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Hello everyone! My apologies for the loooonnnngggg delay. Life has been busy - and this sort of writing is challenging. Much thanks to everyone for being so very kind and supportive. And very special thanks to Xyggurat for pushing (gently) and also for being the inspiration for this story in the first place - you really should read Xyggurat's "The Roommate" series. If you haven't ready Chapters 1 through 13 - here are links: Chapter 1-7: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/1689-the-symbiote-war/ Chapter 8: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/4428-the-symbiote-war-chapter-8/ Chapters 9-10: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/5517-the-symbiote-war-chps-9-10-and-eventually-the-rest/ Chapter 11 is on page 3 of the previous thread. Chapter 12 is on page 4 of the previous thread. Chapter 13 is on page 5 of the previous thread. And finally... Here is chapter 14. Chapter 14: Sunday – Caught! It’s Sunday morning and I’m leaving Mark’s apartment with all the feelz; the warm fuzzies from having spent the night cuddling with this hot boy, exuberance at this budding relationship, amazement from having met such a wonderful man, but then also trepidation of what’s waiting for me – not just with Shawn, but with my future. Will there ever be an end to this growth ability? Would I want this to end? Because it’s Sunday morning, I know Shawn will be in the gym. So I head back to our dorm room to shower and make plans for the day. As I open the door, the first thing that hits me is the air. It’s hot and musky-sweet smelling (more musky than sweet). That catches me off-guard and I hesitate with the door half opened. But then a meaty arm reaches through the opening, grabs my wrist, and before I can even gasp, pulls me in. “Hey Little Buddy! Where’ve you been?” Shawn’s body is radiating heat, his hand on my wrist is warm…and potentially crushing the bones in my wrist. I’m staring at his massive chest. He’s shirtless, his pecs look pumped and swollen – red and sweaty – and the striations are criss-crossed with veins. So fucking hot! I would totally be enjoying this if only the bones in my wrist would stop complaining. “Shawn, you’re breaking my wrist.” “Sorry buddy.” As he finishes pulling me into the room he lets go of my wrist as he closes the door. “I’m still getting used to being this strong.” He tosses out that line casually, as if it isn’t the weirdest, sexiest, freakiest, hottest fucking thing ever. “Shouldn’t you be in the gym on a Sunday morning?” “I spent the whole day there yesterday, when I wasn’t looking for you. Where have you been hiding?” I certainly don’t want to share my secret hiding spot, so I try to re-direct the conversation. “Why would you be looking for me? And again, shouldn’t you be in the gym?” Ok, admittedly that was not my best re-direction work. In my defense, I was caught off-guard by Shawn being in the room, and I’m having trouble concentrating with these slabs of delicious pec meat heaving in my face. “Yeah I’ve been waiting here for you to come back. I’ve been passing the time doing body-weight exercises, but they’re not really a challenge anymore. I’m waiting for you so that I can get back to the gym. I spent the whole day there yesterday – and after getting a boost from you Friday night and yesterday morning, it was a fucking amazing gym day. I blew through all my personal bests on every exercise. I can’t describe how much of a turn-on it is to be this strong and be able to throw around so much weight!” He doesn’t really have to try. Just listening to him talk about being so strong has me hard as a rock. I’m beginning to perceive a problem… “Shawn…” I try to start some sort of argument to try and extract myself from this situation. “I want another day like that. I want another day full of blowing through all my PB’s. And you’re going to help me with that.” My balls churn at the thought. “Shawn…” I swear I’m trying to come up with some sort of argument, but my brain is not helping me here – maybe because all my blood is somewhere else… In a bit of a surprise move, Shawn picks me up. He’s hugging me tight and carrying me over to the bed. Part of me is screaming. But my hands are clamped on his striated deltoids and I’m already grinding my boner into his chest. So obviously, part of me is revelling in this sexy beast. Shawn throws me down on my bed and immediately he’s on top of me – taking off my clothes. Not only am I not trying to resist, I’m actually helping to get my clothes off. Shawn kicks off his shorts, freeing his cock to swing like a pendulum – a big, thick pendulum that I want to put in my mouth. He’s holding himself over me with one arm and caressing my boner with a big meaty hand. I am already leaking. My hands are everywhere; trying to dent his biceps, exploring the crevasse between his pecs, reaching down to grab hold of his muscle-y bubble-butt, and stroking his hot cock. He lowers himself down onto me, his hot pecs pressing firmly into mine. And I can feel our cocks grinding together between our abs – and I can tell that his is bigger, harder, and hotter than mine. It’s all too much, my balls churn and I’m over the edge. I can feel the cum rocketing from my cock – slicking up the space between our bodies – our abs and cocks now gliding smoothly from the lubrication. I’m locked in orgasm, but Shawn is still thrusting on top of me. I can feel his growth – his pecs are pushing into mine, his body widens and lengthens, his hard cock takes up more space between us, pushing harder into my abs and crawling farther up my chest. And as this is happening, I can feel the lubrication disappearing as my cum is soaked up into his body – until we’re left dry humping again. “Oh fuck yeah!” Shawn breathes. “Corrigan, you are amazing.” He pushes himself up a bit and so I get a better look at his body. His arms look like pillars of marble. The striations of muscle in his shoulders ripple as they fight for space under his skin. His pecs are larger than they were before, and from this angle, I get a glorious view of his bulging abs and obliques – at least what’s not being obscured by his cock. His cock is sticking up between us and it’s beyond belief – thick and meaty and wrapped in veins. I’m drooling. Shawn can see the lust in my eyes, and responds with a cute smile and a gleam in his eye. “One more dose before the gym.” “But I just came!” “I’ve got that covered.” “You’ve what?!” “Drink this.” And before I can even register a stunned expression, Shawn has plastic juice bottle up to my lips. I’m instantly reaching up to get this out of my face, but Shawn easily holds my hands at bay. “Drink this nicely, this doesn’t have to get unpleasant.” There’s no contest – I can’t even fight my way past one of his arms. I drink. “What was that?” “It turns out that one of the advantages of being a muscle stud is that people will do anything for a feel. I caught a pharmacist lusting after me in the gym yesterday. He was more than happy to help me out, and I convinced him to get me a little something. I don’t think this drug is actually on the legal market, but it’s supposed to be quite effective – a little something to help me get a second dose without having to wait for your refractory period to end.” I can feel myself getting flushed. Maybe it’s just embarrassment. Maybe it’s the drug. Maybe it’s just me being turned on by this muscle stud kneeling over me with his boner on my abs? And in less than a minute, I have my answer. I can feel the “flush” intensifying and centering on my cock – my boner feels as if it’s a beating heart. I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my whole life. “What the hell did you give me?” “No idea. But clearly it’s working.” Shawn gives my boner a squeeze. A tiny drop of pre-cum forms on the tip. “You’re such a sexy little fucker.” “Ummm…. Thanks?” Shawn leans in and pops my boner in his mouth. His mouth is warm – my cock is on fire. He’s sucking hard – I can see the muscles in his neck flexing. I run my hands through his hair, over his muscular traps, and clamp on to the striations in his massive deltoids. “Unnnggg…” His vacuuming on my boner is so intense it’s both ecstasy and agony. I can feel his shoulders widening, the already hard muscles pushing against my hands. Shawn reaches up and cups my balls in his hand – gently kneading. It’s all too much – my climax is coming from somewhere deep inside me and I can feel it slowly building in intensity. It starts at the base of my penis, my balls clench up, my cock expands in anticipation. Shawn can feel that I’m about to cum, he clenches a little tighter on my balls and jams my cock deeper down his throat. And with that, it’s an explosion. I’ve never had such a climax, my cock felt like an out-of-control firehose. Shawn eagerly did his best to take it all. At the end I was completely spent, but even though my balls were drained, my cock was still throbbing as if it couldn’t help but continue to try and give up more. Shawn slowly pulls back, my still hard erection is now visible, it looks swollen. But I have no time for that, it’s Shawn that’s stealing the show. Standing up straight, I can see growth everywhere. His physical…presence is filling the room. His head is inching toward the ceiling, resting on top of a spectacular mountain of traps. His deltoid muscles stand out impressively, looking as if they are fighting for space with his chest. All of this is framed by the massive wide V of his back and the cobblestones of his obliques. Shawn’s quads are so wide that he’s standing in that bodybuilder stance where he has to have his legs slightly spread. And that cock! Shawn clearly has a semi, but it’s thick as my wrist, and even draped over his impressive balls it is slowly inching down closer to his knees. “It’s been a while. Let’s do this.” He throws a tape measure at me. I am unable to process all of this; it’s too much to take in. I am exhausted, and my mind is spinning so fast in so many directions that it’s standing still. I am in awe of Shawn’s body; this “god of muscle” is standing before me, and all I want to do is spend eternity worshiping. My formerly smaller roommate is now towering over me, and all I can see is hard, rippling muscle in every direction – and I am both turned on and frightened. Not necessarily frightened of Shawn, but frightened by how much I want to give him more growth. What have I become? Fortunately, Shawn is oblivious to my whirlwind of thoughts. “Let’s start with height. The world feels different from up here.” I pull on my underwear before we get going – but no time for anything more – Shawn is too eager. As I’m trying to unravel the tape measure, I realize that there’s no way I’m going to be able to measure something that tall – I can reach up there, but I can’t actually see the mark on the tape measure. I grab my rickety collapsible metal study chair from my desk – it wobbles a bit as I climb up to reach Shawn’s head. “It looks as if you’ve hit six feet and two inches according to the tape measure.” “Almost a whole foot taller! No wonder everything looks so different. Let’s move to chest.” I can’t reach around his chest, so I wrap the tape measure around his waist. “32 inches.” Shawn flexes his abs – it looks as if a brick wall just exploded under his skin – the ridges of the abdominals and obliques stand out sharply. I re-measure his waist. “Still 32 inches.” But there’s not an ounce of fat anywhere – it’s all solid muscle. And then with some effort, I shimmy/slide the tape up to his chest. Shawn stands at attention and flexes his chest and back – I almost drop the tape. “58 inches! That’s thick.” And to paraphrase a meme: I’m not drooling! You’re drooling! I wrap the tape measure around his thigh – it’s thick and I can feel the striations in the muscle moving around under his skin. “30-inch thighs!” Shawn’s not fully hard, but he definitely has more than just a semi. The tape measure shows 14 inches, with 10 inches of girth. “And now my biceps.” Shawn raises his right arm – keeping it straight out from his body. I wrap the tape measure around the bicep – he’s not flexing, but the arm is already impressively thick. I can see veins running along the bicep and connecting to a roadmap in his forearms. Shawn flexes his bicep. I just want to lick it. “Are you gonna measure that?” Shawn’s amused. “Oh yeah, sure.” I grasp one end of the tape measure and pull the other end: “22 fucking inches.” “Excellent. This is fucking amazing! I need to go throw some serious weight around.” “Shawn, I don’t think the gym’s going to have enough weights to challenge you.” “We’ll see about that.” He seems pleased and amused and has a bit of a far-off look in his eye. “But after the gym, I’m going to want another round with you. But you seem to keep disappearing on me.” “Shawn…” He’s looking around the room – and fixates on my rickety metal study chair. “This will do.” Shawn picks up the chair and proceeds to rip it apart with his bare hands. “Shawn! That’s my chair!” “I want you here when I get back. And so… Get on the bed.” I hesitate, wondering if I can make a run for it. But I’m just in my underwear, I haven’t had time to get dressed. “I’m being nice here, giving you the opportunity to have a comfortable place. Or, we can do this in a less comfortable spot.” Realizing that I’m not getting out of the room, I climb onto my bed. Shawn easily manipulates the metal frame into a makeshift set of rings. “Reach up, I’m tying you to the bedframe.” He wraps one of the rings around the bedframe and then around my wrist – initially getting it uncomfortably tight, but he sees the look of pain run across my face and adjusts the metal ring so that it’s tight but not pinching. He does the same with the other ring. I am now lying on my back with one arm tied to each bedpost. In any other circumstance, this would be insanely hot. People would pay money for this! But for some reason, I can’t seem to appreciate that right now. “Shawn. You can’t tie me up against my will. This isn’t right, and you know it.” “Listen little buddy. I need you to be here. And if you would just stop running away, I wouldn’t have to do this. Besides, I am going to go and blow through my lifts and pump these muscles to their max – and then me and my sweaty, pumped muscles are going to come right back here and rescue you.” Ok. Ok! I admit it. I’m turned on. Even my spent dick stirred at the thought of Shawn coming back sweaty and pumped. Shawn struggles to put on his workout clothes. Nothing fits and everything looks ridiculous on his gigantic frame. He settles on a muscle shirt that hides nothing and a pair of basketball shorts that now look like spandex. And nothing is capable of hiding his massive package. “I’ll be back. You wait here little buddy.” Shawn gives me a wink and a smile that somehow, in spite of the fact that he’s just tied me up, still manages to give me butterflies. I can hear him lock the door from the other side. I’m alone. “Fuck.”

THE NEW ADVENTURES OF KAKE & PEKKA (A TOM of FINLAND Rhapsody) By Absman420 It's because of the heavy, pea-soup fog that you don't see the man tied to a tree until you're right on top of him. You've been hiking the Appalachian Trail through the Shenandoah Valley, heading north back home to Maryland for the past few weeks and absolutely nothing has been out of the ordinary -- until this fog rolled in. And the man you find tied to the tree. The fog had caused you to get off the main trail, though you weren't worried about it. You knew that if you continued to head north, you'd eventually come to one of the many small backroads that criss-cross the area and find your way back to where you were supposed to be. Lucky you did, or who knows how long this guy would've been trapped here. He's hugging the tree, tied from wrist to wrist with a course rope. Your first thought is "Thank God he's not dead!" because you see him moving, struggling against his bonds. Then you realize what you see -- and you wonder, "Maybe I've stepped onto the set of a porn movie...?" He's a hugely muscular man, although fairly out of proportion in the upper body -- big arms, shoulders, a thick, bull-like neck -- with an impossibly thin waist that not only emphasizes his upper body, but also makes his ass -- his muscular bubble butt -- pop. He wears calf-high motorcycle boots on his lean, muscular legs and a sleeveless white t-shirt that doesn't even reach his waist. Most telling, the black leather motorcycle cap -- the kind worn by old-school gay leathermen channeling Marlon Brando makes you wonder if you've really encountered someone in trouble, or someone making a movie...? You call to him. "Buddy? Are you okay?" He turns his head and faces you and you're awestruck by his beauty. Impossibly handsome, a strong square jaw and cleft chin, dark hair, long sideburns, beautiful, bedroom eyes hidden beneath the shadows of his cap. He looks tired... but satisfied -- there's a bit of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. "I suppose you are going to fuck me, too," he says, and you can't quite place his accent -- Nordic, maybe. "They told me that others would come -- they promised." "How long have you been here?" you ask, shedding your backpack to access your small hatchet. "It is hard to tell time in all this fog," he says. "Long enough to make me wonder if they are sending anyone. What a waste of a morning. Not even the police could find me in all this fog." "But you're not hurt?" you ask, pulling the hatchet from it's pouch and turning to free him. "Oh, HELL no!" he says, smiling broadly. "Well, only when my cock rubs up against the bark of this tree." He laughs. "Those boys were so HUNG, too! They told me they would sending others -- I was hoping." "I'll have you free in a second," you say, preparing to cut the rope. He looks concerned, which you mistake for fear, until he says, "Are you sure you do not want a go at me before you cut me free? I mean, a handsome young man tied up and helpless and perhaps a little eager, too, yes? Look at this ass -- you would not be disappointed." He wiggles it for you, muscular and round. You don't know how to react -- you stammer. Here is a half-naked man who's been tied to a tree and apparently gang-raped and he wants to know if YOU want a piece of him, too! He takes your silence as a cue to continue. "Oh, I understand," he says. "You are embarrassed with your size! I can see that you are small, but do not worry -- I have a very talented hole, with much control and strength. I will be giving you a great fuck." "No..." you say. "No, that's not..." "Then you are a bottom only? Is that what it is? Would you like to trade positions?" Instead of answering him, you raise the hatchet and cleanly cut through the rope that binds him. When he steps back, you get your first look at the entirety of him -- and your sense of shock doesn't abate. If his backside was exaggerated, it's nothing compared to his front. His chest is impressively large, appearing to be even larger because of his tiny waist. The sleeveless t-shirt he wears clings to his over-sized nipples with the legend "FUCKER" printed across it -- it doesn't even reach to his navel. But all that is secondary to his gigantic genitals. As he stretches, his cock starts to harden -- easily as big as your forearm -- exposing the two lemon-sized balls hanging heavily behind it. "Ah, that feels good," he says, raising his arms up in the air and placing his hands behind his head -- then he looks at you and indicates his cock. "Do you want to feel it for yourself?" It is now rock hard, arching up to nearly the base of his pecs -- the head throbs a blushing red, a single pearl of pre-cum on the tip. It's nearly irresistible -- this obscenity -- you find yourself drawn to it, regardless of the insanity of the situation. What the hell is going on here? "Again you hesitate," he says. "Am I not the most perfect example of man that you've ever seen? Even in this land, I am one of the biggest and the best. Yet, you hesitate. Where are you from, outlander -- what repressed, Puritan land do you call home? America?" He laughs at his own joke, but can tell by your reaction that he's stumbled on the truth. "Oh. I'm so sorry." His dick mirrors his emotion by softening a tad, still impressive. "It's not that," you say. "I just don't understand..." He advances on you. "This is not a time for thinking," he says, smirking. "You've just saved me. NOW is the time for rewards earned." He wraps the rope around the back of your head and pulls you toward him. You fall on your knees. With his cock literally in your face, it's impossible to control yourself anymore -- you flat-tongue his big piece from base to tip. It's like licking a baseball bat made of hard flesh. "Oh, fuck yeah," he moans. "Finally." He leans against the tree he was just tied to, putting one booted foot up behind him, releasing the rope so he can pinch his own nipple -- he knows you're not going anywhere. It's so monstrously big you can do little more than lap at it, running the flat of your tongue up and down the thick shaft -- the head alone is the size of a Gallen Apple -- your entire hand doesn't even go around it. How on Earth could you be expected to put that in your mouth, let alone your ass? So you do your best, which seems to be satisfying him, if his breathing is any indication. You're hard as a rock, too -- three weeks hiking the Appalachian Trail alone, remember -- shamelessly rubbing yourself against his boot as you work his enviable cock. You've never thought of yourself as small -- your eight inches has brought you (and others) nothing but delight -- but you're a banana compared to a skyscraper next to him. You're probably gonna cum without even getting your dick out of your pants. And then you hear it -- you both hear it -- voices coming through the fog, out of the woods. "Where the fuck is he?"-- "Over here, not far." -- "Damn fog!" He speaks first, raising his head and pursing his lips. "NOW they come! And after I have been all rescued." He strokes the back of your head affectionately, then pulls you away from his softening cock. "But perhaps we should go," he says, looking in the direction of the sound. "It was a hot scene, but quite brutal. I am not sure you would fare so well against them -- they are lumberjacks... and quite large." He indicates his cock. You're immediately on your feet -- your own erection vanished -- your fear level rising. (There were more like HIM?) "What'll we do?" you ask him, sotto voce. "The road is that way," he says, pointing in the direction opposite of the voices. "It is where I left my bike." Then he smiles. "And my pants." We hear the voices again. "Where are you, Leather Boy?" one calls, the same accent as the man you rescued, the one who now seems to be rescuing you. "Are you ready for more fun?" They're close -- within a hundred yards. "Come," he says to you, motioning to follow him. "Can you run in those... things?" He indicates your hiking boots, top of the line models, like he's never seen anything like them before. "Faster than you," you say -- and you aren't nearly kidding. You grab your pack and follow him blindly into the forest, back into the dense fog. The two of you hold hands for fear of getting lost, but at least he seems to know the way, taking confident strides through the thick pine trees, this half-naked man beside you, his giant cock flopping back and forth. Somewhere in the back of your mind, it registers that this forest is much older than the one in the Shenandoah Valley where you've been hiking -- everything's different. But it occurs to you that YOU are the one in the wrong place, not the other way around. You eventually come upon a road -- although "road" is a bit misleading, barely more than a semi-paved trail through the forest. A Mountain Road, clearly used for little more than logging. His motorcycle is parked just off the packed dirt, next to one of the massive pines that make up the area, his leather pants draped over the handlebars. "There, see? Just where I left it!" "How did all of this happen?" you ask as he puts the pants on, kicking off one boot, sliding his foot through the pant leg and back into the boot again, then repeating on the other side. "I had stopped by the side of the road to piss," he says, carefully tucking his huge cock down the leg -- it reaches his mid-thigh, then buttons up. His over-sized genitals make an obscene bulge in the worn leather pants. "And these loggers came upon me." He snorts his disdain. "Loggers -- they rape the country side," he says. "And anyone they come across in it, as well." That brings his smirk back. "Come," he says, righting the bike and kick-starting the engine. "There is a Service Station a kilometer or so down the road where I work. We will be safe there -- and we can figure out what to do about you." As tempted as you are to go with him, as hungry as you are for another chance at that crazy dick of his, instead you say, "Listen, this is all just a little bit too much for me. Just point me in the direction of the trail and I'll be on my way." He is genuinely confused. "What trail? What trail is this?" "The Appalachian Trail. I can't be more than a couple miles off -- it's gotta intersect around here someplace." "My friend, there is no trail, not by that or any name. Come with me -- we will be safe at the Service Station. We can figure out what is confusing you." You are defensive. "Nothing's confusing me!" "Except you do not know where you are -- you speak of places that do not exist. Your size concerns me enough, but that you do wear such odd things on your feet. Do you not even have a pair of boots?" "These ARE boots!" He sighs, frustrated, crossing his arms before his massive chest while straddling the motorcycle. "Do you even know your name?" he asks. "Well, it's not like we've had time for proper introductions..." He barks a laugh. "Yes! And when being chased by rapists, when is the best time for this? If you must know, I am Kake." (It sounds to you like he said "COCK-uh" -- but with his accent, it's hard to be sure.) "What did you say your name was?" "Kake. K-A-K-E. It is Finnish." (Yup, "cock-uh" -- that's what he said.) You react to this, not his name. "Finnish? Really? My surname is Finnish!" He acts as if he's never heard of such a thing. "'Surname'...?" "My last name," you say. "It's Pekka!" His jaw drops. It's the first time you've seen an emotion on his face unconnected to lust -- in a way, it's disconcerting. "What?" he asks, squinching his eyebrows. "What did you say?" "My last name... is Pekka." He is fighting the smile that's breaking out on his face. "No," he says. "It's not possible. It can't be..." "What?" He studies you more closely than he has before. "But it IS!" he says, rubbing his chin. "I see it in your eyes, in the shape of your face. It's true -- and it explains EVERYTHING!" He steps off the bike and hugs you, kissing you on each cheek -- his cock has come back to life, pushing hard against the constraining leather. "Now you MUST come with me, Pekka," he whispers in my ear. "At the Service Station, there is something I must give you." You assume he means that big dick of his. And there's a part of you -- a growing part of you -- that figures, what the hell? You're not on a deadline and you've gone weeks without -- is this any different than taking advantage of any other bounty that crosses your path? It's the old saw about the hiker and the farmer's daughter... sort of. Which is how you find yourself riding down the road hugged up close to him, your arms wrapped around his waist, the smell of his heavy leather jacket in your nostrils. Between the width of his back and the vibrations of the engine, you can't help but get an erection -- you also can't "help" but press it into the back of his ass. He responds by pressing his ass back into your cock, seductively rubbing it even while riding -- (he must be a fantastic fuck, you think. He seems MADE for it.) With his left hand, he grabs your right wrist and pushes it down, until you take his leather-covered cock in your hand. As you gently squeeze it, it grows, already as thick as your wrist. As you travel out of the forest, descending down into a valley, you notice that the fog has been lifting, becoming merely overcast -- the view is not what you're used to seeing in Central Virginia. Wherever you are, you begin to seriously suspect that you're far, far from home. Far, far from home on the back of some superstud's motorcycle with the biggest cock you've ever had in your hand. Could be worse. Approaching the Service Station, you begin to wonder if you've stepped back in TIME, as well. You're reminded of rural back-woods country -- a farm house that's been converted with a false store front and two fuel tanks in the matted dirt of the front yard. The fading, hand-painted sign reads, "TOM'S -- Fuel and Motorcycle Repair." There is a small repair shop -- about the size of a three-car garage -- around back. Kake parks his bike at the door, but not before revving the loud, growling motor once as he cuts it off. Stepping out of the garage comes another man, another man built -- and clearly hung -- as well as Kake. This guy is a redhead with a flat-top so perfect you could land a plane on it. But for that, he has the same rugged good looks as Kake -- the two could be brothers. He's dressed in an dangerously small pair of greasy coveralls, open to his auburn pubes to expose his sweaty, dirty musculature, but barely containing a package that rivals Kake in size and girth -- also, you can't help but notice that he wears motorcycle boots, too. His name is spelled in cursive writing within an oval on his coveralls -- "Vicky," it reads, which makes you snort. The noise gets his attention, and he sizes you up quickly. And as he is about to speak, a truck pulls into the station, distracting us all. "A customer," Kake says. The blonde -- Vicky -- speaks, his voice deep and sexy. "I know that one -- he is only interested in my ass," he says. "Not in buying Petrol." Kake laughs. "You ass is better than the Petrol. Go take care of him -- we only want happy customers, yes? I must take my friend upstairs and give him something." Vicky looks at you and rolls his eyes. "You have a fondness for the little ones," he says to Kake, chuckling. "I think my small finger is bigger than his cock!" You almost speak up this time -- you're just about sick of these guys making fun of your dick. Eight inches is nothing to sneeze at! You want to say, Sure, you two are monsters, but where I come from, being eight inches is something most guys lie about! Instead, you watch Vicky's incredible ass as he sashays over to the truck and sticks his head in the driver's window. Within seconds, he's leaning in up to his waist, tip-toeing on the metal step -- the "customer's" big hand is holding his ass and pressing up the crack in the coveralls. "Come," Kake says to you. "He will not bother us for a while." The house is smaller than it looks on the outside, very old-fashioned with little in the way of furnishings. Kake takes you up the back staircase to his room, which is as simple as he rest of the country house -- just a big bed and a small dresser. Not even as many mirrors as you would expect. "It is simple but good for fucking," he says cheerfully. "The bed makes all kinds of good noise." You sit on it, unsure of what to do, and the bed groans a metallic sigh. "I cannot believe I did not figure this out sooner," he continues, stripping off his leather jacket and hooking it on the back of the door, revealing his incredible upper body once again, the tight little sleeveless tee reading "Fucker." "If it was a snake, it would have bitten me -- is that how you say it? I think, yes." He opens his closet door and a waft of leather-scent fills the room. "I have them in here somewhere. It has been a long, long time -- but I kept them faithfully!" "I wish I knew what you were talking about," you say, unable to help but stare at the globes of his ass. Indeed, he's made for fucking. "You do not remember," he says, "but you will. HERE they are!" He pulls out a pair of dusty motorcycle boots, almost exactly like his but they have a buckle and strap across the bridges. "What are they?" you ask. He smiles broadly. "They are your boots!" he declares, holding them out to you -- you resist taking them. "I do not joke. Look at them -- look at the inside seam." So you take them from him, these heavy, clunky things and you look inside. There, scratched in the leather -- with a nail or the tip of a knife, perhaps -- is one word, the same in each: PEKKA. "At the very least," Kake says, smiling again, "it explains why you wear those ridiculous things on your feet." "How is this possible?" you ask, examining the boots, hoping for any sign of familiarity. Your mind is racing. You think, maybe "Pekka" is a common name around here -- around here! And just where are you, exactly, that makes you think there's an "around here?" "As I say," Kake says, leaning against the wall, sexy even when he wasn't trying, "it makes complete sense, given the parts I know. My friend Pekka loved the lumberjacks, the mountain men -- he loved the brutal and clumsy way they fucked, their big cocks. And one morning, one morning like today, thick with fog, my horny friend Pekka disappeared during his hike to their camp. Days later I found his boots deep in the woods -- I have held them ever since. That was long ago, though time is difficult to feel here. But now you reappear, looking weaker for sure, like you've lost your manhood, without boots -- well, it all makes sense. You are back! My Pekka has returned to me!" "But... how...?" He waves you off. "'How' does not matter," he says, gently touching the side of your head. "'Why' does not matter. All that matters is you are back -- you are finally back. Now, put on the boots and be whole again." Okay, so you're sure you're the victim of mistaken identity -- however incredible it would be to actually BE this Pekka of whom he speaks -- but you're not against putting on a costume and doing a little role-play, either. If the most incredible man you've ever seen in your life wants you to put on some boots before you fuck, you put on the boots, right? There's humor in the way he holds your hiking boots, like they were some dead animal carcass or the laces were snakes or something, after you've untied them and stripped them off. He tosses them deep into his closet, as if even looking at them will ruin the illusion. Whatever -- you still wear your thick cotton hiking socks, the most comfortable in the world. The boots are dusty, which to you is no big deal, and incredibly well-worn, like this "Pekka" never took them off. Kake apologizes for it. "At least I kept them," he says, rubbing the leather that covers his cock. "Perhaps we will stumble across someone who wishes to shine them, perhaps even lick them, yes?" This thought gives his dick a jolt, pushing it that much further down his thigh. "Perhaps that someone will even be me..." You chuckle, saying, "Tease," while sliding on the right boot. And the coincidences continue to pile up -- the boot fits like it was made for you. You're... shocked at how comfortable it is, how beautifully it supports your arch, pads your heel -- the leather is supportive, yet yielding. You've never felt anything like it. Suddenly, this scene has become less about acting -- no need to pretend fucking in boots is hot if fucking in boots IS hot... "It fits!" you exclaim. Kake is unsurprised. "Of COURSE it fits," he says. "They are your boots." So you put the left boot on and you're jubilant when it fits the same way -- no, more. More than ecstatic. You're... You're hot. You're turned on by them -- by you in them. You stand, and even your stance is more confident, more manly. More sexual. You start to get a hard-on, your dick coming to sudden life beneath your cargo shorts. No, more than a hard-on -- it's almost like your dick is thickening, but not getting harder -- like it's growing. It makes you feel confident and masculine, feelings you do your best to encourage, rather than frighten away. Because fear is one of the first things to disappear, followed quickly by shame and guilt. You love how it feels to be a man, to get hard and be comfortable with your body -- with your beautiful, masculine phallus. Wearing these boots reminds you what it's like. What it used to be like. And your clothes are getting tighter in the ass and thigh, but looser in the waist, and nearly painful in the crotch. Your whole body's getting an erection, swelling and growing more muscular. The bigger you get, the more confident you become, the more erect you become and the more turned on you become, which causes you to get bigger, continuing the cycle. You don't know what's happening -- you don't CARE what's happening -- just that wearing these boots is helping you remember what it is to be a man. No... what it is to be a gay man -- the ultimate gay man. You are Pekka. You realize it with a clarity and a simpleness that makes it impossible to deny, even if you'd want to deny it. You remember everything as if your brain suddenly found all the forgotten neural pathways. You remember your homeland, your backstory, your hunger for woodsmen and sailors -- visiting a logging camp staffed by three horny brothers in a water-colored haze -- your nearly insatiable need for cock -- in your mouth, down your throat, up your ass, all at once. You are the ultimate expression of gay male sexuality and pride. Your cock is huge again -- you are restored. Pekka is once more. Your upper body ripples with muscle. Your pecs are nearly out-of-proportion with the rest of your body -- your nipples are larger than a 10-markkaa piece, full and inviting. Your skin is so smooth, it shines like a delicate pencil-on-paper drawing. Your chest and your ass are your best bodyparts, as they've always been. Your big, bulbous buttocks can take a battering from the biggest men and bounce back for more. It's hungry for a fuck right now -- it's been so damn long... Fortunately, Kake is there -- and few men have bigger cocks than Kake. You grab it through the leather even as you pull him in for a kiss. He immediately begins massaging your ass as his tongue slips deep into your mouth. He spins you around, so you're gripping the metal bedframe, and he presses his bulging package into the crack of your ass, reaching around your torso and roughly pinching your gigantic, tender nipples. "Do you remember now, Pekka?" he whispers gruffly. "Do you remember how much you love my cock up inside you?" "Fuck me, my brother," you answer, your voice back to its sexy, gravelly timbre. "Fuck me the way you used to -- the way you did before I got lost. Fuck me until those memories of that other place fade away to nothing. Fuck me back to Pekka." He chuckles slyly and drops to his knees, slipping his fingers into the hem of your cargo shorts and yanking them down your muscular legs, burying his face into your deep crack and attacking your hole with his tongue. You moan -- it's so good, so familiar -- and you pinch your own nipples, your cock springing up and slapping your upper abs. He's so aggressive, spitting and licking, lubing you up for that gigantic cock of his -- it's been so long, you're liable to be ridiculously tight. What a great fuck this will be. What a way to come back. (Hopefully, you've returned before the fleet rolls into Helsinki.) And just as he pulls out that magnificent cock and touches it to the bud of your hole, there is a commotion just outside the window, down in the lot. You both see two pick-up trucks pull into the station and several huge, gruff men step out. "Those damn lumberjacks," Kake says, his huge erection hanging out of his leather pants. "Looks like they found us after all." You smile. "That's okay. I think I'm more than able to handle them now." Looking up, they see you both in the window and -- monstrous dicks swelling -- yell for you to come down. "Where will we fuck down there?" you call. "On the gravel? Come up here and use the bed like civilized men! Fucking lumberjacks!" As they lumber up the stairs, you help Kake strip off his leather pants, easily taking the head of his cock in your mouth -- Pekka will show these lumberjacks a thing or two, you think, as the mist finally burns away to reveal your new world, and a hunger that you'd nearly forgotten completely takes you over. You are Pekka. And you and Kake are together again -- and you will fuck the world. END [AUTHOR'S AFTERWORD: I know it's unusual for the author to address the audience AFTER the work, but I figured if I got all intellectual in a foreword, some might not read the story, figuring it to be too cerebral, so I'm commenting here. Hopefully, you've taken the time to clean up first (hopefully, there's a need for you to clean up!). As a young gay man in the 1980's, Tom of Finland had a major impact on me, how I saw myself, and how I saw the gay community. He showed me that gays could be strong, masculine men to whom sex was a pleasure, not a punishable offense. In his images were the men I wanted to be and, in a funny way, idolized. I've had a "man wakes up in Tom of Finland World" story floating around in my head for a number of years, but it wasn't until I recently read a new, complete collection of Kake cartoons that the penny -- or in this case, the markkaa -- dropped and I was able to craft the story. Clever readers may recognize some of the images that pack this text. Most of the settings are based on specific ToF drawings, although I've taken some liberties with the physical look of Pekka. (Pekka appeared in a water-color series that Tom did in the 70's -- although Pekka's appearance is much more "classic 70's" -- sandy blonde requite with cheesy mustache -- I've given him the standard 1980's ToF body, MUCH more muscular and thick.) Of course, my hope is that readers unfamiliar with Tom of Finland can enjoy this story, but those who are fans can find some of my little in-jokes and nods to the Master. Please let me know one way or another if I've succeeded. I have strong feelings about this piece and want to know what you all think. Thank you for your indulgence. Please -- if you haven't already -- search out Tom of Finland's work. His drawing will speak to you and you may just like what you hear. Absman420 or... Tom of Maryland Oct09]

I remember the first time I saw a Kake book. It was a now-defunct local bookstore which had its erotic section (Playboys, Playgirls, etc.) in a back corner. This section included erotic art, and I saw the name "Kake: Highway Patrol". It wasn't in any plastic wrap, and when I saw our hero on the cover with his giant erection being serviced by a stud cop while he had a nightstick up his ass...my young, closeted heart could've leapt out of my chest! I didn't buy one then, but I quickly browsed the others there; In Canada was a favorite (the massive lumberjack and the bubble-butted Mountie...yum!). It was the first time my fetishes for muscle and huge cocks were combined into one breathtaking, jizz-erupting fantasy come true. There are so many great erotic artists out now who help keep this dream going, but Tom was the first and will always be a legend. I, too, have wanted to write a story set in a Tom world, either with a man entering it ala the music video for "Take on Me" by a-ha, or a man creating his own world by altering reality. Maybe this will help inspire me. Thanks for another great story.

Thanks for commenting — glad you liked it. I have no further plans to continue this story. I’m curious HOW I’d continue it? All that’s left is endless sex between the hottest hypermasculine men in the art world. That’s better left to the imagination. Hoe would you suggest it continues?

Long time lurker - finally got my fingers down to write a story, and hopefully many more to come. Posted in WarpMyMind (leejhaw) and MuscleGrowth.org (shawnkid). -Chapter 1- Meet Charles "Sup," my roommate nonchalantly greeted me as he walked out his room. My eyes almost fell out of its socket. The reason is apparent - my body-conscious roommate is walking around half naked. Beneath his grey sweatpants, his VPL proves that he's freeballing too. That could only mean one thing - it worked. What I did actually work! It's true - some of us are more susceptive to hypnosis. And it comes in many forms, you have the usual suspects: binaural, subliminal, and the trance, which opens up a wide array of possibilities, especially for a closeted gay man like me. It's financially impossible to live in the city nowadays, especially when the rental is through the roof. Since I'm the only occupant in the one-room studio, it's natural to resort to renting out the room to another person to offset the cost to enjoy the convenience of the centrally-located apartment in the city. The first time I met Charles, he wasn't much of a looker. I blame it on his hair, which is in need of serious professional help. He was wearing an oversized t-shirt that did not do justice to a man of his size. He works at the local coffee shop down the road, which explains the coffee scent in his hair whenever he walked past me. I reckoned he's around 25 years old, though I did not actually ask. He promised to clean the entire place once a week, I couldn't be any happier. Truth to be told, I was kind of desperate, and he looked decent enough - at least he has a job - so we shook on a deal. When I stumbled upon the whole new concept of hypnosis, I was thrilled. But, how would I know if it truly worked if I have done so on myself? It wouldn't take anyone much to consider the case of convenience, right under the same roof. I went to the local hardware shop and bought some speakers and downloaded some audio software on my computer. It wasn't easy to get this figure out, but I was really eager to try. When Charles left for work at 7 am, I set my plan in motion. I equipped his room with speakers over the plastic ceiling and wired it across my working desk. So, it would play whatever I needed it to play for an extended period of time, albeit needing to run in and out just to check if the volume is optimal for subliminal tracks to play without causing any distress and potential fallout before the plan see the day of light. I move quickly, knowing that he will come back in the evening after dinner. And the rest will happen throughout the night. My moral conscience would reprimand me if I ruin one's life for my own pleasure. So I decided to start off my experiment with something light. After going through tons of hypnosis books, I attempted to write a hypnosis track that focuses on confidence and preferences. Charles would sleep naked because it's more energy efficient as such - less laundry and less electricity needed to keep cool. He would be more comfortable with his own body, and perhaps begin pay attention to his body more. That should be relatively fine and not qualified as manipulative? I have my doubts, especially on my ever-changing standards. Heh - oh well. I let the track run for a week until one faithful morning - I see my roommate walking out of his room with nothing over his bare torso. I must say, he definitely look better with his shirt off. Why would he hide his toned body over all the baggy shirts - and that would be the next thing to go. And now I know my proof of concept works. I sat back down on my computer and prepared the next script for my dearest roommate, Charles.

Hi there Joey - I am really sorry to hear that you are considering making this move, but totally understand why. I think that "The Twenty" is a fantastic story and would be more than happy to read it on my Kindle. Thank you so much for such a wonderful muscle epic !

Both of your comments support my point: the scarcity of that kind of imagery in our growing up. Now — thank you, internet — there’s tons of sites and artists and domains, but back in the day it was all few and far between. I wonder how different it would be to grow up today? How would my sexual personality be different?

This artist is obviously influenced by Tom of Finland, but use a more contemporary setting: http://chrismuscleart.blogspot.com/p/gallery-2001-2009.html

There is also a collection from the publisher Taschen called Tom of Finland XXL. Last year, film-maker Dome Karukoski made a biopic about Tom/Tuoko, called (unsurprisingly) Tom of Finland. It took a while for the Finnish people to leave embarrassment behind regarding their internationally (in)famous compatriot, and same sex sex was a crime 1894-1971, but one of the obvious signs of a more accepting stance came in 2014, when Finnish Mail printed stamps depicting Tom's art. Lots of Finns gleefully began to post postcards with TOF stamps to Russia, in a protest against Russian legislation against Pride events and information about LGBTQ issues. When Finland celebrated 100 years of independence, half a year ago, the Moomin trolls and Tom of Finland became some of the symbols of national pride. I believe, that the general Finn has a more relaxed view on other person's sexuality today, than was the case in the days of Tom. Tom was very much formed by his times. He grew up in a coastal area by the Baltic Sea the years after WWI, at a time when rural agricultural society changed into urban industrial society. Before the days of synthetic fabrics, Finnish fishermen used sturdy leather-trousers. Like Sweden and Canada, Finland is highly forested, and lumber industry was (and is) important, so he encountered quite a few lumberjacks. He became an artist at an advertising firm, but WWII broke out. He spent several years at the Finnish-Soviet front, and encountered Finnish, German and Soviet soldiers. When peace arrived, such American cultural influences as rock'n'roll, motor cycles, leather jackets and the film The Wild One starring Marlon Brando had an impact on all the five Nordic countries, including Finland. All these themes fused into his unique aesthetic style, and his talent was recruited by Bob Mizer, an American editor of bodybuilding magazines tacitly aimed at a gay readership. The moustaches Tom's characters from the 1970s grow belong to that particular era. Personally, I find them dated and a little cheesy, but I understand the cultural setting in which they emerged. Some of the stories I have written, make use of similar themes as your Kake and Pekka story: Ménage-à-trois The Company That is also true about the middle-chapters of this one: Professor Schnackenburg's mistake

I like these:

It's fair to say that you did more research in your critique than I did in writing the story, all of which is completely valid. But I'll address a couple of points for the fun of it. I knew "Pekka" was a first name, but I reasoned it was too "exotic" for an American, so I used it as a surname to heighten the discovery of his real identity. You're absolutely correct that an American wouldn't know the difference in accents -- I didn't! And I will edit the story (this posting included) to make the correction between Scandinavian and Nordic. Thank you for educating me. I agree that the accent is stupid sexy, tho. Now, to more general commentary: this is one of my personal favorite stories! The imagery, scene locations, characters, are all very specific to Tom of Finland's art and world. It's one of those stories that make me proud. That said, it frustrates me that it's numbers are always so low and how rarely it gets commentary. Maybe it's the title -- though I think the title is clever -- maybe it's just that Tom of Finland's fan base is a little old...? I don't know. This story just doesn't seem to turn them on the way it does me. I highly recommend Tom's collection of KAKE cartoons (it's on Amazon). If I could be transformed into any fictional character, it would be one of Tom's men.

Change that into "a young bi man in the 1990's" and it describes me. This story is one of my favourites. Thank you for posting it in the new forum. I must originally have read it somewhere else, wherever you posted your stories in the past. Since I am familiar with how English spoken with a Finnish accent sounds, I have no problems with imagining exactly how the dialogue sounds., and it is sexy indeed. Some nitpicky details: Pekka is a first name, not a surname. Since the protagonist is American, he is just guessing about Kake's accent, and isn't supposed to distinguish between Scandinavian and Nordic, but if he had got the full information, he would have called Kake's accent Nordic, not Scandinavian. It reminds me of, when a polite Englishman in the past disentangled the complexities of geography in his nearby geographical zone to me (Northern Ireland is located outside Great Britain but inside UK. Isle of Man is not a part of UK, but a crown dependency inside the same Realm as UK, though The Crown has many other realms, besides that one.) All Scandinavian countries are Nordic, but not every Nordic country is Scandinavian (Finland and Iceland aren't). Most (but not all) Nordic realms are located in Northern Europe, but not all countries in Northern Europe are Nordic. Only Norway and Sweden are located on the Scandinavian peninsula. That's the reason why we are so peninsular. The following countries are Scandinavian in a wider and conventional sense: Norway, Sweden and Denmark. The following realms are Nordic: Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Iceland and Finland. They are all members of the Nordic Council. The Danish Realm consist of Denmark proper, the Faroe Islands and Greenland (the latter two with a devolved parliament each, similar to Scotland's place within UK or Isle of Man's place within the British Realm). The only part of the Nordic realms located outside Northern Europe is Greenland, which is located in North America. Historically speaking, Newfoundland and Labrador are former Nordic countries, but the Icelanders had already left Newfoundland and Labrador when Columbus arrived to the Caribbeans, because the weather had became worse in the mid-14th century. The following countries are located in Northern Europe, but are not Nordic countries: Scotland, Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania.

So there I was at the age of 45 trying to build my life again. I mean, not again, ufff… it's hard to explain… but let's say I had the opportunity of a fresh start. So I moved to Buenos Aires, Argentina. Why Argentina? Well, I’ve traveled a lot and from all the places where to find a balance between nice city, cheap economy and sexy guys this is THE place. So I rented a small apartment in Palermo and decided it was time for me to start a new business. I had some ideas that I thought could work very well and maybe after a year or two sell them as a package for big investors. This was going to be the third time. The idea was quite simple: an e-commerce for wholesalers. Easy, possible and cheap. I only needed a developer. Not too experienced, actually an intern would suit the role more than well. So I started interviewing. I'm not going to bore you with all the interviews I did and all the people (nice people, by the way, love you all). Let's move faster at the end of the line where Ivan was. Ivan was 20 years old. He was a morocho (they call them like that in here), not a black person, not a white person neither but maybe closer. Was he handsome? Mmmmm he wasn’t bad… you know… I mean thinking about his head… he was kind of nerdy… worst haircut ever… like dumb and dumber you know? But… ok Was he tall? Probably 2 inches taller than me. I’m not Mr. statue, but I don’t feel I'm a hobbit… I’m a decent 5 foot 5 (no one will remind because of my height, ok). Was he built? Ok, now we have something to talk about. You know those guys that have big muscles (or decent muscles) but covered in fat? Well, he was one of those. I mean, he wasn’t fat at all. He had like a broad back, big shoulders, big arms and his body stretched that shirt especially on the shoulders. But because of all the fat he had there was no chest definition, no six packs… It was a trained boy, with a big body. He looked strong, no doubt about it. So we talked for 30 minutes. I felt he was good for the role. —So, do you have any other interests? Hobbies? —Oh… hobbies? I like to train!… Gym! —his English was as rough as himself. —I can tell! He laughed —Do you train a lot? —Oh, four times a week… I used to be personal trainer… —Really? When? When you were 10? —haha! No no, two years ago… I’ve been training since I was 15… —Nice… ok then, let me call you back… That night I jacked off thinking about him. I mean I could be his father… or he could be a friend of my son? That was much better… (I'm not THAT pervert…) So… Ivan… big and powerful and young Ivan… when you reach certain age there are some things that look way different from before… youth was one… and body of course… cause actually they are related. I couldn’t help but get horny with the idea of a much younger man than me… overpowering me… dominating me… ok ok… all the humiliation games you probably know… Sex, for christ sake! So next day I sent him an email: Congratulation! You are hired! And sent him the address of the office I rented and asked him to be on Monday at 9 AM. I'm not going to give many details of the work itself. Let say I had money and was good at business, to make things short it was easy for me. It was a very nice office, a small one with two desks I bought, a bathroom (with a shower and a small dressing room!) and a nice kitchen. So on Monday there we were, young and big Ivan and me. I took the first week to explain to him every detail of the business so he would know what to do. He learned fast and looked happy with his tasks. By the end of the month, we were working 100% of our time. Things moved fast, so did Ivan… Winter came and since I like doing sports I started jogging at noon. It was my favorite moment of the day to do that and the only possible moment to avoid freezing. I changed myself in the dressing room and went out. Ivan kept on working with his headphones on listening to some metal (I hate metal!). After some days of doing that routing I said: —Hey, Ivan! Don’t you wanna go out to do some jogging? —What? jogging? I’m not that fan of that… —I mean not necessary jogging… you could do whatever you want… don’t know… do some training… I mean... There are a lot of gyms nearby… —Really? —his face lit up— That would be great! Thanks, Mr. Johnson. —Ivan, you can call me Andy. —Oh! Ok, sorry, Mr. Johnson. So he kept calling me Mr. Johnson. That was something that made me feel older but at the same time… hot? Don’t know… Oooh, sex… what a mystery you are!! Ok so I kept on jogging and Ivan started the gym. And after that each of us would eat at their desks, working. I was in front of him and the screen blocked us from seeing each other. From time to time I would stand up to answer some doubt next to his computer and sometimes it was the other way around. Normal business, people. Keep going, nothing to see, except Ivan. At first, I didn’t notice it. But it was true that he used to use jogging suits all the time. So, what could I notice below that?. But once I stumbled next to him and grabbed his arm to keep from falling. What happened? Don’t know but that wasn’t an arm! It was like concrete or something even harder… —Are you ok? —he said. —yeah… sorry… sorry I grabbed your arm… —Oh, it’s ok… I didn’t fell anything… So there was something going on… Autumn finally came… and that Monday Ivan came with a t-shirt of a smaller size than his body. I remembered he was big… but now for sure, he was bigger. —Hey, big guy! —Hey Mr. Johnson —he said and left his bag full of who knows what. —You grew some muscles over there… —Oh? ha! yeah! I'm training a lot… —Really? I can tell! How many times? —Oh five… yeah, five… —Nice! Good progress! —Oh, thanks! —he said. I did notice he was quite ashamed. But that wasn’t the only thing that was changing. There was this day. Both of us were working in a certain feature and I wanted to check something with Ivan. —Hey, Ivan! Come here —I said from my desk. He stood up and came just right next to me. I showed him some things that he was doing wrong and told him how to fix them. Then I said: —Ok, we’ll do that later… I’m going to jog —and then I stood up. What happened? I froze… —Are you… bigger… I mean… taller… —Ah? —he said looking at me from his good head taller. Not only taller, I mean he was bigger… way-way bigger than before… his shoulders… he had… he had a chest… —You think? —he said taking a step closer to measure himself My heart skipped a beat. I was two inches from his body. I didn’t realize how big he was. He lifted an arm to measure my height against his chin and I saw what was going on at his arms. Muscles! Big muscles. —Yep… you are right… I'm taller… How tall are you? —Oh… don’t know… 5 foot 7? —Mmmm don’t think so… I was that when we met and I was taller than you… —Oh… —I must be 5 foot 8… —That is tall… —You think? —Yep, you are starting to look big… —Yep! —he laughs— My girlfriends say that too. —Does she? —so there was a girl… What happened? Oh, nothing, Ivan kept growing. Did it make sense? Of course not! I mean he was too old to have a growth spurt… how late was that? Well… never mind… Was I was enjoying the whole thing? I was going nuts… Every day his clothes were tighter, shorter, smaller in comparison with this huge body. But not only he was getting bigger, he was losing some fat… and muscles started to show themselves. —Hey, Mr. Johnson! —Hey… wow! Ivan… what happened? I mean… you look huge! —Haha! You think so? Thanks! I feel great! He would never do a double bicep or something… he was super shy… but there was no chance he could hide that muscle body… —How much do you weight? —Oh… don’t know… I don’t weight myself that much… —Really? We’ll have to fix that! That afternoon I bought a scale. —There you go… step there… take off your sneakers and your sweater… He did… OMG! What a back! He was becoming a beast! —230lb… Ivan, you are huge! —Wow! I didn’t think I was that big… I mean I see myself in the mirror… and I feel good… —Do you? —Yeah! I'm lifting a lot! —How much are you bench pressing? —Oh!… let me see… 100… 150… 300 lbs I guess… —Wow! —Ha! yeah! But my trainer told me is ok for someone as big as me… I'm 6 foot tall now… —What? —haha! Yeah, you were right Mr. Johnson. I'm getting taller! —You are giant! I’ll have to look too high to talk to you! —Haha! You are not that short… —Let me prove my point! —I step closer and look directly to his chest— You see? From here I can only see your chest… huge chest, by the way? But to see your face I have to move back… you see? Huge! —Haha… you are getting smaller Mr. Johnson! So every Monday we had our scaling session and I added a tape to measure his height. —Haha! 250 lb, Mr. Johnson! —Come here, you giant! Let me measure you! He steps next to me. I was facing just the bottom of his chest. Every part of his body was getting too huge for his clothes. I raised my hand and touch the top of his head to read: —6 foot 2… He was enormous but at the same time, he was so shy that was like a little kid in the body of a supergiant muscle man filled with strength from head to bottom. A few weeks later: —Wow! 270lb, Mr. Johnson! —Really? Let see if you grew… But when I tried to measure him I realize I didn’t reach his head. —Let me help you —and lift me so I could reach his head. His hands were enormous and I felt the strength on his arms that didn’t tremble, not even for a second. —Wow! You are getting strong, Ivan! —Haha! Yes, that was easy… how much do you weight? —Let see… The scale said 145… —Wow! That felt like nothing, Mr. Johnson! And then I read the tape… —Ivan, you are 6 foot 3… I was starting to freak out… A month later he went to the scale by himself. —How much, big guy? —I said. —Can’t read… It was true. The scale was next to the wall and to read the scale he had to bend over this chest but the wall was there. —Let me do it —just getting close to him was amazing— 310lb… its official: you are a giant! —You think so? I feel all things around me getting smaller. You too, Mr. Johnson —and he lifts me up— You are getting lighter! Measure me! So I did. —Oh… Ivan, you are 6 foot 5… —Are you for real? Let me see! —he was still holding me— Wow! I'm as tall as a basketball player! —Ehhhh… Ivan… Can you let me go? —Oh Sorry! I forgot I was holding you! You weight nothing, Mr. Johnson you should put some weight! But next week his mood changed dramatically. On Monday he didn’t even get close to the scale. He was silent and I could see he was sad. His expression was even different. —Are you ok, Ivan? —Yes, sure… —You don’t look ok… is there something worrying you? —Mr. Johnson… do you have a wife? —I did —It was 50% true… —Did you ever fight? —A lot. Did you fight with your girlfriend? Did something happen? —She says… —he paused. —She says....? —She says I'm too big. —You are big… that is true. But is there something bad about it? Some people are big... some are not. Is she worried because you grew too much? —No, you don’t get it… It’s not about my height… —Ok, it's about your muscles? —No!!!!! —he almost turned red just because I said that. —Then what is it about….? —and then my heart skipped one… two… three… four beats— Oh! Oh! Oh! You mean… —Yeah… —Oh… —I went silent— Really? I mean… how much? —She says it hurts too much! She doesn’t want to be with me anymore! She thinks its weird… O was starting to feel a heat. —And… mmmmmhh… And… aahhh.. what… do you… think? —I don’t know! —Do you like it? I mean do you like to be… big? —I don’t know! —I think you do, Ivan… He looked at me. He was a boy. A muscle giant with a huge (how fucking much????) cock, but a boy. Strong as a fuck but lost… —I think you know… and even more… I think you like it… am I wrong? you like to be big. He kept on looking at me. I punched him on the shoulder (my god… it was made of concrete) —Don’t be sad, big man. Maybe she is afraid, maybe you need to think about you… what do you want? Can you answer that? You like to train… right? Go to the gym? —yes…. —And you like getting bigger… –yes… —And you like getting taller… —yes —Now, don’t tell me you don’t like to have a big… you know… everyone man would like that… What do you say? You like it or not? —I think I do… —Ok —I stood up— Let’s do this… I'm going to sponsor you… Ivan was shocked. —Sponsor me? —Yes! I’m going to help you in your training. I’m going to sponsor you. You know! I’ll buy you all the things you need to have a proper training. Proteins, carbs, creatine, all that stuff. What do you say? —Really??? —he was smiling now— Mr. Johnson! Don’t know what to say! —Say you’ll train harder! He stood up. His face went up up up and all his body erupted like a mountain of muscles. I didn’t reach his chest anymore. He hugged me and pressed my face against his mighty pectorals. They were there, I felt them like a wall of concrete. Solid and powerful. I had to see him without clothes. I felt like a little kid crushed by a muscle man. —I’ll get huge for you, Mr. Johnson! —and he pressed me harder. Spring came and Ivan started to use fewer clothes. He was not only happier, he was bigger than ever and growing like never before. I bought him t-shirts and a lot of tank tops. Lots of very tiny shorts, and lots of supplements for him to eat. A few weeks later, the heat raised a lot. Teenagers were outside having fun. I was walking to the office and then I saw him coming. Ivan was on his bike bare-chested and using just a pair of lycra shorts. He wasn’t big... He was the biggest stud I’ve ever seen. His back was so wide that the bike looked like a tooth stick. His arms bulged with rocks of muscles and so did his shoulders. Those shoulders were bigger than my head. The muscles on his legs were so big that erupted like jams on each side. He was the image of strength and power. The most impressive man. I ran to catch him at the entrance. —Hey, big man! He stood up and I saw his huge (HUGE) abs… 8 impossible big abs and the two enormous rocks filled with power on top. The biggest chest I’ve seen in a person. I looked him from top to bottom. I did notice the incredible big meat on his pants. But his huge body was shinning. It was all sweaty. The most marvelous man was in front of me. In front and above: he was way taller than me. I only reached his abs. I moved closer. —Nice bike! —I said just as I moved even closer. I looked like a small little girl next to her giant muscle brother. Shirtless and hung as a stud. —It’s not mine. It's from my dad. It's too expensive for me to buy…. —Oh! Really? Do you like me to buy you a bike? —Oh! No! No, Mr. Johnson, you’ve done a lot for me! I could never…. —Stop right there, big fellah! I like to help you! You are happy and that what matter most! Because you are happy, right? —Happy? I'm like crazy… I have to tell you… —Did you grow right? I mean… —I had to say it— you look impressive. I’ve never seen you without clothes before. —Oh yeah! I'm way-way bigger! —We should weigh you! —That would great! —he lifted the bike and carry it above his shoulders. —You first! —I said to follow him. Walking was even more impressive that cycling. Every muscle on his back was working in something different. His legs were so long and big that he has to move them in a weird way. And his arm, his flexed arm that was holding the bike looked like metal or even more: pure muscle of a man. He stepped into the scale… and… broke it! —Ivan, you broke the scale… —Oh! I'm so sorry, Mr. Johnson. I’ll buy a new one! —Don’t be silly! —I said and punched him on his abs cause it was the only part of him I could reach. Believe me: it was as solid as the wall— Go take a shower! I’ll buy a new one! So I run to buy a new even more resistant scale. —There you go. Take off your clothes so we can get the real number. —Sure He said and tried to take off his shirt. But he couldn’t —Haha! I can’t take it. Would you help me? —Sure! —I said trembling! I grab it and helped him. When his muscle torso was free he moved closer. —Thanks! It’s hard for me to take them off, my back is too big. I lost my breath. He steps on the scale and said: —I can’t read. —Oh my god… —What? Did I break it? So sorry, Mr. Johnson! I promise I won’t do it again! —Ivan… you weight 420 lbs… —What? Are you for real? I’m huge! I was right next to that giant muscle man and I did notice the big python starting to move. —Ivan… you are an impressive man… I’ve never seen someone as big and muscular as you. —And you didn’t see me naked! My heart stopped… —Oh Sorry Mr. Johnson, I didn’t mean to say that! It just! Oh shit! —It's ok, Ivan! I understand! You had something to tell me…. —Oh! yes! —he said and he turned red— Last night… ahh, I went to a party… and there were a lot of sexy girls there… —Oh! I see. And you met someone! —Yes! and no! I mean. I didn’t meet them! —Them? He looked at me and turned red. —Did you have sex with more than one girl? He said yes just moving his head and smiling like a child. —Two? —He said no— Three? —he was smiling even more— Wow! How many? Four? —Seven… —What? —It was incredible, Mr. Johnson! They were crazy over my muscles!! They started touching me! And kissing me! It was amazing! You were right, Mr. Johnson! Girls love big muscles! They said I was huge and asked me to flex! I was so horny that I did! It was funny! I’ve never done that before! —You never flex, before? —Nop. —You should try it… —You mean alone? I don’t get it! What for? —I don’t know… I mean… I could help you with that if you want… —Really? that would be great! I would flex for you! Thanks! —No problem! And Ivan, you don’t need to wear a t-shirt in here. So feel free to be like this if you want! —Oh! Great! —and even without noticing he bounced his chest. Unbelievable. Pure mass of muscles. A man filled with strength. —Oh! We forgot to measure you! —Oh, yeah! Without even saying anything he lifts me. But I didn’t have the chance to grab the tape. So he just uses one hand to hold me. I was using his palm as a seat and grabbed from his arm not to fall. It was like a tree, muscles over muscles, strong and expanded. —There you go —he said after getting the tape. —Ivan… you are holding me with one arm… and your arm… is huge! —Oh! yeah! you are not that heavy you know! I use barbels bigger than you. —Can I touch it? Your arm I mean… —Sure! Look at this —and he flexed his arm in front of my face—Look, Its bigger than your head! —Can I touch it? —I was trembling. —Sure! I grab his bicep with both my hands. It was a rock. A huge a powerful rock. The strongest arm I’ve ever felt. On the biggest muscle man, I’ve ever seen. —It's so… hard… —Squeeze it… —Oh… really? Ok… —he was still holding me with his other arm. —Harder… —Oh my god… —Harder… —I can’t… —Haha! You can’t even dent it! —he straightened and I lost balance. Without even thinking I placed my hand on his chest. It was even harder! —Oh sorry! —Don’t be sorry, Mr. Johnson! You can touch my body! These muscles are all yours! I'm this huge because of you! You can touch my chest anytime you want! —Really? —Really… go ahead! Feel how hard I am… —Oh my god… Ivan…you are so big… and hard… —Told you…hit me… —What?? No! —Come on, Mr. Johnson! You won’t hurt me… —Are you sure? —Yeah! —he shouts and bounces his pecs I hit them. It was like hitting a tank. —Again! I punched again! —Come on, man! Hit hard! Hit like a man! I used all my strength. His body was even harder! —Harder! Hit my muscles! I obey. —Come on! Hit this chest! I was exhausted but I tried again. —Told you! —I was so tired that I rested against his chest without noticing it— You can’t hurt me, Mr. Johnson. I'm too big. I was just caressing his chest. —You don’t know how good it feels to have muscles this big! I feel like a fucking beast… I could lift you like this for hours, you know?!! How does it feel, Mr. Johnson? To be next to someone as huge and strong as me? —It's amazing —I was about to start kissing his chest. —Did you ever see someone as big as me? —No —I said not only to answer his question but also because he left me on the floor again. —Stand up next to me, I want to see how big I am. I was almost shaking. I was just millimeters away from his abs. And his python cock was almost burst his shorts. —You are getting smaller, Mr. Johnson. I have to bend to see you over my chest! Hows the view? Am I big enough for you? —You are impressive… —Do you want me to be even bigger? If you want I can grow more. —Oh yes… please… —I can make my muscles much bigger… and you won’t even reach my abs. Do you want that? —Yes, please! —Ok, Mr. Johnson. I’ll get huge for you! I’ll make my muscles even bigger! I’ll show you how big can I be. Enjoy the view, Mr. Johnson! Summer came. What could I say? I was living a dream. Ivan was beyond of being big. He had to duck to pass through doors, he had to turn because his back was wider than frames. He was not only getting big, his muscles were gaining more definition, thickness, and density. He wasn’t using shirts anymore, days were so warm that it made sense for him to be bare-chested. But what a chest! It was like looking someone with his armor on all the time. From time to time a would stand up and go to his place to show him something. But instead of that, something like this happened all the time: —You look amazing, Ivan. —Thanks, Mr. Johnson. I’ve trained shoulders today… You should’ve seen me lifting like crazy… I would place both my hands in each of the huge and rounded shoulders. —Your shoulders are huge… You are such a man… —My muscles could use some massage… And I would do that like a servant. I would massage his back, his shoulders, his arms, and his huge chest. —Mr. Johnson, you are great with your hands… Feel this… And then he would tense his chest. —You are so strong, Ivan. I can’t believe the size of your muscles! You are a god! —Ok, I'm off —he would stand up— This god is going to get even bigger. I would stand next to him. He was so tall that I was face to face with his python. His legs were huge as tree trunks. I placed my hands on his strong legs and huge legs. —You like that, don’t you, Mr. Johnson? —Oh, you are such a man. —You I’ll see how much this man can grow, Mr. Johnson. And he would leave me there. That was almost every day until the bathroom thing happened. One day he came back from the gym. He had not showered there because they had a problem in the gym so he came back to take a shower at the office. I followed him like a zombie. —Can I help you, Ivan? —Oh… Yeah… I’m so hard after training I can barely move. Would you mind taking my clothes off, Mr. Johnson? In other people, I would detect the perversion at these words, but there was none in Ivan. He was like a child. —Oh, sure! He sat on the small bench the dressing room had. He was still taller than me even seated, but I got in front of me his wide and big chest. What a view! He lifted his huge arms and I took his tank top from his waist up, up, up and he was free. All his body was shining, rock solid and filled with the biggest muscles. I placed both hands on his chest and filled his strength. Without even thinking I kissed them. A second after I was frozen. I didn’t dare to look him in the eyes. —That was nice, Mr. Johnson —he said and added— You can kiss my muscles. Girls do that. They go crazy with my chest. You can do that as well. Let me show you. He placed one of his big and powerful hands on my head and pressed me against his chest. —How’s that Mr. Johnson? Feel my power. You can use your tongue, you know. Girls do that. There you go, lick those big muscles. Lick my chest like a girl! Oh, you are good with your mouth. Do you like my big chest? —I love it. —I know you do. He stood up. But he was too big to fit in the dressing room. —Take off my pant, Mr. Johnson Was that possible? I mean how did he fit in those pants? They were super tight at his waist but below that, he had the biggest and most hard legs I’ve ever seen. I started to throw but it was impossible. I only got to see his underpants and his huge python resting there. —What happens, Mr. Johnson? Do you need some help with my shorts? —You are too big, Ivan. I can’t —Haha, don’t worry! Let a man handle that. And with a single movement, he destroyed his shorts. —There you go. I was just looking at his giant muscle body in front of me. My hands were shaking. —Are you going to stay there, Mr. Johnson? —Ivan… —I didn’t know what was I going to say —Don’t be afraid, Mr. Johnson… —Would you… would you call me… would you call me “little man”…? He smiled. —Don’t be afraid, little man. I'm a huge man, but I'm not bad. I have huge muscles but I'm a good guy. Do you want to see my huge cock? I said yes with my head. —But first take off your clothes, little man. I want to see how small you are. I did as fast as I could, though I was trembling. —There you go, little man. You are so small and fragile… haha! it makes me feel huge. He did his first most muscular pose. —Look how big I am… Look at my body. This is how a man should look like. Look how big is my arm comparing to yours. You are so weak… His python was raising below his underpants. —Do you want to see my huge muscle body naked, Little man? You are going to cry when you see the size of my dick. Take off your underpants. I did. —Whats there? You call that a dick? Haha! It's the size of my pinky. Let me show you how big is the cock of a real man! And he started to flex his body and while he talked his cock grew and grew and grew. —I love to be this big and you that small. Hows the view of my body? my big and powerful body. I love to see all the little people like you look at me from below. I love how they get scared of this chest. I have all the power here, you know. I like to see you drooling over my muscles, Mr Johnson. I'm your biggest turn on, ha? You are such a fag for my muscles and you are so small, I could crush you with my fingers. I love seeing you get smaller day after day. I love to show you how much I can grow. You call yourself a man? With that dick? Really? —his python was the size of my arm now and pointing up— This is how a man should look like. Muscles everywhere. Strong as a fuck. Oh, Mr. Johnson, I'm so big. You don’t know how strong I am! All these muscles are so fucking strong. Hit my legs. Come on! Harder! Hit like a man! Yeah! Keep hitting, Mr. Johnson! I don’t feel anything! You are just a fag, this is man. Look at this arm! Look at this muscle! I’m a fucking giant! Lick my legs! There you go, lick them like the fag you are. I should rape you to show you how a real man fucks! But I think I'm too big! I would fucking kill you! Haha! I'm huuuuuge! —his python was almost the size of my leg—. Pay attention Mr. Johnson, LOOK HOW HUUUUUUGE IS THIS FUCKING MAN! And his underpants split in two. The biggest cock I’ve ever seen was above my head. —HAHA! You won’t even reach my cock —he said starting to stroke the immense shaft— I love to be this big. I'm a fucking beast. LOOK AT MY COCK! THIS IS HOW A MAN SHOULD LOOK LIKE! LOOK AT THE SIZE OF MY BODY! OH MR. JOHNSON IM TOO FUCKING BIG! COME HERE, STEP ON THE BENCH, LITTLE MAN! IM GOING TO SHOW YOU HOW BIG I AM I did and there I was in front of that huge, long, and filled with power shaft. He was stroking his monstrous cock very slowly. —ARE YOU SURE YOU CAN TAKE THIS COCK, MR JOHNSON? IT'S TOO BIG FOR YOU! LICK IT. I grab it with both hands and lick the huge head of it. It was way-way bigger than my mouth. —Haha! THERE YOU GO, MR. JOHNSON, LICK MY MUSCLE COCK! YOU HAVE A LITTLE TONGUE THERE… USE IT… COME ON…. WORSHIP MY COCK MR. JOHNSON. WORSHIP MY FUCKING HUGE BODY. DO YOU LIKE MY MUSCLES DONT YOU? YOU CAN’T HELP TO FAG ALL OVER THIS GIANT BODY! YOU WANT MY CHEST, RIGHT?. ITS FUCKING ENORMOUS! IM SUCH A MAN! LICK HARDER! SUCK IT! OPEN THAT MOUTH MR. JOHNSON! MY HUGE COCK WON’T FIT IN THERE IF YOU DON’T OPEN BIGGER! COME ON, DON’T BE A PUSSY! OPEN IT! OPEN BIGGER! HAHA IM GOING TO BREAK YOUR JAW WITH MY COCK! ARE YOU AFRAID? ARE YOU AFRAID OF WHAT THIS MUSCLES CAN DO? YOU CAN’T STOP THIS BODY! IM TOO BIG! TOO STRONG! YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW IS IT TO BE THIS STRONG! ITS SUCH A TURN ON! I CAN FUCK EVERY ONE I WANT! HAHA ARE YOU AFRAID? OPEN BIGGER! HAHA GIRLS GO CRAZY ON MY BODY! JUST LIKE YOU, MR JOHNSON. YOU CAN HELP TO WORSHIP MY MUSCLES, SPECIALLY MY CHEST! EVEN NOW YOU WANT TO TOUCH IT RIGHT? YOU WANT TO FEEL HOW STRONG IS MY CHEST! EVERYONE WANTS TO TOUCH THIS CHEST! OH FUCK… I HOPE YOU ARE READY MR JOHNSON. YOU ARE GOING TO DRINK ALL MY MAN JUICE. And he came all over me and sent me to heaven.

Te quedó muy buena!. No fue larga ni excesivamente descriptiva. Creo que estuvo en su punto justo, lo cual a mi gusto fue ideal. Y por sobretodo aun asi lograste captar ese cambio en la personalidad de Ivan. Solo que tengo una duda, que no se si esta explicada o la perdi en el ingles, pero que fue lo que hace crecer tanto al muchacho?. Pronto quiero verla en Español

- Chapter 3 - Meet The Devil in Me I'm looking forward to seeing Charles coming back every day. He would pull his shirt off his now-wider shoulders, almost immediately – like he couldn't bear the idea of wearing a shirt anymore. His beautiful back tapers down to his 25-inch waist, learnt the hard way, trying to borrow his jeans one day. He's lean, to begin with, so the definition of muscles are definitely more apparent. You can almost see every muscle bulges and moves under his skin, especially when he's removing his shirt. He turns to reveal a complete 360 view of his torso - he has pecs now! Followed closely with luscious symmetrical six-pack abs that are finer than all the other fitness models out there. Words were beyond me at that point. Day after day, I was fixated with the idea of jocking up my roommate more and more. It felt like there’s this craving inside of me, wanting to manipulate my perfect subject here. But, I felt equally bad as well, to actually subjecting my roommate to this, without his consent, let alone – awareness. One night, when he was at work, I was sitting in front of my computer and went through the subliminal script I hooked up in his room. I remember seeing exhibitionistic tendencies, extrovert, relax and ease at home on the initial portion of the script, then I realise I included muscle growth and adoption of new hobby like going to the gym. But, I can’t get myself to turn off the script. When I hear the keys clanking, which signals the return of my roommate. I took a deep breath and minimise everything on my desktop. It isn’t anything he would be able to make sense to, anyway. But, I guess I’m doing it out of subconsciously feeling bad about this. Like every other day, he plopped his bag on the side of the sofa and took his shirt off in a swift movement. I used to really enjoy this, but not today – not after this moral dilemma. It has definitely wears me down a little. He told me that he signed up for the local gym down the road. I smiled back at him, and excused myself to the washroom. Through the mirror, I barely even recognise myself anymore. I was so caught up in the process of jocking up my roommate and didn’t pay much attention to myself for a good two weeks or so. I would begin researching more into the hypnosis subject on the computer and resign to bed day after day. I would anticipate for my roommate’s return from work. And the morning after. I lost track of time, and most importantly myself. When I really look at myself in the mirror, a scream accidentally left my mouth – I was shocked at my own reflection. I was not wearing a shirt, so I could have a good look on my body. My body is looking great – like I’ve been working out for a year or so – despite the lack of exercise at home. But, something is definitely not right. This couldn’t be happening to me, as well. Did the sound system has some form of leakage? Charles must have heard me, and came over to check on me. I yelled back from behind the door, telling him I just saw a cockroach under the blinds. “Okay then, I thought something happened to you,” he replied and then went into his room. I fumbled towards my computer. I need to rectify this, immediately.

-Chapter 2- Meet the new Charles It would be a clear understatement if I said I'm excited to see where this one goes. Think about all the possibilities that could take place, just by using hypnosis, how could anyone not appreciate this? I still have an issue with my double standards, but this is tempting as hell, especially after seeing what's possible on Charles. The transition needs to be seamless and gradual, I'm not ready to suffer from any repercussion that may arise at this point, nor am I eager to let anyone find out what a manipulative person I am (literally). As I frantically type my way through the entire script, I've made sure that I include all the necessary details for my dear roommate, Charles. My heart skipped a beat when I clicked "Save". As I configured to let the script run throughout the night, I hear my roommate just outside the door - his key brushing against the wooden frame. Like a teenager trying to watch porn in the middle of the night, I was terrified. I must have spent longer than I expected on the script and cut too close on his shift. In lightning speed, I have a finger on the monitor's power button and another hand pushing the chair back to its original position. My experience probably speaks for itself - I just hope he doesn't check on the temperature of the computer screen. When the door swings open, I'm already on my bed - eager to see what happen soon. I'm unsure how long does it take for subliminal scripts as such may take to see apparent and significant changes. I guess I would then have to find out for myself. Didn't have much luck, though. Charles' colleague fell ill the very next day and Charles was put on double-shift at the cafe until he recovers. Probably this is doing me a favour, you perverted freak. Heh, I'll still gladly take the title anyway. "Hey, wanted to ask you something," Charles asked me on a fine morning while we were having breakfast over the countertop, precisely a week and a half since the commencement of the new script. I was so occupied trying to figure out if there's anything different about Charles, I barely heard him. I could've sworn to see a faint outline of both his pecs and the coming of abs, which is new because he doesn't really work out - what did I even write in the script again? He calls out to me again - and this time, I better respond in time. I look him in the eyes and wait, stubbles? "Isn't it hot in here?" he asked, I have to tear my sight away from his face for a moment. I nodded in agreement - hot and humid weather, aren't really my thing as well. "I'm glad that shirts are optional," he smirks. Have I not noticed how cute he is when he smiles? I was in cloud nine already when he picks up and turns to the sink to wash the dishes. His butt, though. It's screaming "BUBBLE" at me in all caps. I'm getting really curious to see what's underneath it. "Okay, I'm off to work," he grabs his bag from the countertop and wave goodbye. As the door closes, it's already 10 am. If I don't get ready by then, I would be late for work! I quickly run to my the shower room for a quick shower. My reflection in the mirror seems different though - I vaguely remember getting up for breakfast, but I guess I probably forgot to put on a shirt. Didn't know I'm actually looking quite good recently. No big deal anyway, I then proceed to shower and immediately head to work.

Chapter 19 Patrick spoke to his trainer the next day and changed their workout time so he could try to avoid the asshole with the huge cock and his newest cocksucker. The more I thought about it the more I was convinced it was the same twink I had run into when Patrick signed up for the gym. I felt guilty. I should have warned him that there was some monster cocked bastard who thought he ruled the world with his cock. Then again, I couldn’t protect my guy from everything in the world. As I much as I might try, he’s his own man… more so every day. I smiled. My little beast was a determined little fuck and it was paying off. I kept wondering how much bigger he was going to get before this experiment treatment was over. It’d be awesome if he grew to 6’1” or 6’2” I thought. I mean I love him the way he is, but it would be hot and I wouldn’t have to bend over so far to kiss him. What if he grew bigger than that? Hell, what if he outgrew me? Would I be ok with that? Nah, couldn’t happen… I’m sure my imagination was getting the best of me. A few weeks passed without further incident. Patrick was getting noticeably bigger all over. He was spending increasing amounts of time on his computer with his headphones in. He wasn’t playing video games as often though. When he wasn’t working, or working out, he was reading. He was researching every possible idea he could think of to get bigger. I joked with him a few times about it, he’d laugh (I swear his voice was getting deeper), and he’d go right back to what he was doing. He even started wearing his headphones around the house so he could listen to whatever he was working on. Then he started wearing a wireless Bluetooth headset to bed. He said he was listening to self-affirming phrases to help him with his confidence. I’ll admit, I thought it was a bit over the top. But that was part of what I liked about my guy. He was a dork, though becoming a very buff dork, and he was on a mission. I don’t think he realized exactly how far he had come in such a short time until one night he was fucking the hell out of me and noticed that his nuts, which used to be barely noticeable at all, were now slapping firmly on my ass after each thrust. They had each grown to the size of large walnuts and were hanging much lower than either of us were used to. As soon as he fully realized what was bringing him this new sensation I felt him tense up and blow his load as he shouted “holy fuck!” He pulled out quickly, then flipped me around and forced my head into his nut sack. “Suck my balls man” he commanded. I obeyed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! I actually have fucking balls now!” He blew a second load over my head before giving me a big kiss. Chapter 20 A couple days later I was doing the laundry, Patrick was at the gym. I was folding the whites, when I picked up a jock strap I didn’t recognize. It wasn’t mine, nor was it a small, or super huge, so I didn’t think it could be Patrick’s. I set it aside. There were a few more pair of boxer briefs, also size medium. Patrick got home about an hour and a half later than usual. He walked in with several bags in his hand. He set a few down by the stairs then continued to the refrigerator. He started putting cold items away with one hand while drinking a protein shake with his other. “Hey sexy, how was your day off?” He asked. He seemed very chipper. “Fine, fine,” I said, I think my tone betrayed me because he turned around. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Are you feeling ok?” I sat down on the couch. “Yeah… I’m fine… it’s just… uh, who’s is this?” I asked as I tossed one of the briefs from earlier at him. Patrick caught it in one hand, looked at it for a second and burst out laughing. “It’s mine dumbass, whose do you think it was?” He started walking towards me. “I don’t know, it’s just…well you always wear a small. Or your really big clothes. I’ve never seen you in a medium. I… I… Fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Patrick took my head in both hands and kissed me gently. “Aaron, I know exactly what you were thinking. It’s cute. Just remember, I’m a growing man alright? My small briefs are getting uncomfortable, so I went a size up.” I nodded. “Good.” Patrick gave me a devilish grin. “Now I think you mentioned you’ve never seen me in a medium?” He turned around, and started undoing his pants. “Look at the tag.” I pulled his underwear back enough to see the tag. Sure as fuck, the underwear definitely fit and the tag was marked with a capital M. He turned back around as he pulled his pants and briefs to his knees. “I’ve needed your mouth all day.” He grabbed my head and pulled me onto his cock. It only took him a couple thrusts before I could taste the salt of his cum as he blew his load. While I was still swallowing he quickly pushed me down on the couch and undid my pants. He took me in his throat and sucked me like a man possessed. I shot my load. After a couple seconds he pulled off my cock and came up to kiss me. As he did he pushed my cum into my mouth with his tongue. Then he hopped up, zipped his pants back up and went back to the kitchen to finish putting groceries away. I went to finish putting the laundry away. As I got near the stairs I noticed the other bags Patrick had brought home were new clothes. A shirt on top had its tag showing. Medium.

Chapter 18 By the time I made it upstairs Patrick was already face down in bed. His face was buried in pillow and he was shaking as he cried. I couldn’t remember a time in recent memory where he’d seemed as upset. I sat at the edge of the bed for a few minutes, and when he didn’t react to that I curled up next to him and spooned him. A few more minutes and he turned over and buried his head in my shoulder. I squeezed him tight and kissed him on the forehead as he began to calm down. “What’s going on stud?” I gently asked. “You were so happy earlier.” Patrick sniffled a couple times then looked up at me. I melted a bit because his tear stained face only made his puppy dog eyes that much more striking. “I *sniff* was working out *sniff* *sniff* with Cody. *Sniff*. This guy on the treadmill kept looking at me the whole time. *Sniff* Anyway I finished and went to shower. It was fine while I was alone but then the guy from the treadmill walked in and turned on the shower next to me.” “Is that why you’re upset? Because someone showered next to you?” I asked, trying to be sensitive. “No,” Patrick’s eyes flashed annoyance for a moment. After another sniffle he continued. “The guy was nice. He said hi and asked if I was new. I told him yes. He said he noticed I was making some good progress with Cody. I thanked him, then turned off the shower. I saw that they had a steam sauna so I figured I’d take five minutes before rinsing off again and heading home. *Sniff*. He came in like a minute later and sat down on the other side of the room. We talked some more. When I opened my eyes I saw that he was hard… he’s big like you but not as thick. I complimented him and he thanked me, then this fucking asshole walked in.” “How was he an asshole?” I could see Patrick’s expression shift as he shared what happened with me. He was hurt, and angry as well. “So this fucking asshole struts in, looks at me…glances down, then looks at the other guy and goes and sits by him. I started to ask the guy from the treadmill what his name was… but asshat fucking interrupts and tells him not to waste his time on me and my “shrimp dick”.” “What the fuck? Why was he such a dick?” “I don’t know, I’ve never met the dude. Anyway, the guy I had been chatting with started to answer me, but the other guy stood up, opened up his towel and slapped started stroking his dick right in front of his face. He’s fucking huge. Fucking huge. Bigger than you… soft. The other guy was speechless…hell I was speechless! Then this asshole asks him if he wants it. The guy stammered out yes. So the guy grabs him by the back of the head, and brings him down on his cock. He lets the guy take it in until there’s only like 2 or 3 inches left… then he stops him. He looks right at me and says to the guy sucking his dick “ So imagine this is thinner, and firmer. That’s about what needle-dick is packing over there. Isn’t this better already?” The guy mumbled something and tried to bob his head up and down. I tried to leave but he stepped over and blocked the door. He kept the guy on his dick with about 3 inches showing still. “See…this is a man’s dick. Oh, and just think… I still get thicker, firmer…and longer.” He started to get hard but kept the guy’s mouth firmly in place. He didn’t move but after I few seconds I could see the guy on his knees face start to turn red and he tried pulling off his dick. Tears started coming down his cheeks, and still the asshole held him on and kept growing in his throat. “Oh, I suppose you need air,” the asshole snarled. “I’ve got a bit to go still, but I suppose you can have a breath”. He pulled his dick out of the guy’s mouth, leaving him gasping for air. He stroked a few times till he was fully hard…and fuck he’s massive. Probably close to 12 inches! He looked down at his cocksucker, and asked, “You want to be one of my cocksuckers?” The guy frantically nodded yes. “Then promise me you’ll ignore this tiny cocked faggot over here.” He nodded in my direction. From his knees, the guy looked at me with an almost apologetic look in his eyes. Then asshole fucking smacks across the face with his dick. “Well? Answer now… you want this man’s dick, or to chat it up with this micro-dicked fuck that puberty skipped?” The guy dove down on the other guy’s giant fucking cock. He could only get like half of it down now that he was fully boned. If you were to take a ruler and mark on Fuck-face’s cock where my cock ended, the guy’s lips would have MAYBE just touched the top of the mark. To make it worse, while he was getting blown, this dude just kept staring at me. Then to make things worse I realize that I’m crying, and at some point I blew my load! I’m sorry I wasn’t stroking or anything I just came. I was ashamed, and the guy fucking knew it. He finally grabbed the other guy by the back of the head again and simply said “open up”. He then began to force his cock further down the guy’s throat. I mean he was already gagging on it, but this fucking asshole didn’t care. *Sniff*. The cocksucker started frantically trying to pull off this guy’s dick, but that only turned him on more. “Oh yeah, fucking take my load” he gasped… then I watched the dude on his knees eye’s bulge…and he desperately started trying to swallow. “Ha ha, don’t bother worry about that faggot, this is a direct deposit.” I thought the guy I had been talking to was going to pass out. Finally monster boner dude pulls his dick out of his throat, and the guy fell back, wiping his spit and tears off his face while gasping for breath. As he walked out of the steam room asshole guy looks at me again and said *sniff* “know your place.” Then rinsed up and left. I looked down at the guy on his knees, *sniff* *sniff* but he wouldn’t look at me. I didn’t rinse off. I just splashed a little water on my face and got dressed as fast as I could. I drove home, and here we are.” “Jesus honey, I’m sorry that sounds like a nightmare.” I tried to comfort him. “Forget that dude, like you said he’s just a fucking asshole.” “I know… I know, but he hit a nerve, Aaron.” *Sniff* “I don’t think I ever told you this, but right before I met you I about killed myself.” “Wait…what?” I exclaimed, sitting up. “I’m sorry, don’t be mad” Patrick hurried. “I’ve always hated that I’m so small. I’ve always been picked on, ridiculed, ignored. I hate it. When I was younger I thought that maybe I was just a late bloomer, but by the time I graduated I was beginning to realize that short of a miracle, I was stuck. I was never going to be a real man.” “But you are a real man.” “No.” Patrick countered, “I’m a man in a boy’s body. As much as I fantasize about being the big man, towering over people, having muscles, all that… part of me knew it could never happen. Seeing all these people that are huge… tall, buff, hung… having done nothing to deserve it. Or earn it, yet they abuse the power it gives them. It hurts. I’ve talked to counselors, they never understand. Bigger really is better.” “Patrick, I love you just the way you are. You’re more a man than that dickhead in the shower will ever be. You’re my man. Not my boy. Get it?” I finally got a smile out of him. “Besides… look at the last month, a miracle apparently has happened. You ARE a late bloomer. How many guys out there can say their dick grew an inch in a month…in their 30’s? You’re taller. You’re getting buffer every day. Hell, pretty soon I bet you’ll be bigger than that guy in the shower.” Patrick was smiling again, though his eyes had taken on a dangerous glint. “You know what? You’re right. I’m getting big. It’s only a matter of time and I’ll be able to put that asshole in HIS place!”

Chapter 16 The rest of the month seemed to fly by. To be honest, I didn’t see Patrick as much as usual. When he wasn’t working he was likely working out. When I did see him, he was either sitting at his computer desk with his headphones in playing video games and eating, or he was fucking me. His sex drive really was insatiable, which I didn’t mind. That said, I was wondering when I was going to get to top next. I couldn’t tell you exactly how big he was getting because he was following instructions and not measuring until his monthly appointment. He was definitely getting bigger though. Not much taller, but I swear his cock was getting longer and thicker, and he was getting muscular. Not hugely so, though he was beginning to look more like someone who plays sports regularly rather than someone who just worked an office job and played video games. His stomach was getting flatter, his waist more v shaped, his arms and chest seemed fuller, and his legs and ass were looking fantastic. The day of his appointment I caught him naked checking himself out in the bathroom with a slightly worried look on his face. “You ok hun?” I asked. “Hmm?” he looked over at me as he realized he wasn’t alone. “Oh… yeah, I guess. Do you think I’m still getting bigger?” “Are you kidding, of course you are. You’re filling out and I know your cock is getting bigger because I feel it every day.” I smiled, trying to reassure him. “But I’m not getting taller am I?” He looked so upset. “You know, height is harder to gauge. I think you’re a bit taller but I don’t know. I’m sure Dr. Stephens will tell you today.” “Yeah, I guess. I just… I… I was thinking I’d be growing faster.” As he said that I laughed out loud. Judging by the angry, hurt look he shot me that was a mistake. “Patrick, I’m only laughing because you’ve already grown more than most people have during the entire course of the treatment. I’m sure you’re not done growing. He did say it could come in spurts remember?” Patrick nodded. “Alright, well get dressed you need to get to your appointment.” I reminded him. He smiled. “Alright… though you should suck me off first.” He didn’t have to ask twice. As I got on my knees and began to take him in my throat I was pretty sure Patrick’s dick had gotten to be on the thicker side of average. I wondered exactly how much he’d grown this month. Chapter 17 After he blew his load and showered, Patrick left for his appointment, and I worked on cleaning the house up. A few hours later I got a call from a very excited boyfriend. “5 foot 7!” He shouted into the phone. I could tell he was giddy. “Oh, and I’ve gained 20 pounds this month! I’m at 150!” I suddenly felt like I should be sitting down. 20 pounds in one month, fuck! I remember being told back in the day that half a pound to a pound of muscle a week was doable while bulking—20 pounds though? That was pretty incredible. I think I remembered Patrick’s trainer had only gained 20 pounds during his yearlong stint with Doctor Stephen’s injection. “That’s awesome stud!” I congratulated him. “When are you going to be home?” “It’ll be a couple hours. I’m going to go work out, and since my dick is average now I’m going to actually try to shower after.” “Wait, what?” I was shocked. I knew Patrick was self-conscious, but didn’t think it was because of his dick. “Yeah, I’m 6.5 inches now! I’m actually normal there now!” He was so excited. I couldn’t help but be happy for him. “Damn stud, that’s awesome. Have a good workout, I’ll see you when you get home.” I finished cleaning up the house. I folded up our laundry, got the dishwasher going, and had just finished with the vacuum when I heard the door slam. I went to go greet him but he ran up the stairs in a hurry. I could see that he had tears streaming down his face. What happened?