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Showing content with the highest reputation on 10/05/2019 in all areas

  1. Apologies, guys! The next chapter needs some work and I haven't had much time to look at it this week so please just bear with me!
    5 points
  2. It has been a long time since I've been able to post a new story. I'd like to post a chapter 4 to "Steven's muscle building project" but in the meantime here is a new story. Just some background: I know there are a lot of users on this site who are more into doing the muscle worship on a muscular hunk than being the one getting worshiped. Myself, my turn on is being the muscle beast myself and so when I write muscle stories (or when I read ones others wrote) I like to picture myself as the muscular protagonist. My biggest turn on (in life) is to be a hulking beast of muscle (who knows that wearing anything other than a tiny posing bikini would be a disservice to society because it would hide my beautiful musculature) and to find a beautiful female admirer who is as turned on by muscles as much as I am. These are the themes I incorporated into Steven's muscle building project, and also into this story. If this is something you're also into, I hope you enjoy! The boy next door A few days after I graduated from High School, my parents moved us to a new town so my Dad could start a new high paying job with some tech company. I was due to start University in the Fall, but that meant that for the summer I was stuck moving along with them to the new City. It was devastating at first. I had been one of the most popular girls in school, captain of the volleyball team and a track and field star and I was devastated to have to leave all my friends behind for what could have been the best summer of my life. After the first few days unpacking and moving in, both my parents started their new jobs leaving me at home alone all day long. The weather was crazy hot here so by about 10:00 I couldn’t stand being inside anymore, so I headed outside to get some sun. After reading a few pages of a novel, I started to hear the clanking of weights coming from over the fence. Someone in the neighbours backyard was getting ready to work out. Now I consider myself a bit of a gym rat, and I always stayed in shape from playing volleyball and doing track. So I could immediately recognize the sound of someone loading up 45 pound plates onto a barbell. I heard 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 12 plates loaded up. Whoever this was had some serious strength. They must be able to deadlift over 550 pounds! I heard some grunting and groaning and then heard the weights come hammering back down as they finished their set. I was bored, and I hadn’t introduced myself to any of the neighbours so I decided to poke my head over the fence. The yard next door was amazing. Professionally landscaped, with a huge patio and a large swimming pool. In the back corner was a garage that had been converted to a gym with big doors that rolled up on hot days like today. Since the doors were open right now, that was why I could hear the weights slamming around. Then my eyes went to the guy who was making all that noise with the weights. My jaw dropped! It was an absolutely massive man. Well really almost a kid as he looked like he was my age, 18. But I had never seen anyone so muscular in person, maybe not even on the internet either. He was tall, at least 6 foot 3, but he must have been at least 300, no 350 pounds. He was wearing a red under armour short sleeve compression shirt that was being stretched to it’s limits and looked like it was painted on. His pecs, abs, and back muscles were all visible even down to every striation. He was wearing some short black workout shorts that were bursting from his tree trunk sized quads. Man they must have been 40 inches around! And he was handsome. He had the square jaw line and blue eyes of a movie star, and his brown hair was gelled and styled perfectly. Now I have to admit I have always loved athletic guys, and enjoyed feeling up their abs when we are fooling around. But I had never seen anyone quite like this before. And my reaction was unexpected: I became obsessed. And giddy. And felt like I couldn’t form sentences as if I was some nerdy kid trying to ask out the hottest girl in school. I WAS the hottest girl in school so this was a new feeling for me. I just had to go meet this mass monster. So I made up a BS excuse: that our internet was down so could I borrow their wifi password? I checked my reflection in the window quickly: beautiful blonde hair, D cup tits, trim midsection, pert round ass: I had it going on. I didn’t have to be nervous! But I was still apprehensively excited as I went to the gate and opened it up. I walked into the yard and towards the garage where the gym was. The guy was in the middle of a set of bench press: repping out sets of 10 with 350 pounds on the bar! He racked the weight just as I was approaching. “Oh hi there, um, I’m” and just that second I tripped over the garden hose, falling flat on my face. “Ouch.” “Here let me help you. Are you okay? I’m Sam, what’s your name?” Sam stepped up from the bench and walked over to me. His mass towered over me, and he extended a muscular forearm and hand to help pull me up. “Oh, uh, Danica” I stammered as I stood up and brushed the grass off my yoga pants. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but um. Um. Could I get your wifi password? I just moved in next door and I don’t know anyone in town and it’s so hot out, and I just wanted to watch some Netflix or something.” “Ya I think I can grab it for you. I don’t have it memorized, so can you wait a few minutes until I finish my workout and then I’ll go inside and get it for you?” “Yeah of course. I heard you doing deadlifts before. How much were you lifting?” “565 pounds. I’m in a mass building phase of my program so I have to focus on my big 3 lifts: squats, bench press and deadlifts. If I do heavy weights of each of those for high reps, like 10 to 12, then I can hopefully keep putting on size.” I wiped away the little bit of drool that was coming out of my mouth. “I see, so you’re into bodybuilding then? How long have you been training for?” “Yeah I have to admit I’m kind of obsessed with getting as big as I can. I’ve wanted to be a bodybuilder ever since I was 13 years old and so I started working out then. My gains were slow back then, but starting around age 16 I started putting on some serious size. And as soon as I started seeing the results I had always desired it just made me want to get even bigger. There’s something about the feeling of stretching out the arms in an XXL T shirt that gives you a nice warm feeling inside.” Sam smiled at me. “I’m sorry, that was a longer answer than you were expecting.” “No, no, tell me more. I’ve never met anyone as big as you. I think it’s awesome you’re realizing your dreams. And the second looks you must always be getting from the girls in town must be a nice perk too I bet.” I tried to make it sound like I was saying it to be funny, but I’m pretty sure my cheeks went so red it was obvious I was dead serious. “Yeah well I am planning on taking this coming year off to focus on training. My gains have been coming pretty fast lately so I am just going to focus on continuing to do what I’m doing. I don’t want to mess with a good thing you know? The reason you’ve never seen anyone my size before is because most people either don’t have the work ethic, or the real desire to become this size. 390 pounds isn’t a weight you can be unless you’re completely dedicated to devoting your life to muscle.” Did he just say he was 390 pounds? And he’s only 18 years old! And he wants to get even bigger? Now right about now I was starting to have trouble hiding my attraction so this beast of a teenager standing in front of me. I was beet red in the face, and nervously shifting from one foot to the other while we were standing there. I think a desire had been awoken inside of me: I love muscle! The bigger the better, and if you weigh 390 pounds then the only thing hotter is if you weigh 490 pounds! Sam made it less awkward by not making me open my mouth. I don’t think I could have said anything that made any sense anyways. “Danica I have to just finish up my squats then I’ll be finished. You said you’re new here, would you like to stay for lunch? I’d love to hear about you and where you’re from.” “Oh, well, um sure. Yeah I’ve got nothing going on today. Thanks.” Sam churned out 3 sets of 12 reps of 520 pounds on squats. “Ok Danica. I’ll go get us some lunch, and I’ll get you the wifi password. You take a seat on the patio. I’ll be back in 15 minutes.” “The wifi? Oh ya, right. Thanks. I’ll see you back here in 15.” I had forgotten all about the wifi password! 15 minutes later Sam came out to set the table. He had cooked up an omelette for us, and poured me a protein smoothie. My meal was lovely and the portions were probably a touch big for my appetite-especially since I had butterflies in my stomach right now. But Sam’s portion was ridiculously huge! His omelette must have been made with 18 eggs, and after he filled my glass up with smoothie, he just took the rest of the jug and drank from there. He also had a steak on the side, that took up an entire other dinner plate. “I can tell what you’re thinking. This looks a little bit over the top, with all this food. But at my size this is what you have to eat to get any bigger. 390 pounds of muscle burns A LOT of calories. Don’t worry, this won’t take me all day to finish. I’ve gotten good at eating quickly. Because in 3 hours I have to do it all over again.” I could no longer even muster the focus to eat. I had to be direct with Sam. “Sam, I don’t think it’s over the top. I think it’s incredible. You are incredible. I’m just imagining every bite you take going into your body to make your muscles even bigger. I didn’t even know someone like you existed, and even though I’ve only known you for an hour, I have to tell you you’re the sexiest, most unreal guy I’ve ever met in my life.” “Oh. Well thank you. I also should say it was a pleasant surprise seeing that our new neighbour is a hot little blondie. And I have to say even though I train to get bigger because it’s what I desire, it sure feels good having someone else showing appreciation for my physique. But it’s getting too hot out to keep sitting in the sun. After I do a workout I usually go have a swim to cool off and let my muscles recover. Do you want to join me for a dip?” “YES! I mean, yes that sounds nice. Should I go get changed and come back?” “Yeah meet me back here in 5 minutes?” “Okay, bye!” I practically sprinted out of Sam’s yard and back into my house. I ran upstairs. I needed to find a sexy bikini to wear. I picked out a black thong bikini that I knew showed off my ass really well. I’d been too nervous to wear it anywhere in public before but those fears were gone now. The top was very supportive which means it pushed my D cup boobs together nicely giving me nice deep cleavage. I fixed my hair, and took a few deep breaths. I was hot. But Sam was INCREDIBLE. Don’t mess this up Dani, you’ve got this. I walked downstairs in my thong bikini, and back to Sam’s yard. He wasn’t out yet so I dipped my foot into the pool to check the water temperature. I heard the back door to his house open up and I turned around and the sight I saw made me weak in the knees. Sam came outside wearing a red posing suit, one of the ones bodybuilders wear when they’re up on stage. It. Was. Tiny! Without clothes on Sam looked way bigger than he did before. And man was he cut! It looked like he was only 3 or 4% bodyfat. He had an 8 pack and when he turned around to close the door I could see the beginnings of some striations in his glutes. He had shaved his body totally smooth so there was no bodyhair obscuring the view of the muscles. As he was walking towards me I marvelled at how all of his mass moved and shifted with each step. His arms were so big they were always at a bit of an angle out to the side. His lats were easily visible from the front, protruding out to either side of his frame. His quads were forcing his legs apart as well, so he walked with his feet almost shoulder width apart. Lastly his pecs were the icing on the cake. They seemed really overdeveloped compared to the rest of his physique. You could see the separation between pectoral muscles: pec major, and pec minor. The muscles themselves protruded out from his chest by 4 or 5 inches at least. His upper half of his abs was obscured by the shadow cast from his chest musculature. My eyes were drawn to his crotch. There was a pouch in the front of the tiny posing suit that was somewhat straining to contain his junk. The sides of the suit were barely ¼ inch thick, and the back was what I would call a Brazilian cut if it was a bikini. Half of Sam’s glutes, if not more, were on display. “I don’t even know what to say. Wow, just Wow.” Sam didn’t skip a beat, and gave me the opening I needed to go start feeling up his muscles. It was obvious that was what I wanted so why fight it? “When it’s hot like this I find I can really deepen my tan. Would you be willing to help me get some of this tanning lotion on? Although being almost 400 pounds of muscle is great, it does make for a lot of surface area to apply lotion to on a day like today.” “Yes. You bet. You just relax and stand there, I’ll get every inch for you.” I grabbed the bottle, and squeezed a huge pool of it in my hands. The second I touched Sam’s smooth tanned skin I felt the incredible sensation of overwhelming power. As I started with his pecs and abs, I marvelled at how tight and smooth the skin was covering his muscles. Sam looked like a freakishly inflated anatomy chart. My bikini bottoms were starting to get wet from how turned on I was. It was a good thing they were black. After taking my time on his ripped midsection, I went down to his legs. They were so enormous my hands felt tiny in comparison. Each thigh was bigger than my whole torso, and I shuddered when I thought about the power that was contained in each of those muscular legs. Sam could probably lift the back end of a car if he really wanted to! Even his hamstrings were well developed and I spent some extra time lotioning where they met his glutes. My face was down near his crotch and so I could see the bulge in the front of his posing suit getting a little more pronounced. It was good to see Sam was enjoying this as much as I was. With his legs done, I moved to his back which looked like a topographical map of some muscular mountain range. The lat muscles were the main feature, spread wide like a pair of wings 3 feet across. But the rhomboids and trapezius muscles each make their presence known with their own bulgy definition layered on top. It took half a bottle to get Sam lotioned up to this point. Now I was moving on to the best part of all: his massive arms. I recalled reading once that Arnolds arms measured 22 inches. Considering Sam weighed 150 pounds more than Arnold, his arms must have been 31 inches at least. They were freakishly huge, and although the biceps were massive, it was his triceps that really stood out. All 3 heads were huge and looked like they were chiselled out of granite. “Thanks, Danica.” Sam said as I finished up his lotioning. He took the bottle from me and then suggested we lay down on the sun loungers beside the pool. Sam’s mass seemed to swallow up the whole chair as it disappeared underneath him, but somehow held his weight. It must have been reinforced with titanium or something! “I’ve gotta say Danica, you look amazing in that bikini. I love a girl who isn’t afraid to show off their curves. And, well if I do say so, that thong makes your ass look unreal.” He gazed into my eyes as he said it. Sam wouldn’t be making comments like that if he wasn’t attracted to me right? Here we were, girl meets boy next door. Boy turns out to be the most incredibly sexy muscle doll on the planet. Girl becomes obsessed. Both don tiny swimsuits that leave 98% of skin exposed. Girl lotions boy’s muscles. Boy tells girl how sexy he thinks she is. We all know where this story is supposed to go: I jumped up from my chair and threw myself on top of Sam. I grabbed his crotch with my hand and started to massage his cock while thrusting my tongue down his throat. Sam reciprocated and pulled me closer by grabbing a generous helping of my derriere. We made love that day outside by the pool. And in Sam’s room. And in the gym. And in my room. I devoured Sam’s muscles and he loved every minute of it. 4 years later: That summer after high school was an incredible, enlightening experience that opened my eyes to the incredibly sexy world of muscle. Sam and I spent every moment together for two whole months, and then I reluctantly went off to University and we went our separate ways… Ha ha, just kidding, You didn’t think I’d bait you with that whole hot story, only to let the man of my dreams be the one that got away did you? I decided to never even go to University and moved in to Sam’s house so I could be his partner on his journey to get as big as possible. After having experienced his muscles for myself, I couldn’t imagine anything else in life even remotely as meaningful, sexy or exciting as being at Sam’s side as he pushes the limits on how muscular a human can become. Our days consisted of me cooking his meals and tracking his macros, then 3 hour workouts 6 days a week. I attended all of his workouts to provide encouragement (it’s not like I’d be much use spotting him, considering his bench press is now up over 700 pounds). I encouraged Sam to wear only posing suits as much as possible so he started wearing them for workouts. With all that muscle flesh on display getting pumped up and sweaty during his workouts, I’d inevitably get so turned on I’d find myself masturbating at least a couple of times before each session was done. The instant Sam racked the bar on his final work set, I’d pretty much jump on him and start devouring his muscles with my hands and my tongue. We’d make sweet love right there in the gym, and at least once or twice more as the day turned to night. Every night I fell asleep being cradled by the most muscular arms in the universe. Although he could have probably had any girl he wanted (and he did have hundreds of female and male groupies who obsessively followed his progress on-line and attended any of his bodybuilding competitions or guest posing appearances) he confessed that he was as obsessed with me as I was with him. I think he realized that although all those muscle groupies got turned on by how he looked, it wasn’t quite to the same level as me. I literally felt like I needed him and his muscles as much as I needed oxygen itself. His muscles were my life. And after all his muscles, and growing them bigger was HIS life too. So we both committed ourselves to them. And by them, I mean his muscles. Sam and I are 22 now and we just got married last week. I wore a sexy low cut wedding dress (I know how much Sam likes my tits), and he wore a custom made tux that was 75% spandex so it could fit snugly over his muscles. In the 4 years since we’ve met Sam has continued to get bigger and bigger. His weight is now at the 550 pound mark, with arms approaching 37 inches, a 30 inch waist, and quads of 50 inches around. As I’m writing this we are in a private villa overlooking an azure blue sea in the tropics. I won’t tell you where because I don’t want the muscle groupies to invade our private beach so they can catch a glimpse of my hubby and his muscles. Sam is down on the beach (of course wearing nothing but a posing bikini – the same azure colour as the sea actually) benching, curling, squatting and deadlifting various sizes of palm tree trunks that he cut down last week. They weigh between 400 and 1200 pounds, so from up here where I’m sitting I can see he’s working up a sweat. Deadlifting 1200 pounds would be a world record, but Sam can do it for 12 reps! The phenomenon that Sam’s muscles have become has provided us with huge wealth. Between the prize money from all the competitions he has won, the appearance fees from his guest posings, and money paid by viewers on the internet who crave videos of his muscles being worshiped neither one of us wants for anything, and we get to devote all of our time to his physique. I just made a request of the local villagers for an entire pig to be roasted, prepared and served at our villa for lunch today. Sam’s growth has slowed down a bit in the last little while, down to just a couple of pounds added per month. After his 3 hour workout on the beach I’m going to lovingly serve him as much meat as he can gobble down to see if we can shock his muscles into swelling up some more. But I need to go now. Watching Sam’s sweaty body doing it’s thing down there on the beach has gotten me so turned on, I need my hands to help me do – something. You know what.
    3 points
  3. Toto se levanta de a poco y cada vez tengo más aire. Rápidamente se sienta en el borde de la cama por lo cual solo veo su espalda gigante. No debe entrar en ningún asiento de mortales con esa espalda. Veo como sus músculos se mueven cuando él se vuelve a poner su short apretado. El culo parece más grande dentro de la contención de tela. La raya está chivada parece. Que ganas de meter mi cara ahí pienso por un segundo. - Que pasa viejito? Querés que te cague a trompadas devuelta?- le responde Toto. - Querés ver como me lo cojo? Creo que ya vistes las fotos de mi viejo. Parecía más grande antes pero ahora estamos igual, o creo que soy más pesado yo. Ya lo vas a ver puto. A ver si te excita más él o yo. Solo hay una respuesta correcta e.- a lo que me zarandea con una mano como si fuese una muñeca de trapo. Empiezo a escuchar pasos cada vez más fuertes hasta que de golpe se abre la puerta. Solo veo una montaña de músculos gordos como los del mamut que cubren toda la puerta. Se agacha y pasa. Es Toto pero con canas. Y más sexy. - Hola pendejo! Volví de cogerme a esas viejas que me garpan por tocarme todo. También hubieron unos pibitos que quisieron que les rompa el culo. Y lo hice. JA JA.- se abrazan los dos gigantes. Creo que nunca vi tanto tamaño en tan poco lugar. La mano enorme del viejo le aprieta una nalga a Toto. - Estás más gordo e pendejo. Creo que finalmente pesas más que yo. Fijemonos.- El cincuenteañero se saca la camisa y revela su grueso torso. Inmenso. Dos tetas fuertes y peludas que dan pie a una panza de birra enorme. El pantalon del traje no puede ocultar el tamaño de las macetas ni del culo gordo que tiene. El bulto no se queda atrás y pelea por abrirse paso entre la tela. Lo que ocurre a continuación hace que acabe sin ni siquiera tocarme. El viejo de Toto y Toto comienzan a flexionar todos sus musculos. Sus brazos del tamaño de sandias, sus pechos de gorila, sus espaldas de bufalos. Son dos bestias inmensas. - Qué es ese ruido?- pregunta el padre. Me ve y se ríe. - Ya acabaste puto! JA JA. Tanto te excitan estos gordos? Queres que te rompa el culito? Vení que te quiero conocer enano.-
    3 points
  4. We are all holding our breath, awaiting the next chapter.
    2 points
  5. Toto me baja al piso. Mis ojos ven directamente por debajo de sus dos pectorales inmensos. Son peludos y varoniles. Se me para la pija con solo verlo. Toto se da cuenta que lo estoy mirando fijo y con sus brazos me abraza apretándome contra su masa. Esta chivado. Mejor todavía. Tiene un olor masculino, a hombre. Inspiro todo lo que puedo y es entonces cuando me dice que se quiere echar una siesta. Simplemente camina a su cuarto, todavía conmigo en sus brazos y cierra la puerta. El cuarto es enorme. Y la cama también. Debe entrar toda mi familia en esa cama. Observo y veo su ropa, gigante, tirada por el piso. Veo fotos de él en la playa, con sus amigos, y... con su familia? En todas las fotos Toto es el más grande por lejos, pero en esta no. En esta es incluso más chico que el otro rinoceronte al lado suyo. Es muy parecido a Toto, pero más viejo. Deduzco que es el padre. Seguramente. De repente salgo de mis pensamientos. - Duermo en pelotas así que trata de no acabar en el pantalón.- a lo que se saca la musculosa. Parece incluso más inmenso. Sus tetas rebotan sólidamente y su panza parece inflarse pero aun así se nota la dureza de esta, y el semdelineamiento de unos abdominales. Se gira en contra mío y puedo ver el ancho de su cuerpo. Se baja el short. No tiene calzón. En mi vista aparece el culo más gordo, musculoso, redondo, fibroso, perfecto. Inmenso. Dos gambas descomunales lo mantienen y puedo ver entre estas los dos huevos de avestruz del macho. Las rodillas me tiemblan y caigo en la cama boca arriba. Estoy mirando el techo cuando de repente por una milésima de segundo todo se oscurece. Intento respirar pero no puedo. Siento mucho calor. Trato de salir. De sacármelo de encima. De sacarme a Toto de encima. Pero no puedo. El gordo de casi 200 kilos está encima mío. Apretándome e incluso dormido. Agregado a todo esto ronca. Estoy justo por debajo de su panza y tetas. Sus pelos me hacen cosquillas. Por suerte mi cara esta justo entre sus dos pectorales por lo que tengo algo de aire. Su pecho es inmenso y aunque quiero abarcarlo con mis brazos, no puedo. Siento mi pija parada contra su barriga y con unos rápidos movimientos logro acabar rápidamente. Todo el contacto me tenía muy caliente. Es lo mejor que me paso creo. Siento que estoy en un sueño. Hasta que una voz lo interrumpe. Una voz muy muy grave. -Toto! Donde estás pibe? Estás para unas luchas?-
    2 points
  6. Hi all, here's the first part of my second story: Entelechy. It's quite different from my first, Control; this story is set in futuristic universe. I won't spoil the details, but suffice it to say that I have conceived of the world in this story as a realistic future for humanity. It'll have plenty of growth, muscle worship and all that lovely stuff, alongside plenty of exploration of the psychology of muscle addiction, but some of the exposition is also designed to be thought-provoking about society, politics and what the future may hold. If you're more interested in the muscle, then fear not - you won't be disappointed! But if you like to be challenged, this story will have a little bit extra for you. Part 1 doesn't have much growth; it's largely outlining our main character. But there will be a hell of a lot of muscle to come, I can tell you that. Entelechy: a word used by Aristotle, 'the state of something that is fully realised'. ---- Entelechy: Part 1 He stood amongst the heaving crowd, almost suffocated by the thronging masses. Blessed with neither notable height nor width, the Youth struggled to get a glimpse of the public screen. There was a ripple through the crowd; a fortunate shift in its arrangement afforded him an unbroken line of sight to watch the spectacle unfold. The screen - an anachronism, since it was actually a one-dimensional holographic projection - showed the Emperor seated upon the Eternal Throne. Clad in his usual impenetrable attire (mask, robes and cloak of black and red), he contrasted with the white, gold and ocean blue of the Throne. A ceremonial guard of Imperial Guardsmen, great staves held straight, lined the gilded walkway leading to the Throne. A number of attendants - various High Councillors and military officials - were clustered around the Throne. The crowd held its breath as the camera panned to show the great entrance doors to the Throne Room, which silently slid open to reveal an alien, surrounded by five Guardsmen arranged in a pentagon around him. The alien looked somewhat reptilian, dressed in fine armour...but the splendour did not conceal the humiliation readable in its posture. “And there he is,” continued the commentator, “Val’syth, Sovereign of the now-subjugated Farith Empire, come to pay homage to our Immortal Emperor.” The people around the Youth jeered at the defeated alien monarch, as his party walked towards the Throne. The camera panned behind them, showing the alien trudging towards the Emperor, who sat unmoved and impassive. The Guardsmen, and the alien, came to a halt at the base of the dais upon which the Throne sat. Two Guardsmen then tore off Val’syth’s ornate armour, throwing it to the floor, followed by his undergarments. In mere moments he stood naked before the Emperor. The crowd’s jeering came to a tense tense halt as they watched the defeated alien stand motionless...before erupting into jubilant cheers as he prostrated himself before the Emperor, forehead touching the cold metal floor. “And there’s the proskynesis, the ceremonial submission before the Emperor,” resumed the commentator. “The act symbolises...” He zoned out the both commentator and the cheers. He did belong amongst these mindless automatons who went about their life. He was different. He couldn’t quite place how, only that he was. He did not fit in the Grand Society; its norms and expectations were…restrictive to him. He would not - could not - conform. Instead, he would leave them all in the dust, revelling in his excess. Let the rebellion begin, he thought to himself. *** He had never felt like he belonged. Not quite ostracised from the Society, but not quite part of it either. In creating the Society three centuries ago, the Emperor had adopted an effective organising framework: within set boundaries, you were free to do what you wished - but cross those boundaries, and the Society exiled you. Moderation was the ruling tenet: most ‘vices’ were acceptable, in moderation. Sex, drink, food, drugs, partying; as long as you kept the habits under control, it was not the Society’s concern. But indulge them to excess, and the Society would quickly sanction you. Assuming the legal order of the Society didn’t formally intervene to redeem you, that is. But that moderation did not appeal to him. It was stale, lifeless - mass-produced. Moderation was easy, and boring. Where was the joy in moderation? Throughout his teenage years, this internal conflict had grown and festered, eventually crystallising into a need to break free, to rebel. His first act upon completing school had been to leave his home city of Copenhagen, crossing the sea to the much-larger Capital - the Eternal City. With a population of 25 million, it was the largest city on Terra. Surely he’d find ways to rebel there? The Society quickly provided him with an apartment (all housing was state-provided, of course), and he’d settled in, but then things had...stalled. Wanting to rebel was all well and good, but how does one go about actually doing it? He’d tried the Lower City, where all the ‘cultural establishments’ were. It had been fun at first, immersing himself in the permanent carnival-atmosphere of the clubs and bars, but it soon became clear that they too all worshipped at the altar of Moderation. He could have over-indulged in drink, drugs and sex but that was not rebellion - that was self-destruction and would achieve nothing. No, he had to be more subtle in his rebellion - and thus pose a far greater challenge to the Society. Undermine the tenet of Moderation, and be revered for it. Excess. But again: how? Within weeks of arriving he felt as lost as ever, his ‘rebellion’ failing before it could even get started. It was depressing. He felt lonely and dejected. Perhaps this rebellion had, afterall, been a stupid idea borne of an immature mind. He could’ve got a job, perhaps (almost all menial or simple work was done by robots, but there were still plenty of jobs where a human touch was liked), but he felt no need to; the Basic Income more than covered his needs. Thus it was that the Youth found himself wandering into a new establishment he had not yet visited, seeking inspiration. He was startled to realise he’d stumbled into a male orgy club, decorated like a Classical symposium: low couches and tables, carved stone columns and walls decorated with reliefs. A statue of Apollo and Hyacinthus, their hands intertwined, stood in the centre. He could make out another floor above. The patrons, in varying degrees of intoxication, were engaging in passionate group sex on the sumptuous couches. He walked through the establishment, studying the men he passed. All conventionally attractive and identically built in the Society’s ideal: athletic and toned, but not muscular or ponderous. Lithe, graceful: a useful body. The Youth himself had such a body. Some of the older men were more saggy, but still fit. This was, of course, simply the old Classical ideal...as part of the Society’s construction, many of the values and ideas of the Ancients had been studiously revived and systematically applied. None of the men interested him. It was not that they were unattractive, but rather they screamed moderation. There was nothing deviant about them; body, hairstyles, clothes (where worn). Even this orgy was moderation; he doubted any of the patrons attended more than a couple of times a month. Everywhere was order; the establishment was a Temple to Self-Control. Credit to the Emperor, the Youth thought. His Society works. Further into the establishment, there were numerous warmly-lit alcoves for more intimate encounters. They were likewise filled with oh-so-boring Servants of Moderation. He had just about given up hope of finding any trace deviance when he glanced into the final alcove. His breath caught in his throat and his stomach fluttered. At last. Seated in the alcove was the biggest man the Youth has ever seen. Not in terms of height (he was ordinary in that regard), but of width. Of mass. Of muscle. His body hung heavy with bulging muscle; he was no longer athletic. No, most of that muscle was useless. An obstacle to human grace. It was instead the body of excess. A Servant of Moderation straddled the man’s crotch, taking his manhood inside of him, while he ravenously devoured the man’s flexed arm, savouring the swollen muscles with lips and tongue. The man’s head was thrown back in pleasure, eyes closed, softly moaning. The Youth was rooted to the spot as a curious rush flowed through his mind. It was as if the disparate pieces of a previously hidden jigsaw puzzle had suddenly come together, inspired by the man of excess before him. In an instant, the fog cleared and his path became clear. The man of excess had shown him the way to rebel - how to subvert the Society. The next morning, he changed his gym routine.
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  7. Yes, actually! Part 48 is up! Forgot to post here for 47, sorry! Feel free to give me feedback or constructive criticism, too! The parts are already written but I like to know what people respond to and what they think could be better.
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  8. Work for us slave !!!
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  9. Bulletproof “You know you could wind up pretty much bulletproof?” Geoff asked me. We were about three weeks into the process of slapdash gene-editing at that point. Alchemy, with Geoff as the wizard and me as, I don’t know, a toad perhaps. Before we began, the anticipation — the idea of me emerging from it with the kind of strength that had fueled my fantasies all through childhood — just imagining that gave me the wildest pleasure I had ever known. Geoff’s work was kind of sub rosa, and I was surprised I had actually managed to connect with him and that he was willing to take me as a subject. Willing? Hell, he was happy like a clam, and I was happier than that. True, I had lost all interest in sex with partners, because for me nothing could compete with the sexual rush I got imagining how strong I was getting. Bending steel bars? Punching through walls? Hand me that mirror and close the door on your way out. Of course, that initial euphoria was tempered after the first couple of weeks. It struck me like getting married: Mundane questions come up, possible complications arise. Bulletproof? “I don’t want to develop some hide, like a rhino,” I said. “Is that what’s going to happen?” “Not sure. You know it’s too late to do anything about how that kind of adaptation might play out, right?” He said this kind of thing repeatedly, any time I expressed concern. Too late to do anything, the die is cast, we won’t know until the process is complete, et cetera. “Anyway, it’s not about your skin. It’s about the tissues underneath.” He had done some experiments not in the human genetics lab where he worked, but in an art studio, using ballistic clay, which contains lead, iron and acrylic clay. It can stop bullets, or majorly bog them down. Geoff does a surprising amount of work at the art studio attached to the MFA program in the fine arts building at a major university — I’m not supposed to say where, but you may have read about one of the MFA students who hired him to clone some frogs to create a kind of froggy chorus line, with electrodes attached to their legs. It didn’t work out as planned, and she got picketed besides. “Will my skin turn grey? I don't want to have grey skin, like an elephant.” Is it Ogden Nash I was thinking of? I shoot the hippopotamus / with bullets made of platinum / because if I use leaden ones / his hide is sure to flatten ‘em… Truth be told, I would have liked to stop the process right there. I had grown taller and broader and was totally ripped. I was feeling like a dynamo and eating for two or three linebackers. Yes, my skin had begun to change, but not in a bad way, and my body hair was falling out, with just itchy stubble left. That was going away, too, and I was also losing the hair on my head, so I might wind up totally bald. Not a bad look, but I’d need to get cooler glasses, or maybe contacts. I could usually recapture my initial euphoria just by slipping my hand under my shirt and feeling my chest. The emphatic division between my pecs. For all my working out, it was never like that before. And rock-hard, as they say. Even the stubble was kind of a turn-on. Geoff wanted me to find inconspicuous ways of using my strength to get used to it, and I had a new trick. “Hey, Geoff, regardez,” I said, and fell forward with my body board-straight, stopping myself with my hands so that I was in push-up position. Then, keeping my body straight, I reversed the motion using only my wrists and hands, back into standing position. “Cool,” he said. “Like showing the movie backwards.” I don’t know what other gene-splicing projects Geoff worked on before I found him, but apparently they can get pretty bizarre, because it was the very ordinariness of what I wanted that attracted him. These people go around in secret, or so it is said. There are street rumors about people wanting to plug themselves in to store electricity like electric eels, or deflect laser energy from satellites in the Strategic Defense Initiative that probably don’t exist anyway. The most popular story is basically about “beam me up, Scotty,” people who wanted to teleport or walk through walls or under closed doors. “Just strength?” he kept asking me. “Nothing else?” I told him that having a fabulous, muscular build would be great, but that strength was the primary criterion for success. He indicated that this would be much easier than some of his projects had been. But when he actually started working, the amount of research seemed huge. For me it was mostly a matter of waiting; for him it was drudgery, doing genetic sequencing not just of human DNA, but of animals you’d think had nothing to do with it — gorillas, rhinos. Mountain goats? Yes, mountain goats were crucial. When matters of judgment came up, he would not consult me, even though it was my body. One day he snapped at me, saying “The heart and the diaphragm are muscles too, you know,” as if I had denied it. Then out of the blue he said “You're looking pretty fantastic, you know.” Not his kind of comment. “Let’s get your shirt off and have a look.” He looked my torso up and down, and then said “give me one of these,” indicated a bicep flex. I obliged. “Holy shit,” he said. “You're like a fucking comic book. I did that. Me and my little viruses. I wonder how strong you’ll wind up being. How strong are you now?” “Don't know.” Geoff started knocking on me like a used car. “We should have thought about measuring your development. That was an oversight.” “I went to my old gym yesterday to get an idea,” I said. “It didn't go too well.” “What happened?” “What happened was the guy at the desk didn't recognize me, which was fine, and he gave me a tour, also fine, but when I thought I’d play around with him, he — well, there was a racked bar that had about three hundred pounds on it, and I hefted it with one hand, and he was nothing but annoyed. ‘I don't know if that’s some kind of illusion or if you’re some kind of freak’ is what he said. Not how I imagined that would go.” “How was lifting three hundred pounds with one hand?” “Pretty easy, actually. In the weight room I picked up a twenty-pound plate and just broke it. Like a cookie. Also not what I expected, somehow. The guy just asked me to leave.” “And I am having pretty much the opposite reaction,” he said. “The idea that you are actually real is seeming pretty incredible to me just now. I wish I had a twenty-pound plate for you to break. What is there for you to break around here?” “Everything. Everything is looking fragile to me lately,” I said. "You look fucking indestructible," he said. “You could punch me if you like. Nothing hurts very much anymore, at least nothing I’ve encountered yet.” Geoff ran at me and punched me in the gut, or I should say, in my abs, which were looking pretty great. He was wincing but he had a goony grin on his face. And me, I wish I could describe the feeling — it not only didn’t hurt, but the fact that it didn't hurt made it fun. I loved seeing the effort in Geoff’s face, the fact that he hurt his hand. “You're incredible,” he said. “It’s like you're made of…I don’t know what. That didn't hurt?” “It felt kind of good, actually.” Under the terms of our agreement I had three more weeks to spend at Geoff’s apartment. Gene-hackers, as they've come to be known, are doing better than you might think, judging from Geoff’s digs — very luxurious. I imagined the conditions would be Spartan, but then, do the math: I agreed to pay thirty thousand plus expenses, and he can do a fair number of these a year, and I've noticed that he also does consulting work and has his lab job. But it’s all very secret. There are serious legal risks, and they’re mostly on his side. After the gym, I had kept an appointment with the lawyer who handled my father's will. I asked him questions I said were hypothetical about gene-hackers. I wasn’t fooling him, and I knew it, and he knew that I knew it. “The laws on cloning and genetic modification are aimed at the practitioners, not the subjects of experimentation or the modified organisms,” he droned. “Then the subject in an experiment would be in the clear?” “Not necessarily,” he said. “Let’s say a subject approached a practitioner of genetic modification and paid him or her to convert him into a genetic superman.” He didn't have to put it that way; he knew it and I knew it. “The subject then facilitates the crime by making himself available. And if he pays for it, even more so.” Gene hackers, according to this guy, will soon be as dangerous and as costly to society as computer hackers. I was confident there was no legal exposure for Geoff or me. Our deal was based on a handshake. The artist with the frogs was hassled and her show was shut down, but the case had been settled in her favor as a free speech issue: artistic expression. And after three weeks of his dour moods, Geoff's sudden appreciation was just what I needed. He was looking at the shirtless me like a new and astonishing specimen. “You don’t just look like an athlete or a bodybuilder,” he said. “You look more special than that.” “Special,” I said, “is that some technical scientific term?” “Like you’re going to explode,” he said. “Like you're exploding with latent power. I can’t explain it.” “Hit me again,” I said, this time with both arms raised and biceps flexed. He ran at me and then just kind of pounded my chest, then started to climb onto me. I grabbed him by the belt and just tossed him in the air, catching him like a baby. “I’ve already got so much power I don't know what to do with it. How much more before it levels off?” “I know, right? What a problem. We’re going to have to think of some strength adventures for you.” “You have any debts you need collected? Someone you want to intimidate?” “You’re joking,” he said, “but I do.” “Really? I’m your guy. Figure it out and let me know. Nothing illegal, please.” “No time like the present, right? Come on, let’s go right now. Just follow my lead and don’t kill the guy. I don’t think you’ll have to touch him.” And so Geoff and I were off on my first muscle adventure, to a lab where we had to show our IDs and get buzzed in and follow a maze of corridors. Geoff stuck his head in a door and called out “Hey, Dr. H.” He sounded friendly rather than pissed. A bush-haired guy emerged, fifty-ish, wire-rims. “Ah, look what the cat dragged in,” he said. “And I see you brought a mouse with you.” We entered a lab with such powerful ventilation that you had to speak up. “Yes,” Geoff said. “A lab mouse, an experimental mouse. You should have a look at him. Take your shirt off, mouse.” I could feel the airflow, and it felt great. But after a minute, I slipped my shirt back on. “Jesus fucking Christ,” said Dr. H. “That’s amazing. How long did that take you?” “Couple of months is all,” said Geoff. The guy turned to me. “And this was your idea? You’re a paying customer?” “No,” said Geoff, “he had nothing to do with it. I figured now that I’m getting entrepreneurial, it might be handy to have an enforcer. Considering how crazy some of my clients are. Present company included. You know, better safe than…isn’t that right, Bruno? You know, Dr. H. is a client of ours. Research staff. Day job.” “Got it, boss,” I said. “Bruno’s not his real name,” Geoff told Dr. H. “That’s what I call him. His professional name, you might say.” Dr. H came over to me. “Shame,” he said. “That name suits you.” “That’s why I picked it. I was thinking that I wanted to change up our working relationship a little bit, stay a little lower profile. I don’t want my name on any future articles. But I’d like to keep my staff position plus an equity stake. I was thinking seven percent. And Bruno agrees. He wants to make sure I get what I deserve.” “Do you, Bruno?” asked Dr. H. He was looking at me the whole time Geoff was speaking. “You agree? Geoff, I think I need a better look at this lab mouse. He may need to be medically monitored as time goes on. Would you mind, Bruno,” he said, gesturing at his own shirt. “Not at all,” I said. I saw where this was going. I whipped my shirt off again. And this time, I handed it to Dr. H. “Unbe-fucking-lievable,” said Dr. H. Is he as strong as he looks?” “Stronger,” said Geoff. “Stronger than you can imagine. One of my best. He’s still developing, but already — ” “Bruno,” Dr. H. interrupted, “I have a thought…I’ve been trying to get that specimen freezer moved for weeks. Could you oblige?” He indicated a stainless steel console that looked smaller than a kitchen refrigerator. “It’s heavier than it looks. Extremely cold temp, you know, thirty below, special compressor, dedicated power supply…could I impose? It would be so helpful. We've cleared it out but we can't turn it off.” I smiled and nodded, but when I started to put my shirt back on, he said “I think you might find it easier if you leave that off.” Okay, so that was how it was. For me, the freezer itself was like nothing. If it hadn’t been an awkward shape, I’d have done it with one arm. Geoff went with me down the hall and we repositioned the fridge in another lab. Dr. H. stayed where he was, and Geoff gave him a couple of minutes alone before we returned. “You seem to have made quite an impression on Dr. H,” Geoff told me. “I didn’t realize he was of that particular persuasion, whatever it is. Sorry about that.” “You mean, turned on by my muscles?” “Yeah. He’s married, actually. To a woman.” “Well, whatever. You weren’t that interested muscles either, until you got a look at me lately.” “Yeah, well, shut my mouth,” said Geoff, and we walked back to Dr. H.’s lab. “So. Gents.” He asked. “How did it go?” “Cake,” I said, and gave him a bicep flex. Right arm. Seeing this, he came over to me and caressed it, unabashed. He was all over it. He actually put his chin on it, then his lips. I was a little embarrassed, but not much. “Christ,” he said. That’s not a bicep, it’s a cannonball.” He paused in a way that seemed wistful. “You know, if you were so inclined…” “Thanks,” I said, “but it wouldn’t work. The price of strength. I would pulverize you in the first five seconds.” Then he looked at Geoff. “Be that as it may,” he said, “I can understand your wanting to keep a lower profile, and we can keep your name out of the journals if you like, though if you have a staff position with the company…anyway, an equity position is certainly not inappropriate, I’ve been thinking we should work that out. We don’t want to lose you while the firm is still aborning. And I am so pleased to welcome Bruno into the fold. Bruno, I’m sure we’ll find a way to win each other’s mutual loyalty. Shall we say three and a half percent for each of you?” I was horrified — I wanted no part of whatever this was — but Geoff gave me the high sign, and later explained that we could work out a separate agreement between ourselves. And so it was that the entire cost of his work with me, the research, the surreptitious use of the CRISPR, the viral engineering, the special diet, the three days of induced coma for an invented emergency, the seclusion under controlled conditions, the thirty grand in fees plus untold expenses, all of it wound up costing me nothing; Geoff basically gave me a full refund for services rendered, and I have this body to show for it. Of course, Geoff stands to become a millionaire if all goes well with Dr. H.'s startup. But as for my plans, so far they’ve gone better than I could have imagined. We’ll just have to see where it leads.
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  10. I'm going a bit red in the face. Waiting for the next chapter of course ....
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  11. WOW! It has been so quiet in here. Where did everyone go??
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  12. - Chapter 5 - Meet The New Size Day after day, I eagerly await Charles to come home from work. Hoping to see the fruit of my labour, but I wasn't very lucky. His shift was moved around quite often due to the school holidays – the cafe anticipated a higher traffic from the parents, as they bring their children for activities around town. Charles would text me and let me know that he won't be coming back early as he will head to the gym after the daily closing. I would then adjourned to bed, disappointed. Like clockwork, I would do a quick workout in the morning and head to work, being very mindful that I won't wake up my roommate. I'm unsure why myself, but I'm usually surged with abundance of energy through the day, like a persistent buzz in my head. I tend to get hungry very quickly too, but that's probably to sustain the energy level, I suppose. Maybe it's the morning cup of joe for all I care. Who knows? It doesn't bother me as much anyway, or so I want to believe as so. It was not until a good 2 months later when Charles call me up for lunch and invited me over to where he works, that I got to actually see him in person after such a long time. To be really honest, I was thrilled when I saw the text from Charles (totally an understatement). It was like an exclusive invitation to an opening premier and I got the best front seat. Without wasting a single second, I left my office at 12.30pm sharp and took a train to the station near where we stay. The whole journey was filled with my wildest imagination – how would Charles look like now? What would he be wearing? How would he be affected to the series of subliminal messages that I almost forgot that I've played for the past weeks? As I approach the cafe, I peek through the window but couldn't see a familiar face like Charles' working at the counter. Instead, there was a tall, huge man tinkering with the coffee machine, who I thought it was a mechanic from the coffee machine company. I walked over to the counter in search of my missing roommate and catch a familiar burn scar on the man's left hand. And god, I was so, so wrong. "Charles?" My face did nothing to conceal my surprised look when he turned over to look at me. He stood up straight, presumably reaching the mark of 6'2". What caught my eyes immediately was his pecs, stretching the seams of his t-shirt to its seams (I'm obviously a pecs guy). His wide shoulders are distinctive boulders now, connected to a pair of muscly arms that bulge at all the right places. And I haven't even gotten to the vascularity of his musculature, which is clearly in display on his forearms and his bull neck. With the lack of visual information on other parts of his body, my hyperactive imagination pretty much did the rest, with gratitude. Judging from the choice of pants, he's probably wearing a jockstrap and packing a huge asset inside with his now significantly wider stance. This moment probably span across a short 30 seconds, but it felt like forever to me. I'm out of words and out of breath – this is beyond what I think possible. With minimal prep required, he looks like he's ready to compete for the Classics. "Hey, Shawn! Glad you could make it!" he walked out from the counter as he removes his apron. The bulging muscles are restricting his movements, yet he manages to remove it in one swift movement. I'm barely able to move as he gave me a huge hug – at the moment, I thought I was hallucinating, this can't be real. However, I feel his body emanating heat, I can hear his heartbeat and most importantly, I can feel the rippling muscles bulge underneath his clothes. THIS. MUST. BE. REAL. ""Shawn?" I hear Charles call out to me again. I must have been staring for way too long, letting my gaze lingers just a tad too long at both his downward pointing nipples on his enormous pec shelves. I need to say something, ANYTHING. "Fuck, Charles." was all that came out from my mouth. Charles was clearly taken aback from the response. He chuckles and looks at me with an inquisitive look. "When did you get so big?" he laughed even louder now and his voice seems to be an octave lower, or more, than what I remembered. "You mean this?" he did a double biceps pose and I watch as both biceps rise to an impossible peak – I almost felt sorry for the sleeves. "I've been working on them all these while, what are you talking about?" he gestures me to a table nearby and asks me to sit down for a meal together. Trust me, I'm trying my very best to maintain my composure and this proves to be the hardest thing I've ever done with my life (pun totally intended). As we sit down, the chairs creeks under both our weight – have I been eating way too much recently? I shrugged the thought off and immediately put my attention back to the muscle beast in front of me. His stubble is really growing on me and his eyes are piercing blue now, as though able to see right through me and my every thought. For the very first time, I felt intimidated by my roommate – Charles and I can't help but wonder why he would ask me to see him here at where he works.
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  13. Thanks for all the positive feedback everyone. I’ve had a lot on so haven’t been able to focus on Part 5 (which will be the final part), although much of the outline is down on paper so to speak. I may have some time next week to crack on with it - but no promises!
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  14. releyendolahistoria me di cuenta que nunca supimos como le fue con la lucha. Al final supongo q la tuvo que dejar pero me hubiese encantado leer el momento en que vio que lalucha no era lo suyo y como lo excitaba serel mas fuerte y como se llebaba a algunos d esos contrincantes al baño luego de un torneo.
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  15. [If you like this story, pop over to my tumblr at brandedx2.tumblr.com or come check out my Patreon--with loads of free content!--at www.patreon.com/brandedx2. Also I'm looking to do commissions so drop me a line!] MAXI-TEST 2000 Weeks later, after it was too late, they tracked down the source: a shipment of MaxiTest 2000 aerosol cans delivered to the supplement shop inside Global Gym. The new test booster was designed to be administered as an inhalant, but there was a flaw in one large batch of the container that caused a slow leak. Global Gym’s massive order of MaxiTest (nearly five hundred cans) slowly spread through the ventilation system the day it was delivered, dispersed throughout the gym before the packages were even opened. They were shelved empty, and unbeknownst to the staff or the clientele, nearly everyone on the premises had absorbed a massive dose of the product within a day. Most people were only exposed for a couple of hours, and so the effects weren’t that noticeable. I just did thirty minutes of cardio that day, so I got barely any of it. The guys hit the hardest were the guys who worked there and the trainers, some of whom spent over twelve hours with clients, absorbing MaxiTest with every breath. Of course, at first nobody noticed a thing, except the few angry customers who returned their empty cans of MaxiTest 2000. The entire shipment was sent back, and the company issued a recall after the complaints, but nobody knew what effect the leaked product would have. The first thing I noticed was Tony, the pro physique competitor, swinging his plumped up arms around even wider lats. He was never as big as the bodybuilders, always near competition shape with perfect aesthetics, but now his whole body had a fuller look to it, even his face, his dark Italian features now spread over a wide blocky head set upon now bulky traps that swallowed up his neck. He still strutted around with his usual cockiness, but his body looked like it’d been inflated with an air hose. Most noticeable was his ass, which, in compression shorts, now bulged obscenely out from his body, bouncing like two huge balloons with ever step. His ripped abdomen had swollen out as well, still ripped and veiny but now thick, almost as wide as his blocky shoulders and bowed out like a turtle-shell. He was obviously uncomfortable with the sudden burst of mass, knocking people with the mass of his huge buttocks and finding severe reduction of his range of motion. Twice I saw him tumble sideways while doing walking lunges, struggling to accommodate his blown-out thighs in his new gait as well as his wider top-half. Tony wasn’t alone, either. Rick, the young guy who worked the front desk, spent all day trying to yank his t-shirt down as his doubly-wide shoulders pulled it away from his shorts. At one point I watched him reach for a dropped pen from the floor; his shirt split down the back. Red-faced, he tried to shrug it off, but obviously the normally fit-but-lanky kid had an extra thirty or so pounds on him. Mario, another Global Gym employee and a big beefy bull before the MaxiTest leak, kept having to turn sideways to fit behind the desk. After a couple weeks he’d swollen to the size of a commercial fridge, filling out even his triple XL shirts. He stood in front of the front desk, nodding as people walked in the door. It was clear he could no longer fit behind it; it looked to me like he couldn’t clap his hands if he wanted to. The size just kept coming for a lot of those guys. A big powerlifter named Andreas just stopped showing up one day. I’d watched him the weeks before he disappeared swelling like bread-dough, setting new PRs every day but unable to tie his own shoes. The last day I saw him struggling to squeeze his bulk into his car, and watched him frustrated behind the steering wheel which looked crushed by his swollen gut, his arm and shoulder hanging out the window. Then there was Paul, a pro bodybuilder in his 40s who stood about 5’2”. After awhile he could only get around by wobbling from side-to-side. He kept training clients, though, barking out, “More reps!” while he stood there, a little cube of solid muscle with a crew-cut on top. It was what happened to Robbie that got the authorities involved and started the investigation. We all knew something was up, but most guys, like I did, assumed these big muscleheads had just gone overboard with the juice. The guys who were most exposed, nervous about what was happening to their rapidly overswollen bodies, were too nervous to talk to anybody about it, and most were terrified that it wasn’t going to stop. But Robbie, the massive superheavyweight who had just won his pro-card two days before the leak, had the most miraculous change of anyone. Most of the other guys expanded outward with their new mass, but Robbie, who was in contest shape, just got bigger but maintained his leanness. It was almost beautiful watching him show up to train his own clients every day looking like an exaggerated anatomy chart. But one day it went to far. I was the one who found him. It was almost closing time, the gym nearly empty. I was headed into the showers and I saw something through the steam. It looked as big as a car, almost spreading from one side of the open shower room to the other. The big lug stood there, faced away from me, arms and legs splayed out like he was a big broad X, each limb about as thick as Paul. His head looked comically tiny on his body, which, as I got closer and could see through the steam, I got a better look at: every muscle on his body had expanded to massive size and density. Even the minor stabilizers would put most guys’ biceps to shame with their size and the perfection of their shape. But all together, he was a splendid display of musculature the size of a small sedan, his ass alone bigger than the bumper on an SUV but covered in veiny skin the thickness of that of a dick. I just stood there marveling, imagining that I could only hug around a third of him if I even dared to get so close. I was shocked out of my trance when I realized the unbelievable hulk was whimpering! “Who’s… who’s there?” he sniveled, unable to turn his head to look. He’d turned on two showerheads, probably trying to get as much of his mass wet at once as he possibly could before he expanded those last few inches into immobility. I shut each of them off with a squeak as I nervously walked around to the front of this unbelievable naked man, and as I was naked myself, I struggled to keep my arousal hidden as well. Just the smell of him, like an entire NFL locker room exuding from a single massive man, had me hazy with desire, but I put it aside when I saw the terrified look on his face. It was clear he’d been crying, but amazingly the muscles on his head had grown as well, nearly squeezing his eyes and mouth shut with their size, only adding to his panic. It was a far cry from the lantern-jawed blue-eyed Clark Kent I’d always seen him as. His pecs expanded into a shelf at least three feet from his face, and I doubted he could see his nipples, let alone his feet. His abs were the size of gold bars, but I could barely keep my eyes on them because of the massive appendage below them: his cock, which I couldn’t help but compare to my own leg, in length and girth, stood rigid above two football-sized testicles that swung gently in front of him, pressed forward by the six-feet of quads that spread densely on either side. I couldn’t believe he was erect—and throbbing! I kept reminding myself, this man needed my help, he was terrified… but my brain was smoldering with the pure sex of the situation. “I need… I think I need help…” Robbie whimpered out his bulky cheeks. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want anybody to see me like this…” I could see his fingers and toes gently wiggling and I wondered if he was able to move otherwise. “How much can you… move…” I said, trying to fathom what I could possibly do to help this man out of the predicament. “I can’t… not at all… please help…” he begged. Suddenly emboldened, probably by the giant man’s helplessness, I reached forward and placed a single hand on his pec. It felt like warm steel, but he moaned at the contact and I watched his huge dick bob a few times while he groaned through gritted teeth. “Oh god… Oh god, I’m so friggin’ sensitive… Don’t touch…” I didn’t mean to but my arm brushed against his massive pulsing dick as I stepped away from him. He squealed, his breathing shallow and rapid, and his eyes shut tight as precum poured out of the massive knob like it was a chocolate fountain. Poor guy had so much testosterone going through him, that must have been agony, I thought. My own cock was a steel pole, but my real motivation was that I couldn’t let anyone else come in and see him in this state. “I’m just gonna take care of this,” I said softly, approaching his vein-mapped cock like it was a venomous python, “and then I’ll call 911, okay big man?” He just whimpered again—had he gotten bigger since I’d come in? That poor guy. Just my breath on his huge organ had him grunting, so I decided to tease him a little bit, gently blowing up and down its massive length, watching precum burp and spew. Using that copious substance as a lube, I started working my hands up and down its length. First I just tickled with my fingers but when I put some force into it, I realized it was like massaging a leg. So I thought, “What a great idea.” I worked my hands up under the head and put some finger, digging in my fingers like it was a deep-tissue massage. Robbie’s deep voice hit soprano squeaks as I did that, his whole body seeming to tense and flex at once, like a huge angry ocean of muscle. I stopped my devilish ministrations on his dick for a moment to take all of him in again. That’s when I noticed, very slowly, like a redwood, he was starting to fall. There was nothing I could do; gravity took hold and I stepped back to avoid being crushed. He toppled back, hitting the tile with a thunderclap of wet flesh. His eyes darted around, terrified at this new addition to his predicament, but he was still just as immobile. Amazingly, I noticed that his overblown back and his impossibly huge glutes were so swollen that there was a space beneath him, under his (relatively) narrow waist, large enough that a full grown pit bull could’ve walked underneath him without touching him. God, that smell coming off him drove me wild… Without thinking I hopped up on top of him, planting a foot on each of his mountainous pecs, and leaned forward to face his monster organ that pointed straight at me. I tongue-kissed the hole like it was a mouth, slurping up the sweetness that spilled out of it by the quart while poor old Robbie went completely non-verbal behind me, barely able to even form guttural noises. Then I couldn’t help it—I’d never have the chance again—I leaned forward and pressed my boner into his piss-hole. It was a tight fit but there was more than enough lubricant; in fact, the flow of precum was so much that it was a struggle to press against it, but still I pumped my ass, feeling his pecs rising and falling below me, using my hands to knead his cock-head while I thrusted… When he came, he roared—I thought he was already flexed to the max but his whole body pulsed so hard I was knocked off my feet, and I nearly drowned in the torrent of cum that blasted out all over me. He came with such intensity that I barely noticed the full-body orgasm that rocked me at the same time. It just kept coming, Robbie dissolving into a low groan, me sprayed with hot load for nearly thirty seconds. I tried to stand but found his body so slick with cum that I slipped forward, finding myself face down on him, nearly eye-to-eye with him. I could hear and feel the drum of his giant heart thudding beneath me, his chest rising and falling in rhythmic waves. So much heat came off the man that I wanted to shut my eyes and relent to my blissful post-orgasmic lethargy and just fall asleep, my tongue gently lapping at him, but I came to my senses and got up. Robbie still needed help. I’d need to grab the owner (thank God he hadn’t walked in just now!) and we’d have to call the paramedics and probably several fire departments just to get big Robbie out of there. But first—first I had to hide the poor guy’s shame. I owed him that much after what I’d done to him. I started turning on the shower heads, splashing us both with water and rinshing us clean, thankful Robbie hadn’t fallen over the drain. He’d calmed considerably, and as I rinsed his face clean, I saw his once-panicked eyes had relaxed, looking sleepy now. His breathing had calmed, and he looked almost dazed. “Th-thank you…” he whispered, and I leaned forward and placed a kiss on his mouth.
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