Jump to content


  • Content Count

  • Joined

  • Last visited

Community Reputation

1357 Excellent

About Mikeytron

  • Rank
    100+ Posts
  • Birthday 02/16/1983

Contact Methods

  • Website URL
  • Skype


  • Location
  • This profile is a...
    real profile.
  • Gender
  • Orientation
  • What are your interests?
    lifting weights, reading books, laughing, music, cyborgs, cultural studies.
  • What are your stats?
    Deadlift: 405 lbs x 1
    Squat: 330 lbs x 4
    Bench: 225 lbs x 5
    OHP: 135 x 4

    Six feet nuthin'. As of March 21 2015, according to DEXA scan: 194.7 lbs, 14.9% bodyfat.

    Arms: 16.25"
    Chest: 45"
    Waist: 33"
    Thigh: 26.5"

    I gotta instagram if you care to look: https://www.instagram.com/michaelmcmikey/
  • What are you seeking?
    Mutual muscle appreciation? A momentary diversion on the road to the grave? How long is a piece of string? I want to get huge and I like guys who want to get huge or have gotten huge. Semantic dissociation surrounding the word "huge."

    I really enjoy roleplaying. Tell me, in great detail, how huge you're going to make me, and I'll basically melt.

    If anyone is physically proximate and wants to trade flexes, I'm always into that.

    Through my very scholarly approach to most things I seem to have become more knowledgeable than many regarding PEDs. So I'm always happy to trade knowledge, anecdotes, experiences, etc.
  • What are your dream stats?
    300+ lbs, just generally freaky big. I have a tiny frame (wrists just over 6") so in all honesty and speaking realistically I think a lean 240 would look amazing on me - BUT WHY STOP THERE, the fetish-monster roars from the corner.

    In all honesty, my desire far outstrips what is even remotely possible, so let's just say: I wanna get as big as I can get. And in my most extreme fantasies that's like, quadruple digits, very easily.
  • Favorite Stories
    Most of bbmikenj's ouevre, The G, Myophile's old stories (Pincushion, Immobilization of Jake). I like stuff that's written with imagination and heart, but that also shows some familiarity with the actual mechanisms of real world muscle growth (just expanded and accelerated a little beyond what is actually possible). Magic potions that make a guy swell up in minutes with no effort - meh, not so much.

    Excessive violence is a big turn off for me. I want muscles that are mostly for peace and love and only occasionally for tossing someone around (onto a mattress, of course, always!) ;)
  • Favorite Bodybuilders
    far too many to list.
  • Got Any Fetishes?
    I have side interests in gaining (not on myself, but on others), ridiculously huge cocks, and ASFR (basically: sexy male robots/androids/cyborgs). I have a complicated, fraught relationship with the leather scene.

Recent Profile Visitors

11095 profile views
  1. Mikeytron

    Gene Hack

    There’s definitely more coming, and I will hopefully find some way to offer at least partial resolution to the tension (but boy do I love the tension...). But the tumblr fiasco means I have a few more pressing tasks to take care of during my “administration of erotica” time. Thank you all for the encouragement! Knowing I’ve made some dicks harden is a great reward.
  2. Mikeytron

    Gene Hack

    Gene Hack Hey, it's been a long time, but here's a muscle growth story. It's kinda unfinished, I guess, so if you have any suggestions about where to take it, let me know. It's sort of dark. I hope you like it - Mikey Alex sat in his buddy's office at the University, fidgeting. He was lucky that his old undergraduate room-mate, Adi, had gone on to a career in genetic research, and that he had a few favours to turn in. To be honest, Alex didn't know where else to turn. Adi told him it'd take at least five or six hours to analyze the sample and bring back any useful information. Plenty of time for Alex to go home and come back. But he didn't want to go home. Images flashed through his head of what was waiting for him back there. It was pretty disturbing when he left this morning. He shivered to think what was waiting for him by this point. He knew the longer he put it off, the worse it would be. He knew Tom was alone, probably scared, probably suffering. But he just couldn't face what his room-mate was transforming into. The office door opened and a tired-looking Adi stepped in. "Well?!" Alex said, knowing he was being rude, not caring. The last week had his nerves rubbed raw. Adi looked at his old room-mate. "I give you these results, and you delete those pictures of me, right?" Alex nodded hastily. "Yes, yes, god yes. Have mercy, man, tell me what you found." Adi shut the door firmly, strode to his desk, and let his body collapse into his office chair. He exhaled long and slow. "Alex, to be blunt: your friend is totally fucked." * Bodybuilders began showing up heavier and larger at competitions. Not the incremental size increases that the last few decades had shown - we're talking Olympia contenders slabbing on 40, 50, even 60 lbs of mass between last year's competition and this one. 300 lbs on the contest stage wasn't an anomaly anymore - it was the new normal. Then, a few months later, 350. It was a secret, for a little while, how this was happening. But where there's desire, there's a market, and where there's a market.... Soon, boutique genetic modification for bodybuilders was de rigeur for elites - and for hobbyists who could afford the steep price-tag. "We don't delete the genes that prompt the body to produce myostatin," one youtube advertisement claimed. "We moderate those genes, gradually reduce their activity, so muscle growth can continue far beyond natural limits, but in a way that doesn't threaten your health or long-term longevity." It cost a lot of money. Several years of growth hormone levels of "a lot." A new car, and a nice one at that. But when Big Ramy showed up at the 2021 Olympia weighing 435 lbs... it was hard to argue with results. When there's a service in high demand, with a high price, scammers and charlatans will gather in the shadows to feast. * Tom heard good things about the clinic in Mexico. They'd do the myostatin modification for a cut rate - about 1/10th of what it cost to have it done in California. Dudes who had it done posted before and afters on the forums he frequented. He knew they could be faked, an orchestrated army of pretend satisfied customers. But he wanted to believe. He had been trying to muscle up for several years now. Any sensible person would believe he had succeeded. He had been a cute 155 lbs twink. Two years later, he was 195 lbs of beef, leaner, broader, wider, arms pushing toward 17". It wasn't enough. It wasn't fast enough. He had already done two steroid cycles, was committed to the blast and cruise lifestyle, had tried human growth hormone, had dabbled in insulin.... Everyone told him he was big. He didn't think so. To him, big was... well, it was Big Ramy. It was the other Olympians. It was the fever dreams he had that turned his cock to a steel rod, men even bigger than that, almost too over-muscled to move, frames overwhelmed, drowning in their own meat. Room-filling roided up beef heap. Tom wanted to get HUGE. So he contacted the clinic, made an appointment, got his passport, and headed for the border. It wasn't even an overnight stay. * Adi pinched the bridge of his nose. The poor guy's DNA was a mess. A real hatchet job. Whoever had done this was more butcher than scientist. "What do you mean, he's fucked?!" "I mean, the genes meant to modulate his growth, keep it from just... being permanently stuck in overdrive.... They're gone. They're not modified, they've just been clumsily hacked out. His poor DNA is ripped apart. And that's why he's... in the condition he's in." "Is it going to stop?" Adi looked at his old room-mate. "You're smarter than that, Alex. You know the answer to that. I don't know how to help this poor man. He's likely to just.... Continue growing until his skin rips apart, or his organs fail, his bones are crushed, or something else. I'm very sorry. All I can think to do is to make him comfortable. Take him to the hospital. Dope him up until the inevitable end." Alex swallowed hard. He had trouble accepting what his friend was telling him. But it all made sense. "... OK. Thank you, Adi." He got up, collected his things, fumbled with his jacket, realizing his vision was blurring. "And those photos." "What?" "Those photos. You know the ones. They're deleted, right? I have a family, Alex." "Christ, Adi. Yes. They're deleted." "Good." * The weeks after Tom received the treatment were unreal. He loved it. He was blowing up like a meat balloon, adding several pounds a day. Each trip to the gym he was substantially stronger. Every few days he outgrew another article of clothing. He was always hungry. It was like it was impossible for his body to get too much fuel. He would gorge himself in the evenings, eating until it hurt, until his hard, ab-cobbled stomach, stuck out like he was pregnant. He always woke up with it flat again, a tight 31". He knew all that food was turning to muscle. It made him want to eat even more the next night. It made him want to stuff his face every waking moment he wasn't in the gym. Every workout was an event. He felt people staring. Everyone knew it wasn't natural, what was happening to him. He hit 225 lbs so fast he barely even noticed it. But his room-mate, Alex, noticed it. "Fuck, Tom, you're... really blowing up." Tom hadn't told anyone about the procedure. To be honest, he was a little private about it. A little embarrassed. But he figured people would realize something was up soon enough.... "I had that procedure done," he said. "What?" "The muscle growth gene hack that all the pros are getting. It's gonna be the key to really freak size." "Wow. Like.... How big....?" Tom smirked, feeling his dick stir in his pants. This was turning him on. He grabbed his phone and flipped through his photo stash of extreme bodybuilders. He found a video of Nic Vullioud so grossly overgrown his head seemed to be trapped between his pecs, traps, and delts, on the verge of being swallowed up. The poor guy could barely waddle - no, totter - around, turning himself sideways to get through a door, pecs and lats scraping the frame regardless. "That big, if I'm lucky." "Holy fuck, Tom!" "Yeah, I know. Intense, right?" "You want that?" "Hell yeah, man. I want it more than anything. That's why I went and had it done, after all." "Jesus. That's... that's a lot." "Heh. Well. Get used to it. You're gonna be living with a beast, man." * Alex heard the shout from the bathroom. "What happened?! Are you OK?!" "I'm better than OK, dude, I'm 350 fucking pounds!" Alex couldn't believe his eyes. Even though he'd been living with Tom as he'd rapidly inflated with mass, he hadn't seen him like this. Ass about to explode out of a tortured pair of briefs that might have fit 80 lbs ago. Veins the size of copper pipes, looking like they might rip out of his skin if he flexed too hard. Each movement slow, awkward. Tom looked like he was about to pop. He had the biggest grin on his face, like a kid on Christmas. He raised his arms, grotesque globs of bicep and tricep hanging under their own weight, skin criss-crossed with stretch marks, and he flexed. His biceps balled up towards his fists. His triceps battled uneasily with his lats for space. "Fuck! Don't do that!" Alex yelped, flinching. Tom laughed and flexed harder. "Hahaha, too much for you, little guy?" His dick was clearly hardening rapidly, the briefs straining tighter around his watermelon glutes. Tom laughed again and flexed, flexed, flexed. "I'm not even pumped," he grunted. "Dude..." "I can't wait to get even bigger man, this is so addictive." Flex. Flex. "Dude...." "I bet I can hit 400 by Christmas, fuck yeah, grrrr." Flex. Flex. "DUDE!" "Fuck, chill out. What?" "You're.... You're bleeding, buddy." "What?" Alex pointed. The thickest, darkest, angriest stretch mark, the one at Tom's pec-delt tie in, a stretch mark thicker than a thumb, was oozing dark blood. Just a little bit. "Growing too fast for my skin...." Tom said breathlessly, eyes full of wonder. His cock visibly throbbed in his about-to-explode underwear. Pulse. Pulse. Pulse. There was the sound of ripping fabric, and his thick seven incher burst free, the underwear disintegrating. Alex was stunned. Tom.... Tom was getting off on this. Tom shook his head, grabbed a few squares of toilet paper, and tried to dab the blood away from his tearing-apart stretch mark. He couldn't reach. "Fuck, dude.... Little help?" Alex reluctantly took the toilet paper and started dabbing away the dark blood. He felt a strange combination of nausea, fear, and... fuck, dare he admit it? Was it desire? He could practically see Tom growing in front of him. Alex stopped dabbing the blood away and laid his hand on Tom's trap. His fucking trap... it was bigger than a fucking quad. It was too thick for him to span it with his fingers outstretched. It reached up to Tom's fucking ear. It was hot to the touch. "Fuck dude.... I'm unstoppable. I'm just going to keep growing and growing and growing...." Tom groaned, then, leaned forward, grabbed the sink with his bloated, muscular hand, veins pulsing like they were fit to burst. He groaned again and then, without warning, him came, without touching himself, cock spasming helplessly, fountaining.
  3. This is so fucking hot. I hope you finish the next part.
  4. Mikeytron

    Work Muscle Buddy Part 11.5

    Have you never heard of an open relationship?!
  5. Mikeytron

    Work Muscle Buddy Part 10

    fuck! can't wait for the next part!
  6. Mikeytron

    Work Muscle Buddy Part 9

    I've been enjoying this series! I especially like the parts where they ingest just... ridiculous quantities of semen, and the growth that follows. I hope there's more of that to come.
  7. Mikeytron

    Bitten by the Growth Bug

    Hey, thanks. Yup, priority #1 is making the fantasy into reality. But I've got this little story all plotted out in my head, I promise I'll come back to it.
  8. Mikeytron


    DAMN WRONG FORUM! meant to put this in advertising. Help mods - delete the thread?
  9. Mikeytron


    sorry sorry sorry - posted in the wrong forum by accident!
  10. Mikeytron

    drop sets advice

    Training the muscle in question to failure / muscle exhaustion is the point of a super-set or a drop-set. Lots of bodybuilders use sets of 15 or even 20. Some muscle groups really love high volume - smaller muscles like biceps and shoulders, but also legs, in my experience. Don't be afraid of high rep sets. Think of speedskaters and track cyclists. Think of how monster-huge their thighs are.
  11. Weight stuck around 187 for a couple of weeks. Up calories from 4k to 4.5k /day. This morning: 185.4 lbs. MY BODY IS TROLLING ME.

    1. TheOnceandFutureFreak


      Give it a few days you know that. 

    2. viennabeef


      I know that feeling quite well. Just keep at it and eventually your body will admit defeat and start growing again. Force it to submit to your will!

  12. Can I just said amazing story so far I love the self reflection in the story and something every lifter should ask himself when things are plateaued does the fire burn the same?

    1. Mikeytron


      Very much appreciated! I do tend to write from personal experience, the heart, etc - obviously fictionalized and then exaggerated into fantasy. I hope you like where things go.

    2. TheOnceandFutureFreak


      I love where it is going. These factors aren't really considered when lifting but can make a huge difference 

  13. Mikeytron

    Bitten by the Growth Bug

    Two A few weeks have gone by. The first gym with Mark was a success, or at least you thought so at first. You wore a tanktop that showed off your pecs, the notched valley between them, and a pair of shorts that flattered your assets, so to speak. Not that you needed to reel this fish in - he was well and landed - but you wanted to see the look on Mark's face as you got a pump, when veins started to coil their way down your hairy 17" arms, when your already bubbly butt inflated further, rounder, pulling the fabric of your shorts taut. Well. You thought you didn't need to reel this fish in. After the workout, you introduced him to your trainer buddy Ryan. Got him set up with a package of 20 sessions. Then - right when you thought you'd seal the deal, when you were about to fulfill the erotic promise of months of glances and office flirtation - Mark seemed to get cold feet. He turned down an invitation back to your place. Fair enough, some guys don't move that fast. But, despite swapping phone numbers, there were no texts from him in the days after, no flirty messages, nothing. You're not the type of guy to chase after someone, especially not a skinny twink, no matter how cute, or how nice his ass. So you don't text him, either. Days turn into weeks. You don't see him in the awful food court at your work anymore, either. You actually start to worry. Is he avoiding you? Did you come on too strong - freak him out, maybe? Some people can't take the raw animal sexuality, but, well, you were pretty sure he was digging your vibe.... Eventually you message Ryan, your trainer buddy, the guy who was supposed to be training Mark. "Hey Ry, that guy Mark ever come back for any of his sessions?" "Derek, buddy, he's an animal, I just re-upped him. I've never seen a newbie take to the weights like this. He's here every night. I told him to take the weekends off, but I caught the little bastard in here last Saturday, doing bicep curls in the corner like I wouldn't notice him." You always lift in the morning before work. So your paths would never cross. A twinge of something - is it jealousy? but what are you jealous of? - stirs in your chest. "So he's making progress?," you text back. "Blowing up like a balloon. I tell him not to get used to it, it's just newbie gains." Your cock throbs in your work pants despite yourself. You want to see this cute twink "blowing up like a balloon." To be honest, you still want to nail him to your mattress with your cock. You tell yourself to cool it. You can have a different guy every night of the week if you want to - it's easy for you. Still, though. Once again, Mark is a no-show in the food court where you always used to see him. Your shitty grilled chicken pita with extra chicken that you eat every day tastes especially bland and styrofoam-like, and the blue-white flourescent lights make all the other office drones look ghoulish. After work, you go to the gym, despite having already done your workout that morning. He's there, executing perfect squats, Ryan standing back and watching, nodding. He's only got 195 lbs across his back, but, well, he was squatting an empty bar three weeks ago... "Derek!" Ryan calls out across the gym floor, performing the loud exuberant jock. Mark turns in your direction, flushed, dripping, breath heaving. He's definitely thicker. His t-shirt is definitely hanging on him in a different way, pushed out a little by budding pecs, clinging a little on baby delts. He grins at you like everything's cool. The stupid thing is, any sourness you felt melts away at that smile. He's so enthusiastic, so clearly happy to be here, to be ground into a thin paste by Ryan's famously punishing leg workouts. Ryan looks at his charge. "Wipe that smile off your face, buddy, you've still got two sets left." He glances at his phone. "Fifteen seconds until go time. Get your ass ready." You stand and watch the next two sets, done rapidly, with minimal rest. Mark's already nice butt has definitely added some meat to it. And his lats are just gently pushing out the sides of his t-shirt in a way they didn't before. For the sake of propriety, you take a spot on an elliptical and do some steady state cardio, low and slow, watching the rest of Mark's workout unfold. He really is an animal, like Ryan said. Never hesitating to dive into a set, running at the proverbial wall each time. Not holding anything back. You remember having that intensity when you started lifting, when everything about the gym was new and exciting and you couldn't wait to get huge... you wonder what happened to it. You love the gym, yeah, of course, but it's a steady sort of flame, warm, not hot. You're committed but not... lustful for growth, the way Mark is. When he's done he comes over. Panting, chest heaving. Cloudy drops of sweat collecting on his cute little nose, on his chin, splashing on the black rubber floor. "I don't see you at lunch anymore," you say. It isn't what you meant to lead with. It makes you sound needy. Desperate, even. Why the fuck is this little guy - and he is still a little guy, despite these impressive newbie gains - why is this little guy putting you off guard so much? "I'm surprised I ever saw you at lunch, big man. Ryan has me on a meal plan. I tupperware it every day. Two lunches, 11:00 and 2:00. I just work through the noon hour now." You grunt. It's true. You've let your meal prep slide. You used to be on the tupperware brigade. You used to be one of those guys who ate multiple meals at odd times, occasionally attracting a stare or a remark from a coworker. What happened? A little voice inside. How long have you been stuck at 205, 210....? Had you become... complacent? Had you stopped pushing? Were your abs blurrier than they used to be? Your arms a little smaller? "You're looking bigger," you say, to change the topic. "Heh, yeah!" Mark grins, unable to mask his enthusiasm. "I'm up 18 lbs." "18 lbs!" you squawk before you can stop yourself. You do the math. It's been... 24 days. "Mark, that's..." "Yeah, Ryan tells me it's exceptional. 155 lbs to 173 lbs. He says it's gonna slow down real soon. I hope not, though. I love it." His grin widens. "Thanks so much for introducing me to the gym, Derek. I should have started this years ago." He sniffs, as if suddenly noticing a bad smell. He leans his face toward his right armpit and inhales more deeply. "Woah, I'm ripe, I should get out of here. I'll see you around, big guy." And with that he was gone, gone before you could embarrass yourself further with some stupid remark. Some remark like "text me!"
  14. Mikeytron

    Bitten by the Growth Bug

    I've been having this kind of recurring fantasy in my waking hours the last week or so, so I figured I might as well write it out. Here's part one. More parts to come as I have the chance to add them. This is just set-up, so far. Once the growth gets going, I'm intending to take it pretty far. You didn't know him that well. He was the guy whose eye you sometimes caught. Glances exchanged in the food court in the basement of the office block where you both worked. Maybe three or four times a year - the slender guy with the cute face and the good hair and the nice little butt just curving out the back of those skinny-cut grey trousers, you'd think. The hot guy with the widow's peak and the jutting pecs whose wide shoulders are putting a hurt on the seams of that dress shirt, he'd think. Mark, you think his name is. You spoke once, in the elevator. Miraculously alone together, briefly, fleetingly. You traded names, a remark about the goddamn weather. Then - "I've seen you around." "Yeah, I've seen you around, too." That flush of heat where you both know you want to dive in, suck face, rip the clothes off your heaving bodies, nail that fucking twink to the mirrored wall with your steel-hard cock, but it's 1:00 on a Tuesday and there's meetings to attend, conference calls to join, quarterly reports to be revised. That kind of bullshit. But your eyes meet, and both of you know. And then the elevator dings and the doors open and the spell is broken and dull crushing ordinary life resumes. But the sexual energy flashes in the distance even still, like far-off heat lightning on a dry summer night. At least, that's what you tell yourself. Every now and then, that inner voice of doubt - Derek, settle down you're full of shit. Well - maybe so. But a fantasy's a fantasy, right? And then one day he comes over, in that damn soulless could-be-anywhere foodcourt, and asks if he can sit across from you. Well - naturally - you say yeah. Kid's nervous, you can tell. "Kid." He's maybe 25, 26. Just two or three years younger than you. But he's running his hands through his coiffure, he's fidgeting. You decide to cut to the chase - why let him twist in the wind? "You gonna ask me out, bud?" He looks shocked, but not offended. "Well, uh, kind of, actually. I was wondering... um. Your body... shit." "Yeah, it's a pretty good body," you say, leaning back a little, feeling the fabric of your shirt stretch and strain over your lats as you rearrange your posture. 5'11", 210, lean enough for abs. "I'll bet it is," Mark blurts, face flushing. "No, damn, I'm doing this all wrong." "Relax, bud," you say, not actually wanting him to relax. You enjoy how flustered he is. "Your body," he resumes. "You obviously know your way around a gym. I want.... I want to bulk up. I don't mean a little. I mean, at least as much as you, maybe more. I know I'm skinny as hell, I know it must sound ridiculous. But I thought maybe you could point me in the right direction, tell me which gym to go to, what trainer to hire, I don't know. No one I know is into it. They all think muscles are creepy and gross." You smirk, not unkindly, and lean in close, let your voice shift into something a bit more bedroom-y. "But you don't." "I don't," Mark gulps. "Fuck, man, I'm so nervous, just saying it." You consider him. He's probably your height, but he can't weigh more than 155 lbs. His clothes are well-cut, and you can see the suggestion of a good structure underneath. Good bones to build on. "I'll tell you what, Mark. You come to the gym with me this weekend, and I'll give you a little intro, just as a favour to a friend. You definitely wanna work with a trainer. It's expensive but hey, you're in this same corporate hell as me, right, you can probably throw a few thousand a year after this, right? I think I know the guy for you...."
  15. Mikeytron

    Electro Stimulation Gyms

    I'm sure if it was better than, or even comparable to, traditional weightlifting techniques, then many of the pros would be doing it, which does not seem to be the case.

Important Information

By using this site, you agree to our Terms of Use.