DISCLAIMER: I am by no means a writer and English isn't my first language. Therefore please excuse my syntax and grammar. Nevertheless I wanted to create a little something to motivate people to contribute to this wonderful continuous story. It's been quite in here for way too long and I am burning to read more. Hope that my little shorty of a chapter still brings you guys joy.
After 2 grueling hours of pumping iron and marinating himself in his own juices, Phil heads towards the communal shower area of the gym. As he turns around the corner, a 'closed for maintenance' sign is propped up in the entranceway of the showers. For a moment he considers to just head home and take a shower there, but he didn't really feel like stinking up his car with his ripe scent (even tho his playmates love him to smell of manliness and honest hard work).
He passes the maintenance sign and continues towards the showers. After all, he is paying for his membership and it is not his fault, that they are scheduling maintenance when he most definitely is in need of an ice cold shower.
Phil stops and stares when he sees the shower stall to the far left in a demolished state. Seemingly something or someone punched holes, the size of dinner plates, through the shower dividers and left tiles on the walls, as well as the floor cracked and crumbled. A closer look reveals a trail of cracked tiles, leading from the shower stall to the entrance.
Phil tries to think of what might have happened here. Roid rage? Or maybe someone was denied an after workout blowjob, and didn't take it well? Whatever it was, a strong scent (not his own) caught his attention and made him curious of it's source. He always had a very sensitive nose, so he has no trouble following the scent to the broken shower stall, where he detects a wet, crumpled piece of cloth, in between the fragments of tile and debris.
Against his better judgment he picks up the cloth and gives it an experimental whiff. The smell of many hard workouts paired with loads and loads of cum is undeniable. Shocked and excited at once, he drops the piece of cloth which makes a soggy wet noise as it hits the tiles.
Now he finally realizes what he just had found. A cum and sweat soaked, torn jockstrap... an ENORMOUS cum and sweat soaked, torn jockstrap!
Whatever Bahamut of a man lost this precious piece of undergarment here, definitely had the time of his life erupting into it like a volcano and gutting the shower stall while doing so.
With a mixed feeling in his guts Phil backs out of the shower area. Under those circumstances a shower at home might be the better option. What Phil missed to realize, he never washed his hands, his mind was just too busy trying to comprehend, rather than thinking of something as banal as washing hands. The cum and sweat mixture, now spread over various parts of his body and gym gear, slowly dries and leaves almost invisible white stains.
At home Phil jumps into the well deserved shower and washes off the sweat and grime (and almost forgotten cum). He checks himself out in the mirror, gives himself a quick double bi gun check, and approves of his gym progress with a wink. A short while later Phil lays passed out on the couch, on the TV an emergency report interrupts some silly show. A nervous looking reporter runs down the little known facts of a new epidemic, that terrorizes the east coast of the United States. A male muscle growth virus, which besides muscle growth, causes a wide variety of other unforeseen mutations and modifications.
In his slumber, Phil scratches his chest as it slowly fills out with new muscle mass and dark dense hair. A leaking hardon is pointing towards his growing pecs, as his dreams become feverish and filled with sexual perversions of muscles, musk, lust, growth, power and dominance...