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Hey I’m James, or Jimmy if you know me a long time. People have always underestimated me. Jocks look at me and see a bookish nerd. Nerds look at me and see an oafish jock. But I don’t mind. Being underestimated gives me a huge advantage. I’m intelligent. VERY intelligent. The nerds won’t let me join their study groups, but I manage to outsmart them anyway and I’ve maintained a perfect 4.0 GPA. The jocks see my glasses and look right through me. Until last week, that is. Some of the rugby players were tossing around a frisbee on the quad, and one of them slammed right into me. Okay, I’ll admit, I deliberately stepped in his path because it was time to establish my dominance. It was pretty funny to see the dazed look on his face. He easily weighed 190lbs, and he could flatten most people, but I didn’t budge even an inch. I made sure to pull off my hoody when I went to help him up. He looked at me in my tank top and knew that I outmuscled him by at least 40lbs. I clasped his hand and easily hoisted him up, pulling him in close. He swallowed hard and I could tell he had a newfound respect for me. Yeah, he’s my bitch now. I’d make him do my homework by I’m smarter than him by an order of magnitude, and he knows his place. Mostly, he does my domestic chores, and I’ve told him that by slurping down my alpha loads, he may actually muscle up too. And guess what, I’m smart enough to know how to make that happen.

...And Sometimes, I Find Out My Dad’s a Growing Freak... by vertical -Well, I didn't manage to get him into the basement just yet... there were too many hot things to do with his dad... <<PART 1: Sometimes, I Drink My Dad's Cum... PART 3: ...And Sometimes, I Watch My Dad Go to Work...>> --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I don’t know what was in my dad’s semen that made it so addictive, all I knew was that the more I had the more I craved. That night, Dad had come back with tray after tray after tray of barely passable ‘food.’ If I thought my father would be concerned that his son wasn’t chowing down on chow mien, I’d have been wrong. The great beast ate, practically hoovered, the food in with abandon. Me, I barely ate a plateful, I was too busy silently stroking at myself underneath the table, watching those mountainous arms work, his pecs heave… I had a sneaking suspicion that he was all too happy to be eating the lion’s share. A suspicion I confirmed as I pretended to drop my chopsticks on the ground. “Hehe, leave it, Corey. Just go get a fork,” my dad had said with a gulp. As I bent over I pretended to be just interested in the wooden stick lying on the ground, but I tilted my head just enough to see that my father’s dark slab of meat was out of his shorts, a slow dribble of pre-seed leaking onto the floor. He’d shown it to me, a little too nonchalantly, before he went out, but gods, when it was starting to get hard, it was massive. I had to estimate it to be at least 18”, more than double my erect length, and it wasn’t even fully hard! I quickly shot up with my chopsticks in hand, and sat up straight as an arrow, my eyes staring intently on a piece of beef in front of me. I stole a glance at my dad and his cheeks were rosy, the hulk of a man staring off to the side. I think we both knew what I saw. I suppose I got my politeness from his side of the family – neither of us brought up the incident the rest of the night. I excused myself and decided to take a shower. As I climbed the stairs, I let out a sigh of relief, my hands obscured from my father’s vision. Without prying eyes, I was free to grope at myself, and I could see Dad reaching underneath the table when he thought I couldn’t see him any more. Like father, like son, I suppose. By the time I got to the washroom, my shorts were already down to my ankles, my feel dragging along the ground. As I stepped into the shower, I notice the thick layer of congealed semen right on the shower tile. I knew my father had become so self-absorbed with his new, giant body, but I didn’t think he’d be this negligent. The sheer volume that was still in the shower, it was like he forgot that he had a closeted son. Well, it’s not like he knew what I was about to do next. Without turning the water on, I reach down and scoop up maybe half a handful of the stuff. I couldn’t believe it’s texture, slimy and wet, yet still held itself together. It’d been hours since he was in here and the cum hadn’t dissolved or become watery. I bring my hand to my shaft, my skin reeling with goosepimples as the cold gel slides along my erect 7” length. I slowly whack off, occasionally bending down to scoop up more of my dad’s spunk. I rub it into my chest, feeling up my strong toned pectorals, imagining I had a shelf just like my dad, or maybe even bigger. I rubbed it into my arms, wondering what it’d feel like to have cannons like he did. Despite having came already, I blasted huge gooey loads all over the tile wall of the shower, cum streaking down the wall. Fuck, even his hours-old cum was more substantial than mine. That fact made me bone up painfully, my sensitive cockhead begging me for reprieve. I tried my best to avoid rubbing at it as I cleaned up, kicking the blobs of cum into the drain and hoping it didn’t clog. I dried off and wrapped a towel around my waist. Steam rolled out of the washroom as I opened the door and pause. My dad was walking right past the door, his hulking frame taking up so much space that I couldn’t fully open. He looked at me and I could see him admiring my form, specifically, he looked at the corrugated washboard abs I had forged for myself to attract all the boys; I wouldn’t say I was all that muscular, but they were there. He lingered there, the seams in his shorts audibly straining as he stared. If he thought he could just ogle me without the sentiment being returned, he was wrong. His hands clenched, his knuckles almost white as he tried to control his libido. I tried not to make it too obvious I was admiring the sheer size of his forearms, the sinewy muscle laden with veins that danced as he strained to restrain himself. His pulse quickened, the veins in his biceps throbbing with each heartbeat. His triceps swell with the slightest twitch of his forearms. His broad shoulders filled my field of view. Pectorals that brushed against the bottom of his stubbly chin. “Uh, sorry,” my enormous father grunted, shaking his head, a huge blush on his cheeks. He shuffled past, slowly adjusting his crotch as he ducked into the master bedroom. His massive, bubble-butt bounces with each step, the ground rumbling underneath his bulk. His enormous thighs rub against one another, the thick slabs of muscle touching all the way down to the knees. It’s not long after he disappears inside until I hear grunts coming from inside. Damn horny bastard. I’m fully chubbed at that point, but instead of succumbing to my lust again, I fight the urge to walk in on my father masturbating and make my way back into my own room. I got dressed, a simple t-shirt and a ratty, old pair of boxer-briefs were good enough to lounge and sleep in. However, if I thought I could even think about sleeping with the amount of noise coming from across the hall… I just needed to get away, else I’d be rubbing my cock all night long, thinking about my massive dad. I slipped on a pair of old jeans. I crept my way down the stairs, trying to busy my mind, think of anything else, trying to erase the picture of my dad’s huge junk from my head. I busy myself with cleaning the mess and neglect of our downstairs living space. As I try to ignore the deep, bassy grunts coming from upstairs, I grabbed a garbage bag and tossed canister after empty canister of protein, and empty wrappers of protein bars. As disgusting as it was, I couldn’t help but feel myself tenting my shorts, imagining my father gorging himself, feeding and growing into the beast he had become today. The ceiling above me groaned and protested as my father picked up his pace, small tidbits of popcorn stucco falling to the floor. Jeez, the old man really did forget he wasn’t all alone in the house anymore. I shook my head and continued to collect discarded things. Without Mom around, my dad had let the house fall into neglect; or, a deeper part of me wondered perhaps he was just too into his own body to recognize just how messy he had let the house become. I couldn’t believe the amount of stuff he’d just tossed to the side, perhaps in his haste to stuff even more calorific shakes and protein bars into his face. Ugh, what a pig... A massive, muscular, handsome pig at that. I was pulling things from underneath the couch when... “What the fuck?” I blurted as I felt something... different from the empty packages and containers. It took me a couple tries, slowly rolling it out from underneath the furniture. When the pink tip emerged, I couldn’t help but gasp. I took the tip of it into my hand and pulled it the rest of the way out. A dildo, bright pink and easily in the foot-plus category rested in the palm of my hand. “Jesus fuck, what a pervert,” I exhaled under my breath. I had half a mind to think it may have been my mother’s, but there was no way this thing could ever fit into a woman. The plastic cockhead was larger than my fist. I traced my finger down the ridge of the head, just as I heard my massive father shudder and groan with delight. I felt the ridges of the simulated, pink foreskin pulled back, agonizingly taut. The cacophony upstairs grew to a fevered pitch. My finger glided down the length, thicker than a beer bottle, veins thicker than pencils. My gaze finally rested on the base of the pink behemoth and I shuddered. It was a model where the end flared to simulate ‘balls.’ But that end... was crushed in. I gulped and brought it closer to my face. Just by what, I didn’t know. Was that the impression of my dad’s steely, strong hand? I whimpered, thinking that maybe, just maybe, it was his enormous glutes that had rendered the dildo destroyed. I quickly drop the thing, letting my better senses take hold of me, desperately trying to get my ever-present erection to go away. I kicked the dildo back underneath the sofa, out of sight, still in mind. With the living room mostly cleaned out, I take the full trash bag out towards the garage. Unfortunately, the entrance was through the laundry and I once again found myself face to face with the hamper. Piles of socks unperturbed still laid inside, just ripe and waiting for the plucking. I had to pinch myself to walk past it. I flicked on the lights in the garage and my jaw dropped once again. Surprise after surprise, and yet my reaction didn’t change, though the rest of the house did. I dropped the bag and stumbled my way to the far end of the concrete room. My dad had set up a makeshift gym. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a bench, a barbell and dumbells – the bare minimum. The one thing he did seem to spring for was a full-length mirror running along the edge of the wall. Whether he used that to check his form or to bask in his own hugeness, I didn’t know. I didn’t understand, it was bare bones, and judging from the size of the plates, what my dad was lifting wasn't all that impressive. I took to the set of dumbbells left discarded in the middle of the room. It looked like a pair of 150 pounders that I’ve seen at the campus gym, something the most impressive beasts could lift. But those guys, they still looked human, how could my dad get so huge with just these? Sure, I wouldn’t be able to do anything with those myself, but I could at least lift it up with both hands. I grasp the grip with both my hands and pull up. I knew I could easily deadlift 150 pounds. However, the weight didn’t budge a bit. “What the fuck?” I squealed as I strained, the weight leaving the ground on one end, but I couldn’t manage to get it off the ground completely. The weight crashed to the ground, almost softly, speaking to how pathetic my attempt was. I peered down and tried to read off the weight. “370 pounds, how?” I gulped. I chubbed up at the thought of my dad doing curls with that weight. I read off the smaller print beside it, “Wolfram.” Jesus, it wasn’t iron, but tungsten. I looked at the bench incredulously. If all the weights were made of the stuff, then my dad wasn’t just at the upper echelon of strength, but in a completely different category all his own. I stared into the mirror, looking at my own distorted image. A long dried, yellowing gusher marred half the length of the room. I was a little taken aback, but if I was able to curl 370 pounds, maybe I’d get off on that too. I adjusted myself, pushing the thoughts of my father working out and getting off on himself out of my head. Or at least, I tried to. At first, he was naked in my head, his luscious body hair matted to his bulging muscles and gut. Forcing myself to imagine him with clothes on fared no better. The way the sweat soaked into his tanktop, his broad pecs pushing out so far, the nipples peeked through the sleeves, his hairy gut rippling with muscle underneath the fat pushing through the bottom. The way his giant balls filled the basket of his shorts, the seams straining to contain them all on their own. The beast massaging his... Another wet spot forms in my pants, and once again I came to the thought of my own beast of a dad. I barely had a chance to bask in the afterglow, catching a glimpse of something truly horrific in the mirror; the rack of dumbbells and the bench had obscured it. My car. Or what was left of it. I let out a curse and whine as I rushed over to see the chassis gutted. No doors were left in place, where had they gone? I looked at the ground, feeling an anger bubble in the pit of my stomach. How could he do this? He had ripped the wheels off, leaving them on the axle. Did he work out with these? Did that get him off? This was my car! I vowed. I promised to let this anger fester. I wouldn’t think of my father in dirty terms anymore, not after he did this to my car. I snorted angrily, kicking the ‘tire-barbell’ and making my way back into the house. Little did I know, my resolve would be tested instantly. A rumbling, like thunder comes from upstairs, the floor creaking as my father began to descend down the stairs. I couldn’t let him see me with a rage-boner in my pants. Quickly, before he had a chance to see me, I turned the lights to the laundry off and hid behind the small nook in the room, the musky, cum-rag-sock hamper at the entrance to the room. Enshrouded in darkness, I hoped that my dad wouldn’t see me. The booming footsteps drew near and I held my breath, hoping to go undetected. The looming shadow from the hall darkens the room even more. A large, bowed out sock was tossed into the hamper, an audible squick ringing through the air in the small room, followed by a deep exhalation. “Oh, fuck,” Dad groaned. “Gotta... stop thinking about ‘im like that, Randy,” he coached himself. “But God, those abs... urgh... no he’s... your son...” he growled. An obscured light filtered into the room, my father having flicked the switch in the adjacent powder room on. I could hear an audible groan coming from the hall. It wasn’t like that of the beast my dad had become, but the sound of clothing protesting from being overstretched. A hear a sharp exhale before the stretching sound continued, he was moving between poses. Gathering courage, I inched my way towards the entrance of the room. I nearly had a heart attack when I saw my dad’s hand shoot into view. “Fuck, not again... I’ll... urgh... make this quick,” he grunted lowly, his voice like thunder, yet silky like a fine chocolate. He fished around for a sock in the hamper, lifting one of the ones I had ‘drained,’ the whole thing having crusted over without any liquid in it. I could hear him shake off the cobwebs of dried cum and whimpering as his sensitive flesh brushed against the rough texture of spunk-encrusted cotton. “Mmmmhm,” he hummed darkly, clearly pleased with his self-ministrations. I crept closer, curiosity winning out over fear, my body now half in the light. If he decided to peek his head into the room, he would for sure see me. But, from the lack of attention he’d been taking with the rest of the house, I took my chances. I peeked around the corner, my face barely concealed. My hands instantly shot down to touch myself through the fabric of my pants, my vow of enmity be damned. I massaged the tip of my cock as he massaged his through the sock, gooey bubbles of pre-seed already soaking through the material. His body was massive, thick arms, each larger than my waist and bloated with an intense pump from working himself, piston up and down, the veins running along his bicep coursing with blood. His shoulders and lats rotate and curl, tittering forward and back as he smoothly works at himself, their mass pulling at his tanktop, exposing the bottom of his gut as they tensed. His gargantuan pectorals aid them, the individual fan-like striations writhing underneath his skin. He pushes his arms down, his hands squeezing at the base of his monumental cock, his pecs pushing up, the hairy shelf level with his chin. The muscle-greedy bastard flitted his tongue, getting himself a mouthful of hairy pecs, but he could only moan in approval. It was when my eyes were diverted to his massive ass and thighs when the real show began. I was busy ogling his glutes, hams and quads shifting in tandem as he pistonned his hips forward, thrusting more and more of his epic length into his hands, the basket in his strained briefs bouncing and slapping against his inner thighs and his hands. His unyielding strength seemed to waver, his knees bowing slightly. “Ungh, no!” he hissed. “Not... now... ungh!” His voice grew deeper, bassy like a subwoofer. “Fuuuuuuuck,” he moaned as the veins across his body spasmed in stark relief of his reddening skin. I watched with bated breath as sweat drenched his heavy, masculine brow. He snarled, his canines sharp, almost feral and oozing with primal saliva. A beast in every regard. The freak that was my father exhaled sharply, his body practically steaming as his muscles slowly inched larger. I wouldn’t have believed it if I wasn’t seeing it with my own eyes. I didn’t care, I needed to relieve the pressure in my crotch. I undid the fly of my jeans and let my cock slip out of the band of my underwear, uncaring of the cold teeth of the zipper biting into the sides of my 7 inches of pride. He bared his fang-like canines, his neck blowing out with size, restricting the motion of his head. His traps spasm, his arms temporarily pulled back as the fill with muscle, his ears almost coming into contact with the skin of his back. His shoulders writhed, his deltoids pushing further out, how wide he was becoming I couldn’t tell. The growing beast raised his arms, his giant, sleeved cock bobbing precariously as he worshipped the growing peaks of his biceps. He moaned, wanting desperately to lick those peaks, instead getting a mouthful of deltoids. As for me, well, I got a look at his massive, hairy pits, his lats flaring out at the interface between his back and obliques. “Ungh, fuck, I don’t care if Corey finds out,” my dad growled to himself, his eyes alight with pure, unadulterated muscle-lust. “MORE!” he belted as he brought his now gargantuan arms down, sweat dripping off his titanic triceps and forearms. His lats and pecs push out, forcing his arms slightly outwards even as he squeezed them to his side as best he could. His pectoral shelf spasms, the growing pecmeat forcing his chin upwards. “Yeah, this is... the biggest spurt yet!” he snarled, delight in his tone. “Heya, buddy,” he cooed. Oh shit, had he found me out? His hands roamed down to his abs and a huge, devilish smile crossed his lips. Unlike the rest of him, his gut had stayed relatively the same size, the layer of fat thinning as more and more muscle pushed through. Billowly, blocky abs were now clearly visible, a tortoiseshell to end all others and covered in a dense forest of dark hair. It could maybe be described as a 4-pack if I was being generous; the abs were there but there was still lots of fat. “Unf, haven’t seen you in 20 years,” he chuckled, the muscle and fat on his belly jiggling as he rubbed his fatty abs. The beast gave himself a quick flex in the mirror once more before going at his length again. “You grow too, bud,” he cooed, coaxing at his length. He tilted his head back as his massive mitts encircled around his cock. “YES!” he bellowed. His hands moved methodically up and down, his muscle swelling with blood as he held his cock in a deathgrip. But his shaft won out, pushing his fingers further and further apart. The sock rides up his cock, looking more and more pathetic on his length, now covering less than half of its length. His dick was so thick now, I could make out the pomegranate sized head in sharp relief inside the sock. The girth was so extreme, the elastic was fraying at the neck of the sock, the fabric stretched so thin, I could make out the red, angry skin of his shaft between the woven fibres. His balls audibly gurgled, the insane size of them stretching the band of his shorts to the limit, the snapping of the internal elastics pinging in my ears. They pull up and inject his god-spunk into his system and the musclegod roared in desperate pleasure. The sock bows out, semen leaking out of the toe of the garment like a running faucet. My dad pulled at his length with abandon, slamming the tip of his cock in between the bottom shelf of his heavy pecs, cum gushing out all over his pecs in lazy streams, pooling on the underside before dripping onto his blocky abs. As he continued to cum, he threw his arms down, the hair on the back of his triceps thickening, new patches forming on his shoulders and back. His stubble on his chin grew out into a modestly trimmed beard. Hair spread like wildfire in the canyon of his pectorals and abgut, a treasure trail leading right to his most prized possession. I pressed my back against the wall, out of sight of my behemoth of a father, his hairline, slightly growing back in, now level with the top of the door to the powder room. I looked down at myself, having blown twice in the time my dad had jerked off and orgasmed, my own rod sore and raw from all the abuse I was giving it. “Shit,” my father boomed. “Feels... so good to grow...” he moaned. He sighed and tossed the thoroughly ruined sock into the hamper, stretched out of shape beyond hope. “Ungh, gotta stop thinkin’ of Corey like that,” he mumbled. “Gotta get myself a girlfriend or somethin’, yeah,” he huffed. “Ungh, stupid walls. Why they gotta build these halls so tight?” he snorted. The ground shook as he began to leave. I peeked my head out once again to see my father’s triceps touching each end of the hallways walls, his gloriously enormous ass rolling as he waddled out and back up the stairs. In the dim light I could barely make out his junk as he climbed the stairs, the base clearly visible as the rest of his shaft warped his shorts. I couldn’t even tell if my heart was still beating, but when the coast was clear, I stood over the hamper and looked at the two socks my dad had just deposited. One, filled to the brim with his seed, the other hopelessly destroyed by his new size. My stomach rumbled, having skipped most of dinner. But, I had a nutritious meal right in front of me, piping hot too... As I raised the overwhelmingly filled sock to my lips, I knew what I had to do next. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- <<PART 1: Sometimes, I Drink My Dad's Cum... PART 3: ...And Sometimes, I Watch My Dad Go to Work...>> Maybe, I dunno, maybe this time he'll find out what's in the basement.

Preface Arpeejay once suggested, that growth stories hypothetically could be broken down into a minimalist string of suggestive buzzwords, and leave any plot details out. This story doesn't go entirely that far, but I got my inspiration from that remark, so I want to thank you, Arpeejay. Some of my older stories are still unfinished. If any of my readers have misgivings about their completion, please know, that I hope to, by time, finish them. Neither have I forgotten my promises to some of you: The stories dedicated to you are in the pipeline, but everyday life takes a lot of time. Becoming It was dark when you woke up. Surrounded by utter darkness, you had no idea about the place. Something tight, yet soft and malleable, surrounded you, encapsulating you, like a cocoon. It was hard to remember your own name, and you couldn't remember how you had got there. Your sedated mind clawed in the direction of consciousness, trying to find the words, and then, dimly, you began to realise, that THEY must had taken you captive. You shuddered. No one knew, what happened, when THEY took captives. The missing ones just... disappeared. Who knew, what THEY would do to those, who didn't avoid them or fled? Who knew which unspeakable fate awaited you in this unknown place? Your heart rate began to increase, and fear stirred in your gut. Compared to THEM you felt so weak, and, in your defenceless situation, you felt a raw and naked vulnerability. Your heart continued to beat rapidly, and fear didn't wane entirely, but something else stirred in your belly, and the feeling spread to your loins. The cocoon pressed itself against your bum, and a pleasant pressure was building in your chest. A wave of pleasure spread through your entire body. Then another one. Your hair tingled on your head, and you became aware of, that you now had a very short buzzcut. "Like them", you thought, and fear began to rise again, but another wave of pleasure took the brunt of the dawning terror. The hair on your forearms tingled. A wave of delightful heat rippled through your body, making you relax from your alerted sense of danger, filling you with serene calm... and something else. Power. You swallowed. Something similar to the soreness after lifting heavy things was spreading in your arms and your chest. A pain, but a good sort of pain. The soreness spread to your back, your bum, your belly and your legs, causing a heightened awareness of your physical presence. You were now fully present in the full extension of your body, and acutely aware of every muscle fibre of your's. Another wave of pleasant heat. Your dick awakened. You moaned. A feeling similar to muscle pump spread in your back and chest, your shoulders and arms. The fear was still striking alarm, silently screaming to your reason, that something was wrong. Something was very wrong. You were becoming one of THEM! By which undreamed means it was happening, you couldn't know, nor could you guess THEIR motivation to let you undergo this becoming, but, with growing certainty, you realised, that this was the true nature of the brutal process taking place. For a short moment, you panicked, and your reason was screaming silent words of terror: "No! Not THEM! Not like THEM! I'm an ordinary man. I am myself, not someone else. I didn't ask for this. I abhor this, this..." Your reason rapidly lacked any suitable words, and you realised, that your mental protests gradually lacked conviction. Your body was swiftly becoming less and less your own, and more and more a specimen of THEM, but your reason was loosing the struggle: There was nothing to stop the procedure now, and a newly awakened part of your mind eagerly embraced the becoming. Perhaps, that part of your mind had existed all the time, but slumbered, dormant? It was now awake. Your gut hardened, tightened, and, at a burning, but not exclusively painful, sensation you could feel six perfectly shaped abs become visible. Under them, the sensitive area between the navel and the root of your dick turned into a pair of muscular shields, and an Adonis' belt formed at each side. A wave of pleasure rippled through you again: A wave of empowerment. Your abs grew, and the ravines between them became deeper. The fabric of the cocoon pressed itself against your widening and hardening back, and made you aware of how defined and powerful your Y-shaped back was becoming. Power. You could feel the strength of your legs increase. Quads and hamstrings grew into a size you couldn't have imagined, and your calves turned into an insane size and shape. Brawn. Strength. Power. You moaned again, and your muscle mass convulsed. It felt good. Convulsed. Tensed. Flexed. So big and hard. Look at you! Look at this brutish bruiser! No one would dare to oppose you! You were becoming one of THEM! Fuck, yeah: One of THEM, and THEY will be proud of having someone like you as part of them. The feeling of your veins crawling over your biceps. Over your pecs. Over your legs. The feeling of the visible striation of muscle fibres of your pecs. Of your glutes. You moaned again. Your voice was deeper now. You swallowed. It felt so perfect. It couldn't become better, could it? So heavy. So present. The ability to lift. The ability to crush. The ability to force. So heavy. So powerful. It was then the becoming intensified. Wave after wave of increasing power rippled through every atom of your powerfully built body. The jugular vein of your bull neck pulsated, and your traps became like a ridge of granite. You could feel how you were growing taller, and how your shoulders grew wider and wider apart. Your muscle mass was increasing even faster, turning you into a titan of massive brawn. The process was running its course uncontrollably and unstoppably, but you had no reason to control or stop it. No, no reason at all. Testosterone filled your veins, your sweat. Molten steel ran in your bloodstream and was building up in your nuts. You roared in uncontrolled masculine ecstacy, while your muscle fibres excelled in hyperplasia and hypertrophy, your brain and your mind drowning in male hormones. Most women would probably have found your level of muscularity disgustingly exaggerated now, but if anyone would have told you, you would have shrugged it off: You revelled in your strength and stature, not for the sake of appealing to women, but in order to show your male brothers your POWER. Your own weight, the unyielding hardness of your flesh and the overwhelming intensity of the becoming filled your mind, when the process reached its maximum. You ripped the cocoon apart and began to cum at the same time, revealing your sweat-soaked and tanned physique to the watching crowds of THEM, who were watching you approvingly, giving you well-deserved admiring looks. With a roar, and flexing the deadly weapons, which were your newfound muscles, you asserted yourself in your new pack.

I am honoured by your kind words. I believe, that you recently also read one of the most troubling chapters I have ever written: I got writer's cramp and was struck, and hasn't yet found the ability to write a continuation to that one. Becoming, the story in this thread, is – comparatively speaking – less dark than some of the matter, I have written. And yes, you are correct in your assumption, that English is not my native tongue. My contradictory and idiosyncratic style of English was unintentionally and randomly forged out of schoolbooks ("Pat will drink tea, after some gardening. This is a dog. Big Ben is a clock. It is raining. The gentle-man will use an umbrella. Um-brella."), children's TV programmes from the BBC and ITV (I loved "Children of the Stones" and "Catweazle"), American cartoons, British punk rock lyrics, American action films, William Shakespeare, John Donne, William Blake, Book of Common Prayer, British indie-pop lyrics from abt. 1990 (It was impossible to escape it, even if you tried), John Locke, David Hume and Karl Popper, American punk rock lyrics, doctoral theses from the 1880s until today, Welsh nationalist Neo-Pagans in the late Enlightenment Era, "Midsomer Murders" and crime novels by Dorothy L. Sayers. And Lord of the Rings, by Tolkien. This foreigner's version of English must look slightly weird, to a reader who speak it on a daily basis, since I lack an Anglo-native's ear for stylistic difference. I probably mix "high" and "low", British and American, Elizabethan English and leetspeak, unintentionally. That said, I find it incredibly fun to play and toy with the English language. It is much easier to learn than German, French or Latin. The mix of West-Germanic, Romance and North-Germanic influences makes it very malleable and fun to play with: "He had reached the apex of the tor, and was looking out from the uppermost hill-plateau. Rain began to fall, and the pluvial outpouring was soon causing his descent from The How to become slippery and uncomfortable, as he followed the path downwards. He recollected, that the building at the hilltop was one hundred years old, and the memory of the centenary caused his thoughts to wander, at the same time as his physical legs were simultaneously peregrinating in an ambulatory way." English is so FUN!

Home of the Gods Part Six by F_R_Eaky Part One: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13486-home-of-the-gods-part-one-by-f_r_eaky/ Part Two: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13487-home-of-the-gods-part-two-by-f_r_eaky/ Part Three: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13490-home-of-the-gods-part-three-by-f_r_eaky/ Part Four: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13502-home-of-the-gods-part-four-by-f_r_eaky/ Part Five: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13527-home-of-the-gods-part-five-by-f_r_eaky/ Part Six: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/14012-home-of-the-gods-part-six-by-f_r_eaky/ Part Seven: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/14350-home-of-the-gods-part-seven-by-f-r_eaky/ In the morning Fabian looked quite the site. His feet having grown and ripped out of his tennis shoes, it was known he wouldn't fit into any of his other shoes, especially his very form fitting bicycling shoes for hobby and work. Thus the morning's part of the day's deliveries were done with Fabian in his courier uniform, but with his feet being in just a pair of socks and a pair of Reid's size 17 flip flops - now only seven sizes too big for Fabian's feet, but the same feet are 4.5 sizes too large for the shoes Fabian owns. A bit of a hassle and exceptionally cold in the winter for his feet, but something inside Fabian kind of liked how his bigger feet looked in Reid's flip flops, especially when thinking how small they originally looked when the shoes were eleven and half sizes too large. A quick stop off during lunch to the bank and a shoe store and soon Fabian was cruising the streets in new size 10 bicycle shoes and a pair of sneakers for at home in his back pack. It was after his last delivery, and after he ran by a local Mexican restaurant to pick up two orders for dinner for him and Reid, yet another attack of the friends of Gabriel took place. Turning to ride down an alley between some apartments and a basket ball court, Fabian was suddenly yanked off his bicycle and thrown into the court. Shaking his head to recover from the throw and thus fall, Fabian looked up to view his attacker and looked up and up and up. It was the seven foot tall DeWayne who now straddled over the body of Fabian. Without wasting a moment, DeWayne picked up Fabian by his clothes and then slammed him, his back into a basketball pole and hoop. Taking the straps of the backpack Fabian wore and attaching them together, DeWayne had Fabian attached to the post. DeWayne then start lobbing basketballs at Fabian, alternating between making a hoop and letting it come down on Fabian's head or throwing them straight at Fabian's head or stomach. There were a couple of balls that made contact before Fabian began to shake the fog from his head and realize what was going on. He then began to raise his hands and bap the balls away from hitting his face or stomach. It wasn't too much longer before Fabian's mind was clear enough to realize what a lame trap this was as he just had to slip his arms out from his backpack shoulder straps to be free. "Oh no you don't!" Screamed DeWayne and he rushed toward Fabian. Fabian stood up with his hands up in a boxing like stance and bounced as though he was willing to take DeWayne on. DeWayne laughed at this sight and upon reaching Fabian went right into a swing to punch Fabian in the face, exactly what Fabian was expecting. Fabian dropped to his knees just before DeWayne's fist would have made contact, which caused DeWayne to punch the metallic pole supporting the basketball hoop. Clang! "YEEEEEOW! MOTHER FUCK! YOU'RE DEAD!" As DeWayne was shaking off the pain from his knuckles, Fabian unhooked and grabbed his backpack and his bicycle as he ran off the basketball court. As this was a frequently used route home, Fabian knew many of the people who lived in the brownstones, condos, or apartment buildings adjacent to the alleyway. Knowing he wouldn't be able to peddle as fast as he normally could, still clutching his stomach from the gut punch, Fabian opened a back gate of a building and tenants he knew well and semi flung his bike in there, able to pick it up later. He then proceeded to head through some open and garden plots on the way home. Sure enough, DeWayne was hot on his heels as the two were running and running. Through one fence line, Fabian ran through, turned and kicked a board to the right sending it across the bottom of the opening. DeWayne thinking Fabian had slowed down, believed he had a chance to catch him. No. Not seeing the board in time, DeWayne's decent sized feet and ankles hooked and tripped over the board with him unawares, sending him sprawling to the ground, which in this particular case happened to be a beautifully herringbone patterned brick walkway. "AUGH! YOU MIDGET SHIT!" bellowed DeWayne after he fell flat faced onto the walkway. Fabian didn't waste a moment and continued through the plot he managed to get to the out the yard and started running down the alleyway to get to another plot he knew, but he was suddenly tripped up by a flung garbage can lid. DeWayne had recovered faster than expected and having found some old can lids began throwing them frisbee style at Fabian. The first one managing to clip Fabian at calves and ankles. "Who the hell still has those style garbage cans?" Thought Fabian as he tried to recover his step. Knowing through the next fence break there was the back of a potting shed and on the side a small crack that only people as lithe and as small as him could squeeze through. It would buy him time. He ran through the break, grabbed a string he knew was secured on the other side, turned to see when DeWayne was coming and WHAM! Fabian went flying backwards into the back brick wall of the potting shed. Collapsing to the ground he looked up to see the looming form of DeWayne just behind the fence. He wheezed and coughed all while desperately trying to hold on to the string he had detached from the fence. DeWayne went off on a little self gloating rant like it was some major feat that his seven foot tall body could out run and catch up to Fabian's five foot two one. Eventually he bowed his head under the fences top frame to come through the space and finish Fabian off. Of course he lead with his head and then had to dip and twist to get his tall and broad frame through the small fence gap. One in that first position, bleary-eyed Fabian let go of the string and CLUNK! down came an 8 foot long 2 x 4 onto the back of DeWayne's head. The affect was instant. DeWayne's eyes rolled to the back of his head, his body went slack and down he went, falling more through the gap and forward his head and shoulders landing right at Fabian's groin area. Fabian lurched forward and swore he was going to hurl everything from today's lunch back to last week's breakfast. His vision became filled with black spots as the pain to his groin and testicles overwhelmed him completely. His ragged breathing from the ab smacking and the accidental groin head shot, Fabian pushed at DeWayne and pulled himself as best he could struggling to get his groin and legs out from under the mega-man. As he continued his slow struggle the slow and low sound of drums beating in rhythm began to be heard. The snow underneath the pair of men began to melt away and puddle in this slightly dipped section of the yard. Soon it began to become so warm wisps of steam was rising from the ground and the same thing was happening in the basin of a bird bath to the right of the two fallen men. The chanting then began to be heard loud and clear. " Ke'atutel'luga... Ke'atutel'luga... Ke'atutel'luga... Ke'atutel'luga... Ke'atutel'luga... Ke'atutel'luga” Right at the moment that Fabian managed to break free from the heavy body of the unconscious DeWayne, the tiny solar powered fountain in the birdbath tilted and began to act as if it was a power-hose connected to both a power station and a dam, spraying jets of water on the top of Fabian's head. Fabian attempted to walk, more like stagger, the new few blocks to his home. Racked with pain he could hardly focus and his head being overwhelmed with the sound of the drums and chanting didn't help. He eventually made it home, in twice the amount of time required, still breathing a little heavily, hurting in his stomach, and shaking cold from being wet. Bumbling through the apartment complex door, he poured himself into the elevator and road it up to his floor. It was a bit of work attempting to stand and work the key and lock of the door and he nearly fell in when it opened. Closing the door he stumbled towards the kitchen. He hoped to get a glass of water and maybe some alka-seltzer, something to calm his stomach. That's when it hit him. The chantting and drumming became louder, but Fabian no longer could hear it. The was this odd noise filling his ears like the sound of breaking twigs, and every time he heard it, his body was racked with pain. "Auuuugh!" His left hand shot for the refrigerator handle, while his right reached out for the center island. After steadying himself, he tried to focus, do some deep breathing to calm himself down, but his heart leapt up into his throat. His shoes were becoming tight. The brand new shoes that he bought this afternoon were beginning to become so snug they were cutting off circulation to his feet. He'd hear the sound of snapping twigs and then he'd feel the rip of fabric and leather. He saw his finger tips extend further into the center of the table, he felt the space between the refrigerator handle and its door become smaller. He felt his toes poking through his shoe front, his heel ripping out the back, the sides of his feet causing the shoe sides to roll over and below the sole eventually ripping and separating from the shoe. He began to feel his hand engulfing the refrigerator handle and taking up the whole space between, his knuckles getting pressed into the door....denting the door! Looking down, he saw his feet extend and extend and extend. He screamed to his self in his head "My feet are becoming skis!" He watched as they grew and grew taking over one whole square foot tile and begin to work fully on the next. He was about actually scream and cry out, with tears streaming down his cheeks when his arms, legs, and torso suddenly lurched and stretched after the twig snapping sound. "WuuuuuAAAAAAUUUGH!" Clinging for dear life to the island and the refrigerator he began to notice the fridge top was coming closer to him. "Oh, no.... no... no no no no no no no no no......" He cried in fear and panic as his vision rose up higher and higher until he knew the top of his head matched the top of the fridge. Looking at this he began to become slightly aroused. The refrigerator is like 5' 7" tall. He's grown 5 inches! He's reaching average height! The pain and stretching returned and as Fabian went into automatic denial mode, still spewing no's out of his mouth, he noticed that the top of the fridge was falling away...lower....lower..... The no's faded to silence. He pulled the door open and grabbed a can of soda. It looked so tiny in his hands. Damn near miniscule. He stood there looking, mouth agape, gasping, sputtering, and as he looked back straight ahead he discovered the top of the fridge met him about the height of his chin. He moaned... "Oh, yeeeessssssssss. ... .... ... Oh yes. .... ... ... " It started again. Twig snapping, stretching, fridge top sinking. He felt the cuffs on his sleeves travelling up, further up his arm: to mid forearm, to elbows. He felt the cargo shorts bottom travel from his knees up his thighs. His courier's form fitting, under armor style, unitard, uniform began to stretch and stretch pulling tighter and tighter against his body, pulling his extra fine body hair as it tried to move and travel up Fabian's body like his cargo shorts did. He watched as the top of the fridge eventually became level with his shoulders, like it did with Reid. His groin became warm. His cock inflated a little. He felt the unitard pull tighter and stretch out more from his expanding cock. "Ooooooh yessssssssss." moaned Fabian and he saw the fridge top sink even lower and lower. He felt runs develop in the tight fabric, allowing more air to pass freely to his body. His ankles had snapped the top portion of his shoes that had still desperately tried to cling on. His cargo shorts were binding at the crotch, becoming stretched by his larger, but tight and taut ass. The top of the fridge dropped to his arm pits..... "Ooooh yes... Yes!.... YES!" It shrunk down to his another few inches under the arm pit. His cargo shorts were ripping at the crotch, busting at the waist band, splitting down the seams, while his courier uniform now actually developed true rips and tears in the fabric. And the fridge top went down....down....down.....middle of his abs...... "OOOOh GOD YEAH!" The clothes ripped their last and fell away from Fabian. The top of the refrigerator now only came up to his waist line or maybe down to the belly button. The can in his hand looked the size of a miniature sample cup to him. There was maybe two to three feet left between the top of his head and the ceiling. He felt so good all over... so big...so powerful.... his cock sprung to life and grew and grew and grew to its full length and heft, having kept proportion to his now much larger body. "YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES!" He didn't know why he suddenly felt so good about this....but he did. "Fabe? Is that you hollering out here?" Reid came out into the kitchen from his bedroom, wondering what the commotion was all about. Coming through the kitchen door he stopped and froze looking at the giant in front of him. "Oh....my.....gawd....." Reid approached the towering Fabian now. He only came up midway on Fabian's abdominals. Dumstruck, Reid reached out and grabbed the mighty erect schlong quivering and bobbing in front of him. It felt like a baseball bat. Feeling the touch, Fabian looked down and down and down at Reid. Seeing where Reid came up to on him, seeing how his cock looked like the full length of one's of Reid's arms. How Reid's finger might possibly not be able to wrap around it. He saw how his feet were just a few inches shy of covering two floor tiles in the bathroom. "Oh...yes." And suddenly Reid lifted the humongous head of Fabian's cock to his mouth and began to make love to it and suck on it as if there was really going to be no tomorrow. Fabian snapped his head back, placed his feet shoulder width apart, pushing the island counter a bit further to his right, placed his hands on his hips as if in a great super hero pose and moaned loud and deep. "Yessssssssss. YES! YES!" His big bass voice booming across the apartment rattling all the windows, many of the light fixtures, scaring neighbor doors, and causing many folks to bang and tell Reid and Fabian to turn down their t.v. or radio. Reid attempted to reach out and fondle Fabian's balls, but so long was Fabian's cock, that with the head in Reid's mouth, the best that Reid could do was lightly brush them with his fingertips. This only heightened the experience for both men: Reid feeling like he was stroking some small pumpkins with Fabian feeling light, silky, tickling touches on the underside of his scrotum. Several times did Fabian's cock bounce, almost lifting Reid up off the floor. Eventually Fabian pulled his cock away, knocked Reid backwards and around with a swift poke of it into Reid's left shoulder, and then suddenly a pick up by his cock of Reid, thrusting through Reid's legs and underneath his crotch. Reid slid all the way down to the base, his back resting against the hard brick wall abs of Fabian's stomach. With a simple barked order of, "STROKE!", Reid began to take his massive hands and run them up and down the more gargantuan schlong of Fabian. Several times Fabian staggered round the apartment, dancing on curled tip toes as he moaned and groaned to the pleasure Reid was providing him. Eventually Fabian burst through the bathroom door just in time scream in ecstasy, buck his hips as he fell to his knees, his cock swelling that much larger as his melon sized balls pulled in and up into his body and a nearly geyser like gusher of spoo, spooled out of him and shot across the bathroom, hitting the far wall and splattering across the shower wall, the stall, the tub, the curtains, the faucets, everything. Reid turning to look at the sunken Fabian, his mind finally catching up to what has happened to his friend, his lover, he soon joined Fabian in action and shot his biggest load yet to date onto Fabian's abs and chest.

Sometimes I Drink My Dad’s Cum… by vertical -Just my riff on the perennial favourite of a college guy coming home to his massive father... PART 2: ...And Sometimes, I Find Out My Dad's a Growing Freak... >> --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I hadn’t seen my parents all year. Going to college halfway across the country will do that, I guess. It’s not like I didn’t have an opportunity to, it’s just… eh, I wasn’t too attached to my folks, I suppose? The thought of spending my Thanksgivings and Christmases with them over the ‘self-exploration’ I was doing at the time… And by self-exploration, I do mean throwing myself to the meat-market and getting my hands on any sausage I could get. I considered myself a fairly attractive fellow, jet black hair, sharp facial features and a strong, almost-athletic body from playing varsity in high school. It also didn’t hurt that the guys I’ve bedded couldn’t get enough of the 7” of heat I was packing, whether I was the top or the bottom. Course, I did have a type, I’d shack up with just about any cute dude, whether he be a twink, hunk or a bear. But my ‘type’, well, for me, size was my prize. A guy hairier, taller, more hung and way more massive, that was my kind of man. I’d gotten myself a few, my favourite of course being the football team’s starting middle linebacker; I’d let him rush me down and mow me over any day of the week. I at least had the decency to be embarrassed about it now. I loved my parents, but had yet to come out to them. Dad was your typical 50-something, loved to watch football at one point in his life, probably loved Mom passionately at one point in his life, and subsequently lost all motivation once I was born. I’d never say he was a bad dad, but he was the comes-home-from-his-blue-collar-job-and-drinks-a-beer-while-lazing-on-the-couch kind of guy. And it showed, he’d gotten portly over the years. Mom was more animated, she took care of the house, she took care of me growing up. If I had to say it, I’d say I got most of my good looks from her side of the family. I realize that not coming home for the holidays, or calling my parents or just about any semblance of keeping in contact with my family may have come to bite me in the ass. I spoke with Dad on the phone about picking me up at the airport last week. He said ‘yes,’ his voice unusually gravelly, maybe annoyed. And lo and behold, I’m waiting at the arrivals terminal, my two bags of my belongings in tow. Fifteen minutes late, I was okay, sure they were just running late, gosh the traffic must be horrendous. An hour, okay, hehe, well maybe the traffic was really bad. But three hours late? Well, maybe it was my just desserts. I didn’t have the most money in the world, but maybe I could get the folks to reimburse me for the cab. I stare out the window of the cab as we pull into the driveway of my house. The memories coming back, how Mom and Dad would tend to their garden, they always grew flowers. Looking at the lawn, it was surprisingly bare, by May it was always a spectacle of colour. Maybe they were pinching pennies this year, after all, they chipped in quite a bit to send me off to college. I pay the cabby with credit, sending a silent prayer skywards that Mom or Dad would take the hit for me later. My driver nods to me as he helps me take out my bags from the trunk. As he pulls out of the driveway to the house, I realize that Dad’s car was there, but Mom’s wasn’t. Shit, they must’ve been out to get me. I pick up my phone and call Dad, waiting for the call to go through. Nothing. I call Mom, but the it doesn’t go through. Ugh, I hope they can forgive me. It’s then that I realize that my old car is gone. Well, double shit, they must’ve sold it off. That lessened the guilt. I fumbled through my pocket for my copy of the key to the house, hoping at least that stayed the same. As the mechanism clicks, I sigh a little in relief. However, as I pull my bags into the house, I notice something off. My mother always ran a tight ship, everything always spick and spam, even after she had you, she went right back to work and still did all the chores. But, from the looks of it, the living room was in disrepair, cups and bottles of some sort of drink strewn across the coffee table. Gross. I walked towards the kitchen, disgusted by the similar amounts of discarded bottles. Curious, I pick one up. Gainer shakes? What the heck did my parents need these for, neither was underweight… I look around some more, accidentally stumbling against what looked like an empty tub of what must’ve been whey protein. That’s when I hear something coming from the basement. The door was ajar and as I neared, I could hear the rhythmic noise of metal against metal. We had a weight set down there, was someone using it? I could hear someone, or something snarling. “Hello? Mom? Dad?” I called out. I hear the clanking stop and suddenly a loud thud. I felt the ground shake and I wondered just how much weight was being tossed around down there. But the ground didn’t stop trembling. I felt heavy plods making their way up the stairs. As it grew nearer, the floor began to rumble and I could hear the cups and empty bottles rattling in the living room behind me. I gulp as I could make out heavy breathing, the sound deep and sonorous. I was not prepared for the beast of a man that emerged from the door. I felt myself freeze in place, the only thing my body did was send blood to my lower head as I trained my eyes on the veritable god in front of me. My dad. The last time I saw him, he was around my height. He stood at a respectable 5’8”, just short enough for me to be eye level with his receding hairline. His body would’ve looked frail if not for the generous amount of fat padding his arms and midsection. But the monster of a man before me stood at least a good 7 or so inches taller than me, eyes level with his heavily stubbled, masculine chin. The beast was wearing nothing but a white wifebeater and baby blue workout shorts. Both were painted on and slicked with his sweat, both practically translucent. Those shorts did nothing to hide the prodigious bulge contained within the basket of his shorts, the band slightly distended forward, a dense forest of dark pubes peeking through. And that description was without how amazingly muscular his physique had become. His hands were gnarled with veins that ran up his forearms, slabs of muscle in stark contrast to the network of vessels dancing across their surface in a dizzying display. His upper arms were corded with giant boulders. His biceps swollen with mass, along with his triceps, were so bloated with power they were thicker than my waist. His shoulders, slick with sweat and reddened from all the blood pulsing through them, were so wide that he had to turn to his side as he ducked through the doorway and out into the hall. The air practically steamed off his hairy, immense pectorals, the slabs of meat rising and falling with each breath, the forest of hair swaying with each heavy exhale from his nostrils. Below the enormous canyon between his behemothian pectorals was a thick gut, swollen with muscle and fat, offering his build the look of a seasoned powerlifter. My eyes were immediately drawn to his basket, plastered tight to his package. His balls alone more than filled the crotch. I could easily make out the huge log of meat. He had pushed it to the side, the shaft in stark relief against his leg. His thighs were thick, though less defined than his arms, ample pockets of fat deposited to his inner thigh obscured the striations. Though the heads of the quads were clearly visible. Diamond hard calves stuck out of his legs, his giant feet encased in shoes larger than I had ever seen. I looked up to see his face filled with concern. His eyes dart to the stovetop. “Aw, geez, 4:32,” he whimpered, his voice deep and booming. “What time was I supposed to pick you up, Corey?” He raises a hand up to rub the back of his neck, the motion causing a thick, pert nipple to reveal itself from behind the fabric of his sweat-soaked shirt. The bottom of the shirt lifted up to reveal his hairy gut, ripples of hard, dense muscle lied underneath, their relief muted by the ample fat. “Noon… Dad,” I gulped back. Despite his almost… feral good looks, the man still held the gentle nature I’d known him for. “Aw, shucks,” the beast of a man huffed. “I’m real sorry, kiddo.” He closed the gap and wrapped those enormous arms around me in a tight hug. I felt lightheaded, his grip was so powerful. As was his musk. I got a whiff of his overwhelmingly masculine scent as he crushed me to his torso, my nose buried in between his thick pectorals. I almost cried in protest, but my mouth was filled with body hair the moment I parted my lips. “I missed you so much,” he cooed. I could feel my whole world shaking as he chuckled lightly. I struggled to bring my arms around him, my hand accidentally brushing up against his massive prick as I lifted my hands up and around his waist. Gods, I had to resist the urge to linger with my hand there. How could one man, no less my own father, have become this… this titan? “I missed you too, Dad,” I coughed, the combined effect of his manly aroma and the strength at which he was crushing me with had left me short of breath. He got the message and eased up, letting me crane my neck up to see his dark eyes almost melting into mine. Despite becoming a mountain of a man, I could sense the pride in that look. That he was prouder that I was his son than of the body of a god he had managed to build for himself. I just hoped he didn’t feel the boner poking out of my own crotch. “Ugh, I'm sorry, Corey, I completely lost track of time… you know, work stuff,” he apologized, his eyes open and honest, if a bit nervous. He coughs and releases me. I quickly turn to my side as to hide the 7” of embarrassment in my jeans. He makes his way to the kitchen and grunts. He bends over to get something out of the pantry, the muscles in his ass and hamstrings flaring. It was the first time I got a good look at his back as well, the crevasses and landscape rippling as he moved even in the slightest. He pulled out a whole tub of protein and began to unscrew the lid, the muscles in his forearms dancing. I gave him an incredulous look. “Dad… you install refrigerators,” I said. I watched him pause, and he chuckled. “How’d you, you know, get so big?” I ask nervously. I see my dad pause, as if holding his breath. I wonder if he hadn’t planned for this possibility, or maybe he forgot. He turns slightly to me, his broad chin barely peeking over traps that were almost up to his ears. He sighs as he removes the protective lining, a wisp of powder wafting in the air. “Well,” he starts. He takes a huge, empty shaker and gives it a whiff, his nose scrunching a little bit. He turns around and washes the insides and I get another look at the massive amounts of muscle of his back work in harmony. “Late October I threw my back after a long day at work,” he chuckled, struggling to reach back and touch the small of his back. “Your mother took me to the doctor an’ they gave me an injection, hydrocortisone they claimed. Over the next few days I felt better than ever.” He rolled his massive shoulders and I watched his muscled back writhe. “Didn’t think it’d do this to me!” he boomed jovially. He shook the water out of the bottle and made his way to the fridge. “Can you imagine your pops at over 400 pounds?” he rumbled, tilting his head to side and flashing me a devilishly handsome smile. Jesus, 400 pounds. I felt myself instantly chub up. I stepped back into the living room and found an empty spot on the couch, kicking empty bottles of gainer shakes out of the way. I had to hide the raging boner in my pants, tugging at the bottom of my shirt to drape over my crotch. My dad, gods, he was a monster! He began to mix an almost absurd amount of whey powder into what looked like milk. I couldn’t tell as he went down a line of half open cannisters, dumping chalky white powders into the mix, resulting in something resembling a shake, but with noticeable lumps. I reeled in disgust as he brought the concoction to his lips. His Adam’s apple protruded from his corded neck as he began to guzzle the slurry down, visible chunks of undissolved powder interspersed. The greedy beast was too impatient to mix the shake properly. I also couldn’t help but notice that as his gut protruded slightly from all the liquid he’s ingesting, his package began to stir, the dark tip of his cockhead poking slightly through the top band of his shorts. He quickly adjusts himself, the beast gulping and flashing me a little look, maybe hoping I didn’t see him do that. “How is Mom taking all of this, hehe?” I ask nervously. Immediately, my dad’s face drops. He slowly puts the empty shaker bottle down and begins to prepare another. His eyes droop slightly as he goes through the motions. “Your mom… left,” he replies glumly. He mixes more milk with his powders and gave them a quick shake. He began to chug greedily once more, his Adam’s apple bobbing, the beast rubbing his distended stomach as he fed. His cock lurched from within the confines of his shorts as he gorged himself. It would’ve been enough to get me to start stroking myself, however, the news was setting in. “Excuse me?” I blurted incredulously. My boner was slowly going away but still present enough that I couldn’t stand up from the couch. “What do you mean she left?” I stammered. “Why didn’t you tell me?” My dad put the shaker in his hand down and took a step forward, the space between the kitchen and living room suddenly small, almost claustrophobic. “Corey, please… let me explain. We didn’t want to worry you with school and everything.” The giant loomed over me before making room on the couch beside me, taking up two seats. The seat I was sitting on rises an inch or so from his immense weight. “Your mother left for a lot of reasons,” he sighed. “After the injection, I started getting larger. Ahem, everywhere.” Without inhibition, he flips the band of his shorts down. My eyes bug out when what quite possibly was the largest cock in the world flopped out. It was huge, I knew that, but in the open it was even bigger. Thick as a log of salami, it seemingly grew an inch in length once free from its cotton confines. “Jesus, Dad, okay, I would’ve believed you,” I yelped. “Yeah, but now you know the extent,” he chuckled, melancholic in tone. “In the beginning it was pretty awesome.” He looked down and began to stuff the sausage back into its casing. “We… uh… ahem, we were having a great time. Until maybe Thanksgiving, it started being a hassle. By New Year’s she couldn’t take it any more. And I started getting a little too horny for her.” He sighed as he played with the giant piece of meat through his shorts. “I quit my job, couldn’t focus.” “You quit?” I said incredulously. “I… I got complaints because of indecency. I got canned in February,” he admitted, a blush crossing his cheeks. “Your mother left me after that. Said she couldn’t support me to just jerk off all day long.” I could see the tears welling in the corner of my dad’s eyes. “She’s right you know, I couldn’t control myself, had to… still hafta jerk off couple of times a day. Blessin’ and a curse this thing here is.” “Shit, dad. Let me talk to her,” I whimpered. “No, she changed her phone an’ everything. Up and left and couldn’t figure out how to contact her. She wanted nothing from me and nothing to do with me,” he grumbled. “How… Mom’s not supporting you, you lost your job, how are you supporting yourself?” I asked. “I… um, set up an office downstairs. Working from home now,” he replied. Once again, he motioned to rub the back of his neck, inadvertently giving me quite the display of muscle. “It’s uh, rather expensive equipment, I’d rather you not play around in there, okay?” I just nodded, and he tousled my hair before standing up, causing the weight of the couch to shift again. “I’m going to go take a shower,” he announced as he made his way up the stairs, the wooden frame protesting underneath. “Why don’t you go get unpacked and I’ll go out and get us some dinner, champ?” he asked, a gentle smile on his face. I give him a curt nod and he disappears up the stairs. I move like a zombie, my world going numb as I drag my luggage up the stairs. I could hear the water running and the rhythmic squelching sound of flesh on flesh. I cursed under my breath as I felt myself chubbing up once again, but I pressed on into my room. As I closed the door, a loud roar emanated from the washroom. I think the old man forgot I was here already, having been by himself for so long. I largely ignore the loud wailing coming from the bathroom and busy myself in dusting off my furniture, putting away my clothes and changing my sheets. It would’ve been a nice time to recollect memories, if not for the sexbeast beating off in the shower. Ungh, it. Keeps. Getting. BIGGER! I sat down on my bed, adjusting my erection so that it didn’t pinch. I figured it’d be something I’d have to do a lot of nowadays. I picked up the picture of me with my parents. As hot as my dad had become… I realized all too late that I missed us as a family. I began to death spiral in my thoughts, putting the blame on myself on not coming back for Thanksgiving, thinking I could’ve saved my family, kept Mom from leaving… I must’ve been reminiscing for a while, because Dad knocked on the door before peeping his head in. He was still a bit wet, his t-shirt looking like it was meant to fit him maybe a couple months ago, his shorts fared no better, his bulging assets always on lewd display. I put the picture down, but he catches me looking at it. “I miss her too,” he admitted, a little pain in his voice. “It’s all my fault, Corey.” “No, she chose to leave you… us, I guess,” I laughed. I wiped away the tears and stood up. “C’mon, Dad, you better go pick up some dinner, I haven’t eaten all day thanks to you forgetting to pick me up at the airport.” “Oof, please don’t hold that above my head forever, kiddo,” he chuckles. The warmth was bittersweet. I’ve never really connected with Dad like I am now, it was just a shame it was in the ashes of what became of our family. As I pretend to push him out of the room, I hear his stomach growl. “Heh, maybe I’m not the only one who’s hungry. I bet it takes a lot to feed that body of yours, stud,” I said. I fucking wanted to hang myself, calling my own dad ‘stud.’ Shit, hopefully he thought nothing of it, but from the way he was starting to tent his shorts… “Okay, okay…” he rumbled, grabbing his keys as we made it to the landing. “How’s Chinese sound for tonight?” “Yeah, sounds great,” I replied. As he left, I almost slumped to the ground. I grasped at my length through my jeans and groaned. I knew it was perverse, thinking about my own father like this. But gods, he was perfection. I sat myself on the couch and laid back, thinking of how much he weighed, how he could shift this whole damn sofa cushion just by sitting on it. How he mashed my face into his pecs. I don’t even manage to get my pants down before I’m blowing a load into my underwear. “Shit,” I whimpered. I step out of my jeans and pull my briefs down, my 7” member slick with my gooey payload. I use my briefs to wipe off the rest of my spunk. Sighing, I make my way to the laundry to toss my jeans and underwear into the washer. I noticed a very… distinct pile of clothes in a hamper by the washer and dryer. It was just filled with socks. Curious, I put my hand into the hamper and instantly recoil when I feel something cold and wet. “Jesus, no…” I gasped. I gingerly pick up a sock in the hamper, old and grey. It was sopping wet, a trail of oozing, viscous liquid trailing from the end as I lifted it. “Oh shit,” I whined. All of these socks… Oh fuck. My eyes go wide and my mouth curls into a grimace when I realize Dad wasn’t kidding when he said he had to relieve his urges at least a few times a day. I drop the sock back into the hamper. Looking at my fingers, I realize there’s a filmy residue of my dad’s spunk on my fingers leftover. I… I couldn’t help myself. He was the hottest thing on the planet, I just needed to know… I brought my index finger to my mouth. I wish I hadn’t. The taste was something else, salty, almost meaty. I needed more. I lapped up the rest of the seed on my fingers and whined when there was none left. My cock throbbed with need, recently spent but reenergized from licking up my Dad’s semen. I regretted what I did next before I even did it. I grabbed at the sock I had just thrown back into the hamper and brought it above my head. I opened my mouth and wrung the sock out with a twist, squeezing out my father’s tasty sperm. I moaned as I gobbled up his delicious seed, craving more. After getting as much of it as I could, I grabbed at another and did the same. In my head I knew this was fucked up, but I couldn’t stop, it tasted so good. My cock bobbed and lurched and before long I was blowing a huge wad of my own cum right into the hamper, adding my own meagre offering to the pool. I tossed my jeans and underwear into the washer and walked away, trying to sort my head out. I couldn’t believe I had just done that. But my lust still clouded my thoughts, I still savoured that flavour, craved it. I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to get it straight from the source... --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- PART 2: ...And Sometimes, I Find Out My Dad's a Growing Freak... >> Wonder what's in the basement...

I'm late to this party but I want to use this forum to thank Hialmar for his insanely descriptive, detailed, thorough and visceral writing. This is my favorite of his but all of his are great. I don't know if English is your second language, but you have a mastery of it. Lines like this: For a short moment, you panicked, and your reason was screaming silent words of terror: "No! Not THEM! Not like THEM! I'm an ordinary man ... you realised, that your mental protests gradually lacked conviction" show the mental balance of the character. The fear but excitement. You also do an awesome job moving between the physical transformation and the psychological one. I've tried to center my stories on balancing this, on trying to show that as the character gains muscle (and in my stories anyway, "superpowers") he also changes mentally, coming to terms with who he is becoming. Sort of rising above the mortal he once was or something like that and revelling in it as he evolves. These lines really show that well: Really great writing, bro. I think it's tough to pull off something that balances the physical transformation with the psychological one and to do it clearly and also build up the intensity and excitement in the reader just as the character himself is experiencing it. I hope you find this encouraging because your stories really are top-notch. Thanks for sharing.

Chapter Four "BRING FORTH THE BEING KNOWN AS SKELETOR" boomed the Supreme Dalek as Skeletor was brought before him "KNEEL, KNEEL BEFORE THE SUPREME DALEK" chorused the Daleks pushing him forwards. As Skeletor did, he said "I beg an audience with the Supreme Dalek and propose an alliance" "YOU PROPOSE AN ALLIANCE? WHY SHOULD WE, WE ARE THE SUPREME BEINGS OF THE UNIVERSE!" "Indeed, o mighty Supreme Dalek" Skeletor added bowing deeply, "however there is one more supreme than you. He calls himself He-Man and declares himself to be the most powerful being in the universe!" "THAT STATEMENT IS NOT POSSIBLE" boomed the Supreme Dalek, "SHOW ME THIS BEING!" The Dalek behind Skeletor projected out one of its arms and rested it on Skeletor's head and instantly a hologram of He-Man appeared "THIS BEING MEASURES 1.95 EARTH METRES TALL, AND 145 EARTH KILOGRAMS HEAVY" the Supreme Dalek announced, "BASED ON LOCAL GRAVITY, BEING CANNOT BE AS POWERFUL AS YOU SUGGEST" "He once moved our planet's moon out of it's orbit" replied Skeletor and with that the hologram showed the feat of strength "NEW ORDERS!" declared the Supreme Dalek, "THIS HE-MAN REPRESENTS A THREAT TO DALEK SUPREMACY, HE MUST BE EXTERMINATED" As every Dalek present repeated the last word, Skeletor chuckled to himself. There was no way that He-Man would be able to survive and he would be free to claim the secrets of Greyskull and become ruler of all Eternia.

How he dominates and stuff.Showing off o eveyone.

Jeff stared nervously down at the watch on his bulging forearm- he could feel the band becoming increasingly tight on his wrist. They had warned him that the timing of his next dose was critical, too early and the formula would back-fire, causing a complete reversion to his previously skinny-weak self, while taking it even a fraction of a second too late and he could possibly go into what they had called "over-growth"- a completely uncontrollable state in which the formula, now unregulated, would run wild through his system causing massive and unpredictable increases. Of everything. Feeling his already constricted shorts begin to strain even more, he smiled to himself as he watched the seconds tick by...

(deleted by the author)

Trade - Part 2 Here's the continuation of Will's story. My goal was to have more happen in the same amount of words and I think I accomplished that. Hopefully you'll enjoy some slightly more risque scenes this time. I have quite a bit more planned, so if you have any feedback let me know. __________________________________________________________________ I spent more time then I'm willing to admit admiring my new beard in the mirror. I poked and prodded my face and head, but I had no clue how this had happened. I went back to my bed to see if there was any trace of my hair, but there was nothing. Things can't just disappear, it's not scientifically possible. Still not able to wrap my head around my current situation, Tom popped into my thoughts again. Could he know something about what's going on? I picked my cellphone off my cabinet and unplugged it from it's charger. After flipping through my contacts for a second, I found Tom's entry and pressed dial. The phone rang and rang but there was no answer. Eventually it went to his voicemail. "Hi, you've reached Tom Grovellen. Please leave a m-" I hung up before the voicemail finished and tried again. One again there was no answer. I tried thinking of something to say that wouldn't make me sound crazy but I eventually decided not to leave a message and instead try again later. With my one lead put on hold I was now back at square one, confused. Weird things might be happening to me but time waits for no man. I reluctantly head back to the washroom to get ready for my weekend. I soon found that many daily activities are apparently much different with my new beard. My shower felt strange to say the least. The sensation of water running down my suddenly bald head was strangely nice. I quickly and awkwardly washed my beard for the first time before I finished showering. Getting dressed, my beard would get in my way and get caught and pulled from random movements. When I ate my breakfast I would sometimes end up with a mouth full of hair instead of food. While each of these instances were an annoyance, I let out a small smile each time since it was also a large reminder that I now had the beard of my dreams. I'm sure I'll get the hang of it eventually. After breakfast I gathered my gym supplies and headed for my car. Most of my weekend was open, but Saturday mornings were reserved for going to the gym. I'm not the most dedicated gym goer, but I recently made it a resolution for myself to get back into shape. I missed my last two sessions though, so I'll really have to make this one count. The drive into town was quick and like usual I arrive at the gym before the rush. I'm not a fan of crowds so early morning workouts like this are ideal for me. I walk into the gym and nod at the receptionist at the front desk. The young guy looks at me but before saying anything to me he gets a somewhat puzzled expression on his face. I guess he wasn't stuck between guessing if he recognized me or not. I don't blame him. I walk past and head to the men's locker room to get changed. Like the gym itself, the lockers are mostly empty. I place my gym back on the bench behind me, open up a nearby locker and begin getting changed. I begin by taking off my shirt. As soon as my shirt covers my head I feel something jab me in the stomach. "I'd recognize that fat stomach anywhere. So Willy finally decided to come back to the gym," A nearby voice calls out mockingly. I quickly pull my shirt the rest of the way off me to see who it is, but I can already guess. I look towards where the voice came from and see a man. He's wearing a white tank top and a pair of black gym shorts. He's shorter than me and stands at about 5'7" but he's more ripped than I've ever been and he knows it. My suspicions are dead on, I know him. His name is Carl and he's one of if not the cockiest people at the gym. Whenever he sees me at the gym, for whatever reason, he always ends up coming over and personally picking on me. His tanned pecs push against the fabric of his shirt as he stands there. Even with how much I dislike the guy, I can't help but admire how much effort he must have put into his time at the gym. He has a smirk on his face as if he caught me trying to be sneaky or something. He's holding a hand out with a finger extended, presumably what poked me, and flexing his bicep. "O-oh, you're not-" Carl begins once he sees my face. He leans towards me and squints, "Wait, yes you are! You are Willy, right? You look totally different than the last time I saw you, but I can tell. Were you wearing a wig this whole time or something?" He shoots off a barrage of questions as he stares at my head, grinning once more. "First of all it's just Will. Secondly, it's none of your business." I say as I turn back towards my gym back and continue getting changed. "Come on Willy, I haven't seen you in weeks and this is how you treat me?" I ignore him. Once I'm finished getting dressed I push my things into my locker and walk out of the locker room with Carl right behind me. I decide to start with free weights and head towards the back mirror wall of the gym. I pick up a pair of 30 pound dumbbells. "Woah there big guy! Don't overdo it and hurt yourself," Carl says sarcastically. He moves down the weight rack and picks up the 80 pound dumbbells. "I guess I'll stick around for a warm up." I try to focus on the weights, but I can see Carl staring at me in the mirror. In an effort to leave Carl behind, I put my weights back and quickly head for the treadmills. I don't look back but a few seconds later I hear the clang of weights hitting the rack. Damn, he's still following me. I set myself up at the nearest treadmill and begin a slow jog. Out of the corner of my eye I see Carl walk up to the machine directly to my right. Within seconds he's started sprinting. "What are you doing Willy? My dead grandmother can go faster than you!" I only grunt in reply. I don't want to give him the satisfaction of a genuine reaction, but inside I'm boiling with anger. "You can't get a body like this by doing the wimpy stuff you're doing." Carl says, continuing to pester me. I finally let a grimace show on my face for a second, but a second is all he needs. Seeing his actions taking root, he kicks his harassment up a notch. "I know you want to look like me, everyone does. Unfortunately for a fatass like you that's never-" "Hey!" A deep and imposing voice interrupts Carl. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Surprised, both Carl and I stop our treadmills and turn around to see a large man glaring at Carl. He was wearing what must be an XXL t-shirt, but filled it out with a physique that was somewhere between powerlifter and bodybuilder. His face was heavily stubbled. The sides of his head are shaved and he has a sort of messy faux hawk hairstyle. His arms are heavily tattooed and he has a generally menacing air to him. He walks closer towards me but keeps his eyes on Carl. "You alright?" The stranger asks me. Before I can respond Carl interjects, "Don't worry man, we're just having some fun" "Really? It didn't look or sound like it to me." The stranger says, crossing his arms. "Now why don't you leave this man alone?" He adds, waving an arm as if to shoo Carl away. "Ha! Fine. Get saved like the princess you are. See you around Willy." I watch Carl scoffs and head off to another section of the gym. I let out a deep breath I didn't know I was holding and turn towards my savior. "That guy seems like a total dick." The stranger says. His expression softens and he extends a hand. "I'm Frank. Don't listen to anything that guy was saying. Anyone brave enough to better themselves without hurting others is good in my books." I take his rough calloused hand in mine and shake it. "Thanks for that. I'm Will." I can feel Frank's raw strength through the handshake alone. "Does that guy bother you often?" Frank asks. "Carl? Pretty much every time I see him," I say, nodding my head. "Although, I bet if I looked half as tough as you he'd leave me alone." "Maybe, but I'd like to believe that you'd be able to handle it yourself if you stand your ground. Most gymrat bullies can't handle confrontation." "I... I guess I get what your saying. Still, I'd gladly trade a bit of this fat and trade it for some muscle." I say, grabbing my stomach and jiggling it a bit. "If that's how you feel then you better start getting serious about working out." Frank says decisively. I hang my head slightly. "Could- would you- can-" I struggle to find the courage to ask for help. I take a deep breath, look Frank straight in the eyes, and try again. "Would you mind partnering with for the rest of my workout? I could really use the encouragement and I'm a bit afraid Carl will come back." Frank responds with a single nod and says, "Don't expect me to go easy on you though." I spend the next hour going through the hardest workout of my life. Thanks to Frank's frequent words of confidence I make it through without giving up. Between sets Frank and I get to know each other a bit more. Frank is apparently transitioning from being a full-time strongman to a first time bodybuilder. "Lifting heavy stuff is fun and all, but I want to see what I can really look like, y'know?" Frank explains passionately. I only somewhat understand what he's talking about, but the amount of emotion he displays on the subject really cements his desires to me. I eventually reach the end of my workout and thank Frank. "Honestly Frank, thank you. You're really inspiring me to do my best." I say. The words keep spewing out of my mouth. "I know that sounds cheesy, but it's true." "Don't worry about it," He says with a shrug. "I just moved to town a few days ago, so having someone to talk to is nice. Actually, why don't we exchange numbers? If you ever want to workout together again, give me a call." I agree and we swap info. "I've got a bit to go for my own workout, so I guess I'll see you later." Frank smiles and offers a fist which I gladly bump with my own. He then heads back through the gym as I turn towards the lockers. At my locker I grab my towel and walk towards the showers. The showers are my least favorite part of the gym. The showers are completely open with little to no privacy for the patrons, not that most people seem to care. This is, however, just another reason I like to come early to the gym. Usually, by the time I'm done my workout the majority of people have just begun theirs, leaving the showers free. Today however, it seems like I went a bit over my usual time working out with Frank. Men are lined under the shower heads on the walls leaving only the standalone shower-towers in the center. I get undressed and hang my clothes and towel on a nearby rack. I try to soap up and clean off as quickly as I can, but I notice someone behind me getting undressed. A tanned and heavily muscled body walks into my view and stops at the shower station next to mine. "Fancy meeting you here Willy." Fuck. I try to ignore the fact that Carl is standing in the nude beside me and I say nothing. Instead, I just continue to wash off. "What? Speechless over my perfect body?" Carl says, attempting to goad me into making a reaction. He flexes his arms and bounces his pecs slightly, taunting me. Carl begins soaping himself up. I peer over at him at just the wrong time to see him soaping up his dick. He sees me look over at him. "Oh, you like this?" He says quiet enough for only me to hear. Discreetly, he grabs his dick and waves it at me. I can't help myself and look directly at it. It's big, at least nine inches and thick too. "And this is just when it's soft." I quickly jerk my eyes away. I can feel my cheeks grow hot from embarrassment. I can't believe I just checked out another man's junk. I sense Carl move closer towards me and I feel a small flare of pain on my dick. "Ow, shit!" I yelp, bending over in pain. He just flicked my dick! A few men turn to see what the cause of the exclamation was. "Nothing to see here folks, just keep moving" Carl attempts his best cop impression and turns back to me. In a quiet voice once again, he says, "Is that all of little Willy? No wonder you were staring, mines at least double the size!" Carl laughs. I'd like to say I'm a grower, but that would be a lie. I'm four inches on a good day, with maybe an added half inch hard. Carl's comments finally become too much for me to contain. "If I could add half the size of that dick and didn't have some of this excess weight I'd probably not be in this mess." I whisper under my breath. I begin mentally preparing myself for some quick retorts. "What'd you just say?" Carl asks. He heard me, but not the words I said. I immediately regret saying anything. "Nothing," I murmur. Sorry Frank, maybe I'll stand up for myself next time. Before Carl can press me further, I finish my shower, grab my things and speed walk back to my locker. I hastily get changed, but before leaving I go to one of the weighing scales. It's become a sort of end of workout ritual for me to weigh myself. It's a number I can grasp that directly corresponds with my progress. When I last checked I was at 221 pounds. I stepped on the scale. 223. Dammit! I gained two pounds. I guess I really do need to lay off the beers and junk food a bit harder. Disheartened by my encounters with Carl and learning I gained a few pounds, I slinked to my car and headed home. On my way home I stopped at the supermarket to get groceries. I made a conscious effort to get healthier food, but couldn't stop myself from grabbing a few beers as well. Once I made it home, I could feel the effects of my workout with Frank. I was sore all over and didn't want to move any more. After I put my groceries away, I sink into the couch in front of my TV and took out my cellphone. I scrolled through my contacts. Seeing Tom and Frank's numbers I smiled. I may not be doing great with my health goals but at least I seem to be on a roll making some new friends. I try to phone Tom once again, but still there's no response. This time I leave a message for him to call me back. I scratch my beard. I'm still not used to the sensation. Not wanting to move, I wasted the rest of the day watching dumb reality shows and competitive cooking, anything to distract from my aching muscles. Eventually I got too tired to get up from the couch and go to my bed and instead fell asleep sitting there. That night I had more strange dreams. The first thing I could recall was Frank smiling at me. The next was Carl standing in front of me buck naked. I awoke with a groan. I wasn't feeling as sore as before my sleeping position surely hadn't helped. I felt somewhat bloated but it didn't feel bad. My shirt also felt a bit loose, but maybe that was just because I stretched it by wearing it overnight. I stood up and nearly stumbled forward. My center of balance felt off, I felt lighter than normal. I walked to my washroom where had a mini electric weight scale. Maybe I dehydrated myself last night and lost a bit of water weight or something, I think to myself as I step on the scale. The numbers take a second to calculate but when the result finally shows I'm shocked. 211 pounds. That can't be right, I couldn't have lost 12 pounds overnight. Sure my workout was intense, but this isn't possible. I hop off the scale and lift my shirt only to be shocked once more. My beer belly, which was very prominent yesterday was now just a small hint of fat. Not only that, but my abs were protruding slightly. I didn't just lose weight, I gained muscle. The thought of getting my athletic build back was kind of arousing and my dick began to wake itself up. my crotch felt oddly crowded and when I looked down to inspect it I was greeted by an unfamiliar bulge. Not sure if I could take any more shock, I slowly began to pull my pants down. I gasped, something I seem to be doing a lot of lately. Peering into my pants I could already tell my dick was much bigger than usual. I push my pants the rest of the way and out flops and unfamiliar sight attached to my body, a long and thick dick. A quick estimate puts it at roughly eight inches. Another impossibility. People don't just grow four inches of dick! I shove my newly large member back into my pants and head back to my living room. I begin pacing back and forth trying to recall recent events that could have brought these changes on. My mind races until I remember the words I said to Tom two days ago, "I would absolutely trade my head of hair for that beard." After that was when I had those dreams of him and woke up bald and with a beard that looked just like his. Suddenly the pieces in my mind began to click together. Could what I'm saying be coming true? I suddenly recall similar interactions with both Frank and Carl. I had strange dreams of them too. It had to be connected! There was only one way to find out. I had nothing else to do today so a little experimenting could fit right into my schedule!

Dude Im prety sure thats not how yu spell pyhzeek, um I mean physicue. anyway wuts a Nobel prise? Like a bodybiulding comp?

nice story, now where is that damn cocoon?

Excellent work, many thanks!