traps, arms, quads, calves. Add to that the chiseled intimidating looks of an Aztec warrior and perfectly even, perfectly smooth coppery skin….mmm! The only thing that stood between Jesse and drop dead gorgeous were the wispy mustache that covered his upper lip and those big Bambi eyes. It was clear that this big powerful dude was a sweetheart. “Your chest is wider than my shoulders,” Jesse said, looking at the stupendous, hairy pecs that seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see. “Just how big are you?” Eric grumbled. “About 6’7, the last time I checked,” Eric replied. Was the big man blushing? “You don’t know?” Jesse asked. Eric shrugged. “I’ve been having a growth spurt.” Jesse giggled, then he got serious. Not asking, he began running his hands over Eric’s enormous body. The mountainous pecs; the vast shoulders (how did he get down the hall?); arms the size of beer kegs; eight shredded abdominal muscles, each the size of concrete pavers; quads that were larger than Jesse’s chest. “How…” he began. “How much do I weigh?” Eric interrupted. “I just recently passed 600 lbs.” Jesse felt light-headed. “But, hey, don’t faint on me again, OK?” Jesse’s hand was on Eric’s monster cock. He didn’t remember putting it there. “And this?” Eric licked his lips. “12 x 10 soft,” he said. “But it’s not going to stay soft if you keep that up.” Jesse squeezed – then bit Eric’s fist-sized right nipple. “Listen, boy,” Eric said. “You might want to be careful…” Jesse plunged his face into the vast crevice between Eric’s enormous pecs, tonguing and nipping at the fur. “Christamighty, kid.” The log Jesse was holding with his right hand began to turn into a telephone pole. His big, football-palming hands could no longer contain it. “Ai yi yi,” Jesse said, dropping to his knees. “What a fucking work of art!” Eric was at full mast. 20 inches long, 14 inches around. Jesse managed to get the head into his mouth and swallowed a third of its length before he could go no more. “Damn, son,” Eric said. “That’s some Olympic level cocksucking! Most guys can’t get past the head – and that’s the ones that don’t go screaming at the site of Monster here.” PLOOP Jesse let go and stood again. “I want you to taste to your taste,” he demanded, standing on tiptoes. Eric bent slightly, grasped the back of Jesse’s head, and pulled him in for a kiss. A long, deep, passionate kiss. His long arms around Eric’s barrel neck, Jesse wrapped his legs around the Big Man’s waist. It was like making love to a concrete mixer. “You could hold me here all night, couldn’t you?” Jesse said when they paused to take a breath. Eric nodded. “And all day.” Jesse rested his head against the concrete slabs that were Eric’s pecs. “I want to fuck these,” he said, then added wistfully. “But I don’t know how…” Eric shushed him. “There’s no way Monster is going up your ass, sweet heart, don’t even think about it. But there are other ways.” Jesse moaned in anticipation, then bit his lip. “Uh, would you…?” Eric arched an eyebrow. “Tell me how big you are?” Eric – with Jesse’s arms still wrapped around his neck, with Jesse’s legs still wrapped around his waist – lifted his mountainous and arms and squeezed. “Biceps 50 inches,” Eric said. “Forearms are 42 inches. Big enough for you?” Jesse let go of Eric’s neck and dropped to his feet. He poked each of Eric’s gigantic pecs. Each one had to be two feet across and stood out from Eric’s clavicle at least two feet. “Show me your back,” Jesse demanded. Eric turned, his shoulders pushing Jesse up onto the bed. “Holy Mother of God,” Jesse said. “Your back is the size of Mount Everest!” Eric turned again to face Jesse, this time putting his hands on his waist and FLARING. “Chest measurement is 120 inches,” Eric noted. Jesse’s jaw dropped. “That’s 10 feet!” he exclaimed. “And that must mean…” He wrapped his arms around Eric’s waist. “Sixty inches,” Eric pointed out. “Huge, huh?” Jesse shook his head. “It’s the golden mean,” he explained. “Chest to wait, 2-to-1, just like Sergio.” Eric smiled. “And my quads are 66 inches each.” Jesse looked down at Eric’s calves, then up at his neck. “Let me guess,” he offered. “Calves and neck 48 inches?” Eric pointed a finger that looked like it belonged on a pair of Hulk gloves at Jesse. “Bingo,” Eric said. “But enough of that.” With one hand, Eric lifted Jesse so that his head was brushing the ceiling. With the other, he ripped off Jesse’s jeans as if they were so much tissue paper. And then he swallowed Jesse’s 9x6 tool as if it were a particularly tasty popsicle, all the way to the pubes, no effort at all, just perfect continuous wet suction. “You could hold me up here all day, couldn’t you?” he asked, between ragged gasps. Eric’s head continued to bob up and down on Jesse’s rod. “But I want to see you looming over me,” Jesse said. Eric let go, caught the linebacker as if he were a puppy, and laid him down on the bed. Jesse scooted back and Eric leaned forward, his ham-sized hands on either side of Jesse’s head. The bed groaned under their combined weight. Jesse looked up but all he could see was muscle and fur, Eric’s head lost over the crest of his gravity-defying pecs. “I’m feeling hungry,” Eric declared. He scooted back and pushed his head between Jesse’s thighs. Something hard, huge, wet – and flexible – found Jesse’s quivering hole. “My God,” Jesse said. “That’s your tongue?” Eric surfaced and grinned. “Wait ‘til you try my fingers on for size!” Come to me, the voice said. “When we’re done,” Eric and Jesse replied. More to cum
  29. 19 points
    Preface: This is my first time ever posting a story to the forums, or really even writing a muscle growth story at all. I apologize if there are any typo's or the like, I tried to proofread but you never know. I tried to give everything a nice, readable format. IF you see in glaring mistakes, let me know and I'll make some edits. I'd like to continue this story, maybe in the regular story forum, but I'm not sure if that's allowed with the storyversary rules. I guess it depends if anyone cares to read, anyway. But I don't mean to ramble. Enjoy! Jaw-Dropper by SMK (aka Matrival) Moving always means long, tiring days and sore muscles. At least, if you have anything to move. In that way, twenty-two year old Dylan was lucky to be moving halfway across the country with nothing more than a shoulder bag full of essentials; at least he didn’t have to haul furniture and boxes with him. He pulled up in front of his new place, a large if rather run-down house. The locals wouldn't have anything to do with it, but Dylan was practical. Who cares about urban myth when you have a large house, rooms to rent out, and a view. Not to mention the massive home gym, which means he could charge the local rich-boy jocks out the ass. Dylan was a skinny little thing, with small, but toned muscles. He had a cute fact with soft, boyish features and gray eyes that looked out from under blonde hair. Dylan came up to the front door and fiddled around for a key in his shoulder bag. He jams the let into the door, thin arms straining to push open a stuck lock. Stumbling in, Dylan regains his balance before shutting the door behind him. Looking around, there was a lot to be done. The ceiling was collapsed in, odd holes in the drywall, not to mention to filth. But this was all expected, And without hesitation Dylan pulled out a notebook and began taking inventory. Leisurely he strolled room to room until he turned to a rather large staircase leading down into the basement, boasting high ceilings and enough room for four men to walk down side by side. The staircase opened up to a brightly lit, and surprisingly massive, gym area with free weights and machines lining both sides of what was essentially a massive hallway. But only the first few rows are really usable, with everything beyond that reaching comically large proportions. Strength aside, you would be hard pressed to find a man who could sit comfortably on some of these benches, and those benches were still on the small end. Is this some weird art installment? Dylan wondered, taking notes on the state of the room. For such a well kept space, it was an absolute mess. Papers scattered all over the floor around the bar, the fridge was still filled to the brim by the previous resident; at least it was mostly still fresh, but the stench of rotten eggs is unforgiving. One of the pages caught his eye, labelled, “Jaw-Dropper,” followed by a relatively simple, if unconventional, recipe for a shake. Dylan pocketed the page, piling up the rest in his room upstairs so he could look through it later. As he continued his walk of the house, a cloud of smoke caught his attention, and he turned into a bedroom to see a young man laying on the floor, long sleeves and a hood pulled up over dark hair that hung carelessly, but perfectly, on his brow. He stared up at the ceiling, oblivious. Dylan, on the other hand, freaked, “Who the hell are you?” The other man jumped, climbing quickly to his feet as he stood up, and he just kept going up. Dylan found himself eye-level with a chest that looked a lot more broad than when it was laying on the ground. Dylan wasn’t a short man at 5’7”, but this guy must’ve been 6’10. The larger man glared down at Dylan, tensing as he crushed his cigarette into his massive paw of a hand, hardly feeling anything. “Jesus fuck! You scared the hell out of me!” His green eyes probed over the smaller man, who now looked like a deer in the headlights. “The fuck are you doing here?” Dylan was shaking, visibly intimidated by the wall of flesh that seemingly came from nowhere. “I-I bought the place,” he clenches his teeth, balling up his little fists and feigning confidence. “You’ll have to leave.” As he finishes, the larger man throws out a hand, wrapping thick fingers around to the backside of Dylan’s neck and lifting him up off his feet with seemingly no effort. Dylan’s eyes bulge,staring down in surprise at the biceps that strain against the fabric that once hid them, his own hands pawing at the forearm that now held him. Those biceps gotta be over twenty inches… Focus! Dylan Even through the fabric, he could feel the rock-hard, defined muscle that kept him up. Not to mention the scent, the heavy musk that seemed to now dominate the room. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t keep his mind on the danger he was in. For a moment, Dylan lost all dignity, groping lustily at the arm that held him before reality came back in the form of the deep voice that rumbled the room. “Who the HELL do you think you are?” the larger man boomed, causing Dylan to cringe. “Some little twink brat is gonna come in here and tell ME what to do?” Dylan was back in a panic now, struggling against the grip of the stronger man, who tossed him carelessly to the side like a ragdoll before going over to the and stretching his hands upward until his fingertips touched the ceiling, revealing an impossibly thin waist and defined abs cobbled his stomach. Dylan sat off to the side, rubbing at his neck before sputtering pathetically, “I-I’m sorry, man. It's been a long day.” There was no telling if the man was listening, but Dylan continued. “Just got into town, you know? Long drive. You just surprised me is all.” “The name’s Aidan,” the man turns around suddenly, his loud voice making Dylan jump again. Aidan shuffled over towards Dylan, his massive vans thumping against the grown. He looked down over his chest at Dylan, who was still on the ground in the corner. “Oh, uh, I’m Dylan and I- ,” Dylan cuts off as Aidan grab him up off the floor by the scruff of his neck and throws him to the middle of the room, square on his back. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to-” Dylan begged, almost a whimper as Aidan planted a shoe, size 16, on his chest.the perfe “Listen, kid,” Aidan towered over Dylan, seeming to go up forever. “Do whatever you want wit the rest of the house, but this room,” he raises his arms in a massive wingspan. “This room is mine.” Dylan couldn’t help but stare, Aidan was as enticing as he was intimidating. Those lips, perfect shade, the perfect shape. That body, perfection he could only imagine. Rows of abs topped with big, round pecs. Massive shoulders that Dylan wasn’t sure would fit through a doorway. That small, V-shaped waist that just drove him wild. Aidan asks, “Got it?” but Dylan is long gone, marvelling at the massive foot that has him pinned to the floor, the intoxicating scent that made his head spin, and the growing lust that was making it harder and harder to concentrate by the second. Dylan’s thoughts drifted, dancing with the idea of climbing up the body before him, kissing every inch, experiencing every fiber of rock hard muscle… tugging down on that waistband and. “SPEAK!” Snapped back to reality, Dylan nodded his head vigorously. “Y-yes, Aidan, I’ll leave this room to you.” With a smile, the larger man lifted his foot, and the terrified Dylan scrambled back to his feet, backing himself up against the wall. As Aidan stomped out of the room, turning to the side and ducking under the doorframe, Dylan called after him. “Hey! Where’re you going?” Aidan answered dismissively, “Gym. You think all this just happens?” He flexes a bicep, straining his sleeve to its limits. It took all Dylan had to not start drooling. As much as he liked the idea of getting away from Aidan, the urge to watch was just too great. Dylan rushed to follow Aidan, having to jog to keep up with Aidan’s impossibly long strides. “You know there’s a gym in the house, right?” This got Aidan to stop in his tracks. His voice turned to a slight growl, carrying an air of dominance that Dylan just couldn’t resist. “Show me.” Dylan turned on a dime and marched obediently towards to staircase, down the massive flight, and unlocked the door, letting Aidan past as he was thrown to the side. “Well, god damn,” Aidan mused, looking on in awe of the machines and weights that seemed to extend back forever. He pointed to the counter, “Make me a drink, and I’ll let you watch.” Dylan didn’t need to be told twice, scrambling over to the bar. He quickly realized he had no idea what he was doing, and simply floundered around the counter trying to look busy. Aidan, on the other hand, wasted no time and racked up a bar with huge, heavy weights, much more than Dylan would know how to count, and slowly began to curl. With each rep, his biceps swelled further, pushing the sleeves of his dark hoodie closer and closer to the limit. An awestruck Dylan had his eyes glued to them, watching as he could start to make out large, bulging veins through the strained fabric. Aidan was grunting, his growls only growing louder with each rep until they were making Dylan’s eardrums rattle. As he began to work up a sweat, the intoxicating, masculine musk grew along with Dylan’s inability to focus. Dylan gave up on trying to figure out what to do on his own, and pulled the note out from his pocket. Quickly throwing the drink together, he threw it to Aidan who snatched the bottle deftly out of the air, chugging the entire batch in a few quick chugs. “GrrrrRRRAAAGH! WHAT WAS IN THAT, LITTLE MAN? I FEEL GREAT!” Dylan was thrown off balance by the sheer balance of his voice, which only made Aidan laugh as he returned to the rack, hefting up the weight again. HIs face grew red with exertion, sweat beading on his forehead as he pumped out curls. Dylan watched with great interest, hiding his swelling bulge behind the drink counter, but unable to pull his eyes away. With the next curl, there's a snap. Just one, faint as first. Aidan drops the weight with a clamorous CRASH and faces towards Dylan, dropping into a most muscular that left his clothing in tatters. It started at the shoulders, as the sleeves ripped across the back, revealing his still-growing lats. Then it was the sleeves themselves, the biceps popping open in the front before shredding apart into nothing completely. He must’ve been getting taller, because his jeans were riding up his calves, revealing massive, meaty diamonds of calves. Even the tough denim gives way to his swelling body, tearing, slowly at first, up the sides. Then the zipper began straining, forcing itself down lower and lower to try an accommodate Aidan’s swelling, ever-growing frame. He looks down at his frame, breathing heavy, “Ah, FUCK YES!” Dylan’s heart dropped down into his stomach. Aidan’s voice had grown deeper, more powerful and commanding. Fearing what would happen if Aidan got his hands on the recipe for the drink, Dylan tore it up before shoving it back in his pocket. With a single hand, Aidan grabbed the front of his hoodie, ripping what remained of it in a single, swift motion. His skin, now red from his pump and glistening with sweat, was pulled across so tight it almost seemed as though it was struggling to hold all of his muscle in. His cobbled abs protruded far from his flat stomach, Dylan just wanted his hands to run up and down them… Aidan must’ve been 7’6 by now, well beyond the height of anyone Dylan had seen, even heard of. Then the command came again, “Get over here, little man.” Dylan’s mind was like mush, destroyed by a combination of the beauty of the body before him, the domineering voice he couldn’t resist, and the scent that made Aidan, who was huge as it is, seem big enough to fill the entire room. Like a drone, Dylan shuffled out from behind the counter and towards Aidan, his arousal painfully obvious. As soon as he was in reach, Aidan thrust a hand out, groping at Dylan’s bulge, which looked pathetically small in the gargantuan’s hands. Aidan gives a sly grin. “Like what you see, little boy?” Speaking as softly as he was, Aidan’s voice couldn’t help but be as huge as the rest of him. Dylan nodded meekly, eyes glued to the abs that were now right at his eye level. “Go ahead.” Aidan’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Touch it.” In an instant, Dylan staggered forward, hands running up and down Aidan’s abdomen, his scent only getting stronger and stronger as he got closer. Every inch of the larger man felt like steel and burned with a heat so intense that Dylan was starting to sweat. He couldn’t pull away, instead searching Aidan’s body with more and more vigour. Aidan lifted an arm, flexing a bicep that was easily 26 inches, if not even bigger. Below it was his hairy pit, reaking with the musk that made Dylan weak in the knees. Aidan again wrapped a meaty paw around Dylan’s throat, though this time his fingers overlapped around the back. He lifted him like he was nothing, shoving Dylan’s face under his still flexed arm. Dylan didn’t need to be asked, and began licking, enjoying every drop of sweat. Aidan dropped Dylan to the ground, who was now thoroughly intoxicated by the taste and scent of the superior man. Aidan fiddled with the button around his waist before growing frustrated and simply ripping the waist apart, the button flying with a ping. Down flopped his already erect cock, dribbling with pre that dripped slowly onto the floor. He was easily sitting at nine and a half inches, probably more. Dylan quickly crawled his way over, looking up to Aidan for permission. Aidan nodded, and Dylan immediately shot up, working Aidan’s massive cock with both hands while teasing the head with his tongue. Aidan threw his head back in pleasure, massive hands running through Dylan’s hair as he moans, deep and masculine. A shudder goes down Dylan’s spine, who can’t wait any longer and take’s Aidan’s cock into his mouth, stroking up and down with building speed and intensity, taking the first five inches. Already, Dylan’s mouth is full with pre, which dribbles down his chin and onto the floor between the two men. “Ah, fuck yes Dylan. Take it ALL!” Aidan began to buck his hips, forcing his cock further and further down Dylan’s throat. At six and a half inches, Dylan began to gag and try to pull off, but was helpless against the power that was Aidan, who simply kept a hand wrapped behind Dylan’s head, scarcely noticing the little man was resisting at all. Aidan was forcing his cock in deeper with every stroke. By eight inches, tears were streaming down Dylan’s face, though he still lustily groped at Aidan’s body. With a single stroke, Aidan rammed in the rest of his throbbing cock, his pendulous balls slapping against Dylan’s chin. Dylan began to convulse, pleasure shooting through every inch of his body, nerves on fire, as he shot rope after rope into his boxers. Hot cum dripped down his leg, his jeans visibly wet from the outside. He went limp from a combination of pleasure and exhaustion, but Aidan didn’t stop. He kept fucking the little man’s mouth until he finished. Massive rope after rope of hot cum unloaded into his mouth, and Dylan simply couldn’t swallow fast enough, sputtering and coughing as cum fell to the floor, the pungent scent completely overpowering. After the third rope, Aidan let him fall to the floor, still stroking his throbbing cock. Rope after rope flew through the air , splattering all over Dylan and the floor around him. After seemingly forever, it ended. Aidan casually strolled towards the gym showers, calling back behind him, “Clean up your mess, little boy, then make me another Drink! I’m just getting started with this shit.” Dylan watched him go, perfect, tight, muscled ass bouncing with each step. He sat both in horror and awe of what had happened: Aidan, who was already a giant of a man, had packed on impossible size in such a small amount of time. If he got more of that drink, how big would he get? The problem is, Dylan didn't know if he wanted to stop him. But the recipe was destroyed, which gave Dylan an idea. A man like Aidan, he would do anything to get bigger. Dylan might be able to use that to his advantage, being the only one who knows how to make the drink, the reign the beast in. Then there was the matter of paying off his loan. He’d have to let other guys move in, or else he’d lose the place, and he wasn’t about to let that happen. It was strange enough to be lying on your back spent and in a pool of hot, fresh cum, but things were only going to get weirder.
  30. 18 points
    The Beast walked across the gym with the tell tale swagger of a true freak. Muscles already pumping with the pre-workout he had taken in the car, he sauntered over to the full length mirror. With the anticipation of a small child on Christmas morning, he stood back straight with his arms at his sides and gazed at the monster staring back at him. The Beast started from his cantaloupe calves that looked just as hard and juicy as the melons they resembled. He reared up on his toes and watched the cantaloupes morph into vein covered watermelons. For at least the 10th time today he wished he had the flexibility to lick them. This was the only draw back. He loved the size, the power, the awe, the tightness of his own skin, the veins on veins. The sheer masculine experience. He loved the cheat days that left him stuffed and bloated beyond reason and the cutting days that made the cheat days all the more memorable. The Beast tore his longing gaze from his calves to his quads and traced their iron hardness. His thin dick-skin rubbed against his legs like satin and he could feel the power he used on the leg press yesterday. He had used almost all the plates in the gym and had to crawl home with a stream of pre trailing him like a musclebound slug. He still felt the deep ache that signaled growth and groaned with the thought of more mass. The Beast trailed his hands up his 8 pac and cupped his gigantic pecs. He could barely make out his nips but could feel them as they rubbed on his cotton muscle tee. He bunched up the shirt in the middle to release his chest into the cool air. His frame quivered as he flexed both mountains and saw them expand outward. He threw his head back and closed his eyes, imagining his pecs never stopping their expansion. Vein covered medicine balls that doubled every second as more and more brawn surged forth. The Beast opened his eyes and swallowed as his mouth salivated with the idea. He spread his shoulders and saw the stretch marks covering them like fissures in solid rock. He found them so hot, a testament to his body trying to catch up with his ever increasing lust for more him. More size, more power, more him. The Beast looked back at the mirror and cupped his pecs, forcing them up. He could almost hide his face with their unreal mass and felt himself throb in his shorts. This always got him going, he was a chest man after all. The Beast straightened out his arms and flexed first his tris, then his bis. Over and over again. More and more veins started appearing as he continuously flexed his arms first one way, then another. He marveled as they swelled like proofing dough. The Beast was again overcome with the urge to lick his engorged muscles but knew that was impossible. He had lost the mobility to do that ages ago and would never go back down to that size. Just a sacrifice he had to make for greater size. He had sacrificed a lot to get this far. His house, his job, his social life, and even companionship. After a certain size, even size queens started turning the other way. There was a side to growing this monstrous that few would talk about. He couldn't wash properly due to being muscle bound. Cooking, cleaning, tying his shoes, taking off his clothes, even wiping his ass was becoming almost impossible. He could smell his musk and secretly whimpered in delight. So what, he knew that growing was worth any inconvenience. He needed live in help and could afford it but he wanted a companion, a friend. He wanted someone who looked at him with the same lust he saw in his own eyes right now. He wanted to flex his traps to his ears and hear someone else groan his name as he left humanity behind. He wanted someone to inject him and say how hot it was to see the tren flowing into him knowing he would taste it from his cock in the coming hours. He wanted someone that would both cook for him and eat with him, urging him to eat more and consume more and grow more. Someone that would need to lick every stretch mark as it appeared wherever it appeared. Someone that would train with him and urge him beyond the realm of monsters. To see someone else lick and caress where he longed to and that wanted him to just grow and never stop. The Beast centered himself back in the present and looked one last time in the mirror. Sweat was trickling off his nose as he bent into a ferocious most muscular. His body throbbed as he urged every fiber to gorge and swell. He looked all over as his body reddened with pump and could feel his trunks getting tighter and tighter as his cock tented them out obscenely. He was just about to stop when he heard a soft moan. His eyes focused on a figure behind him. The man was staring at The Beast's reflection and drooling like a Saint Bernard. His mouth seemed to be moving but he was not making a sound. The Beast flexed as hard as he could and heard a word whispered that made him blow his load through his shorts and onto the floor. More.
  31. 17 points
    At the gym where I train, there’s all ages. One man I’m friendly with, his name is Walt, seems to be about 65, and he often works out with some younger bodybuilders who are in their early twenties. He told me about something that happened between him and them. He says it’s true. I wrote it up as a story and embellished it with some fantasy. Big Walt: Senior Brah Walt looked forward to his workouts at Body Power Gym. Since retirement, he wanted to get built again, but not like the massive stud he’d been at his peak thirty years earlier. Now, he worked out four days a week. One of the best things about Body Power was the opportunity he had to train with young bodybuilders. Guys in their early twenties became part of his routine. Walt enjoyed the camaraderie he had with them. Sort of a mentor, he thought, even though they jokingly nicknamed him “Gramps.” Walt played along by calling them “dude” and “brah.” In fact, he was old enough to be their grand dad. One afternoon, two of the young bodybuilders, Tre and Daz, asked Walt if he wanted to go out for a beer. After their workout, the three took off in Tre’s Mustang. As they cruised along Sunrise Avenue, Daz asked, “What are you up for Gramps? Craft brew?” The two young men named a couple of places not familiar to Walt. “I’ll leave that up to you,” he said. “How about let’s just go to our place.” Walt thought maybe “Our Place” was where they’d go. “You don’t mind, do you Walt? Coming over to our house?” Daz asked. “We got stuff, like whatever.” “Sure. Cool.” he shrugged. Turning off Sunrise and driving via some neighborhood streets, Tre pulled up next to a red pickup that was parked in the driveway of the small bungalow that the guys rented. “Coke’s home.” Walt knew Coke from the gym. At 6’2”, 255lbs, Coke was the biggest, most jacked of the young bodybuilders. Walt, 6’, 205lbs, felt puny next to him. “Hey, take a seat. Chill.” Tre and Daz headed through the living room toward their bedrooms. Walt sat on the sofa, looked around the room, pretty sparse except for the sofa, two recliners, and a huge flat screen TV. Voices called from somewhere, maybe from the kitchen: “Wadda ya want, gramps? We got GrowFast, PumpSpurt, bottled water from Fiji, Iceland, someplace like that, and we do have actual, genuine beer too.” “Lemme try GrowFast, I never heard of it.” “Good choice!” Wearing boxer shorts, Tre and Daz returned the living room. They had bottles of water and sports drinks in each hand and offered Walt a blue or orange GrowFast, then sat on the recliners opposite the sofa. “Coke’s on the shitter. He’ll be out in a minute.” From a combination of nerves and thirst, Walt chugged down the half a litre of orange-colored GrowFast. He felt a rush as it hit his belly. “Good stuff.” Leaning back into the sofa, he relaxed a little. “How long you boys lived here?” Walt knew that the young bodybuilders were men, not boys, but he felt paternal, even protective, toward them. The sons he never had, all his children being female. Strange though, he was learning at least as much from them as they learned from them. But he hadn’t yet learned the generational difference in slang that allowed him instinctively to address them as dude or bro, or the even more recent brah. “Six, almost seven months. We met at the gym and figured it would be cheaper to share a house than pay individual apartment rents.” “Yeah. Smart.” Walt leaned forward, untried his trainers, and slipped them off, socks too. Just then Coke walked into the living room, wearing an orange posing suit. “Looks like you need another GrowFast, Gramps. You wanna try blue this time?” Coke handed Walt a bottle, then eased his muscular bulk onto the opposite side of the sofa from Walt. Together, the two men nearly filled it. In the locker room and showers at Body Power Gym, Walt had seen Coke, even seen him naked, but never so close, so intimate yet casual as this. Walt took a hefty swig of the blue juice. It roiled from his belly through his veins to every muscle he had. He imagined himself growing as big as Coke. At least he thought he imagined it. He took a second swig and a third. He aped the sexy yet relaxed way Coke displayed himself on the sofa. He had a fleeting thought about stripping off his clothes, getting naked. Fukken awesome, dudes. Effen, fukken awesome! -- Were they just thoughts, or did he say them? “How about you try a PumpSpurt, Gramps?” “Yeah.” Walt chugged from the bottle of purple ade Coke gave him. Everywhere on his body, he sensed his veins rising, his muscles pulsing. He saw the thick ropey web in his forearms, the cuts in his thighs and thickness of his calves, the heaving of his chest. His nipples, hard and erect, strained against his t-shirt. His pecs, swelling, pushed his nipples further. Damn. Walt pinched his right nipple between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand. He pulled and twisted it. My nips are fukken jacked. He moved his hand to his left pec and worked its nipple. To thrust his chest forward and make his nipples rage, Walt raised his arms, hands behind head, fingers interlocked. His traps swelled and his lats widened. His felt his t-shirt stretch. He wanted his strong, hard nipples to pop through it. Fukken man nips, man. “Some workout you had today, gramps.” “You’re lookin big as fuck.” “Pumped, you’re pumped as shit.” “You’re fukken awesome, gramps.” “You’re effen fukken huge.” Totally swole the fuck up, old man.” Daz, Tre and Coke were encouraging him. “You gotta pose for us, brah.” Pose for my brahs, Walt’s mind clicked. Walt looked at Coke and didn’t feel puny. “Here, put this on.” Walt was sure he heard that. Coke had stripped off his orange poser and tossed it to him. Walt pulled down his gym shorts. Underneath, he had a bulge in his white briefs. Suddenly, he felt self-conscious. Still seated on the sofa, he didn’t know how much the young bodybuilders could see. Easy. Easy. Barely raising his ass off the supple leather, Walt peeled off his whities. He grabbed the orange poser, then slid his feet, ankles, calves, and thighs through its leg openings. He lifted his ass off the leather sofa and pulled the poser over his glutes. He grabbed his cock and balls. Fukken heavy, man. Fukken big and thick. His cock felt like way more than 9.5” he was used to, more like 12” and his nuts were big as kiwis. He stuffed his swollen junk into the poser and yanked the it up. It stretched to the max. As he stood, Walt felt 6’4’, maybe even 6’5”, 260-265 lbs. His t-shirt seemed to shrivel. Rising above his pubes, it exposed his roided belly. Its seams frayed as he pumped himself into a most muscular, crab pose. “Arrrgh!” Walt ripped the t-shirt over his head. Walt looked at the young men. He saw their eyes riveted on him with eager appreciation. He knew their interest in his physique was real, and that posing for them wasn’t foolish. With easy arrogance, Walt assayed his mighty physique through poses, variations and repeats: front double biceps, front lat spread, side chest - right and left, triceps - right and left, biceps - right and left, and three different takes on most muscular. Finished with displaying his massive upper torso, Walt transitioned first to a hands over head abs pose, then into abs and thigh poses, right leg forward first. As he shook his right thigh to accentuate his quadriceps, he couldn’t ignore his mega hard-on. Like a knight’s lance as he rode his steed, Walt’s stiff cock lunged forward, stretching the orange spandex, pulling the poser away from his crotch, exposing pubic hair, and offering peeks of his sac and shaft. Fukken awesome cock. Fukken hair. Fukken balls. Walt transitioned from right abs and thigh pose to left. Shaking and tensing his left quad, he also caused his ballsac to shift. Out popped his right nut with its covering of veiny scrote skin. Walt had been focused on his own mind-blowing experience of being huge. For sure, he had been asked to pose; almost begged, he thought, but once he’d ripped off his t-shirt, what he did was all about him, a show he did for himself and watched in his own mind, even as he performed for an audience of three. Walt had heard sounds and hoots, phrases and words of encouragement: “Yeah.” “Go for it.” “Hit it gramps, hit it Walt, hit it brah.” “Awesome, big guy.” “Go strong. You’re freakin, dude.” “You’re fukken massive. Ain’t never seen you look so huge.” Yet, so focused was he on how beastly he felt, the encouragement wasn’t what kept Walt going; a force inside did. While working on his left quad forward when his right nut popped out of the poser, he took a good look at his ramrod pole, defiant in its orange sheath. He felt dominating and powerful. He was riveted, gripped, transfixed by the explosive force that pumped his muscles to extremes, surged in his nads, and jonesed his libido. Walt turned to display his hulking back. Look at that ass. Did Walt hear it or imagine it? The rear of the poser had wedged itself into his butt crack, so Walt’s booty was on full view. Look at that ass. He blasted out a rear lat spread. Look at that ass. He alternated lat spreads with rear double biceps poses. Look at that ass. He did calf raises. Look at that ass. Walt widened his stance. They want to see my ass. Let them have a really good look. He bent over, maybe to grab his ankles, but used one arm and hand, his left, to reach around and pull the poser out of his butt crack. Show you my virgin manhole, dudes. Show you my fukken anus. Walt tugged the poser from between his glutes. Its taut waistband popped against his right hip, then split. “What the fuck?!” Walt breathed out the phrase, deeply. Time for the big show. Walt let the poser fall to the floor, he stepped out of it. Glad of its freedom, his vigorous cockstand charged forward. His teeming nutsac dropped halfway to his knees. Walt turned. “Holy Fuck!” Tre, Daz, and Coke panted. “Holy Fuck! Holy Fuck! Holy Fuck!” Walt’s pisshole oozed precum. His prostate pounded. His balls heaved. His shaft was choked up with jizz. Let it rip. Let it rip. Walt pumped out a front double biceps pose. His nads erupted. Spunk flew. “Fukken A! Fucken awesome! Fukken big brah to you dudes now!” Walt walked out the door. “Shit, brah, get back here.” Coke, Daz and Tre ran after him. “You can’t go other there naked. You got to come down from the juice. You got to put on your clothes and go home to your wife.”
  32. 17 points
    First Story! I'm still getting a handle on things on this site, but this is really the first story I've EVER posted online...EVER! I hope y'all like it. There wasn’t really anything I wouldn’t do for Tommy, and so that’s why I wound up doing just about everything for Tommy. You could say our life together is anything but normal, but I think that’s part of what makes it all so special. We were freaks. But soon we would have to change the way our dynamic was working because I was starting to become so freaky, I really needed help taking care of the both of us. Sure, we were never bodybuilders or anything, but we had dedicated our lives to becoming the biggest, freakiest, most musclebound monsters there ever was. Tommy got there a few years ago, with the help of entire teams of doctors and nutritionists, personal trainers, freaking scientists! It took a lot of work, drove us completely over the edge, but together, we transformed ourselves into beasts and formulated lines of supplements all kinds of shit to help other people grow like we did. But no one ever came close to Tommy. There are a handful out there a lot like me, over six hundred pounds of beef, albeit a little blubber here and there. I’m not cut like I was in college, but it’s grown on me. Something with my system and the formula just didn’t agree and I blimped out a bit. It’s nothing crazy, just some pooch, but it makes me look all kinds of swole. I can’t really fit through doorways, and clothes have to be made custom, but I love shit to be tight, so sometimes I buy normal stuff so I can hulk out of them. Tommy loves it. He can’t really get up anymore, not without help. They gave him all kinds of implants and hormones to make him a little taller, to pack on more mass, but more importantly, make him sturdier. His bones are fucking huge! When we met, he was like six feet tall, maybe two hundred thirty pounds of off-season bulk. Today, after maybe ten years, he’s seven feet even and almost a thousand pounds. He can’t tie his shoes anymore, he can’t wipe his ass anymore, he can feed himself after we stretch for most of the morning, but that’s about it. We really only dress him to workout, but he has shit that’ll make him decent if one of us is feeling like going on a little date. “Babe.” I pat the mountainous slab that was his pec. “Baby…” Due to his size, Tommy snored. Sometimes, if he wasn’t angled right, he stopped breathing, but that was a problem of the past. Now, the real struggle was getting his giant ass up in the morning; his snores rattled the windows! My heart always melts when I watch him sleep. All those enhancements we made on his body had gradually altered his face too. When we met, he kept his blonde waves cropped short, and you could cut glass on his cheekbones. His jawline was thick and manly, and the cleft in his chin went deeper than I thought a cleft could really go. His lips were luscious and lovely, but it was his eyes that won you over. He had the most gorgeous pair of baby blue eyes framed by long lashes. Those eyes were really the only thing that remained of the man I had fallen for, at least on the outside. He had been swallowed up by the beast of my dreams, a hulk with a jawline that nearly gave him an underbite. His lips had plumped up, growing thick like something even a porn star would be envious of. His cheeks had sunken in as his metabolism skyrocketed, eating away every ounce of fat on his body, making his cheekbones stand out all the more, and then growing even farther when he started on his bone supplements. Every muscle in his face rippled, the veins on his temples often bulged out when he spoke or chewed, his brow had grown heavy like a brick. It was a hard face, but the hottest and most lovable face I had ever known. He was my beast. “Hey…” I tried to shove…something. I pushed on his shoulder, his globe-sized shoulder, but I barely even made an indentation on his skin. “TOMMY!” I slapped his leg. There was a satisfying PAP! sound as my hand clapped against his beefy, hairy thigh. Even relaxed, every striation stood out like his skin were paper thin. That roused him. He stopped snoring and mumbled, confused and annoyed. “Uh?” His morning voice was so deep and scratchy. He jerked his head around as best he could without much in the way of a neck. His thick beard hung down, between his pecs and slipped back and forth as he looked around the room. “What?” he croaked. “We gotta get up.” I said, kissing him. “I made breakfast, come on.” “Mmm…” He tried to stretch, but he could barely lift his arms. “Noooo…” Something jerked me forward, and suddenly I was crushed up against my lover’s immense body. It was only when he literally ripped the clothes from my body with a single tug that I realized he had pulled me in for a bearhug. His foot long morning wood brushing against the insides of my own massive thighs. I got hard right then and there. That was another thing that I absolutely fucking loved about Tommy. When we fucked, he could hold me up in one hand forever. I’m fucking massive, but he was a monster that could bend around and throw me and manipulate me like I was just a toy. He took me by the wingspan that was my lats and lowered me down on his massive cock. It still felt like he could tear me in half, but I loved it. Even lying down, his balls were so huge my thick backside slapped against them. He fucked me for what felt like an hour, getting harder every time he made me scream or moan. I had lost all control of myself, and this was just morning wood. I lost all track of time when he came inside me, but by the time he had finished, my guy was taught. He tried to get up, still holding me, but bending at the waist was impossible right now. The other day, we had destroyed his chest and abs, and he moaned with pain as he found against his own body. Tommy set me down, but I had lost feeling in my legs. And there we were, him sprawled out on the bed, me sprawled out on the floor. Even laughing hurt like hell as he chuckled at our situation. We had turned ourselves into total freaks, and I don’t think either of us would change a single thing. To be continued?
  33. 16 points
    METAMORPH GYM BY Cutlerfan. Based on many roleplays with Scot158f With added inspiration from MuscleAce and GiganticBeast No one knew who bought the dilapidated 6 story former office building but most people thought the improvements that were made were high quality. It had an ultramodern solar panel exterior along with gold and glass embellishments inside the main lobby. When the completion date approached a sign appeared to announce a new METAMORPH GYM coming soon. Three months later everything was ready including staff and trainers hired for the first floor gym. A contest for free memberships was run and soon the positive responses from the winners and other clients drew dozens of people to join. The gym got a reputation because of its amazing ability to break people through plateaus, slumps, and to grow despite difficult life circumstances. One of the new owners was on site it seemed at all times. His partner supposedly also his husband as well was not seen by anyone for several months after the gym opened. Rumors abounded describing him as a Beast of Pure Muscle, a Titanic Muscle Man, and Bigger Than The Hulk. Most of these were assumed to be exaggerated but no one knew for certain. Anyone who actually met this shadow partner seemed to be on the fast track to growth and transformation. Such was the case of 36 year old Ian James Mathews. He was one of the three contest winners of a free two year membership including training, nutritional support, and full spa privileges. A rotund man with a degree in the Biological Sciences he has signed up for the contest on a lark and was amazed and embarrassed to have won. He couldn’t really afford a luxury gym membership but the idea of walking around in his obese body lifting weights horrified him. He didn’t mind the lifting but being on display like a fish in a tank worried him. Did he even belong at a gym with fit people? Would they jeer or laugh at him or worse; murmur and point from the sidelines. He knew he didn’t belong but the meeting with the owner had convinced him to try it. The owner had a warmth about him that made Ian feel relaxed and at ease. The man gave tremendous hugs and always seemed to have just the snack Ian was looking for. He was always kind but did try to steer Ian’s choices to more healthy ones by letting him try many free samples until he found supplements and snacks he liked. It was now the second week and time to begin the actual training but Ian didn’t really want to go. It had been a monster weekend. His mother called again asking why he wasn’t seeing some young lady completely deaf to his past comments about being gay. His boss had called on Friday evening and wanted him to prepare a presentation on the newest methods in genetic analysis...by Monday. Between personal and job stress Ian had overindulged in comfort foods on Saturday and Sunday and felt like a complete loser that Monday evening before the gym. All that changed when the owner said it was time to meet the other owner and get started on his training. Afterward Ian knew he had met someone incredible but his memory was a bit blurred about the incident. A warm soak in some kind of tub and a feeling of growing strength was all he could recall. Images of other things popped in his head from time to time but he couldn’t remember anything specific. He began lifting with different trainers of varying body types. From Ectomorph to Endomorph and even Mesomorph he was passed along over the next few weeks to determine who would be his main trainer. It ended up being Max. Max was a former pro bodybuilder and Ian idolized him. He was over 50 but still looked like he could win Mr. Olympia if he chose to compete. He had a thick powerlifter’s build, a masculine face, lightly hairy body, and a substantial bulge in his exercise shorts. Ian admired Max from a distance and he would love if they got close but feared how Max would react if he knew he was gay. Max gave incredible massages after workouts and Ian was in his spell. He started to look forward to the gym which surprised him but he couldn’t deny his attraction to Max. Ian looked forward to workout sessions with Max and would even watch Max training alone. Just seeing the 6’6” 380 pound behemoth demonstrate exercises made Ian get hard. Seeing his sweating glossy bulky muscles heaving the metal up and down was amazing to watch. Ian hardly noticed he was losing weight . His eyes were on Max whenever he was in the gym. He had even showered next to Max a few times and he felt no embarrassment in his presence. “Don’t worry that belly will get smaller fast with me training you Big Man!” For the first time in his life he felt good being called that. Max was so kind and thoughtful and all around nice that Ian started to imagine the two connecting. It was pure fantasy he knew but It did make him work even harder in the gym to please Max. In only a few weeks his waistline got smaller and smaller until he could wear clothes he hadn’t fit into for a decade. Weeks passed and Ian noticed a change in Max. He could have sworn he saw him giving him the eye but assumed he was probably imagining it. Another time Max winked at him while flexing and again Ian dismissed it as something platonic. Ian just couldn’t believe studly muscle bull like Max could be attracted to a tub of lard like him. Ian resigned himself to enjoy looking at Max’s hyper-masculine body and tried to be content with that. He enjoyed the weekly massages Max gave him to keep him flexible. The caress of Max’s big hands was enough to arouse Ian but Max never seemed to notice. More than once Ian had a wet groin but Max never commented on it. Max was very skilled at massage but there were mishaps. A few times Max’s hand had lingered just a moment too long during deep tissue massage around Ian’s erogenous zones. His nips and quads and glutes developed a heretofore hidden sensitivity to touch. Ian worried that one day he might actually cum during a massage so he tried his best to downplay any reactions as being caused by the Max’s warm hands or a lack of sex. It came as a complete surprise when he learned Max was gay. It was not obvious to Ian anyway; Max was a disciplined trainer. He had neither the roaming eye some trainers had nor the slight sneer other homophobic trainers showed at times. It was during a massage that Max revealed himself. Max was massaging Ian’s shrinking but still ample belly when his hand ‘slipped.’ The brawny hand rubbed against Ian’s cock and startled him. “Whoops sorry there big man.. that oil is slippery.” In his usual relaxation mode Ian thought nothing of it until he felt the steel table shake slightly and a source of warmth getting closer. He opened his eyes and saw the colossal form of Max just over his body. Max was now just above him! Was this some weird massage technique? “OH Shit” Thought Ian. “What if I get hard? Damn!” That did it. Ian’s cock became engorged and began to stiffen but fortunately Max didn’t seem to notice so Ian closed his eyes quickly and pretended to be zoned out rather than stop Max’s movements. Max continued to massage as Ian’s body quivered from his touch. The sensation was an exquisite blend of hugging and groping. Max moved down even more until his bulging speedo touched Ian’s now full boxer briefs. Leaning down Max’s chest rubbed against Ian’s and a pair of lips brushed against his. Max was..KISSING HIM? Not wanting the moment to end Ian allowed Max to kiss and touch and grope him. Was it possible Max was attracted to Ian? Mentally Ian shook his head. No, it was a gesture of pity he was certain but he couldn’t deny how Max made him feel. A huge slightly sweaty set of jumbo pecs was directly above his face. Ian took a quick peek to confirm this then formulated a plan. When Max’s pecs were over his face again he lifted his head and sucked on one of Max’s finger thick nips. The right nip and piercing went into Ian’s mouth and he sucked as hard as he could. He heard Max moan and opened his eyes. Max smiled back. “I thought you’d never react Big Man..I thought I was being obvious in my attraction to you but you didn’t respond so I had to try something more extreme.” Ian blushed as Max explained his feelings for him. “I know I could have just asked but...what can I say? I’m shy. “ Max chuckled. “You could have fooled me” replied Ian and leaned up quickly to hug and kiss Max. In moments they knew they were a couple. “You’re so hot” Ian began as he rubbed Max’s pecs. “Damn that sounded dumb didn’t it?” Max just smiled and replied “Sounds great to me” then Ian spasmed. “What’s wrong?”questioned Max becoming alarmed. “I don’t..errr know..ohhh FUCK! My body feels so tight..AUGHHH!” His body seemed like an overfilled balloon. It was like every part of him was inflating “What the hell!” As Max watched amazed Ian’s body firmed up becoming a lean thin waisted figure. “You got thin Ian!” Max cried out but Ian couldn’t hear him. The beating of Ian’s own heart drummed in his ears and he could only hear that as his body stretched and transformed. Ian growled as his breathing became louder and the growling got deeper as his voice dropped several octaves. “Fuck me it feels so good!” he managed to bellow shocking Max who was in awe as his new lover expanded in height and mass. Ballooning to 420 pounds and 6’8” Ian’s chest was over 75 inches and his quads were 50 inches around. His waist was small at only 30 inches but his shoulder span was over 42 inches across. His cock began to snake down past his knees around 2 feet long. The head plumped up as thick as a small orange as the foreskin regenerated. Now the size of big lemons Ian’s balls began pumping out testosterone making his cock get hard. He moaned as pre began to flow and Max couldn’t resist sucking the glistening member. In seconds Ian erupted into Max’s mouth as he orgasmed and Ian moaned loudly instinctively pressing his cock further into Max’s throat. This movement make Max cum as well and soon both men were lying heaving on the floor together since the table had finally collapsed. A bond had formed that was sexual and yet beyond sexual. It just felt right to touch and feel and kiss one another. Over the next year both Ian and Max continued growing together in love. They became partners in the gym and in the rest of their lives. Both powerfully built lifters who had a fire of love burning in their hearts. They felt the need to quench the heat in bed together nearly every night. Finally, nearly a year later, Max asked Ian to marry him and Ian agreed. The sight of the two huge musclemen in tuxedos was quite surprising and delectable. Ian started working for the company full time in the Research and Development section on one of the upper floors after their honeymoon. Max remained a trainer and mentor and both were the happiest they had ever been. One night Ian dreamed about meeting the owner’s partner and the profound change he had caused in Ian. Snuggling closer to his husband Ian happily snoozed. Meanwhile at the gym the owner closed up as usual. Turning off most of the lights and locking the door he then went into his partner’s office. Smiling at the muscle behemoth in front of him He shook a group of take-out menus and asked “Asian tonight hun? Italian? American? Or All of the Above?” A deep voice seemed to come from the shadows “You know me too well babe. Of course All of the Above! I need more fuel to grow! Now how about a kiss for your husbear?" The owner who was a huge man himself walked over and tenderly kissed the big bearded bear who was his mate and relaxed in a hug in the even more gigantic man’s arms. “I think the gym is a success babe” the owner stated. “When you’re involved I always know it will be fantastic babe!” replied his lover. The two enjoyed a deep slow kiss before moving on to other activities that night.
  34. 16 points
    It has been a while but posting another short story on behalf of Captain Muscle. Comments are always welcome, any comments about spelling and editing should be directed to me. Any comments about the story proper should be directed to Captain Muscle. Comments help writers improve and provide you all with better MG Stories. But please enjoy this short story!! Testosterone Bomb- Muscle Growth Short Story So wasn’t a huge fan of bodybuilding or muscle in general. I mean yeah I had good genetics but never wanted to be massive like I am now. It had all started last week when a series of……you know what let’s start from the beginning. 1 Week Earlier I woke up last Monday to get ready for work. I started my normal morning routine, took a shower, made breakfast that kind of thing. I turned on the news while eating to see that a bomb had gone off. At the place I WORK no less! Fortunately, there were no casualties that I could tell. On the screen I could see what I thought was the cloud of smoke from the bomb encompass the entire news crew and building but there was no actual fire or explosion. It must have been some kind of gas or something. Then all the men on the street right there for the entire state to see and live on television started exploding in growth and I mean they were getting massive! They were growing and grabbing themselves on camera like they either didn’t care or didn’t notice. I heard A LOT of moaning and clothing ripping. A few of them started masturbating live on camera while the growth was happening. Then they interrupted their own news feed. “We are sorry that you have to see that folks! We pride ourselves on been family friendly. Once again we apologize. What we are apparently seeing is some kind of “bomb” that has gone off causing only the men to grow. Wait……. what……. OK! We just got word that another bomb has gone off a few blocks away at the Wells Fargo Bank on Main street. Our own Steve Quinn who is live via phone call is on the scene from a distance as to not be in vicinity of the gas. STEVE can you hear me!?” “Yes Marilyn we are at a safe distance. We see people running from the building and the men are exploding with growth! They’re ALL growing! I don’t want to get to close as I don’t know what these “bigger men” would do. All the men are just so huge and are now walking around naked exposing themselves! Oh wait now there…. OH MY GOD!!!! They’re having sexual intercourse right there on the street all of them! OH F@#K they saw me! F@#K I gotta get out he………… BOOM! Other bomb goes off across the street right where Steve is and he gets caught in the gas. “Oh F@#K Marilyn another bomb just we……ripppppppp arghhhhhh” “Steve, STEVE what’s happening!!” “Mmmmmm so big……rrriippppppp grrrrrrrr mmmmmmm. Marilyn…. I…. growing every…. ripppppppp aaaarrrrgghhh man in here……. Growing. RIRRRRRRRIIPPPPPPPPP!!! My thighs……so…… large, ass so rrrripppppppp huge! Need a guy to plow my meat pie. “CUT CUT!!! We've just received word that more of these so called “bombs” are going off all over the city and surrounding areas! Once again a series of “bombs” are going off all over the city and seem to only be effecting MEN! So we urge all Men in the area to be careful! More on this as it develops after the break!” I just sat there with the fork in my mouth as the commercials played out. Flabbergasted at what was happening! It was like something out of a science fiction movie or something. I mean men growing and getting huge, this must be a joke!? BOOM……BOOM I jolt up and looked out the window and saw a cloud of green gas spreading across the neighborhood. I could see Greg my neighbor from next door running outside and he literally just exploded and is now Massive Greg. I heard moaning and groaning like it was the zombie apocalypse. Greg was walking around with a HUGE boner spewing pre all over the street while Nick from across the street was masturbating to the apparent sight of Greg’s pre spewing boner. They both ran up to each other then Greg bent over and Nick shoved his massive ram rod into Greg. They'd started plowing each other right then and there! I couldn't believe what I was seeing! Greg and Nick are or rather were straight to the point where they hated the LGBT community. Now they were both fucking each other on the street and WOW they were really going at it; like jack rabbits! Present Day Little did I know that I'd left the window open in the bathroom so a large amount of the gas was wafting into my house really fast. 1 Week Earlier I stepped off the couch after seeing Nick and Greg going at it when I felt the cold embrace of something. Looking down it was the gas! I tried running but it was too late. I exploded in growth, my work suit expanding and ripping apart at the seams. My now huge cock flopped out and started dripping pre all over the floor. Thoughts of muscle, growing and fucking other men flooding my mind. My height increased from 5 feet 9 inches to 10 feet. My entire body was just massive. I could feel my glutes enlarge, the feeling of them while I walked was amazing! My thighs became cut and bigger then tree trunks. My traps swallowed my neck as my jaw became nice and square. My shoulders broadened and became bigger then bowling balls. My arms so engrossed with muscular growth they bulged like crazy. I ripped open my front door and ran outside and saw one of my other neighbors Rick who had also just finished growing. We ran towards each other and he bent over showing me his glorious hole and I shoved my now massive prick into it. Filling him with my muscle cum! Present Day Now I wasn’t Gay before but I am now! Seems these bombs were set off by a group of people that stole them from the government. The government made these Testosterone Bombs for war. They could drop them on their rival’s countries and cause a riot with all the men growing into Muscle Whores. Only they scrapped the idea but never destroyed the bombs. Cut to a few weeks ago and this group stole them and set them off in the city. Every man in my city has become a Muscle Whore just like me! All I can think about is Muscle and fucking other guys. I have yet to experience forcing a normy to drink my cum. My kind has yet to try this. I say my kind cause we are restricted to the city while everyone else that didn’t change was relocated. Every once in a while they place a new recruit in our city it rarely happens but it’s nice to…. never mind...my mind went elsewhere just now it often does.
  35. 16 points
    CHAPTER THIRTEEN: HARDCORE PREP We headed back home on the morning of July 4th. It was nice to have the entire day to rest up and relax after the last few exciting days at the beach house. We got home early in the afternoon and took a nice nap to recharge. Early that evening we headed to UrbanFlex for our first workout back at our home gym in a few days. Officially the gym was closed for the holiday but since Dad had become one of the gym's star patrons the owner had given him a key so he could train whenever he needed. Ted met up with us as well to really “kick our asses into competition mode” as he put it. “Play time is over, ladies,” he added. We decided to do a combination chest and shoulders workout. Since we hadn't been in here for a few days we were excited to work the real weights that we were familiar with. While Brody had a great home gym at the lake house, it was nothing compared to UrbanFlex. We began with incline barbell bench press to really build up that pec shelf that every bodybuilder desires. We proceeded to have one of most intense workouts we have ever had, and that is saying something. With the gym closed we had the entire place to ourselves so we cranked up the heavy rock music louder than usual and heaved the iron around like madmen. Ted was literally screaming at us on every rep of every set with an intensity I had never seen from him. He really was going to kick our asses into shape. After just a couple of our working sets we were all sweating profusely and fully pumped. We continued our working sets on the incline bench. Dad used a separate bench from Ted and I due to his far superior strength and height. We would've been switching out the weight and seat setting constantly if we had shared a bench. After Dad's third set of incline benches, he did 15 reps x 315, he stood up and looked way down at Ted and I. “It's time to get serious,” he said. He reached down and pulled off his sleeveless gym shirt and draped it over the back of the bench, revealing those heaving pumped pecs to Ted and I. “No one's here so we're lifting shirtless so we can see the muscle working. Strip off those tops, boys,” my father demanded. Ted and I were in no position to disobey so we followed suit. “Alright, throw on another plate for me, guys.” Ted an I loaded up the bar to 405 lbs and Dad squeezed himself into the bench and began repping out the weight like it was nothing. Cripes, a lot people can't even deadlift this weight! After 15 reps he re-racked the weight. Ted and I completed our own sets and Dad has us add another quarter to each side. Now, with the bar at 455 lbs, the weight was getting to him, but it's what he needed to tear down those already massive muscle fibers so they could grow back even bigger. Since he was shirtless we could all see his giant pecs leap and contort with effort as he pressed. He would let the weight slowly come down and would rest the bar just above his silver dollar sized nipples. Then he would shove the weight suddenly upward, his two pecs bursting upward and together with each intense repetition, creating a cleavage that a female porn star would be jealous of. Ted stood up on the bench assembly spotter's platform and screamed down at my Dad at the top his lungs, his spittle practically raining down on my Dad's face. “C'MON YOU PANSY! PUSH IT UP!! YEAH BIG CHAD, SQUEEZE THAT FUCKIN' CHEST,” Ted would scream, amongst other motivational insults. After 12 grueling reps Dad stood slowly and turned to face Ted. Even though Ted was standing on the elevated spotting platform, he was still a couple of inches shorter than the towering 6 ft 8 in bodybuilder. Ted snarled back at Dad, “Hit that most muscular pose, big guy. DO IT! Squeeze those muscle boobs! Force that blood in.” Dad commenced the pose with a fierce growl. “THERE IT IS, BOOM! HOLD THE POSE BIG MAN...HOLD IT...HOLD IT...GOOD, RELEASE!” Ted shouted and Dad dropped his arms. “Great job, Chad! You're going to have to hold those poses for many seconds so we're going to work on them in between sets. You too, Jed.” “FUCK I'M PUMPED!” my father shouted. Indeed he was. I hadn't seen him shirtless with a chest pump too often but he looked insane! Even through the light fur you could the see the sinews crisscrossing his heaving plates of armor, which was a new sight to me. Undoubtedly his body-fat was still dropping and his definition was now coming in all over. “One more set, switch out that quarter for another plate, boys.” We had seen Dad bench this weight before, but only for four reps. Ted protested, “Now Chad, buddy, remember bodybuilding is more about repetition and squeezing the muscle, not the weight. We're not going to for low reps and strength anymore. We don't want to risk injury so...” Pops suddenly cut Ted off with an aggravated glare, “Who says I'm doing low reps for strength? Shut up and get ready to spot me.” Ted obeyed and got ready to help Dad un-rack the bar. The bar left the brackets and Dad began his set. One, two, three, four...holy shit. He was repping it easy. He blew past his previous best rep count at 495 lb and continued. He was yelling at full blast, Ted was doing the same. Five, six, seven, he started to slow down. He arms were trembling but the beast never lost form. Eight, nine. Geezus! Ten...annnnnnddd eleven! He racked the weight and jumped up off the bench. “FUCK YEAHHHHHH!!!! Ted jumped off the spotting platform and ran over to stand right in front of Dad, looking eight inches up into Dad's eyes. “POSE, NOW,” Ted demanded. My hulking father crabbed forward so his head was just above Ted's and bared his teeth. He was drenched in sweat. As Dad held the pose Ted proceeded to PUNCH Dad's pecs. “Fuck yeah, big man! Those pecs feel like rocks as I punch 'em! HOLD THE POSE!” Ted kept punching. Small droplets of sweat would spray off my father's flesh as Ted's fist repeatedly made contact. “I SAID HOLD THE POSE! A FEW MORE SECONDS... …good and release.” Dad exhaled and stood up. His pecs were red, not only from the gallons of blood forced into them but from the pounding Ted gave him. We rotated off sets between Dad, Ted and myself. I was stoked myself to be benching more than I ever had as well. I felt pumped to max just like my Dad. Doc's treatments must've been kicking in! Like Dad, Ted had me hold a flex after every set to completely exhaust the muscles. Thankfully, Ted elected not to punch my chest. After incline we moved onto flat dumbbell bench. Dad worked his way up the 200 pounders, the heaviest dumbbells in the gym, for sets of 15-20! He was now so tall that his ass and his head hung off each end of the bench that was designed for a human within the standard height range. Again, as he heaved the dumbbells up and down his pecs exploded upward in size. If you were to place your fingers in between the granite cleavage they would've been instantly crushed as he raised the weight. I myself was ecstatic that I could now rep out the 100 lb dumbbells. Of course, as happy as I was in was insane to think that my father was benching DOUBLE what I was! The workout continued as we blasted chest from a few different angles and then moved on to delts. Once again my father's strength seemed inhuman. He could military press four plates! FOUR! My father was now strong enough that he could hold over four hundred pounds above his head, a weight that was almost two of me! After three more shoulder movements our delts were just as pumped as our chests. Every inch of us was soaked in sweat. It was a good thing there was a pile of towels at the towels station even though the gym was closed because we left every bench and every seat that we used saturated with man sweat after use. After our last set my father clapped his big mit on my shoulder and eyed me proudly. “Damn, Champ! You're looking mighty huge. Look at that chest, all red and pumped. And those shoulder caps! Wow, I've never seen you looking so studly.” “Thanks, Pops! Although If you think I look big you should look in the mirror. Gosh, I have never seen you look so WIDE!” I reached up and poked his right deltoid. “GEEZ! I can't even put a dent in your shoulder muscle it's so pumped. Looking up at you, you look more like a superhero every day,” I gushed. “Ah, thanks, little guy!” My Dad suddenly reached down toward me. I saw him coming, laughed and attempted to get away, but my big athletic Dad was just quick enough to snag me in his long herculean arms. He ensnared me, lifted me on my feet and playfully smushed my head into his sweaty, heaving pecs. Our sweat mixed with each others as he squished every part of me he could into the front side of his torso, him chuckling with amusement. “OOF! DAD! GROSS!” Dad and Ted continued to laugh as he easily manhandled me against his sweaty torso. Even with my own increasing strength I was no match for his physical superiority. Dad set me back down on the ground and I sneered up into his piercing eyes. “There ya go little buddy! Now you don't need a shower!” I huffed in annoyance as I grabbed a towel and tried to dry as much of the salty moisture off me that I could. We stretched and then gathered our bags to head back home. Ted was going to follow us, he wanted to go over some more preparation. A few minutes later we arrived home. I followed Pops inside as he ducked under the front door frame. Ted pulled up and followed us in a couple of minutes later. In the kitchen Dad threw a stack of pre-cooked chicken the microwave while I cut up some asparagus. Ted walked in and told my father and I to sit at the table. We sat down and watched Ted pulled over the trashcan from the corner of the kitchen. “Alright boys. You two sit right there no matter you see.” “Gee, that doesn't sound ominous at all,” I joked. Ted smiled back and looked at my old man. “You got that, He-man? Can you sit there no matter what I do?” “I'll try my best, little man.” Ted proceeded to raid our cupboards, fridge and pantry. Ted was right, this was painful. It seemed like he was throwing away every good tasting consumable we had. “Uh oh, sport. He just tossed your potato chips.” My heart leapt as Ted smashed the crinkly bag down into the garbage bin. “Bastard!” I comically yelled at Ted. Ted was even throwing away things that I thought were healthy. I mean, honestly, since Dad had really bought in to the bodybuilding a few months ago, in general we didn't have a lot of what I would consider “unhealthy” food. Dad and I curiously questioned Ted as he tossed some questionable items.” “Too much sugar”. “To many carbs”. “It's all empty calories.” These were a few of the phrases uttered by Ted. Once Ted had removed the unqualified foodstuffs, he grabbed a chair and pulled it over near the cupboards. I realized what he was doing. If you recall we had very tall cabinets in our kitchen. Ted and I were short enough that we could not see the highest shelf. Dad instantly jumped up and stood next to Ted who was standing on top of the chair. For once Ted got to look down at my father, although I'm sure view wasn't any less intimidating. “What're you doing, Ted,” my father crossed his arms in front of that mighty chest. His forearms bulged intimidatingly. The action made his upper pecs bunch upward even more. Ted smirked down at Dad. “I thought I told you to stay seated, big guy.” “I don't like my privacy being invaded,” Dad growled. “I bet you don't, Chad.” Now that he was a height that allowed, Ted looked into the upper cupboard shelf. “Ah, I see why. What's this shoved the toward the back, here? Something that only a big 6 ft 8 in tall man could only see or reach with those big buff arms?” Ted reached in and pulled out a half eaten carton of double stuff Oreo cookies. I laughed as I saw them. If Dad had one sweet-tooth weakness, it was Oreos. I saw my Dad's face fall. He joked, “No! Not my Oreos, you bastard!” “Sorry, big man. It's for you're own good! HEY!” Dad grabbed Ted's shoulders, one in each hand, and easily hauled him off the chair and held Ted above his head. An hour earlier I had seen Dad military press 405 lbs, so Ted's 220-some lbs had to feel like nothing to him. He held Ted up against the ceiling. “Are you sure you want to defy me, little guy,” Dad sneered as he stared up at Ted pressed against the ceiling. He was kidding but for a brief moment I experienced some fear at his power. I never thought he would hurt Ted, but this huge man had so much power you couldn't help but let that linger in the back of your brain. Ted saw the same thing I did. For just a split second I thought I saw a look of terror blanch across his face. I guess that had to be expected when you are staring down at the floor from a height of about nine feet! Ted relaxed and smirked again down at Dad. “Oh big guy. Are those hunger pangs kicking in already? It's only gonna get worse. Hey, you aint foolin' no one superChad. You only use your powers for good, you ain't gonna hurt me, haha.” My father grinned that handsome face back up at Ted. He allowed his arms to bend set Ted down back down on the kitchen linoleum. “You're right, little buddy. I've pledged to use my power only for good, not evil.” Ted proceeded to dump the cookies in the trash. Dad and I both silently wept as Ted took the tasty trash out the dumpster. I sympathetically wrapped one arm around Dad's waist for a half hug. “We're in this together, herc. He took my chips and took your Oreos. Misery loves company, AMIRITE?” After Ted had crushed our souls he headed home. Since it was the night of 4th Dad and I sat out on our driveway that evening and watched the fireworks being set off from various households of our neighborhood. It was a hot, humid summer evening so both and Dad sat out shirtless. We enjoyed the rest of the evening as various bursts of colorful light shown down and illuminated my father massively muscled frame. And so the next day we settled back into our normal summertime routine. Wake up, work, workout, sleep. It sounds boring but honestly we found out the consistent routine helped us stay on track with our preparation. After a couple of days without any sweet sugary snacks both Dad and I were starting to get cravings. Our workouts were still going great. Even though a big amount of energy-packed carbs had been cut from our diets we were still going strong. Both Dad and I so far were continuing to put up personal records. On Friday, I thought Dads arms were going to explode. After our arm workout I had never seen them look so pumped full of blood. Of course, Dad had just finished curling 225 lbs for multiple sets of 12! I know for a lot of men, including myself, finally being able to bench 225 lb feels like a huge milestone. And here was this towering muscular man, easily curling that same weight. I couldn't help it when we got home, I had to measure his arms. I grabbed the tape measure as Dad ducked into the kitchen. Dad smirked down at me bemusedly at my childlike curiosity. “Ok, big guy, let's see how big those monsters are fully pumped.” Dad looked from my eyes to his arms. First his left and then his right. “These little things here? I think they're pretty big...” Well that was the understatement of the year. “...isn't that good enough?” “Please, Dad? Surely, have to be curious, yourself.” “Well I am a little curious, but don't call me Shirley!” We both laughed at one of our favorite jokes, both us being huge fans of the movie 'Airplane'. “Ok little buddy I suppose. Here let me flex...oh man, ouch!” Dad was having trouble bringing his left arm up into a flex. That huge basketball sized arm was still so pumped full of blood from our workout that he was having trouble bending his arm. “Haha, look at that, Son. I can't even reach up and touch my head I'm so damn pumped up!” I mimicked his movement and to my own surprise found I couldn't touch my head either as my own pump was still in full force. “Damn, you're right, Dad. I can't either. We just growing too big, I guess.” Dad chuckled, “Haha, little guy. There no such thing at TOO BIG! Here I'll just flex my arm at my side.” I proceed to wrap the tape around his arms. The flesh was hot and humid due to the skin stretching pump and sheen of sweat that lingered from our workout. Damn, Dads arm fully pumped was GIGANTIC! Due to my own arm pump and the basketball sized limb I was trying to measure I was struggling to take the measurement. “Hurry, up Jed, my arm is going to cramp up!” Finally I was able to hold the tape down on his peak and worked the tape around his arm. “Holy crap Dad! You're arm is just a hair under 26 inches around!!” “GRRRRR, FUCK YEAH LITTLE GUY! Pretty soon these arms of mine are going to be bigger than your WAIST!” “Cripes, Dad, you're arms are already bigger than my thighs!” “Is that so, Son?” Dad leaned down and put his enormous left arm next to my right thigh. “Let's see if that's true. Hike up your shorts, Champ.” I pulled up the basketball shorts to expose my right leg. OH MY GOD! It was true. You could clearly see it. Dad bent his arm next to my leg. It was evident his mighty arm was just as wide, if not wider than my own thighs! And, not to brag, but I actually have very well developed legs, especially for my age, according to Ted. “Looks like it's true, Squirt! These pythons of mine do look bigger than your quads. I guess you'll just to have to start doing more squats, haha!” Dad stood back up with a smug grin on his face as he looked down at me from seven inches above. “This is amazing, Son. I'm going to blow everyone away at that competition.” The next day was Saturday so we met up with Ted and went to get our treatments and check in with the Doc. After words we drove the gym, even though it was an off day. Ted instructed that we were going to start posing practice. UrbanFlex had a few smaller studio rooms with large mirrors. For today Ted was going to show us how to perform the upper body poses. He explained, “Posing is a huge part of the competition. No matter how big or ripped you are, if you don't know how to properly pose you won't win.” Ted took off his shirt and instructed us to do the same. “Ok, Big Chad, let's see your double biceps pose.” Dad brought his arms into what I thought was pinnacle of a double biceps pose. “TERRIBLE!” Ted shouted. Dad laughed and lightly socked Ted in the shoulder. Ted explained, “Haha. Ok, truthfully it's not a bad start, but here is where we get into the details.” Dad resumed the pose. Ted started by explaining the arms position. Ted coached that Dad needed to raise his arms up slightly so that his lats would flare out as he flexed. Also, he brought his fists inward a bit too far when he flexed his canons. Apparently he need to keep his forearms closer to a 90 degree angle. Ted would perform the pose and explain to us the proper position of everything. Ted had me perform the pose as well next to my Dad. Standing next to my Dad, at a full seven inches shorter was a little intimidating, but once I took my eyes of him I was surprised how good I was looking myself! As I mentioned, Ted had his shirt off and here I was, not looking much smaller than him! We continued listening as Ted instructed. “Ok, guys, now suck in that waist and flex those abs at the same time...good.” After just a few minutes both Dad and I were starting to sweat. Dad wiped his forehead, “Whew, this is a lot harder than it looks. There is a lot more to each pose than I would ever have guessed.” Ted chuckled. “Yup. We will work on posing a few times a week. It will be a good compliment to the extra cardio I'm going to add.” Dad groaned at the thought of more cardio. “Ok, now let's work on the side chest pose. This one is a big more complicated. Watch me.” Ted performed the pose and explained to us how we wanted to use the arm at our side to shove our pecs upward to really exaggerate the shelf. Looking at Dad, I wasn't sure his chest size could be any more exaggerated. “Wow, great job Chad, this is going to be one your stronger poses. You are a natural at this one.” I had to agree. It looked like you could set a bucket of popcorn on my Dad's chest shelf as he held the pose. Ted then taught us the most muscular. Apparently there were a couple of variations of this pose. You could press your hands together or keep your fists a few inches apart, a la the famous pose of the 'Hulk' comic book character. You could hunch forward or stand up straight. Ted informed Dad that he looked best crouched over with his fists apart. “Because you are so tall, the slight lean forward will give the judges not only the best angle to look up at you but will also make you look even more intimidating. Jed, because you are such a ripped dude, I think you should stand up mostly straight and press your hand together right above your waist. Yeah, just like that, looking good young man! Really squeeze that chest...” I watched ourselves as we posed. Ted was absolutely correct. With Dad's bloated muscular size the “Hulk” version of the most-muscular pose was perfect for him. And my version made all my cuts and sinews jump out. Next we learned the lat spread pose. This too was tricky, mostly because we couldn't actually see our backs while executing the pose. Ted had to teach us this one by feel. After demonstrating I watched Ted as he grabbed my father's slabs of lats and psychically tried to pull them outward to get my Dad to understand the pose. “There ya go big man, really flare those elbows,” he coached. “Jed, make sure you are watching this.” Dad was struggling a little bit with pose and Ted let him know he would have to practice this one a bit more. Next I tried and Ted sounded impressed. “Nice, job Jed. This may be your natural pose. Chad, see how Jed here as opened up his back muscles, this is what you need to work on.” Finally we finished off our first posing session with the back double biceps. This one was relatively easy, it just had a couple of adjustments from the front double biceps pose. By the end of the session we were toweling off the sweat. “Ok, that was a good first lesson, boys. Next time we'll learn the legs poses. Now, think about how much you are sweating now. For every upper body pose you have to be flexing your legs in some way as well, so you can see how taxing true posing really is. Attack that cardio because you will need it as you are flexing your whole body up on stage. Good practice boys, we'll see you tomorrow!” Later that night Dad and I were actually sore just from from posing! The next day, Sunday, Ted instituted some extra cardio, much to my father's chagrin. After our squat workout we headed to the local high school track and Ted had us jog laps. It was difficult, not only because we weren't yet used to running a lot, but because our legs were still pumped from squatting. It was hot, being a July Sunday and all, so we stripped off our shirts and started running. It had to be quite a site to see this giant muscle man running around the track. There were a few other joggers as well, true runners who were mostly rail thin. The comparison was quite a site when my father would pass one of the runners. His massive arms alone looked to be the size of the their torsos! He very likely weighed nearly three times as much as these toothpick people. You could see the look of intimidation on the runners faces as he passed them. Dad looked to take up TWO lanes of the track because he was just so wide. Somewhat surprisingly, Dad was able to keep up with me. Being quite young, I hadn't really lost any endurance so I was good at running. I don't think my father was still actually as fast as me, but he was mostly able to keep pace since his legs and his strides were so much longer. Ted had us run four laps two different times, for a total of two miles. As we finished the last lap both Dad and I crashed into the cool grass on the inside of the track. Ted stood over us, “Good job boys! Not bad for your first running session. Now get up and walk around or else you'll start to cramp up.” The next morning our regular work week began and we settled into our extended contest prep routine that included a 25 minute cardio session after every workout. With the added cardio and decreased carbs, we were absolutely exhausted in the evenings. The good thing about being so tired is that we would go right to bed by 10:30pm, which gave us a nice eight hour recharging sleep before we woke up at 6:30am in the mornings. With the treatments, the extra cardio and the reduced carbs we were starting to see some impressive progress. The fat seemed to be melting off my Dad. Not that he had a lot to start with, but his cuts were starting to rival my own. I was slowly getting more shredded too, but since I was already quite lean my progress was a bit slower, understandably. Wednesday evening was a cardio only day. Dad and I again decided to jog at the track early in the evening so we could relax the rest of the night. I think my Dad secretly loved jogging at the track so he could show off his titanic frame to the public. After our run we headed home and were both making food in the kitchen. As we were milling around preparing our meals around I saw my father's shorts begin to tent. I could clearly make out the gigantic tube of meat as it expanded into probably one of the biggest half-chubs in existence. “Uh Dad, you see something you like? Is there pretty girl outside the window or something,” I jokingly accused. He didn't notice what I was talking about at first. “Huh? What?” He glanced down at his unmissable bulge and chuckled. “Oh, haha. Sorry Son. I haven't, uh, taken care of business since I plowed Emily at the lake house. Trying to really take Ted's advice to heart on the contest prep. I'm so horny it feels like any little breeze gets me going. I've started to wear my compression shorts to work to help keep this baseball bat under wraps.” “Wow, Dad are you serious? It's been a week since you got off?” I too was taking Ted's advice and had greatly cut back on my masturbatory sessions, but I had already given in a couple of times since last week. “Yikes, no wonder you are still setting records in the gym.” “Yeah, I think it's helping me keep up with your speedy ass on the track too. But, shit, I don't know how much longer I can keep it up. I feel like I could ram this thing through a tree!” I winced at the thought, “Too much information, big guy. Too much information...” For the rest of the night we watched TV together in the living room. Whenever a hot actress came on the screen Dad couldn't help but fondle himself through his basketball shorts. A couple of time it looked like he reached full mast, which at nearly a full foot was unmistakable underneath his baggy basketball shorts. At about 10:00pm we went through our nightly routine and went to bed. Later, I was awoken in the middle of night by loud noises. As I came out of my fog of sleep I could hear loud and what sounded like pained moaning. The voice was very deep and gravelly and was obviously coming from my Dad. I thought about getting up to check on him but then the moaning continued, but it sounded more pleasurable. I deduced that my father could not contain himself any longer and was finally relieving his sexual pressure. A few minutes later I heard him clomp into the bathroom to take care of whatever he needed to do. I was certainly impressed that he had been able to control his urges for a full week, that is impressive even for a man who isn't an enormous walking ball of testosterone. Once Pop was finished in the bathroom he headed back to his room. The floor creaked with every step, unable to remain silent as his nearly 400 lbs of beef gingerly returned to his room. As the silence returned I fell back asleep. The next morning I woke up a few minutes earlier than my father. I made myself a plate of eggs with some Ezekiel bread toast. I was still in my morning stupor as I sat at the table chowing down. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Dad duck exaggeratedly under the doorway into the kitchen as I scooped up eggs with my fork. “Morning, Pops.” I mumbled. I decided to confront him on his activities last night. “It sounded like you couldn't take it any more last night big guy. Did you enjoy a nice jackoff session?” I heard his deep, rumbling laugh from behind me. “Oh no, Son. I'm still the master of my domain (Dad and I were big Seinfeld fans). I'm still holding it in.” I know he still had morning voice, but his voice seemed even deeper than usual. Maybe he was catching a cold? Still in my morning haze it took me a few minutes to process what he had said. “What are you talking about? You didn't whack off last night? Then what were all those moaning and groaning noises I heard?” I sputtered out between bites of eggs. “I don't know, squirt. Why don't you tell me?” I put my fork down and turned around in my chair to look him in the eyes. Something seemed off. I rubbed my eyes to get the sleep out of them to let my vision clear. As he came into focus it became evident what I was seeing. Dad was noticeably...bigger. BIGGER. THICKER. WIDER. And dare it be true... … TALLER! I jumped out of my chair and walked up to him. He smirked down at me. WAY down at me, it felt like. Whereas I had gotten use to looking straight ahead at this neck, I was now staring into the middle of his awe-inspiring pectorals. As I continued to stare straight ahead at Dad playfully bounced them to break me out of my spell. I looked way up again to see him with a piercing smug grin plastered on his face. “Ted sure wasn't lying, little buddy. Haha, pretty soon I'll have to start calling you 'TINY BUDDY'!” Dad condescendingly patted the top of my head. “Holding my load, keeping all that testosterone that my huge bull nuts are brewing inside my body. It gave me another mini-growth spurt last night. I wasn't jacking off, Son. I was FUCKING GROWING!” Dad raised his arms into a colossal double bicep pose, holding his arms up high, sucking in his waist and expanding his chest like Ted had taught us. At his new height my eyes were at the same level as the hanging mass of his striated triceps. “We have to measure, Son. I have to know my height.” I grabbed the tape measure and pencil out of the drawer. Dad stood up against the wall and I made a new mark. We hadn't officially measured him since he was 6 ft 6 in. We knew he had crossed the 6 ft 8 in barrier when his head started brushing door frames. Dad turned around and we looked at the new mark, a mark that was several inches above the last one. Dad looked away as I grabbed the tape measure and ran it up to the new mark. “Read it, Son. I want to hear you say it.” I sighed and collected my breath as I mentally recorded the number. I dropped the tape and walked over and stood in front of my father. I tilted my head back to again look up at his handsome smiling face. “Dad. You are now a hulking 6 ft 10.5 in GIANT of a man!” “OOOOH FUCK YEAH SON!!” Dad against launched into a double-biceps pose. This must've been his favorite pose and I certainly couldn't blame him, he looked godly. “I'm SOOOO fucking... HYOOOOGE! I'm like, NBA basketball player height but with so much more MUSCLE and STRENGTH than any of those little basketball pussies could imagine. HAHA. I'm going to be the BIGGEST BODYBUILDER anybody has ever seen at that competition, mark my words.” Dad seemed to be getting lost in his own arrogance. As he held his pose I felt something brushing against my own leg. I looked down and saw Dad again had an enormous erection. The rock hard rod had lifted up the leg of his shorts as was brushing against me! THAT clearly had kept up with his growth spurt as well. Dad felt it too because he quickly broke his pose, looked down and stepped back with a raucous laugh. “Oh sorry Son! HAHA. Damn, look at that thing. It's gotta be over a foot long now! I'm gonna have to find some Amazon women because I don't know if any normal woman will be able to handle this massive bull cock!” Somehow I was able to finished my breakfast and the rest of my normal morning routine. Somehow he had found a bright green polo shirt that was just able to contain his now even greater bulk. Even so, the shirt looked painted on. Now that he was leaner you could even begin to make out his abs through the tightly stretched fabric. Of course, none of the polo's buttons could be connected. In fact, it looked like the “V” of the chest was starting to tear as a I saw him exit the house and climb into his truck. He climbed in the cab and I saw him adjust the seat back another couple of notches to fit his new height. Through the window he winked and waved to me and headed off to his construction management job. I couldn't believe what was happening. Dad was growing and an incredible rate. The competition was two weeks away, he couldn't possibly keep growing into the competition, could he? One thing I did learn from this morning's crazy encounter, I definitely needed to work on my own, ahem, self control. Maybe I could reap some of the same benefits as Dad. We will certainly see. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Back to the basics in this one. Just some good 'ole lifting and growing. Hope you like!
  36. 15 points
    I know its been a while, and this one is rather short too, but i hope you guys enjoy it. .... Travelling faster than a locomotive, soaring above skyscrapers, mountains and dressed in nothing but the right blue and red suit that not so long ago belonged to Daily Planet reporter Clark Kent, Dan relished the feeling of his newly acquired powers, abilities and Godlike status and stature. After Dan was done with flying he soared down and landed with a "superhero landing" as he punched the ground, sending shockwaves across the fields and trees and suburbs nearby. He then stood up to his full height of 7 feet and started to flex, feel and admire his new physique, he was in a word - massive, and harder than titanium. As he continues to feel his muscles through his spandex superhero outfit his supercock began to spring to life underneath his red trunks, lengthening and hardening. "Mmm I think it's time a god like should be finally worshipped" and Dan knew just the dweeb for the job. ... Sammy was quietly studying in his room when suddenly he heard a tapping at the bedroom window, he goes to look and check what's outside couldn't believe his eyes and sees the most massive, muscular behemoth of a specimen just...floating...FLOATING?! outside the window "Holy shit! Dan?! Is that you?! How the hell did you get so massive? Why are you floating?! And why are you wearing a superman costume!" "That's too many questions that I care for Sammy!" Dan replied with a cocky grin on his face as his huge powerful arms were folded over his ginormous pecs. "Come with me shrimp! We're going for a ride!" Dan then grabbed Sammy, pulling him through the window with ease and then took him under one arm and flew up, and up as Sammy started screaming "what the fuck? ! How is this possible? Where are you taking me?!" Dan took Sammy to the top of the citys tallest building and landed down sitting Sammy on the ground "now take a good look dweeb! Take a look at what I have become!" Demanded Dan as he struck a double bicep pose before his eyes went red and his heat vision struck part of the building opposite causing a doorway sized hole! "Oh my god!" Sammy said in part astonishment, part excitement, and part fear, "you have superpowers, and look at all that muscle!" As Sammy approached the mighty new Superman and felt his pecs, legs, chest and back through the skintight suit. "HAHA YES! WORSHIP ME! YOU THINK I LOOK GOOD NOW!" Dan shouted before taking a step back, "WELL HOW ABOUT THIS!" and with that Dan used his superspeed to spin superfast, disrobing his outfit in the process leaving him stark naked in the moonlight, proudly showing off his new mass, size definition and supercock as it jutted out as thick as a beer can and a length of 12 inches. Sammy just knelt down in shock and admiration as Dan flexed his arms, then his legs, then back and finally his chest. "I am the most massive, most powerful man in the world now Sammy! And lucky you gets to be the first one to service me" as Dan grabbed the back of Sammys head and slowly entered his mouth, then throat. And Sammy was all too eager to please. And please he did as he continued to suck this new god while squeezing supergods rock hard big bubble butt and then soon after making him empty his load down Sammys throat! "Ahhhhh thanks dweeb that was real sweet!" Said Dan before pulling his supergod costume back on, "I'll fly you home don't worry shrimpy " And as Sammy was flown back home in the arms of this former jock, now godlike entity, he gazed upon him with lust, admiration, worship....but also, deep inside Sammy there was a little envy too.... That night Sammy jacked off to the thoughts of Supergod and the chance of getting to see him again...hopefully at school tomorrow. And then Sammy slept, but little did he know, something inside Sammys lithe little body was changing. ...
  37. 15 points
    HERE it is guys! My entry! I hope you like it! It's an Audio podcast, of a Youtube fitness blogger trying a BRAND NEW cycle! Give it a listen/Look! From GB's Instagram Midnight JUST hit, my balls are nice and empty thanks to one last cum! Let's DO this!! Can't wait to get MONSTROUS! #GB #GROWGOALS #EDGECYCLE #BEAST! From GB's Instagram See what I mean? FUCK this thing is..god I love it...I am going through WAY too many boxers like this though.... From GB's Instagram And THIS is what I get for edging while running an errand. YES I am aware shorts are not an option for me anymore but..damn I just..I love how my bulge looks in em..fuck me...Anybody got any spare pants? From GB's Instagram GOD DAMN getting ready for bed is rough...waiting for my buddy to get in here with the bungee cords to strap me in..might have to get something stronger soon!..Fuck...I can barely WALK anymore... From A Buzzfeed Article on the aftermath Youtube Fitness Star gains MASSIVE weight with new diet gone wrong? You won't BELIEVE what happens to him!
  38. 15 points
    Long, long overdue -- and I actually wrote this chapter a long time ago! I was waiting to do more (and I will do more, promise) but when I looked at it again just now I realized it actually works as a chapter. By Richard Jasper Part 1: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/1345-come-to-me-part-1/ Part 2: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/1352-come-to-me-part-2/ Part 3: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/1357-come-to-me-part-3/ Part 4: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/1668-come-to-me-part-4/ Part 5: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/3474-come-to-me-part-5/ Part 6 Jesse Acevedo heard the big bike pull up at the pumps but he didn’t look up from the game of Angry Birds he was playing on his iPhone. Nor did he look up when he heard the clunk-clunk of the pumps and the ting-ting of the meter. It was the end of June between his junior and senior years and the strapping 6’2, 250 lb. defensive end for New Mexico State was once again minding the counter at his Abuelita’s Kwikee Mart. The station overlooked I-40 but at this time of night no one was stopping by and Jesse was bored out of his mind. The door chimed as it was pushed open and a shadow fell across Jesse, something BIG enough to block the sodium glare of the parking lot lights. Jesse looked up… And up… And up! “Fuck me,” he exclaimed. The giant man standing in front of him had to be 6 ½ feet tall and he was nearly as wide as he was tall, a mountain of muscle contained in a herd’s worth of black leather. His chuckle upon hearing Jesse’s exclamation sounded like boulders crashing through the arroyo during a flash flood. “Maybe later,” the Giant promised, a twinkle in his beautiful green eyes. He stuck out a hand the size of hubcap. “Eric Keith’s the name,” he said, enfolding Jesse’s big hand – he wore size 16 shoes and could palm a basketball – as if it were attached to a six-year-old girl. “I’m hoping you can help me out.” Jesse gulped. The thick-bearded man in front of him was the biggest, thickest, builtest, manliest specimen Jesse had ever seen, and the closeted gay college football player had seen many of them. “Sure,” he gasped. “What’s up?” The Big Man – Eric, he said his name was – pulled out a map and pointed to it. “I’m trying to find this place,” he said. “Tzuxaloat. It’s supposed to be around here, right?” Jesse’s glanced at the map. The Big Man had said “Zoo Sha Low At,” which was a new one for Jesse. Then he saw where the re-bar thick finger was pointing. “Oh,” he said. “You mean ‘Sucksalot!’” Eric raised both eyebrows. “You’re kidding, right?” Jesse shook his head and grinned. “No, see, it’s right over here by ‘Suckstobeyou!’” Eric frowned; Jesse thought he might lose control of his bowels. “No, Big Man, I’m kidding about ‘Suckstobeyou.’ It really is how folks around here say it. Probably a hundred years ago people said it the way you do but that was before the Interstate and all that.” Eric tapped his finger on the counter. “It’s about 30 miles south of here,” Jesse continued. “Waaaay out in the hills. You’ll have a hard time finding it in the daylight and you’ll never find it in the dark.” The Big Man sighed, which might have been mistaken for a gale with anyone else. “Dammit all,” he said. “I don’t suppose there’s motel around here?” Jesse laughed. “Well, yeah, if you’re willing to drive. About 30 miles ahead of you is Santa Rosa, OR you can get back on I-40 the way you came and head to Tucumcari, which is 30 miles behind you.” Eric rolled his eyes. “Or, if you’re likely to pass out, I’ve got a trailer out back…” The Big Man arched his right eyebrow independently of the left. “Aren’t you afraid I’m an axe murderer or something?” Jesse laughed. “Man, you are so fucking huge you wouldn’t need an axe, would you?” Eric shook his head. “Come to think of it, you’re right.” Jesse handed him the key. “There are two bedrooms, both with big beds,” he said. “You’ll want to take the one on the right.” The Big Man looked at the key, then looked at Jesse. “You’re sure?” Jesse nodded again. “It’s pretty clear you don’t have anything to worry about from me, right? My cousin Manny will be along in an hour for shift change. I’ll see you then, if you’re still awake.” The Big Man reached across the counter, took Jesse’s strong, handsome jaw in his big hand, and gave him a kiss full on the mouth. “Thanks, pardner,” he said. “I’ll see you in a few.” I can’t believe I’m being such an idiot, Eric thought as he trudged to the trailer. It was at least a double-wide, not one of those crapped out aluminum cans he’d seen littered along I-40 as he headed out of OKC. I’ll probably wake up in a bathtub full of ice with my kidneys missing! The inside of the trailer was tidy and well-kept. The furniture was basic and inexpensive but it was functional and immaculately clean. Someone other than this kid with model-looks and built-in shoulder pads was taking care of the place, clearly. Eric peeled out of his leathers and took a peek at the bathroom. Jesus God, he thought. Would you look at that! A Jacuzzi tub! Since heading for New Mexico a week earlier Eric’s biggest challenge had been finding places to get clean. He had chosen the big Harley because he no longer fit in most cars but he ended each day gritty and wanting a long, hot bath. He had a hard time fitting in most hotel bathrooms, much less their dinky showers. The double-wide was turning out to be a luxury accommodation by comparison! Eric spent the better part of 45 minutes luxuriating in the Jacuzzi, then climbed out and dried off. He was sitting at the trailer’s spotless kitchen table, a jumbo-sized fluffy towel draped across his lap, when Jesse bounded in the door. “Cripes, kid,” Eric said, jumping up from the table and clutching the towel in front of his junk. “You could give a guy some warning.” Jesse had just enough time to take in all of Eric’s magnificence – 6’6” tall, easily twice Jesse’s 250 lbs., all of it fur-covered muscle – before his mouth fell open and his eyes rolled back in his head. “Oh, great,” Eric thought. “Another fainter.” Part 7 is here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/12091-come-to-me-part-7/
  39. 15 points
    Hey guys, really sorry I haven't had a chance to post the next chapter yet. I had a big project due on Monday for which I had to put in a bunch of extra hours last week. Then, on top of that with very little notice I had to up and fly for work yesterday and just got back home tonight. The next chapter is about 75% done, so hopefully will get it finished in the next couple of days.
  40. 14 points
    Please don't hate me! This one is a bit shorter then previous parts, but Part 6 will be a much longer installment. Also the hate me part will prob come from where I stopped, but if you guys read the original transcript, I'm pretty sure your going to be begging me for the next part! Previous Parts: -Part 01 - Part 02 - Part 03 - Part 04 - Part 5 The Experiment Matt continues to feel weak for several minutes. His mind drifting in and out of consciousness as Andrew’s apology rings throughout his head. He slowly comes to his senses; eyes popping suddenly wide open. Matt sits up, groaning, feeling completely awful. “What the hell just happened?” Matt muttered under his breath. He slowly pushes himself off the floor from between Andrew’s legs. Standing up on shaky legs, Matt staggers away toward the bathroom, having to reach down several times to pull up his shorts. When he finally reaches the sink he hesitates at first before looking into the mirror. What he sees makes his blood run cold. Matt is clearly shorter then what he was before, and his muscles, while still large, are no longer the huge size they were minutes ago. Where his head used to reach to the top of the mirror – now it’s a good four inches lower. He snorts in aggravation, walking over to the scale. As he steps onto it the hand flies to the right, landing on 250lbs. He couldn’t believe it; just last week he stood at 300 lbs. Matt closes his eyes for a moment, trying to think. Something sparks. His mouth dropping as he opens his eyes and spins around heading back to where his brother sat on the couch. “Andrew, I think I know what’s going on. But we need to test it to see if I am right. Andrew looks at Matt confused. “Umm, Ok?” “Something in our cum is doing something to us… Something weird…” Matt turns from his brother, walking into the kitchen, coming back with a pair of cups. He hands one of them down to Andrew. “I want you to jerk off into this, and I’ll do the same with my cup. And when we are finished, we’ll each drink the cum and we will see what happens.” It’s an insane plan, beyond ridiculous actually. But something in the back of Matt’s mind tells him he needs to know if this is what is really going on between them. Andrew continues to look up at Matt from the couch, confused. He’s still shirtless and just in his boxers from the previous encounter, his cock pulled to the left and held tightly in place when his cock begins to twitch a bit in excitement. Andrew also has a feeling that their cum is the cause what is happening to them too. “I don’t think that is a good idea, Matt. I mean, I think this might cause another change.” “I think so too.” Matt looks a bit nervous, but he doesn’t care. “That’s why we need to test it. We have to know if it’s the cum or something else. I have a very good feeling it is our cum that is doing this to us… As crazy as that sounds.” Matt takes his cup and pulls out his cock right in front of Andrew, holding It right above the lip. Closing his eyes he strokes his large piece of meat. Matt can feel it is smaller then what it was, and Andrew notices just by looking it isn’t the massive 10 inch monster he used to be so proud of. Matt’s Legendary 10 inches has been reduced to a generous 8 ½. Matt pumps it slowly methodically, holding it in one hand and the cup in the other. As Matt strokes himself off, Andrew takes notice of other things. His brother’s shirt is no longer as tight as it used to bel the oversized garment hangs loosely off his still-muscular, but significantly-smaller frame. Andrew hesitates at first, but slowly peels the front of his underwear down. His 5 ½ inch cock popping out free, along with his new, massive forest of dark pubic fur. He reaches down, wrapping his hand around his cock, putting the plastic cup between his legs. The head of his cock over the top of the cup as he begins to jerk off his own member. It feels so good in his hand; it’s the first time he has really taken notice to his new size. It’s the first time he’s actually got to handle his own cock this much since this whole ordeal started. Andrew looks up at Matt, noticing his brother looking right at him intently working his own cock over. “Are you ok, Matt?” Matt begins to stroke his dick harder as he looks on at Andrew. Both of them gazing at each other in a somewhat lust and desire. Matt pumping his meat with gusto. With a loud grunt, he exhales, shoots, pumping his load into his cup. Matt breathes heavily as he strokes the remaining dollops of cum from the inside of his shaft, squeezing it and making sure he got every last drop out of it. “Doing just fine, Andrew. Just studying your body. I want to see how you do when you drink this. I’m guessing you’re going to do very, very well.” Matt smiles ruefully down at Andrew. Making magic cum is fine and all, but if his balls churn out this magic growth-cum, why does he keep shrinking? His suspicion, of course, but it’s about to either be confirmed or proven wrong. Andrew continues to look over Matt as he too continued to stroke his own dick. He begins to feel his balls churn, pull up. Andrew leans forward, grabbing the cup between his legs. “Oh FUCK!” He grunts as he shoots, and shoots… and SHOOTS… Andrew begins to pant between his grunts as he doesn’t feel his cock stopping until he fills the cup a bit more then ½ way full. Andrew looks back up at Matt, a quizzical look on his face. Matt’s cup doesn’t have nearly as much as Andrew’s contained. “Uh, you don’t have to drink all of it, Matt.” Matt takes a step forward, handing his brother his cup of spunk that he just produced, taking the cup that Andrew was holding and just filled up. “No sense being a wuss about it now,” Matt said in his old cocky voice. Placing the cup at his lips, he tips it back and chugs the entire thick fluid down. Matt winces, feeling his body react to the bitter substance. The familiar feeling of weakness coming over him again and making him feel… less… than he was before. Andrew just sits back, watching in horror. The cup of Matt’s cum still in his hand as he watches on as Matt begins to shrink right in front of him. For the first time, they can both see what effect Andrew’s cum has over his brother. Andrew puts the cup of cum on the coffee table, getting up, wrapping his arms around his shrinking sibling. “Fuck Matt!” His arms shifting around his brother’s body as Matt’s lats collapse inward slightly. He begins to descend slightly in height. Matt’s body is wobbly as he leans into Andrew for support as his muscular legs feel weaker as he compacts an inch all over his entire body as his body mass loses 10 more lbs of muscle. And his cock, slowly retracting to 8 inches. He clutches onto Matt’s body more tightly. “I can’t drink it, bro!” Matt trembles for a moment, then wraps his own arms around his twin. He’s still bigger, still stronger then Andrew. But he’s quite a bit smaller than he was before. “You’ve got to, Andrew. We need to know. And hey, it’s not so bad, right? If my cum works like I think it does, you’ll get bigger, not smaller. That’s not so bad, is it?” Matt smiles down at Andrew, sadness in his eyes as he knows there is no going back, the only thing they can do now is move forward as he bends his neck down and places a soft kiss on Andrew’s lips. “Come on. Just drink it. It won’t hurt you. A hundred bucks says you’ll feel better afterwards.” He looks at Andrew seriously, and Andrew can see that Matt really wants him to drink down his seed. Andrew hesitates, moves over to the table, and picks up the cup. He lifts it up to his lips, his eyes never breaking contact with Matt as he pushed the cup back and feels the warm salty cocktail that Matt made produced from his manhood slide down his throat. Andrew’s eyes open wide as he drops the cup. A feeling of warmth washing over his entire body as he begins to breathe harder, grunting in pleasure. His body tingling as Matt’s seed begins to fuel his muscles. Andrew’s entire skeletal structure shifts and pops, growing upward and broader as his bones grow to accommodate the incoming new size. His body gaining another inch in height. Andrew’s muscles tense all over, throbbing gently, growing bigger with each pulse of his heart beat as 10 pounds of muscle packs onto him. A moan escapes his lips as his cock and balls tremble and jerk as they bloat a bit larger, fuller, more potent. His dick becoming rock hard, looking a bit over 6 inches now, jutting a bit further out from his forest of pubes he’d grown. “Fuck, it does work!” Matt watches in awe. His clothes even looser as he sees the boxers around Andrew’s thighs pulling even tighter. “We can’t do this anymore,” Andrew pants, breathing hard after this new dramatic growth that they now both know what the actual cause is now. “You’re going to keep shrinking, Matt. And it just feels like the world is changing. I can’t get bigger then you, Matt.” The look in Matt’s eyes though seems to tell Andrew more of what’s going on in his brother’s head. If it wasn’t for his facial expressions, Andrew could easily tell what Matt was thinking by his brother’s growing cock after seeing him change a bit. “Are you fucking kidding?” Matt said, finally back to his normal demeanor as he tossed his empty cup aside. “I have the power to make you bigger, stronger… tougher. Why wouldn’t we do that? I don’t need to drink your cum. Fine. No reason though why you can’t drink mine though!” He looks down at his dick, noting it has boned up to its full hardness again. Matt steps closer, pulling off his shirt and tosses it aside. His torso is still beautifully-muscled, but no longer has its prior impressive size. It’s also completely smooth, missing the carpet of masculine fur that once covered it. He tenses his pecs and abs slowly, making the muscle bulge under his skin. Slapping his flexed abs, striking them like a drum. “Come on, Andrew. You saying you don’t want to get a bit bigger? A bit stronger? A bit sexier?” Matt’s voice trails off into a seductive growl. Andrew places his hand on Matt’s smooth pec, not having to look up as much anymore to see his brother’s face. “I don’t Matt. You make me feel comfortable. I don’t want to lose what we are gaining back after all these years.” Andrew wraps his arms around Matt in a hug. “We need to stop this all together. No more blow jobs. No experimenting. No fucking. If our size difference continues to shift, I won’t see you as my big lug of a hunk brother anymore.” Andrew shifts his eyes downward, looking a bit depressed. “I just wish there was a way we can continue to play without the risk…” To Be Continued… Coming Soon Part 06: Risk Takers
  41. 14 points
    Chapter 1 There was a loud knock on the apartment door early in the morning, followed by a soft thump. Those were the traditional noises of a package being delivered. The loud noises roused a figure that was lying down on the older, almost tattered, but surprisingly comfortable, couch. The figure was a man, around 5 foot 5 inches tall, a bit on the short side for a man. He had slightly long, straight, brown hair that reached down to his shoulders and dark brown eyes. He was the typical, caucasian college student. At 21, he didn't care much for his appearance, he wore gray, baggy sweat pants, and a loose fitting white shirt. He yawned as he scratched his head and went over to the door. He looked at the clock on the kitchen microwave and saw that it was 6 am. “Who delivers a package at this hour, they usually don’t come until like 3 pm. He opened the door and there was a small silver package on the doormat. It was addressed to Caleb Anderson, the only person that lived in the unit. Caleb went inside and closed the door, perplexed at the package, he didnt order anything recently. He opened the package and it was a cellphone. “Heh, must be a prank phone” he said as he took the phone out and looked it over. It was gorgeous. It was a brilliant silver type metal, the screen was crystal clear and large. He looked it over and on the back it had an atom like symbol with a “Q” in the middle. “Quantum industries huh, this has to be totally fake, one of their phones is worth millions some say.” Caleb picked out a card that was in the box. “Congratulations! You have been selected to test, and keep, our new RE-ality phone!” it didn’t say anything else. “RE-ality phone? What kind of hot garbage is this?” He looked the phone over some more. It had no buttons, no ports, just some fancy looking cameras at the front and back. Suddenly the phone buzzed as it turned on. The Quantum Industries symbol appeared as the phone… yawnned? There were some applications already installed. “Reality Bender”, “Augment RE-Ality” and “Picasso”. The phone yaned again as a sweet sounding, male voice came from the phone. “Hello there new owner!” Caleb instantly threw the phone to the ground in surprise. “Owwww!” the voice from the phone said as it hit the ground. It buzzed angrily as it said “HEY! Careful with the merchandise! I maybe made of titanium and diamonds but I still feel things!” Caleb chuckled as he picked up the the seemingly sentient phone and looked it over. “Yeah totally just a prank.” The phone buzzed and zapped Caleb’s hand, causing him to drop it again. “Hey stop that! If you knew how much I actually cost you would be sucking my electronic cock right now!” the phone said as it buzzed angrily. Caleb picked up the phone from the floor once more “A feisty one aren’t you/ Fine ill bite, what are these apps for?” He asked. The phone, cleared his throat and said “The name is Viz by the way, I am the AI for this phone. And the applications in this phone are designed to modify the outside world. Think of it like augmented reality, only it’s really real.” Caleb chuckled once more and said “Suuuuuuuure” as he opened up the Augment RE-Ality application. This in turn opened up his camera app to take pictures with. He turned the camera to the front facing camera and took a quick picture of his face. It seemed like a normal picture, but lines pointed at different parts of his face, with options attached to them such as hair, skin color, complexion, nose, etc. Caleb touched the “hair” option as the hair in the picture was highlighted. “Fine I’ll play along” he said as he chucked. He chose the haircut to be fairly short, and for the hell of it, bright pink. As he chose those options he didn’t notice that his hair was retreating back into his head, growing shorter as it grew shorter in the image. It also grew lighter in color until it reached a bubblegum pink color. “Pretty sick image software, it looks real.” Caleb said. “Why don’t you touch your hair?” Viz replied with a slight chuckle. Caleb reached up to where his hair normally would be. His eyes widened in shock as he couldn’t feel it anymore. He ran to the bathroom, phone still in hand as he saw that he looked just as the picture looked. His hair was short and a bright pink. “No way” Caleb said as he touched his new hair. As he lifted his arm he got a peek into his armpits, the hair was also pink! “What the hell dude!” he yelled at the phone. “I told you I wasn’t joking!” Viz said as he chuckled a little. Chapter 2 Caleb paced around in his apartment; he was freaking out. He had pink hair everywhere on his body, and he well… kind of liked it to be honest. “How the hell do I explain this hair to anyone! It would be fine if it was just my head but it’s everywhere!” He then looked at the phone and said “This is all your fault! How do I fix it!” Viz calmly responded “Don’t worry about it. There are two things you can do. The simple one is change your hair back. The other one is to alter reality and make it be natural for you.” Caleb thought about the two options and decided “Well I kind of like it, so why not bend reality a little” Viz, without being told opened up the “Reality Bender” application. It looked like a traditional gallery of pictures, this one only containing the picture that Caleb had taken of himself. “So how this app works is that you click on the picture you want to and it will list the changes. All you have to do is write a little explanation, and then hit the ‘Bend’ button to change reality.” Caleb though for a second how to explain the pink hair. He started to type into the text box as he read it out loud. “Caleb was born with a strange mutation that actually occurs in about 25% of the male population. This made their body hair be different colors outside of the “normal” range of colors. Blue, green, and even pink were among the almost infinite amounts of colors that the hair could be. This mutation was actually random, there was no apparent genetic link among family members.” Viz chimed in “Are you sure you want to change such a large portion of the population?” Caleb thought about it for a moment, his thumb shaking over the ‘Bend’ button on the screen. He took a deep breath before finally pushing the button. All of a sudden the entire world shimmered. Caleb got a slight headache as new memories formed in his head. Not only that, outside a quarter of the global male population had their hair change to wild, and wonderful colors. Caleb’s headache subsided as Viz said “Reality Bent. Congratulations! You just did your first world alteration! You get an achievement and 10,000 credits that you can spend in the store once it becomes available.” Caleb looked a little confused. “Store? Like an app store?” he asked. “Yes. It’s not available yet, but eventually it will. In it you can find more apps that you can buy with the credits you get from changing things.” “Interesting. Any way to know when it will be unlocked?” Caleb queried. “That’s classified information. But have some fun with it and you will get it in no time.” There was one application left to try out “Picasso” Viz closed the apps and went to the home screen. “Now you have one app left. Picasso is sort of like a hybrid version of the other two. It lets you take a picture of an object, but it actually captures the object and stores it in the phone for modification and maybe later creation. Like say your couch. You can take a picture of it and it will poof out of existence for you to modify, its as if it never existed to the rest of the world. Then you can poof it back in with the changes done and reality will bend to fit it in.” “Fine lets try it on my couch” Caleb said as he took a picture of the old couch. As soon as the flash went off the couch disappeared from the living room. It appeared as a 3D model in the phone. Caleb played with it. He changed it to be brand new, super soft and comfortable, and made out of leather. After the changes he placed it back in the original location, popping it back to reality with a flash of light. He smirked as he laid down comfortably with a smirk on his face. This was going to be fun.
  42. 14 points
  43. 14 points
    As the summer progressed, Danny continued to make rapid gains in his size and strength. His trainer Ivan had never seen anything like it. He was proud of the kid, who'd made such tremendous changes to his body, but Ivan was also somewhat envious, jealous even, of his young client's rapid improvements. Danny was now benching over 620lbs for reps, which was twice his bodyweight, and more than double what Ivan could bench. The same was true of his squat and deadlift. Despite Danny's initial reluctance to workout, he now trained like an eager puppy, looking forward to each session, and lifting with wild abandon, aching for Ivan to add more and more weight to the bar. When Ivan left for a week to fly back to Poland and look into some new "supplements", he told Danny to take the week off, too. They'd be training twice a day for almost a month now, and Ivan said Danny could use the time to let his body recuperate. Danny looked at himself in the gym mirror as Ivan was telling him this. He didn't think his body looked like it needed any rest. He was in a stringer tank, and his muscles looked full and thick and tight. His delt caps were the size and shape of soccer balls. He could make the rounded shoulder muscles roll and flex, and he loved doing it. Ivan said he had some of the best muscle control he'd ever seen. This made Danny beam with pride, and got him to practice more muscle flexing every chance he got. "But a whole week?" said Danny. "What the heck am I gonna do?" "See how much weight you can gain," said Ivan. "Sometimes the best gains are made during a rest week. You've got the mass gainer powders I gave you. How many times a day are you drinking a shake?" "Twice." "Up it to four," said Ivan. "See what happens." "I'll do five,"said Danny with a grin. Ivan left the next day, but only after making Danny promise not to go to the gym while he was gone. They both laughed at the irony of it, given that Danny didn't even know where a gym was up until two months ago. Danny still wasn't sure what he was going to do to kill time, so he started by texting his friend Dwayne. They hadn't seen each other since graduation. They'd texted back and forth a couple times, but Danny was always busy lifting or eating or flexing in his bedroom mirror to get together. So he invited Dwayne over. He said he had something to show him. When Dwayne pulled into the driveway, Danny was in the garage. He hit the garage door opener, but stayed out of sight as the door went up. He kept the lights off too. Dwayne got out of his car and came to the open door. As his eyes tried to adjust from the bright outdoor sunshine, he couldn't see much of anything in the dimly light garage. "Come on in," said Danny. Dwayne stepped into the garage, and Danny had to chuckle to himself. Dwayne was in for a shock. He hadn't change a bit since high school. "Dwayne the Dweeb" was what the jocks called him. Not much better than "Danny the Dork", but Danny had transformed into a superheavy weight musclehead. Dwayne was the epitome of the skinny white nerd, in his white short sleeve dress shirt, and heavy rimmed, heavy-lensed glasses. At 5'8", he weighed all over 130lbs. "Why's it so dark in here?" asked Dwayne. "I just didn't want to freak you out," said Danny. "Freak me out how? You get nerdier than ever?" Dwayne said, snorting. "Turn on the light switch by the wall," said Danny. Dwayne turned and flicked the switch. When he turned back, Danny was standing right under the light in an XXXXL tee shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. His chest ballooned out the shirt, and his huge thighs stretched his nylon shorts skin tight and pushed them halfway up his quads. Danny had not lifted at the gym, like he'd promised Ivan, but he had found ways to workout with stuff around the house and in the garage. From this, he'd gotten his veins to stand out on all of his thick limbs. Dwayne backed up and leaned against the wall, looking his huge friend up and down. "What the......" he stammered, as he soaked in the vision of his formerly fat friend's new physique. "Dude.....you told me you were lifting, but didn't say you morphed into a behemoth!" "Yeah," grinned Danny. "Remember how my arms used to be so chubby?" He pulled the sleeve of his right arm up to his shoulder, then flexed his arm up. "Now look." "Holy smokes, Danny. It's a mountain peak. I knew you had muscle underneath all that blubber." "Very funny," said Danny. But it was true. Dwayne had always thought that Danny was more solid than he looked. But this was insane. "Dude, I know you got all A's in AP Chemistry...did you cook up some kinda super roid or something?" "Nah, man, I'm just lifting heavy and taking some vitamins." "Sounds like Vitamin "S" to me, Danny. Where you getting them?" "From that personal trainer I told you about." "The one from eastern Europe? And you think his supplements he's giving you are from GNC?" "Nah, man, I know they're not. But feel my fuckin' arm, dude." Danny did a half flex of his left arm. Dwayne came over and put his hand on it. "Geezus, dude. Feels like marble!" Danny stretched his arm out to his side. "Try and pull my arm down." Dwayne grabbed onto Danny's thick forearm and yanked down on it. He tried again and again, but the big arm didn't budge. "Hang off it, lift your feet," said Danny. So Dwayne wrapped his arms around Danny's wrist and then lifted his feet off the ground. Dwayne clung to the forearm like a lemur clings to a tree limb. Danny held him in the air like he weighed as much as a lemur. Then he curled his arm upward, lifting his friend up and down. "Man, you got sic strength!" "I know. It's so awesome. And watch this." Danny grabbed a crowbar that was hanging off the pegboard behind his dad's workbench. He held it out in front of him, one hand on each end. "Put your hand back on my arm," he told Dwayne. Then Danny began to bend the crowbar. His arm muscles tightened and surged. Veins popped out on his neck and across his traps. The crowbar creaked as the ends started to bend downward. He bent it until the ends touched. Then he dropped it to the garage floor with a loud clang. "Oh man," said Dwayne. "I think I just came a little." "That ain't nothing," said Danny. "Watch this." He went over to his dad's Mercedes, squatted down next to the side doors, reached underneath the frame, then deadlifted the car up until both tires were off the ground. "My fuck..." stammered Dwayne. Danny did ten reps with the car, then set it down. "Ah, yehhh," said Danny. "Help me pull my shirt off, man, my arms and lats are too bloated to do it." Danny leaned over and outstretched his arms. Dwayne grabbed the bottom of the tee and started pulling it off Danny's torso. It wasn't easy, even with Danny's help, but they finally got it over his head and arms. Danny stood upright. "Damn, man, look at your six pack!" said Dwayne. "I know. They're like brick. Go ahead and hit me." "Hit you?" "Yeah, go ahead, slug my gut. You won't be able to hurt me." "Aw man," said Dwayne, but he started to punch Danny's abs. He started slow, but then hit them faster and faster, and harder each time, until his fists began to hurt. Danny's brick abs didn't even dent. Dwayne stopped as he started to get winded. "Man...that's crazy!" "I know, right? Craziest thing is, I'm wasn't even flexing them. Watch." Danny clenched down on his ab muscles, and his six pack swelled out, the muscle bulging out like rising loaves of bread...bread made out of stone. "Fuck, man. Fuck," said Dwayne as he leaned against the workbench. His whole body shook to its core. "Damn you man, I just came in my pants. Holy smokes, Danny. That is...that is wild." "Ha, you're funny, dude. I didn't even know you were into muscle." "Neither did I, till now. Who wouldn't nut to what you got going on? You're a ubermasculine superhuman!" Then a thought occurred to Dwayne. "Hey, you got any extra of those "vitamins"? "I have enough until Ivan gets back. Why?" "Let me have some." "Why? You don't even lift." "You didn't either til a couple months ago. Let me try one a day for a week or two, see what happens." "Yeah? Ok, man, that might be interesting. Don't do any lifting though, we'll see if it does anything at all." "Dude, the only thing I know how to lift is my dick. Look at me. Even if it jacks me up a little, I'd be happy." "Ok, then, come on." They went up to Danny's room, and he doled out two weeks worth of his supplement. Dwayne noticed the sweat rolling down Danny's huge torso. "Geezus, man, even your sweat smells good. It smells like leather and cotton candy in here." Danny laughed, then put his mitt-sized hand behind his friend's head and pressed his face into his deep pit. "Breathe it in, little dude," Danny said, and Dwayne sucked in the aroma like he was using his inhaler. He had to push away when he thought he was going to pass out from pleasure. "Cut it out, man, that's not cool..." but he could have spent all day in that muscle cavern. "Get me some water, I wanna take one of these now." As Danny grabbed a bottle of water off his bedside table, Dwayne noticed the reflection of the two of them in the bedroom wall mirror. The size difference was so astonishing that he had to sit down on Danny's bed. "Just how big are you?" he said. "Almost 300lbs now, but I haven't weighed myself today." Danny handed Dwayne the water. "Imagine if you met up with Jack the Jerk now," said Dwayne, referring to the jock in high school who used to torment Danny the most. Danny and his friends called him the Jerk, but certainly not to his face. The guy was a state wrestling champ, and an arrogant tool. During Danny's short stint with the wrestling team, Jack had secretly peed in Danny's shampoo. When word gets out in high school about something like that, it's hard to live down. Danny's face reddened from the memory. "That," said Danny, clenching his fists as he checked himself out in the mirror, "would be an interesting encounter." "Hey, didn't you get a full ride to RU?" Dwayne asked, as he watched Danny's thickly muscled back muscles tighten. RU was the university near where they lived. "I did," said Danny. "I heard that Jack's going there too, on a wrestling scholarship." Dwayne swallowed down the pill, then said. "You know my sister Heather works there, in the housing department. She said that Jack and his evil cohort Tip were going to room together. You remember Tip?" "'Course I do. He used to chase you down and shove you into lockers." "Yeah, that's the one. At least I learned to run fast from him hunting me down. Anyway, I was thinking that my sister could 'accidently' mess up their dorm assignment, and slip you in with Jack on the down low." "With neither one of them realizing?" "Yeah. Imagine Jack's face, moving into his room and finding you there, like you are now." Danny picked up a tank top from his bed, and put it on. "Didn't he wrestle as like 175lbs?" "Yeah, that has to be about right. He might be bigger than that now, but you could mess with his head pretty good. Bet you have 100lbs on him." "Yep. And a bigger dick too." Dwayne laughed. "How do you know that?" "I remember seeing him in the showers, and thinking, for such a big dickhead, he had just an average cock. Mine was bigger even then. And now, it's gotten bigger." "Yeh? From the pills and lifting, I bet. Lemme see, man." Danny reached into his shorts and flopped out his cock and let it hang, thick and weighty, halfway to his knees. "Geezus, dude. That things an anaconda!" "I know," said Danny, packing his meat back into his shorts. "Do me a favor. Text your sister, let's make this thing happen."
  44. 13 points
    NOTE: THIS STORY IS GONNA' BE VIOLENT. STOP NOW IF THAT TURNS YOU OFF. When Krishna was a child, he was, for the most part, normal. He always had an unnaturally beautiful face, one that could go on the cover of a magazine without any Photoshop. And he always was strong for his size, and loved playing rough. But nobody could have expected him to become the monster he is today. Once he hit puberty, Krishna’s growth skyrocketed past all human records. Krishna's metabolism was flawless - he never seemed to lose his pump, instead growing bigger and stronger after every workout. His body reacted explosively to even the slightest exertion, pumping up as huge and hard in fifteen minutes as a normal athlete would in an hour. He would eat at least eight times a day - a full meal every two hours - but only seemed to gain muscle, never fat. He could eat ten buckets of Blue Bell and still be as lean and ripped as Mr. Olympia. His heart pumped with enough force to kill an elephant, and his senses were so developed that he could see an ant and hear its footsteps from twenty feet away. His body naturally produced and utilized ten times more growth hormone than an average Olympic gold medalist. But despite experiencing a hyper-puberty that pumped his muscles with enough testosterone to swamp a high school locker room, Krishna never experienced any of the downsides of adolescence. His face seemed to evolve almost overnight from the sweet, effeminate innocence of a child to the seductive, masculine eroticism of an adult. He never once experienced a single pimple or an awkward voice crack. His voice dropped almost instantaneously into a deep, sexual rumble that made Barry White sound like a pipsqueak. His earth-shaking tones were so powerful that he gave straight men boners just by saying his name. He could hardly go through a day at school without giving at least one teacher a standing orgasm. By the time Krishna was a sophomore in high school, he had the body of Mr. Olympia and strength that surpassed any powerlifter. He destroyed the competition on the football field and the wrestling mat. He could shoot with perfect accuracy from anywhere on the basketball court. He ran cross-country with speed that would make Usain Bolt green with envy. And there was a genius brain behind that pretty face with a hunky body - by the end of his freshman year Krishna had already earned a perfect score on the SAT. His brain created neural connections so fast that he could read through entire graduate-level textbooks in a single afternoon. Krishna first learned of his love for violence when he was 15 years old. He was playing a game of football when he saw the kid. There was something about him Krishna hated - maybe it was his ugly smirk, or his nasally voice, or his obnoxious strut. But whatever it was, Krishna decided that he wanted to take the faggot down. He made it look like an accident. Krishna ran straight into him - a tackle so forceful that the man's spine, ribcage, and skull cracked. The boy hit the ground, breathless. After that, it was decided that Krisnha was too dangerous for sports. But Krishna discovered that killing that kid was way more fun than playing football. Later that night, Krishna went to his neighbor's house, an old pervert that was always ogling the hot young teen. Krishna showed up at the door wearing nothing more than a pair of black briefs, which were stressed and strained to the max by the boy's enormous manhood. The homo dropped to his knees, his eyes so wide that they might have popped out, his heart beating so loud that Krishna could actually hear it. The man rubbed his small, weak hands all over Krishna's quads and calves and ass, unable to believe such perfect musculature existed, unable to believe this was really happening, unable to believe that the hottest man in his sad little closeted gay life was standing right in front of him. Krishna pulled out his jawbreaking penis and shoved it in the man's inadequately sized mouth, tearing apart the sides of his lips and dislocating his fragile jaw. When Krishna was done facefucking him, the man was nothing more than a bloody stain on the dirty carpet. Krishna started sneaking out to the city after his parents fell asleep. He would find some skinny boy in an isolated part of the local college campus. Krishna would lead the poor sucker into a dark alley and give him a kiss with his full juicy lips. The guy would be so turned on, never having experienced such an amazing kiss in his boring suburban life, and he would cream his pants with his pitiful seed. Then Krishna would give the closet case a hug, and the poor sap would cream himself again, never imagining that he could ever be surrounded by so much dark,powerful, manly teenage muscle. But then he would squeal and beg for Krishna to let go. But Krishna wouldn't. He would keep tightening and tightening his death hug until the boy chest caved in and his spine shattered. Sometimes Krishna found a couple making out in the corner of a deserted parking lot. Krishna would make eye contact with the male, and the man's erection would grow bigger and harder than any woman could ever make him grow. Then Krishna would grab the woman and fuck her like a jackhammer as her boyfriend watched, his sex so mind-blowing that each and every thrust bringing forth a new orgasm from both the man and woman. Krishna's stamina was so great that he could fuck for hours without stopping. Eventually, the man's heart would give out, unable to handle so much sexual pleasure, and the woman's body would simply fall apart under Krishna's pussy-destroying cock. Once, a cop stepped in on one of Krishna's kills. Krishna started walking towards the cop, and the cop, panicking, drew a gun and emptied his barrel. Krishna dodged the bullets without even looking at them, his lightning-fast reflexes making the superhuman task easy for his overdeveloped body. When he was in arm's reach of the officer, he grabbed the officer by the head and crotch and forced the man’s skull backwards. The officer screamed as his spine cracked and his abs ruptured, Krishna forcing the head back further and further until his torso was bent in half and his head was shoved inside his ass. Then Krishna grabbed the man's arms and legs and ripped them off - Krishna's arms were so strong that the man's muscles and bones tore apart like paper in his hands. Krishna left the man to die - he didn't know whether he would die of blood loss or suffocation first, and he didn't care. The death of the officer was discovered the next day, and the headlines shocked the country. People were horrified of the photo of a muscular, middle-aged cop bent in half, head-in-ass, limbless and bleeding. When Krishna saw that photo, he masturbated to it for six hours. Krishna's career began when he was working out at a gym one day. A bald, tall man approached him. He was nearly as tall as Krishna himself, and would have looked muscular had he been standing next to anybody else. “Hey kid. You a bodybuilder? Powerlifter, maybe?” Krishna looked over at him. He had a confident smile on his face, despite the raging boner in his perfectly ironed dress pants and his nervously shaking hands. Krishna casually bounced his pecs, and chuckled at the way the man's dick jumped with them. “Why do you want to know?” The man strategically adjusted his hands to cover the growing wet spot at his crotch. “I'm an agent for bodybuilders and powerlifters. You're the most promising young man I've ever seen. I can provide you with tons of sponsors. Normally, getting to Mr. Olympia is a lifelong endeavor, but with a body like yours, I'm sure we can…” “Not interested.” Krishna interrupted. “I'm not interested in fame.” As Krishna walked away, the man frantically chased after him, an obvious trail of jism spurting from his pant legs. “Wait! It's not just fame. It's money too! Our sponsors can provide you with food, clothing. You'll be able to grow bigger, stronger. You'll be able to destroy your competition on stage in front of a huge audience. We'll give you all the…” “Destroy.” Krishna growled. The man stopped, practically holding his dick now, trying to stop himself from coming as he took in Krishna's impossibly beautiful body and sonorous, sexual voice. “Destroying the competition… I like the sound of that.” The man nodded vigorously. Now he was frothing at the mouth, his hips bucking, gargling incomprehensibly. “Give me your company's number. Write it down right here - I'll call them later.” The man grabbed the pen and erratically wrote the number down. The handwriting was barely legible, but Krishna was able to make it out. The man pounced on Krishna's relaxed arm, which hung lazily down his side. “Please,” the agent mumbled his last words, “flex it for me.” Krishna smiled, and slowly brought his arm to a horizontal. Then, with a casual flex and a sudden BOOM, the man died, his hands tightly grasping Krishna's literally heart-stopping bicep as he shot seed all over himself. Krishna soon made a name for himself when he broke every major weightlifting record ever set. He could bench and squat over a ton without assistance, for reps. He used weight for one-armed bicep curls that champions used for deadlifts. He became known as “The Last Lifter” because nobody else could ever hope to break a lifting record ever again. There were accusations of steroids, but doctors found nothing but natural teenage hormones flowing through Krishna's bloodstream. When Krishna stepped on the Mr. Olympia stage at 18 years old, he didn't even look like he was the same species as the competition. He stood over a foot and a half taller than the average competitor, with wasplike proportions - his powerful shoulders twice as wide as the biggest competitor, his miniscule waist narrow as a female supermodel. His muscles were unfathomable, so massive and monstrous individually yet so balanced and beautiful in unison. Every single man on stage had the largest erection they had ever experienced in their lives, yet their manhood was still dwarfed by the teen’s mouth-watering flaccidity. One of the judges had a heart attack. The others forgot where they were, so amazed were they by Krishna's unprecedented routine, bedazzled by his gloriously flexing biceps, his shirt-tearing triceps, his eye-popping chest, his tree-like quads. One of the competitors started crying halfway through, and soon, they all were. They weren't just crying that they lost the competition. They were crying that they would never be able to win. Crying that their bodies had no chance of attaining Krishna's size and power and perfection. Crying that not even the strongest performance-enhancing drugs could give them Krishna's body. Crying that their children and their children's children would still look like twigs compared to Krishna. They were crying from Krishna's beauty, his handsome face, his perfect smile, his flawless lips, his gorgeous eyes. Then they came, one by one, an entire stage of full-grown alpha males from around the world cumming at the sight and smell and thought of a single teenage boy, only barely legal but stronger and hotter than every one of them put together. Krishna took his trophy graciously and left the room, walking through a sticky mess of cum and jizz and pussyjuice covering the dead and dying bodies spasming across the floor.
  45. 13 points
    Jasmine was so happy to be heading home to her nice suburban neighborhood. She hadn't seen her parents for four years, having left for college to study Criminal Justice. The 21-year-old blonde was an absolute bombshell, and while she was in college was easily able to get in the pants of any man she wanted. She worked as a supermodel to earn cash during the school year - it was an easy job that gave lots of money and appealed to her narcissistic personality. But she was smart as hell too - during all three Summers, she was able to secure impressive internships that guaranteed her a spot at all the top law firms. Unfortunately, her busy life meant that she rarely got to speak with her family, but she was eager to fix that over these next few weeks. The one person she wasn't looking forward to was that obnoxious Dylan kid. When she had left for college four years ago, he was a skinny 14-year-old basketball player who thought he was hot shit because he was his middle school team's MVP and already six feet tall. He lived next door to Jasmine, and would frequently hit on her when passing by. Jasmine so did not have time for cocky little boys, but no matter how many times she told him that the little shit didn't get the message. Jasmine hoped that she could get by these next few weeks without bumping into the twerp. As Jasmine pulled up to her front yard, she paused. Next door was an incredible sight. A tall, handsome, muscular man, far bigger than any man she had ever laid eyes on, was mowing the lawn in front of Dylan's house. She had dated several football hunks and bodybuilder types in college, and never, ever had she seen a guy this powerful-looking. He was wearing no shirt, and every muscle bulged and rolled, phenomenally defined, his beautiful tanned skin stretched so thin that it may as well have not been there. Jasmine stepped out of her car and strutted over to the alpha stud, undoing the top button of her dress and swaying her queen bee hips. "Hey, big boy," she purred, "I don't remember ever meeting a hunk like you. The name's Jasmine... what's yours?" The stud turned off the motor and turned towards her. For the first time, Jasmine got a clear view of the musclegod's face. She gasped. "I'm Dylan," the megahunk flashed a knee-weakening smile. "And yes, I remember you, Jasmine." The blonde supermodel heard those words, but she couldn't actually comprehend what he was saying. She remembered Dylan as that flirty, hyperactive middle school punk. This man in front of her... he was one of the hottest... no, THE hottest man she had ever seen. But no, it was definitely him. Those were the same pretty brown eyes and full pink lips, but now all of his cute baby fat had melted and left behind a sculpted, drop-dead Hollywood-handsome face. He still had that obnoxiously self-confident smile, but with age his bold smirk had become breathtakingly sexy. And that was the same lazy hairstyle he was wearing four years ago, back when she left for college. Yes, this was the same boy. But in every other way, he had changed. Dylan had always been a tall, gangly teen. She had expected Dylan to remain tall even as an adult, but his height had absolutely skyrocketed. Jasmine was only 5'4, so Dylan stood well over a foot taller than her, and she got dizzy looking up, up, up into his gorgeous face. His gangliness, on the other hand, had all but disappeared. His skinny arms had grown into the most impossibly huge cannons she had ever seen. There was no way he could wear a t-shirt without popping the sleeves with those massive pythons - they were fucking bigger than her quarterback ex's quads! Speaking of quads, his thighs were literally thicker than her entire torso. She moaned out loud, thinking how hard he must fuck with those redwoods. Her face was eye-level with his deliciously thick nipples, which jutted from the heaviest, most powerful pair of pectorals she had ever dreamed of. Those pecs were so big that they actually bounced independently with his breath - or was he making them dance? They were mesmerizing, the way they swayed in the hot Texas winds, beads of sweat dropping from his mouthwatering nips. "Whoa Jasmine, you're making a mess down there." He nodded towards her crotch, and looking down, she shrieked as she realized she was touching herself, a large patch of wetness ruining the fabric around her lady parts. She glanced back up, and scowled when she saw Dylan's infuriatingly cocky smirk grow even wider. "Come on inside, I'll help you clean up." The muscleteen stepped forward and lifted Jasmine up so quickly she didn't even get a chance to breathe. At the touch of his iron-hard muscles, Jasmine felt herself squirt out even more of her feminine juices, her essence bleeding through the skirt and dripping onto the soft grass below. Dylan carried Jasmine into the house, the supermodel cumming all along the way. --- As soon as the pair were inside, Dylan grabbed Jasmine's head with one hand and smashed his mouth against hers, forcing her lips open with his tongue and ravaged her insides. With the other hand, he supported her body and fingered her moistness, driving her into further fits of ecstasy. She couldn't understand how he was doing it, but this 18-year-old musclebeast knew exactly how to make her cum, over and over and over again. She had never experienced sex as amazing as this in her four years in college with the dozens of men she'd fucked. Only after she had experienced her third orgasm - more than she normally experienced in a week - did Dylan break his lip lock. "God," Dylan growled, his voice so unbelievably deep and sexual that it forced Jasmine to release another flood of steamy volcano-hot essence. "I've been wanting to do that to you since I first met you." He dropped Jasmine on the living room sofa. She took in a huge breath, wheezing, her mind slowly recovering from the brain-shattering pleasure. "I got my first boner when I saw you in your high school cheerleading uniform," Dylan continued. "I knew that one day, I was going to conquer you. With my cock." He moved his hand to his black nylon shorts and fondled the shaft underneath. Jasmine gasped at the enormous outline, and how even soft it seemed to spill out of the musclegod's giant hands. "Except my cock was a lot smaller back then. Now..." Suddenly, the dick surged forward, enlarging several inches in seconds. Jasmine yelped - she had never seen such rapid growth! The stretchy nylon quickly tore under the force of the explosively expanding penis, which immediately slapped up against Dylan's flawless eight-pack abs with enough power to knock Dylan back on his ass. Jasmine could tell that the cock was at least foot long, easily bigger than her last two boyfriends combined, and he wasn't even fully erect! Jasmine screamed as Dylan's manhood grew and grew and fucking grew bigger. Now it was longer than her last three boyfriends! Holy shit! How could anyone take that? But wait, it was still grow