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      Help contribute, donate via PayPal or join with a monthly Patreon contribution.   01/01/17

      To help raise funds I've introduced a monthly contribution option called Pateron. This service allows you to pledge a monthly contribution plus allows me to offer you some rewards for your contribution. If you have any questions you may PM me. If you'd like to make that contribution please click on the image below:      
    • CMiller

      NEWS: Discord Server & Clubs (aka Groups) are back!   08/19/17

      Hello everyone I'm back with a couple big updates! Firstly we now have a Discord server, this is a real-time chat messaging client you can run on your phone, desktop, or anywhere. It's a pretty powerful desktop application that enables people to chat together, and with multiple channels you can find people interested in what you're interested in. If you don't already have a Discord account it's pretty easy to get one, just click the following invite link to get started: https://discord.gg/U93PYnB Secondly I'm proud to announce the return of Groups, it's been renamed to Clubs and is now available here: https://muscle-growth.org/clubs/. This system is entirely user generated and allows users to create groups of their own based on any subject they want. Go ahead and try it now, visit the link above to get started if you want to create or join a group!   As always thank you to all of our donators and Patreon contributors who keep the forums going! 

Hialmar

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Hialmar last won the day on August 19

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About Hialmar

  • Rank
    250+ Posts
  • Birthday 05/21/70

Profile

  • Location
    Sweden
  • This profile is a...
    real profile.
  • Gender
    Male
  • Orientation
    Bisexual (Male Preference)
  • What are your interests?
    Physical exercise, reading, writing, history, world's mythologies, punk rock
  • What are your stats?
    I'm just average. It took me almost 25 years to go from 50 kilogrammes to 80 kilogrammes. Now I have the conditions to take it further, however.
  • What are you seeking?
    Reading stories, writing stories, reading good advice about exercise. I am open for other things to occur.
  • What are your dream stats?
    Whatever I am able to achieve. Let's see what will happen.
  • Favorite Stories
    In the A.R.M.Y. now, Project Venice, The Recruit, Scott, The Commando
  • Favorite Bodybuilders
    Johnnie Jackson, Ben Pakulski
  • Got Any Fetishes?
    Muscle, army, skinheads

Recent Profile Visitors

3444 profile views
  1. Speedos and their stigma

    I haven't noticed any stigma, but I noticed that speedos became unfashionable 10-15 years ago. In the 1970s, 1980s and 1990s I never saw any other swimwear for men, but suddenly fashion companies decided things had to change. I don't understand why. The same about underwear: Pants of today are puritanical compared to the ones fashionable in the 1980s and early 1990s. Those who are ten years older than I am probably remember better. I believe the low-hanging baggy jeans favoured in the hiphop subculture might have had an improportionate impact on the enormous pants of today. It also seem to be popular to let the brand name be visible above the waistline. Neither is compatible with my chosen style. Twenty-year-olds today walk around wearing garments their puritanical great granddads could have worn in the trenches in Flanders (but more colourful). Why? Were the 1980s and 1990s really more liberated than the mores of today? If so, the idea of progress is incorrect.
  2. The Company Chapter 2

    It's very fun to write this. More lighthearted than my usual style of stories, and I will explore the vacation adventures of several men of several backgrounds as they receive The Treatment at The Company. Gramps/Brett isn't the only main character, but it was interesting to write about him, since I had to refresh my memories about modern world history and political studies. I am now inventing a character called "Tim": A slender British, twenty-something working-class lad with endearing ears and distrustful gaze. I will have to ask advice about his language, since I suppose that 'BBC-English' will not do, and I will try to avoid mockney. British slang is incomprehensible to me, but I find it hot. At this stage, I expect the other main characters to be in their late 30s, late 40s and late 50s, respectively, and from quite a wide range of social and geographical backgrounds. Does anyone know if bouncy hard house is still a thing in UK, or is it dated now? It's not my area of expertise, so I have to ask. I'm more into punk rock myself.
  3. The Company Chapter 2

    Chapter one is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13680-the-company-chapter-1/ The Company Chapter Two He felt strange. He felt exhausted and empowered at the same time. The jacuzzi had stopped bubbling, and the UV lights were turned off. He felt different. He touched his shoulders and chest. Disbelief and excitement mixed in his mind, as he felt the sensation of hard, well-defined muscles. His hard, well-defined muscles. An hour ago he had been a wrinkled, fragile and shy octagenarian from a conservative mid-western town. To begin with, he wasn't fragile anymore. He remained in the hot liquid, and tried to focus. Bill, his PT, returned, cheerful and encouraging. The hot and damp air caused Bill's polo shirt to stick to his torso, revealing Bill's aesthetic, but not exaggerated, physique. He could feel desire arise. Before the treatment, he had felt impressed by Bill, and trusted Bill as a professional, and felt protective in the way he often did towards younger men – and most men were younger these days. Now he felt confused. Bill helped him up, out of the water, but, unlike the case when he entered the jacuzzi, he didn't need much help when he return out of it. Powerful legs stepped the metal stairs. A big hand clenched the handrail. The dressing gown didn't fit anymore, and Bill joked about it. By the sound of it, the joke wasn't new. No longer surrounded by liquid, he felt taller, and he felt unaccustomed to his new improved physique. He adjusted his stance, and tried to find a suitable posture. He felt more confident. It felt good. Bill handed him a plastic cup of mineral water. "You are probably dehydrated because of The Treatment, sir. You need water and sodium. This is ordinary mineral water. Do you feel dizzy?" He drank three glasses of water. The dizziness faded. Bill listened to his heartbeat with a stethoscope, and had his blood pressure measured. "Your clothes will be tailored for your new measurements, sir. Will you please step into the changing room?" His old clothes hang there. They were obviously too small now. Then he turned to the full-length mirror. Lust erupted. A wave of arousal surged through him. He noticed that he didn't need his glasses anymore, and the face, that stared back at him in the mirror, could have been drawn by his favourite erotic artist: Handsome, playfully charming in a masculine way. The face of men he never dared to approach. A powerful muscle rolled between his strong neck and his bulging shoulders – his nephew called it traps. The chest of a hero. Narrow waist – extremely so – contrasting to his broad shoulders and wide chest. Six hemispheric tiles formed a washboard. The wave of arousal intensified. The mirror image stared in disbelief, its blue eyes boyishly innocent in a baby face empowered by mature masculinity. Full lips. Cute nose. Dimples. And that face placed over the mature muscularity of a bodybuilder of – let's say – twenty-five years' experience. He couldn't believe it was his own reflection, but his reason told him it was. His mind drowned in rapture – he didn't know for how long – and he could feel his cock spasm pleasantly, and more powerfully than ever before. He opened his eyes. One hour ago, he would have been devastated by embarrassment of letting this happen in the sight of Bill, but now he only felt mildly sheepish. The mirror was stained by large spots of his own cum, which now slowly trickled down the surface of the mirror. "I'm sorry for that." Bill only smiled leniently: "In this profession I have seen everything, already. You are not the first one." He nodded towards a spray can of detergent in a corner. Without further ado, Bill used a measuring tape which had been there all the time. While Bill did what he had to do, the customer changed his stance and posture, looked at his reflection, and suddenly noticed a framed reproduction hanging in the changing room: It was one of Tom's drawings. An almost naked, but very confident, muscular young man having his measures taken at a tailor's, while an obese man, waiting for his turn, looking embarrassed. His cock awaked again. For which time, now? This time it didn't spew. Bill was soon finished with his job: "Oh, and another thing: In order to protect the anonymity of our guests, each guest is given a username during their remaining stay, by which they will be known by other guests. Do you have any suggestion, sir?" He had been told about the usernames before. "Is 'Tom' already taken?" "I'm afraid it is, sir. That is a very popular choice." He thought a few seconds. "What about 'Brett', then? Is that taken?" "No, I will immediately register the username 'Brett'." "Thank you, Bill." "Your gymwear and your chosen attire – I see that you have chosen the biker option (a classic one!) – will be delivered to your room within two hours. Many customers take a nap after The Treatment. Other guests take a shower. I am sure, that you will find a way to spend the waiting time. Before you go, will you please chose your underwear from the stand, and one of the big size bathrobes? None of the underwears were smaller than size L. Some of the styles were unfamiliar to him. Why not test something new? He finally found a leather jockstrap, took a look in the mirror and felt how his cock began to throb inside, rubbing itself against the leather. He felt dazed. This wasn't happening? The being in the mirror wasn't himself? Too good to be true? He girded himself with a very large white terrycloth bathrobe, and found a heap of large rubber slippers. Thus attired, he walked through the corridors. Brett walked through the corridors. He smiled. It felt unreal, but in a good way. Brett squeezed his manhood through the terrycloth and the leather. Brett needed a nap. And a shower. While he waited for his biker gear.
  4. Question for the gay or bisexual muscle men on here

    You mentioned in an earlier post, that you have a conservative background. That word could mean, and have meant, several different things in different places at different times, so I'm not entirely sure what it means in your whereabouts. Does guilt has something to do with that upbringing? In this unnecessarily polarised age, "conservatives" and "liberals" (and I leave "socialists" out, for now, for the sake of discussion) doesn't seem to realise the shared origin of concepts they hold dear. The "conservative" ideal of straight monogamy is supposed to prevent men and women from harming their partners and themselves. The "liberal" principle of consenting adults is also supposed to prevent men and women from harming partners and themselves. The weak point of both ideals or principles is the cases when the attempted aim isn't realised. There exist straight couples, married in the sight of Deity, law and peers, who harm each other. There exist same sex adults (and opposite sex adults) who tell themselves that they consent during brief sexual encounters who harm each other. There exist loving, caring and responsible persons in both situations, and there exist married same sex couples, nowadays. When you come to terms with your feelings: Reflect deeply over your own responsibility, and act in a caring, responsible way, and find out a way of life harmonious with that, that works for you. No one else can do it for you. You also have to come to terms with how you potentially live with a female friend-with-benefits/girlfriend and/or a male friend-with-benefits/boyfriend. Honesty about your feelings is important. Don't cheat any of them. Polyamory only work if all persons involved are mature, and isn't an option for everyone. Personally, I have no problem to understand your hesitation regarding anal sex. There are so many other more enjoyable things to do, but there is no "gay police" who will enter the lockerroom or bedroom and force your fuckbuddy and you to do something you don't enjoy. Just communicate clearly with him about what you seek and what you don't seek. Muscle worship doesn't primarily involve what's inside a pair of posing trunks. Please also remember, that muscles and seeming confidence might cover insecurity and bad memories. Treat the big men you befriend as real persons, who've got thoughts and feelings to share, if you get through the initial phase of hero-and-admirer playfulness. Some of them look invincible, but they might need to unburden themselves of sorrow. You might be able to support each other. If you want to continue this discussion in a less public way, you are welcome to send me a private message.
  5. Question for the gay or bisexual muscle men on here

    It took you a while to reach the actual question, but I suppose it is hard to explain a very private and personal existential journey. So if I dissect your handful of questions: I didn't know it at the time, but I now understand, that I always must have been interested in persons of both sexes. I was never only interested in the same sex, nor only interested in the opposite sex. Both (some) men and (some) women exude charm and appeal. I would say that it is two (or several) sorts of charm and appeal, not one and the same ones. I thought I was, because of everyone's expectations, but I found out, that I wasn't. I guess it is easier for gay men and straight men to understand their sexual orientations, since they both are exclusive in nature, and they probably understand their sexual orientations earlier than I did. No, not at all. I wasn't curious at all, and I was not interested in "exploring". The thought of sex with another abstract/imaginary man had no appeal to me. It all became different when I fell in love with a real man around the age of 26-27. It is different in real life. No. No "switch" here. I still fall in love with men and women now and then, but I understand my emotions better now, than I did when I was a teenager or in my early 20s. Also remember, that there are other emotions than desire and romance inside us: Superficial friendship, deep friendship, bromance. It's possible to like a man or a woman as a friend, without involving desire or romance. In other cases, emotions are sometimes interwoven as a very complicated tapestry. Think of motivation like a cake or multi-layer sandwich: There are layers upon layers there. My most rational reason for taking up weights, was to recover from illness: I was extremely scrawny in the beginning. I enjoyed action films before I began to work out, and the little boy inside me enjoyed (and still enjoy) when the muscular film heroes of those days defeated the villains and saved the day. It's childish of course, but it is fun, and I guess that the popular culture at the time I was a teen must have influenced the way I am. I was bullied in early secondary school. A part (but only one part among many parts) of my motivation was some unspoken will to prove something in time of a class reunion when we had aged 26, but that motivation died after that school reunion: I had actually outgrown many of my former bullies, but most of them had matured into decent adults, so it wasn't rewarding in the way I had expected. Attracting girls and impressing other young men were parts of my motivation, but less important than a much more fundamental one: I wanted to feel physically present in a way I didn't feel I was. I wanted my body to occupy space. I wanted gravity to have more mass to attract. I wanted to defeat gradually heavier and heavier weights. It wasn't (and isn't) something between me and other persons: It's a matter of what goes on between me and the weights. I will conquer them. I'm now in the robust end of an average physique. It has given me a smug satisfaction to use dumbbells at 14 kilogrammes, 16 kilogrammes and 18 kilogrammes, to use barbells at 60 kilogrammes and to leg press 130 kilogrammes. It doesn't sound much to the big boys who use much, much heavier weights than I do, but this is not a comparison between me and them: It is a comparison between the scrawny younger me, when I began lifting in the past, and the me of today with pumped shoulders, visible traps and accidentally ripping (XS) shirt sleeves apart (I usually take M now). I want to feel pump. I want to feel relaxation and hardness spread in my muscles after a workout when I sip some BCAA, and that feeling makes me horny – not directed towards anyone in particular: Just experiencing my own masculine physical presence, and enjoying it. Not in my experience. Other persons might have other experiences. It's a part of the fun that both make turns. Also remember that there exist other things than anal sex. Two big boys might have fun in so many other different ways, and only lack of imagination will restrict you. It's not the case that one man "plays a woman" during same sex sex. It's about two men being men together, and enjoying it. In my experience, two men understand each other's needs better, than a man usually understand a woman's needs. Muscle worship, frottage and handjobs doesn't spread STDs. If you enjoy it, doesn't feel guilt about it and doesn't harm anyone else, it is normal. Don't do something you don't enjoy. Why would you? It's very important that your pleasure doesn't harm anyone else, and that you agree about safeguards with anyone you have fun with. Be sensitive to the needs of your fuckbuddies or partners, for their sake. A positive side effect, of openness to their needs, is that you will find pleasure in their arousal, which is very fun. If it all makes you guilty without reason, you could talk to a therapist. If you suspect that you are a sex addict, talk to a therapist. Remember to use contraceptives. Otherwise, have fun. I suspect a higher number of persons are fluid in their sexual orientation than we knew in the past. Don't feel any pressure to conform to other persons ideas or expectations about what it means to be "bisexual". We are all individuals.
  6. The Company Chapter 1

    The teaser is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13634-teaser-for-the-new-story-the-company/ The Company Chapter One "What is it like? The Treatment, I mean." The elderly man sat in one of the restaurants owned by Physical Potential Foundation, and felt embarrassed and exhilarated at the same time. A young muscle-god had decided to sit down at his table, which caused a wave of mixed feelings. The younger man had obviously been through The Treatment already, and his shoulders unopposedly claimed the space of the opposite seat, as they protruded out of the sleeveless plaid shirt. Several upper shirt buttons were unbuttoned, and revealed a pec cleavage worthy an ancient statue. Even if his pecs were hard as marble, they were far from as pale as marble: A bronzed, hairless chest teased the elderly man with its body heat and whiff of anti-perspirant, but the most amazing thing with the other man was his eyes: Although men built like him had the opportunity to behave condescendingly or smug, this man's greenish-brown eyes sparkled of fun and mischief, like sunlight through the foliage of beeches, reflected in a well. A smile, expressing relish, was upon his face above the powerful jaw and dimpled chin. The young man answered: "The Treatment is awesome. Some guests worry about pain during adjustment of their bone-structure, but you are given some sort of analgesic with the DNA-altering and hormone-stimulating formula. It will feel great. Don't worry, gramps. You will enjoy it. And you will have fun afterwards. Which option have you gone for?" The elderly man felt embarrassed again, and he could feel his willy awake inside his pants, hearing the description of The Treatment. His silvery white hair was wavy. His suit didn't look cheap, but it wasn't luxurious either. With his suit and tie, he looked slightly misplaced in the restaurant. Indirect daylight was admitted into the room, but the southern wall lacked any windows, and the air conditioners struggled. The walls were panelled, and wooden logs ran from one wall to another under the ceiling. Many of the other men eating dinner were dressed in black leather, and looked like the drawings he had enjoyed in the 1960s and 1970s. Other men were dressed in a way inspired by the army: Crewcuts, jarheads, camo trousers, dogtags. One or two cowboys looked displaced in the environment. Judging from the scents in the room, the preferred style of meal was steak, barbecue, grill. Although most of the dialects heard in the room came from one or another part of the States, the elderly man could hear the odd Canadian, British or Irish dialect now and then, and some men probably spoke with unidentifiable European accents. He had seen a, supposedly wealthy, Saudi arrive in traditional Arabian garb, and descend the stairs an hour later in tight denim jeans, sneakers and an expensive-looking slim-fitting t-shirt, and with a sturdy golden chain around his neck. One of the muscle gods was probably Hawaiian, and he guessed one of the pre-Treatment guests was a Filipino. "I have chosen Fountain-of-Youth and Option Two." The young man smiled, causing dimples in his cheeks, and the glittering joy in his eyes returned. "You will love it, I guess. You are old enough to actually have been able to meet Tom of Finland. Did you meet him?" The elderly man ate one of his fries, and smiled for the first time, though the smile was shy, and his ears became dark pink. Dark pink contrasted nicely against his silvery white hair. "I am not very experienced, I'm afraid. My life went by, and I didn't engage with the wider gay community, until very, very late. It took me a very, very long time to accept myself. The times were different." He fell silent for a few seconds, and then repeated: "The times were very different." His thoughts briefly drifted away. Memories. "Tell me. I'm curious. My great grandfathers died when I was too young to understand anything, but I have always wanted to hear more about the past." So he told him. The musty scent of an underground cellar, used to store food the first years of his life. Ice preserved under saw dust, but replaced by a very bulky and noisy refrigerator inside the kitchen a few years later. Bicycling as a child: Playing in the nearby prairie. President Roosevelt on the radio. Charlie Chaplin in the theatre. War news. New suburbs emerging. The outhouse replaced by an indoors bathroom with water closet, which was an improvement in the cold winters and warm summers. Magazines with comics or short stories printed on cheap paper, which aged quickly, and became yellow and brittle, and smelled dusty and funny. Meals from tin cans. Jazz music. President Truman on the radio. He didn't remember much from wartime. He was a teenager when the Korean war ended. There was something impressive about the veterans who returned home, but it had made him feel embarrassed. His family became wealthy enough to buy a car: A mint green one with large fins. He didn't do well in sports, but one of his best friends played in the football team, and protected him from bullying. His mother had been deeply religious, his father less so, but the entire family went to chapel every Sunday. Many years afterwards, he learned, that the chapel had been into social gospel decades earlier, and performed a lot of charity work in the past, but, at some time shortly before the war, a new preacher had arrived, and the congregation had taken a more revivalist turn. Lots of emotions during Sunday meetings, and bible readings from an incomprehensible translation. "God's own translation", as his mother had used to say. "Thee" and "Thou" and "Shalt". Especially "Shalt not". One Sunday after chapel, he had asked his mother: "What's a sodomite?" Her expression had become rigid and disgusted, and she had explained: "It's a sick and hell-bound man behaving unmanly and unnaturally, worse than a beast. Promise me to never, never talk about such things again." So he didn't. There was a lot of fear of nuclear war, and everyone feared the Communists. And everyone feared traitors within, like fags, who were supposed to be Communists, all of them. His parents had voted for Ike, and Ike won. "Ike was a war hero, and back then there was a realisation in Ike's party, that people of colour (as we used to say back then – I'm afraid that it doesn't sound polite today, but it was intended to be back then) still suffered, despite slavery had been abolished eighty years earlier. Ike's party was the party of Abraham Lincoln, who abolished slavery. The other party was frankly outright racist back then, at least in the south. The sixties changed all that in a way you youngsters don't understand. I voted for Nixon, because I sympathized with the civil rights movement, but Kennedy won. Must sound self-contadictory to your generation. Lyndon and Carter changed the party-allegiances in the south. Some people my age became beatniks. A few became hippies, though most hippies were many years younger than us. Some were drafted for Vietnam. I became an office clerk, and later an accountant." When rock and roll emerged, he had initially continued to listen to jazz music, but there was something dangerously rebellious and appealing with Elvis Presley. He spent a lot of time in the theatre, watching films. He had watched a film called The Wild One, starring Marlon Brando, and Rebel without a cause, starring James Dean (who wasn't much older than himself). And then there were a wave of slightly childish but entertaining films about ancient Greek heroes or ancient Romans: Hercules, Ben Hur, The Slave. Steve Reeves and Charlton Heston were big names back then. Since he didn't marry, he had a lot of time left for other things. In his leisure time, he joined the Benevolent and Protective Order of Elks, which engaged in a lot of beneficial charity work. It was important to him, to assist less fortunate persons. Once or twice a year, he took a weekend trip to a big city several hours away, and visited an opera house: The bombastic music of Wagner telling stories about hero-figures like Lohengrin, Parzival and Siegfried spoke to him. It was an age of soap, cleanliness, mild colognes and horn-rimmed glasses. TV was something new then. People met at home and played bridge. He had a guilty pleasure: He read and collected a magazine called Physique Pictorial. It was supposed to encourage physical exercise, but he wasn't the sporty type of person. Anything else than golf or tennis would have been unthinkable in the social class he had entered in his adult and middle-aged years. He wasn't sure if it was intentional, but some of the artwork in the magazine, especially by someone called 'Tom of Finland', caused him to feel horny, despite the lack of women in the drawings. The drawings only depicted confident and very masculine men, especially lumberjacks, bikers and servicemen. At some time in the 1970s, he admitted to himself that his sexuality wasn't mainstream, but according to all men around him, fags behaved like queens, and the things he enjoyed weren't queenish at all, so he didn't know how to understand the matter of arousal and pleasure. In the 1970s and 1980s, the art of Tom became uncensored and explicitly sexual: Tall, powerful men in leather or uniforms pleasured each other. He felt guilty and ashamed, and the young schoolboy – in his past – repeatedly heard his mother's words – in the past: "Never, never talk about such things again." Sick and hell-bound? But not unmanly, surely: The beefcakes surpassed his old schoolmates (who didn't play football or baseball any longer), the straight men in the accountant firm, the straight men in the golf course, his straight brethren in The Elks. And the men in the drawings looked like they had fun. Not riddled by guilt. Just having fun together. Ultra-masculine fun. Homosexuals became more visible in society. The Stonewall riots must have happened in New York in 1969, but he wasn't aware of it at the time, and in rural small towns a lot of things went on as they always had. After hippies came disco, but he preferred opera. The number of television channels exploded, and became incalculable. It was an age of synthetic fabrics and too much sweat. Preachers in the chapels he attended preached against the increasing visibility of homosexuals, and talked about cures and therapy. AIDS happened, and he thought that it had been wise of him to avoid sex, otherwise something terrible could have happened to him. He felt embarrassed, guilty, full of shame, that he enjoyed Tom's art, but he noticed that Tom made an advertisement for safe sex. After disco came heavy metal and electronic music, but none of it appealed to him: He stuck with jazz music and opera, but he would listen to Bruce Springsteen now and then. It was an age of sporty anti-perspirants and young people with sticky goo in their hair. The hairy hairdos introduced by The Beatles and the hippies became unfashionable, and civilian young men began to favour crew cuts (or modern hairdos inspired by crew cuts). An increasing number of young men began to exercise, and it became usual to see wannabe bodybuilders in the stores and in the streets, and he felt embarrassed when he became impressed by, and aroused at, the sight of twenty year younger jocks (or even thirty year younger ones). In the 1990s, the advertisement industry abandoned any regrets against showing male nudity: Actors and soccer-players began to sell underwear. By that time, he had become decidedly un-political. The Soviet Union didn't exist any longer, and any difference between the major parties wasn't obvious. Since he didn't have any children of his own, he took delight in spoiling his nieces and nephews at Christmas and birthday parties. One of them, Brody, returned home from university at some point in the late 1990s, at about the same time as he considered retirement himself. Brody hadn't shown much of an interest in sports in elementary school, but had later began to work out in a gym, and, during university years, Brody had achieved an impressive physique. Brody had visited his uncle one of his first nights back home, and brought a bottle of Jack Daniels. Uncle had preferred something some more sophisticated, and they had each shared one balloon glass of imported French brandy, before they opened the bottle brought by Brody. "Better enjoy the brandy with taste buds intact.", as Brody had agreed. He remembered Brody as a rather shy and frail kid in the 1970s, brought up with Sesame Street and the usual fare, but the young man who now sat in the other armchair was a confident young male with a powerful chest. He had left his leather jacket inside the door, and was dressed in jeans, a sturdy leather belt with a conspicuous belt-buckle, army boots and a snug polo shirt. Brody had brought two cigars, and, after small-talk about many different things, they had – somehow – floated into quite private and personal matters. Brody had come out of the closet to his uncle, and Uncle had fallen silent for a while. Then he had told Brody his own story, and Brody had been very supportive. By the help of Brody, he had taken a few steps outside his comfort zone, and he began to donate to gay-right charities. He had decided to attend a more liberal and mainline church instead, and found that environment supportive. He remained a member of The Elks and the golf club, but he had lost some of his old business affiliates. He felt too old to look for a partner, but he enjoyed when Brody invited him to meet Brody's gay friends. Some of the young men had lost contact with their parents, especially Dads, when they had announced that they were gay, and he became an Uncle to several of them. He couldn't believe his ears when same-sex marriage was introduced. It was a few months ago, when Brody, now a successful middle-aged professional, had a talk with him about The Company and The Treatment. "One of my friends in the leather-scene consulted that company. The Treatment they give is unbelievable. I will probably give it a try when I become slightly older. They give something called 'Fountain-of Youth', and it is allegedly just what its called. Even men of your age return from the centres looking like several decades younger. To some relatives, it is rather shocking, but I thought, that it would give you a second chance, or at least an opportunity to spoil yourself. You deserve that, uncle. I will pay a part of the cost if you have any doubts." His awareness returned to the restaurant table. He watched the muscle-god before him and ate a few of his, now cold, fries. The handsome young man listened attentively. "It is hard to understand how it was in the past. It gets better, doesn't it?" - - - It was the day after. He was scheduled for The Treatment. He had been introduced to Bill, his PT, when he checked in yesterday, and it seemed like Bill was one of the men in charge of The Treatment. Bill was dressed in tracksuit bottoms and sneakers, a snug polo shirt and a white lab coat, and smiled at him. "The big day has come, Mr. A. I hope you will enjoy it, and we have several activities booked for you in the upcoming days. We also expect our guests to have fun with other guests, if they so prefer. You have Fountain-of-Youth selected, I see. It's one of our popular choices, especially among men of a certain age. Please drink the content of this glass and change into rubber slippers and a dressing-gown over here. I will be back, soon." He looked at the drinking glass, actually made of plastic. It contained a milky, yellow liquid. He tasted it. Vanilla, covering some bitterness. He took a deep breath and emptied it. Better done with it. He removed his tie and shirt, undershirt and trousers. The air in the Treatment department felt warmer and moister than usual, like a bathhouse. He let his underwear and socks go, and put his rubber slippers on. He still felt shy and vulnerable, wrinkled and fragile, as he now was naked under the dressing-gown. He moved the curtain aside, and entered the Treatment Room. A jacuzzi was sunk into the floor. Equipment indistinguishable from a tanning bed hang from the ceiling rather close to the jacuzzi. A scent of essential oils, reminding himself of some cologne, steamed from the surface of the hot water: A scent like wood, nuts, leather and citrus. Bill returned. "Will you please enter the water, Mr. A. I have seen naked men before, you can hand me the dressing-gown. Step carefully, so you don't slip. Yes, like that." Bill helped him down the stairs into the jacuzzi. "Now sit in a comfortable position, Mr. A, and I will repeat the information. You have been briefed twice before, but we use to repeat, in order to remove any worries. The formula you drank will alter your DNA, permanently increase your own production of certain hormones, and, since you have chosen this particular option, it will also help your body to rejuvenate. The formula in the water will activate the formula inside your metabolic system, and you will be sensitive to the ordinary UV light of the same sort given in tanning salons. During one hour or so, you will be able to absorb the energy of UV light and metabolize it into muscular tissue. Most guests find the process enjoyable. While you undergo The Treatment we will play some music from the loadspeakers, if you want. Did you chose any particular music when you filled in your form? Oh. Wagner, I see. Prelude to Tannhäuser? Now, just relax and enjoy the experience. I will leave you some privacy. If you feel strange, please press the alarm button hanging from the ceiling here." Bill left. The illumination went soft and dim. The jacuzzi activated, and hard jet streams of hot water began to hit his tensed back muscles and other parts of his body. The loadspeaker began to play Tannhäuser. The UV equipment in the ceiling lowered itself and activated: A blueish-purple light. He felt warm and comfortable. Relaxed, yet with some traces of worry left in his gut. A shiver of anticipation. A wave of warmth coming from inside, rather than from the surrounding hot water. Another internal wave of warmth. His bicepses tensed. Blood rushed to his willy. His quads tensed. His chest felt more... more present, in a way, like he had never noticed it in the past. Brody and his friends called the chest muscles pecs. He had pecs, too. He remembered the pecs of his old friend who had played American football in school – he had attended his funeral two years ago. He remembered the pecs of the men in the erotic art he enjoyed. He touched his own pecs. He could feel them grow. Uhmmmm. Grow. Pecs. He fingered one of his nipples, and moaned. The jacuzzi began to feel smaller, like it was shrinking. Then he realized, that he was growing taller, and, in the moment he realized that, his willy hardened into something probably better called a cock. He caressed himself with his right hand, and moved it to his mid-section, and he could feel six abs forming. Six marble-hard abs, like the young muscle-god yesterday. The jet streams intensified, and he became acutely aware of his physical presence, the extension of his body, and the increasing size of his now POWERFUL muscles and the delightful awareness of his own MASCULINITY. He had to tense and flex his bicepses. His legs. His bottom – what Brody used to call glutes? His back felt different. He moaned again. And again, louder now. It felt... He didn't know how to describe it, and he didn't need to describe it. He was absorbing the PURE POWER from the UV equipment, and turned it into STEEL-HARD brawn. He moaned again and thrashed around in the water, experienced spasms of movement, of flexing, of EMPOWERMENT. The Wagner music repeated for the third time. The prelude increased into a crescendo, and in his mind his ecstasy increased into a prolonged indescribable state of pleasure. He orgasmed once, twice and again. The pleasure never ended, but returned ever again in even higher states of intensity. He was no longer aware of his surroundings. Everything that existed was the triumphant background music, the pleasure that consumed every other thought, and the overwhelming EMPOWERMENT. Empowerment! Empowerment! Emp... Oh my God! Uhu uhu uhu uhu uhu uhu uhu uhu And the music climaxed too. - - - To be continued
  7. Teaser for the new story 'The Company'

    Thank you, BRUTUS1. I am flattered.
  8. Had the laser surgery on my left eye before weekend, and avoided workout. Called home to parents, wishing them a good All Hallow's weekend. They lit candles on grandparents' graves, as expected. Uffe and Bempa were preoccupied with relatives. Took a stroll in one of the local graveyards: Candle flames in the dark. Removed my protective thing over my eye, and put a contact lens in my right eye. Feel unusual, but I am able to see without glasses, which is awesome. I look less bookish now. Surgery of the remaining eye will probably happen during winter. Still struggling with the article. The hypno audio files are supposed to increase my training motivation and hasten my recovery after workouts, but for some reason they also make me horny and cause me to explode in cum during the part of the files I never remember afterwards. I don't complain, but it is strange that I don't remember what happens during a session, and what it is that causes that reaction. Even if I try to listen to a file without relaxing, my memory go blank.
  9. I agree with Mdlftr. A very huggable look.

    1. arpeejay

      arpeejay

      You and Mdlftr are both TOO kind! Many thanks!

  10. Physical Potential Foundation, good afternoon. How may I help you? Yes, that's one of the companies we own. The Foundation assist in scheduling customers, in order to optimise their experience according to their particular goals and preferences. Have you received the paper copy of the form, or do you sign it online? I see, Sir, yes I am delighted to assist you. I am well aware of, that it might seem overwhelming, but it is for safety purposes and in order to ensure customer satisfaction. Location, yes? Well, you see, Sir, some of our customers prefer to stay at our centre located in the tropics, because of the weather: To enjoy the sun and have opportunities to take a bath in the ocean. We call it The Physique Pictorial Experience. Other customers prefer our northern centre – especially popular for stays during Christmas and New Year, and particularly popular among those who enjoy the company of bears, if you catch my drift? Our northern centre has several very authentic Finnish saunas, with easy access to snow and ice-covered bathing lakes. Our western centre is particularly popular among bikers, and our Atlantic one among punks, scallies and skinheads, but I can assure you, that there's a great deal of overlap. Many customers prefer to consult the centre closest to their home, in order to cut the travelling expenses short. Aha? Okey? Yes, I see. No, sir, there is nothing to be shy of. We have seen and heard anything by know. Yes, that particular part of the form is in place, to ensure satisfied customers. If you click on that link, you will see some photographs of former customers with blurred faces. So, to begin with, we have the first alternative, which we call FITLAD. It's highly popular, especially among our younger customers and among middle-aged professionals, who have to take their professional career in account. Then we have the second offer, HUNK, which is primarily targeted at young customers. Middle-aged and elderly customers usually prefer our third option, FOUNTAIN-OF-YOUTH, with practically the same effects as the HUNK option. Our remaining options are called BRUISER, SUPER-HERO and BULL, but if you click the links... You do? Yes? Yes, Sir. I see. If you change your mind, you still have the opportunity to select another option up to ten days before arrival. No, Sir. All visible employees are male, but we have many female employees behind the scenes, as it were. We want to create a certain type of ambience. Those boxes are there, to ensure that you doesn't feel embarrassed. Some customers are not easily embarrassed, and go for the second option, which include access to our nearby theme-park, Tom's Land. You have to sign, that you understand the legal nature of a 'no', and, if you tick any of the optional boxes, you will be given a colour-coded hanky-badge at your arrival, in order to prevent misunderstandings. The third option is legal at the geographical locations of the centres, yes, but customers who chose the third option are housed in other buildings than guests who go for option one or option two. We want to avoid embarrassment. Yes, prophylactics are mandatory. Yes, I understand, if the next set of boxes look unusual, but some of our customers want to add one or another of these specifics, to ensure that they are surrounded by the right crowd of fellow customers after The Treatment: Big feet, ginger and shot wound scars. Otherwise, you just tick 'Doesn't matter'. Yes. Yes, I see. No, Sir. We don't do racial profiling. It's an early decision from when the Foundation started the companies, and it still remain in force. Neither do we accept customers or employees younger than 21, for several reasons. You will meet employees and fellow customers of all and every ethnical background, everyone over the age of 21. The gyms? Each centre have five gyms. Two of these do not allow sex in the locker rooms. Non-embarrassment policy, again. The options are: Mainstream, Hardcore, Steamy locker, Fetish and Naked. Yes? Oh, I see, Sir. No. No reason to apologise, Sir. You are very welcome. Do you need more information about the restaurants? No? Online information enough? Very well, Sir. We take the utmost care to combine high nutritional value and an inviting masculine atmosphere, and you will be given the opportunity to plan each meal with our PTs and waiters. You will also be sent information about our work for charities: Preventing STD, projects against bullying, and scholarships for working-class teenagers and young men. Affluent customers like to donate, less affluent customers shall not feel any pressure to do so. Actually, we have stipends to make it easier for less-affluent customers to receive The Treatment. We cultivate a sort of brotherly spirit at the Foundation. Our founders took a certain interest in all these areas, and all our companies try to maintain and realise our founders' vision. No, it was a pleasure to help you. Your form will be processed within 24 hours, and we will give you optional dates to chose between within three days. Just remember, that the waiting-list is quite long, as you might expect. Yes. Yes. A pleasure. You are welcome. Bye. - - - Chapter one is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13680-the-company-chapter-1/
  11. Uffe didn't have the time to join us at the gym. He and his Missus were shopping food at the supermarket, because of the All Hallows' weekend. They will have relatives visiting them. Bempa and I worked out. Incredible pump. Got a hardon in the shower, and was able to hang my big towel on my dick. Caused Bempa to laugh. Ripped my shirt-sleeves when I dressed. Bempa stared. I was annoyed, but when the harm was done already I flexed and let the damage continue to the end. Feels like I'm the bloody Hulk. I had left my compression shirt in my training trunk by mistake, so I was able to dress anyhow. Bempa liked that too. I need another jersey soon. A baggier one.
  12. Work from home. Sun rose at about 7.30. a.m. Better than how friends up north have it. Found it hard to continue writing on the article. Drank at lot of water to re-hydrate, but then I needed some coffee. A breakfast omelette and some horse-meat. Strange, that people shun horse-meat abroad. Has something to do with Iron Age history and vikings. Vikings! Horse-meat is becoming increasingly impopular here too, because the increasing popularity of horse-riding. Otherwise, it's a valuable source of protein, and low in fat. Relatives down south will eat geese in a few weeks, but I will probably not have the time to go there. Laser eye surgery company called. They had a cancellation, and were able to offer me surgery on my left eye, Friday, if I accepted the offer immediately. Which I did. Feel restless. Listened to a few hypno audio files. Feel motivated again. Feel fucking literally INVINCIBLE! No workout scheduled today, have to give my muscles some time to rest and GROW, so I took a jog. Better afford some time for outdoor running, while the ground is still free from ice. When it becomes slippery, it's probably better to use the treadmills at the gym. The yellow leaves look sad now, most have fallen off, and the remaining ones are eaten by insects or slowly decomposing where they are, except for some of the birches who are sturdy. Miss gym somehow: The scent of steel, the scent of rubber mats, the noises. The clunk and chime of weights hitting weights. People grunting. Staff repairing equipment or maintaining one or another detail. The background music. Coffee and amino drinks in a corner. The shared unspoken goal of becoming healthier, leaner, bigger, harder. At least among the men. The elderly ladies goal is to follow the suggestions of their physiotherapists, and decrease their back pain after many years of hard work: An impressive generation. They built the wealth of this country, but they paid with back injuries, and fat cats got away with the wealth these women had generated. Society is better than it was one hundred years ago, but it isn't fair. It isn't fair enough. Miss Bempa and Uffe, too. Especially Bempa. Uffe can be trying when he is drunk or when he begin to talk politics. Bempa's a reliable rock of a man, with a great sense of humour. Sounds like he's closer to my political ideas too. Wasn't sure in the beginning: Friendly alright, but he looked he could have been a Nazi, and it was only after awhile he expressed something that sounded like Labour o the Left. probably not Green, I guess. If Bempa and Uffe hadn't known each other since school, they probably wouldn't have been mates. If Bempa hadn't told me about apolitical skinheads, BRUTUS1's remarks about that skinhead look would have caused me to tell him go fuck himself, but now I understand. It's a really misunderstood subculture, because the Nazis tried to hi-jack it in 1982 and afterwards. The general public doesn't get what apolitical or leftist skins are about: The music, the concerts, the sense of style, the deep male friendship and loyalty Bempa speaks a lot about. I don't consider myself a skin. I'm probably too old to become one now, but Bempa is. It would be fun to see the face of The Dean if I went for the full skinhead look at campus. Uffe's got another style: more beard, less care about his choice of clothes, but a similar attitude. Friendship isn't necessarily about shared opinions. Bempa and Uffe is an example of that: bantering each other about the different sides they have taken on immigration. But both are decent blokes, Uffe despite his flaws. The working class is more honest, more sincere, doesn't pretend. I didn't see it that way, when I left my hometown for university. Dad could have been right out of a John Osborne play: "So working in the factory is not good enough to you? Literary studies? That wouldn't pay the rent, would it?". My old school mates stayed: I've seen them a few times since: Broken, disillusioned, conforming to the expectations of a milltown, devoid of personality. But Bempa is different. Honest. Decent. Alive. Hard-working. Sense of duty. Tries to be the best idea of what it is, to be a man. Old-fashioned working-class ideals. Strange that he isn't married with kettle and lids already. Lots of women would like Bempa – but probably not the women I usually meet at my workplace. They would probably better go along with hipsters reading Butler and Baudrillard. Or pretending to read Butler and Baudrillard. Or pretending to have read Butler and Baudrillard long before anyone else. Thought about the administrator. She's cute. Didn't know what a ravenous lioness hid behind that shy and brainy exterior. Liked what she called me. I don't want to become like the cocky, sporty lads back in school days, because some of them were really obnoktious, but it feels like I'm not myself. Can it be a side effect of Gro Bro Pro? No, thats totally impossible. I'm just exploring who I am. I had more inside me than what I knew. Confident stallion. Give in. I know I like it. I know I want to let that part of myself out. But what if...? No ifs! I will give in. I will turn into... Uh. What's happening? Yes, look at those guns in the mirror! Look at this hung, cocky, buzzcut muscle beast!
  13. Thank Deity, that I am able to schedule my hours as I wish, during the break. I need to recover from that Halloween party. And some other things. Spent the entire morning writing on the article: A few words about the imagined past before 1811, but the main part of it describe and analyse the time 1811-today. The concept of the viking became a standard character in the Swedish imagination because a poem written that year. Scheduled my workout to lunchtime, and arrived with my training trunk and laptop to campus in the early afternoon: Pumped, satisfied by my after-workout lunch, right out of the shower, and already wearing the compression shirt I had chosen for the Halloween party. I continued to write, but had some administrative things to do, so I went to the department where the administrators work. The Dean was at a vacation with his family, and it seemed like several of the administrators were at vacation. The passageway with the office doors seemed almost deserted. Our admin was there, though. She took my documents, and promised to run them tomorrow (today), and suggested a coffee break (which is called fika here). I accepted, but I felt awkward when our fika habits diverged. She had sugar and milk in her coffee. I drink it black, unsweetened. She had a cinnamon roll, I avoid unnecessary fat and sugar. Which brought us to the topic of physical exercise. She joked, that she wouldn't have expected me to grow into a muscle hunk, and I didn't know what to say. Muscle hunk? I? She looked suggestively at my compression shirt, and what it revealed, and she began to stroke my forearms. Since I remained shy, she literally dragged me into the bathroom, and she seemed to like it, when another part of my mind erupted and took over the situation. I have never felt like a confident jock before, and it was actually years since I had sex with a woman (men more recently). It was like I had hidden another personality inside me all the time. When I demonstrated my strength, by lifting her up against the wall, she lost control. We fucked like two bloody happy animals, and then, giggling, moved to the shower in the cellar. The halloween party was a rather sober affair. I suppose Swedish prices on wine and beer has something to do with it (though it is more expensive in Norway). Witches and computer game characters seem to be popular among the foreign exchange students. Some of the bright young things giggled over my Captain-America-shirt, some of the lads wanted exercise advice. I explained about how All Saints and All Souls are moved to Saturday and Sunday here, and advised them to spend time outdoors during lunchtime in winter, in order to avoid seasonal depression. They are not used to our winter. Sun sets about 4 p.m. now, and it will become worse. Some of the Americans, Irish and British seemed to be unused to Protestants celebrating All Saints and All Souls, so I had to explain about Lutherans, too: Five or six saints' annual feast days were retained at the Reformation, and have never been abolished. An I mentioned Saint Lucy – they haven't experienced a Saint Lucy pageant before, and probably will in December. Weird for a mainly Agnostic country to keep all these folk customs connected to saints.
  14. Thanx bro, I like your encourgement.
  15. Followed Bempa home after our workout. He cooked some rice and tuna. Nothing fancy, but filling, and full of protein. Need protein. Growth. He suggested I would look better in a buzzcut, and showed me his electric hair cutter. It felt nice to have the hair on my head removed. I agree with Bempa. This looks better. Like to feel the stubble on my head. Like the look of it. Tougher. Told Bempa I had to reschedule workout tomorrow, because of the Halloween Party. Bempa wasn't aware of, that it is Halloween tomorrow, since we move All Hallow's Eve to Friday here in Sweden. We agreed to work out together in Thursday. Have taken my ZMA and Gro Bro Pro. I will listen to the hypno audio files now before I go sleep. I like the audio files. Makes me motivated. Feel more confident. Feel more sporty. More Alpha. More Bro. Feels good. Need to listen to hypno audio files. Makes me feel connected to the inner core of my masculinity. So hard. So built. So jock. So Alpha. Feels good. So motivated. I will re-build and re-shape myself. Physically and mentally. Re-shape. Bigger now. Like to be bigger now. And harder now. Pump after gym. Like pump. So much testo after a workout. So much testo when I'm asleep. I'm a testo factory. Yeah: A real testo factory pumping and pumping around circulating testo in my body. Re-building me. Fuck. So good.
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