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About Shade

  • Rank
    100+ Posts
  • Birthday July 17

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  • This profile is a...
    real profile.
  • Gender
  • What are your interests?
    Lifting, rugby, sailing, rowing, pub quizzes, archaeology, history, and muscle watching in general.
  • Favorite Stories
    Too many to choose. Danny Gets Big is one of my all time favourites. Classic growth with all the right elements. I really enjoy Londonboy's Unstoppable series also. So much strength and power.
  • Favorite Bodybuilders
    Any BIG, MUSCULAR and RIPPED thing of beauty is a joy for ever.
  • Got Any Fetishes?
    I like masculine muscle and strength. So as long as one or both of those elements are featured, I am good to go.

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  1. Shade

    Knowing When to Throw in the Towel

    Generally I am not inclined to comment on these types of situations without hearing both sides of the story, but I’m concerned that a pattern of behaviour like this would exist on a forum like this one. Something so severe that it would drive away an established author. It feels like bullying. I’ve wanted to say this for some time. None of this is bloody Shakespeare, you know. A lot of what is posted on here is total crap. I mean total fucking shite. Something to have a wank to. Some of it isn’t even that good. My stories are included in that comment by the way. And some of it is good. Some of it I want to read again. I want the author to write a fucking novel. Whatever the case, for those of you who feel the need to constantly criticise, because clearly you have nothing better to do, all I can say is: lighten the fuck up. If something bothers you, don’t read it. If you don’t like the author, don’t read it. If the nature of the content offends you, don’t read. Otherwise fuck off and let the rest of us get on with it. Formulaic or not, I’m really sorry to see you go, Richard. Truly. You’ve been one of the constants in this genre for me for a long time. It gave me great satisfaction to read a comment from you on one of my stories, to know that you liked and enjoyed it. I hope one day you’ll join us again and not be put off by some wankers on the other side of a keyboard. Your stories have been a great pleasure to me. Best of luck to you.
  2. Shade


    I don’t reply often enough, but that story - like all your stories - was absolutely a great thing to wake up to.
  3. Shade

    Scotty's Family Trouble

    Links to previous Scotty stories: Scotty Scotty 2.0 Scotty Takes Control Scotty’s Family Trouble Matt powered up the bar, grunting, on his last rep. “We’ve been over this, dude,” I told him, my hands under the bar and ready to spot the weight. “I just don’t see why I gotta wait,” Matt grumbled, for about the hundredth time. I watched him rack the bar and let out a huge sigh. “Too much growth in too many people would look suspicious,” interjected Rich, standing there watching Matt and I, and looking exasperated. “Besides, you’re already coming along. Look how much you’re benching.” Matt just lay on the bench looking up at me like I’d knocked him down. The four hundred pounds on the big Olympic bar hung in the air above his head. I’d given him his fourth pill already, and his pecs were looking pumped and swole. The pills were obviously having their desired effect and his strength gains were through the roof if that last set was anything to go by. My own gains in the last four weeks had continued to be epic too of course, especially with the cocktail of pills and gear that I’d been taking. I picked up the bar in my grip, testing its weight, and started cranking out one bicep curl after the other. “’Sides, bro,” I told Matty, “This weight is too light for you now. You didn’t even need me to spot you. If you want to grow, you gotta put more pounds on.” I didn’t stop repping until I’d hit twenty. I felt my guns swollen slightly with the effort, even though I’d been training chest. Finally, I re-racked the bar with a clang. “See it’s you doing shit like that, man, that makes me jealous.” “Yeah, it was kind of light too,” I informed him, adding insult to injury. “C’mon, brah.” I nodded towards the locker room and reached my massive fist down to give Matt a hand up. I practically pulled him off the bench with one hand. Matt had finally broken two hundred pounds with the third pill but he still felt light to me. I pushed his sorry ass towards the locker room. “Scotty and I both grew before too many people had seen us,” Rich lectured as he followed behind, in a tone like one of our high school teachers might use. “It helped minimize the impact of the growth. But if suddenly everyone starts hulking out it will bring entirely the wrong kind of attention.” Something about what he said made me look around the gym. The other dudes at Big Mike’s had gotten used to the sight of us two hulks over the last two months since school started, as Rich and I had been pounding out unearthly amounts of weight. Adding Matty to the training mix hadn’t raised too many eyebrows yet. But like Rich said, he seemed to be growing at a relatively reasonable pace. Still, I had a moment of pause wondering if we shouldn’t somehow be more discreet. But how could I ever be discreet? I was meant to be larger than life. Little did all these dudes know but Big Mike’s, for all its massive weights, was barely able to even give me a real pump these days. “Listen to the Dweeb, dude,” I told Matty, with a sideways grin. “He’s smarter than us two knuckleheads put together. Hell, anyway I thought you wanted to be a fitness model.” “Fuck you,” was the only reply I got. It was spoken half in jest and whole in earnest, as my momma would have said. But I could tell from his grin that even though he was frustrated, he would be okay with the pace of change. Anyway, neither Rich nor I were willing to give him any other choice. * * * It was Saturday afternoon, and after we’d hit the showers, we headed back to our respective homes. I couldn’t quite get my mind off how at least one other gym goer had been watching us that day. Blake Moran. He was the captain of the football team at the school across town. I figured he was a roid head like me, and I could see when he lifted at Big Mike’s that he was strong to boot. You had to be a serious lifter to go to Big Mike’s in the first place. But he was also a rich boy. His daddy owned a bunch of car dealerships and I figured he could afford the good stuff. The kinda stuff that Uncle Gio gave to me at the discounted rate. I was just a poor boy from the other side of the railroad tracks. Literally. And I need to earn my coin the hard way. I’d moved my stuff down to the basement a couple weeks ago. I needed the room to spread out and it had been a good space to start my new career as a webcam muscle god. Also, it was where I kept the pills in a lock box hidden in a crawl space behind some shelves. The same place I kept my gear from prying eyes around the house. I’d retrieved another couple bottles of Dr Wenk’s miracle pills when I got home. I was taking a pill a day at this point. It wasn’t making me grow as much, but I was still getting stronger and stronger. Like I said, Big Mike’s wasn’t big enough anymore. I needed a greater challenge. In the last few weeks I’d started looking further afield to get the heft of weight I needed for squats, benching, and deadlifts. And I had a plan. I was gonna create a sort of home gym. I’d found an abandoned warehouse a few miles out of town that might be a good spot for it. The old brick building had started life as an old mill, and expanded somewhat over a hundred years of operation. However, the benefit for us: the building had stood vacant for at least fifty years. The Dweeb and I had discussed some possibilities and were batting around ideas of what we might be able to do with it. I was pretty sure the Dweeb would be outgrowing Big Mike’s soon too and we’d need somewhere else to train. But first I had to work on raising some cash to pay for it all. I flipped on the cam and fired up my chat. “How you skinny bitches doing?” I said cockily into the camera as I saw them all eagerly start to come online, giving some shout outs to all my regular viewers when they appeared. I’d never really thought of webcamming to earn cash before I got huge. I mean some of the bigger dudes I’d worked construction with this past summer had joked about fags who’d pay cash to watch them jerk off or fuck pussy. And those were two things I did a lot. So, I’d looked around and saw that there were indeed a few guys who seemed to do shows, some for free and some for money. A little research and I was in business. I was the right age to keep it legal and let’s face it: twenty dollars is twenty dollars. As much food as I eat is eye wateringly expensive. Not to mention my supplements that Gio gets me. Even at the discounted rate it burns a hole in the wallet. At least Dr Wenk took his payment in kind. My business of webcamming started slow, but I found my reputation spread pretty quickly and I wasn’t shy. Soon I was giving shows for individuals and bigger audiences. “Just trained chest,” I told the guys, leaning back in my chair. “And I’m swole as fuck.” I was wearing a new shirt and a pair of jeans, and I put my right arm up, hand behind my head. My tri was like a side of beef, thick and juicy, and I could hear the threads in the sleeve start popping. Hopefully so could my audience. “Fuck, dudes,” I panted, leaning over to lick the massive swell of my right gun. “I just bought this shirt, but I’m not sure it’s gonna last until this evening.” I bounced my pecs, feeling the tightness as they pushed against the fabric. “I just benched a ton at the gym earlier.” Even thinking about it made me uncomfortably tight in my jeans. I always told my audience the truth. A small fraction of them might believe it was true. Some might merely hope it was true, so they could live their fantasies as they stroked their little dicks watching me. But I knew most of them would think it was all hyperbole. Just some massive dude putting on a show for the audience jerking off on the other side of the lens. My left hand tugged unconsciously at the collar of my shirt. I hadn’t lied either. I had just bought this shirt yesterday and worn it for the first time today. I’d figured it’d be plenty big for a while. Guess I was wrong. I flexed again. The pump right now was fucking amazing. Well it was most days after the gym, to be honest. Arnold hadn’t been lying about that in Pumping Iron. It was like cumming. Maybe not quite as good, but still it was pretty damn good. Yeah, I felt the size of my pecs swell as I stoked the fire. Each squeeze mighty. I flexed my left arm, marveling at its size myself. The other night I’d pulled a ham my mom had bought out of the freezer and held it up against my guns in full view of the cam, just so my audience could see how big I really was. And my upper arm was definitely bigger than that ham. The cash had been coming in thick and fast that night. Tonight, I flexed those same arms again. Once, twice, and riiiiiiip. That motherfucker let out a satisfying sound as my arm burst out along the seam. “You want more little dudes, you know what to do. This muthafucka don’t come free.” I could hear the cha-ching even as I watched the cash come in. Fuck, the internet was marvelous. Well as I earned enough for my next round of gear from Gio, I guess the boys had earned their reward. “Okay, you little fuckers, get ready…” I was at full mast and I knew my bulge would be apparent. I pushed my chair back to give them a good view of everything. The lighting could have been better of course. I wasn’t as sophisticated as I could be and maybe I could get one of the geeks who took broadcast courses at the community college to help me light it all better. Whatever that could wait until another day. Leaning back, I brought my arm up and squeezed my massive double biceps. BOOM. BOOM. Those fuckers were so big they had their own center of gravity. Then I started squeezing my pecs. Bringing my arms up and down like I was doing a set of reps on a pec deck. Feeling the ache and burning as I grunted on each flex. The shirt was tight around my throat. It was tight around my back. And my pecs looked like a mountain range of shifting tectonics underneath. As the pump grew the audience and I both focused on the rise and fall of the muscles. Each flex brought the rise a little higher, the fall a little higher too. Even I felt the excitement building, not quite believing that I was pushing so much. Showing these worshippers what kind of god they were watching. “Fuck, yeah! Dudes!” I hollered. “You seeing this shit?” Slowly, but picking up pace, I could feel the tears happening all over. That cotton was not able to contain me as it split, up the sides where my lats forced their way through and the neck where one thread after another snapped against the thick cords of muscle. The symphony coming to a crescendo as the valley of my pecs was deeply exposed and the fabric ripped apart. “OOOOHHHHHH YEEEAAAHHHH!!!!” The shirt split right down the center, torn open from collar down to the massive blocks I called a ten pack. Tiny bits of shirt clinging to me around my shoulders as I sat there. Fuck, I was stoked. I stood up, pulling the tattered remains of my shirt away and flexed a massive most muscular into the webcam. Grinning from ear to ear. “Did you see that, you tiny little boys? Did ya? That was a 6XL. I just tore through a shirt made for a 70 inch chest. Did you hear that, 70 fucking inches? That’s nearly six feet of muscle! Torn apart by just my pump!” My excitement reached a fever pitch as I flexed those massive slabs, in a move that could crush a car, and I could feel my cock pressing, swollen, leaking. I took a step back. I groaned, shuddering, as I felt the button at top of my jeans pop open, the zipper unable to contain me any longer, tearing through, tearing apart, pulling my tight jockstrap until the waistband of the jock could no longer withstand the power of that cannon and snapped. My cock rose up like a tower finally free from all containment. I sat back down, my hand pulling on my cock as I moaned, audience forgotten. I felt sweat on my chest, one hand on my cock, the other on my massive hairy pecs. Like it sometimes did with the pills, I felt the pump moving through me. Mostly just from my upper body, but down further and further still to my quads and calves. The seams of denim of my jeans, much stronger than the cotton, strained as well. A quick tear down the center where the material had been stretched to its furthest relieved not just the pressure, but exposed my massive wheels to my audience as well. I leaned my head back, so fucking long and thick. This needed two hands, and in my two massive fists the head of my cock still rose over and above, triumphant. For an ordinary man it would have taken at least three hands for the same coverage. My voice came from the back of my throat, glutaral, like a wolf, growling, deep, reverberating. As I beat it off. Massive. Thick. I looked up at the screen. “Watch this you little fucks. You can see what a real man can do.” All sense of time was lost, I could have been at it for a few minutes or a few hours, but that thought sent me over the edge and the white-hot fluid fired out and up. “OH, YEAH. OH, FUCK, YEAH!” The first shot launched well over my head. The second even further. The third and the fourth near my head. The fifth on the stubble of my chin. And as I kept firing I felt the burn on my pecs and abs until by the twenty-first shot of cum the fluid became more of a slow pouring of liquid lava, pooling on my fist and I pulled my hand away letting it ooze out and onto my big hairy balls. “Fuck, dudes.” I shook my hand, cum flying off and onto the basement floor. “Guess I got a little excited. Good thing the floor down here is cement, huh?” I laughed a few more times and did some more gratuitous flexing, cum still dripping. I was still hard, and I knew I could get myself worked up again pretty easily. Hell, I could cum nine or ten times without even going soft. But always keep them wanting more, right? “Thanks for watching as always, little guys. If you want to catch this big Italian stud again, you know what to do.” I gave them my best cheeky grin and a wink, and turned off the cam. I looked around and grabbed a roll of paper towel I’d started leaving down here for just such occasions. I went looking for the first shot and realized it had hit one of the ceiling beams about ten feet behind my head. The rest took me about ten minutes to clean up. The clothes were a total write off. Maybe I could charge all these torn clothes as a business expense, I thought? Not that I planned on paying taxes. Even the jeans were beyond any further use as garments. I guess mom could make them into dust rags or whatever. There was a knock at the door, and I hollered “What!?!” Quickly covering myself up in case someone decided to poke their head in. “Patrice needs some help!” shouted my mother. Patrice was the slut my brother Ricky was shacked up with. He’d knocked her up his senior year of high school and they’d been living together since graduation. Although my mother never spoke ill of anyone, she always got a certain look in her eye when Patrice’s name was mentioned. And Ricky was already a constant embarrassment to my father. “What’s the matter?” I yelled up. “She’s got a flat and your brother is at work. Can you give her a hand?” “Yeah, no problem! Tell her I’ll be there in a minute.” Just my luck. * * * I’d pulled on a muscle shirt that was open at the sides, ‘cause I didn’t think I had anything else in my wardrobe that would fit anyway. My lats were already too wide for a lot of my shirts. My truck pulled into my brother’s gravel driveway and I got out. Patrice was waiting for me on the step to their porch. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! Is that you, Scotty?” I had to give a chuckle. I keep forgetting that so many people hadn’t seen me since I put on all this new muscle. “Yeah, girl. It’s all me.” “Damn, boy. You’ve grown some.” Patrice was only a couple years older than me and was looking me up and down like a bitch in heat. “So, where’s my sweet niece?” I asked, trying to change the subject. This was my bro’s girl after all – whether or not she really was a slut. “Maddy’s off with my mother and sister, so she can spend some time with her cousins. I was gonna run some errands, but you can see for yourself. Patrice had a car of her own, and it was parked in a shady spot further up the driveway. I walked up and had a look. The tire was pretty flat, no doubt about it. “My AAA membership is expired,” she said coming up behind me. I turned and looked at her squarely. I doubt she or my brother ever had a AAA membership in their lives. That’s what big, burly male relatives were for in Patrice’s book. “No problem. I’ll have this fixed in a minute.” I found the spare easily enough. Trouble was, there was no jack. “Where’s the jack?” I asked. “What’s a jack?” She genuinely looked like she had no idea. I bit my lip. It wasn’t that I minded showing off, but hell. There was showing off and there was showing off. “Do you need a jack?” “Most men would.” “Well you’re big and strong.” I walked back and grabbed the tire with my free hand. It was a Toyota Camry, and I figured it wasn’t weighing any more than I was deadlifting these days. “Stand back,” I told her. I took a look around and couldn’t see anyone watching, so I squatted down and reached under the carriage of the car. “Scotty, I was joking. Don’t try and lift my car.” Taking a deep breath, I heaved the weight up. I could feel the tremor run through my muscles, biceps flexed and quads tensed. The car rose, and then even to my own surprise I was standing there, holding onto the car in one hand. Patrice’s car didn’t have hub caps, and I reached down and started unscrewing the old rusty lug nuts with my fingers. There weren’t that many. As quick as a wink, I had the old tire off and the new tire on, as good as new. My arm was getting tired at this stage and I happily let the car back down onto the ground, massaging my fingers that had become impressed into the undercarriage of her car by now. I turned to look at Patrice and she was standing there, slack jawed. “Holy fuck!” “It wasn’t that heavy.” “Holy fuck! Scotty!” She looked ready to faint, and I moved to grab her just as her legs collapsed. Great. I picked her up, and took her into the house. I had to turn slightly sideways to get through their front door. My brother and Patrice lived modestly, even by my standards. She wasn’t heavy but I set her on their well-used sofa in the living and went into the kitchen to get her a drink of water. “Wake up.” I really wasn’t sure what the proper protocol was in this instance. Finally, after a few moments, she started to come to. “That was amazing.” She still looked a bit breathless. She took the water from my hand and took a drink, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “I never knew you were that strong.” “Yeah, well I work out.” I flex my gun for her. “And I’m really fucking strong.” She stood up and walked over to me, reaching out to feel my arm. She even tried to squeeze it, but my muscle was like hot steel. “Ricky ain’t that strong.” “Well I’m not Ricky.” “No kidding.” She grabbed my dick right through my shorts. “You’re a whole lot bigger.” “Fuck!” I groaned. This was my brother’s baby momma. And I was filling up in her hand. However, I was still a man. And Patrice may not be a model, but she was not unattractive either. I’d never quite understood what she saw in my brother anyway. “Big. All. Over.” “Don’t be starting something unless you expect to finish it,” I let her know. Her hands responded by rubbing over my pecs. “How strong are you?” she wondered. I walked back into the kitchen where I’d seen a big cast iron skillet sitting on the stove. I picked it up by the handle. “Stronger than this.” With a firm grip of the pan, I started to roll it up like it was a piece of paper. Soon there wasn’t anything left but a long thin piece of metal, pretty much unrecognizable as a skillet. I folded that rolled up piece again, and then I started to squeeze. I felt the veins in my forearms pulse and I compressed the metal of the pan until it was about as tight as it could get. Patrice shuddered, and I saw a wet spot on her shorts. “I guess that turns you on.” She looked like she might faint again, so I tossed the metal to the side and grabbed her in my arms. I leaned down and kissed her, long and hard. I pulled her up to me as she couldn’t reach my lips from the floor, I was so much taller. Our bodies were together, hers pressed against my hard, unyielding muscles. As our mouths came together, tongues meeting, and in a fog of testosterone and lust I forgot everything but the feeling of her hands traveling up and down my body. I tore my shirt off, grunting as I pushed down my shorts. I didn’t wait for her to undress, just picked her up and pulled her cheeks apart, tearing open the fabric and feeling my god cock rip into her. There was nothing for it but to hold on for the ride. I began to thrust. Slowly at first, but quickly gaining speed and momentum. I thought about my crushing power, and the ease with which I had lifted her car. I felt all the cockiness of my own size and massive strength. I got harder and harder inside Patrice, and she moaned with pleasure as I pumped into her. Fuck, I had so much power. Unbridled. What couldn’t I do? I thrust into her deep and hard, lifting her into the air with only the strength of my dick. I pumped and pumped and pumped with every thought of my own growing muscle power. Then I came inside Patrice, feeling her shudder with orgasm after orgasm, as I emptied my seed insider her. “Oh my God, that was amazing!” she cried out. “I’m only just getting started,” I told her. And that was the truth. * * * Later that night I came downstairs from taking a shower. I had smelled badly of sex and sweat, all my errands forgotten as I’d spent the afternoon buried in my brother’s girlfriend’s hole. When I came home earlier my dad had just looked at me and nodded his head. He was proud of his son, although he might not have felt that way if he’d known who I was fucking. I stopped by the kitchen, wrapped in nothing but a towel, and found my older brother Ricky sitting there at the table eating out of a tray of lasagna mom had made for me earlier. “You better not be eating my dinner,” I told him. “Fuck me,” he whistled. “You’re looking bigger every time I see you.” “Well you’re looking skinnier than ever.” “We can’t all be 300 pound studs like you.” “350 pounds,” I let him know. At least that’s what I told people who asked. Truth was the truck scales Rich and I used last time told me I was almost twice as heavy. I reached over and grabbed the tray of lasagna, pulling it out of his reach. He’d only had a couple small bites before I’d arrived. I held out my hand and waited patiently for him to give me the fork. With a long sigh he put it in my hand. “Jesus Christ,” growled our father, walking into the kitchen. “Look at you two bastards, eating me out of house and home.” Saying my dad was burly was putting it mildly. When I was a kid, I used to think there wasn’t anyone bigger. And back then my dad could and did put most other men to shame. Even now, at the age of 41 he could have won any amateur bodybuilding contest that he set out to enter. “Awww, Pop,” I said between bites of lasagna. “I’ll give some money to mom tomorrow for the food.” He looked satisfied with my answer. Scotty could pay his own way. “And what about you, you skinny fuck.” He turned to my brother. I managed not to chuckle at my dad’s use of the descriptor, even though it was merited. “That baby momma of yours forget how to feed you?” “We had another fight, Pop.” “What’s the matter now?” He opened the fridge and grabbed a beer, sitting down at the kitchen table next to me. “I think she’s cheatin’ on me, Pop.” “What? How do you know?” “I just know.” I looked at them both. This cut a little too close to home, considering where I’d spent my afternoon. That is to say in the same hole my brother used. Cheating indeed. Ricky had a hangdog expression. My dad’s face was angry. “Why can’t you be more like your brother, Scotty?” he asked. “You don’t see him knocking up sluts and whining about some sad piece of ass.” This was not an unfamiliar line of commentary around the house. Ricky had just never been much like our dad. He wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, and working on the docks was probably the best he could ever hope for. Dad prided himself on masculinity. And Ricky hadn’t quite measured up in that department either, unfortunately. Both the men from mom’s and dad’s sides of the family were big and pretty manly in all the traditional ways. Ricky just wasn’t an alpha male. And it was still a little early to tell with our younger brother, Johnny. Although I figured my trip to the juvenile detention facility the other day had taken care of that. I’d even heard my dad tell one of his buddies once that he wondered if Ricky was even his. Although he couldn’t believe mom would ever cheat on him. It was just such a tough comparison since I’d obviously taken after dad for sure, and now that I’d grown, he found an even greater respect for me. To be cheated on by your wife was about as low as you could go with my father. If you couldn’t keep your woman happy, you weren’t a man. And a man should be the one servicing more than one woman. My dad sighed, and stood up. Ricky’s head was hung in shame. “I’m not sure how you ever managed to father that child in the first place. It’s probably not even yours.” He stomped off into the other room. “Don’t mind him,” I told Ricky, finishing the lasagna. “Naw, bro, he’s right. You’re both right. I am just a skinny little fuck.” “So how do you know she’s banging someone?” “I found the condom in the garbage. Next to our fucking bed. The bitch didn’t even bother to hide it.” I looked away suddenly, and breathed a sigh of relief. I’d cum in her a lot today, but I hadn’t worn a condom once. But then I had another thought. Fuck, this was worse than I thought. Patrice really was a slut. “She threw me out when I got home tonight. Told me I wasn’t even half a man.” Okay, that probably was my fault. “Look, man,” I wondered. “If she’s such a slut, why do you stay with her then?” “I love her man.” Well I couldn’t argue with that, even if I thought he was being a stupid shit. Let the bitch go. There was plenty pussy. Ricky was gonna get himself hurt if he kept on like this. But my heart skipped a beat watching my brother’s suffering. And maybe I felt, I dunno, a tiny bit guilty. “Why don’t you stay here tonight?” I said, suddenly struck by an idea. “We’ll figure this out in the morning. And I’m going to take you to the gym tomorrow. You don’t have to be a skinny fuck you know. And I won’t hear any excuses.” “Thanks, bro.” “No problem.” We sat there in silence for a few minutes. “Scotty?” “Yeah?” “Why don’t you go put on some pants?” “Fuck you, bro. Fuck you.” The End (for now)
  4. Shade

    Growing Too Big: Part 4

    So true. This is one of my personal favourites.
  5. Shade


    “Gay as a goose.” That is definitely a new one for me. 😉
  6. Shade

    The Commando

    You’re very welcome. I enjoyed writing this one.
  7. Shade


    Both of these were excellent stories, and good subjects for comics in their own right. Pollination is a classic though.
  8. Shade

    Muscle Worshippers: Chapter 5 of 14

    Apart from being set in areas of London that I know so well, I am just finding this story very enjoyable. I like it best when I can empathise with the characters.
  9. Shade

    Scottish Mentor

    I believe you're thinking of The Favor by Xythanshadow.
  10. Shade

    Hulk Hunter

    Absolutely delicious, but I hope he watches out for those pesky truckers.
  11. Shade

    Papa Bear

    Absolutely exquisite, as always.
  12. Would you mind if I included a subtle reference to your story in mine? They are very different stories but they could be set in the same universe. I think it would be fun to plant a subtle nod and see if anyone notices.

    1. Shade


      I would be honoured.

    2. Jaypat


      Thank you very much. I'll put it in.

    3. Shade


      I'm really looking forward to reading it.

  13. Shade


    Thanks, chaps. I'm pleased you enjoyed it. I've liked the mix of stories I've read so far and am keen to see what is yet to come from some of my favourite authors.
  14. Belated Happy Birthday to you, Richard. I really enjoyed this. What an interesting concept! And, as always, executed brilliantly.
  15. Shade


    Here is my offering for the Storiversary event. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to expand it as much as I would have liked. Also it's in a genre that I've never tried before, and is perhaps a bit darker than I've written in the past, but I hope you enjoy it all the same. Hunger Abe took the cigarette between his fingers and put it to his lips. He inhaled deep, savored it, and then let out the smoke into the cabin of his truck in one long, slow breath. Then he sighed. He was so hungry. As he drove along the interstate toward Texas, all he could see was miles and miles of flat empty scrubland and desert, along with the occasional tumbleweed rolling around to remind him just how empty this flat land was. It reminded him a little of his home of long ago, at least what he remembered in the furthest memories he could dredge up from the recesses of his mind. That was a long time ago, and a time best left long forgotten. One thing he couldn’t forget about, or escape, was the hot glare of the sun. Its hot light glared into the cabin of the truck and Abe pulled his dirty, battered Make America Great Again cap down a little further until the brightness didn’t shine so fiercely against the glass of his faded old shades. Everything felt old to Abe. Old, tired, and worn out. No, he couldn’t forget about the sun. And another one of those things you could never forget about was the road. The road and the sun. The sun and the road. And exhaustion. And it was flat country. So very flat. Worst of all, nothing distracted him. Not the sun. Not the road. Not his own sense of being tired. Nothing ever distracted from his hunger. He could feel that hunger gnawing inside him, like it might claw its way out, scratching through his very skin for release. He shuddered and took another puff, ashes falling off the tip and onto the lap of his faded Levi’s jeans. His hand reached down absent mindedly to an empty packet of potato chips, but all his fingers found was air. With a distracted sigh, he pushed the packet off the seat and onto the passenger side floor, where it added itself to a pile of other empty fast food wrappings and containers. He sighed again and took a last drag off the cigarette. It was down to the very end of the butt, and he lowered his window and flicked it out the window. Not really because it bothered him, or that he had nowhere to put it in the cab, but because the action gave him something to do. At least the cigarettes helped him feel less hungry. For a little bit of time. He lit another cigarette up and noticed the passing sign that let him know it was only a little over another thirty miles to the next truck stop. * * * Thirty minutes later, give or take, he pulled into a service station near the interstate highway that catered to truckers. He spent a few moments getting the big rig ready for refueling, and after it was sorted, headed over to a little diner to see about some grub. At least the place was clean and relatively decent. A few folks travelling and some other truckers were in the place, grabbing a bite to eat. Abe nodded at a couple of the other truckers he saw, especially a couple of the guys he’d seen around before. On his way to the toilet, he paused in front of a mirror and almost didn’t recognize himself. Who was this man looking back at him, like the very specter of death? Hair grey and straggly, hanging limp under his hat, without any body. A faded t-shirt, that might once have been white, covered his spindly ribs, partially hidden by an old button down shirt of a non-descript and very faded variety of plaid. The garments hung limply on his body, like his hair. Abe thought a person could be forgiven for thinking that he looked sort of like a corpse might a few days after dying. He was that sallow and pale. Well, fuck it he thought. What did they know? These people had no idea. And, he chuckled to himself, when was the last time any of those skinny fucks did a three-day cross country stretch in a rig? Still it wasn’t right, thought Abe. How had his life come to this? Once he’d been young. His heart had felt young. Now, inexplicably, he found himself hauling shit for fat cats. Not even caring what it was. He’d gone from living. And, oh had he lived. To subsisting. He was surviving…barely. And that was it. Maybe it was no longer worth it. Maybe it was time to give it all up. He slumped into his seat in the booth of the restaurant, skinny legs splayed across it. A pretty waitress hurried by him. “Got any coffee?” he asked after her. “No problem, sugar,” she said, turning. Abe could tell she was trying to be cheerful, but she was just like everyone else, tired and hungry, and busy. “Do you want milk or sugar?” she called out. He shook his head no, and she didn’t really wait for an answer anyway. Taking his silence for her answer. She moved to the counter. Grabbing plates, pouring his coffee. His eyes looked her over. Abe guessed she was in her early or late twenties. Definitely older than high school. If he had been feeling more like himself, he’d have wanted to fuck her. Men wanted to fuck, right? Wanted to feel his thick meat widening her hole. But all he could think now was that he could use the coffee. And she would be used up. Old before her time working here. Things weren’t looking up for anyone, were they? Or maybe they were. He turned to look out the window and saw a vehicle pull up. Dust was flying. But through the haze he saw an old Chevy truck. A couple of good old boys got out. Hooting and hollering and generally proud of the fact that they were young, strong, and fully dominant and in control of their world. However small that world might be. Young alphas. His favorite kind. Abe's interest had peaked up immediately and he felt rather than saw the pretty waitress set the cup of coffee down in front of him. “Anything else?” she asked him. He turned to look up into her eyes. Holly was her name, he saw, from her name tag. And Holly had surely seen a lot. He could read that his face didn’t shock her. No, she was not shocked. Nor was she even surprised by serving yet another cup of coffee to yet another ugly, old trucker. Even one as ugly and old as Abe clearly was, faded and as sickly looking as a terminal cancer patient. In her eyes though he could read the subtle reflection of her gaze, and he knew she felt nothing for him as she returned his gaze, nothing but pity or revulsion, or maybe a mixture of both. That’s when he thought about fucking her again. Must be the presence of the young stallions that had got his old juices flowing. Any moment between Abe and Holly was not to be though. Outside one of the young bulls let out a holler and the woman’s eyes were drawn upwards to the source of the noise. Abe could see everything about her change as her eyes drunk in the sight of those men with a pang of hunger he knew all too well himself. Her face flushed slightly, her breasts swelled a little in her old uniform, and she put her hand to her throat without thinking. “Nope,” he said. “That’ll do, thanks.” It had all been so sudden. “What?” she replied, looking down at him again. “I said, I’m okay.” Holly glanced outside one last time and then she managed to smile at Abe. The smile was at Abe, but it wasn’t for Abe. He knew it. He wasn’t fooled. “Well you just give me a shout if you need anything.” “Oh, I will.” She wandered away, a new swing in her step. Abe just chuckled. Oh, to make the girls swoon like that. It was one of the few things that was worth this timeless existence of his. There had never been anything else like the thought of a pretty lady who you knew was getting wet just for you. Abe noticed that the young men had wandered off. He almost went after them right then and there, but he was tired and needed to conserve what strength he had. And if time had taught him anything, it was the value of patience. Patience and time. But also the lessons of tiredness and hunger. And no matter what Abe’s world just kept turning. * * * Abe finished up his coffee rather idly, noticing that the young men’s truck remained where it was, wherever they’d gotten to. About fifteen minutes later he pulled a large bill out of his wallet to cover the cost of the coffee and to leave a very valuable tip for the waitress. He was curious where the two men had gotten to. And he needed stuff anyway. Across the lot was a convenience store, and he walked over. It was breezy and blowing up dust, and Abe wondered if there was so little left of him that he might just blow away too. He pushed the door open and heard the chime of a bell. There was mocking male laughter from the aisles, and a skinny kid behind the counter tending to the cash register. He looked like he might have still been in high school. Or maybe just out of it. Hell, he could’ve been anywhere from fifteen to twenty-five for all Abe knew. All these kids looked the same to him. Little more than children. The kid’s eyes acknowledged Abe as he walked up to the counter. “Gimme a pack of the Marlboroughs and a fifth of Jack.” The kid turned to grab the bottle off the shelf behind him when Abe felt a hand on his shoulder. “We were here first, old man.” The cashier set the bottle down on the counter. Abe didn’t need to turn around, but he shuddered. “Yeah?” breathed in Abe. The scent of testosterone was strong. “Yeah,” replied one of the guys from the Chevy. “Isn’t that right, Nick?” Abe finally turned around, or was turned around. He wasn’t really sure. The other man came up and took the bottle of Jack, flipping it and catching it. “Yep,” said the man who was presumably named Nick. Abe was not disappointed in either man, upon closer inspection. Nick must have been six foot five in his bare feet. And he had the width of a fucking college linebacker. The other dude was almost as big, and the hand upon Abe’s person was thick and solid. Connected to a muscular forearm, and a very impressive bicep and triceps, which were flexing involuntarily. Abe could feel his strength all the way through those fingers to the beat of his solid heart. Both of the men wore what would have been called a stringer top. A muscle shirt. It left little to the imagination, and was arguably worn more for the sake of saying their upper bodies were covered. “I don’t want trouble, guys.” Abe stuttered, feeling the man’s grip on him. “Just grabbing some smokes.” “Well you better wait in line, old man,” Nick told him. “We got things to do.” He gave the other dude a knowing wink. Abe put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “No problem. I’ll just go use the john.” Abe started to back away, and the two behemoths turned to the cashier. The one called Nick reached across the counter and pulled the skinny kid halfway across it. They were making fun of the young kid behind the counter, but Abe wasn’t paying attention to what they had to say. He was savoring the power radiating from them. With his earlier observations, he knew the toilets were near the end of the row, and he headed for the door. But not before getting some of his own back. “Fucking pussies!” he yelled to them. He took a deep breath, but his hand on the door, and went inside the bathroom. He knew he’d been loud enough to be heard. “What did he say?” Nick’s friend asked him. Nick only saw red. “Old fucker,” he snarled. “Time to teach that old bastard a lesson in manners!” It only took a moment. Abe was inside the bathroom, skipping past a stall and heading for the urinal. The overhead light was partly out, and the one bulb there was left was flickering, leaving the room dark and foreboding. Abe just had time to unzip his fly in front of the urinal when the door slammed open and the bright light from outside flooded into the room, momentarily blinding Abe. But the light was quickly eclipsed by Nick’s big frame filling the doorway, and plunging the room back into darkness. It was his chance. “You faggots or what?” asked Abe. “Come to watch an old man take a piss?” That was the proverbial straw and camel. “God damn truckers!” roared Nick, as he swiftly walked up to Abe, picked him up by the throat and landing a sharp right with all his power into Abe’s stomach. He dropped him to the ground as Abe crumpled and lay still. “I HATE TRUCKERS!” Nick was raging, but his big buddy, right behind him, pulled him back. “Dude!” said the big dude. “Stop! Did you kill him?” “Who the fuck cares? He’s not the first trucker we’ve handled.” “No, but….” They looked down as they heard a groan. Abe was moving. Nick broke free and kicked him in the stomach again. But this time, although Abe moaned in pain, he got up. Like a fighter who’s been knocked down, but who isn’t ready to give up the fight. “I’d stop doing that if I were you.” Abe picked himself up. The two bros couldn’t quite believe that any man, especially one as skinny as Abe was just dusting himself off like he’d tripped and fallen over. “What the fuck?” asked the big dude. Nick wasn’t having it though. He balled up his fist and let swing at Abe’s head. Abe grabbed his fist. Faster than Nick could have thought possible. “I want to thank you gentlemen for this. I really do.” Abe chuckled, holding Nick’s fist firmly in his fingers. “Gotta admit I was feeling down this morning.” Abe squeezed and Nick screamed. “But you boys have restored my faith in humanity!” The lightbulb flickered again. Almost going out. If Nick hadn’t been in so much pain, he might have started to fear from the look in Abe’s eyes. Those very particular looking eyes. His friend, however, was only concerned about saving Nick. He reached out to pry away Abe’s fist, and was surprised to feel himself caught within Abe’s cold, unyielding fingers. Even more surprise to feel his feet leave the floor. And as the lightbulb sputtered and died, as the feeling of being emptied began to overwhelm him, he looked into Abe’s eyes. The last thing he would ever see was that face that was looking back at him. It was the face that didn’t look at all like an old trucker…. * * * Matt was actually a lot older than he looked. It had now been several years since he was a senior in high school. He’d been born the runt of a litter that included his brother Nick. The very same Nick who’d just gone into the bathroom after that old trucker. Unlike Matt, Nick was the son who could do no wrong. Football hero; golden boy. Everything their father wished he could have been himself at that age. Matt knew Nick had a temper. It had very much become a part of his existence these many years. Even though Nick was his kid brother. And Nick enjoyed coming down here with his football buddies to give Matt a tough time and get free beer from the store. Well, free in the sense that Matt ended paying for it out of his own wages. He used to have dreams that Nick would die in a fiery car crash, or at least get maimed. He held out hope that his younger brother might start to let himself go, especially once his football glory days were behind him. As all the former school football stars seemed to do around these parts. But his brother seemed determined to not only keep his high school level of fitness, but to improve upon it. He’d started juicing a couple years ago when he’d started high school and been steadily putting on mass ever since until he was the biggest man in three counties. And he was huge! It was very disheartening, because Matt didn’t have any inclination towards the gym. And he knew that Nick would always be the bigger of the two. The old man had been asking for it, but Matt wanted to warn him nonetheless to run. He’d seen his brother take down big men with ease. The old dude didn’t stand a chance. When the screaming began he knew he should call the police, but he was really afraid of what Nick might do to him if the cops were called. Especially if Nick didn’t leave much left. Matt had just put his hand to the phone receiver, but withdrew it again quickly as the bathroom door opened. His jaw dropped as he watched a shirtless man walk out of the toilets. The man looked to be about twenty, flush and golden, and he was tall and thick as fuck. As he walked he was struggling to pull on a pair of jeans that looked like they were painted on his quads. His ass, like a shelf, was preventing them from being buttoned up. Giving up, the dude just zipped them up as far as he could and pulled tightly on a belt buckle to keep them from falling off. He just left the top button undone. A dusting of hair swept over pecs stretched wide and thick, bunching up and standing out further than Jenny Murray’s tits. And those were some big tits, thought Matt. Underneath was a brick like wall of abdominal muscles, which, along with his intercostals, danced while he pulled a muscle shirt on over his head. With a start, Matt realized it was his brother Nick’s shirt. On Nick it had fit well, emphasizing every roided muscle, and giving an opportunity to ogle the thick pecs underneath. But on this dude it was stretched across tightly and making Nick’s pecs look like those of a pre-teen child. He walked, no Matt corrected himself, the dude swaggered over to the counter. “I’ll take that pack of cigarettes now. And don’t forget the Jack.” His voice was deep like the ocean and his eyes were as dark. Matt was straight, or at least he thought so, but he could feel himself boning as he watched this man. The dude took the proffered packet of cigarettes and took out a smoke, lighting it with one of the lighters available for sale in a bowl next to the counter. “You can’t smoke in here,” Matt tried to say, remembering too late the rules. The massive dude just looked at him. Matt thought, how the fuck am I even gonna stop him? He decided to shut his mouth instead, before he got himself into trouble. As the man exhaled out a satisfying puff of blue smoke in Matt’s face, he picked up the Jack, opened it and took a long pull. Matt gazed at this god, realizing he was looking up. Way up. This dude must be the same guy as that old man. That was the only logic he could summon. But what the fuck was going on? And where was his brother? “H-h-how?” was all Matt could manage to stammer. “Believe me kid, you don’t want to know.” “Yeah. Yes. I really do.” Matt had felt his terror turn to surprise, and then interest, and then greed. With a power like that. Fuck, he could be king of the town. Just then the man snatched him from behind the counter and hauled him over it and up into the air. “No, man. No, you really don’t.” Matt could feel it. Something tugging at him. Like he was being drained. “Okay, man! Okay! Okay! I’m sorry. Please put me down.” To his surprise the man put him down gently and he backed speedily away. The man hauled a wallet out of his pocket and pulled out a couple large bills, laying them on the counter. “Thanks for a good time,” he told Matt grinning. “Sorry about the mess.” He pulled a red baseball cap out of his back pocket and put it on over his wavy, chestnut locks. He was rocking it like some kind of model. A fucking huge model. Seriously, what the fuck had just happened? As he walked out the door, Matt turned and went to look in the bathroom. The light was flickering again as it always did and on the floor, in a messy pile, were a couple pairs of jeans, shoes, and some shirts lying there. There was no sign of Nick or his friend Jeff. Just a lot of dust. Then Matt smiled. * * * Holly wished she worked anywhere but here. But jobs for a former Prom Queen with no college education were hard to come by, you know? At least most of the dudes who came through here were okay. And they tended to tip her well enough to get by. Some, like that trucker this morning, even left big tips if she smiled and flashed some cleavage at them. That old man was probably just sick, or had just won a lottery scratch ticket or something, cause why would he be giving out hundred dollar tips like that? Still even as she thought about the money, a chill ran down her spine. That man had been seriously creepy. He looked at her like he could see right through her. If she hadn’t seen that cute Nick Sargent out the window, she might have felt like she’d been captured forever in that trucker’s eyes. Damn, Nick. Why did she have to think of him? He was suck a prick. But such a hot prick. And a hot dick. Yeah, she’d let him fuck her. Which girl hadn’t? Even though he was still underage. And, yes, he’d ruined her for other men. Holly could only wish the fucker got what was coming to him. Even if she would have fucked him again in a heartbeat. “Hey, didn’t I see you here this morning?” Holly was just picking up the trucker’s empty coffee cup and putting it on her tray, while giving the table a wipe down. But that voice was electric and commanding. She turned to look, and almost dropped the tray, all thoughts of Nick vanishing. Shit! Dudes like this didn’t come to this restaurant in West Nowhere, Loserville, USA. But here he was. This was a man. No, a MAN. Standing there, looking like an avenging angel, and she felt herself get so red she thought she might ignite. Because this man was all man. One look at the bulge confirmed that. Holly knew without seeing more, that if that bulge was real, he’d make Nick feel small forever afterwards. “I said, didn’t I see you here?” Still no response. “You all right, girl?” Holly nodded yes, then no, then yes again. “Sorry,” she finally said, flustered. “I mean, yes I’m fine. And no, I’m pretty sure we’ve never met before.” “That’s a shame.” He was oozing sex appeal and kinda leaning against the counter in a way that emphasized everything he had on offer. “You know I was just passing through and wanted a bite to eat.” “Uh…sure…let me grab a menu.” She turned around and felt him coming up behind her. Felt his hand on her ass. Her first instinct was to slap his face, but then he whispered in her ear, the scent of him overwhelming her, “Are you one the menu?” And she just melted. She was his. * * * Abe felt himself cumming again. Fuck those two bros had been filled with spunk. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d blown his wad this much, or this often. And Holly was tight, or she had been before she’d take a cock as big as Abe’s was now, as Nick’s and Jeff’s put together. Holly screamed and screamed, her pussy contracting out orgasm after orgasm, until finally a few moments ago she’d passed out, overcome with the power pumping into her. As he rolled off her, Abe felt his cock still hard, cum dripping off the end and onto his abs. He took a deep breath. There had been so much power in those two boys, and for this day and night he’d felt the hunger was at bay. He reached over and lit up another cigarette, lazily patting Holly’s ass next to him. He liked his women with a little meat, and Holly didn’t displease him at all. His cell phone chirped at him and he picked it up and looked at the screen. A, it’s B. Where u at? Near Texas, he slowly typed his reply with one finger. How long until you can get to the Spot? Abe raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t very often these days that Buddy had anything urgent. Of course now there were cell phones everything seemed urgent. Five hours or so? Good, we’ll be waiting. We? It really was something special then. Abe turned back to Holly. She looked so long and good, and he’d have liked to fuck her again. But there were other waitresses out there. And Holly wasn’t that special. If Buddy had something worth contacting him over, then it was important. He got up off the bed and went to take a shower. * * * Five or six hours later he was in his cab again, wearing the same clothes that he’d been wearing since he stole them from the wonder bros he’d dusted. Already he could feel that they were starting to feel looser. And he knew his super dick wouldn’t have filled Holly tonight as much as it did last night. Such was the curse. This was the perpetual torment and the hunger. Never feeling full. Never feeling satisfied. Never big enough. Never able to keep it. Buddy and he had picked out a rendezvous spot a long way back when they’d started trucking in this country years ago. In those days they’d used the newspaper or phone to signal each other, but with cell phones they could travel further and still remain easily in touch. Crisscrossing the continent as they did, it was important to have a home base. It was way off the interstate, but his rig could handle the back roads. And as he pulled up he could see two other rigs already there. Buddy’s and Clyde’s. To anyone who happened to wander upon them, it just looked like three truckers out on the road, meeting up in an empty lot far away from civilization in an old town that had long ago lost the last of its inhabitants. Of course, no one knew that the three of them had bought up all the land for miles around years ago. Every old derelict building was empty. Except for the odd drifter. And one could deal with those easily enough. Except they weren’t alone this time. Abe could feel someone, something else besides Buddy and Clyde. Something he’d never encountered before. Next door was an old warehouse and Abe went inside. Far in the center, Buddy and Clyde were standing around drinking a six pack of Budweiser and laughing. “Fuck!” hollered Buddy, catching sight of him. “Took you long enough, man!” Abe caught the beer Clyde tossed to him and walked up to give each man a handshake. “Looks like you’ve fed recently,” Clyde observed wistfully. He was looking not far off the state Abe himself had been in a few hours ago. Buddy wasn’t though. He looked flush with muscle. Too flush, Abe thought. Bigger than Abe in fact. And that was unusual. What the hell was going on? “So what’s the rush? Don’t tell me you wanted to look at his ugly mug.” Abe indicated Clyde with his eyes. But Buddy just laughed. “Naw, man,” he moved closer, his tone hushed and conspiratorial. “I got some good shit.” Then he paused for second and added, hitting Abe on the shoulder hard enough to hurt, “Although it looks like you’ve had some good shit. When I met you in Sacramento a few weeks back you were looking like Clyde here.” “Yeah,” Abe told them. “I had two Grade A, farm fresh American boys. Finger licking good. But I have to admit I wasted some of it on a waitress.” Clyde snickered. “You always had a soft spot for the ladies.” “I wouldn’t call it a soft spot!” Buddy interjected, and they all laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. But Abe didn’t find it funny at all. And he didn’t trust Buddy or Clyde. They had known each other for an eternity, and when you are like the three of them, such people become your friends simply because the lot of you have outlasted everyone else and you cling to each other to avoid falling into the abyss. Abe knew the relationship between the three of them was like that. There was no genuine affection. Only survival. They simply had grown to need one another so much there was nothing else. “Imagine still caring about pussy after all this time,” Clyde said, just shaking his head. “You just need to feed, man” Abe knew this was the truth, despite Clyde’s protestations. “As soon as you get that young juice flowing in your balls again, all you’ll be able to do is think of getting off.” Clyde nodded. They all knew it was true. It was the only time any of the three felt alive. “That’s about to change, men.” “Why?” asked Clyde. “Yeah,” added Abe. “What is so special about this mark? What have you found?” “Wanna see?” Buddy was like a kid, dying to share his secret. He was almost jumping and rubbing his hands together he was so excited. “Sure!” “Yeah, man!” “C’mon!” Abe and Clyde followed Buddy out of the warehouse and round to the back of his big semi. The trailer was looking the worse for wear and Abe noticed some dents. That wasn’t like Buddy, he thought. He took care of his things. Buddy opened the back of the door and the other two peered into the dim light. A shirtless man sat there with a rope tied around his arms and torso. “Is that it?” groaned Clyde, clearly disappointed. Abe had to agree. This dude was rail thin, and looked almost as worse for wear as old Clyde did standing next to him. He’d hardly make a muscle, let alone manage to be their savior. Then Abe noticed something unusual with a shimmer that caught his eye. “Is that an Inanna rope?” wondered Abe, realizing immediately he’d said it out loud without intending to. “Yep!” “Where did you find it?” “Never mind. I’ve had it for a while. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.” “By Anu, Enki, and Enlil, who is that?” Abe was staring, open mouthed. You don’t really need to use an unbreakable rope for anyone other than a god. “The most amazing mark I’ve ever found. A drifter I ran into, and someone who will feed us until the end of time.” Abe looked at him. There was a light in Buddy’s eyes like he’d never seen before. Clyde looked confused. But Abe was at least curious. Buddy wouldn’t have called them here for nothing. This was no deception. Using his newfound strength, he pulled himself up into the trailer and walked over to the man. He put his big paw on the man’s forehead, and he pushed his head back to take a closer look into his green eyes. Abe could read a lot from a person’s eyes. “Don’t….” the man could barely speak “…make...me…angry….” Still Abe saw nothing. But there was a heat building. A sense of power. “…you…won’t…like…me…when…I’m…angry….” “Fuck!” Abe withdrew his hand like he’d been burned by something hot. “You captured a Hulk!” Buddy started to laugh. Clyde still looked confused. The power had started to build. Even Clyde could feel that. The man’s skin began to swell. He grunted, thickening inside the restraint of the rope. But as he started to grow, it quickly stopped. The man slumped forward, like he’d already been drained or prevented from growing. Then he fell on his face and passed out in silence. An Inanna rope could do many things. Apparently, it could halt his transformation. All three stood there for a moment, regarding their prisoner. “So,” enquired Abe, “you have clearly had a taste?” He turned to face Buddy. “Maybe a little.” Abe looked at Buddy again. I mean really close. There was something different about him. “How do you know it was wise? Surely whatever makes him like he is could be fatal to us?” “Well I’m all right. I’ve been feeding a small amount off him for days. I almost feel alive again.” Now that had both Abe’s and Clyde’s full attention. “His life force is incredible. Unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.” Abe noticed that Buddy’s American accent was slipping. An older pattern coming into his speech. “I want to try.” Abe could feel his hunger building, overcoming his initial shock and surprise. “Be my guest. There’s plenty!” Buddy always was a fool, thought Abe. Abe approached the man again. He pulled him up gently at first, with one hand steadying him, and with the other pushing his chin. “Wakey! Wakey!” He slapped the man across the face. The drifter’s eyes opened slowly. And then his pupils dilated as he realized it hadn’t all been a bad dream. “So what happens when you’re angry?” “Make me angry and find out!” the drifter snarled. Abe was still swole with slabs of muscle on his frame and the drifter was slight of build, almost a stick. He shook him, rattling him. “Undo these ropes and then I’ll really show you,” the drifter begged him. Abe’s hand had unknotted the rope before Buddy could even holler his alarm. The drifter’s eyes began to change, becoming very green, and Abe felt the explosion of power inside the man’s muscles. More than he’d ever felt in anything before. He was overwhelmed, giddy, and couldn’t even take it in at first. Before he knew it the drifter had grabbed him with a crushing power. Abe thought, for the first time, he might have made a mistake. Against him the drifter, already shirtless, swelled, his muscle rapidly inflating like a balloon. But it wasn’t a balloon, and it was anything but soft or pliable. The fibers were hard and thick and the power behind them hit Abe like a hit of narcotics. He couldn’t absorb it and the drifter was now snarling, and his skin began to change color. The arms, thickening, had become corded with muscle. Abe felt himself rising in the air as this creature grew taller, pulled up to a new height. His skin was fully green. The beast with Abe now in one of its massive hands, leapt up in the air, propelled by its mighty leg muscles, tearing open the roof of the trailer like it was tissue paper. Abe felt himself being carried through air, soaring like a bird, as they slammed down far from the rigs and far from the warehouse. “HULK SMASH!” It flung Abe across the field. He shook the dizziness out of his head, as he picked himself up and stared at the massive beast before him. Its eyes weren’t sane and an inner rage fueled its power and strength. It was also continuing to swell. “I had no idea…” Abe muttered. He regarded the beast as once had the gods of old. The creature must have now been over eight feet tall and well over a ton of heaving, dangerous, green muscle. Then Abe laughed. “Do you think I fear this?” He gestured at the Hulk with contempt, as the warrior instincts rose inside him. “You are nothing! I fought battles with angels and demons of the old world when your ancestors were still playing with stone and sticks, you stupid beast!” The creature growled, enraged, as whatever shred of its humanity left still understood the insult being hurled at it. Abe rushed forward. So did the creature. The Hulk, however, was not quite prepared for Abe either. He may have been caught off guard, but Abe had his own power. So recently used against those two young men only hours ago. Despite being the weaker, and by far the smaller of the two, Abe managed to grab and hold onto the beast. Opening himself fully to the gamma power that was fueled and augmented by the adrenaline flowing through the two of them. They rolled over and the creature soon realized that this little one was like the other one had been. There was danger to the Hulk and that is when the Hulk tried to run. Too little, too late though. Abe held onto the bigger beast and felt himself feeding off its near limitless power. At least there was so much. As it filled Abe’s body, he felt the already tight clothes he was wearing start to give. First the shoes as his feet grew, the soles coming undone and his toes tearing through rubber and leather to free themselves. The power ran up his already large calves and quads, hamstrings engorging, as the jeans on his legs shredded, filled with gamma muscle power. The beast was powering him like a battery as he held on. But the beast was growing too. Its power exploding out so fast that even Abe could not drain it quickly enough. As the gamma energy reached his cock, Abe felt it thicken and force the metal of his zipper apart. The jeans already were undone, but the belt around his waist snapped as the metal of the buckle was pulled apart, and then the awesome rush ran straight up the back of his spine to his head. Abe’s pecs exploded like a supernova, abs expanding, but also tightening, and becoming a dense impenetrable substance under his skin. As he lay on the ground, the beast in his arms, which grew from pythons to might cables, thicker than trees, his back expanded, lats pushing into the dirt and forcing it to move and give way. The beast was lifted in the air, and Abe’s neck and shoulders, ever thickening, ever widening, made his neck disappear into the wall of muscle beneath the entrapped Hulk. Still the beast roared, but so now did Abe. “FREE HULK! PUNY MAN!” But Abe was no longer puny. The feeling was incredible. It was like the beast had no end to its well of energy, a limitless supply and Abe didn’t know how long he could drink, but he intended to tap this keg as ride a bitch as hard as he could. The Hulk had torn through its own trousers and the two giant, naked beasts, one green and one white rolled around, caked in dirt, struggling for dominance. Abe felt the creature wrap its mighty wheels around him, power trying to crush him, but only allowing him to draw more, as he felt himself push under its balls, as its thick cock wedged inside the valley of Abe’s abs. His cock now tore into the beast. He was massive and the beast surrendered fully to him. It really had no choice. Abe could feel its own power slow, although whether that was because it was being drained or because it simply was no longer angry, there was no way of knowing. Abe knew that he would not stop. Buddy and Clyde ran into the clearing finally, taking in the scene before them. Abe, or what had been Abe, was on the ground with a massive green man, now smaller even than the thing that had been Abe, still feeding Abe’s growth, bounced up and down on Abe’s cock. “Save some for us!” screamed Clyde, rushing forward. Whether Abe cared, or was unable to hear, was a mystery. He was fully in thrall, absorbing power. As Buddy and Clyde grabbed onto the creature, then felt its power fill them too. Buddy, already big, was the first to explode out of his clothes. He leaned his head back and moaned, his own body receiving the gamma power, or what was left of it. Clyde late to the party as usual and already starving licked at the scraps on the table as he too exploded, his shirt ripped apart as it tore up the back to make way for his expanding lats. In both cases their cocks and balls were no match for their trousers, and neither were their expanding asses as the two grew, shedding their clothes as Abe and the Hulk had. The battery started to fail even as Abe finally felt himself back coming around to full cognizance. It was probably because there was so little power left in the beast to divide between the three and the monster was now shrinking, although it too was in a sense of ecstasy. He realized very quickly that they were in a dangerous situation. The lifeforce in the beast was fading fast. Soon it would be dust on the wind. The green faded from its skin and the beast shrank smaller and smaller until its muscles, that is to say the drifter’s muscles, were no bigger than those of a junior bodybuilder. Abe knew that he should have the presence of mind to act. He should hurl the drifter away from himself before he came, breaking the contact with the other two. But he couldn’t. Or he didn’t have the willpower. Or maybe he just wanted it all too much. He felt it slipping into him. Felt that core of power that had belonged to the drifter sliding down into his cock, as the drifter collapsed and broke apart, his body drying to dust and as Abe thrust smashed apart. Even as he enjoyed this moment. He felt Buddy and Clyde pulling at him. Trying to take what was his. He snarled. Every molecule of his being fought back against them. Abe grabbed onto Clyde, now much larger, and pulled him on his cock where the Hulk had been moments before. Buddy too he pulled tightly into his embrace. With so much power now greater than the others, he held them all tight. Feeling them fight against him. Buddy and Clyde dazed, and now angry, continued their inevitable climactic build up. They were all suddenly, unexpectedly in a fight to the death. Clyde was on Abe. He tried to pull Abe’s power into himself. Abe resisted the pull into Clyde. And Buddy connected to both, sucking in what he could, anything to absorb any of the excess energy. It was not enough and Clyde, already so much weaker, collapsed into Abe as with a howl borne of centuries he broke apart in the wind and ceased to exist. His energy swirled around both Abe and Buddy as both sought to claim it. Buddy now tried to pull away, taking what he could from the Hulk and Clyde, but he too couldn’t resist Abe’s new gravity. Nor could Abe let him go, for he had betrayed the two unintentionally. And it was every bit a betrayal. Buddy was now his enemy. He had to die. “What have you done?” whispered Buddy with his last breath as he could no longer resist Abe’s overwhelming force. Soon he too had ceased to exist and expanded into the swirling cloud of energy around Abe. The power was awesome. Abe stood up. He flexed his arms, a massive two tons of weight, and gamma power filled him. He triumphantly pulled all the remaining power into his own body. The dust, no longer held by anything, simply blew away in the breeze and Abe came. Massive shots of white, hot power flowing from his cock across the empty field. He stood for a minute, holding his flex. Muscles capable of total destruction and absolute strength. And then felt the weight of years upon him. He almost gave up then. Almost. What he hadn’t expected was the gift he had just received from the drifter. For the first time since it all began he was no longer dead, but very much alive and pulsing with power. Now he had a decision to make. Now he could at last become what he’d always been meant to be. What have I done? He thought, echoing Buddy’s sentiments. As his cock pulsed with power. He knew his answer and he roared his response to the universe. “Who the fuck cares?” The End

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