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roboprobo

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About roboprobo

  • Rank
    500+ Posts

Profile

  • Location
    USA
  • This profile is a...
    real profile.
  • Gender
    Male
  • Orientation
    Gay
  • What are your interests?
    I'm a rl artist. I like video games but usually lack the time to play them!<br />
    <br />
    On a side note, I work out a lot in real and have been dieting to bulk up these past few weeks. So far so good, if you guys are into rl muscle, I am too (although I AM an amatuer...)
  • What are your stats?
    My actual stats are pretty bad.<br />
    <br />
    current weight: 159.8 lbs<br />
    (I haven't taken other stats)
  • What are you seeking?
    I honestly wanted to see if I could find some RP partners and I wanted to post my stories. I like METABODS and the NCMC but I haven't learned to post in there and I'm too shy to do so. Here I feel comfortable being a bad writer and posting my work for feedback.
  • What are your dream stats?
    270 lbs
  • Favorite Stories
    (I have more but these are the ones I recall)<br />
    "Mega Pecs Maker Dosing Accident"<br />
    "Finding the Right Job"<br />
    "Joey's Freaky Pecs Get Examined"
  • Got Any Fetishes?
    OBVIOUSLY muscle growth. I can do without a lot of fetishes, but my favorites are nipple play, pec play, forced growth, super dom to subsmissive.<br />
    <br />
    I like the concept of muscle male lactation, but don't run away- I know most don't, so I can go without :P

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  1. roboprobo

    m/m Bro Fam

    Eventually, you RELISHED your growth going out of control. Sure, you'd officially flunked out of your second year of college but economic analytics was harder than you anticipated... Thankfully, you were very lucky to have such a strong group of bros to support you. And they certainly did- when you initially told them you'd wanted to start working out more seriously, they actually gave you bags of supplements and 'lifestyle' tapes. The tapes were weird (all about 'motivation', working out, or dieting) and even when you always found yourself waking up towards the end of them you'd watch them religiously. Hell, the guys eventually started making your meals for you, too and it didn't take long for the gym to become second nature for you. You got BIG. Your confidence burst through the roof and you were cocky or even mean; you deserved it! Nobody could have gotten as jacked as you, nor as strong. Regardless, you were always kind to your bros. They were the ones making you big, too. Hell, after a while you started feeling like they worshiped you, in a weird, communal way. Each one would bring you a can of weird beer of a brand you couldn't pronounce and of course you'd end up shotgunning it as a challenge. At some point doorways were becoming a challenge due to your width- that's when the guys would laugh at your wide, stumbling gait but still help you get upstairs to bed. The side effects made EVERYTHING bigger. Some of the bros bought you new shoes every time your feet started getting cramped in your current pair. One day you'd dozed off again after a weird lifestyle tape, waking up with an excess of morning wood and one of your younger buddies sucking on your long toes. You felt embarrassed but there was something about when he asked you to flex for him that kept you laying comfortably on your increasingly smaller bed. He'd ask you questions about wanting your growth and if you liked it; you'd answer with honesty as you milked your fat cock, his chuckle making you smile naively as he moved to massage your huge feet and massive legs. You were getting massive and it felt awesome! All you could really think about was getting bigger and having fun with your bros. After a while it wasn't weird at all to find yourself flexing or working out in the basement, naked, and you consistently found yourself serving the guys however they asked. You almost cried when the school told you you'd failed all your classes; you couldn't even remember the last time you'd even gone. The guys told you it didn't matter, you could still live at the house and to not even sign up for another semester if you didn't want to. So you didn't bother with school. Hell, you used to consider yourself a rather smart guy but nowadays you could barely keep up with complex conversations your bros have at home. The guys would laugh when you gave a ditsy comment and tell you to show of your tits instead. You'd happily peel up (or ripped off) your shirt, showing off your massive pecs. You loved showing off, after all! They called you a good 'himbo' and directed you to administer twice the doses of supplements you were accustomed too. You explained to them your pectorals were seemingly increasing size even faster than the rest of your body, feeling sore almost every day. They gladly began giving you more thorough daily 'massages'. Nowadays you find yourself practically shaking the earth beneath your heavy steps, your quads and hams so wide you have to move in an awkward waddle. Your time is religiously spent in the basement gym or with your loving bros. Sure, they graduate and new ones come in, but you always find tight relationships with them. The guys worship your massive, sweaty body and always make sure you're well-taken care of. You've lost track of how many years have gone by and sometimes wonder if you're not really getting any older, either. You're fucking huge. Sometimes the guys are sweeter and love letting you strut around with a proper alpha male cockiness. Others are meaner, tricking you into tight situations or letting your huge pecs go without milking for days at a time, letting you murmur in discomfort like a proper bull in heat as your pecs start looking overdeveloped even for your massive frame. A rare few actually manage to fit your huge cockhead in their mouths. Some manage to fit you inside them (dangerously) but most often you enjoy feeling a bro sniffing and lapping your hairy, muscled pucker before stretching it out with their fat bro cock. For as much as you have to eat, absorbing protein through your bros' thick cocks is a benefit you gladly enjoy. There isn't often a party where you turn down a proper pose down, letting all the guys worship you as they pump you full of beer and cock.
  2. Check out my story, OCavalier: Part 4 on my blog if you like: https://goo.gl/wsif2n

  3. I'm starting to wonder if my progress is the reason why people seem... intimidated?

    1. cutlerfan

      cutlerfan

      Congrats on the progress!

  4. Remmy stared into the night sky, wondering what the giant ball of colors looming over the mountain was. He reached out to hold it in his palm, strangely craving to taste the hues that mingled and danced within the lustrous orb. At first it’d been very small and glimmered only softly, but in time it became a giant amalgam of vibrant tones in both green and blue. It glistened, beckoning him to seek it. His fingers could not reach far enough across the horizon and he quickly gave up. Before he could sigh in despair, the star burst, crashing into the ground and spreading out in a dangerous wave of fire. Remmy stepped backward in panic, unable to find shelter quickly enough to avoid the crushing flames. He gasped awake. Remmy’s skin dripped again as he slowly got up from his dorm room cot and sat in front of his computer. His roommate was a ghost- they’d only spoken a few times (those of which were short and sweet) and he barely ever stayed to sleep. Some said Remmy’s roommate was a lecherous frat boy but Remmy didn’t give him much credit in that respect. He simply enjoyed the solitude available. His hand clicked a few tabs open as he began searching for pornography. Remmy searched his favorite keywords recently: ‘muscle pec play’. He quickly began sifting through videos he’d already found. Good ones were hard to come by and Remmy wasn’t particularly proud of his fetish. He began jacking off as a young, hot, white college boy began tugging on his nipples and verbally directing his arousal to the camera. Remmy held onto his cock and went to town, imagining being such a sexy muscle boy on cam somewhere. Something about that aesthetic excited him… The visibility in a physique defining virility, power, and health turned him on. Remmy was nowhere near describable as such but he wished often for a defined abdomen and arms that would widen his silhouette. His cock wasn’t that bad (a lengthy seven inches) and yet he always found himself alone in bed. The hot boys in class worked out, and he simply didn’t. He desired the sculpting of a trained man’s body and he craved certain aspects much more than others. He found himself drifting off porn after he’d cleaned off his stomach of cum. He meandered around the internet looking at pictures of sensually posed fitness models and stopped whenever he found a good set of pectorals on his screen. Remmy was a sucker for pecs (figuratively, guys never spoke to him) above all other muscles on a man and he sometimes stumbled upon photo-manipulations (dubbed ‘morphs’ by fans of such media) of muscular men with inflated chests. These made Remmy shamefully aroused. He knew it wasn’t very natural and tip-toed around the delicate intricacies of sex and gender. Regardless he found himself often sifting the web for the biggest pecs around. If Remmy were to have a beautiful physique, he’d want his chest to be extra beefy to show off. The college boy began preparing himself to climb back in bed when a blip on his computer’s chat application resounded. Sparrow had messaged him. They had known each other through a multiplayer-online game that had long been shut down years ago; they kept in touch and often shared tidbits of their very gay interests with themselves. Sparrow was into some pretty strange shit but knew where to find the best morphs as soon as they were posted. Sparrow also never judged Remmy. Remmy opened the chat wondering how anyone except him could be up at such an hour. Remmy’s own screen name, Crabby, flickered on as an ad for ice cream attacked him. He squinted at the bright colors and shut it down, reading his new correspondence. SPARROW: dude, you know how you study at Walcott, right? CRABBY: I mean, yeah, I’ve been going to class for a few weeks now. SPARROW: Fuck SPARROW: That’s where people have sighted the Cavalier SPARROW: That’s fucking hot, bro Remmy stared at the screen for a bit, yawning. CRABBY: What’s the Cavalier? Sparrow responded by forwarding Remmy an image of what looked like a sketch for a comic book. The sketch was from a ‘strange urban stories’ forum and apparently, the character depicted was some sort of vigilante with superpowers. Remmy didn’t recognize the character (he knew the common canon but didn’t read comics often) but felt interested by the very specific anatomy and costume of this ‘Cavalier’. He bore horns (for some reason?), a skin-tight wrestling singlet covered in convenient holes, and a few plates of armor. Remmy wasn’t quite sure what to think of the art but liked how big-chested the artist had depicted him. CRABBY: Is this a new comic? Is it gay? Sparrow then sent Remmy a link to the original post where the author claimed being saved somewhere in the city. Not much checked out; the original poster didn’t give out information of their identity. The original poster claimed that not only a gang of thugs had physically assaulted them- monsters did too. The scantily clad hunk in a mask appeared just in time to save them, however. CRABBY: Well that’s weird. SPARROW: Dude read some of the details! A dangerous gang had lived in the city for years, known as the bulldogs. The original poster claimed being inebriated, stumbling home when he walked into a pack. They attempted to harm the original poster, when one of them completely wigged out. This bulldog looked sickly and went so far as wanting to murder the poster. The way the original poster described it, this bulldog looked ‘beyond’ sickly. The vigilante in copper garb appeared and kicked their asses, only to have the sickly one vomit up a Lovecraftian nightmare. Remmy yawned again, reading up on this ‘cavalier’s’ wit and charm. It seems that the original poster shivered in the cold, only to be given a memento by the cavalier to keep him warm: a scarf embroidered in Remmy’s class year and school logo! The cavalier had mentioned having two and disappeared into the night, letting the original poster find his way home safely. Walcott University always gave each incoming freshman a scarf designed by someone within the previous graduating class- it was tradition. Remmy owned one of the same scarves photographed in the forum, hanging on the dorm room’s closet hook. He glanced back to the screen as Sparrow impatiently inquired of his opinion. SPARROW: Did you see?! CRABBY: So, what, there’s a superhero in my freshman class? How does he have two scarves? CRABBY: Wait, no, this is dumb, I’m not humoring your gay superhero fantasies. You know I’m not into that. SPARROW: Damn, I was hoping you were the superhero but that would be too easy lmao CRABBY: We both know I don’t have that kind of body. SPARROW: Yeah, but you could! I think you’re pretty hot! CRABBY: Shut up. I’m not discussing this. It’s just some weird tale someone came up with. SPARROW: bro wait look what I found though CRABBY: It’s 3:36 am, Keith. Like an idiot, Remmy waited for a response to argue with. After the third minute of silence, Remmy grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around himself, ready to turn off the computer. A newspaper link appeared on Remmy’s screen. Remmy imagined Sparrow’s smug face as he read the headline. SPARROW: “12 GANG MEMBERS ARRESTED: CLAIMING VIGILANTE HERO AND MONSTERS TO BLAME” Clicking on the article link led to the newspaper that would be coming out later this morning. CRABBY: That’s a long headline. SPARROW: DUDE IT’S A GAY MUSCLE SUPERHERO CRABBY: I’m going to sleep. You’re an idiot. SPARROW: It’s just a theory! You should be excited, Remmy! CRABBY: And why should I be? SPARROW: The OP mentioned something REALLY important. Didn’t you see? CRABBY: He was super strong or whatever. SPARROW: Remmy no, he wasn’t just super strong! He could Sparrow owned a smut blog somewhere in the recesses of the muscle-fetish web. He was a mediocre artist, at best. A sketch of what the Cavalier might look like appeared on Remmy’s screen, depicting the hero in many different outfits and silhouettes based on the description in the strange-story article. Sparrow left Remmy one more message, explaining that these weren’t necessarily different interpretations… SPARROW: Fighting those monster things made him grow bigger, especially his pecs. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Four picturesque desserts sat on the old wooden table. Two of them were simple cups of ‘spicy’ nougat-stuffed ice cream- decorated neatly inside a small container like a fancy street-snack, seeming more like a pretty trinket than food. The third item was a frozen mousse made of pistachios and mint, drizzled in Italian liqueur-based chocolate syrup. The fourth was a new confection the college cafe had recently developed for the fitness crowd on campus; a protein stuffed brownie partially melted and topped with fat-free whip. The locale was rather expensive but it seemed that the people (mostly students) around Whitcomb University had an incessant sweet tooth ready to pay a premium on luxury snacks. Remmy slowly pressed his spoon into the parfait, his group sitting with him at their weekly class ‘meeting’. The four freshmen had been performing this ritual for a few weeks now and although they worked hard on whatever project their honor’s program gave, they’d recently accustomed to meandering around for entertainment rather than marketing research. Remmy found himself interacting with these people often now, albeit still as awkwardly as he was with strangers. The group made him a bit less nervous, sometimes. Emilio was a sharp-tongued city boy in dark hair sitting to Remmy’s left. He was very blunt and hanged with Lynn for the most part. She (Lynn) was a distant acquaintance of Remmy’s from his hometown; although they’d not known each other very well before they had a similar demeanor that harmonized well at orientation. ‘Reconnecting’ helped them survive the first few weeks of college. She sat to Remmy’s right. The outlier of the group was Chet, a young bodybuilding SmileTube star that so happened to end up in their group by assignment only. You either loved or hated him, especially when you noticed how easy life always seemed for him. He paid bills with the funds of his many online fitness, fashion, and celebrity videos AND got a stipend from his wealthy parents for any sideline expenses. The blond bombshell never apologized for his vanity and seemingly enjoyed the attention a set of massive pectorals brought him whenever wearing risque clothing. Emilio had grown up with Chet and watched him develop from a privileged pretty boy in middle school to a privileged beefcake in college. As annoying as these details were, Chet never hurt anyone and actively hung out with the group. As time went on the young men of the group gritted teeth knowing they might have made some bad assumptions (or Chet was simply that charming in person). “It’s settled, then. We’ll develop a new product for a fast-casual dining food chain,” Lynn said, typing up notes and tasting a spoonful of nougat ice cream. She smiled softly as she savored the garnish almonds of the dessert. Her laptop made a kitten-noise as it sent a weekly report to the professor. “Well, we could probably pick the restaurant now, then,” Chet said, tilting his head as he tried finding the best angle for his brownie’s photo. He’d gotten multi-colored almonds to make the dessert look more vibrant. This photo alone, along with Chet’s many followers, would change the menu. The owner would bump up the price gleefully and run with the publicity. Remmy hadn’t caught himself observing Chet, again. The tiny neon-blue tank barely fit the muscle-boy’s thick chest as it jutted outward for what seemed like miles. You could almost hear Remmy’s breath shorten whenever one of the meaty pecs flexed naturally during the mini-photoshoot. “We could do someone without a breakfast menu? Make an introductory menu, instead of just an item.” Emilio commented before scowling at Lynn for following Chet’s behavior. She certainly had a smaller following on social media but she loved taking pictures of cute things- herself included! He attempted to backstroke towards Remmy, a sea of phones clicking as per usual in the cafe. Remmy was too busy fumbling a spoon as Chet jumped over to Lynn to flex his massive biceps in her phone’s sight. Lynn was beautiful enough that the two practically belonged in a fashion catalog. Moving away from Remmy’s drool, Emilio drowned with an audible sigh of disbelief. “You guys are absolutely the worst.” He clamored. Whitcomb was a Midwestern college town, tugged at the sides so it’d stretch itself over a flat landscape for miles. Points of interest were always a bit far away but it seemed that tax cuts were helping it develop as a strong city these last few decades. Still, it was underdeveloped in many locations and the four scholars had to hike over great breaks in the sidewalk as they headed to their next goals for the day. Still, Remmy did not complain as Lynn asked him about the snack he’d gotten. He explained his affinity for mint, and how he’d heard about sorbet before but lacked the experience of tasting it. The other two college boys had been arguing about the quality of campus-created television without paying Remmy attention. Lynn listened with interest. Remmy didn’t often talk unless Lynn pulled him into the conversation. “What about Whitcomb Strange Tales? The T-Com students on that show have some creepy stories to tell! Although, they used a sketch for their most recent post,” Chet joked as Emilio complained about the lack of horror fiction on campus. Chet pulled up an image of an exotic dancer punching robbers in the face. Remmy swallowed his heart in surprise, recognizing the distinct features he’d heard about. Chet smiled wide, “I think this story will be a big one even if it’s not scary. They’re calling it ‘Power Paladin: Whitcomb’s own super hero?” “Chet, that’s a terrible show! I’m disgusted!” Emilio yelled. Chet flipped through social-media forecasting software and continue to bombard Emilio with mediocre entertainment. Emilio glowered and whispered, “You’ve got to share that pic with Remmy and me, though…” “I like the costume! I think they changed it a bit for the blog, though. He looks more like an armored wrestler now, when I hear he was more like a sexy knight or something.” Chet chuckled as the group walked through frat row. Remmy shivered with anxiety as Lynn giggled. They got a little quieter as they passed Theta Heorot Theta. “Everyone’s a little spooked by that mansion more than anything Strange Tales has…” Lynn said, her golden bangs blowing in the summer wind. It felt chillier here. “You think they’ll cut that huge dead tree sometime soon? I think it doesn’t help their image.” Emilio commented, Chet pulling out a shaker bottle to head to the gym soon. Remmy looked back the at the incredibly thick curtains of the fraternity house. “They’re too busy rushing, still. They used to have guys begging to get in.” Lynn responded, turning to Remmy. “Your older brother was in that fraternity, right?” “W-Well. Yeah. Usually you must be a certain type of guy to get in. He… fit the look.” Remmy responded, quietly. “Ah, but you need an affluent lineage too, most of the time.” Emilio rasped, looking at Chet and nudging his arm as he drank something sweet. “Oh, do you think you’ll be joining a fraternity, Chet? You seem like the type.” Emilio added. “THT invited me over for a few events along with the other fraternities, but I just don’t want them using my name much or pretending like they are progressive for inviting in a gay guy.” Chet responded, finishing his preworkout. “What was it THT was caught for most recently?” “I heard it was a drug bust… but that was the most reasonable of the rumors…” Remmy managed to say, almost in question as he stopped at the bus station. He needed to get supplies for his art class and it was already late for the store to be on the other side of town. “Do you need a ride, Remus? My car’s close by, I left it at a friend’s and I’m heading to the gym.” Chet asked, knowing the other two were simply heading back to campus. Remmy was very quiet with him. “N-no. I’m fine. Thank you.” He managed to say. Remmy fumbled a few phrases in his mind but it only came out as an awkward pair of thumbs pointing upward, clumsily gestured to Chet. Chet simply laughed and returned a thumbs-up. Lynn observed and Emilio simply moved forward. “Text me when you want, Remmy. If it gets too late you shouldn’t be out alone, I can come get you.” Lynn added as the group distanced from the bus stop. “Yeah, we’d hate to hear you walked into a pack of bulldogs!” Emilio yelled, speaking out of turn. Lynn nudged him but by then they were out of earshot. “Fuck off,” Remmy said to himself, wishing Emilio was there to hear it. Not genuinely -of course- but Emilio had teased him hard when a spider crawled onto the study table a few weeks back. Like a coward, Remmy had jumped out of the chair and ever since Emilio had used his cowardice as the butt of jokes all the time. Getting on the bus, Remmy wondered if masculine guys like Chet were bothered by those kind of traits (cowardice). His steps felt slow as he found his seat, not noticing the multicolored glimmer at the end of the bus. His eyes came up for a second to see everything was fine and so he stared out to the streets of the small city. The feed on his phone moved quickly. With nobody around, Remmy started flipping through blogs to see muscular men flexing, posing, and fondling themselves sensually on the screen. Each man exuded sensuality and power no matter what features and silhouette they had. They all seemed to have one thing in common: a monstrous cock and a monstrous body. Remmy lost his breath, suddenly, when he saw a picture of a buck-naked Chet on his phone. Remmy’s own cock jumped up, pushing through his pants as he stared, bewildered. Chet looked positively monstrous here- unreal! Sure, he was huge in real life, but here… holy shit. His back looked wider than a regular house’s door and his lats spanned so far, his tiny waist looked like it shouldn’t have the ability to keep him from tipping over. Chet’s abdomen looked mesmerizing, decorated in veins reaching down to his monstrous, swollen cock head. It was dripping a giant glob of precum within the capture, Chet teasing the viewer with a bite of his lip and his massive cannons popped upward in a perfect double bi. Still, thick thighs twisted into a perfect crossing pose, emphasizing their sheer length. Remmy finally calmed down as he recognized the photo-manipulation’s watermark from an artist he followed- Chet’s big, juicy pecs pumped with incredibly thick nipples as a definitive give away. In the photo, they were even pierced and ready to be toyed with unlike Chet’s real chest (Remmy had stolen glances prior). Remmy audibly huffed, saving the picture for later when in private. Remmy then flipped to the real Chet- where he’d posted a (still very sexy) picture of him flexing for shoulder day. Remmy himself matched Chet’s height but was much thinner- lankier. A dog with technicolor fur flicked his tail next to Remmy as he continued to self-loathe, turning its head to see the seen setting on the city. Remmy had completely lost track of time. For now, all he could ponder was life without debility and diffidence… The young man’s hands sifted through veils, watching men much like him battle weakness like his own. He watched their bodies change with perseverance. Some of them did it slowly; others stepped right into this new power. All of them, however, reveled as they became powerful. All of them also found themselves enveloped by swarms of demons threatening to punish them for breaking the status quo of disparity. Remus continued to walk, the veils becoming leaden as he watched many drown. He stopped to watch a glowing light pierce an amoeba of wretchedness, a thick hand blasting through to escape. A beast of a man tore his way through the swarm with his bare arms, roaring as his body swelled thicker and THICKER with vigor. It was hard to define more than a silhouette but eyes full of fire drew a halo atop the man’s thick neck, letting him banish the fiends and gasp in a prostrate victory. Remmy fell backwards the moment the beastly man caught eyes with him; he sunk through the darkness drowning in his own contempt. “You are just as powerful, Remus! I believe you can- and so do many others!” said the technicolor dog. Its tail flicked as the creature tried reaching the drowning Remus. “Just reach out and take it!” rang Remmy’s ears. His eyes opened, burning inside the ooze. A glowing orb flickered, changing composition as it bounced through possibilities. Remmy reached out, then hesitated. He felt his weakness crushing him like an enveloping serpent. It was going to kill him. His mouth opened and began swallowing the poisons enveloping him, sealing his doom. Then Remmy jolted awake, gasping with an awful taste in his mouth. “Last stop!” yelled the driver as he got out, not even looking towards the college boy at the end of the bus. The door left ajar, Remmy slowly stepped out. A clock’s hand pointed at twelve-before-midnight, smacking Remmy for being so irresponsible. An ominous chill passed the area, telling Remmy he should get home quickly. He had no time for strange dreams and wiped the sweat from his forehead. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ (So, this is a new story I've been working on, and I posted part III on my blog because I know how lengthy posts can get here in the forum. If you liked what you see so far, here's the link to the next part. Ah, also, thank you very much for reading what you've read thus far!) Here's Part III
  5. When he's finished, dripping sweat and gasping for air, go up to your bull call out a pose. One hand on his swollen bulge, another on his thick neck and watch his face stay beet red as you praise him for his discipline and strength. Dominate your freak.

  6. Having a stall full of muscle bulls for my use... Is very... smile-inducing.

    1. cutlerfan

      cutlerfan

      Snap some pics!

  7. Turns out that muscle internship might be a real thing. Jeebus lol

    1. ragingblackbull

      ragingblackbull

      What's a muscle internship?

    2. cutlerfan

      cutlerfan

      Good luck Roboprobo!

    3. roboprobo

      roboprobo

      A hands-on marketing internship for a supp. retailer ;D

  8. Interviewed 3 bodybuilders for data on designing clothes for muscle. Might also get a marketing internship out of it! :)

  9. Really awesome story. I'd like to see what happens next.
  10. Hahah, I didn't really think about that! But yeah, that sounds like a good idea.
  11. (So, this is my little Halloween tale. It gets pretty spooky on campus where I am, so this was a bit of inspiration for the story) ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________ I don’t know how to say this without sounding fucking dumb but I think I need to tell someone before the worst happens… so I’m going to say it anyway: I’m afraid of going to the bathroom here in my dorm. I’m well aware of how stupid that sounds but if anyone finds this I want some kind of clue for whoever finds this log. What I hate the most is that this nightmare that I know is coming for me hides in the most unremarkable setting and there’s no way anyone will understand. I should’ve listened to my friends enrolling last fall and stayed out of this damn building. I really should have. My name is Lenny. If I was cooler like the rest of the guys on this floor I’m sure everyone would call me ‘Leo’, but I’m just a lanky freshman who can’t manage to make enough friends here at school. You know, they told me it would get better while I was picking up my textbooks off the floor a few days before graduation, but I still think about the assholes who used to bully me even as a high-school senior. I got good grades and managed to get myself a good scholarship to come here and study fine arts (I want to be an illustrator someday). Fuck it all, though, because when I came here I enrolled with assholes from their respective hometowns around the state. Oh, and I was so excited to be moving into the Arts & Design community building on campus. I was assigned to live with artists, writers, and graphic design students from the entire university. As my luck would have it the building flooded in my wing and due to the massive influx of new students I had to move into a new location… They gave me three choices then. I could pay an extra few thousand dollars to move into the newest dormitory on campus (Crowne, which I don’t have the money for), hope for the best in the freshmen ‘Discovery’ dormitory (Laurel- it was already packed and would place me on the eight floor with no elevator), or move into Helena… Helena was the second dorm ever made on campus and was still in commission. At first I thought all three of my options sucked but the school actually offered to waive my room expense so I would only pay for my meal plan on campus. They told me my scholarship covered this and Laurel would receive the same bonus. After I learned Helena’s dining hall was an up-scale buffet (well, at least for a college campus) and the rooms were a third bigger than anywhere else on campus, I took it. I ended up having to room with someone else but I didn’t care too much at the time. Kyle’s a really nice guy, actually, but that’s not the problem. I remember telling my few friends from high school I was moving into the building and most of them expressed joy- the building was rather pretty for a dormitory and you even got a sink in your room. The lobby looked like it belonged in an old Jane Austen film- the molding covered everything and they had an antique grand piano donated by some big-shot in the 50s. There were only three floors and only one of them was designated for guys (the first floor was for students 21 and over and the top floor was for girls). I was rather excited until Tanesha told me about the spooks in the halls. Everyone knew about the few weird stories around campus and how our school was known for strange occurrences and even paranormal activity. I don’t believe in any of that stuff… or I hadn’t, so I told her to not worry. We’d already sneaked into the library at night hoping to see the frosty janitor from 87’ on the roof and nothing had ever happened then. Nothing had happened these few nights after moving in. Nothing would ever happen at all. I was an idiot. And at this point, I wish I was dealing with a ghost. Or a monster. I don’t know. Something tangible! Something I could maybe fight off, or fight back. God, I’m so fucking scared. I know it’s going to happen soon if I don’t move out of this building. I don’t want to disappear… The first time I had the dream was about a week after moving in. Kyle (my roommate) may be a football player but he’s a nice guy and if anything I worried I might be taking advantage of his southern hospitality. He introduced me to his girlfriend and everything. The other guys aren’t too awful on this floor, either, albeit to a lesser extent. A lot of them are older and belong to fraternities from all around campus. They tend to be loud and annoying. A few of them are genuine shit-holes and they remind me of high school the most. They haven’t done anything terrible to me but they talk shit about women and pour ramen juice down the drinking fountains. I fucking hate that. The dream is always the same. I wake up in the middle of the night sometimes if I’m lucky- that way I don’t get to the worst part. At first I didn’t get very far in the dream, either. I just got a sense of dread from the beginning of the pattern. I would always wander the long hallways of the building in the dream before entering the poorly-lit bathroom. I have been losing sleep because of it, at this point. I always wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat. For some reason, Kyle’s out of the room. He tends to sleep over at his girl’s so I stress even more when I know he’ll be gone the following night. I stumble out of bed, dry like a bone and needing to use the bathroom. Bear with me, I know this sounds rather normal… I get up and open the door, the lights in the hall flickering on and off… on and off… I’m usually in a graphic t-shirt with my favorite anime characters splattered on- that and basketball shorts so I don’t have to worry about being indecent in front of anyone. The dream is so real, I usually just wear the same thing. Most of the time I wouldn’t want my RA to talk to me (she’s really loud) but when I’m normally awake I pray she’ll stop me from going further down the corridor. She’s never doing her rounds in my dream. I simply drag my feet to the bathroom and go on about my business. Then it happens. I finish and I decide to sit down. I’m half-asleep anyway, but I try to stay awake and hold myself up by placing my hands on the stall’s plastic walls. I can definitely feel my head tilt back and forth as if I’ve gone into a trance or something... that’s when I start to change. I breathe in a long, heavy gasp and let out an even longer sigh of relief. It feels like coming out of a pool, as if I’ve never breathed before. My head then tilts backward so I can face the buzzing lamp above my stall, but my eyes close. I can feel the slight tingle run through the veins of my feet and upward. My hands slide up the walls slightly, feeling the coldness of the outside winds whisk through the frigid bathroom. The tingle makes my toes wiggle as I spread my legs apart a bit more. At first it feels like my blood is pumping faster. I breathe a little heavier when the tingle runs through my groin… I hate how much I enjoy the sensation as it vibrates through my spindly legs. With a slight jerk my knees twitch and the tendons around them make me jitter for a quick second. I can’t explain it really well, but it’s like taking a deep breathe that you don’t let go of without choking. I breathe out just fine, but I do sense something else. The feeling pervades within me and I finally recognize that I’m… well…. that I’m getting bigger. The pulse continues running up my root and I can’t help but moan. Nobody’s in the bathroom, I just moan softly enough to sense my cock twitching in my shorts. It starts running up my back, like warm water at this point massaging my under my skin. My stomach heats up along as I tilt my head to the side, my body slouching almost off of the toilet. The warmth starts becoming even hotter as I sense my head plunging into the sensation, my shoulders rolling back a bit to enjoy it too. The moment I feel it twitching through my arms I can tell my veins are pumping with warmth to my fingers. At this point you must be thinking I enjoy this. I ultimately don’t… At least not when I’m awake. I don’t know why it feels so good when I’m in the dream. It just does. At first I wondered why I was so scared of getting to the bathroom if all I would do is wake up with a pair of sticky boxers in the morning. Kyle didn’t seem to notice so at least I wasn’t making noises in my sleep. Everything continued as normal and he even invited me to join the inter-mural volleyball team for our dorm. Due to my lack of coordination I had to decline. There was just something inherently wrong with the dream, though. I knew that. It was as if I was being forced to experience such pleasure and that’s what really got to me. After I figured that out during my chemistry class I became determined to figure out the dream. I actually researched it and found that repetitive dreams often had to do with stress. I may be uncomfortable with myself and other people, but I didn’t think I was too stressed at the time so I went back to wondering what to do. Things continued as normal and I only had the dream every once in a while. I had the dream barely at all. It was towards the end of September that I started having the dream every few days. I thought about going to the counseling center to talk to someone about it but I didn’t want to waste a professional’s time on something as silly as a wet-dream… especially if they might think it was stupid. In the end the dream continued to develop and I continued to feel the sensations more and more, to the point that I could sense more specific details and remember them in the waking hours of school. There was a point where I knew that the shadowy bathroom wasn’t just cold; a little bit of frost was blowing in from the open window. My dream was taking place in the upcoming months, and even though at first I didn’t realize it was warning me. It was coming for me. I was starting to lose more and more sleep. I don’t consider myself very strong but I’ve always done will in class so I avoided worrying about grades as the bags under my eyes got worse. My roommate started worrying, but I passed midterms fine and I think he must’ve talked to the dorm’s staff to check on me. They eventually had someone come to see if I needed help. I told them I wasn’t on drugs and that ultimately, I was fine. The nightmare kept developing, though. My mind can’t help but remember it vividly. I would be in that bathroom stall, my head filling with some sort of energy… like water filling a pitcher I just felt myself becoming more and more full of it. That was when things started changing… I would feel the sensation of being full of this strange energy and it seemed to need expansion. And that was another thing I just didn’t understand. Slowly, I’d feel my feet start to ache. My bones feel like they’re irritated and sore and I start feeling unable to breathe but instead, I just swallow more air. I in fact feel my blood pumping… rushing through me as my heart palpitates like an furnace full of too much kindling. Shit, that’s exactly what it feels like- I start sweating from how hot and fast my heart is going. It feels like it’s only getting bigger, too. Like all of me is getting bigger… The sensation of my feet being aching spreads through me, and I stagger forward on my seat. I grunt and almost moan, as if I know what’s going to happen and as if I truly want it… I open my eyes to see my veins are thick and pulsing through my skin. Am I dying? Why does it continue? But I don’t ask these damn questions in my dream. I just welcome it. I feel my whole body tense up, like a giant cramp and I growl as my skin turns red with this strange… pump. I’d been avoiding the bathroom on my floor for a while now, even when in daylight. I would have continued if the men’s bathroom downstairs wouldn’t have flooded a few weeks ago. I asked so many questions about the repairs and all I got was that they’d have to fix it the upcoming semester. The groans of the guys on floor 1 pissed me off only because their problems weren’t as big as mine. Fuck, I hate that word. ‘Big’. I’m avoiding it, too. It’s a word that keeps creeping up on me. Not like a snake or a ghost, mind you. It’s definitely a hulking creature stalking me like its prey. I finally knew something was really wrong when I listened in on some of the bros as they got back from the gym. “Yeah, I feel really great after today. Look at this pump!” the first one said, wearing a tank he had cut out himself from a t-shirt he got at the beginning of the semester. “Damn, your arms look bigger already. No homo, hahah.” the other one commented in a chuckle. I thought it was all homo. “Well they say that when you get a real, honest-to-god pump you’re actually looking into the future. You know, because your muscles are so full of blood or whatever.” Said the first. “That shit’s kind of gross.” Laughed the second. As if I needed this information (I suppose I did, but hopefully from a better source that would disprove my insanity), I recognized the feeling. It was the feeling of getting a ‘pump’. The only difference, however, was that in my dream it was continuing and I didn’t know what exactly would happen at the end of the ordeal. I was determined to find out. I started researching dreams and finally contacted a private counselor via phone. It’s a nice service, I guess, and I could talk to her anonymously. She asked me how I felt about masculinity and other weird questions like my sexual orientation. I answered honestly when I told her I never really cared about being ‘masculine’ or muscular- I figured that’s what she was getting at. I just cared about my schooling and I didn’t really care to date anyone, man or woman. She eventually told me that maybe I had some kind of repressed sexual feelings, and that I could try exploring it a bit in a calm fashion. I start squeezing my hands, feeling my fingers tighten as this pump fills me. I relish it, my head rolling forward as my back becomes heavier than I can handle. The pulsing sensation doesn’t diminish. It only makes me change. It feels so fucking good changing. I grunt and even moan when I feel my legs finally getting thicker. In the daylight I’m thin and my legs look like pale sticks of flesh. I don’t know why I love the sensation of them growing. I see shapes I’ve never really noticed on a body (mine, or others) as my legs get thicker… and thicker… and stronger… And the sensation only moves upward. I just… it just keeps going. I feel my stomach tightening up and loosening, but only a little less than the wave that preceded it. I grunt as I feel my abdomen define itself, little bricks popping up through my burning-hot skin. I’m dripping in sweat as if I had any fat to lose to begin with and it hurts. Somehow I want it, I want the pain of this… growth? I just enjoy it so much as I feel my wrists shake and my hands clench up too tight. That’s when my pectorals start ballooning out. I usually buy shirts a size too big and I find myself quickly filling it in during this dream… Nightmare. It’s a nightmare. I can’t let it be a good dream. I won’t. I lost track when I hallucinated. I was walking down the normal street all students do here, and all while classes were ending. People go in all directions (we actually have a large record here on our campus for having the most busy pedestrian light in the state or whatever) and there’s no way you can get through on a bike. It was rather cold now, and I had already began dreading the first snow. I just remember walking through the crowds and hearing someone call my name. It sounded rather distant and I pretended not to hear just so I could get home faster. I’d just blame the distance to whoever would text me after the event. Heading home, however, is a bit of a walk for those who live in Helena. It’s on the farthest corner of campus and nowhere near the rest of the halls. At night it’s completely isolated. The crowds disappeared at some point and I recognized someone was close by on the same path. I just kept going and payed no mind, but it wasn’t until I got to a main road that I turned to see things had already gone awry minutes ago. There they stood- a hulking figure who had called out my name earlier. I recognized that they were staying about a block behind and they had been following me since I left class. I swallowed my breath and tried not to make eye-contact as I sped up my pace through traffic. They didn’t seem afraid, either. They were just eyeing me up, like a meal. I never took the time to see the features of this man in a black hood and hoped he wasn’t a hired thug. I almost ran into my building when I saw that he’d already disappeared. I jacked off after the nightmare a few days ago. Kyle was out at his girl’s and even though my anxiety was killing me, I stayed here. Nowhere to go during the weekdays. I got to the point where I start growing… and fast. I woke up with a hard-on and my balls ached so badly. It felt like I’d not jacked off in weeks, seems like. God, I was so embarrassed. I still am. But, just. Growing. It feels so good in my nightmare. I don’t know what to do when my cock is just throbbing inside my shorts and I need a moment of calm… Fuck. I just keep getting thicker. I finally understand why I groan in pain from the bone-aches. I think I hear a few bones pop, as if breaking and disjointing a bit. Maybe they’re just reframing so I can be taller. I can tell my feet are bigger simply by the cold surface of the tiled floor, meaning I’ve grown taller too. I’m already pretty tall, so god only knows how much taller I’m getting in this damn dream. I know that whoever leaves that bathroom isn’t me. That’s what frightens me the most. He’s bigger. Cooler. Much stronger than me. But he isn’t me. What if he’s an asshole? Fuck. He’s really big, though. I’ve never cared about these things before. Why is this happening to me, of all people? What did I do to have this become my eldritch horror? I don’t want to disappear! And yet, feeling my hands get thicker, calloused from deadlifting so damn much turns me on so bad now. Feeling my sweat drip off of my nose as I get water after a workout- something about it excites me. I’ve never cared about sports or eating extremely healthy. And fuck, somehow still it’s coming for me. What if I stop studying art? I got a letter with information on the business program here- of all fucking degrees, can you imagine?! This is his doing, I can tell! I’m going insane and it’s all HIS fault because he wants me to be bigger and muscular and I don’t know why! It doesn’t matter. I haven’t gone to classes all week. I’m doing well enough that this won’t do anything for me, except get the board on my ass for skipping so much. I’ve told my teachers I’ll send the work in, I just can’t make it. I haven’t slept. It’s so cold. Everyone plans on going somewhere for the weekend and I’m stuck alone in this fucking place and- And the dream finished, in full. Last night. I woke up and walked to the bathroom. I sat on the toilet and pissed, then pulled up my pants. I looked up and closed my eyes as the weirdness filled me. Then I began to grow. Damn, every time it feels even more real. I feel my arms getting… thicker. Biceps that look like baseballs, and proceed to swell even bigger. Fuck- forearms that look like tree-branches from all the striations as I spread my legs. My cock actually grows, filling my tight underwear as I moan. I can feel my balls actually churning cum because I’m just that virile now… and damn, these basketball shorts just fill up with mass as I get thicker. I can’t think straight anymore, my quads just flex as I cross my clenched hands. Feeling my back pop and spread to the sides excites me so bad! I just gasp when I hear the first sounds of my shirt tearing down the middle! I don’t hesitate, either. I just reach down to tug my shorts off- tearing them like paper, as I look down at my huge cock. It bobs up and down, looking like I pumped it full of air and left a cock-ring on it for days. I feel myself up, my fingers going through every ridge of muscle. Every little bump that forms around my abdomens makes me feel even wider. My waist must be tiny because I can’t really feel it at the side of my arms. My cock dribbles so much just tugging on my stretched out nips, too… I just keep slamming down onto my huge cock, dripping pre onto the floor and moaning like some kind of beast in the wild. I roar, claiming my new body as I flex my left arm up. The pleasure alone makes me feel more powerful than anything in the world could. I haven’t’ slept. I don’t know if anyone will notice me disappearing, either. I keep having issues getting on social media, contacting people. I’m so isolated. I could’ve sworn I saw HIM walking the halls. He wants to take over my life. He wants me to be bigger. Be a different man. Keeps dangling it in front of me… Maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe I’ll transfer into a cool business program. The guys there might not even be assholes. And we can fuck, too. No, wait. That’s not…. What I want. I need to sleep a little in the day and then not worry so much about night-time… It doesn’t matter anymore. I was finally able to log in to my social media. I don’t exist anymore. All my profiles. All my pictures online. Even the ones just on my phone- they’re all of somebody else. Yeah, they look like me. He looks a lot like me. His jaw is just squarer… He’s almost as tall as a basketball player… I’ve grown thick hair all around my neck and keep it long on my head so it makes me look rugged… And I wear tight clothing so my pecs almost pop off my buttons… I look… really good. It’s time to down a glass of water, maybe, and wait for me to head to the bathroom. I think I see him… me… out in the courtyard waiting for me to give in. My window is open so I don’t fall asleep, but I think it’s time I closed it. It’s starting to snow. The sensations I feel when I burst out of my clothes and walk over to the mirror are unmatched. I kind of want to see him staring back at me. We can flex together. I can flex hard. Who knows, maybe this is a really good dream have, after all.
  12. Beat me to the punch, not a lot of the writing focuses on that roid-gut sexiness.
  13. I've looked around and ironically found very few roid gut stories. There's one I'll link you to when I find it again, but it's the only one I know well enough. 'Gorditol'.
  14. I think this is a pretty good idea, and from what I assume will help keep the lights on. I'm gonna check and clear any images I might have that I don't want seen.
  15. Why do you have like two of the same thread up? EDIT---- Also, sounds like some kind of Buffy growth story. Famous witch who starts out 'wiccan'? Her name's Willow? Yeeeep.
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