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SuperWaffle last won the day on December 28 2018

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About SuperWaffle

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  1. Have to say that I love your stories ... absolutely LOVE them. Thanks for writing.

  2. Do you ever plan on further developing your game, Muscle Growth - The Quest for More, or do you ever plan on making a different game, possibly with more visuals? I wish there was more interactive male muscle growth content out there.

  3. Alex and Bryan were having such a great time I just couldn't help myself: Great story by the way! Hope we see more from you in time to come!
  4. Author's Note: Just a quick little dive out of my comfort zone and into themes I don't normally write about. Feedback is welcome! PLEASE give me feedback! Please also enjoy! Halvor Hardbody Halvor was lifting the tank. He was lifting the bloody fucking tank. Slowly, surely, higher and higher, every gargantuan fucking muscle on that massive body swollen with mass and tearing more and more rents into his once pristine suit. Already huge, his body had exploded with size as the transformation took hold. Monster biceps, engorged with pure power, bulged and flexed and heaved as his sleeves finally gave way, torn to bits before the onslaught of hard, unyielding flesh. He wanted more, craved more, and I more was I glad to give. A pair of swelling, bulging mounds were growing fat and firm within his slacks, poised to blast the fabric apart as they swelled with more mass. So delicious, so inviting, I wasted no time plunging the syringe through his pants, through his underwear, almost laughing as I pulled the trigger and dosed those muscular buttocks with another round of juice. Above me, the monster roared with savage euphoria, biceps exploding to the size of watermelons as his body metabolised new power. I could hear the tank screaming in protest as sausage-thick fingers crushed into the reinforced hull, bending the steel like putty as another wave of growth swept over him. Veins thicker than garden hoses rose across the length of his arm, throbbing with the serum and causing his muscles to bulge out with impossible new power. He was growing taller now, pushing the tank further and further from the ground as six feet grew to seven, then eight. His shirt collar snapped apart as his neck expanded to the thickness of a telephone pole, a similar fate befalling his watch as his wrists grew with his body. On either side of his head, huge traps were bulging out of his flesh, hard like rocks fused to widening, swelling shoulders. I took a step back, allowing my breath to catch as I watched his lats bursting out of either side of him, spreading out and bulking up until his back assumed a magnificent Y-shape. The entire front of his shirt ripped to shreds as massive pecs swelled out of his chest, never stopping until a pair of corded, oversized wrecking balls bulged from his body. As the remnants of his shirt fell away, eight bricks of sinewy muscle punched their way out of his stomach, forming a veritable wall harder than concrete. SHRRIIIIIIIIIP! POP! A button popped off the front of his trousers as the zipper burst under the strain. Gigantically muscled thighs exploded through the legs of his pants, hulking out of his skin until they were thicker than oil barrels, every frigging muscle so perfectly sculpted I could make out every knot and fibre. There was another pop, softer this time, as enormous feet busted through his socks and shoes, his toes crushing asphalt as he steadied his growing brawn. A vile smirk graced my lips as I watched my monster grow, the last of his suit falling off him as he hulked out, bigger and buffer than any man had the right to be. It was such a pity he had chosen to wear what have been the stretchiest jockstrap money could buy, for even now I could see the straps clinging to his buttocks for dear life. How offensive. I simply had to have them removed. A low growl rumbled within Halvor's throat as I reloaded my syringe-gun, before pressing the needle into the firm flesh of his ass and pulling the trigger for one last, supercharged dose. “RRRAAAAAAGGGHHHH!” thundered my monster. He was getting so fucking tall now, blowing my expectations out of the water as he surged to ten, maybe eleven feet. So much mass, so much barely contained power exploding out of his body, growing every conceivable muscle to outrageously massive proportions. He was evolving, no doubt, his pecs were swelling out into humongous, overdeveloped masses of heaving muscle. His quads had split into their individual muscle groups, teardrop-shaped mountains of powerful sinew shifting and bulging under paper-thin skin. I watched his back surge out, so much brawn bursting out of his body he was soon wide enough to fit three grown men on either side of his head. Those bricks on his stomach were growing, widening, empowered by the serum as they morphed into titanium anvils that heaved and hoed with every violent breath he took. As that colossal body stretched impossibly taller, I spotted his bones thickening and reinforcing to accommodate him growing huge! More importantly, so huge and so muscular he had grown that his offending jockstrap had finally given way, exposing his swollen erection for the world to see. Not caring about the tank he still carried, I strolled around his monster quads to better admire his throbbing prick. As the penis wasn't a muscle, the serum could do little beyond pumping it up harder than nature allowed. Although that wasn't saying nature had been stingy, for Halvor's magnificent manhood measured a magnificent nine inches long. His balls were nothing to scoff at either, fat like kiwis and almost twice as heavy with sperm. Hah! His quads were so freakishly developed they had pushed his balls forward, making the whole ensemble look a lot bigger it actually was. He needed it, for now that he had grown to nearly twelve feet tall and weighed over two tons of muscle... well his dick looked puny compared to him. Not that it mattered at the moment. “You can stand down any time, General!” I called out, pulling the gathered soldiers from their trance, “Wouldn't want me to give our friend here another shot now would we?” There was a moment's silence as the good general gathered his wits, and then... “You're in no position to negotiate, boy!” he snapped from above me, “Now put me down! Or else!” “Or else what, General?” I volleyed, “Go on, I'm listening!” Silence. I almost felt sorry for the old man, to have such a long and distinguished career end with one of the biggest military blunders in history. I actually wondered if he didn't realise how I had the upper hand here. Well, Halvor did, but it would be some time before that gorgeous beast of man was in any position to think for himself, so authority defaulted to me. “General?” “Put. Me. Down.” he growled, before adding, “NOW!” “General, please,” I implored, rolling my eyes as if he could see me, “Your men have already shot my suit full of holes and detonated every canister of sleeping gas you brought, so unless you're planning to tickle me to death with more bullets I don't see what else they can do here.” Silence again. I gave Halvor's massive thigh a small pat. “Shake him,” I whispered, “Gently.” “W-WOAH!” wailed the general, loud clonking sounds coming from the tank as Halvor complied, “STOP. THAT. RIGHT. NOW!” “I just need two words from you, sir!” I yelled over the din, “Two words, or I get our friend here to cause a little over a billion dollars worth of hardware damage.” Some of the nearby armoured vehicles actually zipped back a few feet. “Okay, okay!” he relented, popping his head out of the hatch to face his men, “STAND DOWN!” “You can put him down now, big man,” I commanded, before quickly adding, “Slowly.” The general's driver actually tumbled out before the tank treads even reached the ground. He had turned white as a sheet and was clutching the growing wet spot on his pants like his life depended on it. Judging by the smell, that poor sod had creamed himself at least twice from the muscle show Halvor had given his ride. Delicious. General Ambrose was next. Despite our differences, I've always respected the man, especially how he always carried himself in that regal, dignified manner most soldiers lacked. Immaculately dressed as always, not even a single strand of that handlebar moustache out of place despite Halvor quite literally rocking his world mere moments before. “Alright, boy,” he almost spat the words, he loved calling me boy and we both knew it, “You've won, now return the hostage and fuck the hell out of my country!” “Is that what you're calling him now?” I asked defiantly, helpless to stop the cheeky smirk playing my lips, “I'll have you know Mr. Hardbody here came with me willingly.” “Dominating the mind of a prison guard does not constitute 'willing', boy!” yelled Ambrose, “We both know you only took him because you think he's hot stuff!” “Well I'm not the one who's spent the past two hundred years deprived of earthly pleasures, General,” I gestured at the stoic, titanic muscleman beside me, “Besides, I figured you wanted me to have him!” “You're a twisted little twat you know that?” “If you didn't, why would you have assigned this handsome, rugged, strapping young man to my containment detail? I haven't met someone so eager to tackle me down for even the slightest provocation since James Monroe assigned me that one chap with the tattoo on his left butt cheek.” “Shrink him down, give him back, and you're free to go, boy.” “No can't do, General,” I said gleefully, like hell I was going to part with this beast of a man, he didn't even have family to go home to, “Besides, I seem to remember the President issuing you an order so... distressing... you actually challenged him before being overruled.” That did it. I hadn't seen a man pale so quickly since my breakout last week. “My orders are absolute, boy,” he grunted, his fearsome visage blazing so fiercely I actually wondered if he would combust. Thankfully, he did not. “And yet you spent the whole night pleading to gods above that you would not have to carry it out,” I said smugly, before turning to my hulking new friend. “Did you know the President wants you dead?” I said to him, earning only a fearsome-yet-stoic look in return. Man, some face paint and I could get him looking like a hot, musclebound Viking, “Told the good General here to put two or three into your head after I was out of sight, something about being compromised by yours truly made you a complete liability to this great, glorious country.” Impossibly, even more colour ran from Ambrose's face when I turned back to him. “'But think of the military applications!' you had yelled, before almost throwing your hat at the fat man when he waved you aside,” I recollected, a little too gleefully, “'Just one of those motherfuckers and we wouldn't need to deploy a single man into a warzone ever again!' and then you were interrupted by the President's third mistress who really shouldn't have access to the war room, before yelling, 'The boy even promised us a box of super-serum if you attend the gala in a banana-suit! We cannot miss this opportunity!'” Someone chuckled in the background, quickly silenced when he realised no one else would join him. “I never did check if you bought that banana-suit you know?” I said simply, a broad grin plastered over my face, “Maybe if you told me the truth, I'll start cooperating with you.” Ambrose looked very much like someone had fed him a lemon. There was a muscle twitching in his chin and he really looked ready to combust this time. “We did,” he admitted, sighing, “With the spots as you specified.” “And yet he didn't attend the dinner?” “You already know the answer to that.” Trust my luck things would turn out this way. Coercion was always more fun when everyone knew just how much power I held over them. “You know something, General?” I said, “I actually spent the whole of last night wondering why you would be so hesitant to shoot Halvor here, not that I would have let you succeed of course. I thought so hard about it I eventually gave up and decided to give myself the answer.” Ambrose's eyes flashed, “Stop, boy.” “He reminds you a little of yourself when you were younger,” I continued, “Headstrong, stubborn, more than eager to put evildoers in their place, even if it meant tackling and holding them against the wall with your body.” “But then you began developing softer, more effective methods. You had to after all, you had to prove to Washington that your promotions were justified. You put all that behind you until that one fateful day when the adoption papers arrived.” The General had gone stiffer than a board, clearly having forgotten he could hide nothing from me. “Finally you had a son to call your own,” I crooned, “That he reminded you so much of yourself you couldn't help but swell with pride just thinking about him. You didn't mind that he didn't want to think, only obey, he was your son and you would support him no matter what he chose to do with his life.” “You just wished... for a few improvements.” I gave Halvor's gorgeous butt a gentle pat, “Bring Sergeant Ross to me would you?” Someone squealed as my monster stomped off and seized one of the soldiers from the crowd. It was the driver of Ambrose's tank, the one who had creamed himself twice before falling out. “You know General,” I purred, “I've always held great respect for you, and your father, and his father, and his father before that. Would you believe me if I said your family once served as the most elite of my enforcers?” Ambrose blanched. “Well, whether or not you believe me is not relevant, not now anyway.” Sergeant Ross was still squirming in Halvor's iron grip, trying in vain to hide the magnificent erection throbbing within his soaked trousers. He was looking at me helplessly, his eyes occasionally darting to where Ambrose stood utterly motionless. “Daddy's about to make a very big announcement, little boy,” I drawled. It was true though, the lot of them (while adults) were technically young enough to be my great-great-great... many-greats grandsons. I turned back to the good General, “I'm beginning to suspect you already know how this is going to turn out, you're a smart man, so... your move, General.” For the longest time, Ambrose could say nothing. His breathing, while hard, was steadier than I had ever heard, as though he was actively controlling himself. “D-Dad?” squeaked Ross. The general inhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again. “I had hoped, all your life, that you would grow up to be bigger and stronger than you are now,” he admitted, “Not unlike Private Halvor here, just not to this... size.” Ross spluttered something in shock, before craning his neck up so he could gaze upon Halvor's monstrous chest muscles. “You spent your youth so small,” continued the general, “So weak, I thought I was going to have a heart attack when I saw your enlistment papers. But somehow you passed out, as a full blown combatant no less.” Ambrose shuddered, and paused to steady his breathing. “I never told you how much the Gamma incident crushed me, not so much because we only just contained the Hulks, but because one of them hurt you during their rampage.” He turned to regard his boy. “Ever wondered why you were assigned to drive my tank?” he said, so softly and yet so clearly and firmly, “It's because of me. I nearly choked the piss out of the pencil-neck from Washington who tried to return you to the boots. I know you weren't mine at the beginning, but you are mine now and I'll be damned if I put my only son at risk.” “I... I don't understand,” squeaked Ross, “D-Dad! What's going on?” “Not very bright is he?” I whispered, hoping I was soft enough that the Sergeant wouldn't heat me. “He's not,” said Ambrose, loudly and clearly, “But I don't care, he's mine.” “Daddy wants only the best for you,” I explained, taking over and edging into the space between Ambrose and Ross, “You see, he even risked a demotion-” “Dismissal,” interrupted Ambrose. “-dismissal... by throwing at fit at the President, because he knew the super-serum would grant him his greatest wish.” The Sergeant's eyes grew wide at the realisation. “N-No!” he gasped, “I don't... I don't want to!” Gods, why wouldn't you? Someone in the crowd yelled out, “If he doesn't want it then I do!” Silence... then... “YOU SHUT YOUR FACE, JIMSON!” bellowed General Ambrose, “YOUR PSYCH PROFILE IS FUCKING SHIT, YOU HEAR ME? SHIT!” “Well then,” I said, clapping my hands together and swinging around to face the general, “General Ambrose, I believe this concludes our business. If you ever feel like defecting as your ancestors did, I'll know where to find you.” Ambrose didn't need to be told twice. Almost automatically, he reached out and took from my hand the syringe-gun and its final dose of super-serum. There wasn't nearly enough juice in there to create another Halvor, but boy wasn't Ross going to get BIG! The good sergeant was struggling now, although he was so pitifully weak compared to Halvor the bigger man wasn't budging an inch. “NO!” he cried, although his swollen erection said otherwise, “I DON'T WANT TO BE A MUSCLE MONSTER! P-PLEASE DAD! NO!” “Its for your own good, son,” Ambrose said grimly, “I never forgive myself if you hurt yourself following my orders, now hold still.” Miraculously, Ross did just that, although he did not stop pleading otherwise. There was a soft hiss as the tiny needle sank into the flesh of his neck. Ross gasped, his mouth hanging open as waves of pleasurable shudders shot through his limbs. “You can let him go now,” I said to Halvor, who immediately dropped Ross onto the dirt. “Oh god,” he was moaning, wobbly as he got to his feet, “This feels... so good... so good!” And suddenly he was changing. Ambrose just stood there, slack jawed as Ross began expanding outward and upward. His chest grew into large, rounded slabs that filled out the front of his uniform quite nicely. “Oh my god!” Ross cried, his voice dropping an octave, “This is fucking awesome!” I watched him raise his arms and pump his guns, their shapeless forms suddenly bulging out as huge biceps grew out from nothing. Despite the thickness of his uniform, I could make out sizeable traps bulking up on either side of his neck, which was growing so muscular it was soon wider than his entire head! All over, his outfit was tightening like crazy. His once loose pants were inflating with mass, rippling with corded muscle as his quads hulked out of his legs. I had to give the army credit, their uniforms really were designed to withstand anything. As his shoulders broadened to accommodate the massive laws blasting out of his sides, the fabric held, although the occasional screech of Velcro could be heard as straps burst off his sides. Between his legs, a growing bulge was sticking obscenely out of his crotch, visibly throbbing as the serum surged through the veins of his shaft. It wasn't going to grow, goodness no, but there was no doubt in my mind he would soon be strong enough to bend iron rods around his cock. “Fuck YEAH!” Ross finally shouted, almost half a foot taller than when he started, “What a fucking FEELING!” Ambrose, ever the military man, recovered first. “How you feeling son?” he said quietly, “Everything good?” “BETTER than good!” Ross roared, before bringing his arms up and striking an incredible double bicep, completely visible despite the uniform, “I feel fucking AMAZING! Thought I was going to lose my mind like this buff bastard here!” He began flexing his fingers, almost biting his lip when he realised even the smallest parts of his body had grown stronger. “Fuck!” he grunted, before scooting off, “Gotta find something heavy to LIFT!” “I don't suppose you're open to negotiations?” said Ambrose, eyes never leaving his adopted son, “For more serum, I mean.” “You already know my terms, General,” I replied, “Banana suit. Big published event. Consider this just a freebie.” “Figures,” he grunted, “One dose is enough for him to start lifting tanks right?” “You bet it is.” “Well, then I don't suppose you'll do an old man a favour and leave then? I'd like to keep this a private family event.” I looked around, “We're still surrounded by troops.” “They're my men, boy,” he sneered from behind that moustache, “We are a family, although I doubt you'll ever understand how this works.” “Humph,” I humphed, “Maybe I don't need a family.” “We'll see about that now won't we?” he laughed, “Or have you decided you'll leave Private Hardbody behind? Because you know, you don't really need a family, or do you?” “Yeah like I'm going to fall for any of your tricks, old man!” I laughed, before beckoning Halvor over, “Take me in your arms beefcake!” My... muscle slave... obeyed me without a second thought, arms huger and more muscular than my entire body sweeping me off my feet and cradling me against those awesome pecs. Almost automatically, I found my hand reaching for that rugged, angular jaw, now covered in a layer of thick, bristly stubble. “Well, I'll be off then!” But the General's attention was already elsewhere, the whole battalion's too actually. Ross had stripped off his top and grabbed a hold of an armoured car that was slowly being hoisted off the ground. There were quite a number of them cheering, loudly too, the nerve of them, ignoring me like that. I didn't feel left out, of course. I didn't. Not at all. Not even a little. Here was the military arm of a nation who saw it fit to imprison me for centuries, deep beneath the earth, after they had decided I was much too dangerous to live freely in their new land of the free. And they had the right to be scared, I won them their frigging war! My powers were nothing to scoff at, and they knew just how drunk I could get using them. In fact, why not use them right now? So I clasped my hands together and turned one palm against the other, causing a curious mass to form between them. I removed my right hand, and saw to my delight a dark, leather-bound notepad that came with its own pen. Inside, amongst the uncountable, near-infinite pages compressed into the too-small space, were all the improvements to the world I had wrought since the beginning. You see, whatever I wrote, anything I wrote, would come true. And it did not matter where I wrote or what I wrote on. This little book had simply been written into existence so I would never go without a writing pad again. But the pen in particular was precious to me. It was a simple ballpoint, plastic and blue and bereft of any branding. Useless in the hands of your average Joe, but a most dangerous weapon in mine. Halvor here – sexy, beautiful, savage Halvor – had let me swipe it from him last week, when I mocked the power of his manhood and let him smash me to the wall of my cell. The poor, foolish boy hadn't even realised I had taken it from him. None of them were allowed writing instruments near me, and they all knew I wouldn't be able to use blood to write, having long since written my invulnerability into the annals of history. They were so good at their jobs too – the best of the best, or so they've been told – why would they even suspect one of their number would have forgotten to check himself before coming to check on me? In the end, it was simply bad luck, good on my part, that let me out. “You know something Halvor?” I say to my beefy new friend, “I could simply write the mind-numbing effects of the serum away, and then you could get right to making sweet, sweet love to my deprived little face.” Private Halvor Hardbody could only spare a soft grunt as we continued down the highway. Somehow, I loved him all stoic like that – a great contrast to the hotheaded young man he had once been. He was still a little hotheaded actually, at least without the serum mucking up his brain, but I had long since written away most of his immaturity. Ah well, to business! My suit is no longer riddled with bullet holes. I write in a single stroke. And has returned to a pristine, immaculate state. A gentle ripple sweeps across me, and I see to my delight a suit as good and crisp as when I first wrote it into existence. Halvor is clad in a stylish leather harness that greatly emphasises the massiveness of his pecs and arms. My bodyguard's muscular chest bulges out suddenly, pushed up by the straps running across his huge body. Oh hell yeah! Halvor's nine inch cock grows to an incredible six feet long, thicker than my waist and riddled with fat, throbbing veins. His balls swell to the size of beach balls, heavy with cum. The big man actually bucks, a soft moan slipping through those strong, kissable lips as his cock begins hulking out of his crotch, cum spurting from his pulsing dick hole as he struggles to keep pace. A sturdy saddle appears on his cock, secured to the middle of his shaft by a series of tight leather straps. What? You can't expect me to have him carry me to the safe house now can you? I know he's my muscle slave and all, but I'd prefer if he keep some of his dignity. And he thoroughly, thoroughly enjoys having my ride his cock like one would a horse, reins and all. I could see him sweating now, that big man was almost biting his lip as he sought to please me despite the waves upon waves of pleasure shooting into his crotch. Now that the housekeeping was over, I could move on to more pressing matters. Like family. Family. I write, before pausing to stare at the word. I wish to know what it means to have family. Halvor jerks to a sudden halt, great big hands seizing me by the arms and wrenching me off the cock saddle. He turns me over as if I weigh nothing, bringing me face to face with the emerald green visage I knew I was falling for. There were no clouds in them any more, no more serum making a mess of his head. Here was no longer a slave who bowed to my whims, but a man – a big, strong man – who craved my soul more than he hungered for my flesh, my power. “Here is a man who will move mountains for you,” he finishes, the heat of his breath tearing through me like an inferno, “Not because he knows he can, but because he knows you will do the same for him.” I am pressed into his face, his lips crushing into mine and his tongue filling me with bliss. My eyes begin to roll, the pen falls from my fingers, and soon I know no more.
  5. We miss your work on here and tumblr :) any idea when the next one is out ?

  6. You should set up a Patreon page or something for folks to chip in for your vids - they are amazing!~

  7. I cannot wait for this to be finalised... My body is so ready for this!!

  8. Flint McLargewood - The Muscleman Since the moment I first laid my eyes on him, I knew Muscleman would be the one – the one who would fuel the hottest and wettest of my dreams for years to come. A newcomer to the superhero scene, the alter ego of Flint McLargewood had left people swooning long before he even got his hero licence. Towering over the rest of his colleagues at staggering six feet five, the young hero boasted a physique so stacked and so statuesque I had once passed out from staring at him too long. Now before you give me any weird looks, yes I do in fact have his stats memorised. Just try and picture this – a big man, a big strong man, a six feet five bodybuilder-cum-supermodel who tipped the scales at two hundred and twenty frigging pounds of solid, heaving muscle. Now wrap all of that in a too-tight spandex wrestling singlet, and feast your eyes upon the scandalously hefty bulge that swelled from his crotch. Literally everyone could see the overgrown, nay, gargantuan tool coiled within the soft fabric, propped out by a pair of equally massive orbs that no doubt pumped him full of testosterone on a regular basis. It wasn't even remotely fair to be honest, and true to his name, Muscleman's unique power was just that – man and muscle. And lots of it. I still recall that fateful day, all those years ago at the Fourth National Super Bank of Super City. I had just finished duct taping a hero-cadet's (that guy became Firebrand in the end, good for him) hands to his face, anything to prevent him flinging any more of those pesky fireballs at me. Unfortunately (or fortunately) for me, his hands were also where he kept his communicator, and sure enough when Cadet McLargewood interrupted me my entire world came grinding to a halt. Obviously my first guess was some kind of temporal manipulation power, which would have sucked on a magnitude I cannot describe. But no, Flint was simply as beautiful as he was muscular – windswept yet perpetually styled red hair, angular features so strong and so hard, lips that were soft and kissable and just begging for me to... And then my entire world became Flint, for he had stomped forth with his huge feet until his huge pecs were hanging right there before my gaping face. My eyes would not stay still, darting between those incredible masses and the thick, juicy nipples that poked through the fabric of his uniform. Flint had given me what would become his signature chest slam, and when those brawny slabs made contact with my face I thought I had died and gone to heaven. In reality of course, he had simply knocked me onto the pile of money bags I had dragged from the vault and grabbed the one I had been lugging at the time. I knew I had turned bright red, the sizable tent in my pants giving everything away as I laid there gawking. It was then did Flint press his fists to his hips and push out his chest a little more, almost as if was showing off for me, although his posing was a little off and he began grunting as if lifting a heavy weight. That was when I first bore witness to Muscleman's true power. His already tight vestments, which once comfortably contained his huge bulk, suddenly lost the ability to do so. First to go were his buttons, going off like bullets as his torso exploding with unbridled muscle and power. I could naught but gasp as his prodigious pectorals hulked out before my very eyes, swelling and roiling with herculean mass and pulling apart his clothes like a curtain! As his growth accelerated, Flint's abdominal muscles – the six-pack I would do anything to place my face on – began tightening and hardening as more and more brawn boiled within his gut, pushing out his lower abs and burning off what little fat he carried around his waist. By this point his shirt was wide open, his Adonis belt so chiselled and so delicious I had actually begun to drool. Upstairs, Muscleman's shoulders had bulged upward and outward and sideways, sending huge cords of cable-like fibres surging down his arms and up to his neck. As more and more power filled his ponderous pectorals, Flint's biceps began feasting on their new power, growing heavier and harder with every pulse, splitting into multiple peaks even as his triceps doubled their efforts. When the power reached his forearms, he had clenched his fists, causing every muscle in his arms to erupt with size, decimating his sleeves and causing me to realise I had stopped breathing. The air that filled my lungs right after was hot, moist, and likely dripping with sex pheromones. Somehow, I remained conscious, my eyes raking over the scene before just as Flint's trousers exploded, the reinforced fabric ripped apart by grotesquely muscular monstrosities hulking out like volcanoes where his quads should have been. Fuck, even his feet had grown larger, his toes crushing into the bank's marble floor as he shifted his skyrocketing weight and widened his stance. His grunting had gone deep, oh so deep, his muscles heaving and flexing with every violent breath. The hero had not grown much taller, that much was certain, but his bulging muscles had reached colossal proportions and I hadn't even gotten to the best part! As I would eventually come to know (according to his official trading card), Muscleman's powers boosted not just his muscles, but what made him a man as well! He had been reduced to a pair of black posers by this point, and it was all I could do gawk as Flint's hefty balls began throbbing with renewed vigour, pumping his magnum dong with copious amounts of liquid testosterone. I simply laid there as I watched him test the limits of his flimsy trunks, watched his cock growing bigger, stronger, harder! A gap had already formed where his massive cock pulled the fabric away from his waist, teasing me with glimpses of the throbbing jawbreaker swelling therein. Muscleman had moaned again, this time loudly and lewdly, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he arched his back and flexed his glorious muscles for all to see. His cock, already in a state of semi-turgidity, had rocketed to maximum power and burst free of his underwear. I would know, for the force of his growth spurt had ripped the garment apart and propelled the shredded remnants right into my face. The smell, oh sweet mother of pie the smell was utterly, indisputably glorious! He had been oozing precum into those trunks, disguised by the colour, which also explained why the material clung to my face upon impact and sent me spiralling into a dizzying frenzy. When Muscleman, or Cadet McLargewood, dug his huge fingers into my shirt and hefted me off the ground to deliver the usual monologue about justice prevailing, well... let's stay I didn't stay conscious for very long. He didn't even have to hit me. Thankfully I had woken up and escaped before the police could pull off my mask or haul me to super-jail. Landing there would have sucked, given my lack of baseline powers. Still, that didn't stop me from heading straight home for what was to become the first of many, many sessions of me futilely flogging my manhood in a bid to rid my mind of Flint and all his muscular glory. I was growing obsessed, and though we never crossed paths again I knew I was falling in love with every hulking, herculean inch of him! He was always there, in my mind's eye, the sole object of my libido-fuelled desires, his huge-ass muscles flexing and straining and bulging whenever my mind wandered from the task at hand. I would imagine him whacking his gigantic cock like it owed him money, and then growing that cock to monstrous proportions when the quantity of payment emissions displeased him. Good fuck I wanted him, and I wanted him bad! I wanted him there, tree-trunk legs spread apart and his hulking dong swinging like a pendulum before my hungering, drooling body. I wanted him in my bed, I wanted him in chains in my future lair, and I wanted him to slam his monster cock down my throat and grow his entire fucking muscle body until I all but drowned in the ensuing euphoria. I had even gotten my raging erections checked once, convinced he had put me under some kind of spell or biological attack, but nay, I was simply, utterly, indisputably captivated and nothing would change that. So, after plastering posters of him all over my dorm, it was all I could do to slog my way through the remainder of school, only to return to bed every night with my head filling with the wildest of my fantasies – of Flint one day revealing his monstrous, naked body to me and then hulking out beyond rhyme and reason. But it wasn't until a year had passed since that fateful encounter did I finally start on the path which had led me here. Flint might have been but a year older than I was, but by this point he was already a full blown super and turning heads all over Super City's hero scene. You could possibly imagine my envy when about a dozen or so supervillains, established supervillains, began dropping their arch nemeses and replacing them with the outrageously endowed object of my desires. More than once I had even watched televised battles where normally secretive supervillains would reveal themselves and engage Muscleman in these epic 'battles' that were little more than lewd wrestling matches that coincidentally also destroyed buildings downtown. It stung of course. It should be me down there, inappropriately groping that stupidly smug, stupidly sexy bastard as he pressed me down with his erection and lectured me about how evil would never prevail in the musclebound arms of the law. The nerve of those people! And so I had made up my mind. When I graduated with my Bachelor's Degree of Super Villainous Technology and Design (with Honours, of course) I immediately helped myself to a 'loan' from the Sixth National Super Bank of Super City and set up my evil lair just beneath Super Avenue in the historic Superman District. Now why would a supervillain, and an inexperienced one at that, set up shop smack in the middle of a superhero controlled part of Super City instead of the much more affordable Villainy Avenue? Because no one would even think to look for me here of course! And besides, this put me ten minutes away from Super City's legendary Muscle Beach and five minutes away from the historic Super Mall, where prices were super every day of the year! But most importantly, this was where Flint McLargewood lived his glorious, heroic life. Come hell or high water, I was going to sate my attraction to him and stay true to my villainous routes. If I could not be with him, then I was going to BE him. It was as simple as that. ******* Pics of Flint here (Click to Enlarge):
  9. Not being able to 'back up' from a broken link is actually a bug! So whoops, not sure how I managed to do that but it'll be fixed for the next version! The "hearthstone" escape button is actually possible, but I'm not going to do something like that as it would break many many things!
  10. Game has been updated! Online Gameplay Link: http://bit.ly/1p9W1l2Offline Download Link: http://bit.ly/1R97MyP Please test the new combat system! As I intend to re-use the current 'combat format' for future content, I'll gladly appreciate extensive testing as to whether the system works (eg: does not blow up, does not lead to dead ends, etc) Please note that I've tried my best to implement an untraditional combat system as opposed to the ones you'd normally see in text-games, so please note the following: 1) Only the player has 'health' (Exhaustion)2) Combat has 2 elements, 'win conditions' and 'luck'3) Win conditions vary (eg: being more muscular, being less muscular, picking certain attack types)4) Luck conditions vary (eg: certain attack types have a higher chance of succeeding)
  11. Hey everyone! I RETURN! My apologies for the long delay but I've been bogged down by unpleasant medical problems these past months. I'm actually still in hospital (got discharged but relapsed days later), but this time round I have my laptop with me and have been working on my game in a bid to stay positive. So! Without further do I'd like to present the latest version of my still unnamed muscle growth game. Online Gameplay Link: http://philome.la/Th...Waffle/mg3-v002 There will (probably) not be any offline download links or change logs this time. Writing right now is extremely taxing on the eyes and I'd much rather not increase the amount of words I have to stare at if I can help it. But please, report any bugs you may find!
  12. Hey everyone! Sorry I have to say this, but my health has taken a very severe turn and I will thus be pulling my resources from both here and FA. I will not be deleting my posts, nor will I take the game down from philome, but the chances of me ever submitting anything in the near future is extremely slim. Still, I'd like to thank everyone who has stopped by this page so far. Here's hoping I'll be back sooner than never. Ciao!
  13. Sorry bout that, but I figured I needed to cut down the number of races available from the get go. The intent now is to somehow insert race-to-race transformations (but none to the degree of coc, don't want to step into someone elses territory) eventually so people won't feel 'trapped' in a single skin for too long.
  14. Hi everyone! Just to clarify, there is currently no way to grow your cock or balls (barring the strange artefact) in the rejuvenated version and unfortunately the embassy is still closed. Health has not been too good and have not made much progress, but I've read all the comments and taken them into consideration. Thank you guys for being nice about the work in progress, I appreciate it. PS: The file that was destroyed was NOT the .html that's being played, but the twine 'base' file. Sending me links to the .html is moot as a result, sorry!
  15. Game has been updated! Game was also destroyed and remade with whatever could be salvaged! First post updated! Online Gameplay Link: http://bit.ly/1HY56it Offline Download Link: http://bit.ly/1JtgUAF Also, my apologies for the long disappearance. Life got in the way, and is still in the way. I cannot promise I will be watching the forums, only that I'll check back when I can.
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