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bbmikenj

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About bbmikenj

  • Rank
    50+ Posts
  • Birthday 07/01/60

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  • Gender
    Male
  • Orientation
    Gay
  • What are your interests?
    Muscle, bodybuilding, power, size, strength
  • What are your stats?
    5'8, 200lbs solid
  • What are your dream stats?
    5'8, 240
  • Favorite Bodybuilders
    Ramy, Wolf, Warren, Flex Lewis, Bautista, etc...

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  1. Happy birthday big guy!

     

  2. muscle-growth

    That was wicked good, man.
  3. Just the other day, Atomicmuscle posted a gif on here of Spiderman punching Superman's steel abs. Check it out in the forum gallery.
  4. Chris Pratt with 75lbs more muscle. Chris Pine, same thing. Chris Evans, with 100lbs more muscle than his Captain America physique. Vin Diesel at 300 swole pounds and a roid gut. Garret Dillahunt, the dad from Raising Hope. He and Sean Penn as training partners, both becoming middle-aged, jacked superheavyweights, all ripped up and veiny, outposing the pros at Gold's Gym in Venice. Shia LaBeouf, all roided up, challenging 4 policemen to try and take him down.
  5. growth

    That was a rush, man. Outstanding descriptions!
  6. dominance

    Bane found the entrance to the Batcave. It wasn't hard for him. He was an expert at tracking, and it was easy for him to spot the fake shrubbery that hid the gate that led to the entrance. He knew there would be security cameras, so he bolted up to the entrance, his huge quads moving him faster than the fastest Olympic runner. He got to the big metal doorway and slammed it with his big fists, denting it in enough to get a handhold. Then he peeled open the entrance with his bare hands. He twisted the steel back on itself until the opening was big enough for him to step through. He stood in front of the Batmobile as Batman came into the cave to see why the alarms were going off. "Bane!" he said, as he spotted the behemoth intruder. "How???" Batman stammered as he stared at the doorway. "With these," said Bane, raising his huge arms into a double bi shot. The peaks rose up and up, snaked with veins, jacked with power, and hard as granite. "But that door is made of galvanized steel reinforced with titanium rods. You can't be that strong!" "No?" said Bane. Then he took his raised fists and slammed them into the hood of the Batmobile with such force that the hood crumpled in, and all four tires blew up. Batman jumped back from the sound of it. Then Bane ripped the hood off the car, and tossed it out through the doorway opening. He leaned toward the car, reached in and grabbed the engine block, then ripped it out, raising it over his head. He shook it with his powerful arms, then squeezed in on it until it started to crumple. As oil began to spill out of the block, Bane tipped his head back, opened his mouth, and drank it down. Then he crushed to engine block down even more, until it was half its original size. He reared it back behind his head, then tossed it directly towards Batman, who ducked just in time, and the one ton twisted engine soared over him, and embedded itself into the rock wall of the cave. Bane grabbed the Batmobile with one hand and tipped the car onto its side, so that nothing now stood between him and Batman. He took of his mask and the tubing and laid them on the side of the car. Then he took of his vest, so that his torso was bare. Batman took another step back. He'd never seen Bane looking so densely thick and heavily muscled. Even his jaw line was more squared off and jutting with muscle. Bane rolled his huge chest slabs and took a step towards Batman. "Now you've got me all riled up," Bane said. "Where's your girlfriend Robin? I need to get laid." Bane grabbed his crotch and shifted his junk around. "He's not here," said Batman. But for a millisecond, his eyes darted over towards a side tunnel in the cave. "You're a terrible liar, Batshit," said Bane, and made his way towards the tunnel. Batman jumped in front of him. "You'll have to go thru me first, Bane." Bane smirked, and said, "That can be arrange." He grabbed one of the flattened tires on the Batmobile, and ripped it off, sending lug nuts flying like bullets thru the cave. Then he threw the tire at Batman like a frisbee. It hit Batman in the stomach, and sent him fly backwards, his feet off the ground. He slammed into a computer terminal, crushing it. Before he could stagger to his feet, Bane was standing over him. "Let me give you a hand," he said, reaching down. Before Batman realized his mistake, he reached up, and Bane grabbed his hand and yanked him up roughly. "Your grip strength gotten any better, Batpunk?" said Bane, not releasing Batman's gloved hand. Batman tried to pull away, but Bane's arm didn't budge. He began to squeeze. Even thru his special gloves, Batman could feel his bones start to break. He grabbed Bane's forearm with his free hand and tried to dig into it, but the forearm muscles were like steel cables. Bane continued to crush his hand. Batman swung his fist into Bane's jaw, but he only managed to break his knuckles on the hard bone and thick muscle of Bane's face. Bane squeezed harder still, and Batman's knees buckled. Bane stepped forward and forced Batman onto his back. "I'd forgotten how weak you are," Bane said, leaning over Batman and putting his thumb on Batman's collar bone. "I could snap this bone like a toothpick," said Bane. Instead, Bane yanks Batman back to his feet, only to clothesline the caped crusader across his chest, sending him down to the batcave floor and shattering his sternum. Batman gasped for breath as Bane bent over and shoved his big hand underneath Batman's head. He gripped Batman's caped head like a soccer ball, and lifted Batman back up. Bane flexed his free arm. "Kiss my 36 inch peak, punk," he commanded. He shoved Batman's face into the side of his mountainous arm. "Make love to it, you know you want to," Bane said. "So fuckin huge. So fuckin strong," he said, as he banged Batman's face into his massive, veiny arm over and over, until he crushed Batman's nose thru his mask. Then he held Batman airborne with one hand on the back of his head, and started squeezing harder, his huge fingers applying more pressure than a mechanical vice. Batman felt like his eyes were going to pop out, and his skull crush in. He flinched uselessly, and then his sight started to fade. "Bet that feels like the worst ice cream headache ever, huh Bruce," mocked Bane. Batman blacked out from the crushing skull grip, and hung there limply in Bane's grip. Bane dropped him to the floor like a microphone in a rap battle. "Pathetic," he muttered. Just then, from the side tunnel of the Batcave, Robin appeared. "Bane!!" he said, as he saw the massive bull of a man straddling the fallen Batman. Bane smiled, and crushed his fists into balls of destruction. His big knuckles cracked and whitened from the strength of his grip. "Hello, little birdie," he said. "Come to Daddy." Robin grabbed a cable that was hanging from the top of the cave, then he ran up along the side of the cave walls and launched himself into the air in a big arc, aiming right toward Bane. He picked up tremendous speed as he slammed feet first into Bane's huge barrel chest. Bane didn't budge an inch. Robin fell to the ground in agony, grabbing his ankles. He felt like he had slammed into a bank vault. "Aww, did the little bird boy hurt his little legs?" mocked Bane. He leaned over and grabbed Robin by his ankles, one in each thick superhuman hand. Then he lifted him off the ground. Robin hung there upside down. Bane squeezed his hands and felt the ankle bones crushing underneath his powerful grip. "Boy, your little bird bones are fragile as egg shells," he said, as Robin twisted in pain. Bane dropped him to the floor and looked down over him. "Bet you never felt pain like this before, have ya, boy?" Robin couldn't even respond, the pain was so overwhelming. "You want me to fix that pain, birdie?" asked Bane. That got Robin's attention. He'd do anything to stop the agony in his ankles. He nodded best as he could. Bane leaned over and grabbed Robin by the scruff of his neck and lifted him up. He pressed Robin's mouth onto his big nipple. "Suck on it, boy blunder," ordered Bane. At first, Robin resisted, pushing back on Bane's granite chest mounds, but then Bane tightened the grip he had on his neck, and Robin knew he had no choice. He started nursing on the thick nub of a muscle nip. He felt it swelling up inside his mouth, and it made him suck harder. "Oh yeh, that's it, baby boy," said Bane, pushing Robin's face harder into his huge chest. Robin felt Bane's nip swelling to the size of his thumb. "Harder." And Robin sucked and sucked. Then he tasted a thick oily substance oozing out of the thick nip. It tasted chemically, almost metallic, but good, and hot. It made him suck harder still. "That's it boy. You'll be feeling it soon, too." And as soon as Bane said that, Robin began to feel it. The pain in his ankles started to fade. His whole body relaxed. He sucked harder, and more serum flowed out of Bane's inch long nip. "Oh yeh. You getting a good dose of Venom now," said Bane. "Now do the other nip, balance these meat plugs out, boy," he said, transferring Robin's mouth to his other huge pec slab. And Robin sucked and sucked, hungry for it now, feeling more energized than he ever had. The second nip swelled and began to ooze, even as the first one continued to drip the viscous oil. But then Bane pulled him off the swollen nip with a loud pop. "That's enough for now, chicklet," he said. "Too much and you wouldn't be able to handle it." He put Robin down to the ground, then he flicked his pacifier-sized nips with his burly thumbs. "You did a good job of working these bad boys. I knew you'd be a good sucker." Robin expected his ankles to give out as he stood, but he had no pain whatsoever. He jumped up and down on them, amazed. Not only did they not hurt, but he felt liked he'd taken the most amazing pre-workout supplement ever. He was so charged up, he wanted to fly. "What happened?" "You got a nice shot of some miracle oil, little man. Not only have your ankle bones healed, they're probably ten times stronger than they were before. Same with the rest of your bones. And soon you're going to find out what else it will do for you." Robin was already feeling it. His body was heating up, like he had an intense fever, but it felt amazing. He could feel the green briefs of his outfit begin to tighten on him as his glutes swelled outward. He looked down and saw his bare quads and calves swelling out. They'd always been lean and fit, but now they were bulging with muscle the size of a light-heavyweight bodybuilder.. He could see leg veins starting to show thru his skin, and snake their way down to his calves, which looked to be over 19 inches now. And a thick stubble was starting to sprout out on his formerly hairless skin. "What's happening?" he said, and Bane replied, "Look in that mirror over there and see." Robin turned and looked, and saw that not only was he getting thicker and wider, but he was getting taller. He was sweating heavily, and it was soaking thru his outfit. Robin's abs had never really shown before, but now, he had a stack of bricks and mortar showing thru his red vest. He flexed his abs, and they popped out even more defined. "Holy washboards," he said in awe. "Flex those arms too, boy," said Bane, and Robin did as he was told, raising his arms into a double bi shot. The peaks rose up and up, and pushed back the short green sleeves of his shirt, which looked 3 sizes too small on him now and slid halfway up his stomach, exposing his brickwall gut. His arms peaked out at 21" of veiny sinew. "Holy Muscle Mass," he exclaimed. Bane chuckled behind him. Robin grabbed the collar of his outfit and ripped it down the middle, exposing his now thickly muscle torso that was shredded beyond the dreams of any pro bodybuilder. His slightest movement made the muscles ripple and striate. He tore the top of his outfit off and tossed it aside. He stared at himself in the mirror. He looked like a statue of hypermasculinity, with thick course hair beginning to cover his expanding chest, which grew bigger every time he flexed his pecs. His green trunks now fit him like the smallest of posers, and were barely containing his impressive new growth. "Fuckkkk," he said. "How big were you before?" said Bane, "About 5'10", 170lbs soaking wet? You're bigger than Batman now, boy. Bigger, stronger, faster. I'd say you're about 6'5", and 270lbs right now. You'll get a little bigger too, but it will stop before you hit 300lbs. If I'd let you keep feeding," he said, flicking his protruding rubber-hard nips," you'd have grown too much, and probably gone insane. The other thing you're going to be feeling is intense horniness. And I mean 'intense'. It's going to hit you like you took 1000 doses of Viagra. You're going to want to fuck the first thing you can grab. Just pin it down and rape it. You won't be able to control it, at least not at first. And since I'm going to trap you and Batman in here together, things should get interesting. Your seed will help him heal too, although he won't respond like you did, it won't be potent enough for that. His bones will heal, though, but not as well as yours, and he'll feel pain in them for the rest of his life." Bane made his way to one of the tunnels leading out of the Batcave. He ripped a huge boulder out of the wall and used it to block the exit. "Oh, and you're going to be jonesing for more of my nip oil, probably for the rest of your life too. You're going to want more and more and more, like an profound type of crack addiction. Who can blame you, really? Look at you. And maybe, someday I'll give it to you. But for now," said Bane, using his bare hands to rip solid rock from the cave wall and blocking another tunnel, "you'll have to make due." Then he made his way to the main entrance of the cave, and stepped outside. He bent the titanium and steel wall like used aluminum foil, but before he blocked the entrance, he looked at Robin, whose horniness was mounting. Robin was breathing like a bull, his nostrils flared, his massive new muscle body twitching with lust and shining with sweat, and as he looked around the cave, his eyes landed on Batman, who was beginning to come to and push himself up on all fours. Bane laughed, and as he sealed the cave, he said, "Have fun, Boy Wonder. Don't do anything I wouldn't do......"
  7. worship

    Two months had gone by since George arrived in Japan to be a sumo wrestler. Over twenty matches later, George was undefeated. He had no trouble out-powering his opponents. Most of his matches lasted less than three seconds, although sometimes he would make them last longer, keeping his opponent inside the ring for longer than he needed to, toying with them, making them struggle until they were huffing and puffing. Although he had bulked up to 410lbs, George was still much more densely packed with muscle than any of his blubbery adversaries. Even the men who weighed more than he did were no challenge for his strength, and his stamina was three times more than anyone he'd come up against so far. As he stood looking out of his floor-to-ceiling condo windows, overlooking downtown Tokyo, George admired the view. Partly because he could see himself in the reflection of the windows, and he could watch himself flexing his massive bulk, but also because he could see the big sign promoting him as the newest superstar in sumo wrestling. It was an eight-story high hologram of George in his sumo gear, towering over Tokyo, stomping and flexing in victory. The top of the sign announced the nicknamed he'd been given. Georgezilla. He had become an overnight sensation in Japan, and not a night would go by where some people didn't faint in the street at the sight of George's mass towering over them, at the huge projection of his tremendous bulk. From his 30th floor condo, he had an unrestricted view of his image. He flexed and posed right along with his hologram, and thought about his next fight. The thought of being the next grand champion sumo wrestler turned him on. And he always enjoyed stroking himself after his two hour hardcore workout, his 400-plus pounds all bloated with pump and power, the sensation in his big dick supercharged from his surging testosterone flow. He needed Mr Sanata to come up and service him. George texted him to come up, and since the former sumo champ lived only ten floors below George's condo, it didn't take him long to arrive. Mr Sanata jumped at every chance to suck George dry. He was sure that George's big loads were making him grow bigger and stronger, even as he entered his mid-forties. He was training harder and longer than ever too, and his former sumo bulk had leaned down to 12 percent body fat. He had muscle on his muscle, and was planning on entering his first bodybuilding contest. He relished the thought of going on stage with Japanese bodybuilders in their twenties, and outmuscling every one of them like a joke. So he gladly provided service to George, two to three times a day. Tonight, George asked him to do it in front of the window, so George could continue to watch his sign as Mr Sanata worked his magic. George enjoyed Mr Sanata's blow jobs more than anything except growing bigger and stronger himself. Afterwards, Mr Sanata went to the apartment next to George's, which had been converted to a private gym just for the two of them. He stripped down the posers he wore under his dress pants, and worked his chest for two solid hours. His huge Asian pecs stretched his smooth skin tightly across his chest, and glistened with sweat as if they'd been oiled up. He checked himself out in the mirrors after every set, and then would throw in a few dozen hanging leg raises. He couldn't believe his abs were showing. Even standing relaxed he could see them. And when he flexed, they popped out like six neatly stacked bricks. By the time he finished his chest workout, his pecs were swollen like two over-pumped balloons, with his nips pointing straight down. He decided he could use a massage, so he grabbed his phone out of his pants' pocket and called Taka, who was the massage therapist for all the sumo wrestlers in Mr Sanata's old academy, and was on called 24/7. Mr Sanata sent a private car to go pick him up and bring him over, so it didn't take him long to get there. Mr Sanata spent the time waiting by perfecting his posing routine in the huge wall mirrors of the gym. By the time Taka arrived, the retired sumo wrestler's chest was even more fully engorged, as were the rest of his jacked up muscles. "Good luck to you digging through all this hard muscle," he said to Taka, laughing. Taka bowed to the older man, then began to set up his table, his heart pounding harder in his chest at the sight his heavily muscled boss. Taka had grown up adoring the sumo wrestlers he saw on TV. He'd set his sights on becoming a massage therapist for them, just to get close to them. He achieved his goal, but to his dismay, most of the wrestlers were arrogant and rude to him, treating him like a dog, or less than a dog, swatting him if they became displeased with their rubdowns. Often, they were stinking drunk when they came in for their massages, so the slightest transgression would bring one of their bulky arms swinging out at him like a club, sending him flying. He'd become good at dodging them, but his real disappointment was how soft and doughy most of their bodies felt. He'd always imagined them being harder to the touch, like a rhino, or a side of beef, but this was not the case. They had many more creases and folds than he liked, especially as they laid on his reinforced massage table. That's why he was thrilled when Mr Sanata had taken a shine to bodybuilding. Every time Taka came over to rub him down, the older man had gotten harder and harder. Taka's hands had grown very strong, and his forearms disproportionately large from working on the blubbery 400 and 500 pound sumo wrestlers, so he was well prepared to work on more fit muscularity. In fact, his forearms and upper arms were so oversized and veiny for his size that people often stopped and stared at him on the street. Children would ask him if he was Mantaro, the anime muscle character. At 5'9, he was fairly tall for a Japanese man, but at 190lbs, he wasn't huge, just lean and tight, except for his 18" biceps, which he would flex for the kids. He delighted in their squeals of excitement as his arm peaked up 5 or 6 inches bigger than their fathers'. So for the next 90 minutes, he worked on Mr Sanata, fascinated by the change in the older man's muscle since he'd taken up bodybuilding. It was so much more rewarding to work on the thick hard muscle tissue, and to feel the tightness begin to release. And Mr Sanata had always treated him with respect, even when he was still wrestling. The big man would moan with pleasure as Taka found a tension spot and worked on it with extra attention. And Taka loved the feeling of pump his strong arms were getting from digging into the densely packed muscle fibers. After the massage, Mr Sanata got up and got his phone. As he began to text, he said to Taka, "Do you have time for another client?" "Yes, sir, of course," he said, but his hands and arms were still throbbing from working over the big muscles of Mr Sanata. Still, he figured he could handle one more session. Mr Sanata's text was to George, telling him he should come over to the gym, he had a surprise for him. He knew that George had never taken advantage of Taka's services. In fact, George had told him that he'd only ever had one massage. Mr Sanata thought it was time for another. "Your new client lives right next door, so he'll be here any minute. You've never met him before, but I'm sure you'll recognize him when you see him." "Not Georgezilla??" said Taka. Mr Sanata laughed. "How did you guess?" "I'd heard that he lived in the same building as you. I have seen him fight. He's very large and powerful." "That he is," said Mr Sanata. They heard the front door open as George came inside the condo/gym. Mr Sanata went over to him and said, "I have someone I want you to meet," and led him over to Taka. "This is the massage therapist I told you about. Taka, this is George." Taka bowed toward George, and George bowed back. This took Taka by surprise, because none of the other sumo wrestlers bothered to bow back at him, not even the younger ones. Mr Sanata told George to enjoy a massage on him as he packed up his gym bag to head out. George shrugged and figured why not. The only massage he'd ever had was by a small Asian woman back in the states, and it didn't do much for him. This guy at least appeared to have some power in his arms. After Mr Sanata left, Taka asked George to strip down. "Naked?" asked George. Taka said yes, and bowed again. "Unless you would be more comfortable in your shorts?" "Nah," said George, bending down to peel off his basketball shorts that fit his thick quads like stretch pants. "Just didn't want to freak you out." As George pulled down the shorts, his big dick flopped out. "Aremaa...." said Taka, stepping back and bowing again. George was hung at least double that of any of the other wrestlers. George laughed, and got up on the table. Even reinforced as it was, the massage table creaked under the weight of George's body. Taka gulped at the sight of the muscle mountain on the table. He'd never seen anything like it. He got out his massage gel and lubed up his hands, then got to work. It didn't take long for George to realize that Taka was very good with his hands. When he rubbed on George's thick neck and traps, George could sense the tension that was in the muscle loosening up. He hadn't even realized how tense were, as Taka worked down his huge delts and backside. Taka's touch made George grunt out low guttural moans of pleasure. He was surprised at how strong the smaller man's hands were, too, kneading deeply into his hard trained muscle. Taka worked diligently, and his arms began to throb from trying to loosen up the fascia on the massively built bull on his table. By the time he had George roll over onto his back, Taka was dripping with sweat. As he rubbed the soles of his big feet, George almost fainted from the pleasure of it. "Harder," he said, and Taka complied, rubbing deep into the arch. George's hardon rose up so fast that it flopped his towel right onto the floor. When Taka went to retrieve it, George said, "Leave it." Taka continued to work up George's legs, using even more gel to lube up the big man's enormous 24" calves. George's breathing had become as deep and rhythmic as a lion's. He had never known he could feel so good. That is, until Taka reached his quads, and as he ran his magic fingers up and down George's powerful inner thighs, George was hit with a huge wave of euphoria. It was like he was having an out of body experience. He couldn't imagine anything could feel so good. That is until Taka took a hold of George's huge ball sac, and began to stroke and massage it. George lulled back in ecstasy, as Taka rolled his big balls in his fingers, then caressed the sac harder and harder, always attentive to George's expressions and body motions to make sure he wasn't going too hard. Taka was also experiencing ecstasy as he worked on George, who was his dream sumo. As a kid, this is what he'd thought all sumo wrestlers would be like...massively built musclemen, with muscles hard as rhino hide. As a bonus, George was hairy. All the other sumos where basically smooth, but George's massive chest was a pelt of thick black hair. It turned Taka on more than he'd thought it would, and he rubbed his crotch against the table as he watched George's gorilla chest heave up and down. When George glanced over and noticed it, he reached out and grabbed Taka's crotch through his pants. "Ahhhhh" groaned Taka, as George imitated Taka's hand grip on his own balls. Then George sat up, still maintaining his grip. His 10inch hardon pressed against Taka's arm. He looked deep into Taka's eyes, then pulled him halfway up onto the table and kissed him square on the mouth. If Taka's feet hadn't already been dangling off the floor, he would have floated upward. He kissed George back hard, and relished the musky taste of power, and feeling his big shaft against his polo shirt. The massage table began to lean ominously from the weight of the two men. George stepped off the table, still holding Taka in the air, with Taka still groping George's big low hangers. George put him down, then grabbed the bottom of Taka's shirt and pulled it up over his head. "Nice," said George, as he got a look at Taka's tight physique. "My next fight will be for your honor," said George. "Mr Sanata told me how the other wrestlers treat you. Now it's payback time," he said as he caressed Taka's neck. "I'll crush them for you." He raised his arms and flexed his 26" biceps. "Take off your pants," he said to his new Japanese friend. Taka let go of George's big sac, then undid his belt and stepped out of his pants, never taking his eyes off of George's massiveness. His decent sized cock popped out straight. "Nice," said George. He flexed his huge pecs back and forth and watched Taka's dick jump. "You want me to beat them fast, or slow and hard?" "Slow and hard," responded Taka, soaking in George's heaving mass, only inches from his face. "I like slow and hard, too. Keep them in the ring till they are winded and gasping for breath, till they are begging to be thrown out." Taka thought he was going to faint, he was so turned on. George leaned down and picked up the bottle of Taka's massage gel. He turned the bottle upside down and squirted gel all over Taka's cock. Then George grabbed him under his armpits and lifted him off the ground until Taka's lubed-up cock slid up into George's deep pec valley. Using his powerful arms, George slid Taka's body up and down, while flexing his pecs against Taka's hardon, holding the smaller man's body in the air like a skater's lift. "Chest fuck me, Taka," George whispered in his ear. "Give me a cum necklace, little man." Taka could barely process what was going on, as his gelled cock penetrated into the 8-inch deep muscle valley between George's enormous pec mounds. As George held him firmly in the air, Taka thrust himself harder and harder against the powerful chest muscles, grunting into each thrust, finding it hard to believe that he was chest fucking a 410lb gorilla-sized sumo wrestler. He came like ninja, spewing a fountain of pent-up jiz onto George's chest and 26" neck. Afterwards, they got into the shower, where George proceeded to take Taka, slow and hard. He was careful not to split Taka like a melon, and used another whole bottle of gel and steamy hot water to work him open gently. Taka couldn't believe he was able to take the big American's club all the way to the root, but he did it, and came a second time doing it too. He couldn't wait until George's next massage.
  8. The title alone gets me going.
  9. muscle-growth

    Because George's uncle continued to be supportive of his weightlifting, buying him more and more weights, better benches and machines, George continued to grow bigger and stronger. His uncle even cleaned out his two car garage and filled it with equipment to give George more space to workout. Sometimes, his uncle would watch as he trained, which motivated him to train even harder. George would strip down to his briefs in the garage, and work out like a beast for a couple of hours, dripping sweat all over the concrete floor, and flexing between sets in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors his uncle had put up, snorting like a bull as he flexed as hard as he could, the his mass exploding out all over his body. George would forget his uncle was even there, he'd get into such a muscle zone. When he was done, he'd strip off his briefs and wring out the sweat in them, then toss them into the corner of the garage. Then he'd waddle into the house to take a 40 minute shower, which annoyed his two cousins because he used up all the hot water. It annoyed them even more when George's uncle, their father, made them wipe down all the sweaty benches and machines in the garage, and then mop up the floor. George would reward them later though, by flexing his 360lbs of muscle for them and letting them worship him. Even though they both had girlfriends, they got off on their younger cousin's massive size and power. They both thought about George when they were having sex with their girlfriends now too, and the girls couldn't figure out why their sex had gotten so much better, but no one complained. One day, George was working out in the garage. He had both garage doors open, and even though it was cold outside, he was still sweating like a bull, and the fresh air made him look and feel more pumped up than ever. He didn't notice that a car had pulled into the driveway until he heard a car door shut. He looked out, and to his surprise, saw Mr Sanata standing there. Mr Sanata looked surprised, too. He couldn't believe how much size George had packed on since he'd been gone. He walked up to the garage, wide-eyed. He bowed to George, and George bowed back. Mr Sanata looked him over. Although he was used to being around huge men, and he was a big man himself, he had never seen a sumo wrestler who came remotely as heavily muscled as George had become. And George recognized the look in Mr Sanata's eyes, a look of awe and lust. George had more and more people looking at him that way. Mr Sanata started to unbutton the white dress shirt he had on. He stripped it off and tossed it aside. He had on a white guinea tee that highlighted his own massive size. George could see that the older man had been hitting some heavy weights since he'd last seen him. Much of his sumo bulk had been replaced by dense, mature muscle. His big delts had thick veins showing up on them, and so did his arms. He still had a good sized gut on him, but it looked much harder. "You've inspired me to become a true musclehead, George," He raised his big arms into a double biceps pose, and his arm muscles swelled up solid. Though in his forties, the big Japanese man looked like an off-season Hidetada Yamagishi, and at 6' tall, 298lbs, a much bigger version. His 23"biceps had huge peaks with splits starting to show. His forearms had become heavy with vascularity. "And," he said, "I now I almost even have abs." He reached down and pulled his guinea tee over his gut. Then he sucked his gut in hard and flexed, and George could see a six pack trying to pop out under the bulk. "I want to pay you homage," said the former sumo champ. Then he lowered himself to his knees in front of George. At first George thought this might be some sumo ritual, but he quickly realized that it was not. He reached back toward the wall behind him, and pressed the button for the automatic garage door, and the door began to lower. Even before the door was shut, George began to pull his sweat-soaked briefs down over his massive thighs. He had them to his knees when Mr Sanata went down on him, and gave him the best blow job he'd ever had. George couldn't believe how good the older man was, and held out as long as he could because it felt so good. He figured Mr Sanata must know some ancient Asian secrets, the way he worked his tongue and throat. And when he looked down on the massive traps and shoulders of Mr Sanata, George couldn't believe how much solid muscle the older man had added since he'd seen him. It made him spew like a fountain into the thick bull necked musclehead on his knees before him. Afterwards, the two massive men worked out in the garage, doing forced reps of every chest exercise they could do. Their huge pec slabs bloated up like over-pumped balloons, their skin stretched taut over the mounded muscle. For two hours, they worked chest, stopping only to flex their pecs at each other, although by the end, their muscles had become so engorged, they could barely move them. They took turns rubbing down each others chests, digging in deep to break down the fascia and allow their pec muscles so expand even more. When they were done working out, the two muscle beasts waddled into the kitchen, where George mixed up a gallon each of protein shake. After Mr Sanata downed his, he explained to George that he came back to see if he could convince him to come back to Japan with him, and do some sumo wrestling. "You only have to stay as long as you want, but the Japanese people would worship you." "How much does it pay?" "If you win matches like I think you will, you could make a ton of money. Plus, I can line up some underground matches, where wealthy clients pay even more. And you will no doubt start getting endorsements, and money for making appearances." "You'll fly me out first class?" "No," answered Mr Sanata. "I'd never fit in coach," said George, heaving out his gorilla-sized chest. "Not coach either. I have a private jet waiting to take us back. Plus, you'll have your own luxury apartment in Tokyo, with a private gym, plus access to all the privileges that the top wrestlers get." George nodded toward the garage gym, sweat still rolling down him. "A better gym than that?" "Ten times better." "As much food as I want?" "An endless bounty." "When do we leave?" asked George. Two hours later, they were pulling up to the small local airport where Mr Sanata's private jet was waiting to fly them to Japan. "It's a very long flight," Mr Sanata said as they approached the plane. "But I'm sure we can find things to do." As they made their way up to the plane door, the metal steps creaked and wobbled under the weight of their mass.
  10. I saw the Farnese Hercules at its museum in Naples. The backside view is even more impressive than the front. And the statue is so much larger than life that it's hard to believe that someone could carve something like that out of marble........... https://foodieandthebeast.files.wordpress.com/2010/11/1458.jpg
  11. m/m

    Loved it. Thanks for the bump.
  12. growth

    George had always been solid and strong, even as a younger kid. "Big Boned" his mother called him. When he was twelve, he was able to beat both his older cousins in wrestling. They were sixteen and seventeen, and were on the high school wrestling team. George liked being able to pin his older cousins, and the feeling of power it gave him, so he started working out with the weights they had in their basement. From the start, he lifted heavier weights than they could, and he grew fast. He loved the feeling of his muscles getting bigger and stronger. He started lifting seven days a week, even though his cousins said he shouldn't lift that often. He thought they must be jealous of his big muscles and embarrassed that he could beat then in wrestling, because they refused to fight with him after awhile. George couldn't really blame them. He always won. Puberty kicked in early for George. His uncle said it was probably because of all the weightlifting he was doing, and because they were of Bulgarian descent. By the time he was 14, George was 5'10", and 180+ pounds of muscle. His chest had grown in thick with black hair. So had his forearms and legs. His uncle had bought more weights for the basement weight room for George's thirteenth birthday, so as a freshman in high school, he could bench press 305lbs for reps. Some of the seniors on the football team were bigger than him, but none were stronger or more muscular. He joined the team, not because he liked football all that much, but he liked being able to train more, and to plow thru guys on the field, letting them feel his power. He continued to lift in his uncle's basement, too, adding more weights whenever he saved up enough allowance money. And he added a full length mirror, so he could flex between sets. He liked being able to workout in just his boxers, so he could see how pumped up he was getting. His two cousins still lived at home while they went to community college, so sometimes they would come down to workout while George was there. George felt a little sorry for them because they were so weak. His older cousin could only bench 225lbs. George was on his way to 365lbs, and he was five years younger. One time, the two cousins teamed up on George and tried to pin him down on the basement floor. Even George was surprised when they couldn't do it, and he flipped them off him and pinned them down, one big hand on each of their chests. He was even more surprised at how amazing it felt, and the look of awe and fear in their faces. He didn't hurt them though. He liked his cousins. He just knew that he was superior to them, and so did they. George was seventeen years old when Mr Sanata moved in next door to his parents. George was on his way back from a workout in his uncle's basement, feeling huge. At 6'2", 229lbs, he was huge for a seventeen year old. George sauntered down the street, shirtless, and when Mr Sanata saw the swarthy Bulgarian kid, he thought he must be a bodybuilder in his mid-twenties. When George turned down the driveway next to his, Mr Sanata walked over to introduce himself. George noticed him coming his way, and couldn't believe the size of the man. Mr Sanata, a champion sumo wrestler from Japan who'd come to America to promote the sport, was 6'3, 339lbs. George had never seen anyone remotely this large, and despite his tremendous sumo-style girth, he was an impressive and powerful presence. Mr Sanata and George shook hands as they introduced themselves. George couldn't believe the strength in the older man's grip, and the huge sumo wrestler couldn't believe that George was still a teenager. He recognized the genetic potential of someone so young and already so powerfully built. "Do you like being so big?" Mr Sanata asked George. "God, yes," said George, who's pecs twitched up and down with pride that a man as massive as Mr Sanata had called him big. "Would you like to get bigger?" "More than anything," said George. "I could help you very much," said the big man. George liked the sounds of that, and so every day, after he lifted, he would go over to Mr Sanata's and gorge himself on a sumo diet of beef, fish, vegetables, rice, and, instead of beer, gallons of protein shakes made with pure cream. George's mom was relieved to not have to cook as much as before, and his dad was relieved not to have to pay for it. In exchange, George agreed to practice wrestling with Mr Sanata everyday. George liked slamming into the bigger man, like to bulls in heat. He liked all the ceremony surrounding the sport, too. But what he liked most of all was gorging himself with as much food as possible, to the point where he was all sweaty and practically immobile from it. He gained thirty pounds in the first month, and he couldn't believe how much he liked the bulk he was adding. It helped makes his lifts go up and up, and his uncle had to buy even more weights for the basement gym. Mr Sanata wasn't crazy about all of George's weightlifting, but by the second month of training, when George had gained another thirty pounds, and was now able to knock the seasoned sumo wrestler out of the ring, he couldn't argue against it. By George's eighteenth birthday, he weighed over 300lbs. His arms had gone from 18" to 23", his chest from 50" to 64", and although a lot of it was from the bulking, he was still as solid as a side of beef. Mr Sanata couldn't believe how hard the young man felt when they slammed into each other. Especially his ball gut, which rounded out to 42". On weekends, George would stuff himself until he couldn't hold another mouthful, put on his mawashi, the sumo loincloth, then have his two older cousins come out into the backyard, where he would strip off his shirt and have them punch his gut as hard as they could, until they were sweaty and exhausted, and their arms were pumped and veiny from the workout. George would flex his own 23" biceps for them to admire. He could make them bloat to 24" just by flexing them harder and harder. He let them touch his arms, so they could feel the hard swole muscle. "Mutant", they called him, and he would laugh and curl them off the ground by their belts, one in each hand, curling his 200lbs cousins like they were 25lbs dumbbells. Right after George graduated high school, Mr Sanata had to go back to Japan, and wasn't sure when he'd be back. George would miss him, but he wouldn't really miss the sumo wrestling. Mr Sanata had tried to find opponents for him, but no one could match him for his hard bulk and strength, so George was growing bored with it. He could focus solely on his weightlifting and growth now. He went to work for his uncle's landscaping company, and his uncle let him rip trees out of the ground with his bare hands. The whole crew liked watching George squat down around a tree, wrap his big arms around the trunk, and power it up with his huge glutes and quads, the roots ripping right out of the hard earth. Sometimes, if the tree was big enough, he'd put on his loincloth to rip it up, exposing his enormous rump. He'd feel his glute muscle striating as he'd uproot the tree, and his massive legs swell with power. He'd hear the crew muttering "mutante" and beastia" under their breaths. This would crank George up even more, and he would rack the trunk behind his neck, and walk around the yard with the exaggerated sumo shiko stomping he'd learned from Mr Sanata. His ass and legs would be purple with bloated pump by the time he stopped. By the end of the summer, from all the hard labor and lifting he had done, George had gained 30lbs of muscle, and his hard gut ball had tightened up a 38" tortoise shell ab wall. At 335lbs, he had 25" arms, 65" chest, and his quads, at their thickest point, were 39". He knew his stats because he would make his cousins measure him out once a week, usually after the hottest twelve hour day of landscaping, and then a two hour workout, so he was insanely pumped, drenched in sweat, and stank up the whole basement gym with his muscle mass. And although both his cousins had girlfriends, he saw them getting hard as they taped out his size. He would get hard too, watching himself in the mirror, being measured, flexing, sweat matting up his hairy beast chest. One day soon, when he'd tightened up even more, he'd have his cousins shave him down, so they could all see his massiveness with much more clarity. He wanted to be 350lbs for that, and since that day wasn't too far off, he ordered some posers. He made sure to order the ones that would show much more of his mass that his mawashi did.
  13. After a quick search, this was the most current thing I could find.... http://www.stuff.co.nz/the-press/news/10491583/Drug-use-up-tenfold-says-Mr-Big
  14. growth

    Fantastic story. Love how the two rivals grow and swell with size, power, and dominance. Love Scotty's descriptions of the muscle...biceps big as a turkey, nips pointing to the ground from the monster pec pump. Hard to beat visuals like that!