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Chapter 1: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/14262-the-librarian/ Chapter 2: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/14459-the-librarian-chapter-2/ Chapter 3: After his encounter with Ron in the gym posing room, Tom's desire for growth was super charged. For the next week his dedication for growth was unfaltering. His intensity in the gym had been elevated and at Ron's insistence, Tom ended his membership at the small 24-hour gym and signed up as a member of the hardcore Flex Plex. At home, Tom purged his kitchen of all the unhealthy and processed food that remained, leaving him with only top notch substances and ingredients. He dove into videos on cooking and nutrition and learned the best methods to make what would normally be tasteless health food appetizing. At work, Tom was operating on a new level of confidence. With this workouts and improving nutrition, he was lively and energetic. Charming and engaging with the visitors to the library, something that Susan picked up on. “Tom, you sure are happy lately, Boss. But I can't blame you. You look great. You are practically walking around with your chest puffed out. And it has become a very noticeable chest. I think you may need to borrow one of my bras soon.” Tom chortled her remark. “I think I've got a ways before that will be necessary. But yes, I've been making some great progress in the gym lately-” “I'll say! Don't think I haven't noticed those polos looking even tighter lately. It looks like you've been shopping at the Baby Gap.” “Oh stop, it is not that tight!” Tom chuckled, replying in defense. “Hey! Hey! I'm not complaining! And truthfully no one else is either. I don't know if you've noticed, but there has been a noticeable increase in the number of women visiting this branch. Word about the city's hottest librarian seems to be getting around.” “Well that's flattering, but I would prefer to see an increase in the number of hunky young men...” “Oh, I would too, Boss! I would too.” Tom had weighed himself at 226 lbs at the end of the week, another staggering jump of 7 solids pounds of muscle, a number that led to another jackoff session in front of the mirror as Tom admired the burgeoning stud that stared back at him. All he had to think of was his growing muscles. How he was setting new PR's on virtually every exercise, growing stronger and stronger. He recalled staring up at the underside of Ron's pecs as he benched 225 lbs for ten reps earlier that evening and how proud he was. Benching two plates on each side for ten was always a measuring stick for the truly strong, and now he was there. Alas, as exciting as the previous week was for Tom, it was the following week that the struggles began. Even with all the effort he had been putting into his workouts, even with all the motivation, he found the weights he was using were no longer increasing. Here or there he had been managing to eek out an extra rep or two with the help of Ron or another regular member of the Flex Plex yelling him on, but the gains were slowing down. At the end of the week Tom had only managed to put on an addition two pounds, up to 228 lbs. At work, the new branch had steadily been gaining patronage as new people became aware of the new facility. Susan was quick to remind Tom that he had a part in that as well. “Boss, I think our wish has come true! Have you even noticed that a few more young men have started to come to the Library? I'm not going to claim to have serviceable gaydar, but I've caught a few of them staring at you, you know.” Tom, shocked, didn't believe her, “Don't tease me, Susan. I've noticed more people coming and so obviously there will be a few more men but I haven't noticed anything.” Susan rolled her eyes and giggled. “I'm serious, Tom. Cripes, sometimes I don't believe you are gay for as unobservant as you are...” While work seemed to be going great, that week his gym progress was nagging on his psyche. His growth had seemingly halted and as weighed himself he found that he had not gained a single pound nor set any personal lifting records that week. “FUCK!” Tom grumbled as he stepped off the scale. Ron winced at the outburst. “Woah, Dude. What's going on?” “I didn't gain a single pound this week.” Ron chuckled as Tom grumbled. “Damn, Bro, you've been bitten hard!” “Bitten hard by what?” “The iron bug! You've got a case of iron fever as hard as anyone I've ever seen.” “I'm just trying to get bigger. I want to get bigger. I NEED to get bigger!” Tom glowered. Ron rose up his hands in defense and smirked, “Easy, big guy! I want you to get bigger too. You are just hitting a plateau. Every lifter hits one eventually. And let's be honest, it's not like you can grow forever. Look in the mirror, dude. You are jacked!” Ron reached out and thwacked Tom's meaty exposed chest with an open hand. Normally this would've send blood to Tom's package but he was so frustrated he hardly noticed. “It's not enough, Ron! I gained seven lbs a couple of weeks ago in six days alone. Now I've only put on 2 or 3 lbs in the two weeks since! What the hell?!” “Heh heh. You really are becoming a meathead, aren't you, buddy?” Ron reached up and ruffled Tom's sweaty hair. Tom turned to glower at the shorter stud but when his eyes saw Ron's handsome smirking face he relaxed. “Sorry, Ron. You're right. Things have just been going so awesome in the gym and at work that I should appreciate this.” “Yeah you should, stud! Hey man, get this. I heard from one of my gay buddies about this certain 'Hot Librarian” at a nearby branch. You wouldn't happen to know anything about this fella, would you??” “Shut up, Ron. Did Susan put you up to this??” “Who the hell is 'Susan'?” Tom huffed and Ron chuckled. “Hell yeah, man. Look at you! Becoming a known asset in this little city, you are. Seems like many people want a taste of some librarian beef.” Ron, looked around, looked at Tom and then lowered his voice, “...And I can't say I blame them!” Ron winked and reached up and quickly tweaked Tom's nipple, sending shudders down his exposed sweaty torso. Tom grinned back down at Ron. “You better not start something you don't want me to finish.” “Haha. Or maybe I do, Tom!” Ron winked. Fuck, Ron really knew how to get Tom's gears churning. “But, hell Ron. Why have I stopped getting bigger. It feels so damn sudden.” “That typically means you need to change up something. Need to give your body a little shock of some sort. Tell you what. Next week we will change up the weights and rep ranges. You might try mixing up your supplements. The trick with muscle growth is to constantly keep your body guessing. Maybe try some weight gainer powders too. Got any?” Tom thought back to the unmarked tubs of what smelled like chocolate protein powder back in the closet at the library. “Yeah, I think I do.” +++++++++ Tom took Ron's advice to heart. The following day once his shift was over, Tom grabbed one of the unmarked black tubs of powder and took it home. He also committed himself to increasing his caloric intake by another 1000 calories. He went to the store and along with his shopping cart full of meats and eggs, stocked up on almonds, natural peanut butter and whole milk. From his internet research he read that these items were great ways to get in additional healthy calories. Tom pulled up to the checkout stall and started loading his food onto the belt. “Did you find everything you were looking for, sir?” the cashier said his rehearsed line. “Yes, thank you,” “Wow, Sir, I can see how you got so buff.” Tom was taken aback as he looked to the cashier, a sturdy, athletic looking high school kid. The kid's strong build seemed to indicate that he was heavy into sports. Tom was briefly at a loss for words as this was the first time a stranger had acknowledged his newly built musculature. The friendly young man added, “I'm trying to pack on some more muscle myself for next football season. I was the backup linebacker last year. Coach told me I need to eat more meat and eggs to put on size. It obviously seems to be working for you.” “Um...thanks. And yes, you gotta follow the old adage, eat big to get big.” Tom puffed out his chest as his confidence grew on the spot. Here was this young stud, looking up to and praising his build. As the teen, Chet, according to his nametag, scanned and rang up his total, he and Tom bantered like two gym bros, sharing their lifting poundages and techniques. Chet was thoroughly impressed that most of Tom's progress has only come in the last couple of months. Tom even found himself giving the young jock some advice on nutrition and lifting! It was all something completely new to Tom. Back in high school he was a beanpole, tall and skinny. He had virtually no experience conversing with a school-age jock in his entire lifetime. Chet rang up the last item and read the total to Tom who whipped out his credit card to pay. “Well, thanks, Chet. It was nice talking to you. Good luck with football.” “Thank you, Sir! As much as you eat I have a feeling I will see you again in here.” Tom thanked the young man and headed to his car, feeling bigger and better than ever. +++++ The following day Tom geared up for an intense leg workout with Ron. Tom dreaded leg days. Being a tall guy, he naturally had an aversion to squatting down low. And Ron, being the hardass trainer that he was, never went easy on Tom. It was good thing in the end and he had been seeing his legs grow like the rest of him, but it was never easy. That morning Tom had made himself a nice homemade gainer shake consisting of whole milk, cottage cheese, natural peanut butter, oatmeal and a scoop of the chocolate protein powder from the unmarked black tub. He topped off the shake with a juicy strawberry to give it a touch of sweetness. As he guzzled down the thick shake, he savored the flavor. The new powder was a nice rich chocolate which went perfectly with the hint of strawberry. Soon after consuming the shake he began to feel a warmth spreading through his body, almost like the feeling he got after drinking a strong nitric-oxide preworkout powder. “Damn, I feel good!” Tom thought to himself. He was feeling so alive and energetic that he debated heading to the gym right then and there, but he knew his workout would be even better with Ron. For the next hour he tried to busy himself with weekend chores, laundry, dishes and paying the bills. But any little task he did seemed to stimulate his body. He almost felt like he was getting a pump just from folding clothes and scrubbing pots. The feeling of blood pulsing through his veins and muscles caused his dick to chub with excitement. It was like his body was on overdrive. Finally, the hour was up and it was time to head to the gym. At the gym, Ron was witnessing what seemed to be an animalistic version of Tom. Tom ferociously attacked the weights with an intensity that the even-keel librarian hadn't really shown before. With every rep he gritted his teeth and roared, sweat pouring down his face. As Tom finished and excruciating set of 25 leg extensions, he flopped out of the machine and fell to the ground, groaning as his quad muscles were bloated with a painful pump. “Damn, bro. What's gotten into you? You are on fire today. I think you've set a PR on every exercise we've done.” Between breaths Tom was able to respond. “I don't know man. I just...I just feel like I have so much energy...my body is buzzing...I just feel...powerful and aggressive.” Tom looked up to Ron and caught his eyes. Ron could practically see a fire in the librarian's pupils. Tom growled to Ron, “...And I like it!” “Haha, big guy. I like it too! You keep working like this and you are going to explode with size. Here let me help you up. Ooof! Damn you are heavy!” Ron grabbed Tom's arm and helped pulled the growing man up onto his wobbly legs. “Woah, easy there! Grab that machine and steady yourself, dude. You better prepare yourself man. You are going to be baby deer for the next of days the way you worked your legs today, fuckin' awesome! Holy shit, man. Pull up those shorts a bit.” Still hanging onto the leg press machine for support, Tom reached down and hiked up the left leg of his shorts. It was then he saw what Ron was seeing. His medialus and lateralis quad muscles were pumped harder and bigger than he had ever seen. New, small veins crisscrossed the pulsing muscle. Ron reached down and poked his vastus medialis as it bulged and threatened to encroach on his kneecap. “Goddamn, Bro! It's like I'm poking granite. Have you always had those veins in your leg muscles?” “Not that I remember, Ron. Jeezus my legs feel so pumped.” Tom straightened his left leg, flexing it harder and his lower quad muscles hardened even further, pushing Ron's pointer finger away. “Damn, Tom. You've got some serious wheel going on here. Hang on I gotta take a pic of this.” “What?! No way, man I'm not like that...” Tom protested. Ron chuckled as he pulled out his phone, “Too bad, man. I'm posting this on my Instagram. If my potential clients see you then I will be getting lots of business soon. Alright, flex that big wheel! Awesome, bro!” Tom returned home and headed straight to the kitchen. As part of his new dedication Tom had been preparing several premade meals when he had time at night. He pulled out three compartmentalized Tupperware containers and scarfed them down within the next 10 minutes. As he sated his hunger he chuckled to himself as he patted his stills sweaty, engorged belly, “Shoot, that was supposed to be three meals worth of food. Now I have to make more.” Tom whipped out his phone and pulled up Ron's Instagram page and sure enough there was his picture with the caption, “My good bro Tom the Librarian got an epic leg day pump today! DM me for training rates!” followed by several hastags including: #legday #squattilyoudrop #datpump #neverskiplegday #nevergiveup and #librarymuscle. The last one making Tom laugh to himself. Tom examined the picture closely and had to admit he'd never seen his legs look that big. He then reached down and pulled up his shorts again and was surprised to see that his huge pump was still there. Ron and Tom only worked out together on the weekends and on Thursday, so for the first half of the following Tom had to workout alone. Everyday Tom would enjoy a meal shake with the mysterious protein powder and every day, even without Ron there, Tom enjoyed the best workouts of his life. The pumps were insane. His joints felt better than ever. Where he was used to feeling little aches and pains, he felt none of that. After after gym session he felt hungrier than ever. He was eating more and more during each meal and was having to prepare nearly twice as much food at nights than what he was used to. But it was worth it. Tom could practically feel himself growing. It was like any pump that he got from the previous workout remained. His swollen muscles never seemed to lose their pump. He felt harder than ever...and so did his cock. Along with the killer workouts his sex drive had ballooned. Tom swore that he had an erection more often then his heavy softie. He found himself making more trips to the bathroom at work to take care of business and relieve some pressure. He hadn't felt this horny since he was a teenager and even then he wasn't sure he as amped up as he was now. With his slowly swelling body, Tom began to notice more and more how little things here and there reminded him of his progress. Simple things like lathering up his face to shave was now slightly more challenging as his plumped biceps impeded him from bending his arms too far. How restocking books seemed to give his delts a good pump. How reaching up to scratch his neck was now more difficult. And the clothes. His clothes were becoming tighter and tighter, something that had not gone unnoticed by Susan. “Boss, you really need to move up a size...it's becoming a bit distracting. You're shirts and pants have gone from fashionably snug to way too small.” Tom glanced at the red, checkered long sleeves covering his arms. They were plastered to his biceps and forearms. The oxford shirt was tight all over and the buttons strained across his pecs. “I guess you're right. I hadn't really noticed how much progress I have made lately,” Tom lied with a smug grin. Susan rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I don't believe that for a second, Mr. Muscles. I admit, you look great, but if you don't get some new clothes soon you are going to burst out of those.” That thought sent a pulse to Tom's cock. “Haha Susan, I've still got to put on a few more pounds before that happens...” As he spoke Tom reached forward to grab a pen at the edge of the desk when a sudden RIIIIPPPPP interrupted the silence. Tom looked over at his shoulder, the seems of this sleeve had torn loose from the shoulder. “SEE!!” Susan shouted. “My goodness, Boss. You are becoming the hulk.” As she spoke, Tom was happy he was sitting at his desk as his cock has shot to full mast. And could it be? Was it possible that it felt like his cock has extended just slightly further down his leg than he remembered? “I guess you're right, Susan. I'll have to hit up the mall this weekend, heh heh.” Tom chuckled happily at his situation. Susan exited the room. Once the coast was clear Tom hurried to the bathroom for another tension relieving jack off session, thinking about how he was literally growing out of his clothes. On Thursday, Tom strutted into Flex Plex and right up to Ron, who gave him a quick once over. “Geez, big guy. Are you wearing a smaller shirt? You look really big today.” With a smug grin, Tom replied. “Nope, just making some awesome gains lately thanks to you!” “I know you have buddy, but I swear you look way bigger than when I saw you last weekend. Shit, dude...” Ron trailed off as he studied Tom's body, which seemed to be stuffed into an excessively tight T-shirt. In the past, as they lifted and pumped, Tom vascularity would increase. But now, even before their workout, Tom's arms were lined with thick, pulsing veins. The duo proceeded to have an epic back workout. For the first time since Tom had known Ron, Ron was rendered speechless as he watched his former protege attack the weights. The formerly quiet and reserved librarian was roaring and yelling as he completed barbell rows, dumbell rows and lat pulldowns, his back pumping and expanding wider and wider. Since this was a hardcore gym, the beastly yelling he was emanating wasn't unusual from the big lifters, but these sounds had never been heard from this new member. By now, Tom was now not only using the same weights as Ron, but was consistently lifting 20 to 30 lbs more than the ripped surfer. “Fuck, man. You are a goddamn beast, dude. You look like you are going to tear out of that shirt,” Ron had commented as they grabbed a drink of water after their last set Tom smirked down at his trainer and almost growled. “I hope I do soon, buddy. Fuck, I just feel so awesome. Like I could just tear down the walls of this place. Like nothing can stop me. The weights have been feeling lighter and lighter. I swear I'm growing by the hour!” Tom punctuated this last statement by bringing his arms up into a double biceps pose, right there in the open gym by the water fountain. Ron had never seen his client pop any sort of muscle pose before with any sort of seriousness. Ron watched as Tom's biceps plumped and hardened. The lump of arm muscle bloated as Tom slowly bent his arms and brought his fists toward his head. With a SNARL Tom reached full flex... RRRRRIIIIIPPPPPPP. Just like the previous day in the office, the sound of tearing fabric was heard. Ron watched aghast as Tom's biceps had torn through the too tight sleeves of his soaked workout T-shirt. “YESSSSSSS” Tom hissed as he flexed and unflexed his burgeoning canons, shreds of fabric hanging from his sleeves. Blood began being redirected to his crotch as his dick plumped excitedly to half mast. “HOLY FUCK, DUDE!” Ron exclaimed. “Those pythons are HUGE! Way bigger than last week. C'mon, bro. We gotta check something...” Ron glanced down at Tom's shorts and noticed the growing bulge. He shook his head, turned and headed to the locker room. “Follow me, dude.” Ron led Tom into the locker room. Tom swaggered as he followed his trainer, noticing just how small that Ron looked. He remembered Ron looking so huge and jacked when they first met a few weeks ago. The guy was still super ripped stud and hot as hell. As he followed Ron he couldn't help but ogle the surfer stud's pert ass, but he couldn't help but grin confidently that it was obviously apparent that he was bigger than Ron. Much bigger. And not simply due to his height advantage. “Alright dude, step up on the scale. You were 227 last Saturday?” “228,” Tom corrected. Tom placed one foot on the scale, then the other and stepped up. With rapt attention the two men stared at the LCD display on the wall. 246 lbs. Ron gasped. Tom just stared at the number. “HOLY FUCK, TOM. That's eighteen pounds in five days!” As Tom processed the number his dick quickly swelled to full mast. At that moment he didn't give a shit if Ron or anybody else noticed the obscene tent in his gym shorts. He was all man. He was a strong, jacked beast. He was the hunky librarian. He was a bodybuilder. “FUCK YEAH,” was all Tom had to say.

Here is Chapter 8. I just want to say how incredible your feedback and reactions to my story have been. Although I've only posted one other story here, I think it's safe to say, I will be writing many more. I'm in the process of writing Chapter 9 now. I think it will be the final chapter but who knows... I hope you enjoy. Chapter 8 I opened my eyes and for a few minutes, had no idea where I was or how long I was passed out. Once I realized where I was, I scrambled out of the bed. I checked the time; close to an hour. “FUCK!” I rushed to make sure everything was back where is should have been. It was at that moment I felt something strange on my back. I want to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. I let out a scream at the sight. The weird feeling on my back was due to the fact my t-shirt had ripped up the back and my bare flesh was completely exposed. But that wasn’t all; my whole body was bursting out of my clothes. Staring at my reflection, I barely recognized the person staring back. I looked absolutely massive. I stepped onto the scale and let out a moan when it displayed 279lb. “Twelve pounds! How could I have gained twelve pounds in less than a hour?” Then it hit me. Bruce’s gear. “H-how could it make me gain so much weight, so fast?” My head was spinning. I knew Bruce had gained a staggering amount of mass but no where near as much as I just did. I looked back at myself in the mirror and inspected my reflection closer. Not only was I twelve pounds heavier, the new mass was quality size. My shoulders were rounder, my arms thicker, my traps higher and my vascularity was off the charts. I grabbed the collar of what remained of my shirt and ripped it off. I gasped at the sight. My waist looked like it went down an inch. Even un-flexed, my abs looked straight out of a comic book. I caressed each granite-hard cobble. I raised my right arm and marvelled at it’s increased size. It looked like the arm of a Mr. Olympia competitor. My heart was pounding in my chest as I stared dumbfounded. I knew there was powerful gear out there but this was like something straight out of science fiction. Maybe it was a combination of my body’s chemistry reacting to Bruce’s gear but at that moment, I really didn’t care. I got lost again in my reflection as I continued to flex and feel my hulking form. Minutes later I snapped out of it and remembered that Mitch was at the gym, alone with that sadistic monster. I rushed to grab my torn shirt and finish cleaning up. I hurried down the hall towards the front door when I passed the office and stopped. I moved towards the tiny fridge and opened it again. With little hesitation, I tossed all the remaining vials into a shopping bag and closed the fridge. Minutes later I was racing back to the gym. --- The look on Bruce’s face terrified Mitch. “What the fuck are you doing?” Mitch yelled. “Sorry old man, but your pumped up body got me going.” He said and licked his lips. Mitch was shocked and confused. “Didn’t know I was gay did you? Well, I usually keep myself under control in public but seeing you bench that last set and flex that awesome chest has me horned up,” Bruce said and rubbed his growing hard-on. “I don’t care if you are gay or not, but what’s makes you think I want to do anything with you?” “I wasn’t asking.” Bruce said and advanced. Mitch landed a powerful right hook to Bruce’s jaw. The sounds of the impact echoed throughout the gym. Bruce however, just shook his head and continued to move forward. Mitch then bent down and drove his massive shoulder into Bruce’s abs. With incredible power, Mitch lifted the massive man off the floor and slammed his body onto the floor. Desperate to subdue the larger man, Mitch started kicking Bruce in the abs and lower back. Each powerful blow by Mitch’s enormous legs caused gut-renching smacking sounds that filled gym. Mitch was setting up for one more kick when Bruce’s hand shot out and caught his foot. Looking up at Mitch, Bruce started to laugh. “You old fucking fag!” Bruce said and applied pressure to Mitch’s ankle causing him to yell out in pain. Still holding Mitch’s ankle, Bruce maneuvered his body so he was now in a kneeling position. He placed his other hand on Mitch’s huge calve and squeezed. Mitch howled in pain. Bruce released his grip on the ankle and grabbed Mitch’s throat. In a display of incredible power, Bruce proceeded to lift Mitch as he himself stood up. With little effort, Bruce now pressed Mitch’s 382lb body over his head like it was a sack of potatoes. He positioned himself so he could see his refection in the gym mirror. “Look at how puny you look up there old man? You feel so light too. FUCK I’m a BEAST!” Bruce said and started to press Mitch up and down. His shoulders exploded with dense, veiny power. “I-I’ll fucking kill you” Mitch yelled. Bruce just laughed “I’m bored of these games. Time for Bruce to get his” he said and slammed Mitch onto the concrete floor. Mitch lay there motionless for a moment. Bruce grabbed both sides of Mitch’s head and hoisted him to his feet. Mitch stumbled but was able to remaining upright. Bruce wrapped one of his obscenely pumped arms around Mitch’s thick waist and placed the other on his back. Mitch struggled to get free but Bruce easily overpowered him. With barely a grunt, Bruce lifted Mitch off the ground and tore his poser off in one fluid motion. Mitch looked at their reflection in the mirror and was terrified at the look that came over Bruce’s face. Mitch let out a yelp as Bruce’s huge, hard cock smacked against his exposed ass. Bruce adjusted his grip on Mitch’s waist and with just the power of one arm, started to manoeuvre Mitch like he was a sex toy. “Look at how fucking massive I am. So HUGE. So POWERFUL” Bruce repeated as he watched his reflection in the mirror. He ran his strong, callused free hand down Mitch’s outrageously muscled back. He then lifted Mitch a foot higher and without hesitation, slide his cock into Mitch’s ass. Mitch screamed in terror and pain as Bruce started to fuck him in mid air. He could feel Bruce’s arm shake as it held and controlled his huge body. Every time Mitch tried to look away from the mirror, Bruce would grab his hair and pull his face back to the mirror. “You need to watch this old man. Watch as the biggest BEAST in the world fucks you!” Bruce growled and continued to plunge his cock into Mitch’s ass. Bruce looked like he was about to cum when there was a load crash near the back of the gym. The giant man dropped Mitch and spun to see Andy standing at the back door which had just been ripped off the hinges. “STOP!” Andy screamed. From the ground, Mitch looked at Andy and let out a terrified yell. Andy was barely recognizable. His buff body was replaced by that of a professional bodybuilder. In his hand, he held six empty syringes. He looked like he was about to collapse but was somehow able to regain his composure. “Leave him alone Bruce!” Andy screamed as his legs stabilized. As the six syringes flooded into his blood stream, he let the powerful sensation wash over him. He was not planning on injecting himself with more of Bruce’s gear but when he saw Mitch being fucked by the demented freak, he knew he didn’t have a choice; Bruce needed to be stopped. Seeing the empty syringes fall to the floor; Bruce realized they from his supply. “What the FUCK have you done?” He screamed. “I found your secret serum Bruce. And in case you haven’t noticed, it has a pretty insane affect on me.” Andy said and raised his arms into a double bicep pose. Instantly, his arms exploded with newfound mass and vascularity. They appeared to surpass 23 inches and visibly grew as Andy relaxed and re-flexed. To most people, the size of Andy’s body would have been truly amazing. To Bruce, who was riding high on his domination of Mitch’s massive body remained unfazed. He was however, enraged that Andy had taken his gear. With a bellow of rage, Bruce started to approach Andy. Andy was ready for Bruce. He ran towards the hulking monster and rammed his shoulder into Bruce’s flexed abs. To both men’s surprise, Bruce went down hard. Andy stood over Bruce’s body and grabbed both sides of his head. With a violent jerking motion, he lifted Bruce off the ground so he was now on his knees. Holding his head with one hand, Andy rammed his knee into Bruces face. The impact echoed throughout the gym. Blood poured from his nose. Andy took a step back and revelled at what he had just done. Bruce still outweighed him by close to one hundred pounds but the increase sense of power flowing through his veins was intoxicating. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror and marvelled at his visibly increasing weight. It looked like something straight out of a cartoon. He could “feel” his weight increasing by the second. “Fuck this juice is incredible. Like it was designed just for me.” Andy said and reached his attention on Bruce. “Stand up” he commanded. Bruce wiped the blood from his nose and stood up, ready to tear Andy in half. He swung his right arm towards Andy’s head but was shocked when his opponent caught his hand in mid-air. Andy quickly applied pressure and smiled as a look of pain appeared on Bruce’s face. With lightening quick speed, Andy moved behind Bruce and wrenched his arm behind his back. Bruce started to pat his elbow with his free hand. With another surge of power, Andy pressed Bruce’s arm higher. “I’m going to FUCKING KILL YOU!” Bruce yelled through gritted teeth. “Not if I kill you first” Andy screamed. He glanced over at Mitch. His once strong, massive lover was still lying on the floor. Tears streamed down his face. Rage filled Andy as he looked back at Bruce’s neck and back. Glancing over his shoulder and seeing his reflection in the mirror caused his cock to involuntarily get hard at the sight. Still much smaller than Bruce, Andy looked downright massive. With a animalistic growl he grabbed Bruce’s pinned forearm with both hands and lifted. Bruce let out an agonizing scream as his 390 plus pound body was lifted a foot off the ground. Andy held the massive beast in the air for a few minutes before letting him drop. Still holding Bruce’s wrist, Andy raised the arm above his head. With one violent jerking motion, yanked Bruce’s arm straight down. There was a load crack that filled the gym as Bruce’s left shoulder was pulled out of it socket. Bruce screamed in pain and fell to one knee. He looked up at Andy and was about to speak when Andy’s knee once again, slammed into his jaw. He fell backwards as a fresh stream of blood started to flow. Andy stood over Bruce, breathing heavy. He bent down and placed his hands under Bruce’s armpits. With barely a grunt, he lifted the limp body into a sitting position. Andy then bend lower and hoisted Bruce over his shoulders. In an astounding display of power even he didn’t know he processed, Andy stood up straight with Bruce draped over his shoulders. His entire body swelled with increased power and mass. Andy positioned his hands across Bruce’s neck and groin and started to apply pressure. Bruce was awaken by the pain and let out a terrifying howl. With one final display of pure power, Andy walked towards a nearby weigh bench. He repositioned his hands and lifted Bruce’s body over his head. His arms shook but he was able to hoist the incredible weight. With a growl, Andy dropped Bruce perpendicular on the bench. Bruce’s back landed right over the padded bench as his legs and arms flopped onto the ground. His dislocated shoulder was at a very unnatural looking angle. “Looks like your shoulder is messed up big guy. Should I do the same to your other arm, or maybe I should rip them off your fucking body all together.” “P-P-Please stop.” Bruce muttered. “What was that? Do you want me to stop? Just like you did that day in the gym? I don’t remember you stopping when you saw me getting hard. You certainly didn’t look like you were going to stop when you were raping Mitch.” Andy screamed. “I’m sorry” Bruce said with tears in his eyes. “Sorry? You pathetic piece of shit!” Andy screamed ”you aren’t sorry.” “I am” Bruce pleaded. Andy wasn’t listening. He was breathing heavy as he stepped closer. He raised his left leg and brought it down on Bruce’s quad who let out a blood-curdling scream. Andy raised his leg again and was about to stomp again when he heard Mitch scream “STOP!” Andy turned to face Mitch, who was now standing. “Andy, STOP! I know you want to kill him but please don’t. Don’t stoop to his level.” Mitch pleaded. “Mitch! What are you saying? Look what he did to you; to me!” “I know Andy, I know but this is not the answer. You can’t kill him; that’s not who you are.” Mitch said and approached Andy. He wrapped his arms around his growing lover and couldn’t help feel Andy’s newfound mass. Andy relaxed and fell into Mitch’s arms. After a few minutes, Mitch released Andy. He kissed him on the lips and said “Look at him Andy. You’ve proven your point. You won. There is no need to inflict more harm.” Andy looked down at Bruce who looked like he was barely conscious. “You’re right.” Andy agreed. “What do we do with him now?” “Help me get him to his truck. He’s on his own from there.” Mitch said. Both men picked Bruce’s body off the bench; he howled in pain as they carried him to the front door. They stuffed him into his truck. Bruce turned to look at Andy and tried to speak. Andy leaned in close and whispered “If I ever see your face again, I will KILL you.” Andy draped his arm around Mitch and the two men went back into the gym. Bruce waited a few minutes before somehow starting the truck, putting it in gear and drove away. He swerved as he slowly drove away. Andy watched from inside the gym as the truck left his view. He turned and looked at Mitch, who was crying. As he approached, Mitch collapsed into Andy’s arms. Cradling him like a baby, Andy carried Mitch’s massive body upstairs. “Everything is going to be ok” Andy said “It’s all over.”

Two Bryan Macleod led Billy and I into what looked like a small meeting room, mostly taken up a large round table and a dozen chairs. A large flat screen TV was the only other notable furnishing in the room. “Take a seat, guys,” Bryan instructed. As I shuffled into my seat, I glanced over at Billy, who still had that same disgruntled expression on his face. Bryan remained standing at the front of the room, and began to address us. “OK, guys, first I’d just like to say a big welcome to the film crew. You already know me as Bryan. I’m also part of the crew you’ll be working with today. We’ve been accepting students from your university for a few years now on placements, and it’s always great to have extra hands to help out. Hopefully you will learn a lot from our camera guys. I understand bodybuilding might not be of much interest to either of you, but we find most students who work with us on our placements end up enjoying soaking up the atmosphere of being at a bodybuilding competition.” I looked over at Billy to see him rolling his eyes in a disapproving manner, before veering my eyes back to Bryan. Big, sexy Bryan with his furry forearms and meaty gym trained chest bulging underneath his brilliantly sloganed t-shirt. Lovely, friendly Bryan, who is clearly gay and quite possibly just as crazily turned on by huge, freaky muscle as I was. Hot, woofy Bryan who was about to unleash a torrent of words which would have me squirming in my seat and cause my face to turn a shade of red akin to a lobster with a sunburn. “Let me tell you a bit about what we do here. We specialise in filming bodybuilding and fitness videos for the Internet. Everything and anything muscle related we film. Training and workout videos, weightlifting contests, and, of course, bodybuilding shows. In addition to filming the actual competitions, we also often shoot some behind the scenes pump room footage. This is what you guys will be helping us out with today. You’ll be helping to film the bodybuilders pump and pose…” Oh fuck! Pump and pose! Two simple words. One epic boner! “…before they head out to the stage. We like to get really close up to the muscle when the bodybuilders are pumping up…” Pant pant pant! “…so our viewers can really see how huge and ripped the bodybuilders are.” FUUUUUUUUCKK!!! Are you TRYING to make me spunk my pants on the spot Bryan?! “We like to give the bodybuilders a little bit of encouragement to hit some poses for the camera, but most of the guys don’t actually need it. They’ll be voluntarily posing themselves. These guys love the camera, they love to flex, and they LOVE to show off how shredded they are.” Estimated time before I splat my pants: 5 seconds!! “Let me warn you both. Some of these guys are not just big. They’re monstrous.” Make that 3 seconds. WOOF FUCKING WOOF!! “You’ll be filming some of the most jacked up, flat out freaky amateur muscle bulls, not just in the State, but in the country.” Oh fuck! Mind = blown! Jacked up?! Awesome! Flat out freaky?! Incredible! Muscle bulls. BULLS?! Bryan Macleod, I want your furry forearmed babies. Now! I had read these kinds of descriptions of bodybuilders on the Internet before, but I didn’t think I’d ever hear anyone say them out loud in person. I couldn’t quite get my head around what was happening. Hearing a person, not just any person, but one as sexy as Bryan, unashamedly talking about muscle, and describing bodybuilders in such an unapologetic and unspeakably hot way was like a revelation. The other thing I loved about Bryan’s descriptions was the fact that when he uttered the words “monstrous” and “flat out freaky” his mouth curled into a small, self satisfied grin; like he was getting some kind of kick out of saying these crazy, alien words to two guys who didn’t look like they had any business or interest in any conversation involving bodybuilders. I tentatively looked over at Billy Horvath, sitting in the chair next to me. The look Billy was giving Bryan was part disdain, part horror, and part utter confusion. As I wondered what the hell might have been going through Billy’s over opinionated mind in that moment, I couldn’t help feel somewhat amused at his expense, which, at least, helped to ease my slight embarrassment just a little. However, when I looked up to see Bryan MacWoofityWoof reaching for the remote control for the television at the front of the room, along with another twinge of panic, I had a strong suspicion my embarrassment was about to return by the bucket load. Bryan addressed Billy and I again. “OK, guys…” Do NOT play one of your videos. “…I thought I’d give you an idea…” Oh God no! PLEASE God no! “…of the kind of thing you’ll be helping to film today.” FUCKING FUCK NO! I can NOT sit here in a room of people, not just people, Billy Hor-fucking-vath people, and watch the kind of indecently pumped muscle freaks that I regularly blow massive creamy loads to! “So, I’m going to play you a video featuring some clips from the last bodybuilding show we helped to film.” If there was ever a moment where I could suddenly develop a superpower of my choice it would have been then. I’d chose the ability to pause time, grab my jacket and get the hell out of that room, leaving Billy to watch Bryan’s video of freakishly shredded muscle bulls pumping and posing their shiny trunks off, and sparing me from my inevitable mortifying embarrassment. I’d take a sneaky detour to the pump room, find that incredibly handsome mass of gorgeously pumped, phenomenally monstrous muscle Blaine Holton, who I’d spotted in the foyer not half an hour before, walk right up to his superhuman sized, beef packed frame, cheekily unzip the jacket of his black tracksuit to reveal a mass of bumpy, bulgy, deliciously thick muscle underneath, tentatively place both hands on those dense balloons of beef hanging from his chest, give them both a firm squeeze, then quickly head to the theatre exit, having no doubt ejaculated in my trousers before my hands even made contact with Blaine’s incredible, otherworldly body, and running as far away from the venue as I could. As Bryan played with the TV remote control and lined up the kind of footage I’d usually only watch alone, in the comfort of my bedroom, and would usually result in my boxer briefs lying in a sticky, crumpled ball in the corner of my bedroom, all the nerves and feelings of anxiety I had experienced in the lead up to the day returned with a vengeance, only this time they’d bought along a few friends, in the form of sheer embarrassment, and plain old fear. I was right back where I was in Professor Walsh’s classroom, nervously putting my seemingly innocent piece of paper with my choices for my work experience placement in the red box on her desk, praying that no one noticed, and thus, suspected why I had been reduced to a bag of nerves. Only this was much, much worse. I felt like the secret I had kept for years was about to be exposed. Worse, it was about to be plastered on a TV screen which I was being forced to watch in the company of others, and there was no escape. All it would take was one glance from Billy or Bryan and I would be rumbled. They would take one look at my nervous, uncomfortable, embarrassed face and, somehow, instantly know that I had a fetish for huge, ripped muscle. My thoughts were interrupted by the inoffensive rock music which made up the soundtrack of the video. This was it. The only escape would be if the video were to miraculously refuse to play, for the TV to suddenly blow a fuse, or for the building’s fire alarm to sound, causing for a quick evacuation. Luckily, Bryan sat down to watch the video with his back to me and Billy, who I refused to look at. I was frozen stiff. If I didn’t look at Billy and if Bryan stayed transfixed on the TV with his back to me, I might just get away with them noticing what a nervous mess I’d turned into. But what about when the video had finished, and Bryan was facing me again? And if watching a video of monstrously huge muscle freaks in the company of others reduced me to a nervous wreck, how was I going to cope when I was standing in an actual pump room, surrounded by real life monstrously huge muscle freaks pumping up their ridiculous sized muscles and flexing mere feet away from me? As my mind suddenly went into sheer panic mode, the image of the most shockingly sized bodybuilder flashed on the screen. The clip was in slow motion, as the freak in question strutted towards the camera, his body a mass of beautifully bronzed, mammoth sized, carved to perfection muscle, bulging, rippling and fighting for space on his torso. With both hands placed on his enormous sized, vein splattered quads, he cranked down into a most muscular, every muscle tightening and locking into place, his eyes tightly shut, and his mouth widened into an outrageously cocky expression, as if he were roaring like an animal. Seeing this image while in the company of others was the single most surreal moment of my life up until that point. I’d watched endless similar clips of bodybuilders before, but for some reason, in this environment, sitting in a room with two other people, it felt like I was watching muscle for the very first time. The sheer shock and surrealism of the situation completely rid me of the panic and nerves which had consumed me not three seconds before. As quickly as the muscle monster who had just completely shook me of all my senses had appeared, he was gone, and replaced by the image of another bodybuilder. This one even bigger and freakier, showing off his otherworldly body by blasting a massive front double bicep with the cheekiest, proudest smile etched across his handsome, All American, clean cut face. One phenomenally huge, alien-like muscle monster after another flashed on the TV screen. As I watched in complete awe and amazement, I suddenly found my mouth curling into a smile, which, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to stop. Not only was I amused at the surrealism of the situation I had found myself in, but I was beginning to get a real buzz from sitting in a room, watching these massive muscle monsters flex and pose, with two people who, to my knowledge, had no idea of the effect these kind of images had on me. My feelings of fear and anxiety had gone, and been replaced by those of excitement and sheer adrenaline. The video switched from clips of bodybuilders on stage, to clips of bodybuilders in a pump room. Close up shots of thick, twitchy pecs, gloriously pumped biceps and deeply carved, six pack abdominals flashed on the screen. Muscle bulls pumped up, beef monsters hit poses into the camera, oil was seen being slapped onto hard, thick muscle, and outrageously shiny, brightly coloured posing trunks lit up the TV screen. As a clip of an impossibly cute, Latino guy with hard, shredded muscle encased in gorgeous, silky skin crunching down into an abs and thighs pose, his cheeks puffed out to the max, before transforming his face into a smug grimace of self satisfaction and effort as he cranked down hard on his tight, peeled midsection, and wriggled his upper body from side to side, I glanced over at Billy Horvath for the first time since the video had started. Since meeting Billy outside the auditorium that morning, his facial expressions had ranged from judgement and disdain, to disgust and disapproval. Now for the first time ever, Billy looked genuinely scared. Gone was the self important, over opinionated, pretentious twat I’d come to loathe in the short few months I’d been in Professor Walsh’s class, and in place, was a lost boy, who looked completely out of his depth, painfully uncomfortable, and more than anything, just plain terrified. This was presumably the first time Billy had ever seen anything like the freaky, hardcore muscle beasts he was being forced to watch. I may not have particularly liked Billy, but that didn’t stop me from feeling sorry for him.

Forced to be bro Coach pushed the button again. Josh's fear didn't fade away. If anything, it increased. But it was now increasingly mixed with something else. A, now familiar, fourth warm wave of heaviness, and yet lightness, spread through his body in a pleasant way, and he became aware of his body in a new way. Heaviness. And yet lightness. He was soaked in the ugly-smelling cold-sweat he had exuded, when he struggled and resisted Coach. It had been to no avail. Coach was bigger than Josh, the sort of man Josh had aspired to become. Now, he found himself strapped to a chair in the locker room, an IV needle inserted in his arm and weird electrode-looking stuff fastened to all his major muscles, and temples even. Coach had probably gone insane, and Josh feared for his life. God knows what unsafe substance Coach allowed to enter Josh's body? And the electronic equipment? Weird ideas by a weird man. Coach pushed the button again. Heaviness. And yet lightness. Body. The terrified incoherent chatter in Josh's mind ran in all directions. He felt dizzy, nauseous. His compression shirt clung to his waist, chest and shoulders in a sticky way. His feet felt heavy inside his trainers, and he could sense the scent of his athletic socks, as they clung to his calves: The honest sweat after a workout, reeking in the locker room. Male sweat. The testimony, that he had done his best, and performed well. Coach pushed the button again. Heaviness. And yet lightness. Body. In a pleasant way. It had happened after the others had already left. Josh had been delayed – on purpose, as he now realised. He knew, that Coach wanted to increase his (and the other members') performance, and some sorts of supplements (not all of them entirely legal) had been part of the routine for some time, now. But this sort of drip-plus-electrodes was something unknown and entirely new, and Josh felt rigid by fear. Side-effects? Consequences? Forced to undergo whatever Coach wanted him to undergo. Coach pushed the button again. Wave. Heaviness. And yet lightness. Body. In a pleasant way. It actually felt rather good. One part of him began to relax. The excitement of another part of him had just begun to increase. He felt so present. Bodily present. In the chair. His arms resting in the armchair. His bum at the seat. Thinking of that, his glutes felt warm, too. Hot and sore, like after a leg workout. Legs. Thinking of that, his quads and hamstrings felt hot and sore, too. Like some pump going on. Which was actually a nice feeling. Coach pushed the button again. Warm. Wave. Heaviness. And yet lightness. Body. In a pleasant way. Relaxed and excited at the same time. Bodily present and resting. All his muscles felt hot, sore and firm. Like after a workout. His socks clung to his calves. Calves felt like concrete blocks now. He was unable to lift his legs. He felt so relaxed, so he couldn't move his back. Hot, sore and firm back. His compression shirt expanded, tight around his widening back, expanding chest and bulging shoulders. The expanse of his back, chest and shoulders defined and limited by the compression shirt – a definition and limit now changing. Moving. Expanding. Redefining former definitions and limits. Hot, sore and firm chest. Hot, sore and firm shoulders: All three parts of his shoulders. Rear, middle and front. Bulging. Bulbous. Hot and sore. Felt good. Coach pushed the button again. Warm. Wave. Heaviness. And yet lightness. Body. Spread. In a pleasant way. Yes, it literally felt good. Why bother? Why worried before? Felt pumped. Felt growing. Felt like a real bruiser taking his medicine. Wow. Bigger than coach now. Biggest. Not so sore any longer. Better. Felt better. Hot and firm body. No: Hot and hard body. So good. Shoulders and traps. Growing in all direction. So good. Huge. Ravine forming between his pecs. Oh, fuck, yes, deeper! Deeper! Continuing between abs. Pain. Good pain. Harder. Harder abs. Narrow waist. Heat in quads. Expanding. Heat in hamstrings. Expanding. Heat. Burning heat in calves. Socks expanding around his calves. Shorts felt uncomfortable. Mostly uncomfortable. One aspect of his shorts felt comfortable: His meat inside the jockstrap. Throbbing inside the jockstrap. Throbbing against his shorts. Big legs. Oh, fuck, his arms, too! HIS ARMS! Coach pushed the button again. Warm. Wave. Heaviness. And yet lightness. Awareness of. Body. Spread. In a pleasant way. He shuddered in the chair now. Shuddered by the power that flowed into him, shuddered by growth, shuddered by the FEELING of it. Fuck yeah! Look at this! Thug brawn! Real bro! Jock power! Not sore. Heat. Heavy and light. And power. This strength. So good. Condition! Changing limits. Expanding all over! Real ace, innit. Wait until I show up at home and show Olivia THIS. And the throbbing python. Impress her. This bro. With bro muscle. No, more: Muscle-god. Felt awesome. Becoming more. Becoming... Oh, fuck, so AWESOME! Like he was built of bowling balls, footballs. Medicine balls. Melons. GRANITE GLOBES! Fuck, look at this! Look at me! LOOK AT ME! Coach pushed the button again. Heat. Wave. Heaviness. And yet lightness. Awareness of. Power. Body. Spread. In a pleasant way. His body spasmed and convulsed in a sweet way now: Yeah, real sweet, innit. How would he be able to think about numbers, figures, stats now? They didn't matter. BIG was what mattered. BIG. BIGGER. HUGE. Steel-hard. More! Yes! More! The heat. The pleasure. The growth. Muscle-god heat. Muscle-god pleasure. Muscle-god growth. It didn't matter, that Coach had a hard-on in his tracksuit bottoms. Look at me, you insignificant shit! Look at this muscle mass! Tremble before me, you bloody wanker! Tremble before this MASS MONSTER! So good. His shorts ripping apart. Unable to resist his ENGORGED quads and POWER hamstrings, letting the throbbing jock out. I'm AWESOME! All body throbbing now. Throbbing of power. Throbbing of growth. Muscle-god power. Muscle-god growth. Wow. The compression shirt. Couldn't take it anymore. Not with THIS back and chest inside! Exploding out of my clothes! Unable to contain me! No limits! UNLIMITED GROWTH! Expanding. HARD! HARDER! INVINCIBLE! These traps! This bull-neck! Love it! The scent. My bro sweat. My jock sweat. My muscle-god sweat. Fuck, yeah, inhale my ultra-testo, fukking tosser. The URGE! More! Need more! Must have more muscle mass! The definition! Unbelievable! These veins! Pump beyond pump. Even better! Bulging all over. Muscle ecstacy! UNLIMITED STRENGTH! Ripping these weak straps apart. Don't stare, dweeb. I will remain in this chair. I will sit on this THRONE OF GAINZ and ABSORB all ultra-gear and all POWER juice you can cram into me. His instincts told him to flex. He flexed. It felt good. Coach looked scared now. It felt good, too. Obey me! NEED MORE!!! Coach pushed the button again. Heat. Wave. Heaviness. And yet lightness. Awareness of. Power. Body. Muscle. Power. Spread. Pleasure. The being, that had been Josh, was now unable to think coherently, even less speak coherently. As it rapidly indurated and spread in all directions it moaned and groaned. Grunted. Roared. Bellowed. It had the power inside it. It embodied power. It was power. It was strength. It was masculinity. It was brawn. It was mass. It grew, gained, bulged and expanded. Its roars and bellows intensified. The scent of sweat and pre-cum was very intense in the locker room, now. Coach pushed the button again. Heat. Wave. Growth. Gainz. Heaviness. And yet lightness. Awareness of. Power. Bulging. Body. Engorged. Muscle. Coach pushed the button again. Power. Spread. Pleasure. Coach pushed the button again. Coach pushed the button again. Power. Oh, fukk, look at me Coach! Pleasure. Power. Uhnnnnn. Pleasure. Uhnnnnnn. Power. Fuck, yes, MORE! Pleasure. Fukk, can't belive... Innit? So... Power. Pleasure. Power. Pleasure. Power. Pleasure. Power. Pleasure. Power! Pleasure! Power!!! Pleasure!!! Power!!!!! Pleasure!!!!! POWER!!!!!!! PLEASURE!!!!!!! POW... Oh, fukk!!!!! Uhh! PLEASURE!!!!!!!! PLEASURE!!!!!!!! PLEASURE!!!!!!!! PLEASU ... Coach pushed the button again.

This is a story I wrote years ago for my "Muscle Addicts Inc" blog. I've been going over it and making a few tweaks here and there and thought I'd share it here as I work on it. It's far from perfect but some of you guys might like it, or parts of it anyway! CHARLIE’S SECRET One My name is Charlie Steatham and I have a secret. It’s not a secret because it’s something I’m ashamed of. On the contrary, it’s something I love having. A part of me I wouldn’t ever want to change. It’s just not the kind of thing that would really be appropriate to tell a person in most given situations, or the kind of thing the majority of people would really understand even if I did. Let me tell you how I came to discover I even had this secret to keep. It was one Saturday afternoon back in England. I was home alone and innocently flicking through a magazine my parents bought weekly, which specialised in, of all things, radio and television listings. I wasn’t really reading it, just half heartedly turning the pages, stopping every now and then to linger on the odd thing which caught my attention, unbeknownst to me that I was about to stumble on to something which would have the strangest, and most incredible effect on me. An effect like nothing had ever had on me before. Something which would lead me to a world I never even knew existed. I remember feeling my eyes physically widening when I first saw the picture, and how it felt like my heart actually stopped beating for just a millisecond of time. Staring at it, I couldn’t quite get my head around what I was seeing, and why it seemed to have me so completely transfixed. Staring up at me from the page, was the most grotesquely muscular man I had ever seen. Every single one of his body parts was enormous. From the neck up he just looked like an ordinary man, he was handsome for sure, with nothing particularly special about his features, except for the fact his skin was a dark bronzed colour with an oily shine, but from the neck down, his whole body was a mass of gigantically huge, almost cartoon-like balloons of hard, smooth, muscle, bulging so much they looked as if they were about to burst. Every muscle was deeply separated, and most had a number of thick, wiry veins running across them. I had seen muscular guys before. Movie stars and athletes with six packs and tight, hard toned bodies, but the man in this image was something else entirely. He didn’t even look like a human being. He looked like a new superior species of the human race. A sick experiment gone wrong. Some kind of otherworldly creature, computer generated for a superhero film. As this monstrously massive muscle freak of nature, completely naked except for a small, shiny, green pouch covering his genitals, his hands resting on the top of his enormously thick legs, biting down on his lower lip and his face contorted into an almost arrogant but hugely proud expression, like he was having a whale of a time simply just possessing that freakishly huge, anatomy chart like body, stared up at me from the pages of this incredibly ordinary magazine in the living room of my parents incredibly ordinary house, I was completely and utterly hypnotised. My heart was pounding, my mind was racing, and for some reason, my penis was rock hard, twitching and pushing against the material of my boxers and jeans which were now struggling to contain it. This thing which had unexpectedly intruded on me from another world seemed to have this incredible hold and power over me, and I had now idea why. It didn’t feel wrong, but I knew that whatever this effect it was having on me was, it definitely wasn’t of the ordinary. After staring at the image for what seemed like hours, I forced myself out of my muscle obsessed trance, and tried to focus my mind on something else, but I couldn’t. My mind had been invaded, and my thoughts completely taken over by the image of that freakishly huge mountain of enormous muscle. I needed to see it again. I took the magazine into my bedroom and lay on my side on the bed, my upper body perched up by my elbow, the magazine next to me, flat on the bed. I flicked through the pages to try and find the image, and when I did, it was like I was seeing it for the first time all over again. I had no idea what was happening to me, all I knew was that in front of me was something so amazing and special. I had never desired anything more than this specimen of extreme muscle mass. This huge, hulking mountain of thick, superhuman muscle with his air of incredible power, extreme arrogance and hyper masculinity was the most beautiful and sexually provocative thing I had ever laid eyes on. I reached for my throbbing hard on, bulging and straining through my jeans, gently squeezed and started tugging. Soon enough I was popping open the buttons of my jeans and my white cotton boxer encased hard on was sticking out. I tugged and wanked, all the time staring at the muscle freak before me. Staring at the huge mounds of croquet ball shaped muscles which popped from his arms and fought for space with his perfectly smooth and insatiably thick chest, which looked like it was made of marble, but had tiny, wiry veins spread across the upper half. Staring at how his deeply carved shoulders ballooned like two watermelons trapped under bronzed tinted skin, which tightly stretched across the enormous, smooth muscle and looked unhealthily thin. Staring at his six beautifully shaped stomach muscles which looked like they had been carved with a knife. Staring at the incredible mass of lines and ripples etched into his tremendously large, hard looking leg muscles, and while staring at this presumably once ordinary sized man who’d built and moulded his entire body to extreme proportions and made himself look like a member of an entirely new, superior species, who looked up at me from my bed with an expression of complete and utter self satisfaction, and his air of incredible power and arrogance, my entire body seemingly shook, the most pleasurable sensation I’d ever had consumed my entire body, I let out a loud groan of ecstasy and my boxers filled up with a wet creamy liquid. Staring at a picture of, who I later found out was one of the top professional American bodybuilders of the time, hitting a most muscular pose on stage at a bodybuilding competition in probably the best condition of his career, I’d masturbated and made myself cum for the first time in my life. From that moment on, I’ve been completely obsessed with huge, freaky muscle. Nothing turns me on more than the image of competition ready, monstrously muscular, indecently shredded bodybuilders who live and breathe for being huge, who love nothing more than to climb into small, brightly coloured posing trunks, made of the shiniest material imaginable, and to stand in front of a camera, or an audience, and flex, tense and squeeze their cartoonishly big, deliciously carved, deeply separated balloons of thick, hardcore muscle mass, looking both impossibly beautiful and inhumanly grotesque in equal measures, loving every single moment of showing off their phenomenally built, superhero-worthy, circus sideshow freak-like bodies. As one can imagine, it’s a fantasy that stubbornly stays at that; a fantasy. How many ripped and peeled competitive bodybuilders sporting biceps bigger than the size of the average man’s head do you see walking round your local supermarket? None. And how many jacked and shredded muscle freaks one week away from competing at their fourth bodybuilding show of the year do you see on a Friday night at the local pub? Absolutely zero. Of course, there have been some very rare, and exceptionally brilliant moments where I’ve encountered fairly big guys sporting some pretty decently sized muscle, one or two of whom could have easily stepped onto a bodybuilding stage at some point, at various places, and of course, those moments will probably be forever etched into my memory, but for the most part, genuinely huge muscle guys, and certainly bodybuilders like the one in the magazine I found all those years ago, and the ones I have spent countless hours watching and viewing ever since, still remain an extremely elusive and rare breed. The world of extreme bodybuilding is an exceptionally small one, to which I have no ties or belonging to. Except for finding the courage to attend a bodybuilding show which I’ve yet to do, it’s a world I didn’t think there was much chance I would ever step into. That was, until today. Or to be more precise, two Tuesday’s ago, when Professor Walsh (officially my favourite lecturer from the university in California I’m temporarily studying at for a term) presented myself and my fellow students from my Video and Audio Production Techniques class with a list of the options for the first, one day work experience placement of the semester. This is a day where every student on the course has the opportunity to participate in the filming of various types of film, television and video productions. Every student has to select three options, and the Professor tries her best to assign the student to one of their choices. This is not always possible though because, as you can imagine, some of the options are more popular than others and there are only so many students allowed on each placement. Some of the students, usually the louder, more extroverted ones, were intent on getting the big gigs like production on the set of a film, and popular television talk shows. Personally, I was happy with anything that would give me some experience. Copies of the list were passed around to raised voices and excited chatter. I scanned the list to see, sure enough, a well known television talk show, work on an independent film, the set of a fairly well known cop show from cable who were filming in the area, work for a local news television station, and some more fairly obscure productions. Although nothing was particularly standing out as something I had a real desire to do, it all sounded pretty exciting. And then, as my eyes steered down to the bottom of the page, they suddenly widened, my heart leaped into my throat, and I almost couldn’t believe what I saw written on the last line, as the very last option; Filming Backstage at a Local Bodybuilding Competition. My head was spinning. Was this really happening? Was the universe finally providing me with an entry into this world I never thought I would enter? I kept checking the list, looking at the words again, just to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating, and sure enough, there it was. My opportunity to be at, and take part in the filming of an actual bodybuilding competition. I suddenly pictured myself backstage at a bodybuilding competition, in a space packed full of massive, bronzed painted muscle men wearing nothing but tiny sized, thinly strapped posing trunks, each pair shinier and brighter than the next. Every single superhuman muscle brute of a man intensely pumping up his shockingly huge muscles, grunting and huffing with every lift as their huge slabs of man meat strain and bulge through their completely hairless, drum tight skin, and me, standing next to a cameraman, closely filming every single pump of a massive, competition conditioned All American muscle freak, mere inches away from his blown up balloons of bulging, rippling muscle. The fact that I was looking at the opportunity to be in the presence of the kind of muscle bulls I’d been wanking off over for years and to see their enormous, freaky muscle up close in person was mind blowing. However, it terrified me just as much as it excited me. The two days which followed were spent agonising over what to do with this opportunity I’d been unexpectedly faced with. My mind was completely split in half. It felt like two voices had invaded my head, one voice saying, “You have to do this. This is a rare, once in a lifetime opportunity and you will never get this again. It will absolutely amazing, it will blow your mind and you’ll get to see real life, genuine muscle freaks pumping, flexing and posing close up. Deep down you know you want to do this, and if you don’t, you will always regret it.” Meanwhile, the other voice was shouting, “Don’t be stupid, you can’t do this. You will make a fool of yourself. You will feel uncomfortable and nervous. People will look at you and think you are strange. And how will you explain your reason for wanting to do this to your classmates, and Professor Walsh?” One minute, a certain voice would sound clearer than the other, and I would make what I thought was my final decision. But then, out of nowhere, the other voice would suddenly shout up again, and I’d start to doubt my decision again. Even on the day of handing in our choices, sitting in Professor Walsh’s class, with five minutes to spare before the lesson came to a close, I still hadn’t made my final decision. I also knew that if I selected the bodybuilding competition, there was a very good chance I would get the placement. I couldn’t say for definite, but I knew it was fairly unlikely that any of my other classmates would select it as an option. There were a couple of guys in my class with a little bit of muscle on them who clearly went to the gym, but I would have been highly surprised if any of them had a genuine interest in bodybuilding. It was, without a doubt, one of those obscure placements to make up the numbers which nobody wanted to end up on. Well, almost nobody. Professor Walsh was wrapping up the lesson. “OK, class, you might have noticed this red box at the front of my desk.” This was it. My time was up. “By now I presume you’ve all made your three choices for next weekend’s work experience placement,” Professor Walsh continued. “If you’d like to place your completed sheets into the box as you leave. Please keep in mind, you are not guaranteed a place on any of your choices. We will do our best to assign you to one of your choices, but due to limited spaces on each placement, in some cases this will not be possible.” My classmates had started to shift and while everyone was getting out their sheets and gathering their bags in order to leave, I was staring at my sheet with my pen anxiously hovering over it. Two of my choices had been ticked, which just left one. The words “Bodybuilding Competition” leered up at me, testing my every nerve and ounce of bravery. My pen was wavering from the tick box next to it, to the box next to the option of “Production on a Music Video.” The voices in my head both clearer and more frantic than ever, one in battle with the other. Bodybuilding Competition Charlie, you HAVE to do this! Music Video Don’t be stupid. You will make a fool of yourself. Bodybuilding Competition Just imagine it! Real life, genuine muscle freaks pumping, flexing and posing close up! Music Video You will feel uncomfortable and nervous. People will look at you, and think you are strange! Bodybuilding Competition Deep down you know you want to do this, and if you don’t, you know you will ALWAYS regret it! And with one quick motion, I ticked the box next to my third and final option, and my fate was sealed. My heart was pounding as I approached the box on Professor Walsh’s desk, and my hands were shaking slightly as I dropped the sheet in. The second after, I glanced up to see Professor Walsh looking at me behind her desk. A friendly smile was trying to mask an expression of curiosity and slight confusion. She had clearly noticed my anxiety and I felt a sharp, brief pinch that I might have been rumbled. The incident quickly faded from memory, and as I left the classroom and walked along the corridor, the strongest emotion of elation, sheer pride and an overwhelming feeling that I had just done something amazing came over me. I had just taken one step closer to that crazy, amazing world of huge, freaky muscle I never thought I would ever be able to enter.

Please excuse the errors as this was written on my phone. Enjoy! DWARFED BY DAD PART 1/4 It was shortly after my dad’s second divorce that he would start joining me at the gym. I was a hobbiest bodybuilder, at best, standing at five-foot-eleven and weighing in at around 235-pounds. He was definitely eager to get in shape, “impress the ladies”, to quote him correctly. Things started at a little slow, especially those first couples months. I wasn’t really holding my breath though, given the fact that he was pushing sixty-years old. But one week as we rinsed off in the locker room showers, after a nearly three-hour workout, I noticed the remarkable faint rippling of muscle beneath his usual beefy silver haired abdomen. Then as he raised his hands to wash his hair, there was slight bulge beneath his upper arms, a simple curvature, a bicep. “Looks like you’re finally showing some results, dad!” I proudly complimented “About time!” Dad said giving his arms a couple quick pumps, holding back his excited smirk. “Just the beginning I hope…” The unexpected scenario made me wonder, not by any means worryingly, just how big the old man was planning to get. I was excited to see his motivation. Seeing actual visual results had my dad pushing harder then ever after that day, so hard in fact, it felt like having an actual workout buddy, rather than just my father tagging along. “You ready to see these gains, dad?” It was towards the end of this one week, about seven weeks later, I felt so mammothly pumped from this totally insane new workout plan I was on, I honestly couldn't wait to see the results. A couple weeks back, we had agreed to only start weighing ourselves once a week, just for kicks. So with my dad standing next to me, showing the slightest signs of muscle bulging beneath his old man skin, I might add, we both stood on the gyms identical digital scales. At the time, he weighed about fifty-pounds less than I did, or so I thought. “How did I LOSE weight?” I blurted the words out loud, feeling my smirk, my pride, fall out my gut and onto the gym floor. All the work I had put in these last couple weeks, all that time, just seeing the loss of eight-pounds, on the scales digital readout, had me absolutely nauseous. It had to be an error, I thought. But I stepped back on, seeing the same readout, “239-pounds”. I was so close to finally reaching my goal of 250-pounds last week, it didn't make any sense! “Looks like the opposite over here, champ.” My dad delightfully remarked, making me turn piercingly, cringe my teeth even. The old man really did mean the opposite, standing there proudly next to me, pumping on his old arms, creating this ridiculously meaty bulge against his arm, this defined bicep, with the scale blinking a readout of 194-pounds, a gain of exactly eight-pounds. I'll be honest with you, seeing the slightly smaller gap between us, had me slightly anxious. “W-Wow...” I still tried to play it cool, with an embarrassing stutter. “I never thought that you would actually start gaining muscle, dad.” I’m pretty sure that statement just added fuel to the fire, as my old man, with those piercing blue grey eyes, turned to me looking like some arrogant teenager, the glamour of a new challenge, twinkling behind his once bored now lustful eyes. The next day, he showed up strapped into proper gym clothes, bulging even bigger than yesterday, or so it looked. I figured it was just a different clothing size, but then, and I know this sounds crazy, it was almost becoming impossible, as the days went on, to even keep up. “Look at this, champ!” Dad raised his bulging silver muscle arm in front of my face. “Sleeves are getting tight…” He had gained ANOTHER eight-pounds since last week. The small curving mound of muscle had developed into a full blown peak, this enormous baseball, stuffed beneath his silver haired old man arms. Dad couldn’t help but love showing off his incredible developments, at the gym, at home, even at the grocery store. I'll admit though, they were incredible to look at, even though I was still bigger, it was just crazy to see that kind of muscle on a man old enough to be most people's grandpa. “Now my shorts are getting tight…” Another week past, and this time he gained TEN-POUNDS of muscle. I couldn't believe it. In fact, most days I wanted to be sick. With all that extra weight, he was now less than twenty-pounds away from outgrowing me, this huge bodybuilding grandpa, in just a matter of months, weighing in 212-pounds of muscle. Just like he said, his shorts, the brand new ones he had only too recently bought, were now bulging with insane dimensions of his veiny bloated silver old man muscle thighs, disgustingly cupping his groin area obscenely, especially when he would squat. “J-Jesus, dad, I’ve never seen anything like it…” I still tried to play it cool, liked the avid bodybuilding I am. “You’re telling me, kid” Dad lifted up his shirt, revealing this EIGHT-pack of abs. “I’m EXPLODING with muscle” I dropped my jaw, the whole gym did. What fucking sixty-year old has hairy deep cut chiseled abs! On top of that, he looked almost twice as ripped as yesterday, with this iron-plated-v jutting down into his sagging, yet horrendously overstuffed and bulging, neon gym shorts. That day, while we were in the shower, I honestly couldn't stop staring, gawking, and my dad just ate it all up. How was he growing so fast!? To make matters worse, as far as feeling emasculated, that is, I was born practically hairless, barely any hair on my body at all, “baby smooth”, my dad would often comment. “I look like a fucking KING!” Dad, however, as he spouted his arrogance, lavishly rubbed and soaped up his growing rippling display of hairy meaty male muscle cleavage, rubbing and pinching his flapjack-sized nipples, getting off on his prowess, all his newfound power, like some total king, just like he said, this unstoppable growing alpha man. RIIIPPPPPP RRIIIIIPPPPPPP “GOD-damn, would you look at that!” Two weeks later, dad finally grew to the point of bursting through his first article of clothing. He said the words so delightfully, looking unapologetically smug, like he expected this to happen, turning his gaze delightfully, raising his arm, to see the small gaping hole on the underside of sleeve, right in the middle of his huge sweaty hairy armpit. He was so playful and curious, some big kid at the breakfast table, fingering the small opening almost like it was pussy, even going as far as slightly tearing it, which seemed to gave him an idea. It was with a devilish chuckle, like a lightbulb going off in his head, he raised that same arm and gave it a mighty and monstrous flex. RIIIIPPPPPP “GUNS bigger than Superman's!” He roared as his bicep, this totally massive bowling ball of chiseled hairy perfection, suddenly exploded through his sleeve, an atomic-bomb going off, blowing the fabric apart into a million threaded pieces, a scene out usually only my comic books, my dreams, all while I was eating breakfast. Then, continuing his disgusting piggish muscle show, he held up and squeezed the huge chiseled peak of old man muscle, right into his face, with so much silver hair flaring out, it was if a forest had grown in this entirely monstrous muscle cave, but it was just armpit “Fuck, I smell like an APE!” Dad gave his armpit a big whiff, inexplicably wafting his horrendous sweaty odor into my face, so sultry it made my dick suddenly bulge underneath the table. I wasn't gay, but fuck, he was just so manly. With my mouth completely dropped open, the half-eaten bacon and eggs falling back to my plate, I knew it would be hard for dad to not keep demonstrating and showing off his superior growing muscle strength. RRIIIIPPPPP “FUCK, yeah!” It wasn't long before he quickly raised his other arm, in a detonating fashion, with an equally loud laugh, a pleasing roar, as his other bicep exploded through the fabric even faster than the first. With both arms free, he began taking turns flexing and posing each magnificent peak of hairy muscle, over twenty-inches now from the looks of it, nearly the same size as mine! He also tried to flex through the front of his shirt, inflating his chest, the enormous blimping grandpa male muscle cleavage, but thankfully he couldn't. That didn't stop him from whistling in delight, openly fantasizing about the prospect of getting even bigger. “Won't be much longer, kid. I expect I'll probably outgrow you by the end of the week…” “I didn't e-even realize you WANTED to grow so big…” I stuttered like a kid. “Are you kidding me? Now that I've got a taste, I don't think I EVER really want to stop growing…” Dad smirked wildly, as he continuously pumped his huge hairy meaty man arm, slowly walking away. I was speechless, dumbfounded, watching, as his big old man bubble butt gobbled and thundered the back of his skin tight gym shorts. I know it may sound kind of weird to note this, I swear, I'm completely straight. But I’m giving you all the details because, and I'm gulping just saying this, his sleeves, weren’t the only thing that he would destroy that day... ************************************************************ Comments are appreciated! ************************************************************ READ PART 2 HERE

I had no idea how the seemingly flimsy white tank top stayed plastered to his insanely jacked-up body. He’d take a deep breath or move his upper torso slightly and the material would stretch so tightly that I expected to hear it ‘snap’ apart at any second. The cotton somehow amazingly extended to accommodate a chest that was so big you’d expect the pectoral muscles to sag, but instead they were clearly hard as hell and protruded outward like some kind of incredible manly mountain cliff dominating the area around it. At the same time the guy’s arms bulged so massively round that if one of them had been the only thing you were able to see you would have still instantly known the guy was so humongous that you’d actually feel sorry for the metal stool straining hard to support his body as he sat at the bar. Like the anticipated sound of ripping material, I also expected to hear steel screeching as the legs of the piece of furniture crushed downward from the weight. His jeans had obviously been painted onto his body – since they were so tight I could actually see rippling veins snaking across his insanely thick covered muscled quads. I was pretty sure he’d have to be cut out of the denim when he finally wanted to take the pants off. Either that or he’d simply flex his legs and the things would be destroyed in one loud burst of material. The body had my heart racing and my cock pulsing hard, but the handsome face equaled the rest of this Greek god. I say Greek because the dude was the perfect example of the term ‘olive skin.’ He was dark, but not in any sort of fake-tan kind of way. His skin was simply radiantly glowing and smooth as expensive silk. The stubble across his face was intentional – part beard and part facial accessory that emphasized the guy’s masculinity. It was definitely a pretty face, but the cut angles and jawline made the guy more rough than beautiful. It was the kind of face that could stop traffic. The piercing green eyes under heavy brows added some mystique to the man – and a little naughtiness. He also had the kind of wavy hair most people hated – because you knew he woke up, ran his hands through the thickness a couple of times, and it all looked perfect. There wasn’t a guy in the place that hadn’t noticed Mr. Hugeness – a nickname I had given the dude as I watched him drink what I gathered was an Irish whiskey on ice. When he swallowed his neck muscles tensed a little from the delicious burning sensation and just that simple movement made everyone hold their breath. Even the dude’s neck was thick as hell and rippled with power. I don’t know if the guy noticed us all drooling over him or if he simply assumed it would be that way since he had clearly been gigantic for a long, long time. I marveled at the fact that his feet rested fully on the ground while most guys sitting on the stools at the bar found their own dangling inches above the floor – and desperately sought out metal rungs that wrapped around the legs to support themselves. He didn’t look at anyone. He was simply staring at the bottles lined up behind the bar and sipping his drink. I was about to force myself to stop staring at the guy when I noticed something that no one else seemed to be aware of – there was a mirror behind the bottom two rows of bottles. The dude could actually survey the entire room easily – but his gaze wasn’t moving. It was fixated on one thing – me. When my eyes caught those of Mr. Hugeness I cannot begin to describe the feelings that shot through my body. Let’s just say there was a mixture of fear and excitement that seemed to make every hair that existed anywhere on me stand straight up in shock. I couldn’t move my eyes. They were locked with his and he didn’t look away either. There was a slight grin on his face – it wasn’t a cocky grin at all. It was more like a smile that showed how happy he was I finally noticed the mirrors. I suddenly felt very dizzy as I gazed into his green eyes. There was such a mixture of gentleness and masculinity in his face. I watched – mesmerized – as he motioned to the space to his right with those two gorgeous emeralds. I immediately knew he wanted me to join him at the bar. I left my half-full drink and walked like someone hypnotized toward his huge frame. When I was a about a foot away he turned slightly to the guy sitting on the stool beside him, reached out a huge hand grabbing the back of the guy’s neck, and squeezed slightly. “Hey, buddy, my friend here would like to sit beside me. You don’t mind, do you?” There was absolutely no meanness in the question, but it was quite clear to everyone within hearing distance what the right answer should be. I can’t lie – there was part of me that wanted the little dude to refuse because I knew I’d get to see the huge paw circling more than half his neck do some damage, but I knew instantly that there wasn’t a guy on earth that would be stupid enough to argue with Mr. Hugeness. The little guy simply shook his head no and quickly slinked off the stool. I could see the relieved look on his face as soon as the giant hand was no longer draped around him. It had probably felt like a ton of bricks bearing down on him. Suddenly, that same big paw was pressing against my back and scooting my body across the floor toward the stool – my feet actually skidding the entire short distance. I was being easily jetted toward my resting place by the guy’s big arm. Even in the midst of all that was going on I stopped to notice that the guy’s fingers spread out across my entire lower back, reminding me of how huge he actually was. When my body reached the metal stool the dude kind of half lifted-half tossed me up on the seat by sliding his hand down to my ass and scooping me up like I weighed nothing at all. Once I was on my new perch I turned to look at Mr. Hugeness. The first thing I saw was his wide-as-a-small-door arm. I would have easily thought it was some guy’s big leg instead of a biceps if I hadn’t already been staring at the thing for most of the evening. I was so mesmerized that I didn’t realize my mouth was wide open and I was making gurgling sounds like a baby. It’s just that I was completely blown away by the guy’s massive gun. It looked pumped as hell even though it hung at his side un-tensed. A highway of blood-pulsing veins mapped their way around the expanse of hard muscle. To say the guy’s arm bulged was an understatement. It was more like it blimped – cause that’s what it looked like, some kind of huge dirigible filled with something a hell of lot more substantial that hot air. It appeared to be so packed with condensed meat that the dude wouldn’t have been able to touch his own head even if he had tried with all his might – I just don’t think the thing could bend that much. There were so many tiers of beef on his relaxed arm I was sure when he flexed it looked like multiple biceps stacked on top of each other. His skin looked tighter than stretched leather and I figured it crackled like old cowboy boots when he moved it. I would have stayed in my big-gun trance all night long if he hadn’t spoken. “Am I big enough for you?” he asked. “And then some,” I quickly and absent-mindedly shot back – not taking my eyes away from his arm. This made him laugh, which in turn made his big-as-a-house chest jiggle up and down. That was the only thing that could have torn my eyes away from his gun. I watched the thick, hard, meaty pecs bounce up and down and loved how his big-as-my-thumb nipples poked menacingly against the material of his tank top. It struck me that the shirt looked like a fisherman’s net trying desperately to hold two whales captive. It seemed that the giant beasts might break free at any second. When the huge man took a breath his mammoth chest inflated even more and it was one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen. I was definitely an arm man, because I thought a man’s guns always showed off his power, but this dude’s chest was so incredibly packed with muscle that it oozed masculinity the way too much perfume could permeate a cramped space. This guy clearly had so much testosterone zooming through his body that it caused me to feel cocky, too. It was as if he had a he-man fever that enveloped my body, as well, and made me much more confident than ever before. I suddenly realized my mouth was wide open again and my tongue was flicking up and down – desperate to taste his hefty nipples. I think the big man realized I was about to self-destruct because he spoke again – as if to make me focus on something other than his enormous pec shelf. “I’m into little guys who are into muscle,” he said in a voice that was so fucking sexy that I bet he could make some guys bust a major wad just by reading the phone book. “And I’m into muscled giants that like to play with little guys,” I said quickly and my response actually made him choke a little on the sip of his drink he had just taken. “Just how fucking tall are you?” “Six-ten,” he answered, and then added, “How’s all that height make you feel?” “Like ten hours of intense foreplay,” I responded. “You sure know how to build up a guy,” he said – laughing lightly. “And you sure know how to intimidate one,” I replied. I paused for a second and then added, “Besides, there’s no way anyone could build YOU up anymore than you already are.” For the first time since sitting down I tore my eyes from his huge body and looked up into his face, noticing that the muscles in his neck, cheeks, and chin looked stronger than hell, too. How in the world did a guy work out that part of his body? His eyes locked on mine and neither of us blinked. I was instantly lost in those beautiful pools – realizing again that his manly beauty matched his awesome body. The immaculate scruffiness that covered his face made his pouty lips stand out even more. The dude was so handsome he could make your cock ache. He had this intense look on his face – as if he was trying hard to not devour me right then and there. Finally, he broke into a drop-dead gorgeous smile and I felt my stomach turn over numerous times. “You’re wicked cute,” he said. “You’re beastly handsome,” I answered. “You don’t have to match every compliment,” he said, taking another sip of his drink. “I can’t help myself,” I responded. “But I’ll try my best to stop. So, Mr. Hugeness – the nickname I gave you when I was sitting over there – are you going to buy me a drink?” “You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you, little man,” he said in a cheery voice that made it clear he liked how confident I was. “Your obvious cockiness is infectious,” I answered. “What’ll you have?” he asked as he signaled the bartender over. “You,” I answered. This made him smile even more. I had no idea how I was mustering so much boldness. It really did have to be a by-product of being so close to such a colossal muscleman, but it was still a little surprising. I could tell it was pleasing him, so that probably egged me on even more. I wanted him to like me. I wanted him to like me very much. He acknowledged my comment with a little nod of his head and then it was clear he was waiting for my drink order. “I’ll have what you’re having,” I said, glancing at his glass. He tapped his drink and then held up two fingers to the guy behind the bar. I glanced down at his hand and almost ejaculated on the spot. His fingers made the large tumbler containing his drink look like a shot glass. I quickly figured out that it would take two and a half of my fingers to match his giant forefinger. When he bent the thing it bulged like a biceps. I kid you not – his fingers had mounds of muscle that peaked when he flexed them. He saw where my gaze was and he spread his fingers out and laid his hand on the bar. I knew what he wanted me to do – he was showing off and I was right there with him. I reached up and placed my tiny paw on top of his. I noticed first and foremost that his skin was as hard as I anticipated – clearly stretched to the max over the muscles underneath. I then gasped a little when I saw that my fingers came just a little beyond his knuckles and the expanse of my hand was about five times smaller than his. I was in shock, but I was not speechless. Without even removing my gaze from our size difference I spoke to him. “My, what big hands you have,” I said. “The better to lift you with,” he responded. I instantly moved my hand away from his. He had no idea what that little statement would do to me. I knew it was very important to not have any physical contact with him as I struggled to prevent his words from making me explode like an ignited firework. I had many fetishes, but being lifted by a huge guy was one of the images that helped me jerk off more than any other. He, of course, had no idea about my lust for being picked up – or did he just assume it. Maybe he could read me like a book and would, as I so wanted him to be able to, fulfill every one of my secret desires. “Um . . . I kind of have a thing . . . I mean I get off on the idea of being a barbell for a bigger guy. You’ll have to . . . uh . . . be careful what images you put in my head or I might make a mess,” I shared with him and it felt like I was in a confessional. He smiled at my revelation and I saw him file the knowledge away, as if for later use. This thrilled me and made me nervous at the same time. I really did have a huge intense lust for being lifted whether it was overhead with two arms, grabbing me underneath my shoulders, or one handed around my neck, it didn’t matter. Feeling my feet leave the ground because of some guy’s power was the quickest way for me to move to leaking a gob of pre-cum. Big hands grabbing me roughly and hoisting me like I weighed nothing – as if the huge guns could toss my little body over some building – that was hotter than most anything I could think of. There’d been a few guys in my life that had been able to bear hug me off the ground and one guy had cranked out a couple of pushups with me on his back, but I’d never been blessed with a dude big enough to toss me around like some stuffed animal. I had a feeling, though; my luck was about to change. The big man leaned down toward me and inhaled deeply. “Yeah,” he said, smiling, “I thought I smelled a strength whore. I was hoping you liked to be manhandled. Cause you see, bud, I can spurt oceans of cum showing off my muscle power. Yeah, you won’t be the only one that gets rock hard when I crank your body up into the air. I especially like to stand in front of mirror when I do it man, so I can see your face and my body at the same time. I bet you’ll get off on one-armed presses almost as much as I do. I’m a power pig, too, man. You haven’t cornered that market.” Again, my mouth dropped open wide and I stared at him as if he were some kind of alien. I couldn’t believe my ears. It never even began to enter my brain that some big dude might like lifting other guys. It was almost unfathomable to me that a massive muscle guy could explode just from watching himself show off his power. My understanding of the world was being expanded in seconds – there was a muscle paradigm shift happening and it was huge. If he had touched me at that moment I would have shot off like a cannon. I was so wound up sexually that he could have popped me with one finger. I, however, was still in control enough to speak. “You have no idea how much it pleases me to hear you say that,” I teased. “I was thinking I was the last strength junkie in the world. I wonder, though, if you’ll be able to keep up with me.” This made him laugh deeply as he pulled back up to his full height on the stool. He inhaled slightly just to inflate his already ridiculously large body – instantly intimidating me with one slight breath. His confidence radiated out of every pore. He didn’t need to prove anything to anyone. His mere presence was proof of his god-like dominance, but I could tell he loved how I verbally tested him. It was as if he was Hercules and he was going through his proverbial labors right here in the bar. I could tell he loved how I teased him, but we both knew he was up for any challenge I could offer. This was just all foreplay for the main event later on. He was more than willing to cock-tease me as an appetizer, but it was clear that I’d be joining him for a multiple-course dinner later on. He took a sip of his drink – to either calm himself down or create a dramatic pause. I couldn’t figure out which. “I wouldn’t be thinking all this muscle is just for show, little man,” he said looking down at me with a big smile. I’ve come by most of my size by lifting things a hell of a lot heavier than you. Don’t get me wrong – massive muscle is in my DNA, but unless you shove some major metal around a guy like me is just going to be kind of beefy and end up looking like some washed-out high school football coach still longing for his glory days. Does this body look past its prime to you?” “No,” I sputtered out quickly, “it certainly doesn’t.” “That’s right, bud,” he continued. “Right now I’m bigger and stronger than ever in my entire life – but the really cool thing is that I’m still growing. And that means I only getting more powerful, too. I’ll be able to keep up with your fantasies of what you’d do if you ever met some huge powerful muscleman. I’m actually going to go way beyond what you ever dreamed of. I’m going to expand your limited strength fetish to things you only thought were possible in the comics. I have a feeing we’ll both be offering up major loads in honor of my power. You see, my good friend, impressing the shit out of you is my number one goal.” “You already have,” I quickly shot back. “And yet I haven’t even flexed, let alone done anything powerful,” he answered just as quickly.

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…And Sometimes, I Watch My Dad Go to Work… by vertical Well, he had to make money somehow... <<PART 2: ...And Sometimes, I Find Out My Dad's a Growing Freak... PART4: ...And Sometimes, I Get What I Want>> --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I stood up groggily, bracing myself against the hallway’s wall opposite to the powder room. Flicking on the light to the washroom, I stared in horror at my reflection. My image was distorted by the smattering of freshly sprayed dad-cream from my father’s earlier explosion of size, muscle and semen. My hands roamed down to lift my shirt up and tug at the modest bump in my stomach, my abs still visible, but lightly rounded out. After greedily guzzling down my father’s tasty, thick, creamy load from the first sock, I admired the sheer destruction my dad’s latest orgasm had wrought on the distended, frayed and destroyed sock. Though, I didn’t mull on that thought long, I wrung the sock, extracting what I could while imagining what it’d be like to have my dad’s huge, arm-thick cock in my mouth, what it’d feel like to feel the power in his body with each strong heartbeat echoing in the pencil-thick veins running down his glorious length. But that didn’t stop me from wanting more. He had turned into such a beast, the hamper was a testament for that. And the way I picked up sock after sock was a testament of my hunger, my clandestine thirst to submit to the most powerful man on the planet. The older socks didn’t have the same hit as the fresh loads I had scarfed down just before. It almost felt… empty to eat them up. They just didn’t have that same punch of meaty flavour nor that unctuous texture. But without an alternative… Or… or did I? I looked at myself in the mirror. I scratched at my chin, trying to pinch myself out of my thoughts. I found myself tapping my foot impatiently, my yearning for my next hit of my dad’s cum almost too much to bear. I was going to do it… I dropped my shirt back down and turned the light off, intent on making my way up to my father, pull down his overburdened underwear, stroke that perfect piece of meat and suck him off, watch the satisfied look on his face, pleasing my daddy… I didn’t make it all the way to the stairs when I saw the door to the basement ajar. My father had said he had set up an office down there. An office for what? What could a 400 pound, no, he was likely pushing the mid 500 to 600 pounds now, musclebeast do with an office? He’d installed refrigerators for his whole working career, he didn’t have a pencil-pushing hair on his body. Though, these days, he sure did seem to have a excess of hair in general. And those pencil-thick veins on his cock… Shit, Corey, stop thinking that way. Curiosity won out. Who knew when I’d get another opportunity? I slowly crept my way down the stairs to the basement, flicking on the lights. Sodium yellow pours out from below and my heart skips a beat, the sense of foreboding almost overwhelming me. But I pressed on. I descended down the stairs as my mind descended into madness, my sanity leaving me as I delved into what felt like secrets better left unseen. I was prepared for the worst, but as my feet hit the landing, I was underwhelmed by the mundanity of what I saw. Unlike the rest of the house, the basement was kept orderly, almost too spick and span. My dad was never a stickler for order, but everything down here almost seemed manicured. Sitting in the middle of the room was a workout bench. It was practically new, the black leather seemingly in good condition. I turned to wall closest the stairs and just like Dad had said, there was a home office complete with a webcam, mic, a nice speaker system. Whatever Dad was doing down here, it was clearly working if he could afford all those supplements on top of this nice rig. If only he kept up the rest of the house, I quipped to myself. However, the longer I looked, the more things just seemed off. At first, the only thing out of placed seemed to be what looked like a hard water stain near a drain in the floor. However, as I made my way to middle of the room, my hand rested on the bench, the Olympic bar sitting on its rest. It seemed larger than what I had seen in the campus gym, but I supposed that was to be expected for a huge beast. I noticed a contraption of sorts nearby. It looked almost like a horse used in gymnastics. I couldn’t imagine my dad vaulting over this thing, there simply wasn’t enough room. Though, that didn’t stop me from imagining his muscles writhing underneath his skin, his strong 4-pack twisting as he stabilized his landing. He’d lift his ham-like arms, his shoulders mashing their way into his traps as his biceps brushed against his ears. He’d roar in approval as he stuck his gargantuan landing, the concrete cracking underneath his weight as he slams into the ground with all the force of a Howitzer shell. And speaking of Howitzers, his would be chubbing up... There it is again, Corey, you’re fantasizing about him again, I reprimanded myself. But how could I not? I sat myself down on the bench, feeling completely insignificant on it. The damn thing practically swallowed me. But I knew... I knew my dad’s humongously wide back would swallow this thing up, his expansive lats would hang at least a foot on either end when he lies down. I noticed that at the far end of the bench, the leather looked a little worn out. I brought my hand down to feel over the area. “What the,” I whispered. There was some sort of indentation. I lifted the leather up and looked at the metal support. It was crushed in. I checked the other side and the same thing. It dawned on me that this is where my dad’s huge, elephant limb-like thighs would rest. The hulking beast was so thickly packed with muscle his thighs crushed the bench, they took up so much space. I sported wood just thinking about it. I looked at the computer, watching the lights on the desktop tower flicker. It was on. Curious, I make my way to the oversized desk, my cock tenting my pants, leading the way. I sat down at the chair, the armrests spread so far apart, they were over twice my body width from each other. I shook the mouse, the hard disk humming as the rig was shaken to life. The screen awakens, flashing black before the pixels pour light into the room. My dad was looking at a blog. Not just any. His own. He was looking at the beginning. Perhaps he did it often? Perhaps he looked at what he was and compared it to what he had become. We were related after all, and if I was him, I’d flex my huge bicep and look at how much bigger it’d gotten. I find myself reaching down to my own burdened package and stroking myself through my jeans. I’d blast load after load, feeling my huge muscles as I looked over my own growing body. I lifted my head up and came, blobs of cum running down my inner thigh and I shudder as it cools down. I came just thinking about the contents of the blog, I hadn’t even taken a look at the first post. I settled down, my breath stabilizing as I calmed down. I wiped the sweat from my brow and adjusted my crotch, tucking my slowly softening cock into the pouch of my underwear. I looked up at the screen and centre it on the first video. It was of my father. Or at least, what used to be my father. He was short and pudgy, just like I remembered. His face was illuminated by what looked like a computer’s light, the shot was grainy and the sound was poor. From the looks of it, he was shooting in the basement with the lights off. He let out a pathetic moan, his fat, obese body jiggling with each stroke. He only needed to use two fingers for the tiny prick, the small rod practically swallowed by his fupa and gut. As he brought up an arm to flex, I almost laughed out loud. The thought of someone so out of shape trying to tease his audience with a flex was almost preposterous. That is, if it not for what he said. “Doc gave me this weird shot. Oh... dang, it’s making me horny. Making me sweat all the time. Huff huff... Nnnghuh!” He began to nut all over his fat belly, watery globules of semen coating the wispy hairs of his gut. “Unngh, I’m making more than normal.” It was slightly arousing, but the caption below got me rock hard. I want MORE, was all it said. You and me both, Dad. The next video was dated a month later, and the transformation already apparent. Thick layers of fat still obscured his muscles, but his arms were definitely fuller, his thighs almost looked obscene, filled to the brim with muscle and fat. His moobs were flatter, and his gut while still prominent, looked like it had shape, rather than being a spilled-over mess. His shoulders looked broader, like his body was built to carry around the excess weight he had. But the greatest difference was with his cock. My dad still looked like a doughy 50-something, his chubby cheeks rosy as he pleasured himself. But his hands, not just one, both, were wrapped around his length. “What was it you said, sizequeen168? ‘Nice baby dick?’ Well...” He moved both his hands away from his bobbing length. The huge piece of meat bowed slightly in the middle from the sheer weight. From the look of it, it had to be about 8 or 9 inches, easily double to triple the length it had been just the month before. “You boys have no idea what it’s like,” my father cooed, bringing up a hand to cup his moob. “I’m growing all over, my muscles are getting so strong.” He raised his arms and flexed, this time he was anything but pathetic. The biceps and triceps were obscured by is adipose, but there was an obvious crease between the two muscle groups, his definition had improved drastically. “Unf, my wife can barely take it any more,” he grunted, thrusting his hips forward. His hands encircled around his now massive prick, the fingers and thumb no longer able to touch each other due to the new girth. “Ohh, I’m gonna... here it goes boys!” he roared. He pointed his manhood up, mashing his sensitive tip into his warm belly-flesh. He moaned lewdly as his lime-sized balls pulled up. Instead of thin, watery jets of seed spewing out, enormous, whitish gushers of cum blasted out over his belly and and the bottom of his flabby chest. Ribbons of thick seed just kept spilling out, cobwebs of it oozing all over his upper body as he continued to shoot load after load for a good 15 seconds. He squeezed his cock harder around the base, a warbling moan escaping his mouth as he blasted through a second wind, lazy streams of cum oozing out of his tortured shaft. “Can you boys... huff... imagine all that going into my wife?” he chuckled. He gave the camera a sly look, a look that he knew he held power over his viewer. A look that he knew he was just beginning. Yet again, the next video was dated a month after the last, this time as a Christmas special post. My eyes bugged out at the man that was on camera. He looked like a powerlifter, big, broad shoulder framing his thickening body. Rolls of fat still nestled on his back, but the skin was stretched taut along his abdomen, glimmers of abdominal muscles reveal themselves whenever he twisted his torso. A singular vein ran down each of his biceps, each muscle already larger than the football players I slept with. He smirked at the camera, smirked at me. His face was more carved, a faint hint of a double chin the only remnant of the portly butterball that was my father. His facial hair was coming in, the emerging beast already visible. He was definitely enjoying himself this time. His hand moved up to touch the underside of his fatty pectoral shelf, the big beast shuddering as his hand brushed against the hairs around his nipple, his fingers tracing along the periphery of the sensitive knob. He takes it in between his thumb and his index finger. I never heard a man wail in pleasure like that. And I never saw a cock spring to life like his did. It was obscene, 14” no, 15” maybe 16” of cock shot up and slapped into his midsection, pre oozing out of the fat, apple-sized tip and splashing down his length and pomegranate sized balls. Jesus, he was a monster. “You boys never thought I’d get this big, did you?” He pushed his arms down, his pectorals flaring out and brushing up against the bottom of his chin. “My wife’s scared of me, says I’m getting too big. What do you boys think? Is Daddy too big?” he growled. He raised his arms up, letting his cock bob up and down in time with his heartbeat. He flexed his guns, squeezing them and filling them with blood his skin began to redden. They had to be over 21” in diameter. They had to be some the biggest arms filled with beef in existence. He grunted as he dropped his hands down to wrap around his cock, his massive mitts spread apart by the tumescent flesh. His voice was so deep now, so powerful. His pecs jiggle with each stroke his heavy brow scrunched down as he strokes harder and harder. When he sprays, its like watching a geyser go off. His cum blasts out of the tip of his cock, so much volume, it hits the top of the low ceiling of the basement. “Oh shit... ungh, noooo,” he moaned. “What’s happening...” His voice cracked, getting deeper. “...to me?” he whimpered. I already knew. He was hitting a growth spurt. Daddy’s first growth spurt, the caption read just below the video. It started in his face. His jaw grew more masculine, his facial features sharpening. His neck begins to bloat as he grows, veins criss-crossing against the cords of muscle. The air around him practically steams, his nostrils flaring as he snorts like a bull. His shoulder and traps billow out, growing wider, filling the frame of the cam show he was giving. His pecs fill the space between his arms, and then they fill it more, arms and pecmeat contesting each other as he blew up, his build growing beyond what any human could possibly achieve. How much did he weigh now? 300 pounds? At least. His cock, still blasting cum, inches up his belly as he grows. It goes on for a minute at least, my father blowing and growing in tandem. I was already edging myself. My cock almost in pain from the amount of rubbing and attention I’ve been giving it today. I scroll down, some still picture of my dad flexing his hot, horny body. Some of them were of him nursing his enormous musclegut. AMA questions with equally hot answers. ‘How many calories do you eat a day?’ As much as I can get. ‘How big is that thing getting?’ This week? 20” Dated in mid-February. After that, the final post. “Heya folks,” my colossal dad grunted into the mic. He was clothed, but barely. His man-tiddies poked out from each end of his a-shirt, his bulge pushed out of his workout shorts obscenely. His arms were dusted with a heavy coating of hair as was his jawline. “Sorry for being so quiet on here lately. Lemme tell you, it’s been such a trip for this big daddy,” he chuckled, bringing a 24” arm up for a huge flex. He licked at the peak, pleased with how much meat he had packed on. “I just wanna say, I’m so grateful for all you little boys watching this big daddy explode with mass.” He brings both arms down and squeezes them against his pecs. His whole body seemed to explode with size as he pumped blood into his muscles. The shirt groaned in protest as he stretched the fabric to its limit and then some, it frayed along the edges, unable to contain my dad’s most muscular most-muscular. He relaxed his pose and continued, “I just wanted to tell you guys that I’ll be taking this whole muscle show thing a little more seriously. 3000 followers are a lot and I’ve been thinking of doing some live shows to make some cash.” He looks into the camera with earnest eyes, honest to a fault the man was, they were almost puppy-like. Hell, if he was making me melt, then his followers were probably puddles by now. “I haven’t told anyone, but I lost my job. I was getting too big. And you know me guys, can’t keep my hands off myself. Hehe. My boss somehow found out I was getting blowjobs from some the clients and he fired me on the spot. My wife left me the day after that,” he said solemnly. “But, there’s a silver lining in everything right, boys?” he chuckled nervously. “So, if you want to support this big guy and help him grow even more massive, the links are below. I’ll be doing daily cam shows from now on.” And sure enough, I clicked the link to his streaming website. It was all paid content, but luckily he was logged in. He really did do daily streams. If I thought he was getting big before, now he was exploding in size. With all his energy now put into growing massive, his arms went from 24” to 30” within a month, more than an inch a week. I just kept scrolling through the saved streams. I was practically giddy just looking through all the preview shots and the title captions for each stream. Daddy flexes his 30” guns. The 10 second preview while hovering over the image shows off my dad’s ultra-thick powerlifter’s physique by late February, the hairy freak going beast-mode as he blasts through reps so fast the image is blurry in the preview. Daddy crushes a watermelon between his thighs. I hovered the cursor over the preview picture and find myself leaking pre as I watch two colossal thighs wrap around a large melon. It was rather low-res, but my dad’s hefty bulge was leaking pre all over the top of the watermelon, giving it an unnatural shine. And to my surprise, there were even lewder ones. Daddy crushes a dildo in his ass. Heh, I knew it. Daddy cums as he curls 350 pounds. Nailed it again, I knew that weight was for his bicep curls. I felt like an ace detective, an incredibly horny ace detective. Daddy bends his son’s car over his daddy dick. Excuse me? I clicked on that stream. Mid-March. Dad was already humongous, easily over 360 pounds of freaked out beef. The streamed started out with Dad rubbing up his sweaty musculature. He’d been lifting and judging from the way his veins angrily tore a path through his skin, he’d been working hard. “’Lo, boys,” he grunted, his voice as deep and booming as it was this afternoon. He raised an arm, a slick stream of sweat pouring out the deep crevasses in his arm, his biceps and triceps providing ample crags to pool his liquid determination into. “Bigger than ever,” he snarled, his lips curled into an arrogant smile. He swayed his hips back and forth, his epic cock gently thwacking against his inner thighs as his grapefruit-sized balls rolled about, roiling with his potent seed. “Oh yeah, way bigger,” he cooed. “You boys wanna see how big and strong Daddy’s become?” he grunted, his bravado oozing out of every pore, just as much as the testosterone. He grabbed at a hunk of metal. But from the colour, I knew it was a door to my car with the windows taken out. My father’s hand prints were clearly visible along the edges where he had torn the thing from the body. “You guys know I can bend rebar pretty easily these days,” he cooed. “But trust me, I’ve gotten so much stronger.” The big beast began to stroke himself, his epic length filling with blood. His belly jiggles as he whacks off, his groans low and powerful. He began to rub the top of his length against the scrap metal, the smooth metal touching his slick flesh. “Holy shit,” I barked, standing up from my seat as my pride stood at attention in my crotch. I bet my dad’s audience at the time had the same reaction. My dad was smirking at the camera. The fabric and plastic began to crack along the middle. My dad’s hands were shaking as he pushed down, his hulking chest heaving with pure mass and power. And yet, my dad’s cock didn’t budge, it pushed up with as much, if not more force than his arms did down. He wasn’t even finished before I was blowing a load into my jeans once again, my body taken over by my lust for my own father. “I’m... ungh... INVINCIBLE!” he roared as he bent the whole door almost in half over his cock. The plastic splintered and crumbled off the scraps, leaving just the metal shell, warped beyond recognition. My father threw the metal to the side and threw his arms down. With a primal scream, he flexed his whole body, the shot going dark as he filled the field of view to the brim. Squeezing harder, the veins danced underneath his paper-thin skin as he gorged his muscles with blood. And then he came. Huge torrents of semen splatter out of his megalith of a cock, 24” of bullcock going wild. He moved between poses, his cock’s deluge unending. He seemed to get off on his body, every flex renewing his self-desire, reinvigorating his orgasm, his desires near endless. A minute, a whole minute later and he was still going, his giant shaft was still oozing semen all over the place. Finally, after a good 3 or so minutes, he was reduced to little more than dribble, the beast giving a few cursory flexes before he ended the video. I didn’t think it could get much hotter than that, but then I scrolled down to today’s video, or perhaps, yesterday’s – I’d been here, beating off to my dad’s amateur porno vids that it was almost 1 in the morning. It was titled Daddy milks his bullcock. There he stood in all his magnificence. Easily 6’6” and 400 pounds of brawn, his gut now more muscle than fat, the bloated abdominals barely concealed by the thinning layer of fat. Six months since he started, and he was almost ripped enough to have abs. He didn’t have to say a word. I was boning up again, and I knew he knew he was a god. Everyone who saw him would be having my reaction. His massive half-erection, a monumental phallic paragon, stretched further than it was hard in the last video. He just stared silently at the camera, a permanent, arrogant scowl in his face. He raised an arm, his favourite motion, consistently bigger, consistently stronger. He felt it up with his fingers from both sets of hands, the bicep so pumped with blood he could touch the enormous peak situated on his arm. That was enough for Daddy to go raging hard, his 28” monstrosity curved slightly upwards in the middle. The veins throbbed with the ichor flowing through them. He grunted lowly, the only other sound on the audio was the stream of pre-seed dribbling onto the concrete floor, almost sounding like someone was taking a leak. He then turned to the Olympic horse. Only now I realized that’s not what it was. I turned my head, away from the screen, leaving my digital fantasy of my father long enough to recognize the analog horror. The bar had a hole in it at one end. That wasn’t a horse, it was an oversized artificial vagina meant for collecting bull semen – a fucking fleshlight for monstrously sized animals. I suppose it was fitting, my father had definitely become one. He shuddered, bellowing as he entered the device, standing on his thickly muscled haunches, the quads and hamstrings separated, the sheen of his ass-sweat matting down the furry hair on his muscle-engorged glutes and thighs. Inch after agonizing inch, he forced his way into his ‘sow,’ his face screwed in fits of pleasure. His calves erupted with diamond-like patterns with each upward thrust, the pattern mirrored in abdominals hidden just out of view as my dad rested his giant musclegut on top of the contraption. His giant arms, each larger than my waist, shot down to brace himself as he leaned over his ‘toy.’ Like a bull, he puffed out his epic chest, sweat beading in the valleys of his pecs and coalescing onto his nipples, soft droplets of sweat dripping down on the leather. And like a bull, he moaned lewdly, his voice inhuman, it was desperate and savage. He began to piston into the thing with abandon. Plink plink plink. There it was, the rhythmic metallic sound I heard when I had come home. The bolt holding the device to the ground had become loose from my dad’s ministrations, his hips generating more force than a jet engine. In his desperation, he changed angles, lowering himself down, his massive bowling ball sized nuts dangling between his thighs. He let loose a low bellow, almost sounding like a bull, a long, low, sonorous crone. With one final thrust, he mounted the device to his hilt. He gritted his teeth as his thrusting became erratic, his mind losing control as the beast took over. After half a minute of thrusting, the end he was fucking began to ooze his cum out in torrents, the contraption filled to capacity. And yet, still he went on, fucking with wanton abandon. His eyes rolled back, his tongue lolled out, his muscles spasmed as his higher functions shut down, lost to the mind-addling effect of the most powerful post-orgasmic afterglow setting in. He slowly began to thrust again, slow and steady. Plink... plink... plink... he was enjoying himself, riding the orgasmic high for as long as he could. “Hello? Mom? Dad?” a muffled voice called from upstairs. Oh shit, that was me. My dad snapped out of his stupor and a look of panic set in. He pulled out of the machine, revealing his engorged 28” godhood, slimy cum coating its surface. He wiped himself off and kicked cum into the drain on the floor. My eyes wandered there, realizing that wasn’t hard water, but encrusted cum. “Shit,” the beast hissed to himself. A low thud rings out through the basement as the semen repository to the device gave out, falling to the ground and splashing more cum everywhere. He grumbled lowly as he fits it back on and pushed as much of the cum as he could into the grating on the floor. He wiped down his equipment and sighed looking one last time at the camera before shutting off the stream. I was rock hard as I stepped away from the computer console. I held myself against the wall as I made my way up the stairs to the ground floor. Without thinking, I made my way up the second flight. What was I doing? I felt like I was on auto-pilot. I should turn to the washroom, get freshened up before bed. No. I should just get some shut eye, go to my room and take my mind off everything. No. I had a craving... an urge... and I needed to satisfy it. I grabbed onto the knob leading into the master bedroom. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- <<PART 2: ...And Sometimes, I Find Out My Dad's a Growing Freak... PART4: ...And Sometimes, I Get What I Want>> Oh no, what ever could he want to do...

This is EXCEPTIONAL. Not only are you a fine, fine writer but . . . you "get it."

Ho Man !! This is awsome ! I'm completly geting the thrill of your character ! Loved it !

Loved it, especially the fisting. Hope they grow a ton, Ming's hole included.

Thanks - the second post was the second half of part one.

Maybe tom needs to help Chet blow up!!

great story! cant wait for second chapter!

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Amazingly, during the days which followed before my next class, where I would find out the outcome of my placement, my mind felt fairly relaxed. Every now and then I would experience a moment of sheer panic that I had made a huge mistake. To make myself feel better, I reasoned that even if I got the placement and I decided at the very last moment if I couldn’t go through with it, I could always just fake an illness. It wasn’t until I was sat back in Professor Walsh’s classroom that the butterflies started to kick in. I was anxiously waiting for some kind of eye contact from the Professor, wondering whether she would glance at me again and her expression would give away her thoughts on why this slim guy, who clearly had no obvious interest in bodybuilding, would chose it as one of his placement options. So far, there was nothing, but the nerves were growing by the second in anticipation of what was to come. It was only until about ten minutes before the end of the lesson that I was put out of my misery. As copies of the list were handed around to raised, excited voices, my nerves were unbearable. It literally felt like someone was squeezing the insides of my stomach. I desperately tried not to look at Professor Walsh in case we made eye contact. Whatever suspicions had already formed in her head would certainly be further fuelled by the fact I had suddenly turned into a quivering mess. As the pile of lists made it’s way down my row of desks towards me, I suddenly realised how badly I actually wanted to see my name against the bodybuilding placement. A muscle video I had watched the previous night suddenly flashed in my head, and as I thought about the insanely handsome, competition conditioned muscle monster pumping up his enormous, paper thin skin encased biceps backstage at a bodybuilding show in his indecently shiny blue posing trunks I had shot a load to, the list was in my hands, my eyes were shooting down the page, and there it was. Filming Backstage at a Local Bodybuilding Competition CHARLIE STEATHAM YES!! My heart leaped into my throat, and the nerves were suddenly replaced by sheer elation. But then, as I looked again, I noticed I wasn’t the only person on the placement. Filming Backstage at a Local Bodybuilding Competition CHARLIE STEATHAM BILLY HORVATH OH GOD!! BILLY HOR-FUCKING-VATH OH PLEASE GOD NO!! I had been so fraught with whether to put the placement as one of my choices in the first place, and what the Professor would think if I did, that I hadn’t given a second thought to the person I would actually be sharing the placement with, and even if I had, I would have never anticipated it would be the most annoying, obnoxious and unlikeable person in the class. In my few short months at the university, I don’t think I had ever seen Billy Horvath crack anything even closely resembling a smile. He was a pretentious, joyless, friendless individual with an opinion on everything, which was often opposed to that of everyone else in the class, including Professor Walsh. He was just about the last person I would ever want to share any kind of experience with, least of all this one. I glanced over at Billy, who was staring at the list. His face was red, his teeth were clenched, and he looked like he was about thirty seconds away from committing some violent act of crime. Billy was not a happy man at the best of times, but I knew the face of an incredibly pissed off person when I saw it. I usually didn’t waste too much time in getting my things together and leaving the classroom after my lectures had finished, and this one was no different. That was until I saw a flustered and determined looking Billy charging towards the Professor’s desk. I purposely held myself back, pretending to read the lecture notes I had just spent the last hour making, glancing up discreetly to see what was going on between Billy and the Professor. I wasn’t close enough to hear the conversation, but Billy was aggravated and clearly not happy, while the Professor looked diplomatic but stern, firmly shaking her head, which only seemed to aggravate Billy more. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what the conversation entailed. Billy was clearly trying to argue his way out of being on his chosen placement, and Walsh was firmly telling him that he was staying on it, whether he liked it or not. As much fun as it was to see Billy getting some sort of comeuppance for generally being the obnoxious person he was, this was one occasion where I would have liked to have seen fate on his side. When an enraged Billy had left, and the Professor was left subtly shaking her head at her desk, I quickly gathered my things to make an exit. Have you ever known something was about to happen before it actually does? Almost like for a split second you develop this psychic ability, and somehow you just know what’s about to occur, and then a second later, it does? That’s exactly what happened to me when Professor Walsh called my name just before I reached the door to exit the classroom, and even though I knew it was going to happen, I was still taken a back when it did. “Charlie!” Fuck! “Can I talk to you for a minute?” Fuck fuck shitting buggering fuck!! A jolt of fear shot through me. Not long before, I had been desperately trying to avoid eye contact with her and now she wanted to speak to me, and I had absolutely no idea what it was she had to say. As I tentatively edged towards the Professor’s desk, she was looking at me with a look of genuine concern. “Charlie, I just wanted to make sure you are OK with your placement?” You mean you want to know why the hell I want to spend an entire day surrounded by a bunch of disgustingly muscular, grotesquely huge muscle FREAKS of nature caked in oil and tan and wearing nothing but brightly coloured posing pouches? Of course, this could have been my opportunity to offer some kind of explanation as to why someone like me would have the slightest bit of interest in being involved in the filming of a bodybuilding competition., even if that explanation were ultimately to be a lie. But I just couldn’t think that fast. “Erm…yeah. I mean it’s an opportunity to gain some hands on experience isn’t it?” I reasoned. And a years supply of material for the fucking WANK BANK in my head!! Grrrrr-RUFF!! “I know it wasn’t your first choice but competition was really tough this year. A lot of students weren’t placed on any of their choices,” she explained. Your bother’s a bodybuilder. Tell her your brother’s a bodybuilder. THAT’S why you chose the placement. You have some small, vague interest and knowledge of bodybuilding because your brother is a bodybuilder. “Well to be honest, I didn’t think my chances of getting a place on the other two were that great, so I thought I’d pick one of the more interesting placements from the obscure options that I didn’t think would that be popular.” I didn’t make a habit of lying but in some instances, like this one, it was necessary. She smiled, and I could see in her face that she was genuine and sincere, and any possible suspicions I thought she may have had were all just paranoid thoughts in my head. “I knew you’d have a mature attitude about the experience, Charlie, and I know you’re the type of person who will gain something out of whatever type of filming you’re placed on,” she continued. I decided in that moment that I actually really liked Professor Walsh. I suddenly had an image of randomly running into her at an obscure book launch in New York in five years time, where she’d confess to me how she’d always thought I was the student who had the potential to achieve the most out of my class. “And you know we’ve had students on this placement before and we’ve generally had really good feedback. Some of the smaller camera crews let you get a lot more involved in the filming than the bigger ones. I think you might be pleasantly surprised, Charlie.” Pleasantly surprised at how many times I manage NOT to instantly ejaculate in my pants?! I was genuinely excited to hear this, and nodded along, but my mind had also, once again, drifted to the online video I’d watched the night before of the bodybuilder backstage at a competition pumping and posing for the camera. More than once whilst watching it, I’d imagined that I was on the other side of that camera, mere inches away from him. It was probably best that the Professor was wrapping up our conversation at this point, as something just a little south of my belt buckle was beginning to swell. I started to leave when she called me back. “Oh, and, Charlie, try not to let anyone…” she paused for a moment, as if trying to find appropriate word to use, “affect your experience.” Her eyes widened, and it was as close as her expression could get to rolling her eyes or acting inappropriately for a Professor. She was clearly talking about my new filming buddie, Mr Horvath. In that moment, and for the first time, I suddenly developed a curiosity as to what Billy would make of the pumped up muscle monsters we’d be filming a week on Saturday. I couldn’t help smiling at the thought of small, weedy, over opinionated Billy surrounded by a bunch of humongous, egotistical bodybuilders, pumping, posing and flexing their superhuman sized muscle. As I left the Professor’s classroom and headed back to my dorm room, a huge smile erupted on my face. The whole situation suddenly felt incredibly surreal and exciting, and for that moment at least, all of the nerves, doubts and fears had all but disappeared. If only they had stayed that way the morning of the work placement. The morning of the actual bodybuilding competition that was about to take the place in the arts theatre I was staring at head on, wondering what on earth I had been thinking to ever believe I could actually go through with the experience. The nerves hadn’t just reappeared that moment either. They’d been slowly creeping back for the days leading up to the placement, getting stronger and more unsettling. With the big day finally here, I felt like my stomach had literally been invaded by a group of miniature people who were tying every single one of my intestines into the tightest of knots. I was an absolute wreck, and before I had time to run in the opposite direction to hide under my duvet, never to face Professor Walsh or set foot in her classroom again, the unwelcome, short, slight figure of Billy Horvath was obnoxiously striding towards me, looking as characteristically gloomy as ever. Billy Horvath always seemed like he was about ten seconds away from saying something that would annoy, offend, or insult you. “So, you’re the other sucker who got this joke of a placement?” Annoyed? Check! “Professor Walsh must think as highly of you as she does of me!” Offended? Check! “Maybe if you actually made some contribution to the class every now and then her opinion might change!” Insulted? Check check fucking CHECK!! Billy clearly liked the sound of his own voice outside of Professor Walsh’s lectures as much as he did during them. “So, Charlie Steatham, can you please tell me what the hell we’re supposed to learn from being at a place like this?” he asked. Oooh…erm…I dunno Billy. How about learning how NOT to be an absolute fucking TWAT?! “Ummm, well we are gonna be operating cameras on a legitimate film crew,” I reasoned. Billy scoffed. “Do you know I didn’t tell anyone where I was going today? I’m that embarrassed,” he exclaimed. “I could be on an actual movie set, or at a television studio right now. Even a music video for a shitty boy band would be better than this. I mean, bodybuilding? Ugh! It’s fucking gross. A bunch of disgusting, brain-dead, meatheads.” Twat twat wanking buggering TWAT!! “And I see your as full of opinions as ever, Steatham?” I wasn’t a confrontational person, but Billy was pushing me to the edge. “Look, Billy, I really don’t care where we are or what we’re filming,” I explained. “I just want to get in there and see what I can gain from the whole thing. You know, make the most of this opportunity? Did anyone force you to come today?” “Oh, he has a voice! Some more of that in class and you might actually end up on a real studio set instead of standing outside here next time.” Billy was beginning to really aggravate me. “I have a voice. I just don’t feel the need to use it at every given opportunity. You see, I also have this thing called social awareness. Knowing when people don’t want to hear my voice. Knowing when people actually want me to shut up.” Billy’s eyes were wider than I’d ever seen them. He’d got the message, so he responded in typically obnoxious, annoying fashion. He sarcastically sucked his lips into his mouth while animatedly nodding, and imitating the action of a zip going over his lips with his fingers. I sighed, and shook my head. I waited for him to say something, but he wasn’t budging. Neither was that idiotic, wide eyed, lips sucked in, “not saying a word” expression. I stared at the theatre head on, and a very slight twitch of nerves fluttered in my stomach, which amazingly, felt pretty good, because it was about fifty times less intense than what I had felt before Billy’s arrival. For all his incredible annoyances, Billy had calmed my nerves. As he followed me towards the theatre, I realised how comforting it was to have someone with me in this incredibly nerve wrecking experience. Even if that person was someone like Billy Horvath. The whole experience suddenly became very real the moment I was stood in the theatre foyer and facing a huge poster with the words BODYBUILDING CHAMPIONSHIPS boldly written on it, and a large picture of the head and upper torso of a massive, ripped, competition conditioned muscle freak. His ridiculously huge, insanely shredded torso was exploding into a crab most muscular pose. Every flat out freaky inch of him was painted in bronzed tan. His body a mass of bumps, ripples and veins. His phenomenally sized arms were flexed to the max, and his traps were bulging up to his earlobes. As he squeezed every incredible, otherworldly muscle, his eyes were jammed tight shut, and his mouth was forced as wide open as humanly possible in the most unashamedly arrogant and testosterone fuelled facial expression. Although it was the kind of image I’d become so accustomed to seeing, ever since I innocently browsed through that magazine in my parents living room all those years ago, it was also the type of thing I’d only ever seen in the privacy of my own bedroom. But here it was in a public setting. This large, bold, unapologetic image of a monstrous sized, shredded to the heavens, outrageously cocky muscle bull in all his absurdly conditioned, arrogantly superior glory. Staring at me as if to say, “Yes, Charlie, this crazy world of extreme muscle you’ve been fantasising over all these years really does exist, and you’ve just stepped smack bang into the middle of it.” I nervously looked over at Billy, who was staring at the poster with his mouth hanging slightly open and his face curled into an expression of confusion, disgust, and pure fear. Before I had time to guess what was going through his head, I suddenly had my first glimpse of some genuine, real life muscle. My heat fluttered and my eyes widened at the image of a bodybuilder who I instantly recognised as Blaine Holton, standing with his arms folded, talking to a regular, non bodybuilding guy. Although he was covered up by a black tracksuit, he looked absolutely monstrous, with a torso which looked about twice the width of the man he was talking to. Blaine Holton was stupidly handsome and masculine looking, with the craziest square lantern jaw, and a massive, gorgeous smile he loved to flash at the camera. He was outrageously cocky too. In the few online videos I’d seen of him, he’d cheekily scrunched up his gorgeous face, and arrogantly snapped his mouth wide open as if shouting a loud, cocky, “YEAH!” while flexing and squeezing his muscle, which just so happened to be astonishingly thick and dense. Like massive, fleshy balloons of beef bulging off his carcass, all shrink wrapped in the tightest and most attractive silky smooth skin. Not only was I very well acquainted with this mountain of incredible muscle, I’d lost countless amounts of cum watching him flex, squeeze, pump and pose. And now, here he was, standing just yards away from me, looking even more incredibly handsome than in any picture I’d seen, or any video I’d watched. His competition ready muscle bursting underneath his clothing, ready to pump and pose for a camera I could quite possibly be on the other side of in the none too distant future. My thoughts were broken as an overly cheerful, slim man in a checked shirt, clutching a clipboard, approached me and Billy. “Are you guys looking for directions?” He’d clearly been trained on how to be pleasant and cheerful, even if someone like Billy, who was glaring at him with a look of disdain, was so unnecessarily rude to him. “We’re here to do some work,” I replied, before pausing. It was absurd given where we were, but I was a little embarrassed to say the words out loud, but I had no choice, so I continued. “Filming backstage at the bodybuilding show?” I felt myself blushing slightly at saying the word “bodybuilding” out loud. It was a fairly controversial word at the best of times, but for me, it also had so much hidden meaning to it. “Ahhh, I’ll just find someone to assist you guys.” As Mr Cheerful disappeared, Billy broke his record five minutes of silence. “I can not believe I am here,” he said slowly through gritted teeth. “Let’s just make the most of it shall we, Billy?” I sighed. I was determined not to let him get the better of me. It wasn’t long before Mr Cheerful was bouncing back towards us with another man in tow. “OK, gentlemen, this is Bryan Macleod. He’s part of the film crew and you’ll be reporting to him today.” Bryan Macleod was in his late thirties, possibly early forties. Although no one could have mistaken him for being one of the competitors in the day’s bodybuilding show, he’d clearly spent a fair few hours at the gym. He was broad, with a full and thick looking chest which bulged underneath his bright blue t-shirt, which also nicely showed off his pumped, modestly sized biceps, and exposed his solid looking, slightly furry forearms. He was bald, but in a sexy way, and although he was very masculine and butch looking, his big, slightly twinkly eyes and the rather gorgeous, warm smile he wore as he introduced himself, gave him a slight pretty boy quality. A very slight femininity in his voice and his general mannerisms couldn’t hide the fact that to the eager eye, he was, in fact, gay. As his warm strong hand gripped and shook mine, I instantly felt an attraction. Bryan gave Billy the same warm, friendly introduction he had given me, and Billy gave him the same rude, unfriendly response he had given everyone that day. “OK, guys, if you’d like to follow me I’ll give you a quick overview of what you’ll be doing today. Then I’ll introduce you to some of the camera crew and get you started.” As Bryan turned, the printed words of “LIVE FOR THE PUMP” were revealed on the back of his t-shirt. I couldn’t help but smile. I’d known Bryan for approximately four minutes and not only did I have a huge amount of respect for him, I also suddenly had a yearning desire to be like him. A confident, well muscled gay guy who not only worked on a camera crew filming huge, shredded muscle freaks at a bodybuilding competition, but was also confident enough to walk around in public wearing t-shirt’s with cheeky muscle related phrases. I suddenly wondered whether there was any chance that he was as completely crazy about, and insanely turned on by muscle as I was? As I followed the built, butch, sexy figure of Bryan Macleod (who in my head I’d now nicknamed Bryan MacWoofityWoof) across the foyer of the theatre, through some double doors and along some corridors, with a sulky Billy Horvath (who in my head I’d now nicknamed Billy Hor-FuckOffAndDisappearUpYourOwnArse-vath) in tow, not knowing what the next few hours were about to entail, the nerves had all but disappeared, and all I could feel now was an overwhelming mixture of excitement and elation.

Chapter 6 - Conclusion Jaime had been Eric’s boyfriend when the labs attached to his family’s company began producing a new kind of steroid compound. Eric had directed that research for years, as he absolutely fetishized muscle growth, and desired nothing short of a miracle for muscular development. Once the experimental compound was ready, it was first tried on small mammals, then monkeys, then refined and finally Eric began trials on himself (the medical ethics of this were never sound, as Jaime told me). In a matter of a few months after beginning injections, Eric had achieved an enviable, muscular physique, all thanks to the miracles of chemistry. Jaime had been one of the first outsiders to see its effectiveness first hand. But something else had changed. Eric became more irritable and more demanding. He started acting more and more dominate, which sort of frightened Jaime. Meanwhile, the growth concoction was continually being refined: made more potent, more effective, and now: produced en masse. Eric had hoards of it. Jaime had been an athletic guy when they had started dating, around the same size as Eric at about 180 pounds. But after Eric’s successful cycle he begrudgingly agreed to be Eric’s second human experiment. After nearly a year of dating (and injections), Jaime had grown into an impressive 260 pound muscle bear. His growth had thrilled Eric, who got off on it. Jaime couldn’t pretend he didn’t enjoy his new size, but he didn’t want to get any bigger, and decided against continuing. Jaime saw an obsession taking over Eric, and was becoming increasingly concerned about Eric’s fanatical devotion to making men grow for him, and his increasingly erratic behavior. When Jaime decided to stop the injections, Eric was furious. Jaime had never seen him so angry, and Jaime couldn’t help but wonder what the first formula, and those trial injections had done to Eric’s mental state. After a few days, Jaime agreed to return to the cycle and grow more, but before they continued Jaime found something that ended the relationship for good: Jaime discovered evidence that Eric was working on a chemical derived from nightshade plants that could make people suggestable, more easily manipulated, and to his own horror he realized it had been added to his food. No wonder he was willing to try growing again for Eric. Jaime suspected it was part of his plan to find a willing human test subject to explore the limits of what his drugs could do, and he was not going to be that guinea pig. The two soon parted ways. Eric tried to get Jaime to come back, but to no avail. Jaime was too disturbed by the changes in Eric’s personality, by the possibility that he had been unwillingly drugged, and his endless begging for Jaime to restart trials of his growth drugs. After Jaime left, Eric saw another man, a handsome athletic black guy named Kamal, but that guy had seemed to disappear after some time. Jaime kept an eye on Eric’s activities from a distance, and knew about me, but he never intervened. Jaime had no idea how big I had gotten until he saw me come to his gym a few months ago. That's when Jaime realized that Eric wasn’t just blowing us up willingly, he was finding guys and using drugs and hypnosis to control our behavior. He was brainwashing us, turning us into huge, ever-growing meatheads, just for his pleasure. That's all he wanted, and through endless hours of programming, he made us want that life too. We needed to get Kurt out of that house and away from Eric. That was the first priority. I think Jaime took time to make sure that I was truly onboard, he didn’t want me to turn back to Eric and my old ways, he wanted to make sure I was thoroughly deprogrammed, truly myself. It took weeks of preparation, and Jaime grilled me, made sure I was ready. Jaime explained that we would have to lure Kurt out of the house again. The man was too big to be restrained several weeks prior, and he had certainly only grown larger since, and he would need to get his hands on the sedatives he uses to control our behavior. I vaguely remember Eric adding the cloudy liquid to the clear substance before injecting me. The wheels started rolling, and with some help from a former employee in Eric’s labs, Jaime found Eric’s storage facility and secondary labs. It was way upstate, in the woods. I barely fit in Jaime’s pickup, but we managed. It did look somewhat comical. “Ok hulk” he said to me with a smile “Time for a roadtrip” The storage facility looked decrepit from the outside, but the lights were on and the spaces were clean. It looked like regular deliveries of food were being made to the place, as the same pre-made meal company had huge piles of boxes stacked outside. Between the two of us, we didn’t have much trouble breaking down the front doors. We predictably set off an alarm, but we pressed on into the building. We saw the beakers, fridges, and finally, containers of what looked like the injections Jaime and I had both taken for months. We gathered as many as we could into our bags, including what we identified as the sedative. Then we heard a noise, a heavy sound of something dropping. And then again. Footfalls, very heavy ones. They were coming from a space below the main floor. As spooked as we were, between the two of us, we would be a very intimidating combination. We headed downstairs to investigate, only to horrified by what we saw. Downstairs we encountered the largest, most impossibly blown up human being either of us could have ever dreamed. He looked absolutely unreal. He was about my height, had wild black hair and dark skin. His dark eyes were totally vacant, staring distantly, his gargantuan legs slowly lifting and lowering into ponderous steps. He had to weigh well over 700 pounds or more. His neck was nearly twice as thick as his head, and two overblown traps rose up all the way to his ears. Shoulders, five feet across or more, barreled out with arms so impossibly thick that they looked less than fully mobile. His chest had a thick rug of black hair, and stuck out into two heaving masses of muscle, grown more rounded and heavy than humanly possible. Beneath his furry pec shelf he had a massive hairy muscle gut that almost hid his nudity. His legs were so thick that it seemed to limit his ability to walk. His calves grew out obscenely on either side of his shins into enormous globes of muscle. Still he just stood there, naked, bulging in every direction, muscle straining against muscle, vacantly staring. I hadn’t felt small for a very long time. This was a man so freakishly muscular that he could barely move. All around this large room were empty containers of food. He clearly could still manage to eat, but he seemed only vaguely aware that we were standing right in front of him. “My god, what did Eric do to him?” Jaime asked in a hushed tone. “It’s Kamal. He’s turned him into a monster” I just backed up, nervous at this true muscle freak in front of me. I couldn’t tell if he was flexible enough to even come after us, or if he even knew we were here. It seemed like someone was around enough to check on him, to provide him food. Despite his drugged-up state, he seemed to be able to function. Finally, he looked right at us. It was disturbing, those vacant eyes seemed to want to say something, but no words came out. Silence and a small groan. "Let's get out of here” Jaime continued, grabbing my arm. I was transfixed, my eyes on this monster in front of me, who seemed both so frighteningly powerful, so inhumanly strong and dominating, and yet completely vulnerable and incapacitated by his own mass. We were both shaking on the drive back into the city. Both of us had not expected to see what we had. But it galvanized our mission. We knew that Eric had do be stopped before he turned Kurt into another lobotomized monster. We had to figure out how to lure him away from Eric. I called Kurt the next morning. “I want to finish the interview” I said, “Please let me finish it” I didn’t hear back that week. Jaime was contacting authorities anonymously about the lab in upstate, but it didn’t seem he was getting very far. I sent Kurt another email. Jaime coached me on what to say to lure him out. “I bet Eric would be interested in reading your finished interview with me” I wrote. Finally, two weeks later I received a reply. Not only was he willing to meet me, but he wanted to try and wrestle me. “I think we’re almost evenly matched, big boy” he said in the email. We set the time for him to meet me at my house. Jaime at the same time reached out to Eric, telling him he finally wanted to go through with another round of injections. He wanted to grow again. Eric agreed, and the two coordinated a time to meet. Another gym employee, Shawn, was to go to my apartment and let Kurt in and stall him. Both Jaime and I stalked out Eric’s house. We waited that morning for Kurt to leave. Sure enough we saw this massive, large bellied, incredibly wide man trod out of the house on time. Kurt wasn’t just bigger, he had blimped out completely. His spherical powerlifter belly dominated his enormous frame. He had to be well north of 350 pounds, and it looked like he had gained 60 or more pounds in the span of a few weeks. His muscular arms had bloated into huge hams, and his body radiated a new kind of strength and power. That's when Jaime made his move. He knocked on the door and waited for Eric to answer. Sure enough Eric opened the door, but Jaime audibly gasped at the sight in front of him. Eric had transformed like Kurt. He was thicker everywhere, and had developed a pronounced muscle gut that pushed over his waist band and put a strain on his shirt. His arms were massive and his shoulders were incredibly wide. Gone was the 220 pound muscle daddy. Eric was now a 300 pound grizzly. “Surprised to see me?” Eric said. “What have you done to yourself?” Jaime asked. “Been sampling the new wares. Just thought I’d try out living a little larger. I’m quite enjoying it.” he replied with a grin. “This new stuff works faster than anything we’ve tried before. Granted, it makes you grow a bit of a belly” he said, smiling and patting his gut. “But it’s phenomenal. This is four weeks of injections. I’ve put on 80 pounds in that time. I’m growing every day, and I can see it happening. You should try it.” He continued. “I don’t mind the belly, and I bet you won’t either.” “You know why I’m here.” Jaime began. That was my cue. Turned the corner and rushed into the house, tackling Eric as best I could. I still outweighed him by a good amount, and I took him totally off guard. Jaime closed the door behind us and pulled out a syringe. He prepped it as I wrestled with Eric, getting him pinned. Eric was strong, and far larger than he had been, but I still had considerably more pure muscle on my frame. He struggled, but Jaime helped pin him down. First was the sedative. I watched Eric’s eyelids droop as the mixture began to take effect. “I know what you did to these young men Eric.” Jaime began. “And I have to make sure you don’t do it to anyone else again.” Eric just groaned. “I’m going give you a taste of your own medicine, but it looks like you’ve already given yourself a head start.” I helped drag the enlarged Eric, my former master, into the guest bedroom. The enormous semi conscious man listened to Jaime’s words, and jaime prepared a second injection. “You are only ever going to inject yourself from now on” Jaime said. “And you will do everything to get as big as possible.” After this, Jaime just continued repeating those statements in various forms to the incapacitated man. I waited by the front door for Kurt’s inevitable return. Soon, the big man was lumbering up to the door. Armed with a powerful sedative, I tackled Kurt and jabbed him in the shoulder with it.. I was able to wrestle him to the ground, despite that he too had dramatically increased in size since our last encounter. And with some help from Jaime I was able to pick him up and walk him to the car. He was huge, and it was hard for him to fit in the back. Although I too was way too big for drivers seat, I managed to drive Kurt back to Jaime’s place, and with Shawn’s help, I made a bed for him. Kurt panicked when he finally woke up, but I was able to calm him down. It took time to explain to Kurt what had happened. I was patient, and tried to keep him happy and comfortable and well-fed. Jaime stayed behind with Eric, and then moved Eric out to the lab in upstate. Intoxicated on the growth cocktail he himself had devised, Eric was easily lead like a docile animal into and out of the car. In his suggestible state, his inner desires for muscle growth came out. For three days Jaime kept Eric in a trance-like state, re-programming him, and it only naturally let to his desire turn into the kind of muscle freak he had turned other men into. When Jaime returned, he brought a full moving van. In the back, laying on a mattress was the Kamal, the monstrously large muscle zombie we had found at Eric’s labs. Despite his frightening size, he was surprisingly calm and responded well to commands. This was a case of a terrifying overdose. His brain must have been totally fried from the sheer amount of chemicals pumped into his gargantuanly overgrown body, and he seemed incapable of true speech. But at least he was at least smiling when we took him outside. We were determined to try and provide him with a semi-normal life, in hopes that his mind would slowly return to him. Kurt's programming wore off relatively quickly. I had to sit him down every day and explain what had happened, and I knew it would just take time. After a few weeks of living together, the two of us grew close, and he began to return to normal, at least mentally. Physically he hadn’t stopped gaining size. As the weeks went on, even without injections, I watched his frame continue to thicken and expand, growing impossibly bulkier and beefier. An already massive muscle bear only grew bigger. He probably put on another fifty pounds before the injections began to wear off. He broke 400 pounds sometime around then, and now looks like a world-class powerlifter, one of the biggest, bulkiest guys I think I’ve seen anywhere. But oddly enough, I think the size suits him. He looks a lot hotter as a gigantic overfed meathead than he did as a reporter. Kurt is still competitive with me. He might outweighs me by fifty (or sixty) pounds (it's all just his belly, I tell myself) but I think I've still beat him on strength, though I’m not sure. He started taking on powerlifting and it’s clear that he’s got the strength to match the incredible size. He could seriously compete and win if he wanted. Jaime’s gym is thriving and we have a number of clients interested in strength building and bodybuilding competitively. Kamal had been missing for two years. With help from my gym colleague Shawn, He slowly did start regaining his senses, and joined Kurt in managing Eric’s old house. We formed a kind of fraternity, the four of us, all transformed permanently by the insane concoction still laying around. None of us really wanted to get bigger, except maybe Jaime, who complained about feeling small between Kurt, Shawn and I. As the weeks ticked by, none of us seemed to lose any size either. It’s like the drugs had permanently changed us. Recently I’ve noticed that Jaime’s arms and pecs have been looking a little thicker and fuller. I wondering if he actually is sampling something from the storage rooms in Eric’s house. I guess we’ll see. Kurt teaches powerlifting. I generally stay out of the limelight. I’m just the resident front desk “hulk” and I’m happy in that role. I’ve reconnected with my friends and family, but none of them can quite wrap their heads around what's happened to me. None of them have lost that look of astonishment when they see me in all of my 360 pound glory. They’ll be in shock for a long time. But I’m ok with it. The four of us are superhuman in a way, and I like it. Kamal generally stays at home. But I think we’re all happy. I’m finally at peace with my body, as big, cumbersome and intimidating as it is. For the first time in a long time, I like how I look. I even like to flex for people when they ask for it. _____ Working off an anonymous tip, Albany police descended on an abandoned looking lab in the forest. They broke in, and were utterly baffled by what they saw. At first, they couldn’t tell what they were looking at inside the dimly lit lab. It appeared to be a massive, bulging creature, sitting on the ground it looked to be the size of an elephant. Unbeknownst to them, a loyal lab scientist carrying a large amount of product escaped through a backdoor and ran off into the forest. As Police moved in, the began to see the enormous swelling mounts of muscular flesh that were helplessly flexing. Then they could make it out, Legs, huge, ballooned up muscular legs, and a massive mounded midsection, two huge, furry pecs and huge trembling muscular arms, all laying propped up against a back wall in a starfish position, nearly immobilized by his sheer mass. Without a doubt this man had been blown up into an impossible size through some sort of chemical wizardry. The man’s hands were totally dwarfed by tremendously over muscular forearms, every muscle had rounded out with bloated mass. His traps loomed over his head. This was a heavily bearded, beastly looking over-bulked freak, and he was was sitting, with eyes glazed, food in his mouth, muttering over and over again the same words: “I can’t stop growing”.

Chapter 5 "Be proud of yourself Kurt!" Eric said to me after looking at the scale. 250 pounds was a cause for celebration. “You’re bigger than me now!” Eric said enthusiastically. I had been packing away the food for weeks, and it showed. I looked like a big rugby player, or even a football player. I was big, for the first time in my life I actually felt big too. Eric took our weekly progress photo and added it to the collection. It was pretty amazing to see how big I looked in that photo. At first I was a little anxious about my belly and if I was getting too heavy to quickly, but Eric kept pushing me, telling me how hot I looked and how he loved my increasing size. I had to admit, the strength gains were a huge ego boost. I was feeling more and more proud of the weight I could push every day. Pushing 315 on bench wasn’t so bad anymore. I kept at it, thanks to Eric’s encouragement. Nothing was going to stop me. At night after the injections, Eric would lay me down and we’d talk throughout the day. He’d tell me how much he was proud of me for what I had already accomplished and I always felt energized, even more motivated to get massive after those sessions. I couldn’t trace back when or where this drive for size was coming from, but as each week passed my urge to grow into a mass monster only increased. I imagined myself at Jonas’ size and it started turning me on. I had never gotten turned on by that idea before, but now I was totally into it. Even during our fuck sessions, Eric would tell me how big I was getting and how big I was going to grow, and it always made me get off. I kept eating, training, sleeping, eating and fucking. That was my life, and I loved it. Eric was devoted to me, to my growth, to my success in the gym. He didn’t seem envious at all as I began to surpass him in strength. Sometimes I’d borrow his shirts, but soon it became clear that I was starting to stretch them out. When I hit 260 Eric took me out for a whole new wardrobe. Everything was XL or XXL (so I could grow into it). Part of the problem was the speed I grew out of my pants too. My whole lower body had ballooned, which felt great but started to cause new issues I’d never experienced before. The chaffing was real. My meaty thighs now rubbed together all the time when I walked. My ass was swelling out huge, which at first made me somewhat self-conscious, and required bigger pants. I went from 36s to 38s, and then to fit my ass I had to go up all the way to 40s. It gave me pause, I remember being hesitant about buying the size 40 pants. “It's not your gut, hon, its your booty” he said to me. I knew it was mostly true, but the size of my waistline was expanding with the rest of me. I had a hard time suppressing my insecurities, was I just gonna start looking fat? But that all began to change. I remember I stepped on the scale one morning, seeing 265 and feeling really proud of myself. I looked long and hard at my reflection, my widening, thickening frame. I had a belly now, no doubt about it, but instead of being insecure and anxious about it, I was turned on. I cupped the bottom side of my little gut with my left hand, feeling its weight. I didn’t hate it. No, actually, I liked the way it complimented my muscular chest and arms. It was a good look, I decided. The words “you like being thick” just kept rolling in my mind. I did like it. And I wanted more. The weeks rolled by, and I started to feel big. Less than a month after hitting 250, I was up to 270. My size was starting to really sink in. I was comfortably filling out an XL shirt, which was pleasantly tight on my 19 inch arms. Eric couldn’t keep his hands off me, calling me a “big muscle pig”, and I realized, that is what I was, I was becoming a big muscle pig. Eating was my life. Lifting and fucking were just breaks from the constant eating. My gut was permanently rounded out from all the eating, and Eric would rub it and tell me to keep going. Part of me freaked out about what was happening to me, another part embraced it as my new identity. I was a big, strong, beefy dude, and that should give me confidence. My face was filling out, sometimes I had a hard time recognizing myself. I had let my beard grow out and my body was getting hairier everywhere, something of a side effect from the “vitamins” I guess, but I liked it. It made me look like the kind of bulked up muscle bears you see on the bear event posters. Fuck, I was big and hot enough, that could have been me on one of those event posters. Our life continued week after week, endless streams of pre-made meals delivered to the apt, or just take out sometimes too. Progress photos showing my growth.I know Eric was a good cook, but rarely showed it. Instead we just ate and ate. All these meals were starting to have an effect on him too. I watched my big muscle bear boyfriend grow thicker too. He didn’t seem to realize it maybe, but he was probably a good 20 pounds heavier than when he had moved in. Most of it was muscle, but I could see his furry belly had thickened a bit too. At 280, even my XLs were getting snug. Somehow I found myself sauntering through a Big and Tall store looking for XXLs and XXXLs. Eric reminded me: 300 pounds would be in my near future. My whole attitude towards the gym and towards my body had changed. I was just meant to be the biggest dude in the room. I wanted to be the biggest man anywhere. I wanted to be strong as fuck, and big as a barn. My ass didn’t fit in the 40s anymore, so I went up to 42s, and bought some 44s, just in case. Growth is intoxicating, and the longer it continues the more you want it to continue. The more I wanted to be huge, the only problem was, and I told Eric this, was that I was nervous about what friends or family would say about my new size. What if they were concerned and told me to stop getting bigger? I didn’t know what to think. But I guess what was remarkable was how soon that worry disappeared too. After a few days, I *wanted* everyone to know how big a man I was now, how strong and how powerfully built. If someone told me I was getting too big, that’d be a compliment, telling me to keep going. Eric agreed. I really wanted Jonas to see how big I was getting, but I decided I should wait a few more weeks until I broke 300. Two weeks and almost 130 meals later, I hit it. Granted I was stuffed from the buffet I had gone to with Eric, but I was there. I felt so fucking heavy. The floorboards creaked under my feet now, my feet had widened from the increasing weight and my shoes no longer fit correctly. I looked absolutely massive. My shoulders looked twice as wide as they had been two months ago, and my arms had broken 21 inches around. My chest was thick, heavy looking, and rested just above my big round musclegut. I loved my musclegut, furry, round, thick. It was a source of pride. A big strong man’s gotta have a big manly gut too, right? __________ My life was starting to become somewhat more normal. I got a job at a nearby gym. I let my beard grow out longer. Everywhere I went I felt like I was looked at like a freak. At my size, I understand why, but this kept me from wanting to leave the house. It was Jaime, the gym owner, who treated me normally, who encouraged me, who let me feel comfortable in my own skin. He didn’t make constant references to my size, he didn’t stare at me. He treated me like a regular employee. I quickly became known as “hulk” or by the other employees and even some gym members, but Jaime always called me by Jonas. And I loved his gym, it actually had weights I could use. Not many gyms have 180, 190 or 200 pound dumbbells, but his did. And he was easy to talk to. As a big guy himself, he didn’t make me feel like a freak at all. My arms might have broken 25” but Jaime still found a gym shirt to fit me. Piece by piece, my life was regaining some normalcy. I was still lifting seriously, still eating 7 times a day, but I wasn’t a shut in anymore. I was talking to people. Maybe getting stared at, but at least it felt good to be out. And actually, I was starting to like my size. I was a freak, sure, but a lot of guys were actually envious of my size. 360 pounds of offseason but defined mass. How many men have ever reached this size? And I was maintaining is, seemingly effortlessly. Sure, I was a hulk, sure I’m huge, but I’m Jonas the hulk, and I had a life and people to talk to. I got along well with the other employees, many of whom seemed eager to know about how I had gotten so big. I woke up to the doorbell. It was 8:00am. I Looked out from the curtain and saw a massive burly bearded man I didn’t recognize. It wasn’t former Master Eric, or one of his friends, so who was this? When I opened the door the heavily bearded face that greeted me was suddenly recognized. “Kurt?!” I exclaimed. It was hard to believe that this beefy, thick bear of a man in front of me was that skinny journalist I had let into my house months ago. “Hi Jonas. How do I look?” he asked. Kurt had a meal in tupperware in his hands, with a fork in it, and another, I presume, in his backpack. “I’ve done some… growing.” he continued. Kurts face was much fuller, heavily bearded and his neck had thickened incredibly. Thick tufts of hair escaped from under his tight collar. Like what had happened to me, the Eric’s concoction had caused him to grow hair everywhere. His traps seemed to rise up nearly to his ears, and his whole frame looked so bulky, like a strongman competitor or a powerlifter. “I broke 300 pounds big guy.” he said, beaming “and I’m not stopping. I’m gonna be bigger than you soon!” I shook my head. This was all Eric’s programming talking. Not the skinny little reporter I was interviewed by. That previous Kurt hadn’t ever been able to understand the desire to grow, he didn’t have any drive or want for it. T I let Kurt in and stared at him. Eric’s handiwork really was impressive, and undeniably effective. He hadn’t lied on the phone. Kurt was enormous. An impossibly blimped out, bulked up powerlifter in the spot where a nerdy reporter used to stand. Part of me couldn’t believe that the massive bearded man in front of me was Kurt, but that familiar smile gave it away. “You look bigger too, I see” Kurt continued. I had done some growing since I had last seen him, but was pretty much sitting stable at 360 lbs. Granted I knew how massive that was, I had no illusions about it, but I hadn’t put on any more size in the last month. And I was thankful my growth had subsided. Life at over 350 lbs gets surprisingly more difficult. From bus seats, to doorways, to simply maneuvering around other people on the street. Now that I was going outside and working at a gym, I was having to get used to a world built too small for me. “So I just wanted to come over and say hello, since it’s been awhile” Kurt said “and I wanted to tell you that I’ve found my calling. I’m gonna grow huge just like you.” “Kurt” I began “You have to understand, Eric isn’t who you think he is, this desire to constantly eat and get bigger, this isn’t you. You didn’t used to want this” I said in an exasperated tone, gesturing to his bulky physique. “Well. I do now, I want to be massive, and I’m gonna get so big that you’re gonna look like a shrimp next to me.” He puffed out his beefy chest for emphasis. I sort of went slack-jawed at this comment . “...Eric told me you’d be jealous.” he continued. “And I don’t have to listen to you”. For the next fifteen minutes I tried to tell him about master Eric, I tried to tell him about the cocktail of drugs he’s been doped up on and how they were making him easily manipulated and suggestible. I tried to tell him everything I knew, and everything I had realized since leaving Eric several months prior. Kurt didn’t listen, of course, and stormed off after my comments made him angry. He shook the place with his heavy footfalls when he stomped off, just reminding me of what a Only a few minutes later I received a second knock on the door. For a former shut-in, this was far more guests than I was used to in a week, much less one morning. It was my boss at the gym, Jaime, a big powerful muscle bear in his own right. I had only been working there for a month, so I was puzzled as to why he had come to my house (or looked up my address..) “Listen” he said firmly “I know Eric, and I know what he did to you... and that Kurt kid. I know, because I was the first guy he experimented on.” My mouth went slack for the second time that morning. “Eric has gone too far, and I’m going to shut him down. I just need your help”

Chapter 3--- I guess I like drama. ___________________________ I had played soccer all through high school and volleyball and tennis in college. After graduating and moving into New York I did kickball, bowling and softball. All those sports were with the gay leagues.I guess I have to admit I have a bit of a competitive streak in me, because I’ve always been pretty strong at sports. So pretty much all my life I have been in shape. Skinny, but in shape. Before I started lifting seriously I was about 165 lbs or so. And I had lifted on and off for years to supplement my workouts on the field. I knew what to do, but Eric really got me into it. He showed me new lifts I didn’t know anything about. It was awesome to get so much help from an older guy who really knew the ropes. Eric put me onto a 6-day split, with one rest day a week. My routine otherwise was pretty normal. He bought me a special bag to carry my meals with me so I was able to get out and do my reporting for the New Gotham Weekly while still having my meals prepped and ready to eat whenever I needed them. Eric encouraged me to follow my passion- to write. He was so supportive of me. I quit my part time office manager gig. I never cared much for stocking office supplies anyway. I was going to be dedicated to writing, eating and lifting. Those first few weeks were such a rush. I told Eric I wanted to take progress pictures, since I knew I’d be starting a cycle soon. I had it in my head that I could create what Jonas’ master had created in that photo album. That was my idea anyway. So Eric took my “before” pics. After the first week, already feeling the effects of the cycle and all the food, we took a second set of pics. My libido was through the roof and I was eating all the time. The difference was noticeable. I went from 165 at the start of the week to 172 by the end. By my second week all my lifts were going up. It was incredible. Later on that second week I saw some friends of mine out and they commented on my build, saying I looked a little bigger. I got the “You’ve been working out” comment everyone secretly loves getting. I kept fueling my workouts with prepped meals. The first few days I could only get 6 in during the course of the day, but I kept pushing. By the end of the week I was eating 8 prepped meals a day. By the end of the second week it was up to about 9 meals a day, all packed in tupperware and made of variations of past, chicken, rice, quinoa, fish and steak. They really were delicious. I ate them steadily so I never felt too full to keep going. I thought of Jonas and how he was always eating. Inadvertently, I was starting to do the same. The days passed along and I found myself in a new routine. One that centered me around my gym and my kitchen. I still kept up my outings to to local sporting events and with more time to focus on writing my little feature pieces for the New Gotham Weekly were turning out well. I was half tempted to ask for more work from the Weekly, but I decided against making myself too busy. During the first week of training the meal shipments only came in twice a week. By the third week they were coming four times a week, which is what it is like today, only with larger boxes. I stopped going out to the bars, so I think my bar friends missed me a bit, but I saw folks out during lunch. By the third week I was already getting close to 180 lbs. I went out and grabbed lunch with a buddy of mine and he mentioned I looked bigger. My sleeves had gotten tighter on my medium size shirts. I’d have to graduate to larges soon. I’d see friends here and there, and I’d still get reporting done. All the while I was eating constantly and hitting the gym hard. On the day I broke 180 I got a note from Jonas asking for me to meet up with him again. Part of me was excited to show up a full 15 lbs heavier and see if he noticed. He changed the time of my meet up with him and I ended up showing up bright in the morning. This time he answered the door fully clothed, but that didn’t do anything to hide his tremendous bulk. Jonas was larger, I could tell immediately. It had been three weeks and it was visible. His XXXL shirt was straining to hold together. “I’ve taken your advice. I’m trying to get out more.” He said “I finally bought new clothes. I’m up to 340 lbs now.” I became surprisingly excited just hearing that. My ears definitely perked up. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go for a walk. I’m trying to get outside more. It’s clearing my mind” he said. I agreed, and this massive man sauntered out of the door, slowly walking down the stairs of his apartment. Because of the sheer muscle mass, every movement caused his muscles to visibly flex, even with a shirt and sweatpants. He complained of how his size slowed him down. He couldn’t even run anymore. He tried to demonstrate and to my surprise it was a total turn on. Here was a man whose lats were so enormous that they pushed his gargantuan 25” arms way out to his sides. His shoulders had this permanently rounded bowling-ball appearance. His neck had disappeared into the mounted mass of his bulging trap muscles. His butt was so huge it looked like two basket balls under those sweatpants, with the largest quads you could imagine. Jonas was a total muscle freak. When he started to jog his massive thighs just rolled around each other, fighting for space. His whole body tightly bounced, his arms mobility limited by their size. He probably only got about 10 feet down the sidewalk when he stopped. “I just keep gaining” Jonas said in between heavy breaths. Watching his massive chest rise and fall was downright hypnotic. “It’s getting harder and harder to do this stuff. I think someday you’ll know what this is like” He said I couldn’t quite get what Jonas was trying to say with his last comment, but I tried to respond on the positive side: “Well, you’re built like a tank. I guess that running is something you’ll have to give up. But I bet you’re the strongest man at your gym!” I was clearly in awe of his size and he could tell. “I am. I’ve been the strongest guy for weeks. The weights keep getting easier.” He replied without any sense of pride in his voice. Jonas must have noticed I was bigger. I was still completely dwarfed by this guy, but he must have been able to tell how tight my shirts were getting. But he didn’t say a word about it. We continued our walk around the block and I just found myself getting hard looking at him saunter down the street. I had never been into freaky muscle dudes before, but now suddenly I was really into his size. “I don’t get it. Why you’re so upset about being the biggest strongest guy in the Tri-State area?” I asked “I’d love to be your size.” . “Would you really want to be this big?” He asked sharply, keeping his eyes on the sidewalk in front of him. “Yes I would.” Part of me was surprised by the frankness and confidence of my own response, I guess I really did want it. I wanted to be as big as Jonas. “Well, if you really want to be this size, you will get there.” He replied. I sort of scoffed at his comment. Even with my recent gains, there was no way I could look like that freak for years and years. No matter what cycle Eric put me on. Jonas and I talked for several hours that afternoon. I think we both enjoyed eating and talking together. He said things were becoming clearer to him. He had called his mom and dad and had even reconnected with a few friends over the phone, though they probably didn’t get a glimpse of his new size. I knew how anxious he was to show up at 340 lbs in front of his friends. That afternoon I felt an attraction to Jonas for the first time, but I didn’t dare act on it. I guess I had a thing for troubled muscle freak types. It would be several more weeks before I’d see him again. I went back to my routine that I had built for myself, Eric and I kept getting closer and closer, physically and emotionally. I hadn’t considered him a potential boyfriend when we first met, but now with all the time we spent together something was starting to take off between us. I guess he sort of became my man. And I became his man. And thank god, I needed someone to take my raging libido out on. Eric was the handsome muscle daddy I needed. Eric also continued, at my behest, to take my photographs. I wanted that photo album like Jonas had. Soon I broke 190. It was a rush seeing the numbers go up on the scale every day, and soon after I hit 190 I started getting more attention. It was noticeable. Guys at the gay rugby matches I watched were suddenly asking me about when I was going to join their team. 190 lbs didn’t feel much different, my clothes were just getting small, but otherwise I didn’t feel big. But suddenly I was casually being called “big guy” and getting a lot of comments from friends. The photos showed some undeniable changes too. I was bulking up fast. I was getting broader and more muscular, no doubt about it, and I had the start of a big off the off-season look going for me. The day I benched 185 for 10 I felt good about myself. I remember that. I was able to go up to 205 without much difficulty either. Eric bought me some XL shirts for me to “grow into”. He was always helping me, he did the injections too. I told him he should try this cycle himself, but he told me he’d rather see me grow. And I was happy to grow for him. It was clear my size gains were turning him on. We ever had a little celebration the day I broke 200 lbs. He was getting really turned on by my body and I loved it. Never before had I felt so sexy. Each pound was an exciting conquest. Each pound that seemed almost effortlessly pile onto my frame. Every day brought more visible progress. I found myself looking and flexing in front of the mirror more and more often.. I loved how my shirts were getting tighter on my arms and how much meatier I felt. The stronger I got the more I wanted, too. I was starting to get competitive with Eric. I figured it wouldn’t be long before I caught up to his 275 lbs bench. My eating didn’t slow down for a second. I just kept pounding that food day in and day out, ‘round the clock. It felt so satisfying too. It was making me into a new man, a huge man. The kind of freak I wanted to become. When I hit 210 lbs I started to feel big. I felt bulky. My stride was changing. People didn’t even recognize me. My face had filled out a little and I decided to grow a beard, so that was understandable. I wanted to see Jonas. Ever since that last encounter with him I had become so turned on by the idea of being as large as he was. Now I wanted him to see me again, obviously bigger and on track to get so, so much larger. When I did see him a week later I tipped the scales at 215. I was loving every minute of it. Then he opened the door and I saw that massive shirtless frame of his completely filling the doorframe. His eyes met mine and we both looked at each other with some surprise. He was enormous, hairy and oozing testosterone. He was nearly 360lbs now he said. Inhumanly massive. I was so overcome with lust that I just threw myself at him. He didn’t even push away. I found myself running my hands over his gargantuan arms and heavy, massively rounded, furry chest. I grasped and my hands over every corner of that hypermasculinized body, every muscular curve and bulge that I could reach. There was just so much of him. I don’t know how else to describe it. Just so much man pressed against me. To see and feel so much muscle flexing over me and under me. When he sprawled across his queen size bed he practically took up the whole thing. I was just on top of him, feeling his bulk while our lips were locked. His dick was so large and despite all the gear he was on and had been on for over a year, his balls were enormous. Must have been some good stuff he was cycling, I thought. Jonas was too big to do anything but jerk off. How could we do anything else? Maybe if I were his size we would be able to do more. But it was an incredible rush. It was like living out some sex fantasy I hadn’t known I had. This overgrown, roid-blimped bodybuilder who was totally into me, flexing his 25”+ arms while he jerked himself off... His huge hairy pecs bulging with each motion. Fuck, thinking about that session still gets me hard. I fell asleep on top of him. I couldn’t get enough. I wanted to cuddle but he was too big to be little spoon. We even tried. I could barely get my arms around his gigantic back. My hand only made it as far as the side of his left chest and his arm was so heavy, as it rested on mine, it put it asleep after only a minute. He was just so big. I asked Jonas if his master would be ok with what we did. He didn’t really know. He figured his master had put the two of us into contact so he might have expected us to fool around. But Master, he said, was a temperamental man. Jonas went on to mention that things were starting to get clearer in his mind since the last time we had met up. He said he felt like the urges he had to lift and eat weren’t even his own anymore. Big changes were going to happen between him and his master, he felt. He said he knew he could use his size to get his way if he wanted, and he admitted that this really was a benefit to being as massive and strong as he was. He even hinted that he was getting tired of taking orders from his master. I thought about that for a minute and contemplated the nature of their relationship. Here was a submissive partner who could so completely physically overpower anyone. I for one wouldn’t want to be that "master" who got on Jonas’ final nerves. When I got home later that night Eric was stomping around the house, furious about something. What he was so mad about he didn't say. He refused to talk about it. All he did was eat and snap at me. I gave him some space. I wondered if he knew about Jonas and our dalliance? No, I had never told him about Jonas, there would be no way for him to know.

Chapter 2 ____ When Jonas greeted me at his door he was again shirtless, hairy with a fork in hand. In fact he looked noticeably bigger. Something about the width of his tremendous shoulders, or his massive traps. His pecs looked so heavy and his rounded, hairy muscle gut barreled outwards He looked even more imposing than a week ago. Standing in front of me was a muscle freak in the farthest depths of the offseason. He must have noticed my astonishment. Between bites from a meal prepped in a Tupperware container Jonas simply said: “I grew”. “Damn! I can tell” Jonas' bowling ball shoulders bulged and flexed as he moved and shifted his weight. “I’m up another 10 lbs this week. I’m over 320 lbs right now.” I couldn’t tell if he was bragging or complaining. He turned around and opened the door to invite me in. He was wearing jumbo sized sweatpants that clung tightly to his massive muscled ass. I couldn’t help but stare at his huge legs either. He ushered me into his dimly lit apartment, and aside from the two foot tall pile of used tupperware, his place actually looked pretty neat. I sat down at the little round table from the week before. It looked like my chair hadn’t moved. I made some offhand comment about the tidying up and he responded. “My… master had a cleaning lady in.” He said “He didn’t like how dirty it was getting.” Master. So that's what this kind of relationship was. He had some sugar daddy funding his bodybuilding. That explained so much. “So tell me a little bit more about your master. He’s the guy who’s getting your food delivered, right?” The big man nodded. “He’s the one who’s making me like this.” Jonas casually flexed his massive bicep, which had to be at least 23” around. I found myself gawking again. God he looked enormous. Everything on his physique was so massive and bloated with muscle. “He knows I don’t want to be any bigger. He knows I want to stop growing” Jonas began “But he doesn’t care. It turns him on to watch me outgrow my clothes, to see me grow.” “So you just keep eating” I said. “I told you before” he said between mouthfuls. “This isn’t a choice.” I tried to figure out what angle I could use on this story. “Man Hypnotizes Young Gay man in a Master/Muscle Slave Relationship”. I mused the idea of how my sports column could be stretched to cover this. “Master/Slave Bonding leads to Heavyweight Bodybuilding” “So can I meet this master of yours?” I asked. “You will. But he’s not here yet.” Something about his tone sounded slightly ominous. “How much are you eating every day?” I asked “I have no idea. I don’t do it consciously. It’s just happening. And My fridge is so full that master got me a second one several months ago” He replied. I found myself still staring as his bulging body as he spoke. The largest man I’d ever seen had actually gotten visibly larger in a week. “I’m sorry, you said you gained ten pounds in a week?” “Yes, and it's been like this for several weeks. I’ve been growing like this for the last month. Before that I was gaining at a slower rate. Master has me on something new, something experimental. He says there's no limit to how big I’ll get now.” He had a solemn look about him. “He takes care of me, but this is what he wants. I never dreamed I’d end up like this.” “Why not try and get out of it?” I asked. “Get out of it? like No, I can’t, I’ll never escape master. I don’t want to.” Jonas replied “Well, what if you just get outside more instead? Being inside all day can’t be healthy.” I realized I was probably one of this man’s only current connections to the outside world. “I used to have a life.” Jonas continued “ I used to have hobbies, you now. Now that's all gone. All I do is eat and lift and sleep. I don’t have time for anything else. And I don’t want people I know seeing me like this.” He sounded as if he was completely ashamed of his new size. “Jonas, they’re going to have to see you at some point. You can’t hide from your friends and family forever. Are you scared of what they’ll say?” I asked. “I know what they’ll say. They’ll freak out. They’ll say they don’t recognize me. And I’m sure it’s true. Sometimes I don’t even recognize myself. I’m too big and they’ll remind me. I don’t want to see anyone who knew me smaller than this” He voice dropped and grew more somber “I had to switch gyms several months ago because I felt uncomfortable getting so big around the regulars who knew me. Last month I saw an ex of mine on the way to my new gym. I tried to ignore him, but I know he saw me. I saw the look on his face.” “So it really bothers you to have people see you like this, and makes you self conscious?” I asked, perplexed by the cognitive dissonance that must have been going through his mind. “Like you wouldn’t believe. Like I told you, at first it was great, but after I started getting big it became too much and I wanted it to stop.” “But you’ve continued the injections, and this insane eating habit.” I said, gesturing at the foot he was still stuffing into his mouth. Jonas frowned. He was troubled. “How many times do I have to tell you? This is not my choice.” Jonas said in an exasperated tone. “I have no power over this” He again paused for a second and looked down at his feet.“Maybe someday you’ll get it... “ There was silence for a moment. before he lifted his head. “I want to show you something.” The massive overfed weightlifter sauntered over to his laptop and brought it to me. Suddenly he was avoiding eye contact with me when he spoke. “These are the progress pics master takes. I thought you’d like to see them.” Jonas said He set the laptop on the table in front of me. Sure enough there was an entire photo album of progress pictures. The first one I saw showed a side by side comparison in four panels of his growth. The first picture showed a muscular looking Jonas who looked far smaller than his current state. “220 lbs” it read. The next pic showed him at 250 lbs and he had definitely filled out into the size of a heavyweight bodybuilder. His arms, shoulders, pecs had all noticeably grown in the photos.The third panel photo showed him at 280 lbs, looking massive, bulked up way into offseason size, with his rounded thick midsection, bloated heavy muscles and incredibly thick pecs. The fourth picture showed him in about his current state, labeled 315 lbs. His overgrown physique was practically too large for the photo. “This is 7 months difference” Jonas said. “ The third pic was just last month. I’m gaining faster than ever. Master has started a new routine of injections. They’re making be blimp up. I’m getting way too huge. I can’t even move around right anymore. I’m getting too chunky too.” He said in a sad voice, patting his furry muscle belly for effect. “But I can’t stop. “ I was blown away by the gallery of photos. There were more of them, taken from the side, taken from behind, all with the same lighting and the same background. These were all meticulously photographed and put together. And it was insane to look at. You could see every how the mass had just piled onto his from in the last months. I couldn't help but get a little turned on looking at this transformation on the screen. He had gone from looking like a gym bro to an overroided monster in a record breaking time. “How often does he take these?” I asked “Master takes them twice a week. You can see them all there.” There was a little video composite of 58 photos. I watched the video and my boner sprang to life. I can’t ever recall being turned on by something like that before, but it definitely pushed some button. Just seeing his arms and chest and shoulders swell and grow with each photo…. I was I watching Jonas morph on screen from 220 to his present size. “He took the most recent photos last night.” Jonas said. I lost track of time while I was looking at his photos. I kept replaying the video. Jonas just kept eating away in the kitchen while I preoccupied myself with this gallery of photos. I don’t know how long it had been but when I looked up, but I noticed it was almost getting dark. Jonas was nowhere to be seen. When I finally called out his name I heard the floorboards creak in the back of his apartment, and then heavy footfalls. He came walking out, as wide as the hallway. “Oh you’re awake” He seemed suddenly embarrassed by his own words. I lifted my groggy head to look up at his massive silhouette. Had I actually dozed off? Either way, It was about time for me to get going. I picked up my things and thanked Jonas again for inviting me over. I still wasn’t sure what he or I got out of our second encounter. Again, I didn’t have anything to work with, nothing to make a story out of, but Jonas seemed determined to have me listen to his story. Maybe the big guy was just lonely, since he had cut everyone else out of his life. I guess I was more than happy to indulge him. I headed out a second time and went to my gym. I guess Jonas inspired me, I hit those weights hard. I was disappointed that I didn’t get to meet Jonas’ master. That was an important component of the story that was missing. He was a shadowy figure- some older muscular man, that’s all I had. Nothing else remarkable happened that evening. I carried the prepped meals that were waiting for me in the hall into my apartment and put them in my fridge. I pulled my brand new half sized fridge inside, it was still in the box it came in. Eric came over a little later and helped me install my new half-sized fridge. I was lucky to have a strong guy like him who could help me out. I didn’t bother bringing up Jonas, but he did tell me about his new routine, and a new cycle I should try. I found myself munching on my prepped meals all night long. And while Eric and I didn’t know many of the same people, we still chit-chatted and gossiped like old friends well into the night.