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Hear me out, i know i wont continue this story and is a long one. So i would like to leave it here with the hope that someone finishes it . Also, i know is long and its badly written but... Well, english is not my first language ------------------------------------------------------------------- The great heroes of ancient greece were not what we think and their stories have been changed through time. But i can tell you the whole truth as it is, with their thoughts and experiences as they lived them. Are you ready? Today we are starting with… -Achilles!- the high pitch scream was ignored by the little five year old -stop running around naked, you will catch a cold- his mother said as he ran around as he came to this world. Almost all of his childhood until the age of 10 was like this. He was not a calm boy and sadly because he wasn't invincible he did harmed himself several times. But it wasn't at his childhood were this hero's story starts. His life as a five year old boy was like everyone else. It wasn't until the age of 10 when he found out that he was different, worst , much worst. He failed all of the practice examinations and all of his classmates mocked him. He was training to be a warrior but he was as useless in the field as one can be. Chiron (his human teacher and not the magical creature the myth said) didn't see him that way. One day when Achilles had been pushed and kicked by his classmates Chiron found him outside. His golden hair had blood on it and his body was bruised and cut. -when i grow bigger and with more muscle i will kicked their ass- he had said passionately as his teacher cleaned his bloody face. Chiron watched him in awe and then laugh. This make little Achilles really angry. As the time passed he grew on age but not much in size. At the age of nineteen he was only 5’6’’ and was scrawny as hell. He had failed in becoming a soldier but he helped Chiron anyway. But then something changed. -Chiron i am here- Achilles shouted. Although he was way smaller than everyone else he was way more handsome. His perfect olive skin, profund blue eyes and sharp nose were the distinctive traits of his face. His short blond hair formed curves above his head and he had little bit marked jaw in a really lean face. -Chiron? Where are you?- the pupil was asking a little bit more worried. He head back into his master room and found the door closed. He put his ear against the wall to check if everything was okey and heard his teacher screem. He rapidly open the unlocked door and freeze instantly. There was his master. With his dark curvy long hair that touched almost all his neck. His broad shoulders and thick neck. His great jaw and stunning pecs. His little gut and thick legs. All his 6’3’’ body covered with sweat and his big and masculine hand jacking off his 8 inches long monster dick. - hey Achilles. Umm sorry about this i was not expecting your visit- he said comfortably when he noticed his presence. Chiron just pulled up his loin-clothed that barely covered his enormous dick. He walked over Achilles and put a hand over him and told him to joined him while he ate. They were faced to face while Chiron ate a roasted bird. -can i ask you a question?- Achilles asked taking his master for surprise. -anything you want pal- he answered in a deep and confused voice -what was that that you were doing in your room?- -are you kidding with me?- -no- Now for understanding why Chiron bursted into laugh we need to understand that greek society at that time was very open in subjects like sexuality. Sex wasn't considered a taboo, even more it was recommended in the teacher student relationship. -you must be the only eighteen greek boy that doesn't know what jacking off is- his laugh made the entire house vibrate. -jacking off?- - here, let me show you- he stand up and place himself behind Achilles. He put his hands in his little shoulders and he bend so that his dense beard touched his face. From the front you would be amazed by the difference of size of master and student. While Achilles couldn't see it he felt is and got a boner. -yeah that will help- said Chiron lowering his muscular and hairy arm to his students crotch. He passed his toga then grabbed his 5 inches cock and start stimulating it. Achilles let a small groan as he felt the massive arm of his teacher. Chiron started going faster and faster until Achilles had a sensation like he had never experience, an orgasm. - tha...thank you- -we are not finished yet- he said as he placed his hands below Achilles body and lifted him. The now amazed by the strength of his master Achilles was carried to the bed while he masaged his carriers hairy and meaty pecs. Chiron threw his pupil in the bed and shredded his own cloth. With one hand he hold his throbbing cock and placed into Achilles butt. He placed himself on top of him with one arm in each side and started thrusting his massive cock as fast as he could. Achilles was being pressured by the gigantic beast that he had above that he barely breath. He left a scream as he felt his butthole being torn apart. With every thrust he felt his entire body being cut in half until he started to feel some pleasure. -Stand up- Achilles complied immediately to his orders and slowly stand up with his weakened legs. Chiron grabbed his waist by the back and pushed him to the wall. Now his dick was going completely inside and the gap between each thrust was getting shorter. Achilles started gently moaning and his dick got hard again as he started to feel a new found pleasure. Chiron placed his hands over Achilles and with a final thrust he blew his cum inside his pupil and his Achilles cummed himself. Chiron hugged him before getting into bed. With his head above the hand of his flexing bicep he sighed. Achilles got into bed next to him and placed his hand over his chest. - you know kid? That was very good for being your first time- -the..thanks he said blushing- Chapter two Being fucked by his teacher had become something normal in Achilles daily life and he didn't complain. He used to walk naked in Chiron’s house and he would often have his butt grabbed or entered by some fingers. But the best parts for him were those nights when Chiron would call him to his room, fuck him and let him sleep in his bed. It was those moments when he could sleep with his arms around his teacher when he would feel safe. Chiron didn't let him do nothing romantic while they fuck or even afterwards. Not even a kiss, a hug or anything. He always told him that that wasn't something of warriors, it was being ass fucked and nothing more. So only those nights when Chiron would sleep first he had the opportunity to hug him. -we have to go- Chiron had said one day Achilles didn't make any questions and the next day he had everything prepared. When he got out of the house Chiron was expecting him with a horse. Achilles placed himself behind his master on the horse. -You have permission to hold on me to not fall off the horse- Achilles put his arms around his master holding tight. Chiron let a sigh feeling the boner of his pupil. They rode until de twilight and stopped when they reached a mountain. Chiron tied the horse and placed the rope in a tree. He turn around and head north following the cobblestone path that went all the way up the mountain. From behind Achilles could see the moving muscular butt of his master and the long legs that soon left him behind. When Chiron looked around and saw his pupil was so far he was annoyed. -Come here- he said -I will carry you- Achilles placed himself behind him and Chiron lift his legs and started to run. Achilles hold tight to his master fist for fear and then for pleasure. It didn't pass so much time until they reach the top of the mountain. There was a light blue lake with crystal water and in the center of it a pillar with a statue above of a man with big and perfect muscles and an even more massive dick. Chiron sat down and Achilles , that was so thirsty, run to the water. -Dont touch it!!!- he shouted- at least not yet. The oracle told me to bring you here and get you in the water when the moon light is right above us- he said while watching the sky probably calculating how much time was until then. - do you know why?- - No, before yesterday i thought every man that touched this water died. But they told me it is the will of the gods- he said hiding his concern behind humor - i never been here, what an amazing statue- he said placing his hand on his forming bulge underneath his toga while he clearly craved the man of the statue. - I wonder who is that statue of… he is so big, so tall, so masculine… with that huge dick… i mean i would like to fuck him and nothing more is not like having a beautiful woman...I Would like to have a woman to suck my dick- -suck… suck your dick?- - yeah you know, it's great- - Umm- - Oh my god you don't know! How can i be so stupid!- he laugh and when he stop he watched his bulge and squeezed a little. - I guess that if it is for the purpose of teaching you i can break the rules. Come here- he said as he laid down and Achilles sat besides him -give me your hand … aaaand put it here- he placed Achilles hand on top of his bulge. The pupil started rapidly massaging Chiros dick over the toga. - let me take this of the way- Chiron said leaving himself totally naked. Achilles started jacking off his master’s now nude dick until it was rock hard. Suddenly he felt Chiron’s hand on his head pushing him down to his dick. -Open your mouth- And Achilles did so obediently. The musky taste fist shocked him but he learn to crave it. He started licking the shaft and soon he had the whole 8 inches monster in his mouth. Chiron started grunting and pressing Achilles all the way down suffocating him. The students hand started to wonder over his master’s body and in short time Chiron reach an orgasm. Achilles mouth was filled with cum and he drank it all. He fell over his master really tired. - How can you hard by sucking another person's dick?- he asked and answered himself - it's because you are my bitch. My woman- Achilles hug him even tighter and started crying. But not because he was sad or hurt, it was because he was happy. They rested in that position for an hour or two until Chiron got up. -Well it's time- he said with a little bit of sadness in his voice - i must admit i will miss using you- Achilles stood up and started to walk to the water. As he approached his destiny he looked up to the moon and cursed her. “Why wouldn't you just let me be a little bit more with Chiro” he thought. As he felt the water on his feet he prepared himself to die. But he didn't . He continued to walk until he was needing to swim to avoid drowning. He watched the shore how Chiron was waiting for him with his arms crossed and his dick still hard. He found that view calming but then some force drag him into the bottom of the lake. Chiron tried to save him but an invisible force stopped him to do that. The water turn gold and it started to shine. The moon was brighter than ever and it illuminated everything like the sun. The statue fell into the water and it was quickly disintegrated . The moon turned black and the earth started to shake. Then all of the sudden it stopped, from the now blue again water the unconscious body of Achilles emerged. Chiron's big body fastly swimmed to his rescue.

THE STORY SO FAR - Stephan is a police officer with a very well-endowed boyfriend, Tom. But Stephan's sex addiction to sex leads to him losing his job - and breaking up with from Tom. While staying with his parents in a quiet corner of London, Stephan observes something exciting: an alpha muscle Beast humiliating a fluffy, gentle, weak young beta called Olly. Now, the Beast is helping Olly grow - and it's happening at an impossible rate: muscle, height, cock, hair, character. Where will it end? Hakan's new boss/lover wants to see how far Olly pushes Stephan and vice versa. Tom is still sexting Stephan at night. And when Olly tries to get Stephan started at his gym, it seems a very mysterious set-up, perhaps run exclusively by gay men: but why? Chapter 9 is here. 10 Olly Friday October 5th 'You've changed...' Everybody's saying it suddenly. But is it true? Here I am in the same room in the same house that I wrote this diary in, in January and in July. These are the same hands that wrote it, though less delicate somewhat (in a spot of anger the other day, I snapped my biro), and although I had to cut off my charity bands and friendship bracelet (the one Sophie gave me, that night in midsummer) it was out of necessity, not bad feeling or trying to forget. I'd still support those charities, I still want that friendship. I still listen to Green Day, even if I split their band t-shirt open in a sweaty tangle the other, while I was hyper-pumped from shoulder presses and barbell curls. I still read New Scientist's updates religiously every morning. I still think, hey, I could get a job at one of the big observatories. In fact, I can't think of a more perfect life than just working out, eating big, staring at the stars and learning more about them. The essentials. I can see myself there in thirty years time, thinking just the same things. Fuck, how big will I be by that time...? 'You've changed.' Sophie said it in a text. It was her last word on the subject. She wants us to have a trial separation, or get some air, or something prim and proper that's just masking the fact she doesn't want me in her life any more. She can't come out with it, she can't get down to the essentials the way I can. She's so nice about it, so sweet and gentle, and it drives me mad. If that's the way I used to be, back when I was little and fluffy and thought crunches were something you ate with a dip, well, I'm glad that I've changed. She just wanted to talk, not cuddle. Then she was persuaded that cuddling was 'nice'. Then she got curious about feeling how big my arms had got: could she fit both hands around one (duh, no), and she wanted to see how massive my abs are now. She wanted to see how I can make my pecs dance to any song she could think of (she chose an Ed Sheeran song, naturally). She was asking what it is that makes a guy get hairy. She knew she was getting me hot. I knew she was getting wet. Then she wants to fuck. Of course, she wants to fuck. She does a double-take when I release the Anaconda, but then she gets a smile on her face. She's so excited about my size, in every possible way. Suddenly, something in sweet, little Miss Perfect is set free. I know all the family are downstairs getting dinner ready, I know they can all hear me and it's not what nice middle class twenty-one year olds do, but I've got the red mist and she's on heat. The pair of us are going at it like a couple of animals. She's practically falling off the bed, she's got her fists bunched in my beard to hold herself in position, I'm basically tearing her nice, tasteful blouse apart to get at her, I'm getting my tongue everywhere, I'm ripping up her panties and lifting her up so that her lady garden is there on my slobbery, blonde bushy chin, up to my lips, and I'm working my fingers inside her arse. She deserves everything I can give her. If my brother did come to the door, the way I imagined him doing, he must have thought it was a scene out of 10,000,000 BC. I was devoting myself to her like she was a goddess and I was a goatherd living in the wilderness. Or a donkey boy, I guess. That's what she called me, as she came the second time (of five). She was like this new girl, begging me to do her like one animal does another -- but apparently that's my fault. Apparently I made that happen, just because I work out now. Just because I show her what life's really all about. After we both came a few times, I had to head straight out to the gym for my evening routine. Maybe that's what she didn't like. Where does she think her he-man got his stuff...? I've changed, apparently. And she can't take me. 'You've changed!' When the Beast says it, it's a good thing. That doesn't make it any less significant. He said it this morning. He gave a slow whistle, and he laughed. We were coming straight out of the gym, after a hard round of work. God, but my whole body was exhausted, every muscle aching, pulsing, throbbing: sweat was streaming down our backs, pecs, thighs. My arms were feeling especially jacked — I couldn't bend one enough to scratch an itch on my own shoulder — and he was checking out his own massive boulder shoulders. 'I have to capture this moment, bro,' he said, getting out his phone. 'Come on, shoulder to shoulder. Dude, you finally caught me up.' And he snapped us in the mirror, like a pair of giants, one fair, one dark. One of them who is now just slightly, even more ripped, even wider, even taller, than the other. But out of politeness I didn't like to point this out. 'Shit just got real,' he said, showing me the picture. 'You gonna put that on the site?' I said, resisting the urge to point out my slight advantage. Maybe the strangers who comment on there would point it out for him. 'Muscle Worshippers?' I laughed. 'You're not obsessed with any other website.' That's when he gave me that look. 'You've changed, bro,' he said, and laughed. 'You can say that again,' I said, running my hands over my taut physique. 'I'm twice the boy I used to be. I'm five times!' 'Yeah, that's the obvious stuff,' he said. 'You got the goods. Anyone can see that. But something more. You like to show it off now, don't you?' 'Hey,' I said. 'It's not vanity. I worked hard for this.' 'Like a shire horse,' he said. 'But admit it. You get a kick out of it.' 'Not like you,' I said, turning away to mask my hard-on. 'Maybe,' he grinned. 'Dude, I love to see those poofters pop a boner in the group showers, just because I've come in. I'm like a god to them. I love it. Did I tell you I got paid to appear at this special club the other day?' 'No way. What for?' 'Nothing really,' he said. 'It was at this pub over in East London. I haven't told anybody else this.' 'Go on,' I said, chugging down my protein shake. He sat down beside me on the bench and lowered his voice. 'They contacted me via the website. Well, you can send private messages. Normally it's stuff about how inferior they are, how they want me to come and piss on them, or just let them wank off while I watch. Oh, and then there's at least one every couple of days from a guy who wants me to fuck his girlfriend.' My eyes went saucer-wide. 'What? Why?' 'Duh, man. Because they get off on it!' I laughed. 'The world's gone mad.' 'Yeah, I know. I've thought about it, but I think — well, it would interfere with my regime. And Estelle might take it the wrong way. Anyway, this special club meets in this pub, The Black Swan. They have blinds over all the windows, and lights like some nightclub, and there's a stage. And that's where they have me.' 'What,' I said, 'like, making a speech?' 'You are green, aren't you?' He began peeling off his shorts. 'They get me up there in a posing pouch. I show off what I've got.' He balled up his jockey shorts, sodden with sweat, and threw them in his kit bag. My mouth was dry, picturing him doing it. 'Like a stripper?' 'Well, more tasteful than that, of course,' he said. 'Plus, all I take off is my posing pouch. Hardly a routine.' He licked his lips. 'The thing they're really interested in is my strength, my power, my size. I let them have a bit of a feel. Of my guns, that is.' 'You don't get your cock out, then?' I joked, but I must have said it too loud because he looked round wildly, then laughed at himself. 'Well,' he said, 'when they're so enthusiastic, it's a shame to disappoint. And my wang's never disappointed anyone. Look at it. Like a rolled up newspaper!' He leapt up and waggled it in my face, his fist full of pink sweaty meat. 'Urgh! Fuck off!' I yelled, laughing. He stopped waggling, and just stood there with his hands on his hips, waiting for me to undress too. 'And now you're thinking of Muscle Worshippers too.' 'Shall we get in those showers?' I said. 'But,' he said, 'you're thinking of it?' 'Not me,' I said. Now that I think of it, the gay police guy who's always eyeing me up, Stephan, he said the same thing again. Like he ever had any idea what I'm like. The only time he ever spoke to me was that day I first met Nico, and he was so nice and kind and reassuring. All he wanted was my skinny arse. He liked it when he was a couple of feet taller than me, when he was the stronger guy, the hairier guy, the bigger man. And yeah, maybe he liked it at first when I started to change. He would always stop for a chat, always compliment me on my gains. I used to look forward to it. Even when I realised he fancied me, I was cool with that. I even took him to the gym. Hooked him up with Doctor O. I was looking forward to training with him. I knew he'd appreciate the amount of hard work I was putting in. I knew he'd want me even worse, if he saw me like I am in the gym, my veins standing out, my muscle pumped up and hard. And I guess he'd train with me, he'd get bigger. I was looking forward to seeing what he made of himself. Yeah, I suppose I really thought a lot of Stephan. In he came this lunchtime, and pretended to borrow some books. I know he doesn't care what he's taking out. I can see in his eyes, all he wants is some time looking me over, checking out how much mass I've gained since I last saw him. 'Whoa,' he said, adjusting his glasses. 'Hey dude,' I said, going through the motions with his books. 'Your boss really lets you dress like that?' he said. 'At work?' I looked down at myself. Another gym singlet. Once upon a time it would have been loose on me, but now it's stretched tight, and my chest stands pretty much proud of it. It's like a cotton breastplate or something. I laughed. 'He understands. I've gone through my whole wardrobe now. Nothing fits any more.' 'Perhaps I should lend you something.' 'No, don't worry,' I said, quickly. 'I mean, look at me.' He could hardly stop. 'Yes,' he said, 'I suppose it's true. You'd never fit in anything I've got now. Even my actual wardrobe would probably strain.' I smiled at his joke, but I was feeling slightly embarrassed. He used to be the ultimate alpha male, tall and strong and ex-police, and now look at him — dwarfed by a guy who's barely out of his teens. He didn't deserve to be made to feel small. I handed him back his books, wondering what to say. He suddenly cleared his throat, sort of decisively. 'Olly,' he said, 'What about that arm wrestle you promised me?' I didn't know what to say, and we both burst out laughing. 'Are you serious?' I said. I mean, he's in okay shape, but he's not packing even half the horse power up my sleeves. It was like he was asking for a smack-down. 'Maybe,' he said, 'Maybe not. But how do you feel about meeting up after work? I'll buy you a drink to celebrate your latest — growth spurt.' I lowered my gaze shyly. 'That's kind of you, man, but I don't drink alcohol. It's bad for my regime.' 'Well, an orange juice, then,' he said. 'You can't refuse that. At the Crown and Greyhound, six o'clock.' I guess I liked the idea of it. Especially after I saw a couple of the lads last week and things didn't go the way I planned. Fucking jealous little pricks. They wouldn't say anything outright but I saw it in their eyes. Couldn't believe I was the same person. Just because I've got something real and serious in my life now — just because I'm working hard at something. Just because each them wishes their forearm was even the size of my dick. Well, if the old crowd are going to be that way, it's good to have a friend, and it's especially good to have a friend like him — a real man. He may be a poof, but he's got balls. At least, that's how I felt this afternoon. Anyway, I could tell he had something to talk to me about. 'Olly,' he said, getting straight to the point. 'What's all this for?' I nearly spat out my OJ. 'The fuck, dude?' I said. 'Okay, okay,' he said, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. 'It was just a question. This has happened so fast, son. One minute you're a cute — okay, a sweet, normal-looking guy. Daniel Radcliffe lookalike. You wouldn't be able to carry a weights set home from Argos, let alone lift them. An average lad. Fast forward a few months... You're one of the biggest, strongest, most physically powerful guys I've ever seen in the flesh. You're hairier than I'll ever be. And as for your confidence -' I suppressed a smile at his words. He went on. 'Months ago you had these skinny arms, more baby fat than muscle. Now, each of your biceps is bigger than my head. Your chest is just fucking ridiculous. You've gone from being a kitten to a big, fucking jungle cat, Olly — the way you move, the way you look at people, the weight of you...' 'It's who I really am,' I told him, lifting my singlet to show him the thick corrugated ridges of my abs. I saw his eyes start out of his head. Luckily, we were sitting in the beer garden, and nobody was around to think it gay. 'I was always this big guy on the inside.' 'But where does it stop?' I brushed my fringe out of my eyes. 'It doesn't have to stop. I just keep getting bigger and I keep getting stronger. I get broader, thicker, heavier, more cut, more vascular. My appetite for muscle grows every day.' 'Doesn't that scare you?' 'No,' I said, downing the rest of my orange juice and slamming it onto the pub table. 'Well...' I didn't know what to say. I looked at my gorilla sized hand around the glass. 'Maybe a bit. But it's hard to tell if it's fear or just excitement. I'm becoming something amazing. It's the biggest turn on, man.' He took that in, then did a deep breath through his nostrils. 'What do your friends say?' 'You mean the weak little pussies I used to hang out with or the guys at the gym?' He considered. 'Whoever your friends are, I suppose.' 'My real friends support me. They tell me how great I'm looking, but they also see how much further I have to go.' 'I want to know that you're healthy. You've grown so fast. I'd like a friend of mine to take a look at you,' he said. I squeezed my cock, secretly, below the table. 'Really.' 'Not — like that,' he said hastily. 'He's a doctor.' 'I work with a Doctor,' I said, impatiently, as if this whole thing was too much effort — which it was. I wasn't expecting to be interrogated. I just thought he'd be getting off on my size, like normal. 'Yes,' he said. 'Doctor O. I've, ahem, encountered him.' 'Then you should understand,' I said. 'It's hypertrophy, Steve. It's natural. Scientific.' I put my hands behind my head as if I was just relaxing, as if I didn't realise how it showed me off. Behind his glasses I could see his eyes following the lines of my triceps, my biceps, my lats, flicking back to my eyes constantly, hoping I wouldn't notice. 'Lift heavy, rest hard, eat big...' 'Does the Doctor give you supplements?' 'Just his protein shake,' I said. 'I'll show you. No steroids. No drugs. I wouldn't be so fucking proud of myself if that's all it took.' I put the flask on the pub table. Stephan wrinkled his nose. 'But why is he doing this with you?' 'The same reason you want me to,' I said. 'And what's that?' 'To see my full potential,' I said. Slowly I took the cotton of the singlet between my fingers and thumbs and I ripped it down the middle, unveiling the might of me, the sweaty dark hair of me, the meat of me, the stink of me. Stephan was watching, lower lip trembling. 'To see all the stuff a young lad hides while he stays small. To feel just a little inferior. Unless you want to come and train with me, take me on...?' 'Chance would be a fine thing,' he said, seemingly entranced by my body. 'I got in touch with Doctor O. I wanted to know he has your best interests at heart. And you know what? He warned me off.' I licked my fingertips and began glossing up my nipples. 'That's bullshit.' He was breathing deep now, trying to keep his composure. 'He doesn't want me to come near you any more, Stephan. He's experimenting on you. He's trying to create some sort of a — muscle beast.' 'Mission accomplished.' I flicked a finger against my squeezed bicep to show him how solid it was. 'Why won't you listen to me?' he snarled. He raised his hand: it would have been threatening if he hadn't been so much smaller than me. 'Stop acting like some muscle worshipping size queen. I saw you before you got into all....this.' He gestured at my abs, my thighs, my packet, my shoulders. 'Come on, Olly. You're bigger than this!' 'That's not how it works,' I told him, leaning across the table. 'Look at us now. This is a battle. And I've got all the power.' 'You really have changed,' he said. Bang, there it was. 'If that's true,' I said, 'it's for the best.' He stretched out with his hand, and I almost flinched, thinking he was going to try and land a punch on me, but instead he cupped his hand around my left pectoral. He squeezed it. I tensed it so he could see just how granite solid it was. I suddenly realised there was sweat on his brow. I could feel the moisture on his fingertips: he ran one softly over my left nipple. My tree-trunk dick throbbed in my jeans, longing to be set free. 'Dude,' I breathed, 'I like girls. You know that.' He released me. 'I just had to know what it felt like.' I took his hand in mine and pressed it to the table. With the other hand I reached under the table and rubbed my cock, longing for it to calm down. I love to feel the head of my semi, outlined through my jeans like the big round top of a freshly baked muffin. 'I get looks off guys all the time now. In the changing rooms, the library, the street, all the time. But this isn't about sex. This is about power.' 'That reminds me,' he said. 'How about this arm wrestle?' I burst out laughing. All the tension was gone. 'You really wanna be punished, don't you?' 'Hey,' he said, 'Never heard of David and Goliath?' I took one of his hands in my enormous mitt. I could feel the weight of him at the other end, could feel him take the strain. I decided to go easy on him. I screwed up my face and pushed, ever so gently. I felt him wrestling back against me with all his might. It was comical. The veins were popping out on his neck, and every fibre of muscle in his police sergeant forearm was pushing against me, and I was barely even trying. I loved this. If being praised for my gains was foreplay, this was like sex! A low guttural moan of pleasure came unexpectedly from the back of my throat. This seemed to prompt him into making more noise. 'Oh yeah,' he said, his teeth gritted, his hand wet with perspiration. 'Oh yeah, oh yeah.' I shook my head. 'You really want it, don't you?' I said. He looked into my eyes. 'Give me everything,' he said. I whirled him out of his seat. Effortlessly. A big guy but I flipped him like a pancake. He landed on the floor with a grunt. I got up and went over and stood over him. 'What's up, little man?' I said. 'Still want to complain about what a giant I am?' He leapt up and put both arms around my neck, tugging me to the ground. I hadn't expected that, and a big smile was on my face. We wrestled, or rather, I wrestled to pin him down, and he wrestled to get free. My dick was oozing precum at this. I was his master. He would obey me. At last, I pinned him to the floor with one hand on his chest. He looked angry, but I could also see his jeans tenting. I laughed. 'I wish I could oblige, man,' I said, 'but my Anaconda only goes one way.' 'Your dick's grown too?' He said, getting to his feet and steadying himself on the table. 'The holy grail. So what's your secret?' 'I'm young,' I said. He looked hurt at that. 'Fine. I guess you'll be off up Uranus again soon.' I looked at my watch, letting my forearm, pumped with exertion, fill his vision. 'Guess I am, little guy. It's been fun, though.' It was only after the evening work-out that I realised what had happened. 'That little prick,' I said, turning my bag inside. Nico — I can't call him the Beast any more, now that out of the two of us, I'm the bigger and hairier — was towelling off his glutes. 'Who?' 'The police guy. Stephan.' I was full of rage. 'He's taken it.' 'Taken what?' 'My shake,' I said. 'He must have slipped it into his bag while I was gloating in the beer garden this afternoon. What am I going to do now? Buy something from a shop that's loaded with corn starch? Fuck myself up?' I punched a locker with fury. I was slightly taken aback to see the metal crumple under my blow. I tried to calm myself. I could do some real damage now. If Stephan had actually been there... 'Whoa! Dude!' Nico put a hot hand on my ginormous shoulder. 'Come home with me. I've got boxes of the stuff in the cellar.' 'You have?' Nico grinned. 'You know how close Doctor O is to my Dad, don't you? And Dad would love to meet you.' I swallowed, suddenly nervous. I was actually being invited back to Nico's place. I was going to meet his Dad, see his place — and finally be reunited with Estelle. Estelle! How many nights had I dreamt of this moment. No, not dreamt — fantasised over, pumping my hard cock in the privacy of my bedroom, imagining the moment I finally undid the humiliation of that summer's day in the library, that day that feels so far away. When I was just a boy, smooth-cheeked, fluffy-haired, little-dicked, puny little Olly. When Nico stood over me, showing off his stuff, and she was there, leaking pussy juice at the very sight of it. Estelle! At last I would show her what a real man looks like. My heart was pounding like I'd just done a hard cardio session. I pulled my hoody over my gym vest and followed Nico through the village, almost hoping she wouldn't be there. But sure enough, she was there at the door to meet us. She did a double take when she saw me. 'You've changed!' she giggled. 'Fuck me!' 'If you say so,' I said, blushing through my beard. She licked her lips and looked me up and down. 'Nico said you were hitting the gym with him. I'd never have expected such a transformation. Well done you!' 'Do you approve?' I asked her. We were standing in the hallway. Nico was kicking off his shoes. He stopped to hear her reaction. She looked me up and down, then looked at him, then back at me. 'Were you born in a barn?' called a man's voice from the kitchen. ' What are the pair of you doing out there?' It was deep and resonant and cultured. Nico's Dad. I'd forgotten he'd be here. 'I brought Olly back,' called Nico. 'Is there some reason he can't come into the house?' Nico looked at me, and we both laughed. I followed him into the house while Estelle closed the door behind us. I gave her a backward glance, and caught her looking at me strangely, like she was still considering about my question. My beating heart gave my dick gave a little pump of excitement. The game was on. Oh, I didn't say anything about Nico's house. It's amazing. Got to be Victorian, but it felt so beautifully warm and stylish. The bare boards gleaming, huge modern art canvases on the walls, and the kitchen was one of those big ones with an island in the middle. Nico's Dad was preparing dinner, a handsome man somewhere in his fifties, an impressive figure with a mane of hair just beginning to go salt and pepper and a beard that was bigger than mine — but carefully combed and coiffed. Everything about him was a little bigger than mine, in fact — he was like a small giant, in charcoal grey jogging bottoms and a Uranus gyms t-shirt. Taller even than Stephan, who thinks he's all that. He was adding spices to a big pan of chilli. 'Hey Olly,' he said breezily, 'Good to meet you at last. How's things?' I'm never good with meeting other people's parents, although Nico's Dad put me at my ease more than is usual. I told him things were pretty good — leaving out the stuff about Sophie and Stephan. Nico told him about the drink — leaving out the fact it was stolen by an ex-copper after a wrestling match in the local pub's beer garden. 'Oh, I thought you were staying to dinner,' said Nico's Dad, looking disappointed. 'I've got plenty.' 'Go on,' said Estelle and Nico at once, then both giggled shyly. They were like a pair of conspirators all through the evening. I kept trying to catch Estelle's eye, and I pulled off most of my usual tricks — folding my hands behind my head, which spread me open at my widest and most massive — cracking nutshells in one hand — lifting my shirt to scratch my monstrous, hairy abs. I even took off my hoodie, telling the table the spicy food was getting me overheated. And as I sat there in my gym vest, looming over Nico, dwarfing the furniture, my bulging musculature glinting with a little perspiration in the candlelight (yes, the food was spicy) I could feel the other diners stealing glances at me, all of them, wondering at me, what I had been and what I had become. But Estelle and Nico carried on with their conversation. Nico's Dad leant across and brushed my hand with his huge paw. 'Won't you get cold like that?' he said, parentally. 'Not really,' I said. 'I'm always a little, you know, overheated.' 'Your metabolism must be utterly raging,' he said. 'Nico told me himself, he's amazed at your rate of hypertrophy. I can see what he means.' I smiled shyly. 'Nico's been a great coach,' I said. 'And a little friendly rivalry goes a long way,' Nico's Dad replied, with a smile. 'Particularly when there's a pretty young woman in the frame.' I looked back across at Estelle. 'I can't lie,' I said. 'But now — oh, I don't know.' 'Now you've realised that's not what's driving you,' he said. 'It's a personal thing, not a vendetta. It's one of the good things in your life.' I smiled at him. 'Thanks. It's nice to hear someone talk about it positively for a change. My friends...' 'They'll stay your friends. They'll realise this is part of who you are. And the more you like you being who you are — sorry, I'm preaching,' he said. 'But you know, personal development has been a big part of my life. Uranus is mine, after all.' 'Really?' I breathed. 'You own the whole gym?' 'You didn't know?' He patted my shoulder. 'Yes, it's my baby.' 'It's an amazing place,' I said. 'I think I love it.' 'You go well together,' he said. 'You're like me. You have good genes. Bricks that are just waiting to be built into a fortress. It's not the same for everyone.' He thought for a moment. 'I delivered a paper on this, only last year.' Suddenly we were talking science. We were talking about things I never discuss with anybody. Biology. Geology. Quantum mechanics. Most of the time this sort of conversation goes over people's heads, and I hide that side of myself — but just like with the skimpy little vest, I was showing off another side of myself tonight. I had never felt such kinship with another man. Now we began to go deeper. We talked about that feeling of reaching for something only you can — about the depths of masculinity we were plumbing — about sex and power and size, size, size... 'I feel a bit rude sitting here in my gym clothes,' I confessed. 'But I outgrew everything I have in my wardrobe.' 'Those things belong to a different person,' he said. 'And you're being born into a new life. It's only right that you should be bursting out of your clothes, revealing your body to the world. We should be able to look at one another that way.' I looked at the curve of his musculature in that Uranus gyms shirt and thought about seeing one another 'that way'. I looked across at Nico and Estelle and imagined all four of us stripping off and rolling around on the floor. I almost didn't notice when dessert was served — baked figs and mascarpone. At the end of the night, I shook hands with Estelle graciously. If there was a trace of lust in her eyes, I tried to ignore it. Nico's Dad used my proffered hand to draw me into a great big bear hug. His beard meshed with mine and I could smell his cologne. I could feel the solidity of his body, I knew which individual body parts were which. I could feel the huge bulge of his cock in his jogging bottoms. It rubbed against mine and, for a moment, I felt both of them swell a little in excitement. Quickly we broke apart. Nico patted my back. 'I'm so glad you guys got along,' he said, ginning. Then suddenly his eyes went wide. 'Your drink!' he said, and ran off to the cellar. 'You should come over on Sunday,' Nico's Dad said, impulsively. 'You can't go around wearing vest tops and nothing else. And what happens when you bust out of those? I'll ask Nico to dig out a few old things of his.' 'Okay,' I said. It was all I could do to get my lips to move, the breath to move in my throat. Stupid, I guess. I mean, come on, it's just hero worship. No big deal. It doesn't mean I've changed particularly. It doesn't mean anything. Nothing at all.

Hey guys! Sorry about the wait and the short chapters. I have an overarching story planned, but the execution has proved challenging. I hope you like the new Keith, who seems surprisingly close to the statue... Last chapter: The stone doors closed behind him, a monstrous maw closing him in, but he barely noticed. He was transfixed by the sight before him. From the cobbled wall opposite him, two half pipes curved towards the center of the cavern. There, a grand structure of cracked marble stood, proud despite the test of time. The pipes lay on the edge of a round pool, and in the middle posed a statue of leviathan proportions. A man situated himself in the now dry fountain, supported by gargantuan legs. Wear had done nothing to hide the large, firm feet layered with sinew and muscle; nor the veins coursing up the cords of power that formed his calves and quads. Their shape was perfect, every shard of diamond flesh touched by the divine. A monstrous beauty sprung from where the legs met the waist, a thick and heavy rod of virility. A single vein ran its path around the beer can shank, crowning the head. The foreskin a royal cloak to its regal liege, it pointed towards Keith. The balls hung low and large, an engine to an incredible machine. The waist impossibly slim compared to the statue's quads, and yet the sense of imbalance did not present itself. A godly set of eight gemstones rose up to meet the pecs, massive jewels cut with sharp grooves. They were laid in golden shell of rock-hard obliques. The pecs square perfection, bulging mounds of strength with large round nipples. A thick muscle neck and hulking traps supported the head. The knife sharp jawline and handsome chin left Keith yearning to discover what possible face could complete the masterpiece. But the features above the jaw had faded, a jumble of indents and rough hewn edges. A tingling ran itself over Keith's skin, like it was going haywire. He walked slowly towards the fountain, taking in the withered vines that had taken root in the stone. A step away from the masculine masterpiece, his eyes were drawn to the statue's bulging outstretched arm. Atop the large palm, a shrunken bud began to shake. A flood of sudden green light exploded from the shoot. Pulses of energy shook the shrine, as it rejuvenated, expanding and growing. The leaves fell away to reveal a lotus like flower, thick rows of petals around a center. Blood red, it glowed with mysterious energy. The stigmas rose up, releasing a heavy scent that filled the room. 'leather and sweat,' Keith registered. A golden nectar flowed into the flower, the petals forming a natural cup. The heady musk enveloped his mind, blanketing Keith in a state of half consciousness. Gripping the hard forearm of the statue, he pulled himself towards the flower. His lips touched the flower and he drank. The liquid gold flowed into his mouth, bursting on his tongue. Oak and sweat dominated his taste buds, as if heaven had condensed inside. The salty drink cascaded down Keith's throat, seeping into his body.He started to glow bright white, and a searing heat enclosed his body. The flower shriveled as the last of it's yield entered Keith's mouth, and the burning sensation peaked. Pain forced him conscious, vaguely aware of his actions. He felt as if his body was being burnt away into nothingness, and yet he could not scream. His clothes disintegrated, revealing the his near emaciated form. A puny 3 inch boy dick hung out, hard as steel. Keith didn't know when the pain stopped and the pleasure began, but he was too overloaded to care. His balls began to change, expanding rapidly to the size of chicken eggs. His scrotum expanded to encompass them, hanging low. His cock was next, lurching forward as his foreskin regrew. A vein forced its way up the shaft, before hitting the large cock head. His balls visibly clenched as a steady flow of precum trickled down the newly christened foot long. Keith became acutely aware of the changes, how the euphoric sexual energy blasting through his body unstopped was changing him. Muscle fibers broke through his thin pale skin, wriggling for space. They grew greedily, wrapping his weak form with pure muscle. Quads formed, muscle cords snaking downwards. Pecs ballooned outward, expanding then condensing multiple times before forming hyper dense plates of power. His arms seized up as rigid bands of steel cord encased him. Abs that could crush mountains formed on his stomach, carving deeper and tensing harder. Shoulders bulged outward, struggling to maintain a connection between rapidly growing pecs, traps and biceps. The pleasure of his body expanding was too much, and Keith found a new voice within his corded neck and new Adam's apple. A resounding "FUCK!" echoed through the shrine, deep, commanding and intensely masculine. His head snapped back as his shoulders widened, accommodating the pulsing segments of his incredibly defined back. Keith's skull expanded to match the hulking proportions of his body, the jaw growing more square and cut than his new abs. The chin sculpted itself into , and masculine cheekbones poked through his new fact free face. The nose became straight and proud, the bridge perfectly thick. The acne scarring melted away, leaving smooth skin and a luscious tan. His brow became thick and prominent, and a manly layer of stubble coated Keith's jaw. He opened his eyes, revealing a deep piercing blue, shifting waves of green and aqua playing in the light. His hair thickened, voluminous and sexy. A Sandy blonde shade infused within the strands, growing them longer. It fell back in a mouthwatering combed over look, completing the immensely handsome face. A golden skin formed over Keith's new muscle, smooth and eye catching. Veins appeared under it, thick and powerful, in all the sexiest areas. Hair grew around the navel, thickening around the base of his cock, and a light dusting over Keith's pecs led inward to the crevice, where the hair traveled to connect to the navel. The armpits filled with a healthy bush of hair, crushed by his muscular arms and torso. The energy dissipated, releasing Keith from immobility, but left him sexually unsatisfied. Desire churned out from his balls, straight to his mind. He looked towards to door, where beyond lay a cranky old man who was suddenly looking very worthwhile.

Edited to add: THE STORY SO FAR - Stephan is a police officer with a very well-endowed boyfriend, Tom. Unfortunately, Stephan has an addiction to sex which leads to him losing his job - and then taking a break from Tom. While staying with his parents in a quiet corner of London, Stephan observes something exciting: an alpha muscle Beast humiliating a fluffy, gentle, weak young beta called Olly. Now, the Beast is helping Olly grow - and it's happening at an impossible rate. Where will it end? Does Olly need saving from himself? Is Stephan the right man to do it? Chapter 8 is here. 9 Stephan Wednesday October 1st Well, I'm absolutely spent. It's been one fucking thing after another today. It started at 5 a.m. when my phone buzzed on my bedside table. I was asleep, right in the middle of a beautiful dream about hot librarians who leant themselves to customers out along with the books, so I woke up with a big hard-on tenting my boxers. It turned out it wasn't about to go to waste. The text was from Tom. It's the first one in ages, certainly the first that wasn't about me coming round to pick up my stuff. It read, Thinking of you got my dick hard. Thought you should know x You woke me, I texted back. Been sat up in bed wondering what to do with it, he replied. Thought you'd have a suggestion I could have gently reminded him that when we separated we said we wouldn't do this, or anything like this, that we had to let the fire burn down again. I wouldn't have had to say even that: I could have shot back something simple and gently dissuading. I mean, come on, I only stopped seeing him a month ago! I could have rolled over there and then and gone back to sleep with a clean conscience and, admittedly, a disappointed penis. But all of that would require me to be a different man than the one I am. Need to know more first, I told him. The next text obviously took a little while to write. In my pyjamas, cotton, red stripes, starchy, you know. Rough on my skin. Waistband under my balls. Dick standing straight up. Very hard. I remembered that dick so well, with its elegant up curve and big round dome of a head. Have you applied lube? I asked. Don't have any, he said. Then: I think... Wait. Then: OK. Where? Just your hand for now, I said. The one not texting. He replied: Tricky procedure — but not for a GP :-) I wonder if this was something in the way of an audition. He was always showing off at how adept he was with handling stuff: dildos, vacuum pumps, drugs, not to mention the human body, which he claimed to know inside and out. I lay there, waiting, giving my shaft a tantalising tickle, thinking of Tom's tennis-trained, trim little physique, the way he barely came up to my shoulder, the way his fat cock looked so outsized on him, like a coffee pot spout. I thought about the things we sometimes got up to in his office when the door was locked. The tickle on my shaft irresistibly became a tug. Then my phone buzzed again. So I've got a palmful of KY Get that hand nice and slick. Then stick your thumb in your belly button If you say so I pictured the cute little guy doing as instructed, his brown eyes sleepy, his girthy dick pressing on his waistband. I had such a clear image of him I could almost smell the Jean Paul Gaultier on his neck, and the KY on his hand. Wrap your hand around your cock — if you can manage that Only just Yeah, I know baby Nearly broke your jaw on this didn't you? x Don't talk like I'm not experienced Oh, you succeeded where others gave up... I permitted myself a flashback to the first night Tom got his dick out. It was after dinner at his flat in Highgate, an almost formal occasion, like the unveiling of the Albert Memorial, only slightly wider. We'd both had a lot of wine and everything felt like it was happening in technicolour with violins playing. We were kissing on his sofa, and then I was unbuttoning his cotton, collarless shirt, and he was unbuttoning my starchy, uniform shirt. He came up to my chest, so was licking and biting my nipples, and we were kneading each other's dicks in each other's trousers; then I unbuttoned his trousers, carried on kissing him while I slowly wanked his fat prick and all the while, I was thinking, 'Holy fuck, I am onto something big here.' Fucking my fist. Is that what you planned? Yeah. Feel good? There was a pause. I pictured him in his big white bedroom giving a few more testing thrusts before replying. Oh fuck yeah. I never tried this before Suddenly he sounded so innocent, and I felt sexually precocious, and I thought of my Librarian. I've reread the pages I've written about him, and I keep coming back to that thought when I first saw him, the cute, middle class, blue-eyed lad: What is it in me that wants to take that innocence and ruin it? Even as he puts on real muscle. Especially as he puts on that muscle. He thinks he's becoming a man, but he's still soft shell. He's never been fucked. I wonder if he's ever actually fucked, really, losing himself in it? Has he ever even wanked himself like this? With the dedication all on his cock, and his imagination on fire, and then - I could give him seminars. He'd thank me for it. There's all sorts of things a young man like that ought to know about giving pleasure — and receiving it. I thought, Why can't he text me at 5 a.m. wanting ideas on what to do with his dick? When the next message came through, I let myself imagine for a second it was Olly sending it, in the middle of the night. The message was perfectly appropriate. It would feel better if it was your arse I was fucking Spontaneously the thought made me blob out a little pre-cum. I'm dripping at the thought, I said. I bet you fuck hard Oh yes. Think you could take me? I could just picture the librarian saying this with his new, gym-worn cockiness. If I can't, I want to know. I began to wank my dick a little harder, smearing precum over the head and down the shaft. The bedsprings creaked, louder than I intended, as I beat my meat. Next to me, a sleepy Turkish chef began to surface. I want you to wreck me if necessary, I texted as quick as I could, before lying still, playing the innocent. 'Hey, man,' Hakan slurred, reaching out to fondle my thigh. He found my dick hard and my hand around it, and laughed. 'Hold it,' he murmured. 'I can step in here...' I palmed my phone (benefit of big hands it turns out) and hid it in the folds of the duvet. I let go of my dick and allowed Hakan to grab hold of it, grasping it firmly, wanking it quicker than I'd been doing it, his fist grinding down toward my balls in a way I never think to do, lightly knocking on them and making my hard-on stand out even harder and straighter in his hand. It was the businesslike wank of a friend, so different from the dreamish wank I'd give myself, potentially for hours. My phone buzzed secretly in my palm. Hakan, oblivious, kept up the pace. I looked across at him. His eyes were closed, his long lashes on his cheekbones like shadows, and small smile on his face. 'How's that?' 'Oh yeah, you're getting me close. You know, you don't have to...' 'I want to hear you cum, my friend.' He licked his lips. 'I like that sound you make.' 'Oh, yeah,' I grunted, as his relentless wank took my dick into second gear. 'You're gonna hear it.' 'Okay,' he whispered, 'Now I wanna taste it. I like the taste even better.' 'Yes, taste it,' I said, excited and awake suddenly. Did I dare? I couldn't resist. He opened his eyes long enough to peck me on the lips, then slid down under the duvet and took my cockhead in his sleep-warm mouth. I felt the suck as he released it, took it again, a little deeper, and released it, slowly working his way, inch by inch, to taking the whole thing. With him occupied, I took the opportunity to look at the latest text. I don't wanna destroy you — you deserve something gentler I rolled my eyes. I could just hear Olly telling me that. Stop being so fucking polite You want it to be nasty? Hakan was halfway to taking all my cock. He slowed down, his lips gliding on a layer of spit, slowly caressing my shaft. When he reached my cockhead his mouth corkscrewed back and forth, slower and slower, making me pulse harder and hotter than ever inside his lips. I just want you to take out all you need upon me, I told him. I could see the Librarian receiving my text. Thinking for the first time about being selfish, about how he would do it and why. Thinking about what he really needed. In that case I don't want to fuck your arse, read the reply, and my heart skipped a beat. The follow up came through: First I want to fuck your face. I'm on my knees, I told him. No. Lie down. I'll kneel astride you My mouth is open Take this fat cock Hakan spat down my shaft. I felt the spit roll in beads and bubbles down my hot skin. I pictured the Librarian, his big hairy legs either side of me, and the cock I had imagined for him, stuffed into my mouth, which distorted with the size of it. I can barely breathe, I texted. I'm putting my fat cock down your throat deeper with each thrust I needed that sort of power applied to my dick. I reached under the duvet, put my hand on the back of Hakan's head and held him down on my hard erection till I heard him begin to gag, then grabbed his long hair in my fist and lifted him off me, my dick still resting between his lips. I raised my hips and frotted my cockhead on his lips. 'Mm, yes,' I heard him say, and his fingers encircled the base of my cock. I pushed him down again, till his mouth was on his knuckles. Inside hand and lips and curling tongue, I thrust my dick gently: eat, eat, eat. With the other hand, I told Olly: I'm struggling to get up Well, I'm pinning you down You can do it with one hand I could almost feel my Librarian's hand on my chest, his sweaty palm effortlessly matching my stretch and keeping me on the carpet. Yes, the phone screen read. I'm wanking my cock with the other and precum is drooling onto your lips I imagined its splash. You don't want to fuck me, I said. A long pause this time. I listened to the slick noises from under the duvet, felt Hakan sucking and slowly nibbling. I don't? Olly would be looking at me with that dazed, don't-comprehend, don't want to be rude expression. You just want to fuck, I explained. Oh yes. I could see him, that gentle young man, growing so much more powerful, and his eyes slightly dazed from the lust of sex, his mouth slightly open at the surprise of being told: do what ever feels good. He continued: Jesus my balls are so heavy. It has to be tonight My hand was shaking. It has to be now I wasn't pushing or pulling Hakan's head any more, just caressing his scalp. He had no idea. He was licking my dick quickly now, spitting on it, getting it slippery as wet soap. You want to fuck girls but none of them can take you I'm much too big Oh yeah, too strong, I told him. So it has to be you Hakan began to wank my slicked-up prong and alternate that with long, deep draughts of it, like filling pints from a hand-pump and then slowly downing them in one. He could feel my pocket rocket was as hard and as pumped as it gets. Countdown to lift-off had begun. I've put that lube all over my fat cock, he said. God, was he proud of the girth of his meat. Though I'm not sure who I mean by 'he' now Don't warn me about it, son, just do it I spread your cheeks and got inside. No, we're not talking, said Tom/Olly. You don't need explanations You can see what I want — Daddy I can't take this I'm out of control now, just pumping you Oh Jesus, I'm about to cum, I told him. 'Are you close, man?' murmured Hakan, lifting the duvet. Oh Daddy, I came, but I'm still pumping away inside you Keep your hand on my belly so I can't get up. You're too much for me I'm gonna cum again. It's been too long Too long. Too thick. Too hard. Too deep. Too strong. That young lad, using me when there were no girls about, his blonde hair over his blue eyes and heavy with sweat, his blue eyes unfocused. Geysering into me, his hard-on throbbing with release. What noise does he make when he cums? 'Don't stop,' I told Hakan, but it was more of a gasp. I dropped the phone with a clatter. I came in an almighty fucking rush, and roared at the back of my throat. My cum splattered all over my boss's face and down my stomach. Hakan, dripping with my spunk, laughed with delight, knelt astride my stomach, wanked his dick, watching me convulse and bite my lip and screw my eyes shut, sealing the image of the Librarian deep in some erotic sub-file of my brain. Hakan laughed as he came: splish, splash, splosh. Then he lay down beside me. I waited for Tom's text to make the phone to buzz again, this time on the hard laminate bedroom floor. Instead I heard birdsong. 'Make me a cup of tea,' Hakan said, drawing the duvet around him. 'I need a snooze before I even think of opening up. The cafe, that is.' After you've cum, you suddenly drop out of the sky from a wild sexual high. You land at ground level and see yourself plainly. I suddenly realised the extent of my obsession with the Librarian. Standing alone, my dick throbbing from the pleasures of the last half hour, wanting another wank just to return to those dreams and ideas, I felt my decision-making brain hovering between two ideas. The first was, how to quit the Librarian. The second was, how to see him naked. I could feel I was back in a danger area, a fantasy world, more real than the real world. Jesus, though, I wanted him, and he was there for the taking. What could be wrong about trying? You have to follow your heart. I followed mine to the library. He was pleased to see me, I could tell. And boy, was I pleased to see him. It's only a couple of weeks since I last saw him — but fuck me, if the guy hasn't already put on even more muscle mass. And more than that. There used to be a permanently anxious, terminally sweet expression in his sparkling blue eyes. Now he's got a bushy blonde beard covering his jaw, and the expression with it is becoming imperious. He looked me pretty much straight in the eye as I walked up to the desk, and he didn't quite smile but he raised an eyebrow, as if to say, 'You again. And I know what you've come back for.' That was when I realised — he must have grown nearly a foot to be able to match my eyeline. 'Hey bro,' he said. His voice has dropped a full octave. Is that because his neck is so much wider, his chest not only bigger, but big? He was wearing a singlet, which seemed out of place in the library, and that chest is thick with golden hair. 'Hey,' I said. 'Still visiting the gym, I see?' 'Really starting to see some gains,' he said, understatement of the century. I remembered how only two months ago he was an underweight teen whose elbows stuck out. He smiled at me. 'Wanna feel?' I should have been embarrassed. We were in public, right at the desk of a public library for God's sake. Instead, I reached out hungrily. I tried and failed to wrap a hand around his wrist. His forearm was furry and solid, his bicep iron in my grasp. 'Goodness,' I said. 'This is beyond what I could have imagined for you.' 'It's still just the start, though, dude,' he said, putting my hand on his left tit. The thin cotton of the singlet barely separated my touch from his vast, hairy chest. I stroked it like it was a piece of expert, varnished carpentry. 'You want to get bigger, still?' I marvelled at the idea. My fingers caressed his big, hard nipple. 'Oh yeah,' he breathed, but seemingly more at the thought of growing muscle than the feel of my hand on him. 'I want to be a fucking beast.' I swallowed. Did I dare to tweak that nipple? No, not yet. 'You already look like you could do someone some serious damage.' I was worried that sounded critical. 'If only, you know, in the sack.' 'My girlfriend...' He hesitated. 'We broke my bed, man.' 'Fuck,' I said. 'That's hot.' 'She couldn't get enough. Neither could I. My sex drive is, like...' He gasped and shrugged in inarticulacy. 'When the red mist comes down, I'm like an animal.' 'It sounds like you're really becoming a man,' I said. 'I guess. I mean, look at me, bro. I got muscle!' He laughed, then scratched his beard. 'And this thing, I guess.' 'And your sex drive.' 'Yeah, perhaps I'm less patient too. I just think about working out, getting bigger. Not everyone appreciates it when someone is single-minded — and successful.' 'I know I'm jealous,' I said. 'I never get like that when I go to the gym.' 'You don't need to be jealous,' he said, blushing. 'You could get all this if you wanted. You've got the perfect building blocks, dude,' he added, sweetly. 'You're freakishly tall and your shoulders are so broad. Amazing.' I blushed. 'Cheers,' I said. 'Nothing gay intended, bro,' he said. 'Course not,' I said, thinking about how he'd asked me to feel his guns. 'Would you be able to work out a routine or something for me?' 'I'd need to get a decent look at you,' he said. 'Meet you here at five and I'll take you up Uranus. That's my gym.' I was trembling. 'You think you could shape me into something like you?' 'I dunno,' he said, feeling his chest, abs, even groin, as if reminding himself what he had. 'All this has taken me by surprise, a bit.' 'But you're liking it,' I said. 'Of course,' he said. 'I'm fucking huge, man.' 'Nothing gay about it, though,' I couldn't resist saying, as I left. We went to his gym, which is just around the corner. An old building, one of the kind you never wonder about. I always assumed it was connected with the College. He was already in his gym shorts. Christ, his thighs are just as I imagined them, concrete blocks brushed with blonde hair. And the bulge in his shorts — I don't know, can a dick grow, just from release of testosterone? He wasn't hard, but maybe he's always halfway there, if his sex drive is as high as he saying. At the desk, I had a surprise. 'It's you,' I said. 'The guy from the park...' He was seated behind the desk, filling out a smart suit very nicely. His neatly trimmed beard framed his thin, wolfish mouth. He looked at me as if we'd never met — and when I tried to follow Olly through the turnstile, locked it so it didn't turn. 'Hey Doctor, he's with me,' said Olly, still sounding sweet and thoughtful but with that new, deep, masculine voice. 'In what sense?' asked the Doctor. 'He's a friend,' said Olly. 'He wants to get into Uranus with me.' The Doctor looked at me coolly. 'I bet he does.' 'Hey,' I said, drawing up to my full height (that usually does it). 'What's the deal with this place?' 'We'll need to run a background check on you before you join,' said the Doctor. 'Sorry for any inconvenience.' 'I didn't need a background check,' said Olly, threateningly. There was a sort of tiger's power in him now, as he rounded on the older man. 'Nico vouched for you,' said the Doctor. 'And you know about Nico's connections.' I guessed Nico must be the guy we always referred to as 'the Beast'. I wonder exactly what his connections are, and why the gym is so exclusive. I suppose if it gets results like my Librarian pal, weakling to wrecking ball in a matter of weeks, there must be something special going on in there. Whatever it was, Olly seemed to be cowed by the mention of Nico. He swallowed, a gigantic Adam's apple bobbing in his wide throat, and looked me in the eye. 'Sorry, bro,' he said. 'We'll be pumping iron together before you know it. The Doctor will help. We need to get you your own set of these.' He tipped me a wink and cheerfully flexed his guns, as encouragement. I wanted to throw him on the floor right there and then and introduce my love-muscle to his fun-hole. I noticed the Doctor gazing in adoration too. 'Good advert for Uranus,' I said. He looked up at me and smoothed his beard. He looked hot and bothered. 'You can say that again,' he said. 'We always get our men where we want them.' 'That's funny,' I said. 'Me too.' 'Just fill out this form, then,' said the Doctor. 'See you soon,' my pumped-up Librarian pal said, waving an ape-like arm. 'Don't worry. No background check's going to have trouble with an ex-cop.' I stared down at the Doctor. 'No,' I said, with a smile. 'You'll let me come soon, won't you?' He slid a small, creamy white card across the desk. It gave a telephone number, but the only name on the card was 'DOCTOR O'. 'I'll see what I can do, sir,' he said.

Chapter 7 is here. And this is really where it gets interesting... 8 Olly Friday, September 26th Late for work again today. I know it's wrong. A month ago I would haven't dreamt of it. A month ago I was early, eager to please — god, such a good little boy. But was that bad? I love the library — I don't want to piss off Mr Bartholomew — but equally, I can't bring myself to give a fuck. Am I a bad boy now? I'm definitely not so little these days. No, I'm not a bad boy. God knows, I'm working harder than ever. I get up at five to get to the gym early enough for my morning session. Just me, the Beast, and a few other hardcore lads. We devotees of the iron, sweat and lift. Most of those other guys in the early morning, city types with nice pecs, are still only doing half the work that me and the Beast are putting in. We're there to do a cardio session and a few light weights. We spar a little in the changing rooms. That's just session one. We still have our weights session scheduled for the evening. No, that's all good. Mum and Dad and Anthony are pleased to see me taking some exercise. My parents are glad to see me becoming a man. Anthony nods encouragingly, but I can see there's something behind his eyes. Perhaps he's not sure which of us is the big brother nowadays. Especially after his nice pale blue interview shirt got ripped up the back. He found it on my bedroom floor. 'Jesus Christ,' he said, 'What happened to this?' I wasn't in the mood to talk nicely about it. It was a Saturday morning and I was getting ready to go for a swim. 'I guess I happened to it, bro. I'll replace it.' 'You get in a fight?' 'What are you, deaf, blind or an idiot? I told you that I happened to it. In case you haven't noticed, I've put on some weight since you first leant it to me.' 'You mean you outgrew my shirt?' He was turning it over in his hands. 'The sleeves are all burst too.' 'Are they? Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't realise you cared about it so much.' 'You don't seem to remember it happening.' 'Sometimes when I've had a good session, and I'm really pumped, I guess I forget myself a bit,' I tried to explain, still packing my swim bag: towel, trunks, shake... 'I just can't believe you've put on any muscle so fast.' 'It happens when you first start at the gym. The Beast's an expert, and I've been reading up. A guy my age has the right chemical balance. He's ready to...' 'Explode?' 'If you want.' 'Show me,' he said. I really hadn't wanted this, but he'd asked for it. I went and stood before him and pulled off my sweat top. I like it because it keeps my new physique something of a secret. It's outsize. You can't tell, at first glance, how very outsize I am. 'Oh, fuck.' He covered his mouth with his hand. 'Olly, you look like a — like a gorilla or something.' 'Do you see how I bust your shirt open now?' I balled my hands into fist, demonstrating the iron bars my forearms have become. I banged on my chest with one first. The smack and the little bounce always made me want to smile, especially thinking how little I used to look when I first struck these poses in the bathroom mirror. 'Do you see what I'm packing? Your shirt was for a normal sized guy, Anthony, and I've started to go way beyond normal.' 'I suppose you're just...' His mouth was dry, staring at the thick sinew of my arms, my hulking shoulders, my rugged six pack. 'You're growing up faster than I thought. I didn't realise you even had chest hair.' I ran my fingertips through it. 'That's testosterone. When you're working out at my capacity, the body starts producing more of it. I'm flooded with testosterone now, and it — well...' I clapped my hands together for emphasis, and couldn't resist pulling a momentary 'most muscular' pose, so he could see the whole story. 'It makes things grow.' He shook his head in disbelief. 'I hope you know what you're doing.' 'Don't worry, little guy,' I patted his shoulder patronisingly. 'I'm right on course.' He looked repelled, and for some reason I loved it. I tried not to show what a turn-on it was, just pulled my sweat top back on and went out the door for that swim. Mr Bartholomew is less than happy. Last Friday he complained that I wasn't taking the job seriously. That was at the start of the day, and I swallowed that down pretty well, but he kept on at me all day. I told him how I was carrying three times the number of books about now, and could reach the higher shelves without standing on a step ladder. He said that was all very well, but that it was attitude that was the thing, and I had a bad one. That afternoon the ex-policeman came in for a chat. Well, I've written about him in here before. It's the highlight of my week. At first I thought it was just because he's a tough like me, and in some ways more so than the Beast. He doesn't lift or anything, but he's army-fit, and fucking tall. He towers over the Beast and has to stoop a little just to come in at the door. He's been in some hard situations, he told me. He said he chased down drug dealers and smacked their heads together. He's been in situations where he's carried a gun, and others where he's had to wrestle a bloke to the floor and pin him. That takes strength, sure, but it takes something more: self-belief. Yeah, he's a tough guy, a real man, the sort of guy my brother would be shy of talking to. Not sure why he quit the force. Reading between the lines, I think it was something to do with addiction. The first time we talked, he wanted to know about gym stuff. I got a real buzz when I realised he'd noticed the little changes in my body, the output of all my input. It's nice to be admired. Of course, I like it from girls most of all. I like to see that look in their eyes that their pussy is melting, that they want me inside it, that they're dreaming of my cock. But when I get it from guys it's worth three times as much, because I know they're saying they put themselves beneath me. I am the dominant one, the alpha male, for once. And then when he was asking again last week, the penny dropped. He's gay. A little — or rather, six foot something — poof. And I realised, as I was talking, that his eyes kept going down to my arms, my chest, my packet. He couldn't stop staring, and then I could see a look come over his face. The look that meant he wanted me to come over his face. I folded my arms before him, and he had to actually take a step back. His eyes boggled. 'So, where do you work out?' he asked me. 'Uranus,' I told him. 'It's just down that way.' I pointed past his shoulder so that my massive arm was right in his face. He stared at it like a hungry man looking at steak. 'Maybe you should come along.' 'I'd like to,' he said. 'You'd like to what?' I said, leaning in conspiratorially. 'I'd like to come,' he said. 'With me?' I said. 'If you're interested,' he said. I gave a big laugh then, put out a big hand and pushed him away playfully. He almost stumbled. 'You've changed since I first came in here, if you don't mind me saying so,' he said, and I've been puzzling over what he meant exactly. But later that day, when the last customer had gone and we were locking up, Mr B. cornered me by the photocopier and said I needed to spend less time chatting and more time doing what I was paid for, or perhaps they'd decide my presence was not required. After a whole day of being baited, that's when the red mist finally came down. I turned and shoved the guy, less playfully then I did the ex-police officer. He went down right away. 'Please don't hurt me,' he whimpered. 'Please don't hurt me,' I parroted. 'I didn't mean to be rude,' he said, 'but -' 'But you're used to being a bully,' I said. 'I'm not. But I could get a taste for this.' I went and stood over him. He looked up at me in horror but also in desire. He didn't know what he wanted, but I did. I slowly undid the top button on my chinos. 'I thought you were a different sort of boy when I employed you,' he said. 'The sort you could push around,' I said, slowly unzipping my fly. 'You were so polite, so sweet-natured.' 'I was littler then,' I said, reaching into my trousers and pulling out my junk, still wrapped in my clean white briefs. I cradled it in my hand, letting him take it in. 'I've grown up a bit.' 'That's a nice size,' he said greedily, getting up onto his knees. 'It's certainly more than I'm used to,' I laughed. 'Do you want — do you want me to suck you?' he asked. More worldly wise than I'd have thought. 'Open wide,' I said, and pulled out my dick. He looked up, uncomprehending, then turned back to my big soft cock, hanging like a piece of ripe fruit from a big, solid tree. He opened his mouth. I caught the back of his throat with a stream of golden piss. He gasped, but I grabbed his curly, grey-white-black hair, and after a second or two he relaxed, and took it like a man. 'Say thank you,' I said. 'Thank you, sir,' he said. 'No more complaints from you, I hope.' 'I only want what's best for the library,' he said, wiping his mouth. 'And all of us,' he added quickly. No, I don't think I'll have any more trouble from him. And I don't think my work out regime is affecting going to the library. I'm always finished in plenty of time to reach the door for opening time, especially now I can run faster than ever before, and it's only a couple of streets away. None of that is so wrong. But when I've finished my morning session, then comes the shower. The Beast and I still shower in adjacent cubicles, just like that first day when could barely lift 10kg. Back when I was a shrimp next to him. I'm nowhere hear his weight and size yet, of course, or his definition — he's still bigger than me, and has five years' advantage on me. I'm still nowhere near the point where I can live my dream. Take his place. Have Estelle tell him how much more she likes my dick. Have him grovel in front of me and call me his master. I'm still too weak for that. And crazy enough that my dick is growing with my muscle, I'm not even half as hung as he is. And we're still pals. We go into our showers together, and I take my bar of Coal Tar soap, and I turn on the water. Jets of red hot water hit my shoulder blades and run down the crevice of my arse, into my arse hole, and down my newly engorged thighs. I take the soap and rub it in circles on my shoulders, around the burning ridges of my trapezius muscles, inside my stinking, furry armpits, over the hard ridges of my stomach, round my dick and balls, up and down my thighs, and up inside my chocolate starfish. And this is where I start to go wrong. This is where I am able to take stock of how my biceps have swelled and my triceps have swelled, as I raise my arms to scrub away beneath them; I can appreciate, in this silence of the water hissing, how much harder and wider my lats are than last week. I soap up my pecs and I take note of how much broader they have grown, and how much further they stand from shoulders and my thick, vascular neck. This is when my dick becomes solid, and I can practically feel my heart beating in it. It seems to stand a little longer and flare a little wider every time I get it hard, and then I soak away at it, marvelling at how it's grown, adoring it with the caress of my bar of Coal Tar. Now I am able to flex and pose and feel how much the muscle has sprouted on and within me. I love feeling the extra mass that I've grown, sometimes overnight. I have to feel the new thickness and solidity of my thick cock, as I pump my big fist on it. I go into a reverie where all I am conscious of is the size of my muscle and how it has grown. I think about the stares I've got from girls and from guys. I think about how I bust Anthony's shirt and how he looked at me with such envy. I think of the jeans I was wearing last week that ripped at the seams because my thighs are so big now. I think of how I accidentally snapped a door handle off the door at the library. I reach down and feel my balls, now big juicy orbs full of spunk. I reach around and feel the tightness and roundness of my glutes. I twist and look down at my tree trunk thighs, grown from hairless saplings. I look at how my body hair has grown wild across the chest and arms and stomach that were completely smooth a week ago. I think of the tiny physique that stood in this cubicle stall once before, half the size of me at least. Fuck, what's happening to me? I feel I'm becoming obsessed. I've got the physique of a true bodybuilder now, but it's not enough — it's really not enough. I've got it in my sights now. Another couple of years and there'll be a beast in that shower stall. Okay, I'm going to have to sneak into the bathroom and have another wank now. I need to do more than get my boss to drink my piss in the library after hours. I need to get some sex soon. I reckon the police officer would go down on me, given half the chance. That's what we were really talking about, last Friday. I made sure of it. 'Come with me?' I said. 'I'm flattered, big guy, but I'm afraid I don't fuck guys. This big mister -' I grabbed my bulge and squeezed it to show him how it crammed my y-fronts ' — is strictly girls allowed.' God, he looked humiliated, though he tried to smile. Fucking queer, after my body. That reminds me. Sophie replied to my text. She's coming tomorrow. I'd better save that wank tonight. I'm going to give her everything I've got.

Chapter 5 is here 6 Olly Thursday, August 28th Eat. Lift. Sleep. Repeat. I've got that written up above my bed now. I hear it in the pulsing of blood in my ears. And with that insistent beat, I feel like I can feel something else stirring, pulsing like a heartbeat. Yesterday, the Beast put a huge paw on my shoulder. I was just out of the shower, with my towel wrapped around my midriff. I was getting ready to step back into my undies and pull my jeans on and head back home to bed. Muscle is torn apart in the gym, fed in the kitchen and built in bed. 'Wait a minute, bro,' he said. 'Look in the mirror.' I turned and looked, and saw it for the first time. I saw mass. I could see it in my arms, my neck, my chest, my belly, my shoulders, my legs, the sharp ridge of my hips. You might not know it if you didn't know me, but it was like a roll of thunder in the still of the night. I could see it in my eyes, too; in my stance, in the fat veins of my arms. I could feel it with every breath I took in, I could feel a greater weight on the balls of my feet. I could feel it in that slow burning ache that never quite fades. My body is putting on muscle. Of course, next to the Beast I still looked almost girlish. It's the body of an athlete. It's powerful, it's stronger than your average guy, it's the kind of thing a popstar has, or a magazine model: it's not nearly enough. But it's a hard body. It indicates that something has begun. I'm strong enough now to start lifting real weights. And it feels like it's come out of nowhere. I'm working hard, so hard. I'm working out nearly every day, lifting free weights and kettlebells till my arms and my thighs and my core are all screaming furiously — but still this is so sudden. I see other guys in the gym working hard, guys with personal trainers, guys who were working out before I started, and they don't have what I've got. And maybe it's in the stance, the look, the fire in the belly. But it's also a fact that I am bigger than them. I've stripped my body of fat now, the little that I had. I see abs, tiny but boulder hard, when I pull on my shirt in the morning. I feel power in my delts and biceps, even when I lift my Astrophysics textbooks out of my suitcase, when I chug down that fucking disgusting protein shake. I wake up and I feel my heart pumping; at night, I feel my body reinvigorated. I want to fuck, twenty-four seven. My brother brought home his girlfriend last night. She's totally sweet and lovely, got a beautiful smile that comes straight out of her eyes. Really friendly. I was in the kitchen with Anthony, asking about her, and he's just so sweet about her. 'We're going out to loads of archaeological sites,' he told me. 'I make a packed lunch, she drives, and it's just so — comfortable. Nourishing.' 'That's great, man,' I said, watching him cook. 'You probably think we're like an old couple,' he said. 'But life's different when you're twenty-one, man. You'll see.' 'I hope not!' I said, with a big fake laugh, glancing back toward the sitting room. All I could think of was, what's she going to do for a dick inside her? Where's she going to get that from? Her boyfriend, who makes the packed lunch and chooses what motorway to use for their day out? That'll hardly touch the sides. In more than one sense. I see girls in the street and I want to go up to them and put my face in between their thighs. I want to taste them, I want to stick my tongue in deep, to drink them down. I want to listen to them lose control with pleasure. I want them to fill my senses with their sex. I want satisfaction. I was hard throughout the dinner my brother cooked. And I could see the way she was glancing at my arms when I filled her wine-glass, at my pecs when she hugged me goodbye (fuck, but they're so sensitive) that she felt the same thing. I'd never do anything against my big brother, but I could have taken her off him, like that: the filthy bitch. I've never been a big one for masturbation. I always thought it was dirty and somewhat shameful. I only ever used my laptop for my studies in the past. But last night, I shut the door carefully, and I pulled the curtains. I turned on my laptop and I searched for sex. In my underpants, the laptop resting on my crotch, pressing on my ever hardening penis. And I'm looking down at my muscle in the light of the screen. Crazy, veiny, raw stuff. I have a strange urge, more than ever, to tweak my nipples. They seem to have grown more sensitive in the last few weeks. I use both hands, thumb and forefinger. But then I feel I need another hand to take care of my dick. I'm watching a muscle guy fucking. Pornography. I never saw the appeal this stuff has. It's there to reach the bits of fantasy at the back of your mind that nobody else can get at. And there he is, older than the Beast but just about as built. And the girl is being pinned down, she's yodelling with pleasure. I reach into my pants for my dick. Here comes the surprise. The thing inside is twice as fat as it used to be. It used to be, quite frankly, a pencil, and now it's a magic marker. It feels heavy in my hand. Where my fist used to close the whole thing in, I can wrap my hand around it now and the cockhead pokes out, plus an inch or two to spare. Not just the normal kind of muscle. Somehow, the other kind of muscle is growing too. I'm enlarging all over, to scale. When my face is reflected in my laptop screen, it looks no less young, and the expression on it — so innocent. My own body is outpacing me. I stroked my new, bigger dick for a while, staring at it almost as much as I was staring at the porn. Then I decided: I'm a scientist. I need to know more. First I Googled: NATURAL COCK ENLARGEMENT and found oceans of scammy sites trying to sell me machines and yoga exercises. Then I tried MAGICAL COCK ENLARGEMENT and found all the same sites, plus a lot of stuff about magic beans and yogic chanting. I tried searching for, BIGGER MUSCLES OVERNIGHT and got diet plans and exercise videos. I tried SUDDENLY BIG MUSCLE, I HAVE A BIG COCK NOW, UNEXPECTED BIG COCK and NEW BIG COCK AND BIG MUSCLE IN THE NIGHT and got back to the porn, most of it gay, which I'm not into. I tried to focus. I was beginning to feel downhearted and dispirited, and even a little scared. Then, like a light in the dark woods, I came across a message board about muscle growth: Muscle Worshippers. I felt I needed to find out if this had happened to someone before. It's not exactly something I want to share with the Beast. I left a message, explaining my situation, took a deep breath, clicked 'send' and went to bed. I dreamed I had emailed that message to the tall guy in the library, and that I was waiting for him to reply. And then it was morning. Before I did anything, I sat down again at my laptop. There were several responses already to my query. BIG DICK LOVER: Hi DulwichBoy, it doesn't sound like you help, it sounds like you need a willing arse. Good news, I have one hear — bad news, I don't live in London. Are you ever in San Francisco? MUSCLE PUP: Your story got me so hot. I jacked off to it twice before I went to bed. I'm London, maybe we should hook up? ASTROMAN: This Beast is obviously one of the great old ones who walk amongst us and bestow bountiful gifts. You must respect his gift and consider what he is trying to show you. Only then will true enlightenment fall upon you. Also, do you have any pictures? GRANT: Whoa, I love the sound of your hot muscles. I wonder where it will stop? I like to think it won't, and by the time you're 25 (nearer my age) you'll already be a hot muscle daddy. Can you come to NY soon? The Big Apple has room for you however big you get. LUVVABOI: I'm in Manchester. I'm working out trying to get as big as I can. Would love to come and share your magic. Pictures, pls. You sound bodacious. MIKEY9+: My dick has never stopped growing. Also, Musclepup, I jacked off when I read that you jacked off. Any pics of you jacking off to DulwichBoy's story? Reading these responses to his story, I felt my dick swell and lengthen in my pyjamas. There was a tingle at the root, a throb in the cockhead. When I pulled it out, I found that it was at least another inch or two longer and fatter than the night before. The cockhead bulged a little more, like a plum ripening in the dew. I could feel the different kind of grip my thumb and fingers made around it. I had to take some action — so I picked up my phone and took a few pictures with a deodorant can for reference. My body was tingling with excitement. It was nearly time to head off to the gym, after all. Quickly I uploaded the pictures to the message board. DULWICHBOY: Since you asked, this is me. Thanks for all the comments. I'm not gay but I appreciate your positivity. About a minute after uploading, I got a response: MUSCLE PUP: Fuck man, that is a nice dick and bod too. You don't need to get any bigger. So hard right now. Heart racing, I typed my response: DULWICHBOY: Like I said, I'm not gay. I like women. But thanks. So, you lift, bro? I wanked my dick, drawn into the atmosphere of sex. It was amazing to feel the new thickness in my palm, and to see muscles bulging in my arm as my fist pumped that I had never been seen before. Ping! Muscle Pup had uploaded a picture. MUSCLE PUP: Been working out a couple of years now. What do you think? Wow. MusclePup was about my age and height, and he'd been working out about twenty times longer than me. And I was bigger than him. I could take him. I knew I could. I pictured myself wrestling him to the ground. Ping! Another message. 6'5LIBRARYUSER: Hey, DulwichBoy. Do I know you? You're rocking some impressive gains. My heart began to beat in my chest. Quickly I exited Muscle Worshippers and retreated to my email inbox. There was a cute email from Sophie, and I read it peacefully, letting my dick soften. I had to get going, after all. It was time to hit the gym. But I've been running it over in my head ever since. I haven't replied to that message board. I don't belong on there. Nevertheless, I log on secretly and read the comments. For at least a week, the comments kept on coming. Guys from all over the world who were hot for my meat. I never even thought that a gay guy might fancy me before this. (Why would I?) But this is crazy. And I absolutely love it. Yeah, you guys. You want this? You want to feel the power in this arm that used to be so powerless? You jizzing in your pants to see a pair of pecs bulging in my t-shirt? And it's more than that, isn't it? I don't just turn you on, little guys. I have power over you. Any of you. I control you. Bring you to me. Dismiss you. I shame you in your most private moments. Worthless, little-dick, weakling cocksuckers: and the gay guys, too! I'm the boss of you all. And I think that's always been in me, even when I was little. I was always a boss waiting to realise it. Alpha at the core, hard at the centre. Now I'm starting to wield that power — just like the Beast. And my teacher — my rival, only he doesn't know it yet — is proud of his work. 'I'm doing it,' he said today, gripping my enlarged shoulder, prodding my hard abs, making me curl and make a bicep and measuring it against his monster. 'I'm bring it out in you. I'm making you bigger, day by day. How do you like that, little librarian?' I met his eye in the mirror. 'Love it, big guy,' I said. 'Love it.'

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

Hey guys, I wrote this novel a couple of years ago and for a while it was on sale at Amazon, Smashwords etc. I've decided to remove it from sale and make it available here in instalments. That doesn't change the fact that it is Copyright Lawrence Jackson 2015. Hope you enjoy it - please give me any kind of feedback you want! Dedicated to the Xhamster user known as 'snuffed' and Tom/Nico/Stephan aka 'Skinnythick' and everyone else who gives a little of themselves online. 1 Stephan Friday, August 1st The plumber said: 'If I'd known this was going to happen, I'd have stopped by the gym this morning.' But he had a nice body, all the better for not being toned. He was in his mid-to-late twenties: his belly and upper body were fleshy — I ran a hand over his left tit, swirling sweat across his fleshly nipple with my thumb — but it was clear enough to me he played footie every Sunday. His hairy thighs, as he braced himself for my pumping first, were muscled like an athlete's. 'You're so fit,' I told him. He smiled and looked shyly down at himself. 'Fuck off.' I finished unzipping his overalls. The heat coming off him was like a radiator. 'I really shouldn't be doing this,' he said, shimmying the overalls to his ankles. 'I'm proposing to my bird next Sunday.' I promised him she wouldn't mind, and began massaging his cock. 'There are some things,' he said, widening his stance so I could go at him more vigorously, 'you just can't speak to your other half about.' 'Tell me about it,' I said, glancing at our apartment's front door. Tom wasn't due back until the evening, later even if it was 'one of those days' at the surgery, so put this one down to a gay man's intuition. 'She talks about getting into bed with another girl,' he said, 'but just to make me cum, and that. She'd pull one of her faces if she could see me now.' He put his hands flat on his hips, and watched as his dick got fully hard in my hand. 'What else does your, eh, fiancé do to make you cum?' He looked at me. 'Getting a bit personal, aren't we?' 'That's my favourite thing to get,' I said. I nibbled his sweaty chest, kissed his hairy belly, licked his dick questioningly. 'She's alright,' he said, pushing my face down onto his dick so that my glasses jolted halfway down my nose. I let them sit there, and got on with the business of deep-throating that intensely warm cock. His whole body was hot from the overalls. I bounced my nose off his crotch, sniffing droplets of sweat from his short and curlies, the saltiness of his pork gliding smoothly to the back of my throat. 'She likes to go on top once in a while. She watches porn with me — well, she did it once when we were in a hotel in Budapest, and she seemed to really get off on it. She really might go to bed with me and another girl, if the circumstances arose. Oh yeah, mate, that is reem.' 'Mmm,' I said, swallowing a gobbet of pre-cum that spoke louder than words. 'And maybe a year down the line, or maybe when the kids are in school at least, when we're really settled,' he said, 'I could maybe buy her a strap-on. Have you seen that online? Pegging, they call it. Stupid bloody name.' I took the cock out of my mouth and kept wanking it, looking up at his expression. 'You got time to do that today?' 'I've got to be in Muswell Hill at three thirty for an estimate on a wet room,' he said, drawing in a thoughtful air through his teeth. 'How long does it take to set up?' 'No time,' I said. 'Turn around.' 'Fucking hell,' he said, following my instruction. 'My lucky day, innit?' He was bent over and spreading his cheeks for me, when I heard a sound outside. Ex-copper's instincts now. That was definitely Tom's car, the way the engine did that thing that I've been nagging at him about getting fixed. I hesitated, then stuck my tongue up the plumber's sweaty plug-hole to play for time. 'Oh fuck, yes,' he said. 'Do you need me to get at a particular angle for you? You're such a tall bastard. Six four, is it?' 'Six eight,' I said, staring at his arsehole, bubbled with my spit. Outside, I heard car doors slam. Three floors up. Tom would walk it, he always did. It took almost exactly five minutes. 'Look,' I said. 'I've just remembered something.' 'Oh yeah,' he said, 'you need lube for a thing like this, don't ya?' 'It's more than that,' I said, getting to my feet. He turned to look at me, worried. 'Well, rubbers, of course. It's been a while, but it's not actually my first time, sunshine.' 'No, something bigger than that.' I saw his eyes widen in excitement. 'One of those big rubber dildo things?' I ran an anxious hand through my curly blonde hair. 'It's my boyfriend.' 'Whatever you say, fellah,' he said, grinning and wanking his cock. 'Extra very well endowed, is he?' 'Funny you should say that,' I said, 'but the important thing is that he doesn't know you're — we're — he's not actually due back till later, but -' 'Oh, shit, say no more,' said the plumber. 'I've been here before, enough times.' He pointed at the floor. 'Hence the zip-up overalls.' I willed myself to remember the order of the Kings and Queens of Britain. My hard-on resisted till I reached the 1920s when I really had to concentrate. By the time I could bear to look back at him, he was fully dressed and writing his number on the back of a card. 'Escort me to your maintenance task,' he said, handing it over. 'You do have one, don't you?' Of course. Fucked if I could remember what it was, though. The key went in the lock. I went cold, looked for my jumper, and the thought leaped out at me. 'The radiator,' I said, as the door opened. 'Excellent,' said the young man, with only a glance toward the new arrival. He had his biro out again already. 'Well, here's my charge for call-out, stripping down, tackling the airlock. Of course, if the problem persists, call me out again at a convenient time and I'll see what else we can do.' My heart was racing. 'Of course,' I said. 'Can you take a card, or -' 'That'll be fine.' I handed over £50, licking my lips with the taste of his fuck-chute till on the tip of my tongue. He smiled that broad smile and I nearly got a tent in my jogging bottoms all over again. 'See you.' 'See ya, mate!' Tom stood in the doorway, watching the plumber leave. 'Well done. I thought neither of us would ever organise that.' 'Time on my hands,' I said, thinking about where my fingers had just been, and wiping unobtrusively them on my jumper. 'Well, yes,' Tom said, frowning. 'I wasn't expecting you to be home...' He tailed off and looked back into the stairwell. 'Look,' he said, to somebody out there, 'this is silly. You'd better come in.' The door creaked open and a young man in jeans and hooded top came in, swinging a camera case. With his bottle glasses, bristling moustache and tightly knotted tie he looked faintly intellectual, but with that dumb look that comes with the heady uncertainty of imminent sex. I smiled at him, to put him at his ease, and he smiled back, perhaps to put me at mine. It was a moment of wild incomprehension and at the same time, perhaps, total understanding. 'You were going to...' I looked back at Tom, who was squatting on the arm of the sofa. In his smart office trousers, his big bazonger was perfectly delineated, and faintly tumescent as well. 'Yes,' he said. 'Dean and I were making conversation at work.' 'Right,' I said. 'We were talking about you,' Tom said. 'I see,' I said. 'And naturally that led to inviting him back for...' 'It did, in fact,' Tom said. 'I was telling him about what you've been getting up to this past year.' Ouch. 'No,' Tom said, seeing my face. 'Don't feel bad. That's what I realised, in my conversation with Dean. That it's good. We should both be doing whatever we want. It'll make us happy.' 'Right,' I said, pulling on my jumper. Tom forced a smile. 'Right,' he said. He looked at Dean. 'Do you want a coffee?' 'Sure,' said Dean. 'Everything okay?' 'I'll get the coffee,' I said, patting him on the shoulder. 'Milk? Sugar?' 'You sure?' Tom looked concerned. 'You two get started,' I said, not quite sure what I was saying, and walking towards the door, turning my head, I saw my boyfriend turning to the stranger and shrugging off his coat. The stranger put down his bag and took off his jacket. I noticed a little staff card in a lanyard round his neck. So the pair of them were both GP's at the same surgery. Trust Tom to meet someone so entirely innocently, after all my debaucheries of the past year. The stuff that's got me thrown out of the police force. The stuff that's wrecked my life. I stood in the doorway, staring at the coffee pot. I could hear them kissing and gasping with the novelty of it. I could hear them undoing a belt. I closed the door, filled the kettle, put it on to boil. I opened the door a crack, spied on the pair of them. I wanted to see the junior doctor's reaction to my boyfriend's huge member. Dean was unzipping his camera bag, while Tom had his hands up inside his starched office suit and was pinching his nipples. Dean took out a huge black camera and turned it on Tom, ordering him to strip. His words vanished behind the hissing of the coffee coming to the boil. I just saw Tom slowly undoing his shirt, dropping his trousers to his ankles. His raging bulge twitched like a black mamba in a sandwich bag. Dean knelt at his feet and carried on snapping. I got my dick out of my trousers and started wanking. The coffee began to hiss and issue steam. Tom took the camera and snapped Dean as he tugged Tom's juicy pink sausage out of his grey, custom-issue y-fronts. Dean played up to it in a practised way, marvelling at the big purple head, the way he could get one hand gripped around it on top of the other. He wanked and sucked on it, spit flying all over the kitchen floor in his enthusiasm. The coffee pot gurgled, and so did I. I pumped my fist faster. Tom and Dean snogged one another, one small dick pressed against a giant, kneaded and ground together. I couldn't help noticing Tom had one eye on the kitchen door. I turned away and served up the coffee, hand trembling. Tom looked excited, slightly drunk — sexy as fuck, of course — but did he look happy? Or just pretending? Whose benefit was this for, exactly? Was I really thinking those things, though, or was I thinking: Fuck, Fuck, Gotta Fuck, Two hot guys getting off in the living room, gotta fuck, gotta Fuck, gotta FUCK FUCK FUCK. (I've come to realise this is the theme song to my days.) I took the coffee in, and the two men broke away. 'Uh, maybe it's not the time for a drink after all, mate,' Dean said, wiping the steam from his glasses lenses. 'Leave it on the table,' Tom said, 'but don't forget to use the coasters.' The doorbell rang. 'I'll get that,' I said, my voice almost lost in my mouth. It was the plumber, of course. 'You alright, big fellah?' he said, looking up at me. 'I got talking to the bloke in specs while he was waiting in the hall. Says he's heard your fella's got a huge dick and loves fucking arse.' I nodded shyly, and welcomed him in. 'Do you want a coffee?' I said. He considered. 'Nah,' he said, rubbing his chin and looking at the couple writhing on the sofa. 'Got that Muswell Hill job, ain't I? Alright, you two lovebirds, who wants to take a straight boy up the arse, and who wants to photograph it?' He was very clear that they shouldn't get a shot of his face, but in the end, of course, the pair of them did: a huge splash. Even the plumber managed to spunk himself on the cheek. I had a wank while they were all three locked together, but for some reason I myself couldn't cum until I was looking at the pictures later on Dean's Tumblr. And I thought about this. Afterwards, over lunch, Tom surprised me: 'I think we ought to have a trial separation.' I laughed. 'That's just what I was going to say,' I said. 'You're driving me round the bend. Making me want new things.' 'Today, all I wanted was you. But I also wanted to fuck everything. I'm not sure I can square it.' He pushed his chair away from the table. 'Maybe it'll be easier if we're both single. We can see more of each other.' He was rubbing his tits through his cum-stained work shirt. 'No. We need to be apart. I'm bad for you. I make you do things you don't want to do.' 'I'll do whatever you want,' he said. He stood up and stood next to me, nuzzling my shoulder with his crotch, where a hard-on was swelling. 'Exactly,' I said. 'I'm not right in the head. I'm addicted. I need to get myself cleaned up, and in the meantime, you need to become you again.' He unzipped and took it out. The dick that had first captivated me when I saw it online. Mr11AndAHalf, Wimbledon. 'I don't want us to get cleaned up,' he said. 'I want us to get completely covered in sweat and cum and piss.' It was still only soft. The temptation was just as massive as his meat-stick. I stood up, stooped, and kissed him lightly on the lips. 'Shush,' I said. 'We both need some time away from sex. I'll go and pack a bag.' 'But where can you go to get away from sex? Who will you be staying with?' he asked me. 'Slutpig93, Musclelad2000 or FatCockStr8Slut?' All of them old friends. Actually, Mum and Dad weren't that surprised to see me. 'You'd gone quiet,' Mum told me, over a cup of tea in the kitchen. 'I knew something was up.' 'I don't exactly get in touch as often as I should anyway!' I confessed. 'This was different,' she said. 'Do you want a biscuit? I've got your favourites.' My favourites are Ginger Crunch Creams, of course. I'd forgotten all about them and suddenly wham, there they are, just when I need them most. I'm eating one now, sitting on my old bed, looking out of my old window. DulwichVillage. Dead centre of normality and peace. Where the net curtains twitch all day, where there are still red telephone boxes and milkmen. The place I waited eighteen years to escape. Well, another eighteen years on and I'm grateful for it. I can take all the peace it can throw at me. Only I had a weird experience at the library, and it rattled me. Mum had some books to take back. Margery Allinghams and Delia Smiths. I needed the walk, as the summer light died on the air and the green leaves rustled overhead. What, I thought, could be more normal, more calming, than the library. Dulwich Village Library has the atmosphere of a chapel. It has the serenity of an attic room. At six o'clock in the evening, when the heat of the day was at its highest, I witnessed an insane couple go to the Self Help section and begin heavy petting. I mean, I've seen some stuff. I've done some stuff. Going public was always a big thrill for me. How can I forget, for instance, walking along the South Bank at one in the morning and getting my knob sucked overlooking the river, a string of coloured lights overhead, and us in the shadow of a tree. Cruise ships slowly passing up the river, playing Ricky fucking Martin, and I'm living La Vida Loca myself with my dick deep down the guy's throat, his headphones round his collar. That's where the queers go, isn't it, that's where we do it: anywhere we like. But I don't think of straight couples doing it, and not in broad daylight for god's sake, and not in a place like DulwichVillage, where Radio 4 is considered slightly common. But there he was, arse like two bowling balls, arms exploding from his t-shirt. Reminiscent, in fact, of a cage fighter who's swallowed a rugby player, and his blonde girlfriend with her legs open for his finger. It was like they'd been specially cast to perform for us. It would have been rude not to look. In any case, I instinctively fell into the role of security guard. When the senior librarian running the library came over on some errand or other, I coughed as low and as loud as I could, in that universal language for 'Put your cock away'. The public pornstar glanced around at me, with an evil sort of smile. Then he knelt down, lifted the girl's skirt, and put his face right in there. The senior librarian actually spluttered when he saw it, and I'm not sure I didn't too. He looked at me, or up at me, of course. I smiled, sweetly. 'They're not with me,' I said, in that special voice we use in libraries. I wanted to hear the noises they were making together. I wanted to see how much further they would take this. I wanted to get my dick out and wank it. Jesus, it was hard. Like I'd starved myself for a week and then someone had just walked in with a big plate of steak. I checked nobody was watching, and slowly began to fuck the books at groin level, nudging my sweaty, precummy, nylon-tracksuit-wrapped cockhead in between the spines of hardback encyclopaedias. Just then I heard a sharp intake of breath, and my head whipped around. It was the junior librarian, a bloke in his twenties. He must have been sent over to sort out the couple in the book stacks, more's the pity. I would have liked the little fellah to have sorted me out first. He was much more my type than the steroid fiend with snake eyes and tight trousers. Textbook clean-cut straight boy: clean fair hair in a trendy yet somehow too-soft quiff. Not unlike Daniel Radcliffe in looks and demeanour. Nicely ironed polo shirt (pretty sure Mum did that for him). Slender and well groomed, a couple of colourful wristbands with charities and festival names printed on them. He'd just taken in for the first time the scene I'd been enjoying , and his eyes were starting out of his head. He'd never seen the like. God, but he licked his lips at the sight, without realising he was doing it, I think. He was so brimful of milky innocence, my heart leapt in my chest. He even gave a little embarrassed smile and looked away, busying himself with a carousel of cheap romances. What is the impulse in us to take that innocence and ruin it irrevocably? I turned my attention back to the boy and girl in their own little world, but my mind was on that librarian. I knew he was watching the scene. I wondered what he was thinking. Was he envying them? Nervous? Had he done something like that? Had he actually been with a girl? It was like when I used to watch straight porn, and I realised I was fantasising about the men who watched it, as much or more so than the guys who were in it. Had he watched porn? Did he like a wank? How did he look when he came? The man and woman were aware of him watching now. They threw him little glances. I looked to see how he was taking it. My dick had dislodged the books permanently now so that they gave me no purchase. I was well hidden by a Romance carousel and some magazine shelving. Keeping everybody very carefully in view, and hoping the police weren't actually on their way (ex-colleagues! fuck!), I reached into my trackie bottoms and put my hand around my dick. I gave it a slow caress. My knobhead was a sticky mess of precum and sweat. I withdrew the hand and, not knowing what else to do with it, reached inside my vest and wiped it across my chest. I felt the print of my hand on my tit like a warm, glowing smear of UV paint. My dick was crying out for some more, but I decided to play it casual. I wanted to see what the librarian did. I actually saw him, thinking himself unobserved, reach into his chinos and rearrange his dick. Hard-on. Bingo. I watched him walk back, hard dick tucked away so that nobody knew it was there but me. All I wanted to do then was put a hand on his chest and say, 'Excuse me, lad, I've got reason to think you're sporting a hard-on in public. Come on, then, let the dog see the rabbit.' I didn't want sex at that point. I wanted to awake something in him. He walked into the scene, as if it wasn't happening. He'd obviously decided on a softly-softly approach. He began slowly putting away the books. He was so near me, I could smell the styling mousse in his hair. My dick asked me to take it in hand again, and this time I obliged. I wanked as slowly as I could force myself, looking back and forth from him to the couple, my hand sliding all the way up to my balls, drawing my foreskin right back from my throbbing, slobbery cockhead, then slowly sheathing it again hiding it in my first, squeezing it with my index finger, as the couple played up further and further to their new spectator, and he pretended more and more that they weren't there. The girl was licking the guy's cock through his jeans, when the boy obviously decided he'd had enough, but before he could confront them, he seemed to look to me for strength. I saw in him then, all the desire he was resisting, all the lust he was forcing down to the pit of his soul. I saw how far he wanted to go with a girl like her, and I thought how much further I could take him. I tried not to register any change in expression as I spunked hard into my fist. As the cum dribbled through my fingers, I watched the most bizarre scene. I can't quite bring myself to put it down on paper now. I wonder — why were they there; how come it was when this lad was on duty, this perfect mirror for their dirty goings-on. When it was all over, I did my bit and defended him to his manager. I mean, a kid like that, against a beast like that, he did what any of us would do. And after it was over, I went to the counter, my heart crashing in my chest, borrowing books that I've already forgotten the names of. 'Are you okay?' I asked him. He looked wounded. He shot me something like a glare. 'I'll be okay.' 'That prick deserves to be picked up,' I told him, 'and I'll tell you from my own extensive experience, it's only a matter of time before it happens.' 'I'd like to be there when it does,' he said. 'You'll need to fill out a form if you want to borrow books today.' My hand shook as I followed his instructions. I could smell the clean, soapy aroma of his body, and dried sweat in his clothes and hair too. 'You're stronger than him in all but the obvious way,' I told him, drinking in his slender, boyish physique. 'Thanks,' he said, and smiled. 'I've always thought that was enough.' 'For most people, it's more than enough,' I said. He let out a long sigh, looked at the form, looked up at me. 'Thanks very much, Stephan,' he said, and extended a hand for me to shake. It fitted into my palm and felt almost weightless. I decided he might be offended by a vigorous pump, so I just squeezed it and smiled, leaving the library without any of the books I had been due to borrow. My heart went out to him like a ray of light. But when it came to it, I let the whole scene play out like I was watching on a screen. Why didn't I step in? I've spent the last fifteen years breaking up fights and calming down tensions. Why didn't I intervene? I think I knew, deep down, that I couldn't involve myself in that, whatever it was. It was too hot, too perfect, for all concerned. It was important for all of us. I've cum three times again tonight thinking about it. And I keep trying to see things from the point of view of Beauty and the Beast and am just left with mystery. What's their game? What were they trying to unlock in that beautiful young man? And did they succeed?

Author's note: Hello everyone. First story on here. I was reading about the 13th zodiac symbol, Ophiucus "the serpent-bearer", and thinking about what a perfect overwrought-fantasy smut name it is. A couple hours later I had written this, and figured I might as well share. Enjoy I was sitting on the front porch of my cabin when he entered the clearing. Fuck me, he was a sight. I hadn't hiked into town in a few weeks and this beautiful specimen was just what I needed. A pale, shirtless giant of a man. He was tall, probably 6'7", broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted. The kind of big-boned guy where his abs seem to suck in under his huge ribcage. His white-blond hair was cropped short, and ice blue eyes regarded me with a familiar hunger as he approached me. He wasn't hugely muscled, but had perfect proportions and was completely shredded. I admired the way he rippled as he walked, his muscles bunching and flexing under his skin as his set his pack down on the porch. His dark shorts hung loosely on his hips and no doubt would have trouble staying up if not for a lifter's ass that I knew would accompany his strong legs. I stood to greet him and extended a hand. He smiled dazzlingly to shake, offering a cheesy "Mr. Ophiucus, I presume?" His grip was politely firm, and I could feel the telltale callouses of a man who wasn't afraid of the gym. Striations appeared on his delts and pecs as he pumped my hand. Up close I could see his bare torso was hairless and glistening with the slightest sweat. I had a feeling he knew why I was out here, why I valued my privacy, but he was pressing all my buttons. Fuck, why not let myself have a bit of fun. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage. I don't get much company out here. What brings you to my humble abode?" "Alabaster. Nice to meet you. Call me Al. I've spent the last few months looking for you, Ophiucus, and well, I assume you know why any man would want to track you down. I must say you're much better looking than I'd hoped." It's true, when I first started using my abilities, there had been no shortage of takers. I couldn't help but flex my 19" arms a bit as his gaze travelled over my torso. I was shorter than Al at 6' even, but I'd worked hard to build this body, and even though my abilities didn't work on myself like they did for other men, I hadn't aged since my mid-twenties and my hard-earned physique never deteriorated from the peak condition of my bodybuilding years. His eyes meandered from my scruffy, handsome face over my thick, lightly furred pecs, down the central groove of eight abs on a 30" waist, down my adonis belt to hover over the obvious bulge in the sweatpants that were my morning attire. I imagined his pale skin against my sun-kissed natural olive and the beast stirred a bit. Al involuntarily licked his lips before snapping up to meet my gaze again, blushing and bringing out his razor-sharp cheekbones even more. Fuck he was a pretty one. "Al, please, come inside. We should talk a bit." We headed into the cabin and settled onto the sturdy sofa. "Well Al, what do you know?" His eyes brightened as he told my tale. "Thirty years ago, you just appeared. You're like a sex god or a superhero something, and nobody knows where you came from. You were given the name Ophiucus and fucked your way through the gay world. Your bodily fluids enhance men, making them bigger, stronger, and more virile. You were on top of the world. Until, they say, it became too much. Men were getting demanding, acting entitled to your gifts, so you left. You disappeared overnight on the anniversary of your appearance." He grew bolder, leaning forward. "The town nearby has an unusual number of very physically endowed men, and nobody there will say how they got that way. I had to seduce the grocer's son to get him to tell me about your visits to town, paying for supplies with your gifts and swearing everyone to secrecy." I frowned. "Don't blame him," said Al. "I was very persuasive." He began rubbing my thigh. "I grew up hearing about you, obsessing over the famous Ophiucus, hoping to meet you. You were just the first, you know, of the people with gifts. Although none have been as dramatic as yours." I had heard of others, men and women with inhuman, seemingly magical abilities. Mostly they went about their lives not making a big deal out of it. To be fair, most gifts weren't as fun as mine. Al continued: "After I realized I was like you, I spent months tracking you down. I would like to ask for your blessings, but just meeting you has been an honor. You inspired me to build myself up, to use my gifts for others, and I wanted to thank you in person. Being rock-hard to the point of near-invincibility has allowed me to help so many people, getting strong has helped even more." His giant hand was running up and down my thigh, stroking near my growing bulge, squeezing the thick muscle of my quads. As I felt my hard muscles dent under his grip I began to truly appreciate his moniker. "You're a legend out there, and the pictures don't do you justice." "FIrst, I accept your thanks and I will help you. Hell, I'll have fun doing it too. You're beautiful like you are now, and I want you to know that." He blushed again and smiled, but only nodded, clearly excited about what was to come. He was rock hard in his shorts now and looked to have a healthy endowment. "Second, the changes are permanent. There's no going back. Do you understand?" He nodded. "Third, I don't control the limit. Everyone has a maximum, and I can help you get to yours, but you need to accept that it might not be what you imagined. Can you live with that?" Al looked at me with hunger. He grabbed my arm with one hand and placed the other behind my neck, staring deeply into my dark brown eyes. His voice was completely serious. "It's a hope and a dream, but I'm an adult and I know fantasies don't alway come true. That one at least. But if the process of trying is as much fun as I think it's going to be, I won't be dissapointed." Then he pulled me in for a kiss. His lips were warm and smooth and firm. Fuck, it had been awhile. I leaned in, then lifted up and straddled his big torso, enjoying the hard body underneath me. I wondered how far the gift would take him. I ran my hands over his gorgeous chest as he felt up my hard arms and snaked his tongue into my mouth. I felt a surge of power as the gift began its work, sucking his tongue in and caressing it with my own. He moaned into my mouth as his body reacted, growing harder, the fire racing into his core and all his muscles gaining an instant pump. I squeezed his thin waist with my thick thighs and felt the muscles twist and strain as he embraced me, picking me up as he leaned forward and stood. He broke our kiss as he turned and set me on the couch, kissing his way down my torso, tonguing my abs and working down to my waist. His lips brushed my adonis belt as he grabbed my sweatpants and shimmied them down over my thick quads, admiring the strong calves and even kissing my feet a bit as he undressed me. My thick cock, already half hard and past the 10" mark, swelled across my right quad with the attention he was giving my body. This guy loved muscle, and I had plenty to give him. Al quickly shucked his own clothes and towered before me, pale and ripped and gleaming. His own considerable cock was 9" and dripping precum as his eyes wandered my sun-kissed body. I placed my hands behind my head and leaned back, letting my biceps bulge into gorgeous split peaks and shifting my eyes from my arms to Al and back. He got the message and dove in, kneeling over my legs and bending his long torso down, gently licking and kissing my bulging left lat, up through my armpit and working up past the triceps and over to my bulging bicep. Our lips met on my arm as we indulged in a three-way kiss: Al, me, and my straining 19" bicep. My short scruff and his smooth lips clashed on my peaks. My tongue darted out to meet his, reactivating the magic and sending waves of power into his body. Al sighed longingly as his body hardened and bulged yet again. His 16" arms were looking more like 17" now. His abs had taken on a deeper groove. His now 25" thighs gripped me tightly. Al reared up and flexed in ecstasy at his latest improvements. He sat his hard ass on my lap and I felt developed squatter's glutes dig into my thighs as he crunched a most muscular in my face. We were in mutual muscle heaven. I began gently licking his big square pecs, each brush bringing new muscle blossoming into being. The cleavage between them deepened as his pale pink nipples turned downward. When I was done with him he'd never see them again without a mirror. Al grunted and tightened the pose as the growth spread from the point of contact, every muscle bulging a little more as his pecs bulged under my administrations. A narrow groove separated the upper and lower pectorals as they took on a heavy, squared off shape, bulging from collarbone to the sharp swoop back to his ribs. I worked my way up to his shoulders feeling up his rock hard, expanding legs as I switched back and forth between striated deltoids. Al started groping my pecs and biceps and grinding his fat cock against my abs as his shoulders broadened and hardened, each head distinctly bulging now even when relaxed. I felt up his legs on either side of my own and enjoyed the growing muscular feast in front me. He completely coated my abs in precum as his fantasies about my famous body came true. Each of Al's shoulders jutted from his skeleton by inches, getting truly massive to match his fat pecs. My cock was now a fully hard 12" under his expanding ass, snaking past his tailbone and receiving the benefits of his thrusting against my abs. His athlete's body was becoming a true bodybuilder. Al threw his head back and placed an arm on either side of my head, enveloping me in his growing body. His neck widened and his thickening traps bulged as he panted and thrusted against me. His left arm grabbed my head and thrust me toward his right bicep, where I happily obliged, kissing and licking, biting gently as the muscle erupted under my lips. The triceps hung lower as the split peak of his bicep grew from graceful bulge to hard ball reaching longingly toward his clenched fist. Al rotated his forearm to flex the muscle under my mouth, pressing me into it harder with his other hand. After a few minutes and a few inches the left arm had a turn and the 20" right arm was the one gripping my neck, massaging my traps as I worshipped this pale god's growing body. Al met me there and we recreated the three-way muscle kiss. Our tongues touching sent another wave of full-body growth and he spurted a sticky glob of precum onto my stomach. His forearms hadn't lagged behind and the veined, rippling meat undulated as he clenched and unclenched his fist, pumping his arms up as the growth poured into him. The balled-up biceps looked like they were ready to burst his straining skin as we panted in mutual admiration. Once his enormous arms attained a beautiful 22" symmetry, we instictively changed positions. Al stood up and pushed my legs apart, then got on his knees on the rug in front of me with his back turned. I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around him, feeling up his newly enlarged pecs. I tweaked his nipples and began nuzzling his hair, breathing heavily into his ears. His enourmous melon-sized shoulders rippled with every movement. I began kissing the back of his neck as he shuddered. His traps responded beautifully, mounding up a little more each time he flexed them for me. Each unflexing left the traps as large as they were before the flex, the traps mounding up toward his ears in freakish hills, bowing out from strong neck to freakish shoulders into convex muscular monstrosities. The ridge between his traps deepened down his back until it was a valley of cleavage deep enough to lose a finger in. Nobody had ever responded this well to my gift, and I was going to enjoy seeing how far Al was willing to go, to grow into one of the biggest men alive. I leaned back to admire my work and he obliged me with graceful flex, rolling his huge shoulders and making the traps erupt with power. I moved to massage his traps and neck, running my hands across our creation. His neck was wider than his head now. He reached for my hands and brought them to his throat, where a few twists of his head brought his thick sternocleidomastoids into sharp relief under my fingertips. "Shit" I muttered. He responded by bringing my left hand to his mouth and sucking on the forefinger gently, guiding my other right hand down over his massive pecs and pressing his back into my own thick chest. He practically purred as my chest hair scratched against his broad lats. The secondary growth had spread to the parts I hadn't directly affected, and the thickened muscles flexed against me as I scooted forward off the couch and straddled his knees on the floor with my own. I humped my fat cock along the deepening ridge of his back. My precum smeared on his body and his back responded accordingly. The teres rippled with growth and his lats began creeping out. His thick arms were being pushed out by the v-shape turning convex. Al writhed and flexed. His hand released mine. I brought my hands back from over his shoulders and began to massage Al's growing lats. He got the hint and stood up, towering over me once again as his pale back filled my vision. I worshipped his back lovingly, exploring the spinal erectors and lats as his back exploded in a new wave of growth from my attentions. His 23" arms would have a hard time going below 30 degrees now. I lowered down to my hands and knees and got to work on his calves. The split head bulged from his leg sharply, jutting inches up and out. Each lick and kiss brought more and more muscle into being. Al pointed his feet and flexed them for me, alternating legs until his calves exceeded even his monstrous upper arms as my magic worked them into 25" freakish mushrooms of meat. Even at his height they were monstrous, bigger around than they were long. Al's calves were as big as a big man's thighs, over two feet around of rock hard striated flesh. Satisfied for the moment with the freakish calves, I lavished his hamstrings next. I could hear Al panting, his huge arms lifting with each breath as his bulging lats forced them further and further out. His hamstrings grew and flexed and grew some more under my attentions, pressing into my face as my scruff scratched gently over his straining legs. His thick squatter's thighs had to be in the mid-30's by now, and growing steadily. I reached around and felt the teardrop quads overflowing his knees. I grabbed globs of the precum burbling out of my dick slit in a steady stream and smeared it onto his quads. They responded by fucking erupting. His legs abruptly shifted apart as his stance was permanently changed for the wider. I felt carefully from behind, groping around his huge thighs a I continued to bury my face in his grotesque hamstrings. I got a good streak of precum on his sartorius and felt the sash of muscle across his quads thicken into a bulging rope of muscle Al reached back and gripped his thick ass, his arms having trouble as his expanding lats forced them apart. "Please," he whispered, guiding me to his ass. "Please." He was in muscle euphoria, barely able to speak. I dove into his ass, licking and kissing across the giant, striated cheeks, tonguing his hole deep, nibbling on the expanding hard flesh and tight, muscular sphincter. His ass was everything a muscle enthusiast could want, the pale cheeks involuntarily flexing against my face as I drove him wild. He collapsed onto his hands and knees, ass in the air. He was huge, closer to 400 than 300 pounds by now. From between his wide-spread 37" thighs I could see inches thick pecs pressing into the floor. His dick was over 11" now and drooling precum on the floor. I scooted over to him and slicked my dick up with my ample precum. Time for the main event. His muscular ass had to relax before I could penetrate. Al psyched himself up for the huge intruder, grinding his big glutes along my shaft a bit before lining up and pushing back against me. My fat cockhead pushed in, ever-so-slowly sliding though the muscular tunnel and spurting precum the whole way, until with a pop I was past his sphincter. I was leaking precum continuously, lubing him up to take my monster and growing his freakish muscles. He pressed his arms against the floor and lowered his chest, pushing his huge torso back to fuck himself on my fat cock. Fuck, his arms looked like 26" now. The triceps never looked relaxed, huge horseshoes straining as his biceps bulged against the sickeningly thick forearms. His huge back was an obscene ocean of pale flesh. His traps were so thick they bulged out from the bottom of his hairline to his upper back with an inches-thick furrow between them. After a few minutes of careful pushing, I felt his thick glutes finally press against my hips. His sphincter squeezed the base of my shaft reassuringly as he scooted back and forth an inch or so to get used to the monster inside him. I reached out and gripped the edges his lats. Even bulging so far from his torso, they were inhumanly thick. I held on tight and began to slowly thrust. In and out, faster and faster. He wimpered as the growth worked its way out from his core, distributed evenly and pumping his insane body up even more. "Fuck," he said between grunts. "Fuck yes. Fuck me. Fuck. Fuck!" And I did. I plowed him harder, pulling back until just the fat head of my footlong cock pulled against his sphincher, then thrusting in again. Harder. Faster. I battered his prostate and stretched his tight, muscular hole as his body grew beneath me. My orgasm was building as my gigantic partner strained and pushed against me, his huge ass and hard thighs meeting my thrusts. I was just about to blow when he abruptly stopped. "Everything ok?" I asked. "Better than ok," he said. "But I need a change of scenery." He pulled himself off my cock, tenderly lifting his hole up the shaft until finally the fat, dripping head plopped free. Al stood up and turned around. I gasped. I hadn't seen his front in several minutes. His chest was beatiful, with a hand-deep valley running from top to bottom. His abs had hardened up into a brutal 10-pack, leading down to an almost sickening adonis belt. The bands bulged and writhed as his now foot-long cock bounced in front of him. It was as long as mine now, and even thicker. Al moved forward and manhandled me, laying me on my back with my arms over my head. One of his strong hands was enough to hold both of mine down as he positioned himself squatting over me. Then he reached down and guided my cock back to his hole as his knees stretched wide enough to keep his huge thighs from crushing me outright. His bicep and pec clashed as he lined up my cock and began fucking himself on me once again. Fuck me. His waist was still relatively narrow, but the bulging lats and bowling ball shoulders made it look tiny. His thighs were each coming to rival my thick chest. The pale behemoth began posing over me and massaging my body with his strong hands. He brought his 28" bicep up and kissed it, massaging my pecs with his other hand. He was in muscle heaven as he rode my thick cock and felt my hard body and his own gargantuan growing physique. As he groped me his pecs his biceps and pecs fought for room. He placed his bunched fists on his hips for a lat spread and his grotesque back muscles reached almost out to his elbows. He transitioned into a most muscular that redefined the words. His pecs bulged up and bumped into his chin while his freakish traps actually pushed his earlobes up. All the while his huge thighs pumped away, fucking my dick with his ass. "You're so fucking hot. Ah fuck your cock feels like it's splitting me open and I just want more. More!" He planted his left hand on the floor next to my head and groped my thick pecs with the right. I flexed for him and he groaned appreciatively, squeezing and pawing hungrily. I groped his thick arms, his biceps and triceps exploding from forearm to shoulder. His forearms were bigger than my 19" upper arms now, and covered with rippling fibers and veins. He rode me hard and I thrusted up to meet him, our sweat-slicked bodies making a meaty cacophony as we slammed together. I couldn't take it anymore. I erupted inside him, shooting rope after rope of hot cum into his hungry hole and sending him higher into ecstasy. His growth increased even more and his own orgasm came like a volcano. His cock blasted shot after shot, each one an even larger load than the last. Thick splattering noises filled the room for over a minute as his 14" cock blasted the huge overhang of his pecs with cum and it rained down onto my body beneath. I basked in the afterglow as his bulk collapsed onto me. Al's chest heaved as he caught his breath, rubbing the sweaty meat of his pecs on my face. His growth seemed to finally subside as the last of my cum worked its magic. I was still rock hard as we collected ourselves and he stood, sliding off my cock and coming to his full height. He was slightly shorter than his full 6'7" now as his legs had to be spread so wide. His 30" arms were resting at a 45 degree angle from vertical. His 84" chest flowed down to a ripped 32" waist. His body flared out again as his huge ass and 45" quads asserted themselves. His thick-jointed knees looked delicately small between those overhanging teardrops and the 31" calves that exploded outward in a bloated diamond. His alread single-digit bodyfat was now stretched over at least 200 pounds more muscle. His 14" monster cock was also still erect and thick as my wrist. Huge bull balls hung in his scrotum, pushed forward by his thighs. Al rubbed his hands indredulously over his awesome bulk, his muscles colliding as he bent and flexed. His pecs blocked his abs from his view and as he felt his ripped stomach his biceps and pecs fought for space and his lats prevented his elbows from coming too low. I stood in front of him and joined in the admiration. I ran my hands over the hard bulges of his serratus muscles and down his trim waist. His core was constantly tensing and flexing to keep his ponderous upper half upright. "Shit," I said. "Nobody's ever taken to it like this. You're amazing! Fuck!" "This is everything I ever dreamed of and more," Al said. He grabbed me by the hips and lifted me up to his level. I leaned forward over his pec shelf to kiss him deeply. We remained like that for a few minutes, two lovers enjoying the euphoric afterglow of a truly glorious fuck. His enormous arms showed no sign of tiring by the time he put me down. "How can I possibly thank you enough for all this?" He emphasized what 'this' was by bringing his arms up in an impossible double biceps pose. The huge peaks fought for space with his forearms and he absent-mindedly opened his fists and began stroking the cephalic veins with his fingers. I wrapped both hands around his cock and stroked the still-slick shaft. "I'm sure can think of a way."

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

So, this is my very first story. Thought I'd crack one out, while I'm waiting for my new job to start. Strangely it's more cock growth orientated than muscle growth, as muscle-growth was my original fetish. But there is muscle growth, and should it be worth continuing, there will be plenty more! So, please give constructive criticism and/or praise. Mainly praise. Basically just tell me it's awesome. But honestly, any feedback is appreciated, and should I have enough interest and then time, I may try to continue it. Title may be confusing: grUV - pronounced "groovy". Short for growth: ultra-violet. Which is a teaser for the basis of the growth. But enough waffle, here is: Chapter 1 Wow. What a night. I awoke with a slow grogginess that so often accompanies a night out clubbing down the bay with Dave. Thankfully we don’t have far to walk back, as he has a boat out in the harbour, docked out at sea. Nevertheless, the fact you have to use one of the numerous row boats to row out to it is always hilarious, especially when you’re as drunk as we were. “Ok?” What. I stared blankly, my eyes trying to focus, and take in what had awoken me. “I said, I’m rowing back into harbour to get some food for us all from town.” “Us all?” I croaked back. “Yeah, you, me and Brad.” “Brad?” “That guy I tried to introduce you to at the club. I’ve always said he can crash on the boat if he doesn’t feel like getting the last train back to his place. Looks like he took me up on my offer again, and rowed himself over at some point last night.” Dave explained. I had a vague memory of the cabin door banging open, and waking me in the middle of the night, and seeing a silhouette of a man, as he flopped onto some cushioning on the other side. I couldn’t remember meeting anyone specific at the club, we talked to a lot of people, and all I saw last night was a biggish shadow fall onto the bed near me, I couldn’t make out any discernible features. Nevertheless, I was in no mood to push for details, so simply responded with, “Cool”. “Yeah. He’s already up and gone for a swim. Maniac. Anyway, I’ll be quick as I can, but be nice. You were definitely too out of it to properly get to know him last night.” With that Dave went to the stern and hopped overboard into one of the two rowboats tied to his boat. I lay a while longer, grabbed a bottle of water, did a few stretches, and after a few minutes, felt well enough to venture out of the cabin and into the summer sun. I was just wearing underwear and shorts from last night, so I felt the heat of the sun immediately on my body. It was nice, but blinding. When my eyes adjusted, I looked out to the water, and caught sight of what must’ve been Brad swimming pretty fast back and forth. I took a seat at the starboard side of the bow, so I could face out to sea and watch him. After a few minutes he paused, and looked over to the boat. I gave a very unenergetic wave, but he responded, and began to make his way over to the boat. He heaved himself up onto the boat and for the first time I got a good look at him. The size of the shadow I glimpsed last night did not do him justice. The water trailed off his traps as his torso rose ever higher as he hauled himself up. He gripped the railings harder and pushed himself up, two triceps exploding to life as he did. He then swung a massive leg over the railing, and it landed with a heavy splash on the decking. He flashed me a smile as he began pulling himself to his full height. He had short dark hair which flowed beautifully into full stubble that lined his masculine jaw. His skin was a glowing olive, all of which offset a pair of blue eyes that sparkled like the sea that was still dripping off him. I watched a drop slowly begin descending from his neck. It travelled down the valley between two meaty pecs, and I continued to follow it as it meandered between his six abs. As it fell further, my eyes landed on his crotch. He was wearing just a red speedo. It was dark but shiny from having just been in the water. It looked a size too big for him, being quite wrinkly rather than hanging tightly on him. I assumed he was a bit of a modest fellow who didn’t want to draw attention, or maybe he lost weight recently. But I couldn’t dwell on my thoughts much longer, as he was standing fully upright now, had turned to face me, and said “Hey Stranger, the name’s Brad!”. I introduced myself and gestured for him to sit down just across from me on the other side of the bow. This gave me a great view of him as he sat down opposite me. He leant back against the railing, lying at almost 45˚, exposing his muscular torso to the sun. He brought up his left leg onto the cushioning and leaned his left elbow on it as he supported his head, commenting on how he was still feeling the effects of last night’s drinks. His bicep flexed and bounced up and down as he rubbed his head. His arms were huge, certainly the biggest I had seen up this close, I reckoned at least 18 inches. I empathised with his hangover, and we spoke about what we did remember from last night. He was quite a talker, but I was happy to listen. His pecs heaved when he laughed about the antics he got up to. The drips highlighted how defined and cut he was. I felt I was staring for ages. It must’ve been a while, because the sea water was beginning to dry, and left his body literally glinting in the sun. His speedos were also beginning to look lighter in colour, and I noticed also less loose. This caught my attention, but I wanted to be subtle. I kept directing open questions to him, and only answering with a yes or no to him, so he was soon lost in his stories again. I stole glances down every time he looked away, or closed his eyes to try and remember details of his night. I was right, his cock was definitely growing down there. The wrinkles of the suit began to disappear as a bulge began to form at his crotch. I could begin to see the shape of his dick as it slowly lengthened and filled the speedo out more. It also looked like his balls were expanding too, as the material of lower part also straightened out. As he rambled on, he continued to get bigger down there. His cock was lengthening and thickening; but now with the suit clinging relatively tightly to his new size, the material stopped any further advancement forward. I swear I could see the bulge kink and bend round as it still tried to thicken. This is when it suddenly dawned on me that he wasn’t getting hard. I theorised his genitals must have shrunk down a lot from his swim in the cold morning water. And now he was just warming up to his natural impressive size. However, the misshapen slowly growing bulge looked uncomfortable; and it must’ve been, as while he was still talking, he very nonchalantly pulled the waistband away from his body and bucked his hips. His cock lurched forward and down as it unfolded and grew into the new available space. As he let the speedo snap back onto his body, it now hugged a very impressive round sexy bulge, perfectly filling the perfectly-sized tight red suit. I figured he must be a healthy 5 to 6 inches soft, and pretty thick. Which was quite a pleasant unexpected growth from the initial practically non-existent bulge from his chilly willy I first saw. I was sure this was the case; nevertheless, I decided to test my theory. “How was the water?” I interjected when he finally wrapped up his current saga. “Not gonna lie mate, it was pretty nippy. Sun’s barely had time to warm it at all. Although an ice-cold blast does wonders for the hangover.” He replied. Well the sun had had time to dry him up nicely, and was now reflecting off the salt crystals peppering his chiselled torso. He was a sight to behold, and now that his crotch had stopped growing, I was finally appreciating the rest of him. And there were a lot of bulges to appreciate as they rippled from time to time soaking up the sun. “Why, you thinking of going for a dip?” He said as he stood up to get a bottle of water from the cooler Dave had on board. I watched as he rose to his 6’2” height. Turning sideways to walk across in front of me, I saw his big ass and quads tighten and marvelled as the big red bulge jiggled as he stepped. In profile it was clear just how sexily prominent his bulge was, its heft tugging on the material, showing it was in control, not the other way around. As he spun round to return to his seating position, again with one leg up, giving the bulge breathing space, I finally responded, “Perhaps I will in a bit. As you say, it might help with the headache”. “You a strong swimmer?” He continued. “Yeah, actually, in fact I was captain of my school’s swim team.” I said. “No way! Me too! Well when it wasn’t rugby season.” He replied. We began to converse about our various sporting endeavours at school. The conversation being much more two-way now that I wasn’t trying to ogle him. That being said, after several minutes, I did steal a glance down again. Seeing as he was almost displaying his bulge in that open position, it might seem weird if I keep avoiding it. My eyes quickly flicked back up to his, as I responded to his latest inquiry about which athletic events I preferred. My mouth ran off some generic answers, as my brain was pondering once again whether his speedo package was looking larger than before. I began stealing more regular glances. It was hard to tell. But when he went for a swig of water, tilting his head back, I decided to grab a longer look. I watched, it was hard to discern, but I swear I watched the whole round bulge slowly push the speedo further out as it enlarged. His head came back down, and I made sure to meet his gaze as he let out a refreshing sigh. Now, that I was curious again, I resorted to my initial tactic of getting him monologuing, so I could keep tabs on what appeared to be an ever-growing package. As he answered my barrage of questions, I was able to keep peaking down at his red speedo. I couldn’t stare long enough to visibly see any growth in action, but evidence came in another form. I started to note that wrinkles were beginning to reappear in the suit. Whereas before, the wrinkles suggested a speedo too large for him, these taut lines represented quite the opposite. Initially it was just two. Two lines stretching from each side of the suit to the middle, fading as they reached the flesh-filled pouch. However, with each glance, more wrinkle lines would appear. Four. Six. As the round bulge swelled bigger and pushed forward they continued to appear. Eight. Ten. Twelve! Again, as I was only glancing briefly, I could not see the growth, but on my most recent peek, I clocked that his bulge was almost in line with the end of the cushion now. There were soon too many wrinkles to count, and I noted that there didn’t seem to be any more room for more to form. Additionally, more of his legs were being exposed at the sides, as all the material was being pulled forward by the expanding bulge. He certainly seemed oblivious to all this going on, still chatting away about how much harder it is to play team sports outside of education. I didn’t know how much longer he couldn’t notice for though, the speedo seemed stretched to the limit. Then I heard it. It was hard to make out, as big Brad was still nattering on, but I heard what sounded like finger being dragged along the surface of an inflated balloon. I knew it must have been the fabric of the speedo straining after even more growth from his monstrous package. My theory was confirmed when my next cheeky glance down revealed that a space had been created above his muscular thighs where the material was now lifting away, pulled by what had to be about 9 inches of thick cock. I returned my attention back to Brad, had he not heard it? Apparently not, as he was still mid-sentence and continuing on like nothing happened. However, a few seconds later, I heard it again; and more prominently, as it fell between two words Brad was uttering. Brad continued speaking, but I saw a flash of shock appear in his eyes, and while talking he finally brought his leg down, and leant forward, trying to obscure my view of his bigger bulge. It worked briefly, my attention was now on his hefty pecs, making a muscular cleavage in this new hunched position, but I looked down again, and could still make out the bulge, which was now in line with end of the cushion on which he sat. Brad’s sudden fear and shift in posture must have meant he was aware of what was happening. I looked back into his eyes, waiting to see if he was going to acknowledge this weird occurrence. But he continued his story, finally finishing with a question to me. “Umm,” I murmured, then paused while I tried to actually think of what he had just asked me. But in that silence, the sound of the speedo stretching happened again. With no voice to mask it, it was clear, to us both, what had just happened. I looked to him, and we shared an intense eye contact, still in silence, still gazing into each other’s eyes. Suddenly, a huge, loud and long, fabric-wrenching sound was emitted from his crotch as the speedo strained ever further. I couldn’t help but stare down, as I was now able to clearly see the dreamy round bulge surge forth and begin to overhang the seat. It was growing so big, stretching the speedo, making it paler in colour. “Umm,” I began again, “Are you okay?” I naively asked. Brad slowly and simply leant back against the railings, and spread his legs, allowing me a full unobstructed view of his almighty size. He then grew again. I was unabashedly ogling his growing crotch. The sight, coupled with the sound of the fabric slowly losing its fight to his beastly dick, was such a turn on. “Yeah, I’m very okay.” He replied, almost laughing “You okay?”. I leant back too, “Yeah, maybe too okay!” I joked as my new posture revealed my tenting shorts. Brad laughed. “I wish I had known you were gay, I wouldn’t have been holding back otherwise!” His words were followed by three short bursts of rubbery stretching sounds as the tip of his bulge juddered bit by bit closer to the ground. “Holding back?” I questioned, “Wait, you’re not getting hard right now?” Brad laughed again. “Does this look hard to you?” He said cupping his giant package with his right hand. The round shape and way the bulge moved as its huge size overflowed his hand told me he was indeed still soft. “N.. No.” I stammered, “Bu…but, how?”. “Well, I’m guessing Dave’s suncream isn’t as water resistant as it claimed.” I stared blankly. Brad continued to explain further. “It seems when my body soaks up the sun and makes vitamin D, well, it really makes vitamin D.” His emphasis on the ‘D’ was complimented by another audible strain from his speedo, as his cock probably entered double figures in length. “Basically, when UV light hits my skin, it seems to make another hormone, as well as vitamin D, that goes to my dick and starts to make it grow. My balls too. The more light, the stronger the sun, the more skin exposed, the faster it happens. So, on a summery day like today, when I’m wearing only this, and haven’t got any protection on, well…” He trailed off, gesturing towards the now pinkish tight speedo barely containing an ever growing mass of meat. It grew again, this time the straining noise sounded a little different, almost as though a few of the fabric’s threads were beginning to snap. The change in tone made the tent in my lap bob a little higher. Brad smirked as he saw my cock trying to grow like his, but failing. He adjusted his position, rocking his hips slightly, and I gazed in awe, as the huge soft bulge continued to jiggle for a couple of seconds, which then reminded me, “Wait, you said you were holding back? …What did you mean by that?” “Yeah, you’re cute. I was trying to not get turned on. But seeing as you like…” He paused, and I heard a similar sound to the one just before, as I saw his cock jump a little, “perhaps I should stop resisting”. Suddenly a big straining sound was emitted, accompanied by some definite tearing sounds, as I saw a hardening cock shape surge forth. I could make out the outline of what was cock and what was balls now. Both hugely impressive sizes. Brad grunted and bucked his hips, and I could see the difference the erection was making to his genital growth. His cock was growing far faster than his balls as he got harder. The thick rod was pressed up against the ever-thinning material, so tight that I could make out the patterns of the veins on his dick. Especially as they continued to grow from both his arousal and his unique UV-absorbing condition. Brad moaned as another bout of rubbery straining and ripping sounds emanated from his crotch as the cock tried to lift away from his body as he got even harder. It was beginning to throb, and each pulse was accompanied by a ripping sound. I watched in lustful amazement as I saw holes beginning to appear in the speedo to the left and right of this mountainous bulge. Numerous ripping sounds continued as those strained wrinkle lines tore open into holes, allowing the speedo more slack. But it still wasn’t enough, as Brad’s cock quickly grew to fill the extra room. He was getting so big and hard, it looked around 14”. I could see most of it, as the base was exposed as his cockhead had pulled the waistband well away, and the speedo was more holes than material now. It was throbbing fast, and seemed to struggle to make that final growth it needed to burst free. Brad put both hands on the railings behind him, closed his eyes, leaned his head overboard, and then thrust. I watched as the base of his cock thickened substantially, the swelling then spread in a wave up his shaft, finally reaching his tip, which thickened too, adding that little bit of length so that a huge pop was heard as the speedo disintegrated into shreds, and a huge thick cock slapped up against his quivering abs. Brad was breathing fast, and I was dripping pre, having watched that sexy spectacle. But it wasn’t over. In fact, I guess even more skin was exposed now to the sunlight, which would only increase his growth. His cock pointed straight up and was thick and rigid, now at full mast. But as I suspected the growth continued. I watched as his two apple-sized balls seemed to fill, his cock was nudging up a little higher with each throb, hard to notice, but I could see. And very soon it drew Brad’s attention as the head dug into his pec shelf. He opened his eyes and looked down. Acknowledging the problem, he sank back down onto the cushion, and grabbed his shaft with his left hand pulled it away from his body. Fuck he was thick, his grasp not even close to encircling his cock. He then looked towards me, and pointed his cockhead in my direction and asked, “Want a taste?”. I didn’t even answer but simply moved across to him, took his monster in both my hands and pulled his cockhead into my mouth. It was a tight fit, but incredibly arousing. I slowly pulled my lips back off it, wetting the entirety of the head. I then used my tongue to lick all over his slit and glans, while my hands worked up and down what felt like a telegraph pole. I then eased the head back into my mouth, and began rhythmically bobbing my head up and down. I could feel him sliding past on all sides of my mouth as his fat head pounded the back of my throat. God, he was filling up all the space in my mouth. I then remembered he must still be growing, despite me shading part of his body. I decided to pause and hold everything in place, just so I could feel this miracle. At first, I couldn’t sense any growth. But I moved my hands together so they formed a ring around his shaft, and soon I noticed how his cock was slowly expanding, as my interlocking fingers were being pulled apart by this growing man meat. I then realised that his cockhead was now at the back of my throat, not because I had gone further down on him, but because he had grown another 2 inches in length. I noticed he was getting much thicker too, as my fingertips finally parted. His cockhead was no exception and was pushing against all sides of my mouth, allowing no passage of air. This realisation was such a turn on I almost came right there and then. But the need to breathe triumphed, and I jolted my head back, gasping, while pulling his mammoth junk from my mouth. “Well, well.” Said Brad, “Looks like you are enjoying. Perhaps we should move into the cabin before I become just too fucking big!” And with a smug grin, his cock grew up to halfway up his chest. Brad grabbed it, and began angling it down. “Open wide!” I looked at him confused and scared. How could he think that thing was going to fit in my mouth again after it just nearly choked me? “Your legs, silly!” He explained as he squatted down and slid his 18” dick under my groin. He slowly rose, pausing as he began to take my weight on his thick cock. I saw his quads bulge with dense striated muscle. After all this focus on his growing dick, I had forgotten just how hot and muscular he was. His thighs pumped up and his abs tensed, and he slowly stood up with me supported on his cock, balancing with my hands on his bulging shoulders. I could feel another dark spot of pre leaking onto my tented shorts, this was just so hot; but thankfully Brad wouldn’t have been able to see underneath his big pecs. Standing tall, Brad’s body was now fully bathed in sunlight. As he began marching me atop his junk, towards the cabin, I felt the rate of his cock growth increase, as the log supporting me thickened and rapidly lengthened, splaying my legs further apart. I let go of one of his shoulders, and felt the cock behind me as it grew to 20” and then 22”, each pulse lifting me higher as it gained more strength to take my weight. We made it to the cabin, and everything stopped. Out of the direct sunlight, and so the UV, Brad’s cock finally stopped growing. “Well,” he said, “I’m yours.” I stared into his handsome face, and again saw a smug grin come over his face. He throbbed his mammoth beast, and the rising cock angle made me slide down so that I faceplanted into his chest and stabbed him in the abs with my own boner. “Ooof,” He reacted, “That’s quite the weapon you’ve got there yourself. How about you free him from his prison.” I felt the same way, so swung my left leg over his huge cock and dropped to the floor. As I did so, his cock, now unburdened, swung up and the tip was level with the base of his neck. Having quickly whipped off my shorts and underwear before Brad saw the pre stains, I spun round to take in the view of him again. Gigantic. Everything. Pure masculinity. I had to service him. I grabbed the hand nearest to me, and began feeling and licking all the way up his arms; my tongue and fingers caressing every groove between the thick cords of muscle. On reaching his shoulder, I turned to face him, and had to stretch to touch each shoulder with each hand. His cockhead was level with my face, and was almost touching my nose as his broad chest pushed it out. I tried to ignore it for now, instead sliding both arms down to his biceps. He responded naturally, and raised both arms into a double bicep flex. Big boulders erupted forth, they split my fingers apart, and I tried to dig in, but the meat was just solid strength. I let my hands wander down to his pecs, and like clockwork, Brad started bouncing them, and my cock bounced in unison, tickling his balls in the process. I looked down and saw them. They were like two soft bowling balls, dangling down, halfway to his knees. I was so intrigued, I started fondling them, not noticing Brad begin to moan. I bent down and began to lick all around them, supporting their hefty weight in my hands, and watching as they overflowed from one of my palms to the other. As I licked them from bottom to top, I let my tongue run onto the base of Brad’s dick. He let out a louder deep moan, causing me to look up. I noticed now that his nipples had become sensitised, having thickened up, and were standing out a good half inch from his meaty pecs. I couldn’t resist, I jumped on his right one with my mouth, and began teasing and sucking at it, while ran my hands over his cobblestone abs, still trying to ignore the throbbing pillar next to my cheek. Brad moans only grew louder, he was loving this, and as I switched across to his left nipple, I saw a bead of pre run down his mighty shaft. While nibbling on his left nipple, I decided to reach across with my left hand and play with his right nipple simultaneously. In doing so, my arm was pressed against his 22” cock, and I could feel each throb, and just sense the power in it as it constantly vibrated with pure sexual energy. I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I left both hands twiddling at his teats, but began using my mouth to wet the beast before me. Round and round, up and down I went with my tongue, soaking his member, and causing Brad to start egging me on. When I was confident I had lubricated most of his shaft, I released his nipples and grabbed his cock with both hands, and began pumping his cannon. While continuing to wank him, I pulled the head towards me, at this angle, it was level with my mouth, and although too thick to fully fit in, I did my best to massage the glans with my lips. This was clearly appreciated by Brad, who began moaning and bucking. It was getting so hot, I had to pleasure myself too. One hand on my cock, the other on the largest one on the planet, while my mouth continued to suck its head. I accelerated the pace more and more, and more, until I realised I was close to cumming. “Fuck, I gotta stop!” I panted. “No worries,” Brad replied, “You certainly got me going good!” As I began to regain some composure, a thought suddenly crossed my mind. “OK, I gotta question… if it’s sunlight which makes… this… happen, then how come you don’t already have a cock as long as a road?” “Well, the effects wear off after I cum. I guess all the energy is stored as cum, and having it kept there causes my junk to grow. But once its released, everything returns to its previous state.” I must’ve flashed a look of slight disappointment, as Brad quickly continued, “But I never used to be this muscular, or have an almost 6 inch soft cock. Or even this tall. But a man gets curious; and I tried my own come once, and noticed it led to some permanent gains.” He said as he flexed a bicep up to my face. I grab my dick and slowly start stroking in response. “If you carry on as you did before, you might get a treat”. The idea that I could possibly grow larger, seemingly everywhere, was such a turn on that I was once again close to the brink of orgasm, and a large globule of pre emerged from my slit and ran down my quivering cock. Brad noted this and decisively spoke up, “Actually, I think you’ll like to watch this.” He walked over to the cabin door and stood in its entrance. I was wondering what he was doing, but then as I caught sight of the back of his hefty ballsack dropping down further towards his knees, I realised he was growing himself in the sun again. He was there for not even a minute, and then he spun round. Over 2 feet of thick meaty cock was advancing towards me, the tip bouncing around, now level with Brad’s luscious lips. He stopped inches from me. Bent his head a little down, and pulled his bloated cockhead into his mouth as much as he could. His lips moistened the slit as he used his bulging arms to forcefully pump the column before me. Brad began to moan as his actions became faster and stronger. I had subconsciously began wanking myself too. Brad’s eyes shut, and I could swear he was moaning ‘Fuck’ although his mouth was gagged by a head the size of a rugby ball. He let out one massive but muffled moan, and his stroking suddenly ceased. I looked down and saw his balls heave, and then watched his cock jerk as a torrent of cum ran up inside it and gushed into Brad’s mouth. The instant he began swallowing, I noticed him changing. I took a step back and watched as his whole body seemed to scale-up larger, keeping everything in proportion as he inched up, reaching now what must’ve been a towering 6’3”. He released his cock from his mouth, the spurts having finally ended, and I watched it lengthen an inch or two by itself so that the tip bumped against the bridge of his nose. I was on the edge, pumping like a maniac. Brad opened his eyes, saw me, and immediately placed his hands on his hips. And within an instant I saw his pecs puff out massively, expanding in size, weight and strength. His abs all swelled, fighting for space, and as he lifted his arms up and flexed, I saw his biceps grow larger and larger than before. His muscles were surging with much more energy than the rest of him, and that was my weakness. As his guns grew past the 20” mark, I blew my load and splattered his ripped torso, as his growth finally began to subside. We were both left standing there, catching our breath. I apologised for spraying Brad, and he laughed it off, grabbing a towel. I watched as he wiped my cum off him, and noticed his balls were back to normal, well maybe a slightly bigger size, but I had no reference point. His cock on the other hand was still looming towards me at an inflated size. However, I watched as it both began to soften and shrink, arcing down in the process. Brad cast the towel aside, and looked down at himself from his new height. After what I had just witnessed, his flaccid cock looked a sorry sight. But after glancing back at my own, and then back at Brad’s, I realised he must be 7 inches soft now! Plus Brad certainly didn’t seem unimpressed. “Fuck! Look at me, I’m massive!” He bellowed, as he struck pose after pose. It was true, his muscles had significantly grown. Dave might not pick up on the extra inch in height or cock, but Brad’s bodybuilder stature biceps and pecs were bound to give the game away. I wonder if Dave knows about this? “Damn,” continued Brad as he cupped his enormous left pec in his right hand, “This is incredible! …but we best get covered up before Dave comes back with the food.” I began redressing. Luckily the hot weather would dry my shorts out pretty quick from any embarrassing stains. I watched Brad rummage around the cabin until he found a pair of metallic blue speedos. He struggled to pull them up over his bigger legs. “Wow, I can’t believe how much my calves have grown. …Makes …this uuh..h. a bit difficult though, ..my quads too…” He wriggled about, his meaty muscles tensing and untensing in the process. They were just so big and defined now, I had never seen anything like it. Fuck I was getting aroused again. Brad eventually got the speedos on and over his genitals. They were super tight. And they made such a big beautiful blue bulge. It was shiny and massive, and I can’t believe I ever thought it looked small. Even framed by large cobbled abs and big quads, its size was unmistakeable. His thick 7 inch soft cock and balls already strained the material into a mouth-watering, big, round, shiny bulge. I couldn’t help but start boning up again. It looked so good. Brad caught sight of this, “Calm down now, Dave will be back any second.” I nodded, a bit disappointed and dropped my head. But instantly sprang it back up when I heard the now familiar sound of speedo fibres stretching. Brad was blushing, his arousal given away, and a glance at his package revealed some new taut wrinkles and a bit of delineation showing the outline of his chubbing cock. “No really,” Brad interrupted, resisting the moment, “let’s have you rub some suncream on my new muscles before I ruin another decent pair of speedos!”.

Build-a-Stud was a new shop that opened up in the local mall. It housed all kinds of odds and ends for all kinds of tastes and kinks. Most of the tame stuff was out in the open, the more adult stuff was hidden away. This new shop was part of the Trucker Muscle franchise, so it became pretty popular in a short amount of time. "Welcome to Build-a-Stud, where you can become the stud of your dreams or make them into your dream stud." the large tiger attendant greeted the small blue wolf that entered the shop. "How may I assist you today?" "I'm here to pick up an order I placed last week, was told it had arrived." he pretty much whispered. He was shyly trying to avoid direct eye contact. "Ah, yes. Come with me for just a moment." the tiger ushered him towards the back room. "We tend to keep these out of sight, even though it's in a plain brown box." A few minutes later, the wolf was nearly skipping his way home, holding a medium sized box. He was already reading the letter that came with his package. "Thank you for purchasing the Fantastic Reality Package. In this kit you will find every kind of growth fantasy imaginable. From weight gain, muscle growth and hyper, you will find it here. The special latex suit is needed to make these fantasies into reality. Apply the patch of your choice onto the special square on the suit and enjoy the feeling as you transform into your new reality. Once the suit finishes the transformation, the patch will simply fall off the suit. You may remove the suit once that happens. Under no circumstance are you to remove the suit while the body under goes the change, it may result in undesired results. Under normal circumstances, you may retain some of the fantasy when the effect completely finishes after three days. Enjoy your purchase." At his house, he was instantly greeted by his large bull boyfriend. He instantly noticed the box. "So it arrived at last." he grinned. "Build-a-Stud does not disappoint." "That they do not. Even the ones in the store seem have used the services as well." the wolf held the box in such a way to try to mask his growing boner. "Okay so lets get this started." the bull grunted as he stood up to his full height. Pick up the suit, he tossed it over to his big boy friend. "You need to wear this for any of this to work. Then you get to choose what you want, they have a few patches to choose from. Do not take it off till the patch falls off." The suit looked like any normal latex suit except for something very obvious, it had an extra "sleeve". It was placed right where the crotch was, perfect for the bull to slide his ample cock and balls into. The wolf brought over several patches, they had a simple design to them reading each showing a big guy flexing as if they were for muscle growth "XL, 2X, and XXXL". A couple others were in there too, one showing a really fat person and one that simple had cock and balls on them reading "Hot and Heavy." Without thinking too much, he reached for the XXXL patch and placed it on the suit. The patch went right to work. "Holy. . . my body is getting hot and pumped, like one of my all-day workouts." he grunted. He began to sweat as he felt his body beginning to change. He couldn't help but started to flex. "I can see myself growing. . . it's really working!" As he watched, the wolf slowly walked over and began to feel up his growing bull. "Damn, it feels so real too. Wonder how massive you're going to get with that big triple extra large patch. . . you were already massive." the wolf noticed his bull's cock and balls also seem to be growing. "Fuck. . . even your cock is getting bigger." Panting, the bull kept pumping his muscles as he kept filling up and out. His body was packing on pounds and pounds of rock hard muscle, his cock and balls filling out the special sleeve. A massive wet spot was also starting to form. "So damn horny, was it suppose to make me feel like I haven't been milked for a week. I just need to get off." the bull started to rub his growing member. Panting and moaning as he brought himself to climax. As he came, his body surged in size, nearly causing him to fall. "The heck. . . I just blew up as I blew my . . . load." as he spoke, his voice now deeper, he climaxed again. The blue wolf noticed this and went right to the instructions to find out what was going on. Finding the exact patch, his eyes drew wide. Reading it aloud, "XXXL is the ultimate in growth packages. Not only will your muscles grow to tremendous sizes, but your package will grow as well. You will be incredibly horny and want to get off. As you do, you will grow bigger and faster. Enjoy the feeling as you cum and grow. Even after the patch has run its course, you may still grow as you cum." The big bull bellowed again as he came again and again. Muscles pumping him up bigger and bigger, he was wider than he was tall. His cock and balls stretching the special sleeve, cum dripping off the end of it, but the suit remained intact. "Getting. . . too horny. . . cannot. . . " he cums again, ". . . my body." he snorts and grunts as he struggles. "Got to get. . . out of this." "Don't do that, you have to wait. Taking it off might do something. . . to your body." the wolf rushed up. Mesmerized by the sight of his impossibly massive bull boyfriend and nearly hypnotized by his deep soothing voice. "You just. . . have to. . . enjoy this." The wolf couldn't help but began to caress and worship the growing mountain of muscle. The two of them enjoyed each other in the silence until it was broken by the sound of something popping. "What was that?" the wolf asked, while constantly rubbing the bull's muscles. "Think AC is on the fritz again." the bull grunted. He began to sweat. "It's getting hot in here." "Only thing hot here is you big guy. So big all over." the wolf went from rubbing the bull's muscles to patting his thick cock. He could feel the heat coming off of the massive tube steak. "So hot all over too." As the bull fired off another powerful blast from his thickening cock, his gut started to push out. "Ohhh, this doesn't feel the same. I can feel my gut growing." "Probably cause you have so much muscle, your abs are starting to push out." the wolf went back to tending to his growing bull boyfriend. The thick musk coming off the tube steak kept his attention there. Another pop and the sound of something ripping could be heard. The bull was the first to react. "Fuck. . . the suit is being ripped apart." As soon as he said it, he felt the heat radiated throughout his body. Before he had a chance to further warn his wolf boyfriend working his cock over, he felt his body starting to swell all over and started to cum harder than ever before. Completely unaware of what was happening, the wolf kept humping the growing cock under him. "Oh fuck yeah! Cum and grow, grow and cum!" he even started to rub and caress the growing gut that was slowly pushing him off the cock. The bull's growth slowed slightly every time he was cumming, but then sped right back up. More and more of the suit started to rip and tear. The bull was almost helpless as his beefy body was slowly becoming thicker and fatter than before. His cock and balls were the first to be free from the suit. His thick legs and chubby arms were next to follow, the torso just simply refused to break. Big sagging gut and massive moobs finally exploded free of the suit at which point the growth seem to stop. His gut so big that his thick cock was completely engulfed under it. "Damn you are one fat fuck now. Perfectly fat too. Time for my fat bull to get milked." the wolf quickly climbed up the mountainous gut of his bull mate and began to suck and play with his thick nipples. "Wha. . . ooh, that feels really good." the bull panted heavily. It wasn't long before the bull was cumming against his bloated belly. As he came, he lost some of his fat. "Fuck that felt. . . pumped. I think I lost some of my fat. . . keep milking me, babe, see how much of this fat cum you can get out of me. He didn't need much more than that, before he went to town. He sucked on one nipple while his other was being coated in thick cum. He was slowly fattening up as he drank in the thick nipple cum. The taste so addicting that he just stayed clamped on as he kept milking the bull for all he's worth. As the wolf grew thick and fat, the bull's muscles blew up as it seemed that he was getting stronger as he came. Soon the wolf was unable to get any more nipple cum as the bull's moobs were completely packed with thick muscle. "Now look who's the fat fuck now." the bull laughed, rubbing his mate's swollen ass. "Speaking of fuck, it's time to give you a bull ride." The bull's meaty cock was leaking constantly, acting like the perfect lube. As he humped the fattened wolf, his muscles bulged and tensed. He could feel his cock growing longer and thicker as well. The wolf was also swelling from all the pre flooding him. As soon as his climaxed, the bull swelled up to the point of immobility; the wolf fared the same fate. One packed with muscle, the other swollen with fat. "Damn. I cannot pull out. You're so tight." the bull huffed and puffed. He wiggled a little, only causing him to cum hard once again, both growing even bigger. "Fuck. . . I'm so sensitive too." this time the wolf wiggled, causing the same thing to happen. "Crap. . . don't move." "Easier said then done," the wolf snickered, wiggling again and feeling himself being filled again and stretched even further by the bull's swelling cock. "We have a few days before we, hopefully, return to normal." At first, it was easy to hold still, but as the hours rolled by the two couldn't help but fidget. Bigger and bigger they grew, the wolf was slowly being pulled off the growing cock in his ass. His progress of sliding off was held up by the wall, till he bursted though it. The two of them out grew the house, which allowed the wolf to be fired off the bull's overly thick cock. The two of them basked in the afterglow and the warm summer day. After three days, they slowly realized they were not shrinking. They were stuck being massive and immobile. Both were content and happy with how it all turned out. They been constantly flocked by worshipers and idolizers that want to tend to their needs. All courtesy of Build-A-Stud.

Hi, so I normally write outlines for fiction, but I've been itching to practice my actual writing on erotica. I'm still only experimenting with this short since I'm pretty rusty, so all comments and suggestions on the writing style would be greatly appreciated. I honestly don't know how to write erotica. Thanks, and enjoy (lol). — Pistachio — An Experimental Short Chris took the tumbler out of the refrigerator and let it settle on the kitchen island. “Finally,” he said. His heart pounded excitedly. He watched the pistachio-green shake defrost in front of him. He opened the lid and gave it a quick whiff, reminding him of chocolate, like was advertised. He licked his lips in anticipation. He’d spent three months preparing the formula and lost most of his savings. Being a college student, losing any more than $3 was quite a loss. Chris had spent $100. $99.50, to be exact. He couldn’t waste this. His boyfriend, Eric, called out to him from the living room. “What’s taking you so long?” he asked. “I didn’t know it took ten minutes to get a glass of water.” “Wait! I’m almost done.” “With what? What kind of complicated ass water are you drinking?” ‘You’ll see,” Chris thought. He took the tumbler with him back to the living room where Eric was lying flat on the couch, waiting for Chris to return. “About time.” he said. “Sorry, just prepared a drink for myself.” He placed the tumbler down on the side table. Eric’s eyes locked onto the tumbler. He wrinkled his brow and stared at Chris. “The fuck is that? Did you get your water from the trash compactor?” Chris chuckled. “Fuck off. It’s just a chocolate shake… that’s green.” Chris sat down on the couch. Eric crawled up and rested his head on Chris’ thigh. They looked in each others’ eyes and smiled. Eric pounded on Chris’ stomach and rubbed his hand across the soft fat. “Thought you were trying to lose weight and gain some more muscle, tubby?” Chris rested his hand on Eric’s sizable chest and wiggled his finger around his nipple. “I’m trying. I don’t want you outgrowing me so fast. You’ve been gyming for, what, three months?” Eric chuckled. “What about it?” “Dude, look at you! You’re already nearly as big as I am, and I’ve been going for almost two years.” Eric got up and sat on the couch, resting his legs underneath him. He lifted Chris’ chin with his finger and kissed him gently on the lips. As they maintained eye contact, Eric reached down and grabbed a handful of Chris’ junk. “Nothing wrong with that, though, right?” Eric smiled playfully. “Who said the bottom couldn’t be the bigger guy?” Eric said. Chris was speechless as Eric worked his hand around his member. He could feel himself getting hard in Eric’s soft hands. Eric tugged down Chris’ shorts, leaving him in only a shirt and briefs. “Oh, yeah.” He ran his tongue across Chris’ underwear, pushed out by his engorged manhood. The rough cotton travelling across his tongue. Chris had always been sensitive. He never needed much to get off, and Eric knew. Chris tossed his head back in pleasure, moaning with every lick. He looked to his side and saw the tumbler still resting on the table. He grabbed it and popped it open. Eric looked up and dug his hand underneath Chris’ shirt, groping Chris’ pecs. “Is now really the time?” he asked. Chris didn’t reply as he quickly downed a quarter of the shake. He closed it and set it back down on the table next to him. He exhaled, feeling the chilled shake travel down his throat. Eric got off the couch and on the floor. He opened Chris’ legs wide open and stroked his thighs as his hard-on throbbed harder in the tight underwear. Chris was feeling something he’d never felt before. It felt as though the chill of the shake was travelling across his body, numbing it down. “Is my big boy getting a little chilly?” Eric asked, still stroking Chris’ thighs. When the cold got to his penis, it began warming up. His entire body followed, and he felt his cock surge slightly larger. “Did your dick just get bigger?” Eric asked. Chris’ breathing was getting faster. He could feel the heat enter every fiber of his muscles. “Why don’t you–hnng–check it out?” He pulled down his briefs, letting his cock fly free. It emanated with warmth. Eric climbed up and grabbed it with both hands, immediately filling his mouth with nothing but smooth head. He licked around the shaft, knowing it was where Chris was most sensitive. Eric tried making eye contact, but Chris was focused on something else. Chris raised his right arm and watched as his upper arm slowly grew thicker, rounder. He flexed it once, twice, and with every repetition, his bicep grew bigger and higher. His raised his left arm and did the same. With every flex, he could feel the power in them growing more and more potent. “Fuck, are you growing bigger?” Eric asked. “Yeah, man. It feels so good.” Eric climbed up and began pulling up Chris’ shirt. Chris pulled his shirt back down, took Eric’s hand, and put it back on his dick. He squeezed his hand tightly and began using it to masturbate. “Fuck, no, don’t take my shirt off. I wanna feel this.” he said. “This is fucking amazing.” Eric said. Eric began licking Chris’ firm nipples through the shirt as his chest grew outward, filling his pecs and torso with pure meat. He took Chris’ growing arms and raised them to a double bicep as he dove in and planted his lips on Chris’ and his hands on his biceps. Chris’ arms were pushing up his sleeves to his shoulders. His biceps still growing at a steady pace. “You taste so good.” Eric mumbled. “Why don’t you get back down and keep sucking?” “On it.” Eric felt Chris’ cock smack his thigh as it continued to grow with the rest of him. Chris’ shirt strained as his chest and arms grew bigger and thicker. His lats pushed the shirt far out while his chest grew into two massive slabs of meat, quickly inflating. Chris’ shirt was being pushed out by his pecs that his cleavage was growing larger and larger. His pecs pulled his shirt out so far that the neck hole was being stretched to its limits. Eric was beginning to struggle wrapping his small hands around Chris’ growing arms. His biceps growing into hills. His chest, balloons. Eric felt himself being pushed back by Chris’ legs. He looked down and saw Chris’ legs jut out ever so slightly, as if he grew a few inches taller. His thighs continued to thicken and grow, and grow, and grow until they were as round and firm as steel beams. Every striation was visible. “Fuck, this is hot,” Eric said. “I feel hot,” Chris said. Chris’ member also grew in size, pulsing larger but never shrinking. Eric was having trouble maneuvering around his growing boyfriend. He was beginning to look more and more like a child trying to climb onto a growing tree. “You’re the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” Eric said. “Shit.” He sat in between Chris’ legs, trapping himself inside as Chris only continued to grow bigger, bigger than anyone Eric has ever seen before. Eric grabbed Chris’ shaft firmly with both hands. He squeezed the massive tool, growing it bigger and bigger until it looked as big as his forearm. Its head rose as high as Eric’s head as he licked around it. Chris’ shirt began tearing down the middle as his pecs grew into massive pillows, his nipples large and begging to be sucked. He flexed another double bicep and his arms tore around his sleeves. His shirt could barely hold him in. Chris was living in pure ecstasy as he grew ever larger, his ass sliding off the couch due to his increasing mass. He tried looking down at Eric but his pecs had grown too thick to see past. “Where’d you go?” Chris asked. “Still down here, big guy.” Eric could feel Chris was close to climaxing and stroked his massive shaft with both hands. His tongue went on overdrive, licking every possible nook of Chris’ massive dick. It wasn’t long before it spewed out massive dollops of hot cum, coating Chris’ massive exposed torso and legs, as well as Eric’s face and hair. It continued spurting until every last drop from Chris’ balls had been shot out. They both took a second to breathe and make sense of what just happened. “Fuck! Look at me, Eric.” Chris said. “Wait, shit, how big did you just grow? I can’t fucking see, there’s cum in my eyes.” Chris stood up, knocking Eric down to the ground with a swing of his heaving member. “Shit, sorry.” The smell of bleach permeated the whole house. He looked around the room and never felt bigger. His once loose shirt now looked as though a single stretch would cause it to tear straight down the middle. It was pulled out so far by Chris’ pecs that it only reached halfway up his abs. He looked down at Eric and nearly confused him for a twig. If they had looked like brothers before, now, it was like comparing David to Goliath. Eric tugged on Chris’ still engorged member to pull himself up, knowing it only made Chris hornier. He stood up on both feet and tried looking up at his boyfriend. Eric smiled. “I think I shrunk.” he said. Chris smiled and grabbed both his pecs, trying to cup as much of them in his hands. “Naw, man. I’m just so fucking huge.” he said. “I’m so big.” Eric tried wrapping his arms around Chris’ torso, but barely got halfway around. “Shit,” he said. “Your pecs are so fucking hard.” Chris bounced his pecs, hitting Eric. His penis throbbed against his abs, chest-level with Eric. Chris bent down and flexed his gigantic bicep across Eric’s face and licked his lips. “Suck it,” he said. The thick arm took up most of Eric’s line of sight. Eric tried grabbing it with his hands and felt small. He planted his face and tongue against the bulging bicep as Chris flexed it repeatedly for Eric’s pleasure. “Was this really all from that shake?” Eric asked. “Yeah, and there’s still most of it left.” Eric bent down and grabbed Chris’ throbbing cock and gave it a tight squeeze. “Why don’t we take this upstairs? Your brother’s still out, right?” Chris laughed. “Good to go again if you are.” Chris and Eric continued fooling around upstairs in the master bedroom, exploring Chris’ newly-grown body. The two eventually fell asleep. At midnight, Chris’ younger brother, Evan, snuck into the house, hoping no one was up. He was on his way up to his room when he noticed a green shake left unrefrigerated on the side table.

Preface Yes. It is another short story without continuation. There are other sorts of stories than multi-chapter ones. Yes. It is another one in an army setting, as so many other stories of mine. I repeat myself. Yes. It will be dark and dystopian, since this technology would always be abused, if it existed, which is a pity: I would have preferred a bright and colourful world of plucky, cheerful Captain Norways, Captain Luxembourgs and Captain Canadas full of high ideals. You have been warned. The Antaeus protocol He could feel the familiar scent of the hypertrophic solution. The odour made him think of wounds tended by iodine, swimming pools kept clean by calcium hypochlorite or chemistry lessons from school years, but, despite the similarities, the hypertrophic solution had a unique and unmistakeable scent of its own, and by now Sergeant Scott could recognise it anywhere. No one would say, that it smelled good, but, by now, Sergeant Scott had begun to associate it with Project Ultramarine, and most things with Project Ultramarine made him feel excited. Most things. He could vaguely recollect aspects of the Project, that didn't make him feel excited: The simulated interrogations, the simulated torture, the abrupt wake-ups at 3 or 4 a.m., but those things beside, he felt honoured, that he had been chosen for the Project, and he felt excited every time Doctor Ohm scheduled him for The Chamber. It was almost as something out of a comic book: Scott had joined the Royal Marines, been re-assigned to SAS, done well in things related to endurance, marksmanship, diving, HAHO/HALO and intelligence, but he was scrawny, and had weak results in anything related to heavy equipment. One of his superiors had re-assigned him to a top secret project: Project Ultramarine. Sergeant Scott had increased six inches in height and 55 lbs in weight – none of it bodyfat, all of it muscle mass. Scott felt like a different person, and he liked to be one of the chosen for the project. He wanted to serve in the armed forces in order to protect civilians, and Project Ultramarine increased his ability to perform his duty. Just a few weeks ago, he had marched with heavy equipment across the Cairngorm Mountains with a medium speed of 18 mph despite an intense snow storm. He turned around a corner. Brigadier Smythe-Fforbes had invited a handful of high-ranking officers, but it was not of Scott's concern to know any details. Need-to-know-basis. As usual. The scent of the hypertrophic solution was now mixed with whiffs of the dry air and scent left by anabolic radiation. Not exactly like the dentist's, not exactly like a tanning bed, but, despite the traces of hypertrophic steam, the air felt dryer than normal, and it tickled in his throat. He entered the Lab. Quite a few men sat on chairs or stood small-talking, when he entered. Doctor Ohm and Evans, the lab assistant, were the only civilians, and were easily recognisable in their white lab coats and black rubber gloves. He saluted and stood at attention. "Stand at ease, Sergeant!" Scott stared straightforward, but his enhanced senses had already identified an unusually high number of generals, admirals and marshals among the gathered men. For a few seconds his mind drifted – drifted back in time to his first exposure to The Chamber. Doctor Ohm had only exposed him to a low amount of anabolic radiation at that time, but, since it was his first bath in the hypertrophic solution, he hadn't known what to expect, and the experience had been overwhelming. The energy blast had hit him like a blow, and his wiry physique had began to fill out in a very pleasant way, that had taken him with surprise. He had become empowered, he had felt his strength increase, and the formula given to him 45 minutes before treatment had been released by the relentless onslaught of the anabolic radiation. After his first submersion in The Chamber, Doctor Ohm and Evans had permitted him three consecutive exposures, weeks of tests and evaluation apart. Doctor Ohm was reluctant to increase the formula, the concentration of the solution and the intensity of the radiation, and only increased them in small steps, after what seemed like careful consideration. Sometimes, Scott had noticed traces of impatience in Evans' face, but didn't give it much of a thought. He had also observed seemingly inactive lenses in the walls of the chamber – the radiation came from below and above. The Brigadier had been giving a speech, and Sergeant Scott's attention returned to the Lab. "And as you have read in the handouts, Gentlemen, the effect is very promising. Before we proceed, I will let you observe the test subject's present level of ability." The Brigadier waved in the direction of the weights. Scott had been told beforehand, that he should demonstrate his strength before the guests. Scott lay down on a bench, removed the barbell from the stand, and began to press the weight of 660 lbs up and down, up and down: Nine times. He could feel blood rush to his newly trained pecs. It felt good. He rose and stood at ease. The officers were whispering. The Brigadier continued. "As you may understand, this neglected branch of research is in need of further funding, and, as you have seen and read, the results are very promising. But this is not all. You will also witness the next step of the test subject's enhancement. Doctor Ohm? Mr. Evans? Sergeant Scott!" "Sir!" "Please proceed to The Chamber, Sergeant." "Sir! Yes, Sir!" Evans stood at the landing, and helped Scott with the facial breathing mask and the electrodes at his temples. Scott descended down the steps in the still empty chamber. Evans closed the lid. Normally, Scott would have undressed before entering the chamber, but, as he understood it, The Brigadier would give the guests a show, in order to ensure funding. The glass was too thick to allow him to hear all noises from outside, but his enhanced ability to listen would allow him to receive a few fragments, at least. The Brigadier gesticulated outside, and seemed to continue his speech. Doctor Ohm turned to the console, and Evans stood ready by the switches for the gas and the solution. A hissing sound began, and Scott eagerly inhaled. It had become better and better by each time, and he couldn't guess how much better it would be this time. A silent murmuring sound, he now was familiar with, grew in intensity, turning to a hum, and, as the murmur increased into a humming sound, Scott's anticipation increased, too: The anabolic radiation device was heating up, and he was soon going to be exposed to something, that would improve his endurance, increase his strength and enhance the size of his muscles. He swallowed. A whispering sound combined with a slight dizziness witnessed, that the formula was spreading in his body, and it was ready to react to the anabolic rays. The chamber felt dry, and the hair on his forearms bristled like the first time. Like the other times. Any second now. He swallowed. Unconsciously, he tensed his muscles in anticipation of the oncoming flow of energy, and his dick awoke inside his pants and camo trousers. He became acutely aware of his bodily extension: How his feet were enclosed by green socks and boots smelling of boot polish. His camo trousers smelled of moth repellant, and the olive-coloured t-shirt felt snug and tight on his hard and built torso. He could feel the pump in his pecs, from the bench press a few minutes earlier. The humming increased. So did his blood pressure. He wouldn't call it fright or fear, but each step of enhancement was a step into the unknown. He was the prototype. It hadn't been done before. No one could know with certainty, that each latest step was free from risk. Even if the experiments had turned successful in the past, the new factors introduced at this step could have unforeseen consequences. He ran the risk of bodily harm or even lethal effects, but on the other side, if it worked, the positive effects might be far beyond their expectations. He hoped, that Doctor Ohm knew what he did, but the almost exaggerated cautiousness, by which the scientist had proceeded during Project Ultramarine, comforted Sergeant Scott in his doubts: The Doctor didn't take any risks. Any second now. The breathing mask hissed. His throat felt dry. He swallowed. He could hear his pulse in his temples. His dick throbbed against the fabric of his pants. Evans had mentioned something about high testo levels. The Chamber hummed more loudly now. He braced himself. Then it erupted. The rays beamed through him, penetrating every muscle fibre in his body, and there was nothing he could do to protect him from it, had the effect been dangerous. But it felt good. He could feel his muscles react to the radiation, feeling more than pumped, sore and heavy and powerful at the same time, and he could feel the hem of the t-shirt slip out of his trousers, and slide upwards over his waist and belly-button, revealing his cobble-stone six-pack and his steel-hard obliques. He was overwhelmed by the sensation, and only absent-mindedly aware of the splashing sound of hypertrophic solution, that, with increasing force, began to fill the chamber. The t-shirt felt ever tighter, and the anabolic rays empowered him, more than ever before. With a yelp, he flexed his arms, and the short sleeves of his shirt ripped apart. With a moan, he did a crab, and the remaining fabric fell into the solution, tumbling around in the bubbling liquid. Though cargo trousers are supposed to be wide, the camo-patterned trouser legs could no longer contain his growing – nay, expanding! – quads and hamstrings, and the tatters, that once had been trouser-fabric was soon floating together with the former t-shirt. The Brigadier said something. The audience looked amazed. The level of the liquid rose quickly, and Scott felt relief, when he became fully surrounded by it, floating in the hypertrophic solution, that increased the effect of the anabolic rays tenfold, twentyfold. The boots felt uncomfortable around his feet. It had been a bad idea to keep them for propaganda purposes. They actually felt quite painful and too tight! And then his growing feet forced themselves out of the army boots, which sank to the bottom of The Chamber. Only his pants remained, and they were made of some sort of stretchy fabric, that felt comfortable against his bum and dick. Wet. Elastic. Expanding. Keeping his rod in place. Adapting. He was adapting, too. He floated with closed eyes in the warm solution, and he allowed his big, growing hands explore the slabs of power-beef he once had called his pecs. His shoulders were increasing too: Hard! Bulging! Still growing! Each one of the three shoulder muscles clearly separated – which also was true about the two heads of each biceps. He let his index finger touch his biceps and run along the separation between the two muscle heads. His palm squeezed his tensed biceps. It felt hard and good, approaching the size of a handball now. Size of a handball! His dick twitched. Size-of-a-handball-now! The liquid turned the thick glass into a mirror. He could watch his own reflection, and it amazed him, but the thick glass made it hard to hear what happened outside. He thought he could hear fragments of an argument. A few tumbling chairs? Raised voices? The Brigadier? One of the generals? Doctor Ohm? ".... No! Safety precautions..." And then gunfire. A few shouts. An unknown voice: "... proceed... ...increase... ...activate the Antaeus Protocol." "No! Not the Antaeus Protocol! Too dangerous! ... untested..." "... increase..." He felt alarmed for a few seconds, but then something happened. Something amazing. Something that defied all description. The electrodes used for programming of brainwave-pattern activated, and they activated with heightened intensity. It was not like any of the gradual and mild programming sessions he had experienced before. He was overwhelmed. The promise of mental and bodily pleasure made him eager to learn new abilities, and the Antaeus Protocol taught him to kill without remorse, erased his conscience and turned him into an obedient combat-machine. There was a second or two of hesitation and surprise, but the human instincts and hesitating conscience were soon quenched by the unbending and relentless Antaeus Protocol. His resistance was broken. He accepted the Antaeus Protocol, and, in the same second, the anabolic radiation increased in intensity. His eyes widened. His entire body spasmed for a few seconds. He could feel his cock rip the fabric of his pants apart. Testo levels! TESTO POWER! The surrounding hypertrophic solution bubbled intensely now, increasing the effect of the rising anabolic radiation manyfold. It went far beyond any of the earlier experiments, and Scott was now unaware of his surroundings, lost in the overwhelming experience of extreme, unlimited GROWTH. The unknown lenses he had observed before in two of the walls began to lit up, and flashed into life. The chamber, the liquid and anything inside the chamber were now exposed to two different types of power. The effect of the hypertrophic radiation was multiplied by the synergy of the unknown power. Scott's arms and legs thrashed around uncontrollably in the energised, bubbling liquid and his moans increased into bellows and roars: Bellows and roars of pleasure, bellows and roars of unbridled aggression and bellows and roars of a nameless ecstasy going beyond them both. He grew uncontrollably now, but he didn't want to control it. He just wanted more. He wanted all of it. He wanted uncrushable brawn and indestructible muscle mass. In the mirror-like surface of The Chamber he could see his physical appearance transcend all formerly known limits of the human physique. He must have been 6'10'' now, and he was still increasing rapidly in height. His muscle mass was like some unknown matter which was boiling over, but there was nothing random or deformed with his shape: The expanding steel-hard beef was shaping itself into the most well-proportioned and efficient icon of strength beyond strength, masculinity beyond ultra-masculinity. The gigantic shape of a titan emerged. A powerful titan bulging and throbbing of muscular strength. Scott felt the mounds – no, mountains! – that were the building blocks of his body, and increasingly more power was still ever crammed into ever fibre of his being. He could tangibly feel himself grow, and then he saw something, that looked like a liquid metal, like mercury, and shiny like a mirror, form around his body. He could feel the substance surround him and enclose him, and, when the process was finished, he felt entirely invulnerable. He felt indestructible, like a titan of yore. He was undefeatable, like Antaeus. Come hell or come high water, he would obey every order. He was the prototype of the Antaeus Protocol.

Dedication The one who inspired this story know who he is. I want to thank him. Writing a shorter story in-between the multi-chapter sagas in my pipeline, keep my creative flow returning. Thank you. This was fun: The basics of MG stories, without any attempts to be original. The caretaker Nat was lucky. He'd got an employment immediately after high school, and now, four years later, he could afford a small flat. No day was like another, but each week was similar to the last one. Work as a caretaker fell somewhere between the repetitive and the variable. He had no idea about the exact purpose of the experiments going on in the labs of the company, but he didn't need to know, in order to fulfil his duties properly. He had signed a handful of documents about professional secrecy, when he accepted the job, but, as far as he understood, he hadn't seen or heard anything anyone would be interested of. Lorries or couriers delivered boxes, equipment or canisters, he signed the receipts, and he wheeled each thing to its place in the warehouse. The many labs upstairs requested one or another gadget, and he brought them there. Lightbulbs or other illumination broke, and he replaced them with new ones. The bathrooms usually worked as they should, and so did the fume hoods. He didn't have much in common with the boffins upstairs, but most of them seemed grateful for his work. He usually spent lunchbreak in a small subterraneous room close to the lockers, together with the two other caretakers. Twice or thrice, he had seen uniformed officers from the armed forces, or what seemed like athletes accompanied by persons from marketing companies or nutritional supplement companies, which puzzled him, since they didn't seem to fit in among the regular work staff. The wage was more than decent. Nat had given weight training a try in the past, but now only worked out infrequently, because of lack of gains. He was of average build, and at a height of 5'7''. He stirred in his sleep. Something was weird. The alarm clock hadn't beeped. Nor had his mobile phone. Usually, he didn't wake, before his technical equipment woke him up. He felt warm. His bedsheets were damp, because of sweat. His sweat had an unusual scent: Not bad, not good, just different than usual. He opened his eyes. It was still dark outside the window, but streetlights caused a dim light to fall into his bedchamber. Strange. Then he remembered. The accident! It had been about closing time, and one of the lorries were delayed by half an hour. His supervisor scheduled Nat for overtime, appointed him to receive the delivery, and went home. Nat could see researchers, lab assistants and office clerks leave the ground, when the lorry approached, and most windows on the facade of the main building were already dark. The guards at the gates let the lorry inside, and Nat signed the receipt as usual. A few large canisters had to be transported to the assigned shelves, and it took some time. Nat had prepared to turn the lights out and lock the building, when he had heard the strange sound further away in the labyrinthic system of subterraneous passageways. He turned around a corner, became aware of the pungent smell of some sort of gas or vapour, and then the bright, blue light exploded before him, and everything turned black. What had happened? And how had he ended up at his own flat? He felt sweaty, tired and hungry. He moved his fingers and toes. Legs and arms. Probably nothing broken. He tried to rise, and felt slightly dizzy. Time? His phone told him it was 5.20. a.m. He hadn't eaten since the accident, and felt more hungry than usual. His feet touched the floor, and he went to the kitchen. The cold, white light of streetlights projected a square of light on the kitchen floor. He peeked into the refrigerator: Two hardboiled eggs left from yesterday's breakfast. A package of cottage cheese. Salami. A bottle of milk. He peeked into the cupboard: Bread, three bananas. His headache didn't feel like it would appreciate more light, so he devoured the food without turning the light on. He finished his night meal with three pints of non-fizzy mineral water. The headache decreased, but he felt sore in all his muscles. He needed more sleep, and returned to bed. Sleep returned, but not the black unconsciousness of the past hours of night: Now he dreamed. The memory of the smell and the bright blue light returned and was repeated in his dreams, again and again, but he also felt heavy in a pleasant way – a feeling of being physically present in a way he never had been before: Anchored in the present, occupying more space than before, some sort of calm, joyful confidence. The pleasant state of the dream continued. Heavy. Present. Occupying space. He woke up with morning wood. The sun had risen. He felt hungry. It must have been only a few hours since his night meal, but he felt intense and ravenous hunger. Drowsily, he walked to the kitchen, but it felt like his legs didn't want to obey him. His balance was different than usual, His arms fluttered unfamiliarly in the air, when he regained his balance. Still drowsily, he ransacked the refrigerator and the cupboard for food. Silly: His tiredness caused him to imagine his hands to be bigger than usual. He boiled all the eggs left and made a porridge of oat flakes. An old jar of whey protein stood on a shelf, still unused because of his irregular and scattered gym routine. He mixed a protein drink and drank it all. After the unusually early breakfast, he returned to bed. He felt satisfied, warm, surrounded by the bedsheets and his sleepiness returned. A comfortable heat spread in his body. He smiled and relaxed, close to sleep. Then the comfortable heat intensified, and the feeling of soreness returned to his muscles. Half asleep, he flexed his arms, his legs and his glutes. His muscles felt unusually hard. Strange. He was probably still dreaming. The pleasure intensified. He emitted a little yelp, and returned to dream-sleep: He dreamed, that he grew, and that he outgrew the surrounding buildings, towering over the city and then floating out into outer space, becoming big as a planet with enormous muscles. It felt great. His alarm clock and his mobile phone woke him up. Workday ahead. Shit. He felt strange after that accident. Tired. Needed more sleep to recover. He had to call his supervisor and tell what happened. Perhaps a doctor needed to examine him. Strange feeling. Tired and energetic at the same time. Powerful even. But sore. Sleep overwhelmed him, and he returned to sleep. He couldn't remember his dreams. It was thirst that awoke him. The sun shone from zenith, and Nat's mouth was dry as sandpaper. His throat felt weird and thick, like he had acquired an infection. Shit! The work! He should have been at work hours ago! He stumbled out to the kitchen, still unable to find his proper balance, and rank two pints of water. An unopened bottle of milk stood hidden behind a jar of pickled vegetables. He opened it and gulped it down. What was wrong with him? Then he felt the pressure in his bladder, and relieved himself in the bathroom. He turned around to face the bathroom mirror, jumped at the sight of a muscular gigantic man who had broke into his home, and almost fell to the floor. The big man jumped too. Nate arose and looked himself around. No man. Imagination. He faced the mirror, which seemed to have been moved, and hanged at a lower position than usual. He stared. He moved his right palm to his cheek, his brow and his temple, and continued to stare. He moved his palm to hhis chest, and explored his pecs. The giant in the mirror followed his movements. The giant in the mirror was himself. A feeling of pleasure arose, and spread in his entire body. There was a lot of brawn to spread into, and Nat liked the feeling. He watched himself in the mirror, squeezed his beefy pecs and continued to stare in disbelief. Yesterday evening, he had been of average build and 5'7''. Now, a tall bodybuilder stared back at him in the mirror, probably around 6'3''. Nat felt dizzy again. He knelt at the bathroom floor. The soreness of all his muscles returned again, and intensified into something that was close to pain, but was also accompanied with a feeling of power throbbing in his temples and in his ears. His breathing became more frequent. Waves of pleasure engulfed him. He couldn't concentrate. He could feel his bone structure re-arrange itself, but the pleasure took the brunt of the growth pains. Scraping sounds of bone tissue and a sickening wet sound of muscle fibres caused a brief wave of nausea, but then the waves of pleasure returned again, more intense now. He could feel himself expand in every direction: His chest deeper, his spine taller, his legs, arms and shoulders rounder and fuller – able to lift weights of powerlifters or strongman competitors. An empowering and encouraging feeling of confidence grew in his chest and in his throat, and spread in his entire physical extention. He shivered and shuddered under the process, and felt weak of hunger. He knew his cupboard and refrigerator were empty now. He crawled to the kitchen and made a phone call to a super-market with home delivery, and he was mildly shocked by the deep timbre of his booming voice. He received the grocery delivery dressed in bedsheets, but his lack of clothes in the right size was still a future problem. He needed to eat. Eat more. Food. More food. Feed his muscles. Feed this muscle machine. Two omelettes. Two roasted chickens. A loaf of bread and three cans of tuna. He returned to the bathroom. He could watch himself grow at a visible rate, and it didn't matter, that he now only could think about his strength, his muscles, his power. 6'7''! 397 lbs! His quads were impressive, both in sheer mass and when it came to definition. An Apollo's belt was impossible to ignore under the six building blocks that were his abs, and drew attention to the V-shape formed by his narrow waist, steel-hard lats and wide shoulders. The sight of himself flexing his football sized biceps caused him to lose his mind in ecstatic rapture. His traps were cartoonish, and his shoulders like volley balls. A big protein drink. A BCAA soft drink. More water. Lots of water. His brawn craves food. Build more muscle. Build more. Building perfection! Yeah! 6'9''! 452 lbs! Yes! Look at me! He wanted to remove the dried sweat from last night, and took a shower. He caressed his still growing shape with shower gel, and let the warm water drizzle down his titanic back. His body convulsed in pleasure. He dried himself on a towel, which felt too small for his new size, and he returned to the mirror and the bathroom scales, mesmerized. 6'11''! 496 lbs! More! Still growing! Lost in bliss and revelry over his incomprehensible gains, the young titan wasn't aware of the desperate knocks on his door: "Nat? This is Dr. MacKenzie from work. I want to ensure that you are ok. An accident happened at the lab yesterday night, and we want to run some tests."

Chapter six is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13390-professor-schnackenburgs-mistake-chapter-six/ Professor Schnackenburg's mistake Chapter Seven It was an hour later. Despite the fight with the police officers, his Master had found the information he needed, and The Master had given an order. Jack left the university building, hesitated for a moment, but he knew what to do. Dazed, his powerful mass walked through the nocturnal, desterted streets stained by drizzling, glistening rain, and he returned to The Steel Factory. The door was unlocked, but the illumination by the entrance was out of order. The dim light from a vendor machine and the tanning department drove away the darkness of the night, and it seemed like some of the LED lamps upstairs had recovered from Kortoth-Gnaah’s powerblast, since a mild golden light streamed down the staircase. The titanic warrior, which had once been Jack, ascended the stairs. * * * It wasn’t fair. He was the most muscular bro at campus, and it wasn’t fair. Was the most muscular bro. Was. Wasn’t anymore. Hot water was streaming down Cody’s back, where he sat in the locker-room shower. Cody wallowed in self-pity, and he hated himself for doing it. He was supposed to be self-confident, and his best mate Jack had jokingly rebuked him now and then for being ’too cocky’. Like he treated Tiny Tim in the past. Tiny Tim, who wasn’t tiny anymore. The war-god had chosen Tim, not Cody. Cody’s guts felt cold and something twisted inside. He wasn’t used to feel like this, like some sense of safety and security had been robbed from him. Taken away from him. By Tim. Big Tim, now. By the war-god. His dick twitched. By seeing his best mate Jack become godlike. Hot water streamed down his back, and splashed on his slowly engorging cock. The sight of the other young men in the gym becoming beings from a barbarian-movie… Cody shivered. He felt devastated. Hot water drizzling on his naked, tanned and smooth skin. Icy vulnerability inside. His dick shrunk and became limp again. Vulnerability. He heard the door to the locker-room. He didn’t want to be seen like this. Usually, he was the king of the locker-room, playing silly pranks, slapping other guys with his towel. Even gave someone a wedgie once, in the beginning, but never repeated it, since Jack called it ’immature’. Steps in the locker-room. Cody wanted to disappear. Not to be seen. He arose from the floor tiles, fumbling for something to grasp, and burned himself lightly on a hot-water pipe. The shower steamed, streamed and drizzled. When he looked up from his burned palm, he saw Jack. The new improved Jack. Like standing before Conan. Or He-Man. But not drawn. But in the flesh. Steel-hard, bulging flesh. Jack. Best mate, Jack. Jack still had the same, friendly eyes as usual. As before. But his gaze looked strangely off, like he was hypnotised. The shower wettened Jack’s fur-cape. He throw it out from the shower area, into the space for the lockers. ”Hello Cody.” The fully dressed Jack stood in front of the entirely naked Cody. Vulnerability. Cody fumbled, and turned the shower off. ”Are you… Are you yourself, Jack?” ”i am still myself, Cody, but I am also something more. I have tasted the power of Kortoth-Gnaah. The Master knows my thoughts and my feelings, and The Masters commands are resounding in my mind.” ”You look awesome, bro.” Jack flexed his exposed arms. Veins crawled. Jack’s mountainous bicepses grew. Jack’s powerful tricepses perfected the impression of muscular strength. Friendship, envy and some sort of unutterable lust competed for Cody’s attention. His dick awakened again, and embarrassment was added to his emotional turmoil: No homo! ”I wish I could have joined you.” ”I am sorry, Cody, but you have always been an individualist. The men of Anghra-Lemur are parts of a tribe. You have to be loyal to the tribe.” ”So that is what is all about: Loyalty to the tribe?” ”Do you want to fight the enemies of the The Master together with all members of the tribe?” Cody’s face expressed several feelings: Yes! Loyalty to a tribe! Belonging! One in the team! But not together with Tim. And definitely not together with his rival, Magnussen. Jack watched him. Cody watched Jack. In the steamy shower area, Jack was beginning to emit scents: Furs wet from rainwater and hot steam. Bronze chainmail slowly turning into verdigris. The leather clothes of a barbarian. Male sweat. His best friend was so close now. He tried to think on something to let that boner disappear, but he couldn’t concentrate. ”You are who you are, Cody, but when The Master gave me an order, I got an idea. Forget what I said about the tribe, but would you fight the enemies together with me? Do you wish to join me?” ”Hell, yeah, bro! Why do you ask? You know what I want and what I wish. You are my best mate, ever.” A brief hesitation shadowed Jack’s brow for a second, then he changed posture. ”Then, trust me. Dont be afraid. I’m sorry for how this must be done. Goodbye, Cody. You had your quirks, but they were your quirks. The quirks of a very good friend. I’m so sorry I will no more see you face to face.” ”What do you mean, no more see me? What do…” Jack took a step forward. Cody could feel the big, warm paw of the barbarian of Anghra-Lemur on his shoulder, and he felt close to his friend. Then, the other big hand surrounded Cody’s throbbing cock, and Cody’s eyes widened. ”Wait, bro. No homo. I’m…” He could feel it. Something strange was happening. He felt weaker. He couldn’t protest against Jack’s unheard of behaviour. He couldn’t understand what was happening. He looked up in Jack’s worrying, warm, friendly eyes. Seconds went by. Then, it slowly dawned what was happening. He was shrinking. His once so beefy chest was imploding, and his usually brawny arms were becoming the arms of a pipsqueak. His abs became more visible, but his legs were becoming chicken-legs. He wavered, and Jack’s grip around his dick disappeared, now steadying Cody from falling. ”Wait! Jack! What’s happening? What are you doing? Don’t do this to me! My gains! You are robbing me of my gains!” Gently, Jack lowered Cody to the floor, and sat on Cody’s knees. He loosened the leather straps, that kept the chainmail together around his neck, and he took the chainmail off, shovering it outside into the locker area. Then his leather-trimmed linen vest, exposing his powerful naked chest, and his steel-hard abs. Jack’s entire torso throbbed by power, and sweat was trickling from his temples. Cody felt entirely powerless. The icon of masculinity, which was his best friend, had him subdued, and the grip around his shoulder and dick returned. There was nothing he could do to stop it. The barbarian robbed him of his gains and drained him of muscular strength. One part of his mind screamed in utmost fear, but another part of him saw the visage of what he had once dreamed of becoming, his best friend, now growing even more massive and powerful. His cock became harder in the grip of his best friend, the steel titan. ”No, Jack! I don’t want to… Jack! Listen to me! I want to keep my gains! My muscles… They are disappearing… No! Jack, this feel… So weak now… Don’t… My…” Still the feeling of care and consideration in Jack’s eyes, despite this brutal subjection of his best friend. Jack’s face expressed concern, but the loving gaze was increasingly mixed with the facial expressions of an intoxicating power-craze. ”I am sorry, Cody. I’m sorry, but this was the only way. I have to obey The Master. I must obey him. I must assimilate you! We will be together for ever. Can’t believe how this feel! Your strength!” The barbarian of Anghra-Lemur sat on the heap of skin and bones, that once had been Cody. Cody’s dick was still throbbing in the firm grip of the barbarian, and Cody’s fear had turned into insane rambling. ”Yes! Look at you! You are more powerful than ever. That strength! Those arms! These pecs! My muscle mass added to your’s. Assimilate me, Master! Let me feed your muscular brawn! Let me…” Cody’s complexion turned from his usual handsome tan into the greyish hue of someone close to death. The once powerful dudebro was a haggard skeleton, with sunken eyes peeking out from deep sockets. A mist of lucent green sparks had began to arise from Cody’s corpse-like shape, and the barbarian thrived of this life-force. Jack’s entire torso throbbed of strength and vitality, his bronzed complexion glistening of sweat. The lucent green sparks grew in number and intensity. With a weak yelp, the last life-force left Cody: ”Best mate.” In the next second, Jack could feel Cody’s cock ejaculating in his fist, and he could feel all remaining traces of Cody becoming lucent green sparks. He inhaled, and the sparks enterd into his system, becoming one with him. Jack shivered. Cody. Best mate. He could feel his body engorge, as the orgasm of his muscle-drained friend transmuted into testosterone-crazed muscle-ecstacy. He buzzed and brimmed of life-force and muscular strength. It was even more intense, than his initial transformation into one of the men of Anghra-Lemur. He opened his eyes. No traces of Cody. He sighed in relief. He hadn’t been sure of how this would work. He arose, but left his clothes in the locker-room. He wanted to see the result. He went into the weight room, turned towards the mirrors and took the sight of himself in. Whooah! He looked bigger, indeed! He hadn’t known what to expect of the merge of two muscular men into one. He felt a weird urge to feel the weights, and went to the leg press: 200 kilo grammes. No it wasn’t enough. 250, 300, no – 425 kilo grammes! He repeated the reps. Again. Again. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Eleven reps. 425 kilo grammes. Oh. The pump. The pump in his legs! And his chest. His pecs. They screamed for the weights. For the steel. One hundred isn’t enough. Two hundred. Two hundred and seventyfive: 275 kilo grammes! Again. And again. Eight. Nine. Another one! Yes! Ten! Ten reps at 275 kilo grammes. Tearing his pecs apart, letting the blood flood his pecs, infusing them with pump and power. He approached the stand, and picked a pair of dumbbells up. Sixty kilogrammes. Nope, too light-weight. ONE HUNDRED kilogrammes each! Yeah! That felt better. He began his biceps curls. Yes! Another curl! Tearing his muscle fibres apart, preparing for more growth. Another one! Five, six, seven reps. More! Blood began to stream to his newly trained legs and chest. And to his biceps, as he pumped the iron, causing his biceps to become more filled with blood. Another set. Yes! It felt amazing. A feeling of pump different from any time before. His quads and hamstrings were becoming steel-hard, and his chest felt like the bow of a massive ice breaker, ready to crush icebergs as his mighty hulk (in the original sense of the word) unstoppably moved forward. A third set. A fourth. ONE HUNDRED kilo grammes! … Six, seven, eight, nine, ten, uh, to failure! Eleven! He dropped the heavy dumbbells at the rubber-coated floor, and stared at himself in the mirror-coated wall, and he felt fresh blood stream into his biceps, and his entire musculature: A pump of delight. A peaceful mood spreading in his mind and his entire body. He stared. He liked what he saw. He took the sight of himself in. A brutally built warrior from Anghra-Lemur stared back at him in the mirror. The LED lights shone down at his body, enhancing the shapes and contrasts of his muscles, including the shadow under his two bulging hemispheric pecs. Jack still kept his usual boyishly charming looks, but already at his first transformation, a few hours ago, something more mature and fierce had emerged in his visage. Now, merged with Cody, something of Cody’s arrogant smirk could be hinted at in the corners of his mouth, and something had happened to his cheek and chin: The dimple Cody used to have in his chin was his now, and the dimples that used to become visible when Cody laughed, was his also, but his eyes were still his own: The eyes of gentleness. Whooah! He would never had described himself pretentiously like that… That was the expression Cody used once, when he was drunk, and let his tough-guy persona drop for a minute. Thinking about it, Jack usually didn’t spend much time in front of the gym mirrors. Unlike Cody. Perhaps he guessed right when he decided to assimilate Cody: Cody could have his wishes, after all? Perhaps he had assimilated more than Cody’s muscle mass? Perhaps… ”Bro. I’m here. Look at us!” Jack felt relief. It had worked. He felt the urge – Cody’s urge, which he now shared – to show off and watch himself. He took the sight of himself in, and shivered. A brutally built warrior from Anghra-Lemur stared back at him in the mirror. Yes, look at us! He swallowed. A being out of a cartoon for cheerfully adventure-loving boys; a being out of a fast-paced action film for young men with newly awakened testosterone; a being out of the never-gauged dark undersea trenches of the adult masculine mind looked back: Clad in furs and leather intentionally aimed, in the dreams of unknown older gods, to reveal the strength and prowess of the wearer, the brutally built warrior looked like something far beyond the imagined heroes of the silver screen and the telly. His bodily shape went beyond the impossibly built physiques of carefree cartoon heroes and toys from his childhood. His confident personal charisma went far beyond any action filmstar, and he had seen a similar unspoken threatening promise of potential brute force ready to spring into action among men with a past in the armed forces, but in his own case it was now heightened and multiplied beyond anything he had seen before, with one particular exception – Kortoth-Gnaah, The Master, the war-god of the Sunken Hundred. Since he had left his chainmail and his fur mantle in the locker room, his sun tanned torso was naked and exposed, his blood-filled muscles throbbing of muscular power beyond anything he had seen or felt before. He moved his palm to his left pec and squeezed. It was hard as steel. He let his pecs dance and jump, and stared in disbelief and delight. Fragments and remnants of Cody’s mind roared inside Jack’s soul, in ecstacy at their shared strength, and Jack allowed himself to be captured by Cody’s ecstatic roar. YES! ROOOAARR! Look at this! His palm and fingers explored the ravines between his abs, and he could feel his manhood awake inside his leather pouch. He flexed his right biceps and stared at it, then explored it with his lips, leaving it wet as he stared at it, mesmerised by his own might and size. Pleasure flowed slowly and delightfully through his veins as golden honey, and the unburning flames of raw, primal and undiluted masculine power flickered in his engorged muscles, from his monumental legs and power stoking loins, to his uncrushable abs, well-defined obliques, pumped pecs, mountainous traps and bulging arms. ROOOAARR! Look at this! A barbarian warrior who would take Conan or He-Man down, if they had existed. Maculinity incarnate. He wasn’t strong: He was Strength itself! He wasn’t muscular: He was Muscle itself. He wasn’t powerful: He was Power itself! The pump! Incredible! His muscles recovering impossibly fast from his sets with the steel! The pleasure flowing inside him! His mind bathing in pure testosterone… PURE TESTOSTERONE, bro! Do you feel, it Jack! Do you feel the same I feel? Do we share it? Engorged. Throbbing. The sound of his pulse in his ears. In his temples. Yes, Cody, I feel it. He swallowed. THEY swallowed. Together. Jack with Cody. Cody with Jack. Sharing. This. This strength. This power. Fuck! Do you feel that, bro? Our strength. Our power. Our brawn. Their dick a steel rod now. Steel rod throbbing inside leather. Rubbing against the leather pouch. All these muscles. All this brawn. The veins. The testo. Our. Together. Look at that chest! Fuck! All this pump! Can’t believe it! More than… Oh! Oh, better than anything he could have… Look at this! Look at me! Look at this brutal fukker, no one will mess with… He took the sight of himself in, and touched his forearms. His veins crawled, more blood-filled and visible than ever. His muscles looked like they grew at a visible rate, bronzed, bulbous, steel-hard and shiny of sweat. The golden honey of pleasure turned into a stream of brutal empowerment, and he was afire with indomitable might. Uh. Indomitable might! Pure… un-di-lu-ted… mas-cu-line… in-do-mi-ta-ble… might… He was entranced by the sight of the being in the mirror that was himself. The rugged, stalwart, invulnearable, confident, leather-clad, martial brawn-beast built by bulging steel-brawn and pure… un-di-lu-ted… mas-cu-line… in-do-mi-ta-ble… might… Uhnnn! Brawn-beast! Took the sight of himself... in... Invulnerable! Bulging steel-brawn! Me! Us! That! Together! Best mate! Pure… un-di-lu-ted… Oh fuck! Can’t believe! Mas-cu-line… in-do-mi-ta-ble… Spasms of bliss exploded in their shared mind and in their shared body, and their steel-rod exploded inside the leather pouch. It took minutes for them to regain awareness of their surroundings. * * * Next chapter is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13595-professor-schnackenburgs-mistake-chapter-eight/

(deleted by the author)

Hello everyone. Here again with another Short Story provided by Captain Muscle. I hope I was able to do this story justice with the editing. Enjoy! Muscle Pack by Captain Muscle So there’s this urban legend about this video. I’m not really sure what it shows cause I’ve never seen it. I heard about it a week ago and have been obsessed with trying to find it ever since. All I heard is that it will change my life! I’ve also heard stories about what it does to people. It was used to make super soldiers for the military however it changed more than just the soldier’s physical appearance. So they scrapped the project. But the rumors are that a scientist made a copy of this “video” and put it on the net. So I’ve been looking for said video since then. RING…. RING…. RING…. I reached for my cell and tapped the Answer button. “Hello?” “Is this Jake?” The mysterious voice said “Ye…. yes, this is, who’s this?” I say. “Never mind that I have what you’ve been looking for. I sent an encrypted email. one warning however! This “video” will WILL change you in more ways than one. It’s also VERY contagious.” CLICK “Hello?? HELLO??!!” “Fucker hung up!” Even with the mysterious guys warning I still wanted to check out the “video”. But I was still a little hesitant, I mean what was it going to do or change and what did he mean by contagious? I opened my email and saw the email with a zip file attached. I saved the zip file to my computer just in case anything happened to the email. I was shaking with excitement as the file unzipped. I backed up the zipped file and opened the folder with the video. The video was labeled Growth.m4v, and I doubled clicked on it. It started with a large man sitting down naked, he grabbed his hard cock and started to masturbate. He looked at the camera and said “GROW!” That’s when I went into a trance and unzipped my fly and noticed my cock was hard as steel. Throbbing and pulsing with pre cum dripping from the pulsing head. The guy on the video kept saying “GROW” as he was pumping his cock. With each time he said the word a pulse shot through me with my muscles flexing and unflexing. He started saying it faster and faster and I kept throbbing and pulsing. Still in a trance my muscles started expanding and growing all over my body. I was growing and growing as cum was shooting out of my steel cock. Muscle growing onto muscle, my biceps growing so large that a split peak was forming. Quads so large I would no longer be able to wear pants or boxers. Pecs so thick and full of muscle they looked like I could milk them. The video finally ended and I was finally out of the trance. I shook my head like I had been asleep for years. I lifted my heavy arm to my forehead and saw my massive bicep bulge and a split peak pop into view. I shot up and turned to look in the mirror and saw my cock flopping around swinging like a pendulum. “HOLY SHIT IT’S FUCKIN’ HUGE!” I grabbed it and went stiff as a board as the feeling of my hand touching my now gigantic cock shot right through me with a jolt of sexual pleasure so hard that I shot a massive load all over the mirror and floor. “Shit! That was amazing! What the hell happened, that video turned me into a freak.” I started feeling my huge ass pecs and my extremely cut abs. “Fuck my lats are just SO wide! I look fucking hot!” KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK…. “Hey Jake it’s me, Guy! Your dad let me in.” Guy just walked right in on all my muscle and cock hanging out. “FUCKING HELL JAKE what happened to you!” Guy walked toward me as he slipped on my cum from earlier and fell getting it all over him. I saw the cum disappear into him like it was being absorbed. He went into a trance like I did earlier and unzipped his fly as his cock popped out dripping cum. He then started repeating what the guy on the video was saying. “GROW, GROW, GROW, GROW!” I went into another trance as Guy was repeating that word. Growing all while my cock was spurting cum all over the place. Guy finally reaching where I was growth wise earlier was now out of the trance along with me. “Dude what the fuck! I’m HOT, so are you master!” Master? What the hell? “Guy you ok?” “Master you made me I’m your beta you’re my alpha. I obey you.” I kind of shake my head in a “what the fuck is happening” kind of way. OK so a few things. When someone touches my cum they start to go through what Guy went through. Then they join my what? Pack? I kind of laughed out loud thinking to myself; “The Muscle Pack”. “Guy scoop up the remaining cum into that water bottle, we got some betas to make.” “Yes Master!” “Don’t call me that, call me Jake like you always used to like pre muscle.” I kind of rolled my eyes. “Yes Mast……. I mean Yes Jake!” I jogged down the steps into the kitchen with Guy behind me. My dad was making breakfast not even realizing that I’m now way larger than a super heavyweight bodybuilding and not wearing any clothing. “Hey Son you hungry!? Got scrambled eggs and bacon.” Guy quickly ran up to him and dumped some of my Cum on him. “HEY GUY What the fuck!!?” “Sorry Jake but you said you wanted to make more Betas. Plus, your Dad is really hot!” “True we need more Betas but I wasn’t planning on making my Dad one. On a side note EW that you find him……I’m not gonna even say that word and my Dad in the same sentence.” What I didn’t realize was that Guy had also immediately imprinted on my Dad upon entering the kitchen. After Twilight I don’t think I need to explain what “Imprinting” is. Guy was really just looking to make his soulmate like him. My Dad was locked in a trance and jacking off as he started saying that word like Guy did earlier. “GROW, GROW, GROW, GROW!” Muscles everywhere exploding like Guy’s did earlier. As Guy bent over to make sure my now massive Dad was ok I found myself staring at Guy’s now incredibly muscular bubble butt. My cock starting to plump up and harden the longer I stared. I looked away and to make my cock stop. Thankfully my Dad came out of his trance as my 2nd beta in my “Muscle Pack”. “Master thank you for this gift!” “Dad PLEASE for the love of God please don’t call me Master! It’s really gross, just call my son or Jake.” “Ok son thank you for this amazing gift.” He turned and looked at Guy and they stared at each other for what seemed like hours. They then started making out right there in the kitchen. “Mr. Kennedy you’re so hot I just can ‘t even!” “Guy I’ve always found you to be quite handsome. Now I need to plow your muscular ass RIGHT NOW!” He turned Guy around and shoved his rock hard ramrod into Guy’s egger ass. Pumping into and out with pre splashing all over the place. Well those 2 did that I had to plan what to do next and to understand what exactly is going on here.

(deleted by the author)

Chapter Five is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13181-professor-schnackenburgs-mistake-chapter-five/ Professor Schnackenburg's mistake Chapter Six A blast of phosphorescent preternatural power filled the entire building, and had an impact on every man inside. Jack couldn't believe it: Kortoth-Gnaah had already transformed Jack and other members of the gym, earlier in the night, and Jack hadn't expected any further change, but the powerblast now consumed him in the feeling of further growth, more hardness, more muscle. In the epicentre of the blast, Jack could see his war-god embracing the brave and impressive bouncer, the latter one growing into something amazing. The sound of men moaning and grunting in excitement was heard from the rooms downstairs, and when the dizzying experience faded, gigantic men in leather, chainmail and furs descended from the inner recesses of the club. Before his change into a warrior of Anghra-Lemur, Jack would probably have felt embarrassed in a surrounding like this, but since his transformation, nothing could make him embarrassed. Slowly and gradually, he became aware of, that something wasn't entirely right. Since his transformation by the war-god, he had felt his connection to his Master increase. While orders and commands were given telepathically in a very clear and comprehensible way, on other occasions he could vaguely sense the pleasure, the confidence and the worry of his Master, and the bond seemed to increase. Now, Jack could sense, that Kortoth-Gnaah was puzzled, even surprised and confused. As the overwhelming sensation of empowerment faded, Jack began to better notice details of his surroundings: All men in the club had changed into prehistorical fighters – all men, except the men in rubber and PVC. The, now huge, bouncer kneeled beside a short and slim man in his late 20s, whom Jack vaguely recognised from campus. The war-god spoke in disbelief: "What treachery is this? I gave the command, that all should become my warriors!" An almost human expression arose in his face, and a skilful observer could have discerned the visage of archaeological researcher Brock MacGurgan. Then a trace of divine knowledge shadowed the war-god's brow. "This fabric of the younger days... It is not under my domain... It is under the domains of the scarlet and purple rites of the archdemons of the outer realms. Remove it!" * * * Lucien felt devastated. This supernatural being had promised incomprehensible strength, and then everyone else had changed into monuments of masculinity. All – except himself. He was surrounded by brutally built men, standing around him, their naked or leather-clad legs broad apart. They towered above him – threateningly, he first thought, but could discern the gaze of genuine concern in their eyes. The being, that once had been Chad, kneeled at his side, with a worried and loving expression. Chad's shoulders reminded Lucien of volley balls. Lucien put his hand on Chad's left pec, now the size of a basket ball, and shivered. Lucien could see other slim and average men dressed like himself ascend the staircase, with disappointed expressions. The war-god said something, but Lucien didn't listen. Chad rose again. Disappointment. Mixed with wonder and lust at the sight of Chad. And comfort. Chad's protective presence so close. Lucien embraced Chad's powerful naked quads, and kissed them – something powerful throbbing inside Chad's leather jockstrap. Suddenly, he saw some of the tall men in leather and chainmail rip the rubber apart from the chests and legs of the other rubber-lads. Chad leaned forward. Lucien could feel Chad's big and strong hands clench Lucien's clothes, and then Lucien was naked, standing there freezing. Vulnerable. Exposed. Devastated. Chad arose, and said something: "Master. Allow me to grow with my mate here, as you allowed your men from that building, over there, grow with me." The war-god smiled and nodded, and reached out his arm, which began to glow in a familiar greenish phosphorescent way. "Receive the powers of Anghra-lemur!" His mind was on fire: Not a burning fire, but a pleasantly warm fire, which empowered him. YES! Empowered him! He could feel Chad standing behind him, Chad's leather-clad crotch throbbing against his naked lumbar, Chad's big hands on his growing pecs. Visions of aeons past flickered before his eyes, and the bravery of forgotten ages was poured into him. There was nothing he could do to stop it now, but he didn't want it to stop. He felt bigger now. And stronger. A pleasant hardness spreading. His head held high in pride, his legs in a confident stance. Visions of sword-fights. Visions of battling monsters without hesitation. He felt taller. Dimly, he could sense how his brothers grew with him, and that Chad was growing with him, too. Yes! Grow with me, Chad! So big! Couldn't have dreamed... Feel so hard... And powerful! Yes, Chad, look at me! Look at what I'm becoming! Like you! Look at me, war-god of Anghra-Lemur! Look at your masterpiece! Shoulders and traps! Fuck! Brawn! More brawn! Eager for all the hero-brawn! Yes! Receiving so much muscle and power… BECOMING muscle and power! When the sensations of growth faded, Lucien had become on of the men of Anghra-Lemur. * * * The war-god of Anghra-Lemur walked the streets of the modern university city, and his men followed him – loyal, obedient, powerful, devoted. The Being had granted them this masculine power, and they had to obey his commands. They loved to serve. Kortoth-Gnaah pointed at buildings, and their outlines blurred. In the place of some high rises, low mud huts and neolithic long-houses from ordinary human history emerged, but, when he pointed at other tall buildings, spires and domes formed, materialising from unthinkable angles, from the space between the spaces, from the dreams of the older gods and from the dreams of men. Spires of alabaster which wasn’t alabaster. Domes of jade and gold. Impossible and unimaginable forms and ornaments from dreamtimes outside history. The dreams of the older gods floated through the minds of the new men of Anghra-Lemur, and the dreams of the older gods floated through the mind of Kortoth-Gnaah, of which Brock MacGurgan was now only an assimilated part. Brock dreamed, and he was awake. He observed The Being, that was himself and yet something else, transform other men into impossible monuments of masculinity, individual flesh-and-bone specimens of ancient myths, old sagas and modern entertainment of his childhood and youth: Warriors, protectors, defenders, heroes, barbarians… It felt like a dream, and yet it wasn’t. He pointed at buildings: It wasn’t just past and present that fused into something else. It was the worlds of the gods, that were leaking into his former everyday world, and gradually becoming reality, a reality where tales of heroic masculinity and dark male fantasy were true. He felt like he could lift buildings, and he probably could. He felt like he could withstand a nuclear explosion, and he probably could. He could sense his men’s loyalty to him, and it felt like an addiction. He felt cosmic power float in his veins. Something was missing… Something vital… He couldn’t think straightforward. Ah, yes. The women. The women of Anghra-Lemur. His subjects needed to procreate, if Anghra-Lemur would thrive in this new, moden time. The warrior-women of Anghra-Lemur would rise again, but he lacked the power. Just as that modern, unknown fabric was under the control of the archdemons of the outer realms, the power to transform women of the newer age into women of Anghra-Lemur was under the control of someone else: The Sea Goddess. He had to reach out to the Sea Goddess. He and his men roamed the streets, and their mere presence caused modern women to reach orgasm. They returned to the campus, and Kortoth-Gnaah observed the tower where he had found this willing embodiment. Perhaps the old man, that … Schnackenburg… would know how to contact the Sea Goddess? The steel-and-glass doors were closed and locked, and several police cars were parked outside the Archaeology Department. It was of no concern. Kortoth-Gnaah nodded in the direction of the entrance, and two loyal men – formerly known as Chad and Lucien – crushed it with their clubs. The god and his housecarls entered. Chapter Seven is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13510-professor-schnackenburgs-mistake-chapter-seven/

This muscle-growth story is dedicated in memory of James Joyce, Jack Kirby and Robert Mapplethorpe – geniuses in three very separate fields. I guess, that none of them would have appreciated this dedication, with the possible exception of the last one. I do not claim any level of originality here. I have treated the theme otherwhere in the past, but it was fun to write it. Thought it was a play Yes, it sounded good back at the club, but I didn't think you were serious. I love this type of role-play, and you are really, really my type, Sir, but now you are taking it too far. No, I've forgotten the safe word. Too bad? What do you mean with 'too bad'? If I think you are hot? Are you kidding? It isn't you, I am complaining about, it is what you are doing to me. This is beyond my limit, Sir. When I met you back at the club, I thought you were just into the same role-play as I am... You know the stuff: Pretending to grow into some sort of mind-controlled super-soldier, you know, like Captain America, but brainwashed. Or like Halo. Or Universal Soldier. As I told you: I like Halo. And you are so buff and so cut, hell, I couldn't believe my eyes and ears when you sat down, payed my Guinness and sat there, all muscle and camo and attitude and boot polish and jarhead cut, looking like some sort of badass superhero played by John Cena or an 80s action star, or someone, and I wondered why you sat down at my table, when there were all these other lads at the place: Some younger than me, some considerably older guys more ox-like daddyish than me, and lots of them much more built than me, I mean: With so many hot lads and dads to chose from, I'm really honoured, I'm really flattered, you know: I'm just average, so why chat up me of all guys, where I sat alone, wearing a pair of city-camo trousers, a black polo, blue braces, short – but not buzzcut – hair and shiny, glossy DM boots? Felt hot of course, but I know my limits, and you are usually beyond my league – look at those biceps of yours and that narrow waist with those broad shoulders, you can't be unaware of how you look, and what you do to men around you, can you? There's even sites for it online, Sir: Blokes like you and me writing stories about muscle growth, or cheering each other's real-life gains (modest in my case, sensational in your's), or using chats for RPs about impossible, larger-than-life muscle growth, so I supposed you must be one of them... Us... ...when you were drunk and began to talk about Project Antaeus, and it felt so hot. Fuck, Sir! You are so perfect in that Alpha jacket, showing your tight tank top over that bronzed chest... And the dog tags makes it even better – they look almost real... I love when you watch me with that arrogant gaze, Sir! I'm willing to obey you, but I feel uncomfortable with hoses stuck into my bottom, needles in my arm and unknown chemicals dripping into my IV – I've never used gear, Sir, even if I suspect that you know everything about it, by the look of you, but I was afraid of the side effects you hear so much about, you know, so, instead of being hot, it is slightly scary, since you behave like Project Antaeus were real, and it can't be, otherwise it would have leaked by now, and science isn't now in our age at the level that it could be true – in one hundred years perhaps, but not now, today – so you act like a lunatic, and I don't date lunatics – even if it is, in a sort of kinky way, slightly hot to be tied to this high-tech chair. I liked when you unbuttoned my trousers, and commanded me to step out of them – my jockstrap was perfect for your chair, and I like the smooth leather seat against my skin, and it feel good to let my boots remain on. What are you doing, Sir? Can't stop you with these cuffs around my wrists. My hair! The buzzing, tickling feeling, when you force me to endure a buzzcut. Changing me. Changing me into another man, a more disciplined look. Yes, Sir! I've said it earlier: I do think that you are hot – you don't have to ask again: You are an icon of masculinity, a monument of testosterone-oozing, alpha-assertive, exaggerated military masculinity, and I don't understand what you mean, when you tell me, that Project Antaeus was aborted before it reached the intended results. Just look at you! Yes! (Let us play!) Project Antaeus transformed you into the man you are today, and yes, look what you have become: It must have reached the intended results. It must. You are a super-soldier, Sir! Not enough? With all respect, Sir, but you are amazing, Sir! I would follow you blindly into battle, and I would eagerly share your bunk, Sir! And I would feel honoured to undergo the treatment you underwent in Project Antaeus... Illegally re-activated? What do you mean? Find out its real potential? More than you received? Much more? But, Sir! Even your level of stamina and strength would be a great achievement... (Yes, you are doing it so good, Sir! It feels so realistic. Keep going...) No, Sir. I do not know anything about DARPA. No, Sir, I don't understand the legal consequences of royal prerogative on the Commonwealth. Why would US, Canada, UK and the overseas territories cooperate in...? What do you mean, experiment on human beings? But that must be illegal? Not on this island? So this base is located here, because it is permitted to... Oh fuck, yes, Sir! I don't know what you are feeding into my veins, but it feel so good. A recruit? But I'm just a guy you picked up in a club, it can't... (Wow. So real.) Sir! Look at these shoulders and traps of mine. I feel so pumped. Pumped without any workout. So weird. So real. So good. Sir, I'm your recruit, and I declare myself willing to undergo Project Antaeus at full effect. Yes, Sir! (This is fun – you act so well) No, Sir! It doesn't matter to me, that Project Antaeus was re-activated illegally, I want to undergo the treatment, Sir! I give myself, body and mind, to this project, Sir! Yes, I am under your command, Sir, and I am willing to accept every additional treatment you deem valuable and efficient for the intended purpose. Yes, I am a willing test-subject and an obedient recruit. Yes, Sir! Put the earplugs in my ears, to induce brainwave programming, and electrodes to my temples. Since my hands and feet are cuffed to the examination chair, I am unable to stop you. I have to accept whatever treatment your whim have me undergo, but I am not unwilling, Sir! I'm willing to... Fuck! So good! So real (Sorry, Sir, didn't intend to break the play) Feel so... What are you doing to me, Sir? Feels like I'm actually growing? The re-building has begun? Yes, I understand, Sir: The shape of living beings can be scanned, and the scanned shapes projected onto other living beings. Scanned hundreds of bodybuilders? And hundreds of marines? Fused the scans into one unified and optimised male shape to project onto test subjects? Yes! Do it to me, Sir! I'm willing! I'm your recruit! Your willing test-subject! Yes, even further! Yes! Full potential! Intended results. (Fuck it feels so real) SIR! No! It's real! You can't do this to me! I have rights! What's in that IV? Inside me? Spreading inside me now? You have to let me go, before... No! Fuck! The scanned shapes... Projecting... Can't believe... Sir! Sir, I'm becoming... Sir, can't believe... The brainwaves... The formula inside... The projected shape... NO! SIR! YES! Yes! Like you! Becoming like you! Increasing T! And the shape! I can feel it, Sir! I can feel the shape around me... Yes. Fusing with my shape. It's MY shape. Yes. Warm. And buzzing of power. And full of power. And brimming of power. And overflowing of power... and strength... Fuck. Accumulating like a fucking battery. The shape. MY shape. Give it to me: My shape. The shape of this BEAST. Like you, Sir. Bigger than you, Sir. Can't believe it, Sir. Bigger. Look at me! Look at this! Look at this beast, you are creating, Sir! YOUR beast, Sir! You are creating a Beast Marine! Fuck, yeah, there goes my jockstrap! Look at this naked Beast Marine in boots. Fuck, yeah, there goes the cuffs. NOTHING can hold this BEAST MARINE tied to anything. Watch my strength, Sir! Watch my muscular power! Watch these guns and these quads and these – oh fuck yes, these abs – and I understand why you are horny now, Sir. I would have been horny, too, Sir, if I stood in the presence of someone like me: Now it is I who am an icon of masculinity, a monument of testosterone-oozing, alpha-assertive, exaggerated military masculinity! Yes, I am that! IV finished? Rid myself of that. So. Feels better now. Can flex now. Look at these guns, Sir! And these pecs! Much bigger than you, now. This you mean with 'intended results'? This confident studboi Beast Marine being more alpha than you are, Sir? I like that look in your eyes, Sir! What are you doing, Sir? Not possible! Increasing? YES! INCREASING! Fuck, Sir! Can't believe it! So good! More! YES! INCREASE! CAN'T BELIEVE IT IS POSSIBLE TO INCREASE MORE! Sir! So – uh uh uh uh – tall now, and my mass! My... MASS! Yes! Take that jacket off, Sir! And step out of those trousers... Join me, Sir! Join me! Yes! Into the radiation, the projection of the new, improved, enhanced big Shape. My Shape. Your Shape soon. The full impact of the radiation now, Sir. Nothing to stop it. Nothing to hinder it. We – the Prototypes of new improved BEAST MARINES. YES! Grow with me! Intended results... Oh, fuck, so much... Full potential... So much now, and still increasing... Yes, Sir, increase it more! I need the Power! And I want to see you join me! Become like me! Yes, your size, your gains now, Sir! All this brawn. My brawn, your brawn, bruiser brawn, insane levels of Power. BEAST MARINE Power! Still increasing! Still... oh fuck... increasing. So much. YES! 660 lbs and increasing! Increasing! Your 660 lbs BEAST MARINE recruit ready to obey your orders, Sir! Grow into mine fucking levels, Sir! Full potential... Full potential... The raw primal power of brutal strength. I'm your gargantuan giant, Sir! I'm your brutal bruiser behemoth! Engorged muscles! Can't believe power is still increasing! Yes, still increasing! Grow with me, Sir! Attain GIGANTIC BEAST POWER! Intended results... Full potential... Full potential... Approaching full potential... Approaching full potential... Yes! BEAST potential... This Prototype... The Power! The Brawn! Grow for you, Sir! FULL... FULL.. FULL... FULL... FULL... FULL... (Oh fuck, yeah!) FULL... (The Power... So much!) FULL... FULL... FULL... POTENTIAL!

Chapter One is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13112-unit-246/ Chapter Three is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13142-unit-246-chapter-three/ Unit 246 Chapter Four Obediently, and without hesitation, Unit 246 fastened Sergeant Mulligan's still bootclad feet in the power sockets. Sergeant Mulligan could feel the army boots on his feet, and the rubber insulation of the sockets clinging to his calves. The dim light inside the chamber was reflected in the chromed exterior of the sockets, and Mulligan's camo trousers still covered his lower body. His upper body was naked, sweat glistening, since Mulligan perspired, under the influence of anticipation and excitement. Unit 388 endured his own Procedure in silence, since Emotion Access was deactivated, and Unit 388 was still growing more and more into an icon of impossible and intimidating masculinity. Unit 246 continued to fasten Sergeant Mulligan's hands in the two power sockets wide overhead, forcing Mulligan to form an X. It was now impossible for Sergeant Mulligan to leave the contraption, and he was forced to keep the slightly uncomfortable assumed X-position. Unit 246 loomed over him, a monument of protective muscular strength ready to explode into action. "Connect me to mind-program." When Unit 246 applied the electrodes to his shaved temples, Sergeant Mulligan shivered, and he could sense the low-intense murmur of the preparatory mind-programming running in his brain. "It is good, Unit 246. Now proceed to recline in the usual chair for updates, connect yourself to mind-program, and await update." Unit 246 obeyed his order. It felt like a lump in his throat, and Sergeant Mulligan swallowed. A hint of fear lightly brushed his conscious mind, and then faded away. A delightful trepidation awoke in his guts, and expanded into his chest. Then he gave the order: "Medical Artificial Intelligence 5, activate and run update on Unit 246. Activate power socket B." The metallic voice answered, devoid of any personality: "Activating power socket B." His body felt like it was humming, and he became pleasantly warm. "Activate the nanites inside the test subject!" "Sergeant Mulligan. Nanites activating. In test subject. Prototype Enhancement formula 8.1. Let me remind you. Sergeant Mulligan. That enhancement formula is. In prototype stage. Caution is adviced." "Caution acknowledged, but overrided in socket B and update station. Proceed." "Overriding Prototype Caution Protocol in socket B and update station. Proceeding. Safety Protocol activated. Unable to proceed with. Safety Protocol activated." "Deactivate Safety Protocol in socket B and update station." "Safety Protocol. Deactivated. In socket B and update station. By. Sergeant Mulligan. Security clearance. L6." "Proceed." "Proceeding. Prototype Enhancement formula 8.1 now identified. And activated. In test-subject, power sockets B. And at update station. Mind-program running. Concomitantly to. DNA-alteration. And. Nano-facilitated re-building. Hypertrophic power activated. Current now. Twenty millibanners. And increasing." Now, Sergeant Mulligan understood, why some test subjects used to express fear and nausea in the beginning of The Procedure. A temporary feeling of alienation to his own body spread, but, unlike usual test subjects, Sergeant Mulligan knew what to expect, and his eager thirst for strength quickly subdued the fear. He had looked forward to this. Soon, the strength of the most proficient armed unit of the entire galaxy would circulate in his veins. Soon, his average physical frame would turn into an unstoppable steel-hard titan. Soon, he would become like his subordinates, who for so long had been his physical superiors. He trembled again, and felt how his body was trapped in the contraption, unable to escape if anything, against all probability, would go wrong. Warm. Felt warm now. Comfortably warm. And relaxed. He swallowed again. His muscles began to ache in a non-painful, even pleasant way. It was really happening! With Unit 388 growing and transforming at socket A right before him, and Unit 246 growing and transforming at the update station to his right. Growing together with his subordinates. Growing with the lads. Growing with the hulk marines – where-ever did the civilians pick that nickname up? Growing together with his brothers in arms. Becoming. Uh! Uhnnnn! Becoming. Oh, fuck, yes! Becoming more than human! "Nanites fully integrated. And working according preferred prototype enhancement formula. DNA alteration incomplete, but running. Testosterone levels rising. Hypertrophic power current. One hundred millibanners. And increasing. Mind-program. Intensifying." "M.A.I.5! Increase and intensify!" "Increasing. Intensifying." Oh, fuck, yes! It was happening! It was happening, now! His old daydream... becoming true... joining his men! So unbelievably good! He took pride in acting calmly and making well-considered decisions even in extreme situations, but he had never been able to compete with the disimpassioned resolve of the Enhanced Special Marine Servicemen under his command, and he craved that level of serenity and will-force. He could already feel the impact of the mind-control, and he took the feeling in. Drank of it eagerly. Cherished it. Embraced it. But there was something he missed? Under these circumstances, he wouldn't always be able to give Medical Artificial Intelligence 5 the necessary orders to increase and intensify the process, when needed. Better let the Artificial Intelligence handle that. "M.A.I.5! Continue to increase and intensify all parameters and levels continuously, until I give you an express order to terminate this. The order apply to all sockets and update stations." "Sergeant Mulligan. Security clearance. L6. Has given. Permitted order to. Increase and. Intensify. All sockets and update stations. Continuously. Will not terminate, until given permitted order by. Sergeant Mulligan. Security clearance. L6." "Good." "Hypertrophic power current. Twelve hundred millibanners. And increasing. Mind-program. Intensifying." He could hear the breathing of Unit 388 and Unit 246 increase, when The Procedure intensified, and he could watch Unit 388 grow to incomprehensible levels of muscular strength. "All parameters and levels increasing and intensifying." He could feel himself becoming taller, and he could feel his army boots disintegrating inside the power sockets. His quads and hamstrings forced themselves out from his camo trousers, ripping them apart. Tatters of camo-patterned fabric laid scattered around his station. With these legs, he could lift mountains. Yes! He was becoming a super-soldier! Yes! Change me! Brutally force me to become more! Make me a hulk-marine for the Empire! Heroic proportions! Monstrous proportions! His abs turned into a set of pétanque-boules hard as steel. It felt unbelievable. His pecs grow into godlike proportions. His shoulders broadened. His traps... Oh God! His traps! The power was so overwhelming now, and the mind-program was like a wave drowning his individual mid, tearing his soul apart in a all-consuming feeling of rage, lust and ultra-masculinity. The individual unit roared in bliss, power and ecstacy. The individual unit grew... "All parameters and levels increasing and intensifying. Hypertrophic Power. Two thousand seven hundred millibanner. And increasing." The individual unit grew and it felt how it increased its capacities further. Unit 389 floated in a sea of stimulating power, and it could feel its strength increase. More. More. Without end. It liked how its strength increased more, more and without end, but it noticed, that Emotion Access was enabled, and the intensity of The Procedure could be difficult to handle at these levels. With Emotion Access enabled, it was hard to concentrate enough to call the attention of any superior officer. Hard. To concentrate. So good. So hard! His capacity! Sky rocketing! His brothers. In arms. Growing too. Big. Brothers. Together. Mighty. Tough. Brawny. "All parameters and levels increasing and intensifying. Hypertrophic Power. Three thousand three hundred millibanner. And increasing." Unit 389 was dimly aware of the warm, hard, growing presence of his brothers. Growing. But it was not aware of anything else in its surroundings. Empowerment. It was stronger now. Stronger than any man in the Galaxy. Except his two brothers. Unit 246. And Unit 388. Here. Present. Undergoing extreme hypertrophy and hyperplasia together. Undergoing DNA alteration together. Joining his brothers in size and strength. Together. Bigger. Could crush mountains. Couldn't remember any time in the past, when it could not crush mountains. It had no past. Unit 389 felt how it was being born in this very minute. Born to inherit Power, Brawn and Might. With his brothers. To fight in combat with his brothers. Bravely. To defend. To protect. And to be an Enhanced Special Marine Serviceman. Hulk-marine. The civilians said. Yeah! Look at these hulk-marines! Look at this hulk-marine! Seven foot, two inches. And growing. "All parameters and levels increasing and intensifying. Hypertrophic Power. Four thousand one hundred millibanner. And increasing." It wanted to crush asteroids. It was a steel monument. A steel monument dedicated to ultra-masculinity. And strength. And willingness to put oneself in danger's way. To protect. To defend. No, a monument of chromium! A monument of titanium! A monument of tungsten! It felt like its bodily presence expanded in all directions, all its muscles engorged to an insane level – feeling like planet-sized muscles – veins spreading all over him. It wasn't sure if it roared. It wasn't sure about anything outside the intense experience of re-programming its mind and re-programming its physique. Reprogramming. In order to defend and protect. The hypertrophic power streaming into its defenceless and unprotected body was beginning to feel hard to bear. Too much. Perhaps better terminate The Procedure. "M.A.I.5! Terminate Procedure at all stations!" "Negative. Test subject identified as Unit 389. Will not terminate, until given permitted order by. Sergeant Mulligan. Security clearance. L6." Unit 389 felt slightly confused. Something wasn't aright, but his confusion was drowned in the feeling of further empowerment. It was almost too much. Almost. But it also felt pleasurable beyond description. "All parameters and levels increasing and intensifying. Hypertrophic Power. Eight thousand six hundred millibanner. And increasing. All test subjects now reaching. Height eight feet. And increasing." His brothers began to roar and moan now, despite that their Emotion Access was disabled. He roared, too. And moaned. Sinking deeply into the rapture of growth. Of becoming. "All parameters and levels increasing and intensifying. Hypertrophic Power. Ten thousand one hundred millibanner. And increasing." An alarm went off somewhere, but it didn't matter. Something broke. He didn't know what. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was, that the Artificial Intelligence continued to increase and intensify all parameters and levels continuously. He wanted it. He craved it. He eagerly embraced the full effect. "All parameters and levels increasing and intensifying. Hypertrophic Power. Twelve thousand three hundred millibanner. And increasing." He didn't know for how long time The Procedure continued. Unit 389 was unable to terminate it, but it didn't matter. There was no such thing as too much. There was only the rapture of muscular empowerment without limits. Without any limits at all. Without any limits of brawn. Without any limits... Unit 389 increased his capacity. For the Empire. And the Emperor. And his brothers in arms. Stronger. Becoming a power-being. Becoming a nuclear explosion. Becoming indomitable. Becoming invincible. Becoming... * * * Chapter Five is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13150-unit-246-chapter-five/

Chapter One is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13112-unit-246/ Chapter Two is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13129-unit-246-chapter-two/ Unit 246 Chapter Three Sergeant Mulligan trembled in anticipation: He wanted to know. He wanted to know how far the lads under his command could grow. He wanted to know what the Prototype Enhancement formula 8.1 would do to a slim and narrow-shouldered civilian, and Unit 246 had brought a test subject for him. To hell with precautions! Why spend valuable time on evaluation of formulas 7.3 and 8.0 when the 8.1 already existed in a prototype state? He wanted to know. The civilian – a protester even – had been given a meal, which he seemed to appreciate. What did the central galactic administration and the multi-corporations think of, when they increased fees and prices on food, and why on earth had they re-routed some of the shipping routes? Even if those mining families had no right to protest in the violent manner they did – we ought to trust the Emperor – they were right on one point: All human beings need food. Well, now the civilian had been given a meal and a nutrition-injection, and Unit 246 had brought him to Lab 5 on Sergeant Mulligans order. Unit 246 had stripped the frightened test subject naked, and fastened the feet and hands of the test subject in the four power sockets. Unlike the updates, managed while the individual unit reclined in a sort of chair, the initial enhancement Procedure demanded another treatment. The chrome-shining power sockets swallowed the test subject's hands and feet entirely, and he stood with his skinny legs broad apart inside the sockets, shaping an X with his arms. Unit 246 was now attaching a hose to the test subject's genitals. The test subject became pale. He looked frightened, and didn't dare to say anything to Sergeant Mulligan or Unit 246. Mulligan was curious: Some of the early recruits had a background in sports, or had good records from earlier military service. The second generation consisted at a ratio of 20% of sons of former Enhanced Special Marine Servicemen, with no former background in the Forces until The Procedure. This test subject was uncharacteristically thin, but the hopes for the 8.1 update aimed at something more extreme than hitherto. Something amazing could be about to happen, opening a wider range of future recruits, unless some unforeseen side effect would kick in. Like the 5.4 upgrade... A short moment of hesitation went by, when Sergeant Mulligan remembered the screams of the deformed monstrosities, that were the result of the discontinued 5.4 upgrade. The scientists must have transcended such obstacles since quite a long time, by now. The scientists still warned against using any formula newer than the 7.2 upgrade, but why take so long time with the prototype formulas? The 7.3 prototype worked well on Unit 246, a few days ago, didn't it? Mulligan wanted to build prototype soldiers. Some day... Some day he wanted to become one of them. He had led these larger-than-life marines in combat so many times, marvelled at their stamina, performance... Self-control... Muscles... Their superior in the command chain, but their inferior when it came to actual capacity. Some day, he wanted to join them. The test subject had been overcome with fright, but now his fear released a string of words: "Don't you see, Bill? It's me! Max! Please, release me from this machine! Don't torture me! I don't know anything about the leaders of the protest. I just joined, because I needed food! I don't know anything! There's no use for torturing me! It's me, Bill! Remember?" "Unit 246, administer the DNA-alering injection to the test subject." "Yes, Sir!" It was done. A muffled cry from the test subject. "Unit 246, administer Prototype Enhancement formula 8.1 to the test subject." "Yes, Sir!" "What was that? Truth serum? But I do not know anything you want to know! Bill?" Unit 246 looked straightforward in a dispassionate and slightly machine-like way. "Unit 246, connect the test subject to mind-program." "Yes, Sir!" The eyes of the test-subject widened. "Leave the chamber, Unit 246!" "Yes, Sir!" Unit 246 towered at the side of Sergeant Mulligan, and watched the chamber. "M.A.I.5! Heat the chamber up!" The Medical Artificial Intelligence answered with its usual metallic voice: "Sergeant Mulligan. Chamber is. Heating up." A familiar humming sound began and increased in volume. "M.A.I.5! Activate the nanites inside the test subject!" "Sergeant Mulligan. Nanites activating. In test subject. Prototype Enhancement formula 8.1. Let me remind you. Sergeant Mulligan. That enhancement formula is. In prototype stage. Caution is adviced." "Caution acknowledged, but overrided. Proceed." "Overriding Prototype Caution Protocol. Proceeding. Safety Protocol activated. Unable to proceed with. Safety Protocol activated." "Deactivate Safety Protocol." "Safety Protocol. Deactivated by. Sergeant Mulligan. Security clearance. L6." "Proceed." "Proceeding. Prototype Enhancement formula 8.1 now identified. And activated. In test-subject, power sockets A. Mind-program running. Concomitantly to. DNA-alteration. And. Nano-facilitated re-building. Hypertrophic power activated. Current now. Twenty millibanners. And increasing." "What's happening to me? What's this? It's..." The faint outlines of the test-subject's muscles were becoming visible. "No! What are you doing? What's happening to my body? Like it's taken over by something not me... Feel sick... Must puke... Sickening feeling... So alien... What the fuck is happening to me?" The metallic voice of M.A.I.5 interrupted: "Nanites fully integrated. And working according preferred prototype enhancement formula. DNA alteration incomplete, but running. Testosterone levels rising." "BILL! You must release me! Something sick is happening! Something..." Unit 246 observed the chamber, without showing any reaction. Sergeant Mulligan observed, fascinated by what he saw. At this early level, it looked fairly similar to what he had observed innumerable times, but the novel aspect of this experiment was, that a typical ectomorph was able to achieve the same level as the more typical mesomorphs used in the past. "Hypertrophic power current. One hundred millibanners. And increasing. Mind-program. Intensifying." The test subject's fear seemed to melt away, but something else was rising. "I said: Release me! You bloody wankers out there, even you, Bill! I trusted you! Now you let me out or I shall... I shall... Yes! O fuck, yes! Bigger now! I will fucking give you a thrashing, with this new strength, if you don't let me out, and let... Fuck! So good! Couldn't have dreamed of..." "Hypertrophic power current. Five hundred millibanners. And increasing. Mind-program. Intensifying. Testosterone increasing. DNA-alteration progress 25%. Nanite activity at 35%. And increasing." "Wait? What are you doing? No! You can't... Can't make me into a hulk-marine! I don't want to become one of them! I'll find you a cure, Bill. I promise! Let me out, so that this... Oh, fuck! So good! So much! You can't change me... Look at these guns! Can't move them now, but anyhow... YES! Look at this bruiser... this brick shithouse... I'll show you when I break free... Let you see some aggro! I'll marmalise you! The power streaming through me... so bloody UNBELIEVABLE!" "All parameters and levels increasing and intensifying." "YES! Look at me! The new Uni... No! No, you can't change me! I'm Max, Bill! Remember Max? So big now... Like you, Bill... Becoming like you... So good! So much! So big! So hard! Like a good mari- ... NO! I'm me, I'm not... So fucking massive. I could soon crush this machine if I wanted, but I don't WANT to crush it, since it is so GOOD when it cram me more and more full with this muscle building POWER... No one will mess with me. I'm a loyal... NO! I'M MYSELF! Program me according to your wish, Sarge... NO! So big! Like a good marine! Noooooo!" "All parameters and levels increasing and intensifying." Unit 246 didn't show any reaction to the test subjects' ramblings, but Sergeant Mulligan studied the process with deep interest. It was the best enhancement formula he had witnessed. The test subject was now of about the same size as Unit 246, and The Procedure wasn't even half-way. Enormous pecs protruded from the wide chest, and a monstrous – yet functional – trapezius covered his back, thick lats hanging on each sides. Veins covered large areas of the test subject's body. Instruments allowed them to hear the test subject's heart beat. "Hypertrophic power current. Twelve hundred millibanners. And increasing. Mind-program. Intensifying." "I'M MYSEEEEEEELF! Sir! Unit 388 reporting for duty! Please enhance the abilities and capacities of this individual unit, Sir! This individual unit exist for the purpose of enhancing his capacity and use his capacity to the utmost, for the sake of the Galactic Empire. Let me inform you, Sir, that Emotion Access is still activated, and that... Uh! Uhnn! Let me... UH! ...That The Procedure is quite intense. Sir! So good! More, Sir! Give me more!" "Hypertrophic power current. Two thousand millibanners. And increasing. Mind-program. Intensifying. DNA-alteration progress 97%. Nanite activity at 95%. Testosterone level. Rising." Sergeant Mulligan would soon deactivate Emotion Access, but he wanted to observe the next minute or two. The test subject was now bigger than any former or existing Enhanced Special Marine Serviceman. "Yes, Sir! Bulging all over! Every muscle engorged WITH POWER! Could crush anything! For the Emperor and the Empire! This is my rifle, this is my gun, this is for pleasure and this is for fun! Joining my brothers in arms! Defend! Protect! Yes! Increasing!" "Hypertrophic power current. Two thousand five hundred millibanners. And increasing." "Unit 388, deactivate Emotion Access." "Sir! Yes, Sir! Emotion Access deactivated. Proficiency levels increasing, Sir!" "M.A.I.5! Procure Prototype Enhancement formula 8.1. for two further test subjects!" A white cylinder moved away from the antiseptic wall, and the metallic voice returned: "Prototype Enhancement formula 8.1. for two further test subjects procured." "Pick it up, Unit 246." "Yes, sir." He picked them up. Sergeant Mulligan trembled. He was going to show them. He was going to show his superiors the advisability and usefulness of using Prototype Enhancement formula 8.1, despite all the talk about safety precautions over at Research and Development. "Unit 246, administer the DNA-alering injection to me." "Yes, Sir!" "Unit 246, administer Prototype Enhancement formula 8.1 to me and yourself." "Yes, Sir!" "Unit 246, now enter the chamber, together with me. "Yes, Sir!" Sergeant Mulligan was going to show them. He was going to show them the power of the prototype formula. He was going to show them his power. He was going to become the second prototype. * * * Chapter Four is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13146-unit-246-chapter-four/

Chapter one is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13085-professor-schnackenburgs-mistake/ Professor Schnackenburg's mistake: Chapter Two Cody was the biggest bro at campus, and he knew it. He was tired of the weakling sissies at the college gym, who wanted to 'get some muscle tone' but 'not become too big'. Cody very much disagreed: There was no 'too much'. There was no 'big enough'. Never too much! Never big enough! He had joined The Steel Factory gym outside campus, since it had got the heaviest free weights in town. As he had spread the reputation of The Steel Factory, some of the other students had also began to work out there: Jess, Jill, Jack. And Magnussen. And Tim. He pushed the heavy barbell in a focused and disciplined bench press, and he could feel his blood run to his chest, giving him a bloody awesome pump. Some strange greenish phosphorescent light shone in from the windows, and seemed to lit up the night outside the windows. And thunderclaps. Was it thunder? or northern lights? Or something. He returned to his workout schedule. Bench press. Barbell. Heavy. Pump. Gains. It was rather close to some of the buildings belonging to Arts and Humanities: The archeology students, the literature students, the historians... The only drawback with the location of The Steel Factory was, that the gay street began around the corner, and one gay bar faced the entrance to The Steel Factory. Cody liked to draw attention, but he didn't like to draw attention of gays. He preferred to draw the attention of female students like Jess and Jill. Jess. He became angry again. Jess. She had been his girlfriend for six months. He remembered the scent of her blonde hair, and her enthusiastic screams when he pounded her. Shit. He got a boner inside his training shorts. Well, if anyone commented, they knew he would hit them. He didn't expect anyone to comment. He felt insulted, when he saw Magnussen – the reasonably brawny Danish exchange student – work out with Jess across the room, over at the rowing machines. One day, he would tell Magnussen his mind. One day, he would give Magnussen a real thrashing, and prove who's the Alpha on campus. Jill, the brunette studying pharmacology, was sexy in a shy way, and when she was drunk at a party, she had confessed, that she was turned on by muscle, and she had worshipped him behind a sofa. He wanted to go further with Jill. Or conquer Jess and leave Magnussen in a pathetic little heap of shit, but he had to admit, that Magnussen had a good constitution when he arrived in the beginning of the academic year, and he had to admit, that Magnussen had got some real gains, as the term had went on. Or, he fantasised, he could persuade Jess and Jill into a threesome with him, and leave Magnussen destroyed. Yeah, like a real Alpha. Four boobs on him. Four hands exploring his quads and pecs. Two pussies eager for his Alpha cock. It sounded like a road accident outside the gym. Bench press. Barbell. Heavy. Pump. Gains. Jack, on the other side, was a true friend. A real bro. Someone to rely on and trust. Fucking awesome stud, even if he hadn't got the same gains as Cody and Magnussen. If he and Jack had been gay, Cody had been willing to give head to Jack, but since they both now were straight as an arrow, that would never happen. Jill had called Jack and Cody 'a bromance' a couple of times, what that was supposed to mean. Everyone seemed to like Jack. Cody watched Jack help Tim over at the old fashioned pec-dec machine. Tiny Tim. Bench press. Barbell. Heavy. Pump. Gains. Cody couldn't understand why Jack had to drag that little runt to the gym. Tim's presence just delayed their training schedule. Even if he was beginning to get the knack of how the machines worked, Tim hadn't used the free weights much, and he didn't achieve any gains to speak of. Subcutaneous fat was not the problem: Tiny Tim's abs were already visible when Jack brought him to the gym the first time, but it seemed like the shy kid couldn't pack on any brawn. Fuck! The little shrimp was, what was it, 20? But he looked like a scrawny 16 year old. Tiny Tim was dragging Jack and Cody down at the gym, but Cody hadn't been able to persuade Jack to leave Tim at the dorm. Fuck the little bugger. Bench press. Barbell. Heavy. Pump. Gains. Jack went to fetch a glass of water, and left tiny Tim in the pec-dec machine close to Cody. He could hear commotion and kerfuffle downstairs and in the next room. A weird sound like a high-voltage electric current. It almost sounded like the women downstairs came. And men with deep voices having fun. Weird. Ought he to check out what was happening? The attention of everyone else turned to the entrance. Cody had a schedule to follow: Bench press. Barbell. Heavy. Pump. Gains. He returned the barbell to the rack. In the doorway into this room stood a man... a being... ...who would normally have seemed displaced, since he looked like something out of a sword-and-sorcery film. Normally, a muscular dude wearing a leather harness, a leather jockstrap, furs and boots would look camp and cheesy. Normally. The towering being that gazed at the gym members in the room was beyond normality and beyond everyday life: It exuded power – unlimited physical and supernatural power, and it knew it, as it watched the now shocked gym members. The short hair on its head was a sort of golden blond. Its steel-hard muscle mass bulged in all directions, arrogantly exposing its naked, sun-tanned flesh. It was surrounded by an overwhelming nimbus of martial virtue, masculinity beyond all limitations and an expectation to be obeyed by everyone. Its eyes were ice blue and commanding. Cody's mind began a silent insane ramble: YES! THAT was what he would like to achieve. He had aimed at the impossible: Though he was impressed by bodybuilders from the past, like Schwarzenegger who made all these cool old action films with bad special effects, and though he was impressed by modern mass monsters like Jay Cutler, Justin Compton and Dallas McCarver, he dreamed about going far beyond the results of these men, but he had never been able to visualise his ideal goals in any clear way. Now, the man... the Being... which stood in the doorway, looked like the embodiment of his innermost yearnings and most secret imagination. Cody shivered. Slowly, rational thought crawled through the throbbing, feverish and aroused revelry, which was his inner monologue: What was this man, this Being, this man-god doing at the gym? What was it doing here? How was this in any sense possible? Naked, sun-tanned flesh. Masculinity beyond all limitations. Unlimited physical and supernatural power. Cody moaned. He could hear Jack letting out a yelp. Even tiny Tim moaned. The Being did a side-chest. The eyes of all present persons widened. The Being faced Jess and Jill. It made a suggestive thrust of its hips, and the sound similar to high-voltage electricity, that Cody had heard earlier, was repeated. Two currents of unknown and unholy energies emitted from the Being's crotch, zapped Jill and Jess between their legs, and the girls sank down on their training benches, their eyes rolled up in the skull, their bodies spasmodically twitching, and their mouths emitting feminine noises of excitement. The lights in the ceiling went out, but the dim light from outdoor street lamps fell in from the windows. The room became illuminated by a greenish, sort of, phosphorescent light. Cody felt hurt. He, not the Being, was the one who would take Jess and Jill to formerly unknown heights of pleasure. But at the same he was impressed. He wanted to be like the Being, to take part in its power, to share its essence. The Being waved its hand, and the gym disappeared. It felt like a dream. He was outdoors. It looked like a vast natural reserve, the sea not far away. Brooks running through the landscape with fish. Forests, but not very thick forests. Tall powerful men from the past in armed combat. Men like him, or, rather, men like he wanted to be. Loyal friends, protecting each other in battle. Hunters... Oh fuck! Hunters defeating large predators with large teeth with their bare hands... Alpha's of today looked insignificant to these men from the past. And then the sound of waves. Waves rolling in. A wave of water. A... that sort of... a wall of water, what's it called? A tsunami. He was back at the gym. By the look of their faces, his male friends all had seen the vision. Their female friends were still spasming on the training benches. "Men of the younger world." It was the first time the god-man Being spoke since its arrival to the gym. Its voice suited the way it looked: Deep, very deep, resonant. A battle cry and the promise of male voluptiousness. "Men of the younger world. I have shown you the glory, that once was Anghra-Lemur, but which is now The Sunken Hundred. I have returned over the gulfs of time and space. The powers of Anghra-Lemur are rising, and they will leaven the present world, and throw it away. I am the present embodiment of Kortoth-Gnaah, war god of Anghra-Lemur. I embody the power of thousand thunder gods. I embody the power of thousand sun heroes. Mine is the war frenzy. Mine is the battle cry. I fill brave men with duty. I fill the humble fighters with courage. I wipe the cowards and the evildoers away. I will allow Anghra-Lemur to rise again, because the time is at hand. But I need the raw material for the new men of Anghra-Lemur. I need those willing and those suitable, to become like the warriors of the forgotten time. My strength will permeate the chosen. My power will pervade the willing. My thew will saturate the suitable, and I will bestow upon them the divine powers of the forgotten god-heroes. I am Kortoth-Gnaah. I am willing to bestow all this." It seemed like all of the men were held under a spell, making it impossible to talk, only to think. The Being turned around, watching all of them. Cody's heart raced. YES! To hell with the bloody modern world. Some sort of Conan-world came crashing in. He couldn't comprehend how or why or what, but he knew one thing: He wanted to be in. Kortoth-Gnaah, wargod of Anghra-Lemur, watched Jack a few seconds. Then he stretched out his big hands in the direction of Jack. A green glow intensified around his hands, and then a powerful beam emitted and engulfed Jack in a sea of green, translucent, crackling power. Jack regained his ability to speak. "FUCK! So good! Can't believe it! Fuck! Look at me! My size! Growing! Can't believe it! Pump! Power! Pleasure! These biceps! Fuck! My traps, my back, my...! Oh! So good! Empower me, Master! Imbue me with... Nnnn. Fucking... Can't... Master... Growing..." Jack's rambling words turned into yelps, moans and grunts as he became taller, heavier and more muscled. Jack tensed, flexed, grew, his eyes staring in disbelief, and clothes from The Sunken Hundred materialising around him." Cody's heart was a sledge-hammer. Fuck, yes. Best friend. Jack. Bro. Becoming like a fucking Conan, a fucking He-Man... No! Far, far beyond those imaginary characters! Bro, becoming... Cody couldn't find words. And soon, Cody thought, it was his turn to receive the same blessing. He shivered. His cock throbbed. He was still pumped from the workout, and his antecipation was growing. Soon. Like Jack. Or The Being. Like Kortoth-Gnaah. Big. Big beyond measure. Jack was still growing beside the water vending, when Korgoth-Gnaah turned his attention to other parts of the room. Cody looked in disbelief, when Kortoth-Gnaah faced Magnussen. No? It couldn't be possible? Not the man who stole Jess from him. The green glow around Kortoth-Gnaah's big hands grew again, and a beam struck Magnussen, who began to grow in the same manner as Jack had done. Magnussen reverted to his native language, which sounded as a string of guttural sounds, which probably fitted the situation quite well. Fuck. He hadn't connected Danes and vikings before, but Magnussen was turning into – perhaps not what vikings actually looked like – but into the popular imagination about them. It wasn't fair. Not Magnussen! Not the one who distract Jess. Jess... She was returning to consciousness, and saw what happened to Magnussen. When the transformation reached climax, she ran to Magnussen, put her arms around his waist, pressed herself close to him, and shouted: "Fill me with your little viking babies!" He would have his revenge. Soon, very soon, their Master would turn his attention in Cody's direction, and he would have the same brutal power, the same strength, or even more of it, and he would show Magnussen who's the Alpha among the Master's housecarls. Soon. Kortoth-Gnaah turned around. He looked in the direction of Cody. Cody smirked. He braced himself. He couldn't imagine how it would feel, but he knew it would be better than anything he could imagine, if the behaviour of Jack and Magnussen was anything to go for. Soon. Naked, sun-tanned flesh. Soon. Steel-hard muscle mass bulging in all directions. Soon. He could see the green shimmer building up around Kortoth-Gnaah's big hands again, as he watched Cody. YES! MASTER! ME! SOON! Masculinity beyond all limitations. Soon! The green flames intensifying. Cody closed his eyes and smiled. Soon. Unlimited physical and supernatural power. Soon. Cody swallowed, and braced himself for the incoming impact of the transforming, empowering rush of supernatural force. Soon. Nothing happened, but he could hear the familiar crackling sound of unnameable and unholy power in the air close to his bench. He opened his eyes. NO! Not tiny Tim! Not the shrimp. Not the scrawny hardgainer. Not the little runt. The little runt wasn't a little runt, anymore. A broad-shouldered behemoth bellowed in the pec-dec machine with his legs broad apart. Things didn't go as Cody had expected, and he fell into dark despair: An icy cold awareness arose that he wasn't one of The Master's chosen. Chapter Three is here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13105-professor-schnackenburgs-mistake-chapter-three/

I dedicate this story to GiganticBeast, who asked for something similar to this: Professor Schnackenburg's mistake Chapter One He remembered how Ms. Giraud had presented him to his former tutor, Assistant Professor Smith, in the past: "Mr. Schnackenburg – B.A., archaeology student and expert in the occult." They had both watched one of the Indiana Jones films recently, and Josephine ... Ms. Giraud ... already had a sense of humour he had found himself appreciating. Ms. Giraud! Jet black hair, intelligent gaze, great sense of humour. In Schnackenburg's opinion, she had thrown away her excellent talent for archaeology, when she settled for a purely administrative post at the Department for Archaeology. On the basis of the quality of her Masters thesis, she could have been one of the great names in the field, if she had published a PhD thesis. Nor could he understand her preferences, when it came to men. She had never married, and none of her affairs seemed to last or lead to anything enduring, but Schnackenburg had been invited to uncomfortable dinners with her so many times, encountering a string of her several boyfriends: A marine, a builder, a policeman, a sailor. Even a professional bodybuilder once. Not the typical consort to bring to formal university dinners. What was Josephine supposed to speak about with any latest fling? Not strontium analysis of fossil teeth, that's for sure. Hell! Some of these men had upper arms as wide as his legs! It was good for his career, that he had generally hid his personal interest in the occult: It wouldn't have been good for his reputation, if his membership in The Order of the Rosary Cube and Calix Gradalis had been publicly known. Who would trust the scientific rigour of someone, who spent hours in weird meditations? Though the meditation practices had been useful in order to reach heightened awareness, his scholarly sense of critical evaluation had always kept him suspicious of the baseless legends about sunken continents. We now know about plate tectonics: There is no place in real pre-history for sunken continents like Atlantis, or Lemuria in the Indian Ocean, or Mu in the Pacific. After his PhD, he had specialised in two fields: Mesolithic Europe and deciphering unknown scripts, and he now read Linear A, Indus Valley script and Easter Island script fluently. He had never thought, that these two fields would ever converge. The Doggerbank excavation changed all that. Even if he didn't dive himself, he was responsible for the entire project, and he gave the divers – some of them his postgraduate students – careful instructions how to avoid any damage to the finds. When Brock McGurgan, a good-looking blond Canadian student of his, returned to the surface with the tablets and the bronze sword, Schnackenburg understood, that something sensational was going on. It had now been three years since the Doggerbank excavation. He could still remember the scent of the salt sea and seaweed, and he could remember how the hair on his forearms turned into goosebumps when he saw the greenish-gold hints of bronze. He could still remember the sight of the broad-shouldered MacGurgan taking the diving suit off. Doggerland had been a lowland island (but not a continent) that actually was flooded and drowned in the North Sea between Scotland and Norway during the Stone Age, leaving Dogger Bank under the sea level. The hunter-gatherers of Doggerland were not expected to have known farming or metalwork, nor to have any script or alphabet. A bronze sword and stone tablets written with some sort of text turned all expectations on their head. It had now been three years. MacGurgan had assisted him in cleaning the stone tablets, and the lad felt like a son to him. Schnackenburg looked forward to read MacGurgan's PhD, which was soon expected to reach completion: Bronze technology in Doggerland Culture: A revaluation of the Atlantic period. MacGurgan's enthusiasm and cheerfulness lightened up hard work on pollen analysis or dendrochronology. Outside campus, Schnackenburg had once seen another side of MacGurgan, which was hard to reconcile with Schnackenburg's general impression of his student: A drunkard had knocked over MacGurgan's beer by mistake, and the student had over-reacted and beaten the culprit several times. It felt like a block of ice in his gut, when Schnackenburg recollected the image of MacGurgan's undoubtly handsome face disfigured in a grimace of unbridled wrath, his ice blue eyes burning. It was like he didn't know the promising young man he thought he knew so well. Schnackenburg dismissed the memory, and turned his recollection to the hard work and great assistance of MacGurgan in the work on the Doggerland Tablets, as they were now known. Schnackenburg had spent hours upon hours with the tablets. No key to the code. No Rosetta stone. Sometimes, in late hours after worktime it had felt like the tablets spoke to him with ghostlike hollow voices: Howlings of forgotten wraiths and souls adoring long-forgotten unnameable gods. He had checked the results again and again, and forwarded the PDF to MacGurgan, who anyhow wouldn't understand the real-life implication of the translation. Double checked. Triple checked. Was it really possible? Was it decipherable? Could it really mean, what he thought that it meant? "Archaeology professor and expert in the occult". His profession and his hidden hobby merged. The silence of the night hours turned into the sound of his pulse in his ears. Hissing. Throbbing. The city outside the window, lit windows in high rise buildings. Strewn with stars. The weight of millennia resting on his shoulders. Still some scent of seaweed, which didn't seem to go away from the tablets. * * * Brock MacGurgan worked late. He had a deadline on his PhD, and his assistance concerning the Doggerland Tablets took up a lot of his thoughts. Wouldn't it be amazing if Professor Schnackenburg really broke the code of the tablets? What if they were close to the solution? And the sword... There was something with the sword, that spoke to MacGurgan on a deep level. Heroes. Fights. Combat. Victory. Old myths of stormgods battling reptilian elder gods. Old myths of solar heroes protecting mankind. The sort of texts one would expect to find in ancient civilisations. He had seen the Professor staring at the tablets so many times, enchanted by the impossible finds. Similar to the way he himself became more and more deeply enchanted by the sword. Fights. Heroes. With hands covered in gloves, he had taken the sword out of its glass showcase. It now laid unprotected on his writing desk. Bronze sword. Fights. Heroes. Sword of Anghra-Lemur. Wait? Where did that word come from? He wasn't the poetical type of person who invented things, even if he had been an avid reader of sword-and-sorcery novels as a teenager, and watched the children's programme He-Man in primary school. ...Sword of Anghra-Lemur... Stop hallucinating. Stop imagining things. Probably best to stop working late. He needed some coffee. A ping in his computer. Better check it later. After the coffee. Brock MacGurgan took his baseball jacket and walked in the direction of the espresso machine. * * * Schnackenburg trembled. The translation must have turned his rational faculties into a mess. It couldn't be possible. But if it was? His instincts as a trained occultist screamed at him. To avoid the unhallowed relics of unnameable powers. To run. To put the tablets and the sword under lock and key. Or to use it. Use it to prove himself to Ms. Giraud... Josephine. The powers of sunken Doggerland... The powers of Anghra-Lemur! The powers of Kortoth-Gnaah, war god of Anghra-Lemur! When he reached the glass showcase he stared in disbelief. Empty? But the only two having access to the sword were himself and MacGurgan? Frowning, he walked in the direction of MacGurgan's study. A bookshelf with standard works in archaeology. The Bell Beaker Phenomenon. Renfrew. Mallory. Svante Pääbo. Souvenirs from diving expeditions hang on the wall, beside a diploma from a Junior Men's Physique competition. A single task light was lit over the writing desk. The stump of a cigar was lying in an ashtray. MacGurgan's computer was working. The sword was there, but not MacGurgan. Schnackenburg felt as in a fever dream. He picked up the sword, and walked up the spiral stairs. * * * He really needed that espresso. MacGurgan returned to his study. He had to check that e-mail. He opened it. A PDF. A breakthrough. A hypothetical translation: He froze in his position. His blond hair tingled as of fear. He swallowed. He had imagined the word Anghra-Lemur before the e-mail arrived. An atmosphere of unreality lowered itself. Unconsciously and involuntarily he continued: The translation went on and on. The ancient Doggerlendings must have been a warrior culture, similar to the ancient Irish, the ancient Welsh and the Vikings. And they called their island or islands Anghra-Lemur. And the sword... MacGurgan looked for the sword. The sword was gone! MacGurgan had to calm down. What would he do? What would Professor Schnackenburg say? What would happen to his career? He had left the sword unsupervised. And it was gone! He lit a cigar to calm his nerves. No ancient item that could be harmed by the smoke anyhow. He tried to relax, and sat with his faded blue denim jeans in a wide manspread, his trainers resting on the floor. Deep breath. Some cigar smoke. Some espresso. The doors were locked. No one could enter. It was then he heard it. The impossible chanting sound from the spiral staircase leading to the tower room used for honorary social occasions. What in hell was going on? MacGurgan's worry began to turn into irritation. An intruder? Here? His archeological find? He rose from the chair. All his 6 feet 1 inches. He was still wearing his baseball jacket. Some nutcase had to be disarmed and handed over to the police. And Brock MacGurgan was just the right person to do it. * * * The dome gave the tower room a certain atmosphere, and the starry wisdom of the night sky looked down through the circular glass window over his head, but Schnackenburg was deeply in trance while he recited the more than 7000 year old enchantment, invoking preternatural forces which had been left slumbering for millennia. The scent of incense and the flickering light of the wax candles created a mood very far from the sherry imbibing receptions usually held in the tower room. Flickering light. Whisps of incense smoke. Shadows and starlight weavering into something unsettling and unspeakable. "Ye powers of blood and fang! Ye powers of brawn and brutality! Ye nameless ancestors of ancestor-warriors! Ye swordsmen who do not shun the name 'barbarian'! Servants of Kortoth-Gnaah, open ye the gates for the bloodstained war god of Anghra-Lemur, prepare the chosen vessel for divine power, let the ancient powers bestow their gift of prowess and might, as it was foretold! May the sinking of Anghra-Lemur be undone! May the white cliffs of Anghra-Lemur rise over the northen waves! May the last remnant of Atlantis return! May the last remnant of Lemuria the Ancient rise! May the unnameable powers assist me! I invoke Dagon!" One part of Schnackenburg was fully immersed in the powerful invocation. Something happened. The shadows in the room were more dense now. He could sense invisible eyes watching him. The stars shone intensely through the tower window, but not the stars of our time, but the bright night sky of an bygone, lost and forgotten age, far exceeding the 7000 years, that had gone since the sea level rose over Doggerland. Over Anghra-Lemur. Another part of Schnackenburg was silently screaming to him to stop. The dangers, if the invocation really worked, were unforeseeable, and only an insane man would try the attempt to force the elder powers. The cadences of primordial hymns and invocations of another aeon drowned any silent protest in his soul. Primordial hymns reaching out to creatures unknown to modern man. The third part of Schnackenburg's mind was ecstatically excited: He should prove himself to Josephine! He would intimidate any potential boyfriend she may have going for the moment. he would far, far exceed the prowess he secretly admired in young MacGurgan. He would become something beyond human limitations! He would... His pulse murmured and throbbed in his head. Something else throbbed inside his trousers. Arcane power began to tingle in his palms, as he stretched out his hands over the bronze sword on the table before him. Power streaming into the blade, renewing it, empowering it. * * * MacGurgan couldn't believe his eyes. Professor Schnackenburg performed some sort of occult ritual in the tower room, and there was an eerie feeling spreading, more and more intensely. The cigar dangled in his mouth. The baseball jacket couldn't hide his fit – but not extravagantly big – chest. The rubber soles of his trainers caused a squeaking sound on the highly polished marble floor. He braced himself to do something, but the murmuring and droning sound of the witches' rune lullied himself into a trance-like state, and the translation, that had burned into his mind when he had read it on the computer screen, rose from the depths of his memory, as the forgotten creatures of Anghra-Lemur were rising from the maritime depths and the dark abyss of time. Soon, he and Schnackenburg were chanting in unison, and there was nothing MacGurgan could do to stop it. "I invoke Cthulhu! Intervene in dread! I invoke Shub-Niggurath, the goat with the thousand young! Spread the air of revel and ecstacy! I invoke Yog-Sothoth, who is the Key and is the Gate! Open the gulfs of time and space! Cause the powers of ancient Anghra-Lemur to return! May, on the chosen vessel, the powers descend: The powers of Kortoth-Gnaah, war god of Anghra-Lemur!" MacGurgan was out of his mind now. He had a big lump in his throat. He felt very cold and very hot. His pulse was rising. Earlier in the evening he had been absorbed in wordless reverie over the Doggerland sword. It has spoken to him. It had allured to him. Beckoned to him. The sword of Kortoth-Gnaah. Schackenburg was unaware of MacGurgan's presence. "Kortoth-Gnaah! Kortoth-Gnaah! Kortoth-Gnaah!" Schnackenburg was close to the brink of it now. The men of Anghra-Lemur would walk the earth again, and he would be the one who bestowed it to them: The ancient power of the war god. He couldn't imagine how it would feel, how... "Kortoth-Gnaah! Kortoth-Gnaah! Kortoth-Gnaah!" ... how the power of supernaturally endowed stone age warriors would course in his veins, how... "Kortoth-Gnaah! Kortoth-Gnaah! Kortoth-Gnaah!" The next moment, McGurgan snapped the sword away from the table, outside his tutor's physical reach. MacGurgan swallowed. When he came into physical contact with the cold and heavy bronze he could feel a tingling feeling spreading from it into his body. The hair on his head and arms bristled intensely. His eyes widened. He couldn't believe it! He couldn't... "Kortoth-Gnaah! KORTOTH-GNAAH! KORTOTH-GNAAH!" He bellowed the name of the war god, eagerly lifted his sword above his head, and the next second the power of the ancient gods streamed into him. Immaterial thunder bolts rushed through the window in the ceiling. Engulfed him. Absorbed him and formed him anew. Transmuted him. * * * Schnackenburg had been too immersed in the chanting, to react in time to MacGurgans unforeseen action. Staring in disbelief, he could see MacGurgan surrounded by supernatural power beyond imagination, and a cold feeling of fear paralysed Schnackenburg, when he realised, that the chosen vessel was someone else. Remorse, envy and admiration competed within himself when he watched his favourite student become something more than human. Exhausted and destitute of any remaining mental strength, he fell to the floor. * * * MacGurgan couldn't believe it, but the being wasn't entirely Brock MacGurgan any longer, even if they still shared some memories and personality traits. His quads and hamstrings were filled by power from the forgotten Gulf of N'kai. Strength of thousand war gods, thousand thunder gods and thousand solar heroes was poured into his brawn, as if he had been a vessel, and this eager and willing vessel received the blessings, moaning and grunting as his brawn engorged all over his body: Veins spread, his biceps and triceps underwent undreamed hypertrophy, his trapezius deserved the description godlike, and he still expanded in every direction, now far exceeding the height of 6 feet 7 inches. He roared. He bellowed. He demonstrated his superiority to the mere human being who once had been his tutor. He watched the feeble creature: It wasn't worthy to worship him. He became immersed in visions of bygone Anghra-Lemur: Powerful men clad in hides strode over lowland plains proving their valour to each other in combat, and brutal hunters wrestled sabre-toothed cats and mammoths with their bare hands. Some of the same men were bestowed the strength of the gods, by the means once known in Lemuria and Atlantis. The power still accumulated within him. Filling him. Empowering him. Fire-mist descended. Fire-mist enveloped him. Fire-mist penetrated, filled and charged him. He became fire-mist. The immaterial flames of the elder gods reached into his soul, crushed his childhood memories into fragments, but out of the fragments and out of the collective memory of Doggerland, it formed something anew: No subcutaneous fat remained. His now bulging presence was cut and defined beyond imagination. Straps of leather materialised over his shoulders, and formed an X over his V-shaped torso. A leather jockstrap and some furs covering his glutes materialised out of thin air, and he realised that he was wearing pre-historical boots. A belt around his narrow waist carried a bronze buckle with the ancient seal of Kortoth-Gnaah. The thunderbolts increased in intensity. Physical heftiness filled him and became him. In the forge of the divine armourer aggression, dominance and lust melted into one, and he could feel his dick throb inside his leather jockstrap. The god of the barbarians walked the earth anew. The power was his. The might and the force. Brawn beyond comprehension. Mindless orgasmic bliss enrapt him when he felt his physical prowess, and he didn't know for how long he had been entranced. When he returned to any awareness of his surroundings, he watched the mortal on the floor. With a smirk, he performed a double biceps, watching the mortal on the floor. It moaned, spasmed, and a wet stain formed on its leg-clothes. Someone else entered the tower room. The dark silhouette of a woman against the light from the hallway. The mortal looked in her direction. "Josephine? What are you doing here?" "I was returning some files, when I heard thunder from the tower. I..." The female mortal fell silent. The vessel of Kortoth-Gnaah watched her in silence. Then he flexed his biceps again, thrust his hips in a suggestive way, and a current of power crossed the room, connecting the groin of the being and the groin of the female. She moaned loudly, and fell to the floor with a smile, unaware of her surroundings. The being didn't deign to behold any of the mortals, and left the town room. It was on a mission. It would let Anghra-Lemur rise again, and some selected few in this monstrous city of concrete, steel and glass were going to be transformed into warriors of the elder days. When it roamed the streets, it could absent-mindedly hear shouts in panic and rushing steps disappearing. It could hear transport vessels crash into each other, but it was of no concern. It needed the raw material suitable to become warriors of Anghra-Lemur. It found a night-open gym and a leather bar on the same street. It had found its raw material. Soon, the power of Kortoth-Gnaah would enrapt and transform them into suitable servants of Kortoth-Gnaah, war god Anghra-Lemur. The present world was doomed. The elder days would reappear in frenzy, mindless violence and voluptious pleasure. You will find Chapter Two here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13095-professor-schnackenburgs-mistake-chapter-two/