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goremeridian

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About goremeridian

  • Rank
    250+ Posts

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  • Location
    London
  • This profile is a...
    real profile.
  • Gender
    Male
  • Orientation
    Gay
  • What are your interests?
    I like extremes, be that extremes of strength, musculature or sheer physical size.
  • What are your stats?
    5"11, 152lbs
  • What are you seeking?
    Stories that make me (in no particular order:) think, gasp, get a whopping great erection, laugh, growl with envy at the awesome writing, and want to re-read to have the experience all over again. It'd be nice to meet people on here with similar interests too.
  • What are your dream stats?
    Hmm, I could probably go for a few more pounds of muscle. So long as I'm at least a billion gigatonnes lighter than my boyfriend :)
  • Favorite Stories
    Grow Your Own Gravity, Mass Hose, Justin (the bigger the better), Graham. Any stories about an unquenchable thirst for massive muscle growth, really.
  • Favorite Bodybuilders
    Peter Molnar, Lee Priest
  • Got Any Fetishes?
    A man's obsession with more and more size, never being satisfied no matter how freakishly muscular he grows, kind of...does strange things to me psychologically. Goood things. :)

Recent Profile Visitors

11165 profile views
  1. Terrific writing, SwoleMeUp!
  2. For me, greed for muscle size - whether male, female or anthro - is hot as f*ck, do please continue this!
  3. Incredible writing, mate, and really hot. Seriously impressive stuff.
  4. See, THIS is why this is a hot story. Jakk will never be satisfied with his size; his greed is insatiable. An amazing chapter, expandingmuscle
  5. I need to live in a warmer country. There are not enough pools, and by extension, hunky pool boys, in the UK! Great story, VRGoh!
  6. What a fun read! I'm glad the protagonist found someone to accommodate his size needs in the end
  7. 'Enjoying' is putting it mildly, buddy Take your time over Part 3; I'm sure it'll be worth the wait!
  8. Muscle growth and dystopian fiction: two of my favourite things The narrative benefits from some really skillful pacing; there is a wonderful rhythm to your writing. I don't know if that's something you've worked on or something that comes naturally. Either way, a terrific read, mate!
  9. Yeah, I have to say, while cocky jocks are cool, there's nothing quite like a mature, greedy-for-growth muscledaddy
  10. A really nice idea. This story feels almost mythological with its sleeping titans. A great addition to the storiversary
  11. What a great story! I love how humble and awkward the protagonist is, even though he is essentially a god among men. A really unique tale, Austinevenson42 (and the photos of Patrick Leblanc were definitely appreciated too )
  12. The idea of myself getting massive has never really appealed to me, to be honest. I've always thought it would be much hotter to grow someone else, to be the architect of a bodybuilder's ascension to godhood. To mock them for still being too small, too puny, even as they tower, massively, over the city. Before growing them hundreds, if not THOUSANDS, of times bigger. Though there are few people willing to grow to quite that size, I've already had a couple of volunteers Now, all I need to do is wake up with that ability...
  13. Back ‘ABOUT TIME YOU GOT BACK, RUNT. DID YOUR BIG OL DADDY SCARE YOU OFF, HEH?’ It had only been ninety minutes, but Caleb had almost forgotten how deep his father’s voice was now, how loud, like a solid masculine force rumbling through the basement gym, rattling the weights, shaking the windows, thrumming along every bone in the little man’s skinny frame. He’d almost forgotten the new smell too, the heady aroma of man, of sweat, of cum, and thickening brawn. A smell that was so rich, so potent, that Caleb felt he was swimming in it. What he hadn’t forgotten was how his father looked now. No, that image had burned through the poor lad’s corneas and fused to his very brain. Every time he’d closed his eyes in the last hour and a half, the bodybuilder’s gargantuan, swollen, twitching musculature glistened before him in his mind’s eye. Ever growing, ever thickening. The big man was performing a set of curls, his freakish, sweat-shimmering biceps splitting into monster peaks with every flex, every straining lift of the colossal clanking weight. His father had always had big arms. Now they were simply inhuman. Like the rest of him. He grunted (a sound that Caleb felt as well as heard) and – completing one final HEAVE, a manoeuvre that caused the bunched muscle fibres of his biceps and triceps to thicken and writhe maniacally on his trunk-like arms – re-racked the enlarged weight. ‘SO…’ He smirked cockily down at his son, from his titanic height of thirty feet, bringing both arms up into a double bicep flex that SQUEEZED the cannons of his freakish upper arms bigger, and bigger, and BIGGER, with every strain, the sheer freakish MASS of grotesque muscle nearly BURSTING from his tan, taut skin. ‘IT’S TIME TO GROW ME BIGGER. A LOT BIGGER.’ Anyone who didn’t know his father would have labelled him as cocky: a big, arrogant muscle-head. But Caleb could see through the bravado. Though the obsessive curling. Even through that smirk. His daddy was troubled. Relieved, sure, that his son had returned. But anxious to know where he’d been for the last ninety-odd minutes. An anxiety that he was trying very hard to cover up. **** Caleb’s power had manifested overnight. He couldn’t account for it but, standing amid the enlarged debris that had once been the bog-standard items of his bedroom (a brass Ikea desk lamp that was now over twelve feet tall, a tattered maroon Next At Home sofa cushion big enough to support a sumo wrestler, an orange W.H. Smith paperclip that he’d grown so massive it had torn through the very ceiling) two significant things dawned on him. One, that now he was a goddamn superhero. He could, merely by thinking, grow any object: a power worthy of any spandex-clad DC or Marvel hunk. And two, that he could finally give his daddy everything he wanted. Ever since the man had split up with Caleb’s mother (who had cited the man’s ‘freakish desire to grow’ as one of many ‘irreconcilable differences’) the bodybuilder had spent almost every waking hour in his basement gym. It was as though, with the need to placate his wife sexually and domestically removed, he could now focus on the only need that really mattered to him: his own growth. He’d been an amateur bodybuilding enthusiast back in the day, but – despite frequently confessing a desire to get back into the sport, and an impressive exercise regime – hadn’t been able to devote himself to UTTER MASSIVENESS until now. Sure, he’d talked about it (a lot), and flexed his gargantuan muscles (a lot) – often to the astonishment (and occasional lust) of their family friends – but he’d never been able to commit himself fully to it until the separation. Caleb had opted to stay with his father. He loved the big guy, and was more than happy to support him. At sixty, his friends’ dads were all past it, either bloated from their sedentary lifestyles or shrunken, skinny little fucks from a lifetime of zero exercise. Caleb thrived on the fact that his own daddy was a stud, a hunk (so his female friends always said) and the chance to help his father become the man, the hulk, he had always wanted to be was too good to pass up. And then, nearly two years to the day after his parents’ split, he had woken up one chilly Wednesday morning with the power to grow things. Sometimes life is full of odd coincidences. **** ‘RUNT?’ The low voice resonated, tonally midway between aggressive and apprehensive. He shrugged, the striations in his massive delts rippled in a grotesque play of masculine power, seeming to grow THICKER and THICKER, bunching with UNSTOPPABLE POWER. A shrug that was supposed to convey nonchalance, but one that just felt overacted to Caleb. ‘HEH. CAT GOT YER TONGUE?’ For a moment, Caleb felt his mouth went dry. Was his daddy even BIGGER than when he’d left? Was that even POSSIBLE? Had he been growing his father unconsciously all this time? Maybe it was just the pump, he reasoned. From the hefting of all those hundreds of pounds of iron. That had to be it. The other possibility – that once he had started to grow his daddy, the connection between them would always remain, feeding his father’s muscles, stretching his bones, bloating him inch by inch with thickening, steely mass – was too thrilling to consider. When the little man replied, his neck aching as he gazed up past the too-tight-wifebeater-clad pec shelf (the MEGAHULK GYM logo warped horribly by the seething mass of pectoral muscle below, the letters twisted from the force of the steely, straining striations threatening to split the puny material right down the centre with the tiniest flex) to the grizzled, handsome face of his daddy, he barely had enough saliva to pronounce the words. ‘Awww. Ha ha, aintcha gonna ask me where I’ve been for the last hour and a half, pops?’ It was brave, speaking to a mountain of muscle like that without acknowledging his request to grow. (His demand?) But Caleb had to confess. He couldn’t resist a tiny, tiny smile of his own, knowing that, despite the bravado, the big man was hanging on his every word. **** Annoyingly his father hadn’t been home earlier when he had discovered his powers, otherwise Caleb would have started the muscleman’s ascension much sooner. Usually Caleb’s daddy spent the day in the huge basement gym he’d built for himself, heaving impossible weights around and grunting about how massive he was going to become. Caleb suspected – from the reek of testosterone – that the muscleman masturbated down there too, probably to the pictures of morphed bodybuilders he hoped to eclipse at some point soon that covered the walls. Still, the hours he spent waiting for his daddy to return were well-spent: by the time the swollen bodybuilder came thudding in through the front door (he’d been into London with a few roidmates to check out a new mass-building supplement), Caleb felt that he had completely perfected his power: he could successfully grow any object – including living matter (as the bloated goldfish in the tank could attest) as big as he desired. There seemed to be no upper limit: had he wanted to, he could have opened his garage door as a tourist attraction because it hosted (after he had spent an hour or so rolling it carefully inside) the biggest ball of lint on the planet; something Caleb had grown from a few square millimetres to three times the size of the neighbour’s Renault Espace. It had also given him time to work out how he was going to approach the subject. He waited until the two of them were sitting in the living room, watching – what else? – a bodybuilding show on television. Caleb had agreed to pay for a range of muscle channels on their Sky box, to provide his father with the motivation he needed to workout longer, lift heavier, and get bigger. He’d tried to get his daddy to watch YouTube clips or register with usamuscle.com, but like many people of his generation, the big man was something of a technophobe. Besides, he’d argued, watching the television was more sociable. They could compare the mass monsters on the screen and share a laugh about how puny he’d make them all look one day. Priceless father and son time. All those muscle channels cost a fair packet (Freaky Hulk TV alone requiring a £50-a-month subscription), but the devoted little man thought it was worth it if it kept his daddy happy and motivated. Caleb watched the light dancing in his father’s eyes as the big man marvelled at some grotesquely oversized monster waddling across the stage, slick with oil, his posing pouch nearly bursting from his semi-erect, throbbing musclegod cock. And then he started to grow his daddy. Just a little, at first. A few pounds here, a swelling there. A little more thickness to his delts. A couple more inches on his quads. ‘You, er – you think you’ll ever pose on stage like that, daddy?’ He asked, sounding as innocent as possible. The big man had grunted his response without taking his eyes off the TV. ‘I've thought about it a lot over the years. But, truth be told, son, it takes balls to wear something that skimpy in front of so many people. Maybe when I have the mass…’ Caleb thought his father was already huge enough to pull off a tight little pair of posing trunks. And he was certainly well-endowed enough. He tuned back into what the muscleman was saying: ‘But I’d need to be seriously big to even consider it. And…’ That little trace of muscle dysmorphic self-doubt tickled in his throat. ‘And I’m not there yet. I mean, heh,’ he threw up a façade of jovial confidence, ‘they don’t exactly leave anything to the imagination, do they, son?’ Caleb didn’t know why - perhaps because he could hear the traces of his daddy's self-doubt in his voice when he talked about the posing trunks - but the timing just felt right. He cleared his throat, shrugged (feigning nonchalance far more convincingly than his father would a few hours’ hence), and casually commented that his dad was looking pretty big these days. ‘I mean, isn’t that a new t-shirt you’re wearing? It looks like you’re outgrowing it…’ ‘Caleb…’ the big man smirked, taking a side-glance at his boy. God bless his son, always supporting him, always saying stuff to motivate him on his path to getting huge. But then he noticed it. The t-shirt was kind of tight. ‘The hell?’ The bodybuilder looked down at himself in disbelief, completely forgetting the hulk flexing on the television. The sofa beneath him creaked as though in pain. ‘I’m…I’m THICKER! Bigger! What on Earth..?’ He caught Caleb’s attempts to hide his smile, and stammered, barely able to get the words out over his excitement and disbelief. ‘Wait; YOU did this to me?’ Caleb burst out laughing. It was some time before he could explain his new power to his father. Despite the evidence to the contrary – including the giant paperclip still lodged in the ceiling of his bedroom, and ball of mega-lint, the hulking bodybuilder still didn’t quite know whether to believe him. So Caleb decided to grow him some more. They were standing on the upstairs landing when the skinny son let his power flow through him and into his daddy once again. Immediately, the man’s muscles began to throb and pulse, to thicken, the striations visible through his tightening t-shirt. Caleb’s father just looked down at himself in disbelief as, within the space of a minute, another twenty pounds of bunching, rippling, iron-hard mass was added to his bodybuilder frame. He couldn’t help grinning as he flexed one arm, then the other, marvelling at the cords of muscle swelling and clenching, SQUEEZING with power, beneath the skin. And then he fixed his son with a stern look, and the smile was gone. ‘Hey, why’d you stop?’ Caleb was taken aback. ‘Whoa, dad – you want to grow even MORE?’ He shook his head. ‘I mean, isn’t this what you wanted? To be HUGE?’ His father had to be one of the biggest men on the planet! The bodybuilder’s deep voice had a strangely serious tone to it. ‘Son,’ he grunted, adjusting his stance slightly, his thicker thighs uncomfortably tight in his jeans, causing the floorboards on the landing to CR-E-E-E-E-E-A-K painfully, ‘I’m nowhere NEAR as big as I want to be. Not any more.’ He scratched at his left pectoral through the material, the bars of lean, shredded muscle in his wrist rippling majestically. ‘You have this power…this incredible power to grow me…and you think I’d be happy with just a few pounds? Ha!’ The muscleman’s voice was loud, powerful, and Caleb took a step back. He noticed a small tear at the top of his father’s new t-shirt where his father’s magnificent, thickly-swollen chest was ripping through the material. A tear that was beginning to expand as his daddy flexed the iron-hard fibres of his godlike pectoral muscles for emphasis. Holy fuck. ‘You’re going to help me to grow a LOT more, boy. Just let me get my MEGAHULK GYM stuff. It can grow with me, right? And you’re going to grow my weights. Fuck…’ The light in his eyes had become a furious flicker. ‘Imagine the pump I’ll have at THIS size…and bigger…’ He grinned cockily. The tear in the material beginning to split down the centre of the t-shirt, revealing the bunched striations of a chest to rival Mr Olympia’s. He poked a thick digit into Caleb’s own bony chest. ‘Meet me in the basement gym in five. And this time,’ he added, his voice powerful, strong, resonating in the little hallway, ‘you’re going to grow me as big as I want. Got it?’ Caleb had never heard his father so dominant, so driven. It shocked the little man as much as it thrilled him. Sure, occasionally his father had told him off when he had taken too long making a protein shake or had printed off a picture of a morphed bodybuilder that was too small to serve as adequate motivation, but nothing like this. The man’s heart, muscles and mind were driven by something Caleb had only ever seen in his father’s eyes: greed. **** The monstrous, hulking, thirty-foot man frowned in the dim light of the basement gym, lowering his arms to his sides, the seething awesomeness of his lats flexing magnificently beneath the tiny wifebeater. ‘I…I’M NOT INTERESTED IN WHERE YOU’VE BEEN. YOU WERE SCARED, RIGHT? SCARED OF YOUR BIG GROWING DADDY. I…GOT TOO INTENSE. BUT…BUT NOW YOU’RE BACK.’ Forcing some strength into his voice, he continued: ‘AND I SAID IT’S TIME TO GROW ME. UNLESS…’ That handsome, faltering, cocky smirk widened. He took a step, a THUNDEROUS step forward, the overhead lights fully illuminating his grotesquely hypermuscled form, the quadriceps of his right leg bunching into freakish teardrops, the steely muscle of his swollen, thickening calf splitting into finger-thick striations. And another step. And another. A mountain, lumbering forward. An avalanche of man, of muscle, of brawn and sex and cock and cum. A titan. Until he loomed over his puny son like a monolith. Caleb was forced to stagger backwards for the second time that evening. To be able to see his father’s tremulous eyes. To seek fresher air – the stench of his father’s bodybuilder musk threatened to make him pass out. And to avoid getting stepped on. A very real possibility. ‘HEH. UNLESS YOU NEED A REMINDER OF WHO’S IN CHARGE HERE, NOW, RUNT.’ And with that, his daddy FLEXED his chest, the freakish mass of his pecs RI-I-I-I-PPING through the material of the MEGAHULK GYM wifebeater, his hard nipples SQUEEZING tight atop the writhing perfection of his godlike chest. With a mighty chuckle – a sound that set Caleb’s teeth rattling – he reached up, the sinewy bands of his wrist swollen and flexing, and TORE the rest of the pathetic material off, exposing his shredded, tanned six-pack, each hot, throbbing abdominal bigger than Caleb’s head. He dropped the material to the floor. It landed with a splat, so coated was the wifebeater in the delicious muscledaddy saltiness of his manly sweat. For a moment, the shaking of the room – and the trembling of Caleb’s heart – subsided. Then the big man spoke again. ‘WELL, LITTLE CALEB? YOU GONNA GROW DADDY? I’M A GIANT,’ impossibly, that trembling smirk seemed to get even BIGGER, ‘BUT NOW IT’S TIME TO MAKE ME A GOD.’ Even the bodybuilder’s BREATH was powerful. It swirled over Caleb’s clothes, ruffled his hair (like his daddy used to do when he was a little boy), a hot zephyr reeking of hypermuscle-building vanilla protein powder. The faux-bravado was still there. Caleb couldn’t help but feel sorry for his ol dad. The man had seriously overestimated his acting ability. Trembling a little, Caleb stood his ground, fixing his father with a confident stare. Only the vast shadow cast by his gargantuan chest prevented Caleb from seeing the monstrous cock his father sported, though this close up he could hear it awakening in his too-tight black gym shorts: a colossal, torso-thick beast of vein-wreathed manmeat nearly his own height, reeking of cum and sweat. His father always got horny when he talked about growing. Clenching his words together, Caleb threw them at his father with a smile of his own, up past the freakish thighs, resonating past his segmented, twitching abs, squeaking past the rippling fibres bunching in his monster pecs, to the handsome face far, far above him: ‘Ask me where I’ve been, daddy. I know you want to know. I can see the worry in your eyes.’ ‘SON…’ A single sound from his colossal daddy, that resounded in Caleb’s skull and set his brain rattling. And then, little by little, the cracks started to appear. ‘YOU RAN. WHEN YOU REALISED THAT YOU COULDN’T REVERSE THE GROWTH. YOU RAN…BECAUSE YOU WERE AFRAID.’ He stared back at the man he had created. The titan to whom he had given form. The muscles in his jaw and neck aching from the strain of facing up to the giant bodybuilder, he replied, as best he could, with a snatch of words. The sound was practically stolen away by his nerves and his lack of saliva, but his daddy heard them nonetheless. ‘Not…exactly, pops.’ **** Just as his father had wanted, Caleb had met him in the basement gym in five minutes and grown him. And his weights. And his cockiness. And his muscle. And his cock. And his muscle. And particularly his biceps. And particularly his biceps (again). Because his father had always been obsessed with his guns. And a bit more cock. And then, when his daddy’s head had brushed the very ceiling of the thirty-foot gym, when the bodybuilder’s smile was so BIG, so BRIGHT, so MAGNIFICENT as he surveyed his steaming, striated musculature that Caleb knew his father had never been this happy in his LIFE, he stopped the growth. ‘YOU FUCKING DID IT, SON,’ the big man had said, chuckling. He had immediately started performing one bodybuilding pose after another, seeming to grow BIGGER and THICKER with every STRAIN, every CLENCH, every striated, pumped, grotesque, vein-wreathed, sweat-dripping FLEX that made a mockery of the ‘huge’ bodybuilder they had watched on the television only an hour before. His gargantuan bulge BLOATED beneath his tight workout shorts, DRIPPING pre, the smell and the heat of so much MAN filling the gym with a heady, reeking cocktail. ‘I’M THE BEST! THE FUCKING BIGGEST! AT LAST!’ Caleb was so caught up in the big man’s exuberance he didn’t realise a full fifteen minutes had passed before his hulking father finally seemed to come to his senses again, and notice his boy standing, small and pathetic, though with a big grin, before him. ‘WELL?’ The muscular titan boomed, his thick chest throbbing with heaving masculine power at the word. ‘I’m happy for you, dad…I can’t describe how magnificent you look at this size!’ Caleb gushed. He couldn’t have been prouder of his daddy at that moment. Couldn’t have been more thrilled that HE had been the one to help the big man achieve his dream. ‘But…you know, you’re too big to leave the basement now. I promise I’ll get you this big whenever you want to, to make you the TITAN you were meant to be, because you’re my daddy and I love you.’ He huffed happily. ‘But how about I shrink you down again and make you some dinner?’ He started concentrating on his father’s swollen form. ‘You must be starving – you always are after a huge pump, and they don’t get much bigger than this, ha ha!’ He concentrated harder. ‘And – nnggg – maybe we can watch some Freaky Hulk TV and laugh at how all the guys on there don’t even come up to your knees at the heights I can – nnggg – grow you to.’ He concentrated even harder. His jaw clenched. Yet even as Caleb’s face whitened with the strain, his daddy’s smile broadened. ‘HEH. HAVING A LITTLE TROUBLE THERE, SON?’ ‘No,’ Caleb lied. He tried to force his thoughts to drain the growth out of his father. Just talking about dinner had made him hungry. And he knew his dad would get a kick out of watching the bodybuilders pose on television, now that he had experienced being bigger than any of them could ever hope to be. ‘It’s just…I can’t seem to…’ He stopped, panting slightly from the strain. And looked up, up at his daddy with slightly frightened eyes. ‘I don’t think my power allows me to shrink anything back. I can…’ A sort of sick horror curdled coldly in his throat. ‘I think you’re stuck like that, daddy.’ His skinny throat choked on the words as he glanced about him. ‘I mean, I think you’re stuck in here too, daddy. There’s no way you can squeeze out of the door now.’ Caleb didn’t even realise that his father was barely paying any attention to the little man anymore. He was staring lovingly down at his own mighty chest, casually tensing one pectoral, then the other, fascinated at the freakish mass of bunching steel that THICKENED into hideous grotesqueness with every flex. ‘MMMM.’ It was a long, deep, happy sigh that Caleb felt in his very bones. ‘SO I CAN ONLY GET BIGGER? SOUNDS GOOD TO ME, RUNT. ‘CAUSE I INTEND TO GET A LOT BIGGER THAN THIS.’ Caleb was lost in his own panic. ‘Maybe I could get the fire brigade. Or the police.’ He wasn’t even looking at his daddy now. His frightened little eyes were turned inwards, frantically considering, pondering. ‘What the hell would I say to them though? What would they do to daddy once they got him free?’ ‘FUCK, SO FUCKING BIG,’ the bodybuilder grunted, fondling the steely meat of his swollen tricep muscle. ‘SO FUCKING HUGE. YOU’RE GONNA GROW ME SON, AND I’M GOING TO BURST OUT OF THIS HOUSE.’ He felt his giant cock twitching excitedly, stirring thickly, with the thought. ‘AND THEN YOU’RE GOING TO KEEP GROWING ME.’ Though the hulking, bloated, monstrously muscular hulk was using his son’s name, he was, in truth, only addressing his own greed. His own desire for mass. A desire he’d had all of his life, like an old friend. ‘THE NEIGHBOURHOOD’S GOING TO SHRINK BEFORE ME, RUNT – AND THAT’S BEFORE I’VE EVEN STARTED TO PROPERLY GROW.’ ‘I could call the army. They have scientists. They’d know what to do, surely?’ Caleb’s mind was fizzing. The bulge in the giant bodybuilder’s too-tight shorts began to swell, his inhumanly huge cock tickling with the orgasmic excitement of finally being able to achieve the size, the mass, the power he had craved all of his life, completely ignoring his little son’s murmurs. ‘FUCK, IMAGINE WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN WHEN I TAKE MY FIRST STEP FORWARD. EVEN NOW I CAN CAUSE THIS PLACE TO SHAKE WITH ONLY MY FUCKING VOICE, HA HA!’ He paused, his massive ears relishing the sound of rattling weights. He noticed, then, his son’s mewling. What was the little runt talking about? The fire brigade? ‘CALEB.’ The word shuddered massively in the tiny basement. The police? ‘CALEB,’ he spoke again, more powerfully this time, shaking the very walls, setting the giant weights rocking in their stands. The ARMY? ‘CALEB!’ The two syllables came out as a low growl that rattled across the neighbourhood, startling a flock of birds nestling on a telegraph wire, causing several neighbours to look up suddenly, questioningly, wondering terrified whether this was the start of a small earthquake… …and snapping Caleb out of his rant. The boy looked up, and the god gazed down at him over the swollen shelf of his throbbing pectorals. ‘I WANT THIS, CALEB. I NEED THIS. IT’S WHAT I’VE ALWAYS WANTED. AND YOU GAVE IT TO ME. BUT IT’S NOT ENOUGH. YOU KNOW YOU HAVE TO GROW ME BIGGER. A LOT BIGGER.’ He paused, the confidence cracking, splintering deep within his big throat. ‘WAY, WAY BIGGER THAN YOU CAN EVEN IMAGINE. IT’S WHAT WE BOTH WANT. AND YOU…YOU KNOW IT, RIGHT, RUNT?’ A long, heavy moment passed as father and son stared into each other’s eyes, as though seeking something within. An understanding. From his titanic height, the bodybuilder couldn’t be sure…but he was almost certain that he saw something flicker in Caleb’s pupils. An odd little light. The sensation spread out into his face, which gradually became less contorted. It softened, almost. And then the little son turned and, whippet-quick, disappeared up the basement stairs and through the door. ‘CALEB!’ The monstrous man yelled, causing two sets of neighbours to hide under their kitchen tables ( they had heard that was what one did in an earthquake) and blowing the roof tiles off his own house. But the boy was gone. A dumb-bell, dislodged from its stand by the power of his voice, rolled slowly across the floor and came to rest beside the giant’s foot. He glanced down. A workout – yes, a workout. It was what he always did when he needed to calm down. He could focus on the pump, focus on getting huge, lose himself in the adrenaline, in the dream of swelling more and more massive, while he waited for his little boy to come back. If he came back. No, he corrected himself, his brow creasing. When he came back. But what would be bring with him… The FIRE BRIGADE? The POLICE? The FUCKING ARMY? …when he returned. Reaching for the weight, he noticed that his thick, calloused hand, the biggest, strongest hand on the planet, a titan’s hand, was trembling slightly. **** Caleb grinned, loving the look of confusion, of doubt, on his daddy’s face. ‘You want to know where I went, dad?’ The big man gritted his jaw, his monstrous physique tensed, impossibly huge and powerful, his thick brawn flexing like an undulating sea of rippling mass. His cockiness had utterly splintered. He realised that his mouth was dry. ‘Heh, you would not believe how many stores I had to go to to find these!’ And as he spoke, he pulled something from his pocket, some glossy material that caught the light and threw it into his father’s eyes. Eyes that widened when he saw what it was his son was holding. The reason he had left. A shiny black pair of bodybuilder’s posing trunks. ‘SO YOU…YOU…’ He rolled his big tongue around in his mouth. ‘YOU WENT SHOPPING?’ Caleb’s grin widened yet further. ‘Yeah. After all, you said only seriously big bodybuilders can pull these off, right?’ He twirled them on his finger. ‘I think you’re definitely beginning to get into that category…though I’ll have to grow you a bit more. Maybe a LOT more.’ He chuckled. ‘Where’d you think I’d gone, anyway?’ It was a moment before Caleb’s father could reply. The FIRE BRIGADE? The POLICE? The FUCKING ARMY? Heh. ‘MMM,’ he grunted, the sound shaking his puny son’s bones. ‘DOESN’T MATTER. THE IMPORTANT THING IS THAT YOU’RE BACK. BACK WHERE YOU BELONG. GROWING ME.’ He paused, some of the old cockiness, the old confidence coming back. His boy was home. He was going to get a lot bigger. All was right with the world. ‘THOUGH THE SIZE I’M THINKING OF, YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE TO GROW THOSE THINGS PRETTY DAMN BIG, RUNT. ‘Of course! When you’re hundreds of miles tall, filling the entire SKY with thickening muscle, I’ll make sure they’re still nice and comfy.’ Hundreds of miles? The big man’s cock started stirring once more. ‘RIGHT. HAND THOSE THINGS OVER, RUNT-SON. DADDY’S GOING TO PUT ON HIS FIRST POSING POUCH. IT'S ABOUT TIME.’ He grinned, and this time it wasn’t trembling, wasn’t false, wasn’t an act. ‘AND THEN I’VE GOT SOME SERIOUS GROWING TO DO.’ It would be hard to say, between the two of them, whose grin was bigger. Who was more excited. And certainly, who, at that very moment, was prouder of the other. THE END
  14. Really great writing, Desato. You have a really clever way of making quite difficult-to-grasp subjects (reality alteration, illusions) readable and engaging. A seriously great start to the Storiversary. (No pressure on me for tomorrow. Yikes.)
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