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some background: i've been lurking this site for over a decade, trying to work up the courage to post something one day. i guess today's that day. this is a relatively short snippet but i'm planning on eventually adding to it. i guess it's my thanks to all of you for providing stuff for me to lurk at for all those years. --- It had been a long year. Trapped inside for most of it, languishing away, Jacob could feel his mind and body withering. Sure, it'd been fun for the first couple weeks- out of work with nothing to do, expenses taken care of by his employer's robust severance cheque... but after he'd beaten his favourite video games for the third or fourth time it had grown quickly stale. And without his friends coming by, well. Bored was putting his mental state lightly. See, Jacob had been a social guy. A real butterfly, as it were. He was cute, was the main reason- though if you asked him he'd probably have a few more choice adjectives to use. Narrative honesty requires that we stick mostly to "cute" here; he was classic twink, not so much skinny as just un-toned, smooth, more pretty than handsome. Looks that got him laid, sure, and pleasurably so. And looks that were definitely not getting him laid anymore: he idly opened Grindr for the third time that morning and was greeted not with invitations but with the silence of an app laid waste by quarantine. God damn it, he thought. It hadn't been the first time he'd had that thought that morning. The thing though that had made quarantine especially grating on poor Jacob's psyche wasn't even the tumbleweeds rolling across the wide road of his sex life. No; it was more troubling. You see, Jacob had been giving himself quite a bit of introspective time. Considering his options, as it were, and what he wanted out of life. And he'd touched upon something he found... worrying. Jacob wanted to be big. Not-- not huge, he told himself. But maybe if he could, you know, get some serious workouts in, really dial in his calorie intake, do a "dirty bulk" or whatever they called it, it'd be nice to have a little meat on his frame. A lot of meat on his frame. Four-plate squat meat on his frame. And the rest of the body to go with it-- thick and powerful and hard and so, so strong. This wanting turned, shall we say, a little more intense. Soon he was fantasizing about himself as an emerging musclebear, hairy and huge and exuding a masculinity that wasn't so much powerful as undeniable. The kind of guy he'd find himself transfixed by at the bars, but the kind of guy whose attention in turn was fixated on those like him. He spent hours browsing sites, looking at powerlifters, at offseason bodybuilders, at a (maybe not so) shocking amount of porn, building his idea of what he wanted to become bit by bit. Reading about how to achieve it, first balking at the requirements, then gradually embracing them. He had all the information he needed. He had a goal. He had the resources. He just needed to put his plan into work. It took a suprisingly long time for him to get up the gumption. Jacob may have been a flirt, but he was shy; changing his body like this would immediately make him the centre of attention in any group. But the yearning was stronger than his self-consciousness. It grew, and grew, and one day-- he woke, stood, looked at himself in the mirror, and decided to start. Was it difficult? Of course it was. Having no access to an outside gym, Jacob started with bodyweight. Squats, pushups, wall-sits, dead bugs, crunches, planks-- he ran through the beginner's gauntlet for as many reps as he could stand. The first day he went through it once, the second day twice. By the end of the month it was easy as breathing. He chalked the progress up to the monstrous amount of food he'd begun to consume; in the mirror, his frame looked slightly broader, his muscles more tight. But not larger. Not yet. The second month, he bit the bullet and began to order weights. An olympic bar and bench came first, some bumper plates next. He began to deadlift, to squat, to press. Dumbbells followed shortly after, and with them curls, extensions, any movement he could come up with. He scoured the internet for more. He ate like a starving man. He ordered more weight. When the first pair of proper plates came in, it'd been three months. When the second pair arrived, it'd only taken two weeks for him to work up to them. He had gone from lifting twice a day to spending his waking hours either eating or lifting. It's not like he had much else to do, he reasoned. And the rush he felt when he looked in the mirror-- He had changed, dear reader. Jacob had taken to lifting like a fish to water. He was lean, not bodybuilder levels, but hadn't had a lot of fat on him to start with. This only made the muscle he'd put on more stark. His legs were thick, quads becoming more clearly separated by the day, his calves hard and heart-shaped. His ass had tightened, risen, round and hard-- every time he saw it over his shoulder in the mirror, he longed for more. His back had widened, the wings of his lats apparent, his traps beginning to rise. His shoulders were rounded, beginning to separate more fully. His chest- he'd worked hard on it, and his pecs had blossomed into hard, gorgeous mounds of muscle. He'd find himself flexing them alternately throughout the day, whenever he was bored; it'd become a hobby of sorts. His arms were incredible, for someone so new to lifting. Thick, hard, and with just the faintest beginning of a vein curving over the peak of his bicep. The real standout, though, were his abs. Jacob had been merciless to them, even when he was doing only bodyweight exercises, and his sadist streak towards torturing his stomach hadn't ceased. His efforts were rewarded with a near-freakishly tight midsection, his abs showing through in a clear six-pack despite his relatively high body fat. His obliques were steel-hard, cascading down his sides and connecting to form a flawless Adonis' belt, an arrow of muscle straight to his dick. He knew how strong these muscles were-- could do a five minute plank without breaking a sweat, had begun to do weighted sit-ups holding two plates on his chest -- but something in the back of his mind still stirred. He wasn't satisfied. More weight was ordered. More food. Jacob began to research supplements, first the ordinary, then when he'd exhausted that endeavour began to dip his toe into the more intense, esoteric, dubiously legal. It only took another month of intense, unrelenting lifting before he plunged deeper. He didn't want to cycle. No, he wanted to cruise; wanted the slow build of his body putting on more mass, becoming more and more intensely hard and strong and masculine with every day he woke. The day he got what he'd ordered, he regarded himself in the mirror before his first injection. He looked good, by anyone's measure; veins had begun to emerge in his arms, which had ballooned from set after superset of curls and extensions. His pecs had grown thicker, deeper, the seperation between them stark. His legs were thick, quads fully obviously separated even unflexed, the muscle heavy and like steel. His ass had become something out of myth, round, high, and tight. It was getting hard for him to find anything to wear that didn't make him look cartoonishly pornographic; if pants fit around his massive thighs and rock-hard ass, they would inevitably bag around his comparatively tiny waist. Speaking of. He had focused even harder on his abs, incorporating ever more torturously long weighted static holds and hundreds of reps of every movement he could devise. Ten minute planks with 150 pounds on his back. Bicycle crunches with punishingly heavy ankle weights. He'd get his ab roller out and spend a few hours before bed performing thousands of reps, unsatisfied until he'd pushed the muscles to failure, and then finish off his day doing crunches until he couldn't move. He'd wake up on the mat, still in his workout clothes, and run his hands down his stomach: like hot steel, his abs tightened with every breath into something even he lacked the words to describe. Four pairs of bricks ran down his stomach, protruding a solid inch unflexed. Obliques beyond description - so hard they didn't feel human - flanked them. When he prepped his shot, pressed the plunger down, and took his first step towards something he couldn't truly even picture, he looked at his reflection and almost came. Not thinking of what he was, already near-Adonis-like in his muscularity, but what he was going to be.

[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.

My best friend was always quite a weakling-he was really tall, 6 foot 5, but never weighed more than 165lbs Until he made some changes... I think it all started some years ago. He just turned 16. At this time My body was already quite well developed. My arms were at 15.75 inches, my legs were big and I had some abs and noticeable pecs. That was when I started working out. I often picked on my friend and fun wrestled him as he had no chance against me (I was 6 feet tall- almost 6 inches shorter than him but weighed 170lbs). It was so funny to see him trying to get out of a headscissor or a headlock by using all his strenght. He someday told me not to humiliate him any longer because he’d feel extremely sad and weak... So when he turned 17 he started hitting the gym too. His first half year transformation was insane! He put on 33lbs! From 165 to 198 lbs. His arms swell like nothing I had ever seen, he probably had 13inch arms but now they were at 15.75! (Mine were 17in at this time.) His legs started to show some muscles and his pecs were already as big as mine. He started to show some abs too. So today, 3.5 years later he’s 20 and took going to the gym quite serious - primarily because he wanted to become a better Football player. We ALWAYS went to the gym together but he gained much faster than I did. He pretty soon was able to deadlift 440lbs several times and benchpress 330lbs once. His legs are at 30inches and his chest at 47inches circumference. His arms don’t look like arms anymore- they passed the 19 inch mark as mine rested only at 18. His abs were fucking ripped and his bulging obliques formed an awesome V-line. He weighed 245lbs and had bulging abs. Just imagine that. People were afraid of him, for example when we went out partying and someone was in his way, they immediately apologised. Also tons of girls felt up his arms and pecs as he bounced them well visible under his tshirt in the middle of the dance floor. One day we were at our flat in the city and had some friends over. We were all quite drunk and made fun of each other. I somehow said something stupid about him. He stood up and “fun wrestled” me. But what was fun for him was hell for me. He grabbed my arms, wrapped them around me, threw me onto the couch, sat down on me, wrapped only one of his huge hands around my throat and said:,, Never disrespect me again in front of everyone else” I was shocked. He was fucking strong. Not even I could have finished him that fast three years ago. He could have killed me in less than 15 seconds if he wanted to... As everyone left he came to me. I thought he’d say sorry or something but instead he just said:,, Now I’m the stronger one of us -,,SHRIMP“! The FAR stronger one! It’s my time to humiliate you now!” I was shook. At that point I was really afraid of him, towering in front of me with his huge muscles. I just said ok, and took some steps away from him, turned around and started going to my room. When he just silently said:,,Now is the time to humiliate YOU...” I turned around and saw how he took off his shirt, uncovering his huuuge pecs and ripped abs. I could almost see the blood rushing through the veins on his chest and arms. I was really afraid at this moment. He threw his shirt to me. “Smell it!” “No, why should i?”, I said “Because I am the alpha now! Sooner or later you’ll smell on it!” He ran to me, grabbed my neck from behind and rubbed his shirt into my face. “But why just smell my shirt, if you could smell... ME!” He turned me around and flexed his arm. “Kiss this biceps.” I just looked at him. “KISS IT!” He pushed my head against his peak and flexed it intermittently. He dragged my head from his biceps over his armpit to his pecs and gave me a bearhug. “Stop! You’re hurting me!” I screamed. He just laughed:,, Hahaha! So what?! That’s not even 50% of my strenght!” He tightened the bearhug even more and bounced his meaty, massive, naked pecs into my face. I got really hard and just hoped that he didn’t notice. My trousers were quite loose and that’s when he noticed. “What have we got here? Lil’ omega boy is aroused by some real steel muscles overpowering him?”, he said as he let go of the bearhug. He dropped me onto the couch. He had me in a headlock immediately. He wrapped his huge biceps around my... my.... mouth?! He really was playing with me... as I wanted to bite his biceps he flexed it, laughed and said: ,,Watch out for your teeth, weakling!” He wrapped his arms around my neck now- totally cutting off my air supply. The only thing that didn’t make me pass out was the fact that he flexed and bounced his 19 inch bicepspeak intermittently. But as he stopped I had to tap. He totally let go of me. I was stunned. It could have been that easy?! His arms were almost half way back at him as he wrapped them around y neck again, layed on my back and said:,, Only weaklings tap...” and he made me pass out. I woke up again. All I saw were his massive calves because he put me in a headscissor while I was knocked out. First thing I noticed were all those veins running down his super hairless tree trunk legs. Wait. What was that? He only took off his shirt before?! And he wore a long blue Jean just before he sent me to sleep... Does that mean that he’s... naked...? ,,Ah, so you’re back, twink! Now you get to feel how it is to be totally humiliated.After tensing his massive quads a few times he somehow turned me around so that now my neck was just a bit above his knee I was facing towards his... cock. I could see his massive, vascular 30inch tree trunk legs. But what impressed me at least as much as his muscles was that cock. It was limp, but really thick and already quite long. It was waaay bigger than mine... actually I‘ve never seen such a massive prick, not even in porn He shove it up my throat and I felt it growing in my mouth.... It filled out the whole space in my mouth as it grew bigger and bigger. It was crazy how big it actually was. Because of his massive tree tunk legs and his overall massive frame his dick was much bigger than it seemed. It already almost filled out my mouth as it was limp. But as it got hard I felt it growing down my throat. Inch by inch. I tried to bend my head backwards but his huge quads were in my way. I gagged and nearly suffocated again because I didn’t know what cut off my airway more, his leg muscles which he flexed all the time or his giant cock... As he got fully erected he started talking to me:,, So, lil weakling! U remember when u were the stronger one of us? Those times are over now and will never come back again! I am the alpha now! No, I’m more than alpha... I’m a god!” He grabbed my hair and moved my head, so that I was giving him a blowjob right now. ,,Well twink, just accept it, I am way stronger than you are.” He started moving his hips. ,,I could easily break you into pieces, just look at my arms, man! They are way bigger than yours! Hmm, if I am a muscle god, u should also treat me like one!” He took my left hand and laid it onto his pec. He started bouncing it. After a while he slid my hand over his rock hard abs. Up and down, up and down with his cock still deep down in my throat. I could feel all his masculinity rush through his cock and his pulse beating in those massive muscles. He then loosened the legscissors and slowly moved my head back from his cock. It looked like it never wanted to end. He pulled out and pulled out, i was really amazed that all that fit inside my mouth. It must have been at least 9inches long... I was totally out of breath as he got up to kneel in front of me on the couch. It was so impressive... he started flexing all his muscles. He did a double biceps pose, flexed his rocky abs, bounced his pecs, tensed his traps. Totally naked. ,,Don’t you get it?!”, he shouted at me as he again reached out for my neck and pulled my face to his chest. He rubbed my face all over those gorgeous pecs and abs. ,,You are my little bitch by now! You are supposed to do everything I command you! I mean, you could try to resist but in the end there’s nothing you could do against me...!”, he said. ,,You should clean up my muscles. Too bad I didn’t sweat by wrestling with u... guess I’d have to work out with you now to get started.” He commanded me to get naked too. He then told me to get on his shoulders to do some pullups. My cock was rock hard all the time and pressing against his lower back. As he went down to do some pushups he told me to get on his back. I did so. He started pushing. It still seemed very easy for him. And then I noticed something. I was in the perfect position to get him in a headlock. Should I really dare to do this? It the only way I could show him that I’m not that weak as he says. I slowly moved my arm under his throat, pulled it back to me And locked it with my other arm. I had him. I had this muscle monster in a real headlock- HIS throat against MY biceps. But what was that? Quite unimpressed he just stood up and started running backwards into the wall. He really bumped me in quite hard but I still had him. I could feel him loose his breath and he started to panic a bit. Now he took together all his left over strength and bowed over, throwing me over his head with my back hitting the floor. Fuck. I probably gonna be dead now. He stood up from his kneeling position and what I saw was frightening. His legs and arms as well as his lower abs and chest were totally covered in veins. They were bulging on his totally pumped muscles. He was breathing very hard and heavy. ,,You really shouldn’t have done that! You know what I gotta do now!!!”, he said really angry. He ran over to me, just like a fucking tank, his pecs were jumping with every step. His massive limp dick was bouncing too. He punched me in my stomach making me go to the ground. Then he wrapped his 19inch arms around my neck, adjusted them a bit an flexed them. I was really afraid that he was going to kill me now... I tapped but passed out again... I came back... I wasn’t dead?! I opened my eyes and saw him towering over me. His massive 30inch legs, his huge cock, those swelling ripped abs, his crazy arms and everything was still covered in those thick veins. He truly looked like an animal. ,,I don’t know why you don’t get it weakling! I am the alpha now, I’m almost twice your size, you stand no chance against me!!”, he said. He wrapped both his big muscular long fingers around my neck and lifted me up with his bare hands- choking me at the same time. I was some inches above the ground, just so that my eyes were on the same level as his. He stared into my eyes like a wild beast right before breaking the neck of it’s prey. In a matter of no time he dropped me and held me in a bearhug. I could feel his massive chest and ripped abs on my limp and weakened body... My cock grew rock hard and pressed against his upper quad. ,,U like that?!”, he said as he squeezed me harder. I wanted to say something but I just wasn’t able anymore. I had no air, no strength and was totally done... ,,Awww, lil boy is so exhausted he can’t speak no more... HAHAHAH WHAT A WEAKLING!”, he screamed and tightened the bearhug even more. I felt his monster cock grow bigger and bigger too-pressing against my (much less ripped) abs. He made me pass out again... I wasn’t even aware that a bearhug could make you pass out... As I regained my consciousness I found myself still in his arms. ,,It’s so easy to overpower you. Guess how easy it would be to kill you! But then I’d have nobody to worship my muscles. Well except all those girls...”, he said. He dropped me on the floor and I was amazed by what I saw... A ripped monster with huge bulging muscles all covered in veins - jerking a huge cock... ,,I sweat just a little, twink. But enough for you to clean me up.” He hit a double biceps pose and made me stand up. I didn’t have enough energy to ask or even just say something anymore. I got his point. He was so submissive... I should have done all this three years ago with him... Back when I was able to do that... ,,LICK THEM!”, he said flexing his biceps. I did so. And I loved it. The salty taste of his testosterone loaded sweat. The form of his arms with all those veins... I cleaned his hole body. From his armpit to his massive chest. He bounced it so his pecs would jump a few inches what made it hard to keep my tongue on his skin. I caught a lot of “underboob sweat”. He grabbed my head and lead it around while I licked his washboard abs. I knew that it’s not gonna be enough for him... he pressed me downwards even more. Now my mouth was at those big balls. They smelled really manly. He didn’t even have to command me. I sucked up all his sweat and started swallowing his massive prick. I wanted to give him the best blowjob he ever received... I felt up his muscles with my hands. As I run my fingers down his abs with one hand and worshipped the inside of his huge thighs he came. ,,Mhhhhh... Now you know your place. I don’t allow you to spit it out! Eat it- it’s extra protein for you!” I really loved his taste. I chewed on it and I hope that his testosterone loaded load will give me a boost in strength... I’ll probably suck him off more often, perhaps I’m gonna become as big as him some day....

Hello all, thought I'd give a shot at writing a one-off sequel to a story I enjoyed very much. The author, Mikey/Blue, has graciously allowed the publication of this unofficial sequel on the forums, which I am very thankful for (in addition to writing the amazing story in the first place). Original story: Gene Hack. Definitely give it a read before this, if you haven't already! And if you have, it won't hurt to revisit it for a refresher. --- The bathroom bleeding incident didn’t even faze Tom’s desire-turned-reality, much less scare him off the path he had craved for too long. Conversely, it pushed him to go even further, lifting heavier in the gym, pounding down greater amounts of food, all for the sole purpose of greater growth. It wasn’t a bet to hit 400 by Christmas anymore, it was a statement. The weeks leading up to the holidays were a blur, for both roommates. Usually at this time they would be packing up to head back home to celebrate with their families, but both of them made up various reasons as to why they had to continue staying in their quaint college town for this year. The real reason for Tom, was undoubtedly his laser focus on his quest for muscle growth. For Alex, it was a moral dilemma. On one hand, he knew what was going to happen to Tom, but would Tom even care even if Alex told him? On the other, his morbid curiosity wanted to see how it would all play out, a science experiment. Tom’s rapidly increasing muscle mass began to take a toll on his daily life and activities. Outside of working out, eating his many heavy meals, and jerking off, he was lethargic and dull, a shell of his former bright and chipper personality. His lack of energy extended to the shared chores of the apartment. It wasn’t unusual for Alex to come home, finding empty pizza and takeout boxes on the floor next to the couch Tom was snoring on, the cushions conforming to the contours of his growing body. Dirty blender jugs and blade attachments in the sink, with empty whey canisters and milk cartons on the counter nearby. Scraps of ripped cloth in and around Tom’s laundry basket in the bathroom, clumps of viscous cum still stuck in the shower drain cover. All of which Alex dutifully cleaned up with no complaints. Alex also started finding random specks of blood around the apartment, on the couch after Tom had laid on it, on a wall Tom had bumped into, and even just little drops on the floor. --- “Hey big guy, I’ve got something for you!” Tom smiled in his half-asleep state, he liked the nickname Alex started calling him by, almost randomly. Tom drowsily turned his head towards the door as Alex entered the apartment. “Merry Christmas big guy.” Alex said with a smile as he held out a small gift box towards Tom. “Aw thanks buddy, you didn’t have to! Now I feel bad, I didn’t get anything for you. My mind’s just so preoccupied these days…” came Tom’s groggy reply. “That’s alright, don’t worry about it. I just picked it up on the way back.” Grrr, Tom’s stomach audibly grumbled. “Oops, guess I better get something to eat,” Tom said as he blushed a little from the small display of bodily function. Alex just chuckled and headed into his room, shaking his head at the humor of the situation, a massive bodybuilder being embarrassed of his gut sounds. --- “I did it!” Tom exclaimed, causing Alex to hurry towards the bathroom with trepidation, sparking a similar memory from just weeks before. “I knew I’d get to 400 by Christmas, what did I say! Haha!” Tom was exuberant, the joy of hitting the milestone coursing through his entire, very large, body. He went through a routine of different poses, striking each one with the precision of a beginner but the mass of a seasoned pro. Numerous dark-red stretch marks filled the canvas that was his skin, some oozing little pinpricks of blood, others just waiting to do so. He’d gone without the hindrance of briefs these days, and even if he tried, they’d be stretched so thin across his muscular globes and threaten to just rip apart anytime. Alex watched in wonder as Tom hit pose after pose, as Tom’s dick got harder and harder, as if rising to salute the achievement of his muscle growth. “I know you’re there, just like last time. I just wanted to say thanks for being such an awesome roomie. And that I’m sorry for being such a bad one. Thanks for cleaning up after me, doing the chores, and even getting me a Christmas gift. I really appreciate it, for what it’s worth. M...Maybe, do you…, could you…, help me put it on?” “Haha, um…, sure.” Alex reached out and maneuvered around Tom’s bulk, to take out the skin cream from the little gift box, sitting nicely at the corner of the sink. The tension in the room was heating up the bathroom, or it could be just Tom’s hyperthermic mass. “Heh, maybe this little tube wouldn’t be enough for you,” came Alex’s weak attempt at trying to diffuse the situation. Tom just laughed a little, which helped in Alex’s opinion. The first squirt of the tube cut through the awkward silence. Alex placed the tube back onto the countertop, and rubbed both hands together, warming up the cream. Alex started on Tom’s barn-door back, his hands glided smoothly across the curves of Tom’s musculature, spreading the cream evenly across the mountainous surface. Tom tried to stay as relaxed as possible, though his cock remained at attention throughout the process. His relaxed muscles were supple and pliant, Alex’s hands kneading them like soft dough, gently massaging them as he passed by. Alex squeezed a generous second dollop of cream into his palms, repeating the same process of warming it up, before encircling Tom’s upper arms. Alex’s fingers were unable to close across the circumference of Tom’s swollen biceps and triceps, which Tom couldn’t resist giving a few slow, deliberate pumps, allowing Alex to feel the powerful contractions. Alex shimmied behind Tom, squeezed in the tight space of the bathroom, intending to work on the other arm. Tom felt a small bump brush across his bulging glutes as Alex made his way to the other side. Tom smirked, glad that Alex was enjoying this as much as he was. “Hey Tom, could you turn around please?” Alex asked cautiously. Tom ambled around in compliance, limited in mobility by his barrel thighs, the small enclosed space, and not wanting to crush Alex. Tom’s eyes were closed in bliss, as evidenced by the small stringy droplets of pre-cum seeping out of his engorged cock. Alex felt a little drop of it land on his arms as he brushed against Tom’s thick member. If anything, it definitely made Alex feel more aroused. A third round of the cream was applied on Tom. Alex took his time, making sure to get into every nook and cranny created by Tom's pillow-like pectorals and cobblestone abdominals. Alex’s hands disappeared into Tom’s deep cleavage, the cream mixing with accumulated beads of sweat. Alex’s fingers stroked Tom’s underpec area, eliciting several soft moans from the bigger man. Alex moved downwards, lightly patting the sides of Tom’s full, bowed-out, tortoise-shell gut, before he traced the deep indentations of Tom’s abdominal muscles. Alex kneeled down, after getting two more blobs of the cream for each thigh, each exceeding the measurement of Alex’s waist. Tom’s thigh muscles jiggled around as Alex rubbed his hands all around. Alex reached around and slipped his fingers into Tom’s deep ass crack, his torso almost touching, almost resting against Tom’s pelvis. A deep moan involuntarily escaped Tom’s lips, his cock leaking an increasingly steady stream of sticky, clear pre-cum. “C...Can I?” Tom nodded slowly, his back arched, head facing the ceiling, eyes closed tight. As Alex’s salivating mouth enclosed the tip of his rock-hard dick, a few long, slow thrusts lubricated by Alex’s ample saliva, were all Tom needed to unload. Forceful jets of warm, salty cum filled Alex’s mouth, causing him to sputter as his gag reflex was triggered. Alex shuddered, as he too, released his own load into his shorts, a wet spot forming in front. “Thanks... Alex...” Tom’s muttered under his breath, breathless from the orgasm. He had to support himself on the bathroom countertop, as his knees were about to give post-orgasm. His thick corded forearms supported most of his weight, preventing the unfortunate situation of crushing Alex down below. Alex slumped against the bathroom counter cabinet, unable to process what just happened, but the rush of endorphins through his brain left a wide grin on his face. --- Tom and Alex’s relationship blossomed in the following months. Neither had been with another man before, but it just felt so right to the both of them, to be with each other. With Alex openly spurring him on, Tom’s gains continued at a breakneck pace. A routine was quickly established for the pair - Tom would wake up in the morning, chug his gallon jug of breakfast shake, and head to the gym for his morning gym session, while Alex would head to work at the university. After the workout, Tom would return back home for a big lunch and a nice long nap. A second lunch of equally massive proportions followed the nap, and then his afternoon gym session. They would usually reach home at the same time, Tom from the gym and Alex from work, and they would enjoy dinner together, often including some additional post-dinner fun. After a quick power nap, Tom would head out for his nightly gym session, while Alex would finish up the chores, and prepare all of Tom’s meals for the next day. When Tom got back, he would chug another gallon jug of protein shake, before heading to bed with Alex, sometimes even without a post-workout shower for an extra musky night of sex. --- Alex could feel Tom’s footsteps a mile away, and smell him even further away, as the gigantic bodybuilder attempted to sneak up on his partner from behind, as they both trudged up the stairs to their apartment. Tom picked up Alex from behind in a most gentle and secure bear hug, his bulbous pillowy muscles enclosing Alex, making sure not to squeeze too tight. “You know that your lumbering footfalls and overpowering odor give you away right? And also, who else has a massive shadow that blocks out all the light?” “Guess I’m still not used to all the new size I’m continuously putting on! No thanks to the sneaky magical fridge that always has food in it!” Both of them erupted in giggles like foolish lovers as they entered the apartment, still all over each other. Alex grabbed the neatly packed containers of food from the fridge and tossed them in the microwave to be reheated, while Tom laid on the floor of the living area, sprawled over the cushions. He had broken the couch some time ago, and they thought it would be better not to replace it, instead they just had a more open living area filled with different cushions. Alex handed a full container to Tom first, knowing that Tom was eager to begin chowing down on Alex’s delicious cooking, after which he continued laying out the microwaved feast on a picnic mat on the floor. Every so often, Alex would deliver a spoonful of his own meal into Tom’s chomping mouth, teasing the bigger man whilst doing so. “It’s like you’re always starving!” “Well I am, a growing boy’s gotta eat to grow!” Tom countered, in between bites. Even though Alex was always the one initiating the feeding of the beast. After demolishing the feast, Tom leaned back, supported by his arms. BRRP, he let out a guttural belch and sighed, full and content. “I think that means you’ve got more room, right big guy?” “Maybe!” Alex brought out one of the many gallon jugs full of protein shake from the fridge. Tom opened his mouth wide, ready for the challenge. Alex opened the jug, placing the cap on the floor. He placed the rim of the jug next to Tom’s lips, and tilted the jug slightly, letting the shake flow slowly. Tom moved his lips to cover the rim of the jug and began sucking, signalling to Alex to tilt the jug higher, increasing the flow rate of the shake. “Oof,” Tom groaned as he finished guzzling down the last of the shake from the jug, making sure to get the last drops. “Good job big guy,” Alex commented, as he started rubbing Tom’s bloated muscle-gut slowly in long, wide circles. “Don’t think I’ve got any room left, heh.” “Oh I’m not sure about that, you always come back from your workouts starving!” BRRRP, another loud and satisfying belch erupted from the confines of Tom’s maw, in response to Alex’s masterful belly rubs. Tom and Alex burst out laughing. “Fuck, I can’t get over how hot that always is, big guy.” Alex jumped on top of Tom, causing Tom to crash into the cushions in surprise, groaning, before involuntarily letting out yet another deep bassy belch from the added pressure on his taut gut. “Whew, someone’s gassy today!” “And who’s fault is it?!” Tom added rhetorically, laughing again. “Oh shut up, you know you like it!” Alex placed his lips softly on Tom’s, his tongue going straight into Tom’s mouth, tasting a mix of Tom’s saliva, the sweet protein shake, and his own cooking. Tom reciprocated the gesture, the couple lip-locked in pleasure. Alex paused for a moment to get a breath of fresh air, sitting upright on Tom’s packed muscle-gut. His eyes and hands moved around Tom’s vast body, appreciating the fullness of Tom’s muscles, how one muscle group seemed to bulge and squeeze against another, how they hulked out of Tom’s frame, how they looked like a miniature mountain range on top of the man. He let himself go, lying into Tom, nuzzling against the warmth of Tom’s juicy pec-pillows, his head sinking deep into the base of Tom’s cleavage. “You can’t stop there!” Alex laughed as he felt Tom’s stiff cock against his ass, “Fine, I’ll oblige you this time, big guy!” But they both knew that the foreplay during dinner always led to a good fuck after. --- Tom struggled to get up after their latest post-dinner fun activity. Not just from the euphoria and exhaustion post-orgasm, but also from the increasingly limited mobility his ever-growing muscles led to. Despite the titanic strength his overblown musculature afforded him, once he went down, he was stuck on the floor like a turtle on its back. His alpine traps swelled past his ears, his barrel pecs muffled his voice and obscured his vision. His upper body was propped up by his engorged lats, which expanded past his frame, making him much wider than he was tall. It was a constant struggle of movement between his biceps and forearms, his triceps and lats, causing his arms to usually be locked in place in an almost 90° angle. His legs, if they could even be called legs, were in a similar situation. Just from the sheer expansive girth of his thighs and calves, pushing each leg apart. If Tom ever got up, he has to painstakingly roll one thich over the other, to move forward. And in his midsection was his massive tank of a muscle-gut with thick blocky abs, which in itself carried a huge load 24/7 to fuel more growth, causing it to bulge obscenely far ahead. “Some help please?” Tom wiggled his arm around, attempting to allow Alex to grab a hold of his sausage fingers, so that he could use Alex as a lever to get up. “Sure big guy…” Alex was getting a little worried about Tom’s lack of mobility, as well as the countless stretch marks that continued to bleed every so often, resulting in Tom being in constant pain. No brand or amount of skin creams could help, Alex tried. Tom was simply growing too fast for his skin to keep up. Only the daily painkillers could block his constant pain, but only temporarily. Alex tried to distract him as best as he could, helping Tom do the things he liked, while spending the rest of the day asleep. But this only prolonged the problem, enabling Tom to continue growing, and growing. --- What appeared to be an amalgamation of sacks of meat laid on the bariatric bed. Thick snaking veins alternated with dark red stretch marks across his skin. Each muscle seemed to be pulsing, seemingly still eager to grow, despite the lack of space. IVs ran up the undulating contours of his arm, filled with a constant infusion of a cocktail of opioids, dulling his perpetual state of pain. Alex visited the university hospital every single day, ever since he made the decision to call the ambulance in for Tom. Alex tried to manage it as best as he could, but he could not bear the sight or sound of Tom’s constant groaning in pain any longer. The bathroom was littered with numerous creams and oils he tried to repair Tom’s skin with. The drug cabinet was filled with countless varieties of painkillers. Tom’s only respites were when he was working out, filling his stomach to the brim, and wanking himself or being jerked off to oblivion. The joy he felt from growing, and from Alex, were the only things that kept him going. But Alex could bear it no longer. Seeing Tom in pain at all other times tore him apart. Each visit, Tom would routinely ask for more food, for Alex to jerk him off, for Alex to provide some resistance training. And after each visit, Alex’s eyes would well up, wondering if that was to be the last visit. Sure, Tom’s growth had slowed, but he was definitely on his last legs. His greatest achievement, his monster mass muscle growth, had become his greatest detriment. Yet, knowing him, he probably still craved for more. --- It was the 1-year anniversary of Tom’s passing. Alex was still grieving, missing Tom’s warm, giant, presence in the apartment, in the bed, in his life. An ad popped up on the side of Facepage, promising a miraculous procedure for muscle growth. Was this a sign? Now that Alex knew better, surely he could do better, with better medical advancements, to honor Tom’s memory.

Hope this isn't too cliche! I know I've been spotty with posting stuff, and I apologize. I've had a lot of trouble maintaining interest in any one story I've worked on. Part 2 __________________________ I'll admit. I was never an alpha. I always wanted to be, though. I'd see the other dudes in the locker room or at the park or at the mall or... well, anywhere, really, being cocky studs because they had the confidence and bodies to prove it. It was always frustrating in high school to have to be in the locker room with these athletes and watch them flexing their arms, comparing with each other, showing off, and I'd have to hide in the corner somewhere hoping not to be noticed because, let's face it, I had no body to be proud of. I wasn't fat, but I still had, like, zero muscle on my frame. I wasn't athletic, though I may have always tried my best when I had to. Watching them flex their muscles would always turn me on, though. I'd see a dude flex and instantly my dick would twitch and start growing, harder and harder until full throbbing hardness, even well after the image of the flexing, bulging muscle had left my view. And it wasn't just seeing flexing muscles that would get me hard, either. I could simply be at the mall and see a group of friends walking together, some or all of them with tight, athletic, muscular bodies hiding beneath tight-fitting clothes. Sometimes, to me, that was even hotter than bare-chested Adonises. I could never explain to myself or make sense of how that would sometimes be hotter to me. There was just... something about a dude with a hot sexy muscular body wearing a tight shirt. It probably had something to do with how he clearly knew he was sexy, and deliberately put on clothes that would showcase it. But anyways... I'd grown up through middle school, high school, and now in college with this insatiable lust for muscle and simply seeing it. I'd had plenty of jerk-off sessions simply from looking at sexy dudes flexing or showing off their amazing muscled bodies. Coming into college, I'd felt that we were all a little more mature and too busy to make time for mocking each other, so I finally decided to try to add some muscle of my own to my frame. I figured there could be nothing hotter for a guy like me who loves to simply SEE muscle than to have some of my own that I could see any time I wanted. So, I decided to make use of the campus gym. Of course, being an amateur, at best, I was mostly guessing how to exercise. But I'll admit it did feel good to get these pumps going with my biceps and chest, and even my legs. I'd love to see the veins crossing all over my muscles as I worked them. And I was right, in college guys weren't really trying to make fun of me. I'd get some looks, sure, but no one ever said anything. And the gym was often pretty empty, anyway, since most of us were busy with studying and schoolwork. After a few weeks of trying to add my own muscle, I was starting to feel a little worn out and discouraged. I'd been doing my best, but I wasn't seeing any progress. I had a particularly hard workout one day, in spite of my discouragement, and upon entering the locker room, I saw another dude in there. It looked like he was getting ready to work out. He hadn't changed yet. I thought "Oh great. I'd better go to the opposite side of the locker room so he doesn't see how skinny I am." In spite of my success at remaining under the radar, I still had my fear of being mocked. Unfortunately, it wasn't a very large locker room, so even as far away from him as I could be, I could still see him well enough, and he could see me. I removed my sweaty T-shirt, and tossed it into my gym bag, and put on my clean one. I turned around and briefly caught a glimpse of the other dude, and... fuck. He was in front of the mirror, his sleeve pulled back, and was flexing his bicep. It was a really nice ball of a bicep, too. I did the classic double-take, and saw him running his hand over it. And then he proceeded to flex his other arm and do the same thing. Of course my dick started growing rock hard. And fast. I felt my cock head sliding across the fabric of my shorts, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through my entire groin and shivers down my spine. "Fine time to get horny," I thought to myself. I forced myself to look away from him, realizing further staring would get me noticed and I was already throbbing. I didn't want to start leaking, too. I sat down on the bench to remove my shorts and change into my jeans. I slid my shorts down, noting the unbearably obvious tent in my boxers. I couldn't help but enjoy the pleasure of feeling the hem of my shorts slide over my cock as I pulled them off. "Whoa...!" I heard it, and it took me way too long to realize it wasn't a sound that I had produced. I stood up, spun around, and pressed my back into the lockers, seeing the other dude had been right behind me. I saw his eyes, and they weren't meeting my face. They were staring down at my crotch, which I realized was still standing straight out. "Dude, that is one huge cock," he said. "W-what?" He finally look up into my face. "Your dick, dude. It's huge. I've never seen a dick that big." Trying to be nonchalant, I responded "Y-you haven't actually seen it, i-it's covered by my boxers..." "Shit, dude, it's still obviously huge, it's gotta be at least 7 inches!" He said. He was right, too, because like most guys, I've measured it. But I'd never really bothered to compare myself to other guys in that department. I'd always assumed I was average size. "And, uh, you could fix that right now, if you wanted. Lemme see it," he said. "Uh... I--" I started to say. But he advanced toward me, and my back was already against the lockers. I grabbed my boxers and pulled them down for me, and I was too frozen in place to even try to stop him. My dick bounced out of its confinement, my cock head red and full of fury. "Holy shit, dude," he said. "Can I...?" he asked, and before I even knew what exactly he was asking, he had his hand on my dick, squeezing it and stroking it. I felt myself shudder. My mind was showing images of this dude flexing his biceps just moments before this, and it was making my dick throb hard. But then he knelt down and began licking at the head, still stroking with his hand. "Fuck yes," he said while taking his mouth off for a moment, then proceeding to try to take all of my dick into his mouth. I heard him gag a bit, and I felt his throat close around my dick. But fuck, it felt really goddamn good. I'd never felt this much pleasure from my cock, before. He resumed his sucking, running his tongue all around me, my cock throbbing and twitching, "MMMMmmm yeah," I heard myself say, without meaning to. He seemed to take that as encouragement, and increased the fervor with which he was sucking. I rapidly felt the intense pressure of impending orgasm approaching, and I felt a tingling around my entire body. "Oh... Ahh!" I said, once again unintentionally. The pleasure was too great. It was intense as fuck, more intense than anything I've ever felt before. I felt him grab onto the backs of my legs and squeeze, and I knew it was time. I was cumming. The first shot exploded from my cock, and I use that word because that's what it felt like. An explosion of cum. I shot super hard. And more was about to come. But I also felt my dick swell, still in his mouth. It was insane. It was like my dick got harder while I was shooting a load. "Mmmf..." I heard from my pleasurer, and then another shot came. But this time I felt more tingling around my body, and suddenly I felt myself grow. My entire body swelled bigger. It was like getting an erection, but it was that feeling around my entire body. I saw my forearms grow thicker, and my chest pushed out, causing my T-shirt to tighten a bit across my formerly completely nonexistent pecs. "Unngnhhh" I breathed, trying to contain my expressions of exuberance. I felt another shot explode from the tip of my swollen cock, and he sucked it down his throat, eagerly swallowing as though it were life-giving water after having spent days in the desert with none. And again, I felt my whole body swell, my eyes rolled into the back of my head. It felt ridiculous. I'd have never imagined this feeling, not before, not ever. I looked down again at my forearms and they were writhing with veins and tendons, and they had the look of a gym-rat's forearms. The kind that showed a person was strong. Another shot blasted from my cock, and I knew it was dying off. I stood there, reveling in the feeling of having my dick sucked for the first time ever, by a stranger, no less, and even though I had already reached orgasm, it still felt amazing to have this jock sucking me off. He popped my still semi-hard dick out of his mouth, and while it shuddered and descended, he took his own muscled forearm and wiped it across his mouth. And he then stood up and looked me up and down, my lower half exposed still but my torso still wrapped with my T-shirt. "Dude, that was the best dick I've ever sucked," he breathlessly said, still eyeing me up and down. "You're a lot more fit than I thought!" I looked down at myself and saw that'd definitely grown some. My legs were definitely thicker, and I literally watched my forearms swelling with hard muscle as I blew my load down this guy's throat. I smiled sheepishly as I looked back at him and said "Thanks." We heard someone else entering the gym and we both turned our heads to the entrance of the locker room. He looked back at me and said "Maybe we can do this again sometime," and shot me a smile. "Sure," I said, not really realizing to what I was agreeing. Like I said, I'd never gotten a blowjob before, and this was a new experience for me. I was still in a stupor over what had just transpired. I grew. It was like all the work I'd put into my body had suddenly decided to take shape all at once, and the trigger was a blowjob. He turned and walked away, exiting the locker room. Turns out the people who had entered the gym were girls so we'd still have had our privacy for a while longer, but I was glad he decided to leave. I pulled on my pants and put the rest of my shit in my gym bag. I started to leave the locker room but, as I passed by the mirror, I couldn't help myself. I stepped backward a few steps and looked at my reflection. I saw wider shoulders and a new chest that was protruding outward a bit. Not a lot, but enough that I actually didn't look like a total weakling. I checked the entrance to the locker room again, as though it'd matter, and I quickly pulled the sleeve back on my right arm and flexed. I saw a nice little ball of muscle rise up, and a nice vein was protruding at the top. Definitely bigger than before. I smirked. I saw myself smirk. It felt great to flex and not feel ashamed of my own arm. I had an actual bicep. And I definitely wanted it bigger. I wanted all of me bigger. Part 2 ____________________________________________ Also, does anyone have any of my old stories saved from the Unfiltered section that used to exist? I'm not asking for it to be posted here or anywhere. I'm simply asking if someone would be willing to send me any copy they may have saved. Again, to be clear, not asking for it to be posted here. If you have them or even just one of them and would like to send me a copy, please send me a private message.

Zoe's Agonizing Efforts. Part 1 It was my fifth day in the Netherlands. They hired me to shoot some advertisements in Den Haag and I was going through rows of boring food brands, trying my best to give them a better image that they actually deserved. I have already gotten mentally tired of the routing and especially of the casual white walls of the place they brought me every day to. Not mentioning all the shiny fake smiles, which were accompanying clicks of my camera every now and then. However, today it was different. From the very start in the morning, the driver took me to another location, near the docks. Noticing new scenery around, I briefly checked with the agenda and found out that for today we have a new brand to work with, namely the one producing protein supplements. It has changed everything. The highlight of the day for me was a fitness model, or, due to her extremely bulky condition, I would rather say a bodybuilding model who was presenting the product. One of the crew told me her name was Zoe and she is insanely cool, but also kind mysterious in her behaviour, not letting people to know too much about her. When I saw her first time at the shooting place standing with her massive figure and an incredible V-shape backwards to me, I mistook her for a man. What a fool I was. Afterwards looking at her young beautiful face and magnificent feminine gestures through the camera-lens I had many chances to admire her workout-suit covered body full of grace and extremely developed musculature. She was simply made for posing. I made an assumption she was not even in her twenties. This young hulking maiden was responding and working with the camera very well. Having her all the time gracefully turning and moving around, I could not believe how truly big she was. Even though almost all of her frame was covered in a workout outfit my eyes got wider every time I was looking at the ripped and shredded curves of this angel. Muscles so big and well defined that they were ready to burst through the material. It occurred to me at some point that she was smiling and occasionally lovingly nodding her head at me. Off course, I knew all that was for sake of the product she was called to promote, but I simply could not get rid of the humble feeling, that the shiny rays from her eyes, full of joy, passion and somehow sexual energy were meant for me. Silly me, always ready to make things up. However, after we finished shooting, all I could do was just watching her passing near my suitcase, going to the exit and making my mind go crazy with her huge and ripped glutes, heavily bouncing up and down as she left. When I was packing my stuff, I found a small piece of paper on my camera-bag with the words handwritten: “Meet me today at 22:00. Bring your camera with you. Zoe.” The exact address was there as well. After couple of hours of anticipation, I arrived to the mentioned place, finding myself being very much intrigued. It was a quite big house close to the shoreline. I stood there, full of excitement, making couple of pushes on the doorbell. Only after a minute or so heard I some steps and Zoe appeared, opening the door. There she was, her beautiful smile shining to me. “Glad you came, please come in and… follow me”. Zoe’s voice sounded a bit like she was trying to catch her breath after running or something. Her wide frame was wrapped in a white robe and I briefly thought to myself, already preparing a suitable apology, that my visit took her out of the bathroom. We crossed a big space of her living room and she faced me stopping at the door with a sign “Hardcore Workout Station”. “You know… I liked the way you made pictures of me today… I want you to… photograph me during my… workout. Would you do this for me?” Being excited with her unusual request I replied, “Sure thing, you don’t even have to ask!” Zoe half-opened her mouth and rubbed her forehead in an attempt to wipe the sweat from her face. “I’m asking because… emm… when I workout, I push my body… really hard… and it might be a bit… shocking to… see. Well, are you ready?”. One of her eyebrows went up, evaluating me while she stretched both arms over her head and clasped her wrists, arching her back in a stretch and letting out a soft and content moan. “I was born ready, let’s do this” Opening the door, we both entered a big gym, gorgeously equipped with plenty of workout stations, machines, free weights of all kinds, bars, weighted chains and heavy-loaded pieces of metal I had no idea about. There was even a pair of professional gymnastic rings hanging from the ceiling. Investigating all that parts of heavy iron, I turned myself around and when coming back to face Zoe she has already taken her white robe off. My jaw simply dropped down. In front of me stood young female Adonis with insanely ripped bulging muscles covered in prominent vines. Zoe was a hulking anatomy chart of shredded, striated and vascular musculature. With all her muscles so extremely overdeveloped, she somehow had managed to keep her amazing feminine figure. Most of all thanks to her packed glutes and supremely stacked man-shaming pectorals. What made me looking at her stunned for some seconds was the fact that the only piece of clothes Zoe still had on were sharply curved very thin black thongs, which were desperately struggling to cover her sex. Her magnificent smile appeared again on one of the catchiest faces I have ever seen in my life. “Do you like… what you see?”, she asked me fully aware of the mesmerized state she has put me with her bulging body into. I only managed to nod. Zoe twisted a little back and forth and I could not decide where to land my look onto, alternating between her heavily hanging ripped pecs with no breast tissue at all and her massive arms. Observing the hard striations of her biceps and the protruding outlines of the finger-sized veins running all over them, they were beyond huge even without going into tensioning state. The beautiful Dutch girl then brought both her arms up at once and flexed in an incredible double bicep pose. This made her already colossal arms transform before my eyes, exploding into enormous slabs of she-beef. Each of the shredded biceps was now at least 22 inches in girth! I marvelled at Zoe’s screaming with power arms, which were pure muscle, wrapped in skin that performed more like elastic see-through wrapper at some point. She flexed her arms harder and every tiny striation from the flexors of her forearms, to her hulking biceps and delts deepened and looked like they had been etched into slab or agate covered in a mesh of veins. She grinned while noticing how easily she has sent me to a mesmerized state by a simple double biceps pose. “I think… we will both enjoy this session, please, start shooting and take as many captures as… needed”. Zoe turned around and walked to the squat rack. Meanwhile I adjusted my camera and made the first pictures, featuring her broad muscular back, shockingly ripped glutes with insanely deep striations and her barrel thighs. “Let’s do some warm-up”, Zoe’s voice sounded as much confident as it was sexy. She began to load the bar with heavy 50-kg disks and did not stop until there were five big plates on each side of the 40-kg reinforced barbell. “No way” I shouted, “That’s more than half a ton!”. She only winked at me and got her massive frame under the overloaded bar. Her face expression has changed to rather focused and concentrated. In awe was I studying through camera lens magnificent legs of this incredible Dutch muscle goddess. They were truly a thing of phaenomenon: long and immensely packed with muscles. Zoe had as well perfectly heart shaped calves that bulged out several inches and started to split near the bottom. On top of those were her quads and what a sight they were. Definitely not less than 40 inches around and shredded to the bone. Every individual muscle group had an unmatched level of definition on her bulging with painfully developed striations quadriceps muscles. They almost looked bigger than a football in shape and size. Zoe centred her position adjusting her massive shoulders under the steel bar. Even the slightest of her movements made her quads twitch and bounce, each individual muscle fighting for space on her shredded legs. While she was slowly bending her back to push her hulking young muscular body exactly in between the two columns of the squat rack, I changed my position and took couple of pics standing behind this colossal mass of she-beef. Being not able to accept the fact that this was a girl most probably in her late teen-years. Noticing me going from behind, Zoe bent down a little bit lower and flexed her glutes and hamstrings very hard. My eyes widened, I could hardly believe what I was witnessing. Her ripped glutes looked as if they could be two large jack-o'-lanterns with how striated they were. I zoomed my camera and kept following her legs down, stopping at her radiating hamstrings, watching each long-taught cord form a small dint on the back of her legs as she bent down causing them to bulge outward and inward. Zoe got back up in a determine manner and said. "Here… try to make some close-up photos… Nghaa…". With that she straightened with the heavy loaded bar on her shoulders, took a couple of steps forward and began to squat with all this immense weight. She grunted with efforts but moved rhythmically downwards and upwards with all those heavy plates on the ends of the barbell pressing down. As she got into her perfect rhythm, I was clearly entranced by what was happening in front of me. For some time I’ve totally forgotten to make photos and just stood there, watching this young girl’s behemoth legs lifting more than half a ton rep after rep. Mediocre grunts and moans were leaving her mouth and I stepped forward in order to see her slightly contorted face. “Unghh… Arghh… Hufff…”, then she said, never stopping her pace “Don’t… ughh… forget… mmhhaa… the photos… hhuurr…”. Moving all the weight up and down Zoe’s legs reached completely other level of muscularity. With each rep, they pulsed and quivered under the strain of all that mass of metal. More veins appeared on them, thicker than my fingers! 10 reps… 20 reps… 40 reps…! Incredibly she kept going! I could not register anymore how many times has she lowered her colossally shredded glutes to the floor, there were plenty of veins running over them, making her butt look like something alien. 5 minutes… 7 minutes… 8 minutes… of squatting. Zoe was really straining herself now, but still keeping the pace. She was looking straight at me “Urrrghhhhaaa… yes… Grghaaa… more…! Watch… my legs… grow… bigger… nghaaa…!”. Her thighs were now covered in a web of veins and a layer of sweat. It occurred to me that this is truly a serious business – the level of devotion she has been putting in the exercise was insanely remarkable and I recalled her words about me being ready to witness this. “Mghhgraa…!”, she gritted her teeth and continued squatting up and down for another 5 minutes! Then suddenly she stopped and straightened with the weight. “Mhaa… be sure… to film… this…” Breathing heavily she closed her eyes. What happened next has completely blown my mind. Her bulging tree-trunk legs started to slide down in the opposite directions! “Gghhhuuu….”, a deep growl from Zoe filled the gym. She was slowly and controllably lowering herself into a split position, with 540 kilograms on her shoulders! “Impossible… no fucking way”, I murmured in disbelief staring at this insane feat of strength. Her trembling quadriceps exploded with more shredded definition, more fat veins appeared on them. Her calves bulged and quivered, stabilizing this crazy descend. Zoe growled and sobbed all the time, before finally her legs landed parallel to the floor in a perfect 180-degree split. “Oh… my… fucking gawd…”, I yield at her. She open her beautiful eyes, they were full of tears of this agonizing effort. Zoe had so much muscle in her thighs and calves that her feet were hanging in the air, pointing perfectly to the sides like during the hardest ballet exercises. What a remarkable flexibility was she able reach with such a huge mass of she-beef! When I was about to say something her pretty face contorted again, she threw her head back and I got to my knees, seeing what this incredible muscle girl was about to performing. A loud roar came from Zoe; she tensed all her muscles, starting from her biceps, then her pecs, then her magnificent 10-pack of the billiard balls-sized abs and into her stretched legs. “GGGRRHHAAA…!”. It was as if an electrical impulse came through her ripped body and, impossibly, her legs flexed even harder and she began to lift herself upwards by bringing her agonizingly bulging leg-pillars together. Tears mixed with sweat ran down her cheeks and dropped on the metal barbell on her shoulders, then travelled lower and gathered on her colossal glutes. They were protruding so far from her body I swear I could put a soda bottle on each of them and there would be enough space to place another! I watched in awe as slowly, all the time screaming and sobbing, Zoe was straightening her frame. Her mammoth legs radiating with power. It took her almost a minute until she was at the same position she started this agonizing exercise with. “One…” she exhaled. “Please, bring… more… weight… unghhaa…” Part 2 Refusing to believe and accept what this insanely shredded young muscle goddess in front of me was saying, I stood there, astonished by the incredible feat of strength she has just performed. Her frame was shaking, heavy loaded sides of the barbell were desperately trying to bring her down. Zoe looked me in the eye and repeated, “Please… add… more weight… ngha…”. I rushed to the stack of iron and tried to pick up a 50-kg plate. Gosh it was heavy! I pulled with all my body weight, the plate trembled a bit but there was no way I could heave it. Zoe was watching this readjusting her position, her mouth opened showing the edge of her tongue. Incredible, she had 10 such plates on her shoulders and I was not able to lift one. “Try… the smaller…”, she exhaled. I grabbed the 25-kg one and slid it on the left side of the barbell, repeating the same on her right. It seemed to have no impact on the Zoe’s strained frame, only a light shaking appeared on her quadriceps. “More… put all the 25s…”. She was colossal, with every visible inch of taut, tanned skin completely rippling with unnatural vascularity to accompany the similarly frightening size of her impossible body. I did as she ordered, refusing to believe how hardcore she was. Every time I put the next weight the shuddering in her mammoth thighs worsened. “Grhhaa… yes… more…”. Finally, having additionally five 25-kg plates on each side of the barbell has brought the complete mass Zoe had to withstand to unthinkable 790 kilograms! My hands were wet and shaking, I made a couple of pics, my hungry eyes went from her ankle, up the ridiculous swells and bulges of her pumped legs, lingering for a moment on stretched, distended thongs that were barely visible, engulfed by the mass of muscles around. The strain of her cobblestone, lower abdominals in combination with her powerful, thick and pulsating glutes had almost made them disappear. From there her bloated, taut ten-pack stomach led into two toaster sized mounds of striated, cubical pectoral muscles, any remains of feminine looking breasts were lost in the sheer massive volume of her thick and insanely ripped chest muscles themselves. Zoe’s impressive orbs of power-packed she-beef were impossibly ripped, her nipple-placement was ridiculous: two thick bullets pointing vertical right at the floor. It was a sight of extreme sexuality to watch the drops of sweat running over her colossal chest, redirected by bulges of the pencil-thick veins, finishing their journey on the ends of Zoe’s unnaturally long nipples and finally dropping down to her shredded legs. Her huge pecs full of extreme vascularity looking ready to explode, layers of muscles cutting deeply into the hard bulges and swells of her upper abs cubes. Gawd, she was beyond believe. With a loud grunt Zoe began to perform another set of squats, now with more weight on her shredded shoulders. I looked at her swollen glutes when she was at the bottom of this cruel exercise. Cables of vascularity feeding her hot, engorged butt-muscles, pumping more blood to the most extreme ass I’ve seen in my life. “Gffrha… one… two… three… ngha…”, Zoe counted with her face full of effort and concentration. I could only silently mumble to myself “This is impossible…” The 10th rep was a pure agony nevertheless she finished it with a guttural grunt. Her immense thighs were shaking badly. I took another capture with my camera in order to justify later what I was witnessing now. Noticing this, Zoe looked down to the throbbing, vascular softballs of her pecs, and flexed it harder for me. “Ughhaaraar… pfhhaa… nghaaa…”, she breathed in short strokes. How could she focus on flexing her chest having her back and legs und such a terrible strain? I swear I could hear a creaking leather sound as her skin accommodated the additional, unreal mass, and then came a louder grunt from Zoe as the flex was completed. Her nipples lengthened as well and were almost about to scratch the bulging meat of her upper abdominal cubes! Thick muscles wrestling one another for room on her man-shaming chest were driving me crazy. What came next has completely blown my mind. Zoe lifted her head a bit, her eyes met mine again and she whispered, “I want you to… get… on my… glutes…”. As in a dream I obeyed, put my camera aside to film in a video mode, stood behind her shredded-to-the-core frame and, without taking my winter shoes off, climbed onto her radiating with power glutes. “Uhhh… yess…”, she murmured. I could not believe how hard and extremely developed her Gluteus Maximus were. She kept her back straight, only slightly leaning forward and there was enough space for me to accommodate my feet, having my toes pointing just a bit sideways! It felt like staying on a solidified lava-rocks. I put my hands over the barbell on her broad shoulders to stabilize myself just about time, as Zoe said “Hold on…”, and inhaled a huge portion of air. Unbelievably, she squatted with all this weight again, and eventually began to perform rep after solid rep, grunting heavily! Her muscles were so big and so hard. “Aaaahhhh…", the young muscle-queen moaned loudly at the apex of the 10th repetition. She invested extra efforts to keep her glutes as flexed as possible when moving up and down in order to keep me there. There was a wall-mirror in front of us and as Zoe flexed her rigid, bloated thighs again while holding more than 850 kilograms, I saw more mind-blowing mass in her watermelon-sized, razor-defined quads. Tears began to run on her reddened cheeks. Her trembling was really bad now and I was thinking we would fall at any moment. “Should I step down?”, I asked uncertainly. Facing me in the mirror Zoe whispered through gritted teeth “Grrhhaa… no… stay where you are… this is… for you…”. The exhausted young muscle goddess tensed her ripped glutes even harder, lifting me higher by the sheer strength of her beefy ass. Then her legs started to slide sideways! Oh gawd! Was she doing it again?! With so much weight and after so many squats!? The expression on her beautiful face showed a musk of determination, tiredness and agony of a titanic efforts she was putting into this unthinkable feat of strength. This girl was really hardcore! “GRRHHHAAAaaa…”, with her mouth half open Zoe continued to perform an insane spit calling on the reserves her exhausted muscles still had. A grin on her face was telling a story of a tuff suffering and pain. The movement caused her already twenty-one-inch calves to swell like balloons, each resettling into diamonds of rock-hard upside-down heart shaped meat, cut to shreds, with the most extreme vascularity I have ever seen. I readjusted my sweaty hands on her back, which was a textbook definition of vascularity, her entire mind-blowing musculature was fed by hundreds upon hundreds of veins and arteries, all bringing more blood to her lower body in order to perform this impossible feat. When we were half way down, I heard a loud tearing sound, the lowest pair of her abdominal cubes got so shredded and flexed that her black thongs could not resist any longer. Being stretched by her extremely pumped buttocks they simply exploded and landed on the floor in pieces. Zoe landed in a perfect 180-degree split position again, with her toes pointing to the opposite directions. However, the underside of her screaming with pain glutes could not touch the floor because her colossal thighs got so swollen with pure muscles. She looked at me from the mirror, face full of insane effort, eyes in tears, yet they were sending rays of extreme sexuality. “Uhhh…watch… how strong… my muscles are…”, she opened her mouth and licked her upper lip. Suddenly my left foot rose an inch or two higher and then slowly went down, then the same happened to my right foot. Oh gawd, she was alternatively flexing her magnificent glute muscles! As if it wasn’t crazy enough to perform this split thing by itself, Zoe began to show me she had even more strength in her muscle-butt! After a minute of this flexing and holding under terrible strain her breathing became more like a growling. She flexed all her butt-muscles very hard at one time, lifting me ever higher, threw her head back and roared. “GRRHHHAHAHARRR…!!”. No fucking way, does she want to stand up with this heavy barbell on her shoulders and me on her pulsating glutes by bringing her huge legs together?! Arteries bulged on her abdominal wall, they shrinked both inwards and outwards at the same time, muscles tightening and hardening as they still yet expanded in size. Zoe's midsection was now almost twice as thick as at the moment she started this exercise. Her stomach muscles had been pumped to the point where they created canals almost 3 inches deep! Her blocky pectorals creating an 8 inches deep cleavage of thick stone muscles themselves were hanging heavily upon the first freakish bubbles of her abdominal column. Her ripped pecs were protruding so far from her body that you could put a grown-up man to sit on top of each of them! Zoe growled and tensed them even harder so they jumped almost to touch her jaw! Unbelievably, ever slowly, Zoe was bringing her mammoth and extremely muscular legs closer and closer to each other and we started to rise! She was in agony, with every visible inch of taut, tanned skin completely rippling with exhaustion, yet her will power was ordering every muscle in her body to work even harder in order to do this insane feat of strength. About half way up Zoe stopped her uplifting, her shaking became really wild. It occurred to me that of course, there are limits and she has outdone a lot of them till now. How wrong was I. Suddenly, she looked at me again, her eyes on fire, her face in a terrible pain of these inhuman efforts “Ughhhhaaaa…. this… is… for… you… nhaa…”, what I saw in the mirror made my jaw drop. Pausing her elevation at the most difficult phase, Zoe’s left hand let go of supporting the heavy 790-kg barbell on her shoulders, leaving it to her right hand only. Seductively, her tiny hand cupped one pec, tracing the bullet of her erect nipple, then continued downwards, cupping each bulge of abdominal muscle as she traced her shredded ten-pack with her trembling fingers down to her cunt. She rolled her abs slowly, a smile of agony and satisfaction appeared on her face in tears as she could not resist admiring the cobblestone perfection as each brick of abdominal development bulged on her huge ladder of midsection. “Yess…. more… harder… look at how… hardcore I am… nghaaa…!”. I almost fainted, Zoe’s cobra-hood of back muscles expanded more, pushing my arms apart, pulsating glutes began to dance up and down chaotically, freakish thickness of their rippling sent my mind to nirvana. It all made me lose my balance on this young muscle queen’s massive glutes and I fall backwards, landing on the floor wet of her sweat and cunt juices. When I looked up, Zoe stood perfectly straight, breathing heavily and shaking with the barbell still on her shoulders. With her hand running over her radiating abdominal muscles she exhaled “Two…” Part 3 Moaning heavily with tears running down her reddened cheeks, Zoe took couple of steps back and with a laud grunt racked the huge barbell onto the metal hinges of the weight station. Her colossal legs gave out and she dropped on all fours right under the impossible mass she has been lifting for reps. Facing the floor with her eyes closed she desperately tried to stabilize her breathing. Being completely shocked of what I have just witnessed and not knowing how to react or what to say I found nothing better to do than to grab my camera and took some of the craziest pics in my life. The proximity of this young muscle goddess could not be fully excepted by my brain. Her relative short but unbelievably wide frame, thickened and amplified with every breath she took. Pumped slabs of steeled muscles vibrated with hardcore strength. Her mammoth thighs shaking in the aftermath of extreme workout. Each and every cord of her incredible quadriceps still trembling. Zoe’s enormous man-shaming pectorals locked firmly between her shredded veiny biceps. Watching at all this quivering muscle madness through the camera lens I could only think of some outrageously exaggerated manga-art featuring impossibly muscled girls. Visions of hard, bulging, oiled cartoon monstrosities appeared in my head - bodies bloated with gigantic muscle under young, supermodel faces. But these were all drawings, and I could not comprehend that a lot of imaginary art just paled in comparison to the young, beautiful muscle-goddess just inches from me. Zoe’s shattering physique combined with her gorgeous look made suspect that I somehow was losing the track of what was real and what was not. “Huuuuff… nhaa…”, her loud sighs reflected off the gym-walls made the whole ambient extremely sexy. Then she straightened, stood up and looked at me, her face was rather a mask of exhaustion. I could only mutter “This was… unbelievable…”, marveling at her remarkable physic of hers. Zoe managed a brief smile, running both her tiny hands over her protruding pectorals down to the mountains and valleys of her abs cubes, a slight flex turning her stomach into a perverted, shredded cobblestoned canyon of muscularity. “You have the biggest and the hardest muscles I have ever seen, especially your glutes, impossible!”, finally I got brave enough to speak of what was going on. She only grinned and I could see a fire lighted in her eyes. “It has been… only a warm up… do you want to see… how hardcore I train my buttocks?”. My mouth opened but I could not make a sound, there was only my head going chaotically up and down. Zoe turned her broad muscular back to me and walked to the opposite wall. Meanwhile I studied her bubbling, wrought-iron glute muscles as the teen muscle-queen came closer to a strange steel I-beam, which was two meters long and firmly attached to the ceiling with four big bolts. The distance between its end and the floor was about one and a half meter. The tip of it was flattened and performed in a prolongated T-form. It looked quite like the ones you see at construction sites, only shorter. There was a small ladder under it, Zoe climbed it on, her big quad muscles swinging from side to side, faced me again and said “I would need you… to help me with this exercise… be ready… to see my muscles work… harder…”, her voice was so sexy and so serious at the same time. Very much excited, I rushed closer, never stopping to admire her outstanding figure. Standing on the ladder, she had the squished end of the I-beam at her chest level. All of a sudden, Zoe went into a handstand and by maneuvering her massively thick and widely bulging, awesomely veiny body, brought her buttocks closer to the T-formed steel end. Leaning backwards, she flexed her shredded glutes and they began to move apart, hugging the iron appendix. “Uhh… yess…”, she whispered filling the cold metal touch on her pulsating flesh. My eyes darted frantically from her delicate face, to her striated, pumpkin-sized glutes. I stepped closer and then aside to reach a proper field of view for my camera. The majority of what I could see were thick, meat-stuffed and veiny Gluteus Maximus, bulging striations crossing one another and making her skin look like scaled top of a volcano. Glances at her young, gorgeous face, green eyes and sweet red lips, made the outrageous, ripped to shreds body right in front of me much more perverted and confusing as well. What happened next made me step back in shock, having the steel end of the I-beam securely between her beefy glutes, Zoe tensed her butt muscles, grabbing a hold on the metal rod with the sheer power of her radiating ass! With her hands she carefully moved aside the ladder and let go of it, now supporting herself in the air by pressing her glutes together, the T-form end trapped firmly in between her shredded alien buttocks! “Nghaaa…!”, she breathed out and straightened her massive back and legs to the opposite sides, reaching a perfect horizontal position. I swallowed hard, watching her vein-mapped, muscle-lumped stomach got under strain of this incredible feat of strength. Zoe put her hands on her back and flexed her already enormous pectorals, the hard chest screamed with wriggling meat, the 2-inch long nipples pointed straight down at the floor. Zoe’s huge power-packed physique was held there by the rippling muscles of her butt! Her face contorted showing how much effort she had to put in order to maintain her body in this insane state. Every small and big muscle was tensed and worked hard, pulsating with web of thick veins. Her glutes got totally explosive, expanding unnaturally beyond any imaginable anatomical limits. With a grunt of terrible effort Zoe flexed them even harder and, to my amazement, I saw additional quirky bulges atop of the major gluteus meat on each of her ripped-to-shreds ass-cheeks. It was impossible for me to understand how could such a young beautiful girl threw herself under such brutal body-punishing trainings in order get so much muscle mass! As if being able to read my mind, Zoe pointed at the stack of 25-kg plates on the floor to her left, turned her head to me and whispered “These babies belong… on my back… bring them on…!”, gawd her trembling voice sounded extremely sensual. Her body was already under an awful strain, how could she be willing to make it even more difficult!? This girl was simply insanely extreme. In seconds I found myself standing on the ladder with a heavy weight next to her shuddering body, refusing to believe she was doing this to herself. “Put it on…”, the young muscle angel exhaled and began to perform an ever-expanding double biceps pose, expanding her huge back muscles to a ridiculous size and inviting me to let go of the plate. In awe I saw how metal touched the canyons of her hot V-shaped back-meat. “Grhaa…”, only a slight guttural grumble left her mouth and she kept her body still horizontal in the air, flexing her ass-cheeks more to except this additional punishment. Her intoxicatingly close erupting volcano of a body was filled to the bursting point with rock hard, disgustingly cut muscle. I would never get how was she able to hold herself stretched in the air only by the strength of her glutes?! She released the biceps pose and touched the sides of her screaming buttocks with her tiny hands “Feel… my… muscles…unhaaa…”. Immediately I went for Zoe's throbbing, swelling and pulsating orbs of glute-meat. My sweaty hands roamed the bumpy, granite landscape of her radiating butt, feeling finger-thick veins feeding them with blood, as Zoe continued to keep her enormous body-beef in this agonizing, fully straightened-in-the-air position. “AAAarrghhh… yesss…”, the heavy 25-kg plate was inevitably trying to bring her down, but she was fighting it, gritting her teeth. With every second of this incredible workout my hands felt more moving, pumping veins under the taut, tanned skin of her ass-cheeks. The feeling of smooth skin stretched like rubber over monstrous, solid rocks of power has completely perplexed me. “Fucking shit… so much muscles, so huge!”, I mumbled. Her face reddened and with a loud sigh she arched her colossal back higher. Suddenly I felt something gliding over my leg. Oh gawd, by flexing her rippling pectorals aside she touched me with the striated she-beef of her right pec! “Mmmmm… mmmooore… weight… nhaa… bring the second… plate… ufff…”. I stopped caressing her volcanic glutes, rushed down and came back with the next heavy plate. My fingers were wet of her hot sweat so I could not hold it for long and simply dropped it on her cobra-back. “Grhhaa…! Unnnghhh… yess….”, the momentum of this heavy throw caused her upper body to lean down and for a brief second I thought the two plates will slip to the floor. “Ffffghhhhaaa…!”, but with a growl of pain Zoe somehow managed to restore the agonizing form of the exercise. Now she breathed in short strokes “Nhaa… more… weight… please… uhhh…hhaaa…”, the reality blanked further and I obeyed, putting the third 25-kg weight on her broad back. Just at the moment when I let go of it a deep short scream came from her throat and she ended it with words painted in pain of agonizing efforts “HHhrrrraaa… mmmmoooreee… put… mmoorrreee… bring…another… one… pphphhaa…”, her whole frame started to shake progressively. When with my tired arms I dismounted the fours 25-kg plate, bringing the complete weight to the impossible 100 kilograms up on her back, Zoe roared wildly and her corded glute muscles went insane! How was she able to hold all that!? “Tttouch… them…”, heard I her saying through pain and tears. In shock, I ran my fingers from the round edges of the 4 heavy plates down her lower back flesh and to the cording and rippling with veinwork huge slabs of her muscular butt. She brought her arms down, arching her back, making the iron plates rise higher and performed a mind-blowing most muscular pose while shaking like a leaf! “Ghhhrrraa… look… what… I can… do… mhaa… for… your…”, with that all the enhanced girl-meat flexed even crazier! From where did she take the strength reserves will I never know. My mouth opened in frank ecstasy as I kneaded the iron swells and freakish bulges of her Glutes Maximus to no avail. Zoe sobbed and cried but still was keeping this agonizing position, her face in tears, her eyes closed, going through the ocean of physical suffering, yet demanding more and more from her exhausted muscles. Her left glute wriggled under my hand, causing me to gasp as I felt the quirky movement and more and bulges appeared to strengthen a hold of the T-form end of the steel I-beam. Zoe was pressing the inner muscles of her glutes together with no mercy. The pure power of her buttocks was shocking! I could easily separate layers and layers of different muscle groups which I had no idea could ever exist on a regular person’s butt in her hardcore glute development. Her granite ass-cheeks were now covered in plenty of sweat drops, they were so shredded that I could see small lakes formed by the explosive bulges of her mass! “This is fucking insane… nobody can be this strong…”, I muttered rather to myself. She caught her breath in between her groans of agonizing efforts, let her massive arms swing to the floor and cried “Please… more… weight… oooohhhh… give… me… that… barbell... uhhhmmhaa…”. To be continued… Disclaimer: All characters in this work of fiction are 18 years or older __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ If you like it be sure to check for more at www.patreon.com/foker and https://www.deviantart.com/foker/gallery/

//TW: Mental Health, Dissociation, and Noncon Bruce Banner was alone in the previously abandoned laboratory, deep into the mountainous wilderness of British Columbia, outside of the Unites State’s usual military patrols. The laboratory was well isolated, taking Bruce three days of driving and two weeks of hiking to reach, but it was well worth it. Half way up one of the many fir and cedar covered mountain was a cliff face with an iron door. Within Bruce found the abandoned treasure. An older radiology lab with rare and experimental equipment, albite it was old equipment, but Bruce was willing to try anything for more information, hoping to cure himself of the life-breaking curse known as the Hulk. Bruce shudders at even thinking his name, always aware of the beast resting inside him, waiting. He shakes his head. He knows the best way to handle his other half is using a ‘out of mind, out of sight’ technique. If he avoids thinking about him, getting stressed about the inevitable change slowly simmering inside him, he can avoid being pulled in to the mind-space where the Hulk is free to… “No, don’t think about that.” Bruce says out loud, brining himself out of his thoughts and back to his work. It was hard though, in his hands was page after page of new test results, which at first thrilled Bruce, piquing his curiosity. In short time that excitement turned to disappointment and pity, as those pages of data told him what every other page of data has told him. He’s messed up beyond normal scientific recognition. None of this was giving him ideas or clues for a cure, it was making him frustrated and depressed. His eyes rolled over graph after graph, the results of the tests so dramatic that it breaks the test’s own result metric. Great. A number so huge it printed right off the page. Spectacular. Oh, what’s this? A page that just reads “ERROR. ERROR. ERROR.” Over and over again. Bruce rests his face in his hands, that exactly how he’s feeling right now. Bruce tries so hard to be strong, to be above his emotions, because the moment he breaks down the Hulk is right there to catch him in the meaty clubs that is his hands, and violate him until he gives up and let’s go. It’s the reason he gets stress nightmares about hulking out in public. Bruce opens his eyes and shivers, his breathing becoming faster. Bruce blocks out those memories of when he’s trapped in his mind with Hulk, the horrible things the beast does, and how deep down he loves it. But as the poor doctor sits at the old aluminum table in the testing lab he can’t help but feel like all of his stress is collapsing in on himself. Day after day of bushwhacking, cleaning the whole lab, getting the generator room in working order, even fixing the plumbing so he could shower and use the toilet; all for this, for what he already knew. Bruce was starting to verge on a nervous breakdown. A familiar panic swells up inside the stress ridden doctor, as his vision start to blur around the edges as the overwhelming negative emotion starts to make him to disassociate. And as he always does, the Hulk rumbles to life within Bruce, sensing the emotional destress. Bruce whips up from his slouched, apathetic posture, body tingling all over with life, like a pulse of electricity inside him. “No! No! Hulk please rest again, I’m fine!” he calls out, only talking to himself. Theirs a heavy silence within Bruce’s mind. “PUNY BANNER HURT BY PAPER... HULK NO LET BANNER HURT.” The Hulk replies in a rumbling growl within Bruce, always acting as Bruce’s “protector”, even if his version of protection completely destroyed Bruce’s life and chances at happiness. Tears roll down Bruce’s face as he desperately tries to catch his breath, bating off negative thoughts and surges of stress and despair. “It’s- It’s just stress, I- I can- AAAHHHHH!” he’s cut off by his own scream, he feels the Hulk’s huge arm wrap around his chest, trying to pull him out of reality and into the mind-space. He looks down and there’s no arm around him but it’s there, he can feel it. Bruce’s eyes widen as he feels a familiar burning sensation in his eyes, the feeling of his iris’s glowing gamma green. Suddenly it feels like time freezes for Bruce, the clicking and grinding of all the machines suddenly disappear, and the lighting of the room feels off and unnatural. The giant green arm wrapped around his waist is their now. Bruce can feel the heavy puffs of air leaving Hulk’s nose blowing against his hair. He was in the mind-space, disconnected from reality. “BANNER REST… HULK TAKE CARE OF IT.” The baritone brute spoke. “No! You can’t just… TAKE ME OVER! You don’t control me!” Bruce retorts, wrenching himself out of Hulk’s surprisingly soft grasp. The Hulk looks unsurprised by this, only annoyed. Bruce snaps back to reality, his head is pounding with a hazy headache, his body feels heavy and sluggish, despite his heartbeat pounding wildly. His body was BEGGING him to dissociate again, desperately not wanting to deal with the trauma of another panic attack. Bruce’s logic fights what his body wants, knowing that letting himself sink lets the beast out. He takes deep breaths, steadying his hands on the table. He tries everything to ground himself in reality again, but it’s an unstable battle, his vision blurs and focuses again, seeing the objects around him but not really recognizing or acknowledging them, in the worst dream-like state imaginable. “I’m ok. I’m ok. I’m…” his head dips as the world goes black around him. This time there is no room around him. It was just Bruce, Hulk, and the never ending blackness of his own subconscious. The 18 foot tall jade muscle giant stood before him, nude and bulging with muscles all over, looking like a hyper masculine Hercules mixed with a primal caveman. “PUNY BANNER SHAKING WITH SRTESS… HULK STRONG.” He states, and deep down Bruce knows it’s true, it’s just so much harder to ignore when he’s face to face with Hulk’s godly masculinity. Bruce tries not to look at it, but his eyes glace down at Hulk’s massive cock. It dangles long, wide, and fat like a lazy snake laying on top of two massive forest-green bull nuts. The tip of the deep emerald cock head peeking out the thick foreskin. Bruce hates that, he’s circumcised, but Hulk regrows a full head of sensitive dick skin. Hulk feels Bruce’s eyes on him and hits a masculine pose. Raising his arms above his head and flexing his iron cannonball biceps. His huge fat pecs bouncing with life, shelves of muscle with just a bit of padding to keep them round and juicy. Big round abs like a swollen brick road. Massive treetrunk thighs bulge as they flex and rub against each other, and Hulk’s massive, green moons of ass flex and strain, but remain round and padded with a layer of fat. Hulk was simply overflowing with masculinity. Hulk hoped Bruce wouldn’t struggle this time. Bruce stuttered to life, breaking out the trance of Hulk’s impressive form. “N-N-NO! I don’t want to be a monster! I worked so hard to get the lab back up and running, I can’t let-“ “LAB MAKE BANNER ANGRY, LET HULK SMASH!” the big green giant roared back in retort. “NO! I CAN’T LET THIS ALL GO TO WASTE!” Bruce screamed back. “YOU CAN’T TAKE WHATEVER YOU WANT FROM ME, I WORKED SO HARD TO GET HERE I-MMMPPHHH!!!” Bruce was cut off by Hulk’s massive hand, fat green fingers pressing over his mouth. Hulk’s heard enough puny excuses, he doesn’t care what comes out of Banner’s mouth, he’s here to protect him from the breakdown causing them distress “HULK NEVER GET BANNER…” he rumbled out. Bruce wiggles and thrashes but it’s nothing against the vice like grip of Hulk’s huge bear paws. Bruce panics again, he was being overpowered per-usual, he felt helpless, a small voice in the back of his head starting to say “let go… let it turn black… it’s useless to fight.” Bruce wanted to cry, but then a spark of courage lights inside him. This is the head-space, normal rules don’t apply he realizes. “I’m stronger than the Hulk, I’m stronger than him!” He thinks, trying hard to convince himself. “BANNER NOT.” Hulk says like it was a plain fact, hearing Bruce’s thoughts. With one concentrated thrash Bruce breaks free of the Hulk’s grasp, sending the mighty titan back a bit. Bruce takes in a massive breath, snapping back up. The weight and stress of the panic attack flooding his senses immediately. If his headache was pounding before it was a jackhammer against his skull now. His vision almost fully blurred and tears wet the sides of his face. His heartbeat was fast like the spokes on a runaway train, beating wildly. The veins in his body are bulging, turning into a glowing green spiderweb. His muscles feel swollen and used, like he was just at the gym. He can feel patches of sweat in the armpits of his white button up shirt, in fact his whole body was running hot. Bruce could feel the energy of the Hulk surging all over within him. He stood up, the stool under him being shoved over by Bruce’s thighs. He presses his hands down on the metal table to steady himself, but Bruce’s hands dent the metal; just a drop of Hulk’s strength. Bruce can feel his muscles wanting to stretch, flex themselves bigger. He stagers away, eyes dopey, trying to form coherent thoughts. “Bruce Banner…. I’m me… I can fight it…” his voice was a few notes deeper already, and his voice sounds scratchy and hoarse. Suddenly Bruce falls to his knees, yelling through grinding teeth and a clenched jaw. A wave of hopelessness and overcharging stress crashes over Bruce as Hulk grabs his brain, trying to drag him back into their mind. This all overwhelms Bruce, distracting him from focusing on his grounding his body and calming his heart rate. Bruce cries out as his clave muscles flex out of his purple pants, tearing the fabric. His shoes bulge as the fabric of his shirt bursts around his back, pecs sending buttons flying. Bruce’s green eyes roll up, the feeling of the change is too much, too powerful, His breathing becomes uneven and despite his powerless protest, Bruce is dragged back into the blackness of his mind-space. Hulk wraps both of his arms around Bruce, holding him so snug Bruce can’t even wiggle. Something’s different this time, he’s nude like the Hulk… oh no. “BANNER STRUGGLES AND FIGHTS TO HURT HIMSELF MORE. STUPID PUNY BANNER.” Hulk sounds fully ticked off now. Bruce is completely panicked, wriggling like a worm and gasping out “No!” between labored breaths. “BANNER NEEDS TO CALM DOWN.” Hulk stated in his booming, flat voice. Hulk brings Bruce’s face to his muscular armpits, dripping with sweat. Fresh, manly, raw musk radiates from the wet black wild pit-fur that carpeted the big armpit. Bruce shakes his head in panic, knowing what’s coming next. Bruce’s face is squished against Hulk’s manly armpit, lungs filling with Hulk’s powerful musk. It’s intoxicating and potent, making a thick layer of funk in his nostrils, assaulting his tastebuds with every breath. Hulk holds Bruce there, keeping him still and making him breathe in his strong scent. Bruce feels every inch of Hulks hot, muscular body squishing against his smaller form, the massive pecs hugging his torso, and iron hard abs his legs squirm against. Hulk grips Bruce until the fight leaves his body. It seems like an eternity, but finally he stops struggling against Hulk’s force, now fully ashamed and turned on. Hulk looks at the smaller than average human erection sprouting from Bruce’s thin hips. “HEHE… PUNY.” He chuckles, Bruce can only look down in embarrassment, cheeks cherry red. Hulk looks over his fightless body-mate, happy by the lack of struggle and dejectedness “BANNER READY NOW.” Bruce looks up to Hulk’s brutish face, making eye contact, looking like a sad puppy “Noooo…” he moans out, not consenting, but unable to fight back any more; Bruce felt weak all over, he just wanted it to be over now. Hulk couldn’t care less, now that Banner couldn’t fight any more he could end the distress. Hulk grabs Bruce by his hips and slams him into the ground, his free hand comes to his hanging cock, stroking the huge green floppy snake. Hulk drops to one knee, leaning forward and letting his massive hanging nuts rest against Bruce’s face. “SMELL.” Hulk orders. Bruce whimpers before leaning in and taking a whiff of Hulks nose burning ball musk. “GOOD. BETTER THAN BEING OUTSIDE, RIGHT?” Hulk asks. Bruce looks down again, and chokes back a sob. “Yes… Better than going through the panic attack.” Hulk makes a grumble of cocky happiness and superiority in response. “BANNER REST NOW, LET HULK SMASH OUT ALL THE STRESS.” Bruce doesn’t respond, he just hangs his head and his body quivers. After a minute of stroking Hulk’s massive, over 6 foot tall erection stands tall and proud, hyper in size like all his muscles, drooling thick precum like a river. Bruce looks at the hulking green cock in dread and lust, thicker than the average humans shoulder span and bobbing with Hulk strong heartbeat. “Please don’t… I’ll fade… I’ll let go...” Bruce begs through his quivering breaths. “BANNER TOO TENSE TO LET GO. HULK HELP. HULK GENTLE.” He responds in the regular Hulk monotone. Hulk ungently grabs Bruce’s calves and spreads his legs, humongous cockhead lining up and rubbing against Bruce’s tiny, tight, virgin asshole. Bruce groans in despair, knowing that he won’t just get torn in half, since there’s no rules in the mind-space. Bruce cries out as the huge green monstercock starts to plunge into his ass. Stretching his hole past human limits. The further Hulk presses his hip in the more Bruce becomes his condom, his gut distending as Hulk forces his cock in deeper and deeper. The worst part is, it doesn’t hurt. Bruce can feel all the stretching and his organs being shoved around by the beast inside him, literally. It feels good, warm, completely overwhelming. Every nerve and sense in Bruce’s body is focused on the huge cock using him as a sex toy. Bruce starts to black out and snap back as he feels that massive cock entering his throat. He chokes and gags as it forces itself further up his neck, and with one final gurgle from Bruce’s mouth Hulk humps his cock all the way through, fat cockhead peeking out Bruce’s stretched maw. Precum flows down and pools all over Bruce’s face like he was a decoration under a fountainhead, going down his nose and splashing in his eyes. Bruce was now truly helpless, his thin form bulging and skewered by Hulk’s mighty cock. Bruce was simply overwhelmed, as he always is when he’s in this situation. It’s not the first time he’s been here, exactly like this, and he knows it won’t be the last either. He couldn’t think, only feel as every inch of him is used. He was exhausted, and his body was on fire. The overstimulation finally won over, as Bruce loses focus in his eyes and lets them close. The poor scientist fading into sleep or amnesia, completely overpowered by the Hulk. Hulk smiled and gently patted Bruce’s head, comforting him. It was over, Bruce gave into the blackness and Hulk came to the front of the consciousness. In the real world Bruce’s body was swelling all over. A mighty roar escaped his lips as his muscles started to explode with size, no resistance to the change left in his body. His whole form swells and grows, skin changing from pink to an off-olive. His muscles swell to non-human proportions, sweat dripping all over as growls rip out his throat. Bruce’s face scrunches as his jawline expands, becoming square and brutish, the green in his skin becoming brighter. His forehead grows out, sloping over his eyes as his eyebrows grow thick and caterpillar-like. Nose becoming small and high on his face, giving him Hulk’s signature brute visage. His pants and shirt are ribbons of fabric on the ground, and his underwear finally snap off as his massive balls fatten and distend, cock growing hard and already bigger than any humans. With a wall shaking roar the jade titan finally stands up. Muscle hard as iron, body steaming hot and dripping sweat, thick black body-hair covering Bruce’s once nude pecs, abs, ass, back, legs and arms. His massive cock splashing precum all over. “HULK SMASH PUNY LAB!!!” he roars out in rage, raising his arms above his head and crashing them down against the old, one of a kind machine, completely destroying it and the table it was resting on. Hulk stomps over to the next machine, grunting loudly as he raises a thick leg, stomping the radiation analyzer and cracking the floor under it as the metal snaps and collapses. Hulk was shoulder to wall in the lab, head bumping against the roof. He was cramped and it pissed him off. He stomped his way to the mountain side exit, anything in his path getting crushed, smashed, or demolished. The Hulk finds his way to the iron exit, path of destruction, sweat, and pre behind him and those huge muscular asscheeks, bulging just as big as Hulk’s wings of back muscles. Hulk runs straight at the door, his 18ft monstrous frame breaking through the iron and rock cliff face like it was styrofoam, crumbling down over him, leaving the smashed lab in his wake. Hulk sighed as the wind ran over his bulging, masculine form. Eyes taking in the sunlight and all the mountains and trees. So much room to play, so much stress to relieve. The Hulk smirked, punching a towering cedar tree near the lab entrance, watching it crumble and fall under the force of his fist. His hard dick throbbed at the display of super strength. He looked back to all the trees and the span of tall mountains. So much… SO MUCH TO SMASH!!! Hulk flexed his meaty thighs before launching into the air, aiming to crash down on the nearest mountain peak with an incredible shoulder smash. Fin.

Hi all, here's the first part of my second story: Entelechy. It's quite different from my first, Control; this story is set in futuristic universe. I won't spoil the details, but suffice it to say that I have conceived of the world in this story as a realistic future for humanity. It'll have plenty of growth, muscle worship and all that lovely stuff, alongside plenty of exploration of the psychology of muscle addiction, but some of the exposition is also designed to be thought-provoking about society, politics and what the future may hold. If you're more interested in the muscle, then fear not - you won't be disappointed! But if you like to be challenged, this story will have a little bit extra for you. Part 1 doesn't have much growth; it's largely outlining our main character. But there will be a hell of a lot of muscle to come, I can tell you that. Entelechy: a word used by Aristotle, 'the state of something that is fully realised'. ---- Entelechy: Part 1 He stood amongst the heaving crowd, almost suffocated by the thronging masses. Blessed with neither notable height nor width, the Youth struggled to get a glimpse of the public screen. There was a ripple through the crowd; a fortunate shift in its arrangement afforded him an unbroken line of sight to watch the spectacle unfold. The screen - an anachronism, since it was actually a one-dimensional holographic projection - showed the Emperor seated upon the Eternal Throne. Clad in his usual impenetrable attire (mask, robes and cloak of black and red), he contrasted with the white, gold and ocean blue of the Throne. A ceremonial guard of Imperial Guardsmen, great staves held straight, lined the gilded walkway leading to the Throne. A number of attendants - various High Councillors and military officials - were clustered around the Throne. The crowd held its breath as the camera panned to show the great entrance doors to the Throne Room, which silently slid open to reveal an alien, surrounded by five Guardsmen arranged in a pentagon around him. The alien looked somewhat reptilian, dressed in fine armour...but the splendour did not conceal the humiliation readable in its posture. “And there he is,” continued the commentator, “Val’syth, Sovereign of the now-subjugated Farith Empire, come to pay homage to our Immortal Emperor.” The people around the Youth jeered at the defeated alien monarch, as his party walked towards the Throne. The camera panned behind them, showing the alien trudging towards the Emperor, who sat unmoved and impassive. The Guardsmen, and the alien, came to a halt at the base of the dais upon which the Throne sat. Two Guardsmen then tore off Val’syth’s ornate armour, throwing it to the floor, followed by his undergarments. In mere moments he stood naked before the Emperor. The crowd’s jeering came to a tense tense halt as they watched the defeated alien stand motionless...before erupting into jubilant cheers as he prostrated himself before the Emperor, forehead touching the cold metal floor. “And there’s the proskynesis, the ceremonial submission before the Emperor,” resumed the commentator. “The act symbolises...” He zoned out the both commentator and the cheers. He did belong amongst these mindless automatons who went about their life. He was different. He couldn’t quite place how, only that he was. He did not fit in the Grand Society; its norms and expectations were…restrictive to him. He would not - could not - conform. Instead, he would leave them all in the dust, revelling in his excess. Let the rebellion begin, he thought to himself. *** He had never felt like he belonged. Not quite ostracised from the Society, but not quite part of it either. In creating the Society three centuries ago, the Emperor had adopted an effective organising framework: within set boundaries, you were free to do what you wished - but cross those boundaries, and the Society exiled you. Moderation was the ruling tenet: most ‘vices’ were acceptable, in moderation. Sex, drink, food, drugs, partying; as long as you kept the habits under control, it was not the Society’s concern. But indulge them to excess, and the Society would quickly sanction you. Assuming the legal order of the Society didn’t formally intervene to redeem you, that is. But that moderation did not appeal to him. It was stale, lifeless - mass-produced. Moderation was easy, and boring. Where was the joy in moderation? Throughout his teenage years, this internal conflict had grown and festered, eventually crystallising into a need to break free, to rebel. His first act upon completing school had been to leave his home city of Copenhagen, crossing the sea to the much-larger Capital - the Eternal City. With a population of 25 million, it was the largest city on Terra. Surely he’d find ways to rebel there? The Society quickly provided him with an apartment (all housing was state-provided, of course), and he’d settled in, but then things had...stalled. Wanting to rebel was all well and good, but how does one go about actually doing it? He’d tried the Lower City, where all the ‘cultural establishments’ were. It had been fun at first, immersing himself in the permanent carnival-atmosphere of the clubs and bars, but it soon became clear that they too all worshipped at the altar of Moderation. He could have over-indulged in drink, drugs and sex but that was not rebellion - that was self-destruction and would achieve nothing. No, he had to be more subtle in his rebellion - and thus pose a far greater challenge to the Society. Undermine the tenet of Moderation, and be revered for it. Excess. But again: how? Within weeks of arriving he felt as lost as ever, his ‘rebellion’ failing before it could even get started. It was depressing. He felt lonely and dejected. Perhaps this rebellion had, afterall, been a stupid idea borne of an immature mind. He could’ve got a job, perhaps (almost all menial or simple work was done by robots, but there were still plenty of jobs where a human touch was liked), but he felt no need to; the Basic Income more than covered his needs. Thus it was that the Youth found himself wandering into a new establishment he had not yet visited, seeking inspiration. He was startled to realise he’d stumbled into a male orgy club, decorated like a Classical symposium: low couches and tables, carved stone columns and walls decorated with reliefs. A statue of Apollo and Hyacinthus, their hands intertwined, stood in the centre. He could make out another floor above. The patrons, in varying degrees of intoxication, were engaging in passionate group sex on the sumptuous couches. He walked through the establishment, studying the men he passed. All conventionally attractive and identically built in the Society’s ideal: athletic and toned, but not muscular or ponderous. Lithe, graceful: a useful body. The Youth himself had such a body. Some of the older men were more saggy, but still fit. This was, of course, simply the old Classical ideal...as part of the Society’s construction, many of the values and ideas of the Ancients had been studiously revived and systematically applied. None of the men interested him. It was not that they were unattractive, but rather they screamed moderation. There was nothing deviant about them; body, hairstyles, clothes (where worn). Even this orgy was moderation; he doubted any of the patrons attended more than a couple of times a month. Everywhere was order; the establishment was a Temple to Self-Control. Credit to the Emperor, the Youth thought. His Society works. Further into the establishment, there were numerous warmly-lit alcoves for more intimate encounters. They were likewise filled with oh-so-boring Servants of Moderation. He had just about given up hope of finding any trace deviance when he glanced into the final alcove. His breath caught in his throat and his stomach fluttered. At last. Seated in the alcove was the biggest man the Youth has ever seen. Not in terms of height (he was ordinary in that regard), but of width. Of mass. Of muscle. His body hung heavy with bulging muscle; he was no longer athletic. No, most of that muscle was useless. An obstacle to human grace. It was instead the body of excess. A Servant of Moderation straddled the man’s crotch, taking his manhood inside of him, while he ravenously devoured the man’s flexed arm, savouring the swollen muscles with lips and tongue. The man’s head was thrown back in pleasure, eyes closed, softly moaning. The Youth was rooted to the spot as a curious rush flowed through his mind. It was as if the disparate pieces of a previously hidden jigsaw puzzle had suddenly come together, inspired by the man of excess before him. In an instant, the fog cleared and his path became clear. The man of excess had shown him the way to rebel - how to subvert the Society. The next morning, he changed his gym routine.

The Prologue is found here The preceeding chapter is found here. Preface The song lyrics The times they are a-changin' were written by Bob Dylan in 1964, which is hereby acknowledged. The use of quotes thereof in this story is for non-profit literary purposes, in the belief that this is fair use. Please let me know, if anyone want these quotes to be removed. The Orgone Accumulator: Part Six "I really appreciate, how therapy dissolves the feelings of guilt and shame, Dr. Witt, but I don't think Reich was right, when he expected homosexual men to eventually become heterosexual." "Perhaps he wasn't. Some German psychologists suggested already in the 1860s, that the homosexual condition is a permanent personality trait, even to such extent, that it is possible to talk about a third sex: Uranian men with female souls. Would you think, that that describes your personality?" He felt slightly irritated. At some times Dr. Witt sounded very much as a man of an elder age. No, he wouldn't think, that that described his personality. He might have been shy and guilt-ridden when he was a teenager (and when he began his analysis by Dr. Witt), but he didn't feel like a female soul. Neither was he attracted to camp men -- he had encountered a few camp men of his own age in San Francisco recently, and, although many of them were fun and witty, he didn't fall in love with them. How would he describe this, without Dr. Witt beginning predictable tirades about repression? "To be honest, I don't think it does. Aren't there any other possible explanations? Dr. Witt fell silent, and it took some time before he continued: "I've had the impression for some time now, that I don't know how to help you further, but Dr. Silberstein find some un-orthodox explanations useful. I am not trained in those methods. Would you dislike to begin analysis with Dr. Silberstein instead?" Silberstein had arrived to The Foundation very recently, with a fresh degree and with diplomas from several different schools of psychology. He wasn't much older than The Young Man, preferred to wear suits of a very modern cut and with a hair-style resembling the Osmond family. Perhaps it was worth it to change. "No, I would be very grateful if I was allowed to continue my self-exploration with Dr. Silberstein, but I am very grateful for the help you have given me these years." When he returned home to his cottage, he switched his transistor radio on: * * * He had eventually found an athletic facility in a smaller town located between San Francisco and the countryside where The Foundation was located, and he went there three times a week. It had begun as a boxing-club, but in the recent years it had gradually changed more and more into the emerging new sort of "gym", as they were called. The use of dumbbells, barbells and cable stands had revolutionised his physical exercise. He was ever learning more about new exercises. Muscles he hadn't known existed had begun to form, grow and become visible all over his body. It had also increased his appetite. Those nights he chose to eat at The Foundation the kitchen staff were joking about his ability to eat unexpectedly large amounts of food. He assumed, that all other men at that athletic facility were hetero. It gave him some smug satisfaction, that he was able to lift heavier than some of them. Heavier than them. Stronger than them. Beginning to look more like the imaginary men in the beefcake drawings. The imaginary men had been ideals to lust for. Be attracted to. To be overwhelmed by. But now something else was happening: He was becoming one of them. One of Tom's men. It didn't take much time until he lost his patience with the rusty used car he had bought when he moved to The Foundation. Everyone owned a car. He wanted to be himself. He wanted a motorcycle. As soon as he could afford a motor cycle he bought one: A black shiny motor cycle: A symbol of liberty. A black shiny leather jacket was already a part of of his leisurewear, and rumour had it, that it had caused some gossip among middle-class and upper-class guests: Let them gossip! He was becoming himself. It was evening and his day off. He returned home to his cottage after one of his usual trips. His muscles were still warm and filled with blood after his weight-training. He switched the radio on. Something about the Soviet troops in Czechoslovakia and President Johnson's reply to recent international developments. He felt so alive. Earlier that day, he had found a retailer selling and repairing leatherwear. He liked the scent inside the shop. He had found trousers in his size, but he had a nagging thought in his head, that there was a risk, that they soon would become too small, if his thighs continued to grow in the same pace. He had also found a pair of shiny boots suitable for those who ride motorbikes. He had arrived at his athletic facility wearing his new biker wear. It gave him some satisfaction to take the gazes from the other men in the locker room in: Puzzlement, respect, perhaps some awe and some fear, too. He lapped it up. Something similar happened, when he returned to the locker room after his exercise and changed from his sweat-drenched training clothes back into his leathers. Then he ride home on his motorbike, and felt the wind rush around him. The enticing feeling of speed. Then his thoughts wandered to the Orgone Accumulator. The Orgone Accumulator was a part of Reichian treatment, but its usefulness was a matter of discussion among the guests as well as the staff. The first time The Young Man entered an Orgone Accumulator, it had been a slightly underwhelming experience. It looked like a wooden wardrobe with a seat inside. He was told, that it was constructed of alternating plates of wood and metal, which were supposed to accumulate his bodily Orgone, which was named after the human orgasm. He was supposed to sit inside wearing a thin layer of clothes of natural fibres, but some enthusiasts shocked the other guests by suggesting, that full nakedness would be more efficient. Did he feel anything? Well, yes. The inside of the box felt slightly warmer than the surrounding room, and he thought he felt some sort of pleasurable tickling feeling in his skin, but it could have been his imagination running wild. Since he moved to his cottage at the Foundation premises, he had undergone Orgone treatment once a month, and although some treatments had been pleasant in some vaguely undefinable way, he wasn't sure if it really added anything substantial to the analysis sessions and the massage. He enjoyed the massage. The new masseur, Jack, was a man his own age, and they were slowly becoming friends. But now his thoughts wandered to the Orgone Accumulator. No-one was scheduled for it this late in the night. Most guests and staff were probably asleep. With a sandwich in one hand and a glass of orange juice in his other hand, he decided to give the Orgone Accumulator another try. He finished his meal. He had removed his t-shirt, because it was damp of sweat, and he was too lazy to wear it. He took his leather jacket, wearing it without anything under, and walked over the grass to the main building in the moonlit night, dew causing his boots to become wet. The Orgone Accumulator. There it was. The lights in the room switched off, and the treatment floor abandoned for the night. Moonshine entered the windows, and formed a pattern of silver-light on the floor. He left his jacket on a chair, and entered the Accumulator wearing his new leather trousers and boots. With the door closed, the Orgone Accumulator was entirely dark. Sometimes he had noticed what looked like a dim light form around his body during treatment. It could have been his retina being exhausted. Or it could be a proof of the existence of Orgone. He didn't expect much. He felt calm and relaxed sitting there in the darkness, his boots on the wooden floor, his leather-clad legs wide apart, and his upper body naked inside the moderately warm box. The hair on his arms were bristling. His skin began to tingle pleasantly. The scent of his new trousers and boots filled the Orgone Accumulator. He enjoyed that scent. He enjoyed the smooth and glossy surface of his leather trousers. Leather -- reminding him of primordial hunters triumphing over game, using its hide for clothes. His muscles were still warm, firm and blood-filled after the exercise. He clenched his right biceps with his left hand. Warm. Firm. And Blood-filled. He clenched his right pectoral muscle. Warm. Firm. And Blood-filled. It wasn't the only part of him becoming warm, firm and blood-filled. His dick throbbed inside his new trousers, rubbing itself against the leather. Glossy. Black. Rubbing itself. His now muscular legs enclosed by black, glossy leather. His now sexy bum enclosed by black, glossy leather. New boots hugging his feet. He remembered how the other men had watched him. Their gazes. He felt so present, so bodily present. Embodied. Relaxed in his body, in a way he wasn't in the past. Calm and relaxed. Skin tingling. Dick throbbing. Warm, firm muscles. So hard. Hard everywhere. Hard dick. Hard mind. Hard body. Hard muscles. Leg-muscles hugged by black, glossy leather. Manhood. He wanted other men to be attracted to him. Lust for him. Be overwhelmed by him. Him: The muscleman in leather, the unknown biker. Feeling so alive. So free. Alive. The memory of his colleague Jack, the masseur floated through his memory. Jack's kind eyes. Jack's powerful arms. The physical sensations of his body caused the mental image of Jack to fade. Strength flowing through his veins. Strength flowing through his muscles. Strength flowing through his dick. Manhood. Embodied. Present. Powerful. His power to change himself. Changing. Becoming his dreams. Becoming others' dreams. So big and hard now. The Strength. So alive. The Power. Skin tingling more now. Muscles buzzing more now. Of Strength. Of Power. Alive. His entire physical extension. Full of Strength. And Power. And Hardness. Tingling. Buzzing. The wave of energy inside his entire being. His veins afire of Pleasure. His mind connected to a cosmic grid of golden light and red mists inside his eyelids. Cosmic grid of Strength. Cosmic grid of Power. Buzzing. Wave. Uh! Yes! Himself so buzzing of Power, brimming of Power. The Wave intensifying. Throbbing. His entire body throbbing. His entire Self throbbing. Throbbing of the Powerwave. Powerwave. Even more! Yes! Powerwave. He is Muscle now. He is Strength now. He is Manhood now. He is Power now. He is ... Uh! The Wave! So good! Hadn't thought ... Never had experienced ... The Orgone? It's true! The Orgone! Filling himself with Orgone! More Orgone! Becoming Orgone! The Wave! The Wave! Uh! Oh God, it's ... It's ... Power. Becoming. It's ... It's ... Wave ... Uh ... STRENGTH STRENGTH MANHOOD STRENGTH POWER STRENGTH WAVE STRENGTH WAVE blissful WAVE blissful WAVE blissf ... WAVE WAVE WA- !!! !!! !!! !!! !!! *** Part Seven is found HERE

Chapter 1 Chapter 2-4 Chapter 5-6 Chapter 7 CHAPTER 8 The sun well below its peak but already scalded the desert below. Sweat had long ago soaked through Lewis's skin-tight green shirt and his muscles stood out in bold relief through the fabric. He grunted as he bent over and picked up a thirty pound sand bag from the pile at his feet. After placing it on his free forearm, he bent over and loaded another on top. Then another. Then another. His arm bulged larger with every new addition, the giant vein pulsing along its peak grinding into the bags it supported. The young airman finally stopped at five bags and, after wiping dripping sweat from his brow, turned to walk the ten paces separating the pile from a three foot deep square ditch he just finished digging. He dropped the bags along the rim, organized them into a nice border along the edge with a few well placed kicks that sent his quads flaring, then turned again to retrieve more. His sweat darkened shirt clung ever tighter to his body. Deeply cut abs stood out boldly where it wasn't heavily shadowed by engorged pecs that heaved and fell with each breath. He bent over to retrieve more bags forcing his calves and hamstrings to flare in response beneath military issued shorts that rose well above mid thigh. The Christmas tree striations of his lower back bulged through the shirt as he stood. Every ripple and fold of his lats and traps writhed as he loaded another five sandbags onto his arm as if they weighed no more than couch pillows. Back and forth Lewis went, carrying his sandbags from the giant pile to line them up around his pit. That pit was ten feet by ten feet and had taken him only an hour to dig. A small crowd began to gather around him as he'd dug and had recently grown to more than twenty gawkers. Some stared in open admiration. Others made as if they stood there for other reasons and only glanced Lewis's way as if by accident as they carried on conversations that any sane person would have accomplished an air conditioned building, not in 100+ degree heat. I stood among the masses, arms cross and drenched in sweat myself. These heavy uniforms did a good job hiding my rapidly growing body but were better suited for freezing weather. I was there to officially observe Lewis's punishment for nearly strangling Whitaker. There were a number of authorized punishments available to me as the commander: reduction in rank, reduced pay, court marshal, etc. But the nineteen year old airman was already at a pretty junior rank, taking pay was relatively cruel for someone already played a pittance, and a court marshal was a little harsh since there were two sides to the story. For Whitaker, I had him reassigned to another unit on base. He'd already been gone two weeks and there'd been no issues since. For Lewis, I went with one of the lesser used (and more...old school) punishments: hard labor. The option was buried in one of the more antiquated but "still-on-the-books" policies, right next to being rationed bread-and-water. But the punishment seemed fitting: single handedly build a defense bunker. The process involved digging a ten foot by ten foot square three feet deep, then creating a defensible position using sandbags and roof slats, complete with turret holes. They were scattered all over base to provide quickly accessible shelter should a flock of terrorists come charging in. So at the crack of dawn a young and very buff Lewis started digging his hole. People took notice of the baby-faced bodybuilder, some even stood to gawk before making their way on. But as the day wore on, Lewis kept going. Instead of growing weary and exhausted, he instead appeared to get stronger and more virile as the process moved on. Once he finished the hole and shifted to the sandbags, his strength seemed impossible. That's when the passersby were suddenly stopped dead in their tracks, helplessly watching this sweat-covered god of a human toil under the desert sun. Standing at 6'2 (or maybe a little more), he was "big" enough to be maybe 230 or 240 pounds. Those weren't inhuman proportions. But just one look and you knew something was different. His muscles looked too dense. It was the small things: his biceps dented the sandbags instead of the other way around, his forearm didn't give against his forehead when he wiped sweat from his brow...all-in-all, the bulges of his body seemed too hard. It was hard to explain but there was something that just looked...fucking amazing. "Sweet Jesus," a familiar voice said admiringly at my shoulder. "He one of yours?" I turned to see Dasa smiling hungrily at Lewis as he toiled. "Yep," I said. "Strange, haven't seen him." Her eyes squinted at him. "I guess he kinda looks familiar." I just nodded; the last time she'd seen him he was half the size he was now. Lewis was now carrying six bags at a time, somehow supporting all that weight in the crook of his forearm. His biceps were screaming, skin stretched and shiny, displaying individual muscles I didn't even know existed on the human anatomy. The crowd around us continued to grow but, by his face, I wasn't sure Lewis even knew there was a soul around him. His eyes were focuses inwards and I could see he was relishing every moment of this "punishment." His face was contorted in a strained grimace as he lugged the bags over to the rapidly developing bunker. The fibers in his arm continued to quiver and shake under the load. I let my hand wrap around my own bicep and gave it a good flex, feeling the muscle jump under my sleeve and swell into my hand. I was quickly on my way to matching Lewis. In the two weeks since Lewis's incident, I'd put on another sixty pounds and my uniform was now snug in all the right places. Any more size could not be hidden. I was pulled away from my self-appreciation when I heard another baritone grunt. I looked up as Lewis now struggled with ten sandbags in an obvious effort to test the limits of his strength. I could see his massive quads ripple violently with each step as they supported the extreme combined weight of his body and bags. Lewis's back muscles bulged and his traps swelled up his neck. His face was red with the strain, veins bulging along his forehead. But his arm. Oh my god his arm. The muscles in it writhed and rolled as if they were fighting each other for space. Then something happened that no one in the crowd would ever forget. A few steps into Lewis's trek to the bunker, that quivering bicep suddenly...popped. That's the only way I could describe it. In the blink of an eye, his shredded nineteen inch arms just doubled in size to the circumference of a person's waist. The rapidly expanding boulder of muscle shoved against the sandbags he carried and they fell to the ground as if thrown. A rip formed at the base of his sleeve and cleanly tore its way all the way up to the top of his shoulder, letting the pumpkin sized deltoids swell out of them. A gasp ran through the crowd. "Holy shit," I heard Dasa say but I couldn't break my eyes away from the inhuman spectacle. Lewis noticed too. He stared down at his insanely proportioned arm and gave it a good flex. The peak of his bicep rose and rose and rose to a granite mountain and the fabric around his lat finally gave up as he raised his arm to admire himself. It was as if every muscle fiber in his arm just decided to double in size. Lewis smiled as he flexed the engorged arm. Blood vessels pulsed around the giant peak, feeding it. The crowd watched, dumbfounded and silent as Lewis finally bent over and picked up the bags he dropped, again resting them in the crook of his now superhuman arm. That over-sized arm flared angrily, sweat dripping down the newly formed ravines that ran from shoulder to elbow. But it now carried the ten bags with less effort than it once took him to carry half that. Lewis had grown stronger in an instant. A lot stronger. I felt my own body without touching it, its hardness, its growing size. I would have that power soon enough. "What on earth..." Dasa was having a hard time processing things but her eyes stared hungrily at Lewis as he continued his labor. "I may have to find an excuse to come by your office more often." She chuckled and gave my arm a playful punch. I thought nothing of it until I felt her hand rest against my arm and give it a squeeze. I smiled without looking at her and gave my arm a flex, letting my iron bicep swell under her grip. I looked down at her after a moment. She was looking up at me, her brows raised and her mouth parted slightly. She took her hand away and smiled. "See you later, sailor." There was heat behind those words. I smiled and looked back at Lewis, who was now lugging a full dozen sandbags on that supersized arm. His shoulder had joined in the grow game and was now the size of a basketball and still growing. The shirt sleeve that once contained it now hung in tatters, and a rip was now growing up the seam of his trap. Before too long it would fall away and his shirt would be more toga than t-shirt. The crowd around us was getting bigger now and I spied a two star general now among them, his arms crossed and eyes narrowed under a furled brow. My breath caught. This was not the attention we wanted. Shit, game's over. I walked up to Lewis just as he finished placing his latest pile of bags. "Consider the punishment complete," I said quietly and put a hand against that monstrous arm. Lewis turned to me, face red and sweating. His chest heaved and I heard popping sound of strained cotton strands accompany each inhale. He smiled through his exhaustion and nodded. Five minutes later he was back in my office, my metal chair grunting and squealing under his mass. He was fixated on his swollen arm, flexing the basketball sized monstrosity and rubbing its veined peak with his hand. He obviously liked what he saw as his dick had recently exploded through the inner lining of his shorts and was forced, fully erect, down the side of his tree trunk thigh. It protruded, thick and pulsing, from the hem of those straining shorts and ran halfway to his knee. It jumped powerfully when he gave his bicep a squeeze. I found myself speechless; so fixated I was on the scene before me. I was experiencing the dual wonder of wanting to join him rubbing that inhuman arm while at the same time knowing I was only a couple weeks away from having that power myself. "So fucking unreal," he said, mostly to himself. "Oh fuck fuck fuck." his dick jumped again and its head swelled. I considered moving in case it fired something at me but stayed put for some reason. "I've felt like a mousetrap this whole time," he said. "Like I was about to erupt. Fucking hell, I finally did." If I wasn't experiencing the same thing, I'd have no idea what he was talking about. But I knew all too well. I believed it had something to do with gaining all that weight but not having the size to match. I was so much denser now and I felt like a giant shoved into a child's body. I felt like I SHOULD be bigger, so much bigger, but I wasn't. I looked like a 220 pound freak of nature but weighed well over 300 pounds. And my body wanted to LOOK well over 300 pounds. It was like being constantly on the verge of an orgasm but just not able to climax. "Fuck," Lewis moaned and grabbed his collar with his free hand. "Too tight." He pulled and ripped his shirt off his body as easily as if it were a blanket lying over him. His concrete body seemed to balloon slightly now the constructing shirt was off. Taking a deep breath, as if his first since putting the accursed thing on, he looked back at his swollen arm then at me. "It's getting smaller," he said. "Pretty soon it'll go back to what it was." He turned his eye to the other bicep and gave it a good flex. The nineteen inch boulder was impressive but nothing compared to the monstrous other one. I was disbelieving at first but a closer look proved him right; the arm was indeed slowly shrinking back; like a pump an hour after working out. He was silent a moment before continuing. "I've stopped growing," he said finally. "I didn't want to believe it but I haven't gotten any stronger in the last week." He looked back at me. "I want more. I'm taking the next step." There was no doubt what he was talking about. He wanted to take the second canister. "What do you think will happen?" I said smoothly. Lewis shrugged, his swollen lats flaring between his engorged delts. "Only one way to find out." He spoke as if he was heading over right then and there. I took a deep breath (and couldn't help but relish how my uniform stretched across my chest). I brushed the euphoria aside, focused instead on the consequences if something...noticeable...happened to Lewis if he took the second canister. What if he took both?! If we got unwanted attention, it could ruin everything. I wasn't ready. I needed more time to max my own body out. I needed to be as big as Lewis...and there it was. You want to be the biggest, don't you? a little voice asked me. I shook my head to clear it. "What if it makes you smaller?" I asked carefully. "Takes away everything you gained." "It won't," Lewis said confidently and actually got up as if to leave. "Two weeks," I said, standing as well. Lewis's eyes crew dark and the muscles in his body all jumped as he grew tense. He seemed to gain twenty pounds in that instance. "I didn't ask," he said. I stepped up to him, hands up in a calming gesture. My mind raced, nearly panicked, searching for anything to give me more time. His body radiated heat and I could smell the musk of the day's work hanging in the air. He was taller than me and far more powerful. We both knew I couldn't force him to do anything. I put a hand against his granite chest, beads of sweat pooling around my fingers. I felt a thump against my leg and looked down to see his dick swelling and lifting itself up against the nylon fabric of his military issue shorts. Without thought, I reached down and wrapped my hand around it, feeling the tha-dump-tha-dump of his heart beat through the shaft. It was as hard as the rest of him. He moaned and I locked his eyes with mine. "Two weeks," I said again and started rubbing him. He gasped. I didn't know what I was doing or why. There was just something about two rock hard bodies leaning against each other like boulders. We touched and I let my eyes wander across the close up view of his inhumanly powerful body. His deeply chiseled abs rose and fell, flexing as his body tensed. I moved my hand faster and he swelled until my fingers no longer made it completely around him. Lewis's muscles flexed and fell, flexed and fell as veins bulged across his traps and upper chest. He leaned his head back, eyes closed and mouth open. I found myself on my knees, eyes locked on a foot long dick bordered by thighs as bulging and hard as any bodybuilder's. Before I could even think about it, he was in my mouth as my hands continuing to work him. He came a moment later and I felt molten hot liquid fill my mouth and force its way down my throat. I took him in, not knowing if the sudden powerful surge rolling through my body was real or psychological. Either way, I felt like I could lift a truck. I felt my own dick raging against my pants, desperate for freedom. Each spurt filled my mouth and I only had time to swallow before he filled it again. Afterwards , I stood and used Lewis's tattered shirt to wipe my mouth. "Two weeks," I said again and threw the shirt at him. Lewis nodded shallowly, eyes distant and blissful. "Two weeks," he agreed breathlessly.

So this is a story I decided to write on a whim as an excuse to procrastinate from coursework I'm supposed to be doing that is very very loosely connected in some way to this, which is how I justified to myself wasting a couple of hours on it. In any case, I hope you enjoy it and I hope I don't offend any Potterheads on the forum (seriously, please don't execute me, I just thought the magical premise lent itself well for muscle growth stories) and instead I hope you appreciate the nods and references here and there. As always, feedback is always welcomed. HARRY POTTER & THE DRAUGHT OF VIGOUR Harry: Longbottom! Neville: Hello Harry *He says in an unamused yet friendly tone* Harry: ah it’s good to see you mate *Harry replies while patting Neville’s back* Harry: well come on, come in, it’s chilly outside isn’t it? It’s been 2 years since the Battle of Hogwarts, and former Hogwarts colleagues Harry and Neville had gone on to start the following chapter in their adult lives. They had remained friends after Hogwarts and Harry had invited Neville over for a Saturday night of eating terrible food and indulging in the stories of their lives. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Harry: hahahahaha. Neville: you don’t have to be such knob. Harry: *laughter trailing off* well you are correct that it wasn’t the nicest gesture, however, I honestly wasn’t aware that it took till the following morning for someone to find you on the common room floor. Neville: well it’s not as if I could undo Hermione’s curse on my own. Harry: at the very least that act of bravery is what won Gryffindor the House Cup during our first year, so cheers to you sir. *raises his wine glass* Neville: it does feel quite nice being acknowledged by the ‘chosen one’. *he says in a sarcastic tone* Harry: sod off. Neville: what a time to be alive though, despite the second wizarding war. Harry: a lot of things have changed, a lot of people have changed, I was taken aback when I came across Luna again the other day, she’s still quintessentially Luna though. Oh! *Harry half-jogs to another room* Neville: what are you doing? *hears rummaging* Harry: digging this out *Harry appears back in the room with a shoebox* Neville: what do you have in there? Harry: all kinds of stuff from back in Hogwarts *Harry says while sticking his arm further and further into the shoebox* Neville: where is your hand going? *Neville said, perplexed* Harry: oh this? I asked Hermione to put an extension charm on this box to store a lot of my old things. Incredibly handy, but why can’t I find those photographs? I have a couple of albums from our time at Hogwarts. Neville: maybe you have too much stuff in there, let’s take some of them out. Harry: Alright, here *Harry said as he started passing items off to Neville* After a number of things had been pulled out. Neville: okay let’s take a break, now. You really ought to clean that thing once in a while, this all can’t be absolutely necessary anymore. Harry: they are memories, some great, others torturous, but memories nonetheless. Neville: really, this is a memory worth keeping? *He says while holding up a 6th-year Herbology textbook* Did you ever even use this? Harry: I don’t believe so, it was around the time everything started falling apart. Neville: why is it so tattered already then? Harry: I’m not sure... *Harry says while taking the book from Neville and turning open the cover* ‘This Book is the Property of the Half-Blood Prince’ *Harry read out* Neville: The Half-Blood Prince? Harry: it was Snape’s pseudonym, I used his copy of Advanced Potion-Making during my 6th year as well and it had all sorts of changes to potions and spells he developed on his own in them that improved upon the ones in the book. Neville: You arse, so that’s how you did so incredibly well in that class. You could have passed the knowledge along. Harry: well not every spell in there was for good. I am very curious to see what he came up with in Herbology however *Harry said as he started to skim through the pages of the book as Neville leaned in as well to see* Neville: wow there are so many notes written in the margins. Harry: it was the same with his Advanced Potion-Making textbook, the man was a bloody genius. Neville: ‘draught of vigour, enhances exponentially the physical strength of the person who consumes it, a single sip causes.....e..t.......opp......i....ex....t....e’ *Neville read on a page they came across while going through the book* I can’t read this part, it’s smudged. ‘...sulting in magnified male physical traits’ Harry: well I believe the rest is rather clear, I think that bit simply went into more detail as to how it happens. Neville: magnified physical traits and enhanced strength, rubbish, it sounds too good to be true. Harry: this is one of Snape’s potions though, THE Severus Snape, it must be real. Neville: how come Snape never fit the description of someone who drank this potion then? Harry: it was Snape, do you really see him walking around resembling Hercules considering his personality? Neville: you’re not wrong. Harry: it’s most likely also temporary. Neville: what makes you think that? Harry: the ingredients, I know some of them are used in brewing Polyjuice potion, and that only lasts a couple of hours. It might be a variation on a transformation potion? Neville: isn’t Polyjuice brewing restricted? Harry: I have plenty of stories to tell *Harry says with a smug look* Neville: well that’s apparent. Harry: should we try it? Neville: are you sure about this? Trust a potions recipe a random student came up with? Harry: it’s a potion Snape came up with, the potions master Severus Snape. Neville: are you sure this Half-Blood Prince character was Snape? Harry: how do you think I won that bottle of Liquid Luck back in the day? Neville: blimey Harry, that’s how you bested the mighty Hermione? Harry: I’m telling you, his notes would make Slughorn green with envy. Neville: so... enhanced strength you say.... Harry just smirked in response. Neville, luckily for Harry, excelled at Herbology, and had the ingredients at his disposal, he loved to collect samples of even the rarest plants and fungi he could get his hands on, so they locked up and made way for Neville’s apartment for a night neither is sure to forget. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Neville: leave your coat wherever you like, could you start a fire and prepare my cauldron for me? Harry: certainly *he said as he lit a fire and reached for the cauldron* Wow, an Induro 1816, this is a high-quality cast bronze cauldron, with lion head handles and custom engraving. Neville: keen eye. I inherited it from my great- great- grandparents. Catch Harry. Harry: got it *Harry said, catch the jar Neville had tossed him* Got everything we need? Neville: yes, are you sure we should do his? Harry: just imagine the possibilities. Neville: very well. And so Neville undertook to brew the potion while Harry read him the instructions and recipe: Add 4 leeches to a bubbling cauldron..... ........... ....... stir counter-clockwise exactly 55,5 times without............ Shred the...... Then pour in spoonfuls of ground tuberose until the potion turns a pale.... ..................... ....occasionally.......... ......... Add 3 drops of Mandrake sap and wave your wand to....... ........... while adding.... ...... Let boil for an hour and proceed to add a bundle of knotgrass..... .................thus allowing the mixture to............... Add a Devil’s Snare vine with...... .................... Finally, stir 6 times clockwise and twice counter-clockwise while simultaneously waving your wand until the mixture ceases to bubble and add 10 leaves from a Whomping Willow, one at a time. The resulting draught should be white in colour, having the consistency of troll mucus and an aroma reminiscent of damp mossy forest and tanned leather. Neville: *sighs out in relief* It’s finally done. Harry: *sniffs over the cauldron* What a very specific smell, mossy forest and tanned leather. Neville: I don’t have a problem with the smell as much as I do with the way it looks.... doesn’t it remind you of.... Harry: I thought best not to mention it *Harry quickly interjected* But I’m glad to hear I wasn’t the only one with it in mind. Neville: are we sure we want to try this? *Neville said with a dubious look on his face as Harry poured them both a cup of the potion they had just brewed* Harry: cheers! *Harry clanks his cup against Neville’s as they both down the concoction* Neville: wow *he coughs a bit* Harry: that’s bloody awful, it’s like a stale minge Neville started to feel the effects of the potion first, he felt a dizzy spell coming on, he struggled to breathe and felt really agitated and disoriented. At the same time Harry was starting to feel tingling all over and broke out in a cold sweat, his heart was racing, he felt as if a bout of nausea was about to overcome him. Feeling ill distracted them from noticing some of the other effects of the potion that were becoming more noticeable; their veins were engorging, becoming fatter and more prominent on their skin as main veins spread into countless branches all over their bodies. Then their hearts started to pound, harder and harder, reverberating in their heads, their veins pulsing in unison with the heart beats. Harry: fuck, fuck, FUUuUCK *Harry screamed as the growth kicked in* With each pulse through his veins, his muscles started to swell. First only a bit at a time, slowly filling his sweater, causing it to fit his body in a much more complimenting way. Then suddenly his left arm jerked into the air and starting from his deltoid down to his biceps and triceps, then finally his forearms his muscles swelled, growing twice their size in an instant, tearing the sweater sleeve apart. As the feeling rocked Harry down to his core and drool ran from his mouth in absent-minded ecstasy, the growth started to spread to his right side, his left pec, trap, neck and lat swelling bigger, and bigger with each breath until another violent jerk made them and his entire right size explode in size in a wave that raced towards his fingertips, catching up to his left arm, destroying the remaining sleeve and neck of the sweater, the leftovers falling down to the floor revealing his (currently) disproportioned body. At the same time, Neville was undergoing the same transformation, he grabbed his head with both his hands as his body pulsed and grew until his shirt and trousers were taught. Then as the growth rocked through his lower body, first through his right glute, then his quad, and finally his calf, ripping his pant leg to pieces and forcing him to lean onto his underdeveloped left leg until the growth targeted that one as well, the sudden growth on that side now causing him to lurch and collapse on to his knees, when his already muscular legs doubled in size once again, forcing him to use his hands on the floor to steady himself while his trousers left this world behind, and revealing a pair of boxers that were desperately trying to contain something very large that was growing thicker and stiffer. Harry’s growth meanwhile had started to make haste travelling downwards, his abs and obliques bulging one by one, and a deep Apollo’s belt forming on top of his hips giving him a thick and meaty core, this was followed by his glutes bulging outwards, blowing the middle seam of his jeans right open. Neville in the meantime was screaming to high heaven as the growth spread through him much more violently, rushing upwards making his entire upper body bulge in size, then again, then again, then one more time tripling in size in a wave of growth that knocked the air right out of his lungs, his upper body becoming ridiculously wide while maintaining a relatively trim waist, that spread into his massive legs when your gaze travelled further downwards. At the same time, his cock, fully erect and poking out the top of his boxer’s waistband and his oversized balls which stretched the rest of the fabric to its max, were growing with each wave of growth that rocked him as well, his cock grew purple and the veins became grotesquely engorged, and then one wave and the cock stretch longer and swelled thicker, and his balls swelled larger causing tears to come from his boxers, then again even larger, then once again, when Neville’s underwear finally gave out and he moaned in ecstasy, his cock lodging itself between his enormous pecs, eliciting an obscene moan from him as it swelled one last time becoming menacingly thick and squirting out a large glob of precum. At the sight of his ridiculously muscled and well-endowed friend arousal overcame Harry like a feral animal’s instincts, the tear in his jeans’ rear spreading towards the front of the pair of pants as his growth sped up, his cock tearing right through everything bursting forwards in all of its glory, freakishly large and as thick around as a bodybuilder’s arm, although even then not as thick as Neville’s. It smacked hard against his abdomen with a loud and wet *THWACK*, drooling precum like a river. The growth continuing down his legs, destroying what little denim had remained desperately hanging onto his frame. When it seemed as if any more stimuli would fry their young brains, the effects of the potion finally started to subside. The profuse sweating stopped, and they slowly started to regain their bearings. Neville: Christ *Neville said as he began to stand up* Harry: bugger, that was a wild ride. Neville: you can say that again.... holy shit Harry... *Neville said as the sight of his newly enhanced friend finally registered in his brain* Harry: Looks good huh? *he said as he strikes a double bicep* Although I can’t say I dislike my view. Neville: what are you talking abou.... *Neville’s words trailed off as he took in his own physique, exploring all his new glistening muscles, flexing here and there* Wow Harry: I don’t think it’s quite fair that you got to have this thing though *Harry says, lust and envy tinging his words and coming through in his eyes as he grabs Neville’s bigger cock* Neville: FUCK! Harry what the... SHIIiiiiIT *Neville tries to get out as Harry swallows his cockhead in one fell swoop, Neville instinctively pushing Harry’s head down further, forcing his monster cock down his friend’s throat with his newfound strength* yes yes yes, fuck YEAH! Harry: *cough cough cough* down boy, that thing can kill now, although I know of another hole that’s up to the challenge *Harry says as he bends down, laying his chest on the table nearby, presenting his rear to Neville* Neville without saying another word walks over and ploughs his cock into Harry’s ass down to the hilt prompting a guttural roar from Harry that quickly transitioned into a lascivious moan as Neville pulled out halfway and plough back in again this time with a tad more care into his actions. In and out, again and again and again, he rammed his massive cock into Harry. Flipping Harry halfway on to his back, Neville pulled out all the way then rapidly ploughed halfway into Harry making him grunt, he pulled out again, then rammed it in again halfway, repeating this a few more times before getting back to fucking Harry like he wanted to kill him. As he came closer and closer to his climax Neville picked up the pace and the strength with which he rammed Harry, he fucked faster and harder, and harder and harder and even harder, pushing Harry to the edge himself until they both yelled out in unison when Neville rammed him one last time, him coming into Harry and Harry shooting his load into the air where it then came down pouring like torrential rain unto them and the table. As they came down from their stupor they started to slowly shrink back. Neville: oh man, it’s not permanent? No! I wanted to stay like this. Harry: haha well then it really would be too good to be true if it were permanent. Besides, there is only so much of your animal fucking that I can take before I die. Neville: that’s not really my problem now is it *Neville said trying to be smug, his façade slipping just a bit as his cheeks blush pink* Harry: look at him, all that hot air filling your muscles went to your head? After about half an hour of slowly shrinking down, they stopped shrinking at a good 8kg (18lbs) heavier than they were prior to drinking from the draught. Harry: hmm I guess there is some carryover from the potion after all, or it just takes longer for the last bits to leave our systems. Neville: well I did enjoy being the hulking beast, but I suppose I can live with this much *he says while flexing his arm and admiring his new above-average bicep* Harry: well.... as you are aware, we did brew a whole lot of the draught of vigour, there is always more experimentation to be had, we should figure out if this amount of extra size will be left over after every use don’t you think? *Harry says in a sensible tone* Neville: as true men of the magical sciences we should be methodical shouldn’t we now? *replies Neville in the same tone* Harry: you always were a very reasonable man *says Harry as a smirk appears on his lips* -- The End --

"Too big,” they’d said. Lose about 25 lbs and you’d place a lot higher. Tighten it up and come in smaller and more toned, and you’d have a good shot at winning. Those were the judges critiques at last year’s Olympia. It was a shame that women’s bodybuilding was so...so.... lame? Wasn’t the point of bodybuilding to get BIGGER muscles? Why have a heavyweight division if they’re only going to say I’m TOO BIG? Wasn’t that why they created bikini and physique? For those cute little muscle Barbies? Not for us musclebound women intent on being the best. And oh boy, do I intend on being the BEST, the BIGGEST, the MOST MUSCULAR woman alive... Screw the IFBB and everyone at the Olympia. I don’t need them or their contests to know who I am. “Too big.” You’re damn straight. They had no idea just how right they were.. I’ll show them too big alright, just wait until they get a load of this bulky muscle monster now! When I placed at that very bottom last year, I admit...I became deeply depressed. All the hard work, all the blood sweat and tears for naught. Did the judges not know how hard I lifted? How insanely strict my diet was? Did they not appreciate my time and dedication? So much of my life was devoted to winning, only to find out that I was the absolute worst competitor in their eyes? Well screw them! I built muscle so easily. I’d always tried to my hardest to be lean and well proportioned. But screw that, not anymore! My new goal is to gain as much muscle as possible. And let me tell ya, nobody packs it on like me! I am a muscle-building MACHINE! Heck, at 18 years old I had 18 inch biceps, 20 inches at 21, and at last year’s Olympia my arms were 23 inches. I was 33 then...I’ll be turning 34 the day before the next Olympia. Trust me when I say, my arms will be AT LEAST 34 inches. But is that my ultimate goal? NAH! My goals are so much loftier now than they have ever been- impossible for any other man or woman, even with drugs. Am I insane? Am I insane to want this, to add so much muscle? Yes. Yes I am. My entire life has been a balance between my family and my passion for bodybuilding. My husband and daughter are my number one priority. And they always will be. They both could see how devastated I was. I didn’t eat right, or lift at all for 3 months. I was sleeping 15 hours a day. My husband told me to do whatever it takes to feel myself again. Whatever it takes to get my revenge. Thank God for that man. He is so supportive (although we all know he's a muscle-lover so it's a win win for him). I won’t let them down. It was 3 months ago I decided to get absolutely massive. It only took a month to get back to where I was before the loss. Another month to get to my current 350 lbs of rock hard muscle. Like I said, I gain muscle so easily. I still have 6 months before the next Olympia. Over the course of 1 month I went from 200 lbs to 220 lbs. I went from 220 lbs to 350 lbs in the span of 2 months. And still 6 more months to go? Yikes. They said I was too big. Just wait. It was 3 months out from Olympia when my husband purposed steroids. I've never done drugs in my life. Hell, I barley even drank alcohol. We both shared a passion for a healthy lifestyle. I scoffed initially, but kept the idea in the back of my mind. Would it really be so bad if started doping? Everyone else did it, and it was a point of pride for me that I never did. But this was about revenge. This was about getting even, settling the score. Showing them JUST how big TOO BIG really was... Two months out. Last week I had broke the smith machine in my house. I'd been doing seated military presses, just some volume work, light weight- high reps, when my daughter snuck up behind me and started tickling me. I inadvertently pressed up on the 500 lbs too quickly and bent the whole machine. When my husband came running in to investigate the awful noise, I just shrugged my gargantuan basketball-sized shoulders and grinned sheepishly. There really wasn't enough weight in my home gym to challenge me anymore, so no biggie! My brother was in the Navy and had managed to procure some anchor chains from a battleship. An early birthday present he'd said. I was initially nervous, I didn't want him to get in trouble! But he just pretended to zip his lips and rolled his eyes. He's a goofball but I love him. Ironically he did end up in trouble when he returned back to his ship. His superiors weren't happy when he told them he broke three ribs in a "fight." I might have hugged him a tad too tightly. Anyway...back to my workouts. My husband had found an old warehouse his company owned, and combined with the chains and some construction equipment we bought, I was really able to let loose! What were already unheard of gains were now well past inhuman, and they were only increasing more and more. My body was a temple of pure muscle mass and strength. I'd also started pills and injections. An old friend who was a doctor had moved to Brazil, and he’d designed a new muscle-building cocktail specifically tailored to my genetic profile. No negative side-effects: no hair-growth, no acne, no voice changes or facial changes of any kind. It did however greatly increase my aggression. One day, a neighbor had come snooping around to investigate why there was loud banging and rumbling coming from a supposedly-abandoned warehouse. I had barreled across the warehouse, knocking over equipment and flinging anything in my path. My neck veins popped as I ripped the door right off its hinges and tore it in half, spit flying in his face as I roared at him for interrupting. Luckily my husband was there to calm me down. Because I was about to run straight through the concrete wall and go tear the guys house off its foundation. Rampage adverted! Today is the day. The day I take revenge on those ignorant judges. The day I take my rightful place as the best bodybuilder the world has ever know. I entered the auditorium from the rear, just as all the puny contestants were being called out. The main door would attract to much attention...not that I was worried about THAT, I just wanted to scare everyone at once. The fire exit was locked, but I made quick work of it with one quick inward push from my 42 inch forearms. The door was much too narrow- my traps alone wouldn't fit through the standard 32-inch width door. The crowd was cheering so loud they must not have heard the noise as I barged straight through the wall with my obscenely muscle-packed delts. Or the noise and shaking as I rumbled down the hallway. I had been wider than I was tall for weeks. Not hard when you're only 5'3". My 8 foot wide shoulders smashed up against either side. My legs were so massively thick, pumped and musclebound that I had to swing my whole body around to move, causing my shoulders and arms to gouge into the walls and absolutely demolish them. When I got to the stage entrance, a big burly security guard spotted me and tried to stop me. Now, a 6'6" 300 lbs man's size would normally intimidate most people. Haha! I was double his weight...TWO MONTHS AGO. I was easily tipping 950 lbs at this point and growing every minute. Those roids had done wonders! Doing one arm curls with a multi-hundred pound anchor chain attached to a Ford Escort had pushed my arms well beyond 120" and they were freakishly cut and vascular. When the guard put his hand on my chest to stop me, I simply lost it. Anger turned to pure rage as I started clenching my fists- how dare he try and stop me, the ULTIMATE beefcake from her destiny. Freaky veins turned nightmarish as all the steroids began to mix with my hatred for all things Olympia. The 300lb man didn't stand a chance as I walked right through him. The impact of my bulldozer-benching pectorals effortlessly sent the guard flying 15 feet out onto the brightly lit stage. He landed on top of the contestants, knocking a few to their feet. The commotion silenced the cheering crowd. As the MC turned to see the disturbance he nearly fainted at the sight of my giga-mass. My extreme tan contrasted perfectly with my bright white Nike Shox, red bikini top and booty shorts. I looked like a UFC ring-girl who absorbed the Hulk and then overdosed on Human Growth Hormone. Contestants eyed me with both awe and fear. The judges called for more security- two men similar to the first came rushing towards me. Something primal in me snapped as I grabbed each man by the throat and quickly threw them into the crowd below me. I stomped to the edge of the stage and leered down at the judges with a sadistic grin and evil glint in my smoky eyes. My heart began to race as steroid-filled blood coursed through my veins, compounding with my intense rage for the biggest pump of my life. "Look at me now! Am I too big for you now?" I roared, cranking down into THE most muscular pose. I reached down a hoisted up two of the judges by their shirt collars. Spit flying in their faces, I roared, "Look at the monster you've created, this is all thanks to you!" I obsessively began doing bicep curls with their pathetic bodies, pumping my biceps faster and faster. Their weight was far too light and only added to my intense need to make them feel my wrath! Both judges wet their pants and lost consciousness. Angered even more, I hurled the two bodies out into the stands, the impact surely crippling the judges. Seeing them lying their motionless fueled my lust for revenge, for more dominance and violence! Glaring out at the world over my multi-foot deep pectoral cleavage, I grabbed the microphone stand next to me and pulled from either end. The stretched metal sheared in half from the brute power and strength of my bare hands. Audience members and contestants screamed and ran. "Yes! Run! Be scared! Be VERY SCARED!!! You are about to witness the rise of a goddess! The rise of a MUSCLE MONSTER! I am a massively pumped-up muscle building powerhouse, and I. WILL. HAVE. MY. REVENGE!" Swinging my behemoth body I hurled the twisted metal shards at the rear exits, shattering windows and creating more chaos in the audience as they struggled to exit. With an earthshaking rumble, I leaped down from the stage- my now 1,200+ lbs weight cracking the concrete floor like egg shells and sending tremors that registered on the Richter scale. With an animalistic grunt, I overturned the judges table like it was cardboard, sending it careening end over end. Eyeing the carnage and destruction with equal parts glee and fury, my attention fell on my ultimate prize: the stage. Who knows how heavy a full stage is? No seriously...I want to know. There had to have been at least a full ton just in the weight of the dozen or so competitors still on stage. Punching my hands through the wood paneling, I found grip on a metal I-beam running the length of the stage. Roaring like a possessed demon, I began to lift the stage. Nothing. How dare this sorry excuse of human engineering defy me! Tensing my monolithic arms, shoulders and legs, I funneled even more horrific power into my insane musclebound body and began to heave up on the structure. Ever so slowly, more and more cracking could be heard and I redoubled my efforts- pouring even MORE god-shaming , titanic, monstrous strength into my incredibly pumped and still-growing muscles. "You thought I was too big before? HA!!! You think I'm big now? Well just wait, I'm only getting started! Mama Pump is here to show you all true power and mass!" With a horrible shearing noise, a large piece of stage splintered and broke off in my hands. After all, it wasn't built to be picked up in one piece...even if someone was actually strong enough to do so. "Pathetic! So weak!" With a maniacal laugh I beat my chest like King Kong and screamed at the futility of fragile steel. My muscles bloating and expanding and pumping bigger and bigger with every huff and puff. Fleeing audience members tripped as the auditoriums foundation shook from the force of my massively overpowered arms slamming into my wrecking-ball sized pecs. They had said I was too big. There was no such thing. A monster had been born, and I was going to keep pumping and growing until every single one of them regretted ever crossing me.

Hi all, this is my first bash at putting up a story. Part 1 is a little on the short side, but serves as the introduction. I write primarily for fun, but enjoy the process (when writer's block doesn't strike, that is) - so any and all feedback is very much appreciated. Part 1: The Hunger He can't stop growing. Not that he wanted to, of course. He was addicted. It always ends up that way. The hunger is dormant at first, biding its time. Like many appetites (or should I say addictions?), it requires a trigger - a first taste. That first taste of muscle is like nothing else after; it stays with him forever. Often it’s a cartoon, featuring some character growing more muscular. Depending on the when he first imbibes, it may not even arouse him...merely intrigue - fascinate - him, for reasons he can’t yet grasp. But the hunger is awakened, and over time it starts to make itself known. Almost subconsciously, he will begin to seek out more. The hunger is insidious, and insatiable. Inevitably, it enslaves them. With each indulgence, it only grows more voracious. Stories of growth are joined by videos of bodybuilders; but the hunger soon demands more. He then joins a gym, and starts to grow, clothes tightening and giving way. Yet still the hunger is not satisfied. Each fall, deeper and deeper into the addiction, is easier to stomach than the last. It starts becoming easier to embrace the hunger. At first he resists the allure of steroids, but that resistance falters when the growth slows. As it happens, the ones who resist tend to perform the best; those who give in early often self-destruct, which just cuts short the pleasure. Inevitably, he succumbs to the promise of more, and faster, growth. Another fall. It will be followed by more - stacking numerous drugs, again and again. By this point, the hunger is all that’s left. Day and night revolve around feeding it. Such an innocent beginning. Such a glorious end. *** He is wanking furiously, pleasuring himself with dreams of enormity. His pecs - heaving as he grunts and groans - are so bloated he can’t reach his arm around to properly grasp his cock, forcing him to violently buck his hips. The chair is smothered by his mass, and creaks ominously with each thrust. His grotesquely swollen body glistens with sweat from the exertion (it’s hard work moving that much mass), filling the screen through which I watched him. He is monstrous. He is beautiful. His face - which looks comically small and awkwardly placed atop his body - is the sole remaining physical hint of what he once was. Boyishly handsome, dirty blond hair and brown eyes. Even contorted in pleasure - as much mental as physical - he remains handsome. That face is all that’s left of the days when he was a mere 120lbs at 5’7”. Today, he tipped the scales at 287lbs. I gave him a smile, to show I was happy with how far he’d come. “You’ve grown into quite the big boy!” I comment. He thrusts and groans as he hears my compliment. Something in the chair breaks. His shoulders are too broad to fully fit in the screen, and with each stroke of his hand striations ripples across the deltoid heads. His arms are swollen with power, each the size of his head, with the intersections of the deltoids and biceps etched in stone. My mouth salivates at the sight of them. Below the pec shelf, so heavy it sags, comes his rock-hard abdomen, with eight thick abdominal blocks carved in splendid relief, as if my a master sculptor. Framing his engorged manhood are splayed quads thicker than my waist (by several inches), the hugely overdeveloped heads of muscle flexing slightly with each buck of his hips. Between his moans - and dreams of being so much bigger - he manages to whisper: “More...please, more…” I cock my head teasingly, pretending not to have heard him. In truth, though, his question has deeply affected me. Tears almost come to my eyes. I can’t help but admire the hundreds of pounds of perfect, beautifully overgrown muscle desperately fighting for space on his tortured body. He has pushed it hard, punishingly so...but it did the only thing it could do: balloon, and balloon, and balloon, with muscle. He can easily go further. How much further? I don’t know. But we both want to find out. Poor boy. So desperate, and oh so so hungry. He’s gone so far. “Please!” he pleads, he begs, between frantic thrusts. His eyes crying out to me. “Make me bigger!” It’s curious. He knows he’s a freak, a monster. And yet, he doesn’t. He sees the great mountains of muscle he has grown, but doesn’t quite comprehend them. He never thought he could come so far, but he cannot imagine stopping now. It’s a vicious - or perhaps virtuous, depending on your viewpoint - cycle. Growth simply spurs the desire - the need - for more. A feedback loop of transitory pleasure. Each fix sets the stage for the next. It does not end. But that is what makes it oh so glorious. I smile again, a tear flowing this time. Such a beautiful, eager boy. He is a wonder to behold. “I think that can be arranged,” I reply. He explodes.

New story I'm really excited about. Been thinking up this one for a while Chapter 1 “Oh my God, there’re back.” I usually listen to music at the gym, but when I go with my best friend Emily we talk to take our minds off of the burning sensation we feel in our legs while we use the ellipticals. Immediately as I looked straight ahead I knew what she was talking about; the men’s rugby team. How could you miss them? There were about 12 of them entering the gym, each with a different body shape but with the same identifying feature: they were fucking big. Their powerful legs jutting out of the short shorts they wore pulsed with every step, and their heaving arms swayed by their sides as they sauntered over to the machines. The best part yet: Their lack of definition. They were blobs of men, packed with muscle but with a cover of fat all over them from the tremendous amount of food they eat each day. They were everything I wanted to be. “Wow, I’m so thankful the rugby season started up again,” I said while unable to take my eyes off the asses of some of these men. “Right?!” Emily said in response. “You should talk to them, maybe some of them play for the same team!” She hinted at my sexuality. I nervously laughed and brushed the idea away, but the thought of talking to one of these animals was enough to make my mouth water. I’d probably have a heart attack if one of them even looked at me. After a grueling 30 minutes, we were finally finished with our cardio and exited the gym. Along the way, I couldn’t help myself and took several peeks at the team, working out, walking, and even just standing there. My heart was beating even faster than it was during the cardio session. One in particular caught my eye; he had piercing blue eyes and seemed more defined than the rest. His arms, still massive, had several lines in them, moving while he was spotting a much bigger man who was bench pressing near him. “See you again tomorrow?” I asked Emily. Even though the quarter had just started, I knew I needed to get on top of going to the gym this year. Even though I’m not fat, I still have some excess belly fat I want to get rid of to get that flat, clean stomach I’ve been craving for so long. “Nah, sorry. Tomorrow’s my busy day with classes, but maybe Thursday will work!” “Ok, I’ll text you to let you know when I’m free!” Later in my dorm, the thought of the muscle mean roaming around the gym penetrated my mind time and time again. God, just how they stood, with all the muscle and mass they had accumulated hanging off of their bodies stunned me. I thought about the man with blue eyes that had caught my eye again, and how lean he was. He was truly a major goal for me in my fitness life. I went to bed, hoping that one day I would look even remotely like that, or at least have a boyfriend of that size. I’d kill for it. The next day, I woke up with the men on my mind. “It’s probably just a phase,” I reassured myself. I went through various things I couldn’t stop thinking about, for the obsession to end around 2 weeks later. This will be over soon. As I came back from brushing my teeth, the clip on our door had a new addition to it, adding to the list of promotional flyers, events, and clubs that it seemed everyone was trying for us to join. As I looked closer, it was for none other than joining the men’s rugby team. God, could they read my mind? My first thought was to just throw it away as someone of my size of 170 lbs at 5’10 could never make it among the ridiculously jacked men of the team, but decided to ask my roommate Ryan about it. “Oh, yeah, I saw that! They have an info session today at 7pm, I might go to that just to see if I’m interested.” I was surprised that Ryan, while no bigger than I am, was even interested in seeing what the team was all about. He was about the same size as me, and went to the gym somewhat often. I think he went into the weights section instead of chickening out and doing cardio like me, but I never knew he could be serious about bulking up. “Are you going?” “Um, maybe. I have to see if I’m busy.” The idea of me going went from a hard no to a possible yes as I considered all the possibilities about the meeting. I mean, going doesn’t mean an automatic sign-up, which I couldn’t possibly do because of the men on the team. I would be intimidated way too quickly, and I knew myself well enough to know I would be distracted all the time. Going to the meeting, would, however, mean that I would get to stare at these hunky men talk for an hour. Fine, I’ll go. As it neared 7pm, I told Ryan that I would go, to which he was excited about. We walked together to the meeting about 10 mins away from our dorm. “God,” I thought, “If I have to walk this far this better be good.” Not only was the meeting “good,” but it caused the biggest shift in attitude and personality I had ever gone through.

Coach's recruits Chapter one Cyril felt silly. The thin-limbed 20 year old student in literary studies felt embarrassed over his own insecurities. Why would an intelligent boy like himself -- having just left adolescence he still shunned to call himself a man -- accept the stereotypical ideas about masculinity the marketing world and the film industry tried to sell him? Aren't we all individuals? Why would he allow someone else to dictate to him, what male existence was supposed to be? Wasn't he a free person -- free to make his own decisions, free to find his own truth, free to explore his own mind? He was more introspective, than the jocks that had surrounded him during high school. Although he had escaped bullying, his interaction with the high school jocks had been superficial and ambivalent. They were not all bullies, and a few of them had been decent acquaintances in some cheerful, plucky way, but it had been impossible to discuss anything that mattered with them. And yet. The way they took care of their bodies. Their confidence. That something, lurking inside them: Warm, friendly, and yet threatening to burst into something else than friendly. Was he coded by society to fall into traditional patterns? On the other side, society didn't approve of meatheads. Actually, the entire society was ambivalent: Extolling perfect bodies in films and on TV, but disapproving of beefy men at workplaces and in academia. There was a lot of talk about "toxic masculinity" nowadays. Sometimes it could sound like all masculinity was toxic, which was a bit unfair. He watched the box he had been foolish enough to order. A few adhesive patches and a sort of pod with earbuds. He had fallen for the marketing tricks: "Want to be more of a man? Improve gains at the gym? Explore your innate masculinity?" Ridiculous. He could have flushed the money in the toilet, and got the same results. There are no magic methods. Well. Worth a try. Probably nothing would happen. Bedtime. He read the instructions, pressed the patch to a spot below his armpit, put the earbuds in his ears and reclined in the bed. He pressed the button. "You have ordered this product, because you want to improve something in your life. To improve yourself." The voice was deep, reassuring and commanding in a nice way, but Cyril's sense of irony was still alerted. It sounded slightly too much like the exaggerated deep voices in film trailers and after shave commercials, to allow him to take it seriously. "You are able to improve your life and improve yourself. The ability is already inside you." "The usual self-help rhetoric.", he thought sleepily. "By using the patches according to schedule, and by listening to this audio file before sleep every night, you will gradually improve your life and yourself. I will guide you to a deeper state of mind, and you will carefully listen to my instructions." There were some sort of humming sounds in the background -- several of them, layered -- and his body began to feel relaxed and nicely warm. "By reaching a deeper state of mind, you open yourself up for positive change. The deeper state, the more change. I will now count from ten to one, and by each step, you will go deeper and deeper into yourself. ONE." It felt like he was a recruit given a command. It felt good to be the recruit. Recruited to improve himself. Given the command: ONE. His mind obeyed. Deeper. It felt good to go deeper. "TWO." His consciousness dwindled away into his mind. The deep voice continued to count: Three, four, five. Six, seven, eight. It actually felt quite nice. "TEN". Sunlight shimmered behind the curtains when he awoke. To his surprise, the audio file was still running. "TWO. And when I say 'one' you will be fully awake and relaxed, and the things you experienced tonight will begin to manifest in your everyday life ..." "ONE. Good luck, and you will listen to this audio file again next night, or even more often." Weird. He hadn't expected the audio file to last for hours, and he didn't remember anything since he fell asleep last night. He had probably fallen asleep during the countdown. Disappointing to not remember the actual content of the mind-training. He felt hungry. He felt hungry for porridge. Porridge without sugar. He cooked some porridge. He finished his meal. He hadn't used his gym card for two weeks, but he suddenly felt in a good mood for exercise. Yeah, exercise would be a good idea. He looked for his training trunk, and to his surprise he found it already prepared for a workout. Strange. He couldn't remember preparing his bag for the gym. Anyhow, it made things easier. He was on his way. * * * It had been a week. Everything had effortlessly become like a clockwork: Workouts. Meals. Laundrying his workout clothes. Putting the new patch in place. Listening to the audio file. Falling asleep at a decent time. Sleeping well. He felt well. He felt energised. He had tried to listen to the middle part of the audio file, but found, that he always had to listen from beginning to end, and he didn't remember much (or anything) after the counting. He only knew, that the counting felt good. Thrilling. Exciting. Because what would follow, would help him realise and manifest what he wanted. And he wanted gains. He wanted muscle. He craved it. Desired it. A sort of deep seated urge, which had been there all the time, had stirred. Awakened. Asserted itself. * * * Three weeks had passed. He got an e-mail in his inbox. An e-mail from the company: If he enjoyed the first month, he was given the offer to subscribe to a two-month follow up, which aspired to assist him in his goal to grow bigger. The urge stirred in the depth of his belly and in the depth of his mind. Follow up. Bigger. If he enjoyed the first month? This dedication! The dedication he had experienced when he returned to the gym was amazing. If the follow up was half as good as the first month, he would gladly subscribe. And so easy! Just to click the link:

Calling Adrianna Stone a phenomenon simply did not do her body justice. She has completely and effortlessly dwarfed even the most muscular and freaky male heavyweight bodybuilders for the last 25 years. She was hulked to the max, sitting at around 400lbs in the offseason. There were multiple men, mainly strongmen competitors, who weighed the same or more than she did. But they were all also usually at least 6" taller, and her 6 foot tall body was much, MUCH more musclebound and better proportioned. She was gaining more mass every year, losing maybe only 20 pounds during her competition prep, always retaining her muscular gains.Every muscle in her body was overstuffed and straining for more growth- and so was her clit. At 8 inches long, it was bigger than some men's penises. Adrianna was a cougar personified. At 50 years old, she spent many nights after her competitions having the young studs and muscle-barbies she'd demolished try to please her insane libido. She was a massive, ultra-muscular behemoth of strength and size, and the entire world looked upon her in awe and lust. The entire human race worshiped the ground she walked on, with a tinge of fear. Tonight though, she was earnestly worshipping the monstrous muscles of the sole exception to that rule. Julia Ingrisano has turned 18 last month. She was beautiful without comparison; sparkling mischief-filled green eyes, silky smooth firey red hair, a dazzling white smile, high, rosy cheeks and kissable, red bee-stung lips. All perfectly placed on her angelic face. Her complexion was near perfect, her Irish and Italian heritages giving her a skin a healthy, soft golden glow, along with freckles dotted around her cute button nose. She fit the expression "face painted by God," to a tee. Julia was also a monster. Despite being just over 5 feet tall, this gorgeous beauty queen carried more than three times Adrianna's already unbelievable mass. Today was leg day, and Julia was doing back squats. She had borrowed a bulldozer from a construction site, and had it balanced across shoulders that were almost twice as wide as she was tall. Adrianna couldn't fit her arms around even one of Julia's gargantuan calf muscles, let alone her thighs. Thighs that swelled larger by inches with every strained rep that Julia pumped out. Erotic, lust filled moans filled the air around the construction site. Every sound from the mega-muscled teen distracting the workers from their jobs as they all stopped to watch this behemoth bulk her muscles up to an even larger more massive size. Adrianna's hands were desperately fondling Julia's monolithic wall of abs. They withered crazily with every breath. Even this freak's individually sliced obliques made Adrianna's gigantic pecs look malnourished. "Get bigger ," breathlessly whispered Adrianna. Julia was shaking from effort. At the apex of her final squat, she let out a high pitched shriek as she powered the machine up over head and began shoulder pressing the bulldozer again and again. Before Adrianna's adoring eyes, this super-human teen muscle-goddess began to add even more breadth to her delts, and lats. Her medicine ball sized pecs eclipsed her face completely, swelling to the size of bean bag chairs. Her traps and shoulders had long since risen above her head, squeezing around it with every press. "Fuuuck." Adrianna had tears and mascara running down her face as she watched this impossible muscle-goddess swell even larger. "I want you even bigger," Adrianna breathed. "You'll never be too massive for me. Grow for me..."Julia let out a earthshaking grunt as her pussy squirted her love juices with a terrifying force that forced Adrianna to her knees. She could have filled a bathtub with her juices. The scent of her musk sending the construction workers into a frenzy, more than a few fell into a lust-fueled coma. Adrianna had an orgasm as well. With her record-setting muscle, and giant fake tits, she was a well known porn-star- but barley worth mentioning next to Julia's titanic size, tremendous beauty and cosmic sexual energy.Julia kept military-pressing the giant bulldozer through her seemingly endless string of continuous orgasms. Her model shaming face twisted in a mix of pain and pleasure, her eyes rolling back in her head as her juices flowed down massive jutting quads and hamstrings.After several minutes, her pussy-lips stopped throbbing, just a little. She shifted the bulldozer into just her right hand, and continued pressing it. Mind-blowing shoulders creaked even broader and higher, her head now smooshed up against them even at the bottom of the reps. Julia was grimacing- or grinning? "Can't stop growing," she whispered softly. Her flood gates opened again, a pool of cum now forming around Adrianna who had fallen unconscious at the sight of such overwhelming size. "What a pity," thought Julia. "I'm just starting to feel the pump." The absurdly muscular beast that was Julia Ingrisano was only just getting started. *This is an adapted shorty story from @powerfulbodies (now deactivated) tumbler account. All credit for the plot is his!

This story is a conversion of an old RP I did with a friend, @jsmith230. It was one of my favorite RPs so I thought I would convert it and share. While my first preference is muscle growth with a secondary love of height growth, you could say his preferences are the inverse of mine. So that will give you a hint of what this story will entail. Part 2Part 3Part 4Part 5Part 6Part 7Part 8Part 9Part 10Part 11Part 12Part 13 *************************************************************************** Elongro “Dude, have you heard of that new 'Elongro' drug? I have to get my hands on it. I want to get huge this year!” Seth rolls his eyes as he listens to Trevor ramble on about the new miracle drug that has been making a splash among the young adult community worldwide. Trevor and Seth are college roommates and best buddies currently in their second year of college. The two were paired up as dormmates during Freshman year and their friendship blossomed from there. Both 19 years old, the two share a small apartment just off campus. To the outsider, Trevor is the alpha of the friendship, much more confident, outgoing and outspoken than his counterpart. He has always been very athletic and since coming to college has fully invested his free time into fitness and working out. He's obsessed with trying to put on mass and is always trying the latest supplements, pills and powders, along with constantly reading articles on new exercises programs to try. He has built himself up to a nice, ripped, 185 lbs on a 5’10.5 frame. His body fat hovers around 10-12% and he sports a nice 6-pack. But, like any true wannabe bodybuilder, it wasn't, deep down he wanted more. Much more. Seth is Trevor's roommate and while he also has a natural athleticism to him, he hasn't pursued it nearly to the degree that Trevor has, though few people could really say that. Some of the reason behind this is that Seth always felt just a bit too small to ever have great success in sports. He was one of those people who were content to be good enough to make the high school baseball team though he only saw limited playing time. Since college began, Seth exercised a couple times a week, mainly by just jogging, leaving him with a naturally slim and toned 145 lbs on his 5’8 body. The pair were pursuing business degrees although Trevor wasn't quite sold on the idea after his first year. While Seth fully intends to pursue a sales and marketing career, Trevor has considered switching to a more body-centric physical therapy program that would work well in parallel with his pursuit of fitness excellence. What currently has Trevor excited is the discovery of a new drug that offered an exciting possibility. Within the past year, a new compound was developed and released in Korea that is commonly known as “Elongro”. It's use had begun to spread across the developed world. However, due the USA’s overly strict drug testing protocol, the drug is still not legally available in the USA though it is available in most of Asia, Europe and Canada. The drug has caused excitement for people who are small in stature, either height or build. What the drug does is that it basically freezes a young adult growth rate, including hormonal levels, where that rate might be starting to wane. Along with enhancing the sex characteristics, it also keeps their growth plates open for an extended amount of time, allowing an individual to continue to grow for much longer than they normally would. Seth shakes his head as he listens to his roommate explain the drug. “What that means, Seth, is that if you naturally had, say, one more month of growth before your plates fused, you might keep growing at the same rate for another 2-3 months instead with Elongro. But, just think, if you were in the middle of a big growth spurt and originally had many months, or year left, you could potential retain that growth rate for a few more years! Isn't that awesome!” “Uh huh. Sure man. Sounds cool man,” Seth replied cooly. “Sounds a bit too good to be true, really.” “Well, it's not perfect, you're right.” Trevor pulls up his phone to read the details of the drug from the website he'd been researching. “The major drawback of the drug is that it has been shown to cause devastating side effects if a person is still showing any signs of puberty. Most humans complete puberty by the time they are 16 or 17 but keep growing in size for another 1 to 4 years. Because of this risk, most countries that allow the sale of the drug ban it from being used on any person under the age of 19. Also, the drug will not work if a person’s growth plates have already fused, which for many people has already occurred by the time they are 19. Thus, the window for success for the drug is very limited, if open at all. The reports say that only about one-quarter of the people who try to drug experience any results.” Trevor looks away from his phone at his disinterested roommate, but his own excitement cannot be interrupted and he keeps scrolling through the information showing on his phone. “For those that it does work, though, the results have been significant! Bro, this website says there are online rumors from the drug’s testing phase of people putting on 40-50 lbs of muscle and growing up to 6 to 8 inches taller well into their 20s! Shit dude, that would ROCK! I read that for those who are lucky enough to still be growing, the average success rate has been 15 lbs and 2-3 inches over an additional 6 months to 1 year of growing. I would give anything to put on some more size like that! My training has really stalled lately.” “That is pretty sweet, Trev. But you said it yourself, it may not even work. If you've finished your natural growth you're S.O.L.” Trevor huffs as Seth downplays Elongro. Tervor can't help but imagine the possibilities. Though he never mentioned it, while focused on growing his muscles, he secretly always wanted to be taller as well. He hadn't told Seth, but he had already started the process of obtaining the Elongro. He had already set up a quick weekend trip to Canada where a close friend was to obtain a prescription and then supply him with a vial of Elongro. He's aware of the illegality but the chance to put on some size even if it's just a few pounds or an inch in height, is too much to pass up. Because of the drug’s scarcity and the fact he has to obtain it illegally, it will cost Trevor over $1200, a huge amount for a poor college kid. “Seth, from my doctor’s appointment this summer I found out that I had grown another ½” to my current 5’10-1/2 height. So I'm positive I'm on my final growth spurt! I just KNOW it will work. But I got to get started soon before my growth stops.” “Ok, man, whatever. Man, you really are obsessed with size. You've got that dysmorphia thing, haha. I men, you are already jacked, you should be happy.” “Never big enough, bro!” the handsome stud chuckled in reply. “So how does it work? Is it a pill or something?” “Naw, it's an injection. It works from just one single injection. Each vial contain enough liquid for 5 injections, even though only one is needed. This is where you come in, bro!” “Me? What for?” “Well, the thing is, this shit is really expensive. And, like I said you only need one injection, but each vial has enough for five injections. So, I wanted to ask, If I get the Elongro, could I sell you an injection too? It would help me out and I would appreciate it. My girlfriend already said she'd take one of the injections too. Help a brother out, it's fuckin' expensive stuff. I'm not even asking for the full price of a dose, just $200 to help me cover.” “C'mon Trev, don't ask me that. I don't... Man, I don’t think I’ve grown in a couple of years, it would most likely be a waste on me.” “But, Bro, even if you had the slimmest chance to be just a little taller and stronger, wouldn’t you want to take it?” Trevor tries his best to pitch the idea. Seth rebuffs his approaches but he knows what will get Seth on board. “Hey, you know that girl that works at the rec center you’ve been crushing of the past year? Remember how you told me you overheard her talking with her friends that she said she would never date a guy under 5’10 and 175 lbs? She says that because she's pretty tall for a girl, like 5'9 or so. Just think, buddy! If you put some size maybe she’ll give you a second look!” Trevor sees the gears turning in Seth's head. He still seems unconvinced but he can tell he's touched a nerve. “C’mon man, you always told me how you felt like you were too small in high school to be one of the jocks on campus even though you were on the baseball team. This could be your chance to put on some size and least be average height. Wouldn’t you want that, little buddy?” Trevor tosses in ‘little buddy’ because he knows Seth hates when bigger dudes call him that. And that seals the deal. “Ugh. Fine, bro. Whatever," he says with annoyed defeat. "And hey, I’m way past puberty so there’s no risk, right? Other than I’ll be out $200." “That’s the spirit, pal! I promise this will be worth the investment!” * Seth walks to his room to collect the cash. He can't help but shake his head at Trevor's crazy antics. "This stuff is never going to work on me," he says to himself. But, knowing how into this Trevor is he knows that the right thing to do is to support his roomie and at least give it a try. Plus, that way when it doesn't work, he can hold that over his head! Or at least Trev will give it up and move onto something different, just like he always does. The following weekend Trevor makes five hour drive up North to Canada. Upon his return he excitedly enters their apartment and makes himself known. That night, the two friends administer the shot. They both have it their our heads that the effect would be immediate, even though all of the documentation says they won't know right away whether or not it works. But the placebo effect is very real those first few days and it drives the two crazy not knowing for sure if they will see an impact, but the excitement builds. That night Seth dream of growing taller, standing over guys who always made fun of his short height and pushing his skinny body around... being seen as tall... growing again... finally becoming the man he'd always wanted to be. Not being relegated to playing right field in baseball having never hit a home run. All those guys looking down at Seth! He jolts awake and realizes his dick is tenting the sheets. Even though he was skeptical at first, he can't help but think how deep down he must want this injection to work. How badly he needs to become bigger and stronger. He chuckles, knowing how slim the odds are and fades back to sleep. After the first few days of no noticeable changes the two both act as if nothing has happened. Although they both seem to be constantly checking themselves against the heights of familiar landmarks and people, including each other. Inside Trevor is still stoked, convinced that he will reap significant gains. Knowing that Seth hasn't grown upwards in years, he knows it likely won't work for his friend, but he was happy he at least he got $200 out of Seth. Truthfully, Trevor loved having Seth as his roommate. Not only from a personality standpoint, but he loved being the bigger and more dominant man compared to Seth. It was nothing against Seth, it just fed well into Trevor's desire to get bigger and build up his physique. Whenever they went out, Seth always demurred to Trevor when choosing which movies to watch, with parties to go to, what girls to hang with. Trevor was the alpha apparent. Two weeks after the injections the two are eating dinner and Trevor notices Seth is wolfing down a ton of food. "Hungry, there Seth?" "Dude," he says between mouthfuls of grilled chicken, "I can't remember the last time I was this hungry. I just can't get to feeling full lately... it's so weird..." Trevor chuckles as he watches Seth go back to finishing his chicken before starting on some brats. Trevor shakes his head, teasing Seth that “the freshman 15 is real, just delayed for you" before getting up to do the dishes. A bit later the two are hanging out watching TV and chatting about classes and wanting to catch the new Spiderman movie. Seth rubs his full round belly and ponders, pausing, before finally asking his roomie a surprising question. "Have you been making any gains in the gym? I was thinking rather than just running maybe I would try lifting some." Trevor is taken off guard. He knew Seth never went to the rec center other than to run, and certainly never made his way into the weight room. "I was thinking... maybe... I could like... join you sometime?" While Seth has managed to stay relatively thin, having a fitness obsessed roommate might be starting to rub off on him a bit. "Its just, with how I've been eating... maybe I should," he jokes. "I'll get fat if I keep eating like this. Plus, it wouldn't hurt to have a bit more muscle for the ladies... maybe get some attention for once. It seems to have worked out well for you!" "Hell yeah buddy! I would love to be your training partner. Hell, I was thinking I might want to make a career out of it in the future, either personal training or physical therapy. I'd love to show you the ropes, you could be my first client! But, don't worry, little buddy, I won't charge you." Seth's face tightens at the words 'little buddy' and Trevor instantly feels bad. "Er...sorry, Seth. But yeah, even though you haven't been lifting I can tell you are a little bit thicker lately, just from all the food you've been eating. I'm still making gains, but it's slow going." The next day Trevor takes Seth to the gym for his first weightlifting workout. Seth marvels at the poundages that Trevor buddy can lift. Trevor boasts that he can bench 225 lbs ten times and Seth seems to be in shock when he performs the feat. On his turn, Seth can barely do 135 lbs five times. He is disappointed but his new trainer props him up. "Hey, dude, honestly that's a great weight, especially for your first workout. When I started I couldn't even bench 95 lbs once!" Seth perks up at that. As the two leave the weight room Seth notices the hot girl at the towel desk, Stacy. He is understandably smitten as he steals glances. “Fuck, Trevor. That Stacy is one super hot chick.” "Oh I hear ya man. I certainly don't mind the eye candy when I come here to lift everyday. Would love to get into that...if I weren't currently dating Brooke, that is, haha." Grinning stupidly, Seth replies. "Yeah, she's so hot Trev.... but I doubt she'd pay much attention to a guy like me." Seth can't help but notice her height, not too far off from Trevor's. Noticeably taller than he is, certainly. That seems to be the case with a lot of girls on campus. So many of the college girls and guys seem so tall lately. Trevor laughs and reminds his friend that time in the gym won't hurt and that if he stays consistent and pushes himself that she won't care how tall he is. "Muscles always seal the deal!" Trevor chuckles and throws up a double bicep pose, flexing his impressive exposed arms, grinning cockily, causing Seth to roll his eyes. "Trev, doubt you'll be saying that when you are a six footer with me looking WAY up at you!” Seth jokes. "Then you will be tall AND muscular. I'm going to look like a little kid next to you.... so yeah, I better start lifting more I guess!" * A few weeks go by and Seth has been sticking with the gym, much to the surprise of his roommate. While it wasn't like Trevor had no faith in his buddy, he just knew the dropout rates for new lifters was very high. Trevor continues to coach and direct Seth, both in the weight room and giving him advice on his diet . His training advice is sound, and both can already see an improvement in Seth's physique, though it's not been easy for the new gymrat. "Ugh, Trevor, is it normal to ache all the time? I can never seem to really recover..." “Haha, buddy that's part of the deal. Though the more you lift the less sore you should be. It could be that you're not taking enough time to recover. Could be that your muscles are actually growing or any number of reasons. Just growing pains. But, it means that you are actually working and growing, so be excited, man!” Before long, Seth begins to notice that his shoes are uncomfortably tight. He'd worn size 9s since he finished growing taller a few years prior. At first he figures it's the workout. One day after class he hits the mall to get a new pair. While Trevor hangs out at their apartment he gets a text from Seth: [Trev, you won't believe it. I had to get new shoes! Size 10.5!! Crazy!!] Tervor's mind races, trying to process Seth's text. He'd been denying Seth's progress, playing it off as beginner gains. But could his smaller buddy actually be growing? A hint of fear and jealousy permeates his mind. He thinks to himself how his size 11 shoes haven't been feeling any tighter. He calms down and rationalizes that maybe the little guy is going to have one small growth spurt. There is still no way Seth will ever catch him. He convinces himself that must be growing too, even if his shoes still fit. I mean, your feet don't HAVE to get bigger to increase your height, right? Trevor remembers how he is up 7 lbs to 192 lbs, the biggest he's ever been and he doesn't seem any more muscular or more fat, so he assumes that extra weight is coming from added height. The thought calms his nerves and he smiles to himself, excited for the growth that lies ahead. * It is now six weeks after the shot and the two are once again in the gym working out. Seth has been make even more noteworthy progress and has settled into a dedicated routine. This time Trevor brings a notebook. In the locker room after the lifting session Trevor confronts his protege. "Dude, I am a terrible trainer! I forgot to take your initial stats to see how you are coming along. So let's start now, better late than never. We'll use this notebook to make sure you keep progressing. It's good motivation too to see your lifts go up week after week. Ok, how tall again?” "5 ft 8" Seth says, slightly annoyed. "Well, just a bit under actually." “Really? Are you sure?” Trevor looks at Seth, unconvinced. At first he is apprehensive to find out for sure, but he can't deny that Seth looks at least a little taller. Wanting to be a trainer though, he knows he needs to be accurate and thorough with his log books. "Nah, dude, let's find out for sure." Trevor directs Seth to stand against the wall while he takes a tape measure out of his bag. He measures his buddy. "Just a hair under 5 ft 9, dude!" Seth eyes widen and he looks at Trevor excitedly. He shouts, "Maybe that stuff is working for me! I've never been over 5'8 before!” “Dude, that's awesome! You're not quite AS tiny as before, haha. Ok c'mon let's take your weight.” Next, Seth hops on the scale. It reads 160 lbs. “Great job, Seth. That's a 15 lb gain in just 6 weeks. Those are pretty good beginner gains, dude!” Seth can't be more excited as Trevor notes his huge grin. He is thrilled! “Ok man, let's get your other measurements for the log.” Trevor tapes all of Seth's a major muscles groups and writes them in the notebook. Arms: 14.5” Chest: 38.5” Waist: 31” Quads: 21.5” Calves: 14” Trevor can't help but mentally compare his own stats to feed his ego. While Seth may have crept up in height he took solace that he still had him beat everywhere. He knew his 17” guns, 42” pecs, 24.5” legs and 15.5” calves were all well bigger while his tight 30” waist was even more ripped than his little buddy's. Not to mention, from what he had seen of his roommate in the showers, he had more 'down there' as well, the thought of which gave him a reassuring grin. “Not bad, dude! You've got some really big arms compared to the rest of you, definitely a strength. A good one to have too. Chicks dig big guns.” "I still can't believe it, Dude. I grew! I grew!" he keeps saying, trying not to draw a ton of attention to himself. "This is awesome. If it's working for me, it MUST be working for you too! Do you want me to measure your height too?" Tervor shifts a bit, clearly looking uncomfortable and conflicted. "It'll only take a minute... come on... this is exciting!!" Trevor shrugs and submits. Seth grabs and extends the tape measure, coming in closer to take his height. As he does, Trevor can't help but notice how much Seth seems to have closed that gap. The difference between 5ft8 and 5ft10.5 is noticeable, but an inch and a half really isn't. From a distance the two could look the same height! The thought causes the competitive trainer to shudder at the thought. He's always been bigger and taller than his roommate. "And it'll stay that way," he thinks to himself as he stands as straight as you can. The wait for Seth to declare the number feels like hours. Finally, he speaks. "Five Ten, Trev. Still." Seth pauses and watches for Trevor's reaction. He seems deflated momentarily before regaining composure. Seth attempts to reassure him. "Maybe it works different on people depending on their growth stage... I'm sure your growth will come soon!!" Seth says, slapping his back, "Hell, you've made great gains in the gym so something is happening!" Trevor seems to take this to heart, but Seth can tell he isn't completely convinced. Even so, while Seth is jubilant about his growth, he keeps it to myself to not offend his roommate. "Hey Trev, how about you have Brooke come over? I can cook us dinner tonight. I'm starved!!" he says as they grab their bags and head for the door. On the way back to their condo Trevor is obviously dejected but does his best to hide it. He can't believe that Seth is only about an inch shorter than him. And what happened to 5'10 and a HALF? Seth must've missed that last ½ inch, he tells himself. Still, it hurts not feeling as big. With the overall presence of his ripped muscles on his frame Trevor always felt like he towered over his smaller roommate. Not so much anymore. That night Brooke comes over as Seth is whipping up a feast in the kitchen. Having listened to Trevor go on an on about how important a big diet is for big muscles, Seth knew a big nutritious meal would cheer his friend up, let alone sate his own growing hunger. By now the two are well into the second semester of the school year. Everyone is deep into their studies neither had seen Brooke in about three weeks. When she comes in Trevor is stunned at how gorgeous she looks, even more beautiful than he remembered. He felt a stirring in his crotch as his girlfriend made her entrance. The FaceTime chats that they had been relegated to just didn't do her justice. She comes in wearing heels and is almost as tall as Seth! Trevor remembered her being about three inches shorter than Seth when he first introduced her. He now realizes she must be about 5'7 now! Seth too was stunned, noting how tall and sleek she looked. He recalled how Trevor told him he gave her the shot too and it seemed it was working on her too, maybe even more so than Seth! "Hey boys!", she said as she entered. “Hey babe! Damn, I've missed you. You are smokin'!” She goes over to her boyfriend gave him a kiss. Seth notices that Trevor didn't have to bend over like he used to, or at all to kiss her on the lips. She looks over at her boyfriend's roomie. "Hey Seth! You are looking good! I can tell you've been hitting the gym. Trevor said you'd been lifting with him lately. I can see that you've put on some muscle. You're going to have to move up size large, that medium shirt is looking a little tight! Trev, Babe, you must be a fantastic trainer!" The trio have a great evening catching up with each other and enjoying the grilled Caribbean chicken dish that Seth prepared. That night, after the friends retire to their rooms, Trevor goes to town fucking Brooke. All night long he had been staring at his girl full of lust. She just looked so fit and healthy. She was always fit, but she seemed to be on a another level tonight. Maybe it was the longer legs. He also couldn't deny that he was in much need of some release due to the frustration that he seemingly wasn't growing nearly fast enough. * Over the next few weeks, Seth is like a demon in the gym, pushing himself harder and harder and harder. Trevor watches and celebrates his gains, proud that his training techniques are working so effectively. And yet jealously, he see's his buddy making gains so quickly. While Seth started out benching 135, he's now pushing 185 for the same number of reps easily. It's an astounding change. And his shirts keep getting tighter and tighter, to the point now that he's started borrowing old shirts from Trevor! Trevor shakes his head, barely believing that his supposed small roommate needed them now. The duo keep pushing themselves in the gym, even during finals. They can hardly believe that the semester is almost over. It's even harder to believe that two are both getting summer jobs, though Trevor's will be out of state. "Sucks I won't be able to train with you for a couple of months, Trev... it's really been awesome. I've never been so buff in my life." Trevor has recently noticed that Seth's voice has gotten deeper over the last few weeks. Luckily, though, Seth hasn't seemed to have caught him in height. It's something they both have been watching for out of the corners of their eyes. During their last lift together for the school year Seth points to his notebook in Trevor's bag. "Maybe we should take stats again so that I can keep track of the progress myself?" “Erm...yeah man. Of course. Let's see how much mass you've put on, bro!” he says, purposely not mentioning height. The two head to the locker room and strip to their skivvies. Trevor notes how's Seth's body has developed so much that he's not too far behind himself, a thought that worries him. Seth steps on the scale first. The two watch it, with widening eyes, as it swings to 175 pounds. Seth's face brightens excitedly. "Dude... that's another 15 pounds in five weeks. NO WONDER none of my clothes fit!!! Oh wow I could tell I was getting some muscles when I look in the mirror, but this is awesome! Ok, let's take my other measurements. Bro, you are an awesome trainer!" The two high five and Trevor grabs the tape and steps up to Trevor. “Ok. Arms...16 and a quarter”. Woah dude. You are still rocking those huge guns, damn! And they are so defined, crazy, man.” Seth flexes his arm and Trevor watches, stunned, as the ball of muscle leaps into relief. It isn't huge, but a big, solid, undeniable lump of muscle bulges. It is the first time he has seen his roommate flex in any way. “Holy shit, Seth. Your peaks is sweet. Geezus. Ok, let's get the rest. Chest is...41”. Big gain of over two inches, wow. Waist is still 31”, so you're not getting fatter. It seems to be all muscle, dude! Legs...now 23”. Calves...another inch at 15. Those are some studly gains, dude! You're beginner gains won't quit!” “Thanks Trevor, I owe a ton of it to you bro!” “Any time, roomie! Ok move out the way so I can check my weight.” “Hey Trev, can you take my height?” “Erm...um yeah I suppose. You think you are still growing?” “I think so. I hope so.” It's the moment Trevor been dreading. Seth steps against the wall, standing as straight as he can. The anticipation is killing him. He WANTS to be bigger. HE WANT to be taller, even if it seems like he hasn't quite matched Trevor yet. Trevor measures him once... then again... and again. "Dude, what's up?" Seth asks. Trevor grins at him. Internally, Seth worries that he's hasn't grown anymore. Then shares the news. "You are five-ten now!" Now Seth understands the grin on Trevor's face. If he's 5ft10, that means... "Dude! Trevor, you must have grown TOO!!" The two high five, both ecstatic at each others' growth. "I told you, Trevor! It was only a matter of time!!" Trevor looks thrilled, FINALLY this drug was WORKING. Seth steps aside and readies his measurements without a word. It's clear he wants to know. He NEEDS to know. Seth first takes his weight, "200 pounds! Swole man, damn!!" And then he measures his height. "Almost 6ft, dude! You are nearly there!!!" * Trevor is so excited he could almost cry. He bear hugs Seth and lifts him off the ground, taking note of how newly solid and heavy Seth now feels. "Hell yeah buddy! We've both put on about an inch!” He sets his friend down. “But wait, you said 'almost 6 ft'. What was it really?” "Oh,...um...it was right at 5ft11.5. Maybe just a hair under.” Trevor's smile slightly wanes but he certainly can't be disappointed after the last measurement turned up no discernible growth. "But still, Seth, that's just about an inch of growth. I am totally going to hit 6 ft, I just know it!" “Hell yeah man, and maybe I can at least get to 'almost 6 ft' like you said, haha. Starting out at 5'8” I'd be more than happy being 'almost 6 ft'!” “I guess you were right, Seth. It does affect everyone a bit different. I mean, Brooke actually grew the fastest out of all us so far, she's put on like two and half inches.” “Sorta makes sense, I remember back in Junior High that the girls often grew faster at first compared to the boys. But yeah, man, it's working for Brooke though. She looks extra hot lately. Hope you don't mind me sayin'.” “Haha. No prob, dude. You can look, just don't touch!” The two laugh and high five again. Even though Trevor discovered that he is just slightly shorter than what Seth had originally let on, he is still joyous. His confidence that he always remain the bigger roommate returns. That night after the measurements Trevor meets up with Brooke for their last night together before they break from summer. Like him, she will also be away for the summer so they plan a last special night together. After eating at their favorite restaurant the two head home for some intimate time. Back at Trevor's condo, his excitement in the bedroom is palpable and spills over into his performance. “Woah there, tiger. What's gotten into you? I like it, stud.” Brooke asks, pleased at the sensations he is giving her. Brooke is also looking taller and more voluptuous than ever, further revving up the horny college stud. He proceeds to give her a heavy dicking from all the excitement at finally growing and making some noticeable muscle gains. He relays the news to Brooke and in the middle of their fucking she wants to be measured too. Trevor excitedly obeys and measure her now at 5 ft 8.5! He thinks to himself how his girlfriend is becoming quite the vixen before the two return to the bed for another round. The two, both enhanced and excited by the results of the Elongro, are able to go longer than they ever had before. The couple drift asleep in each other arms, Trevor dreaming of growing stronger, more muscular and taller than he could've ever imagined. To Be Continued... Jump to Part 2: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/16655-elongro/?do=findComment&comment=207069

First time posting content on this forum... Thad this story floating around on other sites for a few years now. It’s still relatively short because I don’t often have the motivation to WRITE erotica, if you know what I mean CH. 1 "Graaarrr, I need to grow BIGGGEERR!" CLASH. Two 500 lbs dumbbells flew across the fully stocked basement gym, cracking the concrete walls. "Get in here NOW babe," bellows Meghan as she slowly raises her massive 750 lbs muscled bulk off a now busted bench. Her husband Nate rushes down the reinforced concrete and steel staircase, carrying a tray of hypodermic needles. Steroids. Lots and lots of steroids. No sooner did he reach his wife, when she flexed a massive most muscular pose, roaring like a lioness as her enormous upper body exploded, her mass swelling to three times it's 'relaxed' state. Meghan's outburst had its desired effect, as her husband's erection grew. "Hurry up and inject me Natey poo, your giga-huge muscle monster of a wife needs her juice if she wants to GROW even more MASSSIVVEEE!" Nate grins, and begins the injections, one in each muscle group. As the highest quality anabolic drugs flood his wife's blood stream, Nate asks, "Do you think you've gained any inches on your arms since earlier?" Turning to the full length mirror behind her, the former Sports Illustrated bikini model appraised her muscle bound physique. Smirking, she slowly lifts her muscle bound arms to vertical, her exercise ball shoulders crushing her ears. Even unflexed, her thick, meaty, golden tanned triceps dipped 2 whole feet below her elbow. Without bending her arms, Meghan clenches her dainty, feminine fists, causing her ripped, bulging masses of pure female muscle to rise into arms 85" around. Meghan purrs in sexual delight, warning Nate of the impending erotic explosion of flesh. Like a crane, she gradually cranks her arms up, every inch her fists move upwards causing a half doze inches of solid beefy bicep to rise. Her rugby sized forearms finally collide with her biceps at a 60 degree angle. Over 3 feet of brawny bicep, combined with her massive triceps make her majestic arms 6 feet tall, far above his 5'8" wife’s head. "Measure them now sweetie!" Nate rushes to get a step ladder and measuring tape, his erection ready to burst. Standing on the ladder, Nate can't help but feel tiny next to the beastly mass of Meg. Standing 6'1, at 275lbs, Nate is no small man. A bodybuilder himself, the former college lacrosse player, and current U.S Marine Colonel was used to being in control. Placing his large tough hands on his wife’s surprisingly smooth silky skin, and feeling the steel underneath sent his control out the window. Your arms are 230" baby girl! "That it she says?" Meg pouts her luscious lips, and shakes her head causing her long golden locks to become messy. "I can't look small for my man. Just look at my pathetic little chicken wings, I'm withering away for christ sake. Hold on, let me pump some." As the uber buff Meghan walks to her weight rack, her near half-ton weight cracks the floor, each step a mini-quake. Falling to the floor from the ladder, Nate looks up at the 7 ft wide back of his goddess wife. Unable to turn her head, Meg blows him a kiss in the mirror, flashing a sultry, movie star smile. "Want to watch me GROW?...." CH. 2 In 2013, Meghan Wakefield was a sophomore marine biology major at UNC Chapel Hill. A bright young woman, with devastating beauty, and a bombshell body, she was a true southern belle, at the top of the world. She was captain of the cheering team and Class President. Her long blonde hair, perky C breasts, big bright green eyes, and long athletic legs easily got her a modeling career with Sports Illustrated. She ended u meeting Nate over Spring break 2014, in Florida. Nate, a handsome country boy, and a Harvard law student, was in town for his lacrosse teams championship. Little did they know that they're lives would be forever changed. CH. 3 Laying on the floor of his custom built basement gym, Nate had the perfect view of his perfect woman. Not four feet from him was the most massively muscular, most insanely jacked female. Make that the most muscular HUMAN ever. Only two years ago, Meg had been a fit, long legged bikini model; what stood before him now was a monstrous musclebound goddess, of giga-proportions. At a mere 5'8" tall Meg was at least 11 feet wide from exercise ball sized shoulder to exercise ball sized shoulder. Her aircraft carrier back alone was 7 feet wide. "Honeybuuun, whatchya doin?" drawled Meghan. "Quit daydreaming and pay attention. Y'all don't want to miss the show do you?" Taking slow, deliberate and quaking steps, Meg went to the far end of her dumbbell rack, her oversized oil drum thighs forcing her to waddle. "Let's see, those light 500 lbs single arm bicep curls barely warmed me up. I got to go REALLY heavy to impress my big strong Marine." Picking up a 700 lbs dumbbell in each hand, Meg turns toward the mirror and starts repping out alternating hammer curls at a blistering pace. "Oh yeah baby, ohhh yeah! LOOK AT ME! Have you ever seen arms this fucking huge? Oh god am I hot, like I AM SOOO MASSIVE I FRIGGEN LOVE HOW THICK I AM!" Rarrrrrrg! With a ear spitting roar, Meg rips out 1 more curl and with massive power hurls the quarter ton weights at the wall, embedding the steel two feet into the concrete walls."I am THE MUSCLE GODDESS! Look at these biceps, they must weigh 150lbs each! Your muscle freak wifey gained 50lbs in the last 15 minutes alone!" With a coy grin, knowing it will rial his wife up, Nate says, "Babe your arms are pretty big, but your chest and legs look a little small..." With a smoldering look in her gorgeous green eyes, the 800 lbs female behemoth growled, "I'm just getting started." CH. 4-6 So swole. So thick, so wide, so meaty. So...fucking. Sexy. Meghan was staring vainly at herself in the mirror waiting for her husband to come back with her next round of steroids. God I love juice, thought Meghan, almost as much as I love muscles. Hearing the basement door, she quickly clenched her glutes, giving Nate a spectacular view of her ass. Each cheek was the size of medicine ball. "Bet you could bounce a quarter off this ass huh babe." "You could bounce a bowling ball off that butt Meg," smiled Nate, as he began injecting the steroids into his wife's glutes, hamstrings, and calves. As Nate bent down to inject her calves, Meg suddenly raised up on her dainty feet. Nate had always been a leg man. Meghan had legs alright. Flexing down hard, Meg's calf kept getting thicker and thicker, until it was easily bigger than a basket ball, bulging a foot and a half from the back of her leg, and so wide that even with her legs spread, her calves rubbed against each other. Knowing she had him now, Meg cooed, "Just wait until I actually do some lifting before you cum all over my beyond huge calve." " But let me pump up my sexy little quads first okay pumpkin?" The mere act of dropping back down to her feet caused a massive shudder to rattle the gym. Walking to the squat rack was more difficult than it should have been, given the insane mass of her planet shaking quads. "Ohhh wow does that feel good. I just love knowing my weight alone cracks reinforced concrete. Imagine what would happen if I actually tried, imagine the POWER I posses. Taking her place in the squat rack, Meg unracked the bar and raised it to her shoulders. She was so wide that Nate had to specially build the entire set up, and the bar was made of 4" diameter titanium. Every inch of the bar was filled with 200 lbs weights, bending the super strong bar. 20 plates total plus the 200 lbs bar meant Meg was about to squat 4200 lbs...Jeesh, thats as much as my truck Nate realized. "Hey stud, get a load of this." Meg was so built, she couldn't even reach proper form, her ultra huge hamstrings and ass slamming into her lower legs preventing her from going lower. "2 tons is sooo taxing on my tiny little legs Nate. Can you 'cum' spot me pleeasse." As he went behind her, Meg yelled, Never mind, just kidding! And proceeded to push the weight up over her head, holding it there, and with a massive grunt, heaved the entire 4200 pound bar up, sending it through the ceiling and into the next story of the house. "Dammit, there is no weight in this house capable of quenching my thirst for pump. There is no weight on EARTH that my genetically superior mega muscle won't lift. I am UNSTOPPABLE!" Nate was worried now, he'd never seen her this way. "Baby I am the strongest woman in the universe!" "Just think about my power, my strength. All I want is MORE MASS. MORE POWER. MORE MUSCLE! Measure my legs before I work my beastly chest!" Slightly unnerved at the dominating tone, Nate grabbed the tape.He literally couldn't fir his hand between Meg's thighs, there was just that much beef. Each redwood thigh was 5 feet wide and almost as thick as he was. " 270" quads must be a record hun!" "Hey babe. Measure my calves before I squish you like a pancake between these record breakers." "115" calves! Holy shit!" From his knees, Nate looked up to try and see his wife's expression, but could only see her chest. Meghan suddenly laughed, her entire body swelling with new found beef as she inhaled more and more air. "The power the strength, the mass! What a rush!" she screams as she plows a fist into wall. Nate falls on his back, now afraid. His wife just put a 3 foot deep crater into walls built to survive a nuclear explosion. Lifting her foot, Megan slams it down between Nate's legs, sending cement flying with a massive boom as her leg is buried to her knee. "Take a good look at this monster leg you skinny little runt. See the size difference? You are NOTHING compared to me! I could tear you to shreds!" Meg strides to the weight rack again, sinking deep into the floor with every step."This will blow your mind!" Bending over, she grabs the rack, and LIFTS THE ENTIRE THING UP TO HER WAIST. "See my power? Just think what 300" arms can do! No, watch what they can do!" With an orgasmic roar, Meg begins curling the 3 ton rack to her chest. Her now uber pumped biceps only manage 6" before they meet her now truck tire forearms. "You think this is heavy? You think this is as big as I can get? You think I'm fucking big now ?" " Well I'm going to school you in the personification of ENORMOUS!" Taking a deep breath that expands her mass by 50%, she violently throws the rack into the wall, causing massive destruction and shacking the entire foundation. Flexing a jaw dropping crab pose, Meg orders Nate to get the rest of her steroid supply."Got to get bigger bae, the only thing I want is pure mass. Pure muscle. I must weigh 1,000 lbs, but the body you see before you now is a 90 lbs weakling compared to whats next." Throwing her head back in ecstasy , Meg roars, "I WILL GROW EVEN BIGGER!" Shit, shit, shit, Nate mutters to himself as he sprints up the basement stairs at a break neck pace. Bursting into the kitchen, he races towards the double door fridge where Meghan's steroids are kept. Might as well grab it all, he says to himself, as he picks up 22 syringes of a secret, experimental steroid designed by the DOD. Nate cringes as he here's more concrete crack; knowing the bill to repair today's damage will put a decent dent in his savings. I guess that's the price to pay for having the worlds hottest wife. Turning to the door he looks down toward the end of the hall where the dust is still settling from a 4,200 lbs weight shooting through the floor. Nate almost falls down the stairs as the entire house rumbles and shakes. "Rarrgggg! HAH, puny steel! Feel the power of my super pumped muscles!" Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Nate sees Meghan flexing over what was previously the dumbbell rack, only now it looks like an accordion, shoved deep into the foundation. Dear lord, it took 6 of my men to to lug that down here last month... "Honey bunches! Oh look, more juice! Is that for me? Ohh, you shouldn't have!" "Look honey, look at that pathetic piece of crap you call steel. Weaker than butter if you ask me Get to the injections, I just love how I feel right now. Like, I'm literally 4 times the size of you! My strength is superhero shaming, but my size is the real turn on." Raising her arms out like the goddess she is, Meg whispered, "Make me grow my king." Nate's more than happy to oblige. Five minutes later, he takes a step back, stepping around the now empty syringes, kind of looks like a heroin addict lives here, he thinks. Almost like she could read his mind, Meg coos, "I'm a muscle obsessed, steroid junkie addicted to getting bigger, gaining more and more massive muscles is all I think about. I'm by far the largest bodybuilder history has ever known. My bicep alone is bigger than Jay Cutler's entire body. And just think babe, I'm not done. No. Not even close. In fact, look at this." Stepping on the heavy duty scale in the corner; that he'd bought from the local zoo (to weigh elephants, rhinos etc...), she sent the numbers on the screen reeling. 700lbs. 850lbs. 1000lbs. 1200lbs. Good lord, Nate mumbles. Finally, the readout stops at 2050 pounds."Just think Nate. Your mega massive muscle wifey weighs over a TON! And I just took even more roids! Grrrg! Roooaaar! More! Yeeeess, I can feel myself growing, I can feel myself getting heavier! Just flexing is adding serious mass. I AM POWER! LOOK AT ME NATEY POO, I JUST GAINED 100 LBS FROM FLEXING MY ARMS! You better run for your life, because this house is comin down y'all." CH. 7 It was approaching dawn when the entire gated community of Orchard Heights shook to its foundations. Raaaarrggg! Mother fucker get bigger!!!! Megan bellowed as she again slammed the mangled remains of Nate’s trucks together. She’d been repeating this motion for well over 4 hours now, trying to work her monstrosity of a chest. Meghan was getting angrier and angrier with ever “rep” as each 10 foot wide pectoral would swell immensely and crash into each other with enough force to create a sonic boom. Her chest stuck out 14 feet in front her so it was impossible to do a normal bench press. That and her biceps which were each pushing 6 feet WIDE and even thicker. Her bicep alone was almost 200” flexed. Her tricep was 2/3 bigger!!!! Her muscles were not ripped, or shredded, or any other word that could describe a human being. She’d long surpassed that species. The definition between muscle groups was insane. Sickening. Her shoulders were so jacked that when she raised them a mere 6 inches, her head was at risk of being sheared right off. She liked the pressure though. It wouldn’t be impossible to create diamonds if you placed a lump of coal between her striations. In her hands, she had taken two military hummers of Nate’s, grabbing the bumper of each one and swinging them in together to simulate the pec deck motion. Only she was single handled swinging a 7,700 lb armored vehicle by its bumper. (The US Army took some pride in that engineering marvel) Nate had once seen a strong man take one end of an Olympic barbell and raise it straight out in front of him. He held it horizontally with one hand for maybe minute before his arm shook and he dropped it. The exercise worked stabilizers and forearms etc.. Meghan was doing a similar movement. With 8 plus tons. Meg’s bright white and pink, size 6 Nike Shoxs and thick pink hooters slouch socks were planted firmly on the pavement, which itself was no longer very firm, considering a woman who weighed more than an African elephant was pressing down on it with immense strength and power. Her insanely tight white yoga pants that could cover a circus tent, despite barley serving on her, were stretched so tight that her deeply tanned skin shown through completely. The military had wanted to design a new material similar to Spandex, that would be bullet proof and tear resistant. When Nate had heard about it, he figured Meg would be the perfect test for the material. Her monster quads and hamstrings were slowly but surely bulging so massively that the thread was coming unstitched. So much for that, better luck next time DOD. Freakishly inhumanly thick traps throbbed far above her head, they peaked more than a yard above her hair. Her shoulders, pecs, and traps already enveloping her head, each rep smooshing her almost to point of strangulation and blocking her entire view. All she could see when her arms were raised was her own musculature... and as far as she was concerned, there simply wasn’t enough of it. With her arms straight out holding the trucks, her triceps dipped low. Hanging like a side of beef was incorrect...her triceps were bigger than the whole cow! Hanging so low they merged with her “wide as a barn door back. Once again, misleading because her back was bigger than a whole barn! Much bigger! Her back was pushing 30 feet wide at this point. That’s 360 inches. 914 cm. Bigger than an entire Mr. Olympia lineup combined. And then multiplied by two! With her biceps peaking over her head and her triceps dropping so low they hit her knees (they literally pressed down into her massively exaggerated wide hips and quads) she would take a deep breath and then tense her enormous chest muscles, bringing her arms as close together as possible and really squeezing her pecs. The sight was ridiculous. The noise was deafening. The air sizzled with the heat of her raw sexual, beastly power and mind warping size. Sweat glistened and dripped flowing down the huge cuts in the chest muscles, turning to steam in the brisk morning air of New England. Pure raw power. Pure sex. Pure MUSCLE. The quiet gated suburb of Orchard Heights was alive with the sound, sights and smells of Meghan Wakefield erotically pumping her massive muscles. Held in her deceptively dainty well manicured hands were two military humvees weighing 4 tons each. “Fucking look at me and tremble you scrawny bitches, look at this power this size! MY power! MY size! Im unstoppable!” I AM POWER! I AM MUSCLE! I’m the most insanely pumped up, super humanly strong, mega-ultra-super-heavy weight bodybuilder! I am the most muscular living thing to ever exist or ever will! Worship me as I obsessively pump myself even more massive!” Meghan roared, to nobody in particular, but yet for all the world to here. Of course, the neighborhood had been evacuated hours ago when the “earthquake” struck. Or at least that was what the news was calling it. Technically, there WAS an earthquake, or better yet, a “Megha-quake” if you will. After destroying the basement, Meghan’s roid- induced mania and wild, driven desire to bulk up went into overdrive. Against Nates adamant pleas to calm down, Meg had pulverized the entire basement and house when she tried to exit the basement. Walking up the stairs proved unsuccessful as her giga-weight was so heavy she completely crushed the heavily reinforced concrete and steel stairs when she stepped on them. The futility of the construction had enraged Meghan and she hulk smashed the stairs into crumbling bits. With hellfire in her eyes, Meghan had turned full on to Nate and flexed an ab and thigh pose so huge that her quads and chest actually knocked him over. Roaring with spit flying, she’d proceeded to crank her arms up and down over and over again, squeezing and flexing her monolithic traps and shoulders until they were bright red. Then she spied the old weight rack in the corner where Nate kept his weights. Giggling like a crazed school girl, Meg pounded her way to the rack and proceeded to upend it with one arm. Maneuvering her other arm into position, she hurled it across the room like a soccer player might do with a ball. A steal I-beam floor hoist was torn from the ceiling and sparked another idea. “Babe, I’ve always hated that you built this house with such roomy ceilings, it really makes me feel short. But I think I know how to even the score. Watch my fucking power babe! Meg ripped the I beam the rest of the way out of the ceiling and started swinging it over her head like a club, tearing through the floor and utterly demolishing the rest of the house. Nate cowered in the corner to avoid being hit by all of his nice things that were now falling hazardously around him from upstairs. To say he was scared shitless at this point was an understatement. Meg had gone completely off the rails and was a literal ton of roid-raging muscle and fury. (If not more). Who are we kidding, it was way, way WAY more. At some point Nate must have lost consciousness from fear/arousal because when he woke up, he was covered in concrete dust surrounded by remnants of what was once his beautiful home. Meghan was no where in sight but he could hear her animalistic, predatory grunts from the front yard. Nate quickly pulled out his phone to contact his security team at the Pentagon. Things were going bad fast. Worriedly wondering why Meg was grunting, he’d no sooner heard his office secretary answer when the quake hit. Knowing better, Nate wobbled over to the massive hole in the basement wall to see Meghan standing in the driveway with his Porsche flattened at her feet. She’d managed to jump (who knows how high) and came down like the hand of god on his prized 911. Still on the phone, his secretary was going crazy, “Oh my God, Sir, are you okay what’s going on omg!” “Wake up SecDef and alert Homeland and the President... not sure how this will end. And I want this area under an immediate mandatory evacuation order.” Now recovered from his shock, Nate was beginning to get royally pissed. His million dollar home was destroyed. His $150 super-charged Porsche was now a candy apple red pancake and he was pretty sure his insurance didn’t cover “acts of enraged muscle monster?” “Meghan Marie, calm down right now!” Nate bellowed her middle name in anger. (Maybe yelling at your girlfriend who weighs more than your HOUSE was a bad idea in hindsight.) Not bothering to turn around, Meghan’s voice effortlessly boomed, “you are an insignificant RUNT compared to my awesome godly power and I could literally rip you into pieces. I won’t because I love you obviously but it would be this easy.” She picked up the flattened Porsche and ripped it in half like paper, her biceps and forearms bulging and growing and thickening even further. “To make it up to your goddess you will worship at my feet and tell me how huge I am.” It had been around that time that Marines from Nate’s unit arrived and evacuated the street. The neighbors were being debriefed and fed the official story of “just an earthquake.” Of course, 2.0 earthquakes weren’t totally uncommon in New England but still.

Chapter 1: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/14262-the-librarian/ Chapter 2: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/14459-the-librarian-chapter-2/ Chapter 3: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/14606-the-librarian-chapter-3/ Chapter 4: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/15004-the-librarian-chapter-4/ Chapter 5: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/15434-the-librarian-chapter-5/ Chapter 6: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/15680-the-librarian-chapter-6/ Ok, time for the final chapter. Sorry this took so long. I felt like this wasn't my best effort so I struggled to get it finished. Hopefully it is still good enough to give you some, ahem, satisfaction ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ CHAPTER SEVEN The next morning Tom crept out of the hotel room. He briefly stirred Austin awake for a long goodbye kiss. Stretching his arms, the young man smiled warmly as their lips met. “Wow, Tom. Last night was incredible. I can believe you fucked me four more times.” Austin grinned and gave Tom another long passionate kiss, feeling the overnight stubble of the big man giving him sensuous scrape on his own cheek. “Mmm, I'm going to miss you. I'm so exhausted though I just...need...some...more sleep.” Austin laid back down and drifted back into slumber. Tom examined the tight ripped body of his conquest, admiring how he had completely worn out such a fantastic specimen of young manhood. The thought made him grin, but he smiled even wider as he noted how tight his clothing was. All the exercise last night, along with the catalytic affects of the growth powder had pushed him to new dimensions. He rested that afternoon and enjoyed some new chapters of his book while lounging out in the backyard sun. The bright sun glistened off his newly engorged muscles, deepening his tan. After five more chapters he lightly dozed off and was awoken by his buzzing phone. It was Jack, he wanted to get together with Tom that night before he had to head leave town. [How about another workout and then we go out?] the text from Jack said. [I'm down for the workout, but how about I treat you to a nice meal at my place.] [Hard to say no to that! Lift at 5:00pm?] [See you there!] Tom treated himself to a filling pre-workout meal. He felt like he ate more than he ever had in his life, no doubt due to his new size. Of course, his meal was assisted by a mixed protein shake with more of the powder mixed in. He wasn't about to stop this growth train. An hour later, his body rested and fueled, Tom made his way to the gym. Since it was Sunday afternoon the place was practically deserted. Only a couple of the hardcore members came in on Sundays. Tom was now firmly established in that group. “HOLY SHIT, DUDE!” Tom heard Jack's deep voice behind him. Smiling, he turned around and eyed the hot body of Jack. “Damn, man, you look bigger every time I see you. You must be on some crazy hardcore cycle right now. I'm jealous!” Jack waltzed up and wrapped both his hands around Tom's biceps. The large librarian instinctively flexed as he felt the calloused palms on his dense arms. “There is no way my hands can even get close to wrapping around these monsters, damn dude!” Jack groped and explored the other parts of Tom's body. Tom soaked in the praise from the hot man feeling him up. Like Tom, Jack was also in a stringer tank and some mid-thigh length gym shorts. He noted with extreme satisfaction that his own arms now seemed to be larger than Jack's own 22” cannons! Being taller sometimes it was hard to tell. Tom noticed Jack look around the rest of the gym, only spotting two other lifters completely disregarding the pair. Making sure they weren't looking, Jack smirked and gave Tom's prodigious bulge a surprise squeeze. The big man jumped but found the move very erotic. Jack chuckled. “Yep, that big monster is still there,” he said quietly. “C'mon man, time to GROW!” The duo had no particular plan for this workout. It was primarily to be used as a form of muscle-man foreplay for their date. They opted for a full body routine to hit the major muscle groups. First up they started with some incline presses. The warmup sets progressed and soon another realization hit Tom. Where he used to end his incline benches with 225, he now using that as a warm up. “I'm feeling it today, Jack! 225 has never felt so light!” Jack, not knowing Tom's secret, was surprised. “Really?. As huge as you are I woulda thought that was nothing for you.” The two men added quarters. Once again 275 was also light. Tom hefted out 10 easy reps. Jack did as well. Finally it was time for three plates, a full 315. Jack got under the bar and repped out a hard set of ten. He stood up and swung his arms back and forth and flexed his pecs. “Nothing like that feeling of a huge pump, eh Tom?” Tom stared at the deepening cleavage of his muse, then realized his own pecs were just as big. He slid down on the bench and repped out another easy ten! “Damn, big man! Making me feel small today, haha,” Jack teased. Weight was added. First 355 then 385. Jack was able to pound out another nine and then six reps respectively. But Tom got another easy set of ten at 335 and then a hard fought set of 10 again at 385! By now the other two lifters had left. Tom and Jack had now worked up a good sweat and Jack stripped off his stringer, making Tom whistle in approval. “You are beastin' today, Tom. Get that tank off...wow.” Jack whistled back. “Ok I'm good on these, you want to try more? Gotta go till failure, big man.” The two then loaded on another plate on each side. Four plates per side. 405 total pounds. A weight that a few months ago would've seemed impossible not just to bench, but to squat or deadlift too! Tom slid onto the bench, Jack smiling handsomely down from above, his big pecs looming above the bar. “You got this, stud,” Jack encouraged. Tom lifted the bar and slowly let it fall to the massive exposed shelf of his pecs. After a quick hold he drove his elbows up, easily raising the bar. Again. Then again...and again! After the sixth rep he began to feel the weight, but with perfect form, he continued. With some monster grunts he forced out another three reps. From above, Jack noticed how deeply red and flushed Tom's chest muscles were getting, almost like a sunburn. He coached his growing buddy. “C'mon man. Keep growing. Those pecs aren't big enough. Make them big. HUGE. PUSH IT!” Another rep was eeked out. Large drops of sweat began to fall down his pumped chest muscles into the gorge in between. “GAH!” Tom grunted and extended his elbow, panting heavily. Jack commanded. “One more! DO IT!” Tom lowered the weight, slowly, perfectly, controlled. The cool bar grazed his tanned flesh, creating a bridge between the grand canyon below. With a grimace and grunt he pressed. The bar slowly moved up. Jack yelled for more effort. The bar moved slowly but nevertheless, never stopped moving. Up and up the bar raised. With one final push Tom's elbows were fully extend and Jack helped rerack the sagging bar. Tom jumped up and ROARED a most muscular flex to no one in particular, savoring the insane pump and feeling of masculine accomplishment. He felt like he could rest his chin on his pecs they were so bunched up. He turned around and Jack was staring in awe. “Shit dude, that was awesome,” he said quietly, reverently. Jack reached up and put his palms on Tom's chest. “Wow, man. I've never seen someone get such a huge pump.” Jack pressed into the dense pillows of muscle, feeling the warmth and heft of the pectoral meat. His fingers dug into the muscle until Tom flexed, instantly forcing Jack's grip wide and out. Tom relaxed and Jack kneaded them some more, using his palms and fingers to feel the roundness while his thumbs slipped down and rubbed Tom's nipples. “OH SHIT!” Tom sucked in some air at the erotic shock sent from his nipples down to his cock, which was already filling with blood. Jack smirked and looked down at Tom's shorts. “Haha. Down boy. We still got more muscle to pump.” Tom caught his breath, reached out and snatched Jack's big forearms pushing them away from his pecs. “Well, then you better be careful what you touch, there mister,” he said with a grin. Suddenly he leaned forward and gave Jack a quick kiss, leaving him stunned. “And there be much more of that and other things later, stud,” Tom said as he stepped away and unloaded his side of the weights. Jack's own bulge expanded as he smiled and helped unload the bar. The rest of the workout proceeded much the same. Tom set a new personal best on each and every exercise they did, even squats! Being a tall man, he notoriously hated to train his legs, but with his hard work and the help of the powder, his legs were becoming quite possibly his best muscle group. “Those wheels are enormous, big guy! You're quads are even bigger proportionally than mine. I gotta feels these beasts.” As Tom performed his leg extensions, Jack's hands were all over the bulging mass of sinews. On each hardcore flex at the top of the motion, Jack made Tom hold the position while his nimble hands traced the separations. “Fuck man, look at that insane rectus femoris, that huge vastus medialis! All so huge and and striated. Burn those muscles. Force that blood into them, Tom. GROW!” Tom grunted and groaned, forcing rep after rep until he could do no more. The weight slammed down so hard and was so heavy that it launched his large body up forward. Luckily, since Jack was in front massaging his legs he was able to catch him...sort of. “Woah there, stud! OOF!” The heavy weight of the monumentally buff librarain falling at him surprised Jack. He wrapped his own big arms around Tom and Tom did the same for support. Their sweaty pecs smacked against each other. Jack briefly held firm but the enormous weight of giant librarian and his own tired and pumped legs sent him backwards. Jack, being no stranger to holding heavy objects was able to control his fall, first sinking to his butt and them on his back as Tom landed on him chest to chest. Their arms were still wrapped around each other and Jack savored the feel of Tom on top of him. Chuckling, Jack spoke, “You just couldn't wait to get me on my back, could you?” While on the ground Jack began to flex and grind his hips into Tom. As the feeling returned to his quads, Tom grinned down at Jack. “You better be careful there wriggling like that under me. I may not be able to control myself.” The two laughed and stood up, Tom doing so in a very slow and wobbly manner due to the insane pump in his legs. “Easy there, big man,” Jack said as he helped Tom up. The rest of the workout processed with more intensity and new personal bests. After each pump Tom seemed to swell larger and LARGER. It was like his pump was compounding on itself. The two men finished up with biceps. While Tom was cranking out dumbbell biceps curl with 85 lb dumbbells Jack sauntered up right behind him and felt up the big man's arms while he ground his bulge into Tom's glutes. “Perfect reps, big Tom. Force that blood into those peaks.” Jack leaned forward to Tom's ear, “Watching you is forcing a lot of blood into my cock.” Tom let his arms fall to his side and turned to see Jack's face behind his shoulder and gave him a knowing grin. With their full bodies pumped to the max the two headed to the locker room. By now the gym had closed and the two were the last humans in the building. The attendant has closed up and left. “Just make sure the door is closed behind you,” the young man had said with a wave. In the locker room the two disrobed their renaming clothing. Once naked they simply stared at each other. Jack licked his lips as he eyed the incredible physique in front of him. Tom did the same. “Tom, you are incredible. So big. So dense. I've never seen this kind of full, bloated, dense musculature on a man so tall. And everything is still tight and defined! You're still rockin' that six pack. Geezus. How much do you weigh? Shit, you look like you are closing in on 300 lbs.” Tom's cock had reached full mast as he stared at the naked bodybuilder before him singing his praises. Jack chuckled and joked. “I bet you are carrying 20 lbs just in you COCK. Fuck, that thing is huge...” Tom stepped on the scale and digital display calculated. The number that show made Tom moan and his dick leak. 313 lbs. “Holy shit. Dude you are one of the biggest bodybuilders there is, do you realize that? You almost look stage ready with how shredded you are. Very few men, probably less than five, have ever stepped on stage at the Mr. Olympia weighing over 300 lbs. And you look like you have room for even more muscle! Your body is perfect. You are making me leak just looking at you. And so handsome too. You've got it all.” Tom wrapped his big arms around his smaller yet still massive lover and kissed him deep as their two swords of flesh fought each other below. “Tom, can I measure the rest of you? I want to know what kind of stats come on a man so BIG.” With a smirk, Tom replied, “Oh yeah, go and measure. Everything,” he added with a sexy wink. Jack grabbed the tape measure and began taking Tom's stats. He started at the bottom and worked his way. Crouching, he wrapped the the tape around Tom's calves. “21 inches. Bigger than most bodybuilders' arms. So hot.” At the news Tom reared up flexing his diamond boulders into extreme relief. Jack slid his hands up Tom monstrous thighs, giving the pillars of power some love before the big reveal. He ran his strong hands up and down the long but massive muscles, Tom's bulls nuts bounced along the top of Jack's hands at the top of this admiration strokes. He gave Tom's right quad a kiss and then taped them. “34 inches. Fucking monster wheels, big man. Mine are just a hair over 32.” Jack now stood up, letting the tip of Tom's cock drag along his own incredible physique as he rises with a grin, causing Tom to shudder due to the sensation. He wrapped his big arms around Tom's waist, grabbed his mighty glutes and pulled him tight, leaning up to give the big man a kiss. He released the kiss and stood back with the tape in hand. “Unreal, Tom. Your waist is just 32 inches. These abs are so tight and deep.” As the stats were revealed Tom just closed eyes and his cock pulses. He knew he had grown but the knowledge of just hot much bigger he'd swelled in the last couple of days had his bulls churning and his cock throbbing. Jack slid his hands upward. “Lift your arms a bit, big man. With all that chest and arm meat I need some space for access. Heh heh, I hope I can reach around these giant pecs and that barn door back of yours.” Tom chuckled, “'Barn door back'”? “Oh yeah, stud. I'm originally from Nebraska so all your hugeness reminds of beefy bulls and farms of the heartland. Ok now drop those arms.” Tom let his arms fall and his big pecs bunched up even more, seemingly growing in front of Jack. “Do you like big chests, big guy? Because yours is enormous. How does 62 inches sound?” “MMMMMmmmmmm. Oh fuck, I'm so big!” “Yeah you are. A beast of huge, aesthetic muscle. Incredible proportions. Ok, you ready for those big arms? FLEX THEM!” Tom quickly brought his arms up a tremendous pose with a growl. “Oh yeah, look at those giant arms. So big. These've gotta be some of the biggest muscular arms I've ever seen. I gotta feel these.” Jack then engaged in some hardcore admiration of Tom's arms. He nuzzled his nose against the mighty hanging ham-sized triceps, bulging downward to the floor. He then rubbed his stubbled cheek upward until he brought his lips to kiss the melon-sized lump of his biceps. He swirled his tongue on the peak, pointing it to trace the split peaks. Covering the muscle in his saliva as his hands caressed Tom's triceps. “Ok, I'll have to revisit these arms more later, let's find out how huge these arm. Oh shit, big man, I hope I have enough tape for this cannonball arm. Unreal guns, dude! Bigger than the last few Mr. O's! These arms are almost 24 inches HUGE!” “UUUUUUUHHHHHHHhhh,” Tom groaned in pleasure. It took all his effort to keep from painting his admirer's pumped physique. “Hold it in, Tom. Hold it in.” Jack leaned in close as Tom regained control. “Hold it in, because I want that inside of me later,” which only tested Tom's self control even more, causing Jack to chuckle. “Ok let's grab our post workout shake and then jump in the shower. We need to clean up...and maybe have bit more fun.” “That's sounds like a great plan, Jack. Bur first, you forgot one measurement.” Jack smarks his forehead dramatically, “How stupid of me, to forget perhaps the most impressive part on your already impressive body.” With a devilish grin he adds, “Well, let's measure those forearms!” The joke caused Tom to throw his head back and laugh. Jack laughs with him and then reached down, tape in hand. “Wow, look at this thing. It's good thing we don't have a ruler because it wouldn't be long enough! I just put the tap at the base. And no pushing in, no cheating on the length! Hehe. And then we stretch the tape out along to the top of this LOOOOONG cock. Look at all those inches go by. Six, seven, eight, nine. Still plenty more to go. Another inch...and another...almost there...” “..And there is Tom. You are the proud owner of a 13.25 inch monster cock.” Tom moaned in deep satisfaction. He instantly had to step away so that Jack's fingers are no longer touching his tool else he would explode like an atom bomb. It was now confirmed that Tom had one of the biggest cocks on Earth! Over twice as long as the average male. It made him feel even more manly and powerful. He closed his eyes as the feeling of sexual power faded, just slightly enough to allow him to control himself. He opened his eyes to see Jack smiling back. “Thought I lost you there. We will definitely have to revisit this and all of you very soon. But first, let's fuel up so we grow even more.” The two naked bodybuilders headed to their lockers to pull out their post-workout shakes. As Tom eyed his cup, the desire to grow more coursed through his body. He reached into the small tub of the special powder. Jack noticed, “An extra scoop today, eh?” “Oh yeah. A big workout with a studly lifting partner. I feel extra motivated today.” The bodybuilding librarian ended up mixing and extra scoop and half of his special powder. The two men filled their shakers with water and chugged down the protein-laden drinks. A warm feeling of energy spread throughout his frame. “Tom, you got some protein shake dribbling down your pecs, let's hit the showers and clean that up.” Jack reached out and swatted the bulbous glutes his larger friend and the two strode into the communal shower. Jack turned on the showers and let the water heat up until a nice steam buildup filled the tiled room. Jack squirted some shower gel into his hands and began to lovingly work the soap into Tom's body. “I'm gonna need a handful of this stuff for each muscle group, you've gotten so big.” At Jack's direction, Tom flexed whatever muscle Jack scrubbed. Starting with 'pecs', Tom cranked down into a most muscle pose. Jack worked the soap all over the pectorals that hardened into stone with the flex. Jack's soapy fingers traced the striations in Tom's upper chest. At one point he tried to insert his fingertips into the muscular gulch in between but was unable until Tom relaxed. Jack took extra time to work the under shelf, feeling and lifting the heavy flesh. With a grin he used his soapy fingers to tease and then pinch the big mans nipples, causing the hunk to shudder. “MMMMMmmmm feels so good, Jack. Wash my big muscles.” “With pleasure.” Jack turned Tom around and began to wash his back. He worked his hands over the lumpy, tanned expanse. Squeezing the lats and the traps. Tom couldn't see him, but Jack then squirted a bunch of gel on his own chest, lathered it up, wrapped his arms around Tom. Jack was using his own muscular chest to scrub Tom's back while he reached around to soap up the bumps and canyons of his abs. Tom felt Jack's tumescence nestle in between his bouldered glutes like a bratwurst in a bun. Jack used his strength to squeeze their bodies together into one. In front, Tom grabbed Jack's forearms and undulated his ass causing Jack to moan in his ear. Jack eventually releases the grip and walks around Tom again where he instructed him to throw up a double biceps pose. “Amazing. So fucking beautiful. Look at these canons. Those deep, DEEP pits flanked by pec, delts and biceps muscles. Rawr!” Jack growled then first spent three straight minutes licking Tom's right biceps muscle. Sucking and licking up the shower water that coated the glorious muscles. Tom flexed and unflexed making the muscle pump. Tom could feel the effects of the growth powder and knew that with every flex his arms were swelling with a trace of new size. Jack attacked his pits and the heavy hanging meat of his triceps as the two men moaned in muscular delight. Finally, once Jack had his fill he soaped up the mighty arm and then repeated the process with the left. Jack then dropped to his knees and worked his hands up each calf muscle and then the trunks of his legs. With so much quad muscle it again took a fair amount of time to give the legs the proper attention. Each of the four quad muscles were so large and defined that Jack was able to wash each one individually. Tom once again felt the pump in his legs growing, not just from the recent workout but the swelling recovery aided by the powder. Once each leg had been washed, Jack looked up and begins to kiss Tom's engorged cock. He took time sucking on the shaft and head of the mighty pole before using his slick wet hands to masturbate his Adonis friend. “Oh fuck, Jack! Suck me, stud. Suck that huge man cock!” After another few minutes of cocksucking, Jack then handed Tom the gel. Tom then began his own session of cleaning and sensually admiring the muscle stud in front of him. It was a dream come true. For decades Tom had dreamed of getting to feel up a true bodybuilder. Not some in-shape wannabe, but a true, ripped, bulging musclehead. Just like Jack. Even though he now had the body of his dreams, his excitement was inflated getting to feel up another bodybuilder. His big hand traced all over Jack's body, who flexed each muscle that Tom explored. Like Jack did, eventually he attacks the wide bulging mass of Jack's back, pulling the smaller yet still huge man against his immense form. With his height and longer arms Tom reached around and over and massaged Jack's nipples and cock as he nibbled on his traps and shoulders. He grinded his own rock hard cock into Jack's muscle butt. Jack turned his head and moaned into Tom's face, “Oh fuck. Fuck. So hot. You've got me so damn horny. I can't wait until after dinner. Do it, Tom. Fuck me. Fuck me with your giant cock.” Tom couldn't believe what he was hearing, but Jack's words made his cock surge with hardness. Perhaps it was the raging hormones of being so turned out, as Tom's entire body felt flush again even within the already hot spray of the shower. Tom reached his hand down to Jack's butt and began to use his fingers to loosen him up. Jack leaned forward slightly bracing himself against the shower wall. Once ready Tom slightly bent his knees and lined up the plum-size head at Jack's entrance, casing the bottom to moan. “C'mon man. Put it in. I need your muscle cock. That big bodybuilder cock!” This was it. Tom took a brief moment to remember the decades of lusting over bodybuilders. Austin was hot and fit, but he was not a bodybuilder. He remembered back years when we still fucking women. Would this feel better? Worse? The same? With a flex of his glutes the head popped in, breaching Jack's tight hole. “FUCCCCKKKKK!” Jack yelled. “So...so... BIG. AHHH!” Tom saw stars as the unreal sensation of masculine pleasure flooded his system. Every muscle flexed at the power he was feeling. Jack's tight butt along with his globular gluteus maximus muscle massaging his power tool nearly sent him over the edge just from initial penetration. Tom thrust in a couple more inches. “Geezus, Tom! You are stretching me out! Biggest I've had by far!” Hearing this only spurred Tom on even more and stoked his confidence. “Biggest by far, you say? Guess what, there's A LOT more to go!” “Fuck yeah, stud. Fuck me. Fuck my muscles!” Tom grabbed Jack's shoulders and with leverage slowly thrust the rest of the way in, causing Jack to hiss and Tom to groan some more. He held himself deep inside as Jack adjusted. Once he was ready Tom began to retreat and reenter, thrusting many inches in and out at a time. “There you go, big man. I normally top. I only let the biggest and best take my ass. You are the BIGGEST AND BEST! Fuck!” Tom continued to fuck Jack. It was far better than any woman or Austin. Jack's tight glutes and strong built body squeezed his cock with more sensations than anybody he'd had sex with ever before. Not to mention while simultaneously getting to feel the bulging muscles of the man he was pounding. As Tom continued to thrust Jack continued to moan louder and louder. “Fuck. It feels like your cock is actually getting bigger! Are you getting close?” Tom could have erupted at any time yet he noted Jack's words. His eyes had been rolled up and closed as he let the erotic sensations tickle his body. But he opened his eyes at Jack's words and looked down. It was then that he too noticed that Jack felt...tighter on his dick. Tom eyeballed his arms looking more vascular than ever. The cephalic veins on his arms were pulsing visibly. He released one hand from Jack's shoulder and flexed for himself. He could see it. His biceps were bigger. His cock was bigger. He was growing. Growing while inside of Jack. Tom looked down to see his pecs pumping up larger and larger. As he looked down his chin collided with the pec meat, impeding his downward gaze. He could feel himself slightly adjust his stance as his quads and hamstrings grew in every direction. The sexual exertion combined with the extra powder was causing him to swell right in front of his eyes! Jack, of course, could not see as he was facing forward and downward, nevermind the fact that his eyes were closed from the extreme bliss he felt as Tom's dick raked his love-nut. But he felt the effects inside. Tom couldn't help but voice his excitement. “I'm growing so big. So fucking huge. Ripped. Vascular. Bulging. I love being big. Being huge. And I can't wait...to...grow...fucking...BIGGER!!!!” With final thrust all the way in, expanding Jack's ring to new limits, Tom unloaded his essence. Instantly Jack's own cock began to expel juice onto the shower floor. With grunt after grunt Tom orgasmed, his body trembling as he pumped up even bigger. Jack continued to shoot as well, though tapering off well before the god-like bookworm bodybuilder finished. As the feelings of bliss drifted away, Tom wrapped his brawny arms around Jack and stood him upright, grabbing his chin, turning his head and kissing Jack. Tom wondered internally just how much bigger he had grown. At least another 15 lbs, maybe even 20. All added in less than 30 minutes of hot steamy shower time. He was thankful that at already over 300 lbs, another 15-20 wasn't too noticeable. The two made out for a few more minutes before Tom's removed his bull cock from Jack. “Tom, that was amazing.” “Thanks, Jack. I thought so too. You just helped me fulfill a dream of mine.” “Well, big man. Let's say we go have that nice meal...and then perhaps we can come up with some more dreams...or fantasies to fulfill after!” “That's sounds awesome, Jack.” “Yes it does indeed. Cripes, Tom. You pump up so huge with any exertion, even fucking. You are totally swole!” Jack reaches out and feels Tom's flexed arms, which look to be encroaching on 25 incredible inches. “What can I say, Jack. My body LOVES to grow. Let's get dressed and have that meal.” --- Jack would spend that night with Tom and the two would engage in hours of muscle play and bodybuilder lovemaking. Sadly, in the morning Jack had to return back home up north the next morning. Once he departed Tom looked in his cupboard and located the tub of growth powder. He used so much during the last few days to pack on nearly 75 lbs of muscle that was he nearly out, disappointing him. Arriving at the library that morning before the others, he prepared himself for what he would tell Susan and the rest of his workers about his new growth. He was already huge to them at the end of last week, maybe they wouldn't notice the growth? Fat chance, he thought to himself. 75 lbs is a lot to hide, especially since he hadn't had a chance to upgrade his clothes yet. Those XXXL-Tall shirts all felt painted on. Oh well, he would think of something. Tom walked into the closet which now seemed like a much tighter fit compared to last week. His shoulders must've been another 6-10 inches wider. He located the last tub of powder and went to inspect it. As he turned to leave his massive shoulders collided with the old wooden shelves, causing the flimsy end panel to snap off. “I'm like a literal bull in a china closet in here,” he chuckled to himself. As he inspected the broken end panel of the shelf he noticed and opening in the wall behind. It was small, about the size of an electrical socket and at first that's what he thought it was. Until he noticed some strange markings around it. He reached in to grab the opening. With a tug, a large section of the wall slide forward by and inch or so. “What the hell?” Using his Herculean strength, Tom easily moved the large shelf away from the wall. He was then able to fully remove the wall section, which ended up being about a 3 x 4 feet chunk. As he set the dislodged wall panel aside he looks inside. It quickly becomes apparent that the current wall of the closet is a false wall. As he peers inside the opening it reveals a thin, long space behind the current wall, about three feet wide. And in that thin space is more shelving. And all the shelves are filled with the black tubs of that magical growth powder. THE END.

Chapter 1: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/14262-the-librarian/ Chapter 2: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/14459-the-librarian-chapter-2/ Chapter 3: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/14606-the-librarian-chapter-3/ Chapter 4: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/15004-the-librarian-chapter-4/ ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Chapter 5 The experience with Jack lingered with Tom for the rest of the night. A permanent grin seemed to be plastered to his face. Since Jack was going to be in town over the weekend, the two had agreed to meet up again before he headed back to his hometown. The experiences of being a 'big man' were happening more and more and Tom didn't mind one bit. Any little reminder of his burgeoning size was welcomed with aplomb. In his own home he noticed how his shoulders would rub up against the walls of the hallways and doorways were previously he could walk through his house easily unimpeded. His shirts, newly purchased during his latest clothing run, felt more snug in all the right places. The observant man had also been noticing more glances from the adoring public as well. From men and women alike, these onlookers were unable to hide their jealousy, awe, and lust as his exposed arms became larger and leaner and his pecs pushed against his shirt as if he were hiding two toy dirigibles underneath. And he couldn't be happier. Even the downside of being larger couldn't dent his enthusiasm. The rising costs of his clothing expenditures and grocery bills would that would've once made his face contort in displeasure, now only made him smile as he knew his new clothes were going to a good cause: showcasing and emphasizing his growing assets. Tom was finally beginning to feel that he was ascending to a true muscle hunk. By most people's accounts, he was already there. And while Tom was stoked, he wanted more, and he was going to get it. Tom had recently polished off the first tub of the mysterious growth powder after about a month and half. Once it was empty, he brought back the second and final tub to his house. While the slow steady growth was with the powder was more than he could ever dream, the intoxicating feeling of further growth spurred him on. Tom was becoming greedy for more, faster growth. In the past couple of days he had begun to mix one scope into a protein shake that he could sip during the day, keeping his body in a constant fueled state. It may have just been a placebo effect, but he swore he could feel himself growing as he sat at his desk. Of course, this turn led to frequent trips to the bathroom to relieve some pressure. The next day Tom was due for his annual physical so he headed to his clinic after a heaping healthy breakfast of eggs, blueberries and almonds. After checking in and spending a few minutes reading the latest Men's Health in the waiting room, a middle-aged nurse, along with a pretty teenage girl, called his name. “Tom, nice to meet you. My name is Anne and my partner here is Lisa. Lisa is a local high schooler who is shadowing us today as part of job placement program. Is it ok if Lisa joins us? “Of course, Anne. It's nice to meet you.” Tom turned and smiled down to Lisa. “And you too, Lisa.” It was immediately evident the young woman was completely smitten by Tom. As the group walked to the back rooms they chatted. Moreso, Lisa giggled, played with her hair and Tom even spotted her biting her lip. Another ego boost for the buff librarian. Anne led Tom into a small supply room with chair, a scale and stadiometer. “Tom, please have a seat. Lisa, go ahead and take his blood pressure.” Lisa grabbed the black blood pressure cuff hanging on the wall. The sound of tearing velco was heard and she opened it up. Tom couldn't help but notice the awe in her eyes as she hiked his sleeve up revealing more of his massive biceps. Tom lifted his arm as she reached the cuff around his arm. She then stopped, confused. “Ummm...Anne? What is the cuff doesn't fit. His...um...his arms are too big.” “Oh yes! I should've thought of that when I saw him. This is a typical problem with you bodybuilders.” Tom chuckled and apologized for causing problems. “Oh, it's no problem at all and it's an easy fix. We can simply grab another unit and use the velco to link the two cuffs together.” Anne grabbed a second cuff, stuck the two cuffs together and then wrapped them around Tom's upper arm. Anne's amiable personality couldn't prevent her from commenting with a giggle. “Just be sure you don't flex, Tom. We don't want to have to get a THIRD cuff!” Tom chuckled and agreed. He remembered how a single cuff had so easily wrapped around his arms in the past. And now he had outgrown a typical medical instrument sized for normal people. “Screw normal,” Tom thought. “Bigger is better.” “Ok, Mr. Kemper. Let's just check your file and confirm your stats. Let's see, forty eight years old, 180 lbs. Hmmm...” Anne flipped the paper on the file and Tom immediately new why. “Anne, that is my file, I did weigh about 180 lbs last year, I can assure you that is me. I hit the weight room pretty hard this last year.” Anne laughed and relaxed. “Oh my goodness, that is quite the transformation! I was going to say, I've weighed tons of patients and I knew there was no way you could be 180 lbs! Well, I'm glad I've got the correct file. Ok, well I suppose we better update this with your current information. Lisa, would you mind weighing Tom? Also, since you are new to this equipment, go ahead and check his height so you get used to using the stadiometer.” Lisa had Tom stand on the scale and looked down at the small digital screen with Lisa. She read the numbers as they were revealed. “He is 260 lbs, Anne. Wow, Mr. Kemper. You have put on 85 lbs since last year! And I can see it is all muscle. You must work out a lot.” A satisfied grin formed on Tom's handsome face, making Lisa smile back at the handsome, muscular librarian. It took all he could not to bone up or moan as his new weight was revealed. Sipping the growth powder through his work days was indeed working as he had put on nearly 15 more lbs in just a couple short days. Lisa then had Tom move to a nearby platform. “Ok, Tom, would you mind standing on this over here? Lisa, how do I get this bar to unlock? Oh I see, thank you. Ok, Mr. Kemper, I'm going to raise this bar until it rests on the top of your head, stand up straight please...ok. Anne, he's six feet four.” This time Tom couldn't hide his surprise. “Wait, are you sure? Lisa, can you recheck?” “Sure, Mr. Kemper. Ok...hold still. Yep, 6'4”. Six foot four and quarter to be exact.” Anne walked over to confirm the measurement and then scribbled on her clipboard. “I guess we'll have to update your height as well, you must've been mis-measured whenever you last had it done.” But Tom knew the truth. All his adult life, since high school, he had been measured at 6'3. Had he actually grown in height too? He would bring this up while talking with his nearly shell shocked physician. “Well, no, Tom. I don't think you have grown in height. I know many adult men wish they could grow a little taller and while it may seem like you have, I bet your height can attributed to your astounding physique development. Ever since I started as your doctor a few years ago you've always been a tall but very slender man. You always had slumped shoulders as if you were slouching. If you recall, I often told you to eat more and start going to gym. I'm glad you finally took my advice, but I never thought you would take it to this extreme! What I'm assuming has happened, as your muscles built up, your spine strengthened and your posture has corrected. It's really not unheard of.” Tom thought back to his years as a string bean an realized the doctor was correct. For years he had been so devoid of muscle that even when standing he seemed to hunch a bit. “Thomas, Dear, please stand up straight,” his mother would say when he was in high school and even later in life when he visited his parents as an adult. It was absolutely true. It was another notch in Tom's belt to becoming the alpha male that he always longed to be. With his new frame he had ascended to the staggering height of 6'4. While 6'3 was legitimately considered tall, it seemed that most considered 6'4 to be the start of the 'very tall' tier of manhood. And Tom was now there, at what he thought was the perfect height. Taller than most, but not so tall to make life difficult and more importantly, not so tall that is was nearly impossible to put on thick, striated muscle. His dick fluffed up some more in his pants as he relished his new status. The doctor continued his examination. “Tom, now please, if you are doing drugs or something I really want you to tell me. It's my job to make sure you are healthy. I can't share you information, you know.” Tom debated telling the doctor about the mysterious powder, but elected to keep it a secret. “Doc, I promise I'm not taking steroids, if that's what you are getting at. I've been taking normal supplements, protein powders and such. And eating like an elephant and lifting like a gorilla, but no illicit substances, I swear.” “Ok Tom. I believe you. I had to ask the question because putting on that much weight in one year certainly raises some eyebrows. But, truthfully, you were a underweight last year...” Tom chose again not to tell the doctor that most of his gains had come in just the last two months. The doctor then drew Tom's blood for some standard tests. When he returned he let Tom know that everything was in line, except that his testosterone levels were elevated. “But that's not too shocking. You've always had high testosterone levels, which again made me wonder why you were so thin for so long. And lifting weights has been proven to raise levels. So now you are pretty much at the very top of natural levels, congratulations my friend. You have the prime hormonal levels to keep building muscle.” “Thanks doc, glad to hear I don't have a weird pituitary disorder causing this growth. So I'm healthy?” “Healthier than I've ever seen you! Heck, healther than most 20 year olds. If you keep this up you won't be seeing me much in the next few years.” “Haha, thank you, doctor. As much as I like you I would rather not have to see you unexpectedly.” ++++++++++++++++++++++++++ The next night Tom and Ron were finishing up a chest and biceps workout before the weekend. “Nothing like getting a great bar muscles, pump before an epic Friday night, amirite, BIG TOM?” Ron playfully swatted Tom's meaty back. Of course, for the bookworm new PR's were set on every exercise. Failing to resist the temptation, Tom had mixed another half scoop of the special powder in with his typical preworkout shake. Ron could not keep from complimenting Tom and his physique. “Bro, you seriously are starting to look like a competitive bodybuilder. And not just a local one. Like national level. Competitive, national level, dude. Look around. You are the most developed guy in this gym right now! Look at the feathering in your quads. The split in your biceps. You are starting to get VEINS in your lats under your armpits. Jesus, dude. You are making feel like a 98 lbs weakling.” Ron leaned in close and whispered under his breath to his large training partner, “...and bro, I swear your crotch is even more packed lately. Or are you just constantly horny? Haha, dude, because I know how that goes!” Tom laughed at his handsome young trainer. He reveled in being able to awe his studly young blonde friend. Tom knew he was indeed bigger but he would resist the urge to weigh himself. For the moement. “Ron, buddy, let's just say it's a little of BOTH.” “Fuuuck, dude. You are becoming, like, the ultimate jock bro. You getting out there finding yourself some ass?” Tom shrugged and shook his head. Ron glared back incredulously. “Seriously, man? Why not? You are one hot stud. I'm surprised the gay boys aren't swarming on your house as we speak. Get out there dude! Here, try this bar. It's called 'The Barrymore.' It's not a gay bar, but it's gay-friendly. And it's just a cool place too. My crew hits it up every once in a while, we always see hot chicks and dudes of all ages there. Sort of upscale, but not pretentious. Check it out, big man. I bet you would be very popular there!” “Hmm. You know what Ron, thanks. I might try that.” With his ego at an all-time high, our hero decided to venture out that night and try out The Barrymore. In his closet of new clothes, he found a short sleeve white button down that fit his newly developed body like a glove. If anything, since he purchased it last week was even tighter and more form fitting. He especially loved the way the sleeves dug into into his triceps and biceps. First he slipped on some three-quarter length khaki shorts, tight on his ass and crotch. After putting on the shirt he grinned and gave himself a couple of half flexes in the mirror to test the tensile strength of the sleeves. They survived, but he also knew that he hadn't fully flexed. He also brought his arms forward and tightened his pectorals. The buttons instantly tightened and he immediately relaxed. Just to be safe, he left the top three buttons undone. This gave the muscleman the added benefit of revealing the top of his tanned, toned pec shelf. And of course before he headed out, Tom downed himself another scoop of his special powder, just for kicks. Tom entered The Barrymore and was immediately into the calm atmosphere. It seemed to have sort of a 1950's vibe, swanky but relaxed with red velvets and brass fixtures. The crowd was definitely mature, but not in terms of age. There were no rowdy college bros and screaming sorority chicks here. No t-shirts or backward caps. But at the same time no suits and ties. Just a nice, perfect, middle-class casual calm atmosphere for friendly people looking to have a drink and good time. Tom saddled up to the stylish bar and a nice tattooed female barkeep came over and asked his drink. “How about a Moscow Mule?” It was risk, but this looked like the kind of place that may actually serve his favorite drink. Without hesitation the barkeep went about making the cocktail. One minute later a cold copper mug filled with fizzing liquid was sitting in front of Tom. While usually an observant man, Tom had not noticed the stares that were coming his way from various people around the room. For many, Tom was the largest, most muscular man they had ever seen in person. Men and women alike took note of his stretched white button down and that fine, fine ass. One patron summoned the will and made his way toward the unsuspecting librarian. A moment later Tom felt movement next to him and noticed a fit young man taking a seat on the stool next to him. From his profile view Tom could see the man was very attractive. Being summer, he too was wearing khaki shorts. On top he was wearing a form fitting maroon polo shirt that was very flattering to his lithe body. While not huge, the guy was definitely active in the gym. His learn arms were taught and veins snaked along his forearms. The sleeves of the polo hugged his arms and a surprisingly large lump bulged up when the fellow bent his arms. Tom guessed the man to be about 25 years old, 5'11 and 185 lbs with very low bodyfat. He had a slight five o'clock shadow on his well defined jaw and his medium length brunette hair was styled up in fashionable quiff. He had a boyishly handsome face, innocent but mysterious. He reminded Tom of a more fit Colton Haynes. The attractive young man next to him ordered an Old Fashioned and struck up a conversation. “Moscow Mule, huh? Good choice.” Tom raised his glass and gave the young man a sexy grin. The young man continued. “I love this place, it's nice to get away from the college bars. I'm starting to feel old in those places. Too loud too. Blaring rap and pop music. I like to be able to have a conversation when I go out.” Tom chuckled at his new bar buddy. “You feel, old? Heck, a handsome young fella like you sitting next to me makes me feel like an old geezer.” Tom hadn't even noticed his bluntness. He never would've imagined being so forward just a few short weeks ago. The young man turned his head and gave Tom a bright smile. The lad really was beautiful. “Oh? You think I'm handsome?” The young man teased back, making Tom grin some more. “And you are anything but a geezer. You've got to be, what, 35. 37?” Tom just grinned a develish grin back. His ego once again stroked to full capacity. It seemed that the bigger he got, the younger he looked. And he loved it. “A little bit older, than that, let's just say. I'm Tom. And you are?” “Austin. Nice to meet you, Tom.” The two shook hands, each noting each others' firms grips. “And I must say, Tom. You are very handsome yourself. I know this may sound forward, But, in fact, I think you are one of the hottest men I have ever seen. Even though you are just sitting there, I can feel an incredible force emanating from your. It's a combination of your good looks, pleasant demeanor and... ...that incredible body. That shirt looks like it is painted on you.” “Well, Austin. That's very nice of you to say. I'm happy that I can impress you in so many ways. I can see that you are a very well put together man yourself. Don't think I don't notice the way your skin is plastered to your biceps and forearms. Your arms are nice, do you think mine are nice too, my new friend?” With that Tom simply tensed his left arm. It had the desired effect as Austin's eyes zeroed in on the bulging muscle pushing at the already straining sleeves. It wasn't a full flex, just enough to give the young buck a taste of his size. The young man's eyes went wide and his mouth fell open. “Fuuuck, Tom. Your body is incredible. I, um... I've got a thing for muscles, Tom. And you are the biggest guy I've seen. You gotta be, what, 250 lbs?” Tom let out a deep chuckle and took another drink of his cocktail. “A bit more than that. Muscle is VERY heavy. Like you, I'm vey much into muscle as well. Tell you what, buddy. Go ahead and cop of feel of that big arm.” Tom was thoroughly enjoying rocking this younger stud's world. Austin let out a sigh as he slowly reached out his arm. Not wanting to look like he was simply feeling up the massive man next to him, he gently placed his hand on Tom's biceps, trying to make the move look like a natural conversation motion. Once again Tom tightened the muscle at his side and the kid let out a gasp. “That's well over 20 inches of rock solid biceps that you are feeling, Austin.” “Holy shit. I can tell, Tom. Haha. Well, it looks like I'm stuck at this bar stool for a while, I can't exactly stand up now.” “Good to hear, Austin, my new friend. I might be in the same position as you.” The two turned an engaged in a further conversation. Tom was pleased that Austin wasn't just some young dick-chaser. The young man was confident, well spoken, intelligent and charming. First the two engaged in the requisite get-to-know-you talks. Jobs, background and the like. It turned out that Austin was an assistant manager at the nearby Hawthorne Suites Hotel. The two talked about workout routines. It seemed that Austin was more into the crossfit types of workouts, which explained his incredible leanness. Austin listened with rapt attention as Tom listed some of his heaviest lifts. “Holy cow, Tom. So those big muscles just aren't for show? Good to know. Might come in handy later,” the young hunk said with a wink. At various points of the conversation the two found themselves more animated with each other. With the help of the drinks they were able to open up more with each other. This gave them the excuse to reach out and feel each other at strategic points. Reaching over to cup each others hardened delts as they laughed. And soon evolving into reaching under the bar to squeeze legs. Tom took the lead, with his longer arms, and first reached down and gave Austin's upper leg a solid squeeze with his large hands. The young man closed his eyes and exhaled in excitement. A few minutes later Austin returned the favor. Although what he found wasn't just a massive quad muscle. As he reached in between Tom's thighs and slowly worked his way upward he found himself feeling a rather large, tubular bulge. Instead of Tom sighing, it was once again Austin who gasped in awe. He leaned toward his new muse. “Oh my god, Tom. Is that you?” He asked under his breath. “Holy moly. You are rocking my world. You are like a fantasy man. Handsome, smart, hugely muscular...and if that is all you I'm feeling, hung like a fucking horse!” “Austin, my little friend, you are making me feel like the biggest man in the world right now. The fact that I can excite you so much with my mind AND my body is exciting me so much. Tell you what, how you would like to see how all this looks WITHOUT the clothes?” “Tom, that would make me the happiest man in the world. Tell you what, big man. One of the perks of my job is I can get us a great reduced price room at my hotel. I would love to see a posing routine of yours. Maybe we could have a nice mutual posedown and comparison session?” “Austin, that sounds amazing. Let's have one more drink and then we can head out of here.” The two finished their drinks, tabbed out and headed outside once they had both calmed themselves down to presentable levels. Tom had began to wonder if his monster cock might now extend out PAST the leg of his shorts when he was fully hard. While he was loving himself, indecent exposure would sure put a damper on these wondrous times. As they walked, if Tom had been staring at anybody but Austin, he would've notice the dozens of disappointed stares aimed at him as the top eye candy of the bar exited. Once outside the two enjoyed the summer evening air as they walked down the street to the hotel. As they walked, Austin proved to be a very secretly handsy man. He sneaked in several gropes of Tom's ass and that packed bulge. He was like a handsy ninja and it only titilated the bodybuilding librarian more and more. The two attracted several stares as they walked, each capable of holding the attention of the crowd, but together it was nearly impossible to look away from their masculine beauty. “Tom, you ass looks amazing in those shorts.” “Wait till you see it OUT of these shorts, little buddy.” At one point Austin surreptitiously reached up and pinched one of Tom's nipples. Tom jumped, let out an adorable yip and gave Austin an evil stare. Checking the surroundings, he grabbed the young man and pulled him into a narrow alley way. Before the young stud could react Tom reached under his armpits and LIFTED the hunk up to his face level. He pressed the man up against the brick wall. The slight fear in Austin's eyes quickly disappearing as he saw Tom's hot face coming toward his own. And just the like that two furiously made out. It was like fireworks exploding. Austin's hands ravaged Tom's traps, delts and arms as he moaned into Tom's mouth. Their tongues explored the depths of others' mouths. As Tom's hulking pecs pressed into Austin's rippling yet smaller ones, he released his grip on the young buck and took his turn to run his hands over the young prey. With just the weight of his rock hard mass pressing the young man against the wall he safely stayed in place, wedged tightly but comfortably against the brick wall. This only served to arrouse the young man even more, realizing the power that's Tom's muscles had. But, just to be safe, and partly to be closer to him, Austin wrapped his legs around the 6'4 muscle man. Tom's hands slid under the crossfitters polo and felt some of the deepest ab grooves Tom could imagine. This in turn caused Tom to moan as we has pleased that Austin, while quite a bit smaller, was proving his worth as a bona-fide ripped hunk. Austin's abs had to rival Ron's and perhaps were even better. Tom moaned out loud at the thought of what they looked like under that fabric. Austin sighed heavily and broke the kiss. “Geezus, Tom. You are so fuckin' hot. So fuckin' stong and big. We've got to get that hotel soon. I want to rip those tight clothes off of you and see those giant muscles and that huge cock in your shorts.” Tom placed his hands under Austin's firm bubble butt and stepped back from the wall, grinning like a Cheshire cat, easily supporting Austin's weight, causing the young man to shudder. “I agree Austin. Just think how easy it is for me to hold you like this, and you are no small man. I can't wait to show you these muscles. And I can't wait to see your own super-ripped phsique. I'm going to make you mine, my little friend. But rather than you tearing off my clothes, how about I just FLEX out of them for you?” While Tom spoke he puffed out his chest and squared his shoulders. The two heard the sounds of fabic beginning to stretch and tear. Tom instantly protested. “TOM! STOP! STOP!” “What, you don't like that, Austin?” “I fucking LOVE IT, Tom. But I want to see you do it private, where you can really bust out of that tiny shirt!” Austin once again lurched his forward and gave Tom a passionate kiss. After what seemed like several more minutes of intense making out Austin learned back. “Tom, I know you can hold me like this forever but I really want to get to that hotel room, haha.” Tom set the smaller man back on the ground. “I know Austin, I'm just trying to calm down enough to let my cock relax a bit. You might have to walk in front of me to hide my bulge.” “That's so hot to hear, big man. But who's gonna walk in front of me?” Tom looked down and licked his lips. Sure enough, the young man was tenting impressively, although not as impressively as himself. “Guess we'll have to find an even smaller third man for our party!” Tom joked. The two laughed and once they had calmed down, walked the last two blocks to the hotel.

This one is pretty rough and I didn't clean it up much. Its also one of my shorter ones I felt more fitting for the site. Please let me know what you think and if you want more like it. I have a few more on the way, but most of those are longer and will need to be split into chapters. Enjoy your fappy time reading. If You Give An Elf A Cookie Nothing was more exciting than an adventure in the city. At least, that’s how Metka felt. Sabbaticals here had become increasingly rare as the years passed. The lucrative aspect of farm life had waned further and further; tightening the belt of what little could be squired away. Only through fragile dedication had this vacation become ‘affordable’. Meager meals, helpful family, restrained urges, and the abandonment of most other indulgences; all were needed to come back. Even with the miserly guarding of his wallet, it had been four years. In that same spirit of humble enjoyment, no souvenirs or other needless spending was planned. Metka wanted to return home with all the funds he could manage, hoping to return sooner than next time. Despite a normally strict adherence, the elf was guiltily nibbling at his lone transgression. He’d been irresistibly drawn to it at first scent. Though bothered by a lingering self-directed spite for the treat, each morsel was savored to the fullest extent. In one hand Metka held the aforementioned and mostly eaten cookie. The other secured a shoulder-mounted satchel. The ambling tourist’s walk used was slow and distracted He kept finding new diversions in the spectacles along his path. Skyscrapers, public sculptures, and ornate shop displays were all enthralling. The elf’s goal was the same this year as all the ones before. He wanted to see what was new at the museum of art. Many precious sights and amazing masterpieces graced its walls. The curators had always managed to keep several exchange programs running throughout the year, bringing new displays with every visit. Even with the array of beautiful sights from shops; somehow surpassed by the draw of that nearing collection, Metka’s mind kept wondering back to that bakery. Possibly it was from guilt. It might have been caused by the vibrant taste from each small minuet; but the tourist thought it more likely just the experience. The key motivation for feeling that way was how uneasy the shopkeeper had made him. The confectionery salesman showed an uncharacteristic display of glib guile. The man’s encouragement to try the goods rang like silver bells, with a tincture of mended cracks. The elf had tried to listen closely for the sake of instinctual suspicion. That effort failed due to the unquestioning cry of his stomach and an olfactory variation on the siren’s call. Little of the baker’s actual words still lingered in memory, only adding to the eeriness of the event. Popping the last minuscule bite into his mouth, Metka forced himself to relent. No matter how strange or out of place the man had been, he sure as hell knew how to bake. Even after just finishing a sizable snack, the elf already yearned for another. Having walked several blocks away and still trying to balance his budget, seeking more would only be foolhardy. The vacationing tourist tried to distract himself from the remainder of taste by thinking about the museum. He’d been sure to check on the recently acquired displays before starting the trip. That led to much anticipation for most of them. An ancient sword collection and sets of tribal pottery were top on his list, though several other sections also held allure. Metka even began to ignore his surroundings, well trying to visualize a few of the photos he’d seen. The elf was awakened from his fugue state of recall by several gasps around him. Eyes rose from the ground they’d been ignoring; only to meet those of several dismayed stares. All were locked on him and the reason why dawned slowly. His first clue was the realization of how tightly confining his clothes felt; but that was instantly chalked up to the awkwardness of a social spotlight. His second hint was the angle of upraised heads. Full understanding came only as Metka faced his reflection; undeniable in the adjacent black glass wall of a building. The elf had managed to double in height. His shirt now looked meant for a toddler. Formerly roomy pants appeared to be outgrown shants. Even the strap holding his satchel snugly encircled his shoulder. His feet appeared bare, but only because toe-strap sandals were now completely concealed beneath them. The tourist wanted to think that was someone else’s reflection. He wanted to deny the evidence, yet only managed to gape in surprise like everyone else. Most of the on looking crowd started to back away. No one knew what to make of such an event, let alone the man it was happening to. The movement of time returned to Metka with the flash of a camera. He spun in an effort to look everywhere at once, trying to regain coherence to thought. All it accomplished was an equally hurried retreat of the crowed. Most merely took a few steps back, but several ran. The elf opened his mouth to try and explain. A jutting jaw only hung there for a couple seconds, as he realized the lack of any way to do so. Eventually a pitiable excuse was offered instead. “I didn’t…uh…excuse me!” With that, Metka began pacing briskly down the sidewalk again. A path hurriedly cleared for him. A few people went so far as to shove others out of the way, to avoid being caught in it. The only response given by anyone was another electric flash. Soon several people were doing likewise; though most had waited tell he couldn’t identify who. The irregularly strobing light began to fray the straitjacket binding a looming panic. Only upon seeing the mouth of a thin ally, was the tourist able regain some direction and intent. Spotting the escape route more clearly with each elongated step, a primitive plan began forming. Turning into the ally opening with as little warning as possible, Metka quickly grabbed each side of a wheeled dumpster along the far wall. Two minutes ago he wouldn’t have been able to touch both sides at once, but now that didn’t even require stretching. Likewise; the heave used to spin it in front of the ally, was nearly powerful enough to lose control of it all together. The followers that had amassed during his hasty stroll; fell over each other in a forced halt. Noticing a second dumpster on the previous hidden wall, the elf decided to attempt reinforcing the barricade. Raised arms tried to capture more pictures well the tourist tried lifting the other trash bin. Though difficult, he managed to lumber it over on top of the other. That succeeded in cutting off most of the stuttering lights, prompting a sigh of relief from the empowered visitor. Well taking a moment to enjoy the minor success, he turned to inspect the far end of his makeshift haven. Even before finishing the rotation, the felt an awkward and unwarranted sensation. It welled welling up inside like an over-boiling pot. He felt...aroused? The momentum of untimely and out of place feeling, built more with each passing moment. Breath caught in his throat as a ripping sound filled his thoughts. The tightness of over-strained clothing vanished with the diminishing sound effect, but Metka barely noticed. Muscles quickly toned in definition as the transformation progressed. Formally vague abdominals gained clear hills and valleys. Arms formerly layered with thin padding, began to show strained bulges. Caves and thighs swelled with slopping arcs of strength. With every twitch of the throbbing cock between his legs, the appendage gained proportionate length and girth. During it all, his entire body grew with sporadic surges in height. The event didn’t last very long, even if it felt so to the elf. Air had filled his lings with the vacuum of expanding size; but the supernatural breath rushed out upon the culmination of sensation. He’d braced his hands on either wall of the ally as legs grew week, barely noticing them burst through the brick and mortar. A great stream of cum spewed from the engorged penis, followed by two more. Each splattered along the ally’s length; with the thick slap of a full bucket, overturned from an ample height. Likewise, the creamy fluid peppered the area in slow runnels. It oozed down the bricks and street curves like elongating exclamation points. Metka returned to awareness with the first frightened shrieks from his left. He looked over to see one arm half buried in the building there, understanding smacking him like a wet fish. The towering elf wrenched it free. Shock and surprise offered him little grace, resulting in further ruination of the building. One could now see inside and what appeared to be an office of cubicles. Herds of white-shirted workers were already piled up at the far end’s exit. They filtered out an opening fall too small for their enthusiasm. The tourist still panted from his unexpected exertion, well trying to find some bearings. Not daring to look, he withdrew the other arm from its neighboring hole; having to turn sideways in order to do so. The ally was barely big enough to hold him now. The elf had grown to a height of nearly three stories. He turned his head to look back towards the dumpsters; now able to see over them, and spotted the remained of a crowed scatter at his gaze. Well moving to look in the other direction, the ominous warning of distant sirens began. Too big to simply walk out of the ally, Metka had to sidle towards the other end. It was disturbing him to have that lingering arousal encouraged by his penis trailing along the wall in front. Bare feet kicked and crushed the periodic trash can or discarded crate as he moved. It seemed odd that nothing punctured their soles in the process, but that was quickly assumed to be a result of skin’s thickening. The cement beneath him let out an occasional crack under the weight. It reminded him of ponds with thin ice and foolish children. He only hoped there was nothing for him to falling into, should the artificial rock give way. Metka heard another barrage of screams upon exiting the confining ally. He could see the crowded streets clear around him in a widening ripple. Cars screeched to a half and were abandoned, as more people joined the throng of feeling civilians. He hoped that such obstructions would impede the nearing source of those sirens, but doubted it would help that much. Getting out of the city now seemed to be the only option left to him. He didn’t want to hurt anyone and had no clue if another burst of growth was due. Regardless of if it did or not, the authorities were sure to react violently upon spotting him. The elf began to move quickly down the road, still unsure of his direction along the vaguely known streets. He just focused on distancing himself from the direction of the approaching militants. The tourist did his best to avoid stepping on cars and kiosks well advancing, but couldn’t always find an opening. Metal, wood, and plastic, splintered and bent under his substantial mass. Concrete cracked and fissured with the added force of movement. The protest of each rang clearly at each stride’s landing. His sizable erection; which had lost only its demanding throb, bobbed and weaved before him. As Metka reached the next intersection, he began to pivot on one heel. The goal was to turn and see if the city’s edge might be in sight, but the roadway could not support that centered and driving force. It gave way; dropping the foot into the subway beneath, well pitching its owner forward in a fall. The elf was far too distracted to be prepared for the incident. He tumbled forward without a chance to brace for impact or roll to one side. The resulting conclusion was the ample cock’s driving impact with the ground. The tourist had clenched his teeth when the fall began. As his penis bent under the rest of his weight, air hissed inward between them. The street could support its pistoning force no more than the heel’s. Pavement shattered in wake of the driving shaft, well Metka felt the onrush of that implacable feeling once again. A cock with veins the size of fire hoses plunged into the empty canal of the subway. It bulged against the tunnel’s sides like the cork of a wine bottle. An irresistible euphoria overcame the elf as his member fully entered the passage. His body acted in sexual instinct. Hands crashed down on the surface’s neighboring sidewalks. Arms straitened and sent their owner’s back into an arch. Hips thrust forward with destructive vehemence. The swollen phallus erupted in triplicate, as it had before. Bouts of growth fell in time with the ejaculation. The thrust’s bracing hands enlarged in three successive spurts, palms now equaling the size of large tanks. His back arched more with the increase; the proportionate distance between pelvis and arms shortening severely. Colossal toes burrowed into the street and tilled as legs extended. Powerful gusts of breath escaped the giant between each increase in size. The enlarged penis decimated the road above it, as the confines of its housing became too small for the girth. As the storm of libido faded, Metka slumped forward. Forearms trenched the area beneath them, as they slid into a lax posture. The slightly relaxed cock withdrew from its ruined confines, allowing the owner to kneel. Only after a few labored breaths did the elf return his mind to escape. He rose into a sitting kneel and took stock of his new height. Even without standing, the man could see over the tops of some buildings. He took sudden notice of several things in quick succession. The building to either side of him had been gouged by his shoulders as he’d risen, the street below him was utterly destroyed, and helicopters were approaching on the horizon in front. The tourist quickly scrambled to his feet. He was so tall, that the city’s sounds felt faded by the distance. One leg extended the full length of a block in an effort to find an open gap; well a hand used the top of a building for support. The foot found purchase, but he grimaced as the building’s upper half gave way half way though his rise. The maddening cock clipped another building and removed its corner as he turned tried to regain balance. There was no time to muse over the implications or the phenomenon of growth. He just hoped for enough time to escape. Metka turned again and stepped over a ‘short’ apartment complex to one side. The streets themselves were now too narrow for easy travel, but the newfound height allowed him to see the closest edge of the city. Each rushed step took him closer, like a fire-walker seeking the relief of cool ground. Before making it more than half way, the elf heard a concerning and loudening whine from behind. Taking a quick glance back in that direction, he saw the unmistakable smoke trails of nearing missiles. He managed to intercept their path with a sizable skyscraper, but only succeeded in dampening their effect. Several hit in a rapid barrage. The resulting explosions demolished the building and knocked the tourist off his feet. He was sent sprawling over several more structures; that stood no chance against such a gargantuan impact. Metka disappeared beneath a cloud of billowing dust as the world collapsed on every side. When this whole crazy adventure had started, the elf worked word to avoid casualties. After all that had happened and the extent things reached, he’d come to think only of survival. That mentality took a firm root as a world of pulverized brick, cement, and everything else swirled around him. The infinitesimal populous he once belonged to were bound to seek his death from this point out, leaving him with few to no options. Apathy replaced concern in the time it took him to find the ground. Though the impact had done little more than knock the wind from Metka, he managed to hit the ground face first. The second thing to land was his cock, resulting in a sensation that was beginning to feel familiar. Sexual excitement bloomed as the blimp-sized appendage plowed into through a series of buildings. It carved a deep furrow through whole blocks, before the member came to rest against the elf’s stomach and chest. The tidal flow of semen spewed forth without restraint, the tourist starting to embrace his arousal openly. Sticky goo splattered against pectorals and chin, before seeping out over the rubble and adjacent streets. Surges of growth fallowed much as they had the last time. Each gush of cum came with a doubling in size that widened his creator of destruction. Metka returned to himself without daring to open his eyes at first. Only the annoyance of more or larger attacks managed to make him. He beheld little more than the cloud of dust his meteor-like impact had generated. Trying not to breathe it in, despite his racing heart’s demand for it; the elf rose to his feet again. The few buildings still remaining appeared to be no bigger than candy boxes. The majority of what had existed, was now the crushed outlines of his fall and expansion. The tourist looked around in search of the helicopters that had attacked him. He spotted the insect sized specs on the retreat. That allowed him a sigh of relief between panting breaths. The only thing wanted was to get away before another strategy was managed, but the elf had to figure out a place to go. He moved to massage his injured face and found it slick with spent seed. Looking over his cum-covered front, Metka decided that the ocean would be as good a place as any. He was too exhausted mentally and physically to ponder the issue further. As a titanic foot passed overhead, a lone figure slithered out the front of his disheveled bakery. A wide smile sporting two protruding fangs looked up in approval. After all; successful experiments were always so satisfying.

Farniro pumped massive bellows. The chain belt powering them was exhaustively resilient. He had to hang on it, just to get things started. His fur glistened with sweat and soot. Gebis kept calling for more and more, every sentence another demand. The young feline never seemed to reach the expectation. Either that or it kept rising. The youthful warrior had come to this forge and its master, for the sake of Sanguis. His precious weapon had taken a mighty beating against that golem. He’d arrived with its blade chipped and pitted. The next swing might have snapped it in two. And as precious as Farniro’s tool was to him, it wasn’t something he could forge personally. Gebis was happy to help. The renowned artisan had supplied some of the land’s greatest swords, both magical and mundane. He’d admired Sanguis and gotten to work in short order. He’d delicately fashioned his wonders on the metal, avoiding the actual smelt of its blade. Edges were softened and brought back to shape. Enchanted oils infused the seams, making them vanish without the slightest trace. The smith returned to Farniro, sword gleaming in the sun. That’s when all the troubled started. “Amazing work, nya! It looks as good as new! How’d you do it?” “You should know better than to ask for such secrets, squirt.” Farniro laughed with awkward embarrassment and an emphatic nod. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I just got carried away with the sight of it. How much do I owe you?” “Five-hundred should do it.” “Wow! That’s really kind of you. I wasn’t expecting it to be so cheap.” “Most wouldn’t think so, but who am I to argue with such a deep purse.” The two shared a spell of laughter as the feline rummaged for coins. A bit it had to be the silver requested. The majority condensed with the last of his gold. He was sorry to see the last of that haul go, but it was worth it for Sanguis. When Farniro looked up to hand his pile over, he found a disgruntled mustache twitching in disapproval. A few blinks didn’t dispel an illusion, so the cat opened his mouth to ask what was up. Gebis didn’t wait for the question, asking a rhetorical one of his own instead. “Well aren’t you the hopeful little dreamer?” Farniro tried again, only to be cut off once more. “Five. Hundred. Gold. My work isn’t as cheap as you seem to think.” The feline’s mouth dropped as eyes bugged wide. You could buy out a village for that; feed an army for a month’s march. “Why didn’t you tell me it would be so much?!” “You never asked. I figured you just had deep pockets. Now I come to find out you’re a fool instead.” “But I can’t pay that! I’ve barely had that much to my name in my whole life. I mean, I guess I could focus on finding some hordes and taking some jobs to pay you over time,” Gebis interrupted with a mocking laugh. “I doubt you’ve got what it takes without a sword.” The blacksmith smiled at the swordsman’s sunken expression. Then he clarified, “I get paid or you don’t get it back. I don’t work for pittance.” Farniro clutched his ears and let out a long, “Nyaaaaaaaa!” of frustration. Gebis let the cat squirm, holding back his schadenfreuden chuckles. “Isn’t there something I can do for you to make good on this?” “Tell you what,” the blacksmith let hope build in the yellow eyes before finishing, “You work my bellows and play houseboy for a month, we’ll call it even.” Joyous hope erupted within Farniro and made ready to spew its exuberance in words. Once again, Gebis cut him off. This time it came with savage undertone. “Don’t go thinking you’re getting off light squirt. If you don’t last the month, then the sword is mine. No wining or asking for a second chance either.” The feline gulped in dreaded anticipation, having yet to see the workshop’s interior. Still; he couldn’t abandon the only chance given. “Okay then. It’s a deal.” Gebis’ hand thrust out like a glaive, making the cat jump back at first. Then the latter realized, it was meant for a binding shake. As one hand met the other, Farniro felt the grip and weight of a bad deal. The swordsman wasn’t wrong in his assumption. The room appeared more dungeon than smithery’s workshop. Hung blades reeked of savage intent. The anvil at center was huge and broad, easily mistakable for an altar. The massive furnace eclipsed one wall, chain pulleys edging like decretive columns. Gebis interrupted the awful exploration; with the explanation, “That forge is meant for a man on either side. I’ve been working its bellows by myself for years. So you shouldn’t have too much trouble keeping up.” Farniro looked back to see a swindling smile, frowning an acknowledgement of con.” “You giving up already? Feel free to walk out any time.” “I said I’d do it so I’ll do it. I’m getting Sanguis back.” “We’ll see. Far be it for me to frown at free labor.” Three weeks later, the cat’s ears drooped with exhaustion. On and on the smith bellowed for bellows. They’d only had two days of rest since starting, but even that wasn’t fully true for his laborer. Gebis filled the quiet days with chores, pushing his serf at every turn. That cruel smile became nearly omnipresent. The smith could see his victory in sight. Now Farniro felt the end nearing. He still had a week to go, but so long felt endlessly out of reach. Still he refused to give up. Nothing short of collapse would stop him. Gebis struck and tapped at a new commission. It was a mage blade that baked with red corona, even before putting it to flames. They, or rather Farniro; had needed to douse their coals in a syrupy red goo. His taskmaster had explained it as getting the fires hot enough. The feline had needed to stir both fuels together, straining his arms with weight and thickness. It wore him out before even starting on the chains, making the metal loops feel more like shackles. As the cat shoveled in the first load of drenched coals, he had to pry piles free. Thick tendrils of the goo, stretched in resistance. It layered the shovel and made it impossible to throw loads. Instead, the swordsman had to scrape it free on the open hatch. A hiss came from the wetted fire within a few loads. Wisps of crimson silk began to trail from the opening. It quickly thickened to a haze, which had the cat coughing inside a few minutes. “Work the bellows and clear that stuff out the chimney. I don’t want to start sucking it down. If you were a real man, you could do both at the same time.” Farniro grimaced and kept from showing his sneer. Another cough banished the worry, as he staggered over to the chains. Hands dragged him up the large links. They wanted to slip, but pride and need refused to let them. When chain loosened and the cat found his feet again, he couldn’t help but gasp with the strain. It rushed the cloud deep into lungs, starting him in a hectic fit of coughing. The feline scrabbled his way free of oily smoke, crawling along the floor on knees. Refuge hand him breathing deeply of the cleaner air. No sooner had the serf reached sanctuary, than bidden to return. “Back to it runt.” A scrap of cloth landed next to Farniro, drawing his eyes up to Gebis’. There he found the raised cheeks of a smile, hidden behind another tatter of cloth. The bastard had known and prepared himself already. “If you can’t manage, I’ll take this as a forfeit.” “Nya.” The swordsman uttered between stifled hitches. The cloth pressed loosely against his mouth. Air was still too precious for such restriction. It took about a minute, before he could fasten its ends in place. The feline found strength in anger, forcing a stand and tying the rag. Eyes squinted against the malicious smoke, as he hurried his way back to chains. He forced breath low and kept a steady pace. Another gasp or panting would start it all over. This was hardest in getting the bellows turning again, but that first loosening appeared to help. The cruel-hearted blacksmith was pounding away behind, sparks flying and at the cat. His back and hair were singed, from all the burring metal they’d already caught; meaning Farniro paid them little mind. Blackened holes peppered his sleeveless shirt. The world began to fade for the swordsman. It narrowed to task and strain. The sense of it dulled with every pull. His vision blurred. Time became abstract. Life emptied its meaning. The cat found distance relieving, letting him drift away from the effort. Even the chain's resistance felt lighter, far away in uninhabited lands. As time passed, relief turned to embrace; then to surreal optimism. At least this trial would build up his fortitude and resilience. The feline had faced hectic and strenuous training before, but nothing as taxing without the cuts and bruises to encourage. His only pain was the ache of callused fingers and palms. Even that was starting to fade. The outlook empowered him more than expected. Farniro could barely feel the effort he poured in. The bellows lightened with every tug. The weight of body vanished with his dawning paradigm. Advancing acceptance had more power than dreamed. A muffled voice began to encroach. The swordsman couldn't make it out at first, too lost in reflection for the external. His head shook and thoughts cleared a little, trying to pay attention to the tyrant. It took him far longer than expected, volume rising before he could clarify. "Hold, hold!" were the first clear words. Farniro ended the meditative cycle, turning to face the voice's source. He only made it half a step, before his balance ended precariously. The swordsman teetered and nearly fell over, grabbing the chain to regain equilibrium. The world returned in a rush of disorder, bringing with it a wealth of awareness. The first nuance to register was angle. The feline looked round and upward, finding nothing but roof. He heard Gebis shout from below and looked down in surprise. There the smith was, looking furious and finite. Farniro began to question his memory, remembering the artisan much taller. That left him scrambling for answers within, losing tack of the other's continued rants. Next a register of strain, tightness spread along chest and leggings. The swordsman looked down and answered sight with gasp. His shirt was tattered, ripped across his bulging chest. The crest of pectorals obscured his vision lower. Folded seems at shoulders had degraded to frayed bands. Threads and tatters of cloth, protruded outward like the spokes of a mangled bicycle. With attention rushing away from thought and back to body, elation stuck as a brick to head. Farniro hadn't dared to lean forward and inspect further yet, but he could feel the same decimated fabric below. Now it pressed tighter, centering efforts singularly. Arousal embraced him with all the furnace of homecoming. Cheeks heated beyond forge's power, sprouting from the rivaling sensation below. A region of cloth sundered entirely, freeing the urgency of a mammoth erection. The bulging shaft towered beyond recognition. Its twitching pulse screamed for attention. Farniro returned to ignoring the smith, as rippling arms reached for the prize. He pulled it close and moaned at the feel. Bending it against him brought waves of delight, the head nestling within solar plexus. Its tip graced along the underside of chest, summoning a growling shutter from its owner. Farniro began to stroke himself, unable to resist its call. The heated flesh throbbed in hand, eager to answer the call. Each palm moved slowly, finding their way along every lengthy surface. There was so much to explore. He couldn't fully encircle such manhood, even with both hands parallel; but damned if he wasn't going to try. Gebis looked on with fear and regret. He'd pushed things too far in a quest for victory. Caution took backseat to spite. Vicious provocations were no offset to risk. His cruel smile was gone. It was replaced by rage hiding dread. The enchanted oils had certainly worked their magic for the forge. They'd also pressed the cat to its limits. However, the artisan knew better than to write off this tragedy there. The world hadn't twisted from true, till he'd begun work on the blade. Sentient metal had howled in hand, yet the smith carried on. The resistance was normal enough. The tyrant equated it to shoeing a horse. Any weapon of such caliber, would try to kick and buck just the same. Gebis wore the protections needed, but had limited thought for fallout upon the serf. The ember blade was old and wise. It'd learned of people and their ways though various wielders. Knowing attack was meaningless against the smith, it sought refuge in the only answer left. The dynamic between both men was clear, a servant and master. So the sword had decided to tip those scales, in the most effective method it could. Seeds of enchantment had leapt with shed sparks. They'd worked their way in, layering with every blow. Nevertheless, such results were far beyond expectation. Gebis roared for the feline to halt. He ranted with insults and demands, trying to intimidate the mistake into submission. All of his wailing and wining fell on deaf ears. There was nothing he could do to stop this obscene act. Anger kept the smith from consideration of worse. The idea of reprisal stayed locked behind angst. Farniro cared nothing for murmurs barely registered. He was enthralled by the swelling enjoyment. The few remaining tatters of cloth; snapped and flew free in succession. The bulge in hands expanded ever larger. Every twitch and rush of blood pumped into the mammoth, widened and expanded beyond limit. The feline's head crested ceiling, forcing wood to creak and neck to bend. The newly formed Goliath attempted to sit. He could only spare one hand for the task. The other redoubled its effort toward front, unable to leave arousal unattended. The whole endeavor was lost from the start. Farniro couldn't maintain a balance of his new and ever-expanding form. Too much shifted and proportions went well past acclimation. The mere act of a crouch sent him rocking back. The bracing arm had no grasp of distance. Thus the cat landed with an earth-shaking thud, lanced several cracks along the stone flooring. That's when his tail graced upon the furnace and all hell broke loose. Farniro yowled as the appendage tried to broil. He shot his body upward and away, widening cracks with weight and force. He'd never wielded the power of such legs. Nor could he prepare for the might expelled. The massive cat shot up and through the roof, sundering wood with no more resistance than twigs. He was too focused on the sudden singe for realization, leaving the forge and workshop far behind. Understanding hit in unison with ground. Towering trees broke, flattened under muscular weight. The forest canopy dimpled as it made way for a behemoth. Farniro felt it no more than falling back. His attention and interest were still ruled by other sensations. He didn't spare time or thought over what happened, only returned hands where they were needed. Gebis looked up in marvel. His shop was in shambles. Forge and anvil kilted towards the creator left behind. He stood frozen and held by dismay. The swordsman moaned with impending release. His hands flew faster as excitement clamored. Birds and beasts all flew and ran clear. None dared encounter the monstrosity it hailed from. The feline roared as ecstasy culminated. The world went white, in far more than figurative. Farniro panted, exhausted by it all. He and the surrounding trees were coated, sticky with layers of thickly dripping seed. It took several minutes for the numbing of delight to fade. When it eventually did, a single thought chimed its attention. "I forgot Sanguis!"

Part 1: Part 2: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/12786-basically-a-god-part-2/ Part 3: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/12787-basically-a-god-part-3/ Part 4: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/15219-basically-a-god-part-4/ Part 5: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/15220-basically-a-god-part-5/ Part 6: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/15221-basically-a-god-part-6/ Part 7 My teeth were big and white as I smiled for the professional cameras the press were firing off as I accepted the key to their city. It was such a small town in America I could barely remember its name. I was practically had my knees bent at 90 degrees trying to hold this stupid shaking hand pose with the mayor, his old little hand shaking in my massive mitt of a hand. A lot of things had changed in the year I had been a guardian for the god that was Johnny Powerstone. Everyone around me knew who I was the moment they saw me and practically were on their hands and knees trying to please me. Just a year ago, I was just Arseny Petrov, one of the top strongmen in the world and a 21 year old anomaly. I used to think being just over 2 meters tall (6 foot 7) and carrying around over 400 pounds made me a truly big and powerful specimen. Those who loved a huge man among big men used to come all over just to see me take down the challenges before me with my big, bulging arms. My signature flex and grin right after winning my events was the highlight for many strength enthusiasts. Who wouldn’t love a big man who could lift a ton? Being a big name in the strongman world, I found a lot of entertainment in growing my body more, pushing bigger weights, and then going to places where my size was highlighted. The Japanese crowd got a real kick out of me. There was a good image of me trying to fit through one of their tiny fucking sliding doors that the internet raved about nowadays. “Holy shit, he used to be that big?” “Yeah, and now he’s even bigger!” “The dude’s a fucking demi-god!” They weren’t wrong. I couldn’t fit in buildings anymore when I broke 10 feet tall and at 13 feet, I’d be lucky to get my 2 ton body through the double doors of an airport. After Johnny turned me, I grew like a weed, making me the talk of the world and the other disciples he owned. My asshole dad was my favorite torture subject when I went home on my breaks from the Poundstone Tower. I’d inherited my height and size from him but even at 6’9, that little shithead was scarce when I came home. My hometown was a mark on the map for the birthplace of the biggest disciple of Johnny Poundstone and one of the biggest success stories in the public’s view of Johnny’s divine intervention. People would clamor in excitement when Johnny did his usual drop off to key towns dealing with problems too big for them. They always hoped he’d be the one to intervene but, if not him, they’d hope I would come and be their hero for the day. I loved to watch those tiny little human faces look up to me like I was a being from another world gracing their planet. Johnny had to make my suit personally so that the frequent erections I grew at public events could be contained atleast slightly. As a disciple, his publicist insisted that atleast we should be more modest than our leader. I didn’t give two shits. I would just grin and groan as my nearly 3 foot cock pushed and fought against the super fibers. I’d made a bet amongst the other guardians that I’d be able to outgrow the suit cock first and a lot of the money amongst them was for rather than against. And who could blame them? I took advantage of my new super-body the way I did when I prepared for my strongman competitions. I ate so much that many of the smallest disciples were afraid to come near the dinner table until I’d finished my food. I scarfed it down like a wolf and was almost equally as ill-mannered. The table I’d been given would groan after only a few weeks once I’d really gotten the hang of eating for my new body. While the other guardians went down to the disciple floors of the tower to fuck and play with their smaller kin solely, my day was a mixed bag. Some days I’d super hop to areas just so I could test my strength against bigger boulders and tightly rooted trees. Other days I would test my endurance by using my super speed to run laps around the country. Johnny had built an island for his guardians to test their limits but I’d gotten too strong for those feeble weights when I broke 9 feet tall. Only his magnetic weights could keep up with me but even those were slowly losing their benefit. Any day that didn’t involve me eating, lifting, or simply pushing my body to the limit was a day where I rewarded myself. Any small town would spot me and do whatever I wanted so it didn’t take long for me to set up some areas for me to beworshipped by the most beautiful of the townspeople. I used to think I only loved women but there was nothing like having women squirm and lick my monster pole while the men would rub down my muscles with their stronger hands. Just the sight of me made them question their originally self-proclaimed sexualities and I loved to make them kneel for me. I was living the life compared to when I was a strongman. No more bulking periods for me. I could eat and eat and eat yet still retain almost no fat. My body was like a muscle machine! No more having to choose between my old girlfriend and my hand for a sex partner. I had sex almost everyday of the week and twice on Sunday! No more relative fame where I had to go to competitions to find my favorite strength enthusiasts. I could make strength whores everywhere I went now. Everyone loves power. It was a perfect cycle. My muscles got bigger, which would give me the strength to push harder, which would make my ability to collect sex partners easier, which would make me push even harder, which would make me horny as hell, which would make me push harder, which would make my muscles bigger! Life was heaven. But nothing in my new life was better than the god Johnny Poundstone. Everything about him was a goal for me. An impossible goal, but a goal that would make me always want more. Johnny barely fit into anything, let alone his own tower, at 21 feet tall. He had to phase through the tower in order to travel through it but he would have to be careful not to run into anyone, moving along two or three floors at a time. His power to phase only worked on non-living things, a flaw that he constantly griped about at dinner. His muscles were defined beyond human comprehension, making him a dangerous person to collide with when each muscles had the power to move a planet even at that ‘small’ a size. Tourists to New York were warned ahead of time off his Saturday patrols of the city. If they didn’t get the warning, they’d be shocked to find a god standing above the cityscape, his feet in the water yet still his knees still in the clouds. His big muscles filled the sky on those day and we suspected it gave people perfect masturbation material. Every muscle on his body seemed to defy gravity and logic with its size and shape. His figure couldn’t have been defined as human the way his arms were bigger around than any human chest, let alone SUVs. His waist was tight and yet powerful like a pillar, the abdominals and obliques making sharp curves along his torso up to his overarching pecs. No one could speak to him any longer unless he bent at the waist or kneeled and since he grown to 20 feet tall, he’d refused to give anyone the satisfaction of him bending. The places he came to for events were encouraged to have 10 foot trenches for him to walk through or 10 to 15 foot platforms set up for when he arrived or needed to speak. The world was clearly in his grasp and it showed everywhere he went. People bowed in love or fear, sometimes both. When he said you weren’t allowed to speak, the room would turn silent. When he made a request, people took it as an order with their life on the line and their servitude as his main course. I wanted that more than anything for myself but the power that spilled off him is what pulled me in. I was in love with the force of nature that was Johnny Poundstone and Johnny enjoyed taking advantage of it. I couldn’t tell if he could read minds but it didn’t matter the way he fucked me into oblivion. I’d never given my mountainous ass cheeks to anyone other than Johnny and he took it as his territory every time he took it. I emphasize the word ‘took’ because, no matter what I was in the middle of doing, Johnny would pull me aside and start fucking me out of the blue. I would scream in shout in ecstasy and it would only egg him on. The look in my eyes would make him press me against a physical or psychic wall and roar into my ear as he fucked me into the next century. Time seemed to fade and nothing else would matter when he shoved his massive godly cock into my ass. When he told me that his cum gave me more power, I’d thought he was warning me to take advantage of it as much as possible. But how could I do that with the random black outs I experienced during his fucking. It took a solid week of fucking for me to realize it was like a magic spell that he released on himself that was like giving permission to fuck me however he pleased. I was lucky he liked me or else he’d probably use me to fuck at his hardest the way he did with the planets from footage he got using his private satellite. But even though he held back, I could feel him slowly putting more force into it with each session. The last time alone, we’d gone to an abandoned building where’d he literally fucked me through multiple floors. Sex for Johnny was an art form. He could make me shout louder with every thrust, shake harder with every pounding, want more with every kiss and bite and look. I doubted he could do more to me each time but he’d always one up himself. It was like his constantly growing and evolving powers made him better at sex by the hour. Sometimes, I’d come out of my comas and see the faces of the other guardians when Johnny fucked me. The faces of envy were obvious and the air almost turned green when they were in the room with us. No one other than me got private sessions with him. He didn’t give them his cock the way he gave it to me. I was a special case in every sense of the word that they were never allowed to whine about or question. That kind of jealousy put a smile on my face. My theory was Johnny fucked me best because of how much my body took to his and came back for more. When he fucked me, it took hours before I was out of commission. Even then, I’d wake up in a day while the others would be out for a full 7. When Johnny grew, I grew. If he grew another foot, I wouldn’t grow half as fast but I’d be close. None of the other disciples grew past the 10 foot height and, therefore, became increasingly useless as they stayed the same and Johnny grew stronger. Johnny would often be watching me as I was breaking a new personal best lifting 50 tons or saving another 15 people more from a burning building. It took me less than 10 minutes to put an illegal drug factory to bed, although I would always destroy the building as a side effect. None of them came close to me. That’s why I’d puffed my chest out so far when Johnny told me he had something special to show me on a fateful July. I’d broken the 15 feet tall barrier and Johnny, now 32 feet tall at his smallest, was pleased by progress. I now used most of his magnetic weights for curling now and I was now too big to go on ‘easy’ missions like rescuing people from buildings and robberies without destroying government property. I was a big, big handful that Johnny clearly liked for some reason or else he would have probably made the smart choice and put me permanently in our rapidly shrinking home. I remained hopeful and confident in Johnny as we flew over a new island he’d created in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. There wasn’t a route for a boat or anything at all for miles. This island, unlike the others, only contained assorted boulders and rocks. It was wide but had no greenery or animals in sight. We landed on the sand shore, my 4 ton body quickly starting to sink into the sand. “Sir, why are we here?” I asked as I looked up to him. He was so tall now that even I couldn’t see much of his face past his pec shelf. He leaned forward and I heard his thunderous voice rain down on me. “Stop calling me sir, Arseny, call me Johnny” he said with a handsome grin. His eyes were even brighter and more beautiful than the month before. “Yes, sir—ur, I mean…… Johnny” I said, going from an exclamation to a quiet whisper. I’d hoped he would take this for a slight error on my part due to my first language, Russian. After receiving his essence, I’d learned several languages like I was learning to ride a bike. Johnny boomed laughter down to me. Instantly my crotch shivered and I felt my new suit tighten. It wouldn’t be long before I outgrew another uniform. “Arseny, how’s your family?” he asked out of the blue. I’d never heard him ask a disciple such personal information before. I just assumed he could get the information by hacking the internet like he did for criminal organizations. Or he could just read our minds. “Um, their fine. My dad still sucks balls but he’s a lot quieter after I ripped the house in half looking for my protein powder.” Johnny held his grin and turned it into a big white smile. He then moved toward the boulders nearby and sat atop a formation of them like they were a love seat. My eyes were glued to his bulging muscles and the comparison of the seemingly tiny boulders to them. He was watching me. “Arseny, do you like muscles?” “Of course! I want more!” I said confidently. To prove my point I did a double bicep and admired my 60+ inch guns. “Every movement I make feels like I’m throwing around a stone! I could always have more!” Johnny took another moment to look at me as if analyzing my response. “Do you like power?” I merely nodded my head furiously before answering. “When I was in competition, the other competitors would always tell me how jealous they were of how easily I could lift things. I was so excited when a guy told me once, the can of beer I was holding burst!” Johnny looked at me again before moving into a reclining position against the boulders. “It’s not that great, you know.” “What??” I said in confusion. “It’s not that great. Strength and power, I mean.” “Sir—er, Johnny, I don’t understand. You have the power to lift mountains like lifting a spoon! You can fly at speeds that don’t just make you a blur but actually create a stream of light at your top speed. You fuck me so hard that we’ve broken old city neighborhoods like they’re made of pudding! The UN actually tried to pass a bill to limit your size on earth after you tried to walk along the shore of new York and nearly caused a tsunami!” “Yeah, yeah, that’s all well and good but so what?” Johnny said as he reached for a boulder and rubbed its smooth surface. “I could pull all the mountains, fly till I cause a planet to rupture in half, and fuck you so hard that we could re-activate a volcano but I’ll always get stronger. I’ll always top what I did last month and exceed expectations further. The world is in the palm of my hand now but so what?” At this point in the conversation, my mouth was open and my face was in shock. “It’s just not enough. I’m bored, Arseny. New has gotten old. I’m sure you’ve noticed it but I’ll just point it out. I’ve shredded my uniform twice as many times as you since you’ve been here. Ever since you arrived, everything’s changed.” “What do you mean?” “I mean that I’m growing faster now. Getting stronger than ever before. My body is adapting faster as my powers are getting stronger at an accelerating rate. I’ve tested my powers on other planets like earth and, in about 5 years alone, I’ll be powerful enough to split an atom with my mind alone. I’ve had to contain my true weight even more so than I ever have. 1/100th of my true weight could form a crater in the planet 1/10th its size. I nearly slipped when I tried to deactivate a volcano and nearly created 3 more trying to do it. I’m getting too powerful to remain this close to the planet. Even my heat vision is getting too powerful to avoid blowing a volcano into Asia… again. At my current growth speed, I’ll be as big as Jupiter at max size in 5 years but, at this rapidly changing speed of growth, I can’t say that in 5 years that I’ll be 5 times the size of Jupiter at my smallest. Nothing is keeping up with me anymore.” “But what about planet Earth? What if something happens in the public that requires you to step in?” “What if? If I stayed, I’d just push them 100 years into the future if I were to show the world my newest inventions. After my food supply sustaining research started bearing fruit, I’ve already excelled past the human races comprehension of science. I’ve outdone society by at least four centuries. The invention business has plummeted since I came around. They really don’t need me to make society perfect for them.” “Fuck, Johnny! How can you keep getting more impressive??” I asked over the sound of the waves slamming against the shore. After listening to Johnny, my cock was harder as rock and with a loud rip, my big, reddened, purple headed cock burst from my suit and lifted its hulking 5 foot mass up and slammed against my abs. Fuck, I was getting big. Johnny grinned and left his perch to stand in front of me, his eyes focused into mine. “You.” “What?” “Am I speaking Cantonese without realizing it again?” “What do you mean ‘you’?” “I mean that you are the catalyst, Arseny. You have been what’s causing my power to accelerate.” “What??” “Are you sure I’m not speaking Cantonese or Hebrew?” “Just explain!” “Well…… it turns out that my powers are correlated to you. More specifically, your growth.” “How has my growth caused your growth?” “You see, it took a while to notice but, since I gained my powers years ago, I’ve been growing and getting stronger. After a point, it became so easy to get a girl to open her legs, I stopped keeping count and tracking my conquests. However, there was a point where I couldn’t keep my cock small enough to fuck average women so I started craving men. That didn’t last long since I still grew and they remained the same. But, when I got my first disciples, Jenny and Benton, and they started to grow, my growth started to speed up again. I started gathering disciples so I could have multiple to fuck and it made me grow faster again. But even now, I’m too big for my smaller disciples. You’re the only one growing fast enough to take me anymore. Ever since you came and excelled past the others, I’ve been able to fuck you for full weeks and grow to truly immense sizes! My body’s desire for sex makes me grow and you’ve been the greatest cause! The others are now a third of my size and none of them can get my dick in their mouth, let alone their asses. You probably noticed it about now. I’ve spent more time with you than all of the disciples combined and you’ve grown right along with me. Your body isn’t at its limit so you can still grow for a little while longer before your limits set in. You’re a natural phenomenon, Arseny!” “I…..I….” I was speechless, more speechless than I usually was when Johnny was around. I’d noticed that I couldn’t fit into most of the tower and that I was the only one among the disciples still growing, but I hadn’t noticed how big a difference there was in my time with Johnny compared to the others. I just didn’t know…. Any of this, until now. Johnny reached looked down at me and held my shoulder. “Arseny… I want you to grow with me. Become a god with me.” “I— “ I tried to speak but Johnny gave me a look of intense focus. “Please, Arseny, let me show you what being a god will gift you.” Johnny moved around me and started walking into the ocean. His massive legs treaded water like air and he was quickly disappearing into the ocean. I ran to the edge of the shore and looked out as the waves lapped at my feet, searching for Johnny. Suddenly, I could see Johnny’s handsome head coming out of the water, his hair quickly drying and forming its beautiful shoulder length look like usual. My eyes began to hurt as Johnny’s traps came out of the water and my sense of perspective shifted Johnny was standing farther out than I thought by the size of the waves beside him but he appeared to be coming closer. It took me only a moment to realize he was growing. Waves crashed against the shore, bigger and bigger as he grew taller and taller. His broad shoulders had only just come out of the water and it already looked like he was becoming big enough to hide me in his golden locks. When his chest finally came up for air, I had to back away from the shore as the waves became truly massive. The clouds began to darken as Johnny’s growth accelerated and his arms were still coming into view. I could hear thunder as Johnny’s eyes glowed bright enough to be seen from even the distance I stood. My head craned even from the great distance we were apart as his muscles seemed to plump and grow along with him. I saw lightning as Johnny’s head began to reach into the clouds and the waves became 40 feet tall. I backed away and quickly climbed the piles of rock in an attempt to escape the growing waves. Johnny’s eyes were a beam of light that focused on me as his rapidly growing size closed the gap between us quickly. He covered almost 40% of my view from this distance and his abs were still climbing from under the water. This was a size he had never shown anyone while on Earth and for good reason. The boulders shook and fell out of place as the quakes from his growth became stronger. I made it to the top somewhat safely just as I saw Johnny’s cock come from underneath the water. It was the fastest growing limb on his body as it swelled and grew, climbing his body till it fought with his growing chest. I sat on my knees, astounded by the infinite power Johnny wished to show me. His body simply grew and grew, more powerful with every second, as if it was a natural thing. I didn’t feel myself jizz the first time watching his head reach the clouds but I felt it most definitely as his abs began to do it. The clouds opened wide for the entrance of a god unto heaven and yet still he soared past them. I feared for the stability of the island as Johnny’s growth shook it roughly. Rocks crumbled and the sandy shore of the island was submerged in water. I’d never seen larger bolts of lightning shred the sky. If there’d been any boats nearby, I was sure they’d have been sunken by now. I was surprised a volcano hadn’t been sprung by the earthquakes Johnny created. I’d never known this much power or size was possible until Johnny, the god of power, had shown it to me. When Johnny’s knees passed the clouds, I’d come again. The Atlantic Ocean was 5 miles deep and it wasn’t even knee deep to Johnny, who was still growing at his fastest speed. Johnny had told me that his size was equivalent to how much power he had within him. This was what he meant. So much power that you could see his shins 5 miles from the ground and then some. The water had absorbed the island I was perched on up until the very top of the stone pile. Just when I was prepared to take a dive, Johnny’s growth stopped. When the earth began to settle, I looked up and fell back into the water just after finding my footing. Johnny’s face filled the sky. Wherever it didn’t, his muscles filled the rest. With his legs above me position at sea level. Johnny almost entirely encompassed my view of the sky. He was so tall that his face and body were tinted with the color of something far away, bouncing light off of him. I dared to imagine what he looked like on a satellite view of the planet. Johnny’s knees were high above the ocean and I could tell from the view of his calves that just a few hundred more meters would reveal his calves. My angry and sore cock spewed a third load into the water as I looked to view what could only be described as a god. Johnny exceeded everything I ever imagined size and power could be. His muscles were big and intimidating works of strength that were unquestionable to any creature, being, entity or existence in the universe. The view of his big, veiny muscles bulging and his big handsome grin told me that with one glance. He was silent for someone so truly enormous but I could tell he was attempting to be silent knowing that too much sound from his massive existence could break tectonic plates and cause the average human to go deaf. His glowing, powerful eyes beaming down on me in the darkness his body created said it all said it all and I knew what to say. “Yes. I’ll do it.” ---

I got this idea after jokingly remarking to Arpeejay, that we haven't seen modernist poetry here on MG yet, so I'm writing one in jest, because the irreverent humour I cultivated as a student is still alive. It's not your average muscle growth story, but I hope it is suggestive enough. Growth: A poem Echoes in the mind. Memories from the past: Some to keep, some to leave behind. Vivid mind. Brittle body Echoes in the mind. Heroes from the past: Greater than other kings, lofty in stature, a hero born in Uruk, a wild and rampaging bull was he. The sheer physicality! The space he occupies Fear of the place with steel-weights In bloodstream herolatry Vivid mind. Adolescent body Echoes in the mind. Heroes from the past: A man unlike no other cometh down from the mountains. His strength is beyond compare; he is like unto an immortal. The sheer physicality! The space he occupies Fear of the place with steel-weights In bloodstream shame Allure of the place with steel-weights De profundis: The URGE Mens sana in corpore sano in Alexandria of yore. But THE URGE? Vivid mind. Lanky body Echoes in the mind. Heroes from the past: Culann's dog and his body-changing frenzy The sheer physicality! The space he occupies Present in the place with steel-weights In bloodstream URGE Vivid mind. Changing body Echoes in the mind. Heroes from the past: Hottr drinking monster-blood, becoming Hjalti The sheer physicality! The space he occupies Home at the place with steel-weights In bloodstream GROWTH of heroes past becoming walls protective walls of flesh instead of brick becoming like the heroes past becoming wall protective wall of flesh instead of brick In bloodstream URGE, in bloodstream GROWTH becoming like the echoes in the mind. In bloodstream joy asserting joy The sheer physicality! The space you occupies huge at the place with steel-weights towering Pharos for brothers journeying yearning for sheer physicality! The space you occupies seeking the harbour, protective wall hearing the echoes, too Allure of the place with steel-weights echoes of their past leaving some behind when you play Bödvar's part and they attain The sheer physicality! The space they occupies and they become Greater than other kings, lofty in stature because In bloodstream URGE, in bloodstream GROWTH! Commentary Any modernist poem need a commentary, of course. Wink. Wink. ? The most obvious references are the following: The first two quotes come from the Gilgamesh Epic, and describe the two heroes Gilgamesh and Enkidu De profundis are the two first words of Psalm 130 (129 in older Catholic bibles for historical reasons), with lots and lots of famous settings Mens sana in corpore sano is a Latin saying by Juvenal, based on a Greek original by Thales of Miletus (624-546 BCE), so the quotes and allusions on heroic tales and physioculture are arranged chronologically Alexandria was founded by Alexander the Great in 332 BCE. Ships were guided to its harbour by the help of the lighthouse on Pharos, one of the seven wonders of the ancient world. Is the reader re-building himself into a wonder? The city-walls of Alexandria become a figure of speech for a gym-rat's mental and physical changes. "Culann's dog" is the literal meaning of the name of Cú Chullainn, one of the most famous heroes in Irish mythology, set in a time before the age of St. Patrick: Iron Age Ireland. Cú Chullainn was increasing in strength and turning monstrous in battle, so – in a manner of speaking – he is the original fictitious hero to "hulk out" An Icelandic saga, the tale of Hrolf Kraki (which bear some similarities with the Anglo-Saxon Beowulf Epic), tell the story of the warrior Bödvar (who is able to transform himself into a bear) protect a bullied youngster called Hottr, and let Hottr drink the blood of a monster, which formerly, until Bödvar stopped it, used to harass the court of King Hrolf. After that, Hottr turn into a huge and confident warrior, and change his name to Hjalti. The saga takes place during the Vendel Age (550-790 CE), and comes last in the chronological change, except for the new heroic tales that begin when the reader and his friends change themselves into kings over their own lives, and become good, joyful modern men accepting themselves and helping others.

Part 1 Here's the first part of a story I quickly decided to whip up. It's mostly setup for later parts, but hopefully you'll enjoy it. As always, feedback is always appreciated. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Do you know how much it sucks losing your dream job? I poured my heart and soul into that company!" I say, words slurred by alcohol. My complaints are directed to the bartender behind the counter as I stare at my drink. "Hell, I moved to this city just for this job, I don't know anyone here." I look up at the bartender who is polishing a mug nonchalantly. His bearded face shows a hint of a smile as he raises a single eyebrow. I've been coming to this bar weekly since I moved here in the summer, but more recently I've been coming daily. I just barely notice as I slowly begin swaying from side to side in my chair. "Fine, I guess I know you now, but that's not the point! The point is that after just 3 months they tell me that they need to downsize AND I just so happen to be on the cut list! What am I going to do-" I'm cut off by the sensation of stomach acid coming up my throat. I cover my mouth with a hand and sit still waiting for the feeling to pass. Joe, the bartender, just laughs. "I think you've had too much to drink... again. You've been complaining about this for five days in a row now. As for what you're going to do now, that's simple. Get a new job. Luckily," Joe walks a few steps behind him to the bar wall and points to a Help Wanted sign on the wall, "we just so happen to be hiring." I begin shaking my head in protest, but quickly realize that sudden movements aren't doing me any favors. "I can't work in a bar, I'm a journalist! Besides the fact that I have no experience, it's not really my thing. I can't just-" I'm cut off once again by another wave of nausea. I let out a low groan. The room feels like it's spinning. "Alright, alright, get a move on to the restroom before you make a mess of my bar. And at least give the job some thought before you flat out deny it." Joe said with a frown. He then swipes my half empty cup and pours it out. I nod slightly and jog/trip my way to the restroom. The restroom is empty when I enter. I run over to a sink first to splash cold water on my face. I'd rather avoid vomiting all together if I can. The shock of the cold water grounds me somewhat. I stand with my hands gripping the sides of the sink for what seems like an hour, but is more likely a minute or two, until the restroom door opens. I check the sink mirror in front of me to see who just came in and my knees go weak. Walking behind me to the toilet stalls is one of the most muscular men I've ever seen. Truthfully I don't see many bodybuilder types around here, but this man was still above and beyond the norm. He was wearing a pair of jeans that barely seemed to contain his tree trunk legs, and a tailored white dress shirt with the top two buttons undone revealing his shelf-like pecs. I don't like to admit it but I get a bit grabby when I'm intoxicated, and the more I drink the more I want to grab, and tonight I've had a lot to drink. Once the man entered his stall, my drunk brain began scheming of any way to cop a feel of those massive muscles. I stood there staring at the stall from my vantage point at the sink mirror, and began waiting for my chance to act. As soon as I hear the creaking of the stall door opening, I turn around and wait for the mountain of a man to appear. Once he enters my sights I fake a fall towards his large body. My luck finally seems to be looking up as the man catches me in his arms. I take that moment to get a feel of any muscles I can reach, pretending to try and catch my balance. I get a hold of his back, traps, delts, biceps, and pecs before he finally pushes me off of him, his hands on my shoulders. "Woah, what the hell man, are you ok?" The bodybuilder says in a deep gravelly voice. I am in bliss right now. Not only did I just feel up this massive man, but now he's touching me too? Unfortunately, my happiness is short-lived as my nausea decides this is the perfect time to go into overdrive. I only managed a small, "Oh no," before spewing my dinner and copious amounts of booze onto the shirt of the man in front of me. The man yells a string of curse words as he tosses me to the side. I try to grab onto his hand before I fall to slow my descent, but he manages to slip his hand out of my grip. The sudden prat fall knocks the wind out of me and I am forced to put my head on the ground to catch my breath. I sit up slightly to see how the large man I just puked on was doing and almost gasped as I see that he has taken his shirt off to clean it in the sink. Watching his rippling back muscles move as he scrubs his shirt distracts me for a few moments until I notice a small weight in the hand I tried grabbing the man with. Looking down I see a leather bound journal and a black pencil in my hand. Where did this come from? The cover was blank besides a name, "Greg Carlson". I had no idea who that was, but was too drunk to think about it for too long. I flipped the journal open to random page near the middle and began reading it. "-graduated from Anderson County High School with a full-ride sports scholarship. Soon after entering University, became interested in bodybuilding and-" I looked up from the journal and towards the man standing a few feet away from me. Could this be his journal? I doubted that someone as masculine as him would be carrying around a journal of his life stories everywhere he went. Besides, the way it was written seemed more like a third-person view rather than a personal journal. I looked back at the journal and flipped to the first page. Instead of seeing more life events, I saw what seemed like in depth statistics of a person's body. The stats didn't stop with just weight and height however, they went super specific like individual finger lengths. Who keeps track of that? Another thing I noticed was a category for sexual orientation, which was filled in as straight. I barely had time to register my disappointment before I saw something far more interesting, a penis category. With a length of 4 inches and a girth of 3 inches, I felt kind of bad for the guy. If the muscle beast in front of me really was the owner of this journal and it was accurate, his dick, while not horribly small, would look ridiculously tiny in comparison to his massive body. Feeling naughty and a bit horny, I erased the numbers with the black pencil that I found with the journal and replaced them with 10 inches long and 8 inches in girth. Hopefully if he notices what I wrote he'll have a good laugh about it. I got up quickly and placed the journal and pencil down near the man while apologizing quietly. He glared at me as I rushed out of the restroom. Outside of the restroom, I let out a heavy sigh and walked back to the bar, head hung. "Have a bad time in there or something?" Joe asked, noticing my sullen return. "I... I may or may not have puked all over a dude in the restroom." I said, not making eye contact with Joe. Joe was silent for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. His laugh was infectious, and I couldn't help but join in. It was too ridiculous not too. "Shit, man, I'm not going to clean that up." Joe finally said after we stopped laughing. "Ha, luckily I think it pretty much all ended up on the guy and not the floor." I chuckled again before finally looking up at Joe with a grin. "Also, would this be a bad time to ask for that job?" "That was a quick change of heart, but I guess It's a good of a time as any. I can set you up a quick interview this week with the boss. Don't worry though, I'll be there too. You're basically guaranteed the job." As we continue discussing the job and the work it entailed, I notice the bathroom door opening and the man I had met in it exiting from within. He was wearing his shirt once again but now it was wet and basically see-through and his sculpted body was on display. At the very least there was no sign of the vomit I had covered him in. With a distressed look on his face the man kept adjusting his crotch. It was bulging a surprising amount for 4 inches, but I suppose it's all about how you display it. The man speed-walked his way past me without a second glance and left the bar. Joe didn't seem to notice as he continued his spiel on bartender etiquette. Unbeknownst to me, the journal I had found had completely disappeared without the man taking it. Things would soon start to get a bit hectic around here for me.