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Ok, here's chapter 3. Chapters 2 and 3 were kinda short, but I'm working on Chapter 4. Maybe I'll get inspired and make it a little longer and more exciting. In the meantime enjoy. My Friend Pete — Chapter 3 Well, Saturday night rolls around and Pete and I go to this local bar and pool hall in town. The place smelled of smoke, beer and some other unidentified odors, making me wonder why the health department hasn’t shut them down yet. We grabbed a table over by the wall and ordered a couple beers. We then started arm wrestling each other to see if anyone in the place would take the bait. It didn’t take long before a few people started gathering around to watch. When there was enough people looking on, I put Pete’s arm down to the table (as prearranged), and said, “Ok, that’s 3 out of 5. Pay up.” Pete then handed me a 20. One of the big guys watching looked at me and said, “You think you’re something college boy, beating this little guy. Let’s see how you do against a real man. I bet I could slam your fist down so hard the table would crack.” That earned a few cheers from other locals and they started egging us on. I looked him up and down and said, “I don’t waste my time on armatures. If you want to wrestle me, you gutta beat my friend here first.” He looked at me and then at Pete and said with a snarl, “Ok, I’ll smash the pipsqueak and then take care of you, college boy!” I then said, “Ok, but let’s make it interesting.” I took a wad of bills out of my pocket and placed it on the table. “Match this and we can get started.” The local guy’s eyes bulged out as he looked at the stack of bills. He laughed as he saw what he thought was some easy money. He turned to one of his pals and said, “Bill, can you spot me some cash. I’ll split the winnings with you. It’ll be easy money.” His pal said, “You sure about this, Tony? That’s a big chunk of cash there.” Tony glared at him and growled, “You know I can beat these clowns.” and Bill counted out an equal amount of cash on the table. The local guy took my seat across from Pete and they locked hands. The waitress acted as ref and started the match. Pete did his usual act of pretending to struggle, going back and forth, making his opponent think he had a chance. After a few minutes of toying with him he slammed the guy’s arm to the table with a crash. When I looked down, there was a crack in the table. I smiled and collected the money. Bill, who put up the cash, said, “Wait a minute, college boy. Not so fast. How about double or nothing with the left hands? You just got lucky, is all.” He looked at Tony, “Whadaya say, Lefty?” His friend was apparently left handed and he was sure, since it was a close match, he would win left handed. Tony gave him a dirty look, but couldn’t back down now. Pete and I looked at each other and agreed. They locked hands and the waitress counted down from 3. This time Pete held the neutral position for a minute, letting his opponent struggle. The smile on Pete’s face might have been a bit too much, as his opponent was really starting to get pissed. With some grunting Tony started to make some progress, or so he thought. The smile never left Pete’s face as he slowly pushed his arm to the table and held it down for a few seconds to drive home his point. You could see the steam coming from this guy’s ears as the crowd started yelling, some praising Pete and other berating Tony. Tony was not a happy camper and neither was Bill. I thought I’d push it a bit more, knowing that if things got ugly, Pete and I could handle ourselves. I looked at Bill and said, “I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you a chance to even things out. Double or nothing again, but this time your guy can use both arms.” The crowd really was fired up now and there was no way Tony and Bill could turn down an offer like that. After all, there is no way this little guy can win against both of Tony’s arms. Apparently, no one noticed the hard, bulging muscles on Pete’s arm. They locked hands again. This time Tony placed his other hand on top of the two locked fists and the waitress counted down. Tony pulled with all his strength and put all his weight into it. But Pete’s arm wouldn’t move. You could see the hard baseball bicep bulging on Pete's arm and the rippling ropes of muscle on his forearm as he held off his opponent's two arms with ease. Someone from the crowd pointed out how hard and ripped Pete's arm looked, which pissed Tony off even more. Then, without warning, he slammed Tony’s fists down so hard it knocked Tony off his seat and sent him crashing to the floor. At this point I figured we better leave, since Tony and Bill were really pissed off. I was also sure they had several friends in the bar ready to back them up in a brawl. I gathered up the money and gave the waitress $100 for our two beers, then we headed for the door. Pete heard it first, the click of a pistol being cocked. He pushed me aside just as a shot rang out. In a flash Pete threw a chair at the guy with the gun, knocking the gun to the floor. What happened next was mostly a blur. Pete grabbed the gun and squeezed just enough to damage the mechanism so it wouldn’t fire then tossed it aside. While he was doing that someone smashed a chair over Pete’s back. Pete turned and looked at his attacker, who looked back with a shocked expression. Pete grabbed him by the collar and knocked him out cold with a quick jab. Two other guys grabbed Pete’s arms (amazed at how hard and muscular they felt), while Tony smashed his fist hard into Pete’s stomach. Tony let out a cry as he nearly broke his hand on Pete’s rock-hard abs. Using the guys holding his arms as support Pete lifted himself up and kicked Tony with both legs, sending him flying across the room, smashing into the bar. He then swung his arms forward, smashing his two would-be captors into each other, knocking them out as well. A half dozen guys then went after Pete. I jumped in and took out a couple guys that were going to join in the fight, while Pete took out the rest. When the dust settled, there were several guys on the floor with broken jaws, ribs, and multiple bruises. At this point we high-tailed it out of there before the police arrived and threw our asses in jail. When we got back to our dorm, we counted up our winnings before taking a shower and turning in. We decided we wouldn’t try this again, at least not for a while. The last thing we wanted was to get in trouble and be kicked off the wrestling team.

Fantastic read! I love it where this is going! I’m also hoping that their supreme shredding will also make their waist tighten way below the 30” But that’s just my kinky mind

Boss Hank stayed around for an extended visit. He enjoyed training with his son and the other guys, showing off his superior size and strength. On bench presses, he would do several sets with 1045lbs, then he would have Kurt and Joe get on one side of the bar, and Sam and Hank jr on the other. With the four of them pushing down, he would do rep after rep, set after set, until his chest and delts were pumped to nearly twice their enormous size. When he racked the bar, he would stand up and admire himself in the mirror. The other four men were also pumped to the hilt from providing resistance to the super strength of the massive farmer, and would join him in flexing until their muscles were so fully bloated they could barely move. For leg day, they had to figure out something more creative. There weren’t enough free weights in the barn to challenge the boss man’s leg strength, but Hank jr had found an old horse harness and an antique plow in one of the stalls. They all went out to the fallow field next to the barn. Hank sr stripped down naked as a plow horse. They draped the collar around the big man’s traps. They wrapped the girth around his roidgut and cinched it tight. While three of them jury-rigged the straps around his huge glutes and thighs, Joe slipped the bit over his head and into his mouth. As the big brute chomped his teeth against the metal, his thick jaw muscles bulged out like walnuts. He winked at Joe, who got goosebumps from head to toe. Kurt and Sam attached the harness to the plow. Hank jr got on the rusty old seat and grabbed the reins. “Giddy up, Pa,” he said, snapping the reins. Boss Hank leaned forward until his knuckles were scraping the ground like a gorilla, then started to push forward with his mighty haunches. The fallow field was matted with weeds and clover, but as the plow began to move forward, the blades cut thru them and tilled them under, exposing the rich soil underneath. The plow began to move faster as the massive farmer powered his way forward. His boots dug into the ground with each step, and got caked with the heavy soil, making it look like he had Clydesdale hooves. His naked thighs and calves swelled with every hard push. He began to pick up speed, so Sam and Kurt grabbed onto the hitch post and pulled back on it, adding resistance. Boss Hank grunted and powered forward. Sam and Kurt’s feet dug deep into the freshly tilled soil, but the plow continued to move ahead. Joe jumped onto the massive back of the farmer and slid under the reins. The powerful back muscle rolled and tightened as mutant muscle freak forged his way down the field. Joe couldn’t help but get hard, especially hearing the deep grunting Boss Hank made with every step. Every muscle in Sam’s body was on fire, trying to hold the big brute back. But there was no stopping the huge plow horse of a man. On he went, up and down the three acre field with fierce determination. With about half the field plowed, it started to rain, hard. The soil quickly darkened and grew heavier. Joe flattened himself across Hank senior’s sprawling back, and splayed his arms out to grab ahold of the big man’s supersized lats. Big Hank grunted with pleasure of Joe riding on him like a pack animal, the young bodybuilder’s hard-on pressing against his thick backside. It made him push on faster, so he could finish the field sooner, and plow Joe’s ass harder than he plowed the field. The rain kept coming, heavier and heavier. By the time the field was completed, the rich soil was turning to mud. Sam and Kurt collapsed into the mud, exhausted but pumped to the max. Hank junior jumped off the plow and unhitched it from the harness. “You did it, Pa,” he said proudly. Then he turned and looked at Kurt and Sam. “Look at you two. Bet I could take ya both right now, just like my pa did.” Hank was feeling fresh as a daisy, having ridden the ploy the whole time. He flexed his arms over Kurt and Sam, his heavily veined forearms bulging like a caveman’s clubs. He jumped on Kurt and started rolling him through the mud, over to Sam. Then he started roughhousing both of them, and soon all three of them were rutting in the mud. Boss Hank stood upright, and Joe slid down his backside, his hard-on riding right between big Hank’s thickly swollen glutes. The huge farmer turned to face him, and looked bigger than ever, swollen everywhere from exertion. The sweat and rain made him look like he’d been oiled up. Veins stood out all over him, from his forehead to his neck, across his chest and delts, down his arms and his roidgut. He took the bit out of his mouth and said, “Watch this, boy.” Still wearing the harness, the giant man took a deep breath and swelled out his gut ball. The thick leather strap around his middle creaked as the big man thrusted his power gut outward. Joe looked on in awe as the big man’s wrecking ball of a gut ballooned forward and stretched the girth thin. Suddenly, the strap snapped so fast and loud that Joe jumped back in surprise. Boss Hank chuckled. “Come here and feel it, boy.” Joe stepped forward and put his hands on the mighty gut. Both men were breathing heavy with lust. Big Hank tightened his protruding abs, and the bricks clenched up even more. Joe couldn’t believe how hard they were, how there was no fat under the tight skin, just hard trained muscle. He wrapped his arms around it and leaned his head on it. “Cum on me, boy. Cum to your god.” Joe grabbed hold of his dick and aimed it at the huge muscular man. The towering giant slowly flexed his 33” arms, making the harness gear creak and clang as his arms raised up. Joe didn’t last long before exploding to the sight of the hulking beast in front of him. A massive volume of young bodybuilder spunk sprayed all over Boss Hank’s torso, mixing with rain all over his huge chest and gut. He rubbed it into his fur with his muddy hands. He loved how much the young stud was into his brute size and power. He was raging hard. He lubed himself with mud and rain, then picked Joe up and planted him on his thick root. Joe groaned, then grabbed onto the bridle that hung around Hank’s neck, tugged himself in closer, and held on for the ride of a lifetime. Behind them, Sam, Kurt, and Hank jr wrestled in the mud like three greased pigs. It reminded Hank of how he used to tangle with the farm hands in the hog wallow back home. By the time he was fourteen, he got bored with how easily he could beat any of them. Now was a different story, though. Sam and Kurt were no pushovers, and the mud was slippery as oil. Each of them had their turn as top hog, porking any empty hole they could find, until being toppled by a hard tackle and getting porked themselves. When the rain finally stopped and the sky cleared up, the sun was setting. Sam and Kurt had to get ready for the evening newscast. The three of them limped back to the barn and hosed each other off. It took awhile to get out all the deeply embedded mud. They were all bruised up and sore, but had never felt so good. Boss Hank and Joe didn’t get back until a little later. Joe was walking like he’d been horseback riding all day, when in reality, the horse had been riding him. After they hosed each other down, Joe and the big man came into the barn, the farmer looking like he’d just gone for a walk in the park. “Who’s ready to lift?” he asked, cracking his big knuckles. “Damn,” said Sam. “Kurt and I are headed to work, so we’ll have to pass.” “And I have a date set up with a dude I found on Growlr. Says he’s a big power bottom, so I’m gonna test out his stamina.” “Guess that leaves just you and me, Joe,” Boss Hank said with a wink. “Whatcha wanna do? Wanna help me feed this bad boy?” he asked, patting his rock hard gut. Joe couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do.

Here's a short story I wrote about a super-strong guy and his friend. No sex. I just wanted to focus on the super-strength feats of this guy. I added a few illustrations to help you visualize it. I hope you enjoy it. I have a couple more chapters. If anyone is interested, I can post them too. bb My Friend Pete — Chapter 1 I’ve known Pete for as long as I can remember. We grew up in the same neighborhood, went to the same school, hung out after school…we pretty much did everything together. We were both athletic, so we spent a lot of time playing sports, any kind of sports, it didn’t matter. Pete was a natural and usually beat me when we went one on one. He was a nice guy though, and he never made me feel bad, even when he handily slammed my hand to the table while arm wrestling, which happened often. Everyone liked Pete and Pete liked everyone, almost. The only ones who Pete didn’t like were the bullies. He really hated it when he saw someone picking on a smaller kid, but unlike most kids, he did something about it. Even in grammar school he would teach the older kids a lesson if he saw them giving a smaller kid a hard time. The bullies quickly learned to avoid him or get the crap kicked out of them. I said he was athletic, but did I mention he was strong too. He had no problem lifting heavy objects and could beat anyone in any test of strength, even the older kids. I’ve always known he was strong, but I didn’t know just how strong he was. I mean he could beat up anyone in our school if someone was foolish enough to pick a fight with him, but it always looked like he was just a little stronger than his opponent. But more about this later. When we got to high school we both went out for wrestling. Lucky for me, I was in different weight classes; otherwise I would always be second place. Even as a freshman, I could beat anyone else on the wrestling team, except Pete. He was in a league of his own. Between the two of us, we carried our team to the state championships four years in a row. Pete was average size for his age, but even when he was young he was solid muscle. As he grew older he developed a lean athletic physique, not huge like a bodybuilder, but more like a gymnast or a physique model. He sported a solid 8-pack, well defined legs, nice peaked biceps and one of the most perfectly shaped triceps I’ve ever seen. His thick pecs were balanced by his rounded delts and his lats gave him that V-shape that says “this guy’s in shape.” I was fairly well built myself. I was a few inches taller than Pete and had about 30 pounds on him, but was not as ripped and definitely not as strong. Now here we are, starting our freshman year in college and we are still best friends. We are roommates of course, and work out together in the gym. He would push me to lift more than my previous best, but then lift just a little bit more than me. It was frustrating at times, since it seemed like I could never catch up to him, no matter how hard I tried. But as I said, he never rubbed it in, just encouraged me to keep working at it. As I said, I always knew he was strong, but I guess I never realized just how strong he was, until I saw something I still have trouble believing. We were working out late one night. There was one other guy in the gym, a big bodybuilder lifting some serious weights, when I heard this loud crash. Pete and I looked over to see that one of the machines broke loose from the wall and fell on top of him. He was lying there, unconscious under hundreds of pounds of weights and the twisted metal frame of the machine. Pete ran over and lifted the entire machine, weights and all, up and off the guy. I was staring at this in awe, unable to move, until Pete yelled at me to pull him out. That snapped me out of it and I dragged him out from under the mess. Once the still unconscious bodybuilder was clear of the mess, Pete let it back down. He then called 911 while I was still standing there in shock and disbelief. I’d heard of people performing incredible feats of strength when faced with life and death situations, but I never thought I would see it in real life. While we were waiting for the paramedics to arrive, Pete told me not to say anything about him lifting the machine and he would explain it to me later. We agreed to say the machine knocked him out but we were able to slide him out from under it. Everyone believed it, since no one would expect that the two of us, let alone one of us, could have lifted it off the guy. When we got back to our dorm, I confronted him, “What the hell dude!? How did you lift all that weight?” Pete sat me down and explained, “I’ve always been super strong. I always held back so no one would think I was a freak or be afraid of me. Haven’t you noticed that I’ve always been just a little bit stronger than my opponent? No matter how big or strong they were?” I thought for a moment, “Hmm, now that you mention it. I guess that was a bit strange. So how did you get so strong?” “I don’t know. Even as a toddler I was strong. As I grew up I tested myself when no one was around and as I got older, I kept getting stronger. I haven’t found something I couldn’t lift in quite a while. You gotta promise me not to tell anyone. OK? If it got out just how strong I am, I’d probably end up in some lab undergoing test after test. I don’t want to be some guinea pig. Promise me, OK!” “I promise I won’t tell anyone. Dude, we’ve been friends forever. I’d do anything for you. You know that. Your secret’s safe with me.” “Thanks pal. Uh, this isn’t going to change anything between us, is it? I mean you’re my best friend and I don’t want that to change. You’re not freaked out or afraid of me are you?” I responded, “Freaked out…maybe a little. No maybe a lot. But afraid of you? Hell no! Face it, if you were going to hurt me, you had plenty of opportunities to do it by now. No Dude, we’re good.” After a short pause I added, “So Pete, just how strong are you?” “Well, you saw me lift that weight machine. I can lift a lot more than that. Watch this.” Pete then grabbed one leg of the bed I was sitting on and lifted it and me with one hand. I could see the muscles in his arm and chest tense as he lifted. His biceps jumped up into a solid ball and the muscles on his forearm were writhing like snakes, but he wasn’t even struggling. Later that week we went to an old junk yard that was no longer in use, but still had some old wrecks. I really wanted to see just how strong he was. When we got there the gate was locked, but with a twist of his wrist, he broke the heavy duty padlock off like it was a piece of plastic. The place was littered with wrecks and a smell of motor oil permeated the air. We looked around and I saw the back of a cement truck lying on its side. Pointing at the truck I said, “Ok Herc, let’s see you lift that.” “You got it!” He pulled off his shirt, revealing his ripped muscular torso. He walked over to the truck, sized it up, and positioned himself on the side of the mixer part and began pushing it. His triceps bulged out from his arms and his delts looked like they were going to explode. At first his feet began to sink into the ground, but then he found his footing and the huge cement mixer moved up until the truck rolled over onto what was left of its wheels. “No dude. I said lift it.” “Cool it, Jack. I’m getting to that.” He then grabbed the back of the truck and curled it a couple of times. His biceps bulged into huge round, hard balls of muscle with each rep. He then lifted it above his head showing the horseshoe shape of his flexed triceps. He then walked to the center of the truck, squatted down to balance it above his head and lifted it off the ground. Every muscle in his body was rippling and bulging, creating an incredible display as he held this truck above his head. Then to show off a bit, he presses the truck for ten reps before tossing it aside with a loud crash. “Holy shit, dude! That was insane!” Pete gave me a shit-eating grin and said, “But wait, there’s more!” We then walked over to a pile of steel bars and pipes. He sifted through the pile until he found a bar about 1 inch thick, 2 inches wide, and 3 feet long. He grabbed hold of it with his hands about 2 feet apart and held it in front of him. He looked like he was using one of those spring loaded chest exercisers, but this was no spring. His chest and arms suddenly tensed, showing striations of each of the muscles of his chest and arms. As the bar started to bend his chest began to swell and his arms were bulging with muscles I didn’t know existed. In less than a minute the bar was bent into a U shape. He then places his palms on the outside and flexed his chest. His pecs popped out even further and the striations were insane, as he pressed the two ends together. When he was done he handed me the bar. It was heavy and solid. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t bend it at all. What was even more amazing is you could see the indentation of his fingers in the bar where he gripped it. “So, what do you think? Have you seen enough to convince you?” I replied, “What, are you kidding. I want to see more. What else can you do?” Pete looked around and spotted a big chunk of concrete, about the size of a small file cabinet. He went over and picked it up easily, even though it must have weighed about 700 pounds! Although, I shouldn’t have been surprised, after seeing him lift that cement truck. He then wrapped his arms around it as if he was going to bear hug it, and began to squeeze. Again his muscles tensed and began to swell until I heard this cracking sound. At first a few chips of concrete fell from around his arms and then it broke in half. Two large chunks and lots of smaller pieces fell to the ground. I stood there in awe, with my mouth hanging open. Pete then said, “Now watch this,” as he picked up one of the pieces about the size of a baseball. He held it in one hand and squeezed it. The muscles in his forearm looked like living cables, moving and bulging as he squeezed, until the chunk was crushed into powder. He then looked around a spotted a length of tow chain lying on the ground. He picked it up and wrapped it around his upper arm twice. He then held the ends in his other hand, clamping the chain tight around his extended upper arm. With a smile he slowly bent his arm at the elbow. I could see his biceps pushing against the doubled up chain. As he continued to flex his biceps I could see the links stretching until one could no longer hold on and the chain snapped. “Ok, that’s enough for tonight.” Pete said, “I have an exam in the morning that I don’t want to blow.” I reluctantly agreed and we headed back to the dorm. I was up half the night thinking about the power that it took to perform those feats. All these years I knew he was strong, but I never dreamed he was that strong. My best friend and roommate was a real live superman!

Part 2 I began with my routine for the day. Except for the fact that this was the first time we caught each other’s eye working out. Jason waved at me and I waved back. Didn’t think anything of it really just being polite. I began my next exercise as today was back day. Had my noise canceling earbuds on and was focused on the movement and the stretch. All of that while trying to keep my mind off the heat in the gym on another warm day. I finished my last rep on the back extension and reached for my water and saw a shoe out the corner of my eye. I looked up to see Jason saying something behind me and I took the earbud out of my ear and asked if he was standing there long. He laughed and said he didn’t realize that I had earbuds in and figured something was up when I wasn’t responding but also realized I could have just been focused on my set like most others in here. He was standing there shirtless with sweat dripping down his mountainous traps to his newly enlarged pec shelf and down his pecs. While Jason repeated what he said, I had followed one trail of sweat that slid all the way down to his waist following the striations of his mass like a riverbed of muscle. Of course, I had to pretend to wipe sweat out of my eye. All of this sounded like a long period of time but it was really a matter of a minute or less. From how I was seated the height of the seat on the machine was high enough for me to be at eye level mid chest for him but still able to see his face looking down at me. He had a brutish look to his face, which if you saw him from afar and didn’t know him you would think he would just beat the shit out of you for no reason. Jason began to repeat what he thought I heard, saying he remembers overhearing a conversation with the pretty boys, as he calls the pros that workout here. He continued about how they were trying to convince me to cut but I abruptly decided against it and wanted mass. He then said he noticed that after that statement they just ignored me basically forever more. Jason figured that he had something to do with my mind being changed because he remembers coming nearby purposefully and took his shirt off as well to show the differences between pretty boys and the big boys. He also figured that I may have likely noticed that his chest had grown significantly along with his back. That was my cue to chime in and man did I. I told him that I did notice and was amazed by it. Jason smiled again and said yeah I’m proud of em, while flexing his chest in front of me. He has been watching me for the past few weeks to see my determination to continue down the path of being huge and asked if I was really serious about bulking up for size and mass or just a phase. I wasted no time telling Jason that after seeing him that day my mind was made up. I wanted to be that guy that people have to walk around on the sidewalk because I’m so wide, that guy that has to turn sideways because the doorway is too small for my frame, and be that guy not ashamed to show off my size and mass in public to the point where its just better for me to not wear much because I stretch all of my clothes to the point of bursting all the time. I don’t know if it was the smell of musk that Jason was exuding but apparently I was talking a mile a minute but he caught everything and had to tell me to slow down. I apologized and said I didn’t know what came over me. Jason reassured me that it was alright and that he was glad to hear it. He motioned for me to follow him to the locker area and as we were walking he formally introduced himself to me as Jason. I replied and told him I’m Kevin. He gave me a card from his gym bag with a QR code on it and said to scan it and meet him there in about an hour. I did as instructed, scanned the code for the address and saw it wasn’t that far, finished up my last set for my back and then headed over that way. I arrived at a modest looking flat and rang the doorbell. Jason came to the door and invited me in and motioned me to the front room next to the front door. He was still shirtless with his workout shorts on and yes compared to his upper body his lower body was lacking but this was still a massive guy compared to an average person like myself. I sat in the chair next to the couch and Jason took the couch and leaned forward to start talking to me. “Kevin, I’m going to ask one more time to be sure you are serious in your desire because I take this seriously and don’t want to waste time but are you certain size and mass is what you are aiming for as a goal?” I leaned forward to Jason and said, “Hell yeah!” Excellent! Jason exclaimed then we will be workout partners. Just like that I asked? Just like that Jason replied. We will workout together, meal prep together, the whole 9. Our only focus is getting bigger and more massive and as you can see it is possible but it is damn hard doing it by yourself.

The Unexpected Opportunity Today started like any other day. Blue sky, bright sun, mid 70s to low 80s just perfect. I took my pre-workout and protein shake and began to head to the gym for a nice and long workout. Today was going to be chest, shoulders, and traps. I’ve been going to my gym for a couple of years to workout for the health benefits but recently started talking to more and more people there and started to really look at my physique. It wasn’t really the way I wanted to look so I decided to really focus on my workout and diet after listening to the advice of some of the IFBB pros that attend the gym too. But there was 1 guy there that didn’t really say much to anybody and honestly, his build was like something I’ve never seen before. Toned legs but nothing to write home about, a roid looking gut but it couldn’t be because the rest of him didn’t match someone taking gear. Huge arms, shoulders, and traps that are halfway up his neck but his back wasn’t that wide and his chest wasn’t much larger than my own. In short, he looked like an action figure with mixed matched body parts but the parts that were big were very defined and prominent. I would purposefully look for him when it was my day to work any of those particular muscle group. I’d always look to see if he was in the gym as sort of a motivational factor to get that extra rep or one more set. Some of the regulars started noticing changes in my physique of course I couldn’t see it. Probably because I see myself every day but even through the baggy sweats and big t-shirt they were able to notice. That’s a little bit of a motivational factor to keep on pushing. Today, while sitting on the bench getting ready to workout, I was talking to one of the regulars. He was trying to talk me into cutting with him so I could see what my body could really look like when it’s lean and tight. I told him let me think about it because I honestly I like the size but I just want to have a flat stomach not abs just flat. No sooner did I say that, HE walked by in mid-conversation to the water filling station and my buddy saw my eyes move towards him as he walked by. When the guy walked back by and started his workout, I was told his name was Jason. Apparently, he is one that doesn’t know the proper way to build a body according to the professionals. But I countered to say that he is big as shit and it looks like he is trying to bring up the weaker areas. After a few more minutes of conversation, we wrapped up our conversation and I began my workout. Since it was pretty warm in the gym which is basically a refurbished warehouse that became a gym quite a few people started to workout shirtless. I wasn’t that confident in my own appearance to workout shirtless, but it did provide for more motivation and opportunities to see what it would potentially look like if I were to start cutting with the rest of them. I could see what they were talking about with being able to see what you could look like leaned out. My guy well Jason, now that I know his name, essentially read the room and began working out shirtless soon and seeing him changed my perspective. Yeah his shape was a bit off but he was working arms like some of the pros and while you could see the perfect separation of the bicep as they were flexing in the mirror. Jason’s bicep and peak was just huge. Not fat but kind of like an offseason type of look which wasn’t bad looking. If could workout like that and make sure I don’t slack in other areas I’d be a bad man. After I finished my set, I made up my mind. I told the guys I’m not trying to compete or anything so I don’t see an issue with just focusing on getting huge. I said that within earshot of Jason who heard me, smirked, but didn’t break his current set or stride. The guys understood and we kept working out today as planned but after that there wasn’t much conversation with them anymore. You would have thought I talked about their mother or something. But either way I just kept focusing on my goal of just getting bigger. I’ve started to notice some changes in how clothes fit but nothing too drastic. Over the next several days, I was working out on my own with no interaction from my old friends and Jason was nowhere to be seen. However, a few days later Jason showed back up but he looked different, I don’t know how and really don’t care but his chest and back had grown very large to match his arms and traps. I again, don’t know how it happened but one day I will work up the nerve to talk to Jason but for now I will get on with my routine now that my walking motivation is back I will push a little harder today. [To be continued...]

Damn, what a cliffhanger. The build up is great and I think I like the direction this is going. Yet I hope the chapter would have been a bit longer. The suspension you left it craves to be adressed again

Thanks for all the comments. I'm glad to see you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. Here's Chapter 2 for your reading pleasure. My Friend Pete — Chapter 2 As the semester went on we continued to work out together, although I now knew he was just going through the motions. He was still a great workout partner, since I could always depend on him for a spot and to push me to my limits and beyond. On weekends we would go to the campus Ratskeller to knock down a few beers and listen to some music. There were about a half dozen of us that hung out together, talking about the football game or the girl in the calculus class that one of the guys had the hots for, but was afraid to make a move, or other such matters of great importance to college guys. One night there were several members of the football team at another table arm wrestling each other and placing some friendly wagers on each match. Pete and I looked at each other and both had the same idea. We both said simultaneously, “Let’s get in on that action.” We walked over to their table and Pete said, “Hey guys. Wanna see how the wrestling team does against the football team? I have a 20 that says my pal here can beat your best guy.” “You’re on!” Said Chad, the captain of the team. He wasn’t the one who I would be wrestling though. Bruno, who was the huge center on the starting lineup, stepped up to the table and said in a deep guttural voice, “You’re going down little guy!” Now I’m not exactly little, at 6’ 3” and 210 pounds, but compared to this 300+ pound giant, I did feel small. At this point I’m thinking this may not have been the best idea. We sat opposite each other and locked hands. Chad held our fists and counted down from 3. As we started pushing I saw the surprise on Bruno’s face as I was holding him back. He then pushed harder and I put everything I had into it. I had done quite a bit of arm wrestling, so my technique was pretty good. You should have seen his expression as I started to put him down. He then put all his strength, and weight into it and eventually put me down. The captain took the 20 and said in a somewhat condescending tone, “That was a pretty good fight for a wrestler.” I then came back, “That was just the warmup. I bet you 100 bucks my little friend here can beat your guy.” That drew a lot of laughter from the football team. Pete then said with a smirk, “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.” “In your dreams” said the center as they moved into position across from each other. He looked a little concerned when he saw Pete’s solid, ripped biceps bulging as he reached over, but he thought to himself “that’s just for show. My arm is still much bigger. I can easily take him.” Pete just smiled. Pete was half the weight of this guy and it looked almost comical as they faced up across the table. The captain held their fists and counted down from 3 again. Pete just sat there with his arm in the neutral position as he watched the big guy struggle to put him down, but his hand wouldn’t move even an inch. The big buy was struggling with all his strength, and sweating profusely from the effort, but Pete’s arm wouldn’t move. As they sat there in an apparent stalemate, Pete’s arm was on full display. The round peak of his biceps showing a very pronounced split and the cables of his forearm, laced with veins was looking impressive, even though it was much smaller than Bruno’s. Pete then starts toying with him, letting his arm go down past the 45° point. He was even pretending to struggle then suddenly, in one quick move, he slammed the center’s hand down to the table with a loud bang. The whole place went quiet as they looked on in disbelief. The footballers were accusing Pete of cheating, saying it was rigged, and all kinds of other excuses, but Pete just took the money and said, “Thanks guys, nice doing business with you.” At that the center lunged at Pete, angry as hell. Pete easily flipped him on his back with a crash and stood over him with a smile. At this point the ruckus attracted the attention of the bouncer, who was heading over. Pete extended his hand to pull the center up saying in a voice loud enough for the bouncer to hear, “You okay, bud? You gotta watch that floor. It gets slippery with all the spilled beer.” Not wanting to get in trouble and end up on the bench for the next game, Bruno took Pete’s hand and got up. In a silent show of dominance he squeezed Pete’s hand as hard as he could, expecting at least a wince out of him, but to his surprise Pete matched the force and then some, until the center winced and pulled his hand away. We went back to our table to finish our beers, leaving the football team scratching their heads, trying to figure out how this little guy beat their strongest teammate. They thought it was either some really good technique or their center got a cramp (as he was claiming to save face). They finally decided it must have been a cramp. On the way back to the dorm I said to Pete, “Did you see the faces on those guys when you slammed his fist down? It was epic.” “Yeah,” replied Pete, “and the expression on the big guy’s face when I was holding him in the neutral position no matter how hard he tried. But the best part was after I helped him off the floor, he tried to squeeze my hand when we were shaking. He thought he could make me wince and pull away, but he was the one who winced.” We continued to laugh about the whole thing the rest of the way back to the dorm. A few weeks later, we were in the Rat again, shooting the shit with our friends over a few beers, when the captain of the football team yelled, “Hey wrestler dude! How about giving us a chance to win our money back?” I yelled back, “What’d you have in mind? I don’t see your center here tonight.” No, “we have another challenger for your little friend.” Pete got up and started walking over to their table to see who it was. I knew Pete could take on anyone they wanted to put up against him, so I got our buddies to put up some cash too. When we got to the table we put the money down and said, “Okay, we’re in. Can you match this?” They all dug into their wallets to match what we put on the table. They were all too willing to put up their money. They must really have a ringer here. Pete sat down at the table and waited for his opponent. A big guy pushed his way through the crowd and sat across from Pete. Chad said, “This is Seth. Seth, this is Pete. Oh and did I mention Seth’s the state arm wrestling champion.” That drew a roar of laughter from the football team. Pete and I just smiled and said, “Bring it on!” as Pete extended his arm ready to lock up. This guy was picky about the grip, so it took a while to get set, but finally the captain counted down again and the match began. The arm wrestler tried for a quick win, but Pete stopped it short of the table. He played with him for a little while, with the advantage going back and forth, making it look like a close matchup. Eventually Pete put the arm wrestler’s hand down to the table, much to the surprise of the entire football team and most of all, the arm wrestler. All of our buddies were cheering and whooping it up, which didn’t make the football team very happy. Pete then said to the arm wrestler as they shook hands, “Good match! Want to go double or nothing with our left hands?” The arm wrestler said, “I’m willing, but it’s their money. Ask them.” They did what football players do, they huddled together discussing the odds that Pete could beat him again. After all, it was a close match. Eventually they agreed, pulling out their wallets to match the total money on the table. They locked hands and at “go” they started. The arm wrestler went for the quick win again, but this time Pete’s hand didn’t move. The arm wrestler tried with all his skill and strength, but couldn’t move Pete’s arm. He then said, “Christ! It’s like arm wrestling a bloody statue!” The football team was getting worried now. It was looking like they were going to lose a lot of money tonight. Pete held him there for what seemed like an eternity. Then he slowly and deliberately pushed his arm down until it hit the table. Again my buddies and I began to whoop it up. I grabbed the money and said, “Thanks guys. I’ll tell you what, to show our appreciation I’ll by you all a round of beers.” They weren’t happy, but they weren’t going to turn down free beer. I paid out their share to my buddies and paid for the round out of my winnings. Back at the dorm I turned to Pete, “you know, I bet we could make some serious cash doing this.” Pete looked at me and said, “I don’t think we’ll get those guys to put up any money again. Not after I beat their ringer so badly.” “You’re right. We’ll have to go somewhere else. Maybe we can go to some bars in town and take on the locals. I’m sure every bar has some guy nobody can beat.”

Uncle Ryan - Extra Cap 02 Uncle Ryan - Extra Cap 02 Ryan woke up as usual in his king size bed, his cock inside his jockstrap had woken him up with wood as hard as steel, yesterday's evening and his brother's new size had stimulated him, and his cock arrogantly demanded attention, but Ryan had to work that morning, so he decided to get up very early to be in town to see a client on time, he knew he was leaving his nephew with his new big brother Ben. The two would have spent some father/son time, and who knows, maybe Ben would have better understood and appreciated his new dimensions even more... although Ryan was sure he had heard very distinct and deep grunts from his brother's room at night Before. He headed to the shower, not disdaining a powerful flex and some poses in the large mirror that surrounded his bedroom, making his hard cock rise even more and swell all the veins above his giant body. "uhmmm...if I don't calm down I'll shoot another load before the shower hahaha..." he said giving one last lustful look at his body in the mirror, heading to the shower and leaking some pre-cum from the head of his massive cock, giving it a mighty squeeze with his left hand, and licking the milky, salty precum off it. The shower ran full and hot on his massive body, grope his mass. Big barrel-chested ape, he loved clamping his big hands on his heavy pecs and lifting them up and down, feeling the weight of them. Big thick slabs of beef, they had to weigh 50lbs each. And such extreme strength in them. He knew he could outbench 99.99 percent of the men in the world. Maybe 100 percent. Made him hard thinking of doing it. Waddling onto the bench and outlifting any punk that dared to challenge him. Then his hands would go to his big shoulders, his massive guns and lower down to his roidguts, Hard as granite, and growing with every meal he had. Turned him on so much, he could barely stand it. He liked to press his hands against the sides of the shower and cum hands free to his own thickness and power. Problem was, he kept cracking the tile under his thick, heavily calloused hands. His muscles were as hard as his cock, the idea of growing even bigger didn't help with his hard-on, not to mention Ben's transformation...yeah. ...he had become a real roids monster in a short time....so big, so full...his hands ran over his body, feeling every vein, every swelling, every fiber... every part of him exuded power, dominance and the desire to grow even more, he was insatiable for the mass, he wanted more much more! Just wanted to be huge! He wanted to become a real freak! A bull neck wider than his head, with powerfull cannonball shoulders, arms as huge as marble columns, massive biceps over 26 inchs, powerful triceps big as bulls and backs so wide he had to bend sideways to walk through doors, a chest so thick that can't see his feets, so big that at the cinema he had to take two chairs to sit on, thighs as powerful and wide as redwoods, calves as hard as diamond and big as terracotta pots. And so powerful that it can lift an SUV with its arms above its head! Ryan raised his arm to his mouth, and kissed his own biceps, was, hot! This tornado of sensations led him to hold his cock now hard as steel, dripping with pre-cum, which with anger and virility was about to explode into a river full of protein cum that fueled his growth! ""..Oh yesss....grrrrrr..." he said, letting out a low, bestial roar, because for a few days he had noticed that his own cum increased the power of the steroids and drugs he regularly took, a sensation that excited him even more! "Fuck I'm so big, so hot, so powerful...I need moooore...I want moooooorrre!" A low, gotural roar announced his coming, powerful, copious and thick, cum that Ryan licks from his hand, from the shower wall now full without leaving any drops, because he had to grow bigger, bigger, stronger, more powerful! His body looked like it had undergone a pumping workout, his muscles were swollen more than ever, veins as big as tubes everywhere and a feeling of pure enjoyment all over his body. The day was going to be great.... he said to himself, looking at himself in the mirror in all its power and revealing an evil grin on his face, He never felt so swollen with size and power. he tried not to look too much in the mirror. But when he dried his hair, couldn't help it. His arms swelled so huge. He bet it was now more than 22 inches. his cock rose again, causing the towel to fall and flexed his arms in the mirror. He knew he had to hurry to get to his client but he loved himself. His fists compress causing his forearms to swell and become covered in veins. He shook his arms and walked over to the mirror. He raised an arm towards his reflection. He clenched his fist and squeezed. "Oh yes," he said as he watched his thick forearm swell thickly. “Bigger than most men's biceps,” he boasted. He jerked off while he continued to flex his massive forearm. Inspired by the feel of his muscular arm, he came again, his cum flying upwards and hitting the head of the mirror high. licking everything that had leaked out again, it was important, it was delicious but now was time to have breakfast, take his morning supplements and go to work with the client. "fuck I'm a fucking beast....how much I love it! - He said coming out of the shower and heading towards his closet. He was hungry. All he could think about was getting food. He needed to eat, and eat big. To feed his muscle, and grow. He ached for more growth. More growth and power. He wanted to feel what it was like to be 475lbs of sheer brute size and strength. He grunted with desire for it. When he heard his bedroom door open.

Chapter Six It was barely the crack of dawn as Sam slowly walked down the street towards Brutus. He didn’t care about how people reacted to him. In fact, most of the time, it thrilled him to see how much of a frenzy he could create in a matter of seconds. Being outside this early, with the streets practically deserted, was a pleasant change for Sam. It was six months since the bodybuilding show and Sam’s gains had surpassed his most extreme fantasies. The short walk had become intense cardio for someone his size. Sam had his headphones on, lost in his own thoughts so he didn’t hear the van pull up. He barely felt the first tranquilizer dart pierce his skin and by the four or fifth, darkness clouded his head and he blacked out. With a start, Sam woke, unaware of how long he’d been out. His head was foggy from the drugs but as mind cleared he began to assess his situation. He felt the blindfold wrapped around his head. He smelt the strong odour of gasoline. He tried to move but found he was being confined somehow. “I wouldn’t struggle, it will only make the restraints tighter.” Echoed a voice from a distance away. It caused Sam’s heart to race. It sounded familiar but he couldn’t quite place it. “What the fuck!” Was all Sam could say. He heard slow movement of feet on concrete before something heavy slammed into the side of his head with such force, he saw stars. The blow knocked the blindfold off but it was a few minutes before Sam’s eyes started to adjust. He tasted blood and his head was throbbing. “I’ve been watching you for the last six months.” Came the voice from a dark corner not far from Sam. He could barely make out the shape except to determine it was large, very large. “I have to say, what you’ve been able to do to yourself is pretty incredible. I started getting regular reports from people about just how big you were getting until I decided enough was enough.” The figure moved out of the shadows. They were wearing an oversized cover-up that looked more like a blanket than actual clothing. Their head was covered but as the light shone on their body, a chill ran up Sam’s spine. The person was absolutely massive, even covered up, their sheer mass was impossible to hide. The person raised their head enough to allow the light to shine on their face. “BEN!” Sam screamed. “Seeing you at the bodybuilding show broke me Sam. I don’t know how you got so huge, so fast but I decided I was going to get just as big, NO, BIGGER.” “Ben! Why are you doing this?” Sam yelled. To say seeing Sam win the bodybuilding show rattled Ben would be an understatement. He rushed home and wanted to hide away forever. How could this once lazy kid overshadow him, dominate him in the sport he loved more than anything? As the days passed his rage increased until it became like a poison flowing through Ben’s veins. He couldn’t just sit by and let Sam achieve the dreams he craved. With a renewed level of determination, Ben refocused his efforts and decided to do whatever it took to become the biggest 19 year old freak the world had ever seen. He approached the biggest, roided out freak at his gym and purchased a massive quantity of the most potent gear. His caloric intake tripled and he devised the most aggressive workout plan he could imagine. Three months after seeing Sam at the bodybuilding show, Ben had gained so much new mass he would have made contest-ready Sam look like the skinny loser he once was. Even Ben was surprised by his gains. He had a become know as a complete psychopath at his gym. When the manager threatened to cancel his membership, Ben snapped a 45lb plate in the man’s face to show him what he’d do to every bone in his body if he made that threat again. As manic and frightening as he’d become on his quest to grow, there was a growing group of muscle lovers that pledged to help Ben get as big as humanly possible. They paid for anything he needed, even offering to cook for him. In return, Ben would allow them to feast on the abomination he was becoming. He loved the attention and power he held over them. One day, during a particularly gruelling leg workout, Ben took his growth journey to an entirely new level. He had the squat bar loaded with eight 45lb plates on each side. The 765lbs would have crushed most seasoned powerlifters but for Ben, it felt like a warmup. As Ben rose for the seventh rep, his crowd of admirers staring in awe. The huge bar was slammed on the rack with such force, the whole cage slid a foot forward. Ben took a step back and ordered three more plates to be added to either side. The men knew not to protest. As the plates were added, bringing the total to a staggering 1,035lbs, Ben’s attention was on his fully pumped, nearly naked body. Rising to his full 5’10” height, his shoulders almost grazed the sides of the squat rack. He weighed himself at 305lbs just an hour before, an inhuman gain of 108lbs in the three months since the bodybuilding show. He surpassed looking like a professional bodybuilder and was becoming something completely different. In every direction, slabs of thick, vein-covered muscle exploded from his body. While there was still a hint of the 19 year kid under all that mass, Ben only saw the growing wall of muscle he always wanted to become. “Four needles, NOW!” Ben commanded. One of the hardcore lifters dedicated to fulfilling Ben’s every command approached with the syringes ready. As the powerful drugs were injected into his system, Ben shook and flexed his 36” tree-trunk dwarfing quads for his minion to droll over. Tearing his quads away from the man’s grip, Ben positioned himself under the record-breaking weight. He let out a low, primal growl and lifted the bar off the rack, the weight trying to crush his body. Slowly, Ben started to lower the bar until his monstrously huge glutes were only inches from the ground. “GROW!” He screamed and started to rise. At the top of the rep, his skin-tight shorts literally exploded, exposing his striated glutes for the crowd to ogle. As the moans from the crowd filled the room, Ben felt his strength increase, knowing all eyes were on his expanding body. “YES. GET OFF ON THIS FUCKING MASS!” He screamed as the reps started to come quicker. The pain in his thighs was excruciating but the sight was like something out of a science fiction movie. From his head to his toes, Ben was nothing but a quivering mass of muscle. As the onlooker’s hot cum started to splash onto his paper-thin skin, Ben was bellowing like a rabid beast. He lost count of the reps and on his last one, instead of racking the weight, he rose on his toes, flexing his 22” calves. Cum was puddling at his feet and as he looked at his bloated legs, he began to shoot his own load, his hands still gripping the heavy bar. “YES. LOOK AT ME. I AM A FREAK!” He screamed as he racked the bar, grabbed his throbbing cock and shot another load while flexing every muscle. He turned to face his crowd, pointing to the two largest men, each a professional bodybuilder in their own right. As they nervously approached, Ben wrapped his 24” arms around each of their waists and with no visible effort, lifted them off the ground. With his attention on his reflection in the mirror, he alternatively began to fuck the huge man, maneuvering them like small sex toys on and off his rock-hard cock. Each forceful thrust, causing his hulking body to swell even bigger. The scene was so extreme, a few of his admirers puked at the sight, while others continued to shoot loads. By the end, the two men slid down Ben’s massive body as he continued to flex, seemingly unaware anyone else was even present. For the next three months, reports would come to Ben on a regular basis. He would send someone to check on Sam’s progress. While specifics were hard to get, Sam worked out in private, locking the doors at Brutus for most of his gruelling workouts, Ben would gather some information. While Sam’s growth continued to defy logic, Ben refused to allow it to distract him, responding by injecting and ingesting more drugs, food and supplements. The torture he subjected himself to seemed to have no limit. Two weeks prior to Sam’s abduction, Ben received an update he’d been dreading. Grant, one of his most dedicated admirers woke Ben up in the middle of the night by pounding on his apartment door. Ben knew there was something wrong when Grant didn’t stare in utter shock at Ben’s naked body, instead, he looked shaken and terrified. Ben ushered Grant inside and asked what happened. “I’m sorry Ben but h-h-he’s j-j-just s-s-so HUGE!” Ben could feel his cheeks get warm listening to Grant and seeing how upset he was. Grant was a huge 320lb powerlifter that was shaking like a scared little kid. “Tell me what happened.” Ben commanded. “I was waiting for Sam to leave Brutus like you said. I was outside, about to go in when I started to hear the screams. Next thing I knew, people started running out into the street. They were all really freaked out. I stepped inside and there he was!” Grant said, burying his face in his hands, unable to go on. Ben placed his hand on the dining room table and with a subtle movement, caused the legs to splinter, the table top crashed to the floor. “WHAT!” He yelled. “He was curling the fucking leg press machine! Like a fucking barbell! It was loaded with plates too! He looked like a fucking demon! I’ve never seen anyone so massive.” Ben stepped forward, gripping Grant around the throat with one hand and effortlessly lifted him off the ground. He slammed his head into the wall and continued to force him higher. Grant tried to claw at Ben’s forearm but he would have had better luck punching a brick wall. “HE CAN”T BE BIGGER THAN ME! NO ONE CAN!” Ben said, tossing Grant across the room where the large man fell to the floor and a terrified heap. “I’m sorry Ben. I’m sorry Ben. I’m sorry Ben.” Grant chanted as he looked up at Ben’s body eclipsing the light around him. “FUCK! This will not do. He needs to be stopped! I NEED TO STOP HIM! Call the others, have them at the gym in 10 minutes. THIS ENDS NOW!” Ben screamed and stormed down the hall to find something to wear. Ben took a step closer to Sam, assessing his impossible size but further fuelled by the confidence he had for his own massive presence. “I did this so you could see just how big someone can get. I WANT YOU TO FEEL SMALL THIS TIME SAM!” Ben screamed as he pulled the billowing cover off his body. He smiled menacingly as Sam’s screams filled the large, cavernous garage.

<< Click to read Part 2 Thank you everyone for the replies. I'm glad to see so many people like the story so far. This next part gets more spicy, and I hope you find it worth the wait. -- Part 3 Waking up the next morning was way less rough than yesterday’s debacle — until Finn realized he was already late. Cursing his failed alarm once again, but grateful for the restful sleep, he took very little time to get ready and dash. Attempting to make sure he looked more presentable than yesterday, he told himself to stand up straighter. The only thing stopping him from looking like he was ready to seize the day were his aching and sore arms, temporarily bent into the iconic dinosaur arm pose emblematic of any new lifter. “Looks like someone’s feeling the DOMS.” Brian had slipped into the break room for his morning coffee just to catch Finn grabbing a water. Finn winced as he outstretched his arm into the fridge, grimacing as he retracted his arm, bottle in hand. “If you’re talking about my arms feeling like I put them through hell, then you’re right.” “DOMS is like the soreness you feel after a workout. You’re new and you pushed yourself hard yesterday, so I can’t imagine how fucked your arms feel.” Brian glanced up from his phone. “I just don’t remember it making you look bigger. You got a tighter shirt on?” “No.” Finn looked down at himself but nothing seemed amiss. “This is my usual Friday shirt.” “Huh.” Brian’s eyes lingered for a moment as if he was ready to say something, but he ended up just looking back at his phone. Changing the topic, he brought up the trending story of the hour. “Did you see that thing about the high school in Nevada?” “I’m from Boston. Nevada’s a mystery to me. What happened?” “Look,” Brian replied, passing his phone to Finn. “It says some kid totally cratered the side of his school building during his summer class. There’s something weird about it.” Finn studied the image he was seeing: a brick-built circular building, surrounded by smoke and on the brink of collapse thanks to a massive hole seemingly punched out the side of the building. “That’s crazy. Is he enhanced?” “No one’s said yet.” Finn passed the phone back to Brian. “It’s probably some kid messing with Chitauri artifacts. You know the west loves showing it off to students.” “You think so? I think they might be hiding something.” Brian scrolled through once on his phone before starting to walk out. “Well, I gotta start working on stuff. Thanks for finding my shirt. See ya later — by the way, the beard is looking good!” It took a moment for Finn to understand what he meant before he leaned into the coffee maker, trying to catch his reflection. Sure enough, there was a very faint 5 o’clock shadow sprouting out, paired with a light dusting of hair above his lip. Finn usually preferred a clean look, but he’d never seen himself with this much hair on his face. “I gotta shave,” he muttered to himself. Finn wasted no time today, immediately getting to work on research. It wasn’t long before he settled on the Intelligencia Pod homepage, resisting the urge to listen to one of their episodes and giving them another view. Instead, Finn was fixated on their logo: a blend between a radioactive symbol and a flexing arm, in green and purple, abstracted, atop the wide bold font stating their name. It was only then that Finn dug into his bag and pulled out the empty bottle he drank from the previous day. Sure enough, tucked away in the bottom row of logos, inconspicuous yet obvious, was the very same logo. This only plunged Finn deeper into the rabbit hole, trying to find how tightly linked the two were. There was something intriguing and engrossing about this, especially as Finn discovered how the government got involved with them at some point, then their sudden renaissance over the past few years. Finn remembered graduating high school and already hearing peers mention it, although it was derided as a joke. It wasn’t long before he discovered Intelligencia Holdings. “It’s a huge conglomerate hiding in plain sight. It somehow has a cash flow of over 100 million dollars but no one talks about it!” He passionately explained the situation to Marty, who seemed stumped at every detail being told to him. Finn had rushed to Marty’s office after four hours of keeping his eyes glued to his screen. “Intelligencia isn’t supposed to be an operating company,” Marty said. “Are you absolutely sure that the two are under an actual holding company?” Finn nodded to him. “As far as I can tell, both Gamma Labs and the podcast are subsidiaries. I haven’t seen anything else of note — about every other one listed seems to be some shell company or totally defunct.” Finn passed his notebook, filled to the brim with notes and diagrams based on what he’d found, to Marty. “It actually astounds me, mainly because I found out they were around in 2022. They’re an Avengers-era corporation, and most of them did not survive.” “Intelligencia didn’t.” Marty’s voice took on a more concerned tone. “They were only supposed to be some loose online community. I mean, S.H.I.E.L.D. never fully briefed us or the press on what happened with them. They just alluded to a gamma-related incident.” “And they’re involved with the Green Wave directly. Almost controlling it,” Finn said. “Gamma Labs and the podcast are trying to hide that they’re connected, especially since they don’t mention each other directly. But their logos are on each other’s websites! They’re obfuscating the truth.” Marty tossed Finn’s notebook on the table before closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. “This is not where I expected this to go.” Finn stood idly before collecting the notebook. “Ok. I want you to try to compile a rushed report on any further info you can find about Intelligencia today. Down to the smallest detail.” Marty was writing down his own notes before he slapped another one on the table to give to Finn. “The fact that they’re gaining more influence so quickly is not good, and I don’t have a good read on what exactly they’d be doing getting Gen Gamma guys on board with them. Need it by Monday.” Finn quietly nodded and left. “Good work this week,” he heard Marty say behind him. “Get some rest. You earned it.” — The weekend was finally within reach after a long, confusing week of strange shifts and discoveries. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like the strangeness was going to end anytime soon. As Finn approached the front door of his apartment, a plain cardboard box placed right beside his door caught his eye. He only casually passed by it at first, glancing at it to see who it belonged to — maybe one of his neighbors would appreciate him giving it directly to them — but instead stopped slackjaw when he noticed it was addressed to him, sent from an address in South Carolina. He took it inside, gingerly placing it on his table. He wasn’t expecting any packages. Standing on the opposite side of the kitchen, Finn quickly looked through his email to find something that could explain what he was dealing with. He gasped when he found a thread from Gamma Labs titled “Get ready to Hulk Out. Your complimentary package is delivered.” He never remembered ordering anything. He would never order something from this circus. Yet he grabbed a pair of scissors to cut open the box, simultaneously excited and in disgusted disbelief that a Gamma Labs package was in his apartment. It took only a few swift motions before Finn pulled out a new 6 pack of Gamma Labs’ Gamma Unlock Protein Shake. It was wrapped in a deep green matte plastic, with generic fitness-oriented marketing jargon dotting its surface. He even went so far as to cut it open — but only to inspect one of the bottles. Finn picked it up, holding it in his hand as if to compare its weight to the one before, to confirm that this was the very same one. He turned it to find the Intelligencia logo, and it was there. “How the hell did this get here?” Finn slipped the bottle back into the packaging with the rest of the bottles, leaving it to sit. He tried to think of every logical, conceivable way this could’ve happened. He definitely didn’t order this today, since it would’ve needed to take at least 12 hours to get to his door. This means it must have happened in the past couple days. Even then it wouldn’t have made sense, he had no time to do it… Unless… Finn’s email search was interrupted by a notification from Britter, indicating a post from a news outlet with an update for a recent news story. “The building-leveling accident that has left a high school in shambles has been classified as a Gamma Incident,” he read aloud. “The classification for potential Enhanced-involved destruction has not been used since 2049, when Dr. Bruce Banner first announced his alleged ‘total control of the Hulk’ and retirement from hero activities with the She-Hulk, Jennifer Walters. Walters passed away at age 65 in 2057, while Dr. Banner was reported to be dead a year later at age 89. Dr. Banner’s alleged son Skaar is not on Earth.” Finn tried to understand what it meant for the very possibility of another Hulk being thrown into their world, and how it was possible. All the while, his eyes were fixated on the package of Protein Shake drinks on his countertop. — “Mmmph…” Finn was finally waking up to the sunlight pouring through the blinds of his window, casting shadows over his eyes, his neck, his chest, his legs, his stained blanket… He was beginning to realize he could feel some warm liquid pooling around his dick and saturating his boxers. With his eyes still shut, Finn slowly fumbled his hands around to feel his rapidly deflating dick through a soaked pair of shorts. He rubbed his fingers as he pulled them away, quickly recognizing the warm sticky substance. Despite something telling him exactly what it was, he was uncharacteristically relishing the sensation. “Shit. What the hell was I dreaming about…” Finn wiped his fingers on the sides of his shorts to rid them of the sticky feeling, before resting his hand on his bare chest, slowly feeling his brain turn on… Wait. His eyes shot open. There was a sudden rush to his head as he regained full consciousness. He hadn’t had a wet dream since he was 12. And he’s always went to sleep with a shirt on. Now he was fully awake. Finn suddenly scrambled upwards, feeling the air of the room against his bare torso. He felt around his bed, lightly grimacing at the feeling of the warm wet sheets (although part of him loved it), hoping to find a shirt. He instinctively felt around his body, trying to detect any sign of fabric, but failing to realize the increased toughness and tone of his still-small muscles. A million questions popped up in his head as he began to scan the rest of his room when he finally found it: a shirt of his at the foot of his bed. He jumped out of bed to retrieve it — awkwardly shuffling around as the reality of his sticky situation began to hit him — just to be shocked when he picked it up to find the shirt was ripped up. Still somehow barely holding together by literal threads, he was shocked to see the graphic tee was ripped down the middle of the collar on the back, looking like a makeshift suit, with one of the sleeves completely gone. It looked like the shirt exploded off of him. “How the hell did this happen?” he asked himself, staring and studying all the ripped edges of the shirt. Words got caught in his throat, and he could feel his heart beat even faster. Panic was setting in. Something was wrong. Something was different. This came from somewhere, didn’t it? Desperate to find an explanation, Finn spun around his room to see any sign of other damage, but instead he began to fixate on an open ballpoint pen in the middle of his bed. His favorite pen, due to its super fine point. A super sharp point. “Jesus Christ,” Finn sighed as he walked over to pick it up. He looked at it, and it became clear to him that the pen did the damage. It probably pierced a hole into that super-thin shirt, and just ripped it to shreds as he tossed and turned. He probably kicked it down to the floor in his sleep. That was a strong and reasonable explanation, Finn decided as he slipped into a new set of clothes, careful to choose a thicker shirt that won’t spontaneously rip off. What the pen did NOT explain, however, was the mess in the middle of his living room. Papers were strewn about, looking like a tornado had come in the place. Finn was not amused as he slowly walked over, studying each piece. Their origin seemed to be… “My notebook — fuck!” Finn rushed to the kitchen to find it sitting there with half of its pages torn out. His eyes darted around the small living area, trying to see where the debris of his work was placed. Thankfully, as he rummaged through the mess of destroyed and completely ripped up paper, he found all of his notes on the Green Wave intact. And when he finally collected all the unrecoverable pages to throw in the trash, he was puzzled to find a completely crushed bottle placed dead center in an otherwise empty trash bin. Familiar deep green packaging gave it away. The words ‘Gamma Unlock’ were barely visible. He knew he had it. The issue was that he didn’t remember drinking it. Not at home. At first, it was that same fear and panic as before. He could barely piece together the why and how, leaving him feeling too vulnerable in his own place of refuge. As his mind ran through several scenarios — a break-in, sleepwalking, even him somehow getting black out drunk and forgetting everything — anger began to supplant all else. Something (or someone) was fucking with his brain, and he wasn’t having it. Why did he let himself drink something that may be poison? But Finn’s logical side quickly quashed that feeling. That can’t be right. Suppressing the sudden urge to punch something, his hands shaking as pure adrenaline started pumping through, Finn turned away from the bin and the bottle. He was feeling frazzled again. The day was barely getting started, but he felt like he was losing it. He set down his notes on the Green Wave. He just needed some food in his system. In a far away mirror, he caught a glimpse of green in his eyes quickly dissipating, which he dismissed as glare from the sunlight hitting it. The thought of Gamma Labs’ history weighed in his mind. — “You know, you’re really impressing me.” Finn, sitting on one of Phelps Gym’s benches, looked up to see Brian’s stare locked onto him as he gulped down some water. “You said you weren’t that interested, but your strength gains say otherwise,” Brian said, wiping some sweat from his forehead. “Even for newbie gains, your progress has been crazy. You’re a natural, bro, it’s always been in you.” Still catching his breath, relishing the feeling of the sweat dripping down his body, Finn was in no condition to properly respond. Instead, feeling more blood rush to his face when he’s supposed to cool down, he simply replied with a small “Thank you.” Finn looked down at his hands, which were a little red from handling dumbbells and bars, feeling the energy and strength of the workout settle in. He’d never imagined his hands moving like this, pushing and pulling weights, working his muscles. There was something… satisfying about receiving validation — the kind that just affirms something that he’d been lacking. There was a certain warmth and pride that was pooling in his chest. This feeling — it’s always been in him. Brian was right. He just never let himself indulge in it. Enough blood had pumped to his brain that Finn could finally put words together again. “I doubt I could get to your level, though.” Brian chuckled. “Don’t doubt yourself, bro. I bet you’ll get here sooner than you think. Some people just got that beast waiting inside, you know.” There he went again, fueling Finn’s ideas of ‘finally becoming a man,’ even though it was a futile, regressive concept. The sound of being called ‘bro’ was also starting to sound like music to his ears — he used to hate it since it sounded dumb. Now, it made him feel less awkward around Brian. Water bottle in mouth, Brian beckoned Finn to follow him as he turned towards the locker room. Finn stood up to follow him. Recalling the story Brian shared with him yesterday, Finn decided to bring it up. “Did you see any updates on that school in Nevada?” Brian shook his head as he pushed open the doors to the locker room. “Nah. I don’t check the news outside of work. Did something happen?” “They said that it’s being investigated as a Gamma incident.” Finn watched Brian fiddle with his lock before finally taking it off. He grabbed his bag. “A Gamma incident? What, ‘cause he’s Gen Gamma?” Brian stifled a chuckle, seemingly amused by his own joke. Finn shrugged, smiling, before turning away as he pulled off his sweat stained shirt. “It would be funny if Gen Gamma was called that ‘cause we’d all turn into gamma mutates.” “You don’t even know the half of it, bro.” Brian pulled out two bottles of the Gamma Unlock shake out of his bag and passed one of them to Finn. “Here. Get your protein in.” “Thanks,” Finn said. He cracked it open, its sound muffled by the cacophony of people shuffling through the locker room and opening their own doors. “So…” Brian wiped himself with his yellowed gym towel, his noticeably pumped arms catching Finn’s attention as his hands traveled around his neck. “How’s the Gamma Wave project? Are you into it?” Finn clumsily pulled his bottle away from his mouth, followed by a hard gulp. “I don’t know, to be honest. I’m not the biggest fan — they’re all overly macho and vain. It reminds me vaguely of alpha male bullshit. That’s not really me… But I’m slowly understanding it, you know.” “Really?” Brian asked before turning away, pulling off his own shirt. before reaching into his bag to pull out a clean one. “Yeah, I mean I guess they might have some merits but as a whole…” Finn’s eyes were glued onto Brian’s wide back, and a deeper sense of admiration grew as he studied the man’s muscle insertions and mass. Gears still turning in his head, a brief flash of imagination as he envisioned himself being built just like Brian. It was quickly interrupted when he finally realized that Brian had revealed himself: “Wait, how did you know about my project?” “What do you mean?” Brian had fit himself into a plain black shirt before he turned around. The expression on his face was hard to read — was he shocked that Finn noticed? Or was he just playing it cool? “Did I tell you about it or something?” Finn stood up, partially in fear. He racked his brain for more info or any kind of memory — something — that would remind him of why Brian knew, but there was nothing. Brian stayed silent for a moment, as if he was also searching for an answer. “Marty told me,” he said finally. “I just have a small personal interest in it. Didn’t mean to spook ya, bro.” Maybe that explanation would have sufficed for any other topic, but Finn was already aware of the possible conspiracy brewing underneath the movement’s surface. While it was surely possible that Marty told Brian, it wasn’t nearly as plausible as Brian was suggesting. Finn’s mind raced as he placed himself out of gym mode and back into his typical investigative personality. “You doing anything tomorrow?” Brian asked the silent Finn as he rummaged through his locker. “Look, I have my own, uh… research that I’ve done on my own. Maybe we could meet up and I could show you.” Finn stayed silent for only a moment longer, weighing out his options. “Well…” That voice in the back of his head started whispering to him again, trying to convince him that there was nothing wrong with his bro coming over. The more logical parts of himself were trying to scream ‘No’ at him, desperate to sound off all the alarms. Yet that voice kept popping into his mind. He began to rationalize it, saying it would be an opportunity to gain insights he didn’t have before, and inevitably… Brian stuck his head out of his locker. “Well?” Finn bit his lip before speaking. “I don’t have anything else to do tomorrow, so…” He pulled out his own shirt, bracing himself for what he was about to say. “Sure. I mean… Yeah. I’d like to see what you got.” Brian grinned. “Sick. Think we could do some time in the afternoon or something?” Finn stared off into the distance. “Yeah…” There was a strange sense of obligation motivating his choices that he couldn’t explain. Was this the right choice? — Tossing and turning in bed once again, Finn was feeling feverish. No matter whether he pulled off his blanket or not, there was a warmth building inside, and he was on the verge of sweat. He couldn’t sleep like this. He got up, feeling tiredness under his eyes, yet empowered by his racing mind. Brian’s words, in retrospect, were too suspicious. Between his sudden friendship with him and his way-too-influential perspectives on things, Brian was acting on his own agenda. He had to have some kind of connection with the Green Wave, right? Venturing out of his bedroom into the dim common area, Finn opened up his old laptop and flicked on one of his lamps. With its fans whirring to life indicated it was booting up, he took his time to enter the kitchen and picked up another green Gamma Labs bottle. He had to admit it was starting to taste good to him. Two in a day wouldn’t hurt, right? Returning to his laptop, Finn wasted no time in diving into research — this time, into Brian Watson. However, TikKot, Pinstergram, Britter, ConnectOn, hell even dinosaur platform Facebook had little to offer or illuminate about the man. Finn thought that maybe he was just overreacting — but in the post-digital age, it made no sense that someone like Brian would practically be a ghost online. There was little trace of any activity, which Finn did not expect at all. “What are you hiding?” Finn muttered to himself as he combed through dozens of mundane posts, the newest being uploaded over a year ago. He had no patience for this and decided to move onto more pressing matters. And those pressing matters were about to make him angry, as the Phelps’ Gym website was NOT user-friendly at all. The broken website was poorly designed, looking like it was made decades ago — during the Avengers era! — but struggled to balance its dated aesthetic with its attempts at modern involvement. There were dozens of pages to jump into, but Finn couldn’t find the membership sign up at all. “Maybe it’d be better to just go in person… Wait!” Finn scrolled down from the home page and scoffed. There it was, a plain text link indicating a place to sign up, pushed all the way to the bottom of the page. Finn laughed at the continued incompetence of these meatheads, but his expression dropped when he noticed what was right under it: that damn Intelligencia logo. Finn’s heart dropped as his expression twisted. How is something like Intelligencia involved with a stupid small-scale gym chain? The gears in his brain were turning once again, and Finn couldn’t help but scour through the entire website, trying to find any inkling of information. When even clicking the logo yielded no information, Finn dove deeper. The company’s public archives, business filings, anything. Absentmindedly draining the bottle of his Gamma Labs drink, Finn opened a new document to fill with new information about the gym. His 15 minute cyberstalking had quickly turned into over two hours worth of online research, wandering into the darkest parts of the internet. And in his folly, he had come across a treasure trove of leaked documents that went beyond just Intelligencia Holdings’ strange dealings. “Experiments on mental modification using subliminal techniques, serums and formulas based on the DNA of the Hulk…” His rapidfire typing only made the new discovery of information more intense, unloading it all into the document on his computer. “Jesus Christ… These people are insane!” Implications stemming from this discovery hadn’t yet occurred to him, his empty Gamma Unlock shake bottle sitting on the corner of his dining room table. It would never come up in his mind, as just as he found a whole new slew of undeciphered documents on the Dark Web detailing some kind of large-scale plan for apparent ‘recruitment,’ his computer itself went completely dark. “What?” Finn’s feverish rush had now started slowing down, his signature feeling of panic arising once again. Repeated clicking and keyboard hits didn’t do anything, and even though the screen was all black, it had a soft glow indicating it was still somehow on. On the 30th hit of the space bar, something finally appeared on his screen. A look of horror came across Finn’s face as an icon of a skull with crossbones popped up in all red before revealing his desktop. Then, a pop up smack dab in the middle of the screen. Any attempt to remove it failed. “‘Thanks for visiting Parah’s Leaked Docs. If you’d like to keep reading or keep your files, you must send 0.15 BTC to this address’?” Finn read aloud. “‘All files from the past 14 days have been encrypted and will be effectively deleted until we receive payment.’ Fuck, no!” He was lucky enough to be able to still navigate his computer, but going back to where the document was supposed to be saved revealed that all his files on the Gamma Project were in fact gone. “No… No, no, no…” He hurriedly checked his recycle bin, and spent a few minutes looking through every folder he could. “No, no… NO! FUCK!” The panic and anxiety in his chest was starting to burn. No, it wasn’t anxiety at all… Finn slammed his laptop closed with a kind of viciousness he’d never expressed before. “All of my fucking work… Jesus fuck… It’s all… GONE!” He slammed a fist into his table, surprised at the relief he felt in spite of the anger beginning to bubble over inside him. “STUPID fucking website…” Finn was seeing red. He could barely think. He could barely talk. He could hear the blood in his ears pumping hard and faster, if the rough beating in his chest wasn’t enough. Gritting his teeth he almost growls, before getting up and chucking his laptop to the ground. “Stupid fucking LAPTOP.” Something was telling him there was something wrong. He doesn’t get angry. He doesn’t get pissed at a little computer virus. He doesn’t show his anger. But that was superseded by the voice in the back of his head goading him on, asking him to let out his anger, tempting him with the pure satisfaction of unleashing everything he’s ever contained on the inside. Unable to control himself, he jumped up and started punching his chair, knocking out its frame and kicking it down. He wasn’t seeing red, he was seeing green, just like Banner — no, just like the Hulk. He deserved a little release. “I’m fucking better than those internet hermits…” Finn felt desperate to get out of his clothes. He deserved more than just release. “Who the fuck do they think they are, messing with a motherfucker like me— agh!” His vision blurred as a sharp pain hit behind his eyes, causing him to cover his eyes, applying light pressure. It wasn’t long before all his muscles started to feel like they were burning, much more intense than how he’s been feeling after his workouts. Finn felt like his body was on fire, tingling reaching every nerve, but as he finally removed his hands from his eyes, revealing his brown eyes had become a bright, radioactive, toxic light green, there was something he didn’t expect about the sensation. He liked it. Letting his uncontrollable, raw, primal anger take hold of his personality, Finn moaned as he stepped away from the table but fell to the ground in a sudden spell of dizziness. He was breathing heavily, trying to calm his fast beating heart, but his hand felt strange as he rested it on his chest. It felt swollen. Thicker. Bigger. He tried to feel his own hands, which felt tougher and more calloused. “What the fuck… What is…” Another soft moan suddenly escaped his lips as a wave of energy, pain, and pleasure rocked his being. Even the smallest shift intensified the feeling. So much so that he didn’t even realize his shirt was much tighter than it was just moments ago. The euphoric feeling made his eyes roll to the back of his head as his cock stiffened in his shorts. Finn’s hands rolled into fists as he punched into the floor, cracking the apartment’s cheap tile. He looked at his hands with shock and awe before realizing a green patch of skin appearing along his knuckles, quickly spreading across his hands and past his wrist. He couldn’t process it at first, but as he recalled that documentary featuring Dr. Banner, it became abundantly clear what was happening. “I’m Hu—” He coughed as his throat became scratchy. “I’m… I’m HULKing… Out…” His voice began to crack as it oscillated between his normal human timbre and a deep, beastly, brutish tone. Finn looked up at the mirror hanging by the dining room table, the same one that revealed to him his own eyes going green that morning, that he so foolishly dismissed. This time, his eyes were glowing, unchanging, locked onto his growing silhouette beginning to resemble Brian more than it resembled himself. Those eyes. Those glowing green eyes. Why did it only make him more horny? The intern stumbled upward, hunched forward, to try to get a better look, but groaned once more as he could feel his legs stretch upward, pushing him taller. His neck cracked as it thickened, traps rising upward as if he’d been doing pull ups for years, his shoulders broadening and growing gamma green boulders as delts, his arms bulging with biceps that rivaled the size of his head and triceps that looked like they were carved from marble. “Ugh… Ungh… FUCK!” Every conscious part of his being attempted to fight the feeling, resisting the urge to relish the feeling of his muscles finally beginning to swell, just like Banner would. But everything that Brian had told him, all the words he’d absorbed from those TikKot videos, all the aspirations of ‘true’ masculinity popped up in his head. “On beast mode…” He huffed out. “Bigger… Stronger… BETTER.” It had barely registered to Finn that he wasn’t ‘losing control’ of himself like Banner. It felt like he was even more in control than ever before. Still hunched over, he flexed and stretched his back — leading to a loud RRRIP as his shirt gave way to his widening back, revealing a new muscular V shape to his torso, getting more pronounced by the second as his lats flared. It wasn’t long after that he forced his biceps to BURST through his sleeves, completely destroying his shirt. Finn’s anxiety was no more, but so was his rage. That unfettered, primal rage had faded, replaced by the feeling of pure POWER. He started to chuckle as he pulled his shirt off his body, revealing his ballooning pecs and abs bigger and more defined than any washboard, topped off with a slight dusting of dark green hair on his emerald chest climbing down his abs and past his waistband. That waistband would soon become the next victim of his hulkout. His insatiable boner couldn’t take confinement anymore. With a quick flex of his now huge thighs, the seams of his shorts finally burst open, revealing chiseled, green, gamma-powered muscle that could crush skulls. His calves also grew impossibly large, continuing to stretch as his height grew far beyond that of Finn’s original 5’10” frame. Then his socks finally gave way, turning into nothing more than tattered white cotton, a failure to its purpose. Finn couldn’t take it anymore. His gamma cock was begging for release. With a swift motion, he snapped the waistband of his bloated boxers, finally allowing his engorged erection some room. “There we go,” he bellowed deeply. It was bigger than he ever remembered it being, looking closer to 10 inches than his puny 4, thicker and bulging with veins, like the rest of his muscles. A deep haze settled on his mind as his Hulk transformation finally came to an end. Finn was confused. He felt euphoric. He wasn’t himself. He felt more like himself than ever. He couldn’t think, but his purpose was clearer than ever. There was no trace of the messy-haired, scrawny, principled intern. No, standing in his place, flexing cockily and curiously in the mirror, a smirk plastered on his face, was a 7-foot gamma-powered emerald beast in his place, bigger and more muscled than ever before. The feeling of pure power and superiority were all on his mind, driving his thoughts and instinct. Finn was hulked out into a walking embodiment of the Green Wave’s idea of the Hulk. And he fucking loved it. And with his hard cock standing at attention, Finn had no time to think before the rest of the night became a blur.

There’s a loud thud as I pin him against the wall. A fit, little twink in my grasp. My tongue teases his neck. My strong work-calloused thumb grazes against his Adam's apple. For tonight, he was all mine. “Fuck, boy…” I growl as I grab his chin. “I’m gonna wear this throat out.” • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • I was loving my new apartment. High ceilings. Huge windows. A gorgeous view of downtown Dallas. It’s a ways away from Jersey, but I would be crazy to turn down this new management position. Dallas is a good change of pace at the very least. Southern hospitality is a real thing. I got my share of soaps, candles, and whiskey from my new neighbors. Now I just needed a good southern twink to break in the new bed. I left a lot of speed-dial holes back home in Jersey. I needed to build up my Rolodex of hungry bottoms for whenever I needed to dump my load. Just hope my balcony neighbors will enjoy the view through to my California king. I stood at my window rubbing myself while scrolling through the local Grindr pool. It was work to scrub through the rows of metrosexuals half-dressed in plaid who thought they were tops. Oh, please. Like you could dominate anybody with those skinny arms. I would call them vers at best. If they’re lucky. These twinks are just overconfident. I swear, if I get one more twig-dicked hipster to ask if “daddy” needs some cock, I’m going to invite that boy over and show him what a real top looks like. Broad-chested and hairy. A deep, commanding voice. Rough hands that can make a hole quiver. I’ll show them what a real man dick looks like and fuck them like the brat they are. Maybe then they’ll know their place beneath this Alpha daddy. Luckily as I was laying in bed, losing my hard-on, I found Perry. Right at the top of my refreshed home page. Beautiful boy. Got a thin build that’s perfect for tossing around. He was already on his knees in his cute little jock strap. Good start. I love a boy who knows where he belongs. On his knees. He had my interest. I sent the first text, but he drooled over my post-gym selfies. He begged to worship my muscles. He also bragged about his little “Magic Throat.” He was confident he could take all my inches. I find that hard to believe, but he was hungry for my cock. I loved the eagerness. We’ll just have to see how proficient he is with that throat of his. I’m going to push this boy to his limits. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • I grab the scruff of his neck with a smirk. “Get to fucking work, boy,” I order. He drops to his knees and looks up at me with his deceivingly innocent eyes. He is loving every second of it. Perry. Such a good boy. We are gonna have some fun. He places his hand on the outline of my dick in my office slacks. He waited so patiently for me to get home from work. I picked him up from his room a few floors down. He looked so hungry dressed in his little shorts and gym shirt. He couldn’t keep his hand off my bicep the whole ride up the elevator. Now, his fingers lightly trace my semi-hard shaft. Slowly, he massages my bulge. I feel my cock hardening, extending down my pant leg. His gentle touch just makes me want to grow. I want to use him. “Pull it out,” I bark as I pull my leather belt off. He slowly undoes my pants button while keeping a hand on my thick bulge. I’m still not done growing. With his thumb and palm, he squeezes my thickening shaft down, trying to find where my cock ends. I always make sure to warn my bottoms that I’m hung before we meet up. I don’t need them running out scared of my size. I’ve been blessed with eight inches of man dick since I was 15. I’ve only gotten thicker since high school. I wouldn’t mind another couple of inches, but I think I hit my last growth spurt a long time ago. I don’t think my usual bottoms would be able to handle much more of me anyways. Except for Perry. I could tell he wanted every inch of me. I just hope he can take it how I like to give it. I watch as his eyes widen slightly when he finds the tip of my dick. Eight inches hangs lower than you would think, but I can tell he was excited. He tucks his fingers under my waistband and begins to pull down my slacks. I don’t wear underwear for this exact reaction. I love watching my bottom get excited revealing all my inches. I watch as Perry pulls my pants down. Slowly, inch by inch, revealing more and more dick. Until he finally got to the head. There’s a second of resistance as my pants get caught on the tip, but then it gives way. My semi-hard cock jumps forward with its full weight, swaying side to side. My fat, manly cock hung in front of his cute face. That move never fails to turn me on. Perry kisses the base of my shaft. He got a big whiff of my musk with his nose in my short pubes. I like to keep my cock hairy, but not unkempt. I’m an alpha, not an animal. Perry cups my dick in his palm to appreciate the weight. His petite fingers slowly stroke my shaft. He struggles to touch his thumb to his pointer finger around my shaft. “Fuck… I’m gonna have a lot of fun with this,” Perry fought a chuckle. He looks like he’s enjoying himself. Almost a little too much. Although, who could blame him? He is getting a four-course meal of a man tonight. I only let out a deep grunt in response. My button-up shirt feels tight against my chest as I heave. I let out a growl as I grab my button-up shirt and tear it open. A few of the buttons pop their stitches and fly across the room. Nothing a little trip to the tailors couldn’t fix. My tailor was used to me coming in with popped buttons and torn sleeves. He got his fair share of tips. I look down at my boy with a smirk. I wrap my hand around his skinny forearm and pull his hand onto my stomach. He continues kissing the base of my shaft while he feels my abs. The tips of his fingers follow the definition of my six-pack, slowly making their way up to my pecs. He looks up, keeping his tongue on my shaft. “What? See something else you want, boy?” I bark. I give him a smirk and flex my biceps above him. His eyes follow my muscles lustfully as my arms ripple and harden. Perry wraps his hand around my oblique and grabs onto my back to pull himself up. His hungry breath brushes against my stomach. He wants more. I let out a short grunt, ready to provide. His soft lips kiss my skin. The warm sensation of his tongue following up on my abs makes me groan reflexively. He knows how to press my buttons. His tongue climbs up to my heavy pecs, flicking against my hardening nipples. Fuck, that’s good. His hands move across my body while he teases my man tits. He gropes my thick arms. His fingers wrap around the head of my bicep. I feel them start to burn as I flex them harder. “Fuuck, boy…” I growl in pleasure. “Worship your daddy!” His hands struggle to grab and feel all of my alpha mass. His tongue tastes and teases my sweaty, sensitive nipples. “Oh, yeah! Just like that…” my voice deepens. All eight inches of my girthy dick throbs. My swollen cock head leaks precum all over itself. It’s so pent-up. I feel it demanding to be serviced. I need to fuck Perry’s tight, little ass. With a growl, I stick my hand down the back of my boy’s pants. My calloused man hands grope his soft ass. I let a finger tease the rim of his hairless asshole. He’s so fucking tight. I’m gonna tear his hole wide open. I know he wants me to rip him open. Slowly, his hole swallows my thick index finger. “Ahh…” he moans. “Fuck, Daddy.” His little outburst interrupts him worshiping my pecs with his tongue. I don’t remember telling him to stop. “Keep licking my pecs, boy,” I grunt out. He’s so obedient. He leads his tongue across my hairy chest. He gets lost in the cleavage of my post-pump pecs. God damn, that feels so good. I feel my muscle tits flex and harden instinctively. My chest felt hot. Literally hot. Similar to how I feel after chest day. I love the burn, but it feels odd right now. Despite that, I keep a firm grip on his ass. With my free hand, I grab the waistband of his pants and tear them to the floor. Damn, he really does have a great ass. His adorable, submissive cock pokes against my quads. I feel his twink dick twitch while he worships my pecs. Precum leaks out of his swelling dick and drools all over my leg. Beneath his tongue, he moans and whines in pleasure. My hands left red outlines of my grip on his pale cheeks. His ass was signed by my hands. I spread his ass and kept teasing his hungry hole. My fingers are thick, but they’re nothing compared to how my thick man cock is going to feel deep inside of him. I slide another finger in to loosen him up. He’s gonna need some training if he’s gonna take all my inches. Perry whines and presses his forehead into my chest in pleasure. I only have two fingers in him. Fuck, my cock is going to make this boy squirm. I keep my fingers in his hole and lift him up off the ground. I press my lips to his neck softly. He wraps his arms around the nape of my neck to keep his balance. I pull him up onto my lap as I sit back on my bed. “Oh, fuck…” Perry moans. “Please, Daddy.” My tongue caresses the underside of his chin. His perfect ass is in my lap. I reach behind him to grab my cock and slap it between his ass cheeks. Fuck, my dick felt heavy. I could usually wrap my fingers around the whole shaft, but right now, my thumb couldn’t quite touch my middle finger. Damn, this boy has got me hard as fuck I guess. I continue kissing his sensitive little body. I could deadlift twice his weight effortlessly. He was so light in my grasp. I lay back on my bed, letting my cock grind against his ass. With one hand, I grab the back of his neck and pull him down on top of me. My tongue enters between his lips. His hands wander all over my body. I grab the base of my cock and slap it against his ass. The fat head of my dick teases his weak hole. God damn, his ass was going to feel so good. Then, Perry places his hands on my chest, both dwarfed by the sheer mass of my pecs. He lifts himself up slightly to look into my eyes. “Wait, sir! I want to suck your dick first,” he begs. I snicker under my breath. He looks so cute thinking he could make demands. “Fuck, boy… I love your eagerness.” I grab the side of his head, playing with his hair. Such a good bottom. “Ask daddy again…” I tease. “I want you to beg for it.” “Please, Daddy… Please let me suck your dick.” “Again…” I demand. Perry reaches behind him and wraps his fingers around my shaft. Well, as best he could. My cock felt so huge in his grasp. I love it. “Please, Daddy…” he whines. “I need your massive… thick… monster of a man cock… so fucking deep down my throat. I want to feel you grow, Daddy.” Oh fuck, he’s so good. “Damn, boy… I think you already got my fat dick rock hard,” I moan under my breath. Perry just gives me this cute little mischievous grin. I don’t know what he’s planning, but I need it right now. I sit up and lower my boy to the ground. His gentle hands massage my thighs while his lips press against my penis. That gentle sensation was enough to make my cock throb. Slowly, he kisses up the underside of my shaft, gently tugging on my low-hanging balls. He pinches my foreskin between his lips and tugs it back. Then he wraps his lips around the head of my cock. Oh, fuck. My head fell back in ecstasy. The warm sensation of his tongue on my dick sent a shiver up my spine. I feel that heat spread over my entire body, like every sensitive part of me is getting stimulated. A bead of sweat rolled down my pecs. I feel my muscles contract and flex. “God damn, boy…” I groan. “You sure know how to worship Daddy’s cock.” I can’t help but moan as he takes more of my cock down his throat. He swallows every inch of me like it was no problem. All eight inches of my man cock deep, deep inside of him. I stand up and grab the back of his head. I hold him in place, balls deep down his throat. His lips wrap tight around the base of my cock and his tongue continues to tease and massage my shaft. “Oh, fuck yeah, boy!” I bark in a deep voice. Deeper than usual. I let out a deep growl as his throat grows tighter around my cock. Another wave of that hot ecstasy washes up my body again. All my muscles tense up against my will. My pecs flex as that heat burns in my chest. It feels like I was being cooked in a sauna. More beads of sweat roll down my neck and stomach. “F-fuck…” I pant like a dog. “God damn, boy…” My grip on the back of his hair loosens. He looks up at me with hunger in his eyes. My cock still stuffing his throat. He flashes me this devilish look as he slowly pulls his mouth off of my dick. He grabs my cock and slaps it on his face. Shit, my cock looks huge! It weighs down over half his face, my fat shaft extending over the top of his head. God, did my cock always look that big? “Fuck… What are you doing to me, boy?” I struggle to catch my breath. My entire body grows sore. My skin wraps tight around my muscles like I could flex and outgrow my body. It’s that post-lifting pump-type burning. That feeling when you know you’ve put on some mass. That feeling I chase every time I hit the gym. Only now, I feel it all over me. I feel it in my hands. It’s in my jaw. And I feel it engulf my cock. Fuck. I wrap my fingers around my thick shaft, only now my girth won’t let my fingers touch around it. Thick veins pulse under my palm. My foreskin stretches tight and pulls under the ridge of my swollen cock head as thick, creamy precum leaks out from my dickhole. God damn, my cock had to have gotten bigger! This wasn’t just a man dick, it was a grade-A Alpha cock. Fuck, all this growth was turning me on so much. My dick is fucking massive! • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • Ever since middle school, I’ve wanted a bigger cock. Puberty itself was my biggest sexual awakening growing up as the scrawny kid. With every new hair I grew on my chest and every inch I got taller, my libido grew. I kept a record of my cock growth. I waited patiently as my cock grew bigger than the American average. Fuck, when I grew two inches over the span of three months just before starting high school, I was jerking off every chance I could get just so I could admire it. In the football locker room, I felt my teammates always staring at my bulge. They thought I never noticed, but I loved feeling their eyes on me. I could feel their confidence drain when they got undressed next to me. Even though I was skinny, I made them feel small. Nobody else came even close to my eight inches. I was a man standing among boys. My dick stopped getting longer when I was 15, but with every football season, my cock just got thicker. I still had the biggest dick on the team. I knew it and my team knew it. Each season, my bulge just got heavier and heavier. Eventually, my team got more comfortable around me and would start to poke fun. They had accepted their role and got used to it. But by the time I turned 19, the growth had stopped. Not that anybody else could tell, but I still wanted more. I went to college wishing I could feel my dick keep growing. I wanted to feel my body swell with more size, but my dick was done. So naturally, I turned to bodybuilding to get that high that my growing cock used to give me. It was a good substitute. But look at me now! My cock has swollen to new records. Fuck, what was it? Nine? Ten inches? Bigger than that? God damn, this is the dick I was born to have! A dick belonging to a true Alpha! • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • “Holy shit… That’s more like it!” My voice rumbles in my chest. Perry just looks up at me. A sense of euphoric satisfaction stretches across my face. He looks so proud of himself. He struggles to grab the base of my new cock and then slaps its freshly grown size on his tongue. With each slap, another hot, erotic sensation shoots up my chest. “You like how I make you grow, Daddy?” Perry moans softly. “Fuck yeah, boy! You got me so fucking big and hard,” I growl. Perry licks the tip of my cock. I watch it throb and swell even bigger. “You want more, big daddy?” he teases. I still don’t understand how he was doing this, but I don’t care. Whatever it is, it was making me grow and that’s all I need right now. More size… “Make me grow, boy…” Perry wraps his lips around my fat dick. Slowly, inch by inch, he swallows my Alpha cock. His warm, tight throat barely struggles as he accepts every inch. His neck swells as my cock stretches him open. Fuck, that’s so hot. Eventually, his nose finds its way onto my stomach. His tongue flicks and teases the underside of my shaft and pushes on my heavy bull balls. He makes it look so easy. That hot sensation spreads over my entire body again. My cock swells in his throat. My pecs and biceps throb. My stomach tightens and my abs become more defined. I throw my head back in ecstasy. Fuck, that’s it. I grab the back of his head and force him to bob up and down on my shaft. Oh, fuck yeah! I could feel my entire body tighten and stretch as he sucks me clean. “Bigger, boy…” I grunt. “Bigger!” With my eyes closed, I enjoy every sensation. I feel every individual muscle in my body flex like a full-body orgasm. I start to twitch and swell as he keeps sucking me dry. Fuck, I never want this to end. I finally open my eyes and look back down at my boy on his knees. I watch as my quads ripple and flex, and then they swell and grow. My body goes numb. I watch as the top of my boy’s head feels more distant. I fight to catch my breath. I look down at my muscular body. My pecs bounce as they grow further off my chest. I gaze at my thick arms. Stretch marks pull across the sides of my biceps. I lift my arms and flex. My shoulders and lats spread like wings unfolding. My biceps erupt with size. Each flex causes them to swell until they’re the size of my head. Thick veins throb across my arm. Holy shit! I grab my pecs and feel their weight. Fuck, my muscle tits are heavy with mass. I flex to force them to grow even bigger. And bigger. The top of Perry’s head felt even further now. Fuck, it wasn’t just my dick. My entire body was growing! I’m swelling up with pure orgasmic muscle. This has always been my fantasy. I wish I would’ve left my shirt on so I could’ve shredded it with my hulking pecs. Bet my tailor would love to give me a fitting right now. I’m becoming a beast and I fucking love it. “Oh, fuck… This is how a man should feel!” I roar out. I bend down from my still-growing height and grab the back of my boy’s head. I force my monster cock balls deep down his throat. My nuts have swollen to the size of eggs that hung against his chin. I feel my load is building up and sloshing inside of them. Perry is unfazed as my beastly cock stuffs his perfect throat full. This dick could kill someone with its size, but Perry just keeps worshiping me. I need to be worshiped. I hold his head against my stomach for another moment. “Fuck…” I moan. “Just a few more inches, boy!” Then I let him pull out. Slowly. I want to appreciate my new size. A few thick veins pulse around the base of my cock. More inches. My shaft has a heavy downward curve under its new weight. More inches. I wrap my two huge hands around my shaft. There’s still room for more. More inches. My foreskin has been stretched so tight by my growth that it looks like I’ve been circumcised. More inches. More inches. At least a foot and a half of raging monster cock throbs under its mass. Finally, I feel Perry’s lips wrap around my big, sensitive dick head. A wave of precum falls from the edge of his mouth. He looks up at me like a succubus. My monster cock falls from his lips with a loud whiff. The sound of air displacing fills the room as my massive endowment swings down like a baseball bat between my knees and flops over the edge of my bed. God damn, I’m fucking massive! “Holy shit…” my voice rumbles. “Look at how fucking big I am!” I stand up as I talk dirty. Perry gets further and further away as I stand at full height. The back of my head bumps against the ceiling and forces me to hunch down slightly. Damn, I’m fucking huge! I must be over ten feet tall now if I was reaching the ceiling. I look over my hulking body with lust. Fuck, I was turning myself on so hard. I look down and reach across my barrel chest to start groping my right arm. I squeeze my hulking triceps and dig my thumb into the ridges between my muscles. All mass. I feel them expand as I reach my arm up. My hand follows down my chiseled lats into the hairy jungle under my arm. Oh, fuck yeah. I bend down and get my nose as close as I can to my armpit and take a big whiff. Oh, fuck! That’s fucking good. I smell like I spent three days straight at the gym. Fucking ripe. My pits are drenched in that intoxicating Alpha musk. These pheromones could turn any wannabe alpha into nothing but my little bitch. Fuck, it made even my monster cock throb. I push past Perry and approach my full-body mirror. Although now the top of it barely reached up to the bottom of my chest. I bend down and face myself in the mirror. A field of thick black hair covers my face. I just shaved this morning, but now I have a full short beard that perfectly chisels my jawline. “Hello there, sexy,” I purr at my reflection. I run my hand up my thick neck. I turn my head and check myself out. God, I would fuck myself so hard right now. I drop to my knees in front of the mirror so I can stop hunching over to stare at myself. My beastly cock hangs off my waist and slumps to the hardwood floor between my engorged thighs. The cold floor feels good on my sensitive cock head. I reach down and grab the very base of my dick. I squeeze my hand three-quarters around my veiny shaft and pull down like I’m milking a bull. I bet most bull studs would even struggle to measure up to this cock. I let out a moo-ish groan as I stroked my hand down maybe a third of my shaft’s length. A puddle of thick, creamy precum oozes out of my swollen cock head. “You look fucking massive, Daddy,” I growl to myself. I raise my arms above my head and flex. My biceps and triceps swell with a mountain range of muscle. My pecs squeeze and balloon out. My laterals spread out past the edges of my reflection. “Holy fuck… You are so fucking huge,” I chuckle. “You are a muscle god!” I reach down and continue to grope my own muscle mass. I cup my huge tits with both hands and watch them bounce. Thick shockwaves ripple across my chest. I let go and make them dance. Each time I flex my pecs it’s like an earthquake of muscle. I can’t help but slide my fingers under and between my pecs just to feel them get swallowed up by my massive muscle tits. I bet any boy would kill just to get the chance to fuck these pecs. These slabs of meat could swallow an entire beta dick easily. So fucking big and tight. Hungry. Then my fingers find my nipples. Fuck, they’re so thick and sensitive. Just running my fingers over them makes my cock jump against my will. My thumbs rub across their tips and my nips just perk up. It takes my breath out of my chest. It’s intoxicating. I pinch my nipples and squeeze them tight between my thumb and pointer finger. Holy fuck. My cock flexes on its own. Then I twist and pull on my hard nips. My bull cock lifts with its full weight and lunges forward. There’s a loud, wet smack as it slaps against its reflection in the mirror. Thick droplets of white precum run down the mirror from the splat mark left from my cock. I close my eyes and keep twisting my nips harder. I don’t even feel the pain. I just feel euphoric. “FUCK…” I roar. And then I feel tiny hands groping the underside of my tricep. I open my eyes and Perry is beside me trying to lift up my arm and get closer to me. He’s so tiny. Even on my knees, he is only as tall as my shoulder. There’s not even enough room in the mirror for him next to me. He puts his hand on my chest and slides it under my hand. “Slow down, Daddy,” he giggles. “Don’t want you to cum just yet.” I let go of my nips and let him pet my chest. His hands look so puny against my barrel chest. I make everything look puny. He rubs my nipples with his palm slowly and I can’t stop myself from letting out a deep moo. “Watch who you’re talking to, son…” I groan. “Don’t forget who the Alpha is here.” “Yes, sir.” Such a good boy. Perry stands next to me and massages my muscles for the mirror. His little hands slip under my pecs and make them bounce. His hands feel and grope each of my abs. His hands just wander around my mountainous body while I flex in the mirror. Now this is true muscle worship. I am a size god and he was praying at the temple that is my body. Praying for my benevolence, for my protection, for my raw, savage fucking. “That’s right, son. Worship me!” He falls to his knees and kneels beside my cock. He struggles to wrap his tiny hands around my 3-liter bottle-thick shaft. He lifts it up slightly from between my knees. My cock is hard as steel and yet it still hangs down under its enormous weight. My beastly dick weighed across Perry’s hands as he held it in front of him. “Finally big enough to feed your appetite, son?” “For tonight, big daddy,” Perry smiles devilishly. He moves closer toward my pelvis. He struggles, but lifts my cock up and over his shoulder. He kisses my stomach and tugs on my enormous balls. In the mirror, I see my massive shaft hanging over his shoulder and down his back. My thick veins pulse and more precum drools out of my cock and onto Perry’s perfect little bubble butt. “You like your new size, Daddy?” Perry looks all the way up at me. “Like it?!” I growl. “I fucking love it!” I flex again for the mirror. For myself. It turned me on. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • If only my high-school buddies could see me now. A size demon with a pretty boy on his knees to worship me. That scrawny kid with the oversized cock they used to know was gone. I swallowed him whole. Now I finally have a body that matches my ego. Not just a kid with a big dick and a big head. I’m fucking huge! The sight of me would make any man tremble with inferiority. As they should. I am a god and they would be so fucking lucky as to worship me. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • “Look at me, son,” I commanded. Perry obeys. “You want daddy to fuck you?” “I need you to fuck me, big daddy…” Perry whines. “Fuck me with your massive cock, Daddy!” I grab the back of his neck. He felt so small in my big, meaty hands. He just whines and accepts it. I wrap my hands entirely around his waist and lift him off the ground. My heavy shaft slides off his shoulder and slaps against the floor. He is so tiny. His little hands press against my forearms to keep his balance as I carry him. Fuck, I’m gonna tear this boy open. I toss him onto my bed like a toy. “Now I’m gonna give you a taste of what you fucking created, son…” I tease. I kneel next to the bed while Perry lays on his back on my mattress. I lift my heavy cock and slap it on top of him. I pull his legs closer to me. The full weight of my shaft sits on top of his chest. He was gonna feel this monster cock all the way in his ribcage. Perry smiles as if to challenge me. “Give me every inch of you, big daddy…” His cute cock twitches in anticipation. I let out a deep chuckle as I backed up. My cock drags down his stomach. “I’m gonna fucking destroy your little hole, son…” I grunt. I place the tip of my cock against his tight ass. Even just teasing his hole, I felt so powerful. Slowly, I press my cock into him against the resistance. It takes a second, but then his warm hole accepts my cock and swallows my girth. I expected his hole to squeeze my new cock so tight that it hurt, but his hole feels absolutely fucking perfect. The warm sensation of his ass strokes my cock just how I like it. Slowly, I force myself another inch deeper against his tight walls, and then another. “Fuck…” I moan. “Your ass is fucking perfect, son…” I press deeper and deeper. His hole felt like warm silk wrapped tight around my sensitive cock head. I’ve got my dick only about halfway in and I can feel it throbbing, begging for more. I watch my boy as my cock twitches inside of him. A distinct bulge presses up against his skinny stomach as my hard cock flexes like the beast that it is. My dick pushed aside his organs to make room for the only one that matters. Perry throws his head back against the mattress as he moans out cries of pleasure. He opens his eyes and looks up at my giant-like frame as I kneel above him. “Fuck… Give… Give it all to me…” he whines between strained breaths. “Please, daddy…” He heaves like he was in pain, but his eyes glinted with that devilish look. His smirk was begging me to take him like prey. I huff like a bull as I pound my hands down onto the mattress on either side of my boy, pawing at the ground before I charge. My hulking frame overshadows Perry completely as my muscles flex above him. His tiny hands trace along their swollen definition. His fingers follow the trenches of my musculature. My pecs can swallow his hand whole. It is intoxicating. My massive size was a drug and I am addicted. Then I charge. I let out a roar as I thrust another few inches deeper inside of him. My massive cock makes room to dump its load. The bulge in Perry’s stomach reaches further up towards his chest. Perry cries out in that whining voice. His hands struggle to grip my biceps. I face little resistance as I force the last leg of my cock deep into his tight and hungry hole. My heavy balls hang against the side of my mattress. My monster cock filled his tight, little body so nicely. I place a hand across Perry’s stomach and feel my dick throb inside of him. I run my thumb up his smooth frame, tracing the bulging outline of my monster cock all the way up to his chest. My dick is currently taking up a majority of his torso. Perry heaves through a pained smile as the head of my cock is pressed against his lungs. “Fuck, daddy… You got… bigger than I expected…” he huffs. “ I… I want you… to fuck me… hard!” A shiver ran up my spine as he said that. His guts massaging my throbbing cock. My dick was begging to unload the sloshing reservoir of cum that was building up in my balls. I bare my teeth, “You’re reading my mind, son…” My fingers wrap easily around Perry’s neck. My other hand grips his waist as I slowly pull out. The thick bulge running up his stomach shifts. Fuck, I didn’t even know I had a fetish for this. “I’m gonna tear you up… Like a cheap fuck toy.” I already stretched his hole open, so now I was going to take what was mine. I slam my cock back deeper into him and force him to cry out. The sound of his whines awakens some kind of primal instinct inside of me. I pull back and feed him another thrust that makes him whine. Again and again, I fuck him harder and harder until his hole can’t resist against my cock any longer. I am an animal and he is just my toy. He cries out louder as I use him. My cock took him effortlessly. My balls swell and grow as my load just keeps building up. I’m so fucking pent up. This is the load I have been waiting my whole life for. Fuck, I feel so fucking powerful. I am a god playing with a mere mortal. With my huge hand still wrapped around his neck, I lifted Perry up. My cock still fills his body with man meat. As I pull him against my torso, he slides down deeper onto my godly endowment. He doesn’t even whine anymore. He just lifts his arms weakly to hold onto my thick traps to steady himself. Mouth agape, he looks up into my eyes. He pants like a pup. Such a good boy. “You want this fucking load, son?” I smile. I lean down and press my lips to his. Making out slowly and passionately. My tongue fills his mouth. My cock stuffs his ribcage. I lift him up and start using him like a fleshlight. Up and down he rides my monstrous dick. He feels so fucking good. His tongue dances with mine in his mouth. My perfect boy. Takes my cock so well. A rush of heat runs down my chest. I fuck him harder. Harder. His perfect ass slaps against the base of my shaft. My cock throbs and flexes. I feel my shaft swell even bigger. My cock head grows against his lungs. My endowment isn’t done growing yet. I’m going to cum. I need to unload these massive balls and dump my seed deep inside of my boy. I can’t hold back anymore. It’s now just a primal urge to breed. I was going to endow this boy with the blessing that is my hot cum. The sounds of whines and grunts and slapping skin fade until I hear nothing but ringing in my ears. My body becomes numb as I force myself balls deep inside of Perry. The little fucktoy on my cock and on my tongue disappears. My vision goes white. I feel nothing except pure orgasmic euphoria. My mountainous cock erupted with its semen and my mind ascended. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • I lose track of time. I just float in that heavenly orgasm. Until eventually my vision returns to me. I’m bent over on my knees with my head resting on my bed. My cheek was resting in a pool of cum. I sit up. My head still feels heavy. Perry lays on his back in my bed. His chest heaves heavily. A satisfied smile spread across his face. I look down and see waves of cum pouring out of his gaping hole. My load was splattered all over my bed and spilled over onto the floor of my apartment. I grunt and force myself to stand up. My vision is still blurry. My head felt like a sandbag. My feet step into a puddle of my own cum. “Fuck, you are perfect,” I sighed in my usual voice. My eyes shoot open. I look around my apartment, gradually growing around me. The ceiling seems so far away now. I look down at my arms and watch as my muscles shrink before my eyes. My biceps relax and slowly return to my tiny self. All my muscle mass was melting away. “What?! What the fuck! What’s happening?! Where—” I stammer. I grope my biceps. Begging for my size to return. I don’t want to go back. I turn and rush over to my mirror. I still look bigger than I was before, but I could only watch in horror as my muscles shrink. My pecs pull back tight against my chest. My arms thin out. My height fell. Even my cock shrivels up to its tiny 8 inches. It was as if my entire body was like a cock going soft after shooting its load. I panic. I grope myself trying to keep some of that size that made me feel like a god. But it was all gone. Stripped away from me. “Oh, fuck…” Perry huffs. “Don’t worry, big daddy.” He stands up from the bed. More cum sloshes out of his ass and drips down his leg and onto the floor. He comes up behind me and puts his hand on my bicep. My skinny arm. “It’s okay,” Perry tries to calm me down. “Your body is just settling back into its usual form. It’s normal.” I turn and grab the back of his neck. My hands can’t even wrap around his entire throat. I pin him back against the wall. He looks scared. I don’t even care. “What the fuck are you talking about?!” I bark. “I was fucking massive! I—… I was a damn god…” “Okay… Okay, relax…” He places his hand on my tiny chest. He massages the underside of my pec gently. “You are still huge, Daddy. You always were. That’s why I picked you.” “I was a fucking monster! And now I’m just… this,” I said with disgust. “It’s okay. My saliva made you grow uncontrollably. You weren’t restrained by the limits of human nature. You could just grow freely. I knew you would appreciate the power. But when you came and shot your load deep… deep inside of me… Your body released and began to return to your usual… absolutely jacked self,” he huffs in satisfaction. Perry continues to pet my chest, trying his best to soothe me. “You can’t be a muscle beast all of the time. You’ve got a normal life to live. And… being normal-sized most of the time will help appreciate the size and growth I can give you sometimes. I know that for a fact. I’ve tried it myself too.” A “normal” life is such bullshit. I have worked all my life to grow. My cock grew through puberty and that was my gateway drug. I worked to grow my muscles. Grow my height. Grow my dick. I worked to live comfortably so I can spend all my free time growing. But now I have the secret. This perfect little twink can make me grow just by slobbering on my cock. He could make me grow. Beyond what I even ever imagined. The orgasmic growth I have been chasing is here in front of me. I am never going to let that go. I will become a muscle god and people will come from miles to worship me. I will be a king and no one will be able to stop me. “I hope we can do this again soon, Daddy. You really were the best I’ve ever had. You grew a lot faster than anyone else I’ve ever gifted. We will seriously have to push the limits next time we get together. See you soon, Daddy!” Oh, I was going to grow again very, very soon…

Sam went back to work after three days off. His arm still hurt, but it wasn’t throbbing anymore, and he could move it around enough to do the weather. When the news was over and the studio was shutting down for the night, Sam went to the men’s room and went over to one of the urinals. A few seconds later, Kurt came in and walked over to the urinal next to him. “Welcome back, kiddo,” Kurt said. “I thought I was going to have to start standing in for you soon,” he said, laughing. When he saw the look on Sam’s face, he said, “Hey, I’m just joking with ya.” He gave Sam a punch on the arm. “You’re the weather guy around here, not me.” Sam almost passed out from the pain of Kurt’s tap on his wounded arm. Kurt looked at him over the half barrier between the urinals. “You ok, Sam? You look a little pale.” “No, I’m good,” said Sam. When Kurt unzipped and pulled out his dick to pee, Sam tried his hardest not to look over. But when he heard the force of Kurt’s stream, he took a quick glance. “Geezus,” stuttered Sam. “Yeh, that’s quite a gusher, huh? Been that way ever since I hit puberty. Watch this,” he said. He aimed his piss right onto the urinal puck, and upped the force of his stream. The deodorizing disc shattered like a rice cake being hit by a power washer. “It’s both a blessing and a curse, though,” Kurt said, as he stepped back from the urinal and turned toward Sam. “I mean, look at it.” He let his heavy cock fall out of his hand, and it flopped down between his legs like a big pork tenderloin. “It’s like walking around with luggage all the time. And it keeps getting bigger. When I lift, it swells up, just like I do. It’s over 10 inches soft now. Imagine when it’s riled up.” Kurt lifted his cock and stuffed it back into his pants like he was putting away a pet snake. “Is it hot in here, or is it just me?” Sam asked. The two men were only inches apart. Kurt’s powerlifter chest was eye level with Sam, who, at six feet two, was not used to be towered over. He was also not used to being outweighed by 120 pounds of pure muscle. He was enjoying both. “There’s definitely a heat wave coming through,” Sam said. Kurt laughed. They stood silently for a full minute, looking each other over, until Sam said, “We should go somewhere.” “How about here,” said Kurt, ushering Sam over to the handicap stall, the only stall that would fit Kurt’s massive frame. He shut the door, and peeled off his shirt. His body odor hit Sam like a wave. “Good god, you’re bigger than ever. You look AI generated,” stammered Sam. “Hit 335 today,” Kurt replied, rolling his huge shoulders. “You sure you’re ready for this?” He popped his pecs. “Yeah, I’m ready,” said Sam, as he stripped down hungrily. “You’re looking like AI yourself, man. Damn, you are fine. But that’s some bruise you got there,” Kurt said as he saw Sam’s arm. “Lemme take a look.” Kurt grabbed Sam by the arm and pulled him closer. “Awww,” grunted Sam. “That hurt?” “Yeah, but don’t stop.” “Yeah? You like pain?” Kurt asked, squeezing Sam’s arm slightly harder. Sam had never thought of himself as a masochist, but he found Kurt’s powerfully painful grip deeply erotic. His knees were starting to buckle, but Kurt held him up by his bruise. “God, yes. Harder,” Sam asked. “Nice,” said Kurt. He squeezed down just a bit more, and Sam grunted. “Good thing you like pain, because you’ve seen what I’ve got in my pants. It’s a pain piston.” Kurt let go of Sam’s arm, and Sam sat down on the toilet seat. His head was spinning and his brow was beaded with sweat. Kurt undid his pants, and pulled them down to his ankles. His huge member was swelling fast, and the big mushroom cap was eye level with Sam’s face. Sam grew hard at the sight of the huge powerlifter’s massive thighs that were snaked with veins. Kurt’s big ball sac was shoved forward by the beefy quad muscles. “Stand up,” Kurt said. Sam stood up, his nose brushing into Kurt’s chest hair. “Now turn around and spread ‘em.” Kurt said like a cop. Sam turned around spread his legs wider. “Now bend over,” said Kurt. Sam bent over and put his hands on the back wall of the stall. He heard a squirting sound, and turned his head to see Kurt pumping liquid out of the sanitizer gel container that was mounted on the wall and lubing himself with it. Then he pumped out the rest of the gel into his big hand, and slathered it into Sam’s ass crack. Kurt’s thick fingers worked the cold gel in deeply. Then he reached further and massaged gel all over Sam’s balls. Kurt leaned into Sam’s ear and said, “I cum harder than I piss.” “Oh my fucking christ,” groaned Sam. “You ready for the adventure ride of your lifetime?” asked the 335 pound beast, as his huge billy club plopped against the small of Sam’s back with a loud smack. Sam let out a grunt in the affirmative. For the next forty minutes, Kurt bronco bred Sam around the stall, denting the walls outward. When they were done, the tile floor was wet and slippery with the sweat dripping off both of them. The room stank of musk and sex. “Let’s go to my place for a shower,” said Kurt. “Then we can go another round.” Sam wasn’t sure he could walk, let alone go another round. But as he watched the massive sportscaster getting dressed, the powerful muscles glistening and flexing, the big club of a dick swinging like a pendulum, he sure as hell wasn’t going to say no.

In the beginning, Sam thought that Kurt’s massive physique would be a turn-off to the viewers. That turned out not to be accurate. The ratings were skyrocketing. Everyone either wanted to be like Kurt, or be with Kurt. Sam wanted to be both, and it was driving him crazy. He could barely think of anything but the brawny sportscaster. At work, away from work, everything made him think about Kurt. Where was he now, what would he be doing, what does his place look like, what does the inside of his car smell like? He was obsessing, to the point that he was having wet dreams about him. Sam hadn’t had wet dreams since he was a teen. Now he had one almost every night. A recurring one where Kurt would wrap his huge bar bending arms around him and squeeze him like a tube of toothpaste while whispering into his ear about his strength and power. Sam would wake up gasping for air, his sheets a sticky mess again. One day at work, while Sam was on air doing the weather forecast, Kurt came striding into the camera shot. His black polo fit him like a scuba suit. He looked like a jacked up, musclebound Navy Seal. “So, Sam,” he said, patting Sam on his shoulder with his beefy hand. Sam almost lurched forward. When Sam looked up at the monitor, he realized how much Kurt dwarfed him in the shot. “I was wondering what the weather’s like for the Bills,” said Kurt, raising his muscular arm and pointing to western New York. “I heard they got 22 inches of snow.” Then he flexed his arm. The peak rose up right next to Sam’s head. “Not as much as this 23 incher, but close.” The two co-anchors, Carol and Gary, chuckled with giddy glee. “Talk about a snow drift!” cracked Gary. “I wouldn’t want to shovel that much snow,” said Carol, “but I’d sure ski down it!” More chuckles, some more nervous than others, especially from the crew, who had never seen the big man flex before. Sam played along, reaching over and slapping Kurt’s boulder of an arm. “You’re right, Carol. I don’t think even Buffalo could handle all that!” “Twenty-three inches, Sammy,” Kurt muttered in an aside to the weatherman. Then the big bruiser squeezed his arm harder, and Sam felt a knot of muscle rise up even higher on the big peak. Sam ran his thumb up the side of the 23” arm. He pictured Kurt bending the exercise bar like a toy. Don’t bone up on live TV, Sam pled to himself. Kurt winked at him, then turned and walked off the set. Sam was fuming inside, but hornier for Kurt than ever, as he watched the big powerlifter’s backside sauntering away. The cocky bastard had the hottest, manliest ass Sam had ever seen. Sam stuttered his way thru the rest of the forecast, then into a commercial break. Sam heard one of the crew members say to another, “That guy looks bigger every time I see him. He’s a fucking beast.” One night later that week, Sam woke up sweating and gasping for breath. He was in a downward dog pose on the bed, face buried into his pillow. He’d been dreaming of having his face deep into Kurt’s big burly squat butt, smelling the deep musk of power ass, while Kurt boasted about how many 1000 pound squats he could do with that power ass. Sam hadn’t messed up his sheets when he awoke, but he kept his face in the pillow and breathed in heartily as he finished himself off. It didn’t take long, because Sam had made his pillowcase out of one of Kurt’s unwashed polo shirts that he had pilfered out of the big sportscaster’s office hamper. The fabric was ripe with Kurt’s masculine scent. Sam, still holding himself in the yoga pose with one arm, shot so hard that he knocked himself off balance and toppled off the bed onto the floor. The next day, the arm Sam had landed on when he fell out of bed was swollen and bruised. He decided to take a couple of days off work. He needed some time to get his act together anyway. He’d been losing weight and his focus. Even his trainer has mentioned it. He needed some time away from Kurt. He promised himself not to watch the news, but at 6:20, he can’t stand it, and he turned on the TV to see the sports. He needed his Kurt fix. And there he was, the big musclehead, bulging out of his polo, interviewing an NFL player. The pro athlete looked like Kurt’s smaller, weaker brother. Sam’s dick twitched, and he started to touch himself, but then stopped. He turned off the TV. His arm hurt too much to go workout, so he got on his treadmill. He set it for 45 minutes, hoping to take his mind off Kurt. He spent the next 45 minutes thinking about Kurt. The next morning, Sam swore off TV for the day. He did, however, check social media, only to find that there was a video going viral title “Powerlifting Sportscaster Deadlifts Tesla”. It can’t be, thought Sam, as he clicked on the video. It started out in the parking lot of a strip mall. A woman’s Tesla had gotten stuck in a big pile of a plowed up snow bank. As she got out of the car and looked at it helplessly, the camera panned over to a gym that’s in the strip mall. A couple of lifters came out of the gym to see what was going on. One of them stood out from the others. He was huge, and wore a red powerlifting suit that made him look even bigger, his massive shoulders jutting out from the straps. A thick weight belt was cinched around his waist. He made his way over to the car. Sam recognized him right away. That walk. That bull neck. That ass. That cockiness. What Sam had never seen before was the size of Kurt’s legs. Two oversized columns of power. As he sauntered over to the woman’s car, his massive, hairy thighs rubbed against each other. Heavy, thick quad muscles bulged out over his knees. The other lifters held back, as Kurt got to the back of the car and squatted down. He grabbed the car under the bumper, then stood up. The icy pile crunched as the car tires rose up. Kurt pulled back, making his thick, broad muscles mound and harden. His glutes showed striations and bulges thru his tight lifting suit. He towed the car out of the frozen drift, and squatted it back to the ground. The woman came over to him and thanked him profusely, shaking his big right hand with both her petite ones. His arm muscles rippled, and the giddy woman ran one hand up to his biceps. Kurt grinned and flexed his arm. The woman almost swooned as his melon-sized arm swelled. When he noticed the person recording them, he grinned even wider, the big ham that he was, and flexed into a most muscular pose. The video zoomed in on him. His huge body filled the screen. Thick veins popped out of his massive delts, arms and neck. A crowd was forming, most of them with their phones out, recording him, as the other lifters hooted and hollered, egging Kurt on. Kurt laughed heartily, and helped the woman into her car. Then he turned his huge back to the phone cams and spread out his lats, spreading them wider and wider, until a loud rip tore down the back of his lifting suit, from his thick traps down to his weight belt, exposing even more of his powerful back muscles. He tore the ripped suit off his torso and turned into the camera. The video frame was filled with Kurt’s massive hairy pecs. His thick chest hair was wet with sweat, and curling into tight, Herculean ringlets. He bounced his pecs up and down for the video closeup. In the background, the crowd was going wild. And then the video ended. Sam watched the video in a daze. He watched it in a loop. He edged as he watched it over and over. He held out as long as he could, but finally those tree trunk legs got him. Those mighty, mighty legs. He had to let it fly in homage.

Chapter 9 It all felt so surreal. A couple days ago we had discovered this rock at the bottom of a lake in a random and innocent weekend hiking trip. John, who had been a very good and close friend of mine for a couple years now, was intoxicated by the rock. I, on the other hand, grew more and more fearful of it and the more we saw different to it the more it grew us closer. And I mean it. Well, I literally mean it. His tongue was exploring every part of my mouth as both his hands grabbed my ass and lifted me up. I wrapped my legs around his torso and he squeezed each one of my glutes hard. God was he strong now. I moved my hands feeling each one of his arms and although his biceps were flexed from picking me up from the floor he didn’t seem to be struggling with my weight at all. They felt powerful, solid, like two grapefruits sitting under his skin. We quickly disposed of our clothes being left in just underwear. He threw me back in my bed like I weighted nothing and quickly climbed up on top of me, every inch of him rubbing against every inch of me. I could feel he was also rock hard, his dick straining the fabric on his white undies pulsing with each heartbeat and anxiously waiting to be let out. He had both of his legs on top of me, sitting on my crotch with his ass firmly planted on my own steel hard bulge. From this angle he looked even bigger than he actually was. He looked down at me with that devilish grin and flexed his pecs simultaneously. Each bounce made my own cock pulse in response and he felt it with his butt. “Liking the show?” He asked very maliciously “You have no idea how much” He then proceeded to rock his body back and forth while he used both hands to press hard on my almost inexistent pecs. I felt really small in comparison to him, but after that morning where my body felt different in the shower I somehow also felt more confident, more fit, more like I was up to his incredibly hot specimen on top of me. I felt my dick oozing a lot of precum. Once again I could tell he noticed because he started moving slower so that the precum could soak both the front of my undies and the back of his. Slowly but surely my dick started nesting between his cheeks in a tight grip like they belonged there. “I don’t know how to do this…he said blushing. “I really want to try it, but can we go gently?” he continued. I nodded with my head and smile slightly. It was so heartwarming that despite the smoking hot fine man sitting on me he still didn’t know how to do that. Something about his lack of experience made it all even hotter. He lifted himself from me just so I could reach my underwear and pull it down. Then I proceeded to remove his own soaked trunks as well. What I did not expect was how hard it proved to be. His dick was so hard that it made the task difficult. We laughed a bit in unisound at my first failed attempt when it slipped my hands from all the slipper pre cum. But when I finally grabbed hold of the elastic band and pulled it down over his cock it revealed and swollen thick beast. There was a strong slap against his cobblestone abs as it bobbed up and down and we laughed again. “Oh wow. Careful with that weapon there” I jokingly teased him. That helped break the ice a bit and calm his nerves. He then removed his undies and gently positioned himself on top of me again. He let my cock nest itself between his cheeks once more and gently moved back and forth leaving his entire crack lubricated with so much precum. Meanwhile in the front I was using both hands to firmly grip his waist to help control his hip movement and his cock was oozing some more precum on my stomach. It looked so heavy, thick and it’s 7inch glory in full display with a big pink head aimed at me like it was gonna impale my mouth at any second. We kept doing it for a couple minutes more until I had the tip of my cock positioned against his tight hole. You could definitely tell he had never done it before as there was this twitch when my cock touched his whole and I felt him shivering in pleasure. I move it around in a circular motion with the help of one hand and he had his head thrown back in pleasure the whole time. He looked down at me with newfound confidence and slightly smiled. In silent agreement I knew what he wanted, and I flexed my hips just so slightly so that my cock would be forced up a bit and start slowly entering him. “Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck” was all he could moan. I let it sit there for a couple seconds so he could get used to it, let his ass slowly accommodate the tight feeling of having my cock penetrating him, but before I had the chance to ask him how he was feeling I heard him softly say “keep going”. That’s all I needed to hear. I flexed my hips again and pushed my cock a little further inside him, this time almost reaching halfway through the length of my cockhead. He let out an incredibly loud moan. “Are you alright?” I finally asked. He turned his attention back to me and said “Yes and I want more. Keep going!” He commanded. I was at his service now. And I knew he was ready. For a first time his ass was handling me incredibly well somehow. I know I said it before that I was just average sized but it was still impressive that he was getting it this far on just his first try. It enveloped my cock like it was built solely for that and it felt incredibly tight but at the same time there was this warm and slippery embrace. I felt his insides had a similar texture to when I touched his chest. Or at least the black spot in it. I finally decided playtime was over. If he wanted it rough he was gonna get it. I pushed once more just so gently so that he moaned again. “You’re mine now” he said in a completely dominant tone, which was unusual for him, but made me pay no mind in the heat of the moment. I slowly pulled it back a bit and prepared to thrust him, to make one long movement all the way in. He grabbed tight onto my shoulders and I felt him press it hard as if he was commanding me to go, giving me green light. I slammed his ass hard. My cock slid all its way inside him and I felt his ass embrace it so tightly. My mind was once again overwhelmed with so many feelings. I immediately went into overdrive and pressed hard onto his hips. I was able to push my cock back about an inch before he realized and locked his ass around it. He then sat down hard in it not letting me go anywhere. That was enough to send me through the roof. I moaned and let out at least another 4 rounds of thick and dense cum inside him. His head was once again back in ecstasy. After about a minute recovering from the intense orgasm he finally regained consciousness. I was still panting and sweaty but I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. I was paying very close attention to see if that was gonna have an effect on him. I didn’t have to wait long. His veins once again started thickening and creating a web that started on his thick cock and crotch but spammed all over his body from there. “I… I can feel it. Oh fuck it’s so good. It’s like… I’m cumming… but… I… haven’t even… come yet” every bit of his sentence was interrupted by his muscles looking tighter and tighter, more dense, more striated, his whole body pulsing with his heartbeat. Then slowly I could see it again. His abs were first, each individual cobblestone gaining a bit of definition and size. Then his shoulders ballooned a bit, following his biceps and triceps, then down his forearms. John was looking at his body and feeling himself up all the meanwhile. Then I felt his legs. His quads started growing larger and I directly felt the weight adding up on top of me. Becoming more defined and gaining some size and definition. John was once just a tall athletic guy, but now he definitely looked like he made the gym his second home. He didn’t have a gigantic size but he was incredibly lean and shredded. I don’t think I had ever seen someone this lean before. When he finally got up I realized his dick was also slightly longer, or so it looked like. I was amazed at his transformation right before my eyes. There was just one detail missing: figuring out why he had been unable to cum. His balls were definitely swollen, even to the point they pushed his hard on even further out of him, but when I started paying close attention to it I could see them churning like something was alive inside it. Was the goo nested there? John was lost in himself now standing up in the middle of the bedroom feeling himself up with his eyes closed and slightly moaning. I was attracted to him almost like a magnet and he just seemed lost in his own thoughts. I got up from the bed and went over to him. When I was about to touch his dick and get down on my knees to suck him off he suddenly opened his eyes and there were those white eyes again. Oh no no no, fuck. Not now. He stopped moving and I froze in place. I was scared to death that any small movement I made would trigger him to do god knows what to me. I tried putting one foot back incredibly slowly but he moved lightning fast, so fast that my brain couldn’t even register his movement. In a split second he was now almost glued to me holding my chin with one of his hands. I was petrified. “I… this vessel… coming…” was all I could make out from his mumbling while trying to speak. He let out a stream of words, or what I thought were words, while still holding my chin up. I closed my eyes now thinking that was gonna be the end of me and then it clicked: that weird sound, the words. They were exactly like the words I had heard in my dreams. The sound of a thousand voices in disarray and crying for help. But they were now coming out of John mixed with his own voice trying to tell me something. His hand was now no longer in my chin and it was slowly moving towards my neck, tightening its grip around it. “John, what are you doing?” I tried sounding calm. His grip was definitely now choking me a little bit. He effortlessly tightened his grip once more and lifted me off the ground with one hand. I knew he looked stronger but fuck one hand?! I weighted at least 150lbs so I wasn’t exactly light for one to be able to do it like that. I was starting to panic, but somehow my body wasn’t responding like I wanted it to. John now fully had that orange glow around him and each vein in his body was as thick as a pencil. The colors had returned to it but now there was one more difference: his skin was starting to ooze the goo. It was slowly encapsulating him and it was clearly visible in the areas where he was “thinner” such as wrist and ankles. The goo was starting to cover his own body and whenever it finished connecting and encapsulating one part it looked shiny and black with rainbow-ish reflections in the light. Like a patch of oil in the ocean when you see it from different angles. And it looked incredibly smooth, almost silk-like, but it also slowed down at the speed in which it was covering him. “Incomplete… more food…” it continued mumbling with the cackling echoes and cracks in his voice. Then for a faint second he loosened his grip and let me go. I could faintly hear John’s, and his only, voice: “… give… it… back… to…. ME!” and with the final word he actually yelled. He was still there. He wasn’t lost. Not entirely. There had to be something I could do. He was wrestling with that thing inside him. But I wasn’t sure on how to help him. Luckily I didn’t need to do anything else as he regained full consciousness. His eyes went back to normal for a split second giving him enough time to talk to me “Hit me. With a knife, a baseball bat, anything that would kill me or seriously hurt me” he said. “What? Are you insane? No!” “HURRY! I need to distract it!” He yelled in response Fuck, I didn’t have time. His calves and forearms were now covered in the goo which looked more like a silky spandex suit than actually goo expanding and overtaking his body. And godammit he looked so incredibly good it. The tight confines only enhanced every curve in his body and made it all hotter than he already was. His dick was still standing at full mast and oozing precum through all of that, I couldn’t imagine how wild his thought must have been at the moment if he could still have all of that going on and still be rock hard. But that was no time to be drooling over my friend? Friend with benefits? Very close and becoming intimate friend? Fuck it, I could label what we were after we had this resolved. I needed him alive in the first place after all. I quickly ran to the kitchen and grabbed a knife from the cabinet and prayed to all heavens that I wasn’t gonna wake up the next morning for attempted murder. When I returned to the bedroom the goo had made its way up to his knees and starting to work its way on his quads at a much slower pace now. His hands were also covered and the goo was working around his upper arms but it seemed to be struggling just like with the legs. Maybe it hadn’t grown enough inside him to be able to overtake him fully? We did see it growing in size only after consuming mass or other living beings, but not to the extent where it would be fully able to cover a 6ft tall human. And even more weirdly it did not seem to be trying to cover his dick, somehow. It’s like that was left out on purpose. As it was saving it for last. I approached him unsure how to proceed now and he was more grunting than giving me full sentences. His veins were almost popping and I swear the vein on his forehead was so thick from so much exertion that I thought he was gonna have a stroke at any second. He was now arching his back and slowly falling to the floor, groaning, like it was a lost thug of war and he was just delaying the inevitable. He had said distraction, right? What else could I do with the knife in my hand other than stab him? Well there had to be an easier way but time was of the essence and very few choices were available and relatively “safe”. I was out of options. I gave one final look at his majestic form, his impeccable muscles like they were drawn on him but a cartoon artist, his curves and the way his ass stuck out from him. Time to do it. I gathered all my strength, closed my eyes and in one swift motion I went straight for his abs which were still uncovered by all the goo.

When I first got married, I didn’t think much about my wife having a son who was a big jock. I’d been a geeky guy since I was a kid, so there had been jocks who had been a source of pain for me, either through embarrassment or humiliation or dismissiveness. I hated the cocky, self-entitled arrogance that often defined their personalities. Not every jock was that way, but my new stepson Max was. He was away at college in another state, so I’d only met him a couple of times, but that was enough to see what a cliché he was. He’d lettered in 3 sports all four years of high school, and had gotten a full wrestling scholarship to a big ten university. He was unnervingly handsome, and he knew it. Even pictures of him as a kid showed the cocky smirk and athletic shape. He was already 6 feet tall when he started high school, and then his sports training turned him into a young Adonis, with muscle on top of muscle. His father, my wife’s ex husband, had been a semi professional boxer. He was a real charmer, and had gotten Max’s mom pregnant when she was 15. He also had a bad temper with a short fuse, and was currently in prison, serving out a 20 year sentence for assault with a deadly weapon, which were his fists. Max idolized him. I was the opposite of him. I’d had asthma as a kid, and my lung capacity never fully developed. I hated gym class. I wore thick glasses. I was 5’6” and 180lbs of chub. But I excelled scholastically, and went to MIT. I founded a software company before I graduated, and had recently sold it for $200 million dollars. I’m pretty sure my wife was attracted to me because I was the complete opposite of her ex. That and the 200 mill. I highly doubt that I was as good as her ex in bed, but she was good at faking her enjoyment, and most likely had to think of her ex to achieve orgasm. Women do get worked up for those bad boys. Meanwhile, my wife tells me that Max, the prototype bad boy, was going to be living with us for the summer between his junior and senior year. He’d gotten a job with a modeling agency in the city. Of course he had. Why not feed his ego even more. “Oh come on,” I said. “The kid hates me.” “No he doesn’t. It’s just, well you know how teenagers are.” “He’s 21.” “Ok, but he won’t be around much anyway. Besides, he’s just shy around you.” Even she laughed at that one. Shyness was not one of Max’s traits. I decided that I had to do something to even out the playing field in the two months before Max came home. One day, I was driving by a strip mall in town, and had seen a sign for a place called Men’s Longevity and Hormone Therapy Clinic. So I went back there, and found the clinic at the end of the strip. It was a small storefront with tinted windows. I got out of the car and went to the door, half expecting it to be locked. But it opened and I went inside. The waiting room was empty, so I went up to the counter. I waited for a bit, and was about to leave, when a man came out from the back. He was a distinguished looking guy, of about my age of 36. “Can I help you?” he asked. “I’d like to get some information on what you do here,” I answered. “Just like the sign says. Extend your longevity and adjust your hormone levels. What is it that you’d like to achieve?” “I’d like to live forever and look like Henry Cavill while I’m doing it,” I said. The man chuckled. “Don’t we all. Here, fill out these forms, and I’ll be back in a minute.” He handed me a clipboard and a pen and went into the back. I filled out the forms. When he came back out, he had on a white lab coat. He took the clipboard and said “Follow me to the exam room.” As we went down a short hallway, he said, “I’m Dr. Lazarus, by the way. This is my clinic. I just open it two months ago as a side venture from my normal practice.” “Oh,” I said. “Interesting. What kind of a doctor are you?” “I’m an endocrinologist. Here we go, step right inside.” He motioned me into a the exam room. I took a seat as he looked over my forms. “Ok, Charles. Do you go by Charles?” “Charlie is fine.” Ok, Charlie. So, I see here that you have sex about once a week. Is that enough for you?” “Honestly, once a day would be better.” “I can get you there. And at your height, 180lbs is considered obese, especially in your condition. Would you like to fix that?” Ouch. “Sure.” “Ok then. I offer three levels of service. The first is to put you on a vitamin regiment with some natural herbs. The second would add a weekly dose of testosterone to that. The premium service that involves daily injections. That puts a lot of people off. It’s also quite a bit more expensive. That puts people off, too, but if that Tesla that’s parked out front is yours, I’m guessing money is not an issue?” “No, money’s not a problem. I want the premium. What does it involve?” “I’ll put you on a weekly dose of follistan-344. Are you familiar with it?” “No.” “It’s a myostatin inhibitor.” “Ok, still not familiar.” “It will allow your body to add muscle at an unprecedented rate. On top of that, there will be daily injections of human growth hormone. And perhaps some testosterone, depending on how you respond. I can guarantee that your pear-shaped upper body will transform dramatically. Ouch again. “How long will it take to see a difference?” “Every body reacts at different speeds. Many people see results almost immediately.” “Do I have to workout, like, a lot?” “I can see that working out is not a priority for you, and to be honest, you’ll see improvements in your physique without it, but what you’ll find is that you’ll have much more energy than normal, so working out might be more enjoyable for you, and your results will be somewhat dramatic. I’d suggest starting out slowly, with bodyweight exercises like push-ups and pull-ups, or you can use a bench to assist your pull-ups at first, and do push-ups with your knees on the ground to start, and see how you feel.” “Are there risks, or side effects?” “There are risks to everything, don’t you agree? The worst I’ve seen has been joint pain and muscle aches. Maybe a slight fever. And a big increase in appetite. Also, an overactive sex drive. But I will be monitoring your blood work the whole time. And you can do stretches or some yoga for the aches and pains, that’s a normal reaction to your body’s changes.” “Let’s do it. I wanna get jacked. When do I start?” The doctor laughed. “We can start today.” “Wow. Ok then.” “Would you mind letting me take a shirtless picture of you, so I have a visual record of your progress? “ “Um, ok, I guess. I’m a little camera-shy.” “I understand. I can blur your face, if that makes you more comfortable.” “Ok.” I took off my shirt, and he took three pictures of me, front, side and back. I quickly put my shirt back on. The doctor drew some blood, then prepared two syringes. “This is the follistatin. This is the hgh. I’ll inject you with the hgh first, it’s the smallest gauge needle, so it helps accustom you to getting pinned.” He had me pull up my shirt, and he wiped my skin with an alcohol pad. Then he put the needle into my lower abdomen. It took less than a second and I barely felt a thing. “Now the follistatin. Just lower your pants a little, I’ll be injecting this into the side of your buttocks.” This injection took a little longer and stung a bit, but not badly. “Where’s the testosterone?” “You want to start that now, too? You are a risk taker. Good. I like that. Pull up your sleeve for me please.” I pulled my shirt sleeve up as he turned and took a vial out of the glass cabinet on the wall. He inserted a syringe into the vial and partially filled it. Then he took off the needle and replaced it with another one. “Why did you switch needles?” I asked. “Since testosterone is oil based, it’s somewhat thick. I use a larger gauge to fill the syringe, to save time. Then I put a thinner needle on for the injection so it’s not as painful. I’ll show all this to you so you can self-inject at home.” He wiped my shoulder down, then stuck me. This one stung a bit. And it took awhile for the oil to go in. My brow broke out in sweat by the time he was done. “Ow,” I said. “I know. Stings a little,” as he wiped the injection site with another alcohol pad, and rubbed the site with his fingers. “But so worth it. And at least it’s only once a week. Your shoulder might be sore for a day or two, that’s normal. Now let’s go to my office, and I’ll get a home kit ready for you.” We went to his office, where he ran me thru a quick tutorial on self injection and reconstituting the hgh. Then he put together my kit. I gave him my black American Express card. He was impressed by that. Many people are. He told me to call or text him anytime, day or night, and that he could make house calls if I’d like. We finished up by making an appointment for next month, and I headed for home. When I got there, I went to the lower level of the house. The previous owner had installed a full gym and left it when he moved out. I’d barely ever come down here. It would be considered the basement level of most houses, but because of the slope of the property, one whole wall was floor to ceiling windows and sliders. My wife liked coming down here to use the Peloton bike and enjoy a view of the grounds and the lake in the distance. I went over to the pull-up bar and tried to do a pull-up. I couldn’t do one. Fucking embarrassing. I pulled a bench over and, like the doc had suggested, used it to assist me. I rested my feet on it and was able to do 6 pull-ups, although by the last two I was mostly standing on the bench and going up and down. Then I tried to do push-ups. Again, I couldn’t do one. I lowered myself to my knees and was able to do 8. Ok, at least it was something. I waited a minute, then did 8 more. After that, I did another 8. Then I did some more assisted pull-ups. It was the most I’d worked out since high school gym class. I had to admit, it felt kind of good. I went over to the weight rack and picked up the lightest dumbbells, 15lbs each. I was able to do quite of few reps, but my left shoulder was still sore from the injection. The lifting seemed to help work out the pain, though, so I did a few more sets. Sets and reps, terms I only knew from reading Men’s Health magazine. What a jock I was already. Not. I decided not to overdo it on my first day, so I went and took a shower. When I got out, I looked at myself in the mirror. Was that a vein popping out at the crook of my elbow? On both arms? I admired them for a second, but then realized that I was hungrier than I’d ever been in my life. Today was the cook’s night off, so I called the local Japanese restaurant and ordered a bunch of sushi rolls for delivery. But then I couldn’t wait, so I went to the refrigerator and ate half a rotisserie chicken with my bare hands. I’d never tasted such good chicken, so I ate the other half. After that, I realized how horny I was. I texted my wife and told her to hurry home from her volunteer job at the museum. When she got home, I lured her up to the bedroom, and seduced her. Over and over. The best we’d ever had, and I could tell by the noises she was making that she wasn’t faking it, or thinking of her ex, because she kept yelling out my name. I seemed to have acquired a new level of sexual prowess. My reaction to my new regiment was happening fast.

It took awhile, but Dr Lazarus finally got back to me, and when he did, he sounded excited, and yet confounded. He told me that my muscle and bone density test results were so far off the scale that they couldn’t get an accurate reading. He said that powerlifters and strongmen came in at the top of the scale, but that I must be way above that. “On top of that,” he continued, “I took the liberty of having your blood run thru a DNA analysis. Your genome has changed.” “Is that a good thing?” “Well, look at you. You’re bigger, faster, stronger than basically 100% of mankind.” “So, I’m a genetic freak of nature?” “You could say that, yes.” I was getting hard. “Would that carry over to my sperm?” “It would have to be tested, but probably.” I pictured myself donating to sperm banks around the world, and creating a mega-species of human beings. I was stroking myself. I needed to unload a quart of my special seed. “I gotta go, Doc.” “Wait. Before you go, and speaking of genetic freaks, your stepson Max came to see me the other day.” “I figured he would. Did you start him on anything?” “No, not yet. Actually, there’s a clinical trial going on that I’m going to recommend him for.” “What kind of trial?” “It’s a Crispr gene editing study.” I had read a little bit about crispr when looking up bodybuilding info online. “You think that dude needs any kind of genetic improvement? Did you take a good look at him?” “I know what you’re saying. He’s an astonishing looking young man. But that’s just the point. This trial isn’t about muscle, so much as stopping aging. They want participants like Max, to see if they can prevent genetic damage that causes aging, so that he’ll look basically like he does now well into his seventies or eighties. Maybe older.” “So, like The Picture of Dorian Gray?” “Yes.” “Jesus.” What could possibly go wrong with that kind of experiment? “So was Max interested?” “He’s been texting me about every hour to see if he’s been accepted. And I don’t see any reason why he won’t be. I’ll let you know.” “Do that.” I got off the phone with him just as I got a text from Jack. He wanted to stop by. He had something for me. Sure, I texted back. I sent him the security code to the front gate. When you get here, I texted, just come out to the pool. I’ll be waiting for you there. I went to the outdoor shower, stripped naked, and wanked off under the hot water. I knew if I didn’t, I might just grab Jack when he got here and breed his ass right thru his clothes. I blasted out probably a million potential ape-strong offspring, and watched them swirl down the drain. Then I got in the pool. I hadn’t seen Jack since he got back from Iceland. When he walked in, I couldn’t believe how blond he was, and how his skin glowed with health. He was better looking than I’d remembered. “Nice tan,” I said from the pool. “Thanks. It’s from all the sun I got in Iceland. They said they’d rarely had such a nice stretch of sunny weather. And it’s daylight for about 20 hours a day in summer. We did a lot of outdoor shooting.” He ran his hand thru his thick mop of flaxen hair. He had a small cloth bag in his hand that he put down on the patio table. It made a heavy clunk. “What’s that?” I asked. “You’ll see when you get out. Mind if I join you?” “Hell no, come on in.” He stripped down naked. His body was a flawless fitness physique specimen. His big cock swung between his golden thighs. He was totally unabashed by his nakedness. He dove into the water and came up in front of me. I had been crouching down, so we were face to face. Then I stood up, and my pecs rose up out of the water. I towered over him. “Holy shit, Charlie,” he said. As the pool water rolled down my massive pec mounds, he said, “You look like a morphed Aquaman!” He reached up and touched me. “Fuck, man, you’ve gotten so much bigger.” I leaned down and kissed him, groping his tight ass under water. “I’m usually the top,” he said, “but you get my butt twitching.” We started to romp around. I tossed him around like a pool toy, and he‘d swim right back to me like a playful pup. We stroked each other’s cocks. I was getting ready to seal the deal when I saw him look over at the edge of the pool and say “Hey!” I looked up and saw Max standing there. “Hey, Max,” I said. “This is my friend Jack. Maybe you know him from the modeling agency.” Jack swam over to Max, and reached up with his hand. Max leaned over, and they shook, and I noticed a look that passed between them. An immediate connection that must happen a lot between two extraordinary looking people, like Cary Grant and Randolph Scott, or Angelina and Brad. Jack said, “ We’ve never met, but I’ve seen your headshot on the wall at the office. Why don’t you join us?” he said with a big sparkling smile. So Max stripped down, too. He was getting so broad shouldered. Soon he’d be too big to model, but he was more into his mma fighting now anyway. He already looked like he could challenge any opponent. He got into the pool and came over to us. “Show us some of your size, Charlie,” Jack requested. I started posing for the two of them. I did a double biceps flex, and each of them grabbed an arm. I stood up and lifted them both halfway out of the water with my 29 plus inch pythons. “Lick out these deep pits, boys,” I said. They both buried their faces into my wet armpits and ate at them. I dunked us all underwater and continued to flex, as they continued to feel me up and suck on me. If you ever get a chance to get worshipped by two male models, I’d highly recommend it. They have mad skills. Soon, I noticed that they were feeling each other up as much as me. Who could blame them? I broke away from them and climbed out of the pool. “Hey, where you going?” asked Max. “I’m going to let you two get better acquainted. Besides, I want to open my present.” I went over to the table and picked up the bag Jack had brought. It was small but weighty. It clanged when I shook it. I opened it up and dumped the contents into my hand. Ten gold coins tumbled out. “What are these?” I asked. “Those are Iceland kronurs. I brought them back for you, to pay you back the money you lent me,” said Jack with a proud grin. “These might be worth more than I gave tou, bud, but thanks. I know where I can keep them safe.” I heaved my gorilla chest out, and started sticking the coins into my pec valley, like it was a deep oversized coin slot. One by one I pushed them in, and watched them disappear. It felt strangely erotic, and the guys must have agreed, because I could see their hard dicks thru the pool water. My nips swelled and jutted out and pointed downward. “Wanna see me flatten them out?” I asked, not sure that I could, but it’d be fun trying. “Oh, man,” they both groaned. They turned and looked at each other, and started kissing. I started jerking off as they kissed deeper and harder, and it didn’t take long before I shot a huge load arching into the pool, soaking their hair and faces with my hot batter. They both inseminated the pool at the same time. They dunked each other under, and rinsed the jiz off their heads. Just then, Max’s phone, which was on the table, buzzed with a text. Max’s head came up, and he said, “Charlie, can you check that for me?” I picked up the phone and saw a text from Dr. Lazarus. “It says ‘you’re in’,” I told Max. “Oh hell YES!” he exclaimed. He gave Jack a big hug. He told him quickly about the clinical trial. Then he said to him, “Dude, you should totally get in with me. I bet they’d take you, too!” Of course they would. Look at the two of them. The future of human evolution. Hopefully. It got me thinking about my sperm bank idea. Maybe I should contribute some of my own improvement. They got out of the pool. I let them try and tug the coins out of my chest valley. I had to relax my pecs before they could even budge them out, their fingers buried deep into my muscle chasm. After they dug them all out, they took a shower together, their instant chemistry made obvious by the sound coming from the shower. After they got dressed, Max was anxious to take Jack to see Dr. Lazarus. “You wanna come?” he asked me. “No, that’s okay. I’ll stay here and count my gold.” After they left, I showered too, then got something to eat. While I was eating, my security app notified me that someone was coming thru the driveway gates. I looked at the feed, and saw a car I didn’t recognize pulling in. It parked by the garage, and the driver got out. It was Max’s dad, Clyde. “What the fuck,” I muttered to myself. Then I got up and went out to confront him. “Hey, Chuckles,” he said when he saw me coming. “Max told me you’d put on some size, but sweet jeezus boy, you’re big as a house.” “How’d you get thru the gates?” I asked him. “Max texted me the code awhile back.” “You mean awhile back when you were suppose to come see him?” “Yeh, I suppose that was it.” “Well Max isn’t here now,” I said, blocking the passageway to the house. Clyde leaned up against the Porsche Cayenne that he’d driven in. “Where’d you steal that ride?” I said. “I got myself a rich lady friend,” he said. “She started writing to me when I was on the inside, and she was waiting for me with this when I got out.” Women and their desire for bad boys. Amazing. Clyde definitely had the look. Rugged, a little haggard, a dangerous glint in his eyes. The sex was probably great, but getting slapped around later would have to suck. “Speaking of lady friends,” he continued, “Max tells me his skanky whore of a mother left you for some fancy euro trash.” It wasn’t so much what he said, but the mean-spirited smirk on his face. I don’t think he expected me to move so fast. I grabbed him by the front of his shirt, picked him up off the ground, and threw him into the middle door of my five-car garage. He slammed into it sideways, midway up, then fell to the ground with a thump. His impact left an outline of his body on the door, like in a cartoon. The four square windows that ran along the top of the door shattered, and glass pieces rained down on him like hail. He stood up slowly. He shook pieces of glass off himself. He was clearly stunned, and probably had some broken ribs, but he said, “So you’re a tough guy now, huh?” “I’d say so,” I said, peeling off my shirt. “I’ve taken down bigger lugs than you,” he said. I laughed. “No you haven’t.” He looked less cocky as he got a good look at me. But he came at me anyway. Max had told me that Clyde had won the boxing championship in prison several times, so he was still good with his fighting skills. He swung up at me with his left hook, and landed it squarely on my jaw. My head didn’t budge. My thick jawbone and the muscle over it absorbed the blow easily, but his hand didn’t. I heard his bones shatter like the glass in my garage door windows. He staggered back, grabbing his hand in agony. “Oh, that had to hurt,” I said sarcastically. “Freak,” he groaned. Then he reached behind his back with his good hand, and pulled a gun out of his waistband. “Who’s the tough guy now, Chuckles?” he said maniacally. “Put that thing away,” I said, stepping toward him. But he didn’t. He fired at me. I staggered back. He fired at me again and again. I stopped staggering. He stopped firing me and stared at me oddly. I looked down at my torso and saw welts where the bullets had hit. But they had not penetrated my muscle. Instead, they had flattened out and fallen to the ground. They looked like smaller, fatter versions of the gold coins Jack had given me. “The fuck…” stammered Clyde. He threw the gun at me. I caught it midair, then put it in the crook of my arm, and flexed my arm upward. I flexed hard, and felt the barrel of the gun bending. I flexed more, and it bent more. I opened up my arm and let the gun fall out. It fell to the ground, twisted and askew. He tried to make a run for it, but I grabbed him. I was still processing the fact that I was now apparently superhuman, but that didn’t mean that Clyde was off the hook. I took him to the ground and started working him over, pinning him with my knee and grinding into his gristly muscle, pulverizing the tissue. I dislocated his shoulder joints, then popped them back in place. I ignored his screams. I toyed with him as if he were a discarded doll that some kid finds in field and decides to torture it. I grabbed his head and smashed it into the hood of his SUV, denting it in. I dropped him to the ground and put my foot on his head. I flexed over him like a demigod. I could have popped his head like a grape. I held his life in my hands, and have never felt so powerful and superior. But I didn’t want the hassle of snuffing him out in my own driveway. So I took my foot off his head. He let out a groan. He must have felt like he’d been hit by a truck. “Get up,” I said. He staggered to his feet painfully. “Now get in your car and drive away. Don’t come back, and don’t contact Max again, or I’ll hunt you down and make today look like a warmup.” He limped to the car and got in. He looked twenty years older then when he had gotten here. I opened up the security gates with the app in my phone. After he drove off, I changed the code. Clyde was never heard from again. But my wife was. Turns out, the Italian count was a scam artist who had bought his title and used it to lure rich women and pilfer their money. Unfortunately, when he found out that my wife had signed an ironclad prenup with me, he lost interest and disappeared. My wife was surprised when I invited her to move back home. “After what I did to you?” she’d asked. She thought I was the most forgiving person ever. I declined to tell her that I’d been fucking her son since about the day she left; that might have changed her tune. Plus, I had one condition for her return. I wanted kids. Lots of them. She was all for it. Max and Jack both started the clinical trial, although Dr. Lazarus had failed to mention to me that it was in a clinic that was just outside of Paris. They moved there together, and were able to continue modeling work while undergoing the gene treatments. My wife and I moved to a ranch after she had the first set of twin boys. Soon after, she had triplets, then another set of twins. All boys. The ranch was going to be a good place to raise them. They would all grow into strapping bruisers and would make good ranch hands. Who needed packhorses? I took up professional arm wrestling for awhile. I could beat the top guys with just my little finger, but the Federation would only let me do that for exhibition matches. After I broke some hand bones of an Ukrainian guy named Denis, and snapped the tibia of a Canadian champion, I backed off the arm wrestling. I felt guilty injuring the good guys, so I became a covert vigilante, specializing in tracking down domestic abusers who get let out of jail early. It was worth it just to see their faces when I showed up at their homes, or cornered them outside a bar. It was surprising how many ex-felons had access to firearms, but after all, this is America. Too bad for them that it couldn’t stop me from exacting justice as I saw fit.

Max told me that his dad was coming by the next day, so I told him I would clear out. I made an appointment with Dr. Lazarus for the next morning, and figured I’d kill some time afterwards at the UFC gym, working over some of the heavyweight guys. Maybe two or three at a time, to make it interesting. The next morning, when I walked into the clinic, there were about eight guys in the waiting room. They were all middle aged, and some were a little paunchy, but you could tell they took care of themselves. It was a pretty good looking group. I heard one of the whisper, “That’s him,” to the guy next to him. Dr. Lazarus took me right in. All eyes were on me as I walked into the back. I figured this must be what it’s like for Brad Pitt, everywhere he goes. “What was that all about?” I asked the doc. “The stares? Well, first of all, look at you, Charlie. You had to duck and turn sideways to get thru the door. But secondly, and I should have asked you before I did it, but I used your before and after pictures for my new brochure. It’s really pulling in business.” “So all those guys out there are going to turn into me?” “That’s highly unlikely. Most of them don’t have the time or money that you have to pursue your level of development. Plus, you have an extraordinary drive, I’ve never seen anything like it. And as long as you’re here, I wanted to ask you for a favor.” “Sure, Doc,” I said, and I unzipped my pants. “Ok, not that it’s not tempting, but that isn’t it. I wondered if you wouldn’t mind getting a couple of tests done, one for muscle density, and one for bone density. I’m dying to see what your results would be.” “Sure, anything you want,” I said, as I zipped back up. “Excellent. You can head over now if you want. The lab is close by, and I told them you might be coming. Neither test will take long.” “Ok,” I said. “I’ve got time to kill anyway.” “Perfect. Let me draw some blood first, then you can go.” As he stuck me with the syringe, I heard him say, “hmm.” “Something wrong?” I asked him. “Are you finding it harder to inject yourself lately?” he asked. “Yes, now that you mention it, it takes a lot more pressure to jab it in. I figured it was scar tissue.” “No, I don’t think so, but that’s part of the reason I want your density checked.” “Should I be concerned?” “No, I’m guessing it’s just because, genetic freak that you are, your body fat is simply approaching zero.” I flexed my arm at him with the needle still stuck in it. “29.5 inches, cold,” I said. “That’s not freaky, is it?” He tugged the needle out of my arm and rubbed an alcohol pad all over my huge biceps, groping my massive peak. “Get out of here before I cancel all my other appointments,” he said. I laughed and headed out to the waiting room. All eyes were on me. I slowly unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it open, exposing my freak torso. Then I flexed my 8 pack. Two at a time. Then alternate sides. Then all eight. I had complete muscle control over my stacked, brick-like abs. I made them dance. One guy stood up and then fainted. The others gasped out words like fuck, Jesus, oh my god. But then I had to get going. I buttoned up my shirt. “Good luck in there, guys. You came to the right place.” I went and got the tests done. Doc was right, they didn’t take long. The technician was taken aback by my size, but most people were nowadays. The machines were open, so I didn’t have to fit inside a tube, which I don’t think I would have, but even so, my chest was too big for the arm of the scanner to slide across. The tech didn’t think it would matter, but as he looked at the readings, He kept muttering “whoa” to himself. “Everything ok?” I asked him. “Well, I’m not supposed to say anything, your doctor will go over the results with you. But between you and me, either both machines are broken, which seems unlikely, or your numbers are completely off the charts.” Before I left, he asked if he could take some pictures of me. “I wouldn’t ask, but my brother-in-law thinks he is jacked up hot shit, I would love to show him what real muscle looks like.” I said sure. I took off my shirt and flexed for him. He took pic after pic, and muttered ‘oh my god’ and ‘look at you’ over and over, so I don’t know if the pics were really to show his brother-in-law, or for him to wank off to, I didn’t care. I liked the awe in his voice. After I left, I went and got something to eat at the Shake Shack. It wasn’t the same without Jack there, but I was going to be seeing him soon anyway, and I did love their shakes. Afterwards, I went to some hiking trails outside of town. My mountain bike had collapsed under my weight when I passed the 350lb mark, so I’d taken to hiking. The some of the hills were pretty steep, and gave my legs a good pump. Most the other hikers were lean and lanky hipster types. The sight of my hulking mass approaching them made them step off the path until I passed them. By the time I got home, it was dusk. Chef was prepping dinner. “How’d it go with prison dad?” I asked him. “He never showed,and he’s not answering Max’s calls or texts,” said Chef. “The kid’s been in the gym for the past two hours. What kind of dad ghosts his own son like that?” “Just a cunt head narcissist convict named Clyde,” I answered. I went down to the gym. Max had headphones on and didn’t see me at first. He was lifting shirtless, and sweat was rolling off him in rivulets and made his dark tan glisten and his dark chest hair curl into ringlets. The gym smelled of his college jock musk. His shoulders had gotten broader, his taper more V’d than ever. His legs had filled out and gotten hairier. His ass looked like two soccer balls in a pair of shorts. He went over to the heavy bag, and started hitting it so hard his knuckles started bleeding. I said, loud enough for him to hear me thru his headphones, “If you’re going to work it that hard, you should tape your hands.” He stopped and turned. He took off his headphones. “Hey,” he said. “Chef told you?” “Yeh.” “He’s done this to me and my mom my whole life. It’s no big deal.” I looked at the blood dripping off his knuckles. “Uh-huh,” I said. “Anyway, I got something for you today.” I reached into my back pocket and handed him a brochure. “What’s this?” he asked, opening it up. “It’s the place I go to.” “Hey, that’s you!” He looked at the brochure for awhile, checking out the details, and my before-and-after pictures. “If you want to try it out, I’ll foot the bill,” I said. Was I really doing this? “No shit?” he said, not without suspicion. “Yeh, sure. Now go get cleaned up and will have some dinner.” As we walked upstairs, he said, “Thanks, Dad.” Then he added, “Those are some real sweet ‘before’ shots of you,” and he started to snicker. “Smartass,” I said, and I grabbed his nipple and gave it a hard twist.

Things went along smoothly for awhile. I was still gaining, and depending on what time of day I weighed myself, I was coming in at 395 to 405. Getting on the scale after a big meal and a gallon of mass gainer shake laced with creatine made a big difference. Max was coming back to his old self, with his “aren’t I hot as shit” attitude, especially as his body got more and more muscular, and his modeling jobs got more lucrative and classier. He had gotten more respectful to me and the household staff, though, which was a pleasant leftover from the estrogen. And he and I were wrestling in the backyard whenever we got a chance. I didn’t use my 200lb weight advantage to kick the shit out of him like I had the first time. Instead, I used it to give him the workouts of his life. Tossing him about. Letting him struggle as hard as he could to budge my steely mass. He would pump up like crazy, and so did I. Afterwards, I’d drag his ass into the pool cabana and give him another kind of workout. I got him a membership to the UFC gym I went to, and, of course, after only a week, the owner told me that Max was one of the most gifted athletes he’d ever worked with. He said that he could look into getting a contract with the UFC for him. Max had told me recently that he had been made captain of every sports team he’d ever been on, starting in third grade. Some things never change. No wonder he had a big ego. And I still didn’t know how far I could trust him. Who knew what kind of revenge he might be plotting in that handsome head of his. He probably felt the same way about me. Then one day, I got a call from my wife. We’d been keeping in touch fairly regularly until recently anyway. She’d mentioned to me that she applied for a work/study program at the Uffizi Gallery in Florence, and she was calling to tell me that she’d been accepted. I was taken aback when she told me it was a six month program. I told her I could fly over a couple of times then, and pictured myself standing naked next to Michelangelo’s David, so people could see what Goliath would have looked like, massively out-sizing the young king in every way. But she balked at the idea of me coming over. “Um, there’s something else I need to tell you,” she said. “I’ve met someone.” “Oh, yeh?” I said. “Who?” “He’s an Italian count.” “A what? That’s still a thing?” I asked. “Yes, apparently. His title is Count of Turin. He has a palazzo in the hills above Florence, and a villa on Lake Como. His homes are full of artwork and history. And he’s asked me to move in with him.” “Is that right?” I said, growing angry. Does he still have all his teeth, I wanted to ask her. Because I’ll come over there and punch them all out, then mop the terrazzo floors of his palazzo with his face. I bet Count Homewrecker couldn’t deadlift 1200lbs for so many reps that his myostatin-free lats were about to rip thru the skin. But did I really have any room to judge? “So, are you going to do it?” I asked. “Oh, Charlie, I think I am. Don’t be upset.” I’m not upset, I thought to myself. Besides, I’ve met someone too. Someone you know. Really well. Take a guess. Starts with an ‘M’ and ends with ‘ax’. But I didn’t say that. I mean, after all, who sends their wife to Italy for a couple of months, and then is surprised when they hook up with a count. So I told her to figure out what she wanted, then contact my lawyer. We ended the conversation at that. As I walked through the living room, I stopped and looked at the grand piano. I didn’t play piano; I had gotten it for my wife. The exterior wall of the living room was all retractable glass, leading out to a large terrace. I opened the wall completely. Then I dragged the piano outside. It made quite a ruckus. As I peeled off my shirt, one of my housekeepers peeked out to see what was happening, but quickly retreated back inside when I rammed my bare fist thru the side of the piano. I grabbed hold of a handful of piano wires and ripped them out thru the hole. Then I punched another hole into the piano. Then another. And another. It felt so good. Then I slammed my big forearm down onto the piano lid, and it cracked in two. I crawled underneath the piano and lifted it up on my back. Then I lifted it overhead. Wires hung from the sides like a disemboweled alien. I looked up and saw Max watching me from the living room. He stepped outside and said, “What the fuck, Charlie?” “I just got some bad news, and I’m blowing off some steam,” I said. I’d tell him later about his mother. “Speaking of blowing, you wanna suck me off while I press this piano overhead? I got needs.” “Um, ok,” he said. “You sure it’s safe?” I bobbled the piano back and forth from one hand to the other, to show him how easily I could hold it up. He got on his knees and underneath the piano, and undid my shorts. He pulled out my dick and took it in his mouth. He couldn’t take the whole thing, but just having his hot jock mouth pop over the head got me going. We got into a quick rhythm, me pressing the piano up and down while he bobbed up and down on my thick log of a cock. I felt like a huge version of Superman, being serviced by a muscular Jimmy Olsen. It didn’t take me long to bust my load down his throat. Maybe, I thought, I should upload the video of this from the outdoor security system and send it to the little woman. After he finished draining me, I put the piano down, and we crawled out from under it. As I was stuffing myself back into my shorts, Max said, “I’m afraid I have some more news that you’re not gonna like. I just heard from my dad.” “Oh, yeh?” I said. I was only paying half attention, as I felt up the bloated pump in my arms. Even unflexed, my biceps swelled out like honeydew melons. “Yeh. Seems that he’s out of prison.” “What? I thought he had like 19 years left. Did he bust out?” “No, he won his appeal.” “Nice,” I grumbled. Our fucking legal system. “And I kinda told him he could stop by here sometime if he wanted.” For some reason, this made my blood started boiling. If I hadn’t been roid raging before, I was now. I went at Max, picked him up, twisted him around, and wrapped my arm around his neck from behind. I lifted him off the ground in a choke hold, my engorged 29” biceps crushing into his esophagus. I yanked him back and forth, and he flopped around like one of those advertisement balloon men. “You invited that mutherfucker to my home without even asking me? What’s he gonna do, hang by the pool with you?” I snarled into his ear. “What do you think I’ll do to him if he shows his face here?” I noticed Max’s lips turning blue, and his eyes bulging out, and my anger ebbed quickly. I broke my hold and let him go. He stumbled back into a patio chair, holding his neck. “I’ll tell him not to come,” he croaked out. His voice would be raspy for a week. “No, that’s okay. He can come here. I just lost my cool for a second, the news was so sudden. Don’t sweat it.” “Yeh, but you’re right, I should have asked you first. I can meet him somewhere else.” “No, no, I insist, have him come here,” I said. “You won’t hurt him?” “Me? Hurt the ex-con, pro boxer? How could I?” I grabbed hold of the back leg of the piano, and snapped it off. The back of the piano crashed to the ground with a resounding discordant crescendo. Then I snapped the thick wooden leg across my knee like a toothpick. “Well, I guess I could,” I said, tossing the broken pieces across the terrace, “but why would I? He’s really done nothing to me, Max. Have him come up. Just let me know when he’s coming, I’ll make myself scarce. Trust me.” Max looked at the trashed piano. Then he looked at me. He was clearly dubious, but he said okay. After Max left for the day, I did end up getting some good news. Jack texted me that he was back from Iceland, and that he wanted to see me, and that he had something for me. I had something for him too, and I bet mine was bigger than his. I told him to stop by anytime. Suddenly my quiet estate was turning into Grand Central Station.

The next day, I was out by the pool, working my arms and shoulders. I’d carried the pec deck and the bench press out from the gym, for an outdoor workout. I didn’t fit into the pec deck anymore, so I was using it for overhead presses, lifting the whole machine for sets of 40 reps. It gave my delt caps a nice pump, swelling them up to the size of distorted basketballs. I was wearing UA shorts and no shirt. I liked seeing my reflection in the glass of the gym windows. My big hulking frame. I’d flex and admire myself. Even my veins had veins. As I was loading up the bench press bar with three 100lbs plates on each side, Max came out. He was home early from work. He looked stressed out. “Rough day?” I asked him. “You could say that.” Then he said, “You really using 600lbs as your bench press warmup?” “645, actually, when you add in the bar. But I’m not benching it.” “Deadlifting?” “Nope.” I straddled the bench and walked up to the bar, grabbed it, then started doing curls. “Fuck,” said Max, as I repped out slow, controlled curls with 645lbs. Then, for good measure, I leaned over and did 20 reps of reverse bent over rows, before slamming the bar back on the rack. “Not bad for an old man, hey Maxie?” I said, as I turned and flexed my engorged arms and delts at him. “Holy shit,” he said, sitting himself down on a pool chair. He was already hard. I sat down on the bench. “Something happen at work today?” I asked him. “Yeh. It wasn’t good. You know, when I first started this gig, I figured the kids for a bunch of losers, but I got tot asking with some of them, and heard what kinda fucked up shit that happened to them, I could get why they were pissed at the world.” Hmm. Max, being empathetic, towards other people. That fucking estrogen. “But then today, one of them threw a candy bar at me, hit me right in the head. It didn’t even hurt that much, but I got choked up.” “Oh, no. Did you cry?” “Uh-huh.” “Right in front of them?” “Yeh. And they started laughing at me, calling me faggot, and throwing more stuff. The guards had to break it up. I can’t go back there…I can’t…” Tears were forming in his eyes. I was beginning to miss the old Max. “It’s okay, Bucko,” I said. I reached out to him and put my hand on the side of his face. Not long ago, he would have jerked his head away from my touch, but now, he leaned into my hand like a puppy. I realized that my hand had gotten so big that, if I wanted, I could palm his head and crack his skull with my grip. Instead, I caressed a tear away from the bottom of his eye with my meaty thumb. “I’ll make this better,” I said. “Go upstairs and take a shower. I’ll be up in a minute.” I think Max thought I was planning on coming up to fuck his brains out, and he did perk up, but I had other thoughts in mind, for the moment anyway. After he went inside, I got my phone and called the modeling agency, and politely requested that they find other work for Max. The woman on the phone was thrilled. “You know, we all felt that Max’s exceptional looks were being wasted there. We have so many better positions for him.” Yeah, I thought lustfully, so do I. As Max showered, I got a bag and went around the house, putting some things together. I went up to his room just as he was coming out of the shower. He was naked, toweling off his thick hair. The agency lady had been right about his exceptional looks. If anything, the estrogen had made him look even more radiant. I reached into my bag and pulled out a syringe. “I’ve got something that’s going to help,” I said. “Is it what you’re on?” he asked. “Yes.” I didn’t tell him that it wasn’t all I was on. The last thing I needed is for a genetically gifted athlete in his prime to get on the full stack I’d been using. It made me shiver at the thought of what he might become. Max turned around, grabbed the door jam, and bent over. His perfect ass made my dick jump. I walked over to him. “You ready?” I asked. “Pin me, Daddy,” he answered. I took the cap off the syringe and jabbed the needle into his flawless skin. I emptied the oil into him. I pulled out the needle, then grabbed a big handful of his wrestler’s butt cheek and massaged the test into it with my powerful fingers. When I stopped, I put away the syringe and pulled out a tube of K-Y. “You ready for another kind of injection?” I asked him. He turned around and dropped his towel. I took that as a yes. “Oh, and by the way, stop taking those pills you’re stealing from the cabinet downstairs.” “The what…?” He look stunned. “The pills. From the cabinet. They’re not what you think they are.” “They’re not?” He said, without even trying to deny that he was taking them. “No. They’re not Dianabol. It’s estrogen.” This took awhile to sink in. “The fuck…” he said. “How?” “I switched them out. Just in case you decided to steal from me. Which you did.” His face flushed red, either from anger or shame. Maybe both. He clenched his fists. “You psycho,” he said, and came at me. He pounded on my chest with his fists. He may as well have been pounding on a rhino hide. My 79” chest soaked in his blows easily. I heaved it out at him, which made him even madder. “That all you got, girlie boy?” “I hate you,” he said. “You stole from me,” I said, looking down at him over my big chest shelf. “You tricked me!” He pounded and pounded. “Little thief,” I said. I walked into him, moving him back. “I hate you,” he repeated, like pre-teen brat who’d just had his phone taken away. “I hate you more,” I said, mocking him. I grabbed him and lifted him, my hands on his upper torso. His feet dangled. “I should crush your thieving ribcage like an eggshell,” I said. “Do it, fuckface,” he dared me. I lifted him higher and squeezed, not hard enough to break him, but enough to hear the air whoosh out of his lungs. He kicked at my thickly muscled abs, but it was like kicking tractor tire treads. He was just hurting his feet. “Tiny little weakling,” I snarled, shaking him. “Juicehead freak,” he wheezed. I squeezed harder. His dick swelled. I lifted him higher and held him overhead like a ballerina. I tilted my head back on my thick neck and lowered his cock in my mouth. He let out a loud groan of pleasure. “Use me,” he gurgled. I squeezed him harder and felt his ribs compress. It was like I was squeezing a tube of toothpaste; his precum was already oozing out of him. I pumped him up and down with my big arms. This wasn’t going to take long. Who knew anger sex could be so stimulating. I was raging hard myself, and I was going to drain every drop of jock cum outta the little fucker. Despite the estrogen, he came long and hard. I finished him off, and tossed him onto his bed. His face was a little blue, so I let him catch his wind as I lubed myself up good. Then I mounted him, and for the next hour, I used his tight squeezebox as my own personal depository. Over and over, without pulling out, stretching his hole with my giant dick, making him beg for more. My very own size queen stepson, pleading for me to breed him. Sometimes, I imagined him being his dad. That’s when my eyes would glaze over in revenge rage. New daddy fucking old daddy. Oh, how I would fuck that guy up if I met him. That’s when I had to remember to hold back my thrusts, so as not to damage Max’s insides. Although he seemed to love it. He took every load. I wondered if all my gear-laced batter would effect his rebound from the estrogen. It couldn’t though, could it? Not too much anyway, I figured.

I came into the kitchen around 8AM. I had just finished my 2 mile swim, and my bike ride around town. I wore my 75lb weighted vest for both, so I was tight with swole. Also, I had taken to stopping at a scrapyard at the edge of town, where the owner let me lift old appliances and machines. I found that lifting things like refrigerators or riding lawnmowers worked my muscles differently than weights. Balance was much more of a challenge. And I discovered that refrigerators were crushable. Ripping a car door off its hinges wasn’t as hard as I’d expected, either, but folding the door in half and then into quarters was tough, although it really gave my fores a workout. It was a rush when the windows would suddenly shatter into hundreds of shards from the pressure build-up. There were plenty of lengths of iron and steel that I could work my grip strength on, too. Today, I took sheets of corrugated steel that I bent into angles and shapes with my hands. I liked the sound that the metal made as I twisted it. It was like making balloon animals, but with steel. By the time I was done, my forearms were engorged and burning with pump. They felt heavy, like clubs of granite. The owner said I could probably sell the pieces of mangled steel as abstract art. He had a point; they were very abstract looking. I told him the name of the museum where my wife worked, and if he wanted to check into it, he could keep anything they might offer for them. When I got home, I stripped off my vest, so when I walked into the kitchen I was shirtless and yoked. When Chef looked up at me, he said, “Whoa! I didn’t think you could get any bigger, Boss.” I was working Chef overtime lately, and had hired two assistants for him, to help with all the extra shopping and prepping, since I was eating six to eight meals a day now. Max was just sitting down to the breakfast Chef had made him. Even with morning bed head, the kid looked astonishing. When he looked up at me, he said, “Don’t you own a shirt?” Little smartass. “Max,” I said to him, “there’s a leaf in the pool. Go skim it out.” “I just sat down to eat,” he protested. I took a step towards him, and he jumped up and headed out to the pool. “…goddamit..” he muttered on his way out. “Check the chemicals while you’re out there. They were a little off yesterday.” As he went out, I picked up his plate and started eating his breakfast. “You want your usual breakfast, too?” asked Chef. “Yep,” I answered, my mouth full. My usual breakfast was now a twenty egg omelette with vegetables, and a pasta bowl full of oatmeal. When Max came back in from the pool, I was putting his empty plate down on the table. “Did you just eat my breakfast?” he asked. “It was getting cold,” I said. “Now put your plate in the dishwasher where it belongs. Chef’s not your slave.” When he looked like he was thinking about slugging me, I clenched my 8 pack roid gut, just as a warning. I rubbed my hand down the thick, protruding stomach muscles and stared at Max. He put the plate in the dishwasher. “Now I’m late for work. Goddamit.” he said, and left the kitchen to run up to his room to get ready. “You’re kinda hard on the kid, aren’t you, Boss?” said Chef. “I mean, not that it isn’t fun to watch, but…” “Yeah, maybe you’re right. Do me a favor and throw something together for him to eat at work.” Chef pulled some stuff out of the fridge, then got out a small Yeti cooler to put it in. When Max came downstairs, he went right out the kitchen door. I followed him to his car. “Hey, Max,” I said. “What now?” he grunted. “Here, take this with you.” He turned around, and I handed him the cooler. As he took it, suspiciously, I said, “Don’t worry, I didn’t spit in it, and it’s not poisoned.” “Thanks,” he said, still dubious. “And I wanted to let you know, you can use the gym here at the house anytime you want.” “Why are you being nice to me?” “When am I not nice to you?” I said. He laughed. And that smile, good lord, no wonder girls threw themselves at him. I felt an electric jolt run up my dick. We stared at each other for a second too long. His eyes were azure blue and hard to look away from. “I gotta go,” he said, flustered. He got into his car. As I watched him drive down the driveway, I felt a little guilty about what I’d done to him at work. I’d called the modeling agency and asked them to give him the worst assignment they could, and I made it worth their while. So for his first week, Max was going to be modeling for art classes at a juvenile detention center for teenage boys. I went back to the kitchen and had my breakfast. I added extra brown sugar to the oatmeal. I don’t know how anyone could choke it down without it. At least it sated my ravenous hunger for awhile. Then I went down to lift. I liked heavy training on a full stomach. It felt like it forced all the nutrients from the food flooding into my growing muscles. And the bloated pumps were insane. I weighed myself after. Came in at 329. My ego wanted more, so I guzzled down a gallon of water and weighed myself again. 337lbs. That was better. I’d sweat a lot of it away during my afternoon leg session, but I loved seeing the scale read that much. Plus, with all the creatine I was taking, my muscles could hold a lot of water weight, which I liked. Helped me lift heavier. Afterwards, I went up to my computer room. I still did some consulting work for the firm that bought me out. It brought in a decent amount of money, not that I needed it, but it also kept me in the loop. While I was up there, I checked the home security footage from last night. I saw that there had been motion detected in the gym at 2 in the morning. The cameras had captured Max, in his underwear, snooping around, just like I suspected he might. He looked thru some closets and shelves before making his way to a seven foot cabinet against the far wall. When he found that the cabinet was locked, he looked stumped. “Come on Maxie boy, you can figure this out,” I thought to myself, even as I admired his rounded jock ass. Suddenly, he reached up and ran his hand along the top of the cabinet. His hand stopped when his fingers touched something. The key. He picked it up. Even in the grainy footage, I could see his handsome, evil smile. He unlocked the cabinet and looked inside. Then he pulled out a white bottle of pills. I didn’t have to see it to know that the label said Dianabol. After all, I had put the bottle there, after I brought it home from Dr. Lazarus. I wanted to throw Max off the track of my own stash, which I kept in a hidden wall safe in my den. I had also had Dr. Lazarus replace the Dianabol pills with estrogen pills. Max did a fist bump in the air, and quietly hissed out a “yesss!” Then he opened the bottle, and took out some pills. He recapped the bottle and put it back. Then he locked the cabinet, and put the key back on top. He left the gym, all pleased with himself. How college boy didn’t think that a multimillion dollar house like this just might have motion- activated security cameras is beyond me, but I had to give it to him, he worked fast. And it did make me feel much less guilty about getting him a shitty first modeling gig. I didn’t say anything to Max about his thieving that night, or for many nights after. I kept an eye on the security footage, and about every other night, he went down and took some more pills. During that time, I had a good growth spurt, and was now 6’8” tall and 350lbs of shrink wrapped muscle. And stronger than ever. Max, on the other hand, was getting weaker and softer. One day, after I’d just finished a 2 hour leg workout, Max came down to the gym. These days, I was training in custom-made posers. Even they were hard to pack myself into, my junk was growing so fast. But I liked being able to see as much of my muscle as I could when I lifted. Max came to a dead stop when he saw me. My poser was soaked thru with sweat. It was as transparent as an overstretched condom. Max stared at it. “That can’t be real,” he stammered. “You wanna measure?” He nodded. I saw goosebumps form on his forearms. I went over to the locked cabinet, grabbed the key and unlocked it. I pulled out a cloth tape measure, and walked over to him. “Strip naked,” I told him. He looked a little nervous about the cabinet doors being open, but he quietly and quickly undressed. He was swelling up fast. “Now pull my poser off me, boy.” “Oh god,” he said. He got on his knees and grabbed the sides of my poser. He had to stretch them out to pull them over my massive glutes and down my tree trunk legs. My dick plopped out and hung down, turgid put not yet erect. “Measure my quads first,” I said, handing him the tape. He took the tape and wrapped it around my thigh, his hand brushing up against my big ball sac and trunk-like cock. “Fuck,” he stammered, “Thirty-seven inches.” He measured the other leg and got the same number. He rubbed his nose across my dick, and quivered. “You want it bad, don’t you, Bucko?” “It’s so thick and weighty,” he sighed. He was now rock hard. “Measure it.” He took the tape and measured the length of my shaft. “9.5 inches.” “Now suck on it and see how much bigger it gets,” I told him. He didn’t need to be told twice. He took me in his mouth. I let out a deep grunt of pleasure. His hot fucking college jock mouth worked me good. I swelled and kept swelling. Then I pulled his mouth off me. “Measure,” I commanded. He taped me out at 13 inches. A long rope of pre hung from the tip. He measured that too. “16 inches,” he said. “Eat it,” I said. He ate it from the bottom up. The he went to go down on me again, but I stopped him. I went back to the cabinet and grabbed a bottle of body oil. I walked back over to him as I poured the oil over my 74” chest, and let it run down. I rubbed the oil all over my torso, then my cock. Then I picked him up and threw him over my shoulder. I carried him outside, and laid him on the pool deck. I pinned his ankles up behind his ears. I poured oil all over his exposed ass. His balloon knot was twitching and he groaned in anticipation. “Comfy?” I asked him. He nodded yes. I got on top of him. Good thing he was flexible. His oiled up ass skin felt like buttery satin. I popped my dickhead into him and we both grunted. “You ready?” I said. “Hurt. Me,” he responded. I had to be careful not to do that too badly. His former pear-shaped stepdad was now a myostatin-free powerhouse. I plunged deeper into his college jock ass. I was going to breed him into next month, but I didn’t want to rip him apart with my rail-splitting 13 incher. I went slow and easy at first, and he was going wild. “Harder,” he begged. So I went harder. And deeper. I got into a thrusting rhythm, and we were both grunting in sync. I poured more oil on him, making him slicker. I dripped sweat all over him, marking him with my scent. “Careful what you wish for, punk,” and I rode him and started fucking him harder, bruising into his tight ass. For twenty minutes, I brutalized his jock pussy. Then I plunged into him, deep as I could, and pulled him into me. He arched his back, allowing me to go even deeper, and held my 13 incher inside him, bellowing like a Brahman bull. And fuck if we didn’t both cum at the same time. I stood up still impaled inside him, and walked us into the pool. I dunked us both for his second baptism since his arrival. He clung to me, his arms around my thick neck, and started softly weeping. “You okay?” I asked him. “Hell yeah. That was the best. I guess these are tears of joy, but I don’t get it. I don’t think I’d ever cried in my life until the last few days, and now all kinds of things choke me up.” I was pretty sure I knew the answer to that, but I wasn’t going to share that with him. Not yet.

When I went to the UFC gym now, I didn’t grapple with the owner anymore. He was too easy for me to pin. Instead, I had him use my torso as a punching bag. I wanted to toughen my core. Although now that I was doing one arm pull-ups while wearing a 75lb weighted vest, and planks with two gym members standing on my back, jumping, my core was pretty tough, but I wanted it more so. Having an ex-Marine UFC fighter work me over bare-fisted was a good way to achieve it. I barely felt his punches, but I liked hearing the thuds. My skin didn’t even welt. He said it was like hitting an overdeveloped cyborg. When his arms grew fatigued, he’d chose one of his stronger students to step into the ring and work on me for awhile. I would flex while they hit me, and to make it more interesting, I would spontaneously grab hold of them, yank them around in different holds, then lift them overhead and toss them over the top rope of the octagon. I liked how their limbs flailed wildly as they flew across the gym. I also liked the look of intimidation they had on their faces when they stepped into the ring with me. I had gained 15 more pounds of muscle since my weigh-in with Dr. Lazarus, so I was now over 300lbs of shredded, grainy beef. I had also gotten my hair buzz cut and bleached blond. I looked like a pro wrestler from the 90’s. So by the time Max arrived, I’d say that I was more than ready for him. I was in the kitchen when I heard him pull up in his red Mercedes AMG roadster convertible that my wife bought for him. With my money. Fucking kid. He came in thru the kitchen door and dropped his duffel bag on the floor. He was good looking as ever, with his thick jet black hair and piercing blue eyes. He looked up at me and said, “Who are you?” Like he owned the place. I was downing a protein shake, so I didn’t answer. “Where’s Chuckles?” he asked. That was the nickname his dad had come up with for me. Like I was a joke to them. Assholes. “What are you, like his bodyguard or something?” I finished my drink and wiped my mouth. I took a step towards him. I saw the look on his face. Intimidation. At 6’5”, I was three inches taller then him. Not much, but enough. Especially considering I weighed 310, and he weighed about 210. The look didn’t last long though, not on this cocky kid’s face. “Why don’t you look a little harder, Max?” I said to him, stepping closer. He got a puzzled look on his face. Then the dawning of recognition. “Chuc…Charlie?” He said, deciding to drop the nickname. “Yep.” “What the fuck are you on?” “I’m on a roll, bud.” “You know that shit just adds water weight. You’re all bloat. It’s not functional. That’s why I never touch the stuff,” he said, haughtily. “Um, Max, you know that credit card your mom gave you for college expenses?” “Yeah, what about it?” “You know that I’m the one who pays it, right?” “So?” “So, I can pull up everything that you buy on it. And I’d say, by the quantity of sarms and peptides you’ve been ordering, that you’re supplying not only yourself but you whole wrestling team.” That gave him pause. I could see him trying to scroll thru his memory for all the things he’d charged that he wished I didn’t know about. “That’s messed up, man. That shits private.” “Not when I’m paying for it, it’s not. And you know I’m a tech geek, right?” “Yeah, so?” “Well, I know you know, because that’s what you call me in your texts to your buddies.” “The fuck…?” “Because I hacked into your phone, and I’ve seen how many girls you’ve been ghosting, and how you brag to your friends about it. Your mom would be so proud.” “That’s totally fucked up, dude.” I’d never actually hacked his phone, but I knew his type, and how they treated girls and then laughed about it with their cronies. I could guess what his texts were like. And his face was so bright red, I knew I was right. “Girls throw themselves at me all the time. They deserve to get ghosted, the little sluts. But you reading my texts is worse than anything I’ve been doing.” “Maybe you’re right. I’ll tell you what. Let’s arm wrestle for it. You win, and I’ll forget everything I read and will never hack your phone again. I win, and you have to clean my toilets for the rest of the summer.” I flexed my 25” arm at him. I knew it was 25” because after my appointment with the doc, I had come home and measured it. 25”. Cold. And veiny. With 18” forearms. Max was looking at my arm warily. “What’s the matter, stud? It’s all bloat. It’s not functional.” His face looked like he was trying to recalculate his estimation of me. “Although, I have a better idea. Let’s wrestle,” I said. “You’re the big national champ wrestler. Let’s go out back, you can show me what you got.” I saw the confidence come back to his face and demeanor. “Oh you’re on, old man. I will kick your fat juiced up ass.” He was riled up. Good. I led him out, past the pool, to the backyard. We both stripped down to our briefs. His body was flawless, and in peak condition. But I could see his bravado fading as he got a good look at my extreme vascularity, along with my myostatin-free mass and rock hard density. “I tell you what, junior. I’ll let you pick. You want top position, or bottom?” “Top,” he answered quickly. I got down on all fours. He positioned himself by my shoulder. “Ready when you are,” I said, and he started trying to maneuver me, but I didn’t budge. He tried to wrench my thick neck, to no effect. He tried my arms. Nada. He tried to roll me. He tried a single leg attack. Then a double. Nothing worked. He clambered onto my massive back and tried to leverage me. He couldn’t move me. I let out a slow loud yawn. That pissed him off. He got off me and stood up. He was huffing with frustration. Then he kicked me mid-torso, hard as he could. Unfortunately for him, my external obliques were hard as rebar. He fell to the ground, howling and holding his shin. “Okay, my turn for top position,” I said. I got up and took hold of him with my powerfUl hands. I mangled him into hold after hold. I worked him all over the yard, leaving divots in the sod. I mocked him as he grunted in unbreakable holds. I made him tap out, repeatedly. Then I threw in some pro wrestling moves, just for fun, moves I had learned from guys at the gym. A few suplexes. (I loved suplexes. Good thing for Max that the lawn was soft.) A choke slam. A powerbomb. A couple of clotheslines. Leg scissors, my huge legs crushing the wind out of his lungs. Then finally, as I could sense him about pass out, I shoved his face deep into the sod. I leaned into his ear and growled, “Who’s your Daddy?” He was hard to understand, with his face shoved so deeply into the plush lawn, and with my ponderous bodyweight on top of him, so I made him repeat it a couple of times. “You are,” he pledged, over and over. I think he’d of said anything just to get me off him. “That’s right, MaxiPad.” I could do nicknames, too. I stood up over him as he groaned in abject defeat. As he crawled to his hands and knees, I said, “Now I think it’s time for a little baptism.” I picked him up and lifted him over my head. I carried him down to the edge of the lake, and tossed him in. I smiled as his limbs flailed before he hit the water. I waded in after him, grabbed him by the back of his neck, and shoved his head under. I let him flail some more before I lifted his head out of the water. He gasped for air. Then I dunked him again. More flailing, but much less vigorous. I pulled his head up again and let him breath. Then I dunked him one more time, down to the silty lake bottom. I rubbed his face in it until the water grew cloudy. I lifted him out and dragged him to the shore by one arm. I plopped him down to the ground. His hair and face were covered with lake muck. He struggled for breath. I might have felt bad for him, but he had years of arrogant tool behavior to be beaten out of him, so I thought this was a good start. Once he had recovered sufficiently, I said, “Let’s go up to the house and I’ll give you a list of chores that you’ll be doing this summer.” He looked at me in disbelief. “Fuck that,” he said, “I’m outta here.” He started to crawl up the grassy slope back to the house. I grabbed onto his ankle and squeezed it firmly enough that he yelped. “Uh, no, that’s not gonna happen. You see, I’ve been hacking into your laptop for awhile now.” Which I had. My bad. “You have interesting taste in porn, by the way.” “Oh, fuck,” groaned Max. “Yeah. Who knew that some of those gay porn stars were so hung? Or that you were such a size queen. Because I also have access to your webcam. I didn’t know they made dildos that big. And how you can fit it all the way in. That’s a talent.” “Oh my fucking god,” whimpered Max. “And, I was thinking, wouldn’t it be interesting if one of the videos I uploaded of you were to end up on your university’s webpage. Or your wrestling team’s Facebook page. It probably wouldn’t stay up long, but it’d be interesting.” “You’re a fucking psycho!” “Yep. A psycho who owns you. Now let’s go up to the house so you can check out your list of chores.” He limped along behind me as we crossed the lawn and as we walked by the pool, I put my arm around his shoulder and pulled him into me. He tried to pull away, but it was futile. I had four times his strength. Maybe five. “Come on now, boy. Chef is making an extra big meal tonight. Maybe I’ll let you eat.”

Today was my appointment with Dr. Lazarus. As I drove to his clinic, I was in a great mood. This morning, Jack had texted me, and said that he had gotten hired by the modeling agency I told him about. And he was leaving tomorrow for a three week shoot in Iceland. “I’m so stoked,” he texted. “And the pay is ridiculous. And if they keep using me, I’ll be paying you back in no time.” “I’ll miss you at the Shake Shack,” I answered back. “You should stop eating that crap anyway, old man. Start eating clean, bro” “Call me old man to my face next time, see what happens” He answered with a wink emoji. Cute fucking kid. I was so happy for him. I pulled into the strip mall parking lot and went into the clinic. When the doctor came out, he said, “Can I help you?” Like he’d never met me. “Doc, it’s Charlie. I have an appointment.” I wish I’d taken a picture of the look on his face. He came out from behind the counter and looked me over. “This is astonishing,” he said. “I mean, you said you had grown, but I’ve never…no one’s ever responded this dramatically. Come on back to exam room.” I followed him back to the room, and got up on the exam table. It creaked loudly under me. “Hold on, Charlie, get up on the scale first, I want some measurements.” I got up and stepped on the scale. He raised the height bar to the top of my head. “Well, I’ll be…” he said. “You’re six foot five.” He looked at the digital readout. “And you’re 294lbs. My gosh. Hold on, I want to measure your body fat. Take off your shirt.” He turned to the cabinet and opened the drawer and pulled something out. When he turned back to me, he gasped and staggered back against the cabinet. “Charlie,” he said, “I’ve never seen such extreme muscular development before. Your myostatin level must be near zero!” Until my encounter with Jack, I hadn’t focused too much on flexing. But after seeing his reaction to my biceps flex, I started finishing up my workouts with a good half hour of posing. It had become an erotic experience for me. The way the muscle swelled and tightened, like each body part was an engorged cock. And I improved my muscle control with every session. So now, I flexed into my most-muscular pose for the good doctor. His eyes widened as he witnessed my muscles ripple and swell. He dropped the fat caliper he had pulled out of the drawer. He crouched down to pick up the caliper, and looked up at me. I flexed my abs, and my eight pack clenched up hard, framed on the sides by my thickly developed Apollo’s belt. “Jesus,” said Dr. Lazarus. “Are you happy with these results?” he asked me, as he stayed crouched, my massive torso looming over him, my skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat. “Yes and no,” I said. “I think this is awesome,” and I hit a lat spread that could compete with any pro bodybuilder, “but I want more.” The doctor stood up. I said, “And I don’t think you need that,” nodding at the caliper. I pinched the skin on my abs between my thumb and index finger and pulled up. I rolled the paper-thin skin between my fingers. “I’d say 2 to 3% at most.” “I’d say that sounds accurate,” he said. He put the caliper on the counter. Then he pulled out a measuring tape. “I’d like to get some body measurements, if you don’t mind.” “No problem, Doc.” “Let’s do your chest first. Just hold this end between your pectorals.” He put the tape in the center of my chest. I flexed my pecs until they covered the end of the tape and pinned it in. “I meant with your finger,” said the doctor, breathily, “but that works.” Then he tried to reach around me to grab the other end of the tape but he couldn’t reach. “You’ll have to spin around for me, Charlie.” I turned slowly, and he pulled the tape across my back. “My god, your back. It’s like the Farnese Hercules.” “What’s that?” “It’s a statue I saw in Italy. It’s a large and heavily muscled version of Hercules. It’s what inspired me to start this clinic, to see if I could help a man achieve such muscularity. And now we’ve done it. In fact, I’d say you’ve surpassed it.” I finished turning back towards him, and saw the hardon he had in his pants. He got the tape to my left lat, but he stopped there. “The tape only goes to 62 inches,” he said. “It looks like we’re about 6 inches short.” I heaved my chest out, and as it expanded I looked down, my chin resting between my pec mounds, and I said, “More like 9.” “You’re right. We’ll say 71 inches.” He tugged the tape out from my deep pec crevice. He fell into me a little bit, his hands on my chest. “You okay, Doc?” “Yeah. Just a little lightheaded. Let’s do your quadriceps next.” I was starting to get hard, too, and the doc’s forearm brushed against it thru my shorts as he crouched down. “I’m so sorry,” he stammered. “Don’t sweat it. I’m so goddam horny all the time, anything gets it going. Inanimate objects get it hard. Air gets it hard. You just being this close to me wakes it up.” “Has it gotten bigger, too?” “At least 2 inches. Probably 3. And thicker, too. And it’s more of a darker purple color than it used to be.” “Oh god,” groaned the doc, as he got on his knees. He taped out my left quad. “Thirty-two inches.” “You want me to flex them?” “They’re not flexed? Yes, go ahead and flex.” I tensed my leg muscle, and the tape stretched to 35”. “That’s bigger than my waist,” said Dr. Lazarus. “I noticed that tight waist of yours, Doc.” “I play a lot of tennis,” he said, flustered. “Ah. That explains the plumpness of your ass. Like Nadal’s.” “Oh my god, Charlie. Fuck. Me.” He didn’t have to ask twice. I pulled my shorts off, and my big dick plopped out. He grabbed a tube of K-Y jelly from his cabinet and lubed me up. I almost came just from his smooth hand stroking the gel onto my cock. He pulled down his pants and lubed himself up. I bent him over his exam table, and plowed into him. I tried not to be too rough, I didn’t want to split him open like a ripe melon, but even so, every thrust made the creaking table inch along the floor, until it was wedged against the far wall. But then the table started to buckle, so I lifted the doc and air fucked him until I finished off inside him. After we cleaned up and got dressed, we went to his office. “Sorry about your exam table, Doc,” I said. “I’ll pay you back.” “You already have, Charlie.” He gave me my kit for the month. “I added some extra test, but I don’t think you need it.” “I’ll be the judge of that,” I joked. Then I asked him for something else, a favor of sorts, that I knew wasn’t exactly licit. He frowned at first, but then said okay. “I won’t ask,” he said. “It’s better that you don’t,” I answered. He didn’t need to know that it was a surprise for my stepson.

Over the next couple of weeks, I developed a routine. Up at 5, woken by deep, aching growth pains. Then twenty minutes of stretching to a YouTube video that I watched on the wall-mounted flatscreen in my home gym. It hurt so badly at times, but I liked it because I knew my body was changing fast. After stretching, I swam. After a week of doing laps in the pool, I got bored with having to turn so often, so I started swimming in the lake at the end of my property. The lake was over 2 miles across. Swimming in open water was more challenging than the pool, but I worked my way up from a couple hundred yards to 2 miles. And I worked my time down from over an hour to just under 45 minutes. My shoulders and back grew broader and more powerful every day. Then I’d bike. Harder every day. And faster. I got to where I kept the bike in its highest gear, even uphill. My quads were starting to look like Robert Förstemann’s, the German cyclist. Thick and hard. Powerful. I would then stop for breakfast at McDonald’s, or IHOP, or a local diner, and stuff myself. I was always hungry. I liked seeing how people looked at me, doing double-takes. My whole life, no one had ever done a double-take, seeing me. Now they did. A lot. I stood out in a crowd. My muscularity was becoming advanced. And I was getting taller. I’d texted Dr. Lazarus about it, and he said he’d never heard that happening to someone my age, that my growth plates should have closed years ago. Maybe, he texted, that would explain the severity of my growth pains, but he would check it out when I came to see him. Every day, after breakfast, I would workout in my gym. I had quickly advanced to hundreds of push-ups a day. And I was doing weighted pull-ups. I researched powerlifting routines and realized I needed heavier equipment if I wanted to maximize my size and strength. So I ordered a squat rack and more weights. A lot more weights. I started doing heavy squats, benches, and deadlifts. It all felt amazing. I added more weight every day. The positive reinforcement I got from the gains made me look forward to pinning myself. My pear-shape body was long gone. And I’d gained 60lbs of muscle. My wife left for her Italy trip. Before she left, she’d expressed concern that I was getting too obsessed with my workouts, that I was big enough, and she was right, but I wanted more. And when I told her I’d chartered a private jet for her and her sister, and hired a private driver for their whole trip, it seemed to dissipate her concern. In the afternoons, I went to a UFC Gym I’d found in town. I started there 6 weeks before Max was due to arrive. I signed up for private lessons with the owner, a former Marine with UFC experience. I went 6 days a week. “Are you sure you never wrestled before?” he asked me when I started breaking every hold he put me in. “Just with quantum algorithms,” I said, as I pinned him to the mat. One day, after training with him until he was too worn out to keep going, I drove over to the new Shake Shack that was close by. I placed my order with a server named Jack, who was checking me out hard. He was a tall, good looking young dude with a Machine Gun Kelly vibe, minus the piercings. When he brought my food over, he leaned into my ear and said, “You are fucking hot.” Ballsy, I thought, given that he didn’t know anything about me. Although I’d been eyeing him up pretty hard myself. I’d been with guys before, but not since college. And I’d never been hit on by a dude this hot. “What time’s your break?” I asked him. He looked at the clock. “Fifteen minutes. If you want, pull around to the back parking lot, I’ll meet you out there. If not, enjoy your food and have a nice day.” Smooth, MGK, I thought to myself. I took my food outside, and scarfed down my burgers. I took the lid off my shake and gulped it down. Then I got in my car and pulled around back. It was a big, empty lot. I backed into a shady spot off to the side. Jack came out right on time, running his hand thru his thick blond hair as he sauntered over to my car. He got in in the passenger side. “Nice ride,” he said, checking out the interior. He was even better looking than I thought. What the hell was I doing? “How old are you, Jack?” I asked. Please be older than 21. “I’m 24.” Phew. “What are you into?” “Right now, I’m into a jacked up freak who drives a Tesla X, and who has quads that look like they could crush a keg.” “You want to touch them?” I asked, making the thick thigh muscles bulge. “Heck yeah,” he answered, and without hesitation, he reached over and put his hand on my quad. “Holy shit, man, but I never felt muscle this hard. And so many veins.” I tilted the steering wheel and moved it out of the way. He slid in closer and moved his hand up higher as we stared at each other. “You’ve got some sick arm size, too.” I slowly flexed my left arm for him. The sleeve of my tee was already pushed halfway up my deltoid, and it slid farther up as I flexed. We watched my biceps muscle balled up thick and round, with a peak so high it almost reached my fingers. The peak that I’d just used earlier to choke out my martial arts instructor. It had pushed into his hard leathery neck like it was soft putty. He’d tapped in seconds. “Touch it,” I told Jack. He reached over and ran his finger along the deep split that ran across the peak. “Fuck,” we both said at the same time. I put the seat back farther, and pulled him over, onto me. His hand moved from my arm to my shoulder. He leaned in and bit down on my earlobe, then started sucking on it. I gripped down on my armrest so hard that I heard it crack. He pulled his mouth off my ear. We stared at each other from inches apart. His face was flawless. His teeth were perfect. He put his hands on my big traps and squeezed them. “Your neck is so thick. I bet you’d be hard to choke.” “Try it,” I said. I’d been doing neck bridges since I started mma training, and was up to 25 reps a set with three 45lb plates on my chest. He put his fingers around my neck and squeezed. “Fawk,” he whispered, his fingers unable to dent into the thick muscle column. I felt his hardon on my abs. “Just how strong are you?” he asked me. “Very.” He started groping my chest. I flexed my pecs under my thin tee. They rose to my chin and pushed his hands with them. “You could snap me in two,” he said. “Probably.” He shuddered and laid himself on me. “I have to get back inside.” “What’s a guy like you doing, working here?” I asked him, pulling him into me. “You should be a model, or in Hollywood.” “I’m working here part time while I finish my degree. Although this gig doesn’t cover much of it. A couple years ago I took some time off and joined the Peace Corps, but that ended with the pandemic.” I lifted him back into the passenger seat like he was a doll. I looked him over. What a completely different young man than my stepson. “Take out your phone,” I told him. He pulled it out, and I said, “I’m airdropping you the name of a modeling agency here in town. You should check it out.” No reason not to give Max some needed competition. “Cool,” he said. “Do you have Venmo?” “Yeah. Why?” “I’m sending you something.” “Why?” “Because you’re a good kid who could use a bump.” And because you’re so goddam sexy I could take you right in the backseat. Of my car. Right now. He looked at his phone, and I saw his eyes widen. “Dude, did you just send me $10,000?!” “Yes.” “Man…I can’t…you can’t…” “Yeah, well, I just did.” He looked at his phone again. “Geezus,” he said. Then, “I’ll pay you back one day.” “Yeah, I believe you probably will. But you don’t have to.” He opened the car door and got out. He stood there, adjusting himself. “Are you married?” he asked. “Yeh.” “Will I see you again?” “I don’t know if I could control myself.” “Good. Text me if you want to lose control.” He shut the door and walked away. Halfway back to the restaurant, he waved without turning around. Because he knew I’d be watching his sexy ass till it disappeared into the Shake Shack.

Incredibly hot story

The Prelude may be found HERE The preceding chapter may be found HERE My Hulk-daddy is Paying Chapter Five He returned home. Their i-house behaved predictably: "Welcome home. Dr. Nelson. Your body temperature and perspiration level are. Above. Average. Do you want me to prepare a cooling bath?" "No." Rob took the thick skiing jacket off, and began to remove his clumsy but sturdy ski-boots. He was tired, but satisfied. "Robbie?", Nates familiar voice greeted him from another room. "Yes. Home. Missed you." The Machine turned around a corner, approached him and hugged him, saying in a mocking tone: "Ah. The hero has returned! How did it go?" "Two dead, but we saved the lives of twenty-six. Those who say that Civic Hancer-chapters don't fill a purpose, don't know what they are talking about. After the avalanche, us brothers were able to do certain things the baseline rescue team and the machines weren't able to. I'm exhausted, but it's times like this I feel that my life serve some sort of purpose. I didn't just get big for my own sake." "I would have joined you up there, if Coach had allowed me, but I had to prepare for that match." "I know. I don't blame you. Family. Work. Neighbourhood. Citizenship. Fun. You know what I think." Nate didn't answer. He kissed him instead. "Podotelly released it a few hours ago." Rob tensed. Nate enjoyed when Rob tensed his muscles, but not in that particular way. Rob sighed. "Disaster? How did they edit it?" "Could have been worse. I want to have fun with you, Hancer-guru. Before or after watching?" "Fun after watching. I will probably need to let off some steam after Podotelly, and Marketing will probably hunt me down as soon as they hear, that I'm back from the snowy great outdoors, to put a spin on it. I don't like Marketing. I don't ..." "Hush. I've heard it before. I prepared some lentil salad for your return, and ... i-House!" "Yes. Nate.? How may I be of assistance?" "Mix four litres of vanilla flavoured Hulkabolic Gro Bro 3000." They could hear the sound of a mixer starting from the kitchen. "Come, join me in the sofa, so we can get rid of it all. Calm down. I began watching. It could have been worse." Nate activated the i-screen, left Rob in the sofa, and went to the kitchen, to fetch the food. The scene on the screen looked exactly the way Rob expected it to look. "Hello, and welcome to Podotelly's Widescreen, the television pod for you who like how television pods used to be back in the good old days. I am your host, the hologram of the late Mr. Jeremy Paxman, and tonight we will discuss Hancing and Trans-speciesism: Threat or Opportunity? But first a pre-view on next episode's debate: Are horse-carts the solution to Inner City environment in the Deluge Economy?" Rob sighed. Nate returned with the food. Rob stuffed himself. The pod continued: "... and famous psychologist, debater and nmlogger Dr. Ernest Schuster-Slatt. Well, we all watched the initial clips from a commercial produced by the company where Dr. Nelson work. They grow big boys bigger, or so they say, and you have studied this matter for quite some time now, haven't you?" Dr. Schuster-Slatt was a thin-limbed and slender individual with a pale complexion and a receding hairline, wearing a two-piece suit in the new modern plastic fabric, but it didn't look flattering: "We live in a society lost in nostalgia, but not a nostalgia about the past as it actually was, but an imagined past. Men and women have been working side by side in almost all lines of professional occupation for generations, and already before the Crisis some young men struggled to come to terms with what it mean to be a man in the modern age. Some sought the answer in their embodied existence, began to valourize muscular strength and size, and spent significant amounts of time on physical exercise, nutritional supplements and enhancing drugs. The Post-War era saw the rise of Hancing technology for non-military and recreational use, and it attracts a certain segment of the male population today, characterised by narcissism, hedonism, immaturity and a low level of self-esteem. From a psychological point of view, Hancing – as it actually is used in our society – isn't a solution to a problem. On the contrary: It constitute a problem on an individual and public level." The hologram interrupted: "Before you continue, let us allow Dr. Nelson to share his point of view on the matter. You have heard a summary of Dr. Schuster-Slatt's criticism. You work at a Hancing company, and you are a publicly visible high-profile Hancer yourself. What do you have to say?" If he had known about the heat from the spotlights, Rob hadn't chosen to wear a three piece wool suit. Sweat trickled from his temples, and it caused him to look dodgy. Something about the lighting caused his icy blue eyes to look arrogant. "To begin with, when we talk about 'Hancing in the modern sense, we are talking about two things. We are talking about a particular biomedical and physics-based technology, and like all technologies it has to be used responsibly. All and every tech can be abused. At the company where I work with Hancing, we take particular care to ensure, that people who want to buy our products follow a stable psychological profile. Secondly, we are talking about a particular sub-culture, which has emerged around the possibilities enabled by Hancing-technology. I have personally been involved in the emergence of the Hancer sub-culture, and I can assure Dr. Schuster-Slatt and all your viewers, that it is a sub-culture based on certain values. Chapter-affiliated Hancers improve their bodies in order to better be able to improve their neighbourhoods. Hancers talk a lot about 'The Common Good'. Something the Interplanetary War taught us who grew up in those years was a sense of duty." "I can't allow this debate to deteriorate into some sort of commercial for Hancing.", Dr. Schuster-Slatt interrupted, "In my profession, I have seen countless of men, who had their lives ruined either by violent and abusive Hancers in their surroundings or by Hancing-processing of themselves going wrong. They shouldn't be allowed to modify their bodies at all. Authorities ought to prohibit all tampering with human DNA, hormones and morphic fields." "Excuse me?", a shrill voice interrupted from another chair. The voice belonged to an anthropomorphic person of undecided gender with purple fur, cat-like eyes and a distinctly feline shape of their head. A purple cat-like tail moved in an upset way. "Do you say, that you want to rob thousands of Anthro-identifying people out there of their cure?" "Don't interrupt me, young lady.", Dr. Schuster-Slatt snubbed the being in an arrogant and harsh tone, but his snub was met by an upset shout: "Did you just assume my species?" The debate turned worse from there. Rob sighed again. "I want to watch it to the end, but, if they didn't edit it more severely, the quarrel between those two shifted much of the focus away from Hancing, which might be just as well. Not my proudest moment." "You didn't tell me how purple they were.", Nate said, and kissed Rob's ear. "Have I told you, that your sweat smells good, when you just have saved human lives?" * * * Next chapter is found HERE

Chapter 8 I spent most of my Saturday at the theater with Dave learning my blocking. I’d passed out immediately after having dinner, even though I’d intended on enjoying myself a few more times before sleeping. My day really took it out of me. Dave woke me up at dawn, but I’d slept for almost ten hours and was full of energy, even without my usual coffee. He threw me in the shower and stood outside the stall, shouting instructions the whole time so I didn’t ruin my hair. We had a large and boring breakfast—mostly protein enriched oatmeal (who knew that was a thing?)—and then went to Dave’s favorite tanning salon. “I’d prefer to do it with the sun,” Dave sighed, “but we don’t have the time.” While I was being baked—nude so I didn’t have tan lines (apparently that mattered)—we ran over our lines again. By the time I had a tawny hue, I had the script down cold. Saturday morning and afternoon were likely the most repetitive hours of my life. The same scene, over and over again, for hours. We only took one break for lunch. Dave was mostly happy. Mostly. I couldn’t cry on cue. Despite that, he actually told me I had a knack for acting. If acting was always this repetitive, it wasn’t for me. At one point, I asked Dave why he cared so much about this showcase. It was just one scene. It wasn’t a full play or anything. “It’s the senior showcase,” Dave answered. “Only seniors get to be in it, and it’s the first show of the school year. You do well in the showcase, you have your pick of parts for the rest of the year.” “So, this is important?” I asked. “Only very.” He dismissed my worry with a flippant hand gesture. “You’ll be fine.” Curtain was seven, and ours was the last scene in the showcase, but we started getting into costume at five. It has never, in my life, taken me two hours to dress. But Dave agonized over every little aspect of every last thing. I was bigger than his former scene partner, so we switched costumes so both of our costumes were slightly tight. I was using Dave’s belt at a notch just below the one he normally used, so he got me a whole new belt so the leather wouldn’t look worn around one of the holes. I had trouble sitting still as Dave applied my make-up, and Dave had to try three foundations to find the one that matched my new tan. Despite the meticulous, painstaking detail-work, Dave never lost his temper or got frustrated. He was in his element. When it was finally time for us to go on, I was completely calm. In less than 48 hours, Dave had fully prepared me. I could’ve done the scene blindfolded. Which was good, because the only thing he didn’t tell me was how bright stage lights are. It was like staring in the sun. When the lights came up on our scene, I heard a familiar voice come from the audience. “Yes! Rock on!” James cheered and applauded loudly. I heard a rustle of commotion in what I could only imagine was Luke pulling James back down into his seat. The scene went perfectly. I didn’t drop a line, I did everything Dave had told me to do. I even managed to work up two or three tears at the end of the scene. Doing it in front of an audience just made it more real, somehow, and the tears came naturally. But when the scene ended, the audience was dead silent. “Dammit!” I thought. “I ruined Dave’s big scene. He’ll never forgive me…” That’s as far as I got in my self-doubt before the audience exploded into an eruption of applause. I tried to squint through the stage lights, and it looked like everyone was standing. Luke was loudest above all. When the curtains fell, I turned to Dave to congratulate him, and he tackled me in a hug. “You were phenomenal!” Dave said. “Me? Did you hear them cheer for you?” “Us, Chrissy. They were cheering for us. I’ve never had such a dedicated scene partner in my life. You never complained, you just put in the work.” He melted into a smile. “Next time we have to cram for chemistry, remind me of tonight so I don’t complain.” I was about to crack a joke, when Dave interrupted me. “Oh,” he said coolly. “My old scene partner has made his way backstage to congratulate me. I must needs rub my success in his face.” With that, Dave left me. I was only alone for a few second before I felt a swift slap on my ass. “Now that’s what I’m talking about, babe!” Luke shouted. I spun around, completely shocked. “Chris! Buddy! Sorry! Dave really made you look like him.” I rubbed my ass—he’d slapped it really hard. “Your Dave’s over there,” I said, pointing to the other side of the stage, where Dave was uproariously reenacting the very scene we’d just performed. “Thanks. Sorry again,” Luke said sheepishly as he ran to his boyfriend. No sooner had Luke gone then James came backstage, raced up to me, lifted me in the air, and spun me. Even with all my new bulk, James was strong enough to lift me effortlessly. His arms wrapped all the way around my waist and met his elbows on the other side he was holding me so tightly. “You were spectacular.” After we’d made two complete circles, he put me back down. “Thanks.” “No, for real. I really thought you were a mirror.” “Thank you, James,” I said through a laugh. “I like you blond. You should keep it.” “Maybe.” Luke walked back over to us. “Come on, James. Let’s go outside where there’s some air.” “Just let me get changed,” I said, “and we can all walk to the party together.” I changed in a flash, and we were on our way to the party. It was in a communal house off campus populated entirely by theater majors. The party was much more my scene. There was a DJ playing music, a designated dance area, and a rainbow of alcohol. A throng of buzzing people milled about, talking, telling stories. A small circle formed around Dave and me as we took turns recounting how we’d crowded a month’s worth of rehearsals into two days. No one asked how I got big so quickly. No one seemed to care. But everyone told me how good I looked. Whenever that happened, Dave said, “Thank you.” I wasn’t much of a drinker, but it was a party, so I asked Dave if I could drink. “You don’t need a permission slip. I’m not in charge of your food anymore, puppy.” He handed me a light beer. “But you might want to stick to these if you want to keep that girlish figure.” The night progressed with the four of us dancing (with each other and with other people), and more laughter, and the thirtieth recitation of how Dave and I had rehearsed. We were apparently the highlight of the showcase. After my third light beer, I turned to Dave and asked, “Do light beers have less alcohol than normal beers?” “No, why?” “Normally, after my second beer I’m sleepy and after my third beer I’m comatose.” “Ah,” Dave understood. “There’s more of you to soak up the booze. Pace yourself until you learn your new limit.” That was an unexpected upside to my new physique. Deciding not to push my luck, I went to the kitchen, took an unopened bottle of water from the fridge, and headed back to the dance floor. By the time I got back, Dave and Luke were intimately grinding up on each other, and James was in the corner having an intense conversation, so I decided to just dance by myself. “Mind if I cut in?” a familiar voice asked. It was Victor.