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Speech500

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About Speech500

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    real profile.
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    Male
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    Gay
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    Bodybuilding, travel, cooking
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    200lbs, 5'9"
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    Stories
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    300lbs, 6'0"
  • Favorite Stories
    -
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    Owen Powell
  • Got Any Fetishes?
    Muscles, domination, strength

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  1. Speech500

    Smitten

    Obviously the only fault in the story is Chris's resolution. I think the way you switched back and forth between the two stories was an interesting concept and with some refinement it could be amazing. Overall I really enjoyed this story. The characters are compelling, it has a good arch, and a happy ending. It's sexy in parts and emotionally affecting in others. Well done.
  2. I really am trying so damn hard to enjoy this story. It's why I keep coming back - out of the hope that it will go somewhere fulfilling - either Trevor gets a growth spurt or Seth falls in love with him or... something other than a never-ending series of humiliating scenarios. Seth is *such* a cunt. He's a dick. An asshole. I hate him with a passion. He doesn't just adore himself, he makes himself feel bigger by belittling the others around him. And as someone who was once in the position of the little guy, he knows how it feels and has no excuse. I want to believe he still sees Trevor as a genuine friend, but his actions show otherwise. It even states in this chapter that he sees Trevor as a tool by which to demonstrate his own growth - and that shows, because it's all Seth ever does around Trevor. Maybe the author is trying to show some parallel with Seth growing bigger externally but becoming less and less of a man inside, but I'm not getting that sense. And I'm starting to hate Trevor for allowing himself to be so cruelly mocked, for never standing up for himself. Literally every encounter with Seth results in Seth being a spiteful bully and Trevor never decides to cut that shithead out of his life. It's hard to sympathise with Trevor when he is allowing this abuse to happen. Brooke is the only redeemable character here. She is the ONLY character who I can sympathise with. I'm too invested in these characters to stop, but at the same time, it's so sad seeing what they've all turned into.
  3. Speech500

    .

    It's obviously polite to get permission. But if you don't, I think a disclaimer and maybe a link to the original artist and their work is all you need. We don't expect people on fanfiction.net to get permission from he creators of their favourite stories. It shouldn't be expected here. You are completely within your rights, when writing no-for-profit, to produce fanfiction of any work you choose.
  4. Love this story. Everything you write is great.
  5. I've said this like three times now, but this is my favourite story going on and I'd love for you to return to
  6. If anyone wants to pay me to write a story, I'd be happy to.
  7. Thank you all for the kind reviews. I'm glad the ending didn't leave anyone too unsatisfied. This story ended up at over 60,000 words, which puts it at novella-length, so I'm glad it pleased some of the people on this site.
  8. There it is, all finished up. Look, I'm going to be honest with you. I'm kind of burning out on this story. I had a whole other conflict planned with a replica superpower from China, and the events of this chapter were going to stretch across a dozen chapters or more. But the story felt like it was starting to drag, I want to write different stories, I want to focus more on my own bodybuilding training, and I have Navy Basic starting in March, which will completely rule out anything like this. I didn't want to leave this story hanging. So while the ending may feel rushed, I hope you forgive me. I can't overstate how much I appreciate all of the feedback that this story has received. It's been so overwhelmingly positive. It has made me feel better about myself, about my writing, and I feel like I've made multiple friends along the way.
  9. Here it is, ladies and gentlemen, the final chapter. Chapter 29 The next month passed in a blur of sleepy mornings, good food, and laughter, as Dean and I travelled the world. We visited all the standard places, mostly at my insistence: Venice, the Grand Canyon, Paris, Hong Kong, the Pyramids of Giza, the Taj Majal, Rio, Angkor Wat. But Dean always had somewhere new hidden up his sleeve. A midnight flight to see the Northern Lights above Greenland, an ancient ruined city he had found in the deserts of Saudi Arabia, once part of the Frankincense trail. In the otherwise impenetrable jungles of the Congo, I saw wild gorillas gathered in enormous packs, unlike anything you could ever find on TV. I marvelled at Roman ruins in Lybia, made impossible to reach by the civil war. Once he took me to watch a volcano erupt in Indonesia. His senses had picked up the activity long before any seismology equipment did, so we were able to watch it first-hand. Dean took pride in making my face light up in wonder and awe. I was all too happy to oblige. Wherever we went, we had the most incredible sex. Sex in the shower, sex on the grass, sex hovering in mid-air (now that was a strange one), sex in palaces and sex in mud, on islands, in caves. I came on every continent. Give me a year or two and I’ll have every country ticked off my list. Dean’s superhero project went on the backburner. At first we said it was just until the media died down around his abilities. But we both knew that the moment he stepped onto another crime scene, all the speculation and politics would burst back into life. I’d always been better with computers than Dean. And I found fan sites, conspiracy theories, petitions for Dean to assassinate certain world leaders, horrible homemade experiments which people believed would replicate his powers. And I found a lot of porn people had drawn and written about him. I decided that he didn’t really need to see any of these things. I was worried about what the governments of the world would do to manipulate him into acting on their behalf. I knew it was only inevitable that they would make another attempt to steal the secret of his power. He never said it, but I think he had stopped because he was too scared of leaving me again. We got married in summer. Just the two of us. We’d gotten this far almost entirely alone, and that’s how we wanted to end it. But we had each other, that’s all we ever needed. There were elaborate plans for the ceremony – Dean wanted a big church, tuxedos, a horse drawn carriage, doves. He wanted me to feel like I’d just stepped into a fairytale. Little did he know I’d been living one since the day we met. I wanted it done quick. A shotgun wedding in Vegas. I didn’t care about the pageantry – our relationship was never about that. I wanted him. I wanted to be Jake Lawson and I didn’t want to wait for the damn doves to have a free slot in their schedule. We argued about it. I won. I always win our arguments. While I stay rational and calm, his stubbornness soon gives into emotion and it’s all downhill from there. Then I start kissing him to calm down, he takes hold of me, and the sound of shouting and screaming is replaced by the sound of… well… screaming. The good kind. The marriage was every bit as absurd as I’d hoped it would be. I was drunk out of my mind. Our priest was an excellent Abraham Lincoln impersonator. And Cher was our witness. Was it a man under all that makeup, or a woman? I don’t know, but Cher showed a shine to Dean regardless. When she got a bit too touch-feely with his biceps, I had to take her aside and lay down the law. Back off, bitch. He’s mine. I may have slapped Cher. Luckily she was wearing so much rouge that it would be impossible to see if I left a bruise. I like to think I did. I returned to find a cheesy smirk on Dean’s face which could only mean he’d heard it all go down. He held me extra close for the rest of the evening. Even while I was vomiting up a pint of Jack Daniels into one of the Bellagio toilets. It was a night of highs and lows. Dean helped out the government a time or two. He would always insist on including me in the calls with Victor Delaney, and then with the man who replaced him as Home Secretary. At first the Minister sneered at the idea of ‘Mister Langley’ listening into such precious secrets. Dean could barely hold back his anger as he snarled out that I was, in fact, Mister Lawson now. Once it clicked in Delaney’s head that Dean almost always followed my suggestions on how to proceed, he became a lot more polite. Sometimes it seemed like he was talking more to me than Dean. There was a hostage situation in Egypt, an earthquake in Brazil, a forest fire in America. Once he called up to report an imminent terrorist threat in London – but the government didn’t know who would execute it, where they were hiding, where they would strike, and when. This was the kind of problem that only Dean could fix. It helped that we both had a painful history with terrorism – I didn’t need to persuade him to agree. In exchange for his service, the government provided us a cushy home in Central London. It had tall ceilings (which Dean enjoyed), a beautiful kitchen (which I enjoyed) and the largest bed I’d ever seen (which we both enjoyed many times). I was put under permanent protection by the secret services, though they were careful to stay out of sight. And I picked up my old job working for Jolene at the café. Life was starting to come together. We were together. We were happy. Then I had my first heart malfunction. It was like the breath had been knocked out of me, and I collapsed to the floor. I felt a pinching pain in my chest, and the tips of my fingers started to tingle. Dean was there in a second, cradling me, checking me with that x-ray vision of his. Whatever he saw, it scared him. I don’t know whether the government had put in a word for us at the hospital, or whether they were all just terrified of keeping Dean waiting, but we were whisked along at a breakneck pace. Dean refused to put me down the whole time, even when I assured him that I was feeling better. I was put through a number of scans, fluids were taken, pictures snapped of my brain and heart. I just wanted to go home. The smell of antiseptic, the bright sterile lights – it was all getting to me. Then we were sat down in a quiet room, where a man in horn-rimmed glasses told me that I had a very rare heart condition. He told me I had two months to live. And then we were silent. We were silent all the way home, and we didn’t speak for the rest of the day. What was there to say? What do you do when your life comes crashing down around you? When the future that once stretched out so far and beautiful suddenly ends, just like that? No time to tie up loose ends, no climactic moment. And beyond that lies… what? The afterlife? I hope not – if I’m being judged, I’m going straight to hell for slapping Cher. And where does that leave Dean? He offered to force the entire world to dedicate its medical expertise to tackling my condition. I know he was being serious, but I laughed, and turned him down. Honestly, I was scared. Not just for myself, but for him. I’ve seen how he acts when I’m taken away. He becomes an obsessive, unstoppable terminator, destroying anything and killing anyone who gets in his way, until he has me back. But when I die, there will be no reunion. That’s it. I’m gone. I can’t say how Dean will take it. I know it won’t be good. If he turns violent, there could be nothing stopping him from tearing the world apart. So I hatched a plan. Dean seemed to think that with my diagnosis, everything changed. I insisted that it didn’t. We would carry on as we always had. I could still travel, and make love, and cook. The last thing I wanted was to spend my final days tied up in bubble wrap. I had two months to live. I was determined to live them. We paid a visit to Kat in Bristol when I’m said I wanted a chance to see her before… Before I go. That was only part of the reason. While we were there, I encouraged Dean to speak with Brad. Maybe foster some kind of tentative friendship. I would be gone soon. Dean would need a friend in his life, maybe someone to look up to. I believe Brad can fulfil that role. He has experience in combat, in morally difficult situations, he knows what it’s like to intimidate everyone around him with his sheer size. Those are things I can’t relate to. Of course, both he and Kat took a while to get over the fact that my (already gigantic) boyfriend appeared many inches taller and hundreds of pounds heavier than he was the last time they saw him. He made Brad look like a runt. If that annoyed Brad, Dean’s charming personality soon won him over. Considering their first meeting involved one of them being shot and the other being choked, they set that aside with surprising ease. I suppose that makes sense, considering the lives these guys led. As an expert in Krav Maga, Muay Thai, Boxing, and currently working as an MMA instructor, Brad’s skills were astonishing. Once he demonstrated a few moves, Dean was eager to learn. While he was distracted, Kat helped me with my plan. I had left something important here, long ago, and it was time to collect. She could barely keep the tears out of her eyes as we talked about all the good times we had shared. But this was goodbye. Two months later, and here I am. A withered husk of myself. My body slowly dying, but I like to think my spirit has never been stronger. Stood in the kitchen, struggling to lift a pen, wincing with pain as I scrawl out the words, I lay out the final step of my grand plan. I write a letter. At first I stare down at the lines and nothing comes to mind. There’s just too much to say. And so much of what I feel can never be put into words. But I soon get a rhythm going, and it all comes flooding out. Dean, My goofball. My indestructible, unstoppable, charming, protective, handsome, tall, loving, compassionate, intelligent, charismatic, muscular, beautiful goofball. I love you. I love you more than any words will ever be able to express. But I’ll do my best anyway. As a tear hits the page, some of the letters begin to smear. When you came striding into the kitchens of the Shard and into my life, covered in fire, half naked, looking for all the world like a superhero, I wouldn’t have guessed I was looking at my husband-to-be. I thought that was the end for me, not the beginning. But I never knew what it was like to live, to be happy, until I met you. I loved you from the day you left that note under my pillow, I just didn’t know it. And every day after, I fell for you a little more. I fell for the way you hold me close, the way you bury your nose in my hair as we sleep, the way you cross your arms and frown when you think I’m unhappy, the way you’re always trying to make me smile. I fell for that little grin that only you can do. I fell for your laugh, your deep voice that always makes me feel safe. The way you gobble up my pastries like they’re the greatest thing on earth. The way you let me win every argument, and apologise even though you haven’t done anything wrong. Thank you. Thank you so, so much. I’m not scared to die. One day with you is all I ever needed. I got so many wonderful, incredible days. And all I had to do was speak to a lonely boy who was sat on his own in a school playground a long, long time ago. Can you believe that? Time and time again, you have rescued me. I’d have died a dozen times by now, if not for you. The man who saved me. But we can’t always win. Not every story has a happy ending. And when my heart stops, I will be thinking of you. This is the end of my story, but I can’t say where yours will go. What I do know is that you have a difficult task ahead, and I won’t be around to help. But I have no doubt that you can do it. I trust you. Dean Lawson, it’s time to save yourself. Jake. I read the letter to myself, my heart flickering weakly in my chest like a candle burning out. I don’t have long now. But before I close the envelope, I reach into my pocket and pull out something and slip it inside. When I die, Dean will need to decide if his life goes on, and if so, what form it takes. He has never had that choice before. Such an important choice could be a burden, but it is also a gift. My final gift to him. He has struggled so long for control. Of his life. Of his emotions. Well here it is. I take a final look at the three red pills at the bottom of the envelope, then seal it shut. Dean appears in the doorway, just back from fighting some tsunami off the coast of Ecuador. His chest glistens in the light. He looks as hard and powerful as the first time I saw him. "Hey baby. You okay? I thought we could take a nap together." "Sure." I say, wiping the tears from my cheeks. I push myself up from the table on shaking legs, and Dean is instantly by my side, supporting me as I make my way to the bedroom. My heart skips a beat, and Dean stares at my chest. "I'm fine." I say. He rolls his eyes. We lie down together in our usual positions, and for the final time, I fall asleep in the arms of the man I love. THE END
  10. Your comments always bring up interesting questions. Dean's power is finite, but it's so large that it would be pointless to put a number on it because he can do anything that he wants to do. E.g It doesn't matter if you can lift 1000 tons or 1000000, you can still crush a rock just the same. Dean's power grows as he does, and he can feel that change, but it won't really affect his ability, because there's nothing that can push him even close to his limit. Does that make sense? And I haven't forgotten about the pills.
  11. Who doesn't love some good, old fashioned growth? Chapter 28 I’m stirred awake by a very unusual sensation. Dean and I are in our usual positions. His arms are wrapped tightly around me, one curling over my side and the other resting under my head. Our legs are entwined. His nose is buried in my hair. But he feels strange. It’s like he’s moving… but he isn’t. At first I wonder if I’m dreaming. I feel the fingers of his right arm sliding ever so slowly further down my back, and yet his upper arms stay perfectly still. Under my touch, his rippling obliques seem to move, but Dean’s position hasn’t changed. I open my eyes and stare. Every part of him is shifting. My nose is buried in the crevice between his pecs, and I can feel that space growing wider and deeper. It’s like every time he takes a breath, pushing his chest out, his body holds onto the size. And it finally clicks in my head. I realise what’s going on. He’s going through one of his growth spurts, right here, right now. To confirm my theory, I place my hand gently over one of his abs and let out a silent gasp as it swells, millimetre by millimetre, to take up more of the space beneath my palm. As quietly as I can, careful not to wake him up, I look down the bed and see his feet extending further off the edge of the bed. His arms balloon out as if they have an insane pump, the veins becoming more pronounced. The striations on his chest get follow suit as the two iron slabs gain new width. I can feel his legs squeezing into mine as his powerful quads start filling out, taking up more space. The gap between his arms, previously just enough to be confortable, is now oppressively tight. And I start to worry. What if he expands so much that I’m crushed? There’s no way I could ever free myself from this grip. How much did Dean grow last time? Three inches, wasn’t it? Six eight to six eleven. I can already tell that this is something different. It couldn’t have been so extreme last time. “Dean.” I whisper. “Dean, wake up.” When he remains asleep, I start pounding on his chest until my hands are bruised. My voice raises until I’m shouting. Dean doesn’t stir. Now I can’t feel my legs any more. There’s no circulation. My ribs strain against his passive strength. It’s getting hard to breathe. Just as I start to think I might die here, the growth comes to a stop. And Dean opens his eyes. “Morning baby… woah, are you okay?” My body is released, and I hunch over, wheezing. “What happened?” He holds me upright with a huge hand on my shoulder. There’s an expression of guilt plastered on his face. “You…” I let out a harsh cough that hurts the back of my throat. There are pins and needles running down my legs as blood rushes back in. “You grew.” “Again?” Now he looks around, examining himself. “I do feel different. You look a lot smaller. And I feel really… strong. Like, a lot more than usual. And I usually feel pretty strong anyway, so that’s saying something.” “Why didn’t you wake up until it finished?” “I don’t know.” A confused frown tugs at his lips. “I guess my body forced me to sleep through it. I’ve always been alone when I’ve grown, so I assumed it was too subtle to notice. I’m sorry for hurting you. Are you okay?” His eyes trail over my body, probably searching for bruises with x-ray vision. “I’m fine.” He rolls his eyes. I know that’s become my trademark phrase by this point. “There was nothing subtle about what just happened, Dean.” I take his hand and press mine against it. The difference is striking. His were always significantly bigger, but now my entire hand can be contained within his palm. His fingers are as thick as two of mine side by side. The back of his hand is webbed with veins, and his knuckles are big, hard lumps. I’ve never seen a hand look so strong in my life. I don’t realise the full extent of the change until we both stand up. In the time I’ve known Dean, I’ve gone from staring straight forward at the middle of his pecs, to just below the nipple, and now I find myself looking at his abs. Not even the top row, the second ones down. Yesterday, he could stand comfortably, now his head almost touches the ceiling. I didn’t think it was possible for his muscles to grow larger or more defined without becoming grotesque, and yet the body before me is both more muscular and inexplicably more beautiful than before. Every muscle has swelled, pressing the veins and capillaries to the surface. The ridges between his abs and pecs and quads have become sharper. Somehow he’s become more defined. The striations are so visible that even standing still, his physique is alive with motion, twitching, jumping, dancing. Every inch of him conveys a single word, loud and clear: power. Raw, uncontrollable, unstoppable strength. I find a tape measure and start dragging a chair toward him, but it immediately becomes clear that it won’t be enough. So I jam the end of the tape between two of the toes on Dean’s monumental right foot. He bends down to take me by the hips. This is the first time he’s ever needed to bend to do that, and I also noticed that for the first time, his hands are able to completely circle my hips. He lifts me like I weigh less than a feather until my head is the same height as his. I fight off the feeling of vertigo from being so high, stunned that this is going to become Dean’s new normal. It’s so far to the ground, and yet he fills every inch of that space. “Please don’t be above seven feet, please don’t be above seven feet, please don’t be above seven feet…” “Dean, I don’t want to freak you out, but you’re probably past that.” The dismay on his face confirms my statement. I really don’t know why he has such a problem with the seven feet mark. Last time he was so relieved to be five eleven, as if the one inch difference was everything in the world. The tape doesn’t have much length left in it when I get to it above his head. “You’re not going to believe this, Dean…” “What is it?” Now he sounds really worried. “Seven foot-“ “Shit. “Seven.” Dean’s eyes grow wide with dread. “What?” “That’s what it says. You’ve grown eight inches.” “No, that can’t be right.” He starts to stutter, tripping over his words. “I can’t be seven seven. I’ve never grown that much before. And I’m at the end of puberty, so it should be stopping, right?” I can only shrug. It’s not like Dean follows the usual rules of biology. “A lot of guys have a second growth spurt in their early twenties. Though… never this extreme. You know, you were eleven inches taller than me when we met. Now you’re twenty-two inches taller. The height difference has exactly doubled.” “Fuck. No, there must be a mistake. I can’t be a freak.” “How do you think I feel? I need a step ladder to kiss my boyfriend. And you know how much I love jumping up on your back when you’re not looking. I’m the only guy on earth who gets to demand impromptu piggy back rides from a god and I sure as hell can’t do that now.” “Check again, Jake. I can’t be-“ “Dean. I checked.” He collapses onto the bed, still holding me. I feel my heart rush into my throat for a moment as I plummet through the air. It’s a long distance to fall. His abs move with each breath, flexing and unflexing, and my body moves with them. “Seven foot seven… I can’t believe it. This is the worst day of my life.” I give him a light slap on the cheek. “Oh, stop moaning.” “You don’t get it. People will look at me like I’m a monster.” He really can be so dramatic sometimes. “A lot of them already do that, Dean. Even when I met you, you were the size of a Mr Olympia winner, and half a foot taller than most of them. You were never exactly subtle. And anyone who speaks to you for more than five seconds will realise you’re just a sweet, goofy, normal guy. You have a reassuring voice, a kind face, and bright eyes. And if they don’t bother to look past the abs, fuck them. Who cares what they think?” He takes a long time to respond. I cross my arms on top of his pecs and rest my head between them, waiting for him to figure this out. “What do you think?” “I think you’re perfect.” “No, I mean really.” “I’m not just saying that. You’re what every man on earth wants to be. Every male ideal brought to life. Handsome, cute, muscular, tall, rugged. I definitely don't think you're a monster.” “You don’t?” He eyes me warily. “Hell no! Between you and me, it’s kind of hot how big you are now. Don’t you remember the last time you grew happened? I practically leapt onto your dick.” As I say this, his mouth falls open. “So you honestly think I look better now?” “Miles better.” The caution gives way to a cocky smile. “What about when I do this?” He flexes an arm, causing the biggest, roundest, hardest bicep I’ve ever seen to spring to life. My breath catches in my throat. I reach out and wrap my hand as far as I can around his bicep and feel warm, rippling stone. And it doesn’t just feel like the most solid muscle in history. It is. There has never been a physique as impenetrably hard. “Your pulse has picked up, Jake. I guess that means you approve?” Now he starts bouncing his pecs, and that smile gives way to a full blown smirk. His eyes shine when I wipe away the saliva from the corner of my mouth. “Maybe being a big guy isn’t too bad.” He lies back and lets me explore his new body. The dense new mountains of his sculpted back, traps bigger than my delts. I can’t help taking a picture of our feet together. If you said it was a photo of a grown man next to a five year old child, most people would believe it. As I worship every inch of him, I quickly discover that something else has grown too. “Holy shit, Dean. There’s an anaconda down your pants.” He pulls back the elastic of his boxer briefs and takes a deep breath. His eyebrows rise in shock. “Wow.” “You have my permission to fuck me with that thing, but if I survive, I’m nicknaming you ‘Vlad the Impaler’ forever after. Be warned.” The joke makes Dean laugh, vibrating the whole bed, but frankly, I’m not sure how sex is going to work with a penis that big. And if he keeps growing… “I’m gonna’ need a lot of lube. And maybe some ibuprofen.” Dean’s cock twitches at my touch, and rapidly starts to harden. “That can be arranged.”
  12. I think this is a good point which I hadn't considered in my comment. I kind of imagined this chapter setting up a big/small couple in Seth and Trevor. But both people in this equation want to be dominant. There's very little difference between Trevor 'finding peace' in his inadequacy, and simply being psychologically broken by it. His size, and his desire for size, are such a core part of who he is as a character that it's hard to see him accepting and enjoying the position of a submissive, smaller partner without basically abandoning his dreams through sheer hopelessness. It would be a hard thing to write, if the author chooses to go that route. So I'm interested to see how it unfolds. As much as I would love to see this chapter as a lead up to Trevor's big growth spurt, you're probably right.
  13. This story continues to give me very mixed feelings. The quality of your writing and the number of extremely arousing moments keeps me coming back. Seth gets hotter and hotter, and I found him incredibly attractive in this chapter. But I'm never quite sure what to think about the humiliation aspect. It's good to see Seth becoming such a giant, but there was a point in this chapter (as there usually is) where he became outright malicious, specifically here: And here. And it suddenly became really hard to enjoy Seth's growth because I didn't sympathise with him at all. He's such an asshole. A monumental dickwad. And because we're seeing the story from Trevor's point of view, we feel the mockery directed at him, and the insecurity and bitterness he feels. We don't really feel the satisfaction Seth feels because he's not our protagonist. If anything, he's the villain. I've said before where I'd like this series to go - I think it would be cool if Trevor took all the remaining Elongro, or got a hold of a new and improved version, and became a giant like Seth. They could both have learned from their experiences and go on being huge alpha friends together. And to be honest, chapters 3 - 5 read like the beginning of a story about growth and role reversal, where our protagonist is just about to have his shock growth and turn the tables. So I go into every chapter waiting for the big twist and would be very satisfied when it happened. But that's because I don't like the humiliation aspect. However I noticed how you've introduced Trevor having erotic thoughts about Seth, and Seth getting excited by Trevor's interest. So it might be satisfying if they ended up together. I think if that happened, Trevor and Seth would become 'on the same side' rather than rivals. And if this caused Seth to take a more protective stance towards Trevor rather than constantly belittling him, I personally think that would make a good ending. But that's just based on what I find attractive, which is big, protective, sweet guys. But regardless, based on this chapter, it does seem like the story is heading in the direction of a tiny Trevor being with a huge Seth. And if you manage to resolve Trevor's insecurities about it in a good way, then that could be really hot. Everyone loves a couple with dramatic size and height differences. Any reaction on my part, even if it's just bitterness about poor Trevor, should be taken as a testament to your writing. Hell, the fact that your story has led to such strong and divisive opinions shows that you've managed to get people seriously invested in these characters. Ultimately, write what makes you hot. It's your story and if people like it, great. But it belongs to no one else but you. I'll read it regardless just to find out how it goes. I can't promise I will enjoy every part of it, but it's not your responsibility to cater to everyone's interests. The diversity of tastes which you can find on this forum is what makes it great. I wouldn't change my story (The Man Who Saved Me) to cater to someone who enjoys humiliation, and if you enjoy humiliation, you shouldn't change this story to cater for me. I'm sorry if my past comments came across as negative or critical. But I will continue to give my thoughts. Partly because I do love your writing and I want you to know that. Partly because feedback, even not-entirely-positive feedback is really useful. In writing my story, I've had people speculate on what will happen, and they brought up ideas that I never thought of. And those ideas made it into the story, and improved it. Also if anyone is curious, this is how I picture Seth.
  14. Just a little one today, it's pretty lighthearted and fun. Chapter 27 JAKE I wake up to see Dean staring at me. He has my hand between his, and his eyes are focussed on the little ring. He looks so happy. “Hey.” I whisper, my voice still rough. “Hey.” He whispers back. “What’s a place you’ve always wanted to see?” “Hmm? I don’t know if I could narrow it down.” “Do it for me.” I stretch my arms, running my fingertips along the soft linen, onto the smooth, hard skin of Dean’s chest. With my lips pursed, I look from the rock-hewn ceiling into his eyes. Eyes so blue, so much like the sea that I can’t imagine ever fearing the water again. “Italy. Some sleepy little town with ancient cracked churches and mountains in the distance, where you can hear groaning Vespers on every street corner, sip wine and eat fresh pasta by the water’s edge, and the buildings have those little crooked green shutters, you know the ones.” I sigh. “I’ve always wanted to go somewhere like that. But life always seems to get in the way.” Dean pulls me close, planting a kiss on my forehead. “Then let’s go.” “What? Now? Just like that?” “Why not? I want to take you somewhere nice.” He says, massaging the slender muscles in my back. “I know just the place.” “Okay. Sure, let’s do it.” I sit up to start packing, but Dean tells me not to bother. He says that if I need anything while I’m there, he’ll come back for it. I sometimes forget how he lives in such a different world. Distance and time mean nothing to him. If he wants to go somewhere, he goes. If he wants to do something, he does it. So as soon as we’re dressed, he picks me up and off we go. I want it on the record that I hate high-speed flying. Even when Dean does his best to shelter me, it’s cold and loud and unpleasant. Whenever we land I always need help standing because I’m so dizzy and my legs are shaking up a storm. This time is no different. However, what I see takes my breath away. “Welcome to Pitigliano.” Dean says. It’s exactly like what I always imagined. Quiet, peaceful, beautiful yet understated, ancient and yet alive. The houses are carved from cream-coloured rock, and there are ruined aqueducts and churches and shrines, little cafes and grocery shops.It’s not a large town, but it would take me days to explore every winding alleyway, every hidden courtyard. It really is like stepping into a dream. “This is incredible...” “It was nothing. But I’m glad you’re happy.” He says with a carefree smile. “I am.” I twist the ring on my finger until the butterflies stop fluttering in my stomach. “I expected Italy to be so… touristy.” He nods. “It is. I chose a place not many people visit. So what do you want to do first?” I fight off the urge to drag Dean around, pointing at everything and going ‘ooo’. He wouldn’t let me drag him anywhere so there’s no point trying. Instead, we explore Pitigliano on foot. Dean keeps a firm arm around my shoulder and I tuck myself into his side and listen to the birds, the Italian grandmas nattering about their sons. I feel the wind on my skin, warm and dry. We stop for pizza at a family-owned restaurant and the chef isn’t subtle in marvelling at Dean’s size. I don’t need to be Italian to figure out the word for ‘giant hulking fucker’. One thing that concerns me at first is how rural Italians feel about seeing two men together, hugging in public, passionately kissing up against the walls of old cathedrals. Maybe they’re really disgusted by it. But I suppose it doesn’t matter. If anyone has a problem with us, they keep quiet. One look at Dean is enough to ensure that – it doesn’t take much intelligence to figure out that annoying the seven-foot bodybuilder is a bad idea. But they wouldn’t worry if they knew him like I do. Even though I’ve witnessed what he’s capable of, it’s hard not to look at Dean and see a big harmless teddy bear who just wants to cuddle. That is, until Dean talks me into trying an espresso. I very clearly state that I hate espressos in all their forms, but he insists the taste different in Italy. When I spit the thing out, washing my mouth out with water, he laughs so loud that half the town hear it. We rent a room and decide to stay the night. I mention to Dean that he might have to fly home to pick up pyjamas. He tells me that everyone in Italy sleeps naked. I suspect that’s another lie but I like the sound of it too much to call his bluff. The room is sparsely decorated, but comes with a large west-facing window and more importantly, a double bed. I’ll never forget the feeling of Dean sliding into me as he cradles my body in his super strong hands, filling me up until I gasp, while the sun sinks below the horizon in a flush of orange and red. I’ll never forget the way he holds me close, kisses the bruises his fingers left on my skin as he ravaged me. His deep, resonant growls and grunts. Utterly dominating and supremely confident. He touches me like he owns me, like I'm his. I suppose now I am. Afterward, I touch a certain spot on Dean’s side and he flinches back. “What was that?” I ask. “Nothing.” A slow smile creeps into life across my face. “Are you ticklish?” “…No!” Now he’s glaring at me. “You’re ticklish!” I dive for him, eager to test my theory. “Jake.” Dean instantly clamps his huge hands around mine and holds them up above my head. I let out a pained yelp. As quickly as he grabbed me, he lets go, apologising profusely, checking me over for injuries. I lean into his chest, the look of distress giving way to a devious grin as my fingers find his sides. Dean bursts into laughter, twisting and turning at the sensation. Within seconds, he has me pinned down again. His eyes are narrowed. “You tricked me! I thought I hurt you!” “It worked, didn’t it? I can’t believe you’re ticklish!” “Didn’t your parents ever warn you about messing around with super powered killing machines?” “Oh, stop it.” I laugh. “What a drama queen.” “You’re going to pay for that.” And true to his word, he starts vigorously tickling me, my feet, my sides, under my arms. I struggle to breathe through the laughter, and beg for him to stop. He only grins wider. I try to push him off me, but I might as well lift a truck. “Swear you’ll never do that again.” He says. I shake my head, and another round of tickling commences. “Swear it.” Now his fingers are moving faster than I can see. It’s overwhelming. “Fine!” Dean pauses. “Go on…” “I swear I won’t tickle you…” “Good.” “…Until you least expect it.” He sighs loudly, pulling me close while clamping my arms at my side. “I guess that’ll have to do. I’d keep tickling, but I have a feeling the owners of this place are going to call the cops if you keep screaming for me to stop.” I close my eyes, snuggling into him, breathing in his musky scent. “As if they could do anything.” "I guess not." Dean snorts. “They might kick us out... but the chances of them successfully taking you away from me are zero." “So we've pissed off half the town by screaming, laughing, and fucking. Where are we going tomorrow?”
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