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Hey guys. Thanks for the PMs and recent bumps for the story. I am ass deep in work and clinicals this summer. Honestly, the clinical hours I have had to put in this summer have been far more than I thought they would be. I will have a few weeks off coming up later this month and early September to finish up Part II. For the most part it is written already, but I need to finish and then work out some plot details for Part III so it is congruent with how I want things to end up. Thanks for your patience. Don't give up on it yet. I just don't want to put something sub-par out there in a rush to get it done. Id rather take my time and give you something really worth reading. Love y'all. And thanks again for the support.

Part 1 HERE Part 2 HERE Part 3 HERE Part 4 HERE Part 5 HERE Part 6 HERE Part 7 HERE Part 8 HERE Part 9 & 10 HERE 11 Clint was woken by the sound of clanging metal from the gym downstairs. He felt a pang of anxiety in his stomach. Even at almost 400lbs of the biggest, hardest muscle imaginable; the thought of what Matt was doing in the gym caused slight panic. He also became instantly aroused. Matt had taken to Clint’s training program with a level of determination he had never witnessed. Matt would torture his body to the point of collapse. There were days Clint found it hard to keep up with his intensity. The bodybuilding competition made something snap in Matt’s brain. His reaction to seeing Tyler easily dominate the entire lineup of top-level bodybuilders triggered a level of manic rage Clint was psychically afraid for the first time in his life. As they left the auditorium that night Matt was visibly shaking. Clint's attempts to calm him were useless. As they walked through the parking lot Clint could visibly see Matt’s growing body swelling larger. At 240lbs Matt had already surpassed any expectations Clint had. He was growing so fast and didn't seem to be slowing don anytime soon. Clint reached up to grab Matt’s shoulder but he spun around and glared at Clint “WHAT!” he screamed. “Matt! You need to calm down. Your time will come. I have no doubt you’ll be as huge as Tyler in no time.” “As huge?! Do you think that’s what I want? I want to dwarf that fucking asshole. I don’t want to beat him, I want to DESTROY him. I’m going to be twice as massive as his wildest dreams.” “And you will Matt; in time.” Clint said. “NO! I can’t wait. I need more size, more mass, NOW!” Matt bellowed in reply. Then something in Matt snapped. His eyes widened and his nostrils flared. His already tight hoodie looked stretched to it’s limits. Matt walked up to a nearby car and punched the driver’s door leaving a deep dent. Clint stepped closer but Matt shot him a look that said “back off”. He unleashed a lightening fast combo to the door causing the heavy metal to buckle. He then grabbed hold of the sides of the dented door and started to pull. The sound of screeching metal filled the parking lot. Matt let out a low growl and pulled harder. Suddenly the driver’s door came loose. Matt held the mangled door in his arms and started to compress the dense metal. His eyes were wild and thick veins pulsed across his face. Within minutes the door was a twisted lump of metal. Matt tossed it 30 feet across the parking lot. Matt was breathing heavily when he positioned himself at the back of the car. He bend down and placed his hands under the bumper. He braced his legs and started to lift. HIs arms trembled and sweat beaded on his forehead. “You’ll hurt yourself” Clint tried to reason with Matt “plus; someone will see you.” “N-Not yet” Matt mumbled through gritted teeth “Need to grow; need more muscle.” Matt lifted his head, closed his eyes and exerted even more power. The back of the car started to lift. Clint stared in awe as Matt deadlifted the back of the car. When Matt reached his full height, the car was six inches off the ground. He had witnessed plenty of roid rage in his life but Clint had never seen such raw, primal rage. He saw a few people heading in their direction and decided it was time to get out of there. Clint grabbed the kids pumped up shoulders. The kid tried to move away but Clint applied more pressure. He leaned in and whispered “That was one amazing show of strength stud but we have to get the hell out of here.” Clint grabbed Matt’s hand and placed it on his throbbing cock. “Lets get home so I can show you just how impressive that was”. Whatever determination Matt worked out with before the bodybuilding competition paled in comparison with the intensity he attacked his workouts afterwards. He was a demon. Clint could still out-lift him but he could not keep up. A two hour workout was common before but now Matt would lift for over four hours at a time. He’d push himself until he couldn’t move. Clint would find him passed out in a puddle of his own sweat. There were many days when Matt would workout for two four hour sessions in one day. To be clear; Clint was over the moon at Matt’s progress. He was attracted to the stud the day they meet but seeing him grow into a complete muscle stud drove Clint crazy. Matt used to look at Clint's massive body with pure lust. That look had been replaced with envy. Clint could see that Matt wanted to surpass him and he loved it. Clint walked into the gym to find Matt curling 70lb dumbbells. It was barely 6:00 am and he had clearly been lifting for awhile. “Up early?” “Couldn’t sleep. I needed to lift.” Matt said without breaking pace. “Matt, we need to talk. You’ve been pushing yourself so hard since that show. I’m afraid you’re going to get hurt.” Matt dropped the weights and turned to face Clint. He was wearing one of Clint’s t-shirts. It hung off his body like a tent. “I can’t stop Clint. I need to get bigger.” “I know you want to ge…” Clint started to say. “CLINT!” Matt yelled and pulled the shirt off. His pumped body glistened with sweat. “Look at me.” “I see you Matt. You look incredible. You’re arms are over 18”, those pecs are 52” and your waist hasn’t gotten bigger then 30”” Matt stepped closer and hit a most muscular pose. A pose he didn’t even know how to hit before meeting Clint; but one he had long since mastered. His thick traps rose from his melon-sized delts. Veins criss-crossed his pale skin. “Does this look like the biggest, sickest, most grotesque body you’ve ever seen?” He asked. “Matt” “NO IT’S NOT! And until it is I’m not going to stop.” Matt growled and grabbed the 90lb dumbbells and started to curl the heavy weights. “Fuck kid; I’ve never seen a beast like you.” Clint said as he approached. “I’m not going to try to stop you from reaching your goals but that doesn't mean we can’t have some fun while we are getting there.” Matt smiled as Clint stepped behind him. It had been a while since Clint saw that smile. If possible, Clint was even more turned on. Clint grabbed Matt’s swollen traps as he curled. “Lift that fucking puny weight. Grow those arms. Make them freaky” “Mmmmmmm” was all Matt could muster. “Yeah, you like that don't you kid? You like thinking about how massive you’ll be. We’re going to grow you into such a muscle God.” Matt was lost in his own muscle lust. His already pumped arms struggled to curl the 90lb weights. Clint leaned in close “Lift those fucking weights boy. Show this beast what real muscle can do.” Matt let out a scream and curled the weights for another rep. “Flex” he grunted. Clint stepped back and peeled his shirt off, exposing his mammoth 380lb body. He placed his hands on his hips and flexed his entire upper body. His pecs reached their 63” maximum. His thick stomach solidified into brick sized cobbles while his enormous lats caused his arms to rise. “So huge” Matt grunted. His eyes never left the behemoth's body as he started to curl the barbells again. At the top of the rep, Clint raised his arms into a gruesome double bicep pose. His arms rose to 27” of thick, striated beef. Matt dropped the weights and grabbed the 100s. Clint’s eyes looked worried; Matt had never been able to curl those and he was already spent. Sensing his concern Matt said “keep flexing. Your massive body makes me feel unstoppable”. Clint obeyed. He moved into a side chest pose that would rival any top professional bodybuilder. Matt licked his lips and started to hoist the huge weights. They barely moved but Matt wouldn’t stop. He let out a horrifying bellow and started to lift the weights. He stomped his foot and the weights moved higher. After almost 20 seconds Matt had reached the top of the rep and finally let the weights crash to the floor. Matt looked down at his pumped and bloated arms. His forearm veins looked like a road map. Sweat dripped from his elbows. He flexed his 18” biceps and admired their thickening mass. He massaged the huge muscles as he flexed. “That was awesome kid. You fucking huge right now” Clint said. “You think so?” Matt asked and raised an arm and flexed. “Hell yeah” clint agreed. Matt stepped closer to Clint and started to pose for the huge older man. Clint licked his lips and watched Matt’s body grow bigger with each flex. Clint pulled down his shorts and started to stroke his hard cock. Matt smiled as he realized the effect he was having on the 52 year old massive 380lb freak. He hit pose after pose; holding each one until his entire body trembled from effort. He flared his thick, dense lats, twisted his hips and flexed his razor sharp oblique muscles. He ran his hands over his soaked eight pack abs and 52” chest. Matt pulled down his pants and Clint let out a loud moan as his massive legs were exposed. By far his most impressive body part; they measured an impressive 28”. Matt ran his hands over their meaty surface then flexed each quad. Deep cuts and striations appeared on their surface. He turned and flexed his enormous glutes. Clint moaned again as Matt twisted a leg and flexed his hamstrings. Deep grooves and thick veins covered the surface. Finally Matt raised onto his toes and flexed his 18” calves. They solidified into hard, ripped muscle. Matt turned to face Clint. The massive man was stroking his cock faster and his eyes darted all over Matt’s pumped body. “Is this growing body going to make you cum?” Matt asked. “Hell yeah, you look fucking unreal kid.” “Good, I want you to cum for all this muscle” Matt said. “Stand up” he commanded. Clint stood and Matt stepped closer. He could see Clint was ready to explode. He bent down and wrapped his arms around Clint’s massive quads and started to lift. He hoisted the huge man off the ground with a little grunt and slid Clint’s cock into his mouth. Clint was too shocked to react and he released a massive load into Matt’s mouth. Matt guzzled the massive man’s cum. “Mmmmm, that was the better then a protein shake.” “Fuck kid, that was incredible. I can’t believe you picked me up that easily.” “You think was a good show?” Matt asked “You haven’t seen anything yet.” With a loud grunt Matt lifted Clint’s 380lbs higher and slung him over his shoulder. He caught his reflection in the gym mirror and almost came at the sight. With laboured steps, Matt carried Clint across the gym and towards the locker room. As they moved Matt could feel Clint’s dick getting hard again as it rested on his granite hard shoulder.

My heart was pounding when I entered the restaurant. I had specified a public place to meet with you, and you had suggested this venue. You had agreed so ready that at first I wondered whether this was a place you frequented - a place that was used to your presence and your reported…. What should I call what you do? Assuming that everything they say about you is true, of course. It seems impossible, but a lot of things seem impossible until you witness them firsthand. I walked in a few minutes early, hoping to witness your entrance and your effect on others. I wondered if half of what I had heard was true, and I hoped to be able to record it. I told the maitre’d that I had a reservation under your name, and he looked at me and smiled - not in an unusual way - and took up two menus before showing me to a booth. It was lunchtime and we were meeting downtown, the place was packed with dark-suited business types or start-up dudes in gingham shirts and beards. No one paid any particular attention to me and I sat down to await your arrival. My heart was already beating fast. Certainly I was excited, how could I not be? You were becoming something of a legend, though actual reports of you were hard to pin down. Someone might see you from a distance, and they knew it could be no other except you because of your…unique manner of dress. Or undress, to be more accurate. Odd, I thought, how that could be. But perhaps it had something to do with what you told me you were capable of. The impossible. There was a stir near the entrance and people parted like the Red Sea before the hand of God. I could see you easily, because of your stature. Funny, I thought, I expected you to be even bigger! The reports from some who had met you were staggering, particularly concerning your size and dimensions. Then again, there was some confusion about that, with those reports varying wildly from the unusual to the superhuman. You were head and shoulders above everyone else, and of course you were also naked. For some reason I found myself avoiding your face. I had been told to expect to have a very strong - even unavoidable - reaction to it. “His body is remarkable. Certainly beautiful, and probably more beautiful than anyone, man or woman, that I have ever seen. But it’s his face….” And then this look of, I dunno, worship? Adoration? Lust? Would come over the speaker. You moved through the crowd and people were touching you. You would speak to some of them - I could…sense your voice rather than hear it. I had been warned about that too. “When he speaks, there’s something…magical about his voice. Something irresistible. You want to hear him speak. You crave to hear him.” Everyone turned to look at you and it seemed like some sort of wild, uncontrolled orgy would break out at any moment. Just your presence in the restaurant had raised the erotic temperature and I was feeling it, too, even from the other side of the room. Then, just as quickly, that sensation eased or dissipated, like a fog, and people still remained interested in you but no more so than if any celebrity was walking among them. Then you were at the table, standing before me. I tried but could not avoid staring at your cock. I think my mouth fell open. It was…magnificent. That is not a word I would generally apply to another man’s equipment, but no more apt description seemed appropriate. It was amazing. It was colossal. It was stupendous. But more than anything else…it was enormous. A thick, heavy, proud, formidable cock that jutted forward over a pair of perfectly formed, absolutely identical, completely beautiful balls swelling fat inside your scrotum. My vision of your equipment was suddenly interrupted by a hand - your hand. Your perfect, large, manly, powerful hand as you held it towards me and spoke. The words did not immediately register to me, but whatever you had said seemed to ring a bell inside me that resonated like a tongue on my dick and I felt myself growing extremely aroused and very hard all at once. Perhaps you recognized this effect you were having and you said, softly, “Pardon me,” and then the sensation of pure sex lessened, but did not disappear, and your hand was on my shoulder and I looked up. Then I came. My dick inflated and I came. There was no decision that I played in it. I looked at your face and I came. You smiled and I came again, and then I watched your lips - your supple, beautiful, kissable lips - say “Sorry about that.” I think I tried saying something, and then you said,”Thank you for showing up naked. I enjoy looking at beautiful naked bodies like yours.” I remembered that I decided that I wouldn’t wear clothes to greet you. Was it something you had suggested? I couldn’t quite recall, but I was suddenly somewhat abashed that I had just launched a volley of cum at the underside of the table. “You’re welcome,” I told you. “You have a remarkable body,” you observed kindly adding, “and so powerfully built.” I felt your beautiful eyes moving over my torso. I stood up so you could see all of me. “You’re proud of being so muscular and well-developed, I’m sure.” I was, and I said so. I could not possibly compare to your masterful level of muscular size and beauty, but I had worked hard to look like I did. “Will you make a muscle for me?” you asked. “You want me to…?” You nodded and showed me what you meant, illustrating your request by lifting your own arm and pushing your biceps and triceps to full glory. I felt my dick throb at the sight of so much beautiful power. I felt humbled and even slightly shamed that I could never compare to your glorious size and power, but I nonetheless lifted my own arms and flexed as hard as I could. “Impressive,” you remarked. “Are those twenty-inch arms?” you asked. I looked from one to the other and beamed. Twenty-inch arms! “No,” you amended, “more like twenty-four.” They were! They were each twenty-four inches around exactly. I admired your discerning eye. “Yes,” I answered. “Your entire upper body is quite remarkable. Even though your arms are so large, so strong, your shoulders and chest match the size perfectly. And your lats spread like wings!” You narrowed your gaze, adding, “ordinarily an upper body of such proportions would make a man look odd, but it’s a good thing you’re so tall - six-ten?” I didn’t think that was true, but…. “Six-eleven?” Yes, that was it. Nearly seven feet tall, and naked as the day I was born. I lowered my arms, letting them hang from my sides. They had to hang out from my body because my lats were so wide. I could hardly see beyond my chest to the rest of my body. It was something else I was proud of, and your notice made me swell. I puffed up my chest to show you how large I was. “You’re highly aroused,” you observed. “Yes,” I answered. Because I was. “It shows,” you agreed, smiling as you cast your gaze downward. “I love that about men, how we cannot hide our desire, how our sex is on display so obviously. How many inches?” “Inches?” My waist? My chest? “How big is your cock?” You reached forward to touch me. I was hard as stone, and your hand surrounded me. “It feels as thick as your wrist.” I surrounded my wrist with my other hand and realized it was true, though I had never made that comparison before. My cock was absurdly thick. “And it must be…fourteen? No, fifteen inches in length.” “When it’s hard,” I said, nodding. “And when it’s not?” I thought about it. “It’s always fifteen inches long,” I said. It was one of the reasons I enjoyed being naked for him now. It was difficult managing my cock into pants, let alone underwear. “That must be why you are always naked,” you said to me, echoing my thoughts. “You are always naked.” Always naked. Yes. “Yes,” I agreed. “I admire that,” you told me. “I don’t suppose anyone ever objects, given how handsome, how muscular you are.” That was true, too. I was always naked, and no one ever said anything about it. You removed your strong grip from my wrist-thick cock and moved to sit beside me in the booth. I sat back down, taking my napkin to clean up the wealth of come I had erupted upon sight of your face. You set your larger hand on my own and said, “I wouldn’t worry about that. Something tells me there’s more where that came from.” I felt my balls throb and tingle. They seemed to swell eagerly at your words, as if responding to some order. “Now then,” you said, turning towards me, “what did you want to talk about?” I thought about what you asked as I looked at your impossibly beautiful face. Your eyes were kind, but also fiery with lust. Your lips were begging a kiss, soft and warm and full. Your neck was thick with power, stretching out to shoulders so wide that I had to turn my head on my own neck to see from one end of you to the other. You were head and shoulders above me, even sitting, and I was in awe and strongly, nearly irresistibly attracted to you. “About…” You smiled and I came. You had been correct. I felt a hot, wet splatter on my thickly muscled, naked chest as my dick swelled and my balls pumped out a fat fountain. You dipped your fingers to the suddenly physical manifestation of my lust for you, gathering a thick gobbet of my cream onto your fingers before moving them towards your lips and pushing it inside your mouth. I came again as I heard you moan. It was a feral sound, animalistic and needful. I closed my eyes and sighed and came again, splattering a fat load on my neck and chin. Your mouth - your warm lips and tongue - lapped at my neck and slurped my cum inside. “You said you’re a writer.” Your warm breath on my skin. I opened my eyes, trying to focus my attention on speech rather than pleasure. Just being near you was keeping me at the edge of exploding. “Freelance journalist,” I said. “And you wanted to interview me.” “Yes,” I verified. “Why me?” I had already written the introduction to the article I intended to write, so I repeated it to you from memory. “You are the epitome of male beauty - human masculine perfection in physical form. No other man on the planet is as handsome, as strong, as powerful, as unique as you are. Your pure masculine beauty is unmatched, as is your muscular development and perfection of physique. Reports of your sexual escapades, erotic talents, and carnal abilities approach unimaginable extents. You define masculine perfection in every aspect of your being, from your voice to your face to your body. It’s said you can make someone experience a powerful orgasm with nothing more than a look. The world allows you - demands, in fact - to remain totally naked so that we’re permitted the gift of looking upon the unyielding and total perfection of every unbelievable inch of your physical presence.” You shrugged, as if this was commonplace. “I’ve been lucky,” you admitted. “Is it all true?” “More than you know. And do you know how this is all possible? How I became the man I am? The man here with you in this place?” I shook my head, speechless, enamored and enthralled by the tone of your voice, the deep masculine power in every utterance, the way your supple lips moved, the play of your long, wet tongue and my imagination running wild in carnal directions about your lips and tongue on my body. “I am able to alter reality. I only need utter what I want, and it becomes real. It’s a talent I discovered purely by accident, and one I can’t explain, other than to say that it is true, undoubtedly so, and there appears to be no limits to what I can do.” You paused as I absorbed all of this, about to ask for further details, when you placed your finger on my lips and added, “Only no one in the world but me knows that.” “Knows what?” You smiled and I nearly came. My dick swelled and throbbed and jerked with a spasm of pure happiness. “I suppose you’re a better judge of that description than I am, but I can confirm that I never wear clothes - but then neither do you - and my sexual appetites and experiences may extend well beyond what most others may be capable of, and, yes, admittedly there have been times when someone else has experienced…let’s say a rather dramatic reaction to my glance.” Your eyes zeroed in on mine. I gasped and groaned and sighed and came again. Hard and thick and powerfully. I shot a rope of cream above us in the booth and it struck the wall behind us with a resounding splatter. Something about you when you looked at me. My breath was ragged and I was having a difficult time concentrating on anything beyond the godlike pulses of pure sexual pleasure that were engulfing me. You parted your lips and I hoped for a kiss, but you said, “Let’s talk about you.” “Me?” “Yes,” you said, licking my cream from your lips. You leaned closer to me. I could smell you. I could smell your masculine essence. You smelled like a locker room. You smelled like a football field. You smelled like leather and sweat and muscle and ass. “You’re a very handsome man,” you remarked, and then you leaned towards me and set you wet tongue to my skin and sucked my cream from my neck. I felt myself grow hot under your scrutiny, but hot from lust as well. I ached to lean towards you and press my lips to yours. I ached to taste myself inside your mouth. I could feel my cock pulse and my balls tighten and I knew I was close to another eruption. You looked down, noting the hard, gleaming redness of my prick. “Are you going to come, again?” “I think so,” I answered. “You’re going to come inside my mouth,” you told me. “Yes,” I agreed. Nothing would have pleased me more. “And when you come inside my mouth,” you said, leaning your brutally beautiful face towards my throbbing meat, “you’re going to come harder and thicker and with more pleasure and satisfaction than you have ever experienced in your entire life.” “Yes,” I agreed. Of course I am. You opened your mouth and I could feel the warm, wet heat of your breath against me. I sucked in a long breath and sighed and closed my eyes. I could feel your soft lips against the tip of my prick. You were kissing me, there in the restaurant. Your large hand grasped my wrist-thick cock and your tongue bathed the head with slick wetness that drained down my fifteen inches like warm honey. You teased and caressed me, you worshiped me, as I longed to worship you. Then I felt your mouth envelope me entirely and my balls seized up and my toes curled and my hands balled into fists and every muscle on my carefully developed body flexed into tight power and I exploded inside your mouth. I clenched my jaw shut hard to stifle the scream of absolute bliss that built inside me and wanted release. I squeezed tears from my eyes against the utter joy of the sudden and complete orgasmic satisfaction that originated from my hard meat and resonated through every cell of my body as I shot a fat, thick, hot load of cream inside your mouth. I heard - and felt - you groan with pleasure as you swallowed the sudden thick jets of cream I was somehow unleashing, harder and thicker than I had ever experienced in my entire life. It felt like an explosion. It felt as if, had your mouth not been there to swallow my load, I would’ve shot so hard out of my cannon that I’d have blasted clean through the roof of the restaurant. It felt as if my soul was leaving my body through my cock. The intoxicating level of sexual bliss was nearly overwhelming. I pumped into your mouth over and over and felt the burden of my balls empty inside you as you moaned in satisfaction and your throat swelled with every fat fountain I came. How long did it go on? How much cream had I managed to produce? Did I black out? Did this happen with every man you met? I opened my eyes only when I felt your mouth on mine, and your tongue pressing against my lips, and I opened my mouth and you slid your warm, wet, pliable tongue inside and bathed my senses with the taste of my own cream, as if I had magically managed to suck on my own cock and fulfilled a fantasy I never knew I had. When you pulled away, I said as much, savoring the flavor that filled my mouth, saying how I wished I could taste it like that. “But you can,” you told me. “You’ve always been able to pull the length of your fat cock inside your own mouth and deliver the same level of sexual bliss, the same explosive wealth of hot, delicious cream down your own throat.” I remembered doing so only that morning. How I had practiced to allow my body to bend in on itself and the curve of my huge prick was exactly perfect to slide into my mouth and down my throat and I would suck my own prick and come over and over, feeling a sense of warm satisfaction that nothing else could deliver. My dick was still hard and now I felt the cooling air on its spit-slick surface and you stroked me with loving tenderness. “Your cock is incredible,” you said. I looked at it with unbridled joy and happiness, enraptured by my wonderful cock. “You can come like that whenever you want to,” you said, “and you can become hard when you wish it, or stay limp and allow your fat prick to dangle like a promise over those magic balls that are always filled with delicious fat loads of warm creamy come.” I looked at my beautiful fat prick as you slowly stroked my thick inches and felt pride and vanity. I loved my cock. I loved what it could do - what I could do. You bent your soft lips to the mouth of my prick and kissed me with gentle devotion. “But whenever we are together,” you said softly, “your level of sexual gratification - your utter orgasmic bliss - is compounded ten-fold.” I realized it was true. With others, I would always feel fully satisfied. Even when I used my own mouth on my marvelous and majestic cock, when I came it was like the stars exploding. But when I am with you - and only you - nothing else compares. You looked at me as you leaned back in the booth, spreading your arms along the back and relaxing into the soft leather. “What would you care to do with me, now?” “Everything,” I said. You smiled. My cock plumped and a thick drool of cream ran down its sides. “Everything is a lot. Let’s see if we can’t focus on something we’d both enjoy.” You reached over to stroke me. I watched your hand move up and down my towering erection and I pumped another thick wealth of cream to help lube your grip. You squeezed me hard in your vice-like grip with approval. It was pain and pleasure in equal doses. “How do you feel about these other people here?” “What do you mean?” “They’re acting as if this is all normal. That two naked, well-muscled, thick-dicked men always wander into this place and sit in this booth and pleasure each other. We’re having a very public sexual encounter and yet no one here is bothered in the slightest. Would you like it to be shocking to them? Do you want someone to object? Would that excite you?” I thought about what you said. No, I thought, I loved this. I loved the fact that naked men wandered freely, and engaged each other openly, and could expose their marvelous, beautiful bodies and cocks so wantonly. “I want others to do it too,” I said. “Others? Anyone in particular?” I looked beyond the fat shank of sex you were engaged in stroking, sending continuous throbs of hot sex into my massively muscled frame, and I pointed towards a waiter I had noticed when I had entered earlier, wandering in from the street in my unashamed nakedness, my fifteen-inch prick hanging like another limb over my pumping balls. “Him,” I said, and then I pointed towards a pair of business men in suits, talking quietly to each other with their phones in their hands. “And them.” You stroked and squeezed me, teasing another fat delivery of cum from my balls. I moaned in utter bliss. “The waiter is quite handsome,” you remarked. I looked at him again and was struck by his features. He was amazingly beautiful! “He is not as tall as you or me, but he has a well-developed body and a fat prick. You can see it bulge in his pants,” you said. I looked down at the young man’s full basket. It looked like he had stuffed a salami in his pants along with two tennis balls. “I like that they wear leather pants here,” you said. “I like that they’re so tight, so expertly fitted, that nothing about a man’s anatomy is left to the imagination.” I could see the heavy outline of the waiter’s massive meat pressing along his thigh. I could even discern the flared edge of the head of his cock, as well as two swelling round balls split at the center of his groin. When he turned to pour water into someone’s glass, the bulbous beauty of each mound of his bubble butt seemed to jump out like beach balls. I heard your voice again, like a tongue in my ear, like the growl of a lion. “I’m not sure that shirtless waiters are quite as sanitary as they might be, but it would be a shame to hide his thickly muscled torso - that handsome chest and those six-pack abs, so well-defined and expertly honed - under a shirt, no matter how tightly it fit.” I had to agree. The waiter’s torso, while nowhere near as thick and heavy as my own, was nonetheless quite beautiful. He looked like an Olympic-Level gymnast, with smoothly developed lobes of hard power everywhere. “He reminds me of a Tom of Finland illustration,” I remarked. “Yes,” you agreed. “As a matter of fact he does. It’s almost comical how perfectly that description fits him.” I remembered the picture that matched his features, and as you said it, I did laugh slightly because he was an almost exact match, even down to the absurdly over-sized nipples and the oddly out-of-date hair style. He even had a “porn ‘stache” on his upper lip, but the overall effect was both highly erotic and deeply sexual. “I bet he can fuck like a stallion,” I remarked. “I bet he can,” you agreed. At that moment, the waiter turned towards us and leered in our direction with a lasciviousness that made me cum again. He reached down with his free hand and moved it along the thick shank of cock forced along his thigh, winking at us both. He even shoved his hips forward, mimicking the action that I had just spoken. “What about our other friends?” you asked. I looked at the businessmen with their phones out. They did not appear particularly remarkable. I was even about to comment on it when you said, “Don’t you think the blonde one on the left is beautiful? Do you like long hair on a man? I think it’s quite becoming on him.” It did frame his face rather well, And now that I looked again, he was a beautiful man. “How old do you think he is?” I asked. “Twenty two,” you said. “Young and hung and full of cum.” I watched the man on the left as he adjusted in his seat, seemingly uncomfortable for some reason. “And his companion, the red-head. Don’t you think that full beard is handsome? And I wonder how he managed to find a suit to fit such a broad and muscular frame. It looks almost as if his thick and furry chest is stretching the buttons of his shirt to their limit.” The red-headed man’s shirt was, indeed, nearly ripping itself apart just to try to contain the obviously massive pecs mounted on his chest. His shoulders were very wide as well. “Why would he buy his shirts so small?” I wondered aloud. “Particularly when you and I are nude,” you observed. I looked at you and you leaned over to kiss my mouth again. I came a fat fountain that shot some distance above us and splattered on our naked flesh. “What do you think will happen next?” you asked. I looked again at the shirtless gymnast waiter in his painted-on leather pants with the massive length of thick cock along his thigh. “The waiter looks so uncomfortable in those pants,” I said. “Perhaps our blonde friend can offer some relief,” you offered. I watched the blonde man turn and summon the beautiful waiter over to their table. I could not hear what they said, but the waiter smiled brightly and set his water carafe on the table. “What do you…?” My unfinished question was answered when the waiter thrust his over-burdened groin forward and I watched the blonde man begin to undo the waiter’s pants, unlatching his belt and unzipping the tight leather until the man’s thick prick practically sprang forward, relieved at last to be uncaged. “My god,” I said, marveling at its size and beauty. “Yes,” you agreed, “he owns quite a prodigious tool. How big is it, do you think? Is it as big as yours?” You squeezed and stroked me, and I throbbed and swelled under your attentions. “Bigger,” I whispered. “Really,” you asked. “How big?” “Seven…eighteen inches.” “The waiter owns an eighteen-inch cock?” You seemed to laugh but it was undoubtedly true. We both watched the blonde welcoming the waiter’s ungodly and impossibly huge prick into both of his hands, looking at it with lust and hunger. “It seems impractical,” you observed, “to own a cock so large.” It stretched forward from the man’s body like a sausage, the head a swollen plum. “I’ve never seen one so big,” I agreed. “Even mine?” I looked at you and shook my head. “No other man’s prick is as large or as beautiful as yours,” I admitted. “That’s true,” you agreed, though I heard no boastfulness in your voice. It was simply a fact. No one else in the world had a cock so huge and beautiful and perfect as yours. I was going to look down at it, lying in your lap, to marvel at is size and beauty when you called my attention back to the waiter and his attentive friend. “What will the blonde man do next?” you asked. “Kiss it,” I said. Almost in response to my spoken instructions, the blonde leaned forward and pressed his lips reverently to the massive shank. “He’ll kiss its entire length, starting at the top and working his way to the waiter’s groin.” “He will,” you agreed. He did so, just as I had predicted, The waiter bent his head back and opened his beautiful mouth as if this simple action felt as good as a blow-job, that finally allowing his monster free to be worshipped so openly was causing him great sexual pleasure. “He loves it,” you observed. “He loves when someone else allows him to show off the massive cock in his pants. He has to hide it so often that when he’s finally allowed to release the beast, it’s like sex to him.” I watched the waiter experience something like an orgasm as the blonde man kissed his cock. I came in unison, pumping another fat fountain from my own thick prick that bathed it in wet warmth as you continued to stroke me. “But he’s not coming,” I said. “Not like you,” you said. I came again. Your voice seemed to draw it from my balls. I pumped a fat fountain that shot upwards and splattered on my thick chest like hot rain. “No, when this happens, when another man is worshiping his amazing cock, he experiences a level of orgasmic pleasure that feels like he’s coming, but he can contain his load.” “Is that possible?” I asked aloud. “Anything is possible,” you answered. I looked at your impossibly beautiful face, realizing that was true. “Does it hurt?” I asked. “Not at all,” you said, looking back at the two of them in the center of the busy restaurant. “It feels exactly like he’s coming, but he’s not.” “When does he come?” I asked, marveling at this unusual talent. “Only when he wants to,” you said. “Like you.” I wanted to come as you said it, so I did. I pushed up a thick flood that poured from the mouth of my fat dick like honey and drained down the sides where you continued to stroke and pleasure me. “The redhead looks unhappy.” “That’s because he’s a bit jealous of his companion. What do you think would make him happy?” I licked my lips and said the first thing that came to my mind. I felt free to express my fantasies with you, to tell you what I wished could happen, no matter how silly or impossible it seemed. “To grow,” I said. “Taller?” I nodded my head. “Bigger. Stronger. Like…like the Incredible Hulk.” “Is he the Incredible Hulk?” “No. But…but he can grow when he wants to. That’s why his shirt is so tight. He…he’s in love with the blonde man, but he hasn’t told him. He…when he got dressed to come here, he looked in the mirror and decided he wanted to impress his friend, to make his friend want him.” I came again, pleased with my description and eager to watch it. You gripped me hard as my come coated your hand. “So he grew?” I nodded. “He grew muscle. He grew bigger.” “And now…?” “He can’t help himself. He wants the man’s attention back. So he’s going to grow again.” You leaned towards me, to watch him alongside me. You whispered, “How big can he grow?” “Huge,” I said softly. excited by the prospect. I watched the red head slowly stand. Already the seams along the sides of his suit were splitting. Buttons popped off his shirt like bullets, flying across the restaurant. “Describe it to me,” you said. “Describe to me what happens between those three men in this restaurant here today. Your words will make it happen.” I felt something odd come over me. I felt suddenly powerful, or empowered. I felt…magical. . . . I took a chance on you. Who could blame me? Your imagination was so strong, so…vivid. Perhaps being a writer helps. You were so excited by what was happening around you! You never showed the slightest hesitation or fear, at least not to me. I’m not clairvoyant, you understand. No one can predict the future, for the simple reason that it hasn’t happened yet. Even I can’t predict the future, I can only alter it, change it…. Improve it. I could practically smell your excitement when I entered the room. Of course, all eyes turned to me. I was unavoidable. Once you look at me, you can only stare, unable to fully comprehend what you’re seeing. Even as you stare, your eyes opening wider to let all of me in, every inch of this body, every facet of this beauty, you are unable to fully believe that I am real. But I am. I am real. Everything is real. As I sat next to you stroking that mammoth ever-spurting prick you had chosen for yourself, with its impossible girth and unwieldy length, I understood that you did not want things to remain “normal.” You wanted more, so much more. I knew that desire, of course. I lived it daily. When I pushed my mouth over your fountain of cream and swallowed your sticky, rich flow, I knew you would be as unsatisfied as I was with the world, and would be eager to change it - and yourself. That’s all I needed, really. Belief is halfway to reality. It just takes a slight nudge and there we are, together, you and I, in the world which we create. You took my nudity in stride and welcomed it into your world with equal facility. Some balk at it, find it odd or uncomfortable, but you didn’t. Not for a moment. And then you added that second notion, of a monster cock you could make come on command, and I wondered how far things would go today. I had to define a few things to allow your imagination to kick into gear, to allow you to begin to believe your own words. The hair color of the gentlemen. The leather pants. But you were soon off and running, suggesting Tom of Finland and The Hulk as jumping off points. Nothing wrong with that. Something familiar before moving into terra incognita, allowing your own ideas to bloom. A few commonalities to get the juices flowing, so to speak. And by god, did your juices flow! They exploded from you, let’s be honest. I felt your huge new muscular body shudder with every orgasmic release you allowed yourself. You became insatiable, sinking into the realization that you could now sit there in public and pump gallons of come up the thick inches of your new cock and wallow in its power. No more sitting alone in your room with your dick in your hand and stroking until your body tired of it, now you owned a massive cock that would fountain a sticky load anytime and anywhere, displaying your overwhelming sexual power because you were pleased. I realized that now you would stride the world in your naked glory, that absurdly thick fifteen-inch prick at the ready to plump to erect attention and start exploding cream because you wanted it to. You could dip your mouth to its flowing fount and drink deeply of the salty spunk your overflowing balls would pump down your throat because you wanted it, you needed it, you loved it. We sat beside each other there, you in your new form, me stroking your dick, two naked muscular behemoths engulfed in our desires, and I told you, “Describe to me what happens between those three men in this restaurant here today. Your words will make it true.” A few limitations, yes. Those three men, and no others. In this restaurant, and no further. Today, in this moment, as I watched in case you truly went too far. I had misused a simple word before, ‘now,’ and had learned a lesson from it. Now was forever. It was always now. And now I was the most beautiful, the most powerful, the sexiest man in the world. There is such a thing as going too far, believe it or not. I know, because I have been there. Luckily for you, I was able to bring us all back from that madness to where we are. Reality can be a tricky bitch sometimes. I hung my right arm across your broad, muscular shoulders and with my left hand, I continued to stroke your monster, the contact of my skin against your sending vital, unyielding, powerful sexual pulses into your body as your balls continued to manufacture the warm, wet cream that you would pump and fountain at irregular intervals. It coated our skin like paint, and puddled beneath you and drained to the floor. The smell of sex permeated the space, now, rank and delicious. We looked at the tableau we had conceived together; the shirtless hunk in tight leather pants with his foot-and-a-half long prick extended before him like a dousing rod, the beautiful blonde reverently worshiping that monstrous phallus with strokes and kisses that were making the waiter experience an orgasm of immense size, and his musclebound red-headed companion who was growing both jealous and more muscular, as if one was feeding the other. And then I handed you the keys, and let you drive for a while. “He…” “Be specific,” I told you. “It’s important. Which ‘he’?” “The redhead, he stands up and he’s already starting to grow.” “Grow how? Be specific.” “It starts with his muscles. It always starts there. He…he couldn’t control it when it started happening to him. But now he can.” “Good,” I said, squeezing your dick. You pumped up a fat fountain and I leaned over to capture it in my mouth. You taste so good. You shuddered and moaned as my face appeared before you and you came again. A nice reward for me. I appreciate it. “He…the redhead, he can tell it’s starting so he closes his eyes to channel it.” “What does that mean?” “He’ll grow too fast - too powerful - if he doesn’t control the growth.” “Good,” I praised. Limits are necessary. Things get out of hand too quickly, otherwise. “It starts with his muscles,” I prompted. You nodded. “They begin to swell, both with size and power. He is even stronger than he looks, because the muscles, they’re super strong.” I looked at the man in question. He was standing with his feet wide, his arms held out, his hands balled into fists. He was breathing hard, his eyes closed. I could see his chest pushing against the shirt, and suddenly the buttons were flying off like bullets, torn free and firing across the room. “His chest is growing, and his arms and his legs. Every muscle is growing.” The seams of his suit were beginning to rend. The material was trying to hold together while the threads that held the pieces together ripped open. “Does he grow taller, too?” I asked. “Yes,” you said, and then he was. I could see his neck swell with power as his head began to rise. The hem of his shirt was being pulled out of his pants and the sleeves of his jacket looked like sausage casing filled with too much meat. “He’s furry,” I said, because I wanted him to be. “Yes,” you agreed. Now that his chest was pushing forward from his open shirt, we could see a thick carpet of that same copper hair in thick curls across the growing expanse. “Now that he has control, he opens his eyes,” which he did, “and he looks at his lover and the handsome waiter.” “Is he angry? Is he sad?” “He’s turned on. He’s massively turned on.” There was a sudden prominent bulge in his pants, pushing hard against his zipper. “The bigger he grows, the more turned on he becomes.” “Describe his size for me. How big are his arms? How tall will he become? How much will he weigh?” “His…he has…his arms are only twenty inches now, but they can swell to thirty.” I tried to hide my surprise and pleasure. Such imagination! “He can grow as tall as eight feet, if he wants to.” “If he wants to? Do you want him to?” I asked as he stretched his arms out to his sides and another resounding rip sounded as his jacket split and his massive arms began to emerge. “Yes.” The redhead bent his arms and his face took on a look of intense concentration (which, may I add, increased his handsome visage rather perceptively). A smile came to his lips which increased into a toothy grin as he pumped increasing power into his arms, inflating them with muscle. The material of his jacket and shirt ripped itself apart under the sheer strength of his increasingly powerful muscular onslaught and he was then standing there at the edge of the table with the cuffs of his shirt clinging to his wrists, but the remainder of his swelling upper body now as naked as the waiter’s. It was now clearly evident that he was swelling with power and growing in stature and width by the second. The muscular development crawled across his body beneath his furry skin like thick bands, pushing outward from the deep indent between his pecs and blooming across his shoulders and around his arms in ever increasing size. He was coated in a dense forest of copper curls and his skin began to gleam with sweat as he strained to contain his power. “So beautiful,” I said, almost without thinking, but my words still possessed their usual capability and I watched him change again before my eyes, increasing in magnificence. “He has control,” you said, gifting the growing man with jurisdiction over his own body. “And his cock….” Here it comes, I thought. You had already given yourself a 15-inch, constantly spurting monster and the beautiful waiter owned eighteen inches. How large would our redheaded friend get? “His cock?” I repeated, amused and interested to hear your desire. “Even bigger than the waiter’s,” you predicted. “Bigger than eighteen inches?” “Much bigger.” The bulge in the growing man’s pants suddenly lurched with prominence and a thick length of meat shifted and began crawling down his leg beneath his tightening suit. Its expanse continued to swell and I realized that we needed some more specifics here or it threatened to become uncontrollable. “Twenty inches?” I asked. “Twenty…,” we watched that bulge swell even larger, and then you corrected yourself, “Twenty-four. Two feet of massively thick uncut cock,” you said. The beautiful bearded redhead was still smiling as he felt his equipment surge with impossible size, pushing urgently towards his knee and making that pant leg rip itself open. He reached down and ripped the pants from his legs entirely, revealing his still-swelling mind-blowing monster with pride and arrogance. This seemed to please him, because his massive prick began now to visibly throb and rise. As we had already agreed that no other man on the planet had a dick larger than my own, I suddenly felt mine swell and extend beneath the table, its weight and burden compounded by its new size, probably now exactly 24 inches and one millimeter in length. Already attuned to be super-sensitive and always ready to go, I felt its hunger and need sizzle in like growth, the luscious burden of its gargantuan size like a perfect, welcome burden of unlimited sex. “Are you sure it’s that big?” I asked, a bit concerned. I moved my cum-coated hand from your massive erection and placed it gingerly upon the fat shank of sex I now owned, thrilled at the rush of intense sexuality it delivered. There were often unforeseen ramifications when one tampers, but rarely did they impact my own carefully crafted perfection. But you nodded and whispered, “Yes.” No matter, I could fix this later, glad that I had the foresight to set limits to your imagination’s reach. I summoned my perfect self-control over this mighty and magnificent appendage and resumed slowly stroking your drooling prick. “Keep going,” I urged, interested to see how this would play out. “What about the blonde man, his companion?” You shifted your gaze away from the continuously swelling, nearly naked, hugely-hung man to his seated companion, still reverent in his worship of the waiter’s immense manhood. “What’s special about him?” You looked at the blonde-haired man who now appeared almost petite between the massive 18-inch cock he was worshiping and the swelling mass of muscle and an even larger cock behind him. “He….” You seemed hesitant to speak your thoughts. Were you scared, or ashamed? There was no need for either with me, so I prompted you. “Go ahead,” I said, squeezing your hard-on so the helmet turned shiny and red, “speak your fantasy. Put it into words. Tell me what it is about him. Why is he with the redhead, and why does he worship the waiter’s prick so intently?” “He’s my twin.” “Your brother?” You hesitated again. “Your clone?” Your mouth twisted up as you considered your answer. “Tell me,” I prompted. “My twin. He’s me, and I’m him.” "You exist in….” “Two places at the same time. There are two of me.” “There are,” I confirmed, and watched him change from one moment to the next. Indeed, he now looked to be your exact double, because he was you, also. “I wondered about that when I came in,” I said. “I wondered what that was like, to exist as two people, two beautiful men, sharing the same handsome face, the same powerful muscular body, the same tall frame, the same majestic and beautiful cock. And I see you both enjoy public nudity with equal relish.” Your other self was stripped naked and glorious before us, showing me what you looked like from a distance, your doubled glorious perfection on display for everyone to see. “We share everything,” you said. “I can…I can feel that man’s cock in my mouth. I can feel it sliding in and out, rubbing its rubbery head against the back of my throat. I can feel its heat and hardness, every vein and ridge. The taste of him.” “And vice versa?” I asked, stroking your dick with more gleeful force and pulling a fresh delivery of your endless cream over my grip. “Of…of course,” you managed to say, and I looked over to watch your twin’s eighteen-inch prick pump out a fat rope of cum in response to my manhandling of your cock. “Do you make love to him?” “Yes.” “And when that happens?” “All our sensations are doubled. I can feel him inside me and I can feel me inside me. He feels my bliss and I feel his.” Clearly, this was some secret fantasy you had been considering for some time. Perhaps there were even stories about this sitting on your computer at home, but with me there was no more need for fantasy. Your twin lover, naked and perfect, was now standing before you and you were watching him deliver an expert blow-job to an 18-inch prick with ease and efficiency. “And the red-headed man?” “My…our lover. The jealous kind.” The hulking brute now looked over at us together, and his body seemed to swell out with intense power. His heavy brow darkened and his eyes flashed. He was gripping his huge hands into fists, making think veins bulge on his ham-sized forearms. “Jealous of us?” “Jealous that he is not with us.” I smiled. How perfect! “He can be with us, if you want him to be.” “No,” you said, “he wanted to be there, with my other me, and the waiter. He wants to fuck the waiter.” “With his two-foot-long cock?” You nodded and came. A fat gusher of pure open perfect bliss as your beautiful sexual fantasies bloomed into reality before your eyes. We watched the red-headed, brutally beautiful monster of muscled power stride toward the waiter and wrap an arm around him. He towered over the smaller man and pressed his hard body against him and his towering prick looked frightening next to the object of his lust. “Is it possible?” I asked aloud. Even I was surprised that this was what you imagined. “Yes,” you said, making it possible. “The waiter is capable of pleasing any man, regardless of his size or desire. It’s his special talent. He is the perfect lover.” “What does that mean?” I asked, hungry both to see your imagination realized and to hear your description of what that meant to you. “He knows instinctively what you want. He can fulfill any carnal wish you have, any desire for sexual pleasure using his body or yours.” “He can,” I agreed, wanting to make this a permanent change. “He can accommodate my lover’s prodigious tool - or yours,” you added, somewhat generously I thought, “and make him explode with a brain-bending orgasm as his two-foot tool builds up to its inevitable and overwhelming crescendo, pumping thick, warm, sticky ropes of cum as he howls and growls and groans in utter bliss.” A heavy flow of pre-cum was now emitting from the bearded red-head’s cock. I could smell his sex from our booth, and you came again as if in response - and so did your twin. “Does he enjoy it, too?” “God, yes. There is nothing he would rather do than please another. His hands are magical.” “Be careful,” I advised. I knew you meant it in general terms, but with the power I had granted you that simple remark could lead almost anywhere. “You mean that….” “I mean that when he places his hands on you, your skin tingles with warm bliss. When he strokes your flesh, it is as if he strokes your dick. His tongue against you is warm and wet and when he pushed it inside your mouth, it has some strange and wonderful capability to make you cum as if he is lapping at your ass.” “And he does that too, no doubt.” “Of course, and there is no one on earth better at making you feel completely sexually satisfied.” “Except me,” I added, unwilling to give in. “Except you,” you agreed. “Because there is no one on the planet more wonderful and perfect than you.” “And that’s a fact,” I said. I turned my attention back to the trio and watched your lover rip the leather pants from the waiter’s magically accommodating ass and push his two-foot monster’s drooling mouth towards the world’s second greatest lover’s backdoor. Holy fuck, it looked as long as the other man’s entire torso! I had not imagined anything of this sort before, but watching your imagination blossom before us was starting to make my own gargantuan manhood swell and throb. I could feel it tingle with bliss and shove against the underside of the table, physically lifting it from the floor. I began to leak a flow of pre-cum like warm honey from a spigot. I clutched your dick in my hand and you exploded with a fountain of cum, gasping and groaning from the intensity of your orgasm. “You have more?” I asked, teasingly. I knew the answer but I wanted to hear your version. “I always have more,” you said, and I leaned my mouth down to your fountain and you rewarded me with another gushing surge of your warm cum, which I swallowed with ease and eager happiness. It filled me with pleasure, and an idea popped into my filthy mind as you came and came. Finally, gasping for breath, your massive muscles flexing with the effort of your unending orgasms, I pulled my lips from your cock and said, “I want to see you fuck yourself.” Your eyes were still closed and your chest heaved as you struggled to recover from the intensity of my mouth on your dick. You smiled and nodded. “And I want to feel it like you feel it,” I added, slowly stroking the hard inches of your constant erection. “I want to feel your cock in my ass, and my ass around your cock. I want to feel the sensation of fucking myself, kissing myself, loving myself - while I watch you make love with your twin.” You opened your eyes and moved from the booth, standing to your full height as your cock twitched and throbbed with anticipation and need. A fat flow of honey dripped from the mouth of your prick and you looked at your mirror image across the restaurant, your desire building, your anticipation rising. I could feel it, too, now. Your emotions were my emotions. Your desires were my desires. And you looked at yourself as your twin looked back. The desire and lust redoubled inside me, and then again as my own desire for both of you was wrapped around it all. My monster cock began to rise, splitting the table with its power, I leaned back in the booth and spread my muscled arms across the back of the seats and allowed my cock to swell higher and higher, breaking through the wood with its strength, rising like a tree that could not be stopped. You had created for me a two-foot long monster, wrapped in fat veins feeding its size and power, swelling thicker and heavier as it rose to its zenith, the head blooming from its thick cowl of foreskin like a fat plum dripping with seed. I could smell myself, the heady, sexy musk of my perfect body, a rich and powerful masculine perfume swimming inside the thick warm honey drooling down my massive meat. You met yourself on the floor and wrapped your arms around yourself, and wrapped your arms around yourself, and pressed your lips to your lips and kissed yourself with unfettered and unlimited lust and love. My mouth warmed to that kiss, the sensation of kissing and being kissed, the feeling of your heavy, hard, strong arms surrounding me, the hard heat of your own cocks rubbing against mine, and against each other. I had never experienced any sensation like this, the total awareness of other men making love before my eyes as my body sank deeper and deeper into that joined perception. You and you, together, the same and different, and you allowed me in and I could feel every drop of emotion, every press of muscle against muscle, the increasing lust and desire and then you were coming, and you were coming, and I was coming, blasting thick fountains of hot cream from our cannons. By now, the redheaded Hulk was plowing the magically expanding ass of the beautiful waiter, pushing him across the table and thrusting deep inside him, growling with lust and release. The waiter, gifted now with sexual capacity and capability that approached my own overwhelming talents, surrounded the giant’s meat with warm throbs of pure sex, moaning as his smaller body was filled up entirely. The restaurant had come to a complete stop, all eyes focused on the giant and the waiter, or the twin “brothers,” or my unstoppable and devastating beauty as my own two-foot long cock towered from my loins and shot thick volleys of cum all over. I decided to make a gift to you and your imagination. “All that you have said is true,” I spoke, “and it will continue to be true,” making it real, making your twin powers reality forever, creating a world where you would now wander in naked glory, able to cum as you wished and be with your twin self in perfect love. Allowing the redhead to swell with muscle and cock whenever he wished it, and making of the handsome young waiter one of the world’s most talented and magical lovers. “I will continue to be the most beautiful and powerful man in the world, a vision of perfect physical beauty, and of overwhelming muscular size and strength,” I said, “and no other man’s cock shall surpass mine in size or beauty or perfection or ability.” I smiled and grabbed myself and came hard, shooting fat creamy fountains of delicious cream from my balls to splatter against the walls and tables and people, all yielding to my utter perfection.

Thanks for your patience, but above all, thanks for your support; every comment I read triggers a little firework of happiness in my brain. I hope you enjoy... Superior: Fourth Part Porridge, Lewis decided. Definitely porridge. Which was odd, to be sure…but no more odd than anything else in this twisted future. “You actually going to put it on,” asked Richard snarkily, “or are you just going to sit there sniffing it?” Lewis peered at his young companion over the tub of grey liquid. “I was just thinking that this sun cream you Resistance lot have invented smells a bit like porridge. Fascinating stuff.” Unfazed by Richard’s blank expression, he continued: “I couldn’t work it out at first. You know when a smell is familiar but you just can’t put your finger on it? It took a while, but…” He inhaled through his nostrils, and couldn’t help smiling a little at the reassuringly normal scent. “Definitely porridge.” Richard ignored him, his gaze falling back to the Guinness Book of Records on the makeshift table in front of him. In the centre of the collage of overweight cats, gurning sportsmen and movie stills on the scratched, glossy cover was the silhouette of a hyper-muscled bodybuilder, with the question WHO IS THE NEW WORLD’S STRONGEST MAN? in lurid yellow writing across his broad chest. “Sorry,” the scientist muttered. “I realise we need to get going and I’m waffling. I was just…” Slightly morosely, he dipped his fingers in the gloop and started applying it to the exposed skin of his face and arms. I was just trying to break the tension, Lewis thought, wincing slightly at the coolness of the cream on his hot skin. To get a bit of conversation going. But I suppose we all deal with anxiety in different ways. I chatter about porridge, Holly – He glanced up at the stone-faced woman who had been assigned to this mission, slouched in the doorway, lips drawing tightly on a third B&H. – smokes, and Richard..? He reads the Guinness Book of Records. For a while, there was no further conversation, just the gentle glooping sound of Lewis applying the sun cream, and the creaks and groans of the underground station around them. Occasionally a murmur of chatter from one of the other rooms would echo down the tunnel. Anecdotes and gossip about the monster bodybuilders who ruled the city. Prayers, shared in hushed voices, for lost loved ones and for salvation. And sporadically, the patter of laughter, like fresh rain. Lewis nearly choked on the hard pebble of regret when he realised he was finished. Richard seemed to sense it too. He looked up, and their eyes met across the table. “Ready?” The scientist couldn’t bring himself to reply. Strange, he thought. A few minutes ago I was babbling like a Baptist preacher with a severe case of glossolalia, and now I can barely utter a word. Is this…is this what dread feels like? When our fear and anxiety slip away, is this cold horror is our only companion? He just nodded and screwed the lid back on the sun cream. Richard closed the book, the muscular silhouette on the glossy cover flashing as it caught the glow from the fluorescent light overhead. “Then it’s time to go back outside." * Leaving the smell of grime, urine and unwashed, tightly-packed-together Resistance bodies behind him almost made up for the stabbing arrows of sunlight and the crisp molten air of the city. Almost. The change was staggering, like he had stepped into a different world. Within moments the nerve endings beneath Lewis’ skin began to writhe painfully in the scorching climate, despite the dollops of porridge-scented sun cream he had smeared liberally upon his face and arms. Only the reassuring presence of Richard at his elbow kept him from retreating back into the relative coolness of the stairwell. Holly had already ranged ahead, silent and nimble, vanishing into the effulgent cityscape like a wraith. The time-traveller adjusted his solar goggles, a welcome gift from his Resistance allies. For the first time, he could really take in the devastation that had been wrought all about him. Not a single building remained without some sort of damage: smashed windows; torn down walls; the occasional gaping hole where a bodybuilder had slammed a hand through the concrete (or a penis, if some of the gossip circulating in the Resistance were to be believed.) And everywhere weird, twisted sculptures dotted the ruins, mashed sweeps of human detritus – furniture, vehicles, cannibalised scraps of building work – like eerie silent sentinels. Lewis had only seen a handful inside the ruined buildings. He hadn’t realised they were so numerous, and so uniform, the only consistent feature in the ragged apocalypse. Before he had time to puzzle them out, Richard spoke: “You ok? With the crutch I mean?” Lewis turned to see his bedraggled, crippled reflection in Richard’s matching goggles. “Well I’m not walking far am I? I mean, if everything goes well.” His optimism sounded hollow in his ears. If everything went well, Holly would find his knapsack where he had dropped it and be back in less than five minutes. If, however, anything went wrong…like Holly running into Daniel and Shawn…or making it to the site only to discover that the knapsack was missing or – more plausibly – crushed in the titans’ melee…or (Lewis felt a cold shudder etch down his spine despite the heat) being discovered themselves out in the open like this… He scuffed the crutch on the ground, throwing up a small puff of hot, dry dust. Thinking like that served no purpose. Better to distract himself. Lewis didn’t know whether Richard was fed up with all his questions by now, but he decided to give another a go all the same: “So…what can you tell me about those weird sculptures? Do the bodybuilders make them?” He never got to find out Richard’s disposition towards his inquisitive mind, however, because then everything plunged into shadow. * “MOVE!” The young man yelled, suddenly frantic, snatching at Lewis’ sleeve and tugging him back towards the stairwell. The scientist barely had time to glance up to see a vast something spinning end over end, trailing smaller somethings, filling the sky and blocking out the glare of the sun, before he was practically tugged off his feet by the lithe Resistance fighter. The two of them scurried – Lewis hobbling maniacally, crutch furiously clacking the ground, only a fraction of a second slower than his friend – and practically dived back down the flight of subway stairs, ending up in a tangle of arms and legs on the landing, just as the…thing…passed over them. A tyre twice the height of a man and nearly that in width came spinning down the stairs, SLAMMED into the wall only inches above their heads and bounced back up into the street above, careening off a lamp-post into a building opposite with a tremendous crash. A sound that paled in comparison to the KABOOM of the large object striking the Earth less than a hundred metres from where the two men crouched, like the fist of God. The world seemed to shudder in pain and terror, a thick haze of dust and falling underground tiles filling Lewis’ vision, every passing moment punctuated with further crashes and splinterings as the object – whatever it was – ploughed through street after street, its acceleration taking it further and further away until the two men realised – after some time had passed – they could hear it no longer. Though Lewis would have found it difficult to hear anything over his pulse pounding in his ears. “Jesus, it must have taken out a whole suburb! And I don’t think this stairway is safe – we’ve got to get topside!” Richard coughed, untangling his legs from Lewis’. “The street’s buckling; it's going to come crashing down into this part of the underground any minute now.” He hurriedly helped the little scientist to his feet and fetched his crutch, which had been dropped in their frantic descent. Hearts beating furiously, together they hobbled back up the cracked staircase, out of the cloying concrete mist and into the blazing sunlight. Half supporting him, half dragging him, Richard guided them to a listing bus shelter a street over. He carefully helped the scientist to sit on one of the plastic chairs before allowing himself to collapse into the one beside it. Lewis usually had questions but he found himself mute with shock. Indeed, it took a few long drags from his canister (he had to spit the water out at first because his mouth was full of grit and dust) before he could conjure up a voice. Even then it was somewhat thin and reedy. “What…what was that?” Somehow he was unable to take his eyes off the monstrous tyre half-buried in the side of the building across the street. By contrast, once his frantically beating heart had calmed, Richard appeared to have recovered completely. If it weren’t for the dust and dirt coating his face and Insert Ironic Slogan Here t-shirt, upon whose fabric he was carefully cleaning his goggles, and the thin line of sweat at the t-shirt’s neck, he looked for all the world like he hadn’t just NEARLY BEEN CRUSHED TO PASTE BENEATH TONNES OF RUBBLE BY A MASSIVE OBJECT FALLING FROM THE SKY – NOT TO MENTION SQUASHED FLAT AGAINST THE WALL BY A GODDAMN TYRE THE SIZE OF A FREAKING JCV. “A-class tank, I reckon.” He took a sip from his own canister, sloshed it around his mouth and spat out the gritty liquid. “Big Adam says the army started building them a while back. A contingency plan, sort of thing. If ever the Alphas turned against us. Hah!” It was a chuckle without mirth. He continued: “Freaking huge they are, apparently; the size of a building.” He finished wiping his goggles clean and slipped them on once more. “Well, you saw one of the tyres up close. The designs Big Adam saw showed that they have ten of them either side.” He whistled. “Something like twenty five, maybe thirty thousand tonnes of vehicle, bristling with enough armaments to decimate a small moon…don’t know what they were thinking. Like anything can stand up to one of them.” Richard didn’t need to say who one of “them” was. “So you think the – ugh – Zetas…” Lewis hated that word, “have gone to war with the Alphas? That they’re fighting back?” The young man shook his head. “You crazy? No-one’s actually dumb enough to do that!” He shot an empty grin at the scientist. “I reckon an Alpha just stumbled across the factory where they’re making them, and had himself a bit of a party. Shit like that happens all the time.” Lewis fought through his disbelief, his inquisitive scientist’s mind warring with his breathless shock. “Wasn’t it kind of reckless to build a factory in this city? Or couldn’t they at least have relocated once it became clear that this place belonged to the Alphas? They should have known that they would be discovered…that the A-class tanks would prove too much of a temptation…” Richard fixed him with a patronising expression. “What makes you think the factory was in this city?” Lewis shot him a puzzled look. The young man’s grin, still empty, widened. “Big Adam says we probably don’t have the resources to build weapons of that calibre in this country. Nah, that tank came from far, far away. Maybe even across the ocean. Probably thought they were safe. I mean, nearly all the Alphas live here now, right? Ground zero. Must only be a handful still out there. Talk about bad luck.” He sniffed, and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “It’s been a few weeks since something that big came falling out of the sky. I kinda miss it.” “They’ve done this before? Throwing huge objects around the world – just for fun?” “Around the world, in orbit, you name it. At first I think they did it as a kind of test. You know, who can demonstrate they’re the strongest by throwing heavy stuff the furthest, that sort of thing? But when they all got really strong, they could chuck stuff right out of earth’s atmosphere, and the competition kind of died.” He caught Lewis’ open expression of wonder. “Yeah, and that’s when they started doing it for fun. People, monuments, vehicles…anything they could lay their hands on. We even did a segment on ‘Challenge the Alphas’, remember?” He rolled his eyes. “Oh, that’s right – your amnesia.” His words were fringed with sarcasm. “It was definitely one of the best we shot. The producers said Everest couldn’t be done…that no-one was that strong. Ha! Peter Molnar sure showed them!” Lewis didn’t know what was more disturbing: the idea of the staggering strength the muscled behemoths possessed…or the fact that Richard was actually excited talking about it, throwing the little scientist his first genuine smile since they had begun this mission. Just like Big Adam, the runner seemed to have a fascination with the sheer power and size of the brutes. Sure, Lewis was fascinated – any scientist worth his salt would be – but when he thought about the casual devastation the musclefreaks reaped, smiling was far from his natural reactionary expression. “What…did Peter Molnar do to Everest?” He couldn’t help but ask. This was to be his second unanswered question, however. For at that moment a voice cut across the street and their heads snapped towards it. “Waiting for a bus, boys?” * A slim figure slipped out of a long shadow between two crumbling buildings. “Holly!” They said together, Lewis feeling oddly elated at seeing this near-stranger alive and well, as she jogged towards them. Have I started to think of myself as one of them already? Lewis wondered. Am I really just another happy little helper in the Resistance? When was the last time I checked my vessel? When was the last time I even thought about my vessel? Have I become too caught up in this time, and forgotten my own? He realised that he was thinking too much, and forced a grin, brushing the thoughts aside and coming shakily to his feet beside Richard. “I see you came pretty close to catching a tank instead,” Holly said with a musical little laugh as she came to a stop before them and clasped Richard’s arm in an oddly militaristic gesture of comradeship. The change in the woman’s face was remarkable. Gone was the anxiety, the coldness. She seemed almost…pretty. “And what a whopper! An A-class…” She glanced at Lewis. “You believe in God, physicist?” Before giving the little time traveller an opportunity to struggle to put together a response, she laughed again. “Cause I’m starting to now. This-” She unslung Lewis’ knapsack from over a shoulder, “was on the ground, about twelve metres away from a very pissed-off Toth…I guess he lost the arm-wrestling match, huh? He was working through his anger folding a Mercedes up like an accordion. And there was me thinking ‘what the hell am I going to do?’ when just like that, whoosh, that huge freaking tank comes flying out of the sky.” She laughed again. “I’ve never seen an Alpha move so fast. Guess Toth wanted to catch it or something. Maybe he’ll try and throw it back, heh.” She held the knapsack out to an astonished Lewis. “Well, whatever God was shining down on me, it looks like you’ll be needing his help now, huh? So you really have equipment in there that can analyse this solar radiation? Maybe you could clear it up too...'cause I’m fed up having to smell like porridge every time I step outside.” “And of course the Alphas who can bench press continents are only a mild inconvenience?” Richard threw back at her with a chuckle. Is there something going on between those two? Lewis pondered. Or is this just how every soldier feels at the end of a mission, when the tension and anxiety are gone? “Ha ha, well there’s that too, I guess.” A slightly more earnest flicker came to Holly’s eyes when they flashed back to Lewis. “Big Adam says you might really be able to detect what kind of radiation is blanketing this city…how it changed the bodybuilders?” Lewis took the knapsack from her carefully. “Uh…well, I’ll give it my best shot,” he said with more confidence than he felt. Then he swung his head in Richard’s direction. “I told you it smelled like porridge.” Richard’s visage broke into a grin. “I’ve always thought muesli myself, actually. Or Harvest Crunch.” “Dick,” the little scientist muttered, sotto voce. He pulled open the drawstrings and started to rummage inside. Nothing broken, thank God. Heh, we seem to be thanking God a lot these days, Lewis thought. The earnestness in Holly’s eyes was mirrored in Richard’s voice. “So you think you can do it? I mean, really do it? After all this time, we’ll finally know why these men became gods?” There was that excitement again. Lewis ignored it. His fingers closed around the device he was looking for and he withdrew it from the depths of the knapsack and held it up for them to see. It was a standard background radiation detection and analysis device; an essential for any time-travelling physicist. The glossy metallic sheen looked oddly out of place in the ruined street. “We’ll be testing a theory, yes.” He switched it on and the machine whirred into life. The little screen swam into colour. “Just give me a minute.” “And you remember how to use it? Cause, you know, you’ve forgotten everything else. With your…” He and Holly shared a look. “Amnesia.” Lewis ignored Richard again. He was getting good at it. * “You said you had good news and bad news,” Big Adam grunted. Lewis had only been gone a couple of hours, and the hulking man already seemed bigger. He was wearing new clothes – Lewis suspected he had torn through the others – but even as they spoke his mass was putting a strain on the material, particularly around the pectoral region. It was like watching a flower bloom in time-lapse photography. A grotesquely sinewed, hyper-masculine flower. Lewis realised he had been staring for a moment and sniffed, giving himself a second to get his train of thought back on the right track. Adam’s musk seemed to have thickened too, though it could simply feel that way because he himself had just been in the – comparatively – fresh air. “Uh, yes. The good news is, the radiation device is working.” Jesus, he thought, the man is monstrous. Truly huge. A titan. He freaks me out just by…existing. He’s got to be pushing 425 now. Surely I’m not the only one to notice this? I’ll have to ask Richard about it… “Um. But there’s some interference.” “Interference?” “Background radiation.” From his damn vessel, of all things, spitting out chronal radiation all over the place, like a dog whining for attention. Though he wasn’t about to tell Big Adam that. “It’s blocking the solar radiation. I need to move deeper into the city.” He felt oddly brave saying those words. The feeling of belonging, of being part of a team, of being a hero, saving the world, returned and set his pulse thudding. The ups and downs of being a fighter, he mused wryly. Anxiety, terror, jubilation, pride; it’s like a goddamn emotional rollercoaster – only the ride lasts an entire war. “How much deeper?” Lewis had thought about this for a while. The trek to the second entrance to the underground – the previous one having collapsed in on itself – had given him time to ponder. To come to a decision. A risky decision. The right decision. “All the way to where it started. The epicentre.” Big Adam grunted. Was he…flexing? No, his pecs had just swollen a little bigger. As had his arms and – whoa – the thick, veined teardrops of his pumped quadriceps, hideously warping the cotton of his jeans nearly to beyond capacity. The big man cleared his throat, a deep, liquid sound. “The Festival Hall where they hosted Mr Olympia over a year ago? Hmph.” He scratched his shaved head, split bicep peak tensing into horrid massiveness and dwarfing his own skull. “Ok, physicist. For a skinny little amnesiac who didn’t even know what an Alpha was when we first dragged ya in, you’ve certainly picked up some balls along the way, I’ll give you that. But you’re talking way into Alpha territory. Heh, I’m used to helping people out of the city, not further in. I don’t even know if those tunnels are still intact. For all I know the goddamn A-class tank tossed on top of our heads today could have completely wrecked that whole part of the underground network. You might have to spend most of the journey above ground, scurrying like a little mouse.” He lowered his huge, tree-trunk of an arm and ran the calloused fingers hand over his thick chest, a subconscious movement but one that reminded Lewis just how into himself – into size, muscle and strength – the man was. “But if my theory is right – if there is a connection between the weird solar radiation and the Alphas’ ascension – it’s worth the risk.” He gave another grunt, bestial and masculine. “On one condition.” “Which is?” Adam’s fingers paused in their groping of his chest. Lewis actually saw his thick digits part a little as the sheer ripped mass of the pectoral balcony swelled yet again. The faint but unmistakable sound of splitting fabric filled the room…but that wasn’t enough to hide the whispered groan of pleasure from the big man’s lips. “Mmmm. We’re all coming with you.”

Veemon's Story Veemon’s two foot frame started to stretch and grow with bones and spine cracking and scaly skin expanding. His body filled up the couch until he reached 6.5ft. He shifted sleeping positions to get comfortable as a leg started to hang off the edge with his feet almost touching the ground. Speaking of feet, his started grow nearly three times, looking more like Exveemon’s with its size with ivory toe claws thickening and hardening and soles stretching and widening. His legs bulked as his calves and thighs expanded with meaty muscle; the bone structure becoming sturdier to accommodate them. More of his spine stretched as his stubby tail elongated and thickened until it reached nearly as long as his leg, making it balanced. The torso was the next to change. His pelvis area thickened. His hand subconsciously scratched his flat white belly before it hardened and morphed into a hard 6 pack. His ribcage cracked as it widened to more humanoid shape and two meaty pectorals as big as sofa cushions formed. This also caused his bulging shoulders to be spaced farther apart too. The muscles in his back widened and became more defined in a horseshoe like build. Bulging muscles traveled down both arms as his biceps and triceps became as big and rounds as volleyballs. His forearms became thick as overinflated footballs. Like his feet, his hands experienced similar change as they became meatier and bigger with longer fingers and ivory claw nails. His neck developed bulging muscles as well as obtaining an Adam’s apple. His head or specifically his skull cracked as it grew nearly three times to accommodate with the rest of his body. His muzzle and snot elongated and became more draconian as well as his horn. “…mmmmmm…Gatomon…” Veemon spoke in a manly deep voice. Soon there was a stirring in his loins as he started to wet dream about his cat crush. His balls started to grow as its sperm production increased nearly tenfold, expanding from ping pong ball size to tennis ball size to finally baseball size. His white flaccid inch dick hardened and stiffened to its usual 2 inch state, but started to grow pass that. Soon, it went to 3 inches…4 inches…5 inches…6 inches…7 inches…8 inches…9 inches… finally 10 inches, thickening and throbbing with pulsating veins. His hand took the shaft and pumped it with lengthy strokes, wanting to get some relief. Pre-cum oozed from the tip and he picked up the pace. He groaned and grunted as he began to thrust in sync while nearing reaching the climax. And then… “GRAAAAAAHHHHHHH!” He let out a loud roar as lengthy ropes of cum shot over the table and landed nearly a few feet in front of the TV. After a few minutes, Veemon stirred a little bit before he woke up, slightly noticing something strange about his body like how much he filled the couch and one leg touching the ground. He finally opened his eyes; however, they opened wider in shock at his now enormous muscle built body. He looked at his bulky arms and hands and then down to his chiseled and sculpted torso to his now flaccid 5 inch drooling dick then to his thunder thighs and beefy legs with his tail in between them. He quickly got up from the couch and stood up, only to get stricken with a sense of vertigo with his new height and how everything seemed to be smaller than before. “Whoa~!” he said also taken by surprise with the deepness of his voice. As he looked down at himself, his state of shock soon became one of excitement, admiring his new muscles as he realized the junk food did its job. He flexed a bicep, seeing the veins underneath move and even was able to bounce his pecs. Then he did a string of body building poses too. ‘Man, can’t wait to show the others! Gatomon is definitely gonna love this!’ he thought. Now he had her on his mind and that…dream he had of her. Her sexy dancing and showing off her tail and more that lead to a blow job replayed in his mind. His face grew hot while expressing a goofy grin at the thought along with feeling his crotch becoming erect yet again. He looked down in surprise to see that his used-to-be 2 inch stiffy was now a lengthy 10, not to mention how thick it looked. Veemon then had a lewd thought and grinned. He gripped his shaft and started stroking it. His mind went back to Gatomon, but fantasized her in a different light. He imagined her to be more of his current height with a more humanoid body with slender curves and limbs, a big rump, and topped with a nice D sized rack. She exposed her goods just before she began to ride his cock. “Mmmmm…yeah….haah…” He moaned and panted as he sped up his strokes slightly as he imagined Gatomon rode him faster. He started to pelvic thrust as he tightened his grip on his cock with balls swaying. He pumped faster and harder as it began to twitch and throb more, signaling a climax is around the corner. His eyes were half rolling to the back of his head and his panting increased with his tongue lolling out. Soon, it was time. “AAAAAAHHHHHH!” He let out a loud moan as jetstreams of cum blasted and landed in ropey trails onto the floor right of the television set. His eyes happened veered to the left to catch the other mess he had created earlier during his sleep. “Guess I got some cleaning up to do.” He said while scratching the back of his head. After taking care of the mess, Veemon went into the kitchen and grabbed another soda from the case. He still couldn’t believe that junk food gave him this great physique and couldn’t wait to show off to his friends. Also, with the amount of soda left, the other digimon could join in on the muscle fun too. Maybe even Gatomon. The idea of seeing her being his size and beautiful and busty like in his fantasy now in real life thanks to the soda excited him. And he could go back to the store for more if it isn’t enough as well. “But for now…” He popped open the tab of the can and chugged down the contents.

Umpires by F_R_Eaky Part II Greetings, hope you are enjoying this one. Part One: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/6120-umpires-part-one-by-freaky/ Umpires by F_R_Eaky Part II A couple of weeks had gone past since the start of term, and the growth of the young man named Blake Smythe. He had started out as a five foot one inch tall, thin, milk sop of a young man and over the course of the summer, at least that's what he tried to tell everyone, grew into a very large, six foot five inch tall, 265lb man, who was also pretty well endowed. In fact his first weekend at the college was very busy with many a young lady visiting and getting it on with him. His parents have drug him home to have doctors look at him, but the college's athletic directors are trying to scoop up more money for scholarships to keep him here. It's Friday night though, and all the rumors about Blake are subsiding right now as everyone sets in to relax and let their cares melt away, at least until they come bearing down back at them sometime around Sunday afternoon. Callum has come into Dubbdub Hall hoping to relax. He's managed to get all homework done for Monday, before the weekend started, and even has the start on most papers he'll need to finish before the term is over. He plops his five foot eleven inch lanky frame into an oversized puffy chair next to a friend of his, Toby. Across the way, in an alcove next to the bar, Callum has seen the same gathering of five guys he's seen the last couple of weeks, including the first time he ever walked in here: Sebastian Knight a 6' 3" 250 pound football player; Mason Fletcher, the slightly muscular, 6' 8" member of the basketball team; Zachary Woode, the 5' 10" 185 pound member of the wrestling team; Brook Wells a 6' 4", 218 pound member of the swimming team, and Connor Rabbits a 6' 1" 180 pound member of the track team. Turning to Toby, he inquired about them. "Hey, Tob. Who are those guys over there?" "Over where?" "There across the way. Near the bar. The ones who usually look like their trying to hold court or something. They always sit together?" "Oh...THEM!" "Them? You make them sound like they're part of the mafia or something." "No, nothing as brutal as all that. They're the Strangwich Strangers." Callum laughed, "The Strangwich Strangers? Why strangers? Are all of them not from around here? Do they all have strange birthmarks or something?" "No, it's just strange that they got together. They're all jocks, but none of them are the most excelled in their sport. Usually each sport is like a fraternity unto itself. One doesn't go hang with the members of a different sport. But they're all different. One's a swimmer, the other footballer, then basketball, track team, and I think one is on the wrestling team. Three of them hooked up their freshman year, and then they picked up two of them their sophomore year and have sat over there in that bank of seats ever since. Don't get me wrong they, don't seem weird or anything. Really real and polite as far as jocks go. It's said in some circles that they might be dating one another. ... ... ... But it was just odd that somehow they managed to connect. Why, you interested in one of them?" "Ha! I wish! No, just curious as I saw them all the time over there. Wondered what their deal was." Callum enjoyed sitting and chatting with his friends, and having a few drinks, but then it felt like they began to hit him. He began to get this tingling feeling all over. It spread and grew until he felt hot a flushed. Then he could feel his blood course through him and thought his head might explode. This feeling was three to four times stronger than what he felt about two weekends ago. Everything about him: his skin, his organs, his bones, his hair, felt like he was being super charged or something, and then... ... ... nothing. The sensation stopped and Callum cleared his head, shaking it so his curly black forest of hair swung back and forth. He wondered what it was as he knew he hadn't had that much to drink. Looking back across the club hall he noticed the five boys were gone. ************************************************************************** Clank... .... ... ... ... ... ... ....Clank... .... ... ... ... ... ... ....Clank... .... ... ... ... ... ... ....Clank... Sebastian Knight was in the college gymnasium on a Tuesday night working out to try and developed more mass and strength on his body that didn't seem to be coming. He had reached a plateau his Senior year in high school and couldn't gain weight no matter what he tried: exercises, stretches, protein shakes, he even tried a cycle of steroids and HGH. Clank... .... ... ... ... ... ... ....Clank... .... ... ... ... ... ... ....Clank... .... ... ... ... ... ... ....Clank... But that wasn't bothering him right now. No, the football hunk was watching a scene play out across the way: Brandon Brockman the Captain and Quarterback of the college's football team was screaming at some guy and doing his best to intimidate him. "Why are you even in here? You didn't make the team! You're not going to make it next year! You have nothing to work with, goofus! Yeah, you're kind of tall... what... 6' 3", maybe four inches tall, but you have no mass! Not like this! Oooompphhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" And with that Brandon proved his point by doing an impressive double-bi pose. Even though he hadn't worked his arms yet, they still strained his very tight sleeves on his jersey. He was an incredible sight to behold at 6' 6" tall and 290 pounds of muscle, and boy could he move that muscle up and down the field, if he had too! "You're like 160 pounds tops. That's called, 'get my stick for bones broken on the field weight.' You should just get out of the gym and not worry nor try." "Look, I'm just trying to gain some weight. I haven't pressed the issue or made a fuss over not making the football team. I don't even workout when you guys are normally here." "Well, I got to my workout time late! Are you gonna move out or do I have to come back later?" "I'm in the middle of a set." "FINE! Like that'll do you any good." and in a huff Brandon Stormed away. The young man, Santiago, lied back down on the bench and began to do bench presses again. Sebastian felt sorry for the younger man, and his pace on the leg press machine slowed and slowed as he watched Santiago perform his bench presses. Soon he began to concentrate hard on Santiago and chant with Santiago's lifting. "hooooooh" "pump..." "hooooooh" "Pump..." "hooooooh" "PUMP!..." "hooooooh" "PUMP PUMP!!..." "hooooooh" "PUMP PUMP PUMP!!..." Santiago had to wiggle and squirm, adjust his position every once in a while. He was really beginning to enjoy this workout, the feel of it, the pump of it, the look of it! He didn't know why, but he had to keep on working out! The more he pressed the more Sebastian concentrated on him and chanted the word, "pump!" And Santiago's muscles began to grow and inflate, lengthen and thicken, rise and bunch, pop and flex, growing bigger and bigger and bigger! His neck began to inflate getting thicker and wider. Long strong chords of muscle, tendons and sinew were forming making that neck look like a solid marble column, filling out from ear to ear. If he wasn't for the fact that he was slightly tall one would almost swear he had no neck, that it just disappeared. Then his traps and delts began to bunch and mound, inflating larger and larger.... to mountain ranges were rising into view their peak threatening to meet and over take the head let alone the neck. They drove their way into the delts which kept getting rounder and fuller soft balls, bowling balls, volley balls, basket balls, medicine balls, dodge balls..... so full, so compact, so round. His chest was next, swelling larger and larger, looking like maybe some breasts at first, then old man boobs, then rising and firming up into two small scallops under his sweatshirt. It followed that they grew larger becoming large crescents, then two full sized weight plates, then expanding almost into two full globes of pectoral perfection. Upper arms next began their incredible growth, popping, bunching, swelling, rising, peaking! a small hand ball came out to play, followed by a base ball, then a football, then this mountainous shape began to rise with a peak...then almost two peaks, the bicep's head splitting and forming these glorious peaks and ridges mounding up thicker, higher, denser, stronger, combining with the triceps to make sure Santiago's upper arm flexed thicker than his own head. And oh how those triceps grew from flat planes to small hill, to a mound to having a semi circle, to being a bent piece of steel, to becoming a regular horse shoe, to being a horse shoe for a Clydesdale! Santiago couldn't believe how good he felt and he kept pressing and pressing away, becoming ecstatic over how light the weight was becoming to him. Still his body grew.... His back and shoulders stretched out more and more wider and wider, those massive guns of arms were pushed out from his sides by his ever widening back and lats which formed that hourglass shape...the mighty v...an impossibly wide w.... an insanely wide bracket! Then Santiago rolled and twisted his waist this way and that as tiny ridges and bricks appeared here, there, and everywhere. Small mounds and crevices were popping up everywhere making his sides and front look like the metallic ridged section of a washboard. These abs could bounce a twenty-five pound weight plate, let alone a twenty-five cent piece, off of them. And the swelling and inflation moved on down as Santiago had to move his legs wider and wider apart. First though his ass began to balloon and bubble, getting tighter, firmer, harder, and bulbous. This finally balanced out all the mass he had gained on his back, lats, and shoulders and he could lie somewhat straight on the bench again. Then his legs began to expand, pressing into one another, fighting for room, pushing one another out of the way, off the bench, Mounds and mounds of muscle growing and growing, forming so many tear drop shapes, that kept getting larger and thicker, fuller and harder, if they were actual tear drop they would have to have come from a titan. Then the hamstring tightened and thickened becoming a thick cable chord that could hold up bridges, as the biceps femoris rose and thickened forming the great pop and peak of the back of the thigh. Lastly Santiago's forearms and calves blew up, the first inflating and thickening to look like gigantic turkey legs forming between the hands and the elbow, while the latter began to look like ham hocks that were splitting the hems of Santiago's pants' legs. And it was those splits and tears that caught not only everyone's attention, but Santiago's as well. Waking him up from the revelry of his workout finally becoming easier, he stood up off the bench and had to catch himself from teetering over because he couldn't close his thighs as close together as he could before he began this workout. The entire gym fell silent and was then filled with the din of Santiago's clothes as they split, ripped, tore, and burst open and apart in every possible direction. The calves snapped the seams and back of his sweatpants exposing it's great throbbing heart shape. The thighs burst the seams, the inner fabric near the crotch, and the back of the sweat pants into several lengths and widths of cloth strips. Meanwhile his arms, his shoulders, his back, his chest, and lats were doing the same to his workout shirt. His upper arms had their peaks simply break though the sleeves like a volcano suddenly rising up from the earth. The triceps joined in creating a tear that ran down the arm and to the pits, while the lats thickened and pushed out pulling the circular seams of the sleeve to shirt join apart and began to rip down the sides of the shirt on behalf of the abs which, although impressive, weren't gaining enough in size to split the shirt but to leave nice amounts of room. The delts and traps continued to rip the sleeves and the shoulders of the shirt apart, while the back and chest took the shirt and torn the front and back open as easily as a pair of hands with the help of scissors could. The burst was so strong the front split three-fourths of the way down while the back split all the way down to the shirt hem. Standing and waddling around now in almost nothing but his tennis shoes, Santiago breathed a few times heavily, feeling the sensation rising for one last burst. He raised his hands and brought them down in front while bending over slightly performing the most awe inspiring and perfect most muscular shot. It has also been called the crab shot and now here before them stood a man than performed a pose so huge, so massive, so full of strength and testosterone, this was an Alaskan King Crab... no a Japanese Spider Crab shot... none bigger in the world. Screaming a scream so guttural, so primal, and so loud as he performed this pose, several ladies in the room collapsed, fainted dead away. Quite a few more, including some of the fainted, had completely wet themselves, cumming a bit, seeing the great god-like transformation that had happened before them. The affect wasn't lost on some of the men either, many of them looking, searching desperately for towels or equipment to stand behind. Meanwhile, as Santiago held this pose, veins began to rise up and travel over his body starting from his feet to his ankles, calves and shins, thighs, abs and obliques, lats, chest, traps, shoulders, neck, upper arms and lower arms, and as it did so the muscle groups swelled that much fuller and thicker, became that much harder, stronger, and denser, became that much more defined and striated. Breaking his pose, Santiago, stood up straight and looked like he was starting to walk forward, but suddenly he grunted hard and loud, his body rising up and stretching out that much taller and wider...bigger...Bigger...BIGGER! When he finally could move again, he was simply a monstrous, gorgeous freak of towering muscle. He grabbed his towel and strode towards the door to the showers, just smacking his head on the door frame and then ducking and twisting sideways to get through. Slowly but surely folks began to get their composure, the girls more quickly than the men as they wanted to try and see or at least hear what Santiago was doing in the showers. The men on the other hand took their time as none of them wanted to show they had wet themselves with either cum or pee, and they didn't want to face off with Santiago in the locker room. "Had to through in some height there, Bast. Hope you don't mind." It was Mason. He was sitting in a chair next to the leg press. "I figured if you were going to make him big enough to bring Brandon's records down next year, might as well make him safe for the rest of this year." "At this point he'll probably be brought onto the team this year, much to Brandon's irritation. How tall is he now?" "Let's just say at his current size, no one is going to think of Alejandro Villanueva. He's six foot ten inches tall now..." "And his weight is probably around 380 pounds. Jeeze we created a monster." "Well, he's got a pretty decent personality about him. The only one who'll have to worry about it is Brandon, since the guy could probably overhead press him now with one hand. Don't worry about it. Members of the basketball team were being a dick to the new towel boy. He was hoping to make the team too, but didn't quite have the skills nor the height to do it." "So how tall was he and is he now?" "He was six foot even. Could've pulled off some basketball at this level of college. Now however he's seven - two." "He's not a towel boy now." "He will be until the coaches find out. Then, not by a long shot." "Mas...wanna take out our frustrations in a different way?" "Blowin' up Santiago get you all hot and bothered?" "Tell me you all soft and limp after watchin' that." "HAHA! Nope... not a chance, stockman." ******************************************************************** A few minutes later Sebastian and Mason were rolling each other on the bed in Sebastian's dorm room. At the same time across the campus, and slightly in town, Zachary and Brook were attempting to break a couch in Brook's apartment. Also, Callum was packing up his things after studying in the library, just as a voice carried over a loud speaker to announce that the library was now closed. As Callum stood there stuffing things into his backpack, he began to feel that unusual feeling again. That sudden surge of power that coursed through his body, filling him with a sense of manliness, Virility, POWER!... ... ... And then it subsided, the feeling being reduced to the pins and needles sensation one gets after getting rid of numbness in the fingers or leg. Looking he quickly in every direction, he managed to catch the glimpse of someone slipping around one of the aisles of bookcases. He wanted to take off running after him, but he heard a door open, and then the lights all began to go off in the building. Dashing for the door he nodded and smiled at the lady waiting for all students to leave before locking up with the security guard. Once outside he took a sharp left and made for the alleyway between the library and the student union. It really wasn't an alleyway, and many years of landscaping had tried to hide the existence of this small, barely a person's width strip of land between the two buildings, but the student knew it was there and used it anyway. Callum dashed down this corridor for he knew the sound of the door that was opened and shut, and he knew that that stair case only came out to the left back corner door of the library on the first floor. Reaching it just in time, the door burst open and out ran Connor Rabbits. "GOTCHA!" Callum reached out and hooked Connor in his arms and flung him around, hard, into the out wall of the library. "I know you've been watching me..." "No! No I haven't..." "Don't deny it..." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Hmmmmmmmm oooh, baby..... say it again...." "Trump!" "Awww yeah that feels so good..." "Now, give it to me, Bast. Give it to me!" "Pump...baby.... PUMP!" "Oooohooo." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Hmmmmm ooooh, gawd.... Zach....you're so fucking incredible!" "You know what feels even more incredible?" "Oh gawd, YES! Tell me it... tell me it... TELL ME BROOK!" "Plump..." "OH! oooh... OH FUCK! Fuck....fuuuuuck.... oh baby...come here... come here....let me whisper to you....I love....I really love.... ... .... HUMP!" "AWWWWWWWW OOOH YOU FUCKER!" ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Which one of them are you? Zachary?" "No I'm...uh-huuuuuuuuuuuu...." "What?" "Connor! My name...is Connor..." "And why have you been following me? Why do all this stalking, and then when I look towards where you have been, you walk away? Do you want help with some kind of class for an exam?" ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "OH SHIT! BAST! Stop...SS...S...S...SSTOP... I'm peaking too soon..." "Oh hell no, bro... pump..... PUMP PUMP PUMP PUMP!" "AWWWWW SHIIIIT! YOU...HUH! YOU FUCKER!.... TRUMP TRUMP TURMP TRUUUUUUUUUMP!" "OH! Ooooooh fuuuuuuuuuck!" ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "A-HAAAAAAAaaaaaaw!" "What, Brook?" "Can't you feel it? There was just a stronger burst there..." "OOO-HOO.... a ha.... Sebastian and Mason must be at it...." "Well, are we gonna let them ruin it for us?" "Fuck no! We're gonna ride this and add to it. HUMP! hump hump hump HUMP HUMP HUMP HUMP!" "aaaaahhhhhHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOH GAWD! YES! HMMMMMNFGH! PLUMP! PLUMP! PLUMP! PLUMP! PLUMP! PLUMP!" ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Listen, I don't need any help for an exam... I can't explain it right now, but I can tell you...OH-HO!" "What? Connor, what is it, are you okay? Do you need a doctor?" "Nn..nn...n..no... NO! I'm fine, it's just they're all at it." "Who's all at it... and all at what?" "I can't.... ca---HANT! ooooh.....fuck.... huh...heeee....hoooo.... can't tell you. Look... huh...just give me a phone number or email or something.... your name.... I don't know your na-HAME! OOOOooooooooh....." "It's Callum. What is going on? You look like you're on extacy or something." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "OOOoooooooooooooooh fuck! Mason... do you feel that?" "Yeah.... Zach and Brook must be at it too." "And they just picked up their pace...." "You know what'll get them don't you?" "We can't.... aha....hahahahahaha... we can't.... that wouldn't be... OOOOHOOO! riiiiiiiiight." "Like Connor doesn't enjoy it." "You ready?" "Yeah" "Let's give it to them.... PUMP THUMP PUMP THUMP PUMP THUMP PUMP THUMP!" "OOOOOOOH DAMN IT! THaaaaaat's fine.... huh-huh--- uh-huh..... TRUMP THUMP TRUMP THUMP TRUMP THUMP TRUMP THUMP!" ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "AHHHHHHHHYYEEEEEMOTHERFUCKERS!" "Zach?!? What's wroooOOOOOOOOOOH AHUH! FUCK!" "Bast and Mas figured out we're having sex now too and have added Connor's word in." "How fucking cruel. Don't they know what that's going to do to Connor?" "You know what Bast will say about it...." "Like Connor doesn't get off on it. So, love, what do we do?" "Join 'em! HUMP THUMP HUMP THUMP HUMP THUMP HUMP THUMP!" "AAAAAAAAAHHHH YEAAAAAAAH MY.....UGHH FUCK... MAN! PLUMP THUMP PLUMP THUMP PLUMP THUMP PLUMP THUMP THUMP!" ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Listen, Callum... I can't talk right now, but I can explain later.... possible... I have to have you..... A-HOOOOOO! OH MAI GAWD!" "Connor... listen, we need to get you to a hospital... You look like you're cramping. You're sweating all over. Your eyes just rolled a bit to the back of your head." "NO! No!....please, don't . Stop... I know what it IS! IS! IS! I... ahee know what it is and it's not a hospital matter. I can't afford to go anyway... Just please trust me.... I can explain it all la-HATER! OH! OH! OH!! OOOOOOOH!! NONONONONONONONONONONO! OHH! OHHH!" "Connor! What is it? What the hell is going on with you?" "They're saying my word...." "What?" ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Oh fuck! Bast! You beast! My fucking muscle beast! Oh oh!" "Mas, my giant! HMMMMM COME ON! EXPLODE FOR ME! PUMP TRUMP HUMP PLUMP THUMP!" "OH FUCK! OH! PUMP TRUMP HUMP PLUMP THUMP!" "OH FUCK! AH!!! OH YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!" "UH, GAWD I! I! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!" ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Brook.... BROOK! IT'S BUILDING.... IT'S BUILDING! WITH ME NOW... COME ON.... PUMP TRUMP HUMP PLUMP THUMP!" "Hmmmmmm fuck.... oh Za---HACK! ZACK! ZACK! ZACK! ZACKZACKZACK! Hmmmmmm PUMP TRUMP HUMP PLUMP THUMP!" "AUUGH OH SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!" "DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMN!" ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Connor, you've got to tell me what this is. Is there a prescription in your bag or something?" "No-HO! NO! OH GAWD! STOP SAYING MY WORD!" "Who's saying your word? What is your word?" "AWW-HU! no...nononono....No...NO....NOOOOOO! AWWWWWWW AUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH!" Connor's eyes crossed, his knees clamped together and his legs buckled as he passed out. A wet spot on his crotch was forming and growing by the second. "SHIT! Connor! Connor! Speak to me....."

Umpires by F_R_Eaky In Strangwich, Massachusetts stands Dubbdub Hall, a local hot spot for the college students. It's a Friday night, the beginning of term, and all the students are out to party before they have to hunker down in their books and lectures to study profusely. Out on the dance floor is a Freshman, Blake Smythe. He's not known to anyone except for his new roommate. There's not a lot to look at to remember him. He's all of about five feet one inch tall. His build is lanky at best, looking something more akin to one of those old toys children used to get where the figure was long, wiry, and extremely bendable. He has some brilliant blue eyes under a wispy mop of fly away black hair, but no one notices those baby blues as he still has such a youthful face he has a hard time convincing anyone he's a freshman in high school let alone college. But he's out on the dance floor tonight and has managed to work his way into the center of a group of girls. Life can sometimes be surprising rewarding, but tonight isn't going to be one of those nights. The leader or alpha female of this gaggle of girls has just arrived, or returned from the ladies room, and shortly after beginning to dance has noticed their companion. "Oh my, Gawd! What the hell are you doing here shrimp?!?" The rest of the girls suddenly take notice and act shocked, disgusted, and crept out. They all begin making rude comments and start a shoving match to try and get him out of their circle without touching him or him touching them. "Seriously, did you think you stood a chance with any one of us? I don't think you even come up to my boobs! We are not looking to a child to breast feed! Get the fuck away from us, kid." She shoves Blake hard and he falls to the dance floor. A couple of other girls, a bit shorter, not quite so endowed or curvy come up and him to his feet, pulling him into their group on the dance floor. "Lord, Ashley. He wasn't groping anyone or being rude, he was just dancing. You think you could be a grown up and be nice to folks in public." "Shut up, slut! Go back with your sorry sorority sisters and keep quiet. No one asked you." The two women make various faces with one another until they're both back in their collective groups. The supposedly less attractive one puts Blake in the middle of her girls and they all begin to dance, talk, even laugh a little. Meanwhile, across the hall, in an alcove of seats near the bar a quintet of men are grouped together: Sebastian Knight, Senior, 6' 3" 250lbs, Black Hair, olive eyes, olive skin tone Football player, although not the captain nor quarter back; Mason Fletcher, Senior, 6' 8", slight muscular build, thick blond hair cut spiky, blue eyes like ice crystals, ivory skin tone, one of the extras on the basketball team; Zachary Woode, Junior, 5' 10" 185lbs, thick brown hair, deep brown eyes, very tan, lower ranking member of the wrestling team; Brook Wells, Senior, 6' 4", swimmer's build, sun kissed brown hair, vibrant brown - burn sienna eyes, member of the swim team; and Connor Rabbits, Junior, 6' 1", lithe build, burnt umber - reddish hair, sparkling emerald eyes, member of the track team. Connor has been watching the whole scene play out, he's thinking of making a change in the script. "Woode. You see who I see across the hall?" "Yeah, Mr. short stop getting trounced upon by glamazonian bi-atch?" "Yeah... whaddaya think?" A fairly meaty hand comes down upon Zachary Woode's shoulder. It belong to their comrade, Sebastian. "I think... he's worthy of getting a boost and putting little missy in her place. You two wearing your rubbers?" "yeah." "yesssss!" "Brook, Mason! Zach and Connor found us a worthy candidate for this evening." "Hawt damn! I thought we were gonna have slow year. If we couldn't find a guy the first week of the semester..." "Hush, dawg. Bast just said he found us one. Who and where is he?" "He's across the way, you two. On the dance floor in the middle of all those girls in a group on the right. He had kind of snuck his way in between the girls on the left until Ashley..." "Oooh Iiiiiiiiccccccce queen!" Sebastian laughed. "Yeah until Mizz Bi-otch broke it up and pushed him away." "We've got our rubbers on." "Then we all do. Time to help our man achieve a pay back." Slowly the five men began to concentrate on Blake. Harder and harder they focused. If their eyes were lasers they would've sliced Blake to pieces by now, but they kept staring, concentrating, until finally one of them began their chant... "pump" "trump" "hump" "plump" "Thump" "hmmmm oooh ooooh" "Work it right boys... work it right... Connor..." "Thump... Thump...Thump... THUMP!" "Mason!" "Trump...Trump...Trump...Trump...Trump!" "Pump...Pump....Pump....Pump...Pump....Pump! ... oooooh ahhhhhh Connor one more time..." "Thump!" "Zach!" "Hump.... Hump....Hump....Hump....Hump...Hu...." "ZACHARY!" "OOOOh... hey I like 'em hung ya know..." "Can't make him outrageous." "S'Okay, you two... I can balance him out... plump... plump.... plump!" Meanwhile over on the dance floor, Blake's movements began to get a little jerky and not so coordinated. He felt like he was having spasms and twitches up and down his body. His feet began to sweat in his shoes, and then swell in them. His shoes began to get tighter and tighter, shorter and shorter. His toes began to curl under themselves until finally the was a rip and a pop and a tear and the sides of his shoes began to give way. The tops of his shoes began to spread apart and rip open the lacings. His toes began to push out and through the front while his heels began to blow open the back. Except for Blake, no one noticed this as they weren't looking at his feet and they couldn't hear the tears and rips above the music. When the stretching feeling started in his stomach happened, they began to notice. Stretch... and soon he was standing a little straighter. Stretch! He was standing taller prouder. Stretch! There was no denying what was happening. His jeans' hem began to travel up his legs, exposing more and more shin and calves. His shirt bottom began climbing up his torso revealing his abdomen. The shirt sleeves began to travel up his arms, further and further. His head started to rise a bit higher than his shirt collar which was getting a bit snug on him. Stretch! The sleeves began to ride up the shoulders and a faint ripping sound could be heard near his back. Stretch! Another growth spurt. He was standing so tall now, like around 6' 5". The shirt was just barely holding together to be a mid-drift on him. His jeans looked more like a pair of denim Capri's. He stood there slightly bewildered, looking over all the girl's head and most of the guys ' as well. Then the ripping noises began. Blake's blood began to feel hot, as if his veins had been filled with molten metal. His veins began to rise up, full and plumped, to the top of his skin level, while his muscles began to contract and expand....and Expand.....AND EXPAND! First they popped up on his feet and travelled to his ankles thickening and strengthening them. Then they climbed up the shins and across the calves, making them plump and swell and grow, becoming all hard and diamond, then heart shaped. Finally swelling to begin to look like a good sized turkey leg. The veins then crawled under the fabric of Blake's jeans and began to stream and flow over his thighs. The fabric which was already too small due to the great growth spurt in height now began to smaller and smaller, tighter and tighter as Blake's thighs began to inflate and harder, swell and grow. Tear drop shape after tear drop shape got larger and thicker, wider and denser, and began to push and pull and stretch that fabric across itself. As the back of his thighs blew into proportion, the seams began to give way and tear up from his knees to his hips with a few other rips around each leg until the legs of the jeans hung in ever shrinking strips. Blake let out a few moans of discomfort as his butt and waist filled out a bit, filling his now way too small pants to their limit. Bubbling out more and more, Blake's butt became hard and firm and bulging like this thighs now were. Bunching and scrunching, His abdominals and obliques crunched and rolled their way into a beautiful, albeit thick waistline of cobblestone brick. Between this new svelte, but still thicker waistline and butt, the jeans let go a single shout of surrender in the sound and action of the waist button popping off and flying somewhere across the dance floor. The veins could be seen again making their way up and past those newly carved abs and obliques, roaming up and over his lats which began to flare up and out, broader wider and wider, pushing his shirt bottom and his upper arms out...Out...OUT! They would've blown the shirt out themselves except the veins had made it to the back, chest, and shoulders. Each one of them swelling, breathing, mounding, rising, thickening, more and more and more.... The flat plain that was Blake's chest gave way to a small crevice, then two small crescents, followed by two small mounds, followed by two decent sized globes that stretch and stretch his shirt to the limits. While the chest was growing, the back was growing too getting wider and wider, thicker and harder, a well seen tree shape forming for all to see. The shoulders mounding and rising in time with the others growth becoming soft balls, soccer balls, beach balls! The sounds of rips filled whatever empty space the dance beat left as Blake's torso muscles ripped his shirt down the front of his shirt, down the sides and under the arms, down and across the back. As his neck grew and thicken fuller, denser, harder, into a massive column, it caused the collar of his shirt to snap apart and now the shirt that Blake wore was nothing more than two sleeves caught somewhere between his upper arms and his delts. Everything else was just a rag. But just as those mighty rivers of veins had travelled up his neck, they also worked down his arms and the show the ladies got did not disappoint. His biceps flexed into a small ball, a baseball, a football, a soccer ball.... and the triceps underneath were growing just as fast and furiously creating that great horseshoe formation that matched the size of the biceps. Splitting what was left of Blake's shirt, his muscles and height now left him nearly nude save for something that might be a pair of jean shorts that looked more akin to the strips of armor a Roman soldier would wear. But that wasn't the end of the show... .... ... Suddenly Blake moaned and moaned loudly, gutturally, a low pleasurable moan. That's when some of the girls heard it. A faint sound, which was similar to the ticking of a clock, but all it had was the ticks and no tocks. tick...tick...tick tick....tick tick tick....ticktickticktickticktick... Suddenly Blake's' jeans zipper was now pulling apart for no reason it seemed, except for the fact there was a great swelling there...a GREAT swelling. The bulge pulled his underwear band down exposing more and more pubic hair that was growing in on him at a phenomenal rate. The jean sides parted and spread across the tighter tightie-whities, pulling the zipper all the way down and open. The budge rose and bunched creating quite the large sack out in front, but lost a little bit of its size when after a few more moans it deflated just a little and suddenly it was for certain that the girls could see a good sized...VERY good sized, cock head and cock belonging to Blake, hanging about three-eighths of the way down his thigh and looking very limp and soft. The girls backed up a little and looked at Blake not sure how to take this, take him, in. Where there once was this very light and lithe, short man, now stood a fairly tall - about six foot five inches tall, football player sized man. Blake looked down himself as best as he could, running his hands all over his body and through the new hair that covered much of him. He was going to turn to say something to the girls, when one of them was shoved out of the way by Ashley. She approached Blake now with a smirk on her mouth and a look of lust in her eyes. "Well, hel-LO there! Where did you come from handsome. You are someone worthy of my..." Ashley stuck a hand out to feel the pecs and biceps of Blake, but his snatched her wrist and threw them back at her side. "You ain't touchin' me, bitch! Where did I come from? I'm the guy you just pushed to the ground. I don't touch girls who aren't pretty on the inside. I touch the girls who are beautiful all over." Blake allowed one of the girls he was dancing with to touch him and feel up his arm. She then winked at him with a coy smile and a nod to four other girls who acted like they had to go somewhere and they knew that he had too as well, so, follow them. Blake smiled at them and winked back then turned to Ashley and loomed over her. "You're getting NONE of this! Grrrrrrrrr! and I'm gonna make sure no one on any of the sports teams or the calendar models goes near you either, you worthless skank! GRRRRRRRR!" Making a crab shot each time he growled at Ashley, the last time done with so much emphasis, Ashley let out a cross between a yelp and sexual moan, and then a whimper with a shudder, and suddenly her crotch was soaked through and through. She had to make a run to her car out of shear embarrassment. Blake and the other girls left and went who knows where, but it turned out to be one of the best nights of Blake's life. Meanwhile on the other side of the club hall, at the end of Blake's massive growth spurt, the quintet of men all sitting next to one another moaned together and shuddered, each feeling a rubber on the end of his cock filling up with cum. Sebastian let out a whistle and winked at the guys, clapping Mason on the back, who in turn fist bumped with Zachary, who high fived Brook, who in turn clasped right hands with Connor and then pulled them apart for a snap of the fingers and then an open palm wave and an explosive sound. Each man had gotten up and left the table, leaving some money to cover his bill or for tips, and then exited the hall. Connor stayed behind though. During the orgasm that the five men experienced from Blake's incredible growth, he had seen another man come in. Greeting a couple of people near the front door as he entered, he was a good looking man, almost kind of modelesque in his facial features, 5' 11" lithe frame, curly black hair that hung over violet eyes, only you almost didn't see them for his broad black rimmed glasses. There was something about him that looked kind of athletic, yet so nerdy... No, not nerdy, but definitely smart. Connor couldn't take his eyes off him and decided to watch him for just a moment. As the young man sat down and placed his feet up on one of the ottomans in front of the couch bank of seats, Connor noticed that the young man's feet were small. No, of course he probably wasn't going have really large feet as he was only six foot tall, maybe a hair shorter, but it didn't look like he even had anything close to a size nine let alone a ten or eleven. He might not have even worn a size eight! Connor thought this man could use a little help and so he concentrated and concentrated and chanted... "thump....Thump....THUMP....THUMP!" Connor felt his release of energy, but didn't feel anything else. The young man, however, did feel something. Almost an electrical charge ran through him, but then it passed replaced by an eerie presence, as if he was being watched, observed by someone. As though there was some in the club that was stalking him right now. He turned and looked where he thought he felt it coming from, but there was nobody there. Just and empty bank of seats and a table in a little alcove near the bar.

Thanks for the positive comments so far and sorry for the delay! Superior: Second Part Despite his hulking, almost obscenely muscular frame the bodybuilder moved surprisingly quickly. Even if it he hadn’t been frozen with fear, Lewis doubted he could have dodged the brute as the man’s big hand closed around his ankle and hoisted him up in the air. “Gotcha!” He roared, hot breath searing the little scientist’s face, his broad, stubbly grin splitting his ruggedly handsome face as Lewis felt his world lurching upside down. Scorching fingers of sunlight lanced into his pupils as his makeshift ocular protection slipped from his visage. Grasping at the cloth with one arm while the other flailed maniacally about, the scientist tried to wriggle free. The image of a terrified rabbit swinging wildly in some trap flickered through his panicked brain – an impression not lessoned by the look of hunger in the bodybuilder’s eyes. What on Earth was happening? His already boiling head seemed to seethe as blood rushed into his skull. He tried to steady his heart, his pulse, snatch back some of his rational thoughts as he swung chaotically back and forth in the big man’s grip. Then he felt it. A pain – a deep, bone-clenching pain – coming from his ankle. “You’re crushing me!” He yelped. “My ankle – aarrgghh!” “Hah, I love it when you puny Zetas wriggle about!” The bodybuilder gave him a quick shake, which set Lewis’ teeth rattling. “You think you can get away from an Alpha? I’ve caught hundreds of you little shits. Only way you’re getting free is if you gnaw your own foot off, hehe. Just like little nyulak I used to catch back home.” He lifted Lewis still higher until the two men were eye to eye. The big brute’s deep brown pupils sparkled with a cruel sort of glee as he peered into the frightened face of his captive. The pain Lewis felt in his ankle deepened. Was the bodybuilder crushing the bone in his grip? How was that even possible? Suddenly those comments about losing his foot didn’t seem too far-fetched. “Probably got my fingerprints on your ankle bone now, just from my little squeeze,” the muscleman smirked, leaning closer. His hot, loud breath, pumped from vast lungs deep beneath that muscular chest, blasted Lewis’ face, nearly ripping the cloth free a second time. “But still, a few crushed bones are the least of your problems now, right?” “What do you mean?” Lewis stammered, his voice sounding weak in the wake of the bodybuilder’s own words. “What are you going to do to me?” As if in response, Lewis heard a r-r-r-ipping sound from below. The huge, thick monolith of cock rose into view, smacking Lewis’ head aside painfully as it filled with blood and came to rest with a deep, fleshy slap in striated valley between the bodybuilder’s goliath pecs. Even through the gauze of the cloth Lewis could make out the swollen veins pulsing angrily on its surface. The heady smell of sweat and testosterone filled his nostrils. “Damn, that’s another pair of gyenge pants I’ve lost, ha ha!” The hulking stud’s accented voice boomed as his posing briefs fluttered to the floor. Desperately Lewis renewed his struggles to escape. You don’t become a scientist without possessing some skill at quantifying and measuring. And, in the glimpse before he squeezed his eyes shut to block out the terrifying sight of so much MAN, he had calculated the length and the girth of the thing looming before him. The numbers thrummed through his brain despite his attempts to quash them. Again, he felt the muscleman’s hot breath as he huffed into his captive’s face. “Well eventually I’m going to tear your arms and legs off, heh, heh. But first…” 18 inches long. “…heh…” 3.5 inches in diameter. “…we’re going to have a little fun.” Absently, Lewis felt and heard his ankle bone buckle and snap in the sweaty, meaty grip of the bodybuilder. The muscleman had been right. That really was the least of his problems. * There was a horrid moment of silence. The calm before the storm? The storm of cock, Lewis squealed internally, his sphincter quivering in fear. But still, there it was. Silence. Lewis opened his eyelids a fraction. He caught a brief snapshot of his panicked expression reflected in a marble-sized globule of pre at the angry red tip of that humungous arse-splitting tool, his mouth open in abject terror…and then there was a loud grunt of anger, he felt the grip on his ankle loosen, and he was dropped limply to the ground like a bag of bones. He landed awkwardly on his front, the breath smashed out of his lungs, but even in this moment of disorientation the little scientist tried to squirm away, maybe even make it back to his craft…before he felt the bodybuilder’s big, heavy foot upon his back, pinning him to the hot pavement. “Don’t you touch him!” An American accent exploded from somewhere in the distance as a big shadow fell across Lewis’ prone form. “You promised the next one to me – so he’s mine.” Hesitantly, painfully, Lewis lifted his head. The newcomer hadn’t even bothered with posing trunks. Silhouetted against the glare, was a monstrous, heaving, black mountain of straining muscle. Looking – if that were possible – even bigger than the first man, he strutted purposefully down the ruined street towards them, titanic endowment fully erect and thrust before him proudly like some sort of battering ram. Precum glistened on the tip in the hot sun. Jesus, thought Lewis, tasting the copper of blood in his mouth and wondering whether he had broken anything internally, is everyone in the future a grossly oversized, horny, horse-cocked bodybuilder? What the hell had happened in the last 400 days? The dust kicked up from the black god’s thundering steps did little to hide the ripped network of powerful muscles straining beneath the paper thin skin of his monster legs, bunching like steel fibres. His thighs looked thicker around than Lewis’ waist! Again, he had that strange suspicion that he had seen the man somewhere before. “Shawn,” his own giant muscleman replied, pressing his foot down a little harder to ensure his captive didn’t get away. Lewis felt a rib bend and snap. “It’s been a while.” Lewis couldn’t see his Eastern European captor, but he imagined him folding those big arms across the titanic mountains of his chest cockily. That’s what his voice sounded like – unhurried, casual. Arrogant. “You put the last Zeta I caught in orbit,” the American hulk loomed closer, a good head and shoulders taller than Lewis’ captor. “Heh, I remember.” “Said you was gonna play with him for a while – then you threw him into space.” I can feel the throb of their cocks from here, thought Lewis, attempting another squirm and earning himself another broken rib in the process. “You got a feisty one there,” the massive black figure smirked, peering down past his straining pectoral balcony and dripping shaft. “I love it when they wriggle about!” Forget muscle and horniness, Lewis thought, frantically. Everyone in the future is a psycho! “Tell you what, Daniel,” the black titan continued. Daniel? Shawn? Who were these men? Lewis’ mind spun desperately. “I’ll arm wrestle you for him.” He swung his goliath arms in a stretch, hideously massive biceps and triceps constricting and flexing into titanium hardness. “Been smashing buildings, tanks and Zetas to pieces for so long, it’s been a while since this muscle had a real challenge.” Lewis felt the tremendous weight leave his back. His first impulse was to try to move, but his battered, bruised and bleeding body refused his commands. Was he paralysed? Or had his body simply given up the fight against the inevitable? He felt himself beginning to slip into unconsciousness. “Heh,” said the bronze Adonis above him, stretching his own gargantuan musculature as all about Lewis faded to black. “You’re on.” * It wasn’t fair. Even in his alternating bouts of unconsciousness and delirium there didn’t seem to be any relief from the pain. And the heat. The heat was everywhere. It burned him in his brief moments of wakefulness. It followed him as he dipped into blackouts, scorching the fringes of his unconscious mind, tracking him even into the darkest depths of himself, burning, biting, branding his very thoughts with sizzling explosions of white-hot fire. So it was some time before he realised the cool hand on his brow was not a hallucination. “Can you move?” Lewis coughed something in reply. His eyes felt gummy, like half-melted candy, and his eyelids made faint sticky sounds when they peeled open. Before him in the haze crouched a young man. Were he not feeling two clicks from death, Lewis would have exaggerated a double take. A normal-looking young man, in scuffed jeans and a t-shirt that read Insert Ironic Slogan Here. “You can’t stay here. They’ll be back any minute, soon as they finish their match,” the young man was saying. “I can’t carry you. It’s not that far, but you’ll have to help me. Can you do that?” The voice sounded so earnest that Lewis was about to go back to his earlier hypothesis that it was a hallucination before the figure gripped his shoulder and started hauling him onto his feet. Oh, thought Lewis. It was a rhetorical question. I thought he’d wait for me to answer before – owww, my fucking ankle – pulling me up. Nonetheless the scientist found the strength to help the struggling young man, and between them they were able to get Lewis back on one shaky foot. The world span dangerously and for a moment Lewis had to fight to stop his eyes from rolling back in his head. He realised he was making a sick kind of groan, and tried to pull himself together. Tentatively he tried to put his weight on his broken ankle, and nearly passed out again with the sudden spike of pain. “It’s the radiation,” the man explained, taking the weak man’s weight as they limped away. “It makes you go a bit crazy. You’ll be ok once we get you inside. And we’ll see what we can do about getting that ankle looked at.” We? Thought Lewis, but said nothing. He was too busy concentrating on walking. Even with the help of the young man, it was a good few wincing minutes before they passed out of the blaze of the street and into the comparatively cool shade of one of the ruined buildings. It was little different to the first one Lewis had been in. The same apocalyptic décor, the same twisted mashes of furniture. But to the scientist, getting out of the glare, even for a moment, the place was heaven. The young man didn’t stop in the doorway, however. “Where we going?” Lewis protested, groggily. Getting to the building had taken nearly all of his dwindling energy and his companion wanted to keep going? “Basement.” He pulled Lewis a few more steps into the room. The scientist felt his vision swimming, and grabbed his companion’s shoulder more tightly. “The Alphas may own the city, but the whole undercity’s ours.” Lewis’ bumbling footstep scuffed up a clouds of dust and rubbish. Turning his head to avoid breathing any it in, he caught himself, for the first time, eye to eye with the young man. Despite the weariness on his companion’s face (probably from lugging his sorry arse down a scorching street for the last quarter of an hour), his dark eyes shone strongly and defiantly. A faint smirk came to his lips. “After all,” he continued, helping Lewis further into the building, “what would you expect from the Resistance?”

Okay, whoa, stop stop stop! Without reading your story, let me tell you right off the bat that this disclaimer is ludicrous! Whatever the premise, whatever the plot or the fantasy, you write whatever the hell you want. You don't try to please us with something "more mainstream" – whatever that means. We are not "bearing with you", we are eagerly awaiting anything creative that anyone here thinks up and is kind enough to share with us.

First Chapter: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/1131-transformation-part-i-mutation-chapter-one/ Previous Chapter: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/1974-transformation-part-i-mutation-chapter-eight/ CHAPTER NINE Terry’s office was in an older but well maintained professional building on East 67th. I had been there several times before, especially when we were dating, but this time I was hyper-aware of everything as we approached his office – the cars parked along the street, the trees planted in cutouts on the sidewalk, the pedestrians heading to lunch or appointments. One truck was in front of us, but no vehicles were behind us. I chalked this up to my self-consciousness at being unclothed in public. No, that wasn’t right. I couldn’t care less who saw me naked, what I didn’t want was to cause an accident. Hank dropped us off at the entrance of the ten-story brick and stone building right as a nearby church bell announced the noon hour. I slid the van’s door shut and made a beeline for the double door. “I have an appointment with Doctor Berman on six,” I said casually to the young man at the security desk. He gawked but didn’t respond. We passed a few people between the door and the elevator, which fortunately happened to be opening. An older woman exited the car and screamed briefly, but I ignored her. Matt and I entered. He had already pressed 6 when the doors closed. “That went pretty well,” he said. “I should at least have some type of wrap made for my waist.” “Why?” I smiled and kissed him. “I don’t want to give some poor blue hair a heart attack.” “They’ll get used to it,” he said. “It’s not like they have a choice.” The elevator opened and we walked to the double doors of Terry’s suite at the end of the hall. I had warned him to send his staff home and cancel his appointments and this was the moment of truth. As I slid sideways through the one open door into his waiting room, the head of my semi-flaccid cock slapped against the other, which was locked closed. It shuddered as if someone had punched it. Matt followed me in. “No damage,” he said. “Hey, Terry,” I called out. “I’m here.” The room was empty. A sign on the reception desk informed anyone that dropped by that he was only available for emergencies. The door to the inner part of his suite opened. “Hey there,” he said in his booming voice. He then looked at me, blinked twice and as his eyes rolled back in his head, collapsed to the floor. “Geez, are all of your friends huge?” Matt asked as he rushed forward to check on Terry. I shrugged. “What can I say? I’ve always been a magnet for big bottoms.” “I’m not a big bottom.” “Good point,” I said. “And Hank is very happy about that.” Terry was bleeding from where his head hit the doorknob, but was otherwise fine. I carried him into one of his exam rooms and Matt tended to the wound. Terry was a big guy. He wasn’t lean like Carlos or Hank, but at six foot four and 280 or so pounds he certainly qualified as huge. Big, bearded and bearish, he looked more like a lumberjack than a general practitioner. “He’s beautiful,” Matt said as he held an ice pack against the back of his head. “Yep,” I agreed. “That he is. I was quite taken with him.” “What happened?” “I’m going to walk around,” I said. “Stay here with him and bring him up to date before he sees me again. You can ask him what happened.” I slipped through the doorway sideways and followed the short hallway to the fourth and last examination room where he kept the scale for his morbidly obese patients. This room had a curtain instead of a door so extra large people could easily pass through. I certainly qualified as extra large. I stepped onto the digital scale, which fortunately had a wall-mounted LCD display, and waited a moment. It read 517.1 pounds. My weight had more than doubled in three days; my height had increased by about five inches. I was carrying far more muscle than any human before – probably twice as much as Hank, one of the most muscular men on the planet. My muscle was larger, denser, stronger. Suddenly, I longed for a mirror to admire myself in and as I imagined how I appeared to those around me, my cock began to swell until it had returned to its preferred size – maximum. In seconds it was a mammoth, throbbing hard-as-steel weapon, welded to my hard-as-steel body, thrusting forward, curving upward so that the head was at a 45-degree angle to the floor, already oozing copious amounts of pre-cum. Although my immense pectorals had grown overnight along with everything else and blocked additional inches of my cock from my view, it had lengthened and thickened as well. I grabbed it with both of my still-larger and more powerful hands, gasping with pleasure at my own touch, squeezing the pulsing shaft as tightly as I could with a grip that I already knew could effortlessly crush hardened steel. I was awestruck that my cock was so hard that even I was unable to dent it despite my own strength, which was unimaginable after only three days. I leaned forward and tilted my chin into my cleavage so that I could see more of the massive tool and gasped again at its perfection and beauty, now sixteen inches of male magnificence that spurted my limitless pre-cum. I released my cock and watched it resume bouncing with each throb even while my hands turned their attention to my gigantic pecs, feeling the thick hairs that covered the enormous square slabs, so shredded that I could feel each bundle of muscle fiber on the surface of the huge mound, which I somehow knew were individually far more powerful than even the entire chest of the strongest power lifter. Hank’s statement from earlier in the day had to be accurate. I couldn’t possibly be human anymore. It was the first time I had allowed myself to consider it, but the conclusion was inescapable. Human flesh was not harder than steel. Human hair burned. Humans didn’t convert energy to matter as I apparently did. I had become ... something else ... but a god? It was the only explanation. Everyone, everyone, wished to worship and/or submit to me on sight. They could sense what I was, even as I continued to struggle with it. “I am a god.” I said aloud as if that would help convince me. “So Matt tells me.” I heard Terry say and I turned my head enough to see him pass through the curtain with Matt. They both took one look at me and fell to their knees. Terry’s eyes had glazed over and Matt leaned forward on his hands. Still on the scale’s platform, I turned to face them with my hands on my hips. “May we worship you?” Matt asked. My beautiful boy had not even finished his sentence when cum exploded from my pounding tool, which spasmed wildly, spraying my jism in all directions, coating the curtain, floor and ceiling, not to mention the willing slaves who knelt on the floor before me. Gallon after gallon of cum spewed from my tool for several minutes as imagined myself growing still larger, stronger and more muscular, my cock yet longer and thicker and more powerful. I looked down at the handsome, awestruck faces of the two men and smiled. “Of course you may,” I said even as my spunk continued to flow unabated. Yet after a moment I willed my cock to rest and the sound of my thick, heavy jism splattering the room diminished. They crawled forward and I allowed them to feel my immense brawn, to service my huge cock and orange-sized balls. For several long minutes I enjoyed the caress of their hands and lips as they explored my immense musculature, smiling with satisfaction as they traced the innumerable striations with complete awe. But we needed to move on. “That’s enough,” I said with some regret. Hank would be returning for us. They stopped – both had spontaneously blown their wads a few times anyway – and I offered my hands to them. “Stand.” Terry, his professional hat back on, began examining me and recounted what Matt had told him of the past three days. It was accurate, and I just nodded and clarified a few points for him. As Terry worked, Matt also looked at me closely, inspecting me in a more detached, scientific way than he had before. He even whipped out his iPhone and snapped a few pictures of my face and entire body. “What are those for?” I asked. “I’ll show you when Terry is finished,” he said mischievously. “If I’m right, he’s going to need a drink.” “A drink?” my doctor and old friend said in his solid, rich voice. “More like a bottle of Valium. If you hadn’t already told me what to expect, I would be unconscious on the floor.” “You already did that,” I said. “Oh, right,” he said. “Well, here’s the deal, and if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes I’d never have believed it. In fact, I’m still expecting to wake up at any moment, but I digress.” He stepped back and sat on a stool. “You are right at six foot three now,” Terry continued. “I checked your file and just as I remembered, you used to be a bit under five ten. Now your weight is, well, you already know this because you were standing on the scale, but...” He paused and shook his head. “521 pounds, and don’t even ask me to explain the gallons of semen that you released. Matt told me his theory as to how you were creating it and growing, but I wouldn’t even know how to begin to test that.” 521 pounds - almost four pounds of additional matter had appeared from nowhere in the past hour or so in addition to all of the cum. “There isn’t a trace of the scars from 9/11, in fact, your hair and skin look like a flawless version of the real thing, but I am unable to scrape off a sample. You’re not breathing, as Matt already warned me, but you do have a pulse. Wait – when was the last time you urinated or had a bowel movement?” I had already been thinking about that. “Sunday. At home when I had the seizure I called you about.” He shook his head. I could tell he was disgusted, not because of me, but simply because I was challenging everything known to science. “But you produce sweat and,” he motioned to the half of the room that I had slimed. “Semen. Insane quantities of semen.” He looked at Matt. “Hey, would you mind collecting some samples of his semen? There are specimen containers in the cabinet to the left of the sink. I’m thinking around ten.” “Sure,” Matt said as he sprang into action. “Mind if I help you with the tests?” “Not at all, do you have lab experience?” “Oh,” Matt began. “Sorry, I didn’t tell you anything about myself. Yeah, I’m a vet.” “Perfect.” He turned back to me. “You okay with that?” “Hell yeah. I’m at least as curious as you are.” “I know this isn’t something anyone ever asks you,” Terry said. “But would you mind bending over?” I laughed and complied as Terry leaned forward to examine my butt. “Son of a bitch,” he said. “I sure as hell wasn’t expecting this. Could you pull your glutes apart?” “Checking my prostate?” I joked as I reached back and spread my cheeks. “Christ,” he said. “Son of a bitch! Jamal, your anus is gone. GONE. Not a trace one was ever there. I don’t fucking believe it.” He sat down heavily on the stool. “I think I could use that drink now.” I felt out of control again and broke out in a cold sweat. “That makes two of us.” Dr. Berman had put me in touch with the paramedic, Carl Washington, who had brought me in. Carl agreed to meet me at Grand Central Terminal for lunch and tell me what he knew about Karen’s death. After Dr. Berman’s initial call, I found it impossible to sleep. The events of that day replayed in my mind repeatedly and despite its futility, I continually second-guessed my actions. How had I failed? What could I have done differently? The puncture wounds in my back were so great I almost bled to death. Why did I live? Why did she die? Each time I replayed her kissing my cheek I wanted to cry. She had thanked me for nothing... After several days, my doctor prescribed anti-anxiety and sleeping meds. They helped, but I knew that if I was going to move on, I needed some answers. It was mid-November when I finally met Carl in the dining concourse of Grand Central, and the gloomy weather matched the city’s mood. New York had been hit hard. Its stride was broken. I may have been depressed, but the entire city remained in a state of shock. Carl told me that Karen and I had been found next to each other. She was face up. I was face down with my left leg and arm over her. The coroner’s autopsy revealed major bruising and some crushing injuries to her lower legs. Blood clots had formed in one of them. She died of a pulmonary embolism. I asked if my moving her around had dislodged the clot. He said I was speculating pointlessly. “Even if an EMT had been with you when you found her, there is no guarantee they could have saved her,” Carl said to me. “You can stop blaming yourself, okay?” “Easier said than done,” I said. “Yeah, I know.” He put his elbows on the table, closed his eyes and cradled his head in his hands. “Look, this has us all messed up. I still lose it every time I see a jet.” I looked down at the table as well. “I keep having nightmares of people falling out of the sky and buildings collapsing.” He shook his head. “This is some fucked up shit, man,” he said. “My wife dreams about people jumping from buildings.” He looked at me and sighed. “I think I could use a drink.” “That makes two of us.” * * * Matt worked at Terry’s computer as Terry and I cleaned up my mess in the exam room, though even as we wiped everything down and mopped the floor, pre-cum continued to ooze from my rock hard cock. The endless stream of semen had grown tiresome. “I wish I could just shut it off but I can’t,” I said. “The only time I don’t leak is when I’m soft and that’s not very often.” “If you had gotten a PA like I suggested years ago you could just hang a bucket from it. Problem solved.” “Funny,” I said sarcastically. “Or maybe I could order a team of slaves to follow me around and lick it up as I go.” Terry stopped mopping and looked at me. “What?” I asked. “I just realized that if you asked me to do that, I would.” I nodded. “Yeah. I know you would. It’s freaky.” He looked at me and frowned. “You’re not being arrogant about it either.” I had never understood arrogance. Things were what they were. In only a few days I had developed into a god among men, a transformation that showed no sign of slowing. What was the point of boasting about the obvious? “It’s not his style,” Matt said as he joined us. “I’m done. Want to take a look?” We followed him into Terry’s office, which was every bit as Spartan and organized as I remembered it. We stood behind him as he sat down at the desk. “Okay, before I show this to you, I want to explain something. Terry will already know about it and based on the titles I saw on your bookshelf, you might too, Jamal. It’s called bilateral symmetry.” “Most animals are bilaterally symmetrical,” Terry said. “Along the sagittal plane. At least superficially.” “Our left side is a mirror image of our right?” I said. I was pretty sure I remembered this from high school biology. “Exactly,” Matt said. “Or most accurately, not exactly. Take a look.” Matt opened a photograph of his face that Terry had taken before we started cleaning. “Now look carefully,” he said as he overlaid a grid over the image. “My right eye is slightly higher than my left. Can you see it?” I could. In fact, I could see it very clearly although I had never noticed it before. “Now watch this,” he said. Matt opened a second image next to the original. It depicted the left side of his face folded over the right. “Here you can see all kinds of irregularities, if you will. My eyes, my mouth, my ears. This extends to the entire body. Our left and right sides are not perfect mirror images of each other.” He closed the images and pulled up one of Terry. “Here you can see the same thing, though Terry is a bit more symmetrical than I am, damn him.” He looked back at Terry and winked. Matt closed the photo of Terry. “Now, this is Jamal’s face from someone’s Flickr collection,” he said. I recognized it from a photo shoot I had posed for a year ago. “You were very symmetrical. Even more so than Terry.” He closed the image and brought up another. “But you can see here that the sides of your face didn’t match up perfectly.” “Didn’t, you say, as in past tense,” Terry observed. “Right,” Matt confirmed as he pulled up the photos he had taken of me that afternoon. “Because now, at least to the degree the camera is accurate, he is perfectly symmetrical. His face, his body, everything. The reason he is supernaturally, almost painfully beautiful is not just his ultra-manly appearance and extreme muscularity. Jamal is physically perfect. No flaws.” Terry turned from the screen and looked at me with a mixture of fear and awe. I shrugged, trying to play it down despite my extreme excitement as I listened to his words. A surge of power flowed into my fully erect cock, causing it to grow still larger and harder even as I closed my eyes and attempted to suppress spraying another massive load in Terry’s office. I no longer needed additional evidence to prove my godhood to myself, yet it continued to pour in. My suddenly acute awareness of my endlessly growing magnificence created a euphoric rush that threated to spiral out of control. Pre-cum was already spurting from my piss slit and I knew that if I didn’t distract myself quickly, I would create the largest mess yet. I’ve got to get out of here, I thought. But what I actually said was – “Where is the building’s electrical?” This surprised me because since entering the building I was keenly aware that I was growing too big for standard interior dimensions. I felt I was too big, yet another part of me, the part that appeared three days ago and considered me the Alpha Stud of the planet, the part that thought of everyone as my willing slave, the part that knew that all of humanity would worship me – that part felt I wasn’t yet big or powerful enough. * * * Matt remained in Terry’s suite and began working on the samples he had collected while Terry took me down to the basement. Getting the keys from the building engineer on duty was a snap once Terry called him to his suite and he saw me. We left him groveling on the floor in the hallway as a wet spot grew on the fabric of his pants. I remained conflicted as we entered the electrical room. My shoulders were so wide that it was a challenge to navigate within buildings. My cock was already too large to reasonably fuck anyone with. Yet the orgasmic rush I received from feeding and growing was so great I couldn’t imagine ever giving it up. If there was a limit to how powerful I could become, I knew I hadn’t reached it yet and as long as I could grow, I would. I looked at the set up. I wasn’t an electrician, but estimated that the building had 480-volt, 6,000 amp service. My cock began spasming with excitement as I reached up and grasped the pipe that held the wiring from the service drop. I paused. “There isn’t any life-supporting equipment or surgery performed in this building, is there?” “No,” Terry said. “And the generators will kick in anyway for critical things.” “Good.” I pulled the pipe from the main panel and peeled the protective steel tubing away from the wiring as if it were plastic wrap. I then ripped the wires apart, which plunged the room into darkness. As promised, I could hear a diesel generator rumble to life and an emergency light illuminated the cinderblock room. “Good god,” Terry said. I looked at Terry and winked. “I hope so,” I said before pulling the insulation from the copper wiring and tossing it aside. Finally, I wrapped the bare metal wires around my pounding cock and moaned in pleasure as the current flowed into me. Next Chapter: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/2642-transformation-part-i-mutation-chapter-ten/

First Chapter: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/1131-transformation-part-i-mutation-chapter-one/ Previous Chapter: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/1757-transformation-part-i-mutation-chapter-seven/ CHAPTER EIGHT Carlos crouched on all fours on a bed at the center of an old but otherwise empty warehouse, sweat streaming from his massively muscled body onto a plastic sheet. I stood behind him and repeatedly slammed my 18-inch cock into his ass to the hilt. My orange-sized testicles slapped against his balls and cock with each thrust. The god fucked his biggest slave and found it good. He had been released from the hospital after a miraculous recovery and I spent the last week patiently stretching his hole and training him to take my massive rod, which naturally had grown larger along with the rest of me. Although he lost a lot of blood and passed out several times during the first few days, he was adapting well. His endurance was improving rapidly. This session, as well as my orgasm, had lasted for hours. I had been coming continuously the entire time and the bed was surrounded by a vast pool of sweat and cum. The bed and I were spot lit from above so that I could watch the great length of my immensely fat cock slide in and out of his hole, stretching it out, using it for its only purpose – pleasing me. My largest slave no longer ate or drank, shit or pissed. His only input was my cum, his only output was his sweat and cum. His only purpose was to worship and service me. Nothing else satisfied him. At the head of the bed was a ten-foot mirror so that we could both see the fantastic musculature of my godly seven-foot, 800-pound body as I fucked him. The mirror also allowed me to see his eyes in this position. Other mirrors were positioned to our left and right so that I could watch myself plow him from the side, admiring the incredible vertical thickness of my cock as it slid in and out of his ass, or more accurately, my hole. One advantage to keeping him in this position was that he could not beat his own meat. He was forced to wait until I triggered his orgasm – and for the past hour, the desperate look in his eyes, the pained expression on his face, told me that he needed to come. Although I could fuck him endlessly, I also missed feeling him against me. I decided it was time. “You look ready,” I said. “Please, Master, let me release,” he blurted out between gasps for air. I took my eyes off of him and looked up at my reflection. Immediately my orgasm increased in power and intensity, as it always did when I saw myself. My ever-increasing hyper-masculinity and mass were overwhelming even to me and I felt my cock surge in size, causing my slave to yelp. I continued thrusting, plowing, using his hole as it needed to be used, smiling with satisfaction as he strained to endure my ever-growing cock, and lifted my tremendous arms up into a double biceps pose. I watched his jaw drop in awe. “You may,” I said. Immediately, his immensely powerful ass clamped down on my throbbing cock and he came, screaming from the power of his orgasm, so intense that it crossed over into pain, even as his eyes remained riveted to my impossibly thick arms and shoulders. The combination of pressure from his sphincter and the flood of cum from my cock forced him forward and he fell flat on the mattress, which left my cum cannon spasming in space, my hips still bucking, firing my jism against the mirror until it shattered and I brought my magnificent tool to my lips to allow it to finish draining in my mouth, my eyes closed in ecstasy, my mind swimming with the limitless pleasure that my world provided. I opened my eyes. I found myself in my apartment, squeezed into my chair with my lips stretched around the head of my cock. Hank was standing in front of me, surrounded by a pool of cum. I released my cock and sat up straight. He looked good. Pumped. I was reminded of his effortless masculinity, supersized and beautiful. He must have just come from the gym. “That was some dream,” he said. I was confused. I looked at him but didn’t speak. It certainly hadn’t felt like a dream. “Hey, I just stopped by to remind you of somethin’.” He squatted down so that our eyes were on the same level. I looked into his eyes. They seemed strange, dark. “What?” I finally said. “Why.” My brow furrowed. “Why what?” “Why,” he repeated. “I’m here to remind you why.” “Hank, what in the hell are you talking about?” “Jamal. You know why,” he said. “Okay, I need you to relax your mind. Look at me. Look into my eyes.” He wasn’t making sense, but this was Hank. I trusted him with my soul. He had to know something that I didn’t, so I looked into his eyes. They were strange. Cloudy. You know. His lips didn’t move, but I could hear him in my head. Clearly. You know that the world is spinning out of control. You know what is wrong. You know what must be done. You know that you are the only one who can do it. His eyes grew darker and larger until they were great, black saucers and still they grew, pulling me in, closer and closer until I could see something inside them, thousands – no, millions of points of light. Soon they encompassed the entire room and I found myself floating in space, surrounded by nothing but the occasional hydrogen atom. There was almost no heat, it was just above absolute zero, but I wasn’t cold. My skin was caressed by the radiation of countless distant stars. I had no desire or need to breathe. What do you want more than all else? To fuck. I just want to fuck. Wrong. I felt myself falling backward and opened my eyes, shocked to find myself still in bed. The light from the window, the noise from the street told me that it was morning and Hank was beside me, stirring. The sensation of falling persisted and I bolted upright. “Sh... sh...” I tried to speak but had no air in my lungs. I inhaled deeply. “SHIT!” I said in an unfamiliar, deep voice. “What the hell?” I heard Hank say. I focused. Hank, I, the bed were all drenched in cum. I felt my ball sack and discovered jumper cables clamped to my testicles. Alligator clips were clamped to my nipples with wires attached as well. “What the fuck?” There was that voice again – deeper, more powerful, but I was certain I was losing my mind. I franticly looked around the room to find something to anchor myself mentally to prove I wasn’t still dreaming. Matt was standing against the wall again, only this time he was naked and erect. Even that was strange. I looked at him. “Am I insane?” “Not unless all three of us are,” he said. Hank was sitting up next to me now. “Did you have the same dream I did?” He said to me. “Wait,” I said. “One thing at a time. What is this shit attached to m...” I looked at Matt, exasperated. My lips were moving again but nothing was coming out. I had no air in my lungs. “Inhale.” I heard Matt say, but what I wanted to do was scream. Every time I felt like I was in control again, I wasn’t. “You stopped breathing last night,” he said. “I couldn’t wake you, but your pulse remained steady.” He shrugged. “I don’t think you need to breath anymore. Except to speak, apparently.” Matt seemed so casual about it, but what I wanted to know now was why he was standing against the wall with an erection. He looked so hot and sexy and I really wanted him next to me. I took a breath. “What are you doing over there anyway?” “I was looking at you and masturbating, okay? You are a god, you know. A fucking off-the-charts gorgeous insanely massive hairy muscle-fuck god,” Matt said. “Remember when I said you were my fantasy man? Well, multiply that by a factor of ... oh ... a billion now. You’re so impossibly beautiful and masculine and magnificent that it hurts to look at you because my brain can’t even process it properly!” I closed my eyes. It was all too much. I tried to clear my mind and focus. “Can I say somethin’?” Hank ventured. “No!” I said. “Let me deal with this.” I paused and opened my eyes again. One thing at a time. “Okay, the jumper cables and clips. Explain. Hank.” “I hooked you up last night after you fell asleep,” he said. “I wanted to make you bigger. It worked.” I tried to sigh but couldn’t. I was out of air again. I had to admit it was very hot – closing a circuit between my balls and pecs – but I rolled my eyes and took a breath. “I appreciate the enthusiasm but let me have what little control I have over what’s happening to me.” “You the boss,” he said. I nodded my head and stood up. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Hank was right. I was bigger. Matt gawked at me and fell to the floor, first landing on his hands and knees. Even as cum spurted out of his cock, he passed out. I immediately turned to Hank, who was staring at me. “Don’t you dare pass out on me,” I said. “Will you at least admit to bein’ a god now?” He asked quietly. Either his eyes were watering or he was crying. I couldn’t tell which. “You’re not human anymore, Jamal.” I ignored his comment for the moment, unable to process it. If I’m not human, what am I? “You mentioned something earlier about a dream,” I said as I walked over to check Matt. He seemed fine and I lifted and put him on the bed. “Yeah, I remember a dream. We were here. You were in your chair and I was standin’ in a lake of your cum. I was tellin’ you... Tellin’ you that you know why you’re here. Why you’re changin’, becomin’ a god.” “We had the exact same dream,” I said, filled with wonder. “We shared a dream.” It was impossible, but just one of many impossible events over the past few days. “Yeah,” he said. “And you told me that – ” “That I didn’t know why,” I interrupted as I squatted down next to Matt. “I know it’s happening and I know everyone is desperate to worship me, but I can’t say why.” I began kissing on him, from his firm, perfectly shaped pecs down to his tight, defined abs. “Yeah you do! We talked about it last night, man.” I looked up at Hank. “What, that I’m supposed to save the world?” “Yeah.” “Ridiculous,” I said. “Come on, man. If you had one wish, what would it be?” “I’d wish that ... okay. I just want everyone to get along – give each other a fair shake instead of being self-centered assholes. I bet most of our problems would vanish if people would stop believing things with no real evidence and put themselves in their supposed enemy’s shoes.” “YES!” Hank said. “Exactly! You can make people do just that.” “How? Everyone just wants to worship me. How does that save the world?” Hank rolled his eyes. “You ain’t seein’ the big picture here.” “Anyway, I thought Jesus was supposed to save the world.” I said. “That ‘Savior’ stuff and all that?” “That ‘Savior’ stuff is mythological bullshit,” Matt said from my side, startling me. I wondered how long he had been listening. “You know that the nature of Jesus was hotly debated for centuries, right? What we call the New Testament is just the winners compiling the history book. The real Jesus has been dead for two thousand years. There is no God. If there was, everything wouldn’t be so fucked up.” I looked at Matt, surprised at the intensity in his voice. “Don’t Christians say that we brought suffering on ourselves because we disobeyed God?” “Yeah, that’s the excuse they made up early on, but I’m not superstitious so I don’t buy it.” He sat up on the bed but didn’t look at me. “Anyway, that wouldn’t justify the tens of millions of animals that suffer and die year after year as we torture them to death in countless experiments and factory farms.” He jumped up and strode across to the door before spinning around. “What did they do to deserve that? What kind of god would allow that? Tell me.” His face burned red, his breathing was heavy. This was obviously a hot button topic for him. Hank suddenly looked cross. “Hey, are you callin’ me superstitious for believin’ in God?” Matt sighed impatiently. “Well, yeah, I guess I am. Believing in God is believing in the supernatural and believing in the supernatural is believing in superstition.” I looked at Hank, who still appeared upset. “Chill, Hank,” I said. “He’s just saying his two cents. Besides, you already know I’m agnostic.” “Ugh,” Hank said. “You godless liberals disgust me.” I rolled my eyes. Even though I knew he was being sarcastic, he sounded exactly like his uncle. Matt turned to Hank with eyebrow raised. “Don’t make me come over there and kick yo’ superstitious ass, Meathead.” That made Hank laugh. “I’ll snap you like a twig, girly man.” “Well, see if this girly man fucks you again,” Matt said. Hank suddenly appeared very worried and sat up straight, as if to demonstrate that he was now on his best behavior. “Oh my god I’m so sorry,” he said so rapidly that I started laughing. “What were we talkin’ about again?” “Animal torture,” Matt said. The intensity of Matt’s compassion for the innocent impressed me. For the first time, I felt as if I had met someone who not only understood me, but understood me at a deep and fundamental level. I realized I could fall in love with him so easily. “I’m sorry, Matt. I wish I could do something.” “Don’t wish,” he said. “You can do something. Jamal, who’s going to stop you?” He paused for a moment, staring at me, but not losing focus. “You know, I think Hank is right,” he said finally. “About the saving the world thing?” “Yeah, about that,” he said, nodding. I stood up and walked over to him. “My sweet, sexy boy,” I said. I pulled him to me, forcing him to straddle my cock, which lifted his heels off the floor. He looked up at me, momentarily speechless. “You must be three inches taller than me now,” he said in awe at the same moment my cell phone rang. I put him down and ran over to my nightstand, shaking the floor. I looked at the caller ID: Terry Berman. “Fuck!” I said as I accepted the call. I had forgotten my appointment with him. “This is Doctor Berman at Bellevue Hospital Center,” an amazingly deep voice said. I was sitting in the locker room at the gym. It was my second week back after being released and I was wasting no time in trying to regain the thirty pounds I had lost. “May I speak to Jamal Al-Bakri?” “You got him.” “Good evening, Mr. Al-Bakri. My name is Terry Berman. I’m a resident physician at Bellevue. I helped stabilize you when you were brought in.” He paused as if considering his next words. I heard him take a breath. “I’m calling you on my personal phone. I...” The line fell quiet and I wondered if the call had dropped. “Hello?” “Sorry,” the deep voice said. “I have some information that is confidential, but ... I think you deserve to know.” My heart jumped. “About Karen? Where is she? Can I contact her?” “I know the paramedic who brought you in, Mr. Al-Bakri. I’m sorry, Karen Davis had already passed away by the time they found you.” * * * Although there was really no point in doing so, I decided to keep my appointment with Terry. Now, the biggest problem was how to get me to his office in the Upper East Side. Hank suggested that I walk and let the cards fall where they may – he seemed determined to push me into public view sooner rather than later – but Matt had a better idea. “I’ll rent a van,” he said. “Hank and I will go eat breakfast, pick up the van and drive you to Terry’s. Hank will drop us off, go to Bellevue to check on Carlos and then come back for us.” After they left, I set about cleaning up my cum and washing the sheets. I took a shower, though maneuvering in the bathroom was a bit of a challenge now. I made a point of not looking at my dick or at myself in the mirror. It was extremely tempting, but my penis had actually relaxed and hung flaccid, more or less. I wanted to keep it that way as long as I could. The weight and heft of it as it swung was arousing enough. I sat down at my aging PowerBook for the first time since Sunday morning and looked at my email. Already, much of seemed like it belonged to someone else – friend requests from strangers and casual acquaintances, advertisements of sales, e-blasts from real estate agents I knew of flats and studios on the market. None of it mattered anymore. I realized I hadn’t looked at my snail mail either. That could wait until the weekend. I searched for the video that Mark showed me the day before. He was right, there were many. A dozen people must have had video cameras trained on me. I looked at some of the comments, which was always a mistake. There was something about anonymous commenting that brought out the worst in people, or just showed them as they really were: profoundly ignorant and/or tragically bitter. Hundreds of photographs of me had already been posted on Flickr. The comments here were usually more respectful for some reason. “Morph” was a common and perfectly reasonable comment, but they had no idea. I was probably about 200 pounds heavier now than I was yesterday when those photos were taken. My phone rang. They were downstairs. And for the first time, I walked out of my building wearing nothing, carrying nothing. Next Chapter: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/2107-transformation-part-i-mutation-chapter-nine/

Previous Chapter: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/1402-transformation-part-i-mutation-chapter-five/ CHAPTER SIX The 30-amp, 240-volt service feeding into my chest from the clothes dryer outlet in my apartment wasn’t the same as the service at the job site, but it still delivered great pleasure. While wearing my black rubber gloves, I held one wire against my left nipple and the other to my right and simply stood there in front of the laundry closet, savoring the power as it flowed into me. My entire body tingled as it grew larger and denser, especially my skin, muscles, cock and balls. Hank knelt before me, sucking the fully engorged head of my throbbing, hard as steel cock, swallowing the semen that continually poured forth. Matt, meanwhile, had spent the past hour caressing the entirety of my massively muscled body – running his eager hands across the bulging masses of my back, shoulders, traps and arms, kissing the immense globes of my ass and calves, hugging the thick trunks of my upper legs. Somehow, neither of them was electrocuted; unlike that morning, my body wasn’t allowing any of the energy to go to waste. One of the changes I had noticed was my ability to build to ever more intense and powerful climaxes, and for the past hour that was exactly what had been happening. I had been ready to unleash my cum torrent before I left work and now the need was an order of magnitude greater. I was about to tell Matt to join Hank at my feet when he confirmed something that I had suspected since arriving home. “You’re taller!” He exclaimed from behind me. “Whoa, I think you’re a bit taller than me now!” I heard him, but the significance of what he said didn’t hit me yet. I was so consumed with the orgasmic bliss of my impending release that all else was obliterated. He must have sensed the imminent climax because at some point I was dimly aware of him kneeling next to Hank. I was redefining hyper-masculinity and virility each day. My massive body was growing more muscular, stronger and magnificent each day. My already legendary sexual prowess was now at a level so extreme that surely every man alive combined would pale next to me. The pressure in my loins grew so powerful that my entire body began vibrating, the heat so intense it felt white-hot. My last conscious act was to put the wires in my mouth so that my worshippers wouldn’t be accidentally injured. I seized my massive cock in my powerful hands, felt the impossibly hard tool throbbing and vibrating wildly, the thick veins that wrapped around it pulsing and expanding... ... and a single thought, suppressed for the last two days, escaped my subconscious. Something I knew with absolute certainty and clarity, as if it were programmed into the very fabric of the universe... THE WORLD WILL BEG TO WORSHIP AT MY FEET ... then, throwing my head back and roaring at the top of my lungs, I came. Everything went white. I remained still for another few minutes, half resigned to letting myself suffocate there under the truck, until I remembered the dust masks. I had put them in my backpack only hours before. I located them by feel and pulled one out, removed it from the plastic wrap and placed it over my face. I inhaled, pulled it away and exhaled, coughing and forcing as much dust out of myself as I could, replaced the mask and repeated. After another minute, I imagined I could smell diesel fumes. ‘Imagined’ because my nose and mouth were still so caked with dust that I could barely breathe, let alone smell. But it was enough to get me moving again. I rolled out from under the other side of the vehicle and began walking in what I hoped was the correct direction. I had no idea where Hank had gone, and my heart fell as I realized we hadn’t even exchanged contact info. My eyes, nose and throat burned and my shin ached. The dust was clearing, and I could see well enough to know that I didn’t want to see. The world had turned to ash. The air glowed with a dim orange light. All objects were gray. Vehicles, walls, people. I realized I was near a corner with a street sign and limped over to read it: West Broadway. West Broadway and what? The cross street wasn’t identified on that corner and I couldn’t see well enough to recognize anything. But wherever I was, it was still too close. I started out from the sign catty corner across the intersection. It seemed to take an eternity to reach the opposite corner. I felt trapped in an apocalypse. The occasional muted crash and boom in the distance made me jump. Cries and sirens filled the air. I wondered if we were at war, if someone had attacked us. Perhaps the jet had been shot down. I finally reached the other side: Barclay. Somehow I had ended up only a block away from the North Tower – even closer than when I had started. But I knew West Broadway was one way inbound. I headed the opposite way – north. Perhaps half a block later I heard a woman whimpering. I turned my head to the right and saw someone curled up against a building. I moved to investigate. She was covered in blood, which was in turn coated with ash. Her cheeks were streaked with tears. I imagined that she was a zombie except that zombies don’t cry and ask for help. It was impossible to determine her age through the layers of blood and ash. Her hoarse voice didn’t help. I gave her my other dust mask. “I think my ankle is broken,” she said. Her voice was a croak. “Something fell on my legs and I crawled here but my knees hurt so much...” Her broken voice broke even more. “I’m Jamal. What’s your name?” “Karen.” “Okay, Karen,” I said. “Can I help you get away from here?” She nodded. Squatting down, I took her into my arms, stood and started walking. She wasn’t heavy to begin with, but that changed quickly. I had figured I could make it a few blocks but that proved optimistic. After perhaps a block, I set her down on the sidewalk, so disappointed with myself that I grew angry. I could barely breathe, which didn’t help, but I had no doubt Hank could have carried her much more easily. I resolved to get as big as he was, and find him – if I survived. I sat down next to her. “I’m so sorry,” I said as I tried to gasp for breath through a mask in a dust cloud. What kind of man was I if I couldn’t escort one injured person to safety? “You’re not catching me at my best.” She started laughing, which sounded more like a cough, but I felt relieved. She looked at me, and through the layers of blood, dust and pain, smiled. She had a nice smile. “Same here, but I think I can manage if I just lean on you.” I nodded, and after taking another breath, helped her up only to catch her again as she fell. “I can’t. It hurts too much!” She said. The pain in her voice was clear and I winced in sympathy. Then the ground began vibrating and the sky began to roar. I opened my eyes. I was standing in my apartment. The wires were still in my mouth. My body continued to tingle happily, even as my head began to clear. I was still holding my erect penis, my right hand gripped the base, my left hand held the shaft just below the head. The first thing I noticed was that surprisingly little was coming out of the piss slit, at least for now. The next thing I noticed was that Hank, Matt, the floor and everything in the laundry closet was drenched with what must have been my cum. It looked as if a balloon filled with five gallons of lube had burst. They were licking one another other clean. I was reminded of cats grooming each other. The entire scene was surreal and I pulled the wires from my mouth and blinked. “Just go take a shower,” I said. “I’ll clean this up.” I looked at the mess more closely. “Somehow.” They both jumped at the sound of my voice. “You’re back,” Hank said. Matt stood, reached behind the washer/dryer stack, and unplugged the cord I had been feeding from. I released my cock. “I didn’t know I had left.” “You were in some kind of trance for at least half an hour,” Matt said. We were all present in the room again and despite the sensation of tremendous power that filled my muscles and cock, we were more or less ourselves. It was a nice feeling, comforting and familiar. I wondered how long it would last. “I must have been coming the entire time,” I said as I gestured at the semen that blanketed the area. Hank stood and faced me. “No. The trance started after you came.” “How long did my orgasm last?” What I was really asking was, how long did it take to slime everything in front of me? “You don’t remember it?” Matt asked. “I thought the building was going to fall down.” I thought the building was going to fall down. Hank and I looked at each other before turning to face Matt. “He doesn’t know,” I said. Matt looked confused, worried. “What did I say?” “He didn’t ask about your back?” Hank’s eyebrows went up and I saw him look back at me. “He asked,” I said, focusing on Matt. I was again impressed with his level of respect. He hadn’t even asked Hank about my scars. “I put him off.” Pure terror washed over me. Adrenaline surged into my bloodstream, granting me renewed strength. My heart was pounding with such force that I wondered if I would have a cardiac event of some kind, but I swept Karen into my arms and ran as fast as I could through the ash-filled street. The roar increased in volume until it became a deafening, punctuated thunder. I imagined it as an oncoming but invisible locomotive. I could hear it but could not see more than ten feet in any direction. After several seconds, visibility got worse; I could no longer see my hand in front of my face. A hail of small objects began peppering my head and shoulders. Then the falling debris grew larger. I tripped over something – I was pretty sure it was a body – and twisted in mid-air as best I could to prevent myself from falling on the very person I was carrying. My shoulders and back slammed against the ash and debris covered pavement. It felt like I had landed on jagged rocks. I screamed in pain even as the breath was knocked out of me and Karen rolled over my head. However, no one could have heard me over the all-obliterating roar. No one could have seen us through the impenetrable dust. We weren’t in an apocalypse. We were in Hell. The debris raining from the sky had become a downpour and even as unseen projectiles struck me, I managed to lift her and stumble to the sidewalk on my left. My biceps and lungs were burning, the pain in my back was agonizing, but I moved carefully to avoid stepping on or kicking anyone. I felt my way along the side of a building until I found what I thought was the entrance. I carried her several feet inside before my biceps began to fail and I had to set her down. I began coughing uncontrollably. I felt a liquid in my mouth. It may have been blood, but because of the dust I wasn’t sure. I could see nothing. I could smell nothing. I could barely breathe. My mouth was so caked with dust that speech was impossible. I was desperately thirsty. I was becoming lightheaded, either from lack of oxygen, blood loss or both. The rolling thunder had died away only to reveal the distant wailing of sirens. I covered her with my body, holding myself over her on elbows and knees despite the fact that I no longer felt anything falling on me. Even if we were inside some kind of structure, it could fall as well. Still, I felt relieved, but continued to cough up liquid. It had to be blood. It seemed likely that I was going to bleed to death or suffocate on it. The scale of whatever had happened was so epic I couldn’t imagine being rescued in time. Surely much of Manhattan had been destroyed. I was wondering when the building was going to blow up when I felt her kiss me on the cheek. “Thank you,” she managed to whisper in my ear... Matt shifted his gaze from Hank to me. “Just tell me about the scars when you’re ready,” he said. “No biggie.” He shrugged and smiled. I walked over to my chair and looked down at the worn brown leather, the years of sweat stains. I had bought it my first year in New York, right after renting my apartment, about a year before 9/11. I hadn’t moved it since. I sat down. I was much larger, denser. Just my awareness of my godlike body was intensely gratifying and I could feel the heavy tube of my flaccid cock begin to fill. I didn’t even have to look at myself. The power available to my muscles was immense and palpable just sitting there. I decided to test it further. Even as my tool grew to its unbelievable size, I stood back up and turned to my friends. “You guys go take a shower,” I said. “I’ll clean this up, then I’d like to go to the gym.” Hank touched my shoulder as I walked by him. “Hold on,” he said. “Lemme see your back.” I felt his hand run over the area on the inner right lat where the largest scar was. “You ain’t gonna believe this. Or maybe you will.” “Try me,” I said. “The scars are all gone.” * * * Hank and I had trained at the same gym for years. We worked out together for the first several months after our first date, but when he called it off we began going at different times – he during the day, myself in the evening. The sun had set some time ago and we covered the few blocks between my place and the gym in the diminishing twilight. I was glad that it was only a few blocks. My presence in public had become very disruptive. I had grown significantly during the two or so hours I had been connected to the dryer outlet. My mechanical scale topped out at 300 pounds, my electronic one at 350. I guessed I was around 400 pounds now and looked forward to checking on the gym’s old but well maintained platform scale. I did enjoy my new mass and power. I felt like the Alpha Stud of the planet. And when I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror or my reflection in a window, I knew without a doubt that no man had ever even approached my hyper-masculine glory. Each time I saw myself, my cock would instantly expand into a throbbing, vein-wrapped hard-as-steel torpedo and spew insane quantities of pre-cum. The euphoria was nearly overwhelming. What I didn’t care for was the stupefying effect I had on everyone around me. People clearly felt compelled to respect and submit to me. That was a given. It was as inevitable as gravity. Even as a part of me enjoyed and understood their submission, I didn’t want to be surrounded by a bunch of mindless, drooling zombies. Yet that is what we witnessed as we headed up the sidewalk. I parted the pedestrians on the sidewalk as if I were Moses parting the Red Sea. My clothing didn’t help. I had crammed my massive legs and equipment into Mark’s now-completely inadequate sweats, my huge cock both tenting and soaking the fully stretched fabric. And that was all I wore. I had no shoes that would fit and in fact didn’t need any. Not even broken glass could scratch the soles of my feet. And a shirt? I had a feeling I would never cover my massive upper body again. Hank followed me and Matt brought up the rear. Upon finally reaching the gym, an old three story brick building with numerous windows and a fire escape that faced the street, Hank pulled me aside. “That was the first time in twenty years that I felt invisible,” he said as he shook his head. “But you know, I can’t blame ‘em. You’re a god now. There’s no other way to say it.” I looked him straight in the eye. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on with me, but I’m not a god.” “I’ll tell you exactly what’s goin’ on,” Hank said. “The world is outta control and you’re turnin’ into a god to whip it into shape.” That made me laugh. “I’m supposed to save the world? That’s why this is happening?” “You got a better idea?” “Hey guys,” Matt interrupted. “This is fascinating and all but we’ve got company.” Hank and I both turned to see that a semi-circle of about a dozen men and women were kneeling, staring and open jawed, on the sidewalk five or six feet away. More were arriving by the minute and my cock responded by surging to maximum hardness, pounding and pumping pre-cum with such pressure and volume that it began spurting through the stretched fabric of my sweatpants. I resisted the urge to drop my pants and allow them to worship my massive cock, to kiss and touch my immense thighs and low-hanging orange-sized balls. I am the Alpha Stud, why do I deny them the domination they so desperately crave? “Give them what they want,” Hank whispered to me. “Show ‘em the cock they want to worship.” My heart pounded in my chest. I wanted to escape into the relative privacy of the gym just as much as I wished to tear away the skin-tight sweats hiding my glorious lower body, wrap my thick, powerful hands around the base of my superior cock and bask in my absolute masculinity. They looked up at me, begging me to accept their worship. “Jamal,” Hank began. “It’s not time yet,” I said as much to my would-be worshippers as to Hank. I turned to go inside, but because my shoulders had grown so wide, I had to pass through the doorway sideways. He followed me in. “What that hell was that?” he demanded before I reached the check-in desk. I spun around and stopped, acutely aware of my mass and the considerable weight of my cock as inertia made it want to continue spinning. I scowled. “What was what?” “You can’t keep runnin’ from ‘em, man. It’s not fair.” I looked back at the entrance. Matt followed us in but remained at the glass door, looking out into the street or sidewalk. “Jamal, if you’re gonna be the alpha male of the planet you gotta start actin’ like it.” I sighed and held my tremendous arms out. “I didn’t come here to be ‘the alpha male of the planet.’ I came here to see how heavy and strong I am. Can’t I do that?” “You have no idea how powerful you are just standin’ there,” Hank said. “Look behind you.” I knew what was back there – the front counter and retail area. Beyond that was the famous scale and abdominal equipment, and to the left of the ab area, a large room full of free weights and powerlifting equipment. As I turned to look, I also knew what to expect: complete submission. And that is what I saw. The young kid at the counter stared at me, dumbstruck. Others either fell to the floor where they stood or approached and knelt before me at a respectful distance. I heard Hank approach me from behind. “We need to worship you, man,” Hank said upon reaching my side. “All of us.” He began to kneel. “WAIT!” I said. “Just wait. Right now this is about me.” I started for the scale. “Everything is about you now,” he said. “No, man. Apparently everything is about a bunch of needy, pushy bottoms,” I called back to him without stopping or turning around. Hank said something else but I had tuned him out. I stepped onto the platform and watched the hand swing up and settle on 407. “Fuckin’ massive Alpha Stud,” I said to myself. I looked down and saw that my cock had stretched the now-pre-cum soaked sweats out so far that the shaft of my cock was easily visible even beyond the heavy, thick slabs of my pecs. “I think I’m done with these,” I said as I tore the sweats off and tossed them to the side. The hand dropped down to 403. The scale could measure up to 1,000 pounds, and I absent-mindedly stroked my huge fuck tool and wondered how many days it would take me to max it out. Then I looked up and saw my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling wall mirror and it was immediately clear why everyone without exception pleaded to worship and submit to me on sight. Hank was right – I was becoming a god. Time stopped as I gazed at myself. I was hyper-masculine beyond fantasy. My massive, shredded, striated muscles bulged and flexed with a fluidity that belied their extreme hardness beneath a coat of beautiful black hair that grew especially thick on my chest, arms and legs. Intense waves of power seemed to surge from my phenomenally muscular body into my throbbing cock, which pounded with enough intensity that the hand of the scale’s dial began bouncing in rhythm. My balls, the size of small oranges, hung heavy and low in front of my impossibly muscled, barrel-like thighs. I was so aroused by myself I felt euphoric. Pre-cum began to spurt powerfully from my godlike cock. As magnificent as I was, so unimaginably masculine and virile, my orgasm didn’t really begin to build until I carefully examined my immensely powerful upper body. I was well over three feet wide from basketball delt to basketball delt. My thick, mountainous traps rose nearly to my ears and framed a “neck” that was easily wider than my head. Each pec, huge and square and covered with a perfect pattern of the thickest black hair, was fantastically thick and dense. My insanely huge lats held my massive arms away from my body at enough of an angle to display their tremendous sweep, expanding upward from the boulders of my glutes and broadening to well over three feet to meet my enormous delts. I was far more massive than even the largest of bodybuilders. And I would only grow larger. I threw my arms into the most devastating double biceps pose the world had yet seen and roared to declare my absolute domination over all things. My muscles exploded with unprecedented definition and power as I flexed. I could feel them bulging and pressing together as they competed for space on my six-foot frame, which sent my still-building orgasm past the tipping point. My cum cannon fired at full power, unleashing volley after volley of cum toward the mirrors at the back of the room, which shattered along with every other window within my field of vision. Then I fell silent and listened as broken glass crashed to the floor all around me while my cock continued to unload like a pulsing fire hose. I dropped my arms and grabbed hold of my mammoth cock, squeezing and stroking it, drunk with my own magnificence, and still the orgasm continued, my cum coating the equipment in its path, spraying the rubber mats on the floor, until I bent over and took the head of my own cock into my mouth and sucked with all my might. Finally the flood of cum slowed to its now-continuous trickle and I looked around at my friends and gym members – all kneeling with arms and faces flat on the floor before me or frantically beating their own dicks in awe – all my slaves for the taking. I needed a hole to plow. Although only my powerful hands could provide the intense pressure my cock deserved, they couldn’t give me the satisfaction of knowing that I was stretching someone’s hole to the limit of their endurance. Yet my fuck tool was well over a foot long now and at close to four inches thick at the base, I could think of only one man who could endure being plowed by me without serious injury – a huge Puerto Rican bodybuilder after whom I had lusted for years. At six foot eight and as massively built as he was, I knew his ass could properly worship my cock. The fact that he was straight was irrelevant. “Bring me Carlos,” I said. Next Chapter: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/1757-transformation-part-i-mutation-chapter-seven/