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  1. It's been a while but I've been working on a new story. For this one, I decided to revisit an older character from my story, Sweet Revenge. This is the first story where the main character begins as a massive freak of nature and it's been a fun challenge to make him grow even more obscenely huge. I hope you like. Bruce's Humanity Chapter 1 It had been six months since Bruce’s mind-boggling displays at Mitch’s gym. He had bested Andy’s enormous 452lb body at every test. He toyed with the deadlift competition and nearly broke Andy’s arm when they arm wrestled. Even being tied up and suspended by industrial chains couldn’t restrain his inhuman power. His final display of power when he squatted Mitch’s 6,000lb pickup truck still caused Bruce to organism at the thought. The incredible orgy of muscle-fuelled lust that followed was still seared into Bruce’s brain. Bruce’s superior mass and power had both huge men begging to worship every inch of his pumped physique. He lost count at the number of times each massive man had came. He should have been content with how things had worked out but the next morning as he stared at the exhausted, hulking bodies sleeping next him, Bruce knew he needed to leave. His journey for more mass and power was stronger than ever. He didn’t have time for others, this was his solitary quest. He remembered a momentary pang of regret as he looked at the gym in the rearview mirror as he drove away but a quick glance at the writhing mass of muscle that comprised his forearm, gripping the steering wheel, refocused his commitment and he accelerated, speeding towards his next chapter. Bruce had been driving for hours and his rumbling stomach only intensified at the sight of the rundown diner. He came to screeching halt in the deserted parking lot. The truck’s frame groaned in relief as Bruce exited. He lumbered through the front door, the ding of the bell over the door signalled his entrance. “Be right there.” A voice from the kitchen shouted. Bruce made his way to a table by the front window, inspecting the heavy, metal chair before lowering himself. He didn’t look up when he heard the all too familiar gasp of shock as a person emerged from the kitchen. With his head still inspecting the menu, Bruce began listing off meal after meal only looking up when he had finished. The old woman was writing frantically on her order pad, trying to keep up. She gave Bruce a frightened look before scurrying back towards the kitchen. Bruce used to dwell on his aggressive and sometimes downright demented behaviour but the last six months had taught him that he didn’t need to waste his time thinking about his affect on others. He used people for his own selfish purposes and how they felt about that meant nothing to him. Everyone Bruce encountered served one of two purposes, they had something he needed to grow bigger, or they were an obstacle in his way to gain more size. He took what he needed from the previous and ran through the latter. Being the only customer, the food started to arrive quickly. As Bruce started to devour what would have easily fed multiple families. After half an hour, his hunger pangs started to subside but he continued to gorge himself. He could feel his muscles swell in appreciation. The bell over the diner door suddenly rang as someone flew into the diner. “Maggie! Ben!” the person shouted not surveying the restaurant. The old woman, Maggie, appeared from the kitchen, shooting Bruce a quick glance. “What’s wrong?” “My western fence collapsed, one of the bulls got loose! I need Ben to help get it back inside.” “Where?” Bruce said as he slowly stood up from the table. “What the FUCK!” The man said, trying to comprehend what he was seeing. “Where did the bull go?” Bruce asked in a stern voice. The man couldn’t take his eyes off Bruce, he could only raise his hand and point to the farm fields across the road from the diner. Bruce started to move towards the front door. “Where are you going?!” Maggie yelled. Bruce didn’t answer, he made his way towards the fields. Bruce started to climb the sloped hill and saw the broken fence. He turned towards the field and saw a fast-moving animal in the distance. While he was unable to sprint at his current size, Bruce still moved with impressive speed. The large bull, seeing Bruce approach, stopped moving and starred. Bruce squatted down slightly, anticipating the bull’s next move. “Show me what you got.” Bruce muttered. The bull, lowered its head, let out a loud snort and stomped its front hoof. Bruce stood perfectly still and waited. Like lightening, the bull started to charge. Its thick muscles bulged and flexed as its considerable bulk quickly closed the gap between it and Bruce. Bruce, filled with adrenaline and excitement, started to emit a low grumble but his body did not move. The bull, now just a few feet away, showed no sign of slowly and lowered its huge head and prepared to ram into Bruce’s body. The sound of the impact was deafening and surly echoed for miles. Bruce’s feet skidded across the ground, his boots digging deep groves into to the dirt until they came to a stop. The bull let out a noise as Bruce wrapped his arms around the thickly muscled neck of the animal. He had been wearing a comically oversized flannel shirt that looked more like a blanket than a shirt but the fabric instantly stretched to its limits before splitting in multiple places, exposing only slabs of inhumanly massive muscle. “YOU’RE NOT GOING TO WIN!” Bruce snarled as he adjusted his grip willing his arms to connect around the bull’s huge, powerful neck. The bull’s lower body started to flail, trying to wiggle itself free. With stunning speed, Bruce twisted his enormous body, crouched lower and gripped the rear legs of the huge animal. With a loud grunt, Bruce hoisted the bull off the ground and laid it across his massive shoulders. The bull tried to twist itself free but Bruce held the over 2,000lb creature secure. Feeling the massive weight of the bull now under his control caused Bruce’s cock to harden instantly. His already massive muscles swelled from the weight and powerful movements of the animal. The feeling was one of complete arousal for Bruce. The two diner employees and the farmer were slowly making their way up the hill when they saw Bruce appear on the horizon. The shock of what they saw caused them to stop moving. The most outrageously massive creature they had ever seen had the bull draped across his shoulders like he was wearing a tower after taking a shower. Bruce’s tattered shirt was no more than a few stings of fabric, his pants were completely gone, exposing just skin-tight underwear and massive hard-on. He didn’t resemble anything remotely human, he was nothing but pulsing, outrageously pumped muscle. A thick sheen of sweat covered his pale, smooth skin, further exaggerated his outstanding mass and while also accentuating his nearly non-existent body fat. Maggie collapsed immediately, the others unable to look away, offered her no assistance. “OH MY GOD!” The cook yelled. Bruce didn’t register their presence. Instead, he carried the bull through the broken part of the fence and lowered it to the ground. As soon as its feet touched the ground, the mighty beast took off at full speed, wanting to be as far away from Bruce as possible. Bruce stood up, barely breathing hard and looked around for something to close the broken part of the fence. His gaze focused on a large tree not far away. It stood over 20 feet tall but had a thick trunk. Bruce licked his lips and waddled towards the tree, every muscle on his body tensed in anticipation. He reached the tree and quickly wrapped his arms around the trunk, interlocking his fingers on the other side. “THERE’S NO WAY!” he heard someone shout from behind him before planting his feet and flexing his arms. He let out a bellow that shook the ground and started to pull. At first nothing happened to the tree but Bruce’s body essentially mutated. Every muscle flexed and grew to a staggering degree. The amount of power he was exerting was evident from his head to his toes. As the first drops of sweat started to appear on his brow, a loud crack echoed across the field. The sound only made Bruce apply more pressure and suddenly the sound of wood cracking became louder, like fireworks going off. Leaves from the tree started to fall and Bruce’s body vibrated with superhuman strength. With one final, terrifying scream, the huge tree was broken into two pieces, large chunks of wood flew in every direction. The tree should have fallen to the ground had it not been under Bruce’s complete control. Like carrying a flag in a parade, Bruce turned and walked the decimated tree towards the break in the fence. He tossed it to the ground, using the many branches at the top to seal the opening shut. Bruce dropped to one knees, breathing heavily and looked towards the others. Maggie was still on the ground. Ben couldn’t handle Bruce’s appearance and bent over and vomited. While the farmer had a familiar look of shock on his face, he retained most of his composure and slowly approached. “A-a-are you okay?” He asked. Bruce looked up, finally noticing the rugged good looks and sturdy build the farmer hid under his baggy flannel shirt and overalls. He slowly stood up, causing the farmer’s eyes to dart from each of his outrageously massive body parts. “I’m Bruce.” “K-k-keith.” “You got any prepared beef that doesn’t require a fight? This really worked up an appetite.” Keith shock his head as if to break the spell Bruce had put on him. “Yeah. The least I can do for what you just did.” Bruce patted Keith on his sturdy shoulder, almost knocking him over as he started to walk towards his truck, still parked in the diner’s lot. “I’ll give you lift.” He said. Keith stumbled but started to follow. Bruce dropped a wad of cash at the diner door, Ben was helping a now conscious Maggie across the road, both unable to look in his direction. He got in the truck and opened the passenger door for Keith who hesitated for a moment before climbing in. Keith directed Bruce towards his farm. As they approached, the sun was starting to set and the huge farmhouse was shrouded in dark shadows. “You live here alone?” “Yeah. Just me.” “A farm this big must be a lot of work for one person.” “I manage.” Keith said as they both exited the truck. “Let me grab some food from the shop.”Keith said leading Bruce towards a huge barn by the main house. Keith pushed the large barn door open. Along the left-hand wall was a state-of-the-art butcher facility, including a huge walk-in freezer which Keith walked towards. Inside countless animals were strung up on huge hooks. “SHIT!” Keith yelled noticing one of the slabs of meat had fallen. Bruce moved to lift it from the floor but Keith stepped ahead of him. “I got it.” Keith grabbed the frozen piece of meat that looked to weigh at least 500lbs and with a small grunt hoisted it off the floor and slung it over his shoulder while reaching for one of the hooks. With one fluid movement, he secured the slab and with his hands now free, Keith started to pull on a nearby chain, raising it off the ground like the other animals in the freezer. Bruce couldn’t help admire Keith’s large arms flexing through his shirt with each pull of the chain, growing from impressively solid to muscle-packed peaks. “Impressive strength Keith.” Keith secured the chain and tuned to face Bruce. “Thanks, I normally don’t show off around strangers, they tend to overreact. Someone my size shouldn’t be able to do that but after today, I doubt you are easily shocked.” Keith said. “That’s true. I can’t deny you have a great body but I wasn’t expecting you to do that.” Bruce said as he followed Keith out of the freezer and scanned the far side of the barn. A smile crept across his face as he noticed the familiar look of gym equipment. “Your set-up?” “Yeah, the farm is hard on the body but I need some additional resistance to build my body.” Keith said. Bruce sauntered over to the equipment. He was impressed by the quantity of equipment, stopping at the bench press and ran his hand over the still-loaded bar, counting four 45lb plates on each side. “You bench 405lb?” “For warm up.” Keith said, unable to hide his pride for the impressive number. Bruce moved behind the bar and gripped the bar and slowly lifted it off the rack. Keith let out a loud gasp when Bruce started to curl the bar. “You shouldn’t be shocked that I can curl this much, you saw what I did to that bull today.” Bruce said as he continued to curl the weight. “FUCK!” was all Keith could say. His eyes settled on Bruce’s already massive arms as they visibly swelled with each rep, thick garden-hose thick veins appearing on the surface his barely-there skin. Bruce nonchalantly stopped curling the bar and pressed it over his head before slowly lowering it behind his neck. Keith stumbled back and covered his mouth to stifle a scream. Bruce only smiled and started to perform overhead tricep extensions with 405lbs. His biceps were so massive, they pressed against his face. His triceps expanded so far from the sides, they looked like a regular bodybuilder’s lats. The sight was made even more extreme by Bruce’s flared lats and granite-hard abs. His entire upper body swelled from incomprehensibly large to something straight out of a science fiction movie. “You don’t have to hide your shock Keith. I know you’ve never seen anyone even remotely this fucking massive; hell, I bet you never imaged a freak like me even existed.” “FUCK! How is this even possible! Y-y-you’re so-“ Keith said as he trialed off. “So HUGE, so MASSIVE, so POWERFUL, SO UNBELIEVABLY MASSIVE AND FREAKY YOU MIGHT PASS OUT FROM THE SIGHT?.” Bruce bellowed as he moved the bar back to a curling position before lightly cradling it back on the bench like it weighed nothing. “I-I-I s-s-should get some food ready.” Keith stuttered and darted into the freezer, returning with his arms full. “I’m fucking starving.” Bruce said as the two men made their way back to the farm. While the farm house looked old from the outside, the inside was quite modern and well maintained. Keith went to work in the kitchen, setting out a number of platters full of uncooked meat on the large stone island. You mind if I take a shower while you do that?” Bruce asked. “Sure, down the hall to the left.” Bruce emerged wearing just a towel, that around his frame looked more like a rag. Keith stopped what he was doing and just stared. Bruce’s attention was however, on the piles of meat now cooked and spread out on the counter. “Oh fuck yeah!” Bruce didn’t even grab a plate, he stood over the food and started to devour it using just his hands. Keith nibbled some but couldn’t stop glancing at Bruce. “I have to ask; just how huge are you? I can’t even come up with a guess.” Bruce wiped a stream of beef juice from his chin and swallowed his mouthful of food. He took a few steps away from the counter and squared his shoulders. The dim kitchen lights highlighted every inch of body perfectly. “Glad you finally asked. First, I’m 34 years old and 5’11”.” Bruce said as his body started to slowly inflate. His shoulders visibly swelled and solidified even more. “My neck is 32 inches.” His biceps hardened and split into their individual muscle groups while his triceps splayed from either side of his body. His individual pec muscles inflated so they pressed his chin higher, each one comprised of hundreds of deep, razor-sharpe striations. “My arms are 40 inches, forearms are 34 inches and my pecs are 102 inches; that’s over 8 feet.” Bruce’s arms started to rise as his lats started to grow, when done, his arms were just shy of 90 degrees from the floor. Thick veins ran from his armpits across each lat and travelled across his tightening abs. “My waist is only 36 inches and looks even smaller because my body fat is never above 2%.” Keith lost count at ten of the most dense, perfectly developed abs he’d even witnessed before casting his eyes down to Bruce’s legs. With a small pivot of his hips, Bruce made the towel fall away, revealing his throbbing, thick cock. Keith swallowed and managed to look lower, at the quads. Their sheer mass and thickness made him question how Bruce could even walk with so much mass fighting with each other. The smallest movement of Bruce’s upper body caused visible waves of muscle to erupt from his waist to his ankles. “These quads are 58 inches and my calves are 38 inches.” Bruce said as he methodically started to move his balled up fists towards the centre of his body. Keith doubted they could even meet in the middle because the massive slabs of muscle between them. As if sensing his thoughts, Bruce let out a moan of exertion as he willed his fists to touch. What appeared as massive, pumped up muscle shifted and morphed itself into a staggering wall of pulsing meat. With gritted teeth and obvious struggle, Bruce managed to say, “I weigh 512 motherfucking pounds!” Keith stumbled back both a the sight and that astounding number. He thought he knew what huge was but now his brain was breaking trying to comprehend what he was seeing. “NO!” He screamed. “STOP!” Bruce smiled, not from happiness but determination. Seeing Keith falter was intoxicating. He willed his herculean body to flex harder, swell larger and become even more extreme. To his surprise however, Keith appeared to regain his composure. With his eyes squarely on Bruce’s sickening display of mass, he reached up and unfastened his overalls, letting them fall to the floor, exposing his own rock-hard cock stretching his boxers tight. With a quick motion, he ripped open his flannel shirt, buttons flying across the kitchen, and stepped out of the pants, finally giving Bruce a view of his large and powerful looking body. He placed one hand on his throbbing cock and the other reached out and touched Bruce’s left pec. “OH MY GOD! You are so hard!” He exclaimed as he began to caress Bruce’s body. “MMMMM, that’s right Keith, take in all this muscle.” Bruce said finally relaxing the pose so he could pull Keith closer. He ran his hands up Keith’s thick arms and shoulders, marvelling at how much smaller the large man was compared to him. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone appreciate me, and even longer since I’ve met someone strong enough to have some fun with.” Keith’s mouth moved but no sounds came out, his eyes and hands roamed from one mass of muscle to another, completely entranced by Bruce’s presence. “It’s probably suicidal but I need you to fuck me.” Keith said with a trembling voice. Bruce smiled and wrapped one arm around Keith’s waist and lifted him off the floor, sweeping some of the food off the counter and placing him down. He leaned in and kissed Keith’s lips roughly as his hands tore his boxer’s in two, causing Keith to let out a low moan. “Be careful what you wish for.” Bruce said as he gripped Keith’s ankles and pried them apart, moving his own rock-hard cock towards Keith’s waiting ass.
  2. Throwaway0282639

    A Guy Can Dream

    This is my first attempt at this, so be kind. This story may include themes which some readers may find disturbing such as worship, hot dads, and rough sex. All characters are over the age of 18. I have several chapters already written. So if there’s interest I’ll post more. ——————————————————————— James had just finished his sophomore year of college and was heading home on summer break. He always looked forward to going home because that was when he got to relax. At school he was involved in so many things it was hard for him to take a moment to himself. At 5’10” with a track runners build he was in shape, but not huge by any means. He likes to think of himself as a twink, and oh yeah, he’s gay. He wasn’t out to anyone, but he always knew, every since he was a little kid. His mom had left his dad shortly after he was born so he had never really known her. His dad worked as a financial investor, and spent quite a bit of time at work. His dad wasn’t always there for him, but he worked hard to make sure James had everything he needed. Going to college several hours away from his home he hadn’t been home in almost two years, so the distance between James and his dad had remained. James’ father, John, had always been a bit of a mystery to him. His father never dated anyone that he had known of, mostly involved himself with his job, and only had a few hobbies, one of them being working out. Although James hadn’t seen his dad shirtless in years, he remembered times from when he was younger. His dad was quite a bit taller than he at 6’4”. His dad was also always one of the biggest dads. On the rare occasion his dad took him to a school event, John always towered over the other dads, with arms thicker than most of their thighs. With a buzz cut, a tattoo sleeve on his arm, and his size, his dad was quite the impressive and imposing man. James clearly had to take after his mom. This was how James knew he was gay, because for as long as he could remember he was in love with muscle. Sneaking his dads bodybuilding magazines and watching powerlifting completions with his father, he knew what he liked. Muscle. And a lot of it. His dad rarely voiced political opinions but just looking at him James had always assumed that he could never come out to his dad. This sets the stage for the events that follow when James gets home from college late one May afternoon.
  3. Previous chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Jon, who has grown even bigger and more submissive, attends Austin's college graduation. Austin shows off his growing stepdad to a shocked audience. Chapter 13 — Graduation Ceremony The auditorium on campus was an old, modest building that dated back to the 1950s. Parents, siblings, and faculty members filed in as graduation approached, the hubbub of excitement filling the air as hundreds of Austin’s fellow graduates gathered. Austin approached the building confidently, wearing his cap and gown which felt flowy but warm in the late May sunshine. People in front of him weren’t looking at Austin, though. They were turning, confused then shocked, at the 12-foot-tall man hooked on to a leash and trailing behind Austin, looming over everyone. Jon waddled along behind Austin, his metal chain necklace linked on to a long leash which Austin held tightly. The ground rumbled softly every time his leather boots hit the pavement. Jon saw himself in the reflection of a nearby building and grinned; thick, custom black leather boots, long socks that accentuated his bulging calves, an over-stuffed jock strap that strained to contain his massive balls and sleeping cock, a black leather bulldog harness and bicep straps that dug into his thick muscles sitting next to the heavy, thick galvanized steel chain link necklace that glistened in the sun and held his heavy padlock, and his pup mask. He watched in the glass as his huge ass bounced up and down as he walked, the silicone pup tail butt plug he had sticking out the back of his jockstrap wagging along as he walked. He felt the way his thick, sweaty thighs rubbed against each other, pushing his huge bulge to a more prominent position. Not watching where he was going, Jon suddenly heard a woman gasp in front of him and looked down at her. Jon planted himself in a wide stance, straddling the woman and looking down at her over his mountainous pecs and gut. “Arrooo?” he intoned and cocked his head, lifting up his arms up to his chest in a hello gesture, his biceps flexing into their full size. She yelped in fear, then turned and walked away as quickly as she should. Austin tugged on the leash, pulling Jon along faster. “People seem really impressed by you, pup! Why don’t you give them a show,” Austin said as he looked back at his stepdad. “AAROOOOF!” Jon replied. He took a deep breath, feeling the leather straps pressing tighter against his expanding chest, and then raised his arms up, exposing his sweaty, hairy pits. He lowered his arms into a double bicep pose as he exhaled, smelling the remains of the gainer shake he had for breakfast in his pup hood, and flexed hard. “GGGRRRRRFFFFF!” he boomed as he looked around and saw everyone’s stunned, confused faces. “Good bull, you’re looking bigger than ever today,” Austin said as he stopped and turned to admire his giant stepdad. In the weeks since Jon had moved in, he had grown faster and faster, his weight exploding exponentially, outgrowing the normal confines of the house and beyond any previous human limit. Austin’s lifting and diet plan, combined with Austin’s mental influence, had produced extraordinary results. He turned to Jon and tossed a treat up to him, a chocolate protein bar, which Jon eagerly gobbled up through the mouth hole of his mask in a single bite. “Mmmph, rrawff!” Jon replied happily and pressed closer to his Sir, his enormous jock strap bulge bumping against Austin’s head and mussing up his hair. “Not now, pup, you have to wait until later,” Austin said as he stumbled, reaching up to brush away the enormous bulge. Even a slight nudge like that carried a lot of force when it was coming from a man who weighed over 3000 pounds. Jon whined but backed up, reaching down to adjust his package and thickening cock. “I have to head in to get in line now, pup,” Austin said. He gestured “down” for Jon, and the big pup dropped do his knees and then on to all fours, his ass up in the air for everyone behind them to see. Austin gave his long beard some scritches, admiring how well Jon took care of it, the dirty blond mass of fur smooth and clean. Jon sighed contentedly as his master rubbed his chin. “Go find a seat inside and cheer me on when I get on stage, ok?” “RAAARFF!” Jon replied and wiggled his huge butt, muscle and beef jiggling around on his massive frame. He stood back up and then stepped forward and headed for the entrance, his round belly bouncing against his jock bulge, a sheen of slick sweat covering his chest from the hot sun. Jon reached the doors and found he couldn’t fit. Normal doors were no good for a man his stature anymore, even double doors like these. He went to the entrance on the side that few people were using and dropped to his knees, his bare ass on display for everyone behind him, the sweat and funk of his furry crack radiating out from it, his tail wagging and bobbing up and down. His master needed him inside, so he was going to find a way in no matter what. He grabbed one door in each hand and yanked hard. Each of them ripped off the hinges like they were connected to the frame with staples. He tossed them aside and bent down to look, cocking his head and grunting. The height of the door frame was the problem. He reached in the doorway with both hands and gripped the metal and brick entryway. He pulled hard, and the entire wall above the doorway split with a cracking sound. He pulled again, harder, and bricks started falling away. He continued pulling back and forth until the entire wall gave way. He cleared away the debris and started punching away at the sides and top of the bigger, taller entrance, destruction raining down, his huge fists unharmed, each punch punctuated with a satisfied grunt or ruff. Other graduation attendees and organizers could only stand aside in shock and horror at the power of his giant man. Finished with his work, Jon stood back up to his full height, sweat dripping and running down his chest, back, and flanks. He was able to comfortably walk through the entrance now, which he did. Inside, stunned graduation attendees turned. Some screamed at the sight of the giant muscle pup wearing only boots, a jock, a harness and a mask. A wave of heavy jock BO musk entered with Jon, quickly filling up the entire auditorium and making it smell like a football team locker room, funky and heady and sweaty. Jon ignored their reaction and made a beeline for the open seats in the front row, not watching very carefully at the little people down by his knees. Jon positioned himself front and center, then lowered himself into the seats. His giant frame spread across 6 metal chairs, each of which groaned and deformed as 3000lbs of muscle bear settled in, blocking the view of everyone behind him. He spread his legs wide, giving plenty of room for his massive balls and cock, taking up even more space. His gut folded and bulged out over his jockstrap as he sat, creating a shelf for his enormous pecs to rest on. His dripping sweat started to dry in the air conditioned room. Soon, graduation started with speeches and ceremony. Each person who got up to speak seemed unnerved by Jon’s presence, but he didn’t care. He was just excited to see his Sir walk across the stage and get the diploma he had worked so hard for. Jon was so proud of him, as his stepdad and his bullpup. He couldn’t wait to reward his master for his hard work and help him feel good later tonight. His cock throbbed just thinking about it. Eventually, they started inviting graduates up on stage, starting with the highest level of honors. Jon’s heart jumped when he saw Austin on stage, one of the tallest and certainly the biggest, most muscular of all his fellow graduates at 6’0” and 250lbs. Living together had caused Austin to grow bigger as well, and he was now the thickest, most muscular he had ever been. Even the long black robe couldn’t totally hide his bulging muscles, Jon noticed, especially his traps and arms. Jon’s cock stirred to life in his jock, shifting and thickening quickly. He reached down and adjusted himself roughly, then raised his hand up to smell his own powerful jock musk. He huffed it and growled contentedly. They called Austin’s name, and he confidently walked across the stage, grinning down at his stepdad. Jon’s heart soared, overwhelmed with pride for his son, for his Sir. “THAT’S MY BOY!” Jon stood up and bellowed, causing many in the audience to gasp and the people onstage to flinch. Jon clapped loudly, his huge hands resonant, booming claps that made people’s chests vibrate. Austin just smiled wider. Austin took his diploma, then looked down at his pup. “Get up here, pup, I need you!” Austin commanded, and his pup obeyed. Jon leaped up onto the stage in a single bound, an impressive feat for such a large man, and suddenly the giant was on stage. The crowd gasped and a murmur of concerned and scandalized conversation filled the auditorium. Jon bent down and scooped his son up in one fluid motion, wrapping two enormous, thick, muscular arms around Austin and lifting him up off the ground. He pressed Austin against his chest in a massive bear hug, squeezing the air out of him, smearing bull sweat all over Austin’s graduation gown. Austin tapped Jon to let him know that was enough, a silent signal they had developed as Jon grew and grew, and the big stepdad put Austin down. Austin caught his breath and looked up. Jon brought his fists together and flexed as he looked down as his Sir, his huge furry pecs mashing together, the leather straps of his harness straining across his traps and delts. He grinned and his jock throbbed. Austin grabbed the mic from the podium and addressed the crowd. “Thank you everyone for your kind support and words today. I wanted to introduce you to my step-father, my obedient bullpup Jon. He’s supported me and grown for me so much this year, haven’t you pup?” Austin said, wrapping his arm around Jon’s immense left thigh and hugging it. Jon faced the audience, his crinkled eyes looking out from his pup mask, his long white-blond beard spreading down onto his enormous chest. “GRRRUUUUFFFF!” he boomed proudly, sticking his chest out more. The weighty leather boots made the wooden stage creak ominously. “That’s my pup! Now how about you show these folks what you can do,” Austin said, and stepped away from Jon, gesturing him to get in position to do some tricks. Jon recognized it right away and thumped down to get on all fours. “Lower!” Austin commanded. “Barowrow!” Jon grunted and he sunk down lower, his forehead bumped down on the stage. “Good boy,” Austin said. “Wag your tail!” Jon raised his huge, wide ass higher up into the air and wiggled it back and forth, the silicone tail wagging in the air happily, his leather boots creaking as his heavy weight shifted. “Good, now crawl forward,” Austin said, and Jon shimmied forward, his big boots shifting forward and his forearms pressing against the stage as he got closer to Austin. Some members of the audience tentatively clapped, others yelled in protest. All eyes were on big Jon. “Roll over!” Austin said with a smirk. He looked over to the officiants still on the stage. “I might move if I were you!” Jon flopped to the ground, his huge gut slamming down hard, causing the whole room to boom and shake, causing the audience to gasp again. He grunted and rolled to his left, his tremendous mass shifting around with shocking speed and agility as he rolled, smearing sweat and pre-cum all over the floor of the stage. Jon returned back to his starting position on all fours, his knees and fists pressing divots into the wood of the stage. “Good pup! Now speak nice and loud to all these fine people watching you!” Austin said and then covered his ears. “AHHWWRRRROOOOOOOOOF!!!” Jon boomed as loudly as his could, his deep voice shaking the windows and vibrating peoples’ chests. The audience chuckled nervously, causing Jon to wonder what they were laughing at. Jon’s cock bulged out bigger and thicker though, stimulated by following Austin’s commands in front of all those people, the wet spot on his jock spreading wider and wetter. “Ok pup, sit up,” Austin said, stepping closer. Jon grunted and rose up, sitting back on his heels with surprising flexibility for a man as thick and powerful as he was. His massive bulge stood out prominently. “Get hard for me, pup,” Austin commanded. “Now, in front of everyone.” “Barooorururuff!” Jon grunted, and his massive cock throbbed harder and bigger fast without him even having to touch it. His jock strained and stretched to contain the swelling bulge, his balls filling up the confines, his cock swelling longer and thicker with each throbbing heartbeat until eventually the tip of his giant cock poked out from the top. Master’s command was all he needed to get hard now. “Oohhhh, fuuuck, ruuuufff,” Jon groaned as his cock continued to swell. Clear precum bubbled and oozed out of the tip of his huge mushroom head, leaking out onto the stage. His cock head was as big around as a navel orange. The audience groaned and yelled in shock and protest, some getting up to leave the ceremony altogether. Austin stepped closer to the huge bulge and licked it, slurping up the sweet-tasting pre, getting it on his mustache and chin. “Mmph you taste so good, pup. Kiss me hard, now,” Austin demanded. He looked up at his pup and Jon knew what to do. Jon bent down and grabbed the smaller man from under his armpits and lifted up. His 250lbs weighed nothing to him. Jon brought Austin up to his pup hood-covered face and opened his mouth through the slit at the bottom of the mask, and the two men kissed passionately. Their tongues wrestled, Jon’s bigger and thicker but Austin’s aggressive and assertive. Jon tasted his own pre on Austin’s lips and his cock throbbed again, another splash of precum oozing onto the stage. At this point, the audience had had enough and started heading to the exits, shocked and bewildered by this raunchy display. Austin pulled back for a moment. “All of these people are witnessing the bond, the love that we have,” he whispered intensely to Jon, both of them breathing hard and sweating, Jon’s huge hands digging into Austin’s chest and back. “Marveling at your devotion to me, pup, your willingness to do anything for your Sir. They’re so jealous of what we have, pup. You make me so proud,” Austin growled as he leaned in for another kiss. Jon growled and moaned as his Sir kissed him harder, his heart overwhelmed with love. After their kiss, Austin had Jon put him back down. Jon looked down expectantly, and his cock throbbed harder than ever, belching up a splash of pre that landed at Austin’s feet. “Arrooruoof?” Jon begged, his massive, hairy, muscular frame at odds with the plaintive, mewing sounds coming from behind his pup mask. He groped and adjusted his massive bulge. “Not yet, pup. How about we get out of here first and go home? Then we can celebrate properly,” Austin said. He motioned for Jon to lean down, and Austin linked Jon’s leash up again. “Make a path for us, bull,” Austin commanded, and Jon bounded to his feet and led the way. The crowd of people, who had become chaotic after the scene on stage, parted immediately for the giant, horny bull charging towards them. Austin gripped the leash and jogged to keep up with Jon’s huge steps. In minutes they were back at Austin’s truck. Austin unclipped Jon and told him to get in the back seat. The “back seat” in this case was the bed of the truck; Jon was far too big to ever fit in the cab of a truck or any other car for that matter. He positioned himself behind the truck, then sat gently, the frame of the truck sinking down into the rear tires as Jon settled in, trying to distribute his ton-and-a-half evenly. He hung his huge arms over the sides of the truck, as his frame was naturally wider than the whole truck, massive, muscular biceps and hairy forearms pressing against the warm metal. Austin came over to the side of the truck and rubbed Jon’s big right arm. Jon instinctively flexed, tensing the massive muscles into a round, hard peak. “When we get home, we’re going to have so much fun, pup,” Austin teased, rubbing and squeezing Jon’s huge muscles. Jon looked down at his Sir and sighed. He flexed harder. His cock leaked more precum. “Master needs to mark his territory again and fill his pup with another load now that he’s all done with college. How does that sound?” Austin purred. “GRUUURRUFFF!” Jon boomed happily as he raised his other arm up and flexed harder, breathing deep and huffing his own pit stink, eager to feel Austin’s cock inside him. Austin got in the truck and sped away as fast as he could back home.
  4. Here's the first chapter of a new story I've been writing. I have no idea how long it will be but so far, it's been fun to write. I hope you enjoy. Chapter 1 The bright morning light streamed into the bedroom. I opened my eyes and watched the sun reflecting off the lake in the distance. It had only been a month since I moved to the cabin but I knew waking up to this view would never get old. I rolled out of bed and made my way down to the main floor. With a fresh cup of coffee in hand, I slid open the back door and stepped onto the huge patio. I took a deep breath, inviting the fresh morning air into my lungs. Between the cabin and lake, was the rustic, unkept lawn that lead down to the dock. Like most of the property, the cabin included, it needed a lot of work but did little to deter me from knowing I had made the right decision. I always hated living in the city. Savouring the quiet and privacy from the patio only made me more excited to finally be here. The sounds of birds were my only company as I finished my coffee, with one last glance at the shimmering lake, I turned stepped back inside. My routine had been the same since the first day; coffee, gym, planning the renovations. Today was different, today; the renovations began, but not before getting in a good workout. I was sweating and breathing heavy as I stepped onto the patio. The sun had risen higher and the warmth felt good on my pumped body. I caught my reflection in one of the large windows. Squaring my shoulders and flaring my growing lats, I admired the growing body reflected back at me. At 37 years old and 6 feet tall, I was happy with the improvements I’d made in the short time at the cabin but I was also determined to make many more. “Must be the clean lake air.” I said as I raised my arms into a double bicep pose. I smiled as my biceps flexed, display impressive roundness. My lats spread wider as I tightened my already tiny waist. Placing my left leg forward, I let out a small grunt as my quad muscle rippled. Glancing down, I raised my foot and flexed my calf. Hitting a few more poses, I finally relaxed and stepped off the patio and walked towards the lake. I dove off the dock and swam a few strokes underwater before surfacing. The cool water felt incredible on my warm skin. I floated for a moment before starting to swim towards the centre of the lake. As my body sliced through the water, I felt my muscles tighten as I gained speed. Since moving to the cabin, this had quickly become my favourite form of cardio. I got lost in the rhythmic movements and before long, I was a fair distance from the cabin. I stopped, breathing heavy and tuned to face the cabin in the distance. The dense forest spreading undisturbed in both directions, the nearest neighbour far from my small piece of land. After a minutes rest, I started to swim back to shore, driving my arms and legs as hard as I could. I reached the dock and as I pulled myself out of the water, I saw someone walking around the side of the building. As I stood up, the person stopped and waved. I had no towel handy so I walked towards the cabin, water dripping from my body. As I approached, I could see his face taking in my nearly naked body. He looked young and the closer I got, the thicker and wider his body appeared. “Rick?” The kid said when I was thirty feet away. “That’s me.” I said. “I-I-I’m Ben from Cole & Sons construction. I have the lumber.” I finally reached him and extended my hand. Ben’s eyes were wide as they moved from my face to my pecs, abs and quads. “Nice to meet you Ben. Sorry I didn’t meet you out front, I was taking a swim and lost track of the time.” I said running my hand over my wet, smooth, hard abs. “N-n-n-o p-p-problem” Ben sputtered. “It looks like it was a good workout.” “That was just cardio, the real workout was before, in my gym.” I said with a quick bounce of my pecs. Ben was shorter than me by a good amount, I would have guessed him to be 5’6” at the most. He was definitely young, barely 20. He wore a baggie t-shirt that covered everything but his forearms and equally baggy work pants. Even covered up, I could see he was wider than normal with a hint of thick traps and round pecs. I had a keen eye for people that had muscle, even hidden under clothes. “Let me dry off and get changed and I’ll meet you out front.” “Ok.” When I stepped outside a few minutes later, wearing a tight tank top and shorts, I found Ben pulling large pieces of lumber off the back of the truck. There was a small stack piled by the cabin and a considerable amount still on the truck. What stuck me most, was the fact that Ben was lifting multiple pieces at once, which must have weighted a lot but he didn’t seem to struggle at all. I stood and watched as the young kid gripped six pieces, each twelve feet long and with barely a grunt, hoisted them off the truck, swung them around and added them to the pile on the ground. “Impressive.” I said as Ben looked up, noticing I’d appeared. I caught a glimpse of his exposed forearm and saw thick veins criss-crossing his pale skin. “Not really, I do this all day.” “I wouldn’t say that. Those boards aren’t light.” Ben just smiled innocently and reached for more pieces but instead of the previous six pieces, he managed to bundle ten before easily hoisting them off the truck. He manoeuvred the additional load with easy before stacking them perfectly on the growing pile. “Damn kid, you have some crazy strength there.” I said as I stepped off the small front porch. “Getting there,” Ben said and turned to grab another load. “So what’s all this for, if you don’t mind me asking?” “I plan to completely renovate the cabin. I want to make it my dream home.” “Nice. It’s a great spot out here. What are you doing first, the kitchen?” He asked. “That will come later. My first project is the gym.” Ben placed another huge bundle on the pile. “The gym?” “Yeah. I need a better setup to really start making gains.” I said. Ben looked me up and down again. “Start? No offence Rick but you are already jacked.” I chuckled. “Thanks but this is nothing.” I said with quick pec bounce. Ben just swallowed and continued to stare before looking away. “You want to see the gym?” Ben’s eyes grew wide with excitement, “Sure!” “This way.” I said as I walked around to the side of the cabin. About twenty feet away stood a crumbling separate building. It had once been a large storage shed that I had turned into a makeshift gym when I first moved in. I slid the huge door open and stepped inside. The building was in rough shape, light streamed through the rotten walls and the whole place smelled musky. The lack of windows provided very little natural light. All that aside, the barn was loaded with gym equipment. “Woah!” Ben exclaimed as he started to maneuver through the room, inspecting the equipment and the various weights scattered around. He found his way to the bench press still loaded with four 45lb plates with an additional 25lb plate pure side. “Want to give it a shot?” I said, noticing Ben lingering. “I don’t know. I should get back to unloading the lumber, the rest of the crew will be here soon.” “Come on. I saw you out there, you have some serious power. Plus, I can tell you want to.” Ben smiled and turned towards the loaded bar but to my amazement he didn’t lay on the bench but instead, planted his feet behind and gripped the bar loaded with 275lbs. With a low grunt, the kid lifted the bar and started to curl. “Holy shit!” I exclaimed. Ben performed a perfect rep and I watched in awe as the once baggie sleeves of his t-shirt filled with thick, round muscle. “That wood is light as fuck to be honest.” Ben said as his completed his second rep. “I’ve been making serious gains lately. Working construction helps but real gains come from lifting heavy ass weights.” He said completing his fifth rep before gently lowering the bar back onto the rack. “That was incredible!” I said. “Thanks. I knew you’d would appreciate some real strength.” Ben said and reached across his body, pulled the t-shirt up to his shoulder and slowly flexed his right arm. Instantly his bicep erupted displaying a massive peak, complete with a deep bicep split. An equally dense tricep hung dramatically underneath creating perfectly sculpted arm that betrayed his young age. “WOW!” Was all I could muster at the sight. “Pretty impressive isn’t it? But this is nothing. I plan to get a lot bigger. I’m only 220lb at the moment but I plan to be 240lb when I turn 20.” Ben said, lowering his arm but because he was already pumped, the fabric of his shirt didn’t fall down, leaving his right arm exposed. “You’re not even 20?” “Not for three more months.” “FUCK!” Ben smiled and turned his attention to the nearby cable machine. He leaned down and dropped the weight pin almost to the bottom of the stack. He gripped the rope handle, causing waves of muscle to explode on his bloated forearms before starting to crank out tricep extensions. The already hiked up sleeve rose even higher as his tricep expanded exponentially. Two reps in and deep striations appeared on the surface. “I’m going for that really freaky croissant looking tricep definition. Give it a feel Rick.” He said, holding the rope at the bottom of the rep. I stepped forward and placed my hand on his warm, smooth skin. I was instantly shocked by how hard the muscle felt. Being this close, I could see the network of countless veins just under the surface of his pale skin. “Incredible!” I whispered. “Thanks but you’re no slouch in the muscle department Rick.” Ben said as be preformed one more rep as I felt each individual muscle in his arm flex. “Show me what you got.” He said releasing the rope. I stepped into position and with obvious effort, I started to move the weight. It was much heavier than I usually used but suddenly I felt a strong hand grip my arm. “Fuck yeah, look at your tricep swell. You got this Rick, pump out a few more reps, feel that muscle work.” I couldn’t stifle a load grunt as I willed two more reps, my arm shaking and Ben’s grip tightening. After the third rep, I let go of the rope and the weight stack crashed loudly. “Nice.” Ben said. I turned to face Ben and as our eyes meet, I sensed him move slightly closer to me before stopping. “I need to get back to the truck. If that lumber isn’t unloaded before the others arrive, I’ll get in shit.” “O-o-ok Ben. I can help.” “That would be great.” Ben said as he cleared his throat and turned towards the door. My offer to help Ben unload the remaining lumber was barely helpful as the very strong kid worked with renewed drive, lifting massive bundles of wood at an incredibly fast pace. He was very quiet and I noticed he avoided eye contact with me as I removed a few boards. We were both huffing and puffing thirty minutes later when the last of the lumber was neatly stacked by the cabin. I was dripping with sweat but Ben barely seemed warm. “You ok? Want a water?” I asked. “I’m fine. Water would be good.” He said continuing to stare at the ground. I returned from the cabin with two bottles of water as two large trucks pulled in. I recognized Cole, the owner of the construction company. He was a friendly guy in his late fifties. Two other men stepped out of his truck. Both younger than Cole but looked a lot like him, I assumed they were the sons of Cole & Sons. Both men wore baggie flannel shirts that couldn’t disguise their thick, strong bodies. The door of the third truck opened and another man emerged. He looked to be about 5’10” tall with short dark hair and an incredibly handsome face. He was dressed more formally than the others with tight dark pants and a tight polo shirt that showcased his impressive body. While not huge, he was in great shape with thick quads, round shoulders, shapely arms and a nice chest. “Rick!” Cole said, breaking me out of my trance. “C-C-Cole.” I said, approaching the older man and extending my hand. “Great to see you again. This is Donny and Jack, my two sons.” Donny stepped forward and smiled, showing a bright white set of teeth. He had curly brown hair and light stubble that gave him a rugged look I couldn’t deny looked sexy. His grip was very firm and I couldn’t help notice some separation between his biceps and shoulder even through his heavy flannel shirt. Jack playfully pushed his brother aside and extended his own hand. Jack was an inch taller than me and up close, he looked a little older than Donny and had piercing blue eyes. His grip was equally strong and while his shirt was very baggy, I sensed it covered an impressive build. “Nice to meet you both.” I said “I see Ben uploaded all the lumber.” Cole said. “Yes, he did it without any problem.” “That sounds like Ben.” Cole said with a sense of pride. “Rick, this is Andrew Blake. He’s the project manager and architect on this job.” As Andrew stepped closer, I was taken aback by his handsome face sitting atop a nice thick neck and budding traps. “Nice to meet you Rick. This is great spot you have out here. I’m really excited to get to work help you turn this cabin into paradise.” Andrew said with a smile. “Thanks. I’m excited to see what you plan to do.” “Why don’t we head inside and go over the plans while Cole and his crew start setting up?” Andrew said. As we stepped inside, Andrew walked around the main floor, commenting on the amazing potential the cabin offered. Andrew approached and placed a large roll of building plans on the kitchen counter. “Come take a look Rick.” We starting reviewing the drawings and I had to admit to Andrew that it was like trying to read Greek. “Don’t worry, I know what this all means.” He said with a laugh as he placed his hand on my shoulder. “Wow, you are hard as a rock.” “Thanks. I’ve been working out pretty hard since I moved in. I’m really excited about the cabin renovations but I have to admit, I really want to see your plans for the gym.” “I was curious about that request when Cole told me. I wondered why someone would want to prioritize a gym and one that big but seeing you now, I get it.” Andrew said without removing his hand from my shoulder. “Like I said, I’ve been working out a lot since moving out here but I really want a place to take my training to a whole other level.” Andrew let go of my shoulder and bite his lip as I continued. “I’ve put on about 12 pounds in a month but with more space and extra equipment, I can really start adding serious size.” “That’s amazing Rick. I mean, you look seriously jacked to me. I workout pretty hard but you are making me feel tiny right now.” I smiled and placed my fists together at my waist and flexing my pecs, arms and shoulders. While not a proper most muscular, I could see from the expression on Andrew’s face, he was impressed. “Holy shit! Not only are you huge, you are ripped Rick.” “Thanks Andrew but I disagree. I need a lot more mass and much lower body fat to be considered huge or ripped.” “Whatever you say Rick, but from where I’m standing, you look amazing.” Andrew said. “Well, the sooner we get started on the gym, the sooner you can see just how big I plan to get. Why don’t you walk me through those plans?” Andrew tore his attention away from my body and showed me the plans. The more he explained his designs, the more excited I got. He planned to rebuild the barn, placing it closer the cabin and connecting it with a short walkway. He positioned the barn so the southern wall would be all windows looking towards the lake. The increased floor place would allow for more gym equipment and there was even another patio outside. “Wow Andrew! This looks amazing, it’s exactly the type of space I want. I can’t wait to have it finished. What’s this on the patio?” “That’s a hot tub. I know it wasn’t on your wish list but-“ “I love it!” “Great! The best part is, because we are moving the building closer to the cabin, you can still use your existing gym until the new space is finished.” “Really! That’s awesome!” I said. “Well, I didn’t really understand why the gym was so important until I met you and now I’m happy you don’t have to take a break while we build the new one.” I smiled and flexed my arm, running my free hand over the hard surface. “Me too Andrew. How long will this take?” Andrew didn’t respond right away, instead, he stared at my bicep. “Andrew?” “Sorry. The gym should take two months, being that it is a new structure. The rest of the work will take another four months.” “That sounds great Andrew. I’m very happy Cole put you on this project.” I said as I stepped closer and extended my hand. “I hope you’ll be around during the whole project. Maybe we can even get a workout in sometime.” “I’d like that Rick but I doubt I could keep up with you.” “That’s just more incentive to lift harder.” I said with a wink. “Should we check on the others?” Andrew looked a little disappointed but nodded and followed me towards the door.
  5. [Hey folks, first time posting a story here. Some of you may know me from my tumblr Broodingmuscle. This story will feature MMA fighting, dominance, forced exercise and feeding, and fast but realistic muscle growth. Eventually there will be some little bro revenge because that’s my jam. Let me know what you think, sorry no growth in the first chapter. - Broody] Fight Night: Part 1 Stick vs Meatball “Welcome back to the Underground Fighting Championship, I’m head commentator Fred Williams. Our next fight in the Flyweight division is going to be something I’ve never seen before. Curtis “Stick” Quick, the division’s tallest fighter will face his polar opposite, Tony “Meatball” Pizetti who replaces an injured competitor. I’ll ask my fellow commentator Al Sharp, what do you make of this crazy match-up?” “More like mis-matchup my friend, wow! As the fighters take their places in the ring you can see that the 6-foot-1 Quick just towers over Pizetti who stands a mere 4-foot-1.” “And yet, Al, and yet… look at these other stats, Pizetti is the heavier fighter, coming in at the regulation upper limit of 126 pounds, while Quick is a mere 123 lbs. What happened there did Quick over-correct trying to make weight?” “I asked his trainer this very question and the answer may surprise you. Curtis Quick has always been a super-lean guy, in fact he got into fighting as a kid because of how much he got picked on for being skinny. He’s never cutting weight for a fight, always trying to maintain or gain weight to stay competitive in the Flyweight rankings.” “And so he doesn’t blow away in a stiff breeze. Good Lord someone get that kid a sandwich!” “Well speaking of a meal, look at Tony Pizetti! “Meatball” is an apt nickname for the stud just look at all the muscle piled into this short stack. I just did a quick calculation and proportionally if Pizetti was as tall as his opponent, he’d be a whopping 280 lbs! Just look at those massive arms, they’ve twice as thick as Quick’s! Pizetti may not have the ultra long 80” striking reach of his opponent, but you better believe a body like that is going to do some damage if this goes to the ground.” “Pizetti’s wingspan is certainly respectable at 60” for a man his height. He’ll have to get inside to do any punching, but this is mixed martial arts! Expect some dominant wrestling from this pint-sized Hercules.” “And now the announcer is being ignored by both fighters during the introductions. What intensity as they yell smack-talk across the ring at each other. Quick says something about Pizetti shopping for his tights in the boy’s section. Pizetti-- oh my god!-- reaches into those same tights and pulls out his XXL cup! He holds it up to the audience and his tights snap back to form an outright elephantine bulge! Now he’s calling out Quick’s own fashion sense, with his loose shorts hanging down to his knees to hide his skinny legs, and what other inadequacies? As the referee scolds Pizetti, the short fighter grins and makes show of the compressing effort required to stuff those enormous genitals back into the protective device.” “Well Al, I don’t know about you, but the fight hasn’t even started and my blood is already flowing. I think the ring girl just fainted! And Quick looks a little pale, I don’t think he expected to be shown up this badly by a fellow just about four feet tall!” “Well as the bell sounds to start the round, we’ll see if Quick has a comeback to all that!” “And he does, a lighting fast left jab hits Pizetti full in the face! But he’s fast enough to raise his guard and block the follow up right which thuds impotently against the Meatball's thick forearm. Pizetti advances to try to get inside, but gets caught in the gut with a front kick from Quick that pushes him back into a more comfortable range for the taller fighter. This time Quick’s one-two combo hits the mark both times but Pizetti shrugs off the punches! He taunts Quick by sticking out his chin, his face plastered with a mocking grin and The Stick takes the bait, launching a straight right down the center which Pizetti ducks easily. The Meatball powers an uppercut drawn from somewhere in this arena’s basement and smashes into Stick’s jaw!” “Oh he’s hurt! Goddamn it if I didn’t feel the force of that punch from the ringside. How he’s even still standing after that hit I do not know but he manages to back away and bat aside Pizetti’s follow-up shots drunkenly. He was definitely rocked by that blow!” “The Meatball bulls his way inside and goes for a double leg takedown, no wait a double leg lift! He picks Quick’s slender body up like it’s a pencil and slams his foe brutally to the canvas! Oh my god, that has gotta hurt! Pizetti falls on him like a log dropped onto kindling and Quick tries to scramble out the side. No dice. Pizetti hauls him back, gets into full mount and rears up for some devastating ground and pound. A few hits from those sledgehammer fists and Quick’s face is bloodied up like raw hamburger. Quick's coach, his big brother Butch Quick, is yelling obscenities that would make a sailor blush from the corner.” “The ref calls out for Quick to fight back or he’ll end it and the fighter finally responds, flipping his legs up to catch Pizetti’s head between them. Quick wrenches down and the power of long limb leverage launches The Meatball halfway across the ring to land on his head! Pizetti pushes himself up to one knee but looks wobbly. Quick is dripping blood from his face but makes it to his feet. He lunges and strikes like a kicker after a field goal, his foot hits Pizetti’s gut with a dull thud. Quick winds up for another shot but The Meatball turns aside at the last moment, lashing out with a left hook to the body that nearly snaps The Stick in half.” “Holy shit, I think Quick’s liver just got made into paté. Spread him on a cracker, he looks done.” “Oh what a mess, his face ruined, fallen to his knees gasping, the wind knocked out of him. Now Pizetti approaches and reaches out to hold his head almost tenderly. He whispers something in his ear and the pulls him close, burying his face in his meaty pecs. He locks his muscular arms around Quicks head and cranks it. Forget breathing, Quick taps out in an instant so that his skull doesn’t pop like a zit!” “Oh my, over already just as I was getting excited.” “Looks like you’re not the only one! Pizetti pull out his cup yet again as Quick collapses to the canvas, chest heaving. He may be David but I’d call that cock Goliath: wide, rock hard and bursting up right out of his tights well past his navel!” “He gets grief from the ref and from Quick's corner, but the fans seem to love it! He drops the cup onto Quick’s face and then grinds his foot on it, forcing the defeated fighter to breath in his sweaty ball stank. Pizetti does a victory double bicep flex that gives the ring medic pause as he rushes in to check on the flattened loser.” “Pizetti grinds out a most muscular pose and blows Curtis Quick a kiss as security enters the ring to keep the two separate. As the referee raises his arm in victory, he points at Quick and mouths ‘I’ll be seeing you soon’ with a leer and a wink.” “Well Al, I’d sure like to be in the room for that meeting. Maybe even film it! Well, this has been quite the fight. On behalf of my colleague Al Sharp, this has been Fred Williams for the Underground Fighting Championship. Thanks for joining us and see you next time!” *** Fight Night part 2: Don’t Call Him Little The next day, Curtis Quick woke from his doctor-mandated bedrest to a pounding coming from the door of his room. He lived in a run down two story motel that rented rooms monthly for cheap. He dragged his poor battered body to the door shouting. “All right already, I’m coming, hold your horses. Jesus!” The noise was making his headache worse, but that was nothing compared to the shock he got when he opened the door and looked down to see Tony Pizetti outside his room on the balcony. His stomach churned but he put on a brave face, swollen as it was. “What are you doing here, huh, didn’t get enough of humiliatin’ me yesterday?” Tony wore a low cut white tank top that showed off his massive hairy pecs. He held a 15-lb bag of potatoes over each shoulder. “I’m here ‘cuz I’m your new coach, Stick.” Tony took a step back and then hoisted the potato bags, swinging them around like nunchucks. Curtis watched dully, still blinking the sleep from his eyes. With a last swing, Tony threw both bags at his chest and he flew back into the room, knocked flat on his back. “How did you know?” Curtis groaned weakly from the floor. His coach Butch, his older brother, had quit in disgust yesterday after the fight. Tony stood over Curtis’ flattened form, folding his thick arms over his chest.. “Everybody knows, Stick. He talked to the media this morning. I believe his exact words were. ‘I ain’t training a loser who lost to a midget.’ What an asshole.” Curtis got to his knees, still sore, but anger over Butch was riling him up. “He is a fucking asshole! That’s not the word you’re supposed to use. It’s like… little person, right?” “Look at this shit. You see anything little?” Tony flexed a bodybuilder-style double-bicep pose. His lats flared out into meaty buttresses holding up arms that were so thick with huge hard muscle that his biceps, triceps and forearms had to fight for space. “From now on you call me Coach or Sir, got it?” Curtis mouth hung open as he watched Pizetti show off. He remembered the power in those arms and thanked God Pizetti hadn’t broken any of his bones. “Got it, Coach! Damn are you bigger than yesterday?” “Fuck yeah, I hate cutting weight for a fight, after I was done with you, I went out with my buddies for a huge steak dinner and then went to the all night gym and blasted these muscles hard. Speaking of which….” Tony chuckled and reached over to tousle Curtis’ hair. With Stick on his knees they were the same height. “I like you kid. You got potential and I need a project. All I get for fights are gimmicks and last-minute replacements.So I’m switching to coaching. I’ve booked you a light-heavyweight fight 4 months from now.” Curtis shook his head. “It’ll take me that long to recover from that beating you gave me. How could I recover and train AND gain thirty pounds to fight as a lightweight in just 4 months?” “Clean out your ears, bumpkin, I said light-heavyweight, that’s 205 lbs. You’re gonna gain eighty pounds of pure muscle. And you're gonna learn to punch and wrestle like a man, not those girly blows you sent my way. And as to how. You leave that to me. Now get up and take this.” Tony pulled Curtis to his feet and shoved the motel ice bucket in his hands. “Go get ice. Lots of it.” While Curtis went back and forth to the ice machine to fill the bathtub, Tony stomped up and down the balcony stairs to his car, unloading the potato bags, 20 in total, till they filled one corner of the kitchen. When he was done, he checked the ice level in the tub. “Alright that’s enough. Come with me. It’s time for your first training session.” Tony popped the trunk of his classic 1983 Buick Grand National and Curtis flinched. “Is that a body?” Tony scowled. “What, you think I’m a gangster or something? Just ‘cause I’m Italian? That’s racist.” “I don’t think it’s r—” “Take another look, bright boy.” Curtis gingerly pulled at the bloody cloth wrapping. “Jesus, it’s a whole side of beef.” “Lift it out, kid. You’re taking it upstairs.” “What? How? It’s gotta weigh 300 lbs.” “Probably 325. Think of it as CrossFit.” “Shit.” Curtis said. He shucked his shirt and tucked it in the back of his shorts. Compared to the boulders of muscle fighting for space on Pizetti’s short body, Curtis’ thin muscles looked like strings stretched along a giant banjo. He strained hard to lift one side of the bloody mass over the lip of the trunk. The effort left him heaving breaths in and out his bony chest. He looked from the truck to the stairs going up to his second floor balcony and then back in despair. “Damn, son, you look like the carcass left over from last night’s roast chicken.” Tony jibed. Curtis hauled more on the mass of meat until he had two thirds of it over the lip. “I got…” he grunted, “a fast… metabolism… fuuuuuck!” Curtis tried to figure it out. He thought he could manage it if he got the side over both his shoulders. But the trunk was below his waist level and there was no way his skinny legs could rise up from a deep squat with that much weight. He looked over at Tony. “Y-you got a jack or somethin’?” Pizetti rolled his eyes. “Alright, soft boy, I’ll help ya, but it’ll cost ya later.” Pizetti scooted his legs under the bumper of the car. He spread his arms out straight and pressed them flat against the asphalt, then tucked up his thighs to his chest and pressed his feet to the undercarriage. Curtis heard first the groan of shocks and then silence as Tony leg pressed the back end of a loaded Buick. The trunk rose up level to Curtis’ chest and he ducked under the mass of meat to brace his shoulders. “Oof. Almost there, a little higher.” “Get ready, punk,” Tony growled. The trunk lowered down again as Tony’s legs pressed to his chest and then shot up fast and hard. Curtis pulled the weight freely onto his shoulders. He teetered over to one side but solidified his core and managed to keep from tumbling over. “I got it, I got it, Coach! Look, I’m doin’ it.” Curtis slowly turned around carefully keeping the huge load balanced on his shoulders. Tony was still under the car, grunting out leg press reps. Goddamn. Curtis made a mental note to google its curb weight. “That’s great kid, let’s see if you can get up the stairs in the time it takes me to do 3 sets.” Curtis let out a grunt of his own. “You’re on coach!” Curtis adjusted the ponderous weight and then stomped step by step toward the stairs. He got to the bottom and looked up. It looked impossible. He flexed his abs and thought of his older brother, mocking him yesterday for weakness. He raised his right foot and set it on the first stair. He pressed hard, feeling his quads solidify and contract. He stepped up and then planted his left. “Fuck yeah, I can do this!” He repeated the process and got to the third step. His heart was pounding. He heard Pizetti counting out reps: “Fifteen! Where you at, boy?” “Halfway up!” he lied. “You better go faster if you want to beat this chicken carcass.” He heard Pizetti breathing heavily. “Oh I’m gonna enjoy this.” Curtis heard the bouncing of shocks as Pizetti started pumping out his next set twice as fast. Curtis visualized the bloated strength of Pizetti’s tree trunk quads and willed it to transfer to his own slim legs. With the next step he forced his left leg to skip a stair. Then his right leg did the same. He was no longer inching up the staircase like an old lady, but taking it normally, like he didn’t have half a cow on his shoulders. The tension in his limbs was intense but he took a deep breath and stomped up the rest of the stairs, reaching the top just as Pizetti yelled out his final rep. “I did it coach!” He huffed, a huge shit-eating grin on his face.. Pizetti set the Buick down and stood up. His thighs were so swollen with pump they rounded outward like beachballs. “Nice job kid!” He stamped his right foot down and his quads exploded, rending the overstretched lycra of his gym shorts right up to his crotch, with a loud RIIIIPPPP!. “Fuck yeah!” he growled. Reaching into the trunk he pulled out a huge meat cleaver. “Now get that meat on ice. It’s time to grow!”!” Cont.
  6. Newmassaddict

    When You Get Big: Repost Full Story

    I'm not sure where this went, so I've reposted the whole story here again. Chapter 1 - Copier Repair Dale was bored. Sitting in his office he glanced down at the clock. It was barely noon. He tossed the empty food container and drained the rest of his protein shake. He placed the empty container down and surveyed the ungodly network of veins crisscrossing his exposed forearms. Tensing his wrist slightly, he marvelled as even more veins appeared on the surface of his nearly-transparent skin. Dale felt his cock twitch in his skin-tight pants as he stood up. Positioning himself in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, he could see his silhouette reflected back. His proportions were becoming truly inhuman. Traps rose to obscene heights above mammoth shoulders. He flared his massive lats and felt the already tight fabric of his dress shirt strain to contain their incredible size. He stared at the dramatic taper from his super wide back and shoulders to a minuscule waist. Dale’s thick, powerful arms couldn’t lower past a 45 degree angle. That thought alone made his cock twitch again. He couldn’t see his legs very well in the reflection but glancing down and savoured how they stretched the tight fabric even without flexing. The heavy fabric couldn’t even disguise the thick veins running up and down their surface. Dale made a mental note as he opened the office door that he should hang a tall mirror on the back of door. Waddling down the hall and like always; Dale felt a number of eyes following his every step. He was definitely an anomaly in this office. The majority of employees were women who he suspected fantasied about him when they fucked their partners at night. The few men that did work here were nothing that special, doubtful there was a single one that had ever stepped into a gym. Those that have worked here long enough were “used” to seeing Dale lumbering around the halls. The newer employees just stared in awe and shock when they saw him coming. As un-arousing as they all were; Dale had to admit their reactions made him feel pretty great. Dale turned the corner and saw that someone was repairing the copier. With his back to him, Dale could see he was a pretty beefy guy. He wore a polo shirt that was stretched tight across is broad back and wide shoulders. His waist looked pretty small and his ass was round and tight. Dale stopped walking and continued to admire his decent body. When he reached to grab a wrench Dale noticed his arm was thick and very well defined. Dale licked his lips and approached. Dale placed his meaty hand on the guy’s shoulder and grabbed the wretch. “Here; let me get that for you.” The guy stood up and turned to face Dale. Instantly his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. Dale smiled and handed him the wretch. A trembling hand took it. “Th-thanks” he stuttered as his eyes darted from Dale’s pecs, arms, face, everywhere. No matter how often this happens, Dale never tired of the reactions people have when they see him for the first time. It was affirmation that he was becoming what he always dreamed of becoming; a freak of nature. But Dale wanted much more. He wanted to redefine what a normal human could look like. His sole goal in life was to become the biggest, freakiest beast to walk the earth. Dale took a step back to allow the copy repair man to take in his whole body. Even fully clothed he was a monster. Standing 5’10” he was an inch shorter than the copier guy but easily outweighed him by close to one hundred pounds. Dale didn’t even have to flex to completely dwarf the relatively large man. Dale weighed himself at 280lbs this morning with a shocking 4% body fat. Those numbers mean nothing to him though; his weight was always increasing and he was determined to have 1% body fat soon. “Wow” the man finally said “you are HUGE!” he stammered. “Ya think? I guess some might say that but I think I’m still pretty small.” Dale said with a smile. Partly joking because he knew he was bigger than most but also being serious because in his mind; he was tiny. The guy didn’t know how to respond, he was still staring at Dale’s massive form. Wanting to give give him a little show but not wanting to destroy his clothes, Dale glanced down at his left forearm and started to flex. Instantly; it expanded in size. If it was the size of a bowling pin before it morphed into a football. Thick, rope-like veins erupted over every exposed inch of skin. He twisted his wrist and deep striations appeared. The guy recoiled backwards, slamming into the copier. He cupped a hand over his gapping mouth. Behind his hand he muttered “gross!” Dale stepped closer. “Gross? Dude; you have no idea what gross is.” The guy’s eyes welled up and a look of terror came over his face. “Follow me” Dale said in a stern voice and headed to the nearby washroom. Too terrified not to obey, he followed. Dale locked the door and turned to face the copier guy. “Gross? It’s funny that guys like you always say that but I can see that growing bulge in your pants. What do you weigh? 175lb?” “182lb” he stammered. “Close enough. I know when you’re working out you wish you could get as big as me but I know you never will. You know why? Because you can’t endure what it takes to get this massive. You don’t want people staring at you, calling you names, you can’t take the painful workouts, you get distracted by other thing in life but deep down you dream you could be half as big as me. Do you have any clue what I sacrifice to get this huge and ripped? Half of one of my workouts would reduce you to a quivering pile on the floor. I eat more in the morning than you do all week. I inject so many chemicals into my body you’d loose your mind. I stopped caring what people think of me years ago. In fact; I get off when people think I’m gross. I CRAVE those reactions. It means all my hard work is paying off. I want people to FEAR me. I want the earth to quake when I walk down the street. You think this is big? This is nothing compared to what I will be!” The more animated Dale became the tighter his clothes felt. He stared at the wide-eyed kid and started to unbutton his shirt. He exposed the ridiculously deep split between his massive pecs. Once unbuttoned, he parted the shirt and the guy gasped. Dale turned around and lowered his arms. “Peel it off” he ordered. Dale felt his trembling hands pulling the shirt off. When it hit resistance from his pumped arms the guy had to pull harder. Finally it fell to the floor and Dale squared his shoulders and the guy audibly gagged at the sight of his un-flexed, inhumanly massive back. Dale balled his fists and placed them on his hips. He felt a wave of tensed muscles move up his back. He could not see the muscle flex but his astounding muscle control allowed him to flex each overly developed muscle group with sniper-like precession. Dale felt his traps graze the back of neck and he slowly started to spread his lats. He could hear whimpers behind him as he continued to spread his back muscles. It would not have been a surprise if the guy passed out at the sight; it would not have been the first time that had happened, but Dale was pleased when he felt hands touch his warm skin. “So fucking huge!” he said. “Fuck yeah! Feel all that muscle? Feel all those ridges and valleys?” “Mmmmmm” was all he could muster. Dale relaxed the flex and turned to face him. His hands instantly started to grope Dale’s melon-sized pecs which he started to bounce and flex. More thick veins started to crisscross his paper-thin skin. “You ever feel such power? This chest is 56” of pure muscle.” Dale stepped away and unbuttoned his pants. The kid licked his lips as they started to be pulled down. Dale gave him as little smile as his inhumanly developed legs started to appear. The guy’s face was a combination of terror and horror. “You think you’ve seen huge quads before but you have no idea what truly freaky legs look like.” Dale said as his pants puddled on the floor. He stepped out of them and stood up straight, placed his hands on his hips and started to flex. Each 32” quad erupted. The copier guy couldn’t handle it. The sight of Dale’s massive quads covered in a network of disgustingly swollen veins and some of the deepest striations in the world sent the kid over the edge. His whole body started to shake and a dark wet spot appeared on the front of his pants. “Fuck yeah! I made you cum without even touching yourself!” Dale grabbed his right arm and pulled him close. “Worship every freaky inch of this body.” Dale leaned forward and started to hit a most muscular pose. He caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror and even he was taken aback. Instantly Dale’s whole body morphed into something barely human. There wasn’t an inch of him that wasn’t a veiny mass of muscle. Each muscle group expanded to unheard of proportions. If he was standing on a bodybuilding stage the contest would be over. The poor guy didn’t know where to start. His hands grabbed one of Dale’s 22” biceps, cupped a massive pec, rubbed the deep cobblestone of his abs and tried to kneed the dense muscles of his quads. The guy’s knees finally gave out and he knelt on the floor. Dale extended his left leg and his enormous calf was inched from his face. He grabbed hold and Dale marvelled at how small his hands looked as the couldn’t come close to reaching around the huge muscle. “24 inch calves!” Dale said loudly and proud. “24!” was all he could mumble. “Look up” Dale commanded. As he lifted his head Dale flexed harder. His whole body was trembling. Dale watched his already pumped body expand to truly grotesque size. His cock started to leak pre-cum at the sight. When he couldn’t flex any longer; Dale reached down and hoisted the kid off the ground in one fluid motion. He pushed the guy into the bathroom counter and pulled his pants down. Without a moment of hesitation, Dale slammed his rock hard cock into the guy’s waiting ass. He let out a whimper and closed his eyes. “NO, watch my massive body fuck you senseless.” Dale commanded. The reflection in the mirror made Dale even harder. He looked twice as huge as the copier guy. The difference was almost comical. Feeling more blood rush into his cock; Dale started to deliver forceful thrusts to the kid’s ass. He was so amped up the guy was being lifting a few inches off the floor. Dale smiled as he noticed how easily he manhandled the thickly built guy. Four more thrusts and Dale turned the guy’s body to face himself. Dale stifled a loud bellow as ropes of thick cum started to coat the kid’s entire upper body. Dale came for close to 45 seconds and when he was done the guy was drenched. Dale looked at his reflection in the mirror and smiled. He would have to wait awhile before my clothes would fit him again. Dale looked at the kid and told him to clean up and get out. Dale exited the bathroom ten minutes later and the copier guy was long gone. Dale envisioned him pulled over on the side of the road jacking off to memories of his bloated body. Glanced at his watch Dale realized it was time for lunch and felt like he wanted to feast like a king.
  7. PowerFibres

    The New 2022 Agenda

    I remember the new laws as if they were yesterday, even now it still feels like some strange dream. The time was 23:59, 31st December 2021; me and my friends gathered around the television to watch the fireworks and celebrations while we had some celebrations of our own. All of us were gorging on whatever readymade stuff we could find at the store, and most of us had got drunk as lords off the wine. I'd been trying to eat and drink away my troubles and loneliness as I shoveled food into my already huge gut and my head swirled from the alcohol. Eventually, someone yelled that it was almost midnight, and our attention was gripped by the screen. We did the countdown. "10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Happy New Year." Someone popped a cork, a couple of people got a drunken chorus of Auld Lang Syne going, and it was pretty much a regular old New Years party. This went on until the fireworks stopped, and the screen faded to black. I noticed the change first, as I was hardly in the mood for celebrating, and I pointed it out to the room when "BREAKING NEWS" came on the screen. The room almost instantly fell to silence, until a voice spoke. "This is a breaking news bulletin concerning a government announcement, please stand by for more information" I'd heard about this supposed government announcement, but thought nothing of it as nobody seemed to have any idea what it could be about. There were rumours it concerned those big buildings that the government were buying up, and working on away from the public eye. We didn't have to wait long to find out, as the screen changed to an empty podium with a flag behind it. After a moment, a man walked onto screen and behind the podium. Even in the suit he wore, you could tell from the way his body filled it out that he was no stranger to the gym; his shaved head and no-nonsense expression told us all that he was the sort of guy who didn't tolerate much bullshit. "Good evening, or rather good morning everyone, we hope that your new year's has been pleasant, and wish you luck in the coming year. This message concerns new policy that has come into effect, as of midnight, 1st January 2022." Everyone began to share nervous glances, racking our brains to think of what this could possibly be about. "A new report from the department of health has revealed damning information about the obesity crisis and a lack of physical education. Our health system has been strained to breaking point by these issues, and it is in the interests of the country to use drastic measures in order to prevent catastrophe. As of today, state-sanctioned gyms will be opening across the country, half for men and half for women. Information obtained from the department of health has allowed us to form a list of those at serious risk of health impacts from unhealthy lifestyles, 70% of the population is on this list. Those on this list will be sent more information about the gyms they have been assigned to, the exercises they are supposed to follow, the times in which they are supposed to attend, and other details. Thank you listening to this broadcast." And with that, the bulletin ended, and we were all left sitting in shock. We could barely form our suprise into words as we talking (or rather shouted) amongst ourselves about this decision. There were some who supported this decision, and others who were outraged at the news, but it was undeniable that most of us would be heading for a world of change. While the next few days offered reprieve as the information was handed out to every person, I soon found myself with a government booklet in my hand. It had two options, either cardio, weightlifting, or a combination of the two. While I was unfamiliar with a lot of the terminology of the weightlifting section, the cardio section made me tired just looking at it. I also received information concerning the gym I was supposed to attend, and the regulations on the gym clothes that were to be worn at this gym. And if I thought I could just use my burnt calories to eat more, the booklet detailed mandatory health inspections that would be happening to ensure that progress was being made. The next day, my programme began. I turned up at the gym at the allocated window of time. The building was huge, and had a sign above that read "Department of Health State Gym, No. 368, Male", men of different shapes and sizes, but none of this skinny, were walking in. There was a constant stream of guys coming in and out, with the ones coming in looking nervous, and ones coming out looking sweaty and exhausted. The entire place was overseen by guys who were clearly ex-army, who now worked for a different branch, with their maroon uniforms and either ripped or athletic physiques. I walked up to the next free desk, with one of the assistants behind it. "Hello sir, name please." "Julian Overton" "I see you here on the list, Mr Overton. Are you here for the cardio programme, the weightlifting programme, or the mixed programme." "Mixed please." I'd chosen mixed as I knew running and other cardio, but hoped the weightlifting could give me some time to breath between. "Very well, that is in the system now. Do you have the recommended clothes for your session today." "Yes." "Excellent, here is your programme" he handed me a table of the activities "and if you'd like to proceed into the changing room over there, put on your exercising clothes, and begin." I did as the man said, and went into the changing room, only to be met by quite a sight. The men who were changing with me were all of considerable size; giant guts, flabby arms, clearly very little physical exercise, and when I looked down at my own body, I saw the exact same thing. As I watched some of the older men with my physique struggle to change their clothes before even beginning to exercise, I realised the reasons behind this new law. As I made my way to the main area, I noticed a man walking in the same direction who had clearly not changed clothes, and was stopped by the guard who was watching people as they came in. "Stop!" I nearly fainted when I thought he was talking to me, but he was addressing the other man. "Those clothes are not appropriate for the gym, and are in violation of the rules." "Oh, I'm sorry. I promise I'll remember some tomorrow, I was just in a rush-" the guard cut him off. "Violations of the clothing rules will not make anyone exempt from their sessions. Please remove the offending items." The man, clearly surprised but with no other option, took off his clothes until he was just stood in his underwear. He was expecting to receive something else to wear, but the guard simply stood to allow him to pass, expecting him to begin his programme. I tried to put the exchange out of my mind as I got started for the first time, and trying not to stare at the other guys in their underwear who had clearly tried to fiendishly break the system. The cardio was brutal, and the weightlifting was hell, but when I left a feeling that I'd never felt before. That one workout hadn't changed much, but the feeling of physical accomplishment was making me feel inches taller and miles more confident. When the next day came, and I was expected at the gym again, I didn't come in with half of the nervousness that I had before. I blasted through my programme a second time, far easier than I had the first. This continued again and again and again, until strolling into the gym was just another part of the day. My eating habits also changed. The junk food felt like poison to me now, as I started to learn the horrors of what I'd been putting into my body. It was one thing when I was a fat tub, but now I had goals to work towards. Now the only things I could eat was vegetables, fruits, and whatever protein sources wouldn't pack on the pounds. As expected, my body began to rapidly change. My giant gut and man tits melted like ice in heat, and soon I was seeing the outlines of muscle poke through the flab. I was waking up with more energy, simple tasks like climbing stairs were now a breeze, and mentally I felt like someone had come in with a cloth and wiped my issues away. Pretty soon, I was itching to go back to the gym, and I was striking up conversations with the assistants there. Eventually, I got talking with an assistant named Eric. He was a beautiful, 6'4 ex-navy guy who had got into bodybuilding to fill the hole in his life left by the navy, and boy did it show. The first thing I noticed about him were his arms, which were mostly uncovered by the uniforms, revealing two colossal mountains of bicep standing high about a thick river of tricep that ran underneath. I also loved his forearms which he left hairy and were covered with striations. We really hit it off, his interests being just as nerdy as mine, and we quickly became friends. I noticed from day one how he was making a peak form in my gym shorts, and how much I loved seeing him running his fingers through his hair as his biceps raised, but I shelved those feelings in fear of jeopardising the friendship. As we both clearly were gym bros, I asked if Eric if he wanted to work out with me. He seemed enthused, but revealed he worked out at another gym that wasn't government sanctioned, and far more centred around weightlifting. I was nervous to go into unfamiliar territory, but as I'd done it before, I agreed agreed. We met up at Eric's gym, his face seeming to light up when he saw me arrive. We went into the changing area, and began talking. As I opened my gym bag, Eric whipped off his shirt, and I saw what was really underneath. His body looked like it was carved out of marble, his shoulders wide enough to carry two other men on them, his pecs like two metal trophies of his physical accomplishment, his back like a winding map of muscle. When he slid off his trousers, I marveled at his trunk legs with lines that marked out each meticulously cared for muscle. I watched as he slid on his gym shorts and shoes, but just as I expected him to pull out a gym shirt, he began loading his stuff into one of the lockers. When I pulled out a gym shirt of my own and put it over my head, he whispered. "Hey, if you want to wear a shirt, that's cool, but most people just choose to let it hang out. It really helps with getting in touch with your body." Against all other expectations, I decided to leave my shirt in the locker. As Eric had described, the gym was wall-to-wall weight lifting equipment, and the cardio machines I used at the other place were gone. I had no choice but to really get stuck into the weight, but I found myself enjoying it. Eric could clearly see the enjoyment on my face, and when we're walking towards the exit, he said "I can see you enjoyed it dude, and I'm glad. I think you'd look hot with some muscle on your bones." "Thanks. It's cool that you can say that about other guys." "Well, maybe it's weird for straight guys, but for guys like me usually don't have a problem." "Wait a minute, are you gay?" "Yeah dude, couldn't you tell." "Fuck no. Clearly us gay guys don't have the gaydars we think we do." "Hold on, you're gay too?" "Ha, if that doesn't just prove my point." Well, as much as we didn't want to jinxe it too early, we knew that this would be the beginning of something else in our relationship. I saw him in a new light, and even more irresistible than I did before. One day, as we were on the bench press station, Eric went for his PR. Just before he did, I learnt over and whispered in his ear. "If you do this, I'll make out with you in the gym restroom. Do you want it?" Eric didn't say a word, just grabbed the bar with his powerful arms, brought it to his chest, and thrust it into the air. In minutes we were rubbing our shirtless bodies against each other, locking lips as we felt each other's abs. Later that month, when I was on the squat station, about to attempt my PR, he leant over and whispered in my ear. "If you do this, I'll fuck your brains out in my bed. Do you want it?" I didn't say a word, just grabbed the bar, slowly dropped down, and back up again. An hour later, we had burst into his apartment, barely able to keep our hands off each other, before he had his dick deep inside me. It was so hot looking in the mirror and seeing two muscled masculine bodies engaged in this erotic act. Eric got me more and more obsessed with bodybuilding, until eventually I was starting to catch up to him, which only made our bedroom activities better. We went on dates where we ordered piles and piles of protein, we would drink our shakes while watching a film and cuddled, all the while he stayed my favourite gym spotter in the world. It was no time at all before we were just two muscle guys, madly in love. One day, my beautiful boy rushed home to tell me that there was a vacancy at the state gym for an assistant. I thought they would never pick me, and there'd just be someone else better, but as I looked at myself in the mirror. However, when I looked in the mirror, a fully formed bodybuilder looked back at me, so I applied. It was tough, there were other candidates of around size there, but the physical exam showed that I was the right man for the job. Soon, me and Eric were working together in our maroon uniforms, helping others achieve their potentials, and I couldn't be happier. Months, even years passed, and we moved in together. Then, when our three year anniversary came around, I took my man on a long hike up to the top of a hill. When we got to the end, our chests uncovered and gleaming with sweat, I got on one knee, buried my face in his six pack, and asked him to marry me. He of course said yes. The night after our wedding day, I got to make a protein-rich breakfast for me and my sleeping groom. When I picked up a letter that had just arrived, I chuckled to myself. It was a questionnaire asking for my opinion on the physical fitness laws. Well because of them I was in the best shape of my life, my mind was clean as a whistle, and most importantly, I'd met the man on my dreams. So I said I was very happy with these government policies, very happy indeed.
  8. It had been a very hectic day, but it was soon coming to a close. Moving from the university town where my lab was located to a big city, doing the paperwork, getting everything in the building, more paperwork, directing the movers, more paperwork, worrying about the opening day, and finalising the paperwork. But, the last piece of equipment (a rack of dumbbells, in cast you were wondering) had been hauled up the stairs, and the last document had been signed. The people who worked on this collaborative effort all left, leaving me alone with my brand new gym. I’d been laughing to myself all day when the movers stopped to comment on my business model. “This place seems a bit remote, I wouldn’t know where to find it.” “Are you advertising this place?” “Maybe I’ll get a membership, my misses thinks I’m packing in the pounds” Oh how innocent they were, none of them new the extent of my true intentions with this place, but that was kind of the idea. They were correct that there was no sign outside of advertising that told a soul that this place was a gym, or any way that the average Joe off the street could discover it, but that was the general idea. I walked through the gym area, marvelling at the amount of weightlifting stations I’d managed to pack into such a small space, and the array of weights that accompanied them. I peeped inside the men’s changing room, and fantasised about the men who would soon fill it. I also peeped into the women’s changing room, but only for a quick chuckle to myself. The only other place was the reception area and my cramped office in the back, where I had already set up my device. It stood proud in the middle of the room and looked like something right out of the future, which in a way it was. I checked the message I’d already coded, and sure enough it was ready. “If you want to be big, to be powerful, want muscle, and love muscle, come closer, come to the fourth floor.” I turned the device to its most powerful setting, and waited for my first client. In fact, my first client would walk down the street that day. I’d conveniently placed my gym near the local gay bars and the general gay scene, so it was only a matter of time before someone to my liking would stroll past. Samuel was on his way to drink away his sorrow at his local place, and maybe shack up with someone. His job was a miserable slog through hours of bullshit that he only had the slightest grasp on, and the rest of his life was suffering. His mid section looked as if it has been inflated by a bicycle pump, and he began to get out of breath just walking to the nearest fast food restaurant, which was a trip he often made. While there were guys willing to get with someone of his disappointing build, few were the guys he dreamt of, the muscle guys. They were all interested in others like them, the ones who looked like they lived in the gym; but Samuel wanted to be like them, and to have them. As he walked from his work, still dressed in the suit that barely contained his swinging belly, he started to feel strange, but in a good way. His cluttered mind cleared of all the bad things rattling around, and he felt both a sense of calm, as well as a magnetic pull towards the building to his right. He wasn’t sure why, but he’d never seen what was up there, and needed to find out. He heaved himself up the stairs, stopping at the forth floor, and pushed against the unmarked door into whatever was behind it. When he came barrelling through the door, I was stood there waiting for him. Seconds before he entered, I’d switched to the second message on the device, knowing the first had done its job. “You want to be big, you want muscle. This gym is doing it. Don’t question, just lift, eat right, and lift.” He looked around, a little confused, and finding no other source of information, approached my desk. “He-hello, um, I know this is a strange question, but what is this place, I’ve never noticed it before?” “It’s a gym, Mr...” “Sam. Well that’s my first name.” “Nice to meet you Sam. We’ve just opened this morning, and you’re the first to come through our door. If you’d like to look over our membership options, I’d be happy to make you our first client.” “Oh I see, well it sounds great.” Brilliant, the second message was taking hold. This guy looked like he’d barely walked into a gym in his life, yet he was already signing on. He looked over the memberships, but I could tell he’d already made up his mind. He bought a month’s membership, and left, promising to come tomorrow morning. I didn’t need a promise, I knew he would. When I opened up the place the next day, it was scarcely twenty minutes before Sam came through the door. He was clearly nervous, but had a gym bag over his shoulder. He said hello to me, and went into the changing room. The walls were covered with pictures of muscled bodybuilders, and even a couple of morphed ones beyond human potential. They all turned Sam on, but he thought better than trying to jerk off there. He began to pull a shirt out of his gym bag, but saw a sign displayed prominently on the wall. “For hygiene purposes, we ask all our male clients to exercise without upper-body clothing.” Sam slid the shirt back, and left the room with the air on his bare chest. When he walked into the gym area, I’d already switched to the third message that provided instructions on how to perform the main lifts. I watched him like a hawk as he flawlessly performed a bench press set, then another, and another, and another. He moved on to another exercise, and another, and another, and another. Soon multiple hours had passed; sweat was running down Sam’s uncovered upper body, but he was still desperate to keep going. As the months passed, Sam became morphed into the very definition of a “gym bro”. He was eating like a train, but if was all beans, lentils, of whatever protein he could get his hands on. The idea of eating fast food seemed like swallowing a live rat, and his belly soon vanished until he had a slight gut protruding. Despite his rapid weight loss, the muscle mass kept on coming. I was shocked at his increasing size that didn’t seem to have an end; the weights he put on the bar climbed higher and higher. Also, he always had a story of the latest guy he’d taken to bed, often with pictures of guys with bulging muscles to accompany them. One day, I saw the true change in him. His shoulders looked like they’d almost doubled in width thanks to the many exercises and the lack of fat below them, and the seemed to crown the pecs that had began to form a gorgeous shelf above the last whimpers of a gut (which I knew had chiseled and beneath). I don’t know what about that day had told me that the experiment was a success, but my pilot trial had gone without a hitch, and it was time to expand the operation. “Sam, can I ask you something?” “Go ahead dude.” Sam replied, his voice seeming much deeper than when we met, possibly from some bodily change, or his new confidence. “You involve yourself with a lot of guys who are into fitness. I don’t want to put you on the spot, but it would be great if we could drum up some business around here.” “Sure thing bro. I’ve got guys that would put my progress to shame, and they’re constantly looking for a place with a lot of lifters.” He was nice to consider my request so thoughtfully, but the machine was giving him another message. “Get ones like you used to be. Convert the hopeless. Make them into gay adonises like you.” And he did. Soon, a guy called Blake was walking sheepishly up my steps. His thin physique was a product of years of neglect, and it was thanks to his dislike of food that he wasn’t as fat as a planet. But the messages guided him along, and he soon found himself shirtless and heaving weights in my place. Then another called Peter, who was too nervous to step foot in a gym, but laughed along with his bros and flexed for them after some conditioning. Then Bertrand, and Viraj, and Michael, and Paul, and Rohaan, and Julien, and another Michael, and so on. Soon, my gym was stocked full of beautiful adonises. They were all as shirtless as swimmers, showing their chiseled bodies on display, and I suspect I didn’t need the rule to get them to do it. Their shoulders were so broad they could barely walk around the place without bumping into the others, their pecs were striking and big enough to bounce with considerable force (which they loved to do), their arms showed mountains of muscle that rose into beautiful peaks when they checked their progress in front of the mirror, their legs forced them to waddle and their asses strained the largest jeans. In total, they were perfect. But the best part was the lust for each other that they soon discovered. I’d morphed their interests had always been towards the muscular, but I’d changed them to accept the biggest guys, and accept little less. This, combined with their rising testosterone, meant they could barely perform a session without slinking off to the back. They hammered away at each other which such ferocity, and I loved it when it became a battle of strength for who could take the most. They wouldn’t give two shits when I’d sit in on their sessions, and watched their muscles collide and stick together from the beads of sweat that rolled down the many crevices of their new bodies. My experiment had worked better than I could have ever expected, but I wanted more. The device could be scaled up, and so could the results of my clients. Of course, their progress was less than natural, a fact they would of learnt if they’d only stopped to consider why the liquid in the water cooler seemed to have such an odd taste, not that they would question it. This was only the beginning.
  9. Genetonic

    Jock Bros

    They weren’t huge by any means, but for freshman, Matt and Derek were a cut above the rest. It all started in 9th grade when Derek came up to Matt, “Hey man, I got Coach Keith to let me into the weight room after school today. Ya wanna come and get pumped with me?” “I don’t know Derek, I’ve never lifted any serious weights, let alone equipment.” “Dude! That’s why we gotta learn. Gotta start getting swole!” Derek did a double-bi pose, small mounds pushing up. After school that day, Matt walked into the weight room, wearing his gym clothes, his short sleeve and basketball shorts snug on his growing body. His above average tool bulging out some. “Hey Matt! About time you showed up.” Derek already worked up a sweat at the pull downs, his exposed biceps pumped. “Alright. Up against the wall. We’re gonna start measuring so we can see how big we get.” Matt: 5’9”, 163 lbs Derek: 5’10”, 172 lbs That afternoon, Matt and Derek worked every station, their sore muscles sweating profusely by the time they were done. Matt groaned but Derek was practically glowing with pride. “Dude, if we keep this up, we’re gonna get huge!” “Dude, I don’t know how I'm gonna be able to keep doing this.” “Matt, you’ve already begun. Too late to stop now.” And so it continued, Matt and Derek working out 4 nights a week after school. Slowly, but surely, the workouts were getting easier and easier. Soon they had to increase their weights. In March, during a squat rack, Matt’s increasingly tight basketball shorts split right along his beefy ass. The pair of shorts fell to the ground, leaving Matt in his boxers. “BRO! My shorts just fuckin tore!” “Hell yeah man! Talk about getting swole!” Derek’s similarly skin tight shorts soon gave way under his increased excitement. His hardening bulge tore through the material. Derek was always decently hung, but now his thicker thighs really pushed it out, making it seem bigger. The 7.5 inch tool was throbbing in the thin fabric of his boxers. Matt’s 7 inch member joined him. “Dude, we gotta take more measurements!” Matt: 5’10”, 178 lbs Derek: 5’10.5, 181 lbs By the end of the school year, Matt and Derek were talking about how big they were gonna get that Summer. “Dude, I can’t believe how big we are now. Everyone else looks like ants compared to us.” “I know man. My chest is starting to bulge out more, I can’t believe we got fucking pecs now.” “And look at these biceps. Fuckin 19 inches of steel.” “Speaking of steel, bro can you believe how many girls have been checking us out?” “I know man, I just wanna take these 8 inches of steel out and show them right now. Let them see what they’ve been missing.” “I know man, I can’t believe how big I’m getting. I got fucking 9 inches of dick. Rock hard every morning.” “I know dude. I’ve been cumming so much lately. Feeling extra horned up.” Derek’s big 5” inch softie was pressed out in his cutoff sweatpants. His extra large piece of equipment stirred in his shorts. “Fuck bro, I’m getting hard talking about this. Gotta take care of this monster.” Walking into the stall, Derek whipped out his hardening cock, the thick nine incher throbbing in his hand. His big plum sized nuts were swelling. Scratching his thick pubes, Derek stroked his hard member to the thought of how big he is, how big he could get. Already 6 feet tall and 200 lbs, he was already a hung jock. Who knows how big he could get? Returning that fall, Derek and Matt looked like they lived in the gym, and for the most part, they did. Matt: 6’1”, 236 lbs Derek: 6’2”, 251 lbs “Fuck bro. Can’t believe how fuckin swole we are” Matt’s deeper voice rolled out of his thick neck. The telltale signs of whiskers growing on his chin and cheeks. “I know dude. We’re getting fucking huge!” Derek’s deepening baritone matched the jock’s thickening body. His facial scruff is a bit thicker. His thighs clung to his shorts, the material starting to hike up his thickening quads. His beefy chest and lats were stretching out his 2xl tank top. His 22 inch guns blazing alongside his hairy armpits. Down below, his extra-large package pulled the material around it. His soft dick print pressed out. All 7 inches of it. His equally large nuts, like two apples in his hairy sack, pushed out. The hung stud had been fucking around all summer, his thick 10.5 inch horsecock inch delivering pleasure. “Bro meet me in the locker rooms after school, I got something I wanna show you.” Matt spent the rest of the day, his mind fixed on what Derek wanted to show him. His thoughts only interrupted by feeling the weight of his 6 inch softie roll around. His bulge felt bigger, more pressed out than before. He knew that he would need to get some new underwear soon, not just for his basket but for his growing ass. 2:30pm Derek and Matt were alone in the locker room, the smell of sweat lingering from the football equipment. “Alright bro, this what I wanted to show you.” Derek pulls out a bottle and tosses it to Matt. “What is it?” “It’s a testosterone supplement, I ordered it from some Chinese website. Supposed to help one’s ‘masculinity’.” “I don’t know man, doesn’t this shrink your balls?” Matt unconsciously felt his balls tighten, the big lemon sized orbs stretching out his sack. “Nah man, I’ve been taking it for the past three days, already got more hair coming in” Derek scratched his bristly cheeks, his darkening peach fuzz crackling. “Plus I swear my dick feels bigger, and who doesn’t want to be hung?” “Alright man, I could always stand to get bigger down there.” Matt and Derek popped two capsules into their mouths, Derek smiling in response. The following day, Matt woke up in a sweat. His pulsing dick standing at attention. Getting up, feeling his junk bounce around. Grabbing his shaft, Matt was thrown off at first. His thumb and forefinger were just a bit farther apart. Pulling out his tape measuring tape, Matt couldn’t believe it. His dick was now 9.5 inches long and 7 inches thick. Going into the bathroom, he studied his body in the mirror. His normally smooth abdomen now had a little treasure trail, his arm and leg hair were thicker, and his normally sparse chin now had a light dusting of brown hair. “Fuckin sick” he said to himself. Putting on some clothes, his boxers seemed extra tight, he made a mental note to go shopping that afternoon. Texting Derek, he told him all about his new measurements and asked about getting more pills. Texting him the link, he ordered two bottles. That day at school, Matt felt even more confident than usual. His strides were longer, his shirt seemed to hug him better, his muscles flexing and his package bouncing. His thighs felt thicker and seemed to push his package out more. His cotton shorts left little to the imagination. That afternoon after an extensive 3 hour workout with Derek and another 2 pills, Matt went to the mall to get some new clothes. Getting out of his truck, Matt could feel his shorts starting to tear along the underside, his massive thighs and package getting too big for normal sizes. Walking around the mall, all eyes were on him. He could feel his tensing arms and pecs testing the fabric, his bouncing junk leaving little to the imagination. The fabric now skin tight, his beefy ass pulling the cloth right across his rolling cock and bulging nuts. Entering the store, Matt knew he needed to go to the big and tall portion now. His growing frame was going to need some proportionate clothes. Grabbing a couple 3xl shirts and sweatshirts, some sweatpants and shorts, and getting some 3xl and 4xl boxer briefs. Just in case. Matt loved having a big dick, and he didn’t want it to stop growing. Getting into his truck, he could feel the fabric finally give way, his huge package tearing through, his boxers similarly skintight. His 6.5” softie peeking out the bottom, his thick bush pouring out the waistband. By January, Matt and Derek were easily the two biggest sophomores in the state. Still outmatched by a few juniors and seniors with similar genetic gifts. Matt: 6’2”, 258 lbs Derek: 6’3”, 281 lbs Still teenagers, they were immense. Derek towered higher and wider, his broadening shoulders and grounded stance made him extremely powerful on the football field. His continued usage of the testosterone-enhancing pills plus his natural affinity for growing hair gave him quite an intimidating look. His originally wispy peach fuzz grew in stronger and thicker, now a short cropped but thick black beard. His huge melon-sized pecs now had a light dusting of curly black hair as well. Derek’s normally short wavy black hair had grown out as well. Now down to his shoulders, his glossy black hair and beard gave him a much more mature look. Down below, his equally huge and hairy thighs, now big as tree trunks stretched out his skin tight sweatpants. His globular ass and immense package were both skintight, their curves and shapes easily viewable. His bulging package had swelled to be too big for most undergarments. His 8.5” soft horsecock and orange sized bull nuts needed a custom-sized nylon pair of boxer briefs just to support their immense weight. His thickening bush started to creep out the top of his waistband. Not like he could see it over his enormous pec shelf. Matt also had grown to an equally impressive size. His thickening pecs and thighs making him formidable on the wrestling mat. His sharpened jawline now had a scratchy outline of a beard, his thickening brown hair starting to grow longer. His growing body now stretched out his 3xls, his heavy package bouncing. His soft 7.5” dick and apple sized balls left a more than noticeable dickprint, not like Derek’s though. Sitting down at lunch, the bench audibly squeaking under Derek’s weight. “Bro I can’t believe how pumped I’ve been getting. These babies are getting close to 25 inches now.” Derek hit a double-bi pose, his bulging arms stretching his jersey to the limit. “I know bro, I’m getting fucking shredded!” Matt lifted up his shirt to reveal his cut 8-pack, his defined obliques bulging out. “Fuck that bro! Gotta eat huge to get huge!” Derek proceeded to lift up his strained jersey, revealing a swath of furry belly, his paunch audibly growling. “I don’t know man, I like having these abs, girls dig it.” “Suit yourself man, but I just wanna get huge, and I don’t mind having a gut. Just more mass to add. Besides, I know what the girls really like.” Derek gestured to his packed crotch. “I already got a porn star dick and the puss is endless. Plus my balls are fucking pumping out the cum. I can already feel them fucking swelling. I measured my dick this morning, 12 fucking inches of fuckin cock down there!” Derek started shoveling mashed potato in his mouth, scratching his thick beard. Matt just watched as Derek continued to load up on plateful after plateful. By the end, his gut was bulging out the fabric, a sliver of furry belly hanging out the bottom. “Fuuuuck that felt good.” Derek giving his belly a pat. “Now it’s time to get jacked!” Matt followed Derek to the weight room. The massive man was soon drenched in sweat, his massive body pumped red. It was like Derek was in a trance, his eyes focused on his pumped biceps as he did curls. Matt tried to get back to his workout, doing ab crunches and running on the treadmill. Matt wasn’t sure, but it looked like Derek popped two more pills while chugging his water. By May, Derek and Matt’s physiques were something to marvel at. Matt: 6’3”, 285 lbs Derek: 6’4.5”. 311 lbs They said their goodbyes for the summer. They each had their own jobs lined up and unfortunately their gym schedule didn’t match up. Derek grabbing Matt in a big bear hug, he could feel the immense heat coming off his body, the massive man’s package grinding into his. “I’m gonna miss you man. Can’t wait to see how big you’ve gotten next year.” “Same man. Don’t outgrow me too much.” “Oh, no promises.” Derek gave a little chuckle, but Matt saw in his eyes a determined seriousness. That summer, Derek spent his time mowing lawns and doing landscaping. By the end of June, he had already grown into a little business. His customers couldn’t get enough of watching his massive physique work outside, his huge package bouncing with every step. His sweaty beard dripping onto his jutting pecs. Soon, he started charging extra for him to take his shirt off. Some thirsty women would invite him inside, his horsecock bulging at the sight of them. Matt spent his summer teaching classes and training others at the gym. His chiseled physique earning him his credentials, he focused on teaching members on how to work their core and lose weight fast. But in his free time, he hit the weights with a ferocity. Thinking of Derek’s immensity, of how huge he’d gotten, Matt wanted to match him. By fall, Matt stood at 6’4”, 310 lbs. Working nonstop over the summer to get pumped. His chiseled jaw was now covered in a thick brown beard, his pecs with a similar dusting of hair. His broad shoulders and giant chest stretched out his 4xls. Down below, his massive thighs and ass bulged out of his shorts, the tight nylon stretched over his muscles and package. His horsecock was even bigger. 9 inches soft, 12 inches hard. His big orange sized bull nuts equally swollen. He was waiting outside the gym for Derek to show up. He texted that he was off the clock and wanted to come by for a workout the day before school started. Pulling around in his new diesel truck, probably funded by his landscaping business, Derek stepped out, enormous. His massive size 17 boots clomping on the ground, his huge legs contained by a worn out pair of sweatpants. Small tears in the fabric showed how pumped his hairy quads were. His huge globular ass similarly bulging. His massive package looked dangerously swollen, his massive shaft pressed out. Matt couldn’t tell how big it was, but he could tell it grew, a lot. His originally big gut looked trimmed down, probably from all the outdoor work he’d been doing. His huge midsection was plastered by a skin tight black shirt that was on the verge of tearing. His massive pecs stood out over a foot and a half, his broad shoulders looked to be 5 feet across, his biceps looked to be like soccer balls, and he wasn’t even flexing. Looking up even taller, his big bearded face and lantern jaw greeted him with a smile. “Fuck bro, you fuckin’ shrink?” Derek’s booming bass sounded even deeper. “No man, you just got fuckin huge!” “You can say that again. I blew the fuck up over the summer!” Derek was now 6’6.5” and 367 lbs. “You ready to fucking work out bro?” “You know it!” Derek led the way, his massive frame causing people to step aside. Matt couldn’t take his eyes away from Derek’s body. His massive back looked like a mountain frame. The black shirt hid some of the details, but he could tell there were hills of bulging muscles there. His huge ass looked like he stuffed two globes down there. His immense legs were so huge his feet were forced apart. The massive tree trunks rippled as he walked, threatening to tear his worn out sweats. No one bothered to stop him, he just turned his cap backwards and sauntered over to the bench press. Matt was locked in a trance, like most of the others who Derek had passed. He just stared as Derek loaded plate after plate onto the bar. Sitting down, his massive back dwarfed the bench, his legs spreading out to accommodate his height. With a creak, the bar raised up, down, up, down. Derek pumped out rep after rep, his massive biceps and pecs starting to swell with blood. After what seemed like 20 minutes of pure reps, Derek slammed the bar down. “FUCK YEA!!!” Standing up, he flexed his already pumped upper body. His failing shirt ripping across his chest and arms. Massive slabs of pec meat came into view, each covered in a carpet of black hair. His midsection, still a bit flabby, also covered with a trail of fur-thick black hair that went down to his huge bush. “THAT’S WHAT I’M FUCKIN TALKING ABOUT! PUNY SHIRT COULDN’T TAKE THESE MUSCLES!” Derek started flexing, his massive upper body twitching with stimulation. “Fuck, now arms.” He walked over with a wicked grin and started lifting the 200 lbs dumbbells, cranking out curl after curl. His already pumped biceps began to swell larger, the massive guns soon passing 32 inches. Derek growled in anticipation. He threw down the weights once he was satisfied. Flexing his arm, the huge muscle now battled with his big traps for space. If his bull neck wasn’t so big, he could probably kiss his bicep. “FUCK YEA-AHH!” He strode over to the leg press, his massive cock twitching with anticipation. The seat groaned under his weight, his legs could barely fit together. He started cranking rep after rep. His massive quads swelling rapidly under the weight. His flimsy sweats soon tearing across the massive width of his legs. His massive calves burst out, each the size of a watermelon. He stepped off, needing to adjust his stance for his enlarged thighs. With a quick flex, the rest of the fabric tore off. Leaving him in his massive pair of boxer briefs. His pumped legs were now as hairy as the rest of him, the trail getting thicker towards his packed crotch. The massive pair of shorts were hanging on for dear life, his muscular backside and packed crotch were starting to tear the waistband. With a grin of self-admiration, Derek waddled over to the squat rack, loading it up even heavier than the bench press. With a grunt and clang, he took the bar and squated. Rep after rep, the audience could hear small rips amongst his deepening grunts. Standing back up, he gave a quick flex, and the fabric ripped to pieces. His massive package flopped out, released from the pressured confines of his briefs. His humongous bull nuts were beyond measure, probably the size of coconuts. The massive orbs hung low in his fur-covered sack. Swinging lower, his massive horsecock, probably too big for a horse now. His elephant cock, probably 12 inches soft and thick as a wine bottle. The massive hairy man grinned, his cock twitching as it came to life. The huge shaft lengthening and thickening. His massive paw stroking it, his other scratching his massive nuts. Soon he needed two hands, the thickening shaft soon too thick for one hand. Standing with his massive 17 inch cock throbbing before them, Derek strode to the showers, needing to release his thickening load. Bobbing up and down with his waddling steps, his huge leaking cockhead the size of a grapefruit. Matt followed, he couldn’t believe the masculine display he just saw. His normally-perceived hulk size was more than diminished by Derek’s immensity. What followed was an exhibition of people trying to take Derek’s massive member, some people barely getting passed his enormous head. Others took to stroking it, the huge fleshy pole throbbing and swelling with admiration. The floor was now covered with his sweet sticky pre, people were guzzling it down as fast as they could. With a thunderous roar, Derek stopped holding back and shot load after load of his thick jock cum over the crowd. Each load smacked the opposing walls, the force making echoing splats in the locker room. It went on for 2 minutes, Derek’s giant bull nuts finally drained of what seemed like gallons of cum. With an air of alpha superiority, Derek left, squeezing his massive body into his lifted truck. The normally massive vehicle was starting to get a bit cramped for the huge teenage jock. That fall, it continued with Derek and Matt continuing to work out and get bigger. Derek’s enormous size earned him unbeatable admiration on the football field and in his private sessions. The massive jock needed special order equipment, now needing a 7xl jersey to contain his massive frame, as well as a cup bigger than a shopping bag to hold his swollen package. By December, Matt had grown to 6’7 and 374 lbs, his massive frame would be impressive if not dwarfed by Derek. Waddling in front of Matt, Derek’s enormous frame was now 6’9.5”, 436 lbs. The massive jock had let his body hair and beard grow out, giving him an oversized viking appearance. Sitting down on his reinforced bench, Derek’s massive frame dwarfed the bench on all sides. His broadening shoulders were now 6 feet across, each shoulder bigger than watermelons. His massive pecs pushed out over 2 and a half feet, covered in his luxurious rug of black curls that only seemed to get thicker when he shaved it. His massive jersey barely held on, the jock’s growing gut now adding fuel to the flame. His fur-covered gut was only outmatched by his pecs. The massive man’s hunger seemed endless, his belly rumbling again as he got up. His massive elephant cock banging against the table. At this point, Derek gave up on wearing boxers since they didn’t fit him anymore. He just shoved his 16” softie down his pant leg every morning. His swollen bull nuts were as big as soccer balls now, they’re contents audibly sloshing. Matt focused on keeping his dick from getting hard, not an easy task with a foot of super sensitive soft cock between your knees. Still, he couldn’t take his eyes off of Derek’s huge body as he tried to make his way to the lunchline again. The enormous teenage jock looked like an overgrown warrior amongst children. Sitting down again with a mountain of food, Derek's massive gut now pressed up against the table. “Fuck man, I’m getting fucking huge!” Derek said between mouthfuls of pepperoni pizza. “And speaking of huge, I gotta find someone who can take this monster dick. I got fuckin 22 inches of rock hard cock with gallons of cum and no one can take it. I got the world’s biggest fucking dick and no pussy for it.” Derek started massaging his tip through the fabric, just the thought of a wet puss was getting him hard. “I haven’t had any since last week and even then she could barely get past my cockhead before passing out.” “I don’t know man. Have you even been able to find condoms for that thing?” “Fuck no! I don’t like them, as if they make them my size. Maybe they would fit two years ago when I had a fuckin 8 inch shrimp.” “Fuck man. Have you gotten anyone pregnant?” “Fuck if I know. If they want this ride, they gotta pay the ticket.” “Fuck bro. You could be a dad and you don’t even know?” “Fuck it. Gotta spread my genes anyway. I could fucking overflow a sperm bank.” “Hey that would be a pretty good way to make some cash.” “Fuck man you’re right. I’ll go and see if they can buy it in bulk.” Derek went back to eating slice after slice, massaging his dick at the thought of his seed spreading. Over the next few months, Derek made daily trips to the sperm bank, overloading their storage each day with his gallons of cum. It wasn’t until April that Derek couldn’t take it anymore. By then they had really blown up. Matt was now 6’9” and 442 lbs, Derek was 6’11.5” and 509 lbs. His workout became too intense for his clothing to hold on, working out with his junk out now. His massive bull nuts hung down to his knees, each the size of a pumpkin. His massive whale cock was now 20 inches soft, the massive tip constantly leaking pre. His constant cumming at the sperm bank drove his nuts into overdrive, unabating his horniness. Derek was looking at Matt’s enormous ass cheeks, each bigger than globes. Taken over by his constant horniness, Derek went over to Matt and ripped off his skin tight shorts. The massive man’s junk flopping out. Matt could feel the insane heat coming off of Derek, his massive 16 inch softie springing to action. Turning around and facing Derek’s furry chest, the massive pecs covered in that ever thickening shag carpet of hair. His huge beard mixing with the fur, his massive gut carrying the trail down to the forest that surrounded his prodigious manhood. His massive nuts churning, his hardening cock raising to its monstrous 28 inches. Derek picked up Matt with relative ease, planting him on his awaiting whale cock, the massive cockhead tunneling its way up Matt’s asshole. Matt could feel Derek’s heavy breath on his neck, the massive cockhead reaching his stomach now. He could feel Derek’s fur scratching his back. Reaching his climax, Derek shot load after load of his thick cum into Matt. The massive nuts spewing gallon upon gallon of his jizz. Both Derek and Matt roared like thunder, Matt’s own 21 incher spewing cum everywhere. That summer, Derek and Matt lived together, Derek’s size finally capping out at 7’2 and 653 lbs of beef. His body hair came back with reinforcements, covering him in black curly hair. No longer a viking, he now had a full bear appearance. His massive whale cock stopped growing at 32 inches soft, 46 inches hard, a nearly four full feet of thick cock. His massive nuts are as big as yoga balls, their enormous weight nearly reaching the ground. Matt continued growing past Derek, finally catching up to him. Capping out at 7’3 and 584 lbs, those extra lbs on Derek owing to his massive gut. Matt tried to keep his silky brown hair in check, but after a while, he gave in to his similar appearance. Rich brown and auburn hair sprouting thicker from his midsection and limbs.Surrounding his crotch in a forest of thick fur. Now sporting a massive 30 inch softie, 44 inches hard, a bit shorter but much thicker than Derek’s. Matt’s own massive nuts nearly the size of beach balls, their enormous size pulling down to his ankles. 15 years later… Hundreds of freshman across the country start growing much taller than their classmates, their muscles growing bigger than bodybuilders, their thick black or brown hair spreading across their bodies, their thick horsecocks continuing to grow bigger and thicker, their nuts swelling larger…
  10. Chapter 1: The First Day Jayden looked over the website, looking for a new job. His funds had gotten low, and he was getting to that point where his roommates were pressuring him to find a new job, to help pay the bills. His current job as a janitor at a school wasn't really paying well, and he paid less bills than his roommates. So, he decided to try something new. Sighing, he rested his head on his desk. The young 22 year old's eyes had bags under them, having not slept for near on 23 hours now. He was about to give up hope, until he spotted a strange looking advertisement. It stood out to him, as it had an interesting job name: "Towel Boy/Escort Wanted! Male Only!" He shrugged, and decided to check it out. He clicked on it, and it took him to an external site. The site's color pallet was red and black. It was for a gym called "Pump and Hump". "The...Pump and Hump? That's...strange. Probably means something like 'hump day' or something." The young man shrugged, and continued to read the ad: Towel Boy/Escort Wanted! Male Only! We are seeking a young man, aged between 19 to 26. The applicant must be good with their hands, and be in shape. Preferably, the applicant must also be homosexual, or, at the least, bisexual. The applicant must also be willing to engage in possible intercourse. No references required! Pump and Hump is a homosexual gym proudly founded in 2017, by Mr. Tim Yates. It is a place for exercise nuts to come and be themselves, working out, and enjoying a public shower and locker room. We are specifically looking for a young man to towel down sweaty bodybuilders, as well as service them. The Position comes with many benefits: you will be provided health insurance, and free access to the gym and showers. In addition, your hourly rate will be $25. We hope you'll apply, and give us a chance. Jayden looked at the ad, his eyes wide. He never knew a place like this existed. He looked at the provided pictures, and the interior was clean, immaculate, and was filled with various pieces of exercise equipment. The showers were very large, and the locker room boasted 900 lockers. He then decided to look up Tim Yates, and found himself looking at a rather attractive image. Tim seemed to be a 47 year old man, who was tall, boasted a strong musculature, and was well-endowed. He had gorgeous brown eyes, and short, sandy blond hair. He was the epitome of masculinity. Jayden gulped. He was gay himself, and the thought of toweling down and servicing handsome men appealed to him. And with such good benefits, he was very tempted. He looked at the required schedule, and the expected maximum hours were 72 hours a week, at most, 24 hours at least. He quickly tapped apply, and sent off his resume, along with, as he hoped would help, a picture of himself. Jayden was a rather handsome guy. 6 foot even, and toned. He had blue eyes, and shoulder length brown hair. He also was proud of his 10 inches. He got up, and was about to head to bed. Before his head hit the pillow, his phone buzzed, telling him that he had an email. He blinked, picking up his phone. It was a text from...Tim Yates! "HI THERE! I was wanting to say, love the resume. We'd love to have you. Please, come by tomorrow at 10am sharp." Jayden's eyes went wide. Did he just net the job? He grinned, before passing out. Awakening several hours later, Jayden remembered his interview, and quickly washed up, suited up, and headed out. His short drive to the gym was uneventful, but he was thinking about what would happen. He could only imagine the types of guys that would be there. He grinned stupidly, before coming to when he got to the gym. He pulled up, and noticed that there were few cars in the car park. Maybe most people walked there? Regardless, the young man made his way inside, and found himself in a small reception area. It was soothing, playing rock music over the stereo system. "Hey there. You Jayden?" Jayden stopped looking around, and focused on the guy behind the counter, blushing bright red. The man was handsome! He must've been 6 foot 6, and was muscular enough that his chest bulged out his shirt, his nipples visible. His arms were strong, with veins on them. He was sitting, so unfortunately, Jayden didn't get a good look at the goods. The man, who's name was Adam, according to his name tag, had a gorgeous, heart melting smile. This man seemed genuinely nice. "U-Uh, yeah, that's me. Mr Yates wanted to see me?" "Yeah, for sure! Follow me!" Adam stood up, and led Jayden down a hallway behind the desk. Jayden watched Adam's bubble butt bounce with each step. It was mesmerizing, filling out his shorts nicely. Jayden grinned, before he quickly looked away when he noticed Adam looking over his shoulder. He stopped at a door, with a manager sign on it, and knocked. There was quiet for a couple of minutes, before it opened up, and Tim peeked out. He was really tall in reality, probably about 6 foot 10. "Jayden? Excellent! Come on in." Adam left them to it, as Jayden stepped in, Tim closing the door. They both took seats, and Tim looked over the young man, like he was looking for something. He nodded, seemingly pleased, and smiled at Jayden. "So, the ad...you know what you applied for? You may go home stinking of sweat, and with a sore ass." Jayden chuckled awkwardly, before nodding. "Yeah, I know. It's...It's why I applied, sir. If I have to be honest, this is kinda my dream job. I was caught off-guard something like this existed." "Is that so? So, tell me, Jayden, you're gay, right? You outed? Or closeted?" "Uh, I'm...kinda still closeted. I haven't told many people." "Heh, that's alright. Well, if you'd like, today we can give ya your first shift." Jayden blinked. He wasn't expecting to be hired immediately. He rubbed behind his head, and nodded. "Sure, but, don't I need a uniform? And to give you my bank details?" Tim nodded. He got up, and headed to a storage closet. He disappeared inside of it, before returning with a uniform. It was like Adam's, with a pair of shorts and a polo shirt with the logo on it. And, after this, Tim and Jayden sorted out the paperwork details, before Jayden was sent to change. He found the uniform comfortable, and it was shaped to his body nicely. He grinned, blushing that he had this job. He looked at himself in the mirror, before he lifted his arm into a flex. It wasn't impressive, but it showed that the lad worked out a little bit, at least. Jayden grinned, before the lights were blocked, and he looked at the mirror again, seeing someone standing behind him. He jumped, and turned around, looking up. It was an Adonis of a man. He must've been 7 foot tall, and powerfully built. He looked like a Greek god, his pecs as big as barrels, and his abs like saucers. His arms were as thick as basketballs. And, those tree trunk like legs. And, being covered by his only piece of clothing, his package hung heavy, the bulge itself looking like he was smuggling a bowling ball. "Hey there, cutie. Never seen you here before. New here?" "Uh, y-yeah. I am. You're...fucking huge..." Jayden facepalmed himself at his comment, which he had said out loud. The big guy laughed, and lifted his arm into a flex. That arm could've knocked down a wall. Jayden reached up for it, before stopping himself. The big guy cooed to him gently, before handing him a towel. Jayden then noticed that the huge guy was covered head to toe in sweat, super musky. He had a strong, masculine smell, and had an earthy tone to it. Jayden began wiping down the guy's abs, before the guy smirked, and tugged Jayden close, forcing Jayden's face into his armpit. Jayden groaned, his face and now moist hair covered in the big guy's sweat. "Towels are boring, aren't I right, cutie? So, let's be fun with this. Lick the pits, cutie." Jayden nodded, tossing the useless towel away, as he ran his tongue up the larger guy's hairy pit. He tasted the sweat, and it was rather salty, but it tasted nice to him. He sampled the pit, before the big guy pushed him back. "What's your name, kid? Mine is Phil, but you can call me daddy." Jayden huffed, licking his wet lips, as he was slightly dazed by the scent still. He shook himself back to reality. "Mine is Jayden, daddy." Phil nodded, admiring Jayden. He flexed his bicep, and Jayden immediately reached up, caressing the bicep. It was powerful, like it was made of marble. Jayden kissed it gently, massaging the bicep. Phil groaned happily, his shorts growing tight. Jayden turned his attention to those two, huge pecs. He smiled, running his tongue up the crevice between them. He then kissed each of them, massaging them happily. He would come closer, and would slip a thick nipple into his mouth. He suckled on it greedily, making the bodybuilder moan out in pleasure. "Fuuuuck, kid. Easy now. I wanna finish inside of ya." Jayden pulled off of that nipple, and kissed down the huge man's abs, before ending up on his knees in front of the huge man. He would hug around a thick leg, and would lick up and down it, tracing the muscles that flexed in it when Phil moved. He moved to the other leg, and ran his tongue up it, before finding himself face to face with that package. Phil grinned, and stroked Jayden's head. "That's right. Daddy has a present for ya. Gotta unwrap it first." Jayden hastily tugged down those shorts to the huge guy's ankles. He went wide-eyed, staring at the package before him. If he had to guess, the cock that was poking his nose now must've roughly been 20 inches of pure man, with a heavy set of balls dangling beneath them. Jayden was unsure, but he remembered his job. He looked up, and took the head of that monster into his mouth. He would slowly bob his head on it, running his tongue down the sides of it. He was an amateur, and it showed, fitting only 4 inches of it into his gob. The man still moaned in pleasure, gripping a hold of the lad's hair. Jayden didn't want to make the man bored though. He gripped the man's balls in one hand, and stroked them. And, with his other hands, he gripped the shaft that wasn't in his mouth, and began jerking it off. The man groaned, with a grin. "Fuck, kid, ya must be a pro? Or you've watched a lot of porn." Jayden blushed, working that cock in his mouth. Phil moaned out, before he began thrusting his hips. He looked down at Jayden, who looked up at the man, past his heavy pecs. THe two shared a look, before Phil grinned. He slammed a fist into a locker, denting it, as he let out a yell of pleasure. Jayden winced when his cheeks swelled up, his mouth quickly filling with the alpha male's cum. He gulped it down as quick as he could, only to be replaced by more cum. It felt like a long time, Jayden's eyes watering up from the heat. Phil was clenching his teeth, experiencing a hard orgasm. Jayden felt a breeze on his belly. After a couple minutes had passed, Phil pulled back, spurting some cum into Jayden's hair. He panted, swaying a bit, before he looked down at Jayden. "Well, kid, I gotta get back to work. But, you enjoy yourself now." Phil tugged his shorts up and left. Jayden shakily got to his knees, and looked at himself in the mirror. He was shocked to find that his belly had swollen up. He rubbed over it. It had swollen with Phil's seed, and the young man looked several months pregnant. Jayden belched, the smell of Phil's musky seed. He grinned, jiggling his now sloshing gut. "Fuck, if this is my first day, this job is going to be the time of my life." And, with that, Jayden went around the first day of his shift, stinking of the alpha male's sweat, and with a sloshing gut, as he attended to his customers. And Jayden had the best day of his life.
  11. Hello, this is my sequel to "My Boyfriend Made Me Huge", this time focusing of Eric. Since that was my first story I kept it short, both in word count and in time, but I want Eric's growth to be longer and more incremental now that I have some better writing experience. That being said there is no real growth in this first part, just setting the stage. Additionally, you should know that while Justin's story was purely a gay fantasy, Eric's will be bisexually orientated. And for anyone wondering, the growth powder in this story is inspired by the "Collage Supplemented" story by Bigger4Me (if you're into elements of humiliation, definitely give that a read), while I'm sure such a substance/plot device is not original on a site like this, it should be stated. My Boyfriend Made Me Huge ( https://musclegrowth.co/topic/21908-my-boyfriend-made-me-huge-part-3-added-2721/ ) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Prelude Have you ever felt trapped in your body? Like you really lost big on the genetic lottery? Because that's me... or at least it was me. At 5'6" if I stretched, 110lbs wet, and 3" prick I was left cursed with the body of a weakling. I wasn't even good looking either, a deviated septum left me a bent nose that was hard the breath with, my eyesight was bad, and the only thing a short lived puberty ever gave me in abundance, was acne. Then in my Sophomore year at college, after years of bad luck, a miracle happened. At lunch one day I was visited by an angel, only on second glance it wasn't, it was my study partner Justin, only he had …changed. While previously he was of average height, decent build, with brown eyes, he sat before me a tall, muscular, blue eyed hunk. It was everything I'd ever wanted to be, and he'd promised to tell me how he'd done it, he promised to do that to me! I didn't see him for a week (one filled with anxiety and anticipation), but he had texted me. He asked all sorts of odd questions, current height and weight, my blood type... my favorite eye color (green). He insisted that all of this would be necessary to know in order to make me grow, he instructed me to wait out the week, and find him at the weight room on Monday afternoon. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hunk In Progress, Part 1 I immediately felt out of place at the weight room, the smell of sweat, the loud clanging, everything was so unnerving. Everyone was huge compared to me too! Don't get me wrong, I loved seeing a well muscled guy as much as anyone else (that isn't straight that is), but everywhere I turned lumbered busy giants who threatened to step on me. I had never really worked out a day in my life, I didn't even know what I'd do, I was too nervous to talk to anyone so I just stood there like an idiot. It was about then that I began to chicken out when the ground shook, and I was suddenly enveloped by a large shadow. Whirling around I was stunned at the towering form before me, I didn't know If I should be terrified or not but I was definitely aroused. Standing before me had to be the tallest man I've ever seen, bulging from well tailored gym clothes were muscles befitting a titan, I could count the bricks of his ten pack, and when he moved the striations of his musculature rippled with power. Affixed in a masculine, square jawed face (sculped by the gods no doubt), had the be the most beautiful blue eyes I've ever seen. Although I admit it was hard to maintain eye contact, for snaking down the right leg of his sweatpants was a monster cock that probably put my forearm to shame. The Adonis easily outdid both supermodels and porn stars in every category. For a moment I was almost relieved my dick was so well concealed by it's size. "Are you ready to get huge man?" His voice rumbled in a deep masculine tone. "I... I'mma... you... wha... who?" "Heh, sorry little guy..." He said taking a knee, "Not too many people can recognize me anymore." "Ju... Justin! Oh my god your enormous!" "Just you wait man..." now beginning to flex a most muscular that threatened to tear away the fabric of his shirt, "I think you'd like the size yourself." "H... how... how did" "My ah... boyfriend made me huge", and gave a smile that threatened to make me cum. "And... and I could really get this big too?" The sheer thought of obtaining those looks...that much POWER. I started to get excited, I needed it! "Bigger and better..." he said rising again to his full height, "c'mon I want to show you something." Justin had started to stride toward the locker room, to enter he put his hand under the top of the frame and ducked through. This guy had to be 7' or taller. He waved me over to a more private area, started digging through a bag, pulled out a large white jar and started talking again. "As I was saying my boyfriend did this to me, you've met Logan right?" "Uh, yeah? A little taller than me, good looking, pretty smart guy. A Chem major right?" "Oh yeah, really smart, but he isn't so short anymore. Anyway he made this..." now holding out the nondescript white jar, "Unfortunately it isn't the fast acting stuff I got, but its the best I can get you." "Oh man, uh wow, I mean... can I ask you question", I said looking up at the giant. "Shoot." "Why are you doing this... why do you care?" "Well... I've seen how people look at you. Or rather, don't look at you. I was already good looking to start off, people like you deserve this more. You do ...want this right?" "Want this? Oh man, your more than I've ever dreamed of being. Um say... could I uh... feel?" "Ha, sure man! Say, you're gonna love being this big." The colossus sat down on the bench, raised his long arms, and flexed two enormous biceps. I ran hands across them, feeling his rock solid muscle, With both hands I couldn't even hope to reach around his arm. This was the closest I've gotten to sex in my left and it was great. As I lost myself in his size the gravity of the situation started to down on me. My whole life I've spent being a shrimp, now if this stuff worked I was going to get as big as this guy, maybe bigger... ascend to godhood! This was going to be great! "I could sit here doing this all day..." hands now running across his incredible abs, "But I think I can't wait to get this big myself, how does it work?" "Yeah, here is where the fun begins! Alright you need three things, the powder, exercise, and lots of food. Don't mix up too much of it though, it will go to waste. Here I already got some ready for you." He took out a water bottle, evidently mixed with whatever substance was in the jar. It had a green coloration that swirled as he gave it a powerful shake. Justin handed it to me and I gave it a sip. It tasted like lime mixed with one or two things that are hard to describe, very strong, and very good. It had a real kick as it went down. "Feel any different Eric?" I looked down at myself, I knew it it wasn't going to turn me into the incredible hulk or an anything, but I expected more. "I don't know, jittery? Fuck actually real jittery" "Alright man, lets go lift!" Justin began showing me how to lift and use the machines. I don't know if it was because all eyes were on him, or I was just overreacting earlier, but I felt much more confident being there. On the bench press I could barely get the 45lb bar up the first time though. I wanted to quit but Justin urged me to continue, the second attempt went up much easier than the first, and the third practically felt light. I maxed out at 95lbs, which Justin informed was great for someone my size. As I lifted more, and had more of that mixture I felt angry, I could feel the blood running through my veins. It felt good to blow off stress and exert myself, and kind of fun to see how far I could push myself. Before we called it quits I ended up deadlifting 160, and 55lbs with a barbell curl. by the end I was panting and slick with sweat. I thought that was amazing, but after each set I stood ogling at Justin as he loaded up more plates on the bar than I could easily count. Watching his muscles work was like porn, but It didn't even look like it was heavy to him! "How do you feel bro?" He asked. "I donno man, fucking..." "Pumped?" "Yeah, Pumped!" "Good, end every session like that. Alright, lets get showered and pack in the protein!" By the time we got to the dining hall I felt my stomach knot, I was starving! That being said Justin loaded up my tray with more chicken, mashed potatoes, and broccoli than I could eat in a few days. I started eating and just kept eating, I wondered where it could possibly all be going after a while. Justin reassured me I wasn't going to get fat, in fact he laughed it off and just said I can't get fat. Now done eating, Justin lead me to the parking lot just a little walk away from the cafeteria. He caught me staring at the rhythmic flexing of his muscular ass but didn't seem to mind, he walked liked he owned the world. "This is it" he said. We had weaved around several cars and arrived in front of an expensive open top red Lamborgini, waxed to a shine. In the passenger seat would have be the hottest man I've ever seen had I not met Justin. A little shorter than Justin (although he must have been well over my height), he wore a tight red polo that hugged his well muscled body, and had a face and smile to die for. He looked up from his phone and said. "Hey beefcake how was the workout, and is this Eric?" "Yup, this is the hunk in coming" "Wait... Loga.." Still in a state of shock, Justin waved me over to the trunk and opened it. Inside was an old fashioned briefcase with a lock on it. "What, you have the nuclear football as well?" "Ha no, here the combination is 588930, open it." I did so, inside was a small mirror, a tape measure, and a gold themed debit card paper clipped to some sheets with banking information. I skimmed over it, and found the pin, routing number, and such. I looked over the next page, it was a bank statement and my jaw dropped, this card had $1,500,000 dollars on it! "You you you, you shouldn't have let me see your..." "Your card." "Huh?!?" I felt faint, none of this could be real, I had to be dreaming! Dreaming that's it, someone must have knocked into me at the gym earlier, I was sleeping peacefully on the ground somewhere. I pinched my arm and felt pain... I felt pain! "Whoa Whoa Whoa there little guy..." Justin had caught me by the arm, "you look pretty pale." A voice called from the car, "I told you he wasn't going to take it easy!" "This is all so much, I think I need to sit down" "Here let me get you some water, can I drive you to your dorm?" "Uh, yeah, that would be great" I said and took a sip. After a moment Justin scooped me up and put me in the car. It was a two sweater so I sat in the lap of the passenger (Logan?). His ample chest made a comfortable pillow, I could feel his rock solid abs running down my spine. But, most pleasurably, between the cheeks of my ass I could feel his fat bulge pressing into me. No, this wasn't a dream, this was heaven! I gave Justin directions to the dorm as we started to talk again. Logan wrapped his muscular arms around me as a seatbelt as we went. "Ah guys really, making me huge is one thing, but this money..." "We're rolling in it, don't worry. Plus you're gonna need that to upgrade your style when you grow out of those clothes. No offence, but your really capitalizing on the geekyness." "None taken. Um say, how did all of this happen, how does this stuff you made work?" Logan spoke in a much deeper voice than I remembered, "Without going into all the... geekyness, I found a simple chemical process of manipulating genetic makeup, its really quite remarkable nobody has found it yet. And now with a patent, I'm the only one who can produce the stuff, its going to change the world you know." "A world full of hunky musclemen?" "More than that! No more disease, no more aging, everyone could be what they want, if only I could make it cheaper." "That sounds... Whoa, wait, you guys can drop me off here!" "At the back? Are you sure?" "Yeah, my room isn't like the rest." "Suit yourself, and... enjoy yourself too!" "Uh yeah, thanks!" Justin handed me the growth powder jar, and the briefcase. Still not quite believing what just happened I watched the two speed off campus before walking to the maintenance door at the back of the building. My room was not like the others. The collage thought it could make a buck off half heartedly converting an unused store closet (located next to the furnace room) into an additional dorm. It was not legally big enough to house two students, so I was left on my own. The walls were made of concreate and the only pieces of furniture were my bunk bed, rug, and desk. I decided to unpack, put the card in my wallet, the powder under the bed, and hid away the briefcase between the lower mattress and the wall, as well as hanging up the small mirror. I paused as to what to do with the tape measure, but decided if I was going to grow, I should make a height log. I dug out a small piece of chalk from my drawer and made my best straight line up the concrete wall. Holding a textbook on top of my head and flush to the wall I made a horizontal mark on the wall and measured it. 5'6" on the dot... that's a quarter inch taller than before! Then my phone alarm went off and I knew it was time to see the one good thing this room provided. You see if I climbed the bunkbed, peered out the window, and looked down the slope flanking the back of the building I could see into the windows of the school pool. And right at 7:00, the hottest girl on campus went in for a dip, Emma Clark. I have to admit, it was pretty creepy, but when you're a sex starved virgin you do these things. I watched as she got in and out of the pool, water pouring down the her curves, dripping off the tips of her large breasts, damn that was hot. Too bad her boyfriend was such a complete asshole, even worse that he was just as hot in his own masculine way. On multiple occasions he had purposefully pushed passed me, called me a dork, did he think he was still in high school?!? Of course I had a crush on him too, Luke was just too damn big and muscular not to be admired! But I could get bigger... Too be continued...
  12. HandsomeLitleBoy

    Family trouble...

    PART ONE - Meet the family Firstly, this is my first attempt to write a story, so be kind, my mother-tongue isn’t English. Let’s meet my family. I am Max and the last two years were dramatic for my whole family. But let’s start 2 years ago. We are a big family living in a Greek suburb. My dad and mum had 6 kids. One daughter and 5 sons. The oldest of my siblings is my sister, Mary. Mary is a 34yo energetic married woman with a kid. She married and had her only-child when she was only 18yo. Her husband, Thomas at 35yo looked like a hulk. He was an Olympic athlete at water polo when he was younger, he had a passion on building his body and that showed. His tall, hairy, thick muscled frame at 1,98cm (6’5) was extraordinary. My nephew, Jay was at the time 16yo just as my younger brother. He was really tall. The tallest 16 year-old that I have ever met. He was already surpassing his dad by a few centimeters after a massive growth spurt that hit him last year. He was a polo athlete too, and was coached by his father. Although he had no body hair, he was looking way older than he was. Now meet my older brother, Brad. Brad was a 26yo jet black haired tall guy. He was nearly over 1,85m (6 feet) not really built but he went to the gym once or twice a month for a “quick muscle recovery” as he used to say. He had a really stylish thick beard and a sharp jawline that made him really handsome and confident. He had a girlfriend but he really fucked a different girl every month or so. Next, we have Harry, 24yo guy studying Sociology at a University 5 hours drive from our home. He was the shortest in the family standing at 1,70m (5’6). With an indifferent face wearing glasses and a fluffy, quite fat body with a few random chest hair. He wasn’t the sexy guy around. Then you have me(Max) and Linus. We are two 20yo identical twins. We look exactly the same. We may have really different personalities but we look identical. We used to wear the same t-shirts and everything and we ended up confusing our own parents. We are quite tall at 1,90m (6’2) brown hair, nicely grown beards and a masculine look. We hit regularly the gym the last 3 years as our sister’s husband coaches us with our little-monster nephew. Last we have the younger member of our family, Zac. Zac is very shy, he is not talking much, he has almost no friends and never had a girlfriend. He does really good at school. He was really the same height with our brother Harry but he was surpassing him already. He had a lanky, unnoticeable body, no body or facial hair. Nothing special. Till now….
  13. Hey everyone! This is the first chapter in a story that I’m in the middle of writing. All feedback is welcome, but keep in mind that this is the first story that I have decided to make public, so be gentle Let me know if you want to see more! Chapter 1 “Is there anything left in the trunk?” Nico yelled to his mom from inside the house. “No, it looks like we got everything!” she called back. “Finally!” Nico said with a relieved sigh as he sank down onto the couch. He propped his legs up on the coffee table, leaned back, and took a deep breath, relishing the salty smell of the ocean that was wafting in through the open door; it had been too long since he and his mother had visited their beach house. They used to go every summer but had rented it out for the past four years to help cover Nico’s college tuition. Now that he had just graduated though, they could finally enjoy it themselves again. As Nico’s mom came back into the house and started carrying her bags to her bedroom, Nico’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw that he had received a text from his friend Will. Hey, I saw you and your mom drive up a few minutes ago; do you want to come over to my place and hang out? A broad grin stretched across Nico’s face as he hurriedly typed out his response. Sure! I’ll be there in a second! As soon as he hit send, Nico sprang up from the couch. “Mom!” he shouted. “I’m going over to see Will!” And without waiting for a response, he ran out the door. Nico had been excited to come back to the beach house for a lot of reasons. But the most important of those reasons had been Will. Nico met him for the first time twelve years ago when Will’s family bought the beach house across the street from his. There weren’t very many other kids their age in the neighborhood at the time, so it was inevitable that the two boys would end up spending lots of time together, and they eventually became very close friends. For the next eight years, Nico and Will spent their summers practically joined at the hip; they filled their days playing volleyball on the beach, racing each other through the ocean, and doing many other, usually competitive, activities. Part of the reason Nico enjoyed spending time with Will so much was admittedly that Nico pretty much always won regardless of what the contest was; he was two years old than Will, which gave him an advantage in strength and speed that Will always had trouble overcoming. However, Will always accepted his losses with grace and even took Nico’s playful teasing in stride. As Nico walked up to Will’s house and rang the doorbell, he felt his stomach twisting into knots of excited anticipation. It was strange to think that four whole years had passed since they had last seen each other; he could picture Will as if he had just seen him yesterday. At any second, he would be greeted by the sight of a skinny guy with wavy blond hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a radiant smile that could cheer him up even on his worst days. A few seconds later, the door opened, and Nico’s mouth fell open in shock. The guy standing in front of him was not the Will that Nico remembered from four years ago. Sure, his face was the same, and his smile was just as radiant as ever, but that was where the similarities stopped. Gone was the small, skinny guy Nico had once known, replaced by a tall young man with a powerful, muscular build. His once narrow shoulders had widened, his chest broadened, and his arms thickened. The tight t-shirt he was wearing looked almost as if it were begging for mercy from the incredible muscles it was struggling to contain; the fabric was stretched taut against a pair of firm pecs, and the sleeves just barely covered a few inches of his bulging biceps. “Nico!” Will exclaimed with a beaming grin and then pulled him into a bruising bear-hug. Nico felt all of the air rush out of his lungs as a pair of muscular arms crushed his ribcage and pressed him against the firmest torso he had ever felt in his life. He made a feeble attempt to return the hug, but found that his arms could barely reach around the wide expanse of rippling muscle that was Will’s back. It felt like Will would never let him go; Nico was beginning to feel dizzy from the lack of oxygen. He tried to extricate himself from the embrace, but Will was astonishingly strong; it felt like his body was made of steel. Nico was completely immobilized and helpless. Just as Nico felt himself beginning to lose consciousness, Will released him. The moment he was free, he collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. “Oh, shit!” Will said, kneeling down and putting his hand on Nico’s shoulder. “Nico, what’s wrong?” Nico shook his head but was unable to reply through his panting and coughing. After a few seconds, he had recovered enough to say, “That hug . . . cough . . . was pretty tight.” “Oh,” Will said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head and causing one of his biceps to swell to the size of a grapefruit. “Sorry about that. Didn’t realize I was crushing you.” “It’s okay,” Nico said with a nervous laugh, getting shakily back to his feet. “I’m fine now.” “Are you sure?” Will asked, still concerned. “Do you want me to get you some water?” “No, I’m okay. Really,” Nico repeated more confidently this time, trying to stand up straight and not wince at the pain of his probably bruised ribs. “Alright, if you’re sure” Will said reluctantly. “Come on; let’s get you inside.” He put an arm around Nico and gently steered him into the house.
  14. NOTE: The m/f was removed from the last paragraph to make this m/m. The bodybuilder character still does have a wife, but in the second part, the character has a boyfriend. Howdy. I have often wondered about leg lengthening surgery. I am 6'5" and would never do it because being taller than I already am would suck. When you look up pictures of people wondering about the surgeries, they always show their pictures with stretched legs. But it wouldn't actually be like that. Your legs would actually get smaller because the muscle would stay the same size and be pulled a greater distance. So what I really wonder about is what happens after that point. You look at a tall person and a lot of the times they are ectomorphs. If a mesomorph or endomorph got leg lengthening surgery, they would still be a meso or endo - they wouldn't magically become an ectomorph just because they are tall. Yes, they would have their muscle size "shrink" at first because of the stretching, but they should still have the acumen to gain muscle/size. That would give them an incredible advantage in truly becoming huge over someone who is naturally tall and lanky. Here I explore what might happen in that scenario Unusual Surgeries Hey, you already know who I am. I have a bunch of sponsorships around the fitness industry and my IFBB pro card. You would recognize me when someone jokes about the 4'10" pro bodybuilder. Even though I am retired from contests now, I still hit the gym (and the "celltech") pretty hard. No sense losing my hard earned body because of getting older. Currently, I am 6.4 heads tall. I know they say the ideal is 8 heads tall, but screw them. I have pretty awesome proportions on my body. I am 22 inches wide from tip to tip on my shoulders. Less than 1% of the population can claim that and they even have almost a foot over me on height. My waist is 35 - yeah I know it should be in the 27 area. My chest totally makes up for it at 50 inches. My quads are 29 inches and biceps 21. Not too shabby considering what some would call my stubby limbs. I really lucked out on genetics, though. If someone sees me, my body looks like I am average height. It isn't until I am standing next to someone else that I look short. My wife of 11 years is a hot powerlifter. In the offseason, she cuts down some and enters some fitness competitions. However, she prefers to be bulked. She is 5'8" - kind of dwarfing me, but we totally love each other. We push each other to always better ourselves and train, eat and sleep together every day. Not to brag, but my 8x7 inches looks quite impressive at my height. I know that she does not stay with me because of my penis, but I am sure it helped open the door at the beginning of our relationship. That thing was a bear to adjust during contests. I probably spent more time pumping that than my muscles in the pump room back stage. Anything to keep it contained for the show. Even though I am totally happy with my body (as is the wife), there are many times when being a bit taller would be very useful. Just doing everyday tasks is troublesome since I have to have a stool handy at all times. More times than I care to admit, my wife was asked what her child was having for a meal. My bicep is bigger than your freakin head, dude, how am I her child? After years of reading medical research on height surgeries, we finally decided to take the plunge. It wasn't for me. It wasn't for my wife. It wasn't for anybody else. It was just so I could have an easier life during my retirement. My high testosterone and stocky muscular build are super equipped for healing and that made the risk factors somewhat low. I decided first to extend my femurs and humeri. That was not a fun process. I went out of the country for the procedures and had to stay for 5 months before I could travel again. First, they broke my bones and then inserted these devices to extend the lengths between the breaks. Basically, while the break is healing, it is making the bone longer. As a lifter, I fought through pain my entire career. I had so many muscle tears that I lost track. These bones pains were a drop in the bucket compared to everything else. And bless my wife, she stayed with me the entire time - using a gym close to the hospital to train on her own while I was resting. After the 5 months, they finally removed the devices. I was told not to exercise for another 5 months to continue recovering. I contacted a practitioner back in the states to do monthly checkups. I knew from experience that light lifting can help with recovering. I ignored the advice and started lifting again after 1 month. By month 8 of the whole process, I was completely healed. Conservative projections said that I would gain 2-3 inches in height. The bones were healing so fast, that I doubled that amount. I gained 6 inches in my femurs and over 4 inches on my arms. I was now standing at 5'4" and could not have been happier with the procedures. The only disappointing thing was that stretching out the bones also stretches out the muscles. My biceps dropped down from 21 to 16 inches from being stretched. My quads dropped from 29 inches, down to a still respectable 24 inches. It took quite a bit of getting used to being 6 inches taller. Something as simple as being in the kitchen was difficult. We had been living in that house for 8 years. I could have walked around with my eyes closed and found anything (even eyes closed and using the stool). Now it was like someone shifted around my house. Reaching for the refrigerator door was 6 inches lower and 4 inches closer. I kept jamming my hands for the first few weeks reaching for things. Light switches, oh my gosh. You just take it for granted that light switches are always in the same place. Now lower all of them by 6 inches around your house and tell me how disconcerting that is. Although there were troubles, I was still kinda hooked at that point. The positives of having access to 10 more inches of space (6 in height and 4 on my reach) was absolutely amazing. But I wanted more. Five weeks after I was cleared from the first surgeries, I was on another plane. This time it would be tibia/fibula and radius/ulna surgery. Admittedly, I was a little bit more nervous about having four bones broken. That was four ways complications could arise. Things went even more smoothly than the first time - bones broken, devices inserted, and 4 months of lengthening. My beautiful wife was there again, keeping me strong. You know what, I changed my mind - I was doing this for her because she deserved the best version of me and I wanted to give that to her. Once more, I ignored advice and started light workouts to help speed up healing. In under two months, I was cleared. This was another very successful round of surgeries. I gained 4 inches in height and 3 inches on my arms. There I stood, the same height as my wife. The first time I was able to stand without a walker or bracers, she just stared at me in complete shock. Then, we wept in each others' arms about how much of a life changer all of this would be. So a little over a year ago, I started this whole process at 4'10" and now was 5'8" with access to 17 inches more of the world than I had before. I was finally up to the normal stature of 7.5 heads tall, although a couple inches shorter than the average person. There was a problem, though. I had not anticipated what my arms would look like compared to the rest of my body. Compared to my legs, my arms looked perfectly fine. However, compared to my torso, I looked like a gorilla. My hands were well beneath my groin. In fact, they could touch past mid-thigh without bending over. My wife and I discussed it and she was very supportive of anything I wanted as long as it made me happy. Before my recovery was finished, we had already made the plans. The day after I got cleared by the doctor, we were on a plane again to get an experimental spine lengthening surgery. This one did not seem as horrific as the legs and arms since nothing was being broken. Basically, they would insert vertebrate spacers up the length of the spine. They also needed to include spacers in the ribcage or I would be prone to getting a hunchback. The spacers in the ribcage would dissolve and be absorbed by the body over the course of 2 years, with most of the material being dissolving around the 6 month point. The spinal spacers were much more complicated since the lats, traps, spinalis, serrates and a whole host of other muscles needed to compensate in their attachment points. The majority of patients recovered to normal mobility. A small number had decreased mobility and even fewer had increased mobility. With my back's already large muscles and my body's natural (and chemical) abilities for building muscle, the doctors felt that the decreased mobility was a slim to none chance of happening. So the surgery proceeded as planned. The doctors were very happy with the results, but I did need 2 months of bedrest and to wear a brace covering my entire torso up to my skull during that time and for 4 months after that. Unfortunately, there was no way around recovering with the brace on. It restricted most movement and even sitting/standing was a struggle. Getting in and out of bed was more like rolling around and propping myself up with my arms. We installed some ropes on hooks in various places to help me pull myself up. I could still walk around OK and we could already see the results after the initial 2 month recovery. Drum roll, please... It was an absolutely crazy result. After the 2 month recovery, I stood at 6'2" - a gain of another 6 inches. The doctors said that expansion would continue throughout the 4 months until most of the ribcage spacers dissolved. At that point, there would be too much pressure on the spinal spacers and growth would come to a halt. Boy were those doctors right. By the time the brace came off, I had gained another 5 inches. My wife could not contain herself whenever we were together. She admitted that having someone a foot taller than her (almost) was always a secret dream of hers. She preferenced it by assuring me that she would love me at any height. But being 6'7" was just so freaking hot. It was just nice for me that my arms hung down to a normal area. I was no longer a gorilla man. In addition, being able to reach things 28 inches further away than where I could reach two years ago was out of this world. I was starting to forget what life was like as a short man. I never heard a snicker or a joke about my height. It never crossed anybodies' minds whether or not I was my wife's child. But I still was not completely happy. I loved my proportions when I was short. The 22 inch wide shoulders at 4'10" are crazy impressive looking, but not so much at 6'7". An average guy at 5'10" has a shoulder width of 18 inches. When I was short, I boasted being 47% wider proportionally to the average guy. Now at 6'7", I was only 8% bigger. My wife did not like the idea of another surgery. Partially because she felt that height was the only thing holding me back in life and also because surgery meant recovery time and no sex. I convinced her that I just wanted 3-4 inches more width and I was done. No more surgeries after that and life would finally resume. I also threw in that clavicle surgery would not affect anything downstairs and we could still have quite a bit of fun. On a flight, under the knife, and back into recovery. The surgery turned out much like the leg/arm lengthings. My clavicles were broken and then set up in the little devices. The doctors said to expect around 1 inch on each side. I had wanted at least 3, but 2 would be better than nothing. At least that would double me up to 15% wider than average. Recovering went well. After 4 months, I was back home with the devices taken off. That surgery definitely hit me harder that the previous ones. I needed some extra physical therapy as just light weights would not have done the trick. I worked through it and came out the other side 5 months later. I was very happy with the results. I got 3 inches on one side and 2.75 inches on the other. The quarter inch was barely noticeable. The 28 inch wide shoulders was absolutely noticeable. As promised to the wife, I was finally done. The width did not make a difference to her, as she got back into the groove of jumping me at first sight. I was happy being 37% wider than average with a huge added bonus of extending my reach by another 3 inches. I could now reach 31 inches further than I could have 3 years ago. I also measured slightly more than a massive 8.5 heads tall. If the normal was 7.5 heads and the ideal 8 heads tall, I became the alpha at 8.5. I did not even care that my head looked small on my body. I had already promised my wife no more surgeries, but why would I want to increase the size of my head anyway? I had to ease back into the gym. Other than light weights and physical therapy, I had not been lifting for 3 years. Muscle memory kicked in and I was able to at least get my stats back up pretty quickly. I regained my 16 inch biceps and 24 inch quads. My waist was very interesting. With my spine being extended, it allowed my organs to have more space and brought my waist down to a tiny 27 inches. While I had a massive waist at 8 inches past ideal while at 4'10", I was actually 9 inches under the ideal waist size of a 6'7" person. My pecs and lats were also interesting. I had lost a lot of the thickness because they were now stretched tight in both the horizontal direction from the clavicle lengthening and vertical direction from the spinal lengthening. My ribcage did not grow or shrink during all of this - just the ribs spread apart a bit more. The stretched lats provided much more width and actually gave me a 60 inch chest measurement. My 60 inch chest was now bigger than my previous 58 inch height. Imagine that, flattening your muscles by stretching them and still gaining quite a few inches. Needless to say, I approved of the 2.2 chest to waist ratio. My traps also looked slightly improved. Since my squatty neck had been lengthened, the traps were about 50% taller than before. So with my recovery complete and some small amount of size regained, I began to push myself harder and harder. My wife totally got in on that action as we drove each other to reach new heights (ha... ha...). My delts, arms, legs, pecs, lats and traps were all flattened, stretched and tight as hell. It was brutal really getting into it again. But I have always had really stocky endo-meso genetics. In the offseason, I would jump up to 260 pounds of prime beef at 4'10". During contests, I could swing around 210 pounds. I didn't get a pro card for nothing. I put in all of the effort that the big boys would. Just because I was "tall and lanky" now didn't mean that I would go easy on myself. Plus, it is not like brain suddenly switched my genetics to ectomorph. Back in the gym, I started at around 225 pounds - post surgeries. Before all of the surgeries, I was hovering around 235 in my retirement. I lost 10 pounds from spending most of 3 years in bed resting. Plus, you do not really feel like eating much with braces and devices and needing a walker to get around. I quickly gained 5 pounds, then 10, then 25. My body craved filling out the way I used to be and at 250 I definitely looked like I belonged in the gym again. The hard stretch that all of my muscles were under just needed to be pumped a little. The fascia was as taunt as it could possibly get and I started going to get deep tissue massages weekly to break it up. By six months post surgery, I had regained most of my former stats. At 290 pounds (65 pounds in six months), my arms were 22 inches cold. My quads were 32 inches - dwarfing my previous leg measurements. They always did respond well during training. I gained 2 inch on my waist, which was fine since I gained 10 inches on my chest. My traps and delts were filling in nicely. Even with most of those stats surpassing my previous numbers, I still felt like I looked very thin with a giant's body. At least in comparison to my tank-like looks from before. My wife and I kept pushing and pushing, harder and harder. She entered a powerlifting meet three months later and completely demolished the competition. We were not done yet, though. I still wanted to give her the best version of myself and she was completely motivated by my transformation. If we weren't about to throw up every exercise in the gym, we considered it a failed workout. By one year post surgery we looked like total beasts. Nobody even talked to us at the gym any more. We would spend hours driving the other to lift one more rep and tossing plates on and off of the bars for max weight and drop sets. She decided to cut for a few months to enter a fitness competition. By the time that rolled around, the organizers begged her to join the bodybuilding side instead as she did not have the "fitness model look" anymore. She didn't care what she entered as long as she had some fun. I quickly taught her bodybuilder poses since she wouldn't be able to get away with her normal posing routine. Her shear size just blew away everybody else. She took the super heavyweight and overall categories. Things continued the same for the next few years. I got up to 452 pounds and am still fairly lean. The whole time, my muscles just wanted to fill out instead of adding overall mass like regular bulking would do. And fill out they did. My biceps are now just a hair shy of 37 inches. Way bigger than my legs used to be. My quads passed 50 inches a couple of months ago and now sit at 52 inches. Out of everything, they are still responding the best to the extra 6 inches they were given. My waist is up to 34, which is still 2 inches under the ideal for my height and 3 inches under my biceps. Heck, it is still one inch below what it used to be when I was short. My pecs jut out 4 inches past my ribcage and clavicle without even flexing. With being stretched in two directions and now filled out, a single one of my pecs is close to half the size of what my entire torso used to be. Both together, including the cleavage that rivals my wife's, are definitely bigger than my old torso. I no longer have a V-taper, it is more like a U-taper with my lats just flaring out. In an overhead pose, the width of my lats is somewhere around three or four times that of my waist. With the help of my lats adding slabs of muscle since they have so much extra space, my chest measurement is 95. Whoever said that a chest should be 12 inches over a waist obviously skipped chest and back day. Having a 2.8 chest to waist ratio has definitely got to become the new ideal. I cannot even grasp my traps any more. Then again, I have tiny 4'10" sized hands. Even more funny are my 4'10" sized feet. I wear a US size 6 for the comfort even though I could probably fit into a size 5. But my traps stick out so much that I can do squats without holding on to the bar. It can just fit in the groove formed from my traps popping from my neck. Just once I did a squat with a bar on my traps, a bar resting in the four inches of space at the top of my chest and a dumbbell in each hand. It was pretty epic - you can probably still find the video of me doing it somewhere on Youtube. Finally, we come to my delts. They were difficult to get going. With the clavicle lengthened, but scapula still the same, my delts were stretched in the weirdest angles out any muscle. Now, they do have some nice sized caps on them again, though I can feel that they are no where near finished with growing. The caps add an extra 2 inches to my width on each side. That puts me around 32 inches wide from tip to tip. I would take the hinderance of not being able to fit straight through most doorways over not having the height to reach things any day. I guess instead of a V or U shape, the T-shaped body might be a more accurate description, although my quads beg to differ with that assessment. I remember being worried about my width being less than 10% above average. I am closing in on 60% above average now and still growing wider. Since I am pretty lean, I think I could cut around 30 pounds and be contest ready at 420. If I do come out of retirement, I will probably need to assume a new identity for registration purposes. I would rather not deal with the questions that might arise. I gained almost 2 feet in height, close to a foot in width and doubled my weight. All the while, my waist shrunk by an inch and looks even smaller since it is elongated and can get compared to the monstrous chest and legs. Why even bother, though? Too many questions and too much of a hassle to get into that arena again. I personally know that I would wipe the floor with anybody on the stage. Instead, I should focus on gaining those last 50 pounds and see how I look at 500. Maybe if I really push my legs, I could make them as big as I used to be tall. I am just 6 inches away and have already put 28 inches on those tree trunks in the past few years. I know I promised the wife no more surgeries, but I wonder if she would be opposed to a penis lengthening surgery. I mean I used to be 8 inches at 4'10" and it does not look as impressive on my new body. Plus, my 7 inch girth compared to 52 inch quads makes me feel a little inadequate - though I still do not get any complaints. The doctors said during the spinal surgery said that there was a very small chance of increased mobility - yeah, I got that. The entire length of my spine gained around a 160% increase to flexibility. I am like an acrobat in the bedroom. With my massive muscles and mobility, I can contort into positions that have never even been dreamed of. Anyway, I lost my train of thought. Proportionally, my penis looks incredibly small. I think 11x8 would look a little bit better, though 12x10 would make it more in proportion to my legs. We'll see. My retirement has been grand and it is only getting better...
  15. Newmassaddict

    First story - Growth, Part 1

    I have been reading stories on this site (and the old one) for many years. I'm in awe of the talented writers that post stories here. Recently, I have started writing my own stories. This is something I have been working on and have received some positive feedback. I hope you enjoy it. Growth 1 It’s been happening more and more lately. I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror or window reflection and my heart skips a beat. This used to happen only on occasion; during a particularly gruelling workout. I would see my reflection in the gym mirror and have to do a double take. These days, its happening outside the gym, when I’m not even pumped. It all started two months ago when I finally broke the 300lb barrier. I remember just staring at the scale for well over a minute. 301.5lbs it read. I finally tore myself away from the display and lumbered towards the bathroom. Instantly, my cock was rock hard. I could feel its 9” girth pressing against my gym shorts. I stopped in front of the bathroom mirror and literally ripped my tank top off. I knew anyone else in the locker room could've heard the tearing sound but I didn’t care. I contorted myself into a most muscular crab pose. My traps rose to touch my earlobes. Thick veins erupted on the surface of my tanned skin. Sweat immediately started to glisten on my hulking shoulders. Deep striations and more veins coverd their surface. My inhumanly huge biceps harden like granite as they reached their 25” maximum size. I grunted and flexed even harder. My bloated triceps exploded in perfect ripped horseshoes as my forearms tripled in size. At 20” of thick, vein covered monstrosities, they were larger than most men’s biceps. I could feel my chest filling with blood as it rose to meet my chin. Striations three inches deep appeared. Each overdeveloped fibre twitched and moved with raw power. I was growling now and my arms started to shake as I held the pose. Through the small gaps between my arms and chest I could see my ripped abs expanding in a solid powerful column. Even though I could not see it; I flared my impossibly wide back to the point where the skin felt as if it might split open. I managed to take a step back as the seams of my gym shorts started to tear. A network of veins so thick and engorged covered every visible inch. At 37” each quad fought with the other for room. Sweat ran down my quads to my calves. Even though my massive quads prevented my legs from touching at the knees there was barely an inch separating my calves. At last measure they we over 22” of pure beef. Even unflexed they were the most overdeveloped calves I had even witnessed. I had now been holding this body torturing pose for close to a minute. Sweat was pooling at my feet, my whole body was trembling and I was growling like a rabid animal. My eyes darted around my reflection as 301.5lbs ran though my head. Summoning an incomprehensible inner power I somehow flexed even harder. As I watched my already hulking frame expand even bigger I could feel huge amounts of hot cum running down my legs. I released to pose as I hit orgasm and stumbled back and slammed into the wall behind me bracing myself on the counter to stop from collapsing on the floor. I had never cum without touching myself before.
  16. LeSeigneur

    The Labours of Hugh

    The Labours of Hugh By Chip Masterson For the Seigneur de M. “My God, what is that beast?” My master and I stood in awe as we watched a lone man carry an entire butt of beer on his back and gently drop it in place. You could hear it slosh - a thousand pounds of beer carried as lightly as a side of beef! But what looked like a man – or the absolute ideal of what a man could be – had the face of boy no older than I. His downy face looked untouched by a razor, yet the width of his shoulders rivaled every champion assembled here, with helmet-sized shoulders and chest muscles as thick as a man’s torso. His bare arms dwarfed my skinny legs, yet his waist, carved into grooves like a cathedral column, was flatter than mine. His legs were covered with several boar-hides stitched together, and with calves pushing them up like a giant’s fists. As he turned to leave, I could see he was so thick from the front edge of his chest to the highest peaks on his back, that if I were to stand with my back against his arm, his torso breadth would my shoulder-width. That back! A dozen crevices zigzagged among the humped cobbles and stony plateaus, undulating and transforming like a landscape in a dream. I pinched myself – I was awake. My master, Sir Alain, a knight of the royal court, had come to Chateaulin bearing the king’s congratulations to Count Houel on the birth of his second son. The Count was throwing a birth festival before hosting the folkmoot, and my master had entered the lists. He was speaking with the Marshal of the castle, Sir Geoff. Sir Geoff looked amused by our gawking. “That’s Hugh, one of my boys,” Sir Geoff explained. “He’s about the age of your boy here.” “Impossible!” Sir Alain sputtered. “I’ve seen quarry workers who couldn’t rival him for size!” “I rescued him after his parents exposed him in the woods,” Sir Geoff continued. “I soon discovered why – when he became impatient for food or cleaning, he smashed his crib to splinters with his tiny newborn fists. They feared raising a prodigy, but in some way, I felt commanded to care for him – I guessed then it was the voice of God, but now….” He paused, and changed course. “He’s very lonely – the other boys avoid him. He spends a great deal of time hunting alone in the forest.” “The Count allows a boy in the chase?” Sir Alain sustained shock after shock, and he hadn’t even mounted his steed yet. “The Count and all the farmers are grateful,” Sir Geoff explained. “Since he began entering the forest, we haven’t seen or heard a single wolf – it’s been years now. He eats like several men, and I can hardly increase his rations in front of the other boys, so he supplements his hunger with boars and other things he catches with his hands. The husbandmen even give him a portion of meat at every slaughter in thanks for his protection. It’s almost pagan,” Geoff added with a wry smile. “What a remarkable warrior he would be,” Sir Alain marveled, “if only he had a better station, and not born for the front line. Robert Guiscard could take all of Italy and drive Emperor Constantine into the arms of the Turks. But perhaps the work of a beast is a more fitting utilization of his unique – talents – after all. Providence is never wrong.” Sir Geoff looked at him sideways with his arms crossed, and said nothing. Soon we were preparing for the joust, a new form where, instead of a mass charge around the field, two knights face each other one-on-one and try not to get killed. I was nervous as a girl, though only King Philip could beat my master (though “beat” might not be a completely accurate description of what actually happened). My master was called against Sir Geoff and the knights rode out, the sunlight dancing off their shiny mail hauberks. They leveled their lances, and at the signal, charged. Almost immediately a strap on Sir Geoff’s saddle broke and he wobbled – but through his narrow visor, my master must not have noticed. Geoff couldn’t brace himself for a thrust and my master glanced a blow off his shoulder that sent Geoff spinning through the air and landing with a hearty smack. Everyone rose in silent suspense. My master had already turned about, still not realizing what had happened, not seeing see Geoff’s boys rush to his aid, . He began his parade – but a spur only jostled him in his saddle – his horse neighed but didn’t move. He kicked again but his mount’s effort to spring only resulting in it being pulled back into the air. My master dropped onto his back in the mud. Stunned, Alain looked up and saw Hugh holding his horse by the tail, fury etched into his handsome young face. “A strap broke – it wasn’t far, you should have stopped!” Hugh yelled – a shocking breach of order. My master flailed but couldn’t rise. My fellow knaves hesitated at the sight of Hugh – only I had quickly sprinted over – so Hugh cheekily slid his arm underneath my masters and effortlessly pulled him to his feet. They were the same height – maybe Hugh was my age, but he was easily a foot taller. “Apologize at once!” Hugh demanded, pressing his chest forward and making my master step awkwardly back. The audience gasped again at these unprecedented offenses, the Count himself shocked speechless. Instinctively raising his shield against Hugh’s “well-armed” aggression, Alain glared past him, glaring at a helmetless Geoff, who winced as boys removed his armor. “Sir, control your boy before his unseemly pride proves fatal!” Whether the threat irked Hugh more than being ignored, I’ll never know, but I saw Hugh’s jaw clench. In a blur, his arm sprang into the air, parallel with the ground, and punched my master’s shield in a quick, efficiently lethal motion – as if my master were livestock for slaughtering. Alain stumbled backward, sucking for air – the blow had split his shield and the horribly dented steel boss had torn the leather hide, sliced through the mail and sunk into Alain’s chest. The leather hide covering the shield trapped his strapped arms – he couldn’t breathe, and couldn’t pull it off. He fell on his knees, stunned and bleeding. The boys huddled in terror so I pleaded with Hugh, “Help him! He’s dying!” Rage melted from Hugh’s face like a passing storm and he realized with alarm what his immeasurable power had done – and to a man ostensibly his “better.” Hugh grabbed each side of the shield and wrenched them apart, shredding the hide covering and exposing the boss. He pulled that out and blood spurted against his face. He put his fingers into the mail and ripped it open like rotten cloth, pressing on the wound to staunch the flow until my fellows braved his proximity and aided our master. The doctor rushed forward, relieved that he could bind the wound without having the remove the mail shirt first. Count Houel rose imperiously and called for Geoff. I couldn’t hear what they said, but Geoff kept nodding and Houel furiously pounded his fist in his palm. Hugh stood a few feet from me with his head down. I smelled something sweet and salty I couldn’t quite place – I closed my eyes and it tickled the back of my mind. Like a memory I haven’t lived yet. I’d secretly taken the twisted and torn boss, and now surreptitiously fingered it behind my back – feeling the shape of his knuckles where they turned it inside-out, the warped edge that had torn and hurt him it should be protecting. Fortunately it missed his heart and lungs – but it’s the kind of scar you want from battle – not from a boy’s fist. Geoff went to Alain first, confirming the punishment, then came over and placed his hand on Hugh’s shoulder. His hand rose and fell like a rowboat at sea as Hugh breathed. Hugh nodded and walked around the center rail. A riffle disturbed the female stands, back and forth like a cauldron being stirred. Two big yoked draft horses were brought out and I understood what Hugh faced. I dropped to my knee beside my master and said, “Please, my lord, please spare his life! I’m sure he can be reformed! I believe he can do anything, anything he sets his mind to.” Alain patted my arm. “We’re only frightening him with what will happen if he doesn’t learn his place. The ostlers won’t let him get hurt. Too badly.” As I helped him into chair, I heard Hugh say, “What about my other arm?” My balls tingled. I shifted from foot to foot as a strange irritation grew in my groin. Two more horses were brought up from the stable. Hugh stuck out his arms, releasing feral tangles of reddish-gold curls sprouting beneath them and spraying a mist of sweat. With ropes, the ostlers lashed Hugh’s wrists to the yokes. Then, to guarantee the horses wouldn’t bolt and kill him, their bridles were lashed to the corners of the court, with enough slack that they could apply a torturous pressure that would remind Hugh of his place in the future. The horses fidgeted nervously, nostrils flaring and hooves kneading the dirt. Houel made an angry speech about honor and respect, but sensing a universal impatience, yielded Alain the field. Alain lifted his hand, and dropped it wearily. The ostlers promptly goaded the horses forward. The ropes leading from Hugh’s wrists twisted, but so did the ropes between his wrists and shoulders – his arms that almost dwarfed the haunches of the horses themselves. Each horse took several steps before its hooves slid against the dirt. Alain nodded again and the ostlers urged the horses harder – but the beasts could only lean into their bridles until the effort made them shake. Hugh stared at a point in the sky, his torso rising and falling, his legs planted like oaks. The stable boys urged the horses forward, but their legs could only dig grooves in the ground. Hugh turned his arms slightly, aligning his heaped shoulders with the winglike flare of his back, and refused to move. A sheen of sweat dappled the burnished golden down covering him, and I caught that sweet, wild scent stirring me – though there was no breeze. I realized it came from under Hugh’s arms. The horses smelled something different – their nostrils flared and with a single shriek, they bolted – or rather, attempted it. Hugh panicked at the sound and tensed his arms – two horses stumbled onto their forelegs. Hugh bolted them all in place. His hands gripped the ropes with white knuckles and his unexpected restraint multiplied panic into terror. The horses threw themselves against the ropes, bucking and springing, but only rising straight up instead of forward. The teams danced side to side, seeking any advantage over the terrible weight that pinned them down – and Hugh, squinting, jerked the ropes tight and stopped their dancing. Hugh pulled his shoulder blades together, his flesh humping and squeezing together. This dragged the horses backwards, and they screamed and stamped the ground in fear and fury. Hugh bent his elbows, tightening his arm muscles, and sixteen hooves skidded toward him half a metre. His hands twisted and he gripped the rope farther along, pulling it toward him as his swollen arms turned purple with veins. Though only half-bent, the meat of his forearms pressed against his bulbous upper arms. The horses’ eyes rolled with panic, their mouths frothing and chomping their bits. Hugh closed his eyes and, swaying side to side as he absorbed the animals’ combined efforts, raised his fists higher and brought them closer together. The reins to the court posts tautened and, as the audience gawped in amazement, the horses themselves rose off the ground and floundered, writhing helplessly in mid-air. Hugh twisted the rope again and drew more into his relentless fingers, his chest rippling with dents and ridges as he fought to bring his fists together, lungs heaving. The animals twisted as they stretched between the posts and Hugh, their shrieks strangled by the pressure into hoarse gasps of desperation. Urine and shit poured out of each animal as Hugh’s inexorable hands reached for each other. A shocking crack of splitting timbers shook the stands as the posts gave way – but not enough. A groan like stretching leather was followed with a horribly wet FWWWWUMMMPPPPP! Hugh’s fists knocked against each other – because his arms had ripped four horses apart, spewing blood and gore over his rounded masses and into the crowd. The torn torsos flew towards him and clumped into the dirt while the head-half rebounded into stands. Some people screamed and ran but some couldn’t move, shaking or trembling. Flushed with victory, Hugh smiled broadly and quickly shredded his rope. He opened his eyes and saw with disbelief what carnage his arms had wrought. His skin glowing and his entire body heaved for air, a weird pride surmounting the grotesquerie. Young maidens surged from the stands, yammering and gazing devotedly at him. Pleased (and a little stunned), he flexed his arms and the girls caught their breath – a couple swooned. The bush-covered, deep round pocket that sank between his back and chest and smelled warm and inviting. One bold lass reached out to touch him, giggling, her fingers flying back as if burned. “It’s okay,” Hugh said. “I can make it bigger.” Hugh began pumping his arms, and muscles still swollen from the struggle turned from red to violet, with blue veins snaking under the skin. Each pump expanded his arms got bigger, until their round shape changed and a second peaked cap rose above the bulk. The maidens were all modestly attired – not a bosom in sight – and yet his presence, his heat, his scent compelled their hands to reach for him, regardless of propriety. Several of the girls swarmed around him, their fingers exploring his physique as they might a statue of Hercules. With a huge smile, Hugh dropped his arms and thrust out his chest, letting them uselessly poke their fingers into its obdurate surface, feel its edges and contours. I could see it dawning on their astonished faces how Hugh’s living flesh mocked the so-called armor of the knights. As their fingertips traced the arabesque of ridges in his back, I could also see a single pulse along one leg of his trousers. Hugh’s own eyes now brightened as the fawning girls sparked pleasure in his man-parts, which in turn shadowed his handsome face with anxiety. Despite his advance development, I guessed he’d always used his arms and legs as tools, never experienced a rush of triumphant potency flooding his limbs, then reaching beyond them and enthralling the opposite sex. The girls’ desire sparked lightning which flowed through his muscles to his manhood, forever fusing sexual arousal with displaying his body and exerting his strength. As if he were entirely a living erection. A savage bellow erupted from suddenly jostling shrubbery and in a cloud of dust, a massive bull appeared, its nose bloody where it ripped away from its ring. The girls shrieked and fled, many simply crouching behind Hugh. The bull faced Hugh and pawed the ground, challenging him. I heard my master say, “There’s something in Hugh’s sweat that disturbs stallions and bulls alike. It maddened those horses, and now our bull senses his dominance threatened.” Before anyone could move, the bull lowered its broad head and charged, lance-sharp horns swinging wildly. Hugh growled back and actually ran at the bull, bulging arms cocked and ready to spring. They met in a thunderclap of bone striking bone-hard muscle as Hugh slammed his chest against the bull’s skull. Each animal bounced back from the impact, the bull staggering with its tongue out. Hugh recovered first and grabbed the horns low. Digging his mighty legs into the soft earth, he shoved the bull’s skidding hooves back, away from the stands. But the bull seemed locked on his enemy – it swung and shook its huge head – or attempted to. Hugh grunted and rocked sideways; his shoulders turning ominously toward the beast, each like a head sprouting a thicker horn. The bull bucked his head until Hugh slowly, steadily, unmercifully slowed it into immobility. The bull pulled back and twisted its thick neck the other way – but Hugh twisted his wrists and raised his elbows, checking its progress and holding it tight. With a strained groan, Hugh forced the shuddering head back up. The bull tried to toss Hugh up into the air but Hugh’s grip held it like tar. With a war cry, Hugh exploded and slammed the bull’s head down against the ground. Angered, stunned, the bull leaped forward – but didn’t get far. Hugh’s shoulders sank back, soaking up the bull’s strength and then driving it back out against the animal with greater force. In quick bursts Hugh thrust the bull back; its set hooves trenched the earth which could not withstand Hugh’s power. Trapped in superior hands – Hugh utterly controlled the head, defying the animal’s every twitch – the animal’s eyes rolled and its bellows rose in broken cries of disbelief. The crowd cheered to see this boy-man tame a bull bare-handed – so Hugh grinned and raised one fist into the air … and contained the bestial violence with one hand! The crowd’s deafening praise drowned out the bull’s chest-rumbling fury, its rippling shoulder and haunches quivering, shaking – impotent. Squealing with rage, the bull jabbed its free horn a few centimetres at Hugh. The boy brought his free fist down on the bull’s head. A crack like lightning splitting a tree shocked everyone to silence. Hugh struck the bull again, his knuckles smacking into the densest part between the horns. The bull’s knees buckled and drool looped out of its mouth. One more THWOKKK and the bull dropped flat. Shaking out his hand while the crowd cheered, Hugh walked around and stuck his arms under the bull’s belly. In one swift move he lifted the enormous beast up against his chest … and then his arms pressed it up over his head. He dropped it once against his own stony shoulders and the bull guttered an exhausted wheeze. He lifted the pull again and repeated the drop, the impact making the bull’s head loll. Finally Hugh lifted the bull over his head and carried it around the arena, giving everyone a close look before he SLAMMED it against the ground, its legs splayed out like petals. The impact clattered weapons in their racks, and some of the ladies lost their balance. The bull lay perfectly still so Hugh slapped its face several times to see if he had killed it with one fist. The bull opened its eyes, saw Hugh, licked Hugh’s hand and rolled over on its back, its enormous male-part exposed, red and glistening. Hugh held both hands over his head again like a champ. Under the crowd’s cheers I heard my master mutter, “That bull will never stud again.” “Young knave,” announced Houel once ordered was restored, “God and Fortune have placed you in the lowest estate, in which your earlier offenses to Sir Alain are unpardonable. And yet your manly vigor and dauntless courage indicate a nobler origin, one in which your outburst would not only be unexceptional, but possibly demanded as a point of honor. With your parentage unknown, we may never know the truth – except through your honorable and obedient actions henceforth. I bid you to mind your tongue and temper, obey my vassal Sir Geoff in all things, and your God-thewn limbs may one day raise you to an estate commensurate with your valor.” The Count then turned to the events planned for after noon dinner, but my eyes were drawn to his left arm, which had disappeared behind his back. It appeared to be rhythmically twisting back and forth – or rather, in and out – as he spoke of Hugh. I doubt anyone else noticed – all eyes remained on the smiling hero, his cowed bull; Hugh’s innocent freckles belied a ferocity lurking underneath. I had to see to my master’s horse. Hugh led me to the stable, saying eagerly, “You need to clean the hooves, right?” he asked me. Before I could so much as unstrap the saddle, Hugh ducked underneath the stallion and lifted him over his head – this after so many exertions already! The horse panicked at first, but Hugh’s deep voice and commanding presence calmed it – I even saw the head of its maleness peeking out, as with the bull. My own trousers felt heavy and tight and I stood riveted before the column of living power before me. “Well, go on!” he said. “I’m hungry!” I grabbed a pick and indulged in cleaning each hoof without bending over – I barely had to move the stallion’s legs. When I indicated I was done – I had no voice – Hugh gently put the horse down and deftly unbuckled the tack, which he effortlessly carried, saddle in one hand and all the dressings in the other, to a bench and rack against the wall. When he came back, he asked if he could brush the animal instead. “I didn’t like hurting those horses before, or the bull,” he said sheepishly. “Something just came over me I can’t put into words – like when I’m hunting. I’m usually gentle here.” He wielded the brush like a pro, the stallion responding with shivers and affectionate nudges – one animal acknowledging the superior protection and care of another. I marveled, not for the first time, how some animals sense danger in his aroma, while others are soothed … and aroused. Hugh ate separately from the other boys, who swarmed around the young squire. The noble boy kept looking at Hugh with jealousy, but managed to captivate the other boys with tales of court love affairs and adventures. Only one boy looked our way … and he too looked jealous when he caught my eye. Hugh finished his portion of stew before I had barely begun, and fetched a bag full of preserved meats from his stash. The rough burlap had his name crudely embroidered on it, and while I finished my plate, the boy-man devoured several hunks of dried meat, teeth ripping the hard flesh apart with animal hunger. The morning’s excitement, and being both full and so near Hugh’s humid heat, made me long for a nap. But Hugh jumped up and dragged me with an iron grip out to watch the afternoon events. When prizes were awarded, everyone looked at Hugh as if they knew he deserved not only the top prize, but the whole array of jewelry. The winners too seemed abashed, even my master, who came in third overall and got a beautiful golden torque with three emeralds. I noted that, though decorative, it could fit his neck – but not Hugh’s. I had to attend my master at dinner and eat with the other boys, but when we were dismissed, I left them and went back to the stable. He brightened like dawn when he saw me – his new friend – and we went outside and sat on a stone in the cool evening. Without a word, he draped his heavy arm around my shoulders and I stiffened to support its weight. After watching the stars come out in companionable silence, he yawned like a lion and guided me to his lonely straw pallet, away from the boys on the other side of the animal stalls. Hugh dropped his trousers pulled off his loin cloth, sniffed it, nodded and put it back on. His virile member swung away like a pendulum – but most remarkably, it was utterly smooth. I had thought, given the maturity of his armpits, that he’d be woolly below as well – but that growth had not yet started, it seemed, no more than his beard. How poised between two worlds he seemed, striding them both like the Colossus of Rhodes. Unexpectedly, I felt fear sleeping next to a creature so powerful and, worried he might crush me in his sleep (or in a bear-hugging dream), I curled into a tight ball on the edge of the mat. The night turned frigid and a howling wind whipped around the stable. But Hugh burned like a fully-stoked furnace, his pale skin radiant. I heard him say, “Are you afraid of me too?” I rolled over and, shivering, told him, “I didn’t think I was, but suddenly I felt very tiny.” He looked hurt and said, “I never hurt little creatures. That would be terrible. I don’t even step on worms after it rains.” He extended his arm and I wormed closer, his heat like a heavy woolen blanket embracing me. My head was smaller than the pillow of his arm, not stony at all but firm and, in some way, compelling and safe. He saw the arch in my loincloth and looked around excitedly – “Did girls sneak in?” When he realized we were alone, he sighed and said, “Oh, you’re like Ralph. Ralph was my friend until the others turned him against me.” “Nothing could ever turn me against you!” I blurted out. “I would pledge myself to you as your vassal forever, here and now, if you could take me.” He giggled at the ridiculous thought but nestled happily against me. “You can touch them, if you want,” he said quietly. “I never used to like it when Ralph did it, but today it felt different – all those girls’ hands. I don’t know what I felt. I sure liked it though.” “You’ve never been with a girl?” I asked in amazement, assuming he’d plowed wide and deep. He shook his head. “My master told me the story of Samson, but the truth was, his hair was a symbol of the other thing that grows out of a man. And when he lay with Delilah, she took his essence – so he became weak, her weak slave.” I realized Geoff must have been afraid of what Hugh’s youthful exuberance might do to a tender girl – or grown woman, or sheep or cow. I said nothing and placed my hand on his belly, which ran beneath my fingers like hot bricks on a cooking hearth. I explored the heavy bulk beneath his smooth skin, not clench into stones but full of rumbling threat, rising and falling with his breath. It felt like a city street brought to life, the cobbles able to yield or harden at will. My hand crept up to where his chest rose up like an escarpment – though he lay flat on his back! – and spread like wings to either side. I could barely reach over his chest and rub the solid mound of his shoulder, and stroke the junction where his chest and arm came together like the stanchion of a rope bridge. He raised his forearm and drew my face in his humid armpit. Though I wasn’t nearly finished exploring his manly terrain, the heat and sweet pit-fumes and soft tickling hairs overwhelmed me and I shot my seed in several fierce spurts, my whole being jerking and one foot cramping up. I don’t know if he noticed, but he didn’t let me go – I think he’d already fallen asleep. My release, after the day’s events, left me empty and I too slept in his dark musky chamber. I awoke before dawn – Hugh was already at his chores. Duke Conan would be arriving this morning to begin the folkmoot (there’s quite a queue of gripers this time around, I hear), and the great entertainments would continue, including a troupe of acrobatic Prussian dwarves said to be astounding and funny. A post rider ripped by us and headed straight into the castle. Word went around that we were to assemble, and soon Count Houel mounted the rampart along with by Sir Geoff and the seneschal, an old man, called for everyone’s attention. “My esteemed brother-in-law, Conan Duke of Bretagne,” Houel announced, “shall arrive presently – yes, yay, quiet, quiet! – and he sends ahead not only his salutations – please, quiet! – but also a demand: William, Duke of Normandy, has taken Maine - yes, an outrage! – and our lord expects Normandy shall enter our lands as well, with or without invitation. Every able-bodied man of service age is to immediately prepare for a dress inspection with what weapons and armor he is able to supply, so that we may assess the state of our defense and prepare accordingly. We shall gather again an hour before dinner ready for war and our lord’s review.” He clapped his gauntlets and hell erupted as everyone leapt pall-mall to get home and dust/shine what rusty pieces of tin may decorate their mantels. The Bretons hadn’t seen much action in recent years other than border skirmishes here and there. Now local politics had now thrown Bretagne’s scent under William’s nose and he was chasing it down like the dog of war he is. For armor, the knaves generally tussled over left-overs and scraps from the smithies, but nothing fit Hugh. An older boy remembered an unusually stout squire many years ago who had left mail behind. It was out of style but I doubt anyone would notice that, if it fit. Hugh had to borrow a tunic from the blacksmith – he rarely wore a shirt of any sort. I spread tallow over the arms and shoulders of the borrowed tunic, trying not to linger in the all the rippling valleys and crests which thrummed like volcanos even while relaxed. I and three other boys then lowered the hauberk over his head. We could have restyled the hauberk, repositioning the giant belly links to Hugh’s shoulders where they were needed, but we hadn’t time. We jerked and yanked hung our entire weight off the armor, squeezing it around the outcroppings his his chest, shoulders and back. It hung loose halfway down his midsection and when he put down his arms, the sleeves didn’t quite reach the elbow. The coif fit fine over his head but was tight around his neck, and spread only partly as far over his upper torso as it was designed to. He started breathing fast in the constricting armor, the clinking links rattling with each breath oddly disturbing, if musical. He could barely move in any direction and looked as stiff as a giant wearing a doll’s costume. We watched in awe as the many war machines were wheeled out and lined up for demonstrations. Somehow, I thought Hugh more impressive than they. By the time Duke Conan arrived, all the pomp and ritual left us sweating in the sun, knees trembling from the weight of unaccustomed armor. A couple boys passed out, clattering to the ground, but Hugh looked fine – confined, sweatily pungeant, but unaffected by the heat. While reviewing us, Conan blinked several times when he came to Hugh. “You there, come forward,” Conan ordered. Hugh walked stiffly forward. “How can you fight? It looks like you can barely move.” Knowing he had erred in not previously providing Hugh with suitable armor in case of war – so rare was fighting in these parts – Geoff piped up and said, “He’s had a growth spurt recently and his armor is actually at the blacksmith’s for alterations--” Duke Conan silenced him, eyes glued to Hugh, and said, “I was speaking to the … boy.” He walked around Hugh, suppressing a sigh at the span from side to side, and front to back. He actually ran his fingers across Hugh’s upper back to test if this was some kind of prank. I don’t think he could tell where the steel stopped and Hugh began. Suspicious, perhaps, that beneath the tunic was steel casing of some kind – perhaps plated armor (Houel could hardly afford to fit his entire levy in plate – no one could), Conan came around and ordered Hugh to raise his arms. Then he cocked his ear, listening closely. Hugh raised his arms straight out the side. The links squirmed noisily as the hard surface below changed shape. The entire hauberk rode up several inches. “Now throw your arm back and bend it as if you were going to throw a spear.” Hugh got his arm half-way back when he got stuck. Conan exchanged a dark look with Count Houel and Hugh wiggled his torso, shifting several more belly inches up around his chest so he could move his arm all the way back. As he half-bent his arm, the links twisted and flattened around it. “Make a muscle,” Conan ordered. Hugh obliged. Hugh tightened his fist made his sinews expand, higher and wider. The mail exploded, shooting fragments of steel in both directions. The other warriors yelled and shielded themselves from the painful missiles. The Duke blinked and saw the pale reddened mound surmounting through the shattered mail, splitting the tunic as Hugh made it bigger … and bigger … and bigger still … and with a final straining grin, created two peaks and peppered us with several more links. Hugh looked eagerly at Conan for approval, but Conan simply stood there with his mouth open. So Hugh, thinking the Duke wanted to see more, held out his other arm and flexed it fully-extended. The chain mail tightened noisily while the meat of his back-arm jutted out … getting rounder … bigger … until it shamed the upper arms of most men and held the links at maximum tautness. His front-arm resembled rose in a long arch, trembling a moment against the links until they popped in the middle and ripped open, exposing the deep crevice between the two halves. Hugh then flexed his arm to match, possibly outdo, his other arm – and the mail and tunic obediently tore apart deep into the pit and over the dragon-claw undulations of his shoulder. He stood there, showing off his two beauties, and several women fainted. Female sighs and moans (or I should say, high-pitched sounds – not limited to females) sang through the assembly as he put his hands on his hips. At the same time, he moved his elbows out and widened his back in stages, left to right, left to right, so you could see his it from the front! The links chinked and jumped, the bottom rising higher and higher up his torso … and then Hugh bounced his chest muscles back and forth. Twisted steel shards blew off his chest and showered down on the crowd, often drawing blood. Even the Duke was not immune but nobody stopped him, watching him in rapt awe. Pulling his shoulders forward, he split the hauberk down the sides, tearing steel like old cloth. Strips of unhinged metal flowed off his body like oil. He kept on popping all his muscles until he reduced the tattered armor to old fringe hanging off the coif. For a moment, I felt a communal urge to spontaneously kneel. But Conan’s eyes shone avidly, and he clapped his hands together. He turned toward a pavilion set up for dinner and ordered, “Clear away the food and bring that banquet table up onto the dais. Right up there,” Conan pointed. As servants scurried, I heard him say to Houel, “I think we have a secret weapon against Normandy right here. I will test of his capacities.” Turning to Hugh, he intoned, “Young knave, come forward and show us your pith.” “Please, sire,” Hugh said, bowing and coloring deeply, “I’ve done enough lately, and it makes the other boys – they’re scared of me. I don’t want to scare people anymore.” “It’s not a request, boy!” Conan thundered. “You will do as commanded or face the consequences.” A nod from Geoff removed his objection and he nodded his obedience. Obviously the Duke hadn’t been informed about the bloodbath yesterday’s “consequences” turned into. It took four straining, huffing servants to trundle over the enormous oak-plank table over the uneven ground. While they struggled with the empty table, Hugh pulled off the coif, his arm nearly pressing against his face, and stripped off the remnants of mail and tunic. A flock of girls surrounded him, rubbing shreds of tallow-covered tunic into his white, perfect skin with a fervid devotion that would make the saints jealous. Others caressed his chest and several explored his back. Three or four of them gripped his arms and he suddenly raised them to his sides, the girls hanging off like pennants and giggling with feverish delight. He showed off how his arms charged shape, raising and lowering the girls with only the granite peaks. They swung back and forth but he stood solid as a Maypole. A couple dropped to caress his legs through the boar hides but that alarmed the ancient seneschal, who hobbled over with a loud bell and shooed them all away. The table arrived at the said, but the servants were too exhausted to lift it up the step, so four fresh servants came and heaved, fumbling, with all their might. Duke Conan grinned and commanded, “Everyone - remove your armor and pile it onto the table!” Geoff sent the dwarf troupe over to help, and as boys helped free their masters and shucked their own hauberks, the dwarves made a clever show of passing it along and, climbing upon each other’s shoulders, layering the mail and helmets with exaggerated artistry. The boards of the platform groaned and popped as the weight increased, and increased further. Just when I thought I heard the table complain as well, Conan called a halt, and ordered two goblets to be filled with wine and set at either end of the table. Reaching into a pocket inside his sleeve, Conan pulled out a small cross, gold with garnets and pearls. “If young … young …” (a servant whispered to him) “young knave Hugh can lift this table into the air without spilling so much as a drop of wine from either goblet, I will entrust his master with this, my own devotional cross, to secure his education and his future needs.” A collective gasp went up – knaves were not allowed to own gold. To have a small treasure in trust for the future was unheard of. Conan either doubted Hugh could combine vigor with dexterity and endurance … or he prayed for it with all his soul. Geoff caught Hugh’s shoulder and whispered, “Remember – when you move things quickly then stop, anything not tied down will keep moving. Slow and steady.” I could see Hugh reining his enthusiasm by the set of his jaw. He leapt onto the dais from a stand and surveyed he table from various angles. The platform cricked underneath Hugh’s feet as he circled – the links of armor tinkled and flared in the sun. His additional weight severely stressed a dais constructed to hold a dozen men. The table sported a pair of stout columns carved with spiraling grooves at each end, braced by an inconvenient trestle running the nearly three-metre length of the bankette. And undulating terrain of steel rose in layers above his head. The goblets were nearly brimful. The trestle would get caught between his legs if he straddled it – he’d never get it all the way. I saw now Conan’s strategy – not simply testing Hugh’s brawn, but his strategic thinking and adaptability. And any solution would require more than simple pith. He went around to the back so all we could see was Hugh’s bent, boar-hide covered legs under the table – the armor pile fully obscured him. He squatted and extended his arms at angles underneath. Then he straightened his legs: and the table rose steadily off the platform. Cries of awe and disbelief rifled through the crowd. The platform sank beneath his feet, the wood barking loudly. Widening his stance, Hugh seemed to drop his shoulders and press up from underneath – the towering steel swayed and flashed in the sun. He edged one foot in front of the other, boards sagging loudly from the concentrated weight. Finally, the bottom of his chest-shelf caught against the trestle. He took several deep breaths while everyone else held theirs. In one smooth movement, he powered the creaking table out and up into the air, slipped his head underneath it and shifting his hands to align with the corners for stability. A loud POPPPP! burst from the platform, which bounced dangerously beneath him. One of the builders caught his attention with a glinting knife, and pointed out where the joists were. With a grateful smile (me: jealous), Hugh slowly spread his legs until they rested on the cross-supports. Thicker trusses protested at such punishment – when it was covered with chairs and people, the platform had been silent, solid as the earth – but they took the stress. He whipped his back leg forward and the swirl of interlocking sinews that rose from his waist and twisted around each other to brace the expanse of his upper torso made the carved pillars at the table’s ends look puny. Plus, how such a narrow, flat and tightly-coiled abdomen could rise and moor the broad clustered beef that anchored his oak-branch arms … it defied belief. No blubbery “strongman” rival such power, such beauty. Sweat trickled down the gullies and trenches of his man-flesh, and his groiny-salted scent wafted insensibly through the crowd. Men stirred unwittingly, uncomfortably, some angrily, while girls and women both undulated, their own bodies responding to Hugh’s proximity by lubricating their gyrations and stirring their desires. I felt my own ass and cock discharge an oily moisture as I wiped drool off my chin. Hugh turned his hands backwards and pressed the table high. The mountains of armor shifted slightly but the tremoring goblets stayed dry. As the trestle scraped against his belly – I half-expected to see shavings fall away as Hugh’s serrations carved the wood as it rose. But of course, the ladies had massaged enough cow fat into his skin that it slid easily past them. With his arms extending above his head, his chest bulged out so far out that Hugh pressed his his chin against the top of one to brace his neck. It did not dent. With a final grunt, he thrust and locked his elbows, the bole-thick knotted arms fitting into his shoulder and chest musculature like a complex war machine. The trestle caught on his overhanging chest and bent like a bow in that final thrust – I dug my nails into my legs, afraid the wood would crack. But the squawking wood held and a cheer went up all around. All except Conan, who’s intent face sweated as profusely as Hugh’s, and whose hips jerked violently, his entire body rigid. But Hugh wasn’t done defying our imaginations. Carefully, Hugh stepped to the end of the dais and dropped down onto the first step, bending his arms to keep the table level as he descended. The stair steps squeaked until he got nearly to the bottom, when one snapped with a BANG! Everyone jumped and yelled in fear for him. But Hugh took it in stride, smoothly following the drop while scrunching his body to keep the table level. He dropped his other foot onto the ground, and walked through the last, splintering steps and risers as if they were made of straw. He carried the table directly to Conan himself. Tension gripped the crowd – what was he going to do? For a moment, I felt a flash of panic - he would hurl the table and its contents onto the Duke and pronounce himself King, defying all challengers. I even saw Conan flinch, his guards fidgeting between the call of duty and the sudden will to flee. But Hugh merely lowered the table back down so that it hovered above the ground, and turned it sideways so Conan could observe, and remove, the first unspilled goblet without having to move himself. Then he kept turning, showing Conan and the audience the rippling contours of this back, which tremored in a rapid tattoo from the strain but never flagged from their labors. My eyes were drawn to the perfect globes capping his hide-clad legs - I wanted to grab them and pull him against me – or hang on while he pressed himself into me. But I shook those thoughts out of my head. Hugh stopped again so Conan could take the second goblet and verify that not a drop had spilled from it either. The he completed his circle and, his arms and shoulders beginning to quiver, he lowered the table to the ground as if presenting it as a gift to his lord. Hugh came around, issuing a hot wind of deep breaths and looking as though he could defy Samson and Hercules together. He dropped down on one knee before Conan, his head sinking beneath the rising plateaus of his back. Hugh could barely control his quavering musculature as he recovered from the punishing victory – he vibrated with effort and stilled himself, as he had the bull. In a cracked, hollow voice, Conan said, “Riiii--” He coughed drily, drank half a goblet down and sputtered, half-choking. With wine staining his chin, he said in a tight voice, “Rise, s- … m-my boy. Where is your m-m-master?” Geoff stepped forward, beaming with pride and relief. Conan gave Geoff the golden jeweled cross, and made him swear an oath on the blood of the Savior that that treasure should be used only to secure a future fit for man who will doubtless perform feats of great renown in the service of his lord and land. Again he crowd cheered and Hugh disappeared beneath a roiling female sea. Water, oil, food passed hand to hand through the crowd to care for him where he knelt, and Conan, feeling singularly ignored, stepped over the Houel and called Geoff and Alain to them. “I had thought to test your war machines against one of the menhirs in that field over there – but I think that, once he has fed and rested, we should test them against young Hugh. That will give us a greater idea of how we could deploy him against the machines of our enemies.” Geoff clearly wanted to protest – both the test and the “use” of Hugh in place of a giant rock simply went too far. But it was not his place, and turned away and prepared to speak with Hugh about what he still must do to fully earn the jeweled cross. Myself, I felt Hugh would love dominating the biggest, mightiest mechanisms created by man – if he were fresh. The last few days, he expended more puissance than a dozen or more grown men. Any failure due to fatigue could make him very angry. And I’d seen him angry – Hugh nearly killed an armored knight with one controlled half-punch through his shield. Even a days’ delay would restore him sufficiently. Worried for him, and the rest of us, I tried to tote up how many men would have to pool their strength to accomplish Hugh’s many feats – the horses followed by the bull, then lifting a horse, then chores chores chores; and chores the next morning before bursting armor and slowly lifting a weight that nearly destroyed the dais he stood on. I could see men falling in exhausting, others rushing to sustain an enterprise for which Hugh required no assistance. I felt dizzy – such potency in one boy-man violated every sense of reason and nature. It was a breach in the world, some supremacy stepping down from the world beyond and stretching human belief to its breaking point. I remembered Jacob had wrestled with an angel, and held it helpless in his arms for three solid days before the angel was able to treacherously injure Jacob’s hip, and escape ignominiously the patriarch’s iron grasp. If men have lived before who could dominate even the angels of God, then perhaps such a man could exist again – not a pagan mythical Hercules, but real man, created by God … perhaps to test our faith. See if we would worship the miracle worker or the one true God who made him. I prayed for guidance through this confusion … but my hands weren’t the only part of me pointing towards heaven. “Jealous?” Alain said, coming up behind me, making me jump. “Ah! Sir, uh, n-no…” I stuttered. He gently cuffed my head and gestured to where Hugh had moved to a couch and was being fed and massaged (or groped) by a hundred hands. “Someday you’ll have the girls pawing over you too,” he told me. “But I’m afraid today, no man here can compete with this shining prodigy.” Relief flooded me – he never suspected who I was jealous of…. Mid-afternoon, people stretching from naps re-assembled for the siege-engine demonstration. The first to be wheeled forward was a new battering ram. “In battle,” Geoff explained, “the roof would be covered with wet hides. Thirty metres long, it weighs over a tonne thanks to the iron head. We can fit thirty men on each side.” “That doesn’t look like a ram to me,” Conan said, peering at the head. “It looks like … a fist.” Houel glowed with pride. “That was my innovation. It’s more frightening, isn’t it? Like the fist of God knocking on the door.” Conan rolled his eyes and said sourly, “I think if Hugh stands on that rise over there, he’ll be in a position to test this … fingered thing.” While the engine was wheeled into place, Hugh eagerly ran over and put his hands on his hips. The shadows his wide shoulders and prominent chest cast over his stomach made the cobbles look truly like a stone wall … except that, while he waited, Hugh flexed and relaxed the individual cobbles and rolled his stomach like sea swells. Stone walls can’t do that. Geoff instructed the soldiers, “Let’s start slow – just you ten.” They positions and began swinging the chains faster, and faster, and faster. The heavy SWOOOOOSH through the air conveyed the speed and weight of the ram and for a moment, I seriously feared for Hugh: that ram could knock a bull out more efficiently than Hugh had. It could kill the bull at one blow. Had Hugh met his match? Soldiers swiftly pulled the brakes away while others shove and the machine lurched forward with its thick capped member extending obscenely. An ear-splitting SMAKKKKK! made us wince as the iron fist struck Hugh dead center in his belly. Hugh flew off his feet and the machine lurched backward, shoulders yelling from the shock that rattled their arms. Hugh landed on his shield-tough back several metres away and rutted the turf landing. He immediately sat up and waved he was unhurt, shaking his golden curls to clear his head. The soldiers however hobbled off the platform, gripping their forearms in each hand, faced carved in pain. “That was fun!” Hugh laughed before leaping straight up onto his feet. His stomach blazed angry scarlet beneath his pale freckled chest. He mock-punched himself and clowned like it really hurt, but then he grinned and, stretching side to side and back and forward, assumed his stance for round two. The crowd bubbled with murmuring like a pot nearing the boil – particularly on the ladies’ side. The men gave each other dirty looks at how openly their women displayed such rampant desires – an impotent rage, given their rival. Two dozen new soldiers replaced the first crew and exchanged nervous glances. Once again, the chains swung back and forth, gathering force. It seemed to gather the crowd as well – people swayed back and forth in rhythm, their excitement building along with the ram’s speed. They unleashed the engine with a violent rush and I hid behind my hands. A thunderclap braced the air as Hugh flew higher and faster and farther than before. The log shuddered to an astonished stop and many of the soldiers screamed and fell to the floor from an impact their joints weren’t designed to sustain. Hugh cut a trench through the field and he sank from view. Yet he hooted merrily and we knew that the ram had failed to hurt him again. Yet Conan frowned – I don’t think he expected Hugh to sail into the air, however unhurt he may be. Had he imagined an impossible spectacle? Had he hoped to insert Hugh between a ram and a besieged gate in the hopes of protecting the fortress with Hugh’s stronger build? Clearly that wouldn’t work. I looked at Geoff, who wore the same worried look as my master: an unhappy lord is more dangerous than any war engine. Yet I saw clearly what Conan overlooked: a ram’s force is transferred into the gate or wall, which cracks and weakens as that force flows through it. Hugh did not absorb that force – he repelled it. That’s why the shock surprised the soldiers and why the ram wobbled backwards. It was that repulsion, force being echoed away from Hugh, that propulsed him through the air. A gate made of such material would be impregnable. Hugh alone possessed such material. Again, I shivered, thinking of a living man who could harden himself beyond any other rock or metal in creation. A living man who let me touch him. Cheers and guffs of awe rose from the crowd as Hugh marched back to the frustrated machine, clods of soil falling off the harder bedrock of his back. Geoff rushed over, whispering urgently to him - Hugh smiled like the sun and nodded happily. The soldiers looked frightened. And this time, the ram was fully crowded with men. The crowd mirrored the swinging ram with their bodies, thrusting themselves forward and back in unwitting unison and urging some maximum test which could release their pent-up excitement. The huge log sliced through the air with a deepening WHOOOSH that beat fast and faster until the moment of its release: it sped forward and Hugh unexpectedly leaped at the iron head with his chest. The KKRRRAKKKKK! rang like a church bell breaking apart. Hugh dropped straight down while the entire engine bounce swiftly away from him, the men behind it jumping out of the way and the rowers flying off the sides. Hugh didn’t move. A frozen silence held the crowd until, as a single being, it raced forward. Hugh looked up and sucked in a mighty draught of air, shook his head and looked around, blinking. The crowd stopped, as if the living thing might become a dragon or griffin. A stunned look clouded his eyes – then they focused on the engine rolling to a slow stop, listed to the side where something broke, and all the men crawling away in pain. He remained crouching, catching his wind. Conan himself inspected the state of the ram. A split ran the entire length of the log – it slumped unevenly in its chain sling. Even more amazing, the top two “knuckles” of the fist had flattened slightly, deformed to the sides. “That’s solid iron,” Geoff said, mouth gaping. He turned back to Hugh. Some soldiers were helping him to his feet – he was so heavy it took three to a side and one in back, and they braced their legs jointly against him like buttresses until he steadied himself. He kept jerking his head, the death-knell of the fist still ringing. Geoff kept waving his fingers in front of Hugh’s eyes but the boy batted them gently away and said, in a firm voice I hadn’t heard him use before, “I’m done with having things run into me for a couple of days.” “The trebuchet is next,” Geoff said worriedly. “Shall I--” Hugh shook his head again with a sly grin. “I have different plans for it.” Geoff stepped back, momentarily alarmed by the forthright assurance Hugh now assumed. He walked around in circles, stretching and massaging his crimson chest. I pined to do it for him … and would have done, in front of everyone, had my master not sent me on an errand. His order felt like a dagger in my stomach. I ran quickly, gave a dispatch to a courier, and by the time I got back, the battered-ram had been trundled away and the trebuchet wheeled forward. Two men on each side grunted as they turned the wheels that ran the tackle and slowly raised the mass of iron-bound oak blocks into the air. Hugh wasted no time. “What are we going to do to this?” Conan asked eagerly. “You’ll see,” Hugh answered arrogantly - which seemed to excite Conan rather than offend him. Conan stepped back as Hugh walked behind it, put one foot on the arm resting on the ground, and signaled the drop. The weight crashed to the platform and Hugh roared like a bear as he bore down with his foot. A legging seam burst open, exposing a bovine thigh – and the pivot rod cracked. The entire beam smashed through the machine with an explosion of splinters. Hugh picked up the end and wrested it free, jostling and battering the entire machine. He placed the end of the arm across his shoulders behind his neck and, draping his outside arm over the top, raised the entire thing up parallel to the ground. Then he wrapped his other arm over it . . . snorted like a bull . . . and pulled. His back opened wide like angel wings, his stomach muscles meshed like the gears of the apparatus itself, and his arms filled every space with their compressed, pulsing meat. We heard him breathing heavily in the silence. Hugh’s face contorted in angry concentration, and his elbows dipped. The short length behind his neck actually bent, issuing a CREEEAAAK SNIK-SNIK-SNIK SNIK SNIK FRACCCKK! The heavy bar split open like a monster’s toothy maw. His outside arm pulled and then twisted the broken as Hugh broken bole until it tore away. He pulled more of the bar across his implacable back. One deep breath and again his face strained, pitting the obdurate ridges of his vein-studded neck. His arms too snaked with blue veins nearly tearing through his buttery red-splotched skin. The solid oak held out as long as it could until Hugh’s arms compelled it to shiver, quake and surrender. He kept going, snapping the bar into pieces without rest, his breathing hoarse, his tender boy’s face a mask of resolute destruction. By the time he fractured the last bit, his grimace bore a terrifying resemblance to some fairy-tale demon. Slivers and chips of wood dusted his hair and body from oak exploding under unbearable pressure. Beside him, a stack of logs ready for the fire. “Magnificent!” Conan declared, unable or unwilling to stop the gushing females who pawed his dauntless, bloated arms and reverently dusted splinters from the many crevices in his back and lodged in his hair. I got a tingling sensation in my groin that he’d tear the engine apart with his bare hands with so much admiration – and indeed, he jumped onto the counter-weight and, clinging to a cross-bar with his toes, grabbed an iron strap in each hand and pulled. The iron bent up a bit but stopped. Hugh jerked them hard and broke them free, happily bending them up and back. He dropped to the ground, dragging the tortured iron with him. Then, inspired, he dragged the freed lengths toward each other and began wrapping them around each other in a giant knot. Then he yanked two fresh sections loose, working the cold metal like it was toughened leather. Showing off, he held an arm rigid and folded the metal back over itself by simply turning his wrist, zig-zagging in with tight switchbacks. At the same time, his other arm rippled as it twisted the flat iron into a spiral. Conan coughed loudly and Hugh turned, glowing in the sun and gleaming with sweat. He had saved the most trying test for last. Hugh slugged down goblets of water and gnawed on some fragrant apples, which mixed a sweetness into his rapturous he-sweat as secretions from different body areas ran and mingling together. “In war, we have not time to rest, no time for refreshment,” Conan declared. “When our enemies lay siege to our cities and hurl boulders into our walls and through our houses, how shall we respond? I want to crush them – literally.” He turned to Hugh, his bony arm outstretched toward the sacred grove. “These standing stones have weathered every winter, every storm, since time immemorial. Centuries of raging wars have neither injured nor moved them. Some say they were planted in the time before men, by Titans or Giants. Some say only Druid magic could have raised and sunk them into the fields where they mystify us to this day. Surely no mortal men could have moved such behemoths. “Young Hugh, your task is to do what neither man nor nature has ever done before you. Uproot one of those ancient monuments so it may be used to smash our enemies and their war machines. You may choose your victim – but your choice will be noted.” Conan led the way; a crowd of men tried to raise and carry Hugh on their shoulders, but the ponderous hulk proved impossible to lift and manage, so they simply surged around him like a pack of hunting dogs. Hugh scooped up the nearest two damsels and carried them like bouquets of flowers in the crook of each arm. Their dainty hands tried to squeeze the unyielding marble of those arms, twisting their hips as they did so. None of our stones are as big as the ones up north, but the field still looks strikes me as a giants’ graveyard. Hugh naturally went to the largest one, shoulder-height but a little wider than he. I wondered which weighed more, and nearly laughed out loud at the absurdity – an absurdity only to someone who had never met Hugh. While Hugh walked around the stone, inspecting clefts and lichen, Conan whispered to Houel, “even if he can only loosen it, we should be able to pull it free with a team of oxen. And he could easily build a gigantic trebuchet to launch these stones. Perhaps even a conveyance to move to them.” I shuddered. Hugh carried the focused, appraising air of a land agent, factoring dimensions, materials and weights that hobbled the imagination. Without ceremony, he dug his feet in and fell upon the weathered stone, oppressing it with focused forces beyond anything nature herself could muster. After so many efforts, Hugh drew from a deep well of virility that seemed never to run dry. The crowd tensed along with him as we waited for the monolith to give. No one doubted it could outlast the onslaught of Hugh. Never relenting the pressure he built up, Hugh managed to slip his hands, his shoulders, his legs into different positions, seeking a stronger purchase, groping with his senses toward the spot already growing weak under his duress. Worrying the monument from every angle, wearing out its grip on the earth, Hugh bullied the half-buried boulder until he found the place where Creation would buckle beneath his will A breeze ruffled through the grass … but when it passed, the grass still shivered. “Look!” I pointed. As every eye turned away from the hero and toward the ground, it humped and split. The stone listed slightly into the breach and several people fainted along with it. Hugh didn’t let up but churched the ground behind him plowing into the monolith. A hump broke upward between his legs as Hugh silently commanded the monument to lie prostrate before him. Conan choked as the yawning field disgorged waves of loam displaced by the foot of the stone being impelled up into the light. Hugh stepped back for the first time, shaking his throbbing limbs so the muscles tossed back and forth like small animals. He spent a few seconds catching his breath, and the swung himself under the leaning side, grappled for a hold, and pulled with a heavy grunt. The earth vomited in distress as Hugh dragged the stone towards the level and mashed its face toward his feet. The menhir listed drunkenly now but something deep intruded on his progress and held the stone. Hugh vigorously tugged and wiggled the tonnage, breaking the obstruction and relinquishing its hold on the monolith once again. Hugh’s arms engorged in undulating ridges, spurs and peaks. His shoulders bulged nearly as big as his head, their carved fingers digging like claws onto his arms and back. His concave belly shifted right and left, directing dominance from his legs into his arms and rippling around his frame like wind-blown sheaves of wheat. Finally, with one crippling shove, Hugh wrenched the monolith free of the earth, crammed its face into the dirt as the entombed end blasted through in an eruption of soil and small rocks. When I shook the grit out of my eyes, I could barely believe what I saw – nearly as much had been buried as stuck up from the earth. It was twice as big as it had looked, the unearthed portion was dark and wet, with clumps of mud sticking to it like the lichen huddled all over the exposed half. Nearly twice as big as Hugh, it seemed impossible to move it any further, except – maybe – to roll it down a hill (were the ground not flat). Wasting no time, Hugh walked around the far side, knelt and reached one arm over the width of the fallen warrior of time. With a HUP and a HRRRGGGGHH, Hugh leaned backward, bending like a bow. His stomach clenched in sharp relief and long rods rippled in his extended forearm. The rock rose a few centimeters but then fell back into the turf. Undeterred, Hugh nearly bounced it back up into the air – but this time, the side closest to him slipped and fell. The fact that he could lift it at all froze everyone in a tableau of wonder. He wrapped his rock-strewn arms around it and pulled, his neck bulging and face purple, but only managed to lever it off the ground and shift it sideways a bit, farther away from its empty grave. He reached underneath and drove his legs down as he raised the end as far as his knees, kneading the ground to press an advantage – but again the weight proved too much, and he had to drop it. He called for water and wide-eyed, trembling girls brought him several bowls, along with fruit and a hunk of roasted beef. He gorged himself, allowing the girls to lick the grease off his fingers. He rubbed them against the surface of the stone, peeling off layer of flint and coating them with dust. He walked around to the middle and tried to raise it laterally – it hinged up half a metre or more before it slipped free. Hugh’s face clouded with annoyance and I feared his angry fist might turn it into more manageable pieces – but he redirected his impatience into his arms. Reaching one arm over the top, he grunted and craned it a metre into the air – several people experienced spasms of a certain kind – and held it teetering while he tried to shift the weight for the next stage. But the tonnage resisted his power and bobbed toward the earth. With a strangled scream, Hugh stopped it for a moment – held it – but had to let it go. Setting his feet farther apart, he heaved yet again, grappled the monolith higher, his lower arm bursting its skin as it braced the burden, dragged his shoulders back and, staggering once, wrestled it onto thighs – where it balanced, its immensity sinking him into the soil. Hugh took three breaths, rocking back and forth with each one, then leaned further back and levitated the stone onto his chest, tottering around as the menhir fought his dominance. He sidled to a halt and paused a moment, dwarfing mass trapped by his inexorable arms. His face screwed tight with strain, Hugh pressed the under arm up, its sinews bunching and trembling, while the arm over the top actually flipped the rock over – a move that almost went wrong, had his legs not danced and buttressed him to stop it. Then his legs began to shake violently and he sank beneath the stone which pressed against his face. The crowd burst with burbling concern that he might be smashed under the giant rock, his hubris leading to a predictable end – and I was afraid if it brought him to his knees, he’d but unable to continue. But … it didn’t. He didn’t kneel. He waddled toward stonier ground, looking like an ant carrying not a crumb but the entire loaf. Hugh’s knees began knocking as he fought to stand, the perfect globes of his ass quivering in time – but he worked his hands around to the underside even as he fought to discipline his rebelling limbs. Taking advantage of what inertia he’d created, Hugh wasted no time resting but pressed the rock above him – his body near parallel to the ground. Barking ferocious groans I could feel in my breastbone, he manipulated the granite giant up as he straightened his back and fought mightily against his own shaking arms. With hoarse, whistling war-cry, the god-man-boy straightened up and pressed the menhir up until his elbows locked and framed his terrible visage. He continued bellowing as he trapped the stone mountain in the air above him, mocking its desire to reunite with the earth. He lurched several steps before stopping at the end of the softer ground and sought Conan – rooting the Duke to the spot with his eyes. He stayed that way until Conan buckled at his hips and dropped his mouth in something like awe. With a snarl, Hugh then let it drop behind him and flexed his bloated arms until the cramping made him shake them out. Once more the crowd poured over him, massaging and rubbing him – a crush Hugh might not have been able to sustain had not circumstances turned against us. His sweet odor took on a pungeant manly stink, which the air caught and carried back into the forest. Before long, a grisly roar answered Hugh’s call from the forest. My master said to Geoff, “I thought you said Hugh had scared off all the predatory animals.” “He has,” Geoff replied. “There must be a migration.” “Bears don’t migrate,” Alain said, “And that was a very angry bear. Again, a mere whiff of Hugh’s scent has driven some beast to fury.” We got a first glimpse of the foaming, shambling beast, and Geoff said with restrained panic, “Not fury, but madness,” Geoff concluded. “That bear is mad. Its bite is deadly – even a scratch can afflict a man with madness.” People stampeded for the city walls once the bear blundered sideways out of the grove and shook deadly froth from its drooling maw. Despite being clearly spent, Hugh immediately strode to face the monster – and we all felt riveted by the same thoughts – if he were too exhausted, Hugh would be no match for the bear – killed or, worse, infected. A rabid Hugh could lay waste to the entire county. The afflicted are routinely strangled before the madness takes hold, but who, or what, could constrict Hugh’s throat? The archers ran back to the castle to fetch weapons but Hugh advanced alone. “No! Hugh, I forbid it!” Geoff ordered, but Hugh responded only to a higher calling, his fatigue replaced by renewed vigor. He ripped the shredded remains of his leggings and codpiece and tore away even his undercloth, one naked beast facing another. Women tried to turn away and close their eyes, but they had lost the will to resist the sight of Hugh's golden glory. Palming two large stones, he bounced their weight – likely as much as a strong man could struggle up to his chest – and then hurled first one, then the other, in quick succession, his arms like trebuchets – only more powerful. The bear fell, struck on the head and shoulder … but rose up on two legs, now truly angry. Slinging ropes of poisonous slobber across the field, it roared and fell clumsily to all fours, lighting into a lopsided charge on legs it seemed unable to fully control. As if it were under the spell of a sorcerer’s apprentice. Hugh ranged from side to side but the bear turned and faced him, always advancing. The hero crouched on titanic legs and launched himself into the air, rising for several metres and sailing over the bear like a bird of prey. The animal stood and swatted at him but Hugh flew too far and too fast, causing the unsteady creature to fall onto its back. As it struggled back to its feet, it turned so Hugh could leap and plant himself like a spear onto its vast shaggy back. Hugh tried to wrap his arms around the giant’s chest but could barely reach – his fingers touched but couldn’t grip. The bear roared and shook violently, but Hugh’s fingers pierced the dense fur and his legs clamped over its waist. Then Hugh shook back. Savagely throwing his body from side to side, Hugh forced the bear to stumble sideways several paces before it plant its claws and hold onto the ground. He shook the bear again but it lowered itself to the ground – so Hugh threw his shoulders back with a strained grimace. And overcoming the bear’s fury, bent its spine back and its forelegs off the ground. Hugh cinched his arms and legs – the bear bellowed in pain and confusion, outmuscled by something small yet heavy and brutally irresistible. Hugh shook the bear again until its head wove back and forth, and then he arched his back and slammed that head into the ground. A look appeared in the bear’s crazed eyes – a moment of clarity, a primitive instinct for escape. The beast fought against Hugh’s strength with the renewed energies of something now fighting for its life. As Hugh’s shoulders tensed, prying the bear’s up again, it fought him, bucking and shaking, matching him strength for strength. Feeling the iron spine defy him, Hugh squeezed until the bear screamed. Every move Hugh made in directing the bear one way, the bear countered, twisting and scratching the other way. Hugh’s face contorted as his arms labored against the sturdy ribs, his fingers grappling for a link. The bear writhed violently but Hugh closed his eyes and with a hissing sound, linked his middle fingers. The beast wore stark fear on its face, its chest compressed, its hips being wrench by the horrible contortions of Hugh’s legs. I held my breath – I couldn’t tell what Hugh was trying to do, besides hang on. Slowly, by pitching his back fiercely, Hugh guided the bear to the stone he had just conquered. His eyes sharpened frightfully, and with his teeth bared and an almost-evil smile, he arched his back again and clumped the bear forward with his own indomitable torso. With claws clutching helplessly at the soil, the bear realized – as much as it could – it was losing. When Hugh coerced his captive abreast of his trophy, he flexed his entire body, lifting the bear off the ground and slamming it back down. He did it again, and again, each time gaining a greater bounce until with clenched grunt, Hugh actually flipped himself onto his back on the stone’s surface, the quarter-tonne bulk pronged above him. The animal’s legs waved in the air but Hugh’s back spread out beneath him, bracing against each terrorized thrust of the mindless brute. The boy-man had even crushed its roar down to a steady wheezing moan frothed out with its spittle. Hugh’s legs trapped the bear’s hind limbs and pulled them out and away, immobilizing them. He arched up onto his shoulders and bent that iron spine – and squeezed. Hugh shook the bear to the left and clamped his hands more tightly to its chest. He jarred it to the right and a sickening pop came out of the bear’s lower quarters. The wheeze now carried a bone-chilling whine of fear. Hugh tensed ferociously trembling with impossible effort, bending the bear's steely ribs in on themselves. Hugh’s rising growls drowned out the animal’s eerie whistling. Now gripping his wrists, he shrank the bear’s chest further through barbaric will. His arms, buried deep in the fur, rubbed slightly back and forth: their knots, harder than bone, fractured ribs. He rattled the bear like a doll, draining the dregs of its vitality with relentless determination. Its swimming forelegs slowed, and slowed further, and then merely waved as if blown by the wind. Once the bear’s legs stopped moving (though still twitching), Hugh’s legs straightened out, further disjointing its hind legs and hips. The trapped victim emitted a thin, high wail, its tongue lolled out of its mouth, a harsh gurgling sound coming with it. Hugh could have finished the bear off right there, but something terrible had been ignited in the man-boy’s chest – and further below. Hugh rolled off the stone and plopped the weakened beast onto the ground. Arching his own back, Hugh brought his legs forward and clamped them against the stove-in ribs. Pulling the bear backward again and trapping its lower torso with his own, Hugh gyrated up, his ass dimpling and clenching, his manroot thrusting through the densely matted fur. It seemed to pulse with every sharp crack echoing through the circle. His eyes feverish, the shocking obscenity of the tableau held everyone in a merciless grip. Hugh wrangled his arms up, never releasing their unbearable pressures, hands reaching for the animal's head. Gripping the rocklike skull, Hugh's chest rose like twin peaks as he stopped the bear's thrashing. His hands crept down, his bulbous forearms immobilizing the bear's head. The entire crowd buzzed with tension that ratcheted higher as Hugh linked his hands underneath its head. With a grim frown, Hugh straightened back up, fighting the bear's final desperate spasms. With a final choking splutter, the bear’s head rose in Hugh's puissant grip, its long long neck tremoring. Stretching. Tearing. Hugh’s invincible lance jousted with the arched neck, his hips slowly digging up and down. But the bear's neck was too long - even with the skull pressed into the valley of his chest, the neck did not break. He'd either have to be work his way backwards ... or ... My knees gave way weakly as Hugh's sculpted arms sprouted veins along their extreme curves. Hugh pushed the head up in a harrowing repeat of his menhir feat. A thin shrill shriek bubbled out of the gaping maw, big eyes suddenly blank with a resignation more terrible than its death throes. Hugh's elbows inched up, his hands rising to stomach-curdling wet PWOPP sounds. Hugh stretched the neck unnaturally longer even as the bear's tongue seemed to crawl out of its throat. Blood sprayed from tears in the victim’s hide, the skin rending in garish jagged slashes. Hugh grimaced as he grappled the bear's body down – down and away. Hugh pushed his arms towards the sky with renewed gristle. Through the ragged flaps of skin, I could see thick cables of muscle stretching and then rolling up into tight knots. Soon I could see the white bones floating like beads on a broken chain washed in red. His virile member erupted, spewing ropes of viscous pearlescence through the hot fur and into the ragged wounds. His legs gripped the body firmly, riding it with bucking hips and plowing himself violently against the dying beast. Finally, with a triumphant bellow that shook the stones themselves, Hugh extended his arms all the way up and sheared the bear's head off its jerking, dying torso. The torn neck fountained blood, mired with Hugh's own jetting essence streaming up through the coat like grappling ropes. Hugh’s seed-fountain continued even as the blood slowly ebbed, soaking the coat in his milky pith. He shuddered, his naked muscles rippling and drumming fleetly beneath his papery white skin, and making a final grunting cry, Hugh stubbed himself out in eye-flickering bliss. Hugh paused a moment, chest heaving with deep satisfaction, until the echoing pleasures slowly Faded. Shaking sense and awareness back into his golden-curled, blood and semen-caked head, carried the still-lethal skull, dripping blood and froth of Hugh, to the gaping pit that once housed a menhir, and dropped it in. He went back to the corpse, grabbed a loose hind-leg, and pulled it over to the grave, kicking it in. Then, in desperation or derision, I couldn’t tell, Hugh tugged the stone, bit by exhausted bit, until its immeasurable tonnes covered the tomb. Hugh turned and raised his fists over his head, his heavy arms bent and throbbing like the empurpled mast rising above his navel, shaking its own glistening fist. But only briefly - he sank down, hands on his knees his shoulders sinking and his back sagging. Then he was lost as cheering soldiers surrounded him and, in a joint effort, raised him to his feet and half-carried him away from the slung saliva and gore, to a grassy rise shaded by the setting sun. The women broke through the soldiers with kettles and bowls of cool and steaming water, shouldering them away like an invading army. Over their heads I heard him mutter “meat,” and platters passed hand to hand from the high table directly to him. Sating himself, he fell into a deep slumber, oblivious of the hands massaging oils into his muscles. Soon the jealous guards rallied and drove the women away, circling him and facing out to keep so many hungry eyes and hands at bay. Geoff had excused Hugh from the rest of his chores that afternoon, so after I finished mine and got something to eat, I returned to his pallet. He was fast asleep on his back, lying flat on his back with only a modest cloth around his loins. The air near him shimmered torridly, and sweat beaded on my forehead and under my arms. I quickly doffed my togs and draped myself over his mounded form. He stirred slightly, his barrel chest rising, but otherwise I may as well have been a light blanket. Arousal chases my fatigue away, and take advantage of last night’s offer and stretch my limbs, pressing my body against his muscles – firm yet pliable at rest, their density defied my penetrating fingers, but I could press and caress them, trace the expansive flesh as it narrows and gathers into steely tendons. His blood pulsed slowly through them, perfectly balancing his other humors and restoring his incalculable vitality. My own loin covering stirred as I rubbed against the serpent sleeping between the pillows of its generative nest. The serpent rose slightly, stirring waves through Hugh’s body which undulated and stretched in sleep. His mouth pursed and opened slightly and, overcome with desire, I gripped his upper arms and slid myself up onto his chest. My own member lay erect in the alley that ran down the center of his cobbled abdomen – it fit perfectly, caressed and massaged as those muscles rose and fell as he breathed. From the barrel-crest of his chest, I reached down and placed a daring kiss on his thick, languid lips. Still asleep, his mouth accepted mine, rubbing against my lips. I nuzzled the down around his chin and let my tongue slip out, seeking his. His tongue also sought mine and they caressed one another and explored each other’s hot, wet den. My own drool flowed strongly, lubricating our fun, and a distant, dreamy smile invited me to display greater passion. I sucked his lips and licked his teeth, and when I felt his hands land lightly on my ass, I shuddered in anticipation and a little fear: if he rolled over and didn’t wake up, could I support his weight or would I be crushed or suffocated by Hugh’s ponderous magnitude? I stretched my arms over his and wrapped my legs over his thighs, encouraging him to stay put but offering my nether orifice for his rising python. He gripped me tighter, so tightly I winced and bit his lip by mistake – his eyes opened drowsily and for a moment, we gazed at each other with his hands clasping hindside. Just then a sharp laugh startled us both (and several of the horses). Hugh raised his head as I turned and saw a buxom young maid with a startled look on her face. “You boys are incorrigible!” she said a little loudly. Hugh rose up on his elbows and sloughed me off to the side, where I adjusted my loin cloth and blazed bright red. She paid me no mind. “All rested, hero?” she said saucily, tugging coyly at the lace that held her bodice together. “How would you like a real woman to satisfy you. I promise it’ll be better than some smelly bear.” She spread her knees and pressed a palm into her skirt with an open mouth. Heat kindled in Hugh’s eyes and his groin snake bobbed up through the folds of his cloth. She walked backward toward a stack of hay bales in the shadows. Forgetting me, Hugh rose – like a mountain growing before my eyes, or a dragon taking off from its lair, his body simply kept going and going and going until he was up and around the corner. But Hugh stopped short, looking uncertain. “Come on,” she cooed. “No one will care. You’re a man now. You do what you want.” Hugh fidgeted against the cloth restraint binding his eagerness. “My master said I would grow weak if I did it. I don’t even, you know, do myself. Not as often as other boys.” “You’re no boy, and no man is your master,” she chided. “Not even the king can rival you. Besides, we all saw what you did to that bear. Are you weak now?” She threw a horseshoe, which he caught. Spreading the fingers of that one hand around the prongs but not taking his eyes off her, Hugh squeezed – and crushed the metal shoe as if it were clay, until it snapped in two. Yet he didn’t let it go – gathering both parts into his palm, he folded them in half – both at the same time – until the outmatched steel could bend no further and broke again. His clenched the pieces in his fist and mashed it again, his forearm filling with rocks that scrubbed against each other. A metallic tinkling seeped out between his white-knuckled fingers. When he opened his fist, shattered fragments of steel rained to the floor, unidentifiable as having ever been a forged horse shoe. “Guess not,” he replied with sheepish excitement. The maid had watched wide-eyed, bosom heaving and mouth opening and semi-closing in excitement of her own. Though she massaged both her breasts and released them, she stiffened and shivered as if fulfillment had ignited without any external stimulation. Her eyes hooded with breathless hunger. “Then, what are you waiting for?” she half-dared, half-begged him huskily. That was it. His loin cloth ripped around his vibrant erection has he flung it away and pulled her to him, immediately entering her. She gasped as his girth stretched her open more than ever before, but he didn’t rush to the finish line. Hugh’s natural instinct for lovemaking took over – building, teasing, pulling back, slowing down then racing, all the while withholding his essence. His manfunk wafted through the stable with a delirious mixture of wild musk and protective warmth. Her eyes rolled up into her head – however vigorously he slid in and out, he was gentler, more controlled – stronger – than any man she’d been with. And … he made her wetter than ever before. Mixed with the leakage from his powerful organ, they slid against each other like eels. She clutched at the hay behind her, her nipples like craters as another pleasure wave washed through her. Again, instinctively, Hugh let her subside and then whipped her up until the storm broke in her several times before he unleashed his own deluge. Hugh’s arm shot out and grabbed a shovel, the blade warping in his grip. He shot into her with such force she instantly came again, biting her lip to stay quiet. His ass dimpled and writhed for so long I realized I would get no sleep tonight – perhaps never again. My own midsection rocked as I spurted in envious sympathy. I massaged myself dry with my under cloth and was about to return to the pallet, when I saw it – he wasn’t pulling out. He was clearly still turgid. Still filling her. Still thrusting. She smiled hungrily, grabbing his ass and pulling herself against him. He slammed into her hard this time, again and again, jiggling her breasts and body, shattering her composure and driving her to wild abandon. She thrashed and ground herself against in rhythm against him, whipping her loosened hair from side to side and moaning gutterally like a cow in calving. In full control and awareness of their danger, Hugh smoothly grabbed a leather work glove and gently shoved it into her mouth. She chewed it like it was dinner. He came again, dimpling longer than before but sluicing in and out and spilling long tendrils of cock drool. I stayed crouching, hardening again and barely aware of the pain. And as I suspected, he didn’t quit. More like he was still getting warmed up. But the maid began to flag, endless pleasure addling her brain. She shuddered periodically, ranging between an empty smile and a tense incomprehension that only Hugh’s persistence could dismiss. Her sopping hair lay lank over her shoulders, her breathing hitching from his power and then siking into a heavy, coarse wheeze. He came a fourth time and she moaned in mindless pleasure and pain. His seed spurted down and ricocheted off his pendulous ball sac … as if she were full. For the first time, he pulled out completely, his knob painted her belly and breasts with his man-lime. A steady stream ran down her legs slowly, like freshly-rendered glue. His sword waved challengingly, throbbing with purple ardor. His exhales came fast and heavy and his red eyes burned with feverish intensity. For a moment, he wasn’t sure what to do but then, face enlivening, he lifted her into the air, spun her around and did what I had so longed for: took her bunghole like a rutting beast. The pain shocked her awake and she screamed into the glove. Her torso impulsively clenched around him but hadn’t the strength to expel the invader. Sliding her up and down on his breed shaft with one hand, he pulled out the glove stuck his fingers in her mouth, attacking her defenses on two fronts. Her panic retreated and as they joined into a single oscillating being, his body commanded hers to banish pain and feed greedily on pleasure alone. Obediently, her body obeyed and her tension fell away like the tattered remnants of her clothing. He bobbed her up and down endlessly before clenching his ass and releasing another eruption of manly lava. Feeling his own control fight for command against greedy, voluptuous gluttony, he wrapped one arm around a stud and squeezed. His arm crunched into the wood – splinters broke out around it. He squeezed pitilessly as the ecstasy of another tidal wave rolled out of him and utterly submerged her. Solid oak creaked and split loudly. Finally he eased down, left the poor oak post alone, and rested his back against a high stack of hay, holding her up with one hand and simply staying still. But staying within her. Not softening. Not at all. The crippled beam groaned as the weight of the roof shifted into its weakness. The groaning excited Hugh and he slowly began plumbing her for a sixth time. Something broke in my mind – a relaxation, an acceptance of such unbelievable strength and stamina. A kind of faith moved my heart that I never felt at mass. My body responded by releasing another white libation, globs of it billowing forth before the ecstacy could catch up – it rushed in late and quaked me to my soul, submitting my life to this thundering, earth-shaking deity before me. Hugh focused intently on her, careful not to bruise or injure her as he ground her back and forth in semi-circles. Her limbs flopped randomly, their motions aimless and simply sparking off stray bolts of joy her weaker frame could not contain. She shuddered again as another convulsion gripped her, and her seizure gripped him and undammed yet another flood of his virility into her guts. Not only the stream down her legs increase, now from two willsprings within her, but her belly began to bloat. Hugh looked as though this premature release – stimulated by her and not commanded by him – had cheated him. He stayed in and bucked her a little roughly, making her jaw chatter loosely, until he pasted her insides a seventh time. Ignoring how her rib cage expanded in his grip, Hugh plunged deeper with an urgency he hadn’t shown before. His bull-balls slapped the back of her ass as he chased the shimmering bliss he caught so easily again and again. His back stiffened and spread apart and the overflow of another cascade splattered his nutsack and thighs. Her eyes opened with bemused surprise as she belched and … smelled Hugh in it. The maid passed out completely and slumped on him, twitching and jerking like a dreaming dog. His face glowing with greed for a vein of gold that ran deeper and deeper into the mountain, he kept excavating for it. A series of short hard rams made her burp his salty musk, made her breasts flop along with her arms and nodding head. The hammering sped faster and faster until his cheeks became a blur. Then suddenly he stopped and mashed her down as if he were trying to snap his manhood off. But that prong stood up to him defiantly and rebuffed his efforts. Within the frenzy of his ninth fusillade, a heavenly smile pierced his face like a sunbeam after a storm eliciting a heavenly smile to spread across his face. The sun banished the storm and he slowed down to a steady strum. Pinning her against a wall of hay with only his horn of plenty, he put his hands on his hips and wiggled them, watching her bob like a puppet. Hugh didn’t like her leaving him alone like that - so he leaned forward, placing one fist on either side of the hay beside, and supported her with It while staring intently into her face. His presence penetrated her dazed mind and dragged her back to consciousness – while he stayed still, spreading and pulsing with her, her own grinding movement down below betrayed her return to paradise. He began slow rotations, lazy figure eights that hardened him until his balls hitched. Then, again, he became … perfectly … still…. But she shook with warring tensions and seized with unhinged rapture. He grinned with masterly hauteur and withheld himself until she scratched violently at him and seemed she’d shake herself apart if he did not feed her. Still he waited until her panting desperation opened her eyes – he locked them to his – and she seemed to wither and bloom at the same time within his gaze, her mind turning inside out beneath the fullness of his revelation. Still he waited. Still he grinned. Finally, drool spilled in rivulets out of her mouth, followed by a plaintive mewling bordering on despair. He nodded, slowly, over and over as he felt her identity disintegrate – and then he released the hounds of war. Her chest inflated from the inside, a strangled cry of incredulous surrender rose from her gaping mouth, and her breath, redolent of his salt, filled the air and made the horses rustle and neigh. His own fecund odor returning to him from inside her kept his demonic prick sharp as he tunneled even deeper into the mountain for that skein of gold. His muscles flinched - he had ridden himself raw – and now every motion exploded in his brain. A mere normal man would pull away, flee, his brain melting. But Hugh was made better. He carried her gingerly to a worktable, sweeping clean its surface with his arm, and laid her down. He stood upright so that the pressure bore down on his virility, and though it bounced her up a little, it soon settled down. Standing there, hands on his hips, his massive chest rising and sinking like storm billows on the open see, he defied every extreme sensation – he refused to withdraw, he would not pass out. Hugh willed every impulse into submission, and wrung the savor out of each moment. They could not gang up on him. They could not overcome his control. His chest rolled triumphantly as he disciplined his own rebellious passions and directed them to serve him one more time. The lightning from this battle shot into her. She twitched wildly, arms and legs spasming and battering his ram inside her. He conducted the unbearable pleasures until he chose to let them go. Throwing his head back, he barked and howled, reached up and grabbed a roof joist: and each time her leg kicked or her hand flicked, his fingers sank deeper into the splintering oak. He swayed there, his head shaking slowly back and forth and veins pounding in his neck. With a moan of pure satisfaction, his shoulders twitched and his hips swiped her back and forth across the table. He froze and braced his legs and ass. An eleventh milking surged into the maid. Her body swelled, her neck fattened – and his puissance gushed out of her moaning mouth in driving bursts. My body wrenched a third helpless time together with gripping alarm. I felt immobilized but somehow I shouted, “Sir!” as his seed trickled out of her nose and not only from her ears, but also her eyes, like pearly tears. Hugh’s eyes whipped open and he turned and glared in mad fury. I fell back, my cock now heaving drily, and mustered all my courage. “She needs a doctor!” He looked back and for the first time saw the swollen main, his viscous ichor still seeping from her head. He pulled out suddenly and a bucket’s worth of slime whooshed out and all over his legs. He lifted her in one arm and, with the other, battered a hole in the side of the stable. He ran into the village, naked and not only erect but still foaming like … like a mad bear. He woke the doctor by breaking his door in half. The doctor clutched his blanket in terror, then saw the girl and jumped up so Hugh could place her on the bed. Though he was no longer in her, the overflow continued to leak out, spreading slowly over her body. All the time, though her eyes fluttered pure white, the smile never left her lips. The doctor pushed gently on her belly and semen oozed from several openings at both ends. He turned around and, seeing Hugh’s still-drooling plowshare, started in amazement before recovering himself. “Young man, I’ll take it from here.” Tears stained Hugh’s beautiful features. “I didn’t mean to … will she be all right?” “I’ve never seen anything like this,” the old man confessed. “So long as nothing inside her has burst, she should pull through. Though I doubt she’ll ever be the same. You should prepare yourself however: I wouldn’t be surprised if you were a father, several times over. Such prodigious … vigor … might likely plant a prodigy of seedlings in this young girl.” Turning away, he muttered again, “Like an Irish rabbit.” Hugh seemed stricken so I gripped his unyielding arm tight as I could. “Come, you should rest again. And I can’t carry you if you fall asleep stark naked in the street.” Hugh shuffled out and embarrassedly propped the shattered boards door back in the doorway. Overcome with a surge of relief or joy or something, he grabbed and lifted me high into the air, shook me wildly with an ecstatic grin on his face, and draped me over his shoulder like a potato sack. I could feel the slimy slap of his dick against my feet as he trotted down the moonlit street. My hands explored the battlements of his back under the guise of holding on: the central pennant-poles, the squarish berms of annealed flesh over each shoulder blade, and the ramparts that spread to either side. The feeling his shoulder rippling back and forth against my belly made me come again but, having nothing left, it hurt more than anything. I wouldn’t have traded it for the world. Back in the stable reeking of fornication, he flung me onto his pallet and stared down proudly. “My friend!” he said, beaming, chest flaring. Then, treating me more like a pet than a friend, he lay down beside me, enclosed me with his irresistible arm-mass and tucked my face into the deep pit of foggy musk between his chest and back. He fell to sleep immediately but my heart raced like a hunting hound. His bushy hairs tickled my forehead and soon his peace encompassed me. I dreamed I was running beside him and wagging my tale forever and ever. THE END
  17. Hope U R all having and are going 2 have a very Merry Christmas..? Heres the last 3 chapters of my festive mg story.. Part 3 Jacob awoke groggily to find himself hanging upside down. For a moment he was too dazed to know what had happened. Then, as his faculties cleared, he was sharply brought back to reality.. He had been in a car accident. The car had landed on its roof and Jacob was upside down in the car and still buckled into his seatbelt,which had almost certainly had saved him from being catapulted out of the the car through the shattered and now missing windscreen. He turned to look at the driver, the guy who had given in to giving him a lift. Daniel was also still hung in his seatbelt upside down, but he seemed unconscious.. Blood trickled from a deep cut on his head closest to his door and the roof on his side had caved in considerably,squashing the door,blocking access. Jacobs first instinct was to unlock his seatbelt to try to attend to Daniels potentially life-threatening wounds. When he managed to free himself he slumped with a thud onto his upper neck and shoulders and suddenly cried out in agony as a sharp pain ran through his right shoulder. Jacob tentatively propped himself up the right way,wincing as he felt more sharp pain through what could have been a dislocated shoulder or even a fracture to his collar bone. This was'nt the place to diagnose injuries just yet. The ice cold wind was blowing the snow stingingly through the broken windows as Jacob focused himself into extracating Daniel from his seat and getting help.. He fumbled to release Daniels seatbelt and eased the older guy from the drivers seat as best as he could.Daniel groaned and stirred slightly as it seemed evident he was drifting in and out of consciousness.Jacob gritted his teeth,trying to use a quick burst of strength to cut out his own pain as he hauled Dan from his seat and through the smashed passenger window.''Don't worry buddy.. Gonna get you some help. You''ll be good in no time''. Now outside of the vehicle for the first time Jacob tried to get his bearings in his winter cloaked surroundings.The car had come to rest on its roof down a sharp slope against a tree, having turned over several times down the steep incline. Jacob could hardly see too far,such was the aggressiveness of the wind blowing the falling snow into a near horizontal sheets of icicles that stung at Jacobs face. This weather was beginning to turn into a blizzard. Jacob swung his hood over his face and then hauled out his bag and used it as a pillow to prop up Daniels head,and covering his face with his own scarf,trying to use the car as much as possible as shelter from the howling white-out.With a bit more digging,Jacob had found in the trunk,Daniels packed bags and pulled out another coat and another scarf. He covered Daniel and used the scarf as best as he could to tend to the nasty cut on Daniels temple. It seemed as if Daniels head had hit the side of his drivers door as it caved in during the cars roll down the slope and Jacob could'nt tell just how bad Dans head injury was.. He needed medical help immediately. Jacob tried his phone but there was no signal. Cursing,he nearly threw it in anger into the nearby snow but thought better of it and shoved it back into his coat pocket.Looking up through the near blinding snow, he thought about clambering up onto the road to call for help from a passing motorist.. ''Hey buddy..be right back.. You just hang in there..'' Jacob snapped off a thick bare branch from part of the tree that had fallen of in the impact of the car against it, and using it as a prop,he tried to scramble up through the deepening snow to the edge of the road.Tired and aching from the pain in his shoulder,he reached the top and stumbled into the road.For as much minutes as he dared spare leaving Dan, he stamped up and down the road calling for help and waiting anxiously for a car to come by.Finally frustrated, he slid back down to the car and to Daniel and lightly tapped him on his cheek.''Hey buddy.. You still with me..?''Daniel groaned and moved his head slightly,and muttered. ''Jeff..?''In Dans semi-conscious state,he could see Jeff looking down and smiling at him.. Jacob was at least this bit relieved that Dan was still holding on,but he still needed help.. He shouted at the top of his lungs for help..And for a few minutes all he could hear was the howling of the wind and the crwaking of the trees. He gritted his teeth in anger.''Not like this.. Not fucking like this..''He did'nt want to end up frozen to death in the wilderness,..like Jack Nicholson freezing in the Maze at the end of The Shining..! Suddenly,the wind seemed to die down just that slightly for Jacob to hear what sounded faitnly like bells jingling.This first sign that someone,..anyone, could be out in this white-out could potentially mean survival. Spurred on,he jumped to his feet and tried to focus his ears and eyes on the sound..Then,..through the snowfall he could see a misty image that gradually became clearer as it drew nearer.''Hey..over here...Help..Help.!'' A shape of a sleigh drawing through the snow greeted Jacob.. It was drawn by a single reindeer,harnessed in leather that was adorned with the bells Jacob thought he had heard.On the back and guiding the sleigh was a figure wrapped in a thick tawny brown fur or fur-like coat..a hood lined with grey-white fur or wool drawn over his head and hiding his face, and his trousers of similar tawn colour and fur. Even his boots seemed thick and woolen..Like this fella was used to the outdoors life in harsh wilderness. The sleigh pulled up close to the crashed car. ''Whoah there Blitzen..Good boy'' the stranger said apparently to his reindeer as if it was a pet. Jacob for a moment was rightfully overjoyed that help had arrived.''Hey mister, my friend needs help.. We crashed and now i think hes badly hurt.. We need to get him to a hospital fast..!'' The hooded stranger stepped off the sleigh,..itself covered in furs and a deep red woolen cover, and trudged through the snow over to where Daniel lay prone. He bent down and slipped his hand out of the thick brown gloves he wore and gently touched at Daniels wounds.The,turning to look up at Jacob, he slipped off the hood he was wearing to reveal the face of an old man who looked wizened with age.He had a thick white beard and wispy white eyebrows and a weathered and slightly reddened face that overall, to Jacob he seemed to look so calming and warm.''My boy,I'm afraid that this snowstorm has downed communications and getting him any help up here might take some time. The weather will close in as soon it will be nightfall...'' ''But you gotta do something..He could die for Christs sake..!'' Jacobs moment of glee faded somewhat. ''My cabin is nearby.. It has a welcoming fireplace,some needed warmth..and i have a gift at helping those in need.. Don't worry my boy.I will take care of him..Of both of you till the morning breaks..'' Why was it for some reason that Jacob felt at ease with this guy..? ''Come boy, lets help your friend onto my sleigh..'' Jacob helped the stranger load Daniel onto the sleigh and wrapped him in the furs and the red cover. ''On Blitzen..'' And with that command the sleigh set off through the snow. Part 4 The snow was falling heavily by the the time the old Outdoorsmans sleigh, carrying Daniels prone body, had reached his cabin deep in the pine forest.''Come help me take your friend inside'' prompted the old man to Jacob who for a moment stood dithering.. Together they propped up the board Daniel lay on and carried him into the cabin..''We'll put him on the couch by the fireplace to keep him warm as he recovers..'' said the old man as he nudged the wooden door open and nodded in the direction of a wood framed low couch cushioned with soft woolen pillows and earthen coloured woolen blankets that was placed in front a large stone set fireplace with a high mantlepiece and several thick logs already burning welcomingly in the wide fireplace. The old outdoorsman and Jacob carefully lay Daniel down on the couch and covered him with the woolen blankets..''Do you have a phone in the cabin so we can at least try and call for some rescue.. Daniel might have some kind of bad head injury.?'' saidJacob as he scanned the large interior of the cabin looking for any sign for a link to communications to the nearest town. He could not readily seen any.The kindly old man spoke up ''I'm afraid with this blizzard howling,it may not be till morning until we can seek help for your friend here..". He stood up after making Daniel as comfortable as possible. He could see the worry in Jacobs handsome face.''Don't be worried. I'm certain that he will pull through with my help. I have, lets say, a certain magic about me that may aid my tending of his wounds that i know are not as grave as you fear..'' Jacob fidgeted uncomfortably over Daniel. ''How can you be so sure..?'' ''Oh don't worry..I have a had plenty of time on this earth to gather some good enough medicinal knowledge.....a few centuries at least..!'' said Nick as he headed away through an adjoining door to another room,but hesitated before passing through to glance back at the boy "Oh,my name is Nicholas by the way.." Jacob did'nt click to Nicholas' last few words.he just shuffled slightly,answering his and Daniels name clearly distracted with worry,to pay attention fully to what Nicholas had just said. Finally relaxing a little,his eyes had wandered off Dan for once as he looked around the cabin,noticing boughs of evergreen holly spotted with ruby red berries,and trails of cut Ivy and Fir branches hanging along the inner eaves or hooked onto the pine log walls. The cabin itself felt welcoming with its natural light wood furnishings and plaid red and green textiles and curtains,a plush fur-like rug positioned between the caramel upholstered three-piece suite placed around a low oak trunk coffee table...In all, a traditional family cabin in the forest.. Dan stirred and groaned,drawing back Jacobs attention, just as Nick returned from the kitchen with a red cloth draped over his shoulder,carrying a tray with a clay bowl full of steaming liquid and what looked to be a clay mortar and pestle to which he set down on a small stool next to Daniel. ''Whats that..?'' queried Jacob, as Nick dampened the cloth in the warm water,the steam wafting up to Jacob and the smell reminded him of spices.. ''Oh, its a remedy that will fix any injuries he might have taken to his head..'' Nick dabbed the cloth over Daniels forehead,then folded it it and lay it like a cold cure remedy across his forehead,propping Dans head up on a pillow.. Dan responded with a groan in his semi-conscious state. ''You think that some kind of homeopathic medicines like this can cure him of a brain injury, just like that..?'' said Jacob finding Nicks simple home medicinal deeds a little incredulous.. 'Nick just smiled ''Have faith my friend''. Jacob watched with uncertainty as Nick pulled out a small cloth bag tied with string from his inside pocket,unfastened the string and gently poured the powdery contents into the 'pestle'..cup and then poured a little of the bowls liquid into it,grinding and stirring it up with the mortar.. For a moment,Jacob thought he could see the powder glitter like stardust but shook his head. Nick gently lifted Daniels head and eased the cup to his lips,trying to stir him enough into a moment of consciousness for him to drink the contents.''Come on buddy, drink up...come on,...this will make you feel better'' Daniel weakly opened his mouth and took several slow sips of the water before Nick rested his head back. Jacob glanced out of the window hoping the snow had lessened. It had'nt one bit.. But through the blizzard,towards the shelter where Nick had placed his Reindeer,he could see another one nuzzling against Blitzen,and for a brief moment he thought he could see a faint red glow near its nose. 'Fuck,...i must be tripping.!' he thought, rubbing his eyes before looking out and now just seeing two ordinary Reindeer in the shelter. When he turned around,Jacob nearly jumped out of his skin.. Nick was standing right next to him,smiling..''I have given your friend a something to help him heal,not just his physical wounds but the wounds to his emotions as well..A little sleep will help him out'' He followed Jacobs gaze out the window across to the the deer shelter.''Oh thats just Rudy,..he helps me find my way on certain foggy nights.'' Jacob suddenly remembered Nicks comments about 'centuries of experience..!' ,and a thought came across his mind.'No, thats just rediculous..'' he said as he shook the thought out of his head.Nick just smiled at him as he let Jacob realise just who he was..''No..no, this is just too stupid.. You can't be...'' Jacob was placing the small things together.. A jolly,white bearded old fellow called Nick,in a sleigh drawn by a Reindeer called Blitzen,..and another called Rudy...RUDOLPH..!'' Then as the realisation dawned on just who he was speaking to, Jacob stumbled back,almost tripping over the armrest of the couch Dan now lay asleep.. ''You can't be him..!'' he said,wide-eyed. Nicks face seemed suddenly radiant and his eyes all twinkly in the light of the roaring fire. ''Who would you call me..?'' ''Santa Claus..!'' said Jacob,mouth agape like a catfish. ''Santa,Father Christmas,Pere Noel,Kris Kringle...St,Nicholas..whatevers suited best..!'' said Nick.. ''What are you doing way out here in the forest..?'' said Jacob,trying to find some kind of rational answer for this amazing situation. ''Christmas Eve is not for a few days. Even i'm entitled to a little R&R..!'' ''But if you are such a magical being,then why can't you just make this storm stop and whisk us on your flying sleigh off to the nearest town..?''Jacob said,sobering up to this strange reality. ''Its not as simple as that..I do'nt really control the weather..Why'd you think i'd ask a Reindeer with his 'nose so bright' to guide my sleigh on foggy nights..?'' They both glanced out of the window across to the deer shelter where Rudys nose was now shining brightly red..affirming the unbelievable situation Jacob was now in.. ''I'm just as stuck here til morning as you,my young friend.'' And,reading Jacobs face he added before the boy said anything. ''..And though i can heal people of most wounds, i cannot heal them just like that..'' Nick emphasised the last word by clicking his fingers..''Healing someone takes a lot of my energy..'' Jacob started pacing up and down. ''This is just too freaky..!'' Nicholas moved to stop Jacobs pacing by gently holding onto his arm. ''..But there is something i can do for you both..'' Jacob glanced down at Daniel then at Nicholas. ''What..?'' '' I know your heart is heavy with the lack of love and companionship. You have felt betrayed by those you thought loved you dearly. But if he finds it in his own heart to love again,you will find him a dear and committed partner..'' Nicholas glanced down at Daniel and Jacob knew.. ''But we have only just met.. And this guy is dealing with the grief of losing someone he loved.. What am i to him..?'' ''You can be the one to make him feel love again,to heal that sorrow.'' Feeling a little awkward, Jacob spoke what was on his mind..''But he is not really my type of guy..'' ''Oh,but once he finds his way,he will become 'your type'.. But love is not all based upon looks..Its whats in the heart.'' Jacob smiled. ''I stopped believing in you a long time ago. In my childhood i did not havethe greatest of times at Christmas..'' ''I know Jacob. When you stopped believing,there was no room for me..And for my part i was foolish to neglect you.. If there is a gift i could bestow upon you i will gladly offer it..?'' ''Well, theres one thing i've wanted.. What i've been training to become..''Jacob said furtively. Nicholas smiled knowingly..''You are training to become a top class bodybuilder. Bigger muscles...hmmm, not a gift i've often if ever granted, but,lets give it a try....'' On A Cold Winters Night : A Christmas Tale. Part 5 Daniel eyes were closed but yet he could see bright light through his lids..With a stretch of his body and a yawn he stirred into consciousness,slowly opening his eyes,and at first unaccustomed to such bright sunlight which greeted him.. Although his hearing was the first sense that kicked in... to the sounds of birds chirupping somewhere close by.When his sight finally cleared he took in his surroundings.He was laying on green grass beneath a huge old English Oak tree,feeling a gentle warm breeze blow across his exposed chest,..which soon sharpened his senses when he realised he was lying almost naked except for a pair of sky blue boxers. As he sat up he became aware of someone else sitting just behind him.Looking around at first he could not see the person,such was the brightness of the sun behind him,but as he let his eyes focus,when he saw just who was beside him his face went ashen white and his jaw fell agape.. ''Ah, Danny-boy, enjoy your little siesta..'' There,looking back at him with a radiant smile was Jeff,shirtless and revealing a smooth slender gym-toned torso.. With the bright sun haloed directly behind his head he looked like an Angel..! Daniels heart lept into his mouth and he felt like a dam was gonna burst full of tears. ''Jeff,but but...'' Daniel began to stutter,reeling with mixed feelings and emotions,hoping what he was seeing was'nt just a figment of his imagination.. Jeff quietly shushed him with a finger against Daniels lips,one hand holding a glass of champagne from a picnic laid out before them. ''Come now Daniel, my love...'' but Jeff could'nt finish... Daniel threw his arms around Jeff and drew him into an unbearably tight hug,causing Jeff to spill the champagne. ''Jeff, i've missed you so much it hurts..'' Daniel was unabashedly crying now,sobbing against Jeff bare muscled shoulder.. ''Everything will be alright now Daniel'' Jeff replied,placing the glass down and reciprocating the hug. ''You died.. Is it this heaven...Did i die..?'' Daniel,full of emotions just sputtered out questions ramdomly and rushedly to Jeff. Jeff hushed him. And they released each other from their embrace..Dans eyes never left Jeff,scanning him from his handsome face to his alluring bare torso.. ''Whats ahppened to you, you look so irresistably sexy and more toned than i could ever remember you..?'' Jeff just smiled,passed Daniel a glass of champagne and peered out from the Oak tree on the crest of a hill where they sat,taking in the wide open richly beautiful countryside around them..birds singing in the air and in the trees,butterflies fluttering across patches of flowers around them..the smell of pollen wafting in the air,...a church bell gently ringing from a spire that stood high above the red roofed cotswold stone cottages of a village in the near distance,nestled by a winding river glinting under the sunlight. ''You remember this place Daniel. Much Markham,England.We came here the summer..'' Jeff paused,smiling back at a beaming Daniel, who took a sip of the champagne,..before continuing.''...the summer before i died.'' He could see the smile fade on Daniels face.''Then are we dead... This IS heaven..Am i finally with you.?'' Jeff cupped Daniels face with his hand and then gently stroked the side of his face lovingly.. ''You are not dead.. I brought you here to this one place from your memory that held so much happiness and romance to you..'' Jeff paused again,noticing Daniels eyes begin to well up.. ''You were in an car accident during a harsh winters blizzard. There was a young man with you in your car but he is alright. A man of kind heart and warmth had found you both near the wreck and he took you to his cabin to tend to the wounds you have..'' Dans face showed signs of disappointment that his time with Jeff was not to be, and tears rolled down his cheeks.'' ''It is imperative that you find the will to carry on and fight to survive..'' Jeff said with such passion. 'But i want to be with you. Fuck my life.. My life is with you..'' Dans arm reached up and swept around and drew in the surroundings. ''Here is where i want to be with you..!'' Jeff smiled softly and he leaned in and gave Dan a short but loving kiss. ''Its not your time..'' Daniel broke in. ''No,..it IS my time.. What have i got to live for,without you..?'' ''You have everything to live for.'' Jeff replied sternly,cupping Dans head gently with both hands,framing his saddened face.. 'Listen to me...Its not your time...I will ALWAYS be with you..'' Jeffs hand reached down and he touched Daniel on his chest,above his heart.''..in here..!'' Daniel could see the sincerity and the truth inside Jeff emerald green eyes, as Jeff continued.. ''You remember that boy in the car with you,don't you....Jacob,the hitchhiker..?'' Jeff said knowingly. Dan nodded slightly in acknowledgement. ''You will find happiness with him,i know.. You will find the strength to carry on and to enjoy life again.. He himself has needed to find that kindred spirit,that endearing love to share, someone to make his own life better and worthwhile after the traumas of the short life he has had so far..'' Jeff could see the spark of doubt in Dans sorrowful eyes ''Believe me,this young man is more like me than you know.. He reminds me,...of me, when i was his age...Young,virile,...up for anything...Fit and healthy with a body that yearned of dedication and commitment from gym work-outs that i was too lazy to keep up..'' Dans spirit was picked up by this memory of their past,with the period when they both went through the ''gym bunny'' phase but could'nt keep up with sweat and toil of keeping their bodies in absolute perfection.. not that either of them were out of shape by their mid forties..! ''I remember,..but i'm 'getting on a bit now for all that muscle mary stuff.'' ''You're fifty,..not ninety..!'' replied Jeff,gently swatting Dan across the top of his head.. ''But i can help you with that.. Just promise me you will live,..that you will move on..?''. Daniels mind reeled. His heart was torn by the thought of never seeing jeff again,..of forgetting even what he looked like as time progressed. Jeff leaned in and gave Dan another short kiss.''I will always be with you in some form or another, in that big heart of yours,...in Jacobs eyes..'' Dan finally smiled again..''You said you can help me with my physique..?'' as he pulled Jeff in for a warm embrace and a more passionate kiss,his hands roaming across Jeffs tight six pack abs and smooth hairless chest. ''Oh yes,...just let your love flow..'' Jeff said between their increasingly erotic touching and petting. ''Stealing lines from the Bellamy Brothers..?'' Dan replied with a slight humourous grin, before both became pre-ccupied with lust. .... Up there, on that hill, a piece of Jeff flowed into Daniel,filling his heart with love, and filling his body with new found vigour...and youth. As they made love,the last vestiges of clothes discarded in passion..with each thrust of Jeffs cock into Daniel,Dan grew younger,more stronger.. His greying hair darkening into black like ink was being dyed into it.. The winkles of age and worry smoothening out and as the years ebbed backwards away,his face took on a beautiful male model look. Deep ice blue eyes framed with thin broad lightly arching eyebrows and a narrower slight upturned nose that gave him a cute elfin appeal. His rough lips becoming soft and moist and fuller,a potential for Dan to become a great kisser and great at something else he could wrap those luscious lips around..! With a slightest of pucker of those lush lips he could exude sexual sultriness that could make anyone who desired him,swoon weakly. A few days shadow of stubble on his chin just made him all the more sexier.. And the change did'nt end there.. As Jeffs angelic body pressed against his lover. As his tending hands took to every curve and course of Dans naked torso and arms, Daniel seemed to be invigorated with new found strength which then flowed increasing size into his smooth muscles. A tease of Jeffs fingers across Daniels once slight pecs of his lean chest,brought out their curves and rounding shapes. The flick of the fingers on Dans nipples hardened them and made Daniel groan with lust,adding more of Jeffs magic touch into Dans pecs that grew out thicker and fuller,becoming lightly dusted with soft dark curly hairs around his nipples,across the mounds and down into the deepening crevasse of his sternum between the growing muscles that grew from hillocks to heaving mountains. As one of Jeffs hands,now full of solid pec muscle,cupped it and tweaked at his nipples,Jeffs other hand flowed over Dans shoulders that rose into full broad slopes that framed a thicker lightly bullish neck,ever up till they nudged at his ear-lobes. The hand cupping Dans pecs,left to wander across the lean stomach that repsonded by ripping and tensing,and then his abs showing though,tightening,hardening into a solid six pack that rose like a tray of rolls in an oven.. Lines cut through sharply and defined the sensuous v shape towards his groin,like small rivulets eroding away at a bed of rocks that themsleves hardened even more and crunched together as Dan gently twisted and moved in the throes of passion..Two more hard blocks of abs arose,crunching together with the six,undulating like sand0dunes to finally reveal a shockingly cut 8-pack..Job done on those abs just awaiting someones tongue to lap way at the sweat that funneled down the cuts between each block like tiny streams to the present that would soon await at his groin.. With both hands now,Jeff ran them up the side of Dans bigger,heavier,mightier,manlier torso,up to his arm-pits,and making way for his lats to swell,to flare out of near non-existance,into huge wide-spreading slabs that pushed him up higher off the grass and stretching and broadening his back shockingly wide,like the hood of a cobra and arising the thought of 'barn door lats' to amazing reality. And those wide wide lats tapered down in a sexy v shape into an awesomely tight and narrow waistline. Out went the hands, over the shoulders,across delts filling out big round hard delts that could rugby tackle Trajans Column and knock it down to dust..Those magic hands of an angel passed down to the 'guns' that soon would be the hot top ticket to any 'gun show'.!Once lean sizeable but small biceps suddenly jumped alive as veins pulsed thickenly across the surface of the curves like water running through a firehose.. These veins plugged themselves into Dans bicpes and triceps and started to inflate them, to swell them rapidly from grapefruits to cantaloupe melons, swollen and engorged even fuller to cannonballs streaked with vascular pulsating electrodeds of veins. Biceps that soon reached 25 inches,and tri's that hung thick and hard,...to forearms so ripped and burgeoning like he could rip up a sequoia. Jeff pushed his cock into Dans tight hole as he felt up along Dans legs draped up over his shoulders.. Thighs that seemed to flex,and grow then swell with each flex until they were full of muscle and framing Jeffs head and seemed to give added weight in them as they grew tree trunk thick full of muscle.. Calves that bulged and bloated and tighly ripped.. Thick sinewy bulging leg muscles powerful enough Dan would look like he could dead-lift a bull Elephant..! With each thrust of Jeffs thick cock,he could feel Dan ass respond by clenching tighter against the sodomising intrusion, clamping at the cock as it slid in and out as the growth flowed into his glutes,raising them up,filling them out and gradually endowing Dan with a sexy curvaceous bubble butt. The final gift to Dan, was the growth in his genitals. In the throes of lust,Dans cock had arose into its solid,rigid erection of 7 inches,but now,that erection throbbed even harder,and with each throb,engorged even thicker and fuller,and longer.. It was growing like Daniels own Trajans column without the motifs.. The few veins streaking up along the hard shaft like old thick dry jungle roots creeping over ancient Cambodian ruins to cap a big flaring pinkish-purple glans oozing pre-ucm out of the slit like a tree oozing sap. And his balls too had grown low and heavy in their sac.. Full bloated with cum,lolling weightily like soft medicine balls between his upstretched legs.. .................................................. ............................................... In the cabin, if Jacob was not with St.Nick in a nearby room,for once risking a chance away from Daniel laying under the woolen blankets on the couch, he would have seen the wounds gradually healing themselves. He would have seen Daniel sleeping soundly,covered in a light sheen of sweat,not from the heat of the fire..He would have seen Daniels face looking calm and serene.. ...He would have seen Daniel growing under that warm welcoming blanket,obscuring the gentle swelling of his muscles....the invigoration of youth flooding back into his face,his body,his hands..The arousal of his cock as Daniel dreamt his life-changing dream. ....But Jacob would'nt be left out.. Not for long.. After all, Nick,...Santa Claus had promised him his Christmas gift.. ....But thats for the last part, the healing of wounds,the finding of love. ==================================================================
  18. CardiMuscleman

    The Power of the Titan : Part Three

    After what seemed like hours, Porthos’s body was racked with pain. His arms and legs were on fire, his chest was heaving and he was breathing hard. His heart was pounding and he was sweating like a pig but still he was denying the Cardinal his triumph. Another bolt of pain produced another scream and Porthos could feel his arms and legs burning in pain. He knew that he could never give up and yet in the back of his mind he wondered if he should die, but realised that would give the Cardinal his ultimate triumph. Another bolt of pain woke him up to the fact that he had to escape. However as he was planning on his escape, the Cardinal entered. “So” he said, “do you have anything to say?” Porthos closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. “I defy you!” he grunted and with that he pulled on his restraints. Slowly but surely, the wheel at the top of the device started to turn and despite the torturer’s best efforts, the pain in Porthos’s arms and legs started to recede and as it did, Porthos’s strength increased. The Cardinal realised that unless he did something and quickly, the giant would be free and so took a flaming torch from one of the walls and held it aloft. “You will die!” he said, and with that lit a rope. Porthos watched the rope caught fire and followed it to the end and gasped as he saw the ceiling was full f spears all attached to a frame so that when the rope burnt through it would pierce anyone on the rack. Porthos knew it was a race against time and redoubled his strength. As he pulled against the restraints, a bulge developed in his loincloth. The bigger the bulge got, the more intense Porthos’s breathing got, the more intense the breathing got, the harder Porthos pulled. After a few moments, the loincloth gave up it’s struggle and ripped to reveal Porthos’s own spear which was already tipped with a dribble of liquid. The sight disgusted the Cardinal and he left the room, but the torturer was intrigued and gingerly touched the spear. Porthos moaned and his pull relaxed. He had never experienced these feelings before. He felt powerful, weak, strong, timid and aroused all at the same time. The torturer grabbed the spear and started to rub hard. Porthos's mind whirled with images of Hercules breaking free of chains, Samson bringing down the temple and even his own incredible feats of strength. The faster the torturer rubbed, the harder his spear got and the harder his spear got the stronger he got. Porthos suddenly roared and pulled the restraints so hard that the rack broke under the strain and Porthos was free. He jumped off the rack and wrestled the torturer to the ground just as the rope snapped and the spears crashed to the ground. Porthos rolled onto his back to find that he had crushed the torturer who was lying on the ground, clearly in agony. As Porthos was about to leave, the torturer gasped, “Hail Porthos, the strongest man to live!”. *** Porthos reported his tale to Captain Treville who noted his report with concern. Whilst he was pleased that Porthos had escaped and not revealed any information, the fact that the Cardinal was now willing to use torture was a frightening development. Porthos replied with a smile saying “Whilst I am a Musketeer, no one will be able to beat us!” with that he thumped his chest, saluted and walked out of the Captain office looking for D'Artangan, the newest recruit to the King's Musketeers and a man almost as much in awe of Porthos's strength as Porthos. As he did, he felt his spear start to bulge and hoped that the new recruit would not be frightened of his request which he repeated in his mind over and over again. "Punish me, D'Artangan. Punish me and reveal my strength!" The End???
  19. TheWeremuscleForest

    The Other Side of Our Minds

    ‘Will you stop trying to molest me Justin, I wish I never told you about that story now.’ The curious 20-year-old college student has been hitting on his older 22-year-old roommate for several months. Braxton mentioned to Justin one night while the two guys were in their bedroom after having a few drinks that he was visited by an older man the night he turned 18. He was a freshman in college and didn’t really know anyone that went there. The man was dressed incredibly well in a nicely tailored suit from top to bottom. At the time, Braxton’s roommate was visiting family so he wasn’t around which left the young student all alone. The man showed up at the front steps of the dormitory that Braxton was staying in. It so happened that the teenager was outside standing and talking on his phone. When he finished his phone call, he turned to go back inside but not before this man stops him. ‘Hello there Braxton mind if I have a few words with you.’ With a puzzled look on his face, the 18-year-old stares at the man and wonders how the hell he would know his name. ‘Uhhh, I don’t know who you are and I don’t want to buy what you are trying to sell to me so…..*stops to think*…..how did you know my name?’ The man smiles and proceeds to walk towards him up the stairs into the front lobby. Braxton starts to move backwards inside before he is about to scream. The man grabs his arm and holds him in place. The scared teenager freezes as the man puts his arms around Braxton’s back. ‘Shhh, I’m not here to hurt you buddy, you are ready to graduate to the next chapter in your life. You obviously don’t remember anything about me since you are so surprised to see me. Unfortunately, restraining you right now is the only thing I can do to get your attention.’ Braxton tries to scream but nothing comes from his voicebox. He grabs it with both hands and looks around to see if anyone notices. There isn’t a soul there probably because it is after midnight now. The man takes him over to one of the chairs sitting on the balcony beside the entrance to the dorm and tells him to sit down. The man pulls up another chair and sits in front of Braxton. He takes a few deep breaths and looks the young man in the eyes. ‘Okay…..when you were 12 Braxton, you were in an accident. As you lay dying in that hospital bed, your mind and soul took a journey to a place not many have ever been to before. That plane of existence is where I reside. You were not sure why you had the feelings you did back then since you were on the verge of becoming a teenager. Your soul latched on to me Braxton and wanted to learn what to do next which I was obliged to do. You were unaware that your body was healing with my assistance.’ ‘That wasn’t the only thing I was helping you with either. *clasps his hands in Braxton’s* Your cock and balls for the first time that day started to function in a more mature fashion. You had your first orgasm in that hospital bed and it was amazing.’ Braxton rips his hands away from the man and jumps up. He rushes towards the front lobby doors and turns around. ‘I don’t fucking know what you are talking about man, I don’t ever want to remember that day ever again…..’ The man stops him midway through his thought. ‘Braxton…..you know who I am because you made me look the way you always wanted your fantasy man to look like. You always wanted to be with an older man around your dad’s age because you have talked about it every night before you go to bed. Even now at this school, you mention me and dream about me.’ The teenager goes inside and down the hall before he stops by one of the night auditors. ‘Is everything alright Braxton? You seem flustered and a bit…..sweaty.’ He turns and notices that the man is right behind him, but the auditor doesn’t see him. Braxton thinks for a moment and speaks. ‘I just went on a run, I’m alright.’ ‘Okay, remember that you must be in before midnight though during the week.’ The auditor turns and walks back to the front desk. Braxton gets into the nearby elevator as the man follows him inside. ‘He doesn’t see you. Who are you?’ *reaches to feel the man’s thick muscular chest which strains against his satin dress shirt* The man reaches over to push the stop button on the elevator and pulls Braxton in to him. He grabs the teen’s hands and rubs them up and down his chest as he stares into his eyes. The teen is in awe of the man’s incredible muscles that he feels underneath the fabric. The man’s groomed black fur on his face and neck is exactly what he envisioned in the dreams he has had since he was 12. ‘You know who I am Braxton. I’m your Matt that you have formed in your mind, well at least physically. I can also sense something else going on in your mind.’ Matt lets out a few growls as Braxton hears a few rips coming from the man’s body. His body appears to be growing a little bit as his shirt splits down the middle of his back along with his suit jacket. His thick hairy pecs shred the front of the shirt slightly as they are now visible. The teenager lets out a few moans. He reaches in to feel the hairy swollen muscles that feel soft to the touch. ‘Hold on there buddy, look down. GRRR!’ *winks* Matt’s quads swell up to the point that his suit pants look painted on. The seams rip enough to where the thick hairy slabs jut out the sides. The surprised teen leans down to run his hands along each bump and curve. He lightly moans feeling the thick forest of hair sitting on top of both tree trunks. While he is down there, Braxton feels a lot of heat radiating from the center of Matt’s pants. The big man grunts as his crotch grows thicker and longer. The young teen can’t seem to take his eyes off of it hearing noises coming from within. ‘Go ahead buddy, put your hand up to it, you are compelling me to grow.’ Braxton runs his hands along the crease of Matt’s shaft. The huge pole pulses against his hand as he finally gives in to it a little to lay his head against it. The big man reaches down to pet the teen’s head and hair before telling him to look up. ‘You are the reason I am like this Braxton. My body is what your mind created and is creating as we are in here right now. I know my muscles are turning you on greatly as I sense it in you. There is a part of you that was longing for this day to come. Now that I am here, it is time for you to take the next step and enter into the next stage of your life Braxton.’ The dazed teen slowly moves Matt’s cock around before he unzips his pants and swallows the huge pole down his throat. He sucks on it lovingly making the big man groan deeply. Braxton looks up and smiles as he starts to feel the need for Matt to grow again. More popping comes from the big man’s body as his pants completely shred and fall down to the ground. His immense chest finishes off the rest of his dress shirt as he yanks it off and throws it to the other side of the elevator. He growls and does a most muscular for Braxton as his jacket nearly disintegrates under the incredible mass forming on his body. This makes the young man moan even louder as he tastes a river of precum flowing down into his belly. ‘RAWR! Yeah buddy, you are making me want to rage Braxton. If you continue on this path, I won’t be able to hold back. I enjoy it because you enjoy it of course.’ The young student grabs Matt’s immense ass and snaps the waistband off freeing up the last remaining fabric from his body. His socks and dress shoes explode under the pressure of his growing feet. Braxton moans as he continues to gulp at the big man’s powerful rod as it lengthens and slides further down inside the teen’s throat. Matt reaches his incredibly massive arms out to brace himself against the elevator walls which are now creaking. ‘Mmmmm buddy…..this is about to get really dangerous though Braxton. Stay close to me.’ Matt’s huge frame is now as wide as the elevator now as his head starts to go through the ceiling. Debris begins falling down as the growing man laughs destroying the walls and lights which explode against his hairy stone skin. Braxton sucks even harder and faster tasting the ooze draining inside him as Matt roars in delight. He raises his massive left arm up to grab the cables above his head while gripping Braxton in his right arm. He lifts the young man up with him who still has his mouth locked on to the huge pole residing in his throat. ‘It feels absolutely incredible Braxton. Keep sucking buddy while I get both of us to safety up at the top of this dorm.’ The giant continues climbing up the cables with one arm as he feels his cock and balls getting closer to the edge. They are now swelling to the point that they are turning a purplish-red color. Matt stops moving up the cable to compose himself for a few seconds making Braxton come up for air as the giant’s huge cock bounces furiously spraying several jets of precum down inside the elevator car below them. The huge stud flexes his entire body enhancing the feeling from within while growling in delight. ‘Make me cum Braxton you really do have quite a wild streak from within your mind. It will be the biggest load you have ever seen in your life.’ Holding on to Matt’s waist as much as possible, the student strokes the giant’s cock in a strong even fashion knowing that the volcano will erupt at any time. The monster’s massive legs and quads move with the rhythm as they thrust faster with each stroke. Matt starts to climb upwards again feeling the tension from inside his balls building up again as his testicles cannot grow anymore otherwise they will rip through the sack. ‘SHIT! OHHHH FUCK BRAXTON, look out. I am going to coat this whole place.’ Braxton moves his head as Matt’s piss slit stretches to its limits before launching a giant wave of cum fifty feet into the air before it lands onto the nearby tunnel wall. The giant continues swiveling his lower body still able to hold on to the cable as his body pours sweat down on to the lower elevator car. Yet another giant stream of cum goes flying from Matt’s huge cock and finds its way down at the bottom of the tunnel. Braxton now moves back into the huge pole’s path and awaits the third jet as he opens his mouth. Matt roars in laughter still thrusting his quads in the eager young man’s face. ‘You want this kind of power too don’t you buddy…..yeah I know you do…..I have always known that you wanted this. Well you will get your wish Braxton, open wide little man!’ The student sticks his tongue out as another huge jet of cum hits him in the face and coats his shirt and pants. He locks his mouth on top of the huge pole and chokes as the cum continues to shoot out of the giant’s cock and down Braxton’s chest and lower body. Matt smiles at him and can feel the young man gulping down tons of cum craving what he has always dreamed about. The big man waits until all of the cum has left his body before he starts to climb again. Braxton moans caressing his lover’s immense ass and licks the sides of Matt’s cock getting every drop he might have missed. The student’s stomach is so swollen that it pushes his shirt all the way up above it. He literally looks pregnant. Matt laughs again as he feels the round protrusion up against his legs. ‘I think you have had enough to drink Braxton. Let’s get out of here before something else happens.’ After a couple more minutes, they finally reach the top. Matt busts through the top by putting his fist through the steel and concrete. He finds the roof and looks down at Braxton. ‘You trust me right Braxton?’ He then lifts them both up onto the roof and falls over to rest. Braxton lets go of his waist and does the same thing. After calming down, the giant gets up and goes to stand over his young lover. The student’s stomach remains bloated from the massive amount of cum he consumed. Matt helps him up so he can talk to him. ‘Well, what are you waiting for Braxton? *waves his arms* You consumed enough muscle building protein to probably take this building down.’ Braxton wonders what he is supposed to do. Matt looks him straight in the eyes and says to just concentrate his energy on him. The student’s breathing increases as his body begins to react. His stomach slowly empties as his legs and feet start growing. His jeans split immediately as his shoes explode under the sheer mass that is being added. His muscles make quick work of his shirt as his back cracks several times trying to accommodate the incredible amount of muscle that keeps piling on top of their selves. The young teenager that was there just a minute before is completely gone now as Braxton matures right in front of Matt’s eyes. The big young stud roars in ecstasy as he feels completely reborn. He flexes his massively round muscles trying to show off in front of Matt who just laughs. He flexes his muscles back at Braxton as they both grunt at each other. The roof creaks under their feet as they take a few huge steps around. Matt eventually gets behind his young lover and wraps his arms around him. He then throws Braxton to the ground and starts wrestling him. They grunt and groan rubbing their slick hairy muscled bodies together until they eventually just decide to stop. After a few minutes, Matt moves down to his partner’s lower body and starts to toy with Braxton’s thick meaty cock. ‘You worked me over really well Braxton, now it is my turn buddy.’ After being edged by Matt several times the young behemoth finally launches his cum volcano into the air as it floats over the side of the building and coats several of the dorm student’s cars. Braxton quickly moves himself to the edge of the building and shoots several more jets of cum hitting nearby streets and sidewalks. They both laugh hysterically until Braxton finishes cumming. Matt puts his arm around his young lover and kisses his lips. They embrace each other and moan as they calm down. ‘Well that’s it buddy. I’ve done all I can do for you at this point, but I will be back soon don’t you worry.’ Matt vanishes a few seconds later. _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ ‘Are you fucking serious Braxton? I mean…..I knew that you nearly died and all but this Matt guy just sounds like some kind of fantasy.’ ‘And I would agree with that assessment Justin, but he is very real. He helped me learn how to control it after that night. It wasn’t the only time we were together either.’ Justin tries to rub his roommate’s crotch again which makes Braxton quite irritable. ‘DAMNIT JUSTIN! I am not going to grow for you. I am not Bruce Banner it doesn’t work that way.’ ‘So what triggers it then?’ Braxton knows what he is trying to do and doesn’t go for it. ‘HA! nice try there genius, but no clues.’ Justin finally gets up from Braxton’s bed and moves over to the bathroom to strip naked. His 10” cock is wet with precum which prompts the college student to rub it up and down his shaft to make it shiny. Braxton stares intently at it and is dumbfounded as to why he never saw Justin’s huge cock before. ‘Uhh Justin, I had no idea that you were so…..wow endowed.’ He can start to feel himself heating up quickly too. Before he can even try to control himself, his body starts to react. Justin can see the discomfort he is in and walks back over to him. He grins at Braxton and bounces his cock at him. ‘So you want this do you man? This is going to be fucking awesome.’ Once he stands directly in front of Braxton’s face, he slaps his cock on his roommate’s face and chest and watches in amazement as his gifted older roommate’s growing muscles rip, shred, and tear their way through his clothes and continue growing to unimaginable heights. Never in his wildest dreams did Justin think that this improbable story was true, but now he knows that Braxton’s near-death experience brought with it a powerful gift. In case you want to read another installment in the series: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/3467-the-other-side-of-the-mirror/
  20. For continuity purposes, you may want to reread The Separations of An Unfortunate Man first: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/2378-the-separations-of-an-unfortunate-man-dales-perspective/ ‘Hold on for a minute…..I have to get dressed. *whispers under his breath* Who in the hell would come to the door at six am? I sweat to gawd if it is Arlo I will…..’ Glenn Kapers slides his shorts on quickly after completing one of his cardio sessions. He wonders if he should put a shirt on or not since he isn’t sure who it could be so early at his front door. He takes his time getting to there and notices an older man with his back to him sort of standing in a fairly cocky stance. The man has a decent sized back tucked away inside a grey t-shirt. His legs are also nicely built hugging a tight pair of blue jeans. When he opens the door, the man turns around and smiles at him. The man’s greyish beard shines in the sun as his pearly whites look nearly perfect. It turns out to be his ex’s father Keith Holton. He looks down at Glenn’s sweaty chest as droplets cascade down his hairy pecs and abs. ‘Hello there Glenn just thought I would stop by and have a nice chat with you if you don’t mind.’ Glenn seems surprised by this and makes a strange face at him. ‘Uhhh okay…..I suppose you are needing to talk to me about Dale then? We are not dating anymore if that is what this is about.’ ‘No no…..well…..I know you two are still pretty close though so I thought I would come by and find out what he has been saying to you about our relationship.’ Once again Glenn looks at the older man and seems a bit confused as to what he means. ‘Mr. Holton, me and Dale do have a strong friendship, but I’m not sure what he has been telling me has anything to do with your relationship with him.’ Keith continues to smile at him occasionally making glances at the younger man’s bare chest and arms. Glenn sighs a little before putting one of his hands on the door frame. His sweaty arm glistens with sweat making Keith stare at it intently as the veins jump. ‘Can I come in for a little bit Glenn? You know me well enough that I’m not going to attack you right?’ The shirtless young man thinks for a few seconds before moving out of Keith’s way to allow him to come inside. The older man enters and walks into Glenn’s tv area before turning around to see if he is following. He sees him put a tank top on and makes a few unfavorable noises. Glenn hears him do this and stares him down. Keith cocks his mouth to the side of his face and shakes his head no. ‘Why are you really here Mr. Holton? You have been staring me down since you got here. I think your intentions are not exactly what you implied. Ohh and Dale has actually mentioned a few times lately how much you have been harassing him for no apparent reason.’ The older man starts walking towards him which prompts Glenn to start moving backwards himself towards the nearby wall. ‘I guess you are right Glenn, maybe my intentions are not exactly what they seem, at least on the surface.’ The mature man stops walking and stands about three feet from where Glenn is. He lets out a few moans and starts sweating from his head and neck. The young hairy stud turns to find a path away from Keith so that he doesn’t get cornered. The sweating increases on the older man as it dribbles down his chest and begins to soak the front and sides of his shirt. Glenn tries to find his cell phone on the nearby table to call Dale, but ends up dropping it on the ground. Keith hears it fall and looks at it. He chuckles a little as he turns his attention back up to Glenn again. He makes a few stretching motions as it appears that he is getting some kind of pump. The young stud goes into a defensive stance now in case he has to do something drastic. ‘Mr. Holton…..I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you but it appears that you are in some kind of distress. I think maybe you should go to the hospital or something before you get any worse.’ A few stretching sounds are starting to come from Keith’s body. Glenn hears them and can’t figure out why this is happening. He notices that Keith’s jeans look a lot tighter than they did before. Both legs sound like they are in vises as the denim is compressed to its limits. Keith looks down at them and grunts feeling the pressure building waiting for them to make their entrance. ‘Uhh…..maybe I should help you to your car…..’ Keith stops him mid-sentence and growls. ‘MMMMMM…..no Glenn…..*a few seams rip in both legs*…….ahhh…..I just want to show you…..*more seams rip as his emerging hairy quads start to reveal themselves* who I can become. The feeling is so fucking intoxicating. *the rest of the seam rips as his quads and hams break free still growing*’ Glenn is dumbfounded as to why this is even happening to Keith. He can feel his cock jumping though in his shorts which surprises him. The mature man can sense it too as he smiles and sees a little glimmer in Glenn’s eyes. ‘It is just starting sexy boy. *feels it moving down into his calves and feet* AHHH shit…..*his calves start growing and pressing against the rest of his pant legs* mmmmm fuck Glenn…..it shouldn’t feel this good…..*feels his feet growing and stretching the leather in his shoes until they start splitting*’ Glenn’s cock begins tenting in his pants which he quickly adjusts to make it sit off to the left side. It throbs incessantly as his balls begin to swell up with cum. He realizes that he has always had this thing for older men and muscles. He wishes though that it didn’t pertain to his ex’s dad, but he can’t hide it. Keith’s feet finally bust out of their confines and continue to thicken. His calves rip through the remaining seams along the sides of his jeans as his huge hairy lower half glistens. The young admirer cannot help but to see the huge bulge starting to swell in Keith’s crotch. The growing man moans loudly feeling the rush moving into his ass and balls. ‘OH FUCK! It never ceases to amaze me how fucking hung I get. *feels the seams in his ass and crotch starting to give way* MMMMMM BABY! You want to see what a real man’s cock looks like sexy, wait till you see mine.’ Keith’s crotch rips open revealing his soaked jock which is struggling to stay on his thickening frame. The seams in his ass rip open making him look behind to watch his glutes swelling and destroying the denim. The growth makes his waist thicken as the rest of his jeans rip completely off exposing his entire lower half except for his jock which is barely containing the enormous rod swelling from within the pouch. He sighs for a few moments as he turns his head back around and looks into Glenn’s eyes again. The young stud is mesmerized now as he stares down at Keith’s massive tree trunks. He can’t speak either as he scans the big man’s entire lower body. Keith gets a little bit of his composure back long enough to motion for Glenn to come to him. ‘Come here sexy boy. You don’t have to stand over there. You are getting to see the real me Glenn, well…..sort of. *tries to hold it back for a few more seconds* MMMMMM…..I can control it…..*feels it moving into his chest* to a point……ahhhh…..*feels his cock aching as it fills his jock with pre* gawd…..i love it when it gets to my chest…..*his abs start to widen and stretch*…..fuck yeah!’ Glenn grimaces feeling his cock welling up like it is about to burst. He doesn’t touch it but yet it feels like it is being stroked over and over again. He can see Keith’s stomach reshaping itself as his abs thicken up and stretch wider turning into huge tiles. The fur on them is now turning from salt and peppery to brown and black. The big man’s back is starting to pop now too as Glenn can see him gradually getting taller. His grey shirt begins rising up from his waist and stops once it gets to the top of his immense eight-pack. The young man is having trouble keeping his composure now as well as he spills a pile of precum on to the floor beneath his shorts. Keith is beginning to feel his mind wander now as he labors his breathing. ‘Uhhhh fuck yeah Glenn! I can’t hold back much longer…..*pecs begin expanding as his upper back and lats begin ripping his shirt* AHHH! *looks down and sees the puddle forming below Glenn’s shorts* Yeah sexy, get off on me. Dale can’t please you like daddy Keith…..*pinches his nipples as they start to emerge from his shirt* or…..*shirt shreds as his massive hairy pecs bust out* rather…..my younger half.’ He grunts feeling his shirt rip open in the front and back as his pecs and delts keep growing. He clenches his fists and feels them swelling as he watches the veins pumping bigger and wider. Glenn moans as he dumps several jets of cum into the floor. Seeing Keith’s forearms growing sets him off. The older man is now in sheer ecstasy straining as his arms grow thicker tearing their way through his shirt sleeves. He gasps feeling the muscles in his biceps and triceps stretching as well as the bloated veins. Glenn can’t take his eyes off of them watching the bulbs triple in size. ‘AHHH FUCKING YEAH! MMMMMM……*his shoulders and traps blow up in size destroying the remainder of his shirt* Glenn…..*feels his neck stretching as the veins and muscles grow wider* it is time for you to meet Kliff…..*his eyes go back into his head as his greyish facial hair changes to brownish black and the hair on his head does the same*’ Glenn continues to shoot cum on the ground and can’t seem to move. He doesn’t know what Keith meant when he said what he said and gets nervous. The huge muscleman in front of him continues to grunt as he opens his eyes. The young stud seems to remember that Keith’s eyes were brown, but now they are a deep green. He looks into them and feels like he is being put into a trance. He tries to resist the temptation to go over to him, but it is getting harder to fight. The man grins and reaches up to run his huge hands down his furry chest. Glenn moans and feels a bit lightheaded. The man sees this and rushes over to catch him before he falls. ‘I got you baby. *wraps his 23” cannons around Glenn’s back* Look at me hot stuff! *Glenn immediately looks up at him* I know you like your men hairy and huge, why don’t you go ahead and service this one. Dale won’t ever have to know. *winks before two loud snapping noises come from his huge hamstrings* Whoops! It looks like he will have to be given some attention too.’ The snapping that Glenn heard were the straps barely clinging to the big man’s hamstrings from his jock. As they give way, his huge cock falls out of his jock and dumps a huge stream of precum into the floor. He reaches down and gives it a few strokes getting it all wet and shiny. Glenn’s eyes grow wide staring at the huge hairy rod as it pulses. The huge man directs his attention back to his face again. ‘Hehe, unlike Keith I am a little more nurturing. I’m not just going to plow you and leave like he would. I have wanted to get to know you for a while baby. Keith just wanted to fuck with you because of Dale, but I wouldn’t let him. Now that I have control, I will do what I want.’ He leans down to slowly kiss Glenn on the lips. This immediately leads to the young stud leaning against his huge chest and massaging it with his hands. The man flexes his abs and bounces his pecs for him as he runs his fingers up and down the hairy forest. This lasts for several minutes before Glenn stops to ask him a question. ‘Who are you? I mean…..*seems confused* how is this happening?’ The huge man smiles at him and hugs him burying Glenn’s face into his hairy pecs. The young stud quickly finds his nipples and nurses them. They both moan deeply before the hairy behemoth pulls Glenn’s shorts off and rubs his cock up against his hole. The young admirer licks the hair between the man’s abs and kisses each one individually before running his tongue between both pecs and kissing his shelf which prompts the huge behemoth to squeeze him before speaking again. ‘I’m Kliff Templeton. Keith tries to keep me hidden because he thinks he can somehow keep me under control. Of course the problem with that is, once he lets me take over his body, the desire for growth overrides him so I just come at him full force and he can’t stop me. I still haven’t figured out how to hold him back though so he generally wins after just a few hours.’ Glenn looks up at Kliff’s face with lust in his eyes. The big man sees this and starts pushing his cock inside the eager bottom. He starts fucking Glenn with a lot of intensity as he pushes the young stud’s head into his heaving chest again. This goes on for several minutes before Kliff stops to kiss him again. Glenn is unable to resist any kind of advance the big man makes. The big hairy goliath pumps his arms making them bulge so that the young man will worship them. He grunts each time Glenn runs his tongue along the massive bulbs. He starts fucking him again and stops before his balls unload into his cock. He looks at Glenn again. ‘I know that Dale never told you about me and that was probably the right thing to do. The thing is though he also has a secret of his own. You see…..he has the same gift baby. Keith just has me, but Dale was imbued with two other souls. I know this because I can sense them when he is with his dad.’ Glenn is shocked by this and wonders how Dale was able to keep them from ever coming out. ‘Good question Glenn. Dale has more restraint I think. I’m sure though there have been times that he wanted to let them out with you. I know being with you right now that you deep down crave feeling muscle in and out of you. *bounces his pecs and flexes his biceps* Ohh and of course something else too.’ Kliff thrusts inside Glenn several more times before finally pumping the young stud full of cum. The sheer force makes him grip the massive man’s back. He laughs a little before leaning down to kiss Glenn deeply. This lasts for a few minutes. When Kliff finally finishes cumming, he pulls out and tells the young man to move up so he can slap his cock on his pecs. ‘I know you love these mountains Glenn, why don’t you dump some snow on them.’ *smiles* The young man moans and knows exactly what he means. He starts to stroke quickly but Kliff stops him after a few seconds. He redirects Glenn’s hands to his own biceps and tells him to feel them flexing and straining as he works his cock. The big man slowly works the young stud’s cock with both hands making Glenn agonize over the incredible sensation. After a few strokes in, Kliff runs his tongue over the piss slit lapping up the precum and moaning before going back to stroke it again. ‘You taste incredible baby, now feed my body. My pecs are hungry and want you to coat them.’ The big man works his lover’s cock with more authority as he feels it getting ready to burst. Glenn yells in delight as he sprays Kliff’s face and chest with several jets of cum. The hairy behemoth licks the cum off his beard with his tongue as he bounces his pecs which are now drenched in jizz. He stops stroking Glenn and pulls him in to kiss him and shove his tongue down the young stud’s throat. They embrace and lay on the floor together. After a few minutes of Kliff massaging Glenn’s body, the young man drifts off to sleep in his arms. The big stud gets up with Glenn in his pythons and places him in a chair in the tv area. Once he can see that the young man is in place, he kisses him again and turns to go out the front door. The exhausted young stud awakens minutes later and sees that Kliff is gone. He wonders if it was all just a dream or maybe just maybe it really happened. The next time he sees Dale, he will have to question him just to see if it is indeed true. When he gets up from the chair, his eyes immediately go straight to the tattered clothes and puddles of pre on the floor. Could it be? For additional perspectives, don't forget to read about Jeremiah: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/2394-the-secrets-of-an-unfortunate-stud-jeremiahs-perspective/
  21. Chapters 7, 8 Precis so far: Valhalla Labs is a remote mountaintop Northern California military facility, overseen by genius muscle growth scientist Dr. Ira Zaftig and CO Staff Sergeant Rod Moster, a 7'-0" ripped and hung 395-pound black muscle giant. There, 18 extraordinary bodybuilder-soldiers live, train, and play together, overseen by Moster's strict rules and brutal regimen for muscular perfection. Known as Project Herculaneum, the men serve as Dr. Zaftig's lab rats, receiving regular injections of P-21, a specially developed enzyme that facilitates muscle and strength growth in the very few bodybuilders whose systems can withstand it. The goal: to create an army of supermen, whose strength, size, and combat skills are unparalleled in the modern military. Unfortunately for the Project, the soldiers' enhanced strength and dramatically increased muscular size is accompanied by a corresponding increase in priapic size as well, along with a rapidly diminishing sense of social restraint and inhibitions. And along the way, the men's extraordinary physiques prompt their own extreme muscle fantasies into a daily acting-out sexual reality. Into the mix comes young Casey Rockland, a lonely, handsome, super-hung 18-year old bodybuilding giant. Inducted by Dr. Zaftig into the top-secret government muscle strength and growth project, Casey comes to learn the ropes amongst the muscle giants, whose hunger for hardcore training is matched only by their sexual appetites and growing fantasies, including their insatiable need to receive muscle worship. Casey's innocence, simplicity, and his growing need to receive both love and muscle worship threaten the very core of the decade-long Project, itself only now approaching its full potential. Chapter 7: Training Night 1: Good for Morale October 20th, 2021 1900 Hours The gym floor was buzzing with activity. Each man had a 5-gallon aluminum jug of water from which he regularly took enormous gulps, occasionally pausing to drench both himself and his training partners as needed to stave off the effects of the heat. All wore specially designed army green jockstraps. Regulation jocks were hardly adequate for their needs, and all 19 men (and especially Sergeant Moster) required XXX-large custom-fit pouches. Pendulously bulging, sweat, cum, and piss-stained, even these firm-gripping supersized mesh pouches could barely contain the musclemen’s super-sized genitalia. Gently curving cock shafts plunged from heavily veined, thin-skinned pelvic girdles on each man, leading to jaw-breaking cockheads. The jocks hugged the men’s cocks tightly, providing only barely adequate covering. Moster’s policy was that shorts and sweatpants were unnecessarily encumbering. All around the room, as the men moved from weight to weight, their mountainous packages swayed freely back and forth. On most of the men, the top 5 to 6 inches of their veiny cocks were visible, plunging into their over-burdened pouches. The men’s powerful, deeply striated glutes were fully exposed in back. Colorful do-rags, thick cable socks and black army boots completed their attire. On the floor, workout buddies Private Dan Gunst and Private Steve Waring were spotting each other through a sixth set of murderous curls. 24, 6'-10", 375 pounds, blond, huge, sporting a severe crew cut, and with a big nose and oversized hands, Gunst was a decidedly homely muscle giant, packed with imposing hardcore brawn. His bullish traps sloped massively from his 24” neck. The man’s 27-3/4 inch biceps were second only in girth and mass to Sgt. Moster’s, though he hadn’t yet attained the shapely cannonball peaks of Corporals Schumacher, Obatu, Blankenship and Alvarez. At 3.8% bodyfat he tended towards a thin coat of luminous bloat in his 375-pound physique; he was all the same, super-humanly powerful, and during his training sessions the bloat seemed to melt into a latticework of shrink-wrapped vascularity. His partner, the 26-year old Steve Waring, was uncommonly good-looking, if, at a mere 276 pounds of raw muscle, not nearly as big as Gunst. He was, however the far more ripped bodybuilder, having been in the program 2 years longer. His vascularity was astonishing, a complex map of thick, dizzying, zig-zag veins that criss-crossed his magnificent physique. Square-jawed, dimpled and brown-eyed, he always had a neatly groomed 2-day beard. As expected for a leaner man, Waring’s particular beauty lay in his batwing lat spread and chiseled abs, which tapered radically into a mere 29” waist. Cobbled, veiny abs lead down to his fearsome bulge. Now Waring was up. He tied on a pair of dirty wristbands and cinched them tightly, licked his lips, approached the 160-pound weight, and looked up at Gunst with a half smile. “What’re you waitin’ for? C’mon, get moving,” said Gunst impatiently. “It’s my third set.” “I know. C’mon, man, you’re stalling.” “You know what I want.” Waring winked and grinned, and his dimples broadened deeply. Gunst rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Jesus. You and your third set mantras.” He leaned into Waring, cupped his palm, and roughly took the jock pouch bearing his partner’s heavy balls into his calloused hand. He flicked Waring’s leathery testicles with his thick thumb and with strong fingers stroked the curling cock shaft tucked into the jock. Waring closed his eyes and exploded breath. Gunst fondled the cock, feeling where the 11” flaccid shaft coiled into a sagging downward-pointing firehose U-shape. His own cock began to stiffen as the pouch bearing Waring’s junk began to expand under his touch. He gave a last thumb flick and stepped back. “Yeah!” shouted Waring, and he squatted, grabbed the weight, stood, and reeled off 15 perfectly executed curls. The veins in his biceps expanded and contracted powerfully, eddying currents of blood in a river of muscle. 40 feet away at the incline bench press, Privates Aja Jin, Reed Bogarde and Derek Washington were taking turns doing dumbbell flyes with 125 pound weights. Ginger-haired Bogarde was up, while black muscle giant Private Washington spotted him, and the Asian Private Jin muttered hyper-masculine, mono-syllabic bon mots of encouragement. "C'mon. Get big. Get huge. C'mon man. Push. We're right here." The three heavyweights were generally together. If they weren’t closely supervised, they’d spend more time than absolutely necessary on pec workouts. A year before they had petitioned Moster to be allowed to wear their prized brass chained nipple clamps during their training. Moster had refused at first, but after they appealed to Dr. Zaftig, he finally relented. “The pain inspires them,” Zaftig told him. Moster had to agree that this one time, he had been wrong to withhold his approval. And once again, it was good for morale. The chain to Bogarde’s clamps was draped over the t-shirt and lay across his mammoth, boyishly freckled pecs. He’d completed 11 reps seamlessly, but was now pausing, his arms open wide, the dumbbells held aloft. “Do, it, man,” he growled, and as Moster watched, Private Jin reached over and with gentle, adroit firmness, tugged slightly on the chain. Bogarde’s face contorted with pain. "Push, asswipe!" screamed Jin. Bogarde completed the set. “Thanks, buddy,” he breathed, as he slammed the weights to the floor and sat up. “Privates!” Moster called out. “Remember I want to see you remove those clamps every 10 minutes for an exact period of 20 more minutes!” “Yes, sir,” said Washington, about to take his seat on the bench for his set. “By my watch, it has been more than 11 minutes. Those clamps come off. Now.” “Shit,” muttered Washington, but he duly turned to Private Jin. “Take care of this for me, and I’ll do for you.” “Okay,” said Jin. He lifted Washington’s t-shirt, and gently unscrewed the clamp on the left nipple. Instantly Washington’s face contorted with pain. Jin leaned in and tenderly licked the swelling brown nipple with his tongue for a few moments. Washington nodded, and Jin repeated it for the right nipple. “I’m good,” he said. Jin lifted his shirt and Washington returned the favor, caressing Jin’s nipples with his tongue as he removed each biting clamp. “Hey, what about me?” Bogarde grinned, slipping off his t-shirt. His large nipples pointed heavily downward, with lusciously round, perfect aureoles. He pumped his 58” ripped chest fully, fists at his side, and stood smiling expectantly as his two muscle buddies moved into his side, their heads to Bogarde’s chest, each manning a clamped nipple. For Private Bogarde, the only good thing about the unclamping was the minute of stimulation he received from his buddies to keep the excruciating pain he so adored from making him instantly cum into his overstuffed jockstrap. Once he came, his partners knew the chest workout would be effectively derailed for a good 15 minutes, and so to prevent such time wasting, both men were inclined to be extra attentive. Over time, they developed a routine. Together the two bodybuilders carefully unscrewed the clamps, and swiftly leaned in to kiss, lick, bite, stroke, and caress Bogarde’s freed, erect nipples. Bogarde moaned, his eyes rolling to the ceiling, his cock now swelling threateningly in his jockstrap. “Shit,” he moaned, and his buddies glanced down at the straining pouch. His mushroom-round penis head poked heavily over the top and began to climb up his abs. Jin and Washington knew that he might shoot his load at any moment. The two double-timed their nipple licks. After a minute, their tender administrations allowed him to regain control. He nodded – he was okay – and they backed away. Satisfied, Bogarde pumped his pecs to their fullest size and inspected them both closely, nodding with serious, unsmiling self-approval. Wet with spit, his stiffened nipples bloomed. “Freaky,” he breathed. His buddies nodded. “Awesome pecs,” said Jin. “Awesome.” Bogarde stuffed his receding cock back into his jock, and winked at Moster. Moster watched. When it was clear Private Bogarde was past danger, he called out again. “Back to your work. You have twenty more minutes before you can put those damn clamps on again.” The men nodded dutifully. Washington sat, grabbed a dumbbell in each hand, hoisted them to his knees, leaned back, and effortlessly pushed them both to the ceiling. His chest expanded mightily. Bogarde shouted the count. “1! 2! 3!” Jin spotted, his powerful hands lightly meeting Washington’s elbows with each rep. For a moment, Bogarde fondled his smarting nipples tenderly. He caught Moster’s stern eye and, still counting Washington’s reps, nodded sheepishly and slipped back into his sopping t-shirt. Corporals Rene LeFevre, Tony Chad and Private Chris Hension were supersetting between bent-over single-arm rows and military presses. The massively muscled corporals, both in their mid-30’s, were the compound practical jokers. Their perfect foil was the slightly dopey 22-year old, 260-pound superheavyweight Private Hension, a square-jawed, curly-haired, dreamily handsome inductee who had only been admitted into the ranks of The Nineteen from the cadet squad six months before. Hension's face was so unusually beautiful that he was catnip for all who gazed upon him. With his deep blue eyes, perfectly square jaw, high cheekbones, imposing Roman nose, thick eyebrows, short curly black hair, powerful young physique and endearing, gap-toothed smile, he looked like a hyper muscular refugee from some crazy TigerBeat boy band. Teen muscles personified, and unusually huge, though he was 3 years past his teens already. His hazing was not quite over. Tonight he was burning from the red-hot chili powder LeFevre and Chad had worked into the folds of his jockstrap. Early in the workout he had waddled with his bodybuilder’s muscle-laden stride over to the 50-gallon water cooler, pulled down his jock, and poured a quart of refreshingly cold water onto his stinging red shaft. Every ten minutes he had to return to the cooler as his P-21 enhanced, ever-growing penis began burning anew. He couldn’t figure it out and was embarrassed. The fabric of his jock was now transparent with wetness, and the crimson outlines of his snake-coiled penis could be seen glowing painfully. LeFevre and Chad hid their grins innocently as a baffled Hension trudged back towards them, his fingers gently probing and rearranging his drooping big package for maximum comfort. “Something the matter, Private?” asked LeFevre. Hension nodded. “My junk hurts,” he said. He still wasn’t entirely used to the newly achieved girth of his organ. “And it itches.” “You keepin’ it clean?” “Sure.” He stuck his hand in his jock. “It’s getting too big. It don’t fit in these jocks.” “How big?” LeFevre winked at Chad. “I ain’t measured.” “Really?” “You lie.” “Okay, it’s past 10 inches now.” “About the medium point, then.” “You’re probably jerkin’ off too much.” “All that new size. Kinda hot, right?” “Gotta wipe all that jism off after you shoot, son.” “I keep it clean,” Hension protested. “Okay,” said Chad. “We can take of that later for you.” “Thanks,” said Hension, and then he noted the wicked gleam in Chad’s eyes. “Oh, you assholes,” he whined. “What did you do?” His buddies began to roar. Furious, Hension grabbed a 200-pound dumbbell and flew through a set of punishing one arm bent-over rows. His wide back roiled with shifting mountains of muscle, and as he jerked and lifted, his damp wife-beater gradually crept up to reveal his hardened, vulnerable butt, pumping up and down, undulating with each rep. A red handprint from a private discipline session with Sergeant Moster the night before still glowed on the right buttcheek. And the men laughed even harder. “You got it coming and going!” said LeFevre. Hension slammed the weight into the mat, turned abruptly and placed his big hands protectively against his ass. Then he grinned. “Yeah, yeah, it’s funny, so go laugh!” Inside his jock, his stinging member twitched. Private Hension liked humiliation. In fact, there was nothing he liked better, and both Chad and LeFevre were onto it. As far as they were concerned, the handsome Private’s hazing would continue indefinitely. Just two weeks before, Corporal Chad had hacked into Hension’s private PC and found links to dominatrix S&M websites on Hension’s private PC, with cum-stained downloaded jpegs and pngs of leather-clad, spike-heeled mistresses, face-slapping hapless, undersized men. Mixed in with the images were pictures of a huge muscleman tied up with ropes and chains, a rubber ball in his mouth and an enormous butt plug shoved up his anus. Hension’s private fantasy – and he was a little embarrassed about it, which was only good manners – was to get his face slapped, viciously and unrelentingly, by beautiful, affronted, enraged women. He dreamed of being caught sucking Alvarez’s massive cock, and being interrupted, and hauled to his feet by a beautiful blonde mistress of discipline, who would slap his handsome face repeatedly, leaving welting, bright red, stinging handprints on his clean-shaven cheeks. His head would whip from left to right, from right to left, under her powerful bitch slaps. Happy tears would roll down his face onto his stinging cheeks. “Aw, baby…” he’d cry, pretending to be in pain. “Don’t slap me!” And his mighty cock would also whip from side to side. “You deserve to get your face slapped, you filthy muscle slut!” SLAP. And meanwhile, Alvarez would drop to his knees and lovingly administer skillful oral to his massive cock. This dream of slapping punishment from angry mistresses filled his nightly jerk off fantasies. Chad printed up a few and privately slipped them to LeFevre, who laughed devilishly. “Someone’s been in my room playing with my computer,” Hension complained that night at dinner. The two feigned innocence. “Why, how can you tell?” asked Chad innocently. “Because the asswipe left it on.” “That might have been you.” “Nope. The asswipe left it on at a website I like. I would never do that.” The men roared. Hension pouted. “Don’t worry, baby face. Maybe some day soon on a field trip, we can set up a surprise for you, now that we know what you like.” Hension brightened. “Really?” he asked hopefully. “We’ll see if you’re a good boy. Why don’t you come by for some posing practice tonight?” “O—okay,” he said, shooting a furtive look at Corporal Alvarez and Private Lang, quietly sharing a table on the other side of the dining room. Chad caught it and for an instant was jealous. He knew Hension longed to be a part of Alvarez and Lang’s notorious “Pose and Approve” nightly sessions. Private Robert Lang was a younger version face and body look-alike for his buddy, Corporal Julio Alvarez. The same exact height, the two bodybuilders kept their bodies shaved, and might easily have been mistaken for one another at a distance, if it weren’t for Alvarez’s neatly trimmed mustache. Alvarez also boasted the same brutal muscles, the same sweep to his triceps, the same broad back, and the same peerless baseball biceps. Older, wiser, and a touch serene about his muscles, he and Lang were like brothers. Brothers, however, they weren’t, and they exhibited no instinctive physical filial reticence with one another. Lang, standing 5’ – 10” and weighing in at 285 pounds, was dark, serious, extraordinarily handsome, and brutally built. Secretly unsure of himself, he sought approval whenever he could, a little mortified by the beauty of his face. He had pronounced horseshoe triceps of uncommonly full sweep, an impressively broad back, and, as Alvarez noted, a beautifully rounded muscle bubblebutt graced with an almost horizontal butt shelf. To help bolster Lang’s flagging self-confidence, Alvarez – without question the alpha dog of this pairing, even as he was the slightly bigger muscleman - developed a ritual he called “Pose and Approve.” At first, it developed quite naturally. Over time, it had evolved into mutual muscle worship. Alvarez’s judgment and approval of Lang’s muscles were his drug of choice, next to P21, that is, and his own brutally punishing workouts. They started out privately in Alvarez’s room. From the first night, he was ready. An 8’-0” x 10’-0” lit posing dais dominated the back bedroom in his quarters. “Built it myself,” he said quietly as Lang stared at the polished wood surface. When did he find the time, Lang wondered. Alvarez carefully adjusted the cool LED lights. Lang watched eagerly, stripping down to tight posers straining under the weight of his throbbing, veiny penis. Alvarez took his sweet time setting lights and atmosphere. Lang watched, shoving his hand into his sagging pouch and absently manipulating his big tool to half erection. When he judged all was ready, he’d step back. “Okay. Get to work,” he said. Eagerly Lang jumped onstage and hit a front double biceps. Alvarez nodded his approval of his buddy’s muscles. “Nice. Big old cannonballs. Show me more.” Another pose. This time a side chest. Lang’s pecs pounded and seemed to reach the ceiling. His heavy nipples were already taut. “How do I look?” Lang asked nervously. “Looking all right,” Alvarez said casually. “Lights need adjusting.” He half turned away as if to check the wiring. This prompted Lang into frenzy, and he began whipping out pose after pose. “The lights are fucking fine! I’m smokin’!” he cried. “Look at me, Alvarez! Check out my muscles! I’m fucking huge!!!!” Alvarez smiled. “Okay, big man,” he said. “I see. I see what you need.” And casually bending in, he took Lang’s by-now rock hard penis into his mouth and lolled it about gently. Inside, his tongue stroked the long, thick shaft, working its way up and down the veins. “It’s your reward for your perfectly developed muscles.” Lang was in heaven. Then they switched. Alvarez stepped up and surpassed his buddy’s posing performance. As he flexed, Lang sank gratefully to his knees to admire his musclegod buddy. Alvarez hit a pose - wham! - and Lang would greedily slurp on his gigantic rod. "Boom," purred Alvarez. "Big biceps, baby." "Twenty fiiiii---vvve inches...." "Bullshit." "Twenty-five baby. Feel 'em. Suck my cock." "You got it. Sucking now, man." They went back and forth for hours. Flexing biceps, smacking roiling quads, pec dancing, sucking each other's cocks. After a few sessions, Lang developed a surprisingly insatiable taste for Alvarez's stunningly perfect glutes, and sometimes lost himself rimming the man's rosebud butthole while Alvarez posed, legs spread wide, gazing at himself thoughtfully in the wall-length mirror across the room from the dais. Whenever Lang's face was buried deeply in the bigger man's butt, Alvarez found his creative posing juices to be inspired, and he was able to flex for hours without getting tired. Over time, they worked out new routines this way. Of course, Alvarez and Lang had long since taken “Pose and Approve” into more stratospheric, not to mention more public, levels of performance during the last year. The men liked to watch, and occasionally were invited to join in. For more than a year now, the men all knew that Lang slipped whenever he could into Alvarez’s room late at night for an hour of nearly silent shared posing routines and powerful rounds of cocksucking. At the end of their private sessions, each man could be heard roaring in the compound’s corridors as he spurted a mighty ejaculation inside his buddy’s mouth, onto his abs, or inside his yielding bubble butt. Just a week before, when a confidence-challenged Lang was standing in front of the corner mirrors after general workout, trying vainly to figure out a new routine, coach Alvarez decided to take it public. After all, all the men knew. And were curious. And were watching. Eagerly. Even Karim bothered to look up from his own fascination with his flexing biceps. Alvarez directed Lang from pose to pose, nodding. He ran his fingers smoothly over his body. Then he dropped quickly to his knees, stripped off his jockstrap, took his cock into his mouth, and continued to direct him from there. “Bring your right arm up a little. Now tilt your head. Look up. Pretend you see something,” garbled Alvarez, his mouth full of Lang’s cock. “What am I looking at?” asked Lang, a little anxious. “Clouds. You see clouds. Good. More clouds. Right. Here’s your reward.” Alvarez licked his cock hard for a minute. “It’s like he’s licking an ice cream cone,” said Hension. “An ice cream cone with veins,” said Blankenship. Washington stared, grinning. Lang colored slightly. In his jock, his heavy penis head began to expand and push against the thick fabric. “Yo, bodybuilders deserve to get their cocks sucked while they’re posing,” Lang said dreamily, flexing. “I’m down with it,” said Washington. “You can suck mine next.” And Lang did. Alvarez sucked Lang’s dick approvingly, licking the thick shaft lovingly. Then he pulled back to allow Lang to pivot to the next pose. Lang crunched into a most muscular, Alvarez nodded again with serious respect, and sucked him as his reward, as his buddy held a crab shot for 60 full seconds. They moved as one: pivot, flex, a nod of approval, a minute of cocksucking, withdrawal, pivot, flex, another nod, another minute of cocksucking. Absorbed by their mutual passion of posing together, the two silently went into matching, impromptu routines, flexing their powerful guns in unison as if choreographed, slapping their quads, turning to flair their lats, all the while staring appreciatively, each transfixed by the other. And the men stared, too. Soon all they all joined in. The workout was effectively over. Cocks filled mouths for the next hour. Rough, calloused hands appreciatively patted and stroked flexed biceps. Pecs danced. Tongues licked sand dollar sized, downward pointing nipples. Moster was not pleased. Nevertheless, he waited until the last groans had finished, and the last drops of the quarts of ejaculated bodybuilder cum had burst from throbbing cocks down eager throats. "Are we finished?" he asked quietly. The men lined up, sheepish, all with dripping cocks and cum flecks on their lips. Hension's face, inevitably, was covered. "It got into my eyes," he complained. Smack! "Owwwww!" he yelled. Moster waited, and then spoke quietly. “There’s a time and a place for everything,” he barked, all sheepish and spent, wiping the cum from their lips and bodies. After that, Moster determined to keep Lang and Alvarez separated on the floor as much as possible, for the two men were so – was ‘inspired’ the word? – attuned to one another’s powerful physiques that the Sergeant had determined it would be more efficient for all if they trained apart. It always led to “Pose and Approve,” behavior that Moster determined was more efficiently left to the locker room and showers. “Pose and Approve” was all very well for private time, but on the gym floor the men had been known in the past to become hypnotized by one another’s muscles. On rest days, of course, Moster kept them completely separated. That was an order. These days, the two grudgingly but unquestioningly yielded to their CO’s command. Once, Moster had caught them together outside on a bike path on a prescribed rest day, both naked, erect, and posing feverishly. He watched silently for a few moments, waiting for the inevitable moment when Lang sank to his knees and greedily gathered Alvarez’s cock in his mouth. “Gentlemen!” he boomed, striding forward onto the path. “Today is a rest day!” He swung mightily, he clipped the surprised Alvarez right on the jaw. The punch felled the muscleman immediately. Even the usually arrogant Alvarez was a mere beta puppy before the 7’-0” Moster. “In my quarters! Now!” Ten minutes later a cowed Alvarez was stretched over Moster’s powerful knee, receiving a serious butt paddling. Lang stood by nervously, knowing he was next. “You’re like two bad boys,” he said gruffly as he spanked Alvarez’s perfectly rounded buttocks. Neither man protested, each watching the other meekly as he received punishment from the implacable giant Moster. The loud spanks were heard echoing down the hall for 40 minutes. The men sat in the mess and listened to the spanks and howls. “No one crosses Moster,” Schumacher said airily, to no one in particular. The distant sound of spanks bounced off the walls. Perfect musclebutts were receiving perfect punishment. “Gee, what did they do?” asked a fearful Hension. “Someday you’ll find out,” said LeFevre darkly. He winked at Chad. Later, they emerged sheepishly from Moster’s quarters, red-faced and gingerly rubbing their painfully reddened glutes. The two were barred from contact of any kind for three weeks. Moreover, the enforced temporary change in the training schedule upset all of the men, who privately handled the transgression in their own manner. There was a strict code of punishments the men had privately devised and agreed upon over the years, and when training violations occurred, the offender was subject to the discipline of the group, most often provided by a steely-eyed Corporate Karim Abdul. The night after their ordeal with Moster, Abdul and Gunst visited the men in their quarters. The men each stood meekly, as Karim punched their faces with cool precision. Then he spanked them both, followed by Gunst’s stern force-feeding of his cock. Then, for good measure, both men thoroughly fucked their butts. The next morning at chow, each man sported two black eyes. Their flanks ached, and closer inspection revealed that sitting was painful for more reasons than were immediately apparent. “Dudes, what happened to you?” shouted Chad across the mess hall. “Shut the fuck up,” grumbled Alvarez. “Report to the infirmary,” said Moster. “Sergeant, begging your pardon, we’re fine.” “As you prefer, Privates.” “Abdul stretched the shit out of my asshole last night,” Lang complained quietly to Alvarez. “Me too,” Alvarez asked. Silence. Then they both laughed quietly. “Was it worth it?” asked Alavrez. “Fuck yeah,” said Lang. Nevertheless, the men grudgingly acknowledged privately it was their due desserts. After that, Lang and Alvarez obeyed orders, and it didn’t happen again. Their eyes healed quickly and though they remained separated at night, soon they were back on the gym floor the same day Moster suspended their sentence. “No sense in losing perfectly good training time for those two. They’ve learned their lesson,” Moster said to Zaftig, who was always puzzled by the developing social rules within his own lab rats. Three weeks passed, and the night they were finally reunited, Moster smiled privately to himself in his quarters as the excited groans of the two reunited men echoed down the corridors long after hours. The next morning, far from being tired, they appeared at 0700 hours breakfast as if entirely rejuvenated. The other men looked a little weary, having been kept awake all night, but all were in grudging good humor now that the two muscle buddies were together again. Backs were slapped and good-natured jibes taken with grinning good grace. “Have fun last night, Lang?” teased Obatu. “Yep,” said Lang, his mouth full of eggs. “Alvarez get any bigger in the last three weeks?” “He sure did,” Lang nodded seriously, chewing and swallowing. The men guffawed, and Alvarez smacked Lang playfully on the back of the head with a giant paw. “What’d I say?” asked Lang, perplexed, and the men laughed harder. Across the table, Karim never looked up. Faggots, he thought. Still, his cock twitched in his jock. He had liked punching the handsome faces of both Alvarez and Lang, though he didn’t want to admit it, and the crisply delivered black eyes he had administered had made it all even more exciting. And the fucking was fun, too. Moster was satisfied. All in all, it was good for the team. Good for morale. Chapter 8: Tiffany’s Talent Karim was in the corner, working out on the punching bag. His buddies, if the taciturn Lebanese from Michigan could have said to have “buddies”, Privates Duncan and McIntyre, were alternating between bench wrist curls and neck-strengthening dumbbell lifts. The rhythmic volley of Karim’s rapid punches filled the air. Abdul Karim was, at his most social, on the taciturn side. At 6’-3”, 275 pounds, and less than 2% bodyfat, Karim had a beard and mustache that he kept meticulously groomed at all times. He had the Arab’s big nose, dark skin, and, except for his back and shoulders, a full body armor of tight, black curly hair. His muscular chest was black with fur, with two deep red-brown nipples poking through. His quads were oak trees. His bullish biceps, covered with bright tattoos, were stacked and wired for maximum damage. His fists were huge and calloused. Karim was an extreme fighter of the first order; calm, methodical, practiced, powerful, relentless and merciless. Zaftig had plucked him from the State Penitentiary of Washington about four years earlier. He was in for manslaughter, having beaten to death a suspected serial rapist in Seattle; the trial transcripts stated that he had simply held the dude aloft by his collar and repeatedly punched the guy in the face until he grew bored. Inside, it was said, he had beaten to bloody pulps 5 inmates who had jumped him one night in the shower with sharpened shivs and the intent to kill. How Zaftig got him out was still a mystery to Moster, but, as his CO was bigger and possibly even a hair stronger, Karim silently respected him without grudge or attitude, and there was no real breach of discipline. Still, it was tough to pair him off in extreme fighting matches in the compound, although Corporal Schumacher was a close match. Annoyingly, if understandably, both Chad and LeFevre were careful to keep the beautiful young Private Hension away from Karim. Secretly protective of their young initiate, they didn’t take any chance that the longingly masochistic Hension might approach Karim, and get a lot more than he bargained for. Karim, for his part, wasn’t particularly interested in Hension. For him, a hole was a hole was a hole, and as for getting his cock sucked, he preferred women to do the job, as long as they shut up about it. Oddly, he didn’t seem to mind if effeminate boys took care of his meat, if no pussy was available. A bitch was a bitch was a bitch, though he took care to show basic respect for being serviced (even if, of course, it was his due). He did, however, like piss. Karim liked to be pissed upon, and he liked to piss on others. He marked his territory. He especially liked it when big boy Gunst pissed on him. After all, he respected the man. He didn’t consider it a sexual fantasy. To Karim, piss was just the right expression of muscle and power. Late at night, he sometimes came to the workout room alone and worked on the heavy bag. On those nights, he made sure that the kitchen boy, Pedro, was standing by. A slender 16-year old kid, barely 130 pounds, and a sweet-natured homey if ever there was one, Pedro would wait patiently in a darkened corner until Karim summoned him to approach, get on his knees, and suck his unusually hairy cock while he worked the light bag. The boy loved hair and muscles, and Karim’s big veiny tool got an appreciative coating between his lips. Karim would grunt, shoot, coat the boy’s face with globs of semen, pat him affectionately on the butt, and head off to bed without washing off. The boy scampered into the kitchen to start breakfast for the men, happy to have been of service. Good-natured Privates Bill McIntyre and David Duncan were often buffer zones for the brooding Corporal Karim. Calm and circumspect, like Karim they too were hairy big boys who preferred the ladies, albeit always in groups with the Lebanese. Moster occasionally arranged for private liaisons for the three bodybuilders with three high-priced, Amazonian professional girls flown in from Las Vegas. The men fucked their women vigorously, always with their eyes on one another. After they finished up and the ladies had departed, Karim often polished off the night fucking his buddies’ shapely muscle butts, alternating between them. It took a lot to satisfy Karim, who could fuck all night, and sometimes Moster was hastily summoned to make sure the session ended. He often brought Gunst with him to break up the party, for Karim liked nothing better than to finally cum while Gunst pissed in his face. “Feels good,” he would grunt as Gunst’s firehose cock shot streams of piss on his muscles, while McIntyre and Duncan stood by smiling, gently fingering their reddened, aching buttholes. Karim would work his cock fiercely with his powerful fist, quickly spurting buckets of semen onto his hairy abs, and, as always, trudge off silently to bed without washing or saying good night. Gunst would then get the privilege of sucking Moster’s giant cock while McIntyre and Duncan watched respectfully, stroking their own cocks. Sessions would end with each bodybuilder shooting his cum into Gunst’s mouth. Gunst could swallow volumes of cum. “Makes me bigger,” he’d say. The big boy preferred monster penis, and liked it best with other musclemen standing by watching. So it worked for everyone. Beyond them, Corporals Schumacher, Obatu, and Blankenship were besting each other in sets of deep squat deadlifts. A 42-year old muscle veteran with tattoos, steel-wool skin, acne scars, an explosively powerful physique dense with vascularity, and all honed by nearly 30 years of raw, intense training, Herman Schumacher was the current king of this group, with his wide-oval, pronouncedly roiling, round hamstrings of pure power protruding far behind him. His broad, solid, rounded manbutt rolled above his hams, meeting into a firm, deep butt crack. His calves were split into two deep and distinct diamond-like heads. Schumacher had no-nonsense iron-grey hair and was generally scowling. He knew all who saw him wanted to fuck his mighty butt. Secretly, he was happiest when either fucking – or being fucked. His formidable, muscular, hairy glutes demanded attention. He was loath, however, to acknowledge his fantasy top. Rarely fucked by the other men, and always only after extreme begging and some act of subservience, Herman Schumacher had some private fantasies of his own, involving heavy rope and buttplugs, that one day he hoped he’d have the courage to investigate. For now, the opinions of the other men were still too gravely important to him. He wasn’t ready to betray himself. Not yet. In the mean time, it was generally understood that Schumacher’s powerful tool was always at the ready to plow a tasty ass. Just out of his hearing, the other men all agreed - and even Karim - they craved his particular kind of butt fucking. It seemed he could always find the g-spot, and he quietly provided hours of late night pleasure for those men who had just finished a grueling squat workout, and whose eager buttholes needed relief. Obatu chose to shave his head bald, had shiny black skin, and like Schumacher and Karim, nearly always had a fearsome scowl on his face. His glory were his bull-like traps and his mammoth pecs, which at 66”circumference approached Moster’s own in size, shredded cuts, and separations. His fearsomely large genitalia had a habit of rolling out of his jockstrap during training, and he’d absent-mindedly scoop his balls and cock back into place, often pausing unconsciously for a quick couple of strokes on the extra-long, heavy shaft and a quick flick of his thick thumb on the bell-shaped cockhead. Then he’d lift and adjust the heavy pouch and resume his powerful lifts. On white cap nights, however, he often didn’t bother to repouch. Blankenship, younger than both and only recently having attained the rank of Corporal, didn’t have the ripped density of Schumacher nor the sheer mass of Obatu, boasting instead superb genetics and beautifully honed symmetry. Good-humored and outgoing, the roman-nosed young Blankenship favored classical Greek poses in his routines, and he often showed off his alluring lines with his muscular arms held overhead. He was a statue come to life – and he knew it. Shouting encouragement and taunts at one another, Schumacher completed another grueling set of 25 reps with 400 pounds. On the last rep, he strained to replace the weight on the floor with disciplined quiet, in control of the weight to the very last. Then he blew out a mouthful of spit, shook his head violently so that his sweat flew everywhere, and straightened up. Blankenship planted a solid smack on his naked butt. “Nice!” he yelled. Schumacher smiled wearily and nodded. Then he turned and glanced across the room to see if Private Joe Tiffany had been watching his set. Tiffany was working triceps and delts with Private Robert Lang. Alvarez was at the squat rack, training legs with Private Eli Meyer. The good-looking All-American Jewish Meyer was the shortest man in the squad, standing only 5’- 3”, and sadly, a mute. He was a highly developed, talented gymnast, double-jointed nearly everywhere and was astonishingly supple for a little muscleman. He easily contorted his 210-pound body into positions the other men could only dream of. He favored the relatively simple – for him – pose of planting his rippling arms on the floor and swinging his legs sky-high behind them, tilting his pelvis forward past his elbows and holding steady for long periods of time. The pose was catnip for the squad, who, after hours in the compound rec room, loved to more closely inspect Meyer’s proudly displayed hairless, supple pink butthole, which he playfully puckered in and out for them at will. Meyer would smile hugely and nod encouragement, his eyes sparkling with mischief, as the excited men scrambled to their knees and took turns playfully licking and probing his asshole. Alvarez enjoyed a lick as much as the other men, but he always noted Lang’s slightly hurt gaze and promptly retreat with his buddy for some private posing. For his part, however, Alvarez had no issue when Lang, occasionally overcome himself, dipped his handsome face into Meyer’s butt for a taste of honey. Afterwards, Alvarez noted, he would pose harder than ever. For Tiffany was trouble. Alvarez noted that Tiffany was studiously ignoring Corporal Schumacher’s impressive set of deadlifts. Lang, almost as dim as Hension, hadn’t seemed to notice. But then, Lang hadn’t learned yet that he shouldn’t trust Joe Tiffany. Joe Tiffany was 19. He was gap-toothed, dark-haired, freckled, had slightly big ears, and looked a little goofy. He was bow-legged, weighed 235 pounds, and had almost no bodyfat at all – and what little there was lay sweetly atop what Herman Schumacher imagined was probably the most beautiful butt on the planet. On the day of his arrival into the Project facility just a little less than a year ago, Obatu had nicknamed him ‘Huck Finn’. The name stuck, and over time morphed into ‘Fuck Him.’ No one had, though, as of yet. Not privately, anyway. Tiffany was smart. He looked dumb and played the innocent, but he was canny, shrewd, and manipulative. He also had an unusual talent, which he had privately shared with the curious Sergeant Moster not long after his arrival. It was not unlike perfect pitch: Tiffany could take astonishingly accurate size measurements – orally. Moreover, he had no gag reflex. It appeared that he could take anything. Any cock. To its full length. Even Moster’s. Moster had found out quite by accident – or so he thought. In the showers alone one night, the black muscle giant was lathering up his armpits when he turned and discovered the Private staring at him from the doorway into the locker room. “You’re here late, Private.” “I forgot my jockstrap.” “Better get it and head to bed. Training tomorrow at 0700 hours.” Tiffany held his jock up silently. He waited. Moster stopped lathering and returned his look. “Is there something I can do for you, Private?” he demanded. Tiffany said nothing but gazed straight at Moster’s gargantuan, swaying dick. “Private?” Moster stepped forward. Tiffany didn’t move. “Sir?” He gazed unblinkingly at the cock. Moster glared. “Well?” Tiffany looked up and came to attention. “Sir, I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “But that is the biggest dick I have ever seen in my life, sir.” “It is unlikely you have seen a bigger one.” “I’m guessing no one has, sir.” “No, probably not. Just how big do you think it is?” “Sir, if you will forgive the indulgence, sir, but I believe I could tell you, sir, and quite accurately, too.” Moster had already heard about Tiffany’s after-hours mess hall boasts. Now was the chance to see if the boy had the stuff. “On your knees, then, Private.” “Yes, sir.” Tiffany stepped forward in the shower, got to his knees and opened his mouth. He held still. Water poured from the spigot and in an instant, Tiffany’s t-shirt was wringing wet and bulging with his tight teen muscles. He looked up expectantly at Moster. He was calm. “Doesn’t look like anything I can’t handle, sir.” Annoyed at the Tiffany’s arrogance for a flashing moment, Moster slapped his swaying, dripping cock fiercely three or four times. It blew into an engorged 20-inch-plus vein-pulsing snake inside of 5 seconds. Water from the shower splashed onto it and ricocheted off the walls. “All right then. You’ll have to open up much wider than that.” “Yes, sir.” Tiffany opened his mouth as wide as he could. Moster strode forward, grabbed the back of the young Private’s head, and forced his face onto his cock. Amazingly, Tiffany’s lips easily enveloped the enormous head, then the shaft, and slid down until Tiffany’s nose was pressed against Moster’s body. Somewhere inside, Moster’s giant shaft had disappeared deeply down Tiffany’s throat and into his upper body. Yet the muscleboy didn’t gag. Instead, he looked up and smiled, his mouth full of black bodybuilder cock. He held still a full minute, as Moster’s cock throbbed inside him. Then he slowly pulled his head back. “18 and 5/8s inches, sir. 8 pounds, three ounces. You weigh 396 pounds tonight, sir, your body temperature is 97 degrees, and your blood pressure is 120/85.” He smiled serenely. Damn, thought Moster. He’s right on target. There was just no telling where P21 protocols could lead, and what talents it might unearth. He nodded, satisfied, and then plunged his cock deeply back in and out of Tiffany’s mouth. In spite of its huge girth, Tiffany bowed and obediently went to work. As Moster pumped his hips rhythmically and Tiffany sucked mammoth cock, the sergeant’s mind drifted towards the men. Hmmmm, he thought. He was deeply in thought, automatically flexing his muscles and yet barely paying any attention to the efficient, powerful, machine-like sucks of Private Tiffany. Finally he began to shoot rivers of cum into the teen’s mouth. After a minute or two of shooting, he withdrew his cock and coated Tiffany’s face evenly with the last blasts of semen. Tiffany licked and took in as much as his tongue could reach, and then he stood, at attention once again. His cute face was covered with clouds of thick cum, which dripped down in thick globs onto his body under the spray of the shower. He saluted again, and wiped his mouth so he could speak clearly. “I hope that was satisfactory, sir?” “It was.” He didn’t appear to be injured in any way, at which Moster privately marveled. He turned away and began soaping the blobs of cum off his cock shaft. “You’re aware that sucking your CO’s cock is a privilege awarded rarely to men of your rank.” “Yes, sir. I know, sir.” “You will report to my private exam room tomorrow about an hour into the evening session. I’ll let you know when.” “Thank you, sir. It was a pleasure, sir.” He started out of the shower room, and turned, adding, “By the way, sir, your cum tastes a little like banana. I love banana.” He saluted again, and was gone. “Fresh punk,” thought Moster, but he was pleased. Starting the next evening, Moster began to require that the priapic dimensions of each muscleman be included in his records, the information to be obtained in privately conducted sessions he personally oversaw with Private Tiffany on hand to take the strictest of measurements. As always, the sergeant immediately designed a standard ritual of procedure. Ordered one by one into the examination room off the gym floor, each bodybuilder entered singly, wearing a tight posing strap, and walked silently into the center of the room. Private Gunst was first. “Stand under the light,” Moster ordered quietly. The bodybuilder stepped onto a posing dais, and poised himself under a single focused spotlight shining from the ceiling. He awaited orders, hands at his sides. He wondered why Tiffany was present. Moster stood in half-light, fully covered in clean white sweats, as always. The silent Dr. Irving sat in a pin light in the distant corner, armed with a video camera and scribbling in a small pad. Tiffany, wearing the white regulation tight t-shirt and khakis, stepped forward from the shadows. “Let’s see what you got, man,” murmured Moster, and Gunst swung into a posing routine. The first pose was a side biceps pose with the muscleman leaving forward and rotating his back towards the sergeant, so that he might better appreciate the three distinct cannonball deltoids, the broad lat sweep, the baseball separations of the biceps head, the powerful shape of his obliques, the shapely, hard glutes, and the roiling hamstrings. It was a landscape of muscle, and the men all knew it was Moster’s preferred pose. Then Gunst straightened, reached toward the single spotlight, and slowly brought his arms down into his most powerful, sustained front double biceps pose. “26 inches, sir!” he shouted. He held it for about 30 seconds. “Looking good,” said Moster, slightly bored. A three-minute posing routine followed. There was no sound in the room apart from the rapid tapping of Dr. Irving’s pen, the hum from the spotlight, and the waves of air being sucked in and out of Gunst’s mouth as he glided smoothly from pose to pose. Front lats, pivot, side left chest, side left triceps, pivot, rear lat spread, rear double biceps, pivot, side right chest, side right triceps, pivot, left quad, shake, slap, flex, right quad, shake, slap, flex, overhead ab crunch, and finally a most muscular, crunching viciously into a vein-exploding crab shot. Then the bodybuilder stood still, waiting. Thick rivulets of sweat poured down his physique. “Okay. Front double biceps again, please.” Gunst flexed his mountainous peaks. “And hold it.” Gunst smiled and strained, eager to please his C.O. “All right, Tiffany,” Moster said quietly, “get to it.” “Yes, sir,” said Tiffany. He strode forward, and as Gunst stood steadily flexing the classic front double biceps, the shorter Tiffany gracefully reached forward, took hold of the elastic side straps of his thin mesh poser, pulled the pouch forward and down, and unveiled the muscleman’s flaccid, long, thick, imperial penis. Moster cracked a quick smile, noting that Gunst first looked startled….then curious…. and then aroused. The giant gazed down as the business-like Tiffany got to his knees, gently fixed his pretty lips on the man’s junk, closed his eyes a moment, plunged deeply, holding the instantaneously stiffening penis deeply in his throat for about 60 seconds. “Wow”….breathed Gunst. He continued to flex his biceps, but tears appeared in his suddenly glistening eyes, and his cheeks flushed deep crimson. Below, Tiffany held firm and steady, his moist lips gently enfolding the thickening penis, widening his jaw to allow the throbbing member to enlarge to its true, pounding, blood-filled girth, standing gradually as the man’s cock began to climb towards the ceiling. He appeared to be making some internal calculations. He allowed 30 seconds more to pass; then he lolled his tongue around the muscleman’s cockshaft, pulled back, dipped again to twice lick the bulbous cockhead, paused again, and then gently parted his lips and pulled back, smacking his lips happily. He wiped his mouth. Gunst stared at him. "Huge cock, man. Nice." Tiffany turned to Moster. That was all it took. Gunst promptly began to spurt ropes of milky cum into the air, which Tiffany deftly dodged. He announced his findings. “12 and three-quarters inches, sir, tip to base,” Tiffany announced with obvious pride. “As you see, he is uncircumcised. Foreskin is clean and about six inches around. Penis weight, five and one half pounds. Shaft circumference, eight inches. Head size, three and three quarters, sir. Two pronounced lateral veins.” Tiffany paused. “He weighs 325 pounds, sir, and at the moment, his blood pressure is 140/80.” He grinned. “It’s quite a penis. You should be proud, sir.” “Yeah, thanks.” Gunst was still shooting. Ropes of cum hit the walls. “Sorry, sir.” “That’s all, Private,” said Moster. “Dismissed.” Gunst, his dick still shooting volleys of cum, stepped off the platform, glanced with confusion at Tiffany, and walked slowly out of the room, his posers barely covering his throbbing cock, leaving a trail of cum as he went. “Tell Corporal Abdul to come in next,” Moster called after him. Gunst turned. “May I watch, sir?” Moster considered. “All right.” At the outset of the tests, Moster was immediately on hand with a tape measure and a blood pressure cuff to verify what he could. After awhile, he didn’t bother. Tiffany was always right. By the next morning, Moster had realized that Tiffany had deftly strategized the whole routine. He’d been punked, and by a newbie. It was as if Tiffany had foreseen Moster’s every move, and now, in record time, every man in Project Herculaneum was aware that Private Tiffany’s blowjobs were a vehicle to provide new particularized personal information being added to their charts. Moster was secretly amused at the teen’s cojones, but knew that he’d have to regain the upper hand again, and soon. Still, it wasn’t for him to break Tiffany personally. That would have made his displeasure too apparent. He began to look for opportunities for the cocky Tiffany to be bested by one of the men. A face punching by Karim would be too brutal. He considered other ways. Maybe in the wrestling ring. Yes. ******* Links to other chapters: "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - Inside Zaftig's Lab: The Musclemen Revealed
  22. roboprobo

    Tales of a Lust Mage #3

    TALES OF A LUST MAGE #3 by roboprobo SUB TAGS; Magic, Subtle Growth, Hyper (some), Height, Characters (Bradley, Xaekus, Hunter, Maker, Bahketh), Genies (Efreeti), Demons, Archers The following work of fiction portrays fictional characters in sexual situations. Please do not read if you interested in stories written for erotic purposes, if you are not of legal age, or if it illegal for you to read sexually explicit material in this format/medium. Author Note: I apologize sincerely for the length if it is a bother. I really wanted to set up the universe and then move onto more sexual themes. I still plan to keep expanding, growing, if you know what I mean, but for now I really wanted to get some muscle to grow in the actual text. Part I – Bronc, Imps, and Fire “All right, I officially end your punishment, Xaekus.” Bradley said, tearing a small strip of paper in two. Its arcane symbols seemed to burn the paper into ash. “YES!” Xaekus exclaimed, forming a human guise he accustomed to. He didn’t have enough energy to create a tall guise to match his beautiful master. Right now he couldn’t care less about how annoyed he was at Him, he just wanted to feel His skin’s energy. “No, no stop. Please, you’re going to choke me with your foulness.” Bradley muttered, looking through his files as Xaekus flew up and embraced his master’s arm. “What are you doing, master?” asked Xaekus, floating as his lower body fizzled into smoke. He hadn’t gathered enough energy to maintain full guise. Looking at his master’s full, striated pecs, He decided to size himself down to land right in the cleavage. Bradley looked down at the small, muscular, doll-sized man between his pectorals. He wished he had more than his white tank on. “Do you remember Barry Yates?” Bradley mumbled, walking into a storage room. “Barry Owen Yates?! They call him ‘Bronc’ nowadays! Yes, you helped him get as big as he is now, didn’t you?” Asked Xaekus, excited. He looked over and saw some file cabinets opened and fluffed into a mess. His urge to clean won over. The imp flew off to clean as Bradley responded. “I helped him before. He didn’t want to take steroids because he wanted to stay lean and clean. I can respect that. At the time I had just set up the business. He called me recently, said he’d saved up enough money to get himself massive with my help, to inhuman proportion. I’d told him I could give him a consultation, but no sex. I have to use magic to keep his cock from breaking me in two.” Bradley said. “Oh, I can transform him, sir! And I can do the other part too…” Xaekus trailed off as he finished cleaning the files. “No, I’d rather you didn’t. You still prove unruly and his general libido would easily let you possess him. I’m not stupid,” responded Bradley, finally finding the big bronze chest he’d tied up in blue chains. Xaekus managed to bite, “Sir, you never let me have any fun anymore!” before seeing the chest. He became silent. His glamour faded and turned him into a simple puff of blue smoke. “You don’t mean to use him, do you?” Xaekus muttered. “I do. I can control him easier because he’s been locked away from this world for centuries. I plan on syphoning a pact if the consultation with Bronc leads there. Now let’s see, what artifacts do I have that belong to him?” Xaekus peeked from behind his master and fiddled with his glasses as he tried to make some guise. He was nervous. Bradley unfolded a handkerchief and pulled out a small idol from the brass chest. The crude clay statuette was of a four armed figure with horns. Its red paint had chipped away long ago, leaving only a few marks that Bradley had tried keeping intact. Maybe he’d use a spell or two to fix the thing, but he didn’t want the subject to anchor any more into the normal world. “How old is that thing…?” Xaekus managed to ask before looking over to the beginning of the storage room’s dark side. Xaekus himself was no hero, but he certainly didn’t do the things a lot of the artifacts Bradley had there did. The familiar grumbled and decided maybe he’d go to his bottle or clean the house. Bradley’s left hand drew an arcane symbol that acted as a small flashlight. The darkness seemed to try eating the simple light as Bradley’s eyes examined the ancient idol. “Hmm. How old indeed.” Part II – Four Branches Lit Aflame The winter was terrible, at least by what Papa had said. Pa was a great man. He took me in when my mother had died. He said we were once a great tribe. The war with the Yellow clan had ruined us, even if we had won. Both clans had died out when the winter came after. We’d traveled a long time afterward going South- the lands where people did not move through the land. Fairly close to our territories in the south people had come and built a small village down in the valley. We didn’t travel anymore but chose to live farther up in the mountainous region, away from the village. Papa had taught me to do many things. He taught me how to forage, hunt, and fish. He told me all the great legends of our tribe. The saddest was the last one, that our Great Spirit guardian had sacrificed itself in the war. I asked him if that was why we had become so alone; he never answered. The winters were never cruel to us as they had been in the years before my birth. We hunted a large amount of game and ate as much as needed. Eventually we settled fairly low on the mountain, away from the village. Even both of us could not always eat all the food we caught. I was proud of my Pa. I was now eighteen years of age. I was very worried about my papa. He’s changed so much since that cold night. It was a few nights after I’d just hit my seventeenth year. I was afraid. I was not very good at hunting or fishing. I had become very adept at planting and creating things with wood. The Wise Woman of the village taught me to plant things like squash and carrots, so we started to plant things at our home. Her husband had taught me to build things after we traded many furs with them, so our small house is very sturdy. Papa was not very good at these things because he was stuck in the old ways of our people. That is what the Wise Woman had said. “We’ll follow the tracks in a bit, boy. We should rest up a bit. These muddy trails make it easy to spot them, but aye, my boots look terrible.” Papa laughed, putting his bow down. I saw the prints in the snow leading uphill too. Pa smiled. I was worried because he was ill. His lungs heaved with phlegm as he sneezed. We sat down and began snacking. “Should we really be hunting, still? I think you need rest, Pa.” I told him. “Nonsense. I’m fine. You just keep scouting for me until you can hunt as well as I. Then you can worry about me getting rest, boy.” Pa said, chewing on dry meat. “Yes, sir. I wish you’d let the Wise Woman give you medicine. You’ve been sick since the last frost.” I said, drawing in the mud with a stick. I was going to plant seeds whenever we got home from hunt. The dirt was starting to dry the perfect consistency for new seed. Pa began coughing hard and looked up at me as he spit up foulness. He asked me to look away. People died often because of illness, so I began to worry more. I think he could see it. “Calm down, lad. I will be fine,” He huffed, “And you need to be less like your mother and other father.” I didn’t think about it much, so I asked, “Pa, what were my parents like?” I chewed on some salted meat. We would dry all our meat this way to carry around. It’d make me very thirsty, but the stream was on our trip after this deer hunt. Maybe I could convince Papa to get medicine then. “Your mother was a wonderful, smart woman. She was very pretty and your father went through some trouble before the war to marry her. And your father, well, he was smaller than me, like you are. That’s certain.” He said, poking my arm. I laughed a bit. “He was a much smarter man than I ever was. I really wish he’d been around to see you grow up. He’d do a much better job than me. Both he and your mother.” He added, seeming sad. I didn’t ask these kinds of things much. “He was smart enough to name you for what you’d be really good at. Maker.” He said, packing up his ration of food and preparing to seek the deer. His name was always Papa to me, but in the village they called him simply Hunter. We went up the trail, seeing the prints go off. This was no problem, as the mud of the beginning spring left the prints terribly obvious. We’d never gone into this part of the forest for as long as we’d lived in the area, from what I could scout. The woods were extremely thick and many of the plants had gone green with moss- there seemed to have been a fire in the area. Pa had mentioned that the ‘Hidden Woods’ were cursed but as long as two people went in together and wore amulets, they’d be fine. So we cut through the woods quickly and reached the entrance to the mountain’s side. I’d never seen a cave like this. It looked like the mouth of a beast; jagged stone coming from the ceiling and ground of the cave. Mossy logs and brush lay all over the ground outside, like Pa’s feet moved quietly, pointing into the cave. It’d be too dark to see if we went in too deep, so we had to decide what to do. “Maybe I could go in and scare him out? I doubt there’s a bear in there or anything. If there is, it’ll get the deer before it gets me.” Pa said. “No, I’ll go.” I told him. “I’m not as strong or have great aim, Pa, but I can probably move faster than you.” “Ah, fine. I’ll admit you that.” Pa said, looking for a place to hide from the deer. I looked back and saw his pale skin under his clothes and cap. I’d hurry so we could get to the valley. My feet were very quiet and I tipped through, finding the best footing to sneak. My eyes adjusted to the darkness as I went deeper into the cave. Then I saw it. I wish I hadn’t. An altar sat alone in the spokes of the cave’s cold floor. I didn’t know what it was back then, but now I do. Atop the broken altar sat a small figurine. It was beautiful, looked like a real person, but smaller. I didn’t have time to see everything as the deer stood in front of it. I hadn’t made any great kills before and by instinct I shot the young buck quickly. The arrow pierced the buck’s neck all the way through. I was amazed and set another arrow in case it wasn’t enough. The deer lay its head atop the stone surface. It then fell to the ground. Without much thought I went to the deer and pulled out my knife. I was a fool for being in such a hurry. Maybe the evil one whispered to me without me knowing. I was just trying to get ahold of the buck’s neck to drain it. And that’s what I did. I pulled the buck’s head to the altar’s surface and slit its throat. I was stupid as I whispered out loud how great it was I’d found it. Then I heard the whispers, almost immediately. He whispered behind me as the blood dripped over the altar slowly. It pooled. I quickly turned and held my knife ready to attack whatever was in the cave. Nothing there. My other hand went looking for my amulet, failing to find it. It had fallen off, or maybe I had never put it on. I was doomed from the start. “Light… Fire… The room…” I thought I heard. Although I certainly didn’t want to follow the command, whatever it was saying, but I could definitely see better if I had. I quickly pulled out a small torchlight I carried for these situations (not that they happened often) and struck it against my belt many times. I tried to stay calm, but I shivered in fear of whatever was in the cave with me. “The room… Light… the room…” My small torchlight burst into a flame! I threw it at the altar, no longer worried about the buck. I grabbed the knife with both hands to defend myself and finally saw it. The flame landed right in the altar’s small brazier. The figurine finally showed its detail in full as the fire glowed. “Ah… It’s so good… to be back.” It muttered. His voice was somewhat like a puff of smoke, always blowing up from the flame. I fell backward in cowardice. The flame danced about chaotically at first, somewhat shaping itself. Eventually it did shape itself above the brazier, like a lantern, midair. I held my breath. “What a helpful young… Man. I’ve been gone for so long… What an offering!” the lantern blurted out before laughing hysterically. I clenched my teeth, trying to think of when to run away. “Oh, this is not the proper way for me to look like,” He said, sounding much clearer than before. He flickered around and stopped in different places of the area, observing the objects of the altar. “My, I remember this gift. What an artisan, he was. He was one of my favorites…” He said, covering the figurine in its flame body. The figurine didn’t burn. The flame seemed to disappear into the statuette, making it glow a strong red. “I’m glad someone called me back. I wonder where everyone’s been! I’ve got a bone to pick with them if they come back. They’re probably dead… fools, all of them.” The figurine said. I could feel his sight upon me. It felt burning hot, but inside, skipping my skin. I trembled and closed my eyes, not knowing what to do. I was so afraid of this thing. I didn’t know why. “Do you plan on sitting there or coming to meet your new friend?” He said, cackling a laugh at the end. I opened my eyes and saw the figurine sitting at the southern end of the altar. Pieces of cracked stone had blown off and the buck lay at the edge, its blood smeared. I tried getting up, feeling incredibly sweaty. “Well, aren’t you a handsome lad…” He said, vibrating the figurine. I could see it clearly; a great man like an ox. It had great big arms for its size and horns like the animal. I stood away from the altar for a bit before it boomed, “Come closer, weakling! I only wish to give thanks!” I couldn’t help but inch closer in fear as the brazier blew a bigger flame. “Who are you?” He asked. “I am called Maker. I make things from wood and can make plants grow strong.” I whispered, coughing from the heat my lungs felt. I can’t explain why, but my body felt as if I was soaking in sweat quickly. “What an interesting name. Maker. You’re an interesting boy, too. Heheh… Do you know who I am?” He said, seeming to whisper to me again. “No. Who are you?” “I am Bahketh, Prince of Fire and Strength…” He whispered. I felt his voice in my right ear, as if his mouth was there, whispering to me closely. I was so nervous and sweaty. “O-oh…” I stuttered. “And I would like to thank you for helping me. I will grant you…” He trailed off. As he did, I saw the blood on the altar disappear, leaving the stone clean. “I will grant you one wish.” He said. I stepped back. I looked around to see if my eyes would find him. “What do you mean? Where did you come from? I don’t want anything, you can have the deer, just please leave me alone.” “My dear lad, it’s only fair for me to repay you. Your tongue is too crude, but some have called me a djinn. We’re masters at granting wishes, you know. We’re even better at it when we’re given a gift… All I wanted was the blood. Now take my humble thanks or I will get angry.” He said, fire changing scarlet red. “W-well, I’ve never wanted anything. I don’t need anything. It is the way of my people. We only take what we need.” I stuttered. “Foolish boy, all men have wants. I have many powers… I can grant almost anything… Is there nothing you want? Do you want to be strong? I can make you the strongest man alive…” He said. I could feel my arms tighten as his magic fire filled my chest. “Or is there something else? Do you want the power over fire? I can make you bring down great storms of flame upon your enemies! I can make you wake the salamanders that slumber under the mountains, boy!” He said, his brazier lighting up bright yellow. It released sparkles that shaped into snakes of smoke. “No? Do you… covet someone? I’m especially good at that, boy… Is there a girl you desperately desire? A boy? You can tell me…” He said, making me feel awfully warm all over… “No, I don’t need anything. I have plenty of food, and a good home, and my health,” I said before stopping my breath. “What about my health? Could you do something for that?” “And so much more, my boy. You look awfully healthy to me!” Bahketh laughed. The bastard knew I was a fool. “No, I mean… Could you help the health of my papa?” I asked him. “Oh yes, boy. I can make him very healthy…” __________________________________________________________________________________________ Bahketh taught me to draw his name. I didn’t know how to write, but I certainly knew that words weren’t made that way. Even so, he made me repeat it again and again, in the mud of the cave on the walls. He told me to take a small cup left behind by his ‘stupid caretakers’ from before. It had a small lid and he stuffed it with ashes from his brazier. He told me to light them after my father went to bed. The flame bastard told me that although it’d sound painful to my papa, but it was him burning away the illness. I believed him. I hurried out as I recalled that I’d been in the cave for a while. I carried the buck on my back, feeling stronger than ever. Pa came running out of the bushes as he saw the buck in my arms. “Amazing, boy! I am sorry for not having so much faith in you, bucks are hard enough to catch in the dark on their own. You are definitely a man now!” Pa laughed, examining the buck closely. I felt proud as he patted my back. He coughed and we decided to head down into the Valley after cleaning the deer. Papa refused medicine again and went to sleep early that night. I light the fireplace so the house would be warm. I wasn’t as skilled with stone as much as wood, but the Stone Worker had taken a large fur as payment a while before. Father slept on the upper level of the house. He slept like a corpse. I began drawing Bahketh’s name with some of the coal he’d given me. It was soft and left stain all over the parchment I had at home. My hands trembled as I lit the small container’s ashes with some of the fireplace’s flame. I whispered again and again for Bahketh to come. And he did. Like smoke in the night, his shadow crept through the cracks of our home. The shadow quickly found home in the fireplace. He seemed more shaped this time, almost a man out of fire, flickering out of the shapes the large flame held. The dying winter felt like nothing with his presence around. I didn’t understand the whispers Bahketh made in the shadows of the house. Before I knew it, I found myself covered in sweat again. I saw Papa get up and walk towards the fire. At first I was afraid he didn’t know what was going on, but he seemed asleep. His feet moved clumsily as he reached the fire. Bahketh’s name began to burn into the parchment- red embers popped out in bits as I made a small slit in my finger with a knife. I let the blood drip onto the parchment only a bit to see it wrinkle up in flame. Bahketh laughed and covered my father in a blue fire. My eyes switched around, trying to see everything that was happening as Bahketh ‘cleansed’ my papa. The fire of the hearth blew out and ate at the walls. I tried to scream but found no breath in my lungs, just smoldering ash. I couldn’t breathe and fell to my side. I sought the strength to pull myself up as Papa screamed out words I knew he never learned from our people. I wanted to move, but I was a coward then too. Papa moaned and then began to scream as the flame ate through his sleeping garb. He fell to his knees and twitched as the flame diminished. He seemed to move back and forth, screaming in agony. Bahketh’s tongue was no longer my own. It said a great many words I did not understand. I got up and decided this wasn’t the course of action I wanted to take- Papa was certainly in pain. I ran over to him but only remember Bahketh’s burning arms slam me away. I landed across the house, hitting my head on the door. I blacked out._____________________________________________________________________ That was that. I woke up lying on the ground. I saw nothing out of the ordinary in the house. No fire had taken our home, no parchment or old container. Everything seemed fine. I raised my hand up to see a simple scar on the left arm. I looked burnt there, but it didn’t hurt. I then noticed my arms looked extremely striated, as if I’d not eaten the fats of animals ever. I’d say it looked sickly, but the arms looked fairly healthy and my skin looked fine (aside from the black scar). “Papa? Are you here?” I asked, nervously. From where I was standing, the stairs blocked the view of our home’s second level. I heard a grumble and then some shifting of our beds’ fabric. “What? Oh. Lad, how long have I slept??” asked Papa, from where I could not see. I held my head. It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would; I’d felt worse on mornings after drinking with Pa. “I don’t really know, Pa. I fell asleep down here.” I said, sheepishly. I heard his footsteps as he walked down. They sounded different. Finally Pa came down and I saw him, naked. “Pa! Your clothes!” I yelped. “Oh! I’m sorry, boy. I didn’t… I don’t remember taking them off!” He said, embarrassed. I noticed how much better he looked today. His skin wasn’t pale and he looked to have eaten much better. His thick facial hair had grown in quickly in sleep. The shadow it cast on his face had become a tuft of mess. His hands looked thicker and less callused than before as they quickly grabbed things to hide himself with. That’s when I saw Bahketh’s name on his back. Sometimes people scarred themselves with fire. These are tattoos. It seemed to be Bahketh’s name, tattooed on my father’s lower back, above his buttocks. I swallowed my tongue as I saw that it seemed perfected and even more complex than what Bahketh had shown me. In all honesty, it looked beautiful, but I couldn’t help but be afraid once more of Bahketh’s presence in our home. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary though, and things went on much the same. “Well, I will tell you what, I feel amazing! I told you I didn’t need some Wise Woman’s medicine!” Pa said, lifting his arms in a stretch. They looked full of energy- powerful. “Just fine on my own.” We got dressed and did our duties for the day. It turned out little sun was left and we didn’t get much done, but we still had deer to eat for a while anyway. I made broth as Papa finished up around the house. He seemed unable to sit down, even when we’d worked hard all afternoon. “Pa, are you going to eat?” I said, tasting the deer broth. It tasted wonderful. My eyes watched the fire carefully, ready to put it out if necessary. “Aye, but gimme a bit! I’m just trying to,” He huffed, lifting and rearranging things in the house, “move some things around!” I looked over and saw Pa sweating a river. He had moved almost everything in the house so quickly- alone. He looked over and showed me his usual big, funny grin. “Now that you mention it, though, I’m really hungry. And thirsty! I suppose you already caught on though, as you made both food and drink!” He said, running over to the fireplace as I began to make our servings. Pa quickly ate his helping and went for three more. I got two helpings in (what I usually eat, anyway) before we ran out. He laughed and said he could’ve eaten more; I was astounded. Even he could usually only eat about three servings of broth, especially when I stuffed it with things from the forest. He held his distended belly and complimented my cooking. “Maybe we should learn to make bread, it sure fills you up better than broth.” Pa said. I liked the idea, considering I always wanted to learn to make things to eat aside from soups and cooked meats. “Well, if you keep eating like this. I think so, Pa.” I said, smiling back._________________________________________________________________________ Things changed. I didn’t know what to do and even ignored what seemed subtly suspicious. I became afraid. At first, everything seemed great. I never went back into the forest and even told Pa we shouldn’t. He obliged. He told me he had a great idea about how we could train to hunt better, one he’d gotten in a dream. I gave little mind to it and made the tools he asked for. We cut up tree logs in a way that we could hold stumps with our hands easily; handles. They weighed different amounts. I couldn’t lift as much as my Pa, but I still tried to do it with him. Then we began to eat much more. At first we were fine, hunting the usual amount. We seemed to keep up with our need for food by hunting almost twice, if not three times as more food as before. We didn’t need all the furs so we traded for even more tools and different resources. Pa ate a lot more but he pushed me to eat as much as possible. Sometimes he’d even get angry when I didn’t eat ‘enough’. I always wanted to make Pa proud, so I usually ate as much as he made me. My eighteenth year came. He said it was exactly on the full moon. Almost a year had passed by since the incident with Bahketh. I ignored most of the signs that his influence lingered. As long as Pa was healthy, I didn’t really care. One day, however, I asked Pa something he didn’t like at all. “Pa, doesn’t everyone from our clan marry young? I’m eighteen, and you have never told me to seek a woman.” I said. Pa looked over and quickly became serious as he responded flatly, “You don’t need anyone.” I was confused. I looked at him. He’d changed so much in the past year. His arms looked thicker than ever, the rivers of his veins popping out of his skin all over. I’d traded some clothing for Pa to wear but he seemed to only like the fur vests we would mend out of animals in the woods. They always seemed small around his barrel chest. Although he ate well, the only thing I could see on his body was lean. His abdomen seemed pulled in, tight like river stones collected neatly. I looked down at my own body. I’d changed too, but not nearly as much as he. My face scrunched up in confusion as to what Pa said. “Pa, are you sure? There’s no real way to keep our clan alive if I don’t marry, or if you don’t marry. You’re still young, I think you could. I wouldn’t get jealous of siblings, I’m a grown man anyway.” I said, trying to be positive. “You don’t need me, is that it?” Pa asked. “What? That’s now what I’m saying, Pa. Don’t you want to have more children?” I asked him. Pa lifted the handled stumps and huffed. He was drenched in sweat as usual. His hair had gotten very thick this spring, shiny with sweat. Often his skin would look red as he breathed in heavily to lift. “Pa?” I insisted. “What, Maker?! You don’t want me around, right?!” He yelled, throwing the stumps far. “Just do what you want! You’re obviously not my boy, you don’t need me anymore, that’s what you’re saying, yes?!” I was almost afraid. Not because I couldn’t defend myself, but because Pa had never been this angry. His great chest bounced up and down as he huffed. He seemed angry, but not just that. He seemed anguished. “Pa, you know I can’t do anything as good as you. You’re a better hunter. I’ll never find someone I can count on like you.” I said, almost shaking and not thinking about what I was saying. It was true, though. That was how I felt about my Pa. I remembered trying to figure out how old Pa was when the winter took our clan. He’d have been about sixteen when I went under his wing. My father was much older, I’d say. Pa always looked up to my real father- at least by the way he spoke of him. I figured it was an age difference. I tried to understand how lonely Pa must have been. “I’m sorry, Pa.” I said, wondering what he would do. I couldn’t see his face anymore as he’d went to pick up the weights. I almost trembled thinking he would become violent. He came back. I couldn’t see if it was sweat or tears covering his face, especially as he kept his head down. We didn’t talk much that night. Then I started to hear the noises at night. I’d made a few additions to the house now, so Pa and I could have some privacy. I started hearing noises coming from Pa’s room. I couldn’t tell what it was he was doing. I became afraid because I heard grunts and strange moans. Was Pa sick again?Pa started becoming really big. He made sure I ate as well, but his hunger for food was astonishing, if not amazing. He ate and ate until he practically fainted one night. I tried to help him up, but he just held me. There was a sadness in him that I did not know how to help. He also pushed me. I would feel very sore in the mornings after a night of freedom where we could lift for as long as we wanted. Not everything made sense of what he said about ‘lifting’, but he knew so much. Pa and I started a tradition of seeing our progress ‘growing’. I didn’t understand it, but it looked to be enjoyable to Pa. I thought it was fun too especially when I could show off my strength. Pa would show me how big he’d gotten in the week and then I’d do the same for him. We seemed to make great progress. I did something one night. I didn’t understand my body and felt pain in my groin. I thought of asking my Pa what to do even though it was very late in the night. The pain was keeping me awake. I went to his room and found nobody there. Quickly, I dressed myself and grabbed my bow. I’d become very fast since we’d started training ourselves for hunting. Even though I weight quite a bit more, I was sure I could find Pa quickly. I went by the river, close to the mouth. I became worried as the full moon shed its bright light upon the trees and mountain stone. My feet stepped quickly, noticing a smell that I somehow recognized as Pa’s. I’d learned to make soft –but durable- boots from fur and cloth and slipped into a shadow as I heard the rushing waters of the river grow. There Pa was. He kept complaining about the heat. It was now summer but the heat of the night was still nice and calm, so I didn’t understand. Pa splashed himself in the water and drank. He coughed as he drank. He was probably drinking so fast. He washed himself and relaxed, naked on the water’s edge. I’d never tried to pay attention to the body. Pa said it was a private affair for only a wife to see, once. I couldn’t help it as something in my chest pounded. Pa’s body seemed perfect. It seemed sculpted, massive, like stone. It seemed powerful, like the fires Bahketh had fed him. I felt the pain in my groin again. Pa stepped out and looked at small pool of water at the river’s side. I assume he was staring at his reflection. He lifted his arms and forced his muscle to push out, like a large rock pressed to escape his thin skin. He laughed and posed again, showing off his pectorals more than anything else. I guess by instinct I dropped my bow. My hands rubbed my own groin, as if I needed some release from there too. “So big.” Pa said. “I’m so fucking big.” I knew not what that word meant. I’d never heard it myself. Pa posed again and again. I saw something happen to his appendage. The leg appendage you call a phallus. It seemed to swell as he posed. I felt my heart race. “Look at how big you are. No normal man is this strong.” He moaned, rubbing his body. Every movement forced certain muscles awake. I know now what they are called. He grabbed the nubs men can’t use on his chest. I swallowed my breath, feeling aroused. Pa moaned loudly, his phallus bouncing. It looked like a large, red rod. His hands eventually moved around and grabbed onto his phallus. They wrapped around it like a large knife handle. His member was much larger than mine. I pulled mine out. I wanted to feel what Pa was feeling. His hands went up and down. I saw his big balls swinging around. I looked at mine and felt them. They felt tender, swollen. “I want more. I want to grow more!” Pa yelled, groaning as his hands moved up and down his rod. I copied, feeling a sensation I’d never felt before. I would say I had felt it before, but I’d never done such things to myself in those situations. I then could see something strange as my Pa turned sideways. He must’ve wanted to see his side but couldn’t see his wide back. Bahketh’s name shimmered in a way I assume was enough for someone to see from afar, but not without direct line of sight. Pa moaned as my chest’s beat pounded. I couldn’t take it anymore and spurt out seed. Almost right after, Pa moaned and pounded his rod. He exclaimed once more, “I want to be huge!” Pa didn’t take much longer and spurted seed too. He fell backward as his white liquid gushed out like a small torrent. It splattered everywhere. On the ground, his chest, his face even. I looked down and saw a large sum of seed on the ground as well. I didn’t have nearly enough to match Pa, but I thought there was so much, considering it was like a small puddle two feet away from me. I couldn’t stop from moaning as I felt pleasure in my body. My phallus didn’t feel painfully hard anymore and set down to rest. As I did this, Pa grabbed his bow. “Who goes there?” He said. I quickly recovered myself and went on my way. Pa was skilled, but he’d never track me. That night I got to the house and cleaned myself as best as I could. I was too tired to worry if I had done right, watching my own father do such things. Part III: BAHKETH Another year passed and the fall season came. Pa had gotten massive. He couldn’t walk normal as his legs seemed to get in each other’s way. I’d heard someone in the village say he was an ogre. Pa looked very rugged but maintained clean. I obtained a blade to shave with regularly and I did it for both of us. Pa asked me to shave his body too, even though it was very difficult. I followed suit because he once said muscles looked bigger that way. At least this way people wouldn’t say mean things like that. And Pa wouldn’t fight them… I didn’t seek a wife. I met a nice girl in the village once, but Pa quickly scared her away. I wasn’t very interested, but I was determined to keep our clan’s bloodline alive. One night Pa’s bed broke. It was one of the first pieces of furniture I made. He only laughed and said we should just share a bed. I disagreed as we both were far too big for a single bed. If one of us didn’t fall off, it’d surely meet the same doom his bed had met. I’d gotten very skilled using tools and made a better bed for Pa. I found mine broken (with obvious assumption as to how when Pa told me he might have taken a nap on it) but made no argument. It was just proof that I was a skilled craftsman if the bed didn’t break, right? I didn’t get much bigger since the year before, but Pa said I did great. I smiled often when he measured my growth. I was starting to wish to be as big as him. He would sometimes show off in the village. He picked up men in each arm and would curl them like he did our weights (Which, by the way, I had to replace with bigger ones…) and would pull great animal-sized carts with ease. Things took a turn for the worst at night. I started planting more things and did very well. I grew lots of cucumbers and started harvesting. I found one missing and eventually learned what Pa had done with it. On his usual ‘cooling’ nights when he’d get his terrible fevers, he played with the cucumber. He would push it inside of himself, moaning and making many noises that bothered me. I found myself spilling my seed as my needs asked for something I shouldn’t have wanted. I started wondering if that was what Pa wanted, and started experimenting myself. I went down to the village one day and made friends. They seemed to make fun of me for not understanding sex as well as them, but I think they feared me. I was very strong and known as Hunter Son. Maker Hunterson. They didn’t laugh at me in front of me. One of them brought a harlot along and had her spend time with me. I learned that I didn’t like what she had to offer. Pa became more verbal that fall. “Do you like my size, boy?” He said, very seriously once. “Yes, Pa. You know I do.” I said, laughing. We sat on the ground, cleaning beans. “I don’t think I can get any bigger. I want to be bigger. I want to always take care of you, lad.” He said, tossing my hair in his hand, as if I was a boy still. I felt like a boy, always smaller than him. “I doubt I will, though. I can only get older from here on.” I pondered a while on what he said. I found myself later walking through the cursed woods, holding my bow ready. I was stronger now, and I knew I didn’t have to be afraid. The Wise Woman taught me how to make holy items. I wasn’t good at it, unusually, but she said that the items would drive away evil spirits no matter what. I never told her what I was doing anything for, but I’m sure she knew something was going on long before I had. I stepped through the thick brush- thicker than I remembered. Pa would go hunting by himself. Said he wanted to find himself a bear. I felt sorry for the bear. I pushed back the thick green and saw the cave again. It’d been two years, maybe more. I stood in front of the cave. It had changed since I was there last. It looked cleaner, as if it were more of a temple. I slowly walked in and looked around. There was much lighter than before. The heat was heavier too, I could feel my chest breathe in humid air. The altar was much more well-kept now than ever in my memory. The statuette sat there, waiting for me. “Well, well, well…” huffed the spirit. “Hello, Bahketh. I greet you with respect.” I said. I wasn’t nervous. “I hope you do, but I really hope you greet me with more…” He whispered, rubbing my body with his unseen warmth. “I seek nothing, Bahketh. At least nothing for myself.” I said, pulling out a small bag. “What is that, young man? My, you’ve gotten so much bigger on your own, without my help. Well, direct help. Do you like that power?” He fizzled. I opened the bag and let out the contents. I had obtained a box of incense. It was very rare, I’d received it as a gift for helping the counsel of the village stop a pack of bandits with my father, from a prominent family’s daughter. Jewels dropped out, all from different mountains from afar. “There is something I want,” I managed to say before Bahketh interrupted. “I know what you want. Your father is a very strong man. But he wants more, yes?” Bahketh asked. “Yes, oh great one.” “Maker? Boy?” I heard from outside the cave. I turned around. Pa was there. He looked over at the altar and back at me. “What’s going on here?” He asked. “Where are we? I followed you because I was worried. Should I be worried?” “Pa! How did you follow me?” I asked, nervously. “I followed your smell –I mean- tracks.” He said. “Come, my acolyte.” Bahketh whispered. Pa walked slowly, without hesitation. “Your boy wants to make you bigger. Stronger. You want that, yes?” Bahketh asked. Pa stared at the statue before processing all the information. “Yes! That’s what I want! Wait- is this- is this how I’ve gotten so strong?! I’ve never felt this way in my entire life! It’s amazing! I feel so powerful!” Pa said. Bahketh laughed. “Your boy is no normal man. He is a Maker, just as his name states. He has the power to focus magic. You should thank him as much as you should thank me.” Pa looked over at me. I noticed the erection he was growing. He was practically glowing. “Your boy and I are also alike in other forms. He is benevolent, like me. He wants to make you even stronger.” Bahketh whispered. “Is that true, son? You can make me stronger? I want to be stronger, boy! I want to be the strongest!” Pa said, grabbing my arm. He then pulled me in and embraced me. I’d never felt the way he made me feel when he embraced me. “Well- Bahketh granted the wish. What do you want, oh Great Spirit?” I said, nervously. “I want your Pa to give me his name. But he can’t do it by himself, you need to give it to me.” Bahketh said. “I don’t understand.” I said. “Why don’t you ask your father?” Bahketh said with a grimace. I could see his smile in the fire of the altar. Pa looked nervous. I looked over to him and asked, “What does he mean?” It took him some time before responding. He seemed to think about it a bit before Bahketh complained loudly. He made the room burning hot. Pa finally answered. “Our clan gives up our names to the person we love the most. It’s a tradition we hold in the spring. I did it a few years ago for you. It’s usually something for marriage… But I have nobody, lad. I always have only had you.” He said. “And that means that he doesn’t own his own name. You do. The binds of your clan’s tradition make it so he can’t do anything. I will grant you this wish, if you want me to, but you have to give me his name.” “I-I don’t think I should be doing that!” I yelled. I still understood very little. I looked back and forth at both of them, skin red hot with embarrassment. “Boy, please! I want to be the strongest!” Pa said. He held me close, almost crushing me. He posed his arms and smiled before embracing me again. I desperately remember his embrace. “But Pa, I don’t want to make this decision for you! Why don’t you just take back your name?” I said, trying to pull out of his grasp. I didn’t want to, really. “I can’t do that, boy…” Pa said. He looked sad at me. I knew what he meant. He didn’t have to say it. “And that’s all, right? You’ll make him the strongest as long as you have his name?” I asked the flame spirit. “He’ll be as big and strong as he wants. All I need is his name.” Bahketh said. “Just say ‘I give thy true name away, Hunter, to the great spirit BAHKETH.” I breathed in heavily and held it in. “I give thy true name away, Hunter, to the great spirit BAHKETH.” I smiled at Pa and held his hand. I’d never held his hand, at least not to my memory as boy or man. I laid mine inside his one last time. Pa smiled back at me, with his big smile. “YES! FINALLY!” Bahketh screamed. The statuette fell to the side and cracked. Out came the flame and grabbed onto my papa’s face. A shockwave sent me flying. Bahketh’s cackle filled echoed on and on. The flamed disappeared as it went into my pa’s mouth. “Pa?” I grumbled, rubbing my neck. “I don’t feel much different,” Pa said, looking back at me. He then screamed and held his stomach. “Oh… Oh! It burns! Gah! It burns!” Pa screamed. He trembled as his skin went red hot. He fell to his knees as he screamed again. His hands grabbed his head as he howled. Pa’s forehead quickly pushed out two small horns, little points that poked under his long hair. The mark on his back began to spread its ink, like a black flower. It covered his chest and upper legs, like vines around to his neck. Pa then began to moan. He seemed to stay alive and well even if the flames came alive on him. At first I saw his arms shake. His shoulders widened and found more space close to Pa’s neck. He growled as his arms weighed heavy with swelling muscle- it looked like a pumpkin was stuffed under his skin on both sides. His hands, however big they were, seemed very small as his arms trembled. I tried to come closer and even shot an arrow at the altar in hopes of distracting (and maybe stopping) Bahketh. The arrow evaporated in flame quickly before reaching the altar and I felt the singe of the fires myself a few steps in. I could not get close as my pa’s arms moved up from the pushing of his enlarging back. He looked like an hourglass as the sides of his midsection popped out like small wings. “Bigger! I want to be bigger! It feels so good!” I pulled out my crude amulets in hopes to use them against the foul spirit. Bahketh cackled the moment I pulled them out. They crumbled in my hands. My eyes let out tears as I saw father’s stance widen. His legs had become thicker than many young trees of the forest. They looked denser too. His abdomen cracked as the bricks on his abdomen pushed outward. I started feeling the warmth in my groin again, in shame. Pa’s close tore as his chest exploded outward along with his legs. “So good! So fucking strong!” Pa said, flexing his body as he grew. His rod pushed out from the burning clothes, swelling up in a size I could never imagine fitting a normal human. It looked thicker than my forearm. Somehow it lifted upward even with the massive weights that were under it, both sized like many fruits from the garden. It simply bobbed up and down and trickled seed onto the ground. Pa thoroughly enjoyed what was happening, even though his head seemed to be being swallowed by his massive body. Bahketh laughed and let the fires die down as my father started fondling himself. Pa’s chest had stretched out his nipples like coins, yet grown them outward to large nubs that he moaned when played with. I breathed heavily as I tried to remain capable of clear thought. Bahketh whispered terrible things in my ears, caressing my body in a softer heat. He tempted me. Pa stroked himself as his height increased to accommodate his growth. I’d say he was about eight feet tall at the end of the ordeal, but I couldn’t keep track of such things. He moaned and yelled out in a thick, deep voice. It was deeper than before, like the growl of a beast in the woods. My pa could no longer contain himself and spewed outward, shooting far into the air and away from where he stood. It came like a river of white, splashing and somehow not evaporating from the embers that had dwindled with the ending growth. I felt myself wet inside my gear, but not from fear and piss, but longing. I longed for my pa’s massive body to touch me. “Foolish boy! Do you know who I am?!” Bahketh finally exclaimed. His voice seemed to cover my pa’s. Pa’s eyes themselves had gone white. “I am BAHKETH! Efreeti of Lust, Fire, and Strength! Genie of Smolder and Ecstasy! The pinnacle of all flames! None are stronger than I! I fell from grace, but now I will return to the material world I was once barred from, so full of delicious pleasures! All thanks to you, my boy! Or should I say, my son?” I felt my heart sink deeper than I will ever remember. I understood what Bahketh had done. The statuette lifted into the air and cracked, letting out a small tear in time-and-space open. Now I know what had happened. I saw Bahketh’s truest form. It barely peered into our world as he commanded Pa to walk over to me. I stood there, afraid and aroused. Pa walked up to me. He was not Pa anymore, but not Bahketh. He grabbed me and squeezed me in his palms. I thought he would kill me but he simply tore off my clothes. The possessed man pushed me onto his skin, letting me feel the mass. I felt Pa’s massive chest, rock solid and burning hot. He forced my mouth open to taste Pa’s stone-like abdomen. I felt a shameful delight as my phallus hardened in its own rock-like density. The possessed Pa licked my own body, tasting different parts and biting where he saw fit. My neck, my buttocks, my sides. He bit hard enough to hurt, but not enough to pierce through. I closed my eyes in hopes of living, in hopes of forgiveness should my pa come to his senses. “Tell me you like my mass, boy.” Pa said, deep and slow. “N-no, Pa… Please… Stop this… We can get away…” “Feel these arms. Feel how strong and powerful they are.” I couldn’t hold on and finally whispered, “…It’s amazing, Pa.” "Do you want to be crushed between these great legs?" He said, forcing my hands onto them. I felt their density on my fingers. My chest couldn't contain the energy I received from the arousal. "You're gigantic, Pa..." I said, moving my hands around on the striations. Pa’s mouth landed on mine. I couldn’t stop myself and tasted the inside. It was somehow sweet, like fresh fruit cooked in a warm fire, yet different. His tongue played around with mine, long enough to touch the insides of my throat. I thought I’d choke but I only moaned. Pa held me in the air with ease as he did this, finally letting me feel his massive rod touch me. His tongue licked mine. I whimpered at the amazing sensation. He fit mine in his mouth and suckled as he lifted my legs over his shoulders. I moaned and felt the ecstasy wisp me away. Pa pulled me out of his mouth and then licked elsewhere. I feel great shame for he licked me in an awful place. It felt so pleasurable, it bothers me today. His tongue pierced through and played around inside me. I finally understood why Pa liked to do this to himself. Pa finally pulled me down to his own throbbing member and pushed my mouth on it. It was literally too big to fit inside, but he was gentle. He simply growled, “Lick it, boy. Satisfy your papa.” And I followed suit. He moaned quickly and played with my body as well as his own. He pushed his hands over mine so I could feel his massive legs while I licked. I was lost. I had no congruent thought. “I curse you, Maker Hunterson. I curse you to lust as badly as your father did, every night thinking of giving your own name to me…” Bahketh whispered under my pa’s voice. I looked up and saw the black tear that dripped from Pa’s eye. He smiled still as the tear dripped away and evaporated on the burning ground. Pa came again. He drenched me in seed, cooked like milk in the winter morning. I opened my mouth and swallowed what I could. It tasted like honey. I moaned and came as well, whimpering as the sensation squeezed my groin tighter than ever. It hurt as it tightened out every last drop inside me. I heard the voice in the window cackle. A colossal arm -both muscular and bigger than even Pa’s- smashed through. The voice growled loudly in its own beastly form as another arm stretched the doorway out. I could see Bahketh’s smoldering orange eyes. His name burned on my arm, unfinished but obviously his. I screamed in pain as it burned to the bone. Bahketh laughed and petted my papa. “My acolyte. You shall walk the earth, spreading my name in the shadows. When the time has come I shall become a glorious god as I so deserve.” Bahketh said, voice booming. It was certainly not a whisper anymore. Pa turned as the seed forced me to change slowly. I fell to the ground as my body became led. Pa walked towards the door and bowed. “Yes, master.” He said. “But now, you shall enjoy true paradise. Come to me, my acolyte. Enter the plane of Lust, where my flaming abode hides. Our enemies have been winning for so long, and we must plan… We must rejoice your coming home. I shall soon take even the planes of the Abyss and Heaven as my own.” The portal stretched even more so. Bahketh’s face smiled with teeth like a monster’s. His red skin burned with embers and eldritch-orange symbols. He caressed my pa as he walked into the burning doorway. I could only whisper my Pa’s name before I began sensing the loss of it in my existence. I felt my bones push and break as my body grew when Pa looked back at me once more. I still think the pain was worse in my heart than it was in my body. I would have screamed as the door closed, leaving the cave steaming and alone. I lay, growing slowly and painfully. I could feel everything; the bones cracking, the muscle tearing. All of it, before the growth rebuilt me. It felt pleasurable underneath the pain. To this day I want more, in secret shame. I felt my arms swell and my neck become thick. My legs felt like pillars in a temple, heavy as well. My eyes opened as I saw the thunder rolled in the night sky. I got up very slowly, trying to move with the new size. I looked at my body, remembering what my Pa’s looked like. I would certainly be a weaker scout now, but that was fine. I needed to become a warrior. I needed to find a way to defeat the foul genie, Bahketh. I stumbled around, learning how to use the self-obtrusive legs I had just obtained. My groin felt heavy already with seed as I looked down at a massive member that swung from side to side. I didn’t get far before having to release. I met the Wise Woman in the dark. She said my voice had become even deeper. The rain helped conceal me. I begged her for advice. The Wise Woman told me this was certainly beyond her power. I cried in agony. She gave me a pendant that had been passed down to her. It carried the symbol of an ancient people. She said that the mountains hid a strange prison whose lock was now broken beyond repair. I asked for her forgiveness. The Wise Woman said nothing. I learned later I had been fated to release the burning djinn long before. Her people had dwindled (ironically like mine) and hid amongst the village. They were prepared to end their bloodline. I prepared to end mine. The pendant was to help me find someone who could battle the bastard, but that was the only help the Wise Woman gave me. I returned to the house and packed what I could. I packed extra to head to the village and trade. Nobody recognized me in the darkness of the rain and night. I quickly obtained a sword and things a traveler could use. I gave up my tools. I was no longer a maker. I was no longer anyone. I write in this journal, hoping that if I should fail, someone finds it. I can feel Bahketh’s whispers at night. I can feel his hands toying with me. I know the knowledge to give him my being is hidden in the dark depths of my mind. Every day is a struggle. I want that power and strength. I beg the spirits of the land –the only few benevolent left- that they guide me to death before my mind finds destruction. But who knows, deep down, I want Bahketh to grow me as much as he can. End? Author End Note: I thank you very much for reading my work. Please suggest themes that you think would be interesting, or tell me what you thought could use work through a comment! I sincerely hope you liked it.
  23. momoware

    FANTASY FUTURE MUSCLE Chapter 2

    NB- I've put a "weird" tag. on this and I should warn in advance there's a few very unique but overall very unusual feature of this series that I've written- it involves bodybuilders being able to impregnate each other with clones. It really gets me off, but if the idea grosses you out, you've been warned! There's one or two violent sex scenes in this chapter too. _________ David Wyman, the larger of the two American competitors was visibly relieved to hear this and grabbed his huge balls prior to removing his speedo. His balls then hung almost his knees, and his gigantic cock two or three inches past as he waited for his fellow competitors to do the same. Chen Xiao's speedo was simply torn off by his rapidly expanding cock, whereas Martin, still flaccid, had to tweak his nipples for a moment in order to cause the groundbreaking boner that caused his trunks to fly into the audience in three pieces. I too was naked at this point, having soiled my trunks with semen, gradually the whole auditorium removed all of its clothes, creating an incredible smell that made the air feel heavy and wet. The eight men stood now fully naked, before a room of naked bodybuilders, eagerly waiting the orgy that was coming up next, the Domination Round. This round, in contrast to the previous one that awarded aesthetics, instead awards strength and brute power. Each competitor faces their opponents in a series of head to head wrestling matches. Pinning your opponent to the ground is awarded with 2 points, penetrating him anally with 5 points and reaching full climax whilst still in control 10 extra points. What made this round so bizarre but also amazingly erotic was that due to the genetic enhancements that these men received, they were capable of producing all the necessary hormones to deposit a fertilized egg, and whenever the loser of one of these bouts was fucked up the ass, they would become impregnated with a pygmy muscleman, who would grow to adulthood in their ball sack over around an hour and be born at full sexual maturity in a monstrous pool of ejaculate on stage. In the audience around me I saw five or six of what I assumed to be Wyman's muscle progeny- identical to him in every way except their size and the fact that they had no speech capabilities or free will, they were giant muscle robots in effect, who would continue growing indefinitely, unlike their father. Wyman, the American I mentioned earlier, had won this round the previous year with 109 points and his cock and arrogant smirk buzzed full of excitement for this round. His first bout saw him face Jean Marie de Villiers, who at 710 pounds was much smaller than Wyman, and his fear showed. They stood on two 'x's six feet way from one another- the distance was just enough that when Wyman stretched out his massive arm, the Frenchman was just out of reach. Wyman was the biggest man in the contest (although Mustafa al-Asghari, his fellow American was roughly the same weight but one or two inches shorter) at 970 pounds and 8'7, but whilst this section of the competition was a sure win for him the earlier posing rounds did not always score him highly as during the run up to competition he would sacrifice form and muscle definition for gaining extreme size with massive rations of food and of course, his growth hormone that was obtained by a special pharmacological unit from bull elephant seals. As I watched him standing on the spot, ready to jump the Frenchman, I could certainly see elements of the bull seal in him, he panted and drooled from his gigantic chiseled jaw all the way down his rock hard sculpted body as his entire being shook maniacally waiting for the whistle to sound . And the whistle sounded. Wyman leapt towards Jean Marie, who jumped several meters in the air, sending the American tumbling over the stage. As the Frenchman landed he seemed pleased with himself; however this greatly angered Wyman, who picked himself up off the ground and stormed over to Jean Marie, making the whole auditorium shake as his size 32 feet pounded the ground. He stopped just short of the Frenchman and roared intimidatingly down at him, the two feet that separated their eyelines seeming like the gap between a giant and an infant. "YOU DON'T MAKE ME LOOK LIKE A FOOL YOU LITTLE FRENCH CUNT! I'M GONNA RAPE YOU GOOD BOY! YOU'LL SEE, AND WHEN MY LITTLE BOY COMES CRAWLING OUT OF YOUR NADS, I'M GONNA TEACH HIM HOW TO FUCK A LITTLE RUNT LIKE YOU TOO!" The poor Frenchman had no recourse, he stood glued to the spot waiting for the onslaught. Wyman bent down and grabbed his huge balls in his even bigger hand and lifted him above the ground before slamming him down viciously. "Two points!" Yelled the tanoy He then put one arm round each side and flipped him over, then used his two index fingers to spread apart his buttocks, spitting into the tight hole, and then onto his monstrous cock before thrusting the giant pole inside the black void. "Five points!" "You know what I'm gonna do boy?" Wyman whispered into Jean Marie's ear whilst fucking him, "I'm gonna squeeze out my biggest, strongest spunk to make sure that you end up carrying my biggest, fiercest muscle baby ever. He'll rip your little cock apart when he comes out, I swear, YOU'LL. REGRET. HUMILIATING.ME!" As he sad those last four words he stopped fucking so regularly, and delivered four final gigantic pummeling thrusts, as his giant balls pumped cum into the Frenchman’s exhausted ass he cried tears of pain and fear, and when Wyman pulled his cock out, the Frenchman simply collapsed and had to be removed from the stage, litres of thick smelly semen leaking from his devastated hole. "Wyman with the full seventeen points!" I was fascinated now to watch the Frenchman from this point, as I had never witnessed a "birth" yet. He was taken over to an area with hammocks in place of chairs (there was no way he would be able to sit down for quite a few days after the pounding he received from Wyman. He lay down starting to recover from the pain of the fucking, but mentally preparing himself for the pain of a small bodybuilder erupting from his cock in the coming hour. His ballsack had expanded, and in between his drooping testicles a third round lump had formed, about two feet in diameter and it was bulging and stretching aggressively. Wyman had promised that this would be one of his most impressive muscle offspring, and I was on the edge of my seat waiting to see what it was like. In order to make sure that the loser of the bouts in the domination round did not suffer serious injury in the competition, it was winner stays on, and Wyman was looking forward to taking on the remaining six. Chen Xiao was next, seventeen points to Wyman, followed by Mustafa, who in spite of being similar in stature was no match in strength, seventeen. Then came Martin van Santen, my gorgeous little man, and I felt for the first time fear and concern over the wellbeing of a competitor. I didn't want to see him impaled on a monster dick, howling in pain whilst the giant American degraded him. Sadly though within moments he had obtained the first two points for pinning Martin to the ground. Whilst on the ground though, Martin surprised the entire audience and delivered a powerful kick with both gigantic legs into Wyman's chest, throwing him 80 feet across the stage, to land on his back. Nothing like this had ever been seen before. "Now, two points to van Santen!" Turned on and motivated once more by the sheer power his legs had demonstrated, van Santen leapt up to his feet and stormed over to Wyman who was lying in pain, having landed on a pile of chairs that broke his fall but left his stomach and back badly bruised. He stamped on the American giant's stomach, causing him to cough up a small amount of blood onto the stage, and then with the same foot he rolled over Wyman’s body so that he was facing the floor, and then grabbed the hair on the back of his head, lifted him slightly off the ground (which was a challenge for the smaller, shorter Argentinian) and jammed his cock into the waiting ass. He made sure to finish quickly as he did not want the American to regain his strength and turn on him. With a resounding howl, he ejaculated and let Wyman fall to the ground, to be taken, unconscious, over to the hammocks. It was the first time that Wyman's ass had ever been penetrated. The contest stopped then for a break, as it had been around an hour since the domination round began and Jean Marie, Chen Xiao and Mustafa were expected within moments to be birthing Wyman's gargantuan kids. Whilst Chen Xiao and Mustafa were carrying a three foot wide spherical pouch in their ballsacks, poor Jean Marie looked like he was about to give birth to a full grown man, the lump had grown and was now six feet long and standing upright. Even through the scrotum you could see the embryonic bodybuilder flexing his giant, ripped muscles. In order to end the torment of having this giant growth in his system, Jean Marie began pumping his massive cock shaft with great gusto. Some assistants brought over buckets of lube to help the situation as well as to stimulate the huge balls and Wyman's muscle child. Gradually the large, elongated lump in the ballsack began to ascend, and Jean Marie screamed in pain and pleasure as his dick widened enormously to squeeze out the giant, and with one more tremendous push he ejaculated spectacularly all over the stage and well into the front rows of the audience. No less than two hundred litres of semen flooded the stage and as it began to become less and less, his dick hole expanded to several feet wide to squeeze out a full grown muscle beast that emerged covered in sticky fluid, strutting around the stage, consuming the semen from all over his massive body and picking up gloopy handfuls from the floor and ingesting it. The semen he ate ravenously made him increasingly aggressive, it compounded the high level of bull hormones in his already testosterone pumped up blood. He roared and bellowed louder than any human ever had before, and he flexed his gigantic muscles in a virile display of aggression. Whilst his father and the their competitors were shaved and tanned for competition, this muscle "baby" was not prepared in such a way, his entire body was covered in thick, black glossy hair, unsurprising for someone with such high levels of male hormones guaranteed by his parentage. He marched across the stage, growing almost an inch in height with each footstep (Wyman watched in awe, impressed by the potency of his own man juice) and when he reached the wall he punched a hole in the concrete and began fucking is hole in order to satisfy his carnal urges. Each thrust was accompanied by deep roars as well as rapid growth spurts, until he finally reached climax and screamed, pulling his cock out of the wall, he turned to the audience with his hands held either side of his head and spewed gallons of warm cum onto the stage. The entire room was left speechless by this monster, who now stood two whole feet taller than his father. Wyman however had nothing to fear- the muscle babies always deferred to their fathers, and the American wandered onto the cum-covered stage, still sore from his fucking from Martin and caressed his giant child. "Hey there big fella, I'm your daddy!" He said affectionately, rubbing the giant’s big hairy chest and making his six inch nipples stand erect to attention. He wiped some semen off his newborn son's chest and used it as lube to start massaging his own cock as the muscle baby watched. His was now the second biggest cock in the room, now standing erect two or three inches away from his eyes. He pumped the six foot long shaft repeatedly until he reached the point of climax and erupted a third batch of cum onto the stage. His humongous balls shuddered as they pumped four hundred litres of spunk out in a steady thick stream that hit the roof of the auditorium and splashed in every corner, followed by the birth of Martin's considerably smaller muscle baby that Wyman caught in his arms and placed on the ground. Three feet tall and two feet wide, covered from head to toe in thick rippling muscle that spasmed uncontrollably as he flexed and wandered around, gathering his bearings. He grew at a similar rate to the muscle baby that came before, although he was much less hairy and his growth slowed down after he surpassed about six feet. In the next five minutes both Mustafa and Chen Xiao expelled Wyman's two remaining muscle babies, who were equally hairy but thankfully for their hosts smaller and less painful than the beast that Jean Marie had popped out. The domination round recommenced, this time on a stage that was no less than two feet deep in huge bodybuilder cum. One hour later another break was taken to expel the new round of muscle babies. Several hours later, the domination round had come to an end and the ritual of bringing out the muscle babies began.
  24. SarisHappy

    My girl

    I've always been a big guy. In my childhood, I always took pride that I was the biggest. Even before puberty. I was always the tallest kid in my grade. Whenever my fellow 8 year old kids would gather round and compare bicep sizes, I always won. I mean, I was humbled a bit by middle school, when some of the girls got taller than me before I hit puberty. It depressed me a bit, to be honest. So when I hit my massive growth spurt, my height surpassing them, and everyone else (including adults) by 8th grade, I loved it. In high school, my ego reached critical mass, as a freshman, I was taller than all but 2 seniors. I loved it when 4 months into high school, I surpassed them. Now, getting that tall, that fast, I did look kinda scrawny. But my muscles started building up quickly. I wasn't even doing any extra working out at first. Just playing football or basketball with my friends. It wasn't until I joined the football team in 10th grade that I started lifting. And my body loved it. My muscles were growing so big, so fast, I was getting stretching marks on my arms, back, and thighs. My senior year, when I was 18, I had become famous in my small suburban town. While girls adored me, most of them were too inexperienced to be able to handle the size of my penis (which also had stretch marks from rapid growth). So when I went away to college, I met a 25 year old grad student. Her name was Sarah. Now, I loved my size. I loved ducking through doors. I loved how my shoulders were too broad for some doors. I loved how no matter what I wore, you could easily see the outline of my giant genitals. When I hit my head on things, I'd smirk while in pain, thinking how I was too big for this society. But Sarah...was obsessed. I was still growing, but slowly. She was insatiable, and the only girl who could handle my size. She was a big woman, too. Not chubby or anything. No, but tall, curvy, she liked to workout too. She studied all sorts of biology and holistic herbs and stuff like that. She was on a journey to get as big as possible, and she swore she made her breasts and butt bigger using exercise, herbs, and meditative techniques. I was skeptical, but also, didn't really care. She was hot and able to handle me. We both had endless sexual energy. When we first started dating, we had sex for 3 days straight, getting food delivered, and calling off work. We tried to see if we even had a limit, but we could only avoid real life for so long. But when she offered to help me get even bigger...I still remained skeptical. Herbs? Meditation? Some other hippy bullshit? Come on, now. I wanted to stay natural. But sometimes, I would see before and after pictures of men who used steroids. I was still bigger than them! Imagine, if I took them...I'd become... She slapped me when I brought this up to her. My health wasn't worth the risk. She insisted, as always, when we returned to everything after we die, we can live out all our dreams, but it was our responsibility to take care of our health in this state we exist in. There was some other hippy shit she said, too, but whatever. She suggested we try her techniques first, and if I wasn't satisfied, we explore other options. To my surprise, her combination of pills, food, yoga, weightlifting, meditation, and hypnosis had speed up my growth. My muscles didn't seem to be growing as fast as they would be if I used steroids, but I was getting taller faster. And even my dick and balls were growing...something that hasn't happened over the past 2-3 years. Then, she started exercising my dick. She'd stretch it. She'd jelq it. She'd work it out for me. And it would get sore. And it grew. and grew. and grew. Jesus Christ, did it grow. I'll give you the exact details of my favorite session. Stay tuned for the next, and final part.
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