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Machiavellian

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About Machiavellian

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    Huge Pecs, Uncontrollable Growth, and Fusion

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  1. Part II: Over a month had passed, and the gym was almost completely deserted. The last of the optimistic ‘soft-body’ New Years crowd that packed the gym for weeks had given up ages ago. Not Jake though. He looked more obsessed than ever. Clank. Clank. Clank. “Hhhfffffff…” Jake exhaled as he pushed through rep after rep on the bench press. God he looked huge, and was looking bigger every day. His sweat-soaked tee shirt clung tightly to his bulging torso, exuding a piercing musk that emanated pure masculinity. Now into his 8th set, his fully hairy engorged pecs lightly peaked against his chin, rising higher and higher with every thrust. “More… More… More…” he said under his breath, staring at the bar with a mindless look in his eye. Every single day for the last two months, Jake was in the weight room pushing himself like a madman. He would be in there for hours, grabbing heavier and heavier weights off the racks, not stopping until he was drenched in sweat and could barely lift his arms. As the gym attendance dwindled with each passing day, he only seemed to grow more emboldened. Sometimes, not feeling content enough, he would even go back a second time in the evening just for an extra pump. “YEAH,” Jake boomed as slammed the bar back into place. “Gaahh…. Damn, I’m getting so fucking strong.” Sitting up on the bench, he flexed his bulging pectorals and bounced them up and down. I was still blown away by how big he had grown. 85 pounds in 8 weeks? How was that even possible? Ever since we met each other in high school, Jake and I had nearly identical physiques. When he worked out, I worked out, and we were constantly neck-to-neck with each other. After Resolution Day though, I tried to keep up with his insane regiment, but he quickly outpaced me within a matter of days. It was like he was possessed: constantly eating, lifting, flexing and growing uncontrollably. For the first time, we were miles apart from each other. And I didn’t like it. Grinning, he looked over at me. “Phew, thanks for spotting me. Ready for squats?” Squats. I tried not to wince. “Oh, uhhh, you go ahead. I really need to slow down on the leg workouts. My thighs are getting too big, and I’m running out of pants as it is.” I wasn’t over-exaggerating. My legs always naturally grew faster than the rest of my muscles, and in trying to keep up with Jake, I must have gone a little overboard. For whatever reason, my butt felt enormous, like two heaving globes of muscle that kept growing heavier and heavier. No matter what I ate, everything seemed to go straight to the trunk. In truth, I was actually down to my very last pair of workout pants, and even then, the poor things were dangerously tight around my glutes. If I didn’t pass on wearing underwear, I probably wouldn’t have been able to fit into them. “What? That’s not how this works.” Jake protested. “You NEVER stop working out a muscle group. You’ll just get flabby, not smaller. Come on, let’s just start with just a plate-less bar.” I groaned. “Fine. But only a few sets. Then we’re leaving.” “Deal,” he said, heaving himself off the bench and waddling over to the squat rack. Reluctantly, I followed him and ducked my head under the suspended bar. Standing beside me, Jake brushed his calloused hands against my lower back to adjust my form a bit. I could feel the heat radiating off his heaving chest. “Wow. Your pants really are looking a… a little tight,” Jake commented, his eyes smugly giving me a once-over. “Might want to size-up soon.” “Shut up. You’re one to talk.” I scoffed. “Haha, fair point,” he laughed. He walked behind me as I started my set. I looked away from him, but I could feel his eyes resting on my butt as I dipped for each squat. Jake was doing that more and more lately… staring at my ass. And he was starting to get less coy about it. As I lifted the bar, my mind drifted back to what I wrote in my resolution... or perhaps, HIS resolution. I will have mind-blowing sex with my roommate over and over, growing more fucking virile and horny for him each time. I stole the resolution I wrote the from his room the very first morning-- It was still sealed, and there was no way he even had a chance to read it. Somehow though, everything I wrote seemed to be happening to him regardless. In sober hindsight, I had no idea what made me write that second point, especially since Jake was about as straight as a freeway. Maybe Jake’s new gym routine was a total coincidence, I thought. And the noticeable pay-raise I got last week was something I was working hard for anyway. Psychics and magic aren’t real—and it would be crazy to think a couple of hastily written scribbles had any power to change anything in the real world. Still, what if it wasn’t a coincidence? I couldn’t help but think of what would happen if that second prompt came into effect. In retrospect, the way I wrote it, there is no way it would be good. Our friendship would be ruined for sure. I glanced at Jake out of the corner of my eye, and he quickly made an extremely obvious look-away at another point in the room. Damn. It was getting worse. I could feel myself turning red—and it wasn’t from squatting. Suddenly, in the middle of my last extended dip, I heard a bursting ‘RRRIIIPPP.’ I felt the tightness around my glutes loosen as the fibers finally caved, and a giant tear burst in the back of my pants. “Shit,” I gasped as my heart rate skyrocketed, wondering if my crack was exposed. Bad choice to skip on underwear after all. Knees buckling, I let the light bar down as Jake rushed right beside me to help. “Woah, woah. I got you.” Jake said. I felt his powerful arms wrap around me as he grabbed part of the bar. For a big guy, he was fast. Just by close proximity, I could feel the enormity of his strength oozing from him. Up close, I could see the obscene vascularity of his arms as they slowly lifted the bar off of me. “Haha, oh fuck thanks man.” I said, trying to laugh off the moment and ignore the screaming voice of embarrassment ringing in my head. Standing up and looking in the mirror, there was a clear burst in the seams on the back of my pants, and without any underwear, my cheeks were totally exposed. Even though the gym was pretty much empty, I still felt like I was totally on display. “Damn, you blew right through those!” Jake said, sounding more impressed than embarrassed. “You’re getting so big man. I don’t think my glutes will ever be that massive.” “Yeah, well, I think I’m going to call it for today—can’t finish a workout in these.” I said, trying to sound cooler than I felt. “I’m going to grab some spares in the gym store, and go to the mall after to get some upgrades. You good to finish on your own?” “Totally. You should be proud, man.” he winked, waving me off. “See you back at the apartment.” ----- Jesus that was so embarrassing—I couldn’t stop obsessing about it. Maybe Jake and I should avoid eye-contact for awhile until I had enough time to drown the thought away. Hands full with bags of new clothes, I walked up the stairs and up to the apartment. As I unlocked the door though, I thought I heard something. Deep heavy grunting, like some kind of growling beast. Quietly putting my keys down on the counter, I noticed the sound coming from Jake’s room. His door was partly ajar, with a dim light streaming through the opening. Slowly walking over, I peeked through the door to see Jake’s massive bulging back, standing naked in front of his TV. Fuck he looked huge! He was grunting like a fucking animal, bucking his hips back and forth as his huge right arm pumped his cock. “Awww, fuck yeah. Getting so huge,” he growled, totally consumed in himself. The tone of his voice was much lower than his normal timber, heavier and more dominating. “Ohh yeah, look at me. Wrap that thick ass around my cock. Grrr… God that feels so fucking tight.” Trying to peer around his massive frame, I noticed that his TV was actually turned on. A cord from the iPhone on his bed was linked right into the side of it. Squinting a bit, I noticed the TV was playing footage of a gym… our gym. As the video continued, I slowly noticed the back of my own head going up and down—like I was doing squats. Wearing the same outfit I had on just hours ago. “Fuck! Can’t stop growing,” he said as his pumping went faster and faster. “Grrrr...Feels so fucking good. Can’t wait to be even fucking bigger… Gotta grow… gotta GROW INTO A FUCKING MONSTER! UUUGGGG!” Jake roared, jerking at breakneck pace, flexing one arm and arching his torso, accentuating the perfect-v form of his back. He started grunting louder and louder as he started turning red. Veins popped out across his entire body as he flexed harder and harder. From a distance, it almost seemed like he was pumping up bigger and bigger, expanding slowly expanding outward the harder he squeezed. "Ohhhh fuck... what's happening to me?!" he gasped. As the video version of me sped up the squats, I could almost tell what was going to happen next. “Shit!” he shouted as I heard my pants in the video audibly tear. “NoNoNoNoNONONONOOOOOO….. oh FUUUCK!” he roared as a stream of thick cum shot out, splattering all across the TV screen. His cock unloaded stream after stream at his feet, each volley shooting further than the last. Jake could only mumble unintelligible things as his whole body spammed, flexing his entire body as it thrashed in heat. ---- I didn’t wait for him to finish. I quietly darted back to the front door, and stood there quietly for a moment. What the fuck did I just see? After thinking for a second, I steadily opened the front door, and then slammed it closed loudly. Stopping my feet around, I shouted, “Hey Jake, you gotta check out my new clothes!” After hearing some clumsy stumbles, I saw his bedroom door quickly close shut. “Hey man,” he coughed, sounding a little hoarse. “Just uhhh… just heading to the showers—be right there though.” This was wrong, I thought. Jake’s attraction seemed to be getting worse and worse. We were only 3 months into the year, and Jake was already more massive than I ever wished myself to be. Who knew when it would stop? What would happen if he ever had his way with me? As he was trying to clean himself up behind his bedroom door, quietly swearing at himself, I knew what I had to do. I had to destroy those fucking resolutions.
  2. Part I: “What is this again?” I asked as we pulled back the colorful curtains shrouding the door. “It’s a Resolution booth. Or some kind of psychic. Or something… I don’t really know, but everyone here is doing it and it looks like fun.” Jake flipped his 2019-shaped glasses up on his head and brushed some confetti off of his beefy bare torso. The New Year just rang in, and everyone at the party was lining up to start their resolutions early. We weren’t at a shirtless-themed party, but Jake had a tendency of ripping off whatever was covering his shredded 220 lb. frame after a few drinks. Walking into the dark, candle-lit room was a staggering contrast from the glittery disco lights and loud music from behind us. Inside, couples and friends were huddled around little round tables, quietly laughing and scribbling notes on small sheets of paper. A sign on the wall hung above a cubby station with stacks of blank sheets and pencils, saying: RESOLUTION BOOTH: WRITE DOWN THREE RESOLUTIONS, FOLD THE PAPER TWICE, AND SEE MME. RÊVE BEFORE YOU LEAVE KEEP YOUR RESOLUTIONS SECRET! Not wasting a moment, maybe still a little buzzed, Jake ran forward like an excited schoolkid and grabbed a handful of supplies. “This is perfect man,” he said smiling, heading towards an empty writing table. “It’s not a New Year unless you make commitments to make yourself better. What are your resolutions going to be this year?” I rolled my eyes, taking a pencil from him. “The sign literally says to keep your resolutions secret. And it doesn’t really matter—everyone forgets about these things before February anyway.” Jake shook his head. “Not me man. I’m committing this year. I’m going to cut down on the booze and really get to work on finishing my 8-pack.” Jake started eagerly scribbling stuff down right away. Looking down at my own paper though, it looked so white and empty. How do people like Jake come up with these things so easily? I didn’t even know where to begin. All things considered, I was pretty happy with Jake as my stereotypical jockey roommate, and I actually had a pretty wholesome, productive year. Still drawing a blank, I began to wonder, no one but me will ever actually see this, right? This whole thing is a bit of a joke, so why write down anything serious? Why not shoot for the moon? Or the dark side of the moon? Smirking a little, I quickly jotted three quick bullet points down. I will eat, lift, and grow nonstop, packing on more muscle and growing bigger every single day. I will have mindblowing sex with my roommate over and over, growing more fucking virile and horny for him each time. I will be an unrecognizable, insatiable muscle fuck-beast by the end of this year. “Let me see it!” Jake said suddenly, making a lunging swipe for my paper. Totally caught off-guard, my heart lunged in my chest as he pushed his naked torso up against me, trying to grab it from my hand. Fuck he was so strong too—wrestling with him was like trying to fend off a massive, roided out animal. ‘Oh God, he can never NEVER see this,’ my mind screamed. He was clearly still a little inebriated though, and after struggling with him for a few seconds he quickly tripped over his own weight and knocked over the table. The papers fluttered through the air as a few people gasped. Not taking any chances, I swiped the paper from the carpet before Jake even realized he was on the ground. “Haha, nice try Jake. My resolutions are sealed for the year,” I said, putting it out of his reach and folding the paper. Jake was a big guy, but being religious gym partners with him, I was almost neck-to-neck with his own mass and could fend him off well enough when he was tipsy enough. “Mmmmfff…” he grunted, grinning as he hauled himself up. “Well, I guess I’ll get you next year. Those gains in the gym have been paying off for you.” Looking around the ground for a minute, he found his own paper and folded it as well. “Last step is to get these christened, right? Ready to go?” Still clutching my own resolutions tightly, we walked towards the back room, where a lady in her thirties decked out in in a 1920’s style flapper dress was waiting for us at a table. Really odd for a professional psychic, but then again, we were at a New Year’s party. “What was all that commotion about?” Mme. Reve snapped in a hard-Brooklyn accent, looking extremely peeved. "Did you break my table out there?” “Errr… really sorry Miss! The table is fine. Just trying to kick of the new year with a fun start!” Jake laughed. She leered at us for a moment before finally saying, “Well, I have about 40 more of you morons to get through before the night is up, so let’s speed this along. Hold up your resolutions.” I held up my sheet of paper in front of me as Jake did the same. “Now then,” she said, “Focus on your paper. Look straight into the white of the page and feel the intention behind it. Feel the warmth of it in your hand. Bind yourself to its will, and it will happen.” I never believe in silly things like this, but for a moment, I really did feel tied to that little white sheet in front of me—like it was almost growing warmer and warmer in my hand. Heavier, almost. The longer I looked, the harder it was to look away. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Jake right beside me, his chest slumped and jaw hanging dumbly ajar. Without warning, she grabbed the resolution out of our hands. It happened so quickly, it felt like being slapped awake from a soft dream. I had to blink a few times. Running her hands the resolutions, she slipped a small round sticker over each crease. “These are sealed for the rest of the year,” she ordered. “Put them in a place where you won’t lose them, and open them up again next New Year’s Eve to see how far you’ve come. If you’re happy with the results then, my card is at the front if you want to pay me back.” Slowly rousing up, Jake said, “Uhh, wow. Thank you very much Miss.” Smiling in return, she said, “Sure. Now get the fuck out of here.” The burning daylight slipping through my bedroom curtains slowly stirred me awake. Grunting, I rolled over and checked my phone. 11 AM on January 1—the next day. Glancing over, I noticed the crisp resolution note sitting on my bedside table where I left it. I’m not sure why I didn’t throw it right away, but there was time for that later. Reaching over, I picked up the note, and unwrapped the stickers to re-read what I wrote the night before. Glancing at it though, I realized it wasn’t my note at all. Give up alcohol Make more money Tune my body to be the perfect boyfriend ‘The fuck?’ I wondered. This was Jake’s handwriting. Where was my note? Outside my room, I heard some plates and pots clanging. The waft of cooked bacon and eggs slowly crept into my room as a roar of our blender began to whir. Jumping out of my bed in my boxers, I opened my door and walked into the kitchen area. The entire place, normally pristine, was a complete mess. Our entire carton of 2 dozen eggs were cracked and emptied out, with empty packages of bacon sticking out of the garbage can. Streaks of protein powder and dirty plates covered the counters and our last carton of milk lay empty on its side. Suddenly, I heard a loud slurping coming from the other room. Turning out from the kitchen, I nearly walked straight into Jake’s shirtless back, bulging and throbbing with muscle. Completely unaware of me, he was rabidly chugging down a protein shake straight from the blender, not even pausing for a single breath. He audibly growled like a beast as he mindlessly continued to swallow gulp after gulp, his back muscles heaving in and out with every chug. I had never seen him looked so jacked. Finishing the last dribbles of the shake, he lowered the blender and whipped away a thick stream of drool falling from his mouth. Totally intoxicated with himself, he finally turned around and noticed me standing behind him. “UHH, God look at me…” he said, glancing down at the massive gut jutting out from under him. His trim six pack had given way to a massive solid ball of muscle that looked so firm, you could bounce a dime off of it. I paused. “Holy shit Jake. Are you okay?” Chest lurching, he let out a gigantic burp. “Uggh... fuck. Yeah bro, just so fucking HUNGRY. Want to go to the gym?”
  3. Awesome blond Billy

  4. Umm... AWESOME story. This was what suckered me into the first musclegrowth forum.
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