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  1. ...And Sometimes, I Get What I Want by vertical Finally. <<PART 3: ...And Sometimes, I Watch My Dad Go to Work... --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- My hand trembled as I turned the knob to my father’s bedroom. Careful not to make a sound, I rested my hand against the door and slowly jarred it open. ‘Slowly, slowly,’ I told myself, cringing as if my bones were shattering as the door creaked. Goosepimples flared from my neck downwards, my nerves setting themselves on fire as the fear took hold. I paused in my advance, the only sound I heard, the blood rushing through my veins as my blood pressure skyrocketed. That, and the rhythmic rumbling coming from within the room. He was still sleeping. Thank Go- The only deity in this house was my father. I had only managed to get the door open a crack, but the eerie moonlight filtered in through the large bay window at the far side of the room. The outline of a slumbering giant was in stark relief to the darkness that surrounded him, his enormous silhouette tinted in a supernatural blue light, a halo. I had to see more. I cautiously pushed against the door, the hinges once again protesting my motion. I stop once again, dread setting in as I had to make a choice, my sanity on the precipice – I either stole away back to my room, tail between legs, or push on, risking waking the demigod that slept therein. I had always been a cautious guy... that is, unless it came to lust. And succumbed I did. Bracing myself, I pushed the door open, stepping into the room. The sound it made was pure agony, like nails against a chalkboard. The fear was so intense, I couldn’t move, just standing there, my heart beating out of my chest, my temples throbbing. He was still sleeping. My father’s body took up most of his king-sized bed. He was barely clothed, his shorts, or what must’ve been his shorts, was hiked up to his pelvic girdle, his quads now simply too massive after his latest growth spurt. His torso was barely covered at all, his stringer, a thin wisp on his brutish, musclebull’s physique. The strings barely made it over his protruding chest, dense forests of hair obscuring them. The tube of the shirt was so pathetic next to his overwhelming size, it only came down to the upper portion of abgut. His enormous feet dangled off the end and his shoulders, by the gods, they almost spanned the entirety of the bed. His meaty arms, each larger than my torso, flopped off the sides of the bed. As my senses returned to me, as the adrenaline in my blood simmered, I could hear his deep breaths, like wind moving through a cavern, each exhale like a low moan. His mighty abgut, dotted with 4 visible blocky slabs protruded from his stomach. It rose and fell with each breath he took, ballooning into a rounded mass when he inhaled and ‘chiselling’ into a blocky 4-pack when he exhaled. His bulge, well, it was practically the first time I’ve seen it not in some state of arousal. I took trepid steps around him and almost tripped. An audible squelch rings out through the room and as my eyes adjust to the dim light, I realize I had stepped in another one of my dad’s cum-soaked socks. I had half a mind to take it and huff its contents, but I was already so close to the real thing. I gazed upon my prize. From this new angle, I could see that his balls and cock distended the basket of his shorts and so much that the dense forest of pubes did more to obscure the base of the bullcock growing out of his crotch than the waist of the shorts did. Heck, the band looked ready to snap at a moment’s notice. Even in the lowlight, I could make out the veins dancing along the surface of that epic spire. I was so close. I could already taste the tangy flavour of his seed, my mouth beginning to water. Those balls made so much. The were stuffed so cruelly in their prison. I would free them. I approached the bed, stepping over a pile of discarded clothing. The smell from afar was musky and pungent, but up close, the masculine aroma of testosterone practically created a barrier around him. My eyes watered, but nevertheless, I persisted. I slowly reached out my hand to the band of his shorts and gently tugged at it, hoping to release my prize. My eyes darted between my dad’s prodigious bulge and his rugged, heavily bearded face, searching for any sign of stirring. Beads of sweat formed on my brow, yet it paled in comparison to how much my father produced. His shorts and a-shirt were translucent, his hairs matted to his muscled form. The heat around him was so intense, his sweat giving him an otherworldly sheen in the moonlight. My fingers wrapped around the band of his shorts. Coarse hairs roughed up my knuckles as they dig into the fabric. And I pulled… “Shit,” I huffed under my breath. The band snagged around his waist. The combined girth of his torso and his junk was too great. I gave it another yank, but the elastic band just dug back into my fingers. This was as much as I was going to get out… At least from this angle. I readjust myself, both in position and in my crotch. My loins anticipated this as much as I did. I get closer to the bed and stand by closer to the headboard from the side. From this new vantage point, I was able to get a little further down. My fingers graze across his rough pubes and onto the steely, hot flesh of his god-prick, moist from his crotch-sweat. But it still wasn’t enough. I needed to get both hands around the band and work it down from both sides of his giant babymaker. But his crotch was just too far to reach around to both sides… Unless… I had to get on the bed. I whimpered as I nervously brought a knee up to crawl onto the bed. The shift in weight was incredible. My father was so immense, that even when I crept onto the bed to his side, I almost fell forward onto him. I carefully eyed him as he slept. With one hand and leg, I slowly crept on top of him, my ass resting on top of his abgut – there was no other choice, his girth was so immense the space between my legs was completely filled with his mass as I straddled him like I was riding a horse. I stopped in my motion, looking over my shoulder to see if he was waking, but he just laid there deep in his slumber. I rose inches with each one of his heavy breaths. If he felt any pressure against his abdomen, he didn’t show it, his breathing unimpeded, as if I weighed nothing to him. Hungrily, I looked back at his crotch. From this angle, it looked like a monument, proud and built to impress. I was ready. I grabbed at the band of his shorts with both hands and pushed it down. A smile grew on my face as more and more of his shaft was revealed. I let out a small, giddy laugh as I got about halfway down his resting meat before I felt resistance. My heart beat out of my chest. The portion already revealed was as thick as my arm in circumference, the base covered in hair, like the trunk of a small tree was growing out of his crotch. I gave the band another tug, but it wouldn’t budge any further. I tugged harder… and that was a mistake. “Ungh,” my father grunted from his sleep. I panicked, and my head shot around to look at his face. He gulped in his slumber and thrust his pelvis forward, the fabric of his shorts must’ve hiked its way into his asscrack. Shit. The force he generated with that thrust was so much, I yelped as I was thrown back, my backside meeting his upper abgut, my head wedged underneath his giant, pillow-sized, rounded pecs. I was terrified that that’d wake him for sure. But he just grunted a little. No… more pressing was what was happening to his crotch. When I fell backwards, I slid forward, down his gut such that my legs now straddled the root of my father’s pride. I leaned up, planting my hands onto the bed on both sides of my dad, my forearms brushing up against his fur-covered obliques. I watched in horror as the band dug into his shaft… and slowly contracted, rubbing against the flesh of his cock. I wasn’t sure what did it, my legs rubbing against the base of his cock, or the band of his shorts, or a combination of the two that did it, but my father’s god-cock began to fill with blood. Rapidly. I sat up, leaning forward. The spire of meat before me grew like the plants did in a nature documentary. It bloated with blood, pushing the band of the shorts obscenely until an ungodly tent formed in his crotch. And yet, it did not stop. I winced as the fabric began to fray at the seams where the leg meets the crotch. I wasn’t prepared for what happened next. The crotch of his shorts failed catastrophically. In the blink of an eye, his gargantuan bull-cock ripped right out of his shorts. But, to my horror, as it shot up, it swung further up than I had anticipated, the head of his cock, the head as big as the one perched between my shoulders, slammed right into my face, hurtling me back once again. I whimpered as I came to my senses after the impact. Staring straight forward, I was greeted with the head of his shaft, one which was thicker around than my neck. There it was, the object of my desiring. I reached forward, and tilted my head up, the crown of my head digging into the underside of my father’s gargantuan pectorals, my hair mixing with that of his cleavage. I pulled at his cock as best I could, the length giving great resistance. Shit, even my dad’s cock was stronger than I was! I had to wrap my whole arm around the shaft to bring it closer to my face. It was like wrangling an animal, I’d get it close, but then with each of his thunderous heartbeats, it’d jostle out of my grasp. Finally, I managed to line up my mouth with his cum-slit. With a few gentle rubs from my other hand, a stream of pre-seed oozed out of his length. My eyes rolled back as it the liquid touched my tongue. It was pure ecstatic overload. Fresh from the source, his pre-cum was a watered-down version of the real deal, but it still had such an addicting flavour to it; creamy, salty, briny, powerful. I needed more of it! In desperation to get more of the sweet nectar, the ambrosia of my god, I reached back. My hand searched, my fingers and the palm of my hand grasping blindly at the rough, hairy surface of my father’s titanic chest until they found purchase on my prize. The nipple was thick enough to play in my fingers like a stress-ball. I squeezed and twisted it. The man-beast groaned lowly in his sleep as I twisted harder. Just like a spigot, the flow of his pre-seed increased and I lapped it all up like the horny son I was. I thrusted impudently as I came from the mixture of the taste of my dad’s pre-cum and the sheer power that he contained. How could my meek, soft-spoken father have become such a beast, the paragon of every man’s carnal desire to be bigger, stronger and more virile than every other male? I was enraptured, I was his. I blew a load right there and I still kept humping into my god. The muscle-beast began to breath heavily and short, his arousal mounting. I flit my tongue out and drank in his essence. “Corey,” my father moaned. I wasn’t sure if he was actually awake, sleep-talking, or if it was part of a feverish hallucination. I froze, but he continued to rumble. “Oh, Corey. That’s it, please your daddy…” He was sleep-talking… But who was I to deny a god? Using my arm around his shaft, I began to really use force, using the length of my bicep and forearm to dig into his flesh as I rubbed up against him. My wet crotch, having blown already, pressed into the base of my dad’s cock. I used my sweat-matted body in its entirety to jack off my father. I squeezed my pecs and abs into his length. I rubbed my face against his cockhead like a happy pup, lapping up the river of pre-seed cascading out of his length. I dragged my tongue against the corona, the crown, of the head. His whole body shuddered at that. My other hand was busy assaulting his nipple, flicking my fingers across the nub, eliciting weak, low growls from my sleeping father. He was getting closer, I could tell. The flow of pre-cum was becoming so great, I couldn’t keep up, my face covered in a gooey mess of lubricant. The king of all shafts, the largest prick on any man, my father’s godhood, it shuddered and spasmed randomly. The sound emanating from my father’s chest, his tympanic heartbeat quickened, the sound reverberating through my skull. But before I could have my prize, something happened… I felt my father’s skin grow hot, almost uncomfortably so. It was like pressing my skin up against a hot iron. And rather than see my dad’s cock spurt… I began to see the rest of him seize up. I couldn’t see much, only able to turn my head to the side, but I could feel everything. I felt my legs being pushed uncomfortably. My father’s shaft widened, spreading my thighs apart. But at the same time, his growing, thickening quads pushed my calves inwards as they rested on his bloating balls. My vision was blotted out as the shaft before me thickened even further, obscuring the dim light of the moon from outside. And as it thickened, it also lengthened. “No,” I whimpered as I watched the head of his shaft inch up. It brushed against my nose as it ascended to greater lengths. I desperately tried to get a hold of the cockhead, but the pre-seed had slicked it up so much that I couldn’t keep it in my hand. Soon, the tip was at eye-level, the slit oozing translucent slime all over, blurring my vision. I struggled to wipe the pre-cum out of my eyes and before I knew it, as I looked up, I was staring into the pulled and taut foreskin of my father’s uncut behemoth. I whimpered as I watched the head disappear above my father’s growing pectorals. The only reprieve of this situation was that his shaft, now as thick as my thigh, wasn’t pressing so hard into me anymore, a testament to how thick his pecs had become. At the same time, his giant man-tiddies cast dark shadows over my face, twin globes protruding into my field of vision. With each laboured breath, I felt myself rising less with each inhale. I could feel his abs become less cushioned, the support underneath my back flattening. In my struggle to readjust myself, my hands touched his obliques and serrati and I could feel their definition underneath the thickening man-fuzz sprouting out of every pore. I gulped, realizing that my father was probably more shredded than me at this point. His balls gurgled, the twin pair of soccer ball-sized orbs rolled against the head of my calves as they pulled up, ready to inject their contents into my father and mix with his prostate fluids to create the most delicious nectar on the planet. As they pulled up, the momentum carried into his pelvis, my father thrusting slightly. It took seconds before the base of his cock distended, filled to the brim. The wave of cum travelled up his shaft, the veins on the surface of his shaft bulging as his flesh and skin fought to stay intact from the sheer amount of semen being forced through his urethra. It went from the base, up the shaft past my face and then out of sight. But I could still hear it. A torrent of cum exploded out of the tip, sounding like someone had thrown a balloon filled with viscous fluid against the headboard of the king-sized bed. “Hrrng, huuuh... Ugh?!” my father grunted. I froze as I felt the right side of his body begin to move, his lats shifted, his pectoral fanning out as he brought his hand up to wipe at his face. “What... the?” he moaned. “Ooooh,” he cried, the sound like that of a barn animal, low and sonorous. Another wave was incoming. Slowly, his balls once again pulled up. My father let out a loud whoop as the fluids lingered in his tubing, the beast desperate to get his liquid payload out. Veins writhed all over his body. His massive mitts came forward and grasped around his meaty length, the space made between his shaft and abs had grown large enough that he could glide his hands along his length without even touching me. It was like he didn’t even know I was there. I was just an insignificant gnat compared to him now. I was completely enclosed, no possible way for me to escape anymore, I was trapped between my father’s arms, cock, pecs and abs on all sides – and he didn’t even know. His orgasm was agony, both for him and me. His balls pulled up so slowly, so heavy and bloated with cum that it extended his mind-numbing orgasm, each load taking several seconds. As for me, I could hear, smell and almost taste his cum’s tang in the air, splashing against the headboard of the bed, going to waste. “Unng, feels so good... to grow!” he moaned. His arms tensed, every part of his body fighting for precious blood as he flexed hard. His chest and arms bursted with extra inches, his cock lurching as his orgasm continued. “Oh shit, no way Corey can’t hear this... fuck it!” he bellowed. He let loose, giving out an eardrum-shattering roar, his one hand beating furiously at his meat, the other molesting his protruding nipple, coaxing more and more cum out of his balls and prostate. “MORE!” he cried. He continued to blow load after load, his virility unceasing. The whole bed protested his demands, but his incessant hips bucked up and down to no avail. With a terrific whine, the frame of the bed collapsed, sending the boxspring and mattress to the ground, with me and my dad with it. The impact just sent a jolt through his balls and I swore his loads renewed in their size and length. Finally, after a good three minutes, his balls were no longer pumping, just spasming softly. My father was breathing slowly, groaning lewdly as his hand on his shaft massaged the length, caressed it. I could feel him reach up to wipe his face, the beast returning his hand to his sensitive nipple now with a fresh layer of cum coating it, smearing his seed all over himself like a lotion. “Shit, when’s that boy gonna come check on me? I was so loud,” my dad growled, his voice filled with lust, his hands filled with his own meat. I felt a wave of dread wash over me. “I want to breed him so bad,” he snarled, his hands still roaming up and down his epic frame. I almost mewled but kept it in my throat. There was no telling what he’d do to me if he actually found out I was right there while in his sex-addled stupor. Jesus, if he actually tried to do anything with me, he’d kill me with this thing. Thick as my leg, his shaft would scramble my organs. “Fuck,” he said, his breath heavy. “I’d kill ‘im if I tried,” he whined lowly. Well, no duh. But I didn’t expect what he said next. “But I need more,” he said hungrily. “MORE. Where is that boy… I want him to see me grow,” he rumbled deeply. In the dark, his massive hand shot out to pull at a drawer on the adjacent nightstand, now level with him thanks to bed collapsing. He pulled at it and my eyes lit up as an iridescent glow emanated from inside. He pulled a vial out, a reddish, glowing concoction held within the glass tube. What the hell was this, this definitely wasn’t what he said his doctor was giving him! “Doc says once a week,” Dad reminded himself. “But I can’t wait that long. I need to be bigger… stronger!” He uncorked the vial and I could hear him taking a big gulp. He sat up and I was flung from my hiding spot. Oh shit. I flew forward, knocking into my dad’s epic cock, but it wasn’t enough to stop me. I flew off to the side and landed across his gargantuan quads. “W-what the…?” my dad gulped, his bravado evaporating. He stood, the floor groaning underneath his weight as he stepped towards the light-switch by the entrance to his room. The light burned my eyes as he flicked it on. As I squinted, I could make out a silhouette of his form, blurry at first, but gradually coalescing into the greatest man on the planet. He stood before me in all his grandeur. In the light, and not stuck underneath his cock and pecs, I could finally see what his latest growth spurt had done to him. His arms, my God, they looked like they were hewn from granite. Veins the size of his fingers carved their way across his biceps, feeding his howitzers with blood. His legs were no different, his calves jutted out in stark relief, unable to touch one another due to the sheer size of his quads. Each of those were the size of tree trunks. His balls were slick with ball-sweat and cum, the wiry hairs matted to spheres the size of small watermelons. The shaft growing out of the root of his crotch was almost thicker around than my whole torso at this point and it stretched up to hit my father right in the middle of his chest. I looked at him slightly from the side and my suspicions were confirmed, he had a chiselled six-pack, outlined by swirls of dense fur carpeting his skin. His chest jutted out so much, his chin rested on top, the nipples pointed downwards from all the meat stuffed into his pecs. He looked at me with trepidation, a sudden remorse filled his eyes. His hair, both on his scalp and face had grown in, salt and pepper and dense. His face had intensified, his features more angular. His ears brushed against his traps, the swells of his back muscles almost entombing his head. “Corey?” Dad blubbered. He took a step away from me. This god of muscle, of strength, of pure masculine power incarnate, was afraid of me? It was in this moment I realized my fears had been for naught, despite becoming a giant musclefreak, my father was still the soft, ‘cuddly’ man I’d always known him to be. “Wha- how, where’d you come from? How long w-were you here?” he stammered. “What did you see?” he said under his breath. “Everything,” I replied after a slight pause. “Jesus,” he exclaimed. “Corey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of it. I’d never…” “Dad, it’s…” I was cut off by my father letting loose a terrifying cry of pain. My eyes widened as the veins all across his body began to grow once more. A pained expression crossed his handsome visage as his head shot up once again. Bones and tendons snapped as they reconfigured my father into something greater. He grunted as his head brushed up against the ceiling, popcorn stucco dotting his hair. His traps flared out even further, rising even higher, giving him the appearance of a monstrous tank in human form. His pecs rounded out even further, becoming twin globes that would put the front of a truck to shame. His shoulders spread out even further, the seven bands on the lateral head were clearly visible. His arms bloated with even more muscle, the veins widening as his triceps flare and force his arms out wider as they competed for space with his lats and pecs. His abs tightened, from a chiselled six-pack to an eight-pack, the tight abdominals framed by shredded obliques and serrati. His balls filled, semen roiling inside, jostling the scrotum as they grew with abandon. His penis, so obscenely long, had thickened even more as the giant cockhead drooled pre-seed all over his clavicle. “Son, you have to… look away,” he moaned, barely able to get the words out as his mental faculties shut down from the sheer amount of pleasure coursing through his system. “I’ll tell you everything, just please–” “Dad,” I cooed, resting my hand against his gigantic glute. “I know about everything. The cam sessions, the home gym you built, the cum socks. And I know you’re into guys. I… I am too.” What a way to come out. I smiled coyly at him and he retreated from me. I shot a hand out and touched his shaft, the flesh warm underneath my touch. The beast of a man moaned lowly, a shudder rumbling through his whole body. “You’re so big.” He smiled and leaned over, flexing his arm for me to feel. Its size was incredible, and I found myself creaming my pants as I felt the boulder of muscle. We stood there in silence save for his heavy breathing, staring into each other’s eyes. I pulled away from him and began to peel my clothes off. I knew what he wanted. My gargantuan father whimpered lewdly as he shot a massive wad of pre-seed as I took off my shirt, exposing my gym-earned midsection, a solid six-pack for his viewing pleasure. I bounced my pecs, their mass casting a small shadow onto my abs. It was nothing compared to my father’s assets, but from his reaction he enjoyed it immensely. I smirked as I took off my pants, revealing nicely muscled thighs and calves. My dad was busy double fisting his monolith of a penis, groaning and bellowing like a bull. I fished out my 7” prick and stroked it, the cum from my recent ejaculation slicking up my fingers. My father’s eyes grew half-lidded as he bit his lower lip. “See something you like?” I asked coyly. My father nodded sheepishly, a red blush crossing his strong, proud cheeks. Heh, he was a monster of muscle and yet he was just like all the other curious guys I’d deflowered in freshman year. “I do too,” I growled. I approached him, once again taking his shaft in my hands. I knew what I wanted. I pulled as his penis, trying to angle it down so that I’d have access to the cockhead. But try as I might, his cock was stronger than my entire body. My father, bless his soul, helped, using a massive paw to push his own shaft down, the skin pulling taut around his pelvis. Drool pooled at the corners of my mouth. After all this time, I finally had access to what I wanted. I looked up at my dad, a warm smile on his face, an expression as if to say, ‘go on.’ I walked around, feet from my father’s body, and grasped at the knob of his shaft. Dad momentarily slipped his grip on his shaft, losing control for a brief moment as my hand came in contact with the most sensitive part of his engorged organ. Pre-cum splattered in arcane patterns onto the ground as the shaft bobbed wildly like an uncaged animal. “Sorry, Cor,” he whimpered, looking at me with the expectant look of an injured animal. He pushed his shaft back down, grunting, braying like a beast of burden. I stared at the cum-slit, my mouth watering. Its lips were as big as mine. But then I looked up at my dad’s face, marred with a nervous expression. I knew what I wanted. I drew closer to him and place both of my hands on his shaft, hoisting myself up onto his length and straddling it like a pack-beast. My dad gave me a goofy grin and with a wink, flexed his arms down and chest out. My entire field of vision was swallowed by this man. He flexed his pelvic floor and sent me jostling into the air, only to be caught in his paws as he brought me over his pectoral shelf. I wrapped my hands around his traps, pulling myself closer to his handsome face. As my cheek brushed against his, his breath went ragged. The curls of his beard tickled me as our lips met and parted. Pure waves of ecstasy washed over me, and from the increased splash of pre-seed gushing out of my father’s prick against my backside, it washed over him as well. As he pulled away, his eyes fluttered, much like the butterflies in my stomach. He looked at me and then at the side. I turned to look at what he was staring at. There were still 11 red glowing vials sticking out of his night-table. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- <<PART 3: ...And Sometimes, I Watch My Dad Go to Work... The end.
    17 points
  2. OK here's the first half of chapter 19. I still need to do some work on the rest but I wanted to get more of the story posted and it's quite a big chapter so hopefully you guys won't feel too cheated! Nineteen I couldn’t stop staring at AJ’s Facebook messages. “I’m OK. Sorry I just left.” “I just had to get out of there.” “It was because of you.” “Because of you and that guy.” It felt like my heart was about to burst. There it was. Undeniable proof that no matter how crazy and unlikely they seemed, both mine and Naomi’s suspicions were right. There was something going on between me and AJ. Exactly what that was, I still didn’t know. But I knew this; that AJ had seen me kissing Eddie and it had had such a strong effect on him and had bothered him that much that he’d gotten upset and angry and left the bar without saying a word to anyone. I lay awake in bed for hours after reading the messages. My head just wouldn’t stop spinning. I kept going over everything that had happened since I’d bumped into AJ that afternoon in Tesco. Looking for signs that he had feelings for me. I thought about our very first personal training session. How it looked like he’d made an extra special effort in his appearance. How he’d looked disappointed when our session had come to an end. How he’d seemed to backtrack when he’d told me that booking another session would be a waste of time. How he’d likened Mark Green to being the “bodybuilder version” of me, and how I’d thought that it was odd that he’d put that much thought into what I was like. I thought about the first time he’d taken me to Scorpio’s. How he’d looked uncharacteristically nervous when he’d opened his front door to me. I thought about our Facebook messages. How he’d asked me if I’d be his groupie that one time and teased me about taking off his lime green posing trunks and throwing them into the audience at me. How he’d said he’d hold my hand during my first bodybuilding competition the night I was sat up messaging him in Eddie’s bathroom. I thought about the Scorpio’s Gym hoodie he’d gifted me. How he’d said he’d managed to obtain it because he knew the owners of the gym, but then slipped up In the bar and told Naomi and I he’d actually bought it for me. I thought about what his friend, Nathan, said to me about it not being his birthday, even though that was the reason AJ said he’d be in town. I thought about how he’d hugged and kissed everyone in the bar apart from me. Because wouldn’t that mean too much to him? And I thought about how, when his leg had touched mine that night at his while sitting on his bed, he hadn’t moved it. That amazing moment when I felt like I was dying. When the seconds felt more like minutes. I finally managed to switch off my thoughts and drift off to sleep, but when I woke up later that morning, the euphoria I was feeling at AJ’s confessional Facebook messages and just what they meant was tarred by something else; the thought of exactly how I was supposed to respond. And then something else came into my head which filled me with dread; the thought that maybe AJ had regretted sending those very messages. A dozen potential replies to his messages went through my head. “Are you OK?” “Do you want to talk?” “You know you can tell me anything.” But they all sounded so dramatic. Before his drunken confessions earlier that morning, mine and AJ’s messages had never been even remotely serious. And so I played it safe. “How’s the head?” I messaged him, my stomach twisting in nerves as I sent it. But nothing came back. He was probably still asleep, I reasoned. But when hours passed with no reply, I started to feel sick with worry. I feared the thing I had dreaded was true. That AJ regretted his messages. Regretted the whole night, in fact. What if he didn’t want to have feelings for me? What if he found it easier to just suppress or ignore them? And what better way to ignore them, than to ignore me? And then the biggest fear yet came to me. That because of the night before, and AJ’s confessions, whatever we had was now over. That AJ didn’t want to be friends anymore. That he no longer wanted to hang out with, take me to Scorpio’s or send me cute, funny messages. Maybe it was just easier for AJ to forget about me? Just pretend that the past month had never happened? I wondered whether we could just carry on as normal. Pretend like the night before never happened. Just carry on being friends as if AJ had never sent me those messages. But was that what I really wanted? I wasn’t so sure. The only things I knew for sure that was last night had changed things between me and AJ, and I had no idea what was going to happen next. I went to Naomi’s for a few hours that evening. It was her last night in Little Denton and I wasn’t sure if I’d see her again before the end of the summer. “Maybe he’s never had feelings towards a guy before and it’s freaked him out?” she suggested, when I’d told her that AJ wasn’t responding to my message. “Maybe he’s just confused?” I reasoned. “Maybe he can tell I like him and he likes the attention and it’s making him think that he might like me back, when actually he doesn’t?” “Mmmm. You hear about people, though, who just assume they’re straight, and never think any differently, and then one day they meet someone of the same sex and it changes everything! Maybe that’s him?” Naomi suggested. I didn’t tell Naomi this, but a fellow muscle addict had once told me that “no bodybuilder was one hundred percent straight”. At the time I’d thought it was complete bollocks. And probably wishful thinking on his behalf. But maybe there was something in that, or at least where certain bodybuilders were concerned? I’d heard of guys who were only attracted to bodybuilders. They had no interest in regular sized guys. Sometimes they liked them in addition to girls. Maybe that was AJ? He liked girls, but he was also turned on by freaky, shredded muscle? And then I’d come along, and played with his head and confused him. Maybe if it really came down to it, maybe if we actually kissed, he’d realise he didn’t like me at all? That he could never be with a guy in that way? And certainly not a regular sized, non bodybuilding guy like me. I still hadn’t heard from AJ when I went to bed that night. When I woke up the next morning, I frantically looked at my phone, but there was still no message then, either. When my mum asked if I wanted to go with her to visit my nan that afternoon, I jumped at the chance. Anything to take my mind off the fact that AJ was ignoring me. I even left my phone at home, which felt oddly liberating. “You don’t seem like your usual happy self!” my mum said to me on the walk there. “I’m fine!” I protested. “Is it because Naomi’s gone back?” I rolled my eyes in response. “You can always go down and visit her before you go back to uni!” she suggested. “I know!” I replied. Maybe I should, I thought. Maybe it was what I needed. To get away from Little Denton. To get away from whatever was going on with AJ Jones. Maybe I’d deactivate my Facebook profile and go to Brighton? Try and forget about AJ. Make him worry and wonder why I’d suddenly vanished. Even though the only thing I really wanted in that moment was to hear from him. To know that he was okay. To know that whatever we had wasn’t over and that I would see him again. My nan was as happy to see me as she always was. I told her Naomi had been in Little Denton for the weekend. “Yes, they were out boozing at the weekend!” my mum informed her. “I was awake half the night worrying.” “He’s sensible, aren’t you, Noah?” my nan said. My mum scoffed. “I’m not sure about that! That Naomi definitely isn’t!” When my mum went to use the bathroom I was left alone with my nan. I was feeling brave. “Nan, why do you call Naomi my special friend?” She just shrugged and smiled in response. “You know she’s not my girlfriend, right?” Her mouth curled into this really warm, kind, understanding smile. “I know that, dear!” I thought about what my mum had said. Maybe “special friend” really was my nan’s word for gay people? Or however my mum had worded it. “It’s a shame you stopped being friends with that boy,” she said. “The one with the funny name!” Oh God. My stomach twisted at the mention of AJ. I never would predicted what my nan said next. “I think he was a bit of a “special friend” too!” What the fuck?! I was gob smacked. Before I had chance to question my nan, my mum returned. My eyes suddenly watered. I didn’t really know why. I couldn’t believe what my nan had said. Did she know something about AJ that I so badly wanted to be true? Had she known all this time from when we were at school together? I decided in that moment that as soon as I got home I would swallow my pride and message AJ again. I couldn’t risk losing what we had. Even if it meant ignoring his drunken confessions. I would make AJ talk to me. I just wanted what we had back. And I wanted to see him again so badly. Little did I know that he’d already beaten me to it. My heart blew up in my chest and my stomach somersaulted when I saw those words I loved so much on the screen on my phone; AJ Jones has sent you a message.
    5 points
  3. “MuscleAddict has commented on AJ & Noah” i keep getting excited!
    4 points
  4. not the only one !!! keep checking to see if theres a new chapter...... darn ?
    3 points
  5. Another fabulous addition - greatly communicating the "please reply" phase and then the dejection when it all seems to have slipped away. And, of course, your signature gutting cliffhanger! Already buzzing for 19 Pt 2! ?
    2 points
  6. And I love that you're desperate (in the nicest way possible)!! ??
    2 points
  7. Please don’t feel pressured, It’s just that we like your work so much and are on the edge of our seat to read what comes next. ?
    2 points
  8. This is my new story I've been working on. As usual, I'll be posting it both here and on my "Muscle Addicts Inc" blog. It follows muscle addict, Noah Cook, who is back at his parents in the small town he grew up in over his summer break from uni. A few weeks in he bumps into his old school friend, AJ Jones, who is now a competitive juniour bodybuilder with ridiculously huge arms and massive muscle tits that bulge underneath his work shirt! The pair then start to rekindle their friendship over the course of the summer. This story references every bodybuilder from my "Charlie's Secret" story, so if anyone read that one, you might recognise a few names! I've also been working with a really amazing illustrator who's doing some illustrations of the characters and designs for the story. They're more for my blog, but I'll share here too when they're ready! ? AJ & NOAH Prologue I don’t think I’ll ever forget the first time I saw AJ Jones. It was the first day back at school after the summer holidays. There was a sense of excitement amongst my classmates. Not just because everyone was seeing their friends again, but because, for the first time ever, a new boy was joining our class. I spotted him standing in the middle of the playground looking completely lost. He was shorter and smaller than all of the other boys in my year group. He had brunette hair. Green eyes. And he was nervously chewing on the sleeve of his purple school jumper. I really didn’t know what it was about this boy, but I was transfixed. It felt like the whole world had turned to black and white and he was the only thing left in colour. I knew two things in that moment; that AJ Jones was special, and that I wanted to be his friend. I had no idea at the time just how special he’d end up being. One I've often wondered what goes through the mind of a bodybuilder when he’s standing on stage in competition. Thick slabs of muscle bulging off his frame in every conceivable direction. His obscenely developed body parts like balloons of muscle that have been pumped and blown up to an unreal degree. All shrink wrapped in dick thin skin which struggle to contain the sheer mass underneath. Each body part separated by lines, rips and cuts the majority of humans don’t see on their bodies in a lifetime. His whole body painted dark bronze and polished with oil. Not one single hair below his neckline. Completely naked except for a minuscule, thinly strapped, brightly coloured posing pouch. To some, the most grotesque and horrifying image in the world. To others, the most erotic. So erotic the mere thought, let alone the image, of is enough to cause ejaculation. What must it feel like to be one of the most muscular men on the planet? To look down and see nothing but excessively huge mass? To see two enormous plates of pec muscle hanging over thick, blocky abs which burst through your stomach? To see gigantic sized quads with muscle separation you’d normally only see on images of anatomy charts? And just how big of a rush would it be to flex and show off your superhuman slabs and mounds of muscle as an audience of hundreds before you ogle, marvel and stare at your freakiness? As I lay on my bed with my laptop open in the bedroom I’d grown up in, watching a video of Blaine Holton, one of the biggest and most well known professional bodybuilders in the last five years, flexing on stage in a guest posing spot, all of those questions were running through my mind. What did this absurdly handsome, square jawed, thirty-something American bodybuilder feel when he was standing at the edge of a stage flexing his impossibly huge biceps for a cheering audience of non muscle freaks? Pride at what he’d achieved by pushing his body to unspeakable limits and building his biceps to twenty plus inches? Power at the knowledge that he was the biggest and most muscular man in the room? “Noah …” And what did this two hundred and fifty plus pounds muscle bull think when he cranked out an abs and thighs pose on stage and looked down at his own inhuman physique? Was he freaked out by the mounds of crazily detailed mass staring back at him? Turned on, even, by the bronzed painted lumps and bumps of thick, freakish muscle and shiny, posing trunk covered bulge? Did he ever wonder whether he’d taken his physique too far? Or was he so accustomed to seeing the image of his own huge muscle that he felt absolutely no different to what the average built person saw when they looked down at their body? “No-aaaah …” And just what was going through the mind of one of the world’s best bodybuilders as he walked off the stage and made his way through the audience of fully clothed, average built spectators, hitting poses and flexing his muscles as they gawped and stared and frantically took pictures of the spectacle before them? Did he realise how many of them would have loved to be in his shoes, even for just one minute? Did he wonder how many of the audience members before him would have loved to get their hands on his ridiculously developed muscles? Was he drunk with power, basking in the glory of being a roided out muscle freak? Or was he dying to flee the theatre so he could be all alone and spend the night staring at his own freakish creation in the mirror, whilst squeezing, touching and worshipping every inch of his insanely shredded, beyond human slabs of muscle? “NOAH!” ARGHHHH!! I slammed down the lid of my laptop, sprung off my bed and opened my bedroom door. “WHAT?!” I yelled in frustration. Whenever I went back to my parents, I always resorted back to being a teenager. Wanking off to bodybuilders in my bedroom and shouting at my mother. Often for no, or very little reason. “I just want to ask you something! There’s no need to shout like that!” my mother said calmly from the bottom of the stairs. Five or so years ago I wouldn’t have felt any guilt about shouting at my mother for interrupting me watching a video of a flexing, roided muscle bull in my bedroom. Now, I felt like the world’s biggest dick. “I’m busy!” I replied, my tone deliberately lighter. “Ooooh, you’re always busy,” she groaned. “God knows what you do on that computer!” Hmmm. Wanking off to videos of bodybuilders on YouTube. Wanking off to pictures of bodybuilders on Instagram. Occasionally chatting to other like minded muscle addicts about wanking off to bodybuilders on Twitter. My mum asked me if I’d do her a favour and go to Tesco to pick up a few things for dinner because she had to go to and visit my nan. I said yes, partly because I felt guilty about snapping at her, but also because doing this favour gave me a reason to leave the house. A sense of purpose, even, for the afternoon, which made me feel completely pathetic. “Fancy shouting at your poor mother!” she said. Then she did a pretend sob which I couldn’t help but smile at, even though I was still annoyed that she’d interrupted me watching a video of Blaine Holton strutting through an audience in nothing but his shiny red posers, just as he was cranking out a brutal most muscular in the face of an extremely lucky audience member. I’ve always found it amazing how easily we forget things. And how our memories have a habit of only selecting the positive when thinking about a situation we’re no longer in. In all of the times I thought about spending the summer at my parents, I never once factored in the possibility that they might annoy me, or that I might grow bored. The irony was, I had been looking forward to being back home for a few months. But all I had wanted during those first few weeks of my summer break was to be back in London. Why is almost every place inherently more appealing when we’re not actually there? As I walked into my local Tesco a feeling of dread hit me. I had this sudden, strong intuition that I was going to bump into someone I knew. If it wasn’t someone shopping there, it would probably be one of the workers. When I was in sixth form, half of my year seemed to work there, including my best friend Naomi. Maybe if I tried to avoid eye contact with everyone in a blue Tesco work shirt I’d reduce the risk of having to make small talk with a classmate I never really liked who was also back from university for the summer. Or someone who hadn’t gone to university at all, and had spent the past two years working in a supermarket. Fifteen minutes and no familiar faces later, I was heading towards the self service checkout and that’s when I saw him. Every single secret lover of huge, freaky muscle will be familiar with the incredible rush that comes with seeing a real life bodybuilder in a public setting. It’s such an incredibly surreal and amazing experience. To be walking down the street, or boarding a tube, or even walking down the meat aisle of your local Tesco and be suddenly faced with an excessively built and muscular man. Or even a genuine, bona fide bodybuilder. Exactly like the one I’d suddenly spotted, with his back to me in an extraordinarily tight fitted blue Tesco polo shirt, conversing with a well to do looking elderly woman, who was gawping at the frighteningly muscular lad before her with a look of sheer horror. I couldn’t stop staring at him. Everything but his height was big. His shoulders ridiculously broad, his back absurdly wide and the rear of his upper arms indecently muscular. Even his perfectly round arse looked huge as it struggled to contain the material of his extremely tight, black work trousers. Fuck! I could tell he was young, even from the back. A mini muscle bull in the making. A potential juniour competitive bodybuilder. Working right here in my local fucking Tesco. Practically fucking bursting out of his work uniform. I didn’t think I’d ever been that sexually attracted to the rear image of anyone before. Even the back of his head was hot. With his short graded, light brown hair, which got thicker at the top. And his mini bull neck. GRRRRR! Ridiculously, my heart started to pound as I got closer to, surely, the beefiest shelf stacker in Tesco’s employment history. Once I’d walked past him, I’d be able to conspicuously turn around to catch a glimpse of him from the front. But I didn’t need to, because the woman he was talking to was walking away, and when I was barely a few metres away from him, the potential competitive juniour bodybuilder turned around, my heart leapt into my throat and my stomach violently lurched. Because standing in front of me, now a mini mountain of muscle in a tight fitted Tesco polo shirt, was my old school friend, AJ Jones. “Noah?!” FUCKING HELL! I felt like my legs were going to give way. My mind just couldn’t cope with what was happening. The walls of reality seemed to melting before me, because standing in front of me was a huge and insanely fucking cute bodybuilder with tits which strained through his polo shirt, and a pair of the most enormous and outrageously muscular arms I’d seen on any lad of any age in person. And that bodybuilder just so happened to be one of my old best friends from school. “It’s AJ!” he exclaimed. “Hi!” I nervously replied. “Sorry! I do recognise you. You just look … different!” About a hundred pounds of arms, tits and arse different! AJ smirked. A cocky, adorable and gorgeous grin. To match his oh so gorgeous face. Oh God. How can AJ Jones be gorgeous? How can AJ Jones be a fucking bodybuilder?! “I get that a lot,” he said, nodding and pursing his lips. “I think it’s the hair!” I laughed and he grinned back at me. A warm, nostalgic feeling came over me and, just for a moment, he wasn’t this ridiculously buff muscle boy whose arse I’d not long been checking out. He was AJ, my old friend from school, who I hadn’t spoken to since we’d drifted apart and found new, very different friend groups about seven or eight years ago. “What are you up to now?” AJ asked. “I’m at uni,” I replied, looking at the lucky Tesco name badge sat on his unfathomably thick chest. Ha! I win, I thought. And then immediately I hated myself for thinking that way. “Which uni?” “Goldsmiths, in London. I’m back home for the summer.” “Back in boring Little Denton!” AJ said, playfully rolling his eyes. Boring Little Denton. Where nothing ever happens. Except for the boy who used to eat Tipp-Ex at school growing up to be the type of obscenely muscular, roid munching bodybuilder you regularly blow loads over. Fuck. “Nothing changes much round here!” he added. It was such a ridiculous statement that I couldn’t refrain from making a joke. “No, you look exactly the same as you did at school!” Then it was AJ’s turn to laugh, which made me blush, and feel ever so slightly giddy, because I just made a bodybuilder laugh. A bodybuilder whose upper arms looked about twice as thick as mine. I tried not be obvious, but it was almost impossible to be in such close proximity to a guy that muscular without my eyes veering south of his face. How on Earth had Tesco found a t-shirt to fit AJ? Not that it had fit. One single most muscular and his tits would have probably ripped straight through the material. And his arms. Fucking hell those arms. What did those biceps look like flexed, either side of his absurdly cute face? He hadn’t stayed on for the sixth form, so I hadn’t seen him for four years. I hadn’t even heard about him. He definitely hadn’t been working at Tesco at the same time Naomi had because she would have mentioned it. What had AJ been doing in the past four years that had caused such an extreme transformation? Presumably, spending an enormous amount of time in the gym, consuming a shit load of calories and probably taking a course of steroids, or two. Maybe I hadn’t won after all. Because he looked like THAT, and I looked like, well, me. I had one physical advantage over AJ, though. The same one I’d always had, even when we were younger. I was about four inches taller in height than him. He’d always been short. Right from that very first time I’d spotted him in the school playground, right up until the time he’d left school at sixteen. Maybe he was on a mission to be as wide as he was tall? At this rate, he’d probably succeed. He’d be ripping up the stage with the likes of Tommy “The Tank” Foster and all of the other notoriously short but stacked 212 class competing bodybuilders in no time. AJ Jones. A flexing bodybuilder. Seriously, what kind of cosmic, fucked up shit was going on? “AJ! Can you jump on till seven please?” A hard faced and slightly scary looking woman had interrupted us. AJ pulled a face as she walked away. “I’d better go!” he said. My heart sank. This couldn’t be it. Surely, the universe wouldn’t give me something so mind bogglingly amazing and then just swipe it away from me less than five minutes later? “Good to see you again, mate!” AJ said, with a genuine warmth. Ask for his number! Just ask for his number, I thought. But I couldn’t. It didn’t feel appropriate. And so, I watched AJ Jones walk away with an ever so slight waddle, his thighs visibly thick under his work trousers, his back impossibly broad, and his arse so big and beefy it bordered on obscene. AJ Jones, the bodybuilder. AJ Jones, my old friend from school. AJ Jones, who used to eat fucking Tipp-Ex.
    1 point
  9. Hmmm. Just what IS that message from AJ gonna say?! ? Ok I'm milking it now! I'll stop! ?
    1 point
  10. hhhmmmm becoming your signature these cliffhangers aaaaaaahhhgghghhhhhrrrrrrrrrrrggggghhhhhhhhhh damn you? love it though .... anticipating _19 pt 2
    1 point
  11. Excited. Can you see me shiver with antici...say it!...PATION?! ?
    1 point
  12. Hmmm. A part of me feels bad about this and wants to apologise. But then another (much, much bigger) part of me loves the fact that people are excited to read more of the story! ?
    1 point
  13. Also von meiner Seite aus nicht. ;) Deine Story ist einfach nur der Hammer :D
    1 point
  14. Awww, bless ya, mate! I had wanted to update before now as I don't wanna keep you guys waiting too long! Gonna go over the next chapter when I'm home (currently at work - grrrrr!!) so check back later!! ?
    1 point
  15. a lot of desperate fellas on here......me included! lol
    1 point
  16. The last oen was so damn seet. I loved it
    1 point
  17. gott sei dank hab ich die story erst vorgestern gefunden, so musste ich nicht so lang auf die fortsetzungen warten haha ist auf jeden fall eine mega geile story, genau mein geschmack hoffe das geht so gut weiter! und bin mal gespannt, wie groß jan (btw auch mein name^^) wird, hoffentlich noch größer als david
    1 point
  18. Wow, I didn't think the story really had any big fans. Muscle-theft is a subset of a small group already (muscle-growth, then a smaller wedge of muscle-growth fans who are into theft). I sort of feel like posting muscle-theft here is screaming into the void. I'm glad you enjoyed the story so much!
    1 point
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