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It is very hard to keep any level of originality within the MG genre. This short one is fairly similar to Project Defender and The third report. On the other hand, those of you who like The accident, might find these two other stories fun reading. The accident "Larson, will you please close the vault door?" Larson, the lab assistant, ensured himself, that the test subjects were standing on safety distance from the massive door, and pressed the button. The machinery began to hum. More than twelve centimetres of rubber-coated steel with inserted lead-plates closed behind the test subjects, and the massive cylinders of the lock sealed the chamber hermetically from the outer world. The voice of Dr. Freudenberger turned to address the Brigadier: "The safety mechanisms are rigourous. When the door is locked, and the contrapment is set to active mode, the door will not open again, until the procedure has run the entire protocol. In the beginning, safety concerns for the test subjects weighed against this solution, but workplace safety for the research team, which dwell in the presence of the chamber much more often than the test subjects, weighed in favour of this solution. For every experiment with a living human specimen, the team run dozens of experiments on organic samples." There were three test subjects inside: Swanson, Korhonen and Rasmussen, and the medical team wanted to compare the individual reactions of the specimens to the procedure. It was the third treatment of these servicemen, and all three had reacted very well to the first treatment, at least from a purely tactical point of view. Larson was worried, from a non-tactical point of view. The armed forces of the three neighbouring countries wanted to enhance strength, speed and resilience of their special forces, but Larson thought, that the other team members and the officers responsible didn't take other aspects in consideration. From an academic angle, it was amazing to be a part of a team of international specialists from several backgrounds in medicine and physics, but it was also slightly unsettling and humiliating to be in the presence of all these fit and confident young men from the special operations units. Larson was short and lean, and though he lukewarmly spent some time at the gym each week, he never got any results. He knew, that he was a competent expert in his field of research, but the asserting behaviour of their test subjects caused him to feel shy, inadequate and uncomfortable, when they were around. Korhonen was rather nice: A big, stocky Finlander with a great sense of humour on the rare occasions he chose to talk, but Swanson and Rasmussen had given expression to a rather smug and roughhousing sense of humour, when they ate lunch with Larson in the cafeteria. It didn't seem like the improved performance had caused Swanson and Rasmusson to become less arrogant – rather the opposite. They were impressive. There was no doubt about that. They had already been impressive, before any of them had undergone any treatment, but the repeated and gradually more intense exposure to the procedure had turned the three soldiers into beings who could have stepped out of a bodybuilder's fever dream or a drill-sergeant's homoerotic reveries. They were now around two metres tall. According to readings from the chamber, the third treatment was now increasing their weights to between 160 kilogrammes (in the case of Swanson) and 200 kilogrammes (in the case of Korhonen). Their upper arms were well beyond 60 centimetres at the end of their second treatment, and the team was now able to watch their arms grow further at a visible speed. And these colossal chests! * * * A few days later, Larson was running a few routine experiments with organic samples, while the rest of the team was preoccupied in the lab next door. As the assignment was fairly standard and humdrum, he was becoming absent-minded, and was taken with surprise, when the door closed behind his back. It was Korhonen and Swanson, which was strange. "Oh hello. Didn't expect you here today. I thought you would find it boring to watch me work?" "There was a gap in our schedule." It was Swanson who spoke. Korhonen stood silent and looming inside the closed door. Larson's feeling of awkwardness returned in the presence of the impossibly powerful soldiers. Their camo trousers were green in several shades of green. Their impeccably polished army boots shone glossily. Army tank tops struggled to contain their V-shaped (or, in the case of Korhonen, bear-shaped) torsos, and he could see the visible outline of their six-packs through the fabric. The sides of their heads were clean-shaven. Swanson had left a jarhead buzzcut of golden stubble on the top of his head, while Korhonen sported a tow-haired short mohawk. Their repeated treatment inside the chamber had caused their jaws to become powerful. Larson possibly let his imagination run away with him, because he had read their test-results, but he could swear, that the testosterone-level in the room increased because of the presence of the two special operatives. Larson felt inferior. "Just allow me to expose this sample, okey? We can chat while the equipment run the protocol." Larson entered the chamber, and put the petri-dish on the allotted surface. What happened next, released thousand thoughts in an instance, and panic rose. The security door closed, and he could hear the cylinders move into place in the robust lock with a loud click. He was well aware of the safety mechanism, and he could hear the machinery warm up for the scheduled exposure of the organic sample on the small table. The presence of an un-scheduled unsuitable human specimen never meant for processing was neither acknowledged, nor of any concern. The equipment wouldn't switch off and cool down, until the procedure has run the entire protocol. Panic overwhelmed him, as he heard the hoses emit gas with increasing fervency: The nanite gas with the DNA-altering substances. He tried to hold his breath, but even without the rising feelings of terror, he couldn't have kept his breath for the entire time anyhow. The formula entered his lungs, entered his bloodstream. Larson screamed. He could see Korhonen and Swanson outside, standing with their camo-clad legs wide apart, and with their bulging arms crossed over their massive chests. Swanson tried to say something, but Larson couldn't hear any words through the thick and green-tinted security-glass fortified with a metal net. Korhonen tried to use body language. Pointing at Swanson. Pointing at the button, which closed the door. "Pressed". Pointed at Larson. A gesture with his arms, like someone was flying? No: Growing. And then pointing at Larson. Korhonen smiled and made a thumbs up. Swanson smiled, too. There was smugness in that smile. Larson couldn't take it in. Everything he knew was fear. The humming was thunderous now. Humming. Thunder. The next second, energy erupted and hit every cell in his body. The hypnotic program began to run, and letters ran rapidly on the glass. Subliminal letters. Reprogramming him. The hypnotic subliminals burrowed deep into his soul. Fear waned away. The unit took his program in, and accepted it. The enhancement happened. The unit embraced change eagerly. The unit was proud to be enhanced. Proud to be a specimen. It took a couple of deep breaths and inhaled more of the gas, that filled the chamber. The unit knew, that the gas would make it more enhanced, and increase its abilities. The unit's brothers in arms stood outside, and looked pleased. It felt good to cause it's brothers in arms to look pleased. The unit was bigger now. It adjusted its stance, but, even then, its legs were beginning to rub each other. It felt funny, but it was of no concern. The unit was eager to become an enhanced soldier. With his brothers in arms. They stood outside. They looked more than pleased now. They looked proud. And amazed. Its brothers in arms were in awe of the unit's progress. Triceps rested at wide, huge and firm lats, causing the unit's arms to hang wide at its sides. The unit could feel its back harden, widen, become indurated. The hypnotic subliminals continued to scroll swiftly in blue, phosphorescent letters on the glass. It felt good to take the programming in. Assess. Protect. Defend. Neutralise. Fight. The upper arms felt so hard now, bulging obscenely, and probably approached the same size as the brothers in arms outside. Or even overshadowing them. Bigger! Yes! Even bigger! Huge! Brawn! The chest felt engorged, and impossibly pumped. Present. Assertive. In control. Dominant. Superior. Scientists entered. Scientists panicked. One of them staring wildly, not knowing what to do. Not in control. Undecided. Unlike the unit. The unit felt in control. It accepted the procedure. It allowed the procedure to run the entire protocol. The door wouldn't open until then. The unit was ready to stay inside until entire protocol had run. Proud to be enhanced. Improving himself. A scientist pounded weakly with his bare fists against the security glass. Another one pressed buttons on a display. Didn't they know, that the glass was in place for security reasons? Didn't they know, that the door wouldn't open. Until the procedure has run the entire protocol. Its brothers in arms forced the unnecessarily upset civilians out of the room, and locked the door. One of them changed the contrapment's settings. The power buzzed more intensely now. The gas hissed louder now. Something else happened. The unit was dimly aware, that it had known what would happen in a dim and distant past, but it couldn't remember. So long ago. Another person. Another man. Another unit, then. It was now becoming what it was programmed for. It was becoming bigger than its brothers in arms. It felt good. Confidence and superiority grew. Physique grew. Strength grew. Granite-hard muscle-tissue grew. Steel-hard brawn grew. Power grew. So big now! Power was crammed into its body. Irrupting its muscle fibres. The body was a passive receptacle of raw, pure, undiluted, masculine POWER! One of its brothers in arms was wide-eyed now, and had to sit down on a chair outside the treatment chamber. The other one watched the empowerment inside the chamber happen, with a broad smile at his face. The unit was immersed in the process of empowerment. It now towered over its brothers in arms, and its muscle mass far overshadowed their prowess. It inhaled the testosterone of its own sweat, that filled the chamber. Its heartbeat drummed inside its ears, and was felt at its temples, but there was no end to the process, yet. Not until the procedure has run the entire protocol. Every cell of the unit's body was bombarded by relentless strength-inducing POWER, and it inhaled the very eruptions of that raw POWER. Becoming power. Becoming mass. Becoming a mountain of hefty indomitable meat. Titanic prowess. Bulging steel. An engorged, cocksure being of behemothic power-mass. The unit was no longer aware of it, but, outside, its brothers in arms were increasing the effect of the procedure even further. It wasn't aware of it any longer, as it moaned. It grunted. It roared and bellowed in power-crazed abandon. All it knew was the irrupting force, the increasing magnitude, the cumulation of growth, the swelling fibres, the hypertrophic gains, the exploding mass and the unlimited power, as it increased in a never-ending spiral upwards. Raw. Pure. Undiluted. Masculine ... POWER! The procedure wouldn't stop. Not until it had run the entire protocol.

Pardon the tags... what I've written so far is mostly set up at the moment. I'd like to get some constructive feedback before I continue. Please refrain from calling out my punctuation mistakes. Otherwise let me know if I should continue. I understand that so far this plot has been done like a million different times...but honestly nowadays what plot hasn't? Hopefully you can find something unique to my story. Please let me know what you think. Also apologies for the chapters being so short...it looks longer on Microsoft. Chapter 1 I pulled into my driveway and pushed the clicker on my garage opener. As the door slowly slid open I couldn’t help but crack a smile. Suddenly a rough day at work didn’t seem so terrible. My boyfriend of eight years was finally home after a two month work assignment back east. After shutting down the car and grabbing my gym bag I opened the door to my house… and the lights were off. Of course. I could hear the sounds of battle coming from upstairs. I don’t know why I expected him to be waiting for me by the door when I got home… he’s an avid player of this sword and magic computer game he plays with his friends, and the game released an expansion three days before he got home. Of course he didn’t have his gaming computer with him so he had to wait… which I know drove him nuts. I set my bag down by the washing machine and trudged up the stairs to our bedroom. I guided myself by the light blue light coming from my partner’s computer screen in the bedroom. I entered the room quietly. His back was to me and he had his headset on. He was frantically pushing buttons and shouting commands into his mic. “Stack! Stack! Over here…. Ok fast rez this pug over here… never mind we’ll get him later. Drop your A O E and push!” I still can’t translate all his gamer jargon. I waited a couple minutes while he finished his fight. Before he could find a new bad guy to go destroy I turned the lights on. Startled, he quickly turned to face me. His face lit up. Then he turned back to his screen. “Sorry guys, I have to go, Frizzle can you command? Thanks, see ya.” He shut down his game, tossed his headset down, and then proceeded to jump right into my arms. “Oh my god, I missed you so much… my family is terrible!” he exclaimed between kisses. “I missed you too babe,” I replied. “Looks like you managed to find some shopping at least.” He pulled back from our embrace and gave me his goofy smile. God I loved him so much. I set him down so he could parade what he got. “Yeah… so you won’t believe this,” he said excitedly. “I went to this specialty big and tall store and found these!” He pointed to his feet. He was wearing an enormous pair of sneakers. They were at least a few sizes larger than my own size 15 shoes. “check ‘em out… size 20! I never thought I’d find a store that carried them!” I laughed. “You could always try Amazon you know.” Still smiling, he quickly shot me that not-amused look that I knew all too well. “You can’t see them in real life on Amazon before you buy them,” he said pointedly. “You know I like to shop for shoes.” Still laughing I shot back “yeah, well you have no problem special ordering other clothes online.” He reached up and lightly tapped me on the chest. “That’s different… Speaking of which, I got a package today that had this in it,” he said, pointing to the oversized muscle-tank he looked like he was practically drowning in. “Oh, and these.” He lifted up his shirt revealing a pair of workout shorts that looked like pants on him, and untied the waist. The large shorts fell to the floor revealing a jockstrap with a gigantic pouch. The straps hung loosely around his legs and the waist was tied to hold it on his body. He was excited, in more than one way, but of course his thin 5.5 inch cock didn’t fill the giant pouch he had literally tied around his waist. He looked back up at me grinning ear to ear. At that moment he reminded me of a puppy that knew he had done well and was waiting for a treat. “Damn dude!” I told him, playing to his fantasy. “You’re gonna be huge when you grow into those!” “Damn right!” he shot back, smiling. I knew full well there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d ever fit those clothes. I’ve heard of people gaining an extra inch or two of height in their early to mid-twenties… but at 30 years old, even if by some miracle he had a growth spurt, there was no way my 5’4”, 130 lb stud with a size 8 shoe would fill this outfit out. Still, I entertained his fantasy because I love him. As long as I’ve known him he’s been fascinated with everything big. Big height, big muscle, big cock. That’s his motto. That’s why he fell for me so quickly. At 6’5” I’m a tall drink of water, and I’m pretty proud of my bodybuilder physique (it’s so much tougher for us tall guys). With those two traits when he first saw me he went weak in the knees... but when I got him home and he got his eyes on my thick 8.5” piece of meat deal was done. He decided right then and there he was gonna keep me. I must have zoned out just thinking about how I met my man, and how much I loved him and all his quirks all these years later. Because next thing I knew he was waving at me: “Hey…hey… earth to Aaron. Are you going to stand there and stare at me all evening? I love you, but I haven’t had sex in two months. I need your ass.” As was typical when he was wearing his bigger clothes he was the top that night. Chapter 2 He really was a horny little bastard. He shot 4 loads before pulling out, and then still got a fifth off all over my face before collapsing next to me. He leaned over to the nightstand and handed me a rag. “That’s gonna feel so much better when I’m bigger,” he said nonchalantly--still coming down off his orgasm. “I’m gonna open you up like you do me…and it’s going to be awesome when I go to the gym. I’ll walk around the locker room naked with my dick swinging back and forth and everyone will want it. I’ll be buff with pecs like yours and people will ask to feel my arms too. It’ll be awesome to have you be the little spoon for once.” “I can be your little spoon now,” I reassured him. He laughed. “Haha…yeah…but no. I mean I like holding you… but I can’t sleep like that, you’re too wide I can’t reach all the way around you like I’d like to yet. I want to be able to hold you like you hold me.” “But when you’re big, how am I going to keep the other guys off you? Who’s to say that you won’t find a guy that likes your size as much as you like mine? You might not want to keep me then” I teased. He sat up and looked me in the eye: “Aaron, you’re like a shoe that fits me perfectly… I’ll never outgrow you.” He stated seriously. “A shoe? Seriously?” I scolded playfully. “Patrick… I love you but you’re a dork.” I rolled out of bed. “All right big guy, let’s shower and get to bed… you’ve got to be jetlagged.” Chapter 3 The next few weeks went by fairly routinely. That is until one Saturday morning while I was cooking breakfast Patrick shouted down from the bedroom, “Aaron, Aaron come quick!” I hurried up the stairs to see what was the matter. Patrick was absent mindedly stroking his cock with one hand while scrolling down a browser with the other. “What’s up?” I asked. “You’ve got to read this” was his reply. I began scanning the screen. It was the results of a two year research study investigating a compound that was supposed to interact with the endocrine system, inducing height and muscular changes. “This is it… I’m finally going to get big!” Patrick exclaimed. “Wait…what?” I stuttered, trying to run through the page before he got too far ahead of me. “I finally found what I need to get big like you! I told you! I told you I’m gonna get huge like you!” I finished reading the synopsis. “Hold on a sec, guy… this says the study was discontinued early because the compound didn’t have an effect on enough participants. It’s been 3 years. Even then the best case scenario is an “increase of 1-3 inches in height as well as increased musculature, penis size and rigidity”. I quoted. “Honey, you can’t get more rigid… and is 1-3 inches worth any risk?” “Like you said, it’s been 3 years, I’m sure they’ve done more research,” he countered quickly, “and yes…1-3” would be worth it.” He gazed into my eyes with such sincerity and need that I quickly gave in. “If you think it’s what you need to do I’m with you 110%... remember though its 4 injections over the course of a year, so it’s not like you can change your mind.” I said. “I’ll think about it… but I won’t change my mind. I promise.” Chapter 4 Over the next several days I became concerned. Each night when I got home from work Patrick would be upstairs on his computer. Though instead of the usual video game chatter. I’d arrive to silence. I’d wander upstairs, and Patrick would be sprawled out by his desk, head phones in, scrawling through page after page of research. He sit there in his size 20 sneakers and oversized jock, every once in a while moving enough to make a bookmark, and every few hours I’d make him stop and walk downstairs to either eat or get some water. Or anything really…just something to let me know he was still alive. One night I was sitting downstairs watching the latest episode of Gotham when he came downstairs and sat beside me. He snuggled up next to me and after a few minutes simply said “I’m ready.” Patrick managed to book an initial intake appointment a few weeks later. He was nervous, and asked that I go with him. We drove from the suburbs to the address provided, which turned out to be an historic tire warehouse building that had been converted into a laboratory. The outside didn’t look too impressive. Just faded signs painted on the walls probably 80 years ago, a Starbucks on the ground floor, and two purposefully rusty-looking doors with a buzzer and keypad to the right of them. I pressed the buzzer and a voice quickly answered, asking Patrick to confirm his appointment. He did and the door clicked allowing us entry. The interior of the building was markedly different from the outside. It was very brightly lit. Very sterile looking. At the center of the room was a large white circular desk. A young twinkish man who looked like he was maybe a freshman in college sat at the desk. As we approached the desk he checked us both out. Very obviously. He smirked at Patrick, then glanced me over and then fumbled with some paperwork on his desk as we got near. “Hello,” he said. “You must be Patrick. Thank you for coming. Dr. Stevens will be with you shortly.” He turned to me. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name, and I don’t see another appointment at this time.” “Oh no, I’m just here with him,” I replied. The twink gave us a knowing look. “Oh ok, that’s cool. Make yourself comfortable. We have a few chairs and some reading material. Do you need anything to drink?” “Not at the moment. Thank you,” I responded. Patrick finished his questionnaire and we sat down. A few minutes later I saw a man with a clipboard walk down the stairs. He was about 6’2”, with a nice athletic build and short, jet black hair. He was wearing a blue button down shirt and black denim jeans. “Howdy… Patrick?” he asked. Patrick looked up from the fitness magazine he had started to read. Introductions were made and the doctor invited us upstairs. Chapter 5 Dr. Stevens’s office was fairly nondescript. It consisted of a large oak desk, a couple chairs, a computer, a lamp, and a large bookcase full of books and knickknacks. In the center of the bookcase was an urn, next to the urn sat a tiny little barbell and a photo of a child in a wheelchair. I couldn’t tell you the kid’s age. His head too large for his body, which seemed to have little to no musculature at all. He was short, though his hands looked large. Despite all this I couldn’t help but be entertained by the kid’s beaming smile. Whoever was taking the photo obviously meant the world to this young man and you couldn’t look at this photo without seeing it in his expression. “mgm-hmm,” Dr. Stevens coughed. We all took a seat around the desk. “My secretary says you’re quite persistant, Mr.” “Patrick,” my boyfriend chimed in, “and this is my partner Aaron.” “Nice to meet you both, so what can I help you with.” Patrick looked at me for reassurance. I gave him a nod, and he began grinning ear to ear and scooted to the edge of his seat. This seemed to make the doctor uncomfortable for a moment as he shifted in his chair and shot a glance to the urn on his bookshelf. “Sir, three years ago you lead a study on the effects of a certain compound on the endocrine system,” Patrick started. “That study ended early,” the doctor interrupted. “The compound was deemed ineffective on human systems.” Patrick’s grin faded. “Yes, but it wasn’t…” “Wasn’t what?” The doctor was obviously agitated. “If you’d done your research you would have realized that the compound you speak of was only effective in less than 1% of the sample. Even then the effects were insufficient for continued funding. I’m a busy man, do you have a reason for hounding my assistant for days to get an appointment or did you just want me to read the conclusion of my paper for you?” Feeling intimidated, Patrick slouched back into his chair momentarily before standing up and walking towards the door. He was doing his best to fight back tears. I stood to join him, my heart felt heavy looking at my lover’s dejected demeanor. I could see his hope…his dream… falling to pieces in front of me. “It wasn’t a failure,” I said softly while looking straight at Patrick. “You had results. Sure, they weren’t as much as hoped for… but they were results. My partner…my boyfriend…has taken time off work, and has driven over 50 miles for an hour of your time. Sure, it’s a long shot. But from where he’s standing it’s his best shot of attaining the one thing he’s wanted for as long as he could breathe. The entire reason we’re here-- the reason he’s blown up your secretary’s phone and email. Is because he wants… he needs… to explore this opportunity.” Patrick wiped a tear from his cheek, his eyes lit up. He had his fire back. “Sir,” he stated. “Aaron’s right. The study wasn’t a failure. Please give me a chance. Even if it’s a small chance” He looked the doctor squarely in the eye. He spoke with sincerity. With need. “Someday I’m going to be big… like you and Aaron. I know it. I just need help getting there. Please help me.” Dr. Stevens didn’t move. He didn’t say anything. He stared at Patrick as though he’d seen a ghost. Finally he began fiddling with a pen. Squeezing it until his knuckles turned white then releasing it, over and over. He stood up and walked over to the bookcase. Standing in front of the urn with his back to us he finally spoke: “You don’t just stop and start studies willy-nilly. That’s not how professional research works,” he began. “But?” Patrick said quietly. “But,” the doctor turned, “my research has never really stopped to be honest. No, I don’t have any current “subjects” or “trials”, but the scientist in me still looks for the answers I know are out there. I didn’t have enough subjects to truly test out the compound I developed, and funding dried up. My old company blamed faulty research, but it wasn’t. The formula is just very specific. It only affects a fraction of a fraction of the human population—and I have developed a hypothesis that that’s because it affects a specific hormonal genetic marker that only one in several million people have. I don’t have the resources I’d need to prove or disprove that any longer.” “What happens if you get the injection and you don’t have the marker,” I asked. “Nothing,” the doctor sighed. “If it doesn’t work, you may as well have been injected with saline.” “Do… do you still have access to your old formula?” Patrick asked carefully. The doctor looked at him skeptically. “I do.” “Then may I try it?” He continued quickly, “If it doesn’t work, we’ve lost nothing. If it does, we have everything to gain. I’ll sign whatever legal papers I need to absolve you of any liability. I’ll pay you. Please. What can I offer to get your help? I'll do anything.” The pleading look in his eyes spoke louder than words. The doctor sat back down and put his head between his hands. After a few moments he looked up. “I may very well lose my license over this, but I’ll do it. You remind me so much of my brother I’d be ashamed if I said no.” Patrick was so excited his legs gave out. As he sunk to his knees tears streamed down his face. I hurried over to hold him. I’d never seen him so excited. He was shaking. “Oh my god… oh my god,” he kept repeated. “It’s gonna happen! It’s finally gonna happen!” Dr. Stevens took some Kleenex out of his desk drawer. He then picked up the phone and told his assistant to clear his schedule for the evening. He took a couple and handed them to us. He gave us a few minutes for Patrick to collect himself before speaking again. “Ada…I mean Patrick. Now since I’ve agreed to assist you and provide you with the compound, we need to discuss terms. We are going to approach this scientifically. Before we administer the first injection, I need to have you sign some disclosure and consent forms. Also, I want to run a full blood work up on you. I’m certain you won’t be allergic to the formula, I’d just like to have a baseline for your hormone levels. Also, I’m going to need to run a complete physical—including height, weight, musculature, and sexual function. Once that’s complete I can administer the injection. If you react, you should begin to notice some changes within the next three to four days. I ask that you email me if you feel any changes. In the meantime, I will provide you with a diet and exercise plan that you must follow daily. We will schedule a follow up appointment one week from today. If you’re not reacting to the formula no need to come in. If you do have a reaction we will continue to the next phase. Keep in mind that once you receive the injection it’s irreversible.” Patrick looked at me once again for approval. I nodded. “I understand,” Patrick said. “How much do I owe you?” Dr. Stephens smiled. “We’re going to do this right. For this first visit there will be no payment. If you react to the formula, each week I will provide to you a stipend to cover the full cost of anything study related.” “I thought you didn’t have funding.” I said, stunned by his generous offer. “The one exception I’m making for this project is that this particular trial will be paid out of a very special trust fund, if it should be successful” the doctor replied, again glancing at the urn. “Thank you sir,” Patrick said. “Where do I sign?”

The cult of Crom Look here, Agent: I have done nothing wrong. I thought, that "innocent until proven guilty" was a fundamental principle in our country. Isn't it? Freedom of religion is protected in Law. I agree. No one's religion ought to be an excuse for illegal activities, but what sort of illegal activities ... They took a blood sample and a urine sample, when I was brought in, but I am sure, that both will come back negative. Me and my brothers don't do steroids. No need for it. Like what you see, uh? No, I'm not disrespecting you. My pecs twitched involuntarily. Fraud? With all respect, Agent: You don't know what you are talking about. We settled in the same village, because the surrounding society harassed us. We just wanted to be left alone. All brothers assist in the maintenance of the temple building, but we don't have any tithing like some of the mainline denominations. Why don't you go after them instead? Real religion? REAL religion? Who do you think have the right to decide which religion is real? If you ask the Pentecostals, they will tell you, that Catholicism and Islam aren't real religions. If you ask the Hindoos, they will tell you, that something is weird with Abrahamic faiths. If you ask the Moslems, they will give Jews and Christians cred for being "Peoples of the Book", but take a negative view on Buddhists and Pagans. The entire idea of freedom of religion, is that each individual is free to chose his own spiritual path together with others OR in solitude. It is not a matter for the state to decide, and it is damn not for the Security Branch to decide. I was under the impression, that the separation of Church and State is modern policy? But if it is, what am I and my brothers doing here? I see. As I said before: I expect our urine samples to come back negative, and, as far as I know, our licenses for hunting rifles are in order. We hunt for elk and bear during the season when that is legal. Why I joined? Actually, I have followed the movement from the beginning, and, initially, I was just as skeptic as you are now, if that may bring you some relief. It was my friend Mike who began. We were at college together. He was a big, sporty, jockish type of student, but considerably more clever than the average jock. I was short, tiny and brainy, and surprised when he wanted to help me take up weight-training. I was embarrassed in the beginning, but the presence of Mike at my side -- smiling, cheering me, instructing me, protecting me from two of the bullies -- helped me to feel safe, and it didn't take long until I began to notice some modest results, and I liked the feeling of exercise. Not modest any longer? Thank you, Agent. That's nice of you. Yes, I like my gains. You work out yourself? Uh, well, yes, more toned than the average Joe, but no offence, but you probably need to EAT more, especially protein. Keep up the good work, Agent. I didn't mean to discourage you: On the contrary. We brothers of the temple encourage ALL men to work out regularly. It's good for us. Healthy. You connect better to your inner core of masculinity. REAL masculinity. Not the one some people call "toxic". We believe, that men ought to behave honourably. Warm in here? Yes, now when you mention it, Agent, I would appreciate a glass of water. No. Thank you, but no coffee and no fizzy drink. I don't want to ruin my gains. A glass of water would be fine. Ah. You are back. Thank you for the water. Are you supposed to be the "good cop"? When does the "bad cop" arrive? Don't work like that? A TV cliché? I see. Where were we, before you fetched the water? Oh, yes, okey, Mike. As I said: For a jock, Mike was unusually clever. His Dad was brought up within Reform Judaism, but had switched to Buddhism in adulthood. His Mom was Episcopalian, but not frequently practicing, and his parents didn't bother with telling him which religion to chose. My Dad is Catholic and my Mom is Methodist, and they respected my choice, when I turned Agnostic. Actually, they took my conversion to Agnosticism better, than when I told them I'm gay. Don't choke on your coffee, Agent. Are you all right? Surprise? Don't look? Listen, Agent, I don't know from where you get your ideas, but gay men look in many different ways. Don't believe any stereotypes. What did you expect, Sir? Limp wrists, squeaky voice and a mandatory feather boa? Don't be ridiculous. You can't observe it on the outside of people. True, some gay men form cliques and sub-cultures, but don't expect them to be typical for the general bunch of us. Apology accepted. No. No offence taken. Better now? Okey. Shall I continue? I wanted to stay away from any religion: The nastiest ones turn violent, and even the nicer ones seemed so illogical or superstitious to me -- though some of them are good at helping poor people. Mike took a more positive view: He held all religions to have a kernel of truth, and he read mystics from several religious backgrounds. He listened to music from several religions, when he wanted to relax after a workout. I never really understood Mike in that regard. Then, one day, when I visited him, he had arranged a little household shrine with a candle, a matchbox, an incense holder, a bowl of water and a bronze plate on which stood a glass of gainer -- a chocolate flavoured gainer, if I remember correctly. I found it a little odd, so I asked him, and I thought that he pulled my leg. It wasn't like that I was entirely unaware of Neo-Paganism. Some of the liberal hipsters were into Mother Goddesses and stuff, and I had heard about Nazis resurrecting the old viking religion, but I had the impression, that both of these two wings dressed up politics as religion, and I hadn't expected a centrist guy like Mike to bother with the concept. And another thing: The usual Neo-Pagans usually tried to revive worship of gods and goddesses attested in sources from Antiquity: Old Egyptian gods, old Babylonian gods, old Greek and Roman gods, old Celtic gods, old Norse gods ... Actually, when Mike told me about what he was doing, I thought that it was a joke: You know, like the Pastafarians who worship the Flying Spaghetti Monster, or like the Jediists who mess with the Census in several English-speaking countries. Though I have heard that, eventually, some of the Jediists began reading Joseph Campbell and tried to connect with The Force. Oh, sorry. I digress. I wanted to say, that Mike had taken up worship of a god from novels and short stories. He wasn't supposed to have been worshipped by real persons in real history. Mike had begun to worship Crom -- the god in Robert E. Howard's stories about Conan the Barbarian. Have you read them? Watched the movie? Yep. Many men and women have. Ridiculous? Actually, that was my reaction, too. Initially. Then, after a few weeks, I began to notice, that Mike increased his gains much faster than before. I had a serious conversation with him one night, since I was afraid he had began using some drugs with dangerous side-effects, but he swore that he was entirely natty, and then he invited me to share his evening meditation before his shrine to Crom. I thought it was stupid, of course. Who wouldn't? He washed his hands in the bowl of water, and let me do it too. I obliged as a matter of politeness. Then he lit the candle and the incense. He replaced the former glass of gainer on the bronze plate with a new one, and we both shared the old gainer. Later, he told me it was called a "community offering". Then he improvised a prayer to Crom, and I felt silly. It was about bringing strength to Crom's devotees, increasing our dedication at the gym, and gaining better gains. Dedication to the gym and lust for better gains was always on my mind anyhow, but I didn't see any reason to bring it into religion, and definitely not into a religion based on fantasy novels. What happened? You wouldn't believe me, Agent. You wouldn't believe me. When you interrogate Mike and our other brothers, you will hear a similar story, but since you wouldn't believe me, let me show you. We use this mantra, you know: CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM Oh, fuck, yes! CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM Look at you, Agent! It is affecting you, too! CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM How I got out of these handcuffs? Strength. The muscular strength my god gives to me and my brothers. CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM So good? Yeah, I agree. Feel the power of Crom, Agent! Join me and your new brothers. We will show the world how primordial masculinity look like when it becomes flesh. CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM Listen! We are not the only ones to sing the Crom-mantra in the building. It resounds through the walls, the ceiling and the floor. We are becoming ... Uhnnn. Look at me! CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM Sexy? Unbelievably manly? Why, thank you, Agent. I wasn't sure if you ... OH YES! Out of your dreams? Thank you, Agent. Look what you are becoming, yourself. WHAT YOU ARE BECOMING. Good? Fuck, hell, yeah. Good is just the beginning. All that brawn. Firm like steel. Tanned. The striations. And bulging inside ... Don't fight it! Let it out! Give in! You are becoming ... Yes! Agent. Unbutton my fly like that. FUCK! Your hands on my leather-clad glutes! Growing more! My mass! And your! YES! UHNNNN. Agent, I love the feeling of you ripping out of your shirt, while you kneel between my legs ... FUCK ... AGENT! So ... Will make you grow more. And me. More brawn. While you ... UHNNNN. CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM

A short story, while I finish writing my complicated novelettes about space marines and magic, respectively. I am testing a little different way of writing technique. DISCLAIMER All protagonists, antagonists and locations in this story are fictitious. Any likeness with actual persons and locations are purely coincidental. Readers uncomfortable with the subject of male intimacy are adviced to not read further. My little buddy I remember when I first saw you. I had probably worked at Sam's Gym for five years, and at The Steel Factory for several yers before that. The Steel Factory Gym, I mean. Not an actual steel factory. Not like dad and grandpa. I am not like my dad. You were standing at a pec-dec machine, reading the instructions. Tracksuit trousers hiding your legs, a grey T-shirt which gave the impression to be one size too large. Your arms just skin and bones, your hands behind your back in a gesture more suitable for a man 30 or 40 years older than yourself. Uncomfortable body language. Sam had pointed me in your direction. 'If you are not going to use it, don't block the machine, small-fry.' It was Kevin, a fairly successful fitness model, whose personality 'didn't keep the same standards as his looks'. I remember this expression. You used it two weeks later. You are better with words than I am, and I know that I am bad at expressing my feelings. I am uncomfortable with it. Kevin wasn't aware of me, when I moved in your direction, and he added some further insults. He jumped when I laid my hand on his shoulder. 'Any problems here?' 'Uh. No, no, Brad. No problems. I just wondered if this gentleman was finished with the pec dec.' 'I have been keeping an eye on you, Kevin. Follow the house rules.' Kevin avoided to look into my eyes, by some reason concentrating very much on the newly painted coffee and amino drink bar. 'Yes, yes of course. No problems here.' I looked quizzically at you, but you shook your head, and looked into the floor. 'You are lucky, Kevin. The machine is at your disposal, since I and my client here are not going to use it.' I turned in your direction, neglecting Kevin: 'And you must be the new gym member I am scheduled to train, aren't you?' 'I suppose so. The man at the desk told me to wait for Brad. It's you?' I like the newbies. They have decided to do something new. Something different. They have decided to change themselves, and put a toe into a foreign water. It is different for us who played sports all the time. It is just what we do: Playing football at the grassy spot close to the council flats, given a try at rugby if the PE teacher make that phone call to the coach he knows. Being adviced to add some weight training, and then being hit by the bug and quitting team sports. I had a belly once. It wasn't necessarily a disadvantage, since weight is an advantage on the ground, but the belly disappeared when I began pumping iron. But I lost the thread now: What I was saying is, that I like the newbies. For us the gym is a second home. For them the gym is something unfamiliar, but they give it a try anyway. They and they... I mean you. You were one of the wide-eyed and shy newbies once. For some it is hard to admit that they like the feeling: The release of your body's own chemicals when you end your training session, and is sitting relaxing freshly showered in the locker room. The feeling of pump. The feeling after a month when the first results show. Three months. Six months. Guys are able to transform themselves. They are not competing against someone else. All of us are just competing against our former selves. I like the newbies: To be able to help them overcome their initial embarrasment and hesitation, and be able to help them to release their potential. I feel protective, as I felt protective against you then. As I still do. Our first training session went well. I instructed you three times the first week. The second week you maintained your own schedule, and then I gave some advice the third week, in order to ensure that you performed the movements without hurting yourself. It takes some time for your body to acquaintance itself to the correct movements. I am no longer able to recollect how it came that we began to hang around outside the gym. In some regards we were unlikely friends: A 5ft 5in university student with liberal middle class parents and a more than 6 ft tall personal trainer with a divorced working class mum. I enjoyed watching action films together with you, and I enjoyed when we just spent time talking. Years ago I spent considerable time drinking beer, but exercise have been increasingly more important for me by the years, so pub crawls are nowadays carefully timed exceptions, far and few between, in order to not disrupt my carefully planned meal schedules. The pub wasn't the best place to meet you. I like our talks. Your eyes have always been special: The mix of intelligence and mischief is nice, and their colour looks like it sparkles in a strange way. I mean 'strange' like fascinating. Not something bad. People of Kevin's sort irritates me. A confident man doesn't behave like that. But it embarras me to admit, that I was like them at early secondary school. If it hadn't been for the PE teacher, the scout patrol leader and Sister Jane, I could have turned out a rotten being. I abhorred (See? You taught me something: abhorred) most adults at secondary school. Abhorred. I will soon start speaking like you and your fancy friends (although I learned PT lingo at the courses Jack and Sam sent me to). Only adults who impressed me were worthy of my attention, and I wasn't easy to impress. The PE teacher was cool. He had competed in weightlifting when he was younger, and despite his intimidating looks, he wasn't an idiot like my considerably smaller dad. Dad had stopped hitting me when I began to play rugby, and the divorce happened shortly after. The scout patrol leader was stern if needed, but he was always fair. And Sister Jane was an unlikely person to feel comfortable with: What does a testosterone crazed teenaged bully have in common with a feminist nun with a Ph.D.? But she had a sense of humour and an ability to understand. I don't know how I shall express it... She understood. I don't know if the three of them had talked with each other about me, or if it just happened by coincidence, but after speaking with them I felt bad and confident at the same time. Bad for what I had done in the past, but confident of what I could do to change things in the future. I was able to apologise to most of the kids, and then on I became their guardian angel. When I saw bullying happen at school, I intervened, and I was good at it. When I met you, it was already ten - no twelve or thirteen - years since I reformed my life to the better. We had known each others for a year or so. Within your personal limits and conditions, your achievements at the gym were good, but not optimal. Since we were friends, I had begun to take an interest in your case which probably exceeded the professional. I felt very worried that night when you rang on my doorbell and stood with a very sad and very upset facial expression at my doorstep. 'What has happened, little buddy? Come inside! You look devastated.' You really looked devastated. All my protective instincts kicked in. I handed you a low-carb amino drink from my refrigerator, and grabbed one myself. We ended up in the sofa, your tiny frame leaning on one arm of the sofa, my bulk relaxing in the opposite end. 'What is it? Did you fail in any exam?' 'No. No, it is nothing like that.' You fell silent for a while. I gave you time, took a sip, and waited. 'I am so sorry to make you disappointed. Please, be not upset about this, but there is something I must tell you. You may find it terrible.' Your sad expression gave me a heartwrenching icy feel in my gut: 'But what is it? You can tell me. We are friends, right?' 'Oh, Brad. I'm so sorry, but I would be dishonest if I... If... If I didn't tell you that I am gay.' I was probably a very bad friend when I exploded in laughter, but I couldn't control my reaction. Several expressions rapidly came and went in your face: Sadness, surprise, resentment and bewilderment (Look! I can use more fancy words!) 'Little buddy. I wasn't sure if you are or not, but does that matter? I'm gay too. Haven't you understood?' I love that facial expression. You are so cute when you do that. My perplex little power hobbit. It was not the last of our very long and very late discussions about personal experiences, straight people's expectations and prejudices, and gay people's expectations and prejudices. Why many of these are wrong or misguided. About closet cases. About bears and the fetish crowd, and how they differ from the twinks. About muscle worship. Your were, and you still are, much better than me to express your feelings in speech, but I was at least, to a certain extent, more experienced than you: After a handful of rather disappointing dates with girls as a teenager, I had a few short encounters with gays my own age at that clubbing street. My muscles seemed to be popular among some, perhaps more so than me as a person. That disturbed me, although I was flattered too in a sense. I don't know. Anyhow, I had hanged around the blocks for a while longer than you, although it would be an exaggeration to call me experienced. It took us two days to admit to each other that we were very much into each other: Your small frame resting in my vein-covered arms, and your cute nose nuzzled at my meaty pecs (of those I was rather proud), our rods enthusiastically bouncing against the inside of our underpants, waiting for all clothes to be taken off. My little buddy. Although your hungry admiration of my muscles couldn't be hidden, now when the lid was off, you always took an interest in me, myself, who I am inside, and I am sorry for not telling you about how I was a bully when thirteen and fourteen. I was ashamed. I knew that Sam would consider it unprofessional to live with one of the gym members, but I was lucky: Jack, who owned The Steel Factory, was an old mate, and wanted me to work for him instead. As soon as I had changed job, we could move to our new flat. Your were delighted at my assistance with new training schedules, eating schedules and supplements, and I felt proud giving you that assistance, seeing how you transformed from your old, shy self with its awkward pose, into a toned young man with a considerably more confident expression. But you were definitely a hardgainer. When you first stepped inside Sam's Gym, you looked like a sea mammal (but without any fat): No visible pecs (just a flat chest) and no visible abs (despite the low level of subcutaneous fat). After one and a half year, your high metabolism had the good side with it, that your abs were visible. They were small, sure, but they were there, and nothing hid their well-defined existence. Your wiry pecs now showed that they existed, but not beyond that. Your exercise had changed your upper body form: Traps and shoulders were distinctly visible in a way they were not before, but you were still at the very slim end of the spectrum. Once my tiny little friend, you were now my little power hobbit. You were a typical ectomorph, but at least I tried to make your calorie intake higher than before, looking for new and fancy nutrition drinks. I have to admit that I had used gear before taking the job at Sam's. Jack and the Steel Factory crowd didn't mind, but Sam had a strict zero level policy when it came to such substances. Back at The Steel Factory, I began hearing rumours about that top secret experiment the Military in several countries had performed on marines: The guys came back from Service like brickhouses, but were forbidden to talk about it. It had obviously started years ago, and pirate copies of the needed equipment had began to circulate on the black market. It was rumoured, that some guards at global corporations had went through the treatment, and another rumour claimed that wrestling federations had made investments in such research, in order to make the business more eye-popping in the future. It wasn't easy to know what was conspiracy theories, what was pipe dreams, and what was true. Until the night I met Tvrtko. He had exercised at The Steel Factory for years, and always been a big guy, but now he was huge. No one dared to ask. Well, except me. He knew me rather well, and he told me. He had probably told me for half an hour, when we made the deal. 'No, there would be no problem with any crime syndicates. It could have been, if you wanted to buy their services in giving you The Treatment... Shady business, you know... But it is entirely different if you buy a second hand machine and give yourself The Treatment. No strings attached. Just buy it, store it where the authorities doesn't look, use it, and if you want to sell it to another user afterwards, it your private matter. It doesn't concern me. Am I clear? Am I perfectly clear?' * * * Your birthday occurred on a Saturday, and there was no need to take the day off. We had the entire weekend for ourself. When you came home Friday evening I gave you an envelope. 'It is better to open it tomorrow, isn't it?' 'No. Open it now.' ' "Do you want to be big?" What sort of question is that? You know that I want to be big. If a miracle could occur, it would be amazing to be tall like you, but I have to limit my goals to pack on some brawn.' You sighed. 'I eat and I eat, and nothing happens.' 'I wouldn't use the word nothing. Think how you looked when I started training you?' 'Yes, there have been some changes, but I am not like my favourite cuddling monster, am I?' Your arms around my waist. Your head against my chest. Your ear against my abs. I was beginning to feel horny. 'No. I mean it. If you really want to become big, that is your birthday present. To begin with, I have a new supplement to you.' 'Another one? Well. You know what you are doing. You've got the PT education.' You let me go when you felt the nice smell of food. I had tried to use the supplements I got from Tvrtko as creatively I could. The spaghetti on the table was a mix of wheat and soy, and therefore with a slightly higher protein content than ordinary pasta, but it was available in ordinary supermarkets. The pasta sauce contained ordinary food, such as mushrooms, spinache and a lot of spices to hide the mildly unpleasant taste. That taste came from the powder I had got from Tvrtko. I had also used it in the sauce which was mixed with the salat, and the pudding in the refrigerator was a mixture of Tvrtko's powder, a milky liquid of similar content, and lots of sugar, vanilla and egg to hide the taste. 'I have used a lot of new supplements in this meal', I remarked. 'You have? It tastes considerably better than some of the gainers you have been feeding me.' 'Ready for your surprise?' 'I thought the new supplements were the surprise, and a slightly underwhelming one.' Oh, how I like that spark in your eyes. 'No, there is more to come, if you really want.' 'I like surprises. You know it. What are you up to?' 'It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you.' Two hours later we sat in the car together, and I drove into an empty parking lot, close to a warehouse. It was dark. The light from the car reflected in the moist asphalt and the rainwater puddles. It drizzled when I unlocked the warehouse. I put a blind before your eyes, and you smiled, when I carefully led you through the warehouse. You seemed to have expected something else, when I removed the blind. 'What's that?' You observed The Machine. According to Tvrtko, it was smaller than the military equivalents, and it required the specimens to drink large amounts of nutrition drinks and nutrition powder a few hours before operation. Tvrtko had heard something about the Army using IV or something. Large gas cylinders were connected to The Machine on the back, and looked considerably newer than the rest of the equipments (Gas cylinders had to be renewed often, and were hard to find). 'It's a muscle enhancing machine. It's your birthday gift.' You looked slightly angry, when you began looking up in the ceiling: 'I expected a surprise party at an unusual location, but now it seems to be candid camera or something like that. Who's hiding and filming this right now.' 'I am perfectly honest. It is a muscle stimulating machine.' It hadn't crossed my mind, that it could be hard to convince you that The Machine was for real. It took a few minutes. I could see and hear how you slowly went from annoyed to surprised, from surprised to suspicious, and from suspicious to something less obvious. 'If you have gone through these lengths to make this possible, I will not disappoint you, but it is hard to believe. How could it possibly be true? Don't you think it feels a little unreal just now? And I am beginning to feel funny, warm or something.' 'It is probably the supplements I told you about. They begin to work now. If we opt out, we will probably gain some muscle and some fat anyhow, but far from the results I have been promised if we use that.' I nodded in the direction of the slightly intimidating presence in the room: The Machine. We stood silent for a few seconds. Then you gave me a sly expression: 'What if you tested the machine first?' It hadn't occurred to me that this was an option. It felt exciting to take part of the experiment myself (I had brought equipment to do that after you), but it was meant as a gift to you. I kept silent. I didn't know what to say. 'It is a double birthday present, if it really works: I have to watch you became even more brilliantly big, which is a really exciting thought, I can assure you, and then I can take part of this experiment myself, if it really works.' Doubt still emanated from you, but mixed with expectations that the impossible would be possible. We went through the operation of The Machine. 'It is obviously a dumbed down pirate copy: You change what you wish to achieve at this panel, and increase power levels at this panel, put the gas on with this control, and this must be a speaker with microphone, so that we can talk. It sounds reasonably simple?' I unpacked the training bags: Towels and soap (The warehose had a shower once meant to be used by workers), tracksuits in large sizes (I didn't know exactly how much The Treatment would affect us) and then two pairs of odd things. I held the posing trunks made of leather before you. You took it in with humour: 'Any new ideas how to kink this up? That's something new!' 'Actually, there is a reason for them. According to Tvrtko, cotton fabrics take fire and synthetic fibres melt inside The Machine. He tested, by putting some piece of clothing inside, since he wanted to avoid 'to look gay', as he expressed it. It seemed to have passed him by that you and I live together.' 'Cotton take fire? And synthetics melt? And we are to believe that human beings are just fine, and don't become radioactive or something else?' We discussed shortly, decided to do it anyway, changed clothes, and prepared for the use of The Machine. I began to feel hot, despite the fact that I was naked. It was probably the supplements that kicked in. The inside of The Machine was spacious enough for four or five persons at least. The walls were covered with some sort of glass lenses or something. Strange equiment hang in the ceiling, but since I am not an engineer, I could not guess at their functions. 'This gives the word closet case a new meaning.', you joked from the outside. The speakers worked. 'Can you hear me?' 'Yes, fine, can you hear me?' 'Yes, perfectly. Good that some things on this wreck works.' The inside smelled rather much like the smell I knew from tanning salons. I could sense a vague hint of smoke, perhaps from Tvrtko's mishap with the cotton pants, but there was also a whiff of cleaning solution. I felt very warm. The posing trunks emitted a whiff of leather. I wasn't normally into leather, but it felt naughty to stand there in the buff, excepting just this small equipment of clothing. Black. Glossy. A hissing sound. 'I opened the gas transmission. Everything alright?' 'I am able to breathe as usual. I tell you if I begin to feel funny.' It felt like ordinary air. Perhaps slighly more... chemical. I took a deep breath. And another one. 'No, nothin special yet. Don't worry.' 'I put the powerfield on now, whatever it is. Are you really sure it is safe?' 'How many times do I have to tell you, taht Tvrtko used it months ago, and haven't suffered any... Ungh!' The powerfield hit me, but in a good way. God! What was that? It felt... Oh! 'Oh, it feels good, little buddy. Everything alright outside?' 'I think so. It looks like you are glowing. It's pretty cool. Just tell me if...' Unh! It felt like my entire body was buzzing. Buzzing of something. Buzzing pleasantly. Buzzing... o my God! 'It's good! It's so... mmmm. You will like it when you... oh. Um!' 'It works, Brad! You are growing! You are actually growing! You look awesome!' I had been proud of my pecs for years, but now they were trembling, while they grew larger. Unlike you, the abs had always been a problem spot for me: They existed, alright, and I had been able to feel their hard presence under my belly fat, and even sense a visual hint of them now and then, but the remaining fat had always hid them from sight. Now, the fat melted away, under the pressure of my scientifically heightened metabolism and the strange God-knows-what radiation that was released into The Machine. The Treatment had begun to race through my body. 'Unngh, Brad. You look incredible! You should be able to watch yourself! I can't take it! It is too alluring! I change the settings, yes changing the settings like this, and this.' 'What are you doing? Ummm. Uh. Safety... ummm, oh! Yes!' 'My cuddling monster is becoming a super cuddling monster. Oh! Look at you! Look at that awesomeness! Did I tell you that these posing trunks actually are beginning to feel comfortable?' Your voice came from afar. My transformation experience was beginning to be overwhelming. I didn't know what settings you may have changed, and what safety protocols you could have disregarded, but I wasn't able to object, since the feeling was so intense: The feeling of growth. My shoulders was becoming volley balls or bowling balls. My biceps swelled into monstrous globes of hot, steel hard flesh, and my triceps turned into corded steel wires. You said something, but I couldn't hear exactly what, since the humming sound from the machine, the hissing gas, the sound of my own pulse in my ears - like a sledge hammer - and the raw feeling of growth all claimed my attention. My thighs became pillars of might. My calves exploded into rugby balls. Rugby balls of granite. My traps, my titanium traps... I felt dizzy, but not in a bad way. My back could now carry the entire world, or so it felt. I dont know how long time had lapsed, when I felt your hand against my abs. One part of my brain probably had a vague idea about us taking turns in the machine, but in my enraptured state I didn't care. You were here, with me, inside The Machine and shared my experience of The Treatment, just as I shared yours. My rod pulsated against the inside of my posing trunks. I could hear you roar, as you shared the effects. Effects of the gas. Of the settings. New settings. What we wish to achieve? Power levels? Of the... POWER LEVELS! It was even better than before. Whatever you had done, The Machine now worked on an entirely new level. I held you, standing behind you, as many times before. My little buddy in front of me. I could nuzzle my nose in your hair. It was just a few months since you changed that old fashionable haircut into a fierce buzzcut. The buzzcut suits you. You look much more masculine in the buzzcut. I let my hands - my growing hands? - rest over your pecs. It was obvious that you were growing just like me, perhaps even more so, since your beginner level was... different. What a pair of amazing pecs you had got! And they were still growing! Is my power hobbit turning into a little Lesukov clone, eh? You shivered. I shivered. And then I felt it: You were growing in every way. You were growing taller. You roared. I nuzzled your buzzcut. My rod had pulsated against your back not so long time ago, but now it pulsated against the hollow in your lower spine, and you were still growing. I had to change the angle I nuzzled your buzzcut. Taller. Definitely taller. My little buddy becoming big. Mmmm. Big. I felt bigger, but you grew faster than me. I liked how you grew faster than me. Birthday present. Power. Mmmm. My big hands explored your abs. They had been defined before. Now they had turned into six cannon-balls of uncrushable might. I shivered again. You groaned. Or moaned. I explored your traps. Massaged them while the new settings executed their work on us. So hard and full. Amazing. Your were now beyond what I was when I entered The Machine, and you were approaching what I was becoming. Still becoming. Both of us. Together. Am I not thinking clearly? Oh, it's so good. So good! The new veins running on your arms. Oh! I shivered. You shivered together with me. I could feel the smell of sweat. Sweat rich of testosterone. And the smell of leather. Warm leather. My big hands explored your hard washboard abs again, and then continued further south. You shivered. I could feel your rod bouncing and pulsating on the inside of the trunks. It felt larger than before. Than ever before. You moaned. You shivered. Your leather trunks ripped apart, unable to resist your tool, giving my unprepared hand a lash. Your body against mine. Hot in every sense. My rod at the height of your diamond hard bum. You shivered. New settings. Of what we want to achieve. And power levels. Power. Levels. It felt so... so... Yes it was filling me. And it was filling you. The Power. All these power bolts! Making our metabolisms to packing on more brawn. More! Power emissions into us. Into our brawn. Bolts. Of masculinity. No, hyper-masculinity! Hitting. Surging. Loading. Beyond physicality. Becoming power beings. Of power muscles. Your back! Now with ridges. Valleys. Hard. Against my chest. My mind-blowing pecs. What are you doing? Turning. Around? Mmmm. What. Are. You. Doing? Trunks. Gone? When? Oh you little... Oh. Um. My big little. Unnngh! Now? During... Treatment? My big little... Oh! Enormous little buddy between my legs. You...kidding? Nnngh. Your titanic traps. My Quads. My gigantic little buddy. Protect. Growing. Power levels. Invincible! Yes! YES! YES! BEYOND ALL REASON! BEYOND ALL

This was a quick story I thought of while working out today, and wrote most of it a few hours later. I was inspired by the pictures of this famous actor... who shall remain nameless... on Instagram. It was just something quick and fun to keep my creative juices flowing while I work on the next chapter of The Test. Hope you enjoy!!! And You Wonder…What If ??? HC paced around the rented house he was staying in while in Los Angeles. Gazing at his watch for the eight time, he could see that Peter was already 15 minutes late. The little prick better not have run off with all that cash, he thought to himself. Moving into the kitchen, he decided that he would make himself a cup of tea. Yes. That would calm him down. Even after four days, he was still furious about the meeting with his agent. It seemed Warner Brothers had no further interest in him playing Superman either in the next Justice League film or in the sequel to The Man of Steel. Sure, he had said that he wasn’t interested in playing Superman anymore, but that was just a ploy to make more money. Everyone knew that and everyone did it. Of course, he wanted to play Superman again! - You’re just not big enough? - What the fuck are you talking about, Mel? I’m bigger then ever? I just finished filming The Witcher, and Mission Impossible got rave reviews. How can they think I’m not big enough? - No. It’s not your fame. That is totally fine. You’re simply not big enough… in size. - What? - You just aren’t big enough. Look at JM. He dwarfs you on the screen. How can fuckin Aquaman be bigger then Superman? - That’s crazy, Mel. I can put on more mass. You now that. - Of course I do, but not enough for Warner. They’re looking at some new kid who’s simply huge. Name is Tanner Evans. He’s gonna play Superboy or something. Sorry, Harry. That’s the way it goes. Why do you think HJ isn’t playing Wolverine anymore. - Because he’s too old? - Yeah. There’s that, but the audience just doesn’t believe it any longer. They want their superhero’s fuckin’ jacked just like they’re drawn. - I’ll do another screen test. - It’s not gonna help, H. - Tell them I want to do another screen test! Give me a month. I’ll seriously bulk up. I’ll do a cycle of roids. - Don’t! They’ll test you for your insurance, and if that comes up positive your dead. How would that look blasted across the internet: Superman Dopes Roids. - Fine. I won’t. Just get me another test. - I’ll try, H. I can’t promise anything. Now… lets talk about better things… Sure there were other movies, but not like this one. H had read the script and it was amazing. Far better then any of the others. He needed to play Superman again. That was why he hired Peter Fall, the personal trainer who had gotten HJ back in shape after Les Miserables. Peter and H met three days ago, and H told him exactly what he wanted. Peter had looked at H and told him it simply wasn’t possible. What H did to get ready wasn’t for everyone. - I’ll do anything. I’ll work day and night. 24 hours a day if I have to. You just need me to get in fighting shape. - It’s not as simple as that. - You know I’m dedicated. Look at my build now. I’m jacked. - You are… but what HJ did… that was different. - What do you mean? - Look… I don’t want to spread shit here… - Just say it. - HJ had a little help. Pharmaceutical help. - Roids? - No. Nothing like that. This shit is different. - What is it? - It’s an experimental growth hormone. It’s mostly used underground by fighters, wrestlers. Helps them get that edge over competition. - And… - It doesn’t show up on any test. You come up totally clear. I got it for HJ, and you saw him in that film. - Yeah. He looked great. - Exactly. He still needed to work out for pics on Instagram to make it look like that was how he did it, but the shit did everything. - How long does it take? I only have a month. - That’s the great part. It works right away. You’ll see results in minutes. - That’s not possible. - I’m not shitting you, man. I promise. - Get it. - It’s expensive. - How much? - 10,000 a dose. - How much did HJ take? - One. - Get it. That had been three days ago. A day later, Peter had called and told him that it wasn’t possible to purchase by the injection anymore. He would need to buy a whole vile. The cost would be 60,000. HC didn’t care. That was nothing. He transferred the money right away. Now Peter was late. He never should have trusted him. Never trust an ex-actor turned personal trainer! That was the rule. They always wanted to screw you over!! Henry tried to calm himself down by taking a sip of tea, but it only made him more agitated. Just when he thought he couldn’t take anymore, the doorbell rang. H ran to the door and swung it open. - Where the fuck have you been? - Sorry. Traffic. - You have it? - Of course. Peter took a brown bag out of his backpack. From that he removed a plastic bag filled with empty syringes, and a brown glass vial. - Here you go. - That’s it? - That’s it. - How much do I take. - The dose is .25 cc. - How do I do it? - I’ll just inject it into your glute muscles, and there you go. - Okay. Let’s get on with it. H began removing his jeans and t-shirt as Peter popped off the plastic top to the vial and sunk the needle into the plunger. From the plunger he pulled up far less then .25 cc’s, since that wasn’t really the proper dose. The proper dose was .2 iu’s, but H had no way of knowing that. He had no way of knowing exactly what Peter wanted from this evening. He should have listened to his own warning… never trust an ex actor turned personal trainer. - Bend over. - Okay. - Now, once I get the syringe in, don’t move. It’s thick and will take a few seconds. - Okay. Peter pulled the back right side of H’s black briefs down and admired his smooth perfect ass. Nice, Peter thought. Very nice… and soon it’s going to be oh so much bigger and better! First Peter cleaned the area with an alcohol swab, and then he sunk the needle into H’s ass and plunged the liquid in. He kept the needle in far longer then usual so H would think he was injecting more then he was. When he felt enough time had passed, he withdrew the needle and cleaned the area with the alcohol again. - There you go. All done. - Excellent. Should I be feeling it now? - Give it a few seconds. - Brilliant. H began to move around the room again. He couldn’t tell if he was more nervous or excited. Suddenly he began to feel something he could only describe as a pleasurable glow filling his body. - I can feel it. - Great. - Fuck yeah, I can feel it. I feel fuckin’ incredible. - Excellent. His chest was where H noticed it first. His recently trimmed hairy chest began to plump up, getting fuller. In a few moments, every muscle in his body began to gain size. His bi’s and tri’s pumped up, his lats grew a little higher, his quads bulked up, and his calves gained even more mass. H felt incredible. He was growing!! Even the muscles in his hands and feet grew a little thicker giving him the more rugged look that he had always been after. That’s why he never shaved his chest. He loved the mountain man look, and now he was definitely getting closer to it. In a few minutes, it was all over. - Fuck yea, Peter! Look at me!!! How much do you think I gained? - No clue. You have a scale? - Yeah. There’s one in the bathroom. Peter followed H into the bathroom and watched him step on the scale. - Twenty-seven pounds!! I’ve gained twenty-seven pounds in less then five minutes. Amazing!!! - That will certainly help for sure. - Damn right it will!! H began flexing in the mirror, going into a front double bicep pose, then a front lat spread, and then a side tricep. Peter could tell H loved what he was seeing by the slight tenting in his briefs. - Looking good, man. - Yeah I am. - They’ll definetly Cast you for sure. - Exactly. No way Tanner Evans has this size. - Tanner Evans? - Yeah. You know him? - Ummm… yeah. I do. H watched as Peter looked down at the floor. He stopped posing in front of the mirror and looked at him. - What is it? - Sorry man… that kid is huge. Massive. You’re big, but you can’t compete with him. I’m sorry. You should have told me that was who you were going against. - Fuck!! But look at me! I look amazing. - Yeah… but not compared to Tanner. Shit… he makes anyone look puny! - Give me another dose. - What? - Give me another dose. Can I take another dose? - I don’t know. They used to only sell it by the dose, but now no one wants an open vial, so you have to buy the whole thing. I’ve only ever given one dose. - I want another one. I’m sure it will be fine. Another should help, shouldn’t it? - Well… You gained 27 pounds? - Yeah. - I don’t think another 27 will help. Not against Tanner. I’m sorry. - Why not?!! H was getting angry now. - Tanner is much bigger then that. You can’t beat him. - Get the vial. I’m doing another dose. - I can’t. I really can’t Henry. - I paid for a fuckin vial, so get me the vial!! Walking away to get the vial, Peter tried to hide his smile. He had tried this out on HJ, but it hadn’t worked. He’d been happy with his results, but then he also had the role already. He just needed the extra size. H didn’t have the role… and he was much more vain then HJ. - Here you go. - What was the dose you gave me? - .25 cc’s. - Fine. If that gave added twenty-seven pounds, .50 will add over 50. - I don’t think you should do this, H. - Give me a needle. - I won’t give it to you, H. I want no part in this. - Fine. I don’t need your help. You can go if you want. Peter handed the syringe to H and watched him plunge the needle into the vial. Tipping the vial upward, H pulled up .50 cc’s, and thinking better of it, decided instead to pull up .60 for good measure. H pulled his briefs completely off, turned around, and plunged the needle into his ass. Pressing down on the needle, he injected all of it into his body. - There. Sixty more pounds of muscle will definitely make me bigger then this kid. He can’t be fuckin Hercules. H had just finished saying Hercules when he felt it over his entire body. - Fuuuckkkk!!!! This feels fucking amazing!! H’s voice had gotten much deeper as he spoke. Sweat was pouring down H’s body and he started pacing around the room like a caged animal. - This is it, Peter!! This is it!! I feel like a fucking nuclear warhead, and it’s only getting stronger! Listen to my voice!! It’s getting so deep!!! - Yeah. - It sounds so fucking sexy. It’s going to sound great coming from Superman. - Yeah it will. - My pecs!! They’re growing again. Peter watched as H’s two massive hairy pecs began expanding again. Larger and larger they proceeded to grow, a deep crevice appearing between the two. Soon the immense weight and size of each pec began forcing his nipples down towards the floor. - Oh yeah!!! They’re going to have to make me a completely new suit!! Fuck!! They’re nearly blocking my view!! H laughed, enjoying the tremendous feeling this growth was causing. Soon his lats joined in with his growing pecs evolving into what made him look like the head of a cobra. His arms began to hang further and further from his sides as his lats continued to grow even larger. - There’s no way that kid can beat me for size now! H cried out in pain as he looked at his hands. They were growing thicker his well. The muscle began to flow up his fore arms, blowing them up broader and thicker, and then up to his bi’s and tri’s. Henry flexed, and his upper arms were now nearly the size of Peter’s head. - What do you think, Peter? Do you think Superman has biceps like these? H stumbled for a moment, loosing his balance. He heard cracking coming form his hands and when he looked at them again, he could tell that they were getting longer. - I think I’m getting taller, Peter!! Should this shit be making me taller? - I don’t know, H, but you are definitely getting taller! H was inching up higher to give his body more area to add muscle mass. His legs blasted next in size, his quads and calves inflating, fashioning two titanic columns. H stood nearly 6’5 now and still he grew. If it was possible, his square chin got even more chiselled, and his hairy chest began to get even hairier. The fifty pounds he had thought he would gain was far behind him as he gained nearly 100; and still he grew. In the back of his head, H was concerned about what he did. He was getting too big… far too big. He was becoming almost unrecognizable. He was surpassing most bodybuilders when it came to size. The other part of his brain loved it and wanted the growth to continue. It just felt too good. He felt so powerful… as powerful as Superman!! H, with some difficulty, moved into the bathroom so he could look at himself in the full length mirror. The growth was continuing, but now it seemed to be focused on his cock. What had been of considerable size before was soon multiplying into a thick anaconda. The same size veins that travelled down his arms and legs began to wrap themselves around his cock feeding it, giving it more size. Forgetting Peter was even in the room, H began to stoke his cock as he looked at himself in the mirror. Peter hadn’t forgotten his was in the room. As H moved to the bathroom Peter made his move as well. Leaning down, he picked the vial up that had been left on the floor. Taking another syringe, he emptied the rest of the vial into it. With it in his hand, he moved into the bathroom. - You look incredible, H. Simply amazing! - I know. Even my cock is growing. - I can see that! - That kid will never beat me now. - No one will. With that, Peter injected H with the rest of the vial. - What the fuck have you done?!! - Enjoy the ride, H! HC’s whole body quaked with the onslaught of muscle growth. His chin was pushed further up as his pecs ballooned even bigger and grander. His abs formed an enormous cobblestone path down from his pecs to his crotch. The bones of his pelvis cracked and actually got tighter instead of wider, creating an inconceivable V taper to his body. His Adonis belt, or cum gutters as he called them, grew cavernous and more pronounced. This third injection apparently sent H’s testosterone into overdrive. Always a hairy man, the hair on his body began to grown in thicker and denser. His entire chest, which 30 minutes ago had been nicely trimmed and manicured, now filled with curling black hair. The hair travelled up his freshly shaved face, and began to sprout dark stubble. A few moments after, H had a thick five o’clock shadow, then two days worth of growth, then a week. H’s beard became thicker, blacker, and more intense as it grew till the tip of it was rubbing against the hair on his pecs. H looked up and saw that his growth was propelling him to the height of the vaulted ceiling in the bathroom. He had to be nearly ten feet tall or taller, he thought with an excited shutter. H was in two minds. One part of him begged for the growth to stop and for everything to go back to the way it was before. The other part begged for it to continue or never ever stop. From what he could still see of himself in the mirror, he looked incredible! He was so massive, so hairy, so masculine!! And his cock!! Fuck!!! His cock was a monster!! It had to be at least fifteen inches long and still growing longer and thicker. The head itself was simply unheard of. It was mammoth, dark red, and pulsing with each heartbeat. It was as long as his old cock had been soft, at least four inches, and at least nine inches thick. The head was at least an inch and a half fuller then his growing shaft, and persisted to grow bigger. He reached his hands down to touch it, and discovered he needed both hands to completely engulf it, the circumference was so immense. Even when soft, he couldn’t imagine how his own foreskin would ever fit around it. H laughed loudly realizing that his own cock head was the pinnacle of his hyper masculinity. A deep bass cry of pain left H’s throat as his balls proceeded to grow. What had once been hen eggs now grew to oranges, then grapefruits, and then coconuts. His crotch had also grown excessively hairy, and from his balls, he could smell his own musk rising up. Lifting his right arm up, he forced his face as close to his pit as possible. Flooded with long thick dark hair now, he soon discovered that his pheromones were also working in overdrive and he was exuding the masculine of smells. His own scent was quickly turning him on, and he found himself licking the head of his own bicep. He had to widen his stance, as his quads grew thicker. Afraid he was going to be a prisoner of the bathroom, H grabbed for the doorframe, and with less effort then it would take to rip a sheet of paper, he created a hole large enough for him to bend over and go through. I have to weight over a thousand pounds now, he thought as he forced his way into the living room, breaking down doorframes and demolishing everything in his way. On the floor he found the clothes that he had been wearing only this evening. He laughed a deep belly laugh as he leaned over and lifted up what appeared to the now giant of a man as something that would only fit a child. He searched for Peter but discovered the Personal Trainer was gone. That was too bad. He was getting hornier by the second and needed a place to stick his cock. That has-been actor had destroyed his career now, but H no longer cared. As he neared the ceiling in the living room, he realised that before he was always playing Superman. Now he WAS Superman!!! He would still be famous, there was no doubt, but now he would also be worshiped. A thick river of pre began to fall from his massive cock head. As he began jerking himself off, H continued to grown. He was relishing every sensation, as he grew closer to the ceiling. His muscles began adding on more pounds faster and faster, and his own legs began crushing his balls. He moved his feet further apart hoping to make more room, but soon they began to press against his balls again. He didn’t know what idea he liked more… his balls becoming so immense, or his legs becoming so massive. As best he could, H began to feel up his entire body. He no longer could touch his shoulders nor could he really turn his head, but he saw out of the corner of his eyes how round and hairy his deltoids were becoming. He began to think he would need to hire someone to shave his back, but then, he thought, why bother. Let the world see a real man for once, hairy back and all. Fuck, he was horny. His own pointer finger was now four times the size his old penis was, so he brought his hand down to try and finger his own asshole, but found he could only reach as far as his hairy glutes. Since he couldn’t see his own ass, he could only tell by feeling how unbelievably round, hairy, and full of pure muscle it was. H laughed, and executed a deep squat, watching his quads simply explode in size. Lusting after his own size, H grabbed his cock and began to jerk off. He had always been an XL on that one dating/sex app he had, but now he would have to list himself as XXXXXXXXLLLLL!! Even a serious fister wouldn’t be able to get his cock head in! Just thinking about that made his pre flow faster. H reached down to his oozing head, filled his palm with seeping pre, and coated his whole penis with it. As he jerked faster and faster, drool leaving his mouth and falling onto his own beard and chest hair, he quickly reached orgasm. HC let out a deep moan which escalated quickly to a roar. The orgasm lasted longer than a minute and nearly brought him to his knees. When he finished, he realised his cock was still as hard as before, and he was still just as horny. Would he ever be satisfied again? Just as he was about to hit the twelve-foot ceilings, the growth tapered off and stopped. Standing over eleven feet tall and over three thousand pounds of pure muscle, HC roared like the massive grizzly of a man he was. He loved the sound of his deep bass roar and expected to do it a lot from now on. He looked around the destroyed room and tried to find his cell phone. He wasn’t sure how he would dial it, but he had to call his agent. He was going to introduce himself to the world soon, and he would need someone to deal with all the press. Then he had to get back in touch with Peter. There were several other famous men H had on speed dial he’d like to see be introduced to the contents of that vial. He definitely wanted Peter to purchase more. At least ten to start. A new thought crossed his mind… maybe he would play Superman on film again. He would build his own Justice League of massive, freaky, muscular men. He would handpick each one, and he knew just where to start!

Warmth spread over my entire body as my heart raced faster, adrenaline starting to race as I could feel the drug kick in. Everything I could see of my form completely stripped down to my briefs was becoming flush red with blood as I felt a pump like better than any I had ever received working out. I raised my arm that had been tempered by well over a decade of constant and near fanatic levels of dedication and thousands of reps. I saw it slowly twitch with veins slowly worming their way up to the top forcibly making their presence known, the hard orb of meat hardening even further as it slowly pulsed and swelled with a noticeably gradual but persistent growth. I brought up my other arm to test the density of my arm but got distracted by the sight of it before I laid a hand on my already flexing arm; instead I broke into a front double bicep poser displaying both of their increasing might into the mirror in front of me. I felt my lats tense and push out as I brought my arm into the pose, I could see my winds widen just a little bit further with every heart beat threatening me with lifelong difficulty managing doors, clothing, or even being able to place my arms to my side. My traps and chest, even with the disadvantage the pose brought to showing off their full glory, were no to be left lagging behind. I could feel my traps slowly crawl up my thickening neck attempting to swallow my head if left unabated while my shoulders have widened to the point of feeling like I've donned football pads that were inflating like balloons around me. My chest even with this pose was very noticeably growing denser to the point my nipples were traveling southward heralding that soon they would never see the light of day again. The warmth had slowly increased to a sweltering point as my body began to sweat copiously filling the room with the dominating scent of me. As if beckoned by an outside force I could feel my dick lengthen and harden with blood stretching to my side making a noteworthy protrusion in my breaths as it started to fight and claw its way upwards. My gaze met with my legs as my dick sprung free by itself hitting me hard in my abs leaving a trail of sticky white trailing over my stomach and down my shaft. I brought both arms down to start to slowly and purposefully stroke myself as I worshiped my quads with the other. I traced the lines running in my legs separating the each of the heads with my hand lingering, massaging the staggeringly impressive sweep they've gain. I flexed my ass and calves as I began to increase the speed of my strokes and tightened my grip as I was no longer in control as my body took over in a single minded quest to bring me to my knees in a mind shattering orgasm. While I methodically and robotically continued molesting my cock I bent my legs to flex my hamstrings and ass to their new unknown heights, I slowly committed every millimeter to memory as I bent further down to trace out the shape and outline of my calves. As I finished exploring my swollen and muscle bloated physique down to the last inch I shivered as I felt my balls almost violently pull up hard. I came all over the front of my behemoth standing form each rope of milk meeting or surpassing eye level for a good minute. Every burst I felt my prodigious nuts jump up and then fall down hard enough to lower my skin tight and severely tortured underwear. Eventually the fireworks slowed and then stopped all together with my chest hair matted to my skin by my outburst. I breathed out in complete and utter satisfaction before I was startled by the man who gave me the drug in the first place. "The growth is temporary." He said though I was still not able to fully understand what he meant in my afterglow addled mind. "...what?" I demanded. "Well it is a trial of the real product; we can't let you just go off and grow for free now can we?" Was the response I got from his "I've worked too long in fucking retail" smile. "What the fuck are you tal-" I couldn't finish my sentence. I felt like someone had kicked me directly into my sensitive and now gargantuan balls but at the same time as if they never took the foot away. I grunted in pain and moaned in pleasure at the same time as I bent over to cup my package still tightly imprisoned by my near threadbare briefs. My hands were pushed away as the warmth that I only just now noticed had never dissipated elevated to a searing heat all over my body. Sweat poured off my head and skin like rainfall as my hands were completely forced off of my taut and overfilled sac, my briefs torn off of my body and now on the ground next to my feet. I could no longer touch my nuts as they pulsed and swelled markedly larger every second dwarfing the size they were a second before. Any attempts to touch my dick were immediately rewarded with a feeling of pleasure bordering on pain in its severity as it bloated with more and more blood. At this point it had grown half again its size, turned many many shades darker, and was so dense with arousal and blood that there were more parts with snake like veins covering it than without. If I had worn a cockring and overdosed on Viagra I still would not be able to come close to the same state I am in now. Then, just as painfully as it started, all hell broke loose. My dick was expelling seed at such a terrifying amount a constant, uninterrupted stream of white came out of me as if I had put a pressure washer in between my legs. The surge of cum was so powerful that it knocked away any attempt for me to bring my hands to my dick as I vainly attempted to stop the flood. I could feel my body deflate as ounce after ounce, liter after liter, and gallon after gallon of fluid found freedom out me and onto the walls, ceiling, floor of the room and the mirror in front of me. I turned, the unending stream with me, as I tried to get to the door to find something, anything that could make this stop but I was blocked by the man standing in front of the door still wearing his trained smile but watching me predicament play itself out with amusement in his eyes. I turned back around staring at my dwindling form as I approached the now meager feeling but still very powerful physique I had before taking the drug. I feel to my knees as the last of my strength escaped my body along with the last of the muscle that had at least, temporarily, been mine. I rolled over onto my thick back that had fully reverted to its natural state with the memory permanently etched into my very soul of my briefly enhanced body, the memory now forever tainting anything less than what it had been for only a matter of minutes. My dick had finally stopped but was still hard after this life changing experience; I came again but from my own lust and desire for what I was. Breath still escaped the reach of my lungs as I was left completely and soul crushingly exhausted as I saw the gym clerk's head appear into my field of vision. "So, I take it you enjoyed your trial of our product if you would like I can set you up with a full purchase using your account, is that alright with you Mr.-" "YES, fucking god yes! Do it now." I barked at him with my throat so parched from the flood I created in the room I could barely manage to form the words. "Very good sir, is there anything you need while I begin the paperwork?" He inquired. "...could I get another trial sample just to make really sure?" I asked sheepishly. He laughed a bit before catching himself as he nodded at my still gasping body. He began to turn to leave the room to complete our transaction and get my sample before I asked him in a sheepish tone. "Actually...could you bring two samples? I want to really make sure. Oh and some water...please?" He stopped in mid stride and allowed himself to loudly laugh before responding. "Heh, sure thing. You're lucky I like you, but just make sure to use the cleaning equipment outside the door if you use both at once." He left the room and gently closed the door as my head continued to swim in a combination of the overpowering odors of my sweat and cum permeating the entirety of the room as well as my still shuddering body feeling aftershock after aftershock of an orgasm that I've never felt the likes of before but would soon top.

Posted a few stories on Metabods ages back, figured I'd put them here to see if people like them Chapter 1: Josh Hartley sat at the kitchen table, looking at the loosely wrapped box his Dad had just handed him. It was his 18th birthday and it'd been a shitty day all round at school. Josh was younger than nearly everyone in the year so nobody really cared about 18ths anymore, and once again he'd been humiliated in gym class due to the classes switch to swimming for the summer. He was shorter than all the other guys and the Speedos provided by the school were obviously more filled out by the other guys. Returning home he'd reheated for leftovers and waited for his Dad's return from work, at which time he was given the present. It was a simple grey box with a red ribbon stuck on and a cheap card. "Are you gonna open it, son?" his Dad asked excitedly, a broad grin on his face. They weren't exactly rich so Josh wasn't really expecting much. He slid the ribbon off and opened the box. "Geez, Dad this must have cost a fortune." he gasped as he saw what looked to be a very expensive bottle of some brand of alcohol he'd never heard of. He wasn't sure what it was but the glass bottle had such fine, ornate detail over the whole surface that it clearly wasn't some cheap bottle from a liquor shop. "Don't worry about how much it costs, you only become an adult once, and it's important to me that you remember this." Before Josh could think about breaking it open to celebrate his father announced he was going to bed to be up for work in the morning. Sadly, Josh went upstairs to his room and took the bottle with him. He placed it on the bedside table and sat on the bed. Looking at the bottle he noticed a scuff on the side so he licked his thumb and tried to wipe it off. The spot wouldn't budge so he wrapped his hand with his shirt and started to rub the bottle. The bottle started to shake in his hand and with a loud bang like a gunshot, the cork flew out of the top and a dark red smoke started pouring out of the neck. Josh dropped the bottle as smoke kept blasting out and seemed to congeal on the floor . The smoke started to rise and formed into the shape of a man, first a set of beautifully sculpted, 8 pack abs with a deeply cut v leading to the pillar of smoke where legs would be, then a shelf of enormous pecs that stood out many inches above his glorious abs, with large, dark red nipples. Bulging shoulders and throbbing biceps with huge veins spread out from the muscular torso, and atop the statuesque figure sat a face of such astonishing beauty that Josh's draw actually dropped, and had his eyes not been scouring every inch of the Adonis-like figure, they would have been locked with the pitch black eyes of the smoke figure. "I am the great genie of the bottle, speak what you wish and I will make it reality." said the figure in a voice so loud and deep that the room seemed to tremble around him. Josh was almost speechless, and his mind flooded with ideas, worries and sheer shock at the godly figure that had just exploded into his bedroom. "A-anything?" he stammered out. "Some caveats may apply, you don’t need to worry about that right now." "Is it like all the stories, three wishes?" Josh asked, sill having no clue what he would wish for. "Not at all, that is a myth." said the genie sternly. "Oh." said Josh, his heart sinking. "One wish. Every day. Forever." Josh nearly fell over in shock at the news. "Holy shit, uhh, well…" he couldn't clear his mind enough to think straight so what he said just sort of slipped out without any thought of consequence. "I wish I was the hottest guy at school." "Done." said the genie, snapping his fingers, and a spark of electricity crackled between them. "You will become the sexiest man at your school, soon." "You mean I don't just change now?" he asked. "Well this is one of my caveats, I get to decide how the wish plays out, as long as you don't specify against what I want." he said, with a small smile. "Then can I wish to grow now?" "One wish every day, and all wishes are final." said the genie, again seeming pleased with his own rules. "But now, I must rest, I've been in that bottle for hundreds of years and granting wishes is exhausting." "O-Ok…" Josh started but the muscular figure had already dissipated and was refilling the bottle. He climbed into his bed and slept, expecting to wake up in the morning to this all having been a dream. School seemed to pass at half speed the next day. Josh had tried rubbing the bottle in the morning to no avail and at this point was actually starting to believe that the whole thing was just the creation of his sleep deprived brain. Sitting in the afternoon math class, Josh spoke to his closest friend Marc. Plenty of people were cordial with Josh, he wasn't that much of a social outcast, but Marc was one of the few people who wouldn't eagerly throw him in front of an oncoming bus for the chance to ascend the social food chain a little. "Did your dad get you anything cool for your birthday?" he enquired eagerly. "Uhh, yeah, some old bottle… I think it's alcohol…" His voice trailed off, he still wasn't sure if he'd dreamt the events of last night, and in the likely event that he had, he had no idea what was in the bottle. "That's cool, I guess." Marcus said somewhat awkwardly, "I know you guys aren't exactly swimming in cash." "Yeah, he really tries though, and I do appreciate it." The day was uneventful, which Josh preferred as eventful usually translated to humiliating for him. However, after math his class headed off to the locker rooms to get changed for the day's swimming class and he was once again confronted by the harsh reality of everyone seeing his distinctly under-packed Speedo. Sitting at a bench in the locker room, waiting to be called into the pool by the gym teacher, Josh did his best to conceal his body from the prying eyes around him. That was, until Liam Sterling, the most incredible looking guy in the class, and coincidentally the guy who gave Josh the most shit about his appearance, marched up to him with purpose. Liam was captain of the swim team and obviously had no qualms about displaying the slab of meat between his legs, almost obscenely in the tiny, stretched-to-the-limit Speedo. Seriously, there had to be six thick inches of clearly outlined dong crammed into that pouch and he wasn't even sporting a partial. He exemplified the perfect swimmers build, it wasn't that he was slender, but that his muscular body was sleek and looked as though it could slide through the water without generating so much as a ripple. And speaking of rippling, it was the best way to describe him, every inch of his body was curved by a rounded mass of sheer muscle, threatening to burst from his skin with every movement. His face was so good looking that you could stare for hours at the sharp jaw, the wavy, deep brown hair, and those stone cold, piercing blue eyes. All of this of course made life so much more unbearable for Josh, as he had to tolerate torment day in and day out from the one guy he wanted more than anyone else. "Jesus, Hartley do you even have a dick in there?" he asked, looking around to make sure everyone was paying attention. "You must be hung like a fucking baby." "I…" Josh started but he felt blood rushing to his face, and other places as he immediately tried to push the thoughts of Liam's body from his mind. "Fuck man! Guys he must have something there cos he's totally getting a hardon just looking at me!" Liam laughed. Josh blushed harder, thinking how it was hard not to get hard just from having Liams thick dick just inches from his faces, inches he was sure it could manage to close by itself. He became painfully away of a throbbing from his dick and looked down to see that it was clearly as hard as ever and noticeably reaching towards the roof, but it wasn't just that, it also looked large. Thicker than he remembered and pushing past the boundary of the 4 inch disappointment he was used to. It felt like more than just blood rushing to his dick, as he felt like it was on fire. The material of his swimwear began to stretch along with his dick, as he stood up awkwardly, brushing briefly against Liam but far to concentrated on the fire in his cock to care. His hand massaged his cock almost against his will as a reaction to the pain, until he realised that the burning wasn't pain at all, but an intense pleasure that burned from his dick and radiated through to the rest of his body. "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?" shouted Liam in his face, "ARE YOU HAVING A FUCKING TUG RIGHT HERE IN FRONT OF ME YOU SICK FREAK?" Josh was too dazed by the pleasure clouding his brain to react, when he looked down to see that that the thin elastic of his swimwear was stretched so tightly over his cock, which was now more like a long, throbbing monster covered with veins, sitting on top of two orange sized balls, that the Speedo was pulled away from his body and the sides of said dick were clearly visible to the whole room. Jaws were dropping around the room and other guys became uncomfortably confined by their own clothing, when something entirely new started. Josh's skin looked as though thick worms were crawling underneath his skin, writhing and thickening all over him. Liam looked like he was about to pass out from shock and other guys in the room seemed equally surprised. The worms multiplied and grew, covering Josh's slender frame and thickening into broad bands of muscle, accompanied by a creaking noise which seemed to be the bones in his limbs lengthening and his shoulders pushing outwards. Large, diamond-shaped quads and sharply protruding calves supported Josh's new body, beneath the bulging Speedo, barely holding together to conceal very little of his enormous dick. His torso was framed by incredibly wide lats, tapering down to a thin waist, where a deeply cut v of muscle adorned the edges of 8 bricks of pure abdominal muscle, the tops of the highest of which were cast in shadow by the completely bulbous pectoral masses, which throbbed, swelled and contracted with even the slightest movement on Josh's behalf. Nipples that were so large they could almost fill a person's hand were spread over the peaks of the pecs and sent new signals of sensitivity to Josh's dazed mind every second. His shoulders looked like basketballs with deep cuts in the muscle stuck out on either side of him, holding the monstrous arms with incredibly large, deeply separated biceps with thick cords of veins twisting down them. He caught a glimpse of his own face in a nearby mirror and was struck by his own beauty. The squareness of the jaw he so admired in Liam was now present on his own immaculate face, leading down to a neck, nearly as thick as his head. His eyes, somehow the same shade of green, but now infinitely more eye catching below bushy, dark eyebrows to match his wavy, black hair. The whole room was silent in a stupor for what seemed like a minute, until a loud snapping noise shattered the peace to announce that Josh's now footlong monster cock had won the battle with the Speedo and was now out in the open for everyone to see, standing out proudly, curving towards the ceiling and dripping just the slightest bit of pre from the tip. In the next three seconds at least half the room came without any assistance from their hands. "What..." Josh began, and was taken aback by the deep pitch of his new voice. "What were you saying about my little dick, Liam?" "I- Er." Liam stuttered, his own hand inadvertently in his swimwear, massaging his own erection. "You were saying how you wanted to suck it, right?" Josh continued, having no idea where these words were coming from. "I don't…" "Well go on then," he said, the deep commanding tones echoing through the silent locker room, "Suck it. Right here. For everyone to watch." "Ohgodyes." blurted out Liam, as though he'd been lusting for permission, the words all blurring into one. He fell forward onto his knees and his lips wrapped around the head of Josh's python. His tongue began to work Josh's slit and even more waves of ecstasy pulsed through his muscular body. One of his hand fondled Josh's swollen balls while the other remained in his own, jizz soaked, swimwear. Josh felt his dick sliding down Liam's throat, so tight against his throbbing member, until he felt Liam's lips press against the base of his dick, and was clearly aware that this was not the older guy's first time servicing a cock. Liam's body slid back and forth for ages, as Josh wove his hands into the swim captains wavy locks and forced him onto the rod harder. Every muscle in the teen Adonis seized up, and he flexed his glutes, pushing forward as he felt himself reach climax. He felt the cum shoot though his massive rod and into the much smaller Liam. Such a sheer volume of thick, white semen was being forced into the sexy body that some spurted from his mouth and splattered the walls of the locker room. Liam slid off the end of the cock from the force of the ejaculation, and further cords of jizz slung themselves over his half naked body. Once again the watching crowd let loose their own seed. Josh flexed his powerful body as he moaned in pleasure. His face creased into a satisfied grin as his mind flooded with what lay in store, and what he could achieve with his wishes after that.

You’re Fired! Custom story request from a supporter on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/MuscleNexus. I released it a few months ago there, but I wanted to post it here for all of you as well. Thanks for reading! Tags: SFW, muscle growth, forced growth, getting hairy, “You’ve got ten minutes to pack up your stuff and get out of here. You’re done doctor!” “No, no, no. You don’t understand. I’m so close!” Dr. Owen Nex stammered. “This work will change your military. The world even.” Owen’s boss leaned in close, his coffee breath puffing into the lanky scientist’s face. “If I had a dollar for every plucky PhD that told me his idea would change the world then I would have enough funding for your project. But that’s not the case. Months of work and almost nothing to show for it. You’re done.” The general turned briskly and stomped away. Owen opened his mouth to protest, to yell to the hulking man quickly retreating down the corridor, but then he let it shut. He was done and his dream would never reach fruition. He looked around his lab. notebooks, tubes, and large genetic material processing machines littered the cramped room. “So close,” he whispered to himself. He picked up a crate that had come that morning. PURIFIED OX DNA it read in bold letters on the side. It was his last desperate attempt to make his ‘super-serum’ work. The serum had been his obsession since high school. He was always skinny, puny in fact, and he hated that. But he hated lifting weights more. He knew that even the best steroids required weightlifting and a high calorie diet, so it was his mission to create a new kind of steroid that could bypass all that. Promising results during his PhD research netted him a contract with the government. A contract that was now expired. The crate was empty, he had tossed the ox DNA into the synthesizer with the rest of his half-baked serum - a final move that had ended once again in failure. He tossed some notebooks into the crate along with some personal items and turned to leave the lab and his dream forever. “Ding!” The synthesizer lit up and the cover slid open. A small cuvette of red liquid slid out. It was property of the government now, Owen thought. Not like it would do anything anyways… “Fuck the government.” He took his water bottle out of the crate and emptied it into the drain. “They get nothing,” he said to no one in particular as he dumped the red liquid into the bottle. “This is mine.” Owen dropped the crate into the trunk of his car and screeched out of the parking lot. “How was work?” Owen’s boyfriend Greg asked over the car’s bluetooth. “I got fired.” “WHAT!? Those assholes…” Greg was silent for a second. Come on home babe, I was just about to go for a run, but I can wait for you.” “No go. You know I don’t like running anyways. Besides, it’s raining” “Fine, but we’re going out when I get back. You know I can’t stand you sulking around the house.” Owen grunted his approval and hung up the call. By the time he pulled into the small bungalow that him and his partner shared the sun had begun to set and the rain had stopped. He popped his trunk and stepped around the car to retrieve his things. The air smelled metallic, electrical. Owen let the crate thud onto the kitchen table. He wasn’t going to pay attention to it anytime soon, he thought, broken dreams could wait. He pulled a bottle of beer out of the fridge, snapped the lid off, and settled on the couch. Not long after he heard the front door click and Greg came stepping in.”I’m drenched!” He called from the other room. Owen didn’t look up from his beer, “hey Greg.” “Ooh a beer sounds good,” Greg said, motioning to the beer cap on the counter. Let me get dried off and hydrated and I’ll come join you. Owen heard his boyfriend rip a few paper towels off the roll and the tap come on. “That was a good run,” he muttered to the living room in between sips of water. “I know it’s not really your thing, but maybe you could come with me someday?” “Maybe,” Owen answered. “Or maybe we can start going to the gym!. I know you’ve got a thing for muscular guys. It’s tragic that you ended up with a beanpole runner like me. That’ll never change, but it might be fun. What do you say?” “No.” “Oh okay.” Greg wiped beads of sweat from his forehead. “I’m still sweating like crazy, I’m going to have a shower.” Owen didn’t answer so Greg put the empty water bottle down and headed upstairs. He began panting as he made his way up. “Must be really winded from that run…” He thought. The stairs creaked under his footsteps, each one slightly louder than the last. “Damn, when did I get so out of shape?” He pulled the collar of his t-shirt, it felt tight on his neck. He noticed with his arm reaching up that his sleeves were also unusually tight, the material rode up his arms. “What?!” He hissed to himself as he looked at his arms in front of him. The back of each arm and hand were covered in matted dark hair and thick corded veins. His forearms bulged meatily in a way that was totally foreign to him. “Gah!” He grabbed his thickening, hairy arm and made a few lumbering steps into the bathroom, barely noticing the loud slaps of his larger feet. He slammed the door and quickly locked it before staring into the mirror. “Woah.” Greg held on the counter to keep his balance. He was definitely bigger. But how?! His eyes moved up his torso. His shirt was pushed forward tightly by thick abs with slab-like pecs overhanging them. They were still pushing out, creating a meaty shelf with a deep hairy crevice between them just becoming visible at his straining collar. He felt the material of the shirt straining as his back widened and his shoulders slowly throbbed into beefy boulders. Each sleeve cut into his ballooning biceps and triceps, making the bicep vein on each arm pop even more. He shut his eyes and grimaced as he heard the fabric begin to tear. He gasped in relief as the shirt finally fell away, in shreds. Breathing heavily Greg fixed his eyes on his hulking body. Each pec looked thick and full of hard muscle. They were covered in the same dark hair that he noticed on his arms. His jaw was also darkened with a short dark beard. He moved his arm up to rub it, grazing his thickened neck in the process. “What the fuck….” He grumbled in a deep, powerful voice. He then noticed that his running shorts had also fallen away in shreds. His briefs strained thinly over his mighty legs and ass. Already decent sized from years of running, his calves had thickened to immense proportions, each muscle easily bigger than his head, covered in thick veins and even thicker hair. He cupped a meaty pec in his hand and gave it a flex. The muscle bounced powerfully under his palm. “Oh shit….” --- Owen set the empty beer bottle on their coffee table and shut his eyes. Greg was taking a long time in the shower. He got up to get another beer. He cracked the cap off and let it tumble onto the kitchen table. It landed on it’s side and rolled until it clinked off the metal of Owen’s water bottle from work and fell on its side. Owen’s eyes narrowed at the bottle. It was uncapped, empty. “Oh shit.” Owen leapt up the stairs two at a time. Before pounding on the bathroom door. “Greg?!” There was no sound of water running, just heavy breathing. “You okay?” “Yeah.” Owen recoiled at the deep brutish sound from the other side of the door. “How about you let me in? What’s going on?” Silence, only punctuated by Greg’s heavy breaths from the bathroom. Finally Owen heard the click of the lock. He opened the door slowly. He smelled Greg before he saw him. A dense musky smell that frightened the small man and aroused him. Then he was face to face with two of the most muscled tree trunk legs and thickest muscle gut he had ever seen. He looked up to see his gargantuan beast of a boyfriend. The enormous man’s head almost brushed the ceiling, his dark dense beard tangled with his chest hair as he struggled to look over his pecs and gut to see his tiny boyfriend. “You did this,” he boomed at the small scientist. “Yes,” he gulped. “I mean no. I don’t know! What the hell Greg?” He stammered for words, half noticing the throbbing tent forming in his pants.”What are we going to do? You’re a monster! Oh god, I’m so sorry.” Greg half smiled, half sneered. He crouched down, making his massives calves flare out even bigger and coming eye level with his boyfriend. “It’s not so bad.” He moved an arm next to Owen’s head and flexed it tightly. He watched as the muscle balled up into a massive mound bigger than Owen’s head. Owen’s heart leapt into his throat as he caught the sharp smell emanating from Greg’s hairy pit and felt heat radiating from his massive veiny biceps. “In fact,” Greg growled playfully into Owen’s ear. “I want more.”

Hey guys! Here's the first chapter of a custom story I'm working on for a guy with lots of awesome ideas. It's something a bit different than what I normally do so hope you enjoy! Things are going to get crazy in the coming chapters... Originally posted on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/posts/quarantined-chap-20683663 Day 1 Devon yawned. Almost midnight and he hadn’t accomplished anything other than watching the news all night. It wasn’t even as if anything interesting was going on, he just wanted something on and then news was consistent enough where he didn’t feel the need to change the channel every five minutes. He took a long sip of beer. It was his third bottle, but he didn’t even feel a buzz. This depiction of Devon might lead someone to think he was depressed, or loney, but really he was just plain bored. His boyfriend was deployed overseas and Devon was out of money, so pizza, beer, and news at home was the most fun he was probably going to have all weekend. From the corner of his eye he saw his phone’s screen light up. A little bubble appeared that just said Scott, his boyfriend of three and a half years. Devon couldn’t help but smile a little. He unlocked the phone and the message from his boyfriend in a far away place appeared. His smile widened. Hey babe. Some of the men down here in Madagascar have gotten sick. Army’s not saying what it is. Don’t think they now. They’re bringing us home early just in case. Can you pick me up from the airport tomorrow at 9? Devon did a silent fist bump to the air, grinning ear to ear. YES! He wrote back, unable to hide his excitment. Scott replied with a heart and kissing emoji and ‘goodnight, see you soon.’ Devon clutched his phone to his chest and breathed in a deep satisfying breath. Tomorrow he would be reunited with the love of his life. Day 2 “Scott!” Devon spotted his big man in uniform and trotted over to him. “Hey Dev,” Scott replied quietly before giving his boyfriend a quick peck on the cheek. “Well I hope you can give me more than that, c’mon big guy give me a real cass” Devon said with a touch more sass than he intended. Scott smirked at him, but his eyes remained serious. Dark rings around them betrayed long sleepless nights overseas. “Later. You’re parked outside?” “Yeah, in the usual spot.” Devon went to pick up his boyfriend’s oversized luggage, but his struggle against the unusual weight of the bag was evident and Scott plucked it out of his grip easily. Devon couldn’t help notice thick muscle bulging against his boyfriend’s army uniform. Scott was always big, but was he always that big?! “Here, let me,” he grunted in a tone a little less friendly than Devon would’ve liked. The couple walked to the car in relative silence. Devons initial questions were deflected so he stopped asking assuming that his partner was over-exhausted by his deployment and the flight home. When they were both in the car and miles away from the airport Devon spoke up. “You’re awfully quiet.” He glanced sideways at his military man looking for a reaction and finding none. “Everything okay.” “Fine.” Devon shrugged, letting only a hint of irritation cross his face. He scowled at the road for a beat until an idea crossed his mind. He sharply turned and exited off the highway. The big army man startled in his seat. “What the fuck. Where are you going?” “C’mon, you must be hungry. We’re going to that diner on Main.” “I’m not hungry, let’s just go home!” Devon looked sideways at his boyfriend with suspicion. Was that panic he detected in his baritone voice. Scott was usually the calm and collected one of the duo, it was unusual to see him riled up. “Well I am. Come on, it’ll be nice.” He turned into the Dixie Cow Diner’s parking lot and put the car into park. Before Scott could utter another objection Devon was out of the car and on his way into the small but busy restaurant. With a nervous sigh Scott followed. “Table for two please,” Devon declared cheerfully to a frazzled-lookking waitress. “Sure thing love.” She glanced up to see a Scott creep in gingerly. “Military eats free,” she droned before adding “thanks for your service.” She picked up two menus and brought the couple to a window seat. “How’s this hun?” “Great, thank you.” Devon took a seat and started thumbing through the menu. He glanced up to see Scott standing awkwardly, beads of sweat forming on the sides of his face. “Come on you lug, take a seat.” Scott slid himself into the booth, but didn’t speak. “Jeeze, it’s not that hot in here, you sure you’re feeling okay?” Devon asked the big man. This finally seemed to grab his attention and he looked across the table with pleading eyes. “No!” Scott declared before hushing his voice to a whisper. “No, everything is not okay.” Before Devon could ask what the hell his boyfriend meant, he told him. “I’m not supposed to be here. I’m supposed to be back in Madagascar still in Quarantine, with the rest of my unit.” Devon blinked at the big man, unsure of how to process what he just heard. He simply said “is that why you wouldn’t kiss me?” “Yes.” “Why? What is it? Is it contagious? Do you have it?!” “I don’t know.” Scott buried his face into his hands and spoke through his fingers. “I don’t think I have it. I don’t have any of the effects….” He glanced up at Devon. “That’s how I got out. I found a uniform from another unit, one that didn’t do that expedition. And I looked healthy so…. I got out.” Devon let out a breathy sigh and sat back somewhat relieved. “Well then we have nothing to worry about.” He winked and let a small smile reassure his boyfriend. But neither man was reassured. “What can I get you boys?” The waitress appeared with notepad in hand. “I’ll have the eggs benny with a coffee please,” Devon handed his menu to the waitress and sat back. “All right, all right. Good choice. And for you?” She looked at Scott. “I’ll have the same,” he mumbled. “Great! I’ll just grab that menu from you.” She reached in front of scott and lifted the menu off the sticky table sending a wave of thick perfume into the big man’s face. HIs nose twitched and his eyes bulged. Before he could stop himself or deflect it he sneezed on the waitresses outstretched hand and menu. “Excuse me,” Scott muttered to her sheepishly. “Sorry about that.” She gave him a strained smile and turned on her heel. The rest of their stay proceeded uneventfully. They chewed their food silently. Making small talk here and there. Devon didn’t want to push his boyfriend on the elephant in the room quite yet, he’d save that for home. He did begin to worry though as he noticed subtle changes in his boyfriend. He was breathing heavier than usual and sweating like he had just finished a workout. Also-and Devon almost refused to admit this to himself as it was surely impossible-he thought Scott had gotten even bigger since sitting down in the booth across from him. His muscles pushed at the camo fabric of his uniform. The whole sight made Devon chew his lip with lust as he thought of tearing that uniform off his beefy boyfriend and seeing those muscles for himself. On their way home Devon decided he couldn’t wait any longer to bring up what hed’ noticed in the restaurant. “Scott. Have you noticed anything… Different? Like with your body… Getting bigger maybe?” Scott visibly stiffened. “What do you mean?” Devon registered the panic in his boyfriend’s voice again and saw him pulling at his collar as if to loosen it. “I don’t think I’m bigger. If anything I lost weight.” Devon drove in silence. He let the subject drop but mulled over it ferociously in his head. Scott was lying! He could always tell, and this time it was more obvious than ever. “Here we are big guy.” Devon announced as he swung into their driveway. He couldn’t help but notice Scott cringe at the last two words. He turned the key and silenced the engine. “Welcome home!” He turned to face his boyfriend and his smile dropped. “Scott??” Scott was matted in sweat and panting like an animal. Thick corded veins ran up his neck which was noticeably thicker. Devon mistakenly thought it might be inflamed and began to panic. “Jesus, you don’t look too good. Fuck. Maybe you do have that thing. You get into the house and I’ll call a doctor.” “No!” Scott panted, turning groggily to his boyfriend. “No doctor.” “But!” Devon began to protest when Scott grabbed his arm firmly. “No.” They stared into each other’s eyes. Devon’s were clear and exuding concerning. Scott’s were unfocused, bloodshot, and feral looking. Devon shook his head, not believing he was giving in. “Fine, but if you get any worse I’m taking you in.” Scott accepted this and clambered out of the car. “I nap,” was all he said before heading into the house, leaving Devon to bring in his bags. “Fair enough” the small man grunted to himself as he slung heavy camo-printed bags onto his shoulders. Upstairs Scott stared at his reflection in their bedroom mirror. His thoughts came slow and muddled. He knew he was infected. Why had he sneezed on the waitresses hand? He knew it was on purpose. He felt a strange desire deep inside him to spread the infection. He tried to suppress it, which only made it stronger. A crooked smile appeared on his face. He looked down at his body. His previously athletic build was replaced with a hard, vascular, bodybuilder’s build. His muscles bulged obscenely, dusted with a thick coat of hair. Barely contained in his standard issue military briefs his mutated cock strained to break free. Fattened to monstrous proportions by the infection it begged to release the infection into Scott’s unwitting boyfriend. “No,” Scott growled under his breath. He tried to suppress the urge… The urge to make his mate like him. He sat on the bed for a second before swinging his giant muscled feet onto and then into the covers. Devon slammed the trunk hatch down and locked the car. “There. Done.” He said to himself, satisfied. He looked up at the bedroom window he shared with Scott with a furrowed brow. “Better check on the big lug,” he thought to himself before making his way back into the house. Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed and want to be notified when I post future chapters or other stories please consider supporting my work on Patreon! It would mean the world to this broke-ass bodybuilder with a penchant for writing muscle growth stories ? ---> https://www.patreon.com/MuscleNexus <---

Hello all, Part 2 of Adverse Reaction. I hope you enjoy, will need ideas for my next story, so please feel free to message me with suggestions. For the next few days, Nick avoided me wherever he could. I didn’t see him for several days initially following the unusual events that took place in the gym shower. I had continued to grow all the way back from the gym at a much slower rate; it seemed over the next few days that I also continued to grow increasingly more powerful in the gym. My lifts were going up and up and so was every part of me. I couldn’t believe how strong I was getting, it was like a dream come true. However, despite clearly trying to avoid each other it was inevitable that we would bump into each other in such a small flat. That day came almost 8 days after the shower incident. I was struggling to squeeze myself into my old clothes. My slender jeans and slim fit tops were now discarded in the back of my wardrobe as they split when I put them on. Either that or they fought with pecs for space or dug into my arms and shoulders with incredible discomfort. Now I had to settle for baggy jeans or baggy shorts and my old hoodies or sports jerseys. Unfortunately I owned very few, and all my shirts now, began to stink of man after about 4 hours of wear. Apparently whatever my body was now kicking out, it smelled strong and powerful, just like the rest of me. I waited for a day when Nick wasn’t in. It was a plan that required patience, but I found that my new persona was hungry for a change in the dynamic at home. I grinned as my phone chirped. I looked down and opened up the grindr profile, I had paid extra to have the full app and get the notifications, because it was all part of the major plan. My grin was because, some new pics of me had sent my sexual appeal into the stratosphere and I was enjoying my new found appeal by fucking tight ass like a man in a desert, drinking water, for the first time in months. One new revelation out of all of this, was an increasingly dominant and slight sadistic streak in the bedroom, which had proceed to have grown only stronger in keeping with my outward appearance. I loved to watch down over my newly minted pectorals to see them suck me off, their eyes fixed on mine. The power of it. I knew I was getting hooked on it as a sensation. However, I also knew my plan involved me having to put that to one side, to achieve what I wanted. Knowing what I liked as a dominant in the bedroom, I began to talking to fellow dominant muscle guys. Guys who could gift me the very thing I craved. More power. Posing as a fit, athletic submissive, I found it tough to find the right dominant. Until today. I knew my housemate was out. The timing was perfect. This guy was just right. Arrogant and rude. Older by 15 years. Married with kids. Bulging with muscle and hung to fuck. I couldn’t steal from a guy like me, I had to take it from someone with ego, someone who looked down on me. Someone who only saw me as an inferior male specimen. The phone chirped again. As was the plan, he was coming right over from the gym. I had to be ready for him, on my knees, wearing a sports vest and a jockstrap. I looked over at the bedside table. There waiting for him, fresh from the gym, was an ice-cold, orange coloured protein shake. As I heard the handle of the front door turn, I was on my knees, I picked up the protein shake and held it out in front of me. If this worked, well… This was going to be amazing. He entered. He said nothing, but snatched the shake and kicked me backwards onto the floor from my kneeling position. I dulled the malevolent look in my eyes and watched as he drank the post-workout shake as I had offered to have ready for his arrival. If it tasted of anything, he did not express it. I watched his thick, powerful arms hold the shaker aloft. Sweat streaked his huge physique, he wore only a black string vest and some loose red gym shorts. He kicked off his shoes and stepped towards me. I could smell his fresh, fierce gym scent. My face in line with his crotch, I could smell his uncut cock. Suddenly it kicked in the light polyester shorts. It surged towards me, huge. Bigger than Sam. He growled as I massaged his legs, the organ pulsing to life, growing hard and thick. Moments later, he had lost control, grabbed me by the vest and the jock, shouldered his way into the bedroom and dumped me on the bed. Only, this was Nick’s room. I didn’t have time to correct things, as this guy was on me. Using me for his own pleasure. His cock pulsed down the length of my back, he grabbed me by the neck and I felt the searing pain of his cock enter me. It was brutally painful and I grunted, but he stifled it with one big sweaty palm over my face. He rammed my face into the bed, forcing my ass up. My hands gripped the edge of the mattress and I was forced to breath in my housemates acrid stink, which would have previously made my own cock harden. But I was becoming a different creature now. I wanted to fight back and push this asshole off me. But I wanted to grow. I had to be right, it had to be this luminous orange shit Sam had been necking everyday. The guy behind me, grunted and laughed at my apparent pain. His organ really was monsterous and he was damn strong. I could hear the wooden bedframe, creak, that unmistakeable sound of wood splitting as he ploughed me. Nick’s furniture moved across the floor between each, titanic thrust. Then it happened, I felt his cock thicken, and then thicken again, straining my hole. I felt him began to fire round after round into me. The change, was immediate. I felt it inside me. Like a spark to a freestanding pool of diesel. I ignited. My head rose up. “Oh fuck yes… FUCK…. YES….” Was about all I could utter as it ripped through me. Energy, masculine energy suffused my limbs. I felt my ass kick back, my thighs bulge with new mass. Fuck, I felt strong. My back cracked and I lengthened up the bed. I grinned as it hit my shoulders. I was no longer able to hold onto the roleplay fantasy as I felt my shoulders undulate and widen, lats surging in power. “Yes… I’m g-growing… This is fucking amazing…” I felt the softening cock slip out from me. I rolled over and saw the expression in his face. It was a face I had not seen before, a mixture of revulsion and desire. He loathed watching me grow but desired it for himself. He was torn, he felt drained, he wanted to leave, but he needed to know how too. I extended my longer legs over the bed, sprung forward with my strengthening arms and stood in front of him. I grinned at him only now slightly less tall than him, but in a split second, the margin vanished. I growled again. My pecs surged and thread of my vest creaked and split at the shoulder. I inhaled deeply and the split widened into a tear, revealing the bulging mass beneath the fabric. Another tear, this time from below. He looked down and went pale. His prior former glory, soft and hanging limp, looked smaller than he had every seen it. It’s mass, very obviously being siphoned into its opposite number as my small jock was being shredded by the growing mound of my package. I laughed as it tore open the jock at my right hip and my newly grown organ fell forwards, thick, large and pointing menacingly at him before it pulsed larger again. My nuts beneath, not left out from the transformation. I brought my arms up and flexed, they bulged with power. My features refining, my masculinity surging as he, went the other way. His previous bulging ripped physique, was still big, but much softer. He was shorter, looked less masculine but I mostly seemed to have drained him of his cock, which looked woefully average now. He looked between my taught biceps and his own softer upper arms as I flexed, I was captivated my their shape and bulge, a big thick vein now across the surface of my left bicep. I looked back at him. “Now fuck off, or I’ll take more…” His trainers made a plastic squeal as he made for the door, stumbling twice over his now, too large shoes. I grinned, turned to Nick’s mirror and flexed. This was amazing. It would be several more days before I could take this new found ability and turn it back against Nick. Had I felt any pang of morality about going through with it, it seemed to evapourate with my last growth. I considered, I was becoming no better than Nick or the asshole who just saw me as a convenient hole, but somehow, I didn’t seem to mind. ********* It was on the day when I had no more clean sports jerseys to wear that I squeezed my newly bolstered frame into the biggest tee I had. Instead of looking ridiculous, I looked incredible. I was never going to hide myself again I snickered, watching myself in the bathroom mirror, my biceps straining the sleeves, chunky veins emerging from beneath the cuffs and my new enhanced pectoral shelf straining the shirt. Just looking at myself made the sleeping organ in my jeans pulse. As I was about to flex in the t-shirt, I heard the door to the bathroom swing open and Nick stepped in. He was dressed only in a towel. “I need a shower” “Yeah, I’m nearly done Nick, you can wait 2 minutes” My blood burned as it pumped through me. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I had stood up to Nick, this was incredible. He looked at me malevolently. As I finished tusseling my hair with wax in the mirror, I gazed admiringly as my biceps swelled at bulged as my hands worked on my coarse, thicker hair. I glanced across in the mirror, Nick was watching my arms too as our eyes never met. “Right, all yours bro…” I grunted and exited the shower, smiling at the unmistakable hardening of Nick’s thick organ against his towel. He would never before have gotten aroused by me, but I couldn’t be sure if it was his protein that caused it, or whether Nick had always been secretly attracted to muscular jocks. As I walked out of the bathroom, it dawned of me that Nick would be in there for some time. His room would be unguarded. Checking over my shoulder, I crept into his room. The scent of his room more familiar now that my own bedroom was developing its own masculine scent. A quick glance across the counters and floors, did reveal that Nick had been entertaining Jenna recently. He left the very thing that I wanted, just lying there. I grinned and got to work. I traced the edge of my water bottle with a finger through the car ride, its precious cargo the only thing I could think about. Nick’s malicious gaze continued to drift from the traffic ahead onto my swollen arms, the size and obvious power, stretching the sleeves of my previously baggy t-shirt, whereas his underarmour hid what he had clearly lost very well. He had managed however, to quite easily convince himself, he was no less of a man than he was the previous week. As we arrived at the gym, as we exited the car I took my first gulp of my water bottle, the lemon juice not really disguising the digusting taste of his ejaculate. I loved the feeling of pure energy as it burned down my throat before setting a raging fire within my gut. More suddenly than I expected I began to feel myself grow as we crossed the car park, I could feel the arms of my t-shirt dig into hardening biceps, my burgeoning arm reached down to readjust my package which was becoming rather uncomfortable in my new jock, I bought to replace the previous one. “Stop playing with yourself…” Nick scolded his voice breaking as he did so. I loved the feeling, watching him wilt as I grew stronger and stronger. It was hard to avoid the temptation to drink all of the contents of my shake, but I resisted. I walked over to an empty weight bench, the agreed exercise to be shoulder press. After a quick warm up, I grabbed his usual working weight and hefted it over to him. He looked a little anxiously at the large imposing dumbbells before turning his face into a snarl. He hardened the look as he got his arms into the perfect start position with a little help. I stood back and took another big swig of the potent protein shake. On his second rep and his arms visibly twinged as his muscle thinned, his face strained as his arms struggled. “Bro…” he struggled growing red in the face As his face glowed so the change rocketed through me, I could feel my chest swell outwards. My tee was now edging towards dangerously snug. The end of my shorts were now rubbing the top of my knee and not the top of my calf as the flourishing muscle and elongating limbs, pulled them vertically. I positioned myself behind him, and applied a very firm pressure from beneath his elbows to help with the weight, but he still struggled, the contours of his elbows feeling flatter and softer. His weakening arms inched upwards a little more before stopping, as his muscle ebbed, it felt like I was draining it right out of him. Nick’s arms collapsed and the heavy dumbells came clattering to the floor, he leaned forwards onto his knees totally spent. Before we switched seats I took another big swig of the shake. My weight was less than Nick’s but much more than I would normally throw around. I hefted the weight into position, getting one up with the help of a quad, as the undeniable cracking of the hem of my shorts resounded in the air of the gym. I pressed the weight, from my stance I could feel the bulge in my underwear swell, the feeling of wellness and masculine power bolt through me as I pressed the weight, after the second rep, it felt light. It felt like the worlds best pump. But I knew better, I was growing still. I racked the weight, and grinning, watched Nick’s face fall as I grabbed more weight. I restarted shoulder pressing the heavier dumbells, now matching Nick’s weight, it was tough at first but it got slowly easier as I felt my growth continue but at a slower pace. The delts fought back hard against the taught fabric, the power of the muscle winning out on the fifth rep, as two seams cracked. The protuberant muscle tearing the fabric apart. I grinned at Nick who looked white with shock. The sixth rep, forced the muscle to bulge larger again, the stronger, harder, steely muscle tearing more of the seam like a knife through butter. I felt the pressure around that shoulder relax and I grunted a lewd moan, feeling the sinew burst from its cloth prison. “Oh fuck yeah… growing…” I grunted. I turned to the mirror, bringing both my arms up displaying their new expanded form. As I gently flexed, more cracking was audible. I drank in my new form, whilst openly taking long stares at Nick, he seemed weaker by the second where as I was empowered. My skin seemed to glow with vitality, my features more masculine and edgy and my eyes sparkled. I couldn’t remember, ever feeling this good. I think, looking back on it now, objectively, this would probably have been enough to address the power balance in the flat, to bring things back to an even keel, but something inside me had grown stronger too. I felt that “evens” wasn’t enough, I didn’t even wrestle with the desire, I simply gave into it, to the temptation to take more, to feel the power course through me again. I chugged some more protein shake and suggested some lateral raises. Nick for the first time, seemed almost defeated but agreed. I watched as we moved over to the smaller free weights. I watched Nick gingerly pick up the 8kg. “Shoulder injury…” he coughed, by way of an excuse for not using his normal weight. I watched as he began the exercise, his weakened musculature, struggling with the small weight. His arms shook and sweat seemed to pour out of him. I grabbed heavier weights and began exercising next to him. My eyes firmly locked onto the powerful body I barely recognised in the mirror, Nick looked on, watching striations burst out of my skin into prominence. Exhausted he let the weights hang by his side as I grabbed heavier ones. By now, I could feel others in the gym watch as my shoulders swelled and veins pulsed over the surface. I wracked the dumbells and brought my arms up into a flex. The swollen arms and shoulders, openly tearing the arms of my vest with audible cracks. “YEAH!” I roared, totally absorbed in this power, not caring how the transformation was affecting not just my body, my whole personality. On reflection, how many of us could be in this situation and not take it all, how many of us would turn down the opportunity to be elevated above others. Maybe, the old me could have turned back on it, but the testosterone tearing through my body, urged me on, pressing me to turn the knife in Nicks wound. At least, I tell myself it was that. Before I could pose again, Nick was gone. I glanced over to see him slip back into the changing rooms. I grinned, casually following him, sauntering through the gym, as other guys eyed my new form, probably the first time they’ve ever noticed me over my flatmate. In the changing rooms, Nick stripped and hurried into the shower. I could barely stop myself from grinning as my ruined workout shirt hung off my surging frame. I gently peeled the remains off, letting it drop to the floor as my chest caught my eye. Not only was it distended with muscle, but a fine coat of hair was now generously coating it, only adding to overstate the power and evolutional masculinity behind such a display. My thickened legs were swelling as I padded from foot to looking in the mirror, eagerly flexing my now bulgy and rounded biceps, the forearms crammed with veins and distended with a sickeningly thick spread. I chugged down the last of the precious shake. My eager guzzling causing the odd drip to land haphardly on my swollen pectoral shelf. Even as my left hand casually quested for it, I felt it absorb into my skin. It was like my body was adapting to Nick as a source of food. With my legs rolling over each other, I made for the shower. I knew Nick would want to once again try and put me in my place, with the only advantage he still had. I deliberately entered the shower, facing an opposite shower head to Nick. I felt the familiar surge within me, the change was coming, and this would be a big one. I knew Nick had his back to the shower head, as he always did, any excuse to show off his almighty package to anyone who would glance at it. I glanced out of the corner of my eye, his once proud muscle, softened, his hard look now distinctly puffier and flatter. His once thick neck, now looking thinner and less impressive. His typically rounded biceps looking more fusiform and slender. Yet, I was still aware his package had remained large. In his rush to get into the shower, he hadn’t appeared to notice the other changes to his body. “You think that I wouldn’t notice Sam?” He said suddenly, as I felt my back begin to furtively thicken. “Notice what bro…?” I asked innocently, turning halfway to face him. “You stealing my protein powder… It’s really good stuff bro, but I’ve hidden it now. I’m not sharing anymore with you, so enjoy the growth, because believe me, when I get back on it, I’m gonna make your life pure hell” He grinned at me his features malevolent. His hand reaching down and palming his thick, long piece of meat, grabbing the base, he gave it two quick tugs. If he registered that it didn’t seem as big, or as long as usual, his face didn’t reflect that. “However big you get, you’ll never be bigger than me where it really counts” He said laughing. But his laughter died away when I turned to face him. He drank in the image, watching, as my muscles seemed to bulge bigger. His mouth moved wordlessly as if trying to speak but unable. I felt the dragon roar up within me as power streamed through my body. I felt my legs lengthen, taking my growing profile in higher, I couldn’t believe how strong, how powerful I felt. “Alright fine…” I said finally, breaking the silence “But… I think you’ll find Nick… that I’m the one bigger where it counts and if I’m bigger, you have to suck it…” I continued Nick, his eyes darting between my chest, abs and, what was now a bigger than average flaccid cock. “Heh, I’m still bigger bro, you got yourself a deal. And if I’m bigger I guess that means you have to suck mine!” he grinned. “well… alright then…” I said feeling my growth slacken off again He began massaging his cock, it would have been impressive by anyone’s standards, of course, anyone that hadn’t seen Nick before this week. Now as I played with my own thicker, longer tool, it felt great as it engorged and grew hard as steel, the whole throbbing pole feel amazing in my hand, better than ever before. What I presume Nick used to feel. My bigger, swollen balls, pulsed with energy, my skin on fire. To my surprise, Nicks cock thickened obscenely, hanging lower and lower as he caressed it with a fist, soon it grew harder and began rising up, pointing straight at me. My sword rising to meet the opponent, like the calm before a joust or fencing tournament. He stepped forward, my eyes angled downward to meet his, I was growing taller. Again if he registered this, he chose to ignore it. Instead, he grabbed my big thickening pole and pulled me in closer toward him. But I grinned as I felt his purple, engorged cock head jab into my abdomen. My own cock, falling just a few millimetres short to do the same to him. I watched Nick return the smug, arrogant look plaster all over his face again. “Heh, you know, I’m gonna enjoy this…” he smiled, placing a hand on my thickened and bulging shoulder. I tried to look dismayed as I sank to my knees, the flexion making my quads bulge and distend. I’m not certain if Nick noticed much of what was happening, but glint in his eye suggested that somehow he was oblivious. I gazed upward, with as much of an innocent intent as I could muster, made all the easier as he gently slapped his cock against my mouth. I didn’t even have to time react as he bucked his now seemingly slender hips forward and penetrated my mouth with his thick organ. I concentrated on supressing my gap reflex and kneading the rigid shaft with the breadth of my tongue as he firmly handled the sides of my head for his own pleasure. As he thrust in, I could feel the last of the effects of the tainted protein shake start to slacken, but things were already accelerating toward my eventual victory as I watched Nick sneer, his legs buckle and toes curl. His insistent and powerful thrusting increased in intensity but weakened in power. I could take his cock more manageably in my mouth; I knew my grip on his legs strengthened as those very legs diminished. Then I felt it, before he knew about it, before even the tidal wave of his cum hit me. I felt the spark of power deep within me, grow hot and brighter with every passing second. I focussed on feeding that sensation and sucked hard on his cock and it felt like the dam burst within him as his cock pulsed and rope after rope of his thick white ejaculate launched into my mouth. I felt like I had the energy to run a marathon or move boulders, as I continued to suck hard on his organ. Within seconds, my thickened musculature began to grow again as I took everything Nick had to offer. I glanced up at Nick, his head back, totally gripped in pleasure, his eyes half closed. I watched as I saw his chest weaken, his abs lose definition, and his thighs lose the impressive thickness. I knew his cock was shrinking too as my mouth now held his whole length easily. I also knew exactly where it was going. On my knees, my now impressive slab of meat between my legs was hanging over a bigger pair of bull balls and grazing the wet tile beneath my legs, with every passing second, I felt it reel out and rest on the tile like a python. I couldn’t physically wait to see the new me, but I could feel myself growing larger and stronger by the second. The feeling was indescribable, save for the undeniable and unassailable power that coursed through every inch of my body. As pleasure washed over him, he placed a hand on my shoulder. I looked up, as he looked down, curious about the sheer size and breadth of the rugged, rock hard shelf he had gripped on to. As our eyes met, I licked the head of his cock clean and pulled the much shorter, dare I even say small, cock from my mouth and grinned up from the floor at him. He said nothing, as his eyes darted around my newly enhanced body. In a split second, his cock bucked and he came again, only managing two single ropes this time as it shot out and hit my chest. He watched as it absorbed into my skin and my pecs swelled even more freakishly than before. My shoulders widened and a involuntarily growl escaped my throat as I grew again. He fearfully stepped back, that’s when he noticed his transformation, in the opposite direction. “Whu- you… you took it?” “You gave it…” “No… I would never give it…” His voice sounding hollow and almost childlike “How…?” he ventured “I think it’s your protein, it’s nothing I’ve done” I said flatly I rose to my feet. I had grown so large, I put my final height at maybe 6’4, maybe more, my muscle, huge, thick, maybe 250/260lbs easily, eager and desperate to be used. I looked down at him, gone were the protuberances of his muscle, the towering, masculine height. His cock limp and shrunken. Despite this, his wolfish good looks remained, and the innocence in his face made his eyes sparkle even more. There was little more to say. He took one last look at what used to be his before turning and running. By the time I had gotten back to the flat that night, he was already gone. His stuff was mostly packed, he’d left most of his clothes, since they no longer fit him but he’d packed the important stuff. He left the weights and the bench. But I suspected that now they would be too light for me. I walked into the kitchen, not unhappy with my current situation. I wore only a pair of sweat pants, my big, muscled physique clearly on display, my obscene bulge displayed through the thick cotton fabric. I smiled as realised Nick left all his food, kitchen supplies and his vast array of supplements. But, on closer inspection, there was a gap above the refrigerator, my new vantage could show me that there was a footprint where something used to be. Nick had taken the experimental protein shake with him.

Preface I worked on this one for quite some time in the Unfinished section. I haven't changed or added anything since April this year. There might be linguistic errors, that I haven't been able to spot yet, but there's no reason to hide this story over at Unfinished stories anymore. The prefix No sex is formally correct, but there is some sort of tension between the two male characters, so straight readers are warned. But he seemed so NICE? You felt betrayed. Or, expressed in a better manner: You didn't exactly know, what you felt, but you hadn't expected this from him. You had first got to know him online at one of those muscle-growth sites. He seemed to share your obsession and your fantasies, and, from what he wrote in the sub-forum about exercise, you had to conclude, that he knew what he was doing at the gym. It surprised you, when, after a few private messages, it turned out, that he lived in the same city, as you did. You agreed to meet at a rather average bar a Friday night. You kept looking for an average guy with any obvious signs of working out, but when THE MUSCULAR PRESENCE entered the bar and guessed correctly who you were, reality began to feel slightly unreal. HUGE wasn't a word, that was enough to describe him. THE MUSCULAR PRESENCE approached you, said hello and mentioned your name. It was too good to be true. If anyone would be able to give you the training-advice you needed, this was the one. Kindness and a sense of humour in his warm brown eyes. An air of teddybear over his face, with its brown buzzcut hair, chestnut beard and powerful chin. The scent of anti-perspirant mixing with the sweat from his revealing compression shirt, and with the scent of his leather jacket. Denim-clad manspread. Looming wide-shouldered presence. The lump in your throat. The outline of his pecs and his pec-ravine visible through the compression shirt. The outline of his abs through the compression shirt. His looming, wide-shouldered presence ... The living embodiment of friendly, confident masculinity. Present. Close to you. Hard to think. You, answering his questions and remarks with "yes" and "no". You had to gather yourself. What did he say? Showing you something? Well, yes, of course ... Perhaps three stations with the Underground. Not the most tidy part of the city. He had got a key to some backdoor into a non-descript brickwall building. A grey and sparely lit corridor. Another door: Robust door of metal plates. Two locks. Dark. Brett switched the electric light on. Revealing the Contraption. A feeling of alarm. What if he was a weirdo? What if ... a violent pervert? The dangerous-looking Contraption. One part Pec-Dec machine. One part torture chamber, perhaps? One part horror film equipment. What could he possibly ... Your jacket on a hook. He taking your shirt off. But ... No! Wait! You didn't agree to ... And then, the dizziness. Your trousers. Changing your underwear into something ... something tight, glossy, with metal threads woven into the fabric ... Dizziness. Big hands. Helping you down. Sitting in the Contraption. A glass of water. Or not water. Dizziness. Or not water. Brett saying something. "Told me, you would like it." Brett. Big. Tall. Close. Present. Those eyes. Kindness and a sense of humour. Why would he ... Why would he be doing this? Brett's big powerful hands on your naked shoulders. Dizziness. Arranging your body. Hands? Your hands in ... gloves? Inside each side of the Pec-Dec handles. Arms ... to your sides ... your chest ... protruding ... Brett's big powerful hands. Putting your feet into ... into too big high-neck trainers ... Why? Dizziness. Brett plugged the cable connected to your underwear, the cable connected to your new high-neck trainers and the cable connected to the Contraptions into some ... hard to think ... some Machine ... You were sitting in the Contraption. Connected to it. Your hands, your feet and your dick connected to it ... FEAR. You felt betrayed. Or, expressed in a better manner: You didn't exactly know, what you felt, but you hadn't expected thisfrom him. Not from him. Not Brett. "Have you read about pheromones and similar bio-chemicals inside the human body? A group of women who meet regularly, at work, at home or a group of close friends, have their periods at almost the same time, because their individual physiologies adapt to each other. Similarly, if a man join a group of men with high levels of testosterone, his body will adapt and raise the levels of his own testo. Scents, we aren't even aware of, are able to cause changes in our internal chemistry. Now: Take a whiff of this!" Brett pressed a breathing mask over your nose and mouth, and in your vulnerable position, strapped to The Machine, there was nothing you could do to stop him. You inhaled. Nothing. At least, you weren't aware of any scent in particular, but you became aware of a nice tingling feeling in your skin. Inhaled. The tingling became stronger, and blood rushed to your dick. "You see, people in this Project has harvested the scents from countless prison-gyms, hardcore gym-lockers, marine baracks, fire-stations and similar places, where the average testosterone level is presumably high ... and then they have distilled the potent transmittor-substances that affect a man's own production of androgene hormones and growth-hormones ..." You found it hard to think now. Tingling skin. Tenting underwear. Pounding temples. Brett put earbuds in your ears. A strange sound. Waves. The deeper you go, the better you feel. The better you feel, the deeper you go. A wave of fear: Fear of losing yourself. Fear of eradication of your Self. Fear of the unknown feeling, stirring in the depths of your soul. Inhaling. Willing to transform. Eager to transform. Adapt and raise the levels of ... Excitement, but fear of losing who you are. Tingling. Embodiment. So physically present now. Brett's big hands assuring you of comfort. Yeah, present. Embodied. Tingling body. Some sort of brutal anger crawling in the deep recesses of your soul. Crawling. Rising to the surface. You tugged at the straps that held your wrists and ankles in place, in some inarticulate will to free yourself, but another part of yourself enjoyed the feeling ... Yes: Enjoyed! Fear of ... the stirring feelings. Your muscles changing. Transforming. Warm. Hard. Pumped. Involuntarily flexing. Harder. Bigger. Real jock. Who's an Alpha? YOU are an Alpha. Becoming an Alpha with an Alpha mindset. Becoming an Alpha with an Alpha body. Becoming Brett's Alpha. Becoming the Alpha you always wanted to be. Becoming the Alpha you always had deep inside. Becoming Alpha brawn. Becoming Alpha beef. Becoming ... Is someone messing with you? Fuck, no. If anyone try to mess with you, you will show them, that no-one mess with this real thug bro. Yeah: Real thug bro. Feel so good. Feel so confident. And brawny. And horny. Would be fun to teach some of the idiots from the past a lesson. Yeah, feeling so good! Look at you! Look at this bruiser! Look at these arms! And these pecs! And you didn't skip leg day. Inhaled. More. More of it. More like Brett. FUCK YES! More! Eagerly inhaling. Eagerly listening to the ... the waves. Eagerly receiving the strange, voluptious and empowering energy that streamed into your electronic gloves, your electronic trainers and your electronic underwear. Eagerly BECOMING what Brett turned you into. Uh! Uhhhhh! Fuck, yeah! You moaned in excitement, when your shoulders became bigger than volley-balls and your trapezius changed to a size adapted to your new shoulders. You could feel your back feel like a mountain-side. Mountain-side! Brickwall! The power! Your thug-power! Filling your trainers now. Not too big trainers anymore. Filling them. Big feet. Big hands filling the gloves. Big ... Uh ... Your hands breaking free. Breaking the steel. Muscle against metal. Muscles winning. Your bullneck of corded steel. Your dick tenting inside the underwear. Power rushing into you ... into your body ... into your hands, into your feet and into your boner ... Conducting this ... POWER ... into you. Rushing. Connected to. Power current. Growing you. Growing BIG! Your mind ... Drowning in the sound of waves which turned you into ... into the real bruiser, who are YOU. Brett, yes! More! Give me more! I need it! I crave it! I lust for it! For all this engorged, powerful brawn. For all this engorged, powerful, conditioned and dominant muscle mass. You couldn't believe it: So good, so much. Almost too much, but there is no such thing as too much. All there is, is the craving for more ultra-masculine, virile, steel-hard FLESH. And you are becoming that ultra-masculine, virile, steel-hard FLESH. Becoming FLESH! Your hands must be bigger now. You touched your abs with your BIG hand: Deep ravines had formed between your abs -- a packet of pétanque balls of steel above your navel. Your shoulders widening. The incredible feeling when your chest became barrel-sized. The incredible feeling when your height increased. The incredible feeling when your quads turned monstrous vein-covered BEEF. Inhaling your new Self. Waves. Forming the new you. Intruding from outside. But also ... also stirring. Stirring from within. Rising from inside. Surfacing. Erupting. Yes! The hidden You: Erupting into existence. Erupting out of you. The embodied, heavy, muscular you. Your Jock-you. The mind of your Jock-you. The true you. No longer repressed. Who's a good jock-boy? YES! YOU are a good jock-boy! Jock-boy strong! Jock-boy brawny! Who's a dumb jock? YOU are a dumb jock, and you love it. "Brett! Yes! Good! More!" And Brett increased it. Your mind sunk into incoherent chatter, your immense and massive body writhed in pleasure and buzzed with growth-power, and, distantly, you could subconsciously hear yourself moan, but you were too overwhelmed by the bombardment of stimuli to take notice. Brett was making this fucking bruiser an even bigger fucking bruiser: Bulging all over of power-mass! Yeah: Power-mass! Steel-brawn! Huge! Make me! MAKE ME! Yes! Love it! Big feet conducting power. Big hands conducting power. Boner conducting power. Engorged and throbbing. Not just the boner. Your entire body: Engorged and throbbing. Every. Single. Muscle: Engorged and throbbing. Huge! Uh. Yes! Huge! Make me! Uh! Make me! Uhhhhh! Make me!!! Uhhhhh!!! BIGGER!!!!!!!! Brett smiled, when he saw, what you had become, and you could see on his smile, how proud he was of you. It was then he turned up the dial to maximum.

Preface This is another one of the stories of mine, that had lurked unfinished for a long time in the suitably named Unfinished sub-forum. Now I'm stuck, and I have nothing to add, so I posted the final version here. The theft machine He wasn't sure, when he first began to imagine his future revenge: How he would find a way to rob Russo and MacKenzie of their american-football physiques, and turn himself into a teenager with comic-books muscles. A horny teenager with superhero-muscles, who was going to gloat over Russo and MacKenzie over their now pathetically powerless physiques. The tables turned. The bullies bullied. Magic doesn't exist. Impossible machines are impossible. When he originally began to have those fantasies, there was no realistic hope, to make those fantasies into reality. The chain of events was too good to be true, but had happened anyhow: Leaving college and getting a post-graduate degree simultaneously, all at once. The articles about the "young science-genius", as the journalists put it. The research appointment. The first invention. The grant that allowed him to continue his research independently from any companies or universities. His own lab. The unexpected inheritance. In his mid-20s now. He took it in: His own lab. The large power cables running to and fro The Machine. The equipment to cool down the machine. The matter-transference conductors. The brainwave transmittors. The DNA extractors. The respirator masks. And the idea, that had turned the entire plan even more exciting: The emitters for anabolic radiation. He shivered pleasantly at the thought of it. Anabolic radiation. His throat felt thick, and it was difficult to swallow. He cleared his throat. He could feel his dong go hard inside his boxers. Soon. He had intentionally designed the glass cylinders to resemble the imaginary growth-chambers in cartoons he had watched as a child. They had watched. Russo and MacKenzie had grewn up with the same cartoons, of course. The cylinders were taller and wider than any human being. They were placed, so that the feet end of each cylinder formed a triangle with the other two. They were neither entirely reclining, nor entirely vertical, but reclined at a 45° angle, so that each specimen was half-standing, half-reclining, and able to watch what happened to the other two specimens. He wanted to be able to watch. Able to watch. He swallowed. He could feel his boxers become wet of pre-cum. Russo was half-reclining in his cylinder, and unconscious by the drug he had been given. "Hey, Alberg!" The memories returned, faded, fragmented. Alberg standing with his back to the lockers. Russo standing in front of him, with his arms on each side, blocking any escape. Russo chewing gum, his brown eyes burning of arrogance and rage and contempt. His hair like black silk, artfully styled into a hairdo popular back then. The scent of Russo's black leather jacket. The repeated, monotonous, insults. MacKenzie standing in the background. Broad. Burly. Buzzcut. Blond. Baseball jacket (well, american football, actually). Not saying anything. Without intervening. Allowing it. Letting it happen. Smirking at the remarks. Silently encouraging Russo. Russo's voice. "Hey, Alberg! Prof! Where did you get that shirt? It sucks! Out of my way, dweeb! Want to feel these stud muscles? Feel them! This is how a real man is built, weed. You disgust me, you little fag. Don't look at me like that, I'll thrash you, shrimp. Come on, MacKenzie, we are out of here." * * * He checked the buttons in Cylinder A: Three to control Cylinder A itself, four to control Cylinder B and four to control Cylinder C, all of them gradated on a scale from Level 1 to Level 10. There were also the two red diodes in the end of each scale that would warn, if the treatment increased to forbidden and dangerous levels beyond Level 10. The effect of a 120% level o a human being would either be lethal or unknown, and even the Machine itself wouldn't be able to process a 120% level more than a very short amount of time. He checked the gas canisters. He checked the sockets. He felt a brief burning pain, when he injected himself with the serum he had given the other two young men earlier, but it quickly faded away. There was no return now: The serum would soon kick in, and require the treatment. He passed by the empty cages, and remembered the experiments he had performed on the lab animals: The rats that shrunk. The rat that grew. The hamsters that shrunk. The hamster that ballooned into muscle. The chimpanzees: Both the emaciated wrecks and the brawny one that beamed of vitality. It was a pity, that he had to put it to death, because it began to behave in a too aggressive manner after the treatment. The experiments had been necessary, in order to assure that it was safe to expose human beings to the same process -- that is, at least as safe as possible. There was no way to ensure a 100 % level of safety, and the small, but ineluctable, risk of bad side-effects caused butterflies to flutter in his gut. He took his trousers off, removed his boxers, and put a stretchy, but several sizes too large, posing trunk on, and then dressed himself in the trousers again. Then he put a pair of several sizes too large trainers from Converse on his feet. He had nicked them from MacKenzie. Scott. * * * His revenge fantasies had, by necessity, changed during College. Of all eighteen year olds, he could have been forced to share room with, MacKenzie was the second-last he would have preferred, but that was, how events turned out. The first days were awkward. Alberg avoided his new room-mate, but MacKenzie seemed surprisingly interested in talking, and he behaved surprisingly decently. His icy blue eyes were shining with a seemingly sincere will to be friendly and helpful. MacKenzie helped Alberg to put a few boxes with less necessary belongings on a high shelf. Alberg felt embarrassed when MacKenzie prepared for bedtime, and went to bed, only wearing a pair of jockstraps. It had become obvious after a few days, that MacKenzie had left American football behind, and now focused entirely on lifting weights. There were plastic jars of food supplements in MacKenzie's part of the room, which he punctually gulped down at certain times of the day or the week. Only a few weeks passed, until MacKenzie asked Alberg the unexpected question: "Would you like to keep me company at the gym? I could teach you to lift." It took considerably longer time, until they had been able to discuss the past. Scott seemed to be unaware of, how Alberg had felt, and it was like he had had no clue, that the bullying had been something else than "friendly banter". When the truth dawned, the broad, burly, buzzcut blond bodybuilder had become terrified by the thought, and he resembled a remorseful big St. Bernard puppy with an expression of sadness in his eyes, when he had apologized. The days following, Scott hadn't been his usual happy and confident self, but expressed his friendship and loyalty to Alberg by awkward pats on the shoulders. And then, later in the autumn, Scott had returned from a party at a sorority house very drunk. Alberg had been asleep, but awoke when Scott returned home to their room at the dorm. He was obviously drunk, and was more noisy than usual, when he undressed. Then something unexpected happened. Scott joined Alberg in the latter's bed, and Alberg wasn't able to interpret what was happening. Scott's broad, burly, buzzcut, blond presence laid there, with a breath revealing an intake of beer, and with armpits and a warm chest emitting whiffs of anti-perspirant. "Scott? This is my bed, not your own bed. What are you doing here?" Scott hadn't answered, at first. Scott's big index finger touched Alberg's ear, and then he whispered: "Do you mind, if I sleep in your bed? I like to be close to you. You are like a little smart angel." Yes. His revenge fantasies had, by necessity, changed during College. * * * NOW. It was time. All these years. The sting of Scott's words at their second break-up, hurting him: "I love you, Angelboy. I do. But I want to explore ... I want to find out, how it is to have sex with a bigger man." Scott's words when they began to mend their relationship again: "I love to be with you, and I love to help you grow bigger. That was true, when I coached you at your first workout, and that is true now. We will be together for ever." NOW. It was time. He glanced at Cylinder C, in which Scott half-reclined, half stood, his eyes drowsy after helping Alberg putting Russo in Cylinder B. Broad, burly, buzzcut, blond. Bigger, than in the past. The love in his eyes. And the URGE. They had discussed THE URGE, and found, that they, despite their dissimilarities, shared it: "Fuck, little buddy, if it was possible, I would love to grow IMMENSE, and I would love to see you grow bigger than me -- a hard fukker able to carry me." NOW. It was time. Fright fluttered in his guts. THE URGE grew, raising like a tidal wave, competing with the fright. He entered Cylinder A, closed it and put the respirator on his lower face. The risks. The possibilities. He switched the Machine on. It hummed. It hissed. Conductors working. Transference Level 1. DNA alterations. Transmitters working. Brainwave transmission. He shivered. His throat felt thick again. He cleared it. He could feel his hard-on grow inside his posing trunks. He readied himself for the impact. And then it happened. IMPACT. * * * IMPACT!!!! When he later looked back at the impossible and unexpected, frightening and delightful adventures they had encountered on The Day Of His Revenge, it was hard to decide which part of it had been the best, but the initial IMPACT was one of them: Pleasure enhanced by fear. It was happening, but what would it do to him? What would it make him into? What would it cause him to become? Uh! Yes! BECOME! Was there still any dangers he had overlooked? Any flaw, that would cause monstrous side-effects? Too late, now. Too late to stop. It had begun! TOO LATE! IT HAD BEGUN! THE IMPACT! His skin and his muscles buzzed, his brain entered a state he had never felt any time before, and an indulgent pleasure began to flow through his veins: A luxurious and tempting, tantalizing and inviting hunger for robbing both of the other two of all they got. Rob them. Of all they got. There was no reason to deny, that Russo was handsome. He always was. He remembered the handsome teenaged face of Russo in high school distorted by arrogance, staring at him uncomfortably close. The handsome eyes of Russo, like tiger iron, like mahagony, burning terrifyingly by adolescent rage. Like a piece of art disfigured by one single but flagrant detail. Russo back then: Still boyish cheeks, but trying to play tough and hard. Russo now: The cheekbones, that opened the doors for him to modeling. Russo, when they met again at a reunion a few years ago: Pretending that nothing had happened in the past. Behaving like he had never spoken those damning words in the past. Accepting Alberg's and Scott's relationship, as he had never cursed fags in the past. Being dude and bro with Scott, joking, playing. Even behaving friendly towards Alberg. Who knows what lurks in the hearts of men? Who knows what is real change, real improvement in a man? Still cocky, but now for his modelling job. Had left American football behind. Didn't aim at Scott's gains. Seemed to lack THE URGE. The urge Scott and himself shared and share, despite the hardgainer size of his. Russo's olive-coloured torso exposed to the transference: Fit. Always in shape. Conditioned. Ready for next photo-shoot. But not ready for the transference. The transmission. Could probably place well in Men's Physique. Could never place well in a bodybuilding competition. Scott had removed Russo's jeans, but the latter was still wearing his Calvin Kleins. Discount because he modelled for that company in the past. Come on Russo! Wake up! Face the horror! Face my revenge! I'll drain you, shithead! Yeah, that's right! open your eyes, you fukking wanker! Level 2! This will teach you! Yes, open your eyes like that! You can't stay asleep now! Not now! "Wait? What's happening? I said I would let you show me your Lab. Let me out, Alberg! Don't smile like that, Scott! It isn't funny!" Yes. Level 2 will teach you. Or perhaps level 3! It intensified. THE IMPACT. He couldn't believe it. He had known theoretically. He had seen the lab animals. But he hadn't been able to guess how it FELT. How it messed with his body in a delightful way. How it messed with his brain in a way that didn't matter. All that mattered were the gains. THE URGE. He grabbed his left pec, and felt how it was growing bigger. Firmer. Gym-shaped hardgainer-physique turning into something more. Something else. More like Scott. He pressed the button for Cylinder C. Of course he would press the button for Cylinder C. The controls. Not for revenge, because they had overcome so many obstacles together. Just to feel. Just to feel how it felt to be like Scott. Just to feel how it felt to BE Scott. Level 2. Level 3. Russo's voice distracting him: "Hey Alberg! Stop that! It isn't funny." Scott's icy blue eyes widening. His mouth hidden behind the respirator. Scott's voice: "I told you before. I want to see you grow, even if I'll have to face some loss of gainz on the road. I can see how you grow. I love you, power-hobbit!" Russo's voice becoming squeaky and shrill, for a contrast. Not able to control himself. Losing his cool. He always avoided losing his cool. He now sounded like his voice was breaking a second time. "Shit, stop that for fuck's sake. I'm losing my condition! I'm fucking shrinking!" And he was. Alberg watched him. The fear in Russo's eyes. Russo in Cylinder B: Naked. Vulnerable. Scott in Cylinder C. Mighty chest exposed. Bleached denim jeans. A bulge in his jeans. Alberg knew what Scott was wearing inside his jeans. The gains streaming into himself. Scott shrinking. Russo shrinking. A smirk forming on Alberg's lips. Feeling smug. Too similar to the ways of Russo in the past to feel entirely comfortable. But he had got THE URGE. The hunger that flew through his veins. The luxurious and tempting, tantalizing and inviting hunger. Rob them. Feel Russo's level of condition combined with Scott's sheer mass. He shivered again. He couldn't control himself, when he pressed the controls for Cylinder B and Cylinder C. He wanted it so much. He wanted it so eagerly. Unable to control himself. He was controlled by THE URGE and the new Self that was emerging. Emerging out of the process. Level 4. His eyes widened. His jaw fell slack, as his lips and teeth parted to form a lustful expression, as he took the body transfer in, and became entranced by the brainwave transmission. He didn't know it, but his eyes were beginning to burn by the sort of arrogant gaze Russo had sported in the past. Level 4... Yes... it happened ... Better than he had thought ... He squeezed his left pec again. Russo's enfeebled complaints in Cylinder B didn't concern him. He was gaining. He was growing. He was slowly approaching Scott's build and Russo's former condition, combined. He reposed confidently in the experience for a while, and then he gathered himself enough to go ahead with the next step. * * * He decreased the transfer level to Level 1. His heart-rate returned to normal, and he took the sight of them in. The frail shape of Russo rested emaciated in Cylinder B, feebly pressing his small palms to the inside of the glass surface, and emitting a rueful whimper: "No. No. Not to me. Why? No." A rag-doll. A scrawny shrimp. Who called whom a scrawny shrimp in the past? He shuddered. He averted his gaze. The present sound and shape of Russo caused any remaining grudges to fade and go out. He felt a void in his guts. When he directed his attention to Scott, the process had affected the latter, too, though less severely. Scott's innate massiveness and persevering dedication to the gym had defended him against some of the onslaught, and he rather looked like a promising junior bodybuilder in an extreme state of exhausting condition the day before a competition. Not the burly bulking-shape he usually sported. Scott's icy blue eyes watched him with the most trustful gaze. Alberg shuddered. Trustful gaze. Scott was the best man among the three. The half-truths he had told Scott, in order to lure him into the experiment. Half-truths. Not the sincerity and trust Scott showed him in return. Love welled up. Love mixed with regret. Time for next step. Time to reward Scott. Time to reward Russo, the way he had promised Scott. Time to experience this together. Never done on human beings before. If he had calculated it wrong ... He would never forgive himself if he harmed Scott. No! Never Scott! He hoped for the results he had intended. Here goes. He activated the anabolic radiation in Cylinder B and Cylinder C, and braced himself for what he hoped to see happen. And it happened. * * * He was expectant to watch Scott resume his size. And Scott grew. His boyfriend's muscles slowly began to beef up. They didn't return entirely to the puffy and bulked state they had been, before he stole some his boyfriend's gains, but the added level of condition allowed them to look bigger than before. He shivered pleasantly, as he watched Scott grow. The respirator made it difficult to see any details of Scott's facial expression, but from what he could guess from Scott's eyes, the latter loved the feeling. Scott's jeans had hung baggy on his legs after the muscle-transference, but now Scott was beginning to fill his jeans again, and there was a bulge behind his fly. Russo was recovering too. His eyes stared in relief and disbelief, when his firm and fit model-body returned in shape, and he stared at Alberg's engorging physical shape. Staring. Almost admiringly. "Want to feel these stud muscles?", Alberg thought. Feel them! This is how a real man is built, weed. Time for the next mischief. Alberg increased transference level from Cylinder B to Level 2. Two things happened. Another rush of energy and pleasant heaviness filled him, and another groan rose from Russo's cylinder: "No! Not again! My gains! What game are you playing? It's not funny!" Alberg allowed a few seconds to pass. Then he increased the level of anabolic radiation in the other two cylinders, and swallowed in delighted anticipation. Scott moaned first. Then Russo. They must be feeling something similar he had felt, when the Machine transmitted muscle mass to him, earlier. He liked, that they liked it. He liked to inflict pleasure to them, especially to Scott, so he increased the levels of anabolic radiation to Level 3, then Level 4. Loud grunts from Scott, and he could see his boyfriend flex inside the cylinder. The hair on the back of his head bristled at the sight of -- and noise coming from -- his growing boyfriend. Russo grunted, too. Grunting, increasingly mixed with yelps of pleasure. YES! Inflicting them pleasure! He increased anabolic radiation to Level 5, and transference to Level 3. IMPACT! A nice buzzing feeling hit his body. The other two young men now grew faster, than he drained them. They shared a quite enjoyable feeling, growing together. Yes: Enjoyable feeling, but he wanted MORE. He knew that THE URGE raged inside Scott, and THE URGE raged inside himself, too -- now more than ever before, like the process had unlocked a hidden part of him: A cocky, virile part of him, ravenous for more muscle mass. MORE! Anabolic radiation Level 6, and transference to Level 4. Yes! Back to the earlier levels of transference, but now fed with high amounts of brawn born out of heightened levels of anabolic radiation. Scott gained. Russo gained. And Alberg robbed them of half of it. Scott's grunts turned into the sort of enraptured yelps Russo had emitted earlier, but it was hardly a sound of complaint. With a large amount of self-control, Scott shouted something in that moaning voice: "FUCK! YES! Bombard me! Bombard us all! I want ... Uh! Oh, shit ... so good ... I WANT BRAWN!" Alberg could feel the meat in his trousers tent in response to Scott's words. He shivered pleasantly, and then he increased anabolic radiation to Level 8 and transference to Level 6. Ecstacy. The raw, pure experience of adding mass. He could share Scott's and Russo's experience of energy bombardment. He felt ... He felt ... Then he felt how tight his trousers had become around his thighs. Painfully tight. So painful. His quads and hamstrings felt so powerful now. And then the fabric capitulated. His QUADS and HAMSTRINGS EXPLODED out of his trousers, and the shreds fell to the foot-end of the cylinder. He could feel the size of his traps and the massiveness of his lats and pecs, the power of his tricepses ... It could only be a matter of seconds until his t-shirt ... There it went. Tatters. Shreds. Because he was becoming A POWER HOUSE of muscle mass. EXPLODING out of ... Oh. It felt so good. He opened his eyes. It was happening to Scott now. He eagerly watched something similar happen to Scott: Scott bulgingly EXPLODING out of his sexy, but too small, denim jeans, causing his black wet-look posing trunks to show. Alberg looked down. His pec-shelf obscured some of the view, but, ok, his golden posing trunk was visible now. They both knew what they liked to watch, but it was something of a surprise, that Russo was taking in the sight of his bros' posers, too. Muscle -- clad in wet-look black. Muscle -- clad in gold. Towering. Fuck! Still growing! Couldn't have dreamed of ... "Wait! Too much! You are ruining my model body!" Russo whining again. Alberg and Scott were turning Russo into a eye-popping mass-freak, and he was an ingrate? Fucking boring ingrate, but if Russo wasn't going to cherish that amount of mass, Alberg knew someone who would. He smirked inside the respirator and fidgeted with the controls. Cylinder B: Transference Level 9. Dangerously high level, but if Russo wanted to return to his boring model-physique ... So be it. Bombarding the two hunks with anabolic radiation and FORCING them to grow. Inflicting pleasure. And then rob Scott of two-thirds of his gains. Rob Russo of ALL his gains, keeping him as before. To absorb all that brawny muscle mass. Absorb jock-strength. Absorb increased jock-strength. Absorb heightened jock-strength. Absorb the jock mindset. Yes! Crammed into his defenceless bulging body! Absorb! -BSORB -BSORB -BSORB -BSORB -BSORB What happened next surprised Alberg and Scott. * * * "Fuck! Yes! Rob me of it! ABSORB all that extra mass! I love to see you grow like that! That baby face on that jock body. Uh. Me restored. You perfect. Love it. Look at him MacKenzie! Your boyfriend is PERFECT!" A number of contradicting feelings rushed through Albergs mind. No? It wasn't possible? Russo? Admired him? But why? The surprise confused him so much, that he re-set all Levels to zero, and turned The Machine off. The humming slowed down and fell silent. After a click, they were able to open the cylinders and leave. Scott had a slightly disappointed expression on his face, when he removed his respirator. Scott hugging him, but whispering: "So good. I wanted MORE!" One warm presence comfortably pressed to his own warm physical presence. Russo standing there, legs shaking, some of his old confidence shaken, too. "Whoooah. Alberg! That's ... uh ... that's quite impressive." Russo reached out his hand and felt Alberg's left pec. "You say?" Alberg felt confused by the situation, but forced himself to smile, and he willingly flexed his pecs, which forced Russo to emit a quick moan. Something happened in Russo's eyes. And something happened in Russo's Calvin Kleins, too. Scott was inspecting his new gains, too, and the sight of the two gay muscle-studs obviously caused Russo to become uncomfortable and incredibly horny. The only of the three of them, who felt entirely comfortable with the entire situation, was Scott, who unprompted began a few highlights from his old posing routine. Double biceps. BULGE! Scott had placed second at bodybuilding competitions on a regional level twice: Big enough to draw attention at his own gym (and make Alberg crazy in bed), but not the cut above needed to become a winner, that is, in the past. The present Scott looked amazing. If he had reached that level by natural means, he had probably been able to turn pro. The same was true about Alberg now. Huh! Side chest. STEEL PEC! Hiss! Scott flexed his abs, and Russo stared at him with an embarrassed and mesmerized gaze. Uh! Most muscular. GRANITE BRAWN! Russo couldn't restrain another yelp. SPROING! Alberg felt proud of his boyfriend, but the sensations of his own new body divided his attention, and he moved his big hand over his pecs, his abs, his Apollo's belt, and then he cupped his improved man-meat inside his shiny golden posers. Russo's eyes widened, and there was a spot of pre-cum on Russo's Calvin Kleins. Alberg felt slightly confused. Confused and empowered, elated and disappointed. He didn't understand what he felt. It felt like he couldn't think clearly. He approached Russo, and became aware of his own waddling gait, as his thighs rubbed against each other in an unfamiliar way. Somehow, his changed gait and posture caused his self-esteem to rocket. He faced Russo, and looked down at him. Taller than Russo now. That realization sent a pleasant wave through his chub. Looked down at him. "If I remember correctly, Russo, fags disgust you, don't they?" Oh, how unusual that blush on Russo's cheeks. Wild-eyed, like a trapped animal in the presence of the Alpha predator. Pleasant wave through his chub, and a surge of confidence in his guts. "Whoooah, Alberg. Hey, dude, it was years ago. Years and years. I was a kid. I wouldn't have reconnected with you two after the reunion, if I had remained like that. Times change. Why bring that up NOW? Wait! Whooah! Hey! Why?" There were no clothes on Russo's upper body, otherwise he would have grabbed Russo's shirt. Pity. So he grabbed Russo's armpits and lifted him up, so that they could face each other. He noticed, how he could lift the frightened little model without effort, and that insight caused another surge of pleasure billow through him. "Yes, why WOULD you have reconnected with us? You have changed your mind. Good. It seems like you like what you see, eh?" He couldn't hinder himself from smiling. His smile didn't seem to calm Russo down. Good. Russo swallowed. He shuddered, and there were mixed feelings in his eyes: Terror. Embarrassment. Lust. "Fuck, yes. I ..." He shuddered and yelped. "Shit. I always felt so ashamed by how horny you made me. Stupid to blame you. I love how you lift me now, Babyface. And I love the muscle-machine you turned MacKenzie into. You ..." Russo shuddered again. "You are the perfect couple, you two. You are so ..." Russo's eyes widened, he instinctively held his breath, and then he gulped the air in breathlessly. His body became limp in Alberg's grip. "Fuck. Your display of strength caused me to cum. Sorry." Alberg put Russo down, and the latter sat down on the lab floor, and catched his breath. "Sorry guys." The turn of events caused Alberg to feel more confused. * * * Scott was probably the one, who handled the situation best. He approached his boyfriend, pressed his groin and chest into the latter's now considerably wider back, and began to feel Alberg's newly won muscles. Scott's body heat and weight pressed to Alberg's own. Scott's stubble to his own afternoon shade cheek. Scott's soft lips nibbling at his ear. Scott's big hands on his new meaty pec and hard abs. He shivered. Scott helped him take it in: His new heavier, sturdier, BULGING body. "I love it. I love you. Amazing. Just as you promised." Scott's big hand cupped the shiny golden fabric that covered Alberg's meat. Scott squeezed. Alberg shivered again. "But what if you added MORE? Why stop now? And if I understood you correctly, you didn't add those growth-ray things in your own cylinder, did you?" Squeeze. "The growth-rays are awesome. You try some growth rays. You don't need to absorb anyone else's muscles for that, do you?" Squeeze. "I want to see you add MORE. You look like a bodybuilder now. What if you looked like an Olympia Pro?" Squeeze. "What do you say?" Scott felt good. What he said felt good. It was so hard to think clearly. Try some growth rays? Ok, why not. He began to walk to Cylinder C, and touched the lid. "Will you operate the cylinder, Scott? Did you understand what I said about the controls?" There was a boyish light in Scott's eyes and a bright smile on his face, when Scott crawled into Cylinder A to operate the next step of the experiment. Alberg stepped inside Cylinder C, and closed the lid. They were facing each other through the glass of the two cylinders, and they could hear each other through speakers. Two powerful bodybuilders with tanned muscles, one in gold posers, another in black wet-look posers, watching each other. The thrill in his guts began again. No need for the respirator now. All compounds were already in his system, still active, still changing them all three. Thrill in his guts. Scott's eyes. Scott fidgeting with the controls. Still changing them. Never felt the rays before. Seen what the rays did to the animals. Began to behave in a too aggressive manner after the treatment. But impressive. Scott's loving gaze. Scott's naked intimidating MASS in Cylinder A. Scott's encouraging gaze. Scott's mischievous gaze. The scent of Scott inside Cylinder C. Surrounded by the scent of growing Scott. Sweat. Anti-perspirant. Shower cream. Scent of jock body. Surrounded. The humming returned. Jock body ... Never felt the rays before. Never felt the. Never felt. IMPACT! The air surrounding him buzzed, nay, crackled with POWER that beefed him up. So THIS is what Scott and Russo had felt earlier? Yeah! So good! All his muscles twitched and felt similar to pump and soreness, but yet something else. Warm. Heavy. Hard. Warmer. Heavier. Harder. Buzzed, nay, crackled. ... couldn't remember the scientific name of the growth-rays anymore. Didn't matter. The only thing that mattered ... ... was THE GROWTH! Scott making him ... UH! Scott making him bigger. Scott turning him into ... UH! Scott turning him into a super-jock! Couldn't have dreamed ... Better, than he had imagined ... Dim knowledge of danger ... UH! Danger didn't matter. The growth-rays mattered. The growth-rays adapted him. UH! Adapted him. Caused him to take the brunt of it all. Enabled him to swallow MORE, take MORE of it. MORE than any other man. Causing him to grow MORE. UH! YES, MORE! Adapted him! He cupped his pec. Like an impossible medicine ball, and still growing. More like a big melon now. Warm beef. Heavy beef. He flexed. Steel-hard beef. Nothing mattered. BEEF mattered. His widening back grinded against his harder triceps, forcing his rougher, thicker arms to hang out from the sides of his body. The way Scott walked. Lats. Scott told him. The beefy part of the back. Causing the bodybuilder posture. The bodybuilder gait. Wobbling shoulders. Waddling legs. Arms hanging out to the sides. The way he walked now. UH! Adapted him! Jock scent. His own jock scent mixed with Scott's jock scent. So big now. Able to crush anything. Mmmmm. Crush. He cupped his biceps. Flexed. Felt so good. He let his biceps and his lips meet. Kissed his own biceps. Licked it. So hard. The fucking power making him even STRONGER. UH! Coudn't stop himself from licking his own biceps more. What happened to his biceps, happened to his entire body: Enhancing. The striations and the veins that emerged. The uncrushable firmness. Licking his biceps. Lost in this, now. Hard to think, but who needed to think, when they were becoming strong beyond human limits? UH! Scott's eyes. Scott's love to him, visible in his eyes. Scott's horniness visible in his eyes. Scott turning him into what Scott wanted him to be. Scott's URGE was awake. And Scott knew, that Alberg's URGE was awake. URGE to grow big. URGE to grow BIGGER. URGE to grow ... UH! Beyond human limits! Alberg closed his eyes and lost himself in the overwhelming experience. That was the reason, why he wasn't aware of what happened next. * * * "Yeah. I look forward to this!" Scott's enthusiastic voice caused Alberg to open his eyes, and what he saw caused him alarm. Scott was now resting in Cylinder B, and closed the lid after himself. Russo had entered Cylinder A, and was now in control of The Machine, smiling smugly. Cylinder B began to hum. Scott shivered. Alberg could see Scott's black poser fill out, because of Scott's expectations. No! How could Scott trust the unreliable little handsome runt? That smug smile on Russo's face. It was obvious, that he would steal the gainz from both of them, rob Alberg of his revenge, and turn Scott into a shadow of his cheerful, virile self. Now and then, under the impact of the growth rays, Alberg was writhing and wriggling – shrugging to adapt his posture to his increasing MASS, and Scott began to behave in the same manner. Also letting out little yelps of pleasure. Russo. Smug. Couldn't trust ... ... OH! FUCK! Yes, Russo was increasing the growth rays in Alberg's Cylinder. Hard to concentrate, when it increased like that. The experience of EMBIGMENT. Like a wave of STRENGTH endowing it's qualities to him in it's overwhelming billow. And then came the icy cold experience of terror he had feared. Another sound. Another protocol. He hadn't heard it from the robbed side before. Russo robbing them of their gainz! Weaker wasn't the word for what he felt: The growth ray now worked at an even more heightened level, than before, and Alberg actually grew faster than Russo was able to rob him, but it wasn't the eventual effect, that tuned his guts into ice, but the mere knowledge, that his former bully, of all people, was able to FEED on him. -BSORB -BSORB -BSORB Russo moaned, but then fidgeted with the controls. The sound of the absorbation protocol faded down. Without the absorbation to hold it back, the growth felt more intense now. So intense. Hard to concentrate. Hard to think. The runt speaking: "Sorry MacKenzie. Sorry Alberg. Just wanted to taste it. Feels awesome, but I can't ruin my present shape by going too big. The photographers are picky." Scott moaned in his even deeper voice, rather than spoke, when he answered: "You are welcome. Now, do what we agreed on. I want both of us to go testo-fuelled super-humans. No holding back, anymore. No holding back." "Ok, MacKenzie. I love watching you two. At the reunion, I realized that you two are the sort of gays I get on with. Feel at home with. Didn't dare to admit to myself before. Your hospitality helped me to become a real person, if you know what I mean. So glad that Alberg had been bit by the growth bug. Could relate to that. Now, when I am in command of The Machine, I will turn you two into my personal Terminators. Make space marines a reality. Make you into two living, breathing Hulks! Increasing level! It hit him. It must have hit Scott, too, because both of them let out roars. Uh! Roars! Roaring! Writhing! Wriggling! SO INTENSE NOW! If the growth rays had felt like a rain or a hailstorm of energy before – a rain of energy transforming him and Scott – it now felt like standing in a cascade of strength-inducing power now. An AVALANCHE of strength-inducing power. Russo and his cylinder looked like they were shrinking. He adapted his posture. He had to stand with his legs wider apart. Confidently wide apart. Thighs rubbing to each other. The shrinking size of Russo was just an illusion, because it was Alberg who was growing. He could watch Scott grow, too. The sight made him horny. Yeah: Jock boyfriend. Yeah: Muscle-god boyfriend. He could feel the rod in his golden posers tent, and he could feel it throb and expand. Scott stared at him, and was reacting in a similar way: Scott's wet-look poser was stretched, and revealed the root of Scott's bronze cannon. Alberg could feel his traps bulge, rougher, thicker, like the mountain ridge Scott had between his neck and his shoulders, and both their bull-necks were like baileys carrying their heads. Deep, deep ridges between their cannon-ball abs, now. Brief pain when his canines became more ... uh ... he felt with his tongue ... his canines became more canine. Something happened to his chin and jaw. More powerful now. YEAH! MORE POWERFUL! Scott was now bigger and more conditioned than any Olympia Pro, and, by the feel of it, Alberg understood, that he himself had transformed beyond that limit, too. An AVALANCHE of strength-inducing power. BEYOND! Alberg flexed his biceps. That made Russo insanely excited: "Fuck! Shit! Yes! Alberg! You're amazing! Can't believe it! So ... UH!" Russo did something to the controls. An alarm went off with a bleering sound, and red rotating lights were lit. AVALANCHE of strength-inducing power. Alberg should have been worried now, but he wasn't. AVALANCHE of strength-inducing power. The Urge turned into insanity, but it didn't matter. He was The Urge. He was Jock Power. He was Muscle-god BRAWN. He kissed his biceps. He licked it. He explored the new veins on the engorged and bulbous globe of strength. Licked it. Felt how it grew rapidly under his lips. Felt how the rest of him grew rapidly under the awesome influence of The Machine. The sound of Scott moaning. Jock-moans. The sound of the runt wanking, because the sight of Alberg was irresistible. Yeah, irresistible. Expanding. Adding MEGA-MASS. Becoming a titan, built by veiny boulders upon veiny boulders. The URGE for MEGA-MASS! Standing among mists of pure energy. Inhaling the mists of pure energy. Absorbing the mists of pure energy. Tenting. The stretchy fabric of his posers only able to cover his dick-head now. The head of his cannon rubbing itself against the inside of the poser fabric. Rubbing. Felt good. Touched his hip, where a thin band of fabric held his struggling posers in place. Pounding in his temples. Flexed his chest. Rubbed his own traps with his bigger hand. Most muscular. Felt his own impossibly hard quads. Standing in the AVALANCHE of strength-inducing power. Letting it rush into his insatiable URGE. Standing. Commandingly. Standing. Dominantly. Standing. God-like. Forced to grow MORE. Erupt into powerful, irresistible BRAWN. The impossible might. The impossible might increasing. Scott moaning. Standing in the AVALANCHE of strength-inducing power. The difference between human flesh and crackling, buzzing power diminishing. Disappearing. Brimming of pure, raw, masculine strength. Becoming more than a man. BECOMING impossible might. BECOMING MEGA-MASS! BECOMING an AVALANCHE of strength-inducing power. BECOMING mists of pure energy. Becoming a broad, burly, buzzcut power-titan of pure, raw crackling, buzzing, brimming, empowering, insanely intense, engorging, throbbing, surging, overwhelming, exploding ... STRENGTH! The feeling of becoming taller, harder and stronger mixed with the feeling of orgasm, and they both mixed with the feeling of becoming like a battery charged by the output of an entire power house. Charged. The. Output. Of. An. Entire. Power. House. YES! POWER HOUSE! BEYOND! BEYOND! BEYOND! POWER HOUSE! He didn't become unconscious, but he wasn't aware of his surroundings, and he didn't know for how long he had been lost in that ecstatic sea of pure strength and virility. * * * He slowly returned to consciousness. Fresh air seeped in from the open lid, and Scott and Russo was looking at him. He sat upright, and began to climb out of the cylinder. Yeah, felt bigger now. Impossibly big. The biggest. The unfamiliar feeling of his, now towering, physique, caused him to move clumsily. His naked feet rested on the floor. He cupped his left pec with his right hand, and squeezed again. The feeling caused him to emit a satisfied grunt. Russo watched him. "What are you looking at, Dweeb?" Alberg's powerful arm reached out, and pinned Russo against the wall. "Not so tough now?" Russo squirmed, pinned to the wall, with Alberg's big fist around his neck, but his eyes didn't express undiluted fear. Something with Russo's gaze and smile betrayed how much he seemed to like it. "No, not so tough when my beastially huge master dominate me. Sir!" The answer -- and the entire situation -- caused a wave of pleasure to billow through them both. Both were naked, and there was no mean to hide their physical reactions. Scott took the sight of his now titanic boyfriend in, and the sight of the latter dominating Scott's childhood friend. He couldn't stop himself from stroking himself. Scott's reaction drove the other two crazy: Alberg let Russo go for a second, then grabbed the back of Russo's head, forcing Russo's mouth closer to Alberg's steel-python. The model eagerly swallowed the titan's member, and the cavernous lab echoed of their moans and grunts, until all three reached relief. * * * They had showered, but before the first shower, Alberg had Russo take measures for Alberg's and Scott's new clothes. None of their old clothes did fit anymore, and he had expected that. Two companies had been warned beforehand about incoming urgent orders this day. It gave him a smug satisfaction to see Russo tremble of excitement when he took Alberg's and Scott's measures: "Whooah. You are 6'6'' now, bro, sorry, Master. Don't see the the scales, because of the pec-shelf? OK, it's 370 pounds, ugh. Your legs, ehe, they, wow, they are 35 inches. Your chest is, uh, it is, wow, it is 72 inches. Eh. Uh. Fuck! Will you flex your arm, while I use this measuring-tape? 28 inches... Oh, Uhnnnn, yes, Master, your arm is... ugh... is TWENTY-EIGHT INCHES! Uhn Uhn Uhn, sorry Master, I couldn't stop myself from..." The package with new clothes arrived with special delivery five hours later, just fresh out of the sewing machines. The lads had found satisfying ways to occupy themselves, while they waited for the delivery. The content was what Alberg had expected. He watched Scott step into the camo-patterned cargo-trousers, and button them. Then he became preoccupied with his own trousers: Black, glossy leather-trousers. He inhaled the scent of leather, and put them on, feeling the leather tightly hug his powerful quads and hamstrings, and his voluminous calves and glutes. He buttoned his trousers, and he could feel his manhood crawl down one of his trouser-legs, forming a discernable outline through the smooth, glossy leather. The sturdy, rather wide, belt followed. He stepped inside his boots: Not boots with lace as Scott had chosen, but biker boots. Glossy leather cuffs. His jacket. No need to wear anything else under the jacket. He wanted to show off. Russo behaved as an enthusiastic puppy, when he was allowed to follow his two new masters to the club. They knew, who would become the centre of the club this night. All three of them knew. Alberg's revenge hadn't turned out exactly as he had expected. It had turned out better.

Hey everyone, sorry again for the delay, but work is crazy. Anyway, enjoy! Parts 1+2+3: https://muscle-growt...stop-parts-1-3/ Parts 4+5: https://muscle-growt...-stop-parts-45/ Parts 6+7: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/7460-dont-stop-parts-67/ PART 8: The next morning began as the previous few mornings had for Andrew. He woke up, noticed he had a huge raging erection, and went to the bathroom to take care of it. This morning, he was happily surprised to once again find that he had changed dramatically since the day before. He had a really full beard now. It was luscious, thick and was already about a quarter inch long in most places. He looked like he was well on his way to becoming a lumberjack in just a day or two. However, even under the layers of facial hair he could tell that his face was more angular and cut than before. Continuing down his body, he could see tufts of chest hair poking out of the top of his shirt. Quickly tearing off his shirt he found a veritable forest of chest hair leading to a dense covering of hair on his new eight pack abs. He could tell that his legs were much hairier too now. “I must be the hairiest Asian on campus now,” Andrew though proudly. By the increased hair wasn’t the only change Andrew found. It appeared to him that his workout had paid off handsomely because he was not only ripped, he was enormous. He was at least six feet tall now with huge tree trunks for legs. He could see massive calf muscles pushing out from his lower leg in a perfect diamond cut formation. Above them were huge quads and hamstrings that had gotten so big there was no longer a gap between his legs. His muscles were so big that they made his legs touch each other while standing up normally. Another effect of his massive quads was that his dick and balls were pushed a little bit out from his body making them look even larger than they already were. His cock had to be at least eight or nine inches long (confirmed to be 8.75 inches by Andrew’s handy ruler) and was as hard as steel. His balls meanwhile were each as large as a tangerine and churning with huge loads of semen. He needed to ejaculate soon or else they would swell so much it would start being painful. As much as he wanted to get off on his new physique, there were still areas of his body that he had not explored yet. His abs were like a cobblestone path carved into his stomach, and flexing them and unflexing them made Andrew realize that he could easily stop a gut punch with his abs of iron easily. His pecs looked absolutely swollen with new muscle. The massive fleshy pillows were so big now that his nipples hung straight down. He looked like he could bench press 400lbs easily now. However, despite all of his other fantastic muscles, the greatest was yet to come. His arms looked like they were at least 20 inches around now. Crazy veins snaked their way lazily across the top of his massive peaked biceps while his triceps hung pendulously from the back of his upper arms. His forearms were huge too (probably from jerking off so much). All in all, Andrew looked like a professional bodybuilder, and right then and there he vowed to enter a competition as soon as possible. However, Andrew was becoming a little nervous now. His body was really fucking amazing, but he was worried he was losing sight of what had truly mattered to him. He hadn’t gone to class at all the previous day and instead had spent his time furiously masturbating, working out, and having a marathon of sex with Nicole. The more he thought about his situation though, the more he realized that he liked what he had become, what he was becoming, and what he was about to become. His muscles were so sexy and powerful he felt like he could do whatever he wanted. So, he went back to the bedroom, erection swinging straight out from his body, gently woke Nicole up, and started having the best sex of his life. After his third orgasm in as many minutes, Andrew rolled off of Nicole and noticed that her chap stick had fallen out of her bag. “Hmm, I don’t recognize this brand,” Andrew thought as he put on some of the chap stick on his lips. He noticed a weird tingly feeling on his lips after the application, but he chalked it up to it being an intense mint flavor. He absentmindedly pocketed the chap stick before heading out to class. PART 9: Andrew found that his mouth was getting really dry during class all day. He couldn’t stop staring at all of the hot girls who would have been way far out of his league the previous week, but now were well within reach. He felt tormented by these adulterous thoughts, but the girls were hooked on his new physique. They would blow him little kisses and wink seductively at him, and in response to his rapidly drying mouth he would put on chapstick at least twice every hour. None of this was helping get rid of the erection he had maintained all day since having tantric sex with Nicole that morning. He felt the urge to sneak off the bathroom between every class to masturbate, and even struggled to limit himself to one orgasm. Finally he was done with classes for the day, so he ran to the gym as fast as he could. He could feel his thighs chaffing against each other a little bit as his legs swelled with blood, getting pumped and swollen from just a few short minutes of cardio. As soon as he was done changing in the locker room (where all of the guys were amazed by Andrew’s flaccid dick which was longer than almost all of their dicks hard), he hit the weights. Something immediately felt different to Andrew. As soon as he began his first bench press he could feel an intensity in his entire body that filled him with euphoria. His now 9.5 inch cock instantly hardened and lengthened a bit more filling the front of his gym shorts with an obscene bulge. Every lift he did filled him with euphoria and made him feel like he was about to burst through his own skin. He could feel his muscle growing with each curl, each squat, each press. He didn’t know what he was doing anymore except that it felt fucking incredible and that he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. A sizeable crowd had gathered around him including several of the girls and guys who had been eying his physique all day long. They couldn’t take their eyes off of his bulge and bulging muscles, and a few were becoming noticeably aroused right there in the middle of the weight room. Eventually one of them, a cute black girl sauntered up to Andrew and sat on his lap as he was bench pressing. His dick instantly went into overdrive as he shot load after load into his gym pants. He never stopped lifting during his orgasm, and the crowd gasped as they notices his pecs and arms swell larger and larger with each rep and cum shot. Just as he was about to stop shooting his tank top ripped right off his chest as his confined pecs burst through the fabric. Andrew was an animal. He knew that he loved Nicole, but his sex drive was amped up way too high to ignore all of his waiting admirers. He picked the black girl off of his lap and carried her on his shoulders to the private shower stalls where he fucked her brains out. Andrew was becoming more and more aware of the fact that something weird was happening to his body, but so far all he had surmised was that each time he came he would get bigger, and not just his muscles. He could feel his dick expanding with each orgasm. It wasn’t much each time, but with the way he had been cumming the past few days, he was on his way to having the biggest dick of all time. He didn’t want this growth to ever stop.

Mommy Muscle Growth Episode One - “Power Corrupts” Part 1 ***************************** Authors Note: for all the “geektofreek” fans out there. an attempt at a FMG version. ***************************** My best friend, Brian, called me before the big game. “Getting stoned with everyone... Where you at, bud?” He asked repeatedly. But even I couldn’t tell him what was going on that night. “Yeah, dude. I’ll be leaving in a few minutes.” I lied with a small gulp. Because you see the real truth was, I had already made much bigger plans that night... “Oh god, Mom... it’s 18 inches!” Weeping with utter amazement as I feasted upon, what must have been, one of the worlds biggest female biceps. “Ohh yeah!” Mom, groaned with excitement. With a cute giggle I might add. Pumping up and down this entirely massive bowling ball of womanly strength. Right up against the measuring tape. Right up against my own shrinking two hands. “It feels like I’m still growing too!” She exclaimed. Having curiously consumed over half of Dads muscle growth pills last night. Making us both take pause to watch her peaking arm muscle rumble even bigger with each flex. “18.1... 18.2... 18.3...” Mom, announced out loud. Pumping both her arms over and over and over. Not stopping until they reached 18.5 inces! “Jesus, Mom! Pretty soon you’ll be just as big as, Dad!” I just had to say it. Making a lightbulb go off in her head from the look of things. “Oh god, could you just imagine it...” Mom, said lustfully. Looking down at her already massive mommy physique with a smirk. The idea was crazy, unthinkable. I mean, Dad, really was this big muscle guy. With these colossal 23-inch arms. 30-inch thighs. The biggest door wide backside you could ever conceive on a man. Yet that still didn’t want to seem to stop her. “The growth would have to be tremendous...” As, Mom, giggled a bit. Shamelessly fantasizing. Almost as if I wasn’t even there. “More muscle then ever before achieved by another woman...” She continued. Feeling up her two blimp-sized power breast. The fat diamond cut muscle-nips. Playfully lifting up her shirt up. Making my drop my jaw drop to the floor. As she rubbed her pretty pink painted nails all over these silky smooth monster looking abs. A full fucking 12-pack! With this deep cut v-line. “Not just bigger then all the woman, but MOST of the MEN too!” She still continued. So unbelievably power drunk. “I had no idea you wanted to be SO BIG, Mom!” The whole situation made me gasp for breath. “Well of course...” Mom giggled a bit. “What girl doesn’t want to be Queen!?” She, said with a lustful groan. Eventually reaching down to the bottom of her ready-to-burst gym shorts. Peeling them up chiseled layers of strength like some slow strip tease. Devilishly chuckling as she revealed the most massive mommy muscle thighs on the planet. “A muscle queen?” I weeped under my breath. Making my knees just tremble and shake. *RIIPPP* *RIIIPPPPPPPP* And then that’s when the unthinkable began to happen. “Oh god, Mom... Your clothes...” ****************************** LMK what you guys think of Part 1 by commenting below. Hope you enjoyed.

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

One Jason heard the rumbling sounds coming from his brother's room. "Can't he just do anything quiet", he said to himself and returned to the book he was reading. He had been granted a full academic scholarship to the prestigious university a few blocks away from his house. He was all too happy he would get a top degree and could do it from the comfort of his own room. Brett, Jason's brother, was throwing his clothes atop his bed and putting them into the two large bags on the floor. He was eager to leave for Orchid University and was going to enjoy living on campus. His athletic skills had earned him a football scholarship and he just knew that professional football was his future. Jason was washing his hands when his brother entered the bathroom. He rolled his eyes as he saw that his brother was walking around shirtless once again. Despite the fact they were twins, their brown hair and dark eyes was their only resemblance. At 5'8 and weighing 155 pounds, Jason was a typical nerd: a smart guy, always buried in books, shy and somewhat clumsy. His triangular face and the absence of any beard whatsoever made him look more like a 15 year old. Brett on the other hand was a tad taller (5'9) but weighed an impressive 212 pounds of mostly muscle. He was a pure jock: when not out on the football field, he was pumping iron in the gym, didn't miss an opportunity to ditch his shirt to show off his muscular torso. His strong jaw line and five o'clock beard made him appear a few years older than 18. "Ya done here, little bro?", Brett asked in his deep baritone. "I was born first. That makes me the big brother technically", Jason replied in his higher voice. "You? The big brother? Think again", Brett said and flexed his right arm, "18 inches of power". "Muscle won't take you everywhere in life", Jason shot back. "I'll take brawn over brain every day, bro. How many chicks did your big brain get you so far?", Brett asked and caressed his six-pack, "My muscles got me every girl I wanted. Now be a good little boy and let me shower in peace". Jason shook his head and hurried away from the bathroom as his brother didn't even wait for his reaction to pull down his own pants. He heard the water turn on as he headed back to his room. "One day he's going to get what he deserves", he mumbled to himself. He entered his room and found a parcel on his desk. He opened the little box and discovered an old looking book. A small note fell from the book as he lifted it from the box. He retrieved it and read off the message: A small gift for someone greatly interested in books. Congratulations on year scholarship and good luck in university. Grandpa Jason opened the book and noticed it was some kind of ancient spell book. He knew his grandpa had a great collection of rare books. He had spent hours and hours with him in his library, fascinated by the tales his grandpa had told. Unfortunately, his grandparents lived on the other side of the country and visits had become very rare. He dove onto his bed and began reading the curious book. The next morning Brett took one of his signature long showers. Everyone in the house knowing what he was doing from the loud moans escaping the bathroom. He appeared bright and shining at the breakfast table, a skintight shirt hugging his torso. "Gotta feed this body", he mumbled with a full mouth as he took a fourth serving of pancakes. "Makes us proud, son", his father said, "Maintain the athletic heritage from our family". "Don't worry", Brett replied and gulped down a protein shake, "I will take the field by storm". He gulped down another shake, patted his six-pack and burped. "Fine. Let's get you off to Orchid university then", his father said and get up. "Jason, honey", his mother yelled, "we're off to take your brother to his campus. We'll be back tomorrow. There's plenty of food in the fridge." "Always with his head in the books", his father said while he shook his head and followed his wife and son to the car. Jason watched from the window in his room and saw his parents and his brother drive away. He went to the bathroom and headed into the long walk-in shower. He grinned as he noticed the traces of his brother's morning ritual on the tilled wall: several sticky stains of cum glistened on the dark tiles as they were slowly sliding down. "Luckily Brett always shoots his loads as high as possible up the wall", he said to himself. He pulled a fresh hanky from his pocket and let it soak up as much cum as possible. When he was done, he returned to his room and put the soaked fabric on his desk. He wrote the formula from the book on a piece of paper, according to the instructions. He then proceeded to reading the formula out loud: "Let the body of he who's fluids shall cover this page bond with mine. Let my body fourfold gain whatever mass he should obtain". He grabbed the hanky and rubbed it along the page, smearing his brother's cum onto the paper. In the car, a sudden wave of dizziness hit Brett. His vision went dark for a split second but then returned to normal. In his room, Jason felt an analogue sensation shoot through his own body. He hid the paper inside his desk. And then, the semester got underway. ------------------------------------------------------------ One month later. Brett indeed did well on the football team. He was among the best of the freshmen and everyone agreed that he could lead the team one day. He had become friends with most of the 'big five': the five biggest guys on the team, the group of seniors that dominated their part of the game. Four of them had invited him over for a drink after his first month on the team. The fifth, Mike, the star quarterback who led the team hadn't bothered. He didn't hang out with anyone on the team: his rich parents had rented him a flat off campus and his natural arrogance made him a first class jerk. But his skills on the football field combined with his 240 pounds of muscle made him an almost unstoppable force on the field. Even in the locker room his teammates moved away when he came in. The competitive spirit on the team drove Brett to the gym every day combined with his practice out on the field. Jason eased through his classes with little effort, studying punctually and avoiding the jocks. He didn't have any real friends as he kept to himself in the back of most classes and always returned home. The curse he'd cast on his brother did have positive effects: he'd put on 20 pound of pure muscle since the start of the academic year. At 175 pounds of defined muscle, he looked more like a fitness model when he took off his shirt. Even his face now looked more like that of an 18 year old with a more squared jaw line and the hint of a beard. He kept his new physique well hidden underneath baggy shirts he took from his brother's closet. Only back at home, he went into his brother's room, took off the baggy shirt and admired the new mass on his torso. Brett didn't understand why his body wasn't reacting to his training regime. He decided to up the intensity of his training: he doubled his daily workouts and upped his protein consumption drastically, gulping down shakes whenever he could. During his new early morning workouts, he frequently bumped into Mike in the otherwise deserted gym. The huge star player only nodded to him as he went through his workout. The effects of his brother's increased training were quickly visible on Jason's body. During the next two weeks, he put on another 20 pounds of muscle. His new weight (195 pounds) and muscular arms (17 inches) made him look like a very well muscled fitness model. The once baggy shirts from his brother's closet now hugged his torso nicely and he no longer hid his physique. More heads turned his way as he passed to his classes and even his dad made proud comments. He began drinking protein shakes from the tubes left in his brother's room. One day he even decided to join the local gym. A bit nervous he stepped in and went to the front desk. "What can I do for you?", the guy behind the desk asked. "I'm new here", Jason said, "I would like to join this gym." "You're obviously used to working out", the guy stated as he took in Jason's body, "I'll let you try out for free and we'll discuss the possibilities after you training. Locker room's over there." "Thanks", Jason said. He went into the locker room, changed and entered the gym. Three other guys were working out as he entered. They nodded to him as he went to the bench press. His body seemed to know what to do and the next hour, Jason eased through a good workout. By the end, his pecs and triceps were pumped. He showered quickly and went to the bar to order a shake. The same guy from the desk made him a protein shake. "Had a good workout I see", the guy said and motioned to Jason's pumped arms. "Yeah", Jason replied, "I think I'll join this gym." "Good", the guy stated, "Membership for a month? Or a year?" "Make it a year", Jason answered, "And I'll have another shake too." "There you go", the guy said, "All done. Hope to see you again soon." Jason gulped down his second protein shake and went home. It was the first of his daily visits to the gym. As the semester went on and got near the end, Brett's performance on the field began waning. His body lacked its usual level of energy, during practice he went from being the best among the freshmen to a good top five and in the gym most of his lifts were off. He still looked muscular but hadn't gained one single pound since arriving at Orchid University despite his grueling workout regime and the vast amount of protein he was ingesting. He was probably close to overtraining for once was happy that exams were coming up so he would have a break from training. --------------------------------------------------------------------- At the end of the semester Brett had passed his exams reasonably and was happy to return home for the holidays. He took a train home and arrived mid-afternoon. He entered the house and found his brother lying on the couch. "You're home early", Jason said as he sat up. Brett noticed his brother's deepened voice and blinked as he recognized the shirt. "Are you wearing one of my shirts?", he asked. "Yea", Jason replied, "Mine don't fit anymore since my recent growth spurt. Yours are fine. Bit tight though." Brett didn't respond but took in how the shirt clung to his formerly bony brother's torso. "Huh", he said as he noticed his brother was speaking. "I asked if ya want to go hit the gym. It's time for my workout", Jason repeated while he stood up. "You work out?", Brett asked incredulously. Despite feeling far from okay, he couldn't resist the chance of showing his grown brother who was the alpha. "Fine", he said, "I'll go change and I'll show ya how a real man trains, little bro." A few minutes later, Jason drove both of them to the gym in his new car. None of them spoke a word, the tension between the two brothers hanging in the air: Jason eager to show what his new muscles could do and Brett determined to highlight his dominance. They continued their silence as Jason parked the car and they walked into the gym. "Yo Sam", Jason said to the guy behind the desk, "Brought my bro today. Ya mind if he joins me?". "Bro, I used to train here. I'm a member. Still have my card", Brett interjected and handed his card to Sam. "Yar membership isn't active if ya didn't pay", Jason answered. "Card is no longer active", Sam read from the computer screen, "Do you want to reactivate you membership?". "He's only here for a week. Ya mind if he trains with me for free?", Jason asked. "No problem, J. I'll arrange it", Sam replied. "J?", Brett asked as they entered the locker room. "The guys around here call me J", Jason said and tossed his bag into the locker, "Let's toss some weight around". Brett followed his brother into the deserted gym up to the rack of dumbbells. "Friday is back", Jason said as he grabbed a pair of heavy dumbbells and began doing rows. Brett followed reluctantly: his back wasn't his strong point and his old level of energy was still lacking. He couldn't believe how easy his brother handled the heavy dumbbells. The guy kept cranking out reps when his back was burning from the effort and he dropped the dumbbells. The next hour Jason cruised through his workout while Brett struggled to keep up. Whenever Jason saw his brother grab a weight, he made sure to grab a heavier one and pump out more reps. "Something wrong, bro?", he asked as he saw Brett trying to catch his breath. "Feeling a bit tired from my trip home", Brett muttered in between deep breaths, "We're done yet?". "One more exercise, bro", Jason said and walked over to the pull up station. He grabbed the bar and performed 50 perfect reps. Brett looked at his brother in disbelief, watching the muscles on his wide back work. He nodded 'no' as his brother motioned him to start. "Come on, bro. Thought ya were gonna show me how a real man trains", Jason said smugly and folded his arms in front of his chest to emphasize the new thickness of his biceps. "Fine", Brett replied to maintain some of his old dominant pose. He grabbed the bar and pulled himself up. He tried to ignore how little fluent the motion looked compared to his brother. He reached 15 reps before his grip faltered and he jumped down. He avoided his brother's gaze while he sat down on a nearby bench. "I'm done", he mumbled exhaustedly. Jason just grinned and performed three more long sets of pull ups. "Let's call it a day, bro", he said and walked out of the gym, enjoying how his pumped lats pushed his arms out from his sides and added wideness to his posture. "Prepare me a shake for after my shower, Sam", he said as he passed the bar. Brett followed his brother, marveled at the formerly shy guy's new dominant attitude and the wideness of his frame. As they entered the locker room and begin stripping down, he felt like saying something to excuse his lame work out if he wanted to keep his dominant position in the family. "You're lucky I'm tired from my trip, Jason", he said, "If not you would have begged for mercy". The lack of conviction in his tone only emphasized the hollowness of his words and only diminished his dominance. "Tired. Right, bro", Jason added sarcastically. Savoring how his brother tried to ignore their new statuses. He didn't even bother to look aside and kept stripping down. Brett entered the shower first and went to the furthest shower head in the right corner. He faced the wall as he turned on the water. His mind still trying to process the new reality. A few moments later he heard another shower turning on and he cautiously turned his head a bit. He saw his brother standing under the shower in the center of the left wall. Jason wasn't facing the wall as he showered. Ever since he'd grown he didn't miss an opportunity to display his body. Brett glanced from the corner of his eyes, blinking when he saw his brother's biceps twitch as the guy washed his hair. He quickly turned his head back to the wall when his brother opened his eyes. "I'm gonna have my shake, bro. Don't take too long, I wanna get home for dinner. Gotta feed my body", Jason said and left the shower. A few minutes later Brett showed up in the bar. His brother was gulping down a second protein shake based on the other empty glass on the bar. "Yeah, up to 215 since last week", he heard Jason say to Sam as he approached. "Ya pay these shakes, bro. I got ya in for free. See ya tomorrow, Sam", Jason said and stood up. Brett quickly paid his brother's shakes and followed Jason to his car. Back home, Brett was greeted by his parents and the family enjoyed their first family dinner in months. Unlike before he'd left to Orchid University, Brett wasn't being served first. Jason took the biggest steak and the largest serving of potatoes. After the first serving, Jason and Brett reached for the steak that was left. A quick glance and a slight flex of his brother's right arm made Brett retreat his fork and he watched his brother devour the juicy steak. Just three months ago there would have been no question to whom would eat the last steak. Somehow his once lanky brother had become more dominant while Brett had been at Orchid University. As his brother helped himself to his third serving of potatoes, Brett excused himself and mumbled an excuse of being fatigued from his trip. "Hope ya're feeling better tomorrow for our work out, bro", Jason said with a full mouth. The next morning Brett did feel better when he got up. He went down and found his brother dressed in his workout gear at the table. "Feeling fresh, bro?", Jason asked and gulped down a protein shake. "Let's hit the gym and I'll show you", Brett spat back and made himself a shake too. "Can't wait", Jason replied with a grin. Just minutes later the two brothers drove off to the gym, greeted Sam and entered the weight room. "Arm day, Jason", Brett said and grabbed a 80 pound bar. This time he was going to make his brother follow his lead. He cranked out reps, enjoying the feeling of his biceps pumping. Brett just grinned and grabbed the 90 pound barbell as a warm up. He made sure to pump out 5 reps more than his brother. "Time for the real work", Brett stated and grabbed the 150 pound bar. He groaned and his face reddened instantly as he managed 8 reps. He dropped the bar and looked aside with a grin. The grin froze on his face as he saw his brother curling the 170 pound bar. Unlike him, his brother even managed three sets. "What's up next, bro?", Jason asked matter-off-factly. "Hammer curls", Brett said angrily and grabbed a pair of 80 pound dumbbells. After two reps the familiar feeling of fatigue and weakness began spreading in his biceps. At his sixth rep his biceps were burning painfully and he had to drop the weight. Jason shook his head, grabbed the 100 pound dumbbells and began pumping out reps casually. "…3,4,5,6,7,8…", he counted out loud to stress his new strength. He managed 12 nice reps before gently lowering the weight. Brett didn't want to go down without a fight and grabbed the 80 pounders again. This time the painful burning filled his biceps at the first reps. His arms shook, his body trembled as hoisted the dumbbells up. After three lousy reps, his grip gave out and the weights crashed down on the floor. "Watch it, bro. Sam doesn't like weights being thrown down. Show some respect.", Jason said while he began his second set. He once more performed 12 perfectly controlled reps before ending his set. "Next one", Brett said as he racked his dumbbells. "Not done just yet, bro", Jason replied and performed a third and fourth set just to show off his new position. It felt like he was getting more dominant with every rep he did. "Now we're done", he said after his fourth set. "Preacher curls", Brett muttered and stepped over to the machine. He selected a 100 pounds and began pumping out reps. Jason sat down on the adjacent machine, selected 200 pounds and followed his brother's lead. The competition was on and neither one wanted to quit first. After 20 reps, Brett's arms cramped up completely and he had to stop. His body felt completely drained. He looked aside and his eyes widened in disbelief as he saw his brother continuing his grueling set. Jason felt totally energized. His body fed on the energy of his brother that pushed him beyond his limits. "…35,36,37…38…39…40", he groaned and ended his set. The pump in his biceps was unreal. "That was fun, bro. Let's hit triceps now", he said and stood up. "Wh…what?", Brett blurred out in total disbelief. Jason grinned at his brother's reaction. "Sure thing, bro. Biceps are just half the work on arm day", he said and returned to the dumbbells. "Or are ya tired again?", he added. Brett followed his brother but didn't train anymore. He just handed him the weights he demanded. He felt his once dominant position weaken with every rep his brother performed and even handed him his towel when he asked for it. He simply watched After an hour, Jason finally decided that their workout was over. His arms were fully engorged, his biceps and triceps pumped after the torture he had put them through. "Can't even flex from the pump", he said as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. "Fine. Let's hit the shower. And bring my towel, bro", he stated and left. Brett grabbed his brother's towel and followed the guy. He gazed at the defined, hard triceps that jutted out from the back of his meaty arms. "Thanks, bro", Jason said as he grabbed the towel from his brother's hand and ripped his shirt off. "Can't get it over my head. My arms are too pumped", he said as he saw the shocked expression on his brother's face. "When ya train like a real man, ya swill feel this too", he added and strutted into the showers. Brett followed a few minutes later. He entered the shower zone and saw his brother standing in the center of the left wall, his body on full display for everyone. He looked away quickly when his brother made eye contact. He retreated to the furthest shower on the opposite wall and face the wall like the day before. Now and then, he turned his head slightly to peak at his brother. The way his biceps swelled as his brother massaged his hair made a faint 'wow' escape his mouth. He quickly turned his head back to the wall when his brother opened his eyes again. "Time for my shake. Don't make me wait, bro", Jason said while he left. Brett inhaled deeply when he was alone in the shower zone. The second training with his brother had made another deep dent in his once unquestionable dominant position. Deep down he knew he wasn't the alpha anymore but his brain refused to accept the new reality. He turned off the shower, got dressed and went to the bar. He blinked as he saw Sam feeling his brother's left arm. Jason noticed his brother. "Now ya know what a real arms feels like, Sam", he said and gulped down his second protein shake. He got up, winked to Sam and left. Brett wanted to follow his brother but was asked to pay for the shakes again. He did and followed his brother to his car. On the ride home, he took short glances at his brother's arms, watching the corded muscles on his forearms tense as he shifted gears. Back home he rushed into his room and didn't come out until dinner. As it was Christmas the next day, the gym was closed and Brett was relieved not having to join his brother again. At noon the family gathered for their traditional feast. The food was delicious and most of it ended up on Jason's plate. Everyone watched, the parents lovingly and Brett in disbelief, as Jason wolfed down serving after serving. "Ya done, bro?", he asked and took the half serving of meat lying on Brett's plate. When every dish was emptied, he patted his tight six-pack happily. "Gotta feed my body", he said, "Fuelling up for our workout tomorrow. Can't wait for it, bro". "Me too", Brett said unconvincingly. "I'm so glad you two finally share an interest and spent some time together. I'm proud of both of you", their father said. The next morning Brett found his brother once again waiting for him at the breakfast table. Minutes later they were driving toward the gym. As the previous times none of the brothers spoke a word and the tension hanging in the air was like a thunderstorm ready to explode. Both of them knew it would be a decisive moment: Brett was fighting to maintain his former dominance over his brother and Jason was ready to finally claim the top position as alpha of the family. They maintained their silence until they entered the weight room. "Let's smash chest", Jason said. He put on his usual warm up weight and cranked out 20 quick reps. "I'll show ya how it's done, bro", Brett said smugly and cranked out 20 equally fast reps. He knew that his chest was his best muscle group and he wasn't going to step down from the confrontation today. Jason added some weight to the bar and did his first working set of 12 solid reps. Brett followed suit. Jason continued adding weight to the bar after each set. After their third set Brett's chest was beginning to feel fatigued. He'd even one rep less than his brother. "Fourth set", Jason groaned as he pushed up the bar and cranked out another 8 reps. Brett got under the bar, pushed it up and felt his arms shake. He got to 5 reps before his pecs gave out and he re-racked the bar. He stood up, trying to catch his breath and felt his face turn red. "Not so strong after all", Jason said smugly. He added two more plates to the bar and got another solid 7 reps. "Put on some more weight, bro", he said as he laid down on the bar. Brett did as he was told and watched in disbelief as his brother pumped out 5 reps with the heavy bar. It was 30 pounds more than his own max. He felt his once undisputed position slipping away. "Dumbbell presses", Jason said as he stood up from the bench press and wandered over to the free weights. He grabbed the third heaviest pair and began his exercise. Brett followed suit but took a pair of considerably lighter dumbbells. "A bit over trained from football", he mumbled to his brother. Even with the lighter weights he couldn't pump out the reps of his brother. He dropped the weights to the floor and looked in disbelief as his brother grabbed the heaviest dumbbells. "Don't hurt yourself, bro. I never managed that weight", he said. Jason grinned and cranked out 8 solid reps, enjoying the feeling of the pump spreading through his chest. "Too bad they don't have any heavier dumbbells", he grunted as he did three more sets. He sat up, racked the dumbbells and went to the dipping station. "You go first, bro", he said, "ya had time to catch yar breath while I was still dumbbell pressing." Brett grabbed the handles and began dipping. He got 12 nice reps before his arms began shaking. He managed two more reps before jumping down. Jason grabbed the handles and copied his brother's movement. On his twelfth rep, he intentionally made his arms tremble. Then, he continued dipping. Brett's eyes widened as his brother passed the 30 rep point with perfect form. He felt the balance of dominance between them shift with every passing set. "50", Jason groaned and stepped down from the dipping station, "You're up, bro." Brett reluctantly grabbed the handles again. By now his chest felt totally exhausted but he couldn't give up just like that. He only got to 6 reps before his form faltered completely. Jason went through his second set, getting to another solid 40 reps. He stepped down and looked at his brother. Brett simply shook 'no' and pretended to suffer from cramp. His mind on the verge of accepting he had been knocked down by his once lanky brother. Jason blasted through three more sets of 35 dips. He inhaled deeply as he stepped down from the dipping station, his stretched tank top protesting with some tearing sounds as his pumped pecs inflated further. "Pec deck is up next, bro", he said. From that point on Brett simply followed his brother through the gym and watched as he pushed out rep after rep, and feeling him get more dominant with every rep. An hour after they'd arrived, Jason finished his fifth set of pushups and got up. His sweat-drenched tank top was glued to his pumped torso. "Enough for today", he grunted and walked toward the locker room, not even looking at his brother. None of the brothers spoke a word when they began stripping off their workout gear in the locker room. Both of them knowing that the balance of dominance had shifted completely and definitively. Brett's mind was still processing the acceptance of being taken down a notch and Jason was savoring in his new position. "Someone pumped his pecs today." Brett turned around at the remark and saw Sam entering the locker room and admiring his brother's chest. His eyes widened as the guy stepped up to his brother and groped the pumped mass of muscle atop his chest. "Ya like feeling a real chest, don't ya", Jason asked while he let the smaller guy worship his pecs. "Come on. Flex 'em, J.", Sam pleaded. Brett just stared at the unbelievable scene in front of him. Jason grinned and flexed his chest, making striations explode under the smaller guy's touch. "Ya know what to do, Sam", he said casually while he stared right into his brother's eyes. Brett's eyes widened when the smaller guy kneeled, slid down his brother's pants to reveal his plump cock and took it in his mouth. He couldn't believe what was happening right there in the center of the locker room. It was as if he wasn't there for those two guys and his brother kept staring directly into his eyes with a smug expression on his face. Within seconds Jason spilled his load into Sam's eager mouth. When his orgasm wore off, he pulled his cock from the guy's mouth and walked to the shower zone. "Don't ya need a shower, bro?", he asked as he passed his brother. Brett watched Sam stand up and disappear and followed his brother's example. The next morning Brett awoke late. His parents had already left for work and his brother was apparently still in his room as he walked into the bathroom. He ditched his boxers and entered the long walk-in shower. He turned on the shower and enjoyed the hot water cascading down on his body. A grin formed on his face as he thought back at the countless times he'd jerked off against the tilled wall. Lately even his morning wood seemed less hard than at the end of summer. A faint noise caught his attention and he turned off the water. He turned around and a yelp escaped his mouth as he saw his fully nude brother standing at the entrance of the walk-in shower. "What the fuck, Jason", he said angrily while he put his hands in front of his cock. "I asked if ya were done here, little bro", Jason replied grinningly. His deepened baritone easily rivaling his brother's deep voice. Brett didn't react to the 'little bro'. He just stared at his brother's grown body. Standing just a few feet away, his brother looked truly intimidating. Just a few months earlier no one would have told they were brothers: he outsized Jason by a good 60 pounds. Now the tables had turned. Despite being close to his brother's weight, Brett's 212 pounds seemed way less intimidating than Jason's 215 pounds. Brett's muscles seemed a bit saggy: his pecs hung slightly as if their weight pulled them down and his shoulders hunched forward making his posture lack his once usual aura of strength and confidence. Jason on the other hand radiated power: his pecs protruded firmly from his chest and his wide shoulders formed a strong line capped with his rounded delts. His now squared face added to his masculine look. The guy seemed to ooze power and confidence. Jason grinned smugly while his brother scanned his torso. "Miring my bod like after all our workouts in the gym shower, little bro?", he asked casually. Brett tore his gaze from the ripped six-pack and focused on his brother's eyes. He blinked when he realized he had to look up slightly to stare Jason in the eye. "I'm no longer just technically the bigger brother", Jason said, "How big are yar arms?". "18 inches", Brett replied and tensed his right arm to show off his size. "18.5 inches cold", Jason replied. He raised his arms and threw a double bicep pose to emphasize his point. Brett could only stare as his brother displayed his superior form. Ever since their workout the balance of dominance had shifted entirely in favor of his brother and now Brett felt how Jason was imposing his alpha-status completely. "What does half an inch really mean", he muttered unconvincingly. Jason hardened his flex some more in reply to his brother's remark. "We both know what it means, little bro", he groaned and relaxed his pose. "Besides, I'm bigger everywhere", he added. "Huh?", Brett muttered as he pretended not to know what his brother meant. Jason stepped closer while he casually stroked his cock, grabbed his brother's ass and pulled him in. Their hard cocks brushed against each other. "See what I mean, little bro?", he asked. Brett followed his brother's gaze down and inhaled sharply: his brother's cock pressed into his the base below his cock while his own cock lay atop his brother's dick without touching his brother's groin and didn't rival his brother's one in girth either. "See, little bro. Mine's longer and thicker than yours. I'm bigger everywhere!", Jason boomed and savored his new dominant status. His erection jolted underneath his brother's hard dick. Brett broke from his brother's grasp and took a step back. "How did you do it, Jason?", he asked, "you were a runt before I left and now you're…". "The bigger man, ya mean", Jason rumbled, "I cast a curse. When you train, my body gains the size you would have gained. The more ya train, the bigger I get. And ya can't stop training or ya'll lose yar scholarship. So, ya will only make me bigger and bigger, little bro." "Cursed me?", Brett let out, "You're just on steroids. Now get lost so I can shower in peace." "Ya're in no position to tell me what to do, little bro", Jason said, "How many times did ya storm in here when I was showering and told me to leave? Flexing yar arms to intimidate me? Mocking me with yar brawn being superior to me brain? Guess what, little bro: I have brains and brawn now. I'm the new alpha here. Ya should now yar new place." Brett retreated some more, his back pressing against the tilled wall. He had never felt this intimidated before and his once runty brother was doing it to him. He saw his brother come closer and reaching for him. He tried resisting but his weakened body was no match for his now buff brother. Jason easily pushed his brother's arms aside and grabbed his armpits. He turned his brother around and made him face the tilled wall. His 8,5 incher pointed straight at his brother's meaty ass. Brett put his hands against the tilled wall and tried pushing his body away from the wall but his brother held on to his armpits firmly. "Let me go, Jason. you can shower in peace", he mumbled. The words died on his lips as he felt the head of his brother's cock brush against his ass. "No", he mumbled. Jason ignored his brother's cries and shoved his dick into the tight hole. He moaned in pleasure as he busted through the clenched defenses and felt the ass clamp against his cock. "Please….", Brett pleaded in vain. Pain exploded through his body as his brother rammed his cock entirely into his ass. His hands clawed against the tilled walls and a high painful shriek escaped his mouth. "Ya're the little bro now. I'm the new alpha here", Jason moaned, grabbed hold of his brother's hips and began pumping his cock in and out of his brother's clenching ass. Tears leaked from Brett's eyes as his brother installed his total dominance. He felt humiliated beyond anything he'd ever felt. He felt his brother's hot breath against his neck and his brother's deep moans rumbled in his right ear with every thrust of the cock in his ass. His arms trembled and his entire body rocked on the rhythm of his brother's fucking. He looked down and to his horror he noticed that his own cock was at full mast and throbbing. Jason heard his brother's painful shrieks and they only excited him more. He was quickly getting close to orgasm and he felt his balls churning while he ravaged the ass of the brother who had physically dominated the family for years. The slow process of destroying his brother's dominance during their workouts and gradually stripping him of his old alphaness now culminated into fucking him into his new role while he assumed Brett's former position at the top of the family hierarchy. He pulled back his cock almost completely and then rammed it with full force into the clenching ass. "YEAH", he roared loudly as he exploded deep inside his brother. Brett shivered as his brother's spunk filled him with liquid heat and the violence of Jason's orgasm shook his own body violently. He felt spurt after spurt after spurt shoot inside him. At the same time his own cock exploded against the tilled wall. "Ughn", he grunted as his balls blasted out four loads of cum. His own moan drowning in the noise of his brother's deeper moans. Unlike before he didn't feel all-powerful as he came inside the shower, this time he felt nothing but shame. When his blasts stopped, his brother kept squirting his load into him. He felt the sticky juice slide along his legs while his body continued shaking on the rhythm of his brother's thrusts. After eight loads Jason's orgasm finally wore off and he pulled his dick from his brother's ass. "I don't expect to see ya in the gym today, little bro", he grunted and left his humiliated brother in the shower. Brett crashed down, his body destroyed from the fucking by his brother and cried inside the shower that had once made him feel untouchable.

Hello gents, I hope you enjoy the last chapter of this story. I have included links to the first two parts for your convenience. Some suggested that this was easier than posting all parts in one long piece. See. I listen. Once more, I would love our comments. Enjoy the ride. SeaMusc ==================================================================================== Part I: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/5028-the-impossible-discovery/ Part II: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/5099-the-impossible-discovery-part-ii/ ==================================================================================== Part III The car pulled away from the parking lot. They were both grateful for the Jeep Wrangler they had purchased last year. It at least allowed for the top to be taken off providing Will’s mass to fit uncomfortably inside. Even with the passenger seat pushed all the way back, with Will’s new height and added mass his knees were bunched up almost touching the bottoms of the huge bags that were his pecs. His shoulder jutted out of the side window although he wasn’t leaning. The fantastical lats that had developed seemed to just naturally jut out of his torso at the right height and flowed out of the window where they smashed into the rippling globe of his tri-headed delt. A kiss of veins, as detailed as fine Maltese lace spread webs of intricate patterns over the surface of Will’s body. Skye thought it amazing that someone so unfathomably strong and powerful had such beautiful detail. Looking at him from at distance, you would only see an impossibly muscular and tall behemoth, but if you looked from arms length, the true artistry of Will’s body could be seen in its refinement. Skye looked at Will’s arm pressing up against Skye’s body from the lack of room in the Jeep—his shoulder and triceps were pushing directly into Skye and it felt warm. He was also shocked at the hardness of what he was feeling. It was not human flesh, or at least not the flesh that he knew as human. It was something more. Something forged of a different substance. More like warm movable ironwood. He looked down at Will’s giant hand resting on his own muscular thigh and couldn’t believe the feelings coursing through his body. He wanted Will without any consideration or hesitation, like two attracting sides of magnets. It was sexual. It was sensual. It was beyond those things though. It was a marriage of companionship and partnership. Will had forced himself into the seat of the Jeep and realized that it wouldn’t allow for much more growth, but that was not a concern. When he got too big, he would find other ways to travel--like in a personal bus or something bigger. For now, he loved how the confined space smashed him up against his demi-god fiancé. Although he had the size and strength, Skye had the beauty of something otherworldly. That along with his incomparable mind, Skye matched Will’s strength in different ways. There had never been a more devastating example of brains and brawn and Will knew it. Together they were unstoppable. They didn’t look at each other at all after getting in the vehicle. Will’s hand on Skye’s knee and Skye’s head nudging against Will’s shoulder was enough. Nothing was said. They just felt each other’s space, breathed in each other’s air, completely content. Walking up the stairs to their apartment home, Will followed Skye up. His face firmly planted in Skye’s backside, smelling the scent of his manhood. Smelling his musk and the singular scent of a well cleaned hole, earthy and delicious. He wanted to take up residence there; to have his face fighting for real estate on Skye’s beautiful ass. He followed that scent up the three flights of stairs lead only by his nose. It was too powerful to open his eyes. He would lose control. They both knew that once inside, they would both take off the brakes and be thrust upon a sea of overwhelming passion that would not be contained easily. Skye unlocked the solid wooden door and walked in, carrying the small bag of Will’s belongings. Will, for his part, had to turn slightly sideways to walk through the door frame. He was too wide and thick to make it through straight on. He shut the door behind him and just stood there, watching Skye. Neither of them knew what to do. The first move was up in the air, and as much as they loved each other, there was a certain awkwardness about the next step. They were both so different now. Skye was more independent, more in control, more beautiful, and more ripped. Will was more outwardly alpha, more subservient to Skye, and a fucking massive giant. Underneath it all, they were the same men, and they knew it. But there would need to be a moment of adjustment, as if they were also meeting for the first time. The sentiment of their affection was there, more powerful than ever, but the situation had changed. It took a few seconds of sizing each other up before Skye walked a few steps toward the tower of masculinity that was Will. He walked right up to the beast and his face was only an inch away from the deep ravine of Will’s bloated pecs. He stared up those few inches and whispered, “I missed you.” He spread out his own broad arms and embraced Will gently. His arms barely were wide enough to start to feel Will’s lats because of the massiveness of his chest. For his part, Will just nodded and as Skye hugged him, he simply raised his arm and wrapped it around the shoulder of his best friend and lover. The felt each other’s warmth for a few moments and then Skye took Will’s hand and lead him to the bedroom. They sat down for a brief moment on their bed. Will took Skye’s hand, extended one of his inhumanly sized fingers, and placed it on Skye’s twine ring. “Remember when you proposed, Will? Remember that night? I thought I could never be more in love with you. I thought that it couldn’t get better. But somehow, some way, I feel you as a part of me even more than that night. I didn’t think it was possible to feel someone more. Will, something happened to us while we were apart. Something glorious and incredible. I can’t hear your heartbeat, but I can “feel” it. I can’t read your mind, but I know what you are thinking. I feel that somehow, you are a part of me…a part of my body and mind. I don’t know how to explain it. I have tried to explain it to myself. It’s like trying to explain to someone why they feel that they need to breath: it just is.” He paused a moment. “I am so proud of you, Will. You kept your composure and you owned that place from the beginning. You became something more than you were previously. You became the master of your domain. You have no masters now.” “Except for you.” Will looked up with huge eyes at Skye’s face. “You are more than a master. You are a creator. Now I know how those religious zealots feel. Enraptured with their god to the point of insanity. That is how I feel about you.” Sitting on the edge of the bed together holding hands and Will’s arm around Skye, the titan simply bent his head to the side and rested it on his partner’s shoulder and silence settled into the room. Inside, fireworks were exploding, his skin felt waves of orgasmic energy, his enormous bull balls churned and buzzed with activity. His mind was on fire. His heart rate was increasing. His breaths were becoming steadily deeper and steadily faster. He was giving himself to Skye mentally and physically. Because of his brain’s remodeling, there was little difference between the two for him. His body was reacting because his brain was reacting. Touching Skye was enough to cause tsunami’s of lust and longing to be released into Will’s mind, which in turn forced a physical response. He could feel veins wriggling to the surface and muscles gorging themselves on nutrients and oxygen to fuel their immense need for energy. Will had learned to control the outward expression of these sensations, but he knew that Skye’s words and touch were moments away from unleashing a more improved, more massive Will. His cock snaked across the top of his jock, spitting sweet precum as a lubricant for its ever-lengthening march across his skin. Skye understood implicitly how Will’s body was about to undergo another spurt of growth. He was willing it, sending out powerful emotive waves to Will through his soft caresses and naughty thoughts. “Will, you are holding back. You don’t have to hide here. You know that. Let yourself go. You will never be too big for me. Remove that thought from your mind. Let your body do what it needs to and don’t fight it anymore. You are MINE, kind sir. Always. Forever.” Will pulled his head up from Skye’s well-muscled shoulder and looked directly into his eyes from only a couple of inches away. Their hot breath was all over each other: warm, wet, full of hunger. “I am ready, Skye. I want to grow for you.” “Then let go, Big Man. There are no judgments here. And when you are done with this spurt, I am ready to give you more than you though possible.” Will laid his head back down on Skye’s shoulder and his breath rate picked up. He was almost panting within the span of just a couple of minutes. Skye reached his arm up and placed his hand on the back of Will’s head, giving him comfort. He was beginning to moan, long, deep, and steady. A low rumble full of power and masculinity was streaming out of his thick throat. “Will, does it hurt?” “No. It feels incredible. Just hold me. I can feel it coming.” He struggled for breath and Skye noticed large beads of sweat beginning for form on his brow. The smaller man continued to hold his hand on Will’s head, stroking him gently as a mother would do to a newborn to calm him down. A moan emerged from the giant. He picked his head up and looked Skye straight in the eyes, only inches away from each other. “Put your hands on me. I want you to feel this. Wait…hold on.” Will stood up quickly and tore his tight white t-shirt off in one easy rip. Skye’s mouth fell to the floor. He hadn’t seen Will without a shirt since he had been taken. He was in complete awe of the creature in front of him, trembling, moaning. To say that he looked like a buff anime character come to life would not be exaggerating. Lumps of flesh extended themselves away from Will’s body with violent knobs and ravines of hardness jostling for limited space. It looked as if the mass of meat underneath his skin was attempting to escape; yet somehow, he knew that this was Will’s new relaxed state. He had become so muscular; Skye was having trouble distinguishing typical anatomical landmarks. Joints and bone that are usually exposed, even in the most massive bodybuilders were buried under layers and layers of animated musculature. Fuck, he was ripped and huge beyond description. And he was ready to grow again. The beast extended his meaty paw to his jeans and tore them off in one easy stroke. If Will’s upper body had been jaw-dropping, his legs and ass would cause a full on seizure to any admirer of muscle. Enormous muscular feet supported calves that appeared to be related to two large Easter hams, but much more angular and sharp. Even the muscle running in front of his shin bone appeared to have been injected with some terribly successful muscle fertilizer. His quads had long thick muscles extending from the waist to the knee, all of them as thick and heavy as a normal man’s arm. The thick beef on his legs pulsed and danced at Will’s slightest movement. The veins that typically are seen on very ripped, lean, dedicated competition-class men would seem childish compared to the vasculature on Will’s lower half. Garden hose sized vessels rode atop the living stone they fed. Skye could see the rhythmic beat of blood coursing through those veins as they quivered ever second, at the behest of Will’s heart. Will, happy with his state of undress turned to sit back on the bed. Skye shot him a devious look. “No, Will. Take it all off.” Will returned the evil smile and popped the waistband to his jock off without even slight resistance. His semi-erect manhood throbbed, partially dangling, but beginning to fight gravity—and there was a lot of gravity to fight with a fuck-stick that massive. Skye licked his lips. “Now, get over here.” Skye motioned Will back to the bed. He sat down on the edge again next to Skye. “Put your hands on me. I want you to feel this. I am holding it back…” “You can control it? Damn, Will. I didn’t expect that.” “It’s hard and it takes concentration, but my mind is strong. I can hold back the growth when I wish to. I had to learn that in jail.” Skye was salivating and raging hard. His own large cock fought desperately against the fabric of his shorts. He moved his left arm across his body and placed it on Will’s bicep. He lifted his right arm and extended it out across Will’s mountainous back. He could only reach about half way. The heavy back-steaks comprising the monster’s lats and traps were deep and powerful and imposing, even without exerting effort. He could see the dual ridges of the spinal erectors running along either side of Will’s spine, coursing from his neck all the way down where they dove below the surface and erupted into the huge hard meat cakes of Will’s preposterous butt. He was so difficult to contemplate the size and strength of that fine ass. He would be living in that glorious ass in a few minutes. Fuck. Skye places his right hand on Will’s enormous forearm and the other on his shoulder. They both wanted, no…they both NEEDED skin on skin contact. Will started to groan again and tremble. Skye could feel micro-quakes under Will’s skin. If the muscles could become harder, they did. The lace-like web of veins danced on his skin. And then Will looked in Skye’s eyes. Skye could feel an explosion of volume press out across his hands. He could feel Will’s temperature rise. Will emitted a bellowing groan from the deepest pit of his being. He sounded like an animal. It was the sound of gods fucking, angels masturbating, thousands of warriors jacking each other off. Those things combined sounded like Will’s growth moan. It was SEX and STRENGTH. It was POWER translated into a sound. He never took his eyes off of Skye. Baring his teeth, he growled again and pushed his lips into his lover’s. They kissed, eyes open, as Will’s body expanded and shifted. Skye’s hands never left his fiancée’s He wanted Will to know he was there, with him, comforting him, and mandating him to grow bigger. Before this moment, he thought he would want to watch Will from a safe distance, able to see his entire body change and grow…but being this close, he could smell the hormones pouring out of Will’s skin, on his breath, and in his kiss. He wouldn’t have it any other way. He drank Will in. Kissing him, tasting him, feeling his strength and power expand. And then it stopped. They had been locking eyes since Will had sat back down on the bed. Now their faces were still just inches away from each other looking into each other’s pupils, not wavering, not blinking. Will stood up. “You did this Skye. I feel like a fucking GOD. And this is just the beginning.” The immensity of Will could not be overstated. His musculature was no longer within the confines of human scale. They were both entering a state of complete sensory overload. Gobs of precum leaked from their engorged cocks. Constantly leaking. Constantly. A steady stream of sweet nectar oozed out without ceasing. Will kissed Skye on the mouth again. “Fuck me Skye. FUCK ME and make me grow more. I am ready. I want it and YOU want it more. Together, we are unstoppable. Make me bigger for YOU. Make me stronger for YOU. Make me invincible for YOU!” “Bend over, you giant beast. Take my cock in your ass. Take my seed. It is ready. You are ready!” They were both in a complete state of bliss. Speaking, shouting, moaning without care of consequence. Will, much bigger than only minutes before, was about to be seeded with Skye’s engineered cum. Millions of viruses created specifically for Will and Skye would be released from Skye’s enormous balls and sent into a new environment where they would be able to replicate without hindrance. Every cell in Will’s body would have the myostatin gene cut out. Skye had made certain that other genetic codes would be inserted form increased skeletal growth and testosterone would pour out of both of their testicles in enormous quantities. Will crawled on top of the bed. Being so much larger than Skye, he wanted his fiancée to have easy access to his quivering hole. He wanted this part to be enjoyable for them both. He jutted his ass outward toward Skye who was now standing a few feet from the bed. Will lowered his shoulders, thrusting his muscle cakes outward and upward. “Your ass is so incredibly massive Will! It is the most beautiful thing I have seen, other than your handsome face.” Skye focused in on Will’s tight hole which was now staring at him. One immovable, unblinking eye…an entrance to the body of a god. The doorway to even more SIZE, STRENGTH, and POWER. Skye’s face moved toward the giant mounds of hard flesh that comprised Will’s exposed ass. He moved in closer. Closer. He spit onto Will’s impossibly tight hole and raised his hand to rub the spit into the area with his forefinger. He wanted to lube Will up. He was going to fuck him hard, without mercy, tearing him, liberating his seed into Will’s quivering hole. “Will, I love you. Before this happens, I want you to know that. There is nothing on the face of this planet that means more to me than your happiness.” “FUCK ME SKYE!” the enormous man rumbled. “We are ONE now.” Skye knew that this was true. Maybe it was Will’s newly expanded mind, maybe it was the natural part of becoming so close with a partner…maybe it was just their love for each other. They were ONE. This act forged them together like two bricks of iron in the hand of a skilled welder. Two pieces became one more massive and stronger piece. Skye places his hands around Will’s rippling waist, grabbing onto the immovable mass that presented itself willingly to him. His own cock was throbbing, pulsing, weeping drops of precum unceasingly. Skye’s cock was on a mission. His big monster dick knew what it needed to do and so it pumped massive amounts of lube to the surface. Skye rubbed the tip of his engorged huge cock against Will’s sealed hole. He rubbed pre-ejaculate all around the area. The precum kept pouring out, wanting to do its job in this most-important action. Skye’s cock head was infinitely sensitive to touching Will. When it came into contact with the hard surface, it vomited more precum, and more, and more. Finally, Skye put more pressure on his hands that surrounded Will’s tight hard waist and drove his now-huge cock through the sphincter of the muscle monster, laying ass-end-up on their bed. A low grumble escaped Will’s throat. “Fuck me, Skye. Fuck me, beautiful man. FUCK ME! HARD! HARDER!” Skye was pumping hard and fast. He could feel with his cock the mound of dense tissue that comprised Will’s prostate. He could feel his expanded cock raking across it with every push and pull. Will panted like a bitch in heat each time the head of Skye’s massive penis rubbed against the orange-sized prostate buried in his ass. It felt so good. It felt like every Fourth of July and New Year’s Eve firework show he had ever seen. Skye picked up the pace, thrusting, heaving harder and harder. He could smell the sweet musty masculine smell of sex, of precum, and of Will’s manly hard ass. That smell was driving him wild. He pushed harder. Harder into Will. His own abs, glutes, obliques, and arms were combining forces to drive further and further into Will with more and more force. Will’s hole was being wrecked and both of them wanted it. He was being destroyed from the assault of Skye’s force. He wanted it. He craved it. Harder. Harder. More and more. Skye could feel the pressure increasing in his balls. He could feel the buzz, the churning that signaled orgasm. He knew that he would be sending massive amounts of viral particles into Will’s primed body in a matter of a few seconds. Once that happened, he couldn’t take it back. And he didn’t want to. Will emitted another growl. Skye felt the internal sex pump begin to reach into his balls, pull the seed out by a powerful siphon force, and send the sweet juices out to his hulking partner. He felt powerful waves of cum course through his body, passing through the tight passageways of his manliness and eventually thrusting through his own massive cock and lodging in Will. Waves of cum. Pints of thick sticky-sweet, bitterness. Thick milk. Blasting out. Blasting into Will. Pushing its way into the beast. Making the BEAST more than he had been. Skye kept bucking--rutting Will’s ass. They were two bodies of exceptional power and hardness. Will’s ass did not want to let go of Skye’s massive cock. Skye did not want to leave the cavern that felt like a velvet covered fist wrapped around his tumescent prick. It was comfortable. They both had craved that feeling for so long. Will pulled out. His cock still leaked cum in a slow steady stream. He rubbed the head against Will’s ass again. He didn’t want to forget this moment and neither did Will. Raising his chest up, Will was still on bended knee on the bed. He rotated his gigantic upper body so that his legs and hips were facing forward and his arms could reach out to Skye, who was still behind him. He grabbed his lover under the arms and raised him easily, moving him around to Will’s front side. “Skye, that was amazing. That was the best it has ever been. I fucking LOVE you.” “Me too, Big Man. Me too.” They collapsed on the bed, warm, sweaty, and sticky. A few hours later, they were still pressed together on the bed. It was afternoon now. The cum had dried on their skin and where Will had become the big spoon, his chest and abs pressed up against Skye’s bulging back, the cum had dried into a sort of glue. It felt good. It felt right. “Skye. Are you awake?” “I have been for a while. I have just been lying here, feeling you. Feeling your hardness and feeling you breathing. I have never been happier Will. I have never ever been happier.” “Me neither.” Will reached over to the nightstand and looked for the papers in which he had placed the love letter that Skye had written him on their last night before he was incarcerated. Skye hadn’t moved Will’s papers, so it was easy to find. He pulled it out. And read it outloud… “Last night reminded me of why I love you so much, not that I need reminding. You make me feel like I own the world, and it is because you are mine. I will not take this ring off of my finger for a moment while you are away. My heart is already aching from your absence and my body is already demanding to be with you again. The hardest thing I have had to do in my life was getting out of that bed this morning but I have things to get done before the city wakes up. Know, with every piece of your body, mind, and soul that I love you. I love you far more than I love myself. It comforts me to know that you feel the same way. I can’t wait to build the rest of my life with you. It will be an adventure that is beyond our imagination. I lay awake last night thinking about your proposal and how it was the perfect time, place, and situation. God, you are romantic. I could never ask for a better companion and partner in life. As we embark on this new chapter, understand that everything I have done, am doing, and will do is for you and me.” His voice cracked. A big tear fell out of his beautiful eye and rolled down his cheek. Skye simply looked up at his amazingly massive man, extended his tongue and licked the tear off of his face. It tasted salty, but it tasted like pure affection. Will pulled Skye’s left hand up to his face and looked at the twine “ring” still there. It was ratty by now and starting to show signs of definite age—twine is not supposed to last forever. He kissed his beloved’s ring finger and smiled. “Skye, when will I start growing again? I want to be so big for you. I want to protect you. I want to be monstrous for you!” “I don’t know when your growth will occur, Will. You have the viruses in you now. I have made them powerful. Look what they have done to me! I didn’t know that I could be so ripped and big, but you have so much more potential.” Skye looked up to his future husband and planted a big kiss on his lips. “It will take some time, Will. Genetics take time to work. This isn’t quick. It will be a process. You know that.” They stayed stuck together by their cum glue for another couple of hours. Neither of them wanted to move. Eventually, the sun started setting and Will wanted to watch the sunset from the rooftop balcony. “Let’s get dressed and go upstairs. I would LOVE to watch the sunset with you.” Little did he know that his heartbeat and that of Skye’s were now throbbing together, at the same time and rhythm. They were indeed becoming biologically integrated. Even knowing this, neither Will, nor Skye, would have cared. In fact, they would welcome it. That night they stood on the rooftop. Will was naked, too large for his old clothing now. Skye stood facing west with only his boxers on—and they protested against his skin and growing cock. It was a photogenic sunset and the sky lit up with yellow, gold, red, orange, and violet. It was perfect. Will wrapped his mountainous arms around Skye and as soon as Skye leaned his head back into Will’s hard beefy chest, he heard that their heartbeats were in perfect synch. “Will, our hearts are beating with the same rhythm.” The corners of Skye’s mouth curled up in a warm smile. “I know.” He said simply and quietly. Will was grinning ear to ear. He couldn’t be happier. He was willing his heart to be in synch with Skye’s. They watched the sun set slowly on the horizon wrapped in each other’s warm embrace. ========================================================================================== The morning greeted Skye and Will with its warm orange glow. Their bed beside the window granted them visual access to the warming of the sky and the beginning of a new day. Once again, Will was spooning Skye. Their bodies cocooned against each other. Will heard it first. High pitched sirens coming toward them. He could tell because the sound achieved a higher pitch as the seconds wore on. The pitch became higher and higher. Skye could hear it now. “Ugh. That was an unpleasant wake up.” Skye stretched his muscular long limbs against the beef mountain pressing against him. “Skye…Something is wrong. The sirens are here.” “Well, they must be after someone on this block. Don’t worry, my beautiful boy. You are safe.” Will wasn’t so sure. He felt a knot rising in his throat. Something wasn’t right. He could sense it. A moment later they heard pounding at the door. “Police! Open the door!” The two lovers looked at each other in complete surprise. “OPEN UP!” came the voice again. Skye leapt up and ran toward the door and opened it. “Skye Collins?” “Um, yes.” “You are under arrest for falsification of evidence.” The officer grabbed Skye’s wrist and locked a cuff on it, grabbed the other wrist and put the other cuff on that side. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney…” The officer kept reading Skye his rights. Skye looked at Will, who was just beginning to rise from the bed. Everything had happened so fast. “Will. NO! Stay there. I will handle this.” Will’s body could feel Skye’s heartbeat increase. He was afraid, and Will knew it. Will walked toward the front door and toward his Love. He would not see his man treated this way. He could destroy these men easily and he knew it. A hot rage began to well up inside of him. “No Will. It will be OK. Stay there. Will! Stay there!” There was not question in Skye’s voice. Will stopped and stared helplessly as his beloved Skye was taken away. The only thing preventing the giant muscle beast from knocking he heads off of those men in one blow was the tone of Skye’s voice. It wasn’t a plea, it was command to stay back, to let Skye handle it. “I will call you, soon. Keep my phone on you. And call your attorney. Have him meet me at the police station.” Skye paused. “Officer, can I have you take this twine off of my finger. It is very important to me and I know that they will remove it, possibly trashing it, at the station.” The officer agreed. The policeman held out the twine ring to Will, depositing it in his massive paw. If there was one thing that Will knew, he understood that Skye had a plan and he would follow it. He could still feel Skye’s heartbeat forcing his own heartbeat to follow. He knew at that moment that he would be able to sense Skye’s condition. He would know if he was in danger. Something was beginning to swell inside of Will. He and Skye had started to become a single being over the course of the past 24 hours. He was experiencing a mix of emotions. Anger: for someone taking his heart away. Power: the feeling had been growing in him for weeks and was now becoming exponentially stronger. Love: He had no limit to the depth of responsibility that he felt for Skye. Worry: Neither of them had any idea how Skye had been found out. Who would have made the connections and how would they have done it? The demand that Skye made, to stay and remain at home, had been made for his own safety and the safety of those around him. He knew that, but his concern for his lover created a powerful and convincing reason to go against Skye’s order. He decided he would wait at least for a few hours. He could do that. The need to protect his fiancée, his heart, his purpose for being soon began to overwhelm him. He felt the surges of growth again beginning to course through him. Waves of orgasmic energy began to mount inside of his chest and radiate outward. He knew that once again, he would grow. He was only sad that Skye wouldn’t be able to see it. He already missed the touch of his angelic creator and protector. His powerful mind was telling him to grow to be able to protect his man. The concern and worry was being replaced by the beginning touches of rage and he was quickly discovering that intense emotions created a triggering environment. He could feel it coming in waves. But this time, somehow, it was different. It was as if he could manipulate the sensation. His mind could control the growth, yes, just as before. But now, he felt like he could sense the viral particles latching on to his cells. His immune system, as robust as the man himself, could approach and destroy the viruses at his command. This would give him exceptional control over how much he grew, where, and when. He was manipulating his growth potential. Somehow, he knew that Skye knew that this would happen. How could he not know? He was brilliant beyond measure. He sat on the bed with his head in his hands, breathing deeply, slowly, forcing his emotions to subside. He wanted nothing more than to embrace the power he could feel pulsing through his body. He wanted to open the gates and lose control, to grow, to become a fucking monster! But he would wait. If those men touched one hair on Skye’s head in a disrespectful way, they would be destroyed. He could feel Skye. The feeling was faint, but Will knew that he was ok. That was all he could tell and it was enough for the moment. However, he was on edge. “FUCK! He started pounding his fist into his open hand. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He decided to walk into the living room and lay on the couch. He often did that if he needed to think. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep his anger in check. Thick ropes of panic were rising again in his chest and his supercharged mind was struggling to keep his concern and worry from triggering an explosion of outrage. A few miles away, Skye was being taken out of the squad car and ushered into the police station. Paperwork was being filed and after a few short minutes, he was being ushered into another car and being taken to the jail…the same jail that Will had been in that very morning. The handcuffs were starting to wear into his wrists. He could feel Will’s angst. The man had barricaded his emotional outburst in order to prevent a tirade of anger and retribution. For the moment, Skye staying calm was all that prevented the beast from exploding in size, power, and strength. He knew innately that Will wanted more than anything to defend his fiancée and would react in extreme fashion if he sensed Skye was at risk. They both struggled to remain calm. Arriving at the jail, Skye knew that he would be immediately allowed a phone call. Since Will had hopefully alerted their attorney, he would of course call home. He needed to calm Will down, to attempt to diffuse any unforeseen problems and he knew for certain that Will was worried sick. After the intake process, Skye was escorted to a phone on the side of the wall in the hallway and given a code to call outside of the jail. He dialed the outside extension number, then his own mobile number. It began ringing. Will jumped up from the couch, the wood frame cracking underneath his enormous round ass. The couch was not built to handle several hundred pounds in the space of a couple of square feet. He moved quickly into the bedroom and picked up Skye’s phone. “Hello? Skye?” His voice was desperate and pressured. “I’m OK, Big Man. I’m OK. They brought me to the jail. I thought I had seen enough of this place, but I guess it will be at least an overnight stay. We can post my bail tomorrow morning. How are you?” “I’m fucking mad as hell, Skye. I can barely control it. I feel like a 2 liter soda bottle that has been shaken for 5 minutes. I am ready to blow. I want to GROW. I need to GROW, Skye. I can’t contain it much longer. It’s taking every ounce of concentration I have to keep myself under control. I’m going to fucking LOSE IT!” “You’re doing a great job, Big Man.” “They took you away. They took you away and fucked up our plans. Have they hurt you? They all better be on their best fucking behavior. If I even sense that you are upset, I will rip that fucking place DOWN in five minutes.” “No one has hurt me, Will.” “You tell them that you are with me. Everyone knows who I am in there and they will leave you alone. They KNOW what I will do to them if a single scratch is on your body tomorrow. They fucking KNOW!” Skye felt himself becoming strangely aroused. His well-endowed cock began hardening in his pants. There was a certain corrupting power that he felt, knowing that he could, with one sentence, send Will into a state of complete insanity and unleash a truly terrifying beast onto the world. Part of him wanted that. He wanted to see the full measure of Will’s transformation being unleashed. Knowing that Will would do whatever he asked was a huge fucking turn-on. He knew all he had to do was tell Will to embrace his mega-alpha status, embrace his rage, embrace his need to dominate. It would only take that much effort and Will would transform into a muscle god of domination, inciting fear and submission from every person he encountered. Skye was getting completely hard at the though. But he wanted to be a part of that transformation. He wanted to orchestrate it. “Will, my Big Man, I am not small anymore. I am a big muscleman myself at this point, remember. I will be alright.” “Well, you tell them anyway Skye, just so there is no question. Will you please tell them? OH…and watch out for a kid named Jesse—he is a squirrely looking young guy. He was obsessed with me and I embarrassed him. He’s dangerous. Just stay away from him.” “I’ve got to go, Will. I have some sleep medication in the cabinet in the bathroom. After dinner, take two pills. It will help you sleep and get some good rest. I will call in the morning and let you know what time to bring the Jeep.” Skye paused and started chuckling. “I don’t know how you are going to fit in it though after that last little spurt in the apartment. You are so fucking hot. I can’t wait to fuck you again. And next time, I want you to fuck me too.” “Damn right. We're gonna stay in bed for days.” There was silence on the line for a few seconds. They both knew that this was just a little snag in the plan and that tomorrow they would be back together after bail had been set and posted. “I love you, Skye.” Will breathed it quietly. “Same here, you big sexy gorilla.” He had a smile in his voice and knew that they could get past this and move on with their lives soon. The phone went dead and Skye was escorted down the hallway and into the main area of the jail. Most of the inmates were staring at him. They were not used to seeing such an attractive well-built man. Skye was tall and thick with powerful muscles. His eyes were bright as gemstones and his blonde hair and clear skin made him look more like an ancient statue of manliness than someone being put into jail. He walked with an air about him. Confident. Secure. One of the guards, the one that had walked him to his meeting with Will in the visitation room a couple of weeks prior, recognized him. “Sir? What are you doing here?” “I was arrested for falsifying evidence in Will’s arrest. It won’t stick. I’ll be out tomorrow. Good to see you.” “Good to see you too, sir. If there is anything you need, just let me know. I’ll be here for a few more hours today.” “Thank you. I won’t forget your offer to help.” Skye kept walking and ended up in a cell at the back corner of the pod. The door was open and no one was inside, although it was obvious that at least one other person was in that 4 bed cell. “Get your bearings and I will escort you outside to the yard. Most of the guys are out there playing ball or lifting…or just getting some sun,” the guard motioned at him with his head. “So you are Will’s fiancée? That guys is one big scary fucker. I’ve never seen anything like him. I know that the other guard mentioned that if you need anything, you could go to him. Same thing here. If you need something, let me know. I want to stay on your boyfriend’s good side.” “Thanks. I think I can take care of myself though. I’d prefer if the guys didn’t know I was Will’s boyfriend. It may cause too much attention. I’d like to just spend the night here and leave in the morning with no incident.” “Yes, sir. I understand.” They walked out to the yard. “There you go. Free time started just a few minutes ago, so you’ll have about an hour to get some exercise.” Skye walked over to the weight cage. Massive men, bigger than himself, thrust the weights around on heavy bars. Dumbbells were strewn about and were being used to pump up the muscular men. Skye knew that every single one of them must know Will. He had mentioned the weight cage and how nothing in there seemed heavy. Skye walked over to an open bench and began to load on 45s. He pulled off his shirt and his beautiful hard tanned muscles met the daylight. He was gorgeous and he knew it. “Hey Goldilocks. You new here?” A large man approached Skye with an angry look on his face. “You don’t lift unless we say you can lift. Doesn’t matter how big and pretty you are. Got it?” “I understand what you are saying, but I think I’m going to go ahead and have a good workout. Thanks for your concern.” Skye lay down on the bench, raised his calloused hands up to the bar. Another couple of the big men had walked over when they saw the newbie defy their brother. “Who the fuck do you think you are, pretty boy?” The first man was apoplectic. “Get off the fucking bench man. You’re gonna get your ass beat.” One of the others that had gathered around smirked. “I wouldn’t mind fucking up that face of yours before I fuck you in the ass. If I punch enough of your teeth out, you wont bite when you suck my cock.” Skye lifted the bar off of the rack. He wasn’t going to be intimidated. He pushed out one rep easily and smoothly as a warm up. He started lowering the bar back to his chest when one of the men wrapped his meaty hand around the bar and pushed it down toward Skye’s chest. “Are you fucking stupid? You’re gonna get yourself killed in here, you little bitch.” The man snarled. A few more men were gathering around the group. The tension in the yard was quickly escalating. Skye remained calm. Although he knew Will would rip the limbs off of every single one of these men for trying to intimidate him, he could handle himself. He was made of stronger stuff than he appeared. “I just want to get my lifting in, man. I don’t want any trouble.” “Well, trouble wants you, you fucking prick. Why don’t you stand up and say something smart to my face!” The man was angry--fists clenched and wild-eyed. The group of men was starting to whoop and holler. They could see an ass-kicking coming any moment and they were getting excited. Although Skye was at least as big as the hardened man, he was also much younger, and much less menacing. Skye’s body had been made in a gym. He was strong, but not street savvy and didn’t have the hard mean look of the other men who had gathered around. Skye knew he was about to get the shit knocked out of him, but he didn’t care. He wanted to feel that feeling. He wanted to know what it felt like to get pummeled. It was sick and sadistic, but he had never been in a fight and the way he was growing now—and with a titan of a boyfriend to keep others at bay—he didn’t know if he would ever get the chance again. It was almost like a rite of manhood…to be in a fight. This was as good of a place as any. Sitting up on the bench, he swung his leg around and stood up. Adrenalin was pumping through his veins. He was not going to back down. He appeared to remain calm. First, so that the man and his cronies would know that he wasn’t afraid. And second, so that Will wouldn’t feel his emotions changing too much. He wanted to do this on his own. “I would like to get a good workout in and I don’t think that is too much to ask. Do you?” The larger man put his face an inch away from Skye’s. Skye could feel his warm breath hitting him. He stared into Skye’s eyes and didn’t blink. Neither did Skye. A quizzical look passed over the brute’s countenance, like he didn’t understand why Skye was so calm. Then without warning, stepped back, drew back his arm and shoulder, clenched his fist, and connected with Skye’s face. A loud smack of two pieces of meat slamming into each other was heard by everyone within 20 feet. Blood started pouring from Skye’s nose and a smile crossed his face. God, it felt good to feel that pain. It was something new—a new experience. One of the guards, the guard from the hallway, walked over and yelled at the inmates to disperse. Fighting through the crowd, he saw who the big ruffian had punched. “Oh, shit.” He said under his breath. The huge inmate was breathing heavy and looked like he was about to send a gut punch into Skye’s well developed abs. “Hey, Matt. Matt!” The inmate looked at the guard with intensity. The guard stepped over to the man and whispered something in his ear, quickly. Matt looked as though the wind had been completely taken out of his sails. Blood drained from his face. Skye had his eyes closed, waiting for the next punch. He wanted to feel that exquisite pain again. He didn’t know how long it would be until a single man couldn’t physically hurt him. Muscle was growing thicker every day on his body. Already, the pain was blunted and he knew that. So he stood there, waiting, blood pouring from his nose and a distinct mark on his cheek. “Oh my god. I’m a dead man.” The massive brute whispered under his breath. He had fear in his eyes—the fear that comes from accepting a horrible fate. Will would kill him and he knew it. All the guard had whispered was, “The man you just hit is Will’s boyfriend. This is fucking SKYE, man!” Big Matt just stood there, deflated. “Hit me again, you fucking ape. Hit ME!” Matt just shook his head. Skye opened his eyes. The men who had gathered around began to whisper amongst themselves, staring at Skye like he was a zoo animal. “You’re Skye? Will is your man?” Big Matt asked carefully. Skye knew that the game was up. No one would touch him now. He was a little disappointed. “Yes.” “Let the man work out, boys. Clear out!” Matt bellowed at the other men. The others left the weight cage. Only Skye and Big Matt were left. Skye still had blood draining from his nose. The front of his jail jumpsuit was stained with large blotches of crimson. He still had a smile on his face. “I’m sorry for punching you, sir. I didn’t know who you were.” It was obvious that the man was afraid now. “I’m sorry.” Skye was impressed by the hold Will had developed over these men. He had instilled a fear into them that was unquestionable. “I’ll leave you to your workout.” “Hey, Matt. I wont tell Will it was you.” The man just shot a smile at Skye and walked away leaving him alone in the weight area. Skye began loading another couple of plates on the bar. Without warning, a thin blonde guy walked in with a demonic smile painted on his face. “Hey. You’re Skye?” “Yes. I am.” He had begun to lower the bar toward his chest. He looked back at the younger man. Shit. This must be Jesse. “Damn man. I can see why Will can’t get enough of you. You are fuckin hot. I didn’t get it before, but I do now. Look at that ass…and the rest of you ain’t bad either.” “Uhhhh…thanks.” Across town, Will had just eaten a huge dinner. Skye had stocked the fridge in preparation of Will’s homecoming. He was still feeling on edge, but knowing that Skye would be home tomorrow made it bearable. He just wanted to sleep and put an end to the day. It was early, only about 7PM, but if he fell asleep soon, he would wake up and it would be time to go get his man. That time couldn’t come quick enough. He walked to the medicine cupboard and found Skye’s sleeping meds…Skye had always struggled with insomnia. Will took two pills out and popped them in his mouth, swallowed, and jumped in the shower. He knew he would be knocked out in a half hour. Crawling into bed, he felt out to Skye and nothing had really changed. He was there, nervous, but OK. Minutes later, he fell soundly asleep. Skye had just ended his workout before dinnertime. He went into his cell to put on a new set of clothing. “Hey. I’m Skye.” The beautiful one extended his hand to his cellmate for the night. “I’m John. I know who you are.” John was a big fuckin piece of meat. Ugly as sin and built like a tank. “Will was my cellmate until this morning when they moved me down here.” “Well, nice to meet you John.” “You too man. You too. You going to get some dinner now?” Skye nodded and took his t-shirt off. It had become sweaty as he worked out and some of the blood had seeped into it from his earlier altercation. His nose had long stopped bleeding but his face needed to be cleaned up a bit. Dried blood caked his nostrils and there were dark smears where he had tried to rub the sticky red fluid from his face. “Let me get you a wet towel, Skye. Let’s clean that face up.” John turned toward the sink and grabbed a small hand towel, soaked it under the faucet, and returned to Skye. “Will was a crazy fuck. I though he was going to kill me a few times. But I learned to respect his boundaries.” He paused for a moment. “Do you know that he wouldn’t allow anyone to talk about you? He completely idolizes you. People knew your name. They knew that Will would fuck ‘em up real good if they said anything about you. I’ve never seen anyone like Will. He just kept growing and getting taller and more massive. Harder. Stronger.” John’s voice had a thread of lust in it. “Did you like his huge muscles, John?” Skye knew that this was a dangerous line of questioning, but was curious about John. He seemed like an alright guy—helping him get cleaned up and all. “I guess so. Will was just so unapologetically manly. No one would dare go against him. He just had this presence. Kind of like you do…but you are more refined. I can tell.” John held out the damp cloth. “I can clean this for you.” He was offering his services to Skye, but Skye didn’t know if it was because he was trying to stay on Will’s good side or if he was flirting. “You gay, John?” Neither said a word for what seemed like five minutes. It was likely only thirty seconds. John looked at the floor. Skye kept his eyes on him. “I don’t think so. I kinda like both. Women are beautiful and I love playing with their tits. But a big muscular guy like you…or Will…is just so hot. Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” “It’s OK man. Thanks for being honest.” He took the towel from John’s outstretched hand and began to clean his face. “Let’s go get some dinner.” “Sounds good. Hey, Skye—don’t tell anyone.” “It’s cool man. No worries.” “And, be careful of this guy named Jesse. He’s young, but his dad has some connections in town. I know he wants to fuck with Will since he had a crush on him and Will completely annihilated him in front of everyone in here a couple of days ago. He’s been planning something man. I don’t like it. You seem like a good guy, so I’m just sayin’ watch out.” All of a sudden, things made sense. Jesse was the reason he was in here. Jesse wanted him in jail with him, even for a few hours. His pulse started to race. What was this little fucking asshole up to? John and Skye walked down the hallway into the mess hall. The scent was clinical—like bleach and men. A strange combination. They took a place in line and Skye kept looking around. If Jesse wanted him in jail, he had to have known that it wouldn’t be for very long. Whatever he was going to do, he would do quickly. The question now was “when?” As soon as Skye got in line, the other inmates ushered him forward. John stood back where they had come in at the back, but when someone in front of Skye saw him (they all knew who he was now), they asked him if he would like to go ahead. “No. It’s alright. I can wait my turn.” But they were insistent. What kind of power did Will have over these men? Fuck. They were parting like the waters of the Red Sea. He saw Jesse sitting at a table about halfway across the room at a table by himself. He was just staring at Skye with dead eyes. Almost like he was looking past him--through him. Something in his mind made him think of a snake that was about to strike. He was calculating, thinking, manipulating. Skye went to an open table on the far side of the room. It was empty. Within minutes, other inmates who had been sitting at other tables started getting up with their food trays and walking over to Skye’s table. They placed some portion of their food next to Skye. Apples, little milk cartons, extra bread…a pile of food was being stacked around him. Some of the men, especially the huge tattooed behemoths sat at the table surrounding Skye. None of them spoke. They were just there, Skye thought to show their respect for Will. John finally joined his cellmate and sat in the seat directly across from Skye. “What is with the guys bringing me food, John?” “It is something that they did for Will. The tried to keep him calm, keep on his good side, by bringing him food. There isn’t much we can do in here to show our loyalties. Food is one of those things. They are trying to tell you that they are loyal to you.” “Fuck man. What did Will do in here to cause this kind of devotion?” “He did a lot of things…just naturally. He’s the biggest alpha I’ve ever seen. You see that doorway over there? Well, a huge solid steel door hung there only a few days ago. Jesse made some comment about you one day and Will went over there and ripped the thing off of its guide rail. He crumpled it up like it was tissue paper. When he first got here, he lifted an entire universal bar loaded with plates with one arm. He was not fucking around man. He never asked for respect or tribute, but these guys fell in line. Even the guards. They are showing you the same respect.” Skye looked at Jesse again. He was only a couple of tables away. Jesse was red in the face. He looked frustrated, angry, betrayed. Skye finished the food on his tray. He then started eating the items that the other inmates had given to him, not wanting to be rude. It was a gesture and he knew it. There was no way he could eat nearly as much as Will. After he was done, he stood up and walked toward his room. Every eye was on him. Entering his cell he lay down on the bed, hoping to relax and have his thoughts to himself for a while. He now knew that Jesse had somehow set him up. That was the most likely scenario. Fuck Jesse. John joined him after a few minutes. He climbed up to his top bunk and remained quiet. “Hey John, I think I am going to fall asleep a bit early tonight. Is that OK with you?” “You don’t have to ask permission of me for anything. You do what you want and I will adjust.” “Thanks.” A few minutes later, Skye had fallen asleep. It was still early evening. A strong hand shook his shoulder. “Excuse me, sir. But the sheriff would like to see you downstairs.” It was the guard from the hallway and from the yard. “OK.” He was groggy, not thinking clearly. Entering the sheriff’s office in the jail, the man shook his hand politely. “Skye, you have only been here a couple of hours, but it looks like you were mistakenly taken into custody. The evidence against you has been deemed prejudicial. You are free to go if you’d like or since it is late now, you can stay for the evening and go home in the morning.” “I’d like to call Will to come and pick me up, sir.” “Sounds good.” The sheriff pushed the desk phone toward Skye and he dialed the number. It rang and rang. Will was sound asleep in a drug-induced dreamland. The phone would not be waking him up. It rang and rang. “I guess he is asleep or busy. I don’t mind sleeping here until the morning, sir. I’ll call back then. Thank you for telling me though. I appreciate it.” Skye returned to his cell. John wasn’t there. “He must be out in the common area,” Skye thought. The men would not be told to go back into their cells for another hour or so. He crawled back onto the bed and fell asleep, knowing that he was a free man and would be reunited with his fiancée in just a few hours. A few cells down, Jesse was busy seducing John. He knew the guy was a fag too. “I wanna suck your cock, John. I’ll make you feel so fucking good man. I’ll make you shoot a gallon of your spunk…and I will swallow every last drop. Fuck my face man. Fuck it!” John was weak. He hadn’t had his cock sucked in weeks and the young thing, Jesse, was begging for his cock. He didn’t like Jesse much, but a warm mouth is better than a cold hand. When Jesse was done sucking him off, he pushed John onto the bed and wrapped his arms around him, soothing him, making him fall asleep—that wonderful post-orgasm sleep. As soon as he heard the snoring start, he carefully untangled himself and made his way to Skye’s cell. He didn’t have much time. The guards would soon be making their rounds telling the inmates to return to their cells for the evening. He had maybe twenty minutes…but you can do a lot of damage in twenty minutes. Just a moment later, he entered Skye’s cell. He was on the bed, sound asleep with a smile on his face. “Fuck this asshole and fuck Will,” he breathed quietly. “FUCK!” Skye felt a sharp pain searing into his shoulder. He tried to sit up in bed but something was tying him down around his neck. He couldn’t shout or cry for help. It felt as if he were being strangled. “You ruined my life, you fucking queer. Will wanted me, but you got in the way.” He could feel Jesse’s mouth talking angrily into his left ear. He couldn’t breath unless he lay still. The pain in his shoulder was beginning to burn and feel warm. He struggled to groan or make any noise at all. “You need to get out of my way. After you are gone, Will is mine! I hope this hurts, you fucking prick. You’ll never see your precious Will again. Sayonara, fucker.” Skye felt another shot of pain. This time in his right arm. He was being stabbed. He was being stabbed! Something was tied around his neck—a piece of cloth maybe. It prevented him from raising his head or yelling out. He was completely restrained, and he knew he was bleeding extensively. He felt the warmth of blood coating his skin. He reached out to Will. Forcing himself against that sensory perception that they shared now. He encountered a wall. Will must be asleep. He couldn’t feel anything from him. He was bleeding and couldn’t breathe. He would not die here at the hands of some entitled well-connected weasel. The thoughts started to come apart, less coherent, less focused. He was losing consciousness. “FUCK YOU, Skye. The last thing I want you to know is that I…I will be fucking your precious boyfriend all too soon. He will need some comfort after you are gone and I am getting out of here soon. I’m going to take your man and make him mine. So fuck you!” At that moment, John walked into the cell. “OH FUCK, Jesse. What did you do? Guards…GUARDS!!!” ============================================================================================ Will woke up with the sun. He had slept so well and felt that morning fog that settles in after taking sleeping pills. He extended his legs and arms. It took him a moment to realize that he was home, in their big bed. He reached over to grab the warmth of Skye and his eyes shot open. He remembered. Skye was in jail. He extended his mind to Skye. “No, no, no, no!” A feeling of panic settled into him. Skye was in great pain. He felt it. He reached out to the pain, stroking it, trying to calm it and take it away. He felt its sharpness and fear. Skye was afraid. He was in immense pain. The fog of the medication wearing off clouded him though. It blunted his reaction. Was he still dreaming? He took a moment and gathered his emotions. “Is this a dream?” Again, he extended his mind to touch Skye’s. Once again…pain, fear. He picked up Skye’s phone next to the bed. His heart was beginning to pound. He could feel something happening inside of him. Something dark and brooding, like a massive thunderstorm just on the horizon. He say that a couple of calls had come in. “Hey Will. I know you are probably asleep. I did tell you to take a couple of my sleeping meds. They are letting me out now, officially, but since I can’t ahold of you, I am going to stay here tonight. Call the jail when you get this and we can set something up. I love you and miss you. I hope you are feeling ok and haven’t hulked out on my already! See you tomorrow morning. Love you.” Next message. “This message is for Will. This is Bellingham General Hospital. We have your partner, Skye, in our emergency department. Please call us immediately.” Next message. “This message is for Will. This is Bellingham General Hospital. Please call us as soon as you are able.” Floods of adrenalin flooded Will’s system. He was on the brink of losing control of his mind and consequently, his body. His hands were trembling as he tried to return the call to the hospital. His fingers were too big and he was shaking to much to hit the right buttons on the screen. “FUCK!” he bellowed. He tried again. He couldn’t hit the button on the phone. He was shaking, trembling. Once more… “This is Bellingham General Hospital. How can I help you?” “I received messages this morning about my partner, Skye Collins. I need to speak with someone about him. NOW!” “Sir, I will connect you as soon as I can.” The voice on the other side of the line was annoyed. Probably some punk-ass new high school grad that had no idea what she was speaking with on the other end of the line. “This is nurses’ station, fifth floor.” “I am Skye Collins’ partner. I received two calls about him asking me to call. Is he OK?” There was complete heartbreak in Will’s voice. “Who is it that I am speaking with?” “My name is Will. I am Skye’s partner. PLEASE, I am begging you. Tell me how he is!” “Let me connect you with his nurse.” Will tried to interrupt and get at least basic information. “Hi, this is Julie.” “TELL ME HOW SKYE IS! WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM?” Will had enough. He was yelling into the phone. The voice on the other end of the line could sense that whomever she was speaking to was terrified and very upset. “Skye is doing well. We had to give him blood. He lost a lot of it last night, but he will be ok. He should be waking up soon. You should come. Are you Will?” “Yes.” Will was feeling the pains of growth shooting through his body. He didn’t have the willpower or internal controls to suppress them any more. He felt like a volcano ready to spew destruction on everything around him. He was the pressure cooker. He would bring down fire and brimstone. “He kept mumbling your name all through the night. It is obvious that you need to be here when he wakes up if you can.” “I’m coming. Thank you.” Will put on some clothes that Skye had bought in anticipation of his return. They were obscenely tight around every aspect of his body. He didn’t have a choice. He rushed to the jeep and tried to get in. The seat wouldn’t go back enough. “Shit! This just keeps getting better.” He wrapped his hands around the seat and ripped it out of the Jeep, tossing it on the sidewalk. He crawled in. His mass filled 80% of the space. Hard quivering muscles bloated by concern and fear pulsed with anger and worry. A few minutes later, he arrived at the hospital. Pulling into the Emergency Room bay, he jumped out, leaving the Jeep running. “Hey man, you can’t park here!” a hospital worker yelled. He picked up the front end of the Jeep and threw it 30 yards into the parking area. “That good enough for you, dumb fuck?” and ran into the open doors of the hospital. A few minutes later, he found Skye’s room. His presence running down the hallway startled anyone who saw him. Walking into the elevator, he looked at the weight limit posted above the floor buttons. He was close to maximum weight the elevator would lift, but still under by a bit. Enormous and massive, his muscular bulk made its way to the fifth floor. “Julie. I need to find Julie!” He found the nurses’ station. “I need JULIE!” Will’s voice was raised and anxious. He was towering over the small human at the desk. “I’m Julie.” The woman’s voice trembled. “I’m Will. Where the FUCK is Skye and what happened?” Julie, the poor thing, held her hands up, in an effort to calm Will down. “He is just waking up, Will. I can take you too him.” The little woman scampered down another hallway, paused and opened a door. The room was dark. “He’s in here, Will. Please be careful. We have him hooked up to some monitors so he has wires that need to stay in place.” Julie backed out of the room, closing the door behind her. “Skye, can you hear me, sweet man?” Skye’s eyes fluttered open. Will could see the break in his nose from Matt’s assault, he saw purple marks on his throat from the bedsheet that was strangling him. He saw gauze bandages on his shoulders. “I can.” Skye whispered softly, barely audible over the beeps and clicks of the monitors. “Skye, I am here.” The monster, a hulking mass of rippling power and size leaned his enormous bulk over the bed. Hundreds of pounds of upper body muscle balanced above Skye. Will was concentrating on Skye’s heartbeat again. “Skye, our hearts are beating together again. You are going to be OK. Who did this to you? What happened?” “Jesse. It was Jesse.” A white-hot bolt of anger flashed once again in Will. He felt a release of energy so powerful, he knew that he could not contain it and he didn’t want to try. “Jesse did this to you? JESSE?” He was breathing heavy. Skye sensed the change in him. He knew that Will was about to enter a grey area that exists between sanity and the insane. Will’s heart started beating more quickly and with more purpose. He felt Will’s body and mind begin to let go of the trivialities of modern conveniences of size and comfort. That concept was quickly losing value. “Who the fuck cares if I can’t fit into clothes anymore? If I am that fucking huge, no one will fuck with me anyways.” His fists started to flex again. Will could feel his body tensing and stretching, preparing to enter the next phase of his evolution. “Will. I can feel you ramping up. Before you leave and crush everything in your way… John, your old cell mate, he was kind to me. Matt, the giant muscle man of the weight yard—after he got to know me, he was kind to me. Most of the men gave me extra food at dinner last night out of respect for you. Will, know who your enemy is. The rest would follow you into the jaws of hell.” “Believe me, Skye…they would follow you too. I have to take care of this, sweet man. I have to do this.” “I know. I just wish that I could be there to see it. Will, you are indestructible, but don’t forget that deep down inside of this mega-alpha muscle beast, you are a sweet, kind man who I gave my heart to after a wonderful dinner the night you first talked to me at the university gym. You are still that person. Remember that.” Will smiled at his fiancée, the love of his life, the man he would move heaven and earth to please. He grabbed Skye’s hand into his, bent over and kissed him on the cheek. “I will be back soon.” Skye just looked up and smiled. He knew that Will would never be the same man after this. He knew that as soon as he left the hospital, he would embrace the titan he was destined to become. As he left Skye’s room, he saw Julie. “How stable is he? How much longer will he need to be here?” “He is actually very stable. We would like to watch him today, but he doesn’t really have too much damage other than blood loss. He’ll be good to go home later.” Will turned toward the exit and began to jog. He had some business to settle and he would be taking care of that, NOW! He jumped in the Jeep that he had crudely thrown into the parking area. He was holding on to that feeling of growth, pausing it, delaying it. He wanted to unveil himself at the right moment. Only a few minutes later, he found himself on the outside of the Whatcom county jail. He stared at the building and thought of Skye. Their heartbeats were still in synch. He felt it--knew it--wanted it. The dam finally broke. Skye had given his permission and Will reached out to him again, wanting to know if it was all right to tear down his barricades. He felt a reassuring “yes.” Instantly, he closed his eyes and concentrated, turning the growth switches on in his body. He opened up the floodgates of hormones and genes. He opened up emotional channels of anger and outrage. Jesse would pay now. He would pay dearly for doing what he did. Will walked toward the jail, clenched fists, sweating, moaning loudly like a moose in heat. Pulses of sharp lightning pounded through Will’s veins. His body became electrified. Waves of thick dark energy flowed out from his mind into every recess of his body. He opened himself up to receive the blessing of Skye’s brilliant plan. Uncontrollable twitches and jerks of began assaulting his muscles. He was steps away from the main entrance to the jail and he could barely control himself. He didn’t want to have to suppress it anymore, but he knew he wanted the men inside to see his change, especially Jesse. He wanted that little fuck to piss himself. Back at the hospital, Skye felt his heart begin to race. He began to sweat. The same syrupy darkness was beginning to flow through his veins. He could feel his body healing, repairing itself. The connection between the two men was complete, their bodies were in fact, integrated. Skye didn’t realize how much until that moment. He could feel Will’s rage and anger. Skye was angry too and reflected more of that feeling into Will. The feeling of being strangled, the fear of losing his life, the pain of being stabbed in the shoulders—he sent those feelings to Will. Will could feel Skye’s pain and anger building up as well. His pupils dilated and he growled. The sound was so deep and pregnant with masculinity; it sent vibrations into the ground. His guttural growl was more felt than heard. Skye sat up in bed, his eyes becoming wild. He could feel himself gearing up to grow. He didn’t know how, but Will’s eminent growth was affecting him in the same way. He had to get out of the hospital. He had to get to Will. He tore the IV lines and monitoring leads off of his arms and chest. His breaths were shallow and rapid. He had to get to the jail too. He wanted all of them to see him HUGE. He wanted Will to see him grow, and he wanted to face fuck Jesse until his eyes bugged out of his skull. Payback would be sweet. Will could feel Skye beginning to start the growth process and it slowed him down for a moment. He could feel the orgasmic feeling of Skye’s metamorphosis beginning. His cock started to swell, pulse, dance to their two tandem heartbeats. He knew Skye was coming to be with him and to take his pound of flesh from Jesse. This realization made his cock rip out of his already-too-small pants. The tower of manhood could not be contained. It wanted to fuck something and show its power to all of the peons inside…and most of all, his cock wanted to bury itself in Skye’s huge muscular ass. The thought made precum erupt from his gaping slit. Ounces of sweet slick man nectar gurgled up from somewhere in Will’s groin. Long strings of it were threading to the ground. Will’s eyes rolled back in complete ecstasy. The idea that his sweet, brilliant, angelic muscle-stud was about to become a destroyer pushed his enormous cantaloupe sized balls into overdrive. Through his lustful thoughts, he could feel massive quantities of cum swirling inside of his bull balls. Hundreds of whirlpools of thick sticky white juice churning, massaging the insides of his nuts. They were dropping lower, becoming heavier, as he thought of Skye tearing through the walls to do damage on the inside, right next to him. They had always been two sides of the same coin. Will had been lusty, dark, powerful, and an alpha. Skye, the intellectual, measured, sweetheart. In this moment, as Skye rushed toward the hospital, they both knew that together they would be completely unstoppable. It turned both of them on. They were united in one goal and they both demanded more size, power, and strength. They were pinging each other, the signal for growth increasing in its frequency and amplitude as Skye neared the jail. He was wearing XXXL hospital scrubs and looked like a massive surgeon racing down the sidewalk. It was almost comical, except for the determination on his face. Skye could feel his muscles tightening. They were aching for him to release them from their cage. They wanted to expand and bloom outward, assuring an even more massively beautiful and powerful man. He knew what Will had been feeling now. It was hard to contain his body’s desire to expand, to become more than a man. It was like the feeling of being edged…it felt so fucking good. He was edging his growth. Edging his power and strength. Groans of pleasure began oozing out of his mouth as he ran toward Will. He could see the jail up ahead on the edge of the forest. Almost there. Will had turned away from the building and was running at full speed toward Skye. His arms were beginning to lengthen and he looked much like a devastatingly handsome King Kong, long muscular arms reaching down his muscular thickly corded legs. His legs started lengthening as well as he saw Skye running across the field in front of the jail. Fuck, his cock was pumping precum in massive waves. He couldn’t think straight once he saw his man running toward him. He could feel the tsunami of sexual energy erupting from Skye when their eyes locked and he felt an unquenchable craving for his soon-to-be husband. He wanted to pound Skye’s ass, he wanted Skye to pound his. He wanted to suck the seed right out of Skye’s growing low-hanging balls feeding from the fountain of his POWER. Skye’s man juice tasted like salted honey, and he wanted to drink it until his muscle gut was ready to burst. He would suck Skye’s cock until he dried up and then start sucking harder. Fuck! Everything else seemed insignificant. When they reached each other, Will took Skye into his arms, picking him up off the ground. Both of them began groaning, moaning, deeply from the pit of their beings. Hard raging cocks oozed and both started humping the other’s body. “Holy shit, Will. I can hardly control myself.” “It’s my turn to tell you to let go. LET GO, SKYE! Become what you are destined to become!” Will lowered Skye down to the ground. Their cocks kept pumping, standing alert, and demanding to have release. Skye looked into Will’s crazed eyes and Will stared back. In that instant, Skye’s body started to swell. He didn’t gain much in height, but the tight scrubs he had been wearing popped like a balloon. The sound of every stitch of fabric splitting open at the same time was like a thunderclap in Will’s ears. He was salivating at what he saw happening right in front of him. Skye’s torso and legs lengthened and his shoulders grew outward. Immediately, every cut shredded muscle on his body exploded. In a matter of ten seconds, Skye was twice as massive. His head was surrounded by thick mountains of shredded beef. His pecs blew out in thousands of strands, bunching and rippling as he moved his arms. His abs subdivided; each of them becoming so ripped that they showed the same vertical striation pattern that his pecs did horizontally. Will had never seen anything like it. His forearms blew out until they looked as if they were on the verge of popping through the skin, dozens of sinewy bunches ballooned out as they approached his elbows. The guy was inhuman and Will loved it. Skye was emitting deep moans from his throat. Pure pleasure, pure bliss, pure sex, pure power. Deep, throbbing, heaves of sound reached Will’s ears. His own lust took over. He reached out to Skye’s massive cock, grabbed it with his enormous meaty hand, bent his hulking body over and started sucking. He took Skye’s thick tool down his throat in one gulp and Hoovered him, pulling the thick man-seed out of his balls directly. Skye’s growth was slowing down but his moans became louder, “Yes, Will! Suck my big fucking COCK!” He could feel his balls pull up closer to his body in preparation to launch his honey cream into Will’s waiting throat. Another wave of bliss washed over their bodies. They were completely in synch now, each feeling the god-like pure energy of the other. The intensity was earth shaking. Skye threw back his head and Will gave one more deep suck. The giant god-cock that had been gulped down began to pulse and Will prepared to receive yet more blessings from his creator. He was worshiping at the feet of his deity. Eruptions of cum coursed through Skye’s body. His prostate was pumping hard and furiously causing crashing tides of delirious euphoria to slam into both of their bodies. His cum dump went on for over a minute, a tide of manhood and fuck-seed. Will accepted every drop into his expanding gut. He felt warmth spreading out from his distended belly. Skye opened his eyes and looked down at the man at his knees. He felt heavier. He felt HUGE and he realized that he was about the same size as Will now. Fuck, he felt ALIVE. He felt like the mega-alpha that Will had recently become. It was intoxicating. Will was still greedily sucking on his massive cock, draining every last drop out of his balls. They had already started churning again so they could feed Will even more, next time in the hole between his double-mooned ass. He placed his catcher’s mitt sized hand on the back of Will’s head and stroked his hair. He didn’t know what love was until now. Neither of them did. This was something transcendent. At that moment, Skye looked down. Will was shaking—vibrating. He kept his hand on the back of Will’s head. He could feel something happening inside of Will, something planetary in magnitude and animalistic in sentiment. Will pulled his gaping mouth away from Skye’s still-hard dick and looked up at Skye, his pupils dilating even wider. Another groan burst from his throat in a constant stream becoming louder and more intense. The volume built until it sounded like a constant thunder. His eyes were still locked on Skye’s. Suddenly, the hand that Skye had placed on the top of Will’s head shot up. Will was stretching upward. On his knees he was now at eye level with Skye. The never took their eyes off of each other. Fuck, he was growing to huge proportions. Will’s body was blowing outward in great powerful tides. Dozens of pounds of hard meat packed onto his expanded frame by the second. His pecs became so huge, they were pushing him away from Skye by a couple of feet. His traps were creeping up the side of his thick, veiny neck, growing above his ears. The great slope of them descending until assaulting the beachball sized boulders that capped Will’s shoulders. Skye remembered this moment from a dream he had long before this moment. He remembered the two of them in the field and remembered Will growing to incomprehensible proportions. That dream had come true. It was just as he remembered it. Will stood up. He was now a true titan. Even at Skye’s considerable height of almost seven feet, his eyes only reached to Will’s nipples. But the mass was unbelievable. Will had become nearly as wide as he was tall. His lats spread out like a hang-glider’s wings. He was devastating. Skye reached up and placed his big meaty hand on Will’s pec—over his heart. “It’s about fucking time, Big Man!” Their hearts were still beating together. They didn’t even need to speak anymore. They both just knew what the other was thinking, feeling, wanting, without saying a word. “Let’s go take care of Jesse.” Will spoke and it sounded like thunder or a landslide. It was pure unadulterated masculinity. “Yes, let’s.” The two gigantic beasts moved toward the jail. They moved like a wolf pack of two, scanning the horizon, moving with skill and fluidity. Skye could feel the protective possessive nature of Will moving next to him and he realized that Will did indeed want to kill Jesse. “We can’t kill him Will. If we do, then we are murders and we will never be left alone. As big and powerful as we are, we will get chased and hounded forever.” “I want to rip his heart right out of his little weak body. I want to show it to him as he fades away from this earth! He fucked with the wrong guy when he attacked you.” “Let ME take care of Jesse. I want his punishment to come from me.” Will paused a moment. They were near the front of the building. Skye wanted to take care of Jesse, so he would of course stand back and let Skye handle his revenge. “That doesn’t mean that you can’t destroy everything in that building for your own sport. Just leave the little scrawny piece of shit to me,” Skye said. They walked ahead toward the front entrance, naked, erect, and with a frightening determination in their eyes. They walked right through the plate glass doors, not pausing to open them. Will’s width took the heavy metal frames with him as he walked forward. The sound of bricks and concrete being torn from the walls made a loud deep rumbling sound. The officer at the desk looked on the advancing monsters, his eyes popping open. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Fuck me!” he whispered to himself. Skye shot him a look that made him cower. “Maybe later,” he said with a smirk. “Hey, stop! STOP!” The officer unholstered his weapon and fired two shots, both hitting Will in the shoulder. He wheeled around. It felt like a mosquito bite to him. He looked down and saw the bullets on the floor. They had hit his skin and just fell away. The two moved down the main hallway, Skye in front of Will. Although Skye was massive, Will’s height and width were causing lights to be knocked off of the ceiling and moldings around doors to explode when coming into contact with his shoulders. They passed a door: SECURITY it read on the placard. Skye pushed the thick steel door open and walked inside. Panels of screens and recording devices lines the walls. “Will, you want to play in here for a few minutes? All this shit needs to be smashed.” Will looked at his man like he had just been awarded a prize. “Hell yes!” The brute tore the doorframe off walking in. He started crushing everything in the room easily. Skye just stood in the doorway, with a huge erection, smiling. “It should be free time about now. Let’s go out to the yard, shall we?” Skye looked back at Will. This was going to be fun. They walked through the common area. A few inmates were playing chess on one of the tables in the corner. They looked at the massive mountains walking through the area and both pissed themselves. The guards who Will and Skye both knew turned the corner and the muscled beasts locked eyes with them. “FUCK man. That is Will and Skye. What the fuck happened to them?” “Hey, Hey! What the fuck man?” The guards were yelling at the two titans. “We have a score to settle. Please don’t try to stop us,” Skye said flatly. Will saw the opening to the yard and lowered his shoulder, walking steadily ahead. This time he walked ahead of Skye. Pressing his mass into the wall. The entire concrete structure started to crumble as the ground shook. The men on the yard looked toward the sounds as Will pushed through the thick wall. He kept walking, never changing his pace. The inmates stared at the giants, one looking like a blond haired god, shredded and ripped beyond comprehension, and the other crazed with the mass of a long-haul truck. Several of them pissed themselves immediately and others unzipped their jumpers and took their cocks out to beat themselves off. The two giants looked like a perfect mix of sex and destruction. It was fucking HOT. Skye sauntered up to Big Matt, the man who had punched him in the nose. As he got closer, he looked down at the man cowering beneath him. “Where is Jesse, Matt?” Skye’s voice rumbled. Matt knew he was staring at a god, and he hoped god was feeling magnanimous. “There, in the weight cage.” His mouth dropped as he looked over and saw Will using his insane strength to rip the concrete pylons of the fences out of the ground. Skye knew that Will was feeling destructive—for destruction’s sake—and was still angry about his time in that jail. People were backing away from the two who were now on different sides of the yard. Will was walking around, destroying everything he saw. “Hey Will, I found our friend John over here. John wants to suck your big cock, Will.” Will came bounding over to Skye. John had a look of lust on his face. He was one of those who had pulled his mediocre cock out and started wanking at the site of the two inhuman creatures in their midst. He was salivating. “Now John, do you want to suck my dear Will’s cock? He makes gallons of cum. It’s so sweet. I told you I wouldn’t forget your kindness. I haven’t wanted anyone to suck Will’s cock since we have been together, but I feel like sharing today.” He looked to the fucking god next to him. “You want your cock sucked, honey?” The 9 foot tall mountain nodded his head like a little boy and a dangerous smile spread across his handsome face. John was quaking, but couldn’t believe that he was invited by these monstrosities to play with them. Will fell on his insanely muscular knees and offered his cock to John who then opened his mouth and started to work Will’s gaping cum slit with his tongue. “Now don’t get used to this, John. That is MY man and no one drinks from him twice, except for me.” Will moaned. Being Skye’s muscle whore was turning him on like he wouldn’t have believed. He’s do anything Skye asked, of course, and that he was pimping him out to a guy here was fucking unbelievably amazing. He wanted to be Skye’s monster slut, if only this once. John opened his mouth wide to take in Will’s enormous throbbing head. He put both hands around the thick long shaft. Will’s manhood was over two feet long, so he had a lot of room to play with. Thick viscous clear precum flooded John’s hands and he started lapping it off of Will’s tumescence. Skye just patted John on the head, like a little puppy who was pleasing its owner. “Be sure to make my man happy, John.” He smiled down at him and walked toward Jesse. Jesse had been watching the events playing out in the yard and knew that he couldn’t hide. “What the fuck are those things?” He was turned on and he was terrified. As they got closer, he realized that the larger creature was Will. It was WILL! And the most beautiful one was Skye. “OH, FUCK!” He started perspiring. He was dead now. He knew it with certainty. Will was being sucked off by that big gorilla, John. Pangs of jealousy sprouted up in his mind. That should be HIM sucking off Will. “Fuck that John guy. Fuck Skye.” “Jesse!” Skye roared as he got closer. “You tried to kill me last night you mother fucker. I am here to get payback! YOUR ASS IS MINE.” Skye was angry. He was rarely angry, but the ant in front of him had tried to kill him in bed the night before. He walked up to Jesse and bent down and grabbed him by the collar of his jumpsuit. “You wanna say anything before I get started?” “What are you going to do to me?” Jesse was trembling. He saw his life flash before him. “I’m going to make you mine! I am going to fuck you, Jesse. And then I am going to leave you. You want me to fuck you?” The thin man nodded, yes. He did want to be fucked by Skye. He was gorgeous. “You better open that hole up wide. I am going to wreck you for every other man in your life. You will always think of me… and what you did to me. Letting you live, your hole aching for my big fuck-tool will be more punishment than I can imagine. You will never see Will or myself again, but we will haunt your mind. You wont forget this moment, and it will make you crazy with lust for the rest of your life. You will suffer knowing that you had a god cock living inside of you for a moment and it will tear you apart knowing it will never happen again. You may think you are getting off easily here, but let me tell you Jesse, you will be tormented by this forever because you will NEVER have it again.” Jesse was staring wide-eyed at Skye’s cock. It was dripping lube onto the ground in long thick strings. He wanted to taste it and approached to touch Skye’s hard throbbing meat. “NO! You turn around and bend over you piece of shit. You still want this cock to destroy your insides, Jesse? Maybe having the CHANCE to get fucked by this and not taking it would be a better punishment. What do you say?” Jesse could hardly think straight. He was so overcome with lust, his mouth was salivating, and his hole was loosening in preparation to get fucked by the largest cock he had ever seen. “I want you to fuck me! FUCK ME!” He turned around and bent over the table. Skye took his leaking cockhead and rubbed it against Jesse’s tight hole and pushed in. No waiting, no loosening. Jesse yelled out in pain. Will’s eyes snapped open and looked over to see what was happening…he could only feel anger coming from Skye. He realized that Skye was going to fuck Jesse and he thought “Brilliant move Skye. Fuck that piece of dirt so hard, he never forgets what he did to you.” Jesse’s ass was being drilled. Skye was merciless. He knew he could probably kill the guy if he used more than a small part of his strength. He fucked Jesse harder. Muffled moans erupted every few seconds from Jesse’s mouth. It hurt. It felt amazing. He would never be satisfied like this again. His hole would always need more than any man could ever give him. It would be torture for the rest of his life and he now knew it. Skye felt Will about to cum. “Will, let me drink your cum!” Bellowed Skye from across the yard. John detached his mouth and hands from Will’s enormous appendage and Will ran toward his lover. Skye kept pounding little Jesse’s wrecked ass and bend slightly over so he could suck Will off to completion at the same time. He wanted to taste Will, and he had to be sure that John didn’t swallow any of the engineered virus. He clamped his thick soft lips around Will’s swollen cock and took him into his warm mouth cave. Will lasted all of five seconds. Volleys of cum rushed out of Will’s melon-sized balls and into Skye’s hungry mouth. The giant tossed back his head and yelled. It felt so fucking good. So FUCKING GOOD! Skye pumped a couple of more times into Jesse and felt that he was about to cum as well. Will’s orgasm had flipped Skye’s own switch, the waves of pleasure ripping through Will’s mind spread out to his partner. He pulled out of Jesse, leaving a gaping open hole, quivering, begging for more. The cool air of outside licked the insides of Jesse as it rushed in after Skye removed himself. Jesse had never felt so empty. “If I can’t feel that again, maybe I wish I were dead,” he thought to himself. Will cleaned off Skye’s fuck-stick with spit and his hand. He polished Skye’s knob and Skye shuttered. Kneeling again on his knees, Will took Skye once again into his mouth. He wanted that sweet caramel-y nectar to flood his stomach. “You ready to grow again Will? You ready to get bigger, my Big Man?” The orgasm once again exploded vast quantities of jism out of Skye and into Will’s waiting stomach. “Fuck, ya. Take it all in Will. You’re gonna keep growing until we tell your body to stop. Drink up.” Skye had planned that Will would continue to grow until they both were injected with an immunoglobulin that Skye had engineered to halt the viral infection that was causing their growth. With the viruses incapacitated, they could chose how big, strong, and powerful they would each become. That time would come, but it wouldn’t be now. There was still a lot of growing to do. They looked around the jail yard. It looked like dozens of men had been involved in a massive circle-jerk. Cum was everywhere. Men were still jerking off at the site of Will and Skye’s conquest of two inmates and the incredibly hot visual of Will sucking off Skye. The entire place smelled of fresh air, cum, and manhood. It was perfect. The two beasts walked toward the large opening that Will had made to get to the yard. They walked, hand in hand, down the corridor to get back outside, Skye walking ahead when the hallway narrowed. They reached the front entrance where the entire entryway had been destroyed. They could hear sirens in the distance, no doubt making their way to the jail. The guard that had offered to help Skye the day before rushed up behind them. “Hey Will, Skye. We lost our CCT feed so nothing you’ve done here was recorded. I don’t know how that happened." Skye smiled. “I wanted to give this to you. It’s my cousin's phone number. He and his boyfriend are, ummmm...different…like you two. Something happened to him not very long ago—kind of the same thing I guess. They are both fucking huge. Almost as big as you. He lives a few hours away on his family farm with his boyfriend. I think that they could help you or at least give you a place to stay while you figure things out.” The guard extended a sheet of paper out to them. Skye took it and looked down. Written in blue ink it simply said: Cliff and Shane: (509) 555-1212 =================================================================================================== * for those of you who have not read the my first story, the reference to Cliff and Shane will be missed, but believe me, it is an important reference for the future :-) I put a link here to that story below. https://muscle-growth.org/topic/4889-shane-complete-pts-1-3/

Wyatt: ‘Uhh….why….no….stop’ *tosses and turns in his bunk* ‘I don’t want it….take it away….’ Roberto: ‘WAKE UP PRISONER!’ Wyatt: *jumps to his feet and nearly falls over* ‘Wha? Shit it happened again. Ahh crap I have already forgotten it.’ Roberto: ‘Time for you to shower.’ *throws a towel at Wyatt* Wyatt: ‘Are you going with me?’ Roberto: ‘Of course, I have to it is my job.’ Wyatt: ‘I assume you are going to watch me take a shower?’ Roberto: ‘Just get out of your cell and follow me.’ *directs Wyatt to the showers* Wyatt: ‘You are so cranky all the time.’ *silence* Wyatt: ‘FINE! I don’t need to talk to you anyway.’ *takes his stripes off and showers* *Roberto takes a glimpse and smiles behind him* *Wyatt turns and Roberto wipes the smile off his face* Wyatt: ‘You are watching me. Do you like what you see?’ *silence* Wyatt: ‘Come on, admit you like my ass. Even though I am small, I know my ass is nice.’ *turns to look at Roberto to get a reaction as his cock stands up* *Roberto doesn’t make a move at all* Roberto: ‘Do you mind putting your towel on please man?’ Wyatt: ‘Do I make you nervous? Come over and touch it, I want you to.’ *waits for Roberto to walk over, but he doesn’t budge* *Roberto points to the towel close to Wyatt and makes a motion to put it around his waist* Wyatt: ‘Damn, you are tough.’ *puts towel on still with hard-on* ‘I need to relieve this somehow.’ *starts stroking, but Roberto waves his finger no* Roberto: ‘NO! You won’t do that here, maybe in your cell, but not here. King would kill me if I let you do that here.’ Wyatt: ‘Wow, he has a lot of power here doesn’t he? Would something happen to you if you had sex with me, not that I would ask you to?’ *silence* Wyatt: ‘You aren’t even going to answer? DAMN!’ Roberto: ‘Yeah I’ll answer that question and the answer is NO! King gave me instructions to make sure that you behave yourself until he gets back again and that means the sexual innuendo or anything okay?’ Wyatt: ‘Alright I get it, but this hard-on has to be relieved.’ Roberto: ‘Back to your cell then man. You can do it there, but you will clean up the mess, understand?’ Wyatt: ‘Yeah I understand.’ *they walk back to the jail area and Wyatt goes back into the cell* *Roberto closes the door and moves back to his original position with his arms crossed* *Wyatt pulls his towel off and remembers that he left his stripes in the shower area* Wyatt: ‘Shit I forget my clothes, can you get me some clean ones Roberto?’ Roberto: ‘Fine, I will be back shortly with some new ones then. Remember clean up the mess you make.’ *Roberto leaves as Wyatt starts stroking his cock* *he moans as it feels so good* *after a few strokes he feels a bit strange and doesn’t notice that his body shakes a little* *he stops stroking to get up and wipe some sweat from his brow* *he goes to lean on the cell door to catch his breath as he gets a slight pain in his back* Wyatt: ‘OH GAWD, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG…..* *he feels his back stretching a bit as his spine grows and he adds height* *his chest begins to heave as it begins to grow larger and fuller* *his grip on the cell bars begins to make them creak a little as his hands and forearms swell* *he sees the veins in both arms thickening and looking like ropes as they get denser* *he feels his legs moving further away from each other as his cock lengthens and points towards the floor* Wyatt: ‘OHH YEAH *deeper voice* WHOA, IS THIS MY VOICE?’ *grabs throat* *rubs his chest and notices huge mounds of flesh and a thick stomach before flexing his massive guns covered in huge veins* *he laughs a bit as he finds his huge ass and rubs it* *his horniness is quite apparent as his cock pools precum on the ground* *he strokes it rapidly and roars with pleasure as he feels a big load building already* Wyatt: ‘MMMMM FEELS SO AMAZING….* *he shoots an enormous rope out of his cell as it hits the window in front of it* *he coats it with thick spunk and feels himself getting slightly weaker* Wyatt: ‘AHH DAMN *voice diminishes* fuck no!’ *shrinks with each rope as he regresses back to his normal size after completely cumming* *he wonders how this happened in the first place* Wyatt: ‘Is this what those dreams were about? Hmmm….now I’m curious.’ *sits and ponders as he sits naked and waits for Roberto to return with his new stripes* At the Precinct: King: ‘Jamie how did it go with Monroe?’ *sits at a table with Jamison in the lunch room* Jamison: ‘He obviously took the bait boss. The judge approved the contract without a second thought. It almost seemed too good to be true.’ *smiles from both men* King: ‘Excellent job Jamie, I will talk to you later when I get to the bar.’ *gives Jamison a firm handshake and leaves the lunch room* *cell phone rings, King answers* King: ‘King here. What are you talking about? *pauses* I did exactly what I intended to do. *seems flustered* I don’t think you need to talk to me like that. *gets more angry* Well why don’t you come down here and run the department then, jeezus crimony.’ *hangs up* *stomps into his office and sits down to vent to himself* *wonders if things down in the jail are going well and contacts Roberto on his cell* King: ‘Roberto? Where are you?’ Roberto: ‘Sir, I needed to go get the prisoner a new set of stripes, he showered and forgot to get a fresh set afterwards.’ King: ‘Oh alright, but don’t leave him unattended very long, it is hard to tell what he may do next.’ Roberto: ‘I know sir, I am on my way back now.’ King: ‘Good, we need him to trust us here because otherwise I may get myself into some trouble.’ *hangs up on Roberto and gets up to shed his dress shirt* *closes the blinds to his office and locks his door* *he stares into a mirror in the corner of his office and bounces his huge pecs* King: ‘Mmmmm damn Marquez, you are looking fine my man. If I stand here too long I just might get off on myself.’ *starts to rub his thick chest and growls a little* King: ‘Phew, I just can’t help myself.’ *undoes his belt and unzips his dress pants and pulls them off* *flexes his huge quads and marvels at their thickness and power* *growls again as he pulls his underwear off and does a full body flex* King: ‘Ahh yeah I am looking so hot.’ *pinches his nipples and growls a little louder* *watches his huge cock get erect and bounce up and down before dripping a little precum* King: ‘COME ON MARQUEZ I KNOW YOU CAN SHOOT THAT LOAD.’ *wills his cock to cum without touching it as it squirts more precum this time on to the mirror* King: ‘YEAH RAWR, COME ON BIG MAN I KNOW YOU CAN DO IT. COME ON!’ *his cock begins to swell a little bigger as if it is about to grow* *he roars as he feels it building and drawing closer to the edge* King: ‘FUCK YEAH, OH YEAH, SHOOT THAT HUGE LOAD MARQUEZ. AWWW FUCK!’ *solid white ropes coat the entire mirror as he laughs at the sheer force it commands* *he moves the mirror into the nearby bathroom as he hears a knock on the door* *he races to put his outfit back on before he opens the door* King: ‘Just a minute, I need to get something done before I can help you.’ Ashe: ‘YOU BETTER OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR RIGHT NOW OR I AM CALLING THE MAYOR!’ *realizes it is Ashe, the current city council chairman and former lover and gets up to open the door before he buttons up his dress shirt* King: ‘Eddie, what a pleasant surprise I…..’ *Ashe interrupts* Ashe: ‘Jerking off again Marc? Yep, I see the fucking puddle over here, when will you grow up? I feel sorry for your coworkers here. What a sty this is.’ King: ‘Well hello to you too. What brings you here today?’ *sits down in his chair while Ashe stands by the door* *Ashe looks irritated* Ashe: ‘Really? You do know I keep tabs on everything you do here. We do fund this department after all.’ King: ‘So…..is there a problem?’ *Ashe stares at him with that same irritated look* *King smiles and bounces his pecs* Ashe: ‘The money Marc. Where is the money going that we are giving you?’ *King bounces his pecs faster* *Ashe gets pissed* ‘STOP DOING THAT!’ King: ‘You used to always like it when I did that.’ *Ashe goes over to an empty chair and hesitates* *Decides to remain standing* Ashe: ‘I want answers right now damnit! What are you doing with….’ *King interrupts* King: ‘Research. We are using it on research……for the department.’ *Ashe looks puzzled* Ashe: ‘What? Are you kidding me? I want more specifics. What is this research that you are going on about?’ King: ‘Guys are getting hurt out in the field quite a bit so we started up a new program to look into a way to boost their performance and help prevent injuries.’ Ashe: *seems confused* ‘I don’t know what to think about that. You don’t normally lie to me so I guess I could buy that. Send me a copy of this ‘research program’ and I will talk to the council about sending you more funds.’ *stares at King’s chest and smirks* Ashe: ‘I admit, you do look amazing Marc. Are you on this program?’ King: *smiles and even laughs a little* ‘Maybe. Do you think it is working?’ *flexes his bicep and watches as it stretches his sleeve to its limits* ‘Keep watching…..’ *he squeezes his bicep until the sleeve splits* Ashe: *rolls eyes* ‘You haven’t changed at all dumbass. I will talk to you later.’ *leaves the office and closes the door* King: *talks to himself* ‘Hmmmm…..I didn’t think I would have feelings for Wyatt already. He is such a prime candidate for this program. I just wonder when he will start to show any type of transformation.’ *sits back in his chair and sighs* *he wonders if he will have to make a choice in the future of whether or not to let go of Wyatt or become his partner* At an Unknown Lab Institution: Chemist: *looks under microscope* ‘Hmmm….doesn’t seem right….Wincott where did this sample come from?’ Wincott: ‘Doctor I think it was sent here from the SVU department. Do you need me to call them and find out who it belongs to?’ Chemist: ‘Hold on a minute, I think I am getting some reaction here.’ *reaches for dropper filled with fortified sperm* *squeezes a little onto the slide* Chemist: ‘WHOA, Wincott get over here.’ Wincott: ‘Okay, what do you have there doctor?’ Chemist: ‘A delayed reaction is what we have here, take a look.’ *moves to allow his assistant to take a peek* Wincott: ‘Wow, this prisoner’s cells reacted violently when the sperm came in contact with them. Whose sperm is this anyway?’ Chemist: ‘Hmmm looks like Marquez King. How long has he been in the program?’ *checks logbook for verification* Wincott: ‘Quite a long time I imagine doctor.’ Chemist: *confirms date of entry* ‘Indeed Wincott. Sixteen years precedes the program by a mile. Wait? Sixteen years?’ *eyes get huge* ‘How is this possible?’ Wincott: ‘He would have had to of been a test subject to be from 1997, quite young in fact.’ Chemist: ‘We really need to talk to him because this is unreal.’ Wincott: ‘Wait doctor.’ *looks concerned* ‘It may not be wise to interfere in ‘his’ matters.’ Chemist: *seems confused* ‘Exactly who are you talking about Wincott?’ Wincott: *looks worried* ‘The headmaster doctor. He is the one responsible for starting this whole program. He has a small clan of men recruiting petty criminals so they can be experimented on. Obviously Marquez King is one of those men.’ Chemist: ‘Well, we have his sperm here Wincott and it is extraordinarily powerful. I still think we should talk to him. Get me an appointment to see him tomorrow.’ Wincott: *grabs cell phone* ‘Fine, but I won’t be involved in this. You are going to get yourself into a mountain of trouble doctor.’ *dials SVU* ‘I would like to speak to Officer King please.’ *transfer into King’s office* *King answers* King: *picks up office phone* ‘Who is this?’ Wincott: ‘Officer King, I am Devin Wincott from Sierra Labs. The head scientist of my research department would like to speak to you about your ‘sample’ you had sent to us for study. He wants to see you in person though.’ King: *smiles and makes a funny noise* ‘I almost forgot I sent that, sure I will speak to him. When does he want to come here?’ Wincott: ‘Tomorrow sir. Is this possible?’ King: ‘Sure, but I will have to go to a few meetings first. He can contact me in the late afternoon, I can’t give you a specific time because these meetings can sometimes last longer than they should.’ Wincott: ‘I will let him know officer, have a great day then.’ *clicks cell off as King hangs up* Chemist: ‘I heard what you said. Thank you Wincott for your assistance, your shift is over now I will talk to you tomorrow.’ *Wincott leaves the lab area and goes into the scrubs section* *someone follows him inside* *he turns and sees them staring at him* *he looks surprised, but not frightened* Wincott: ‘How did you get in here? I thought they took your credentials away from you?’ *the person sits down on a bench located across from the scrubs rack* *they start to speak* Person: ‘Don’t worry about me getting in here, I just need to know what Dr. Chizik is working on right now.’ Wincott: ‘He is using a sample from the SVU department and it contains some really powerful sperm too.’ Person: ‘Whose is it? Come on, you can tell me Devin we have a history you know.’ Wincott: ‘His name is Marquez King. He runs SVU and has some strong connections.’ Person: *keeps a straight face* ‘Thank you Devin I appreciate your cooperation.’ *hugs Wincott as he stands and even kisses him on the lips* ‘You know I really miss the good old days of us together in medical school.’ Wincott: ‘I miss them too Corbin. Is that all you needed was to know what Dr. Chizik was working on?’ Corbin: ‘Yes and I may be paying him a visit soon too.’ *turns to leave* *Wincott changes out of his scrubs and into civilian clothes* *Corbin walks out of lab facility and into his tinted car* *he dials a number on his cell and Bluetooth picks up call* Corbin: *speaks into Bluetooth* ‘Get me the headmaster. I need to speak to him.’ Computer: *HEADMASTER WALLACE FOUND* Corbin: ‘Sir are you there? This is Corbin Abrams.’ Headmaster: ‘It is about time you called me Abrams, what do you have for me?’ Corbin: ‘I got into Sierra Labs again. My ex, Devin Wincott is working with a chemist that has obtained a sample of an officer by the name of Marquez King, do you know him?’ Headmaster: ‘Hmmm Marquez King, I think I do Abrams. I want you to find out exactly what that chemist is doing with that sample and find out why that officer sent it to him in the first place.’ Corbin: ‘I will do that for you sir. Oh, I want to know when I will be privileged enough to enter the program.’ Headmaster: *pauses and laughs* ‘Don’t worry Abrams, your time will come. Just get to the bottom of this for me and we will go from there.’ Corbin: ‘Alright, it is an honor to serve you headmaster.’ Headmaster: ‘I am fortunate to have someone loyal like you too Abrams. I need you to hang up before someone tracks this call unless you are in the ‘car’.’ Corbin: ‘I am sir, but I will hang up anyway.’ Headmaster: ‘Good, get going then.’ Computer: *PHONE CALL ENDED* *Corbin drives off* *Headmaster Wallace stands in his study in his lakeside mansion* Wallace: *hears a knock on his door* ‘Come in and it better be good.’ Wife: ‘Edward, do you even care that our son is incarcerated for hitting that man?’ Wallace: ‘He has always fumbled through life Colette. It is time for him to figure out how to deal with something of this magnitude. Besides I’m not that worried about him.’ *Colette slams the door* *Wallace goes to look out onto his huge balcony and stares out into the lake* *he talks to himself* Wallace: ‘That boy doesn’t realize how special he is. I just hope that King doesn’t fuck this up or I will have to get rid of him permanently.’ *rolls his right hand over his face and silver beard* Wallace: ‘I sometimes wonder if all of this was really worth it. I mean I haven’t used the stuff for years.’ *realizes he is just talking to himself and smiles* ‘What am I doing? If that woman hears me saying this shit, she will fuck it up for good.’ *turns to go back inside the study and shuts the doors and closes the blinds*

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Hey guys, welcome to my first ever, somewhat longish, growth story! *woo, yay, balloons* Been on the forums since the old one and mainly lurked, though I know a few of you from roleplays and chatting. I've started god knows how many growth stories over the last few years but this is the first one I've actually finished so I think it should go here. It has one of my all time favourite superheroes starring. Spidey's always had a soft spot in my heart and is certainly responsible for several fetishes of mine, some of which are in the story. Feel free to leave critiques and comments, they are very much appreciated. If you feel there's anything I could have done better then please let me know, and I'll keep it in mind in the future. I hope to post more stories but whether they will ever turn up is anyone's guess. And as a fair warning, the story doesn't contain any sex (wish it did but it didn't fit in), but it does contain some non-graphic masturbation. Also as a warning, though this is spoilers so read the next part only if you don't mind a slight spoiler: Anyway, please enjoy... EXPERIMENTER: SPIDER-MAN ‘Mmpf… where am I?’ That was the first thought that came to Spider-Man’s, AKA Peter Parker’s, mind when he regained consciousness. The last thing he could remember was web swinging through the city when he went to investigate a burglar alarm at a jewellery store and then everything went black. Much like wherever he was now. Even with his eyes open, there was no light and everything was in darkness. He tried to move but nothing, like his body was frozen to the spot. “Hello? Anyone home?” he called out into the black. “Ma? Pa? Creepy Axe Murderers?” “Finally, you’re awake,” said an echoing voice. Light grew from no visible source, black becoming white. As Spider-Man’s eyes adjusted to the illumination, he noted that wherever he was had no discernible floors, walls or even ceilings. Pure white just seemed to go on forever in every direction. “I like what you’ve done with the place,” he quipped. “White, white and more white. Must be a nightmare when you drop a Kleenex in here.” A man in his late-twenties with a handsome face appeared in front of Spider-Man dressed in all black, his clothes tight over his muscles and leather boots shined to perfection. “Welcome Spider-Man, I am Experimenter,” said Experimenter. “And this is my evil crib…” said Spider-Man sarcastically. “Why can’t anyone ever buy a spider dinner BEFORE they kidnap me?” Experimenter chuckled in bemusement, shaking his head. “I admire your wit, Spider-Man,” said Experimenter. “You have been most amusing to watch.” “And that’s not creepy at all,” quipped Spider-Man. “Let me guess? You’ve kidnapped me to stop me from preventing you doing your evil doing? Monologue about how you’re the one to finally stop my do-gooding ways and how your plans will succeed? Let me tell you, I’ve done this scenario more times than I can count and it always ends the same way.” “Alright then, Spider-Man, if that were true then try and stop me,” chuckled Experimenter. “What are you waiting for?” Spider-Man tried to move his body but it was still completely frozen, like his muscles were being stubborn and not listening to his brain; only his head was able to move. “Just gimme a minute,” said Spider-Man. “Finding it difficult to move?” asked Experimenter. “Try not to strain yourself, I beg you.” Spider-Man tried and tried but his body just wouldn’t respond. “Alright, maybe you got me a little,” said Spider-Man. “Congratulations!” “I’ve more than ‘got’ you, Spider-Man,” chuckled Experimenter. “You’re in my domain now.” “And where exactly is your domain? Winnipeg, Manitoba?” “Not quite,” replied Experimenter, folding his arms over his chest. “My domain exists outside of space and time, outside of reality. A pocket dimension, if you will, completely under my control. What I say goes here, including you.” “Sorry Experimenter but this isn’t Fifty Shades of Grey, I have to sign the contract first and there’s no way in hell I’m doing that,” said Spider-Man. “As if you have a choice, Spider-Man,” said Experimenter. “Or should I say… Peter Parker?” With a wave of his hand, Experimenter made Peter’s mask disappear. “H-how did you know that?” gasped Peter. “I read your mind Peter,” said Experimenter. “I know every little thing about you.” “You’re an inter-dimensional telepath?” asked Peter. “Not quite; my powers are many but you could say that they are what I need them to be,” said Experimenter. “I can change and alter anything in this plane to what I see fit, in your world my power is somewhat limited so I set a trap and brought you here. You see, I am a very curious being and people like you – special people – you fascinate me.” “So what are you going to do with me?” asked Peter, scowling. Experimenter smiled ominously. “Whatever I want. And there’s nothing you can do to stop it.” “Terrific…” groaned Spider-Man. “First things first, that costume…” said Experimenter, summoning a chair from nowhere and sitting down with a leg crossed. “It goes.” With a wave of his hand, the iconic red and blue costume was gone and Peter was standing motionless and naked. Experimenter cocked an eyebrow at the sight whilst Peter couldn’t help but blush. “Nice,” purred Experimenter. He rubbed his crotch through his tight black clothes, which made Peter cringe. “Any other day, that might be a compliment…” said Peter. “So… what are you going to do with me?” “Well Peter, looking through your memories has given me quite a lot to consider,” Experimenter mused. “It’s fascinating how a science experiment on irradiating spiders gave you such… incredible abilities. Such a transformation… It was a definite improvement from before.” “So what, Clarissa,” said Peter. “Why don’t you explain it all, how has that got anything to do with this?” “Well you became so different with just one spider bite,” explained Experimenter. “So I’m curious to see what another one could do…” Experimenter held out his hand a familiar spider appeared and floated above the palm of his hand, scuttling its eight legs in mid air. “One spider transformed Peter Parker from skinny geek into Spider-Man, with the powers and proportionate strength of a spider,” said Experimenter. “So I wonder what another bite will do. How… proportionate will you become?” The spider began to float toward Peter and landed on his chest. Despite his immobility, he could feel it crawling over his body. Peter wanted desperately to do something, anything, to move and swipe the spider away. It crawled up his chest until it reached his neck. Peter grunted in pain as he felt it bite him, injecting its radioactive venom into his bloodstream and when it was done, the spider vanished as if it had never been there. Peter could feel his heart beating a mile a minute as the radioactive venom surged through his blood, sweat forming on his brow and dripping down his body. His chest heaved as it began to take effect, his body beginning to burn and shake. With each breath, his muscles began to swell and thicken. Pecs pushing out further and further, swelling out with thick hardening muscle. His shoulders widened, deltoids becoming bigger and rounder and his traps expanded, growing further up his neck. Veins began to push further out from under Peter’s skin, extending up his arms as his forearms began to thicken, up to his swelling biceps and triceps that jutted further and further outward. While his waist stayed trim, his lats pushed out wider and wider, forcing his arms out more as his back swelled into a thick mountainous range with a deep curvature to his lower back and giving him a v-taper bodybuilders would kill for, swollen obliques pointing down to his junk. Peter’s abs contracted and swelled, his six-pack becoming a perfect, symmetrical eight-pack. His abdominal mounds were like hills, deep cuts separating each abdominal while veins pushed out from under his tightening skin. Even in his immobile state, Peter’s thickening legs were forced out wider as his inner thighs demanded more room. His quads ballooned, each quad head visible under his taut skin with deep cuts separating each one, hamstrings swelling and glutes expanding into a huge, solid, muscular ass, jutting outward like a shelf. His calves grew out into thick, powerful diamonds of pure muscle jutting from each leg. Peter’s feet and hands grew thicker to stay in proportion, though it wasn’t the only thing. To finish off, Peter felt his genitals grow bigger. What was once fairly sizeable between his legs was now an obscenely sized soft cock and thick balls. Peter’s huge chest heaved as the growth stopped, sweat covering him head to toe; he was now truly feeling the weight of his bigger body. Experimenter stood, a huge hard cock pushing out from under his clothes, examining the fruits of his experiment. At 5’10”, Peter looked like more like Venom with the amount of muscle on his body. Experimenter ran a finder along the curve of Peter’s left pec, wiping sweat away and he sucked his finger. “Sublime,” he said, taking Peter’s pecs in his hands and squeezing them. “You were already the proportionate strength of spider. It seems it’s increased exponentially. How does it feel?” “Wrong,” spat Peter, catching his breath. Experimenter let out a loud laugh. “I’m sure you feel that way now. Perhaps if I let you explore these new… abilities, you’ll change your tune. I think you’ll find your body is not the only thing that’s changed.” Experimenter vanished and in his place, the streets of New York grew from the ground, albeit empty of people, cars and completely white. Peter felt control return to his body and he stretched himself out. His body felt different, stronger and more powerful than ever. Despite his bigger size, Peter was still incredibly flexible. His spider sense was much more powerful; Peter had much greater sensory perception of the world around him. Without even looking, Peter could feel the world around him with his spider sense. Peter jumped and was instantly surprised and the speed and height of his jump, he had nearly completely scaled over a building twenty-five storeys high. Despite having no web shooters, on instinct he touched his middle fingers to his palm and organic webbing shot out from his wrist and he began swinging through the seemingly endless streets. His speed and momentum were much greater than before Experimenter brought him here, covering a city block in half the time. Peter let go of a swing to land on a building but, not used to his faster momentum, slammed into the building and caused the wall to crack where his hands and feet pushed through. “Oops,” chuckled Peter. He raised a hand up to grip the wall and as he moved, he began pulling chunks of the wall out. “Gah, my wall-sticking ability is much stronger,” muttered Peter. “Gotta focus it down a little.” It was just like when he first got his powers, Peter had to learn and explore his body and powers once again because they had changed so much. No longer did he merely stick to walls, his adhesiveness was much greater in that he could effectively use it to destroy obstacles and be immovable when climbing. As Peter went through the city testing his new body, challenges would appear out of thin air for him. On one street an assortment of vehicles appeared and Peter took great pleasure in testing out his much greater strength. Where a car had once presented a small challenge to his previous strength, he found he could now pick these up with ease, lifting them overhead with one hand as if they weighed as much as a laptop computer. Lifting other vehicles like SUVs, buses and armoured vehicles were so easy that Peter would lift them overhead and squat a dozen reps before casting them aside, unworthy of his attention. There was even a big tank that was a little more challenging that the other vehicles, but Peter was still amazed at his strength as he lifted it above his head and dropped it to the floor, muscles flaring and veins pulsating. He even grabbed the cannon and swung the whole tank down like a hammer, smashing it into the white paving. He then swung it around and let go, sending it flying a mile down the block until it smashed into a building. The power was intoxicating. "Enjoying yourself?" asked Experimenter, who appeared before Peter. "Yeah, maybe," said Peter, grinning and inadvertently bouncing his pecs. "This power is incredible... I feel like the Hulk! But without, you know, the uncontrollable urge to SMASH!" Experimenter chuckled, folding his arms over his chest. "Perhaps another test?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow. Experimenter disappeared and in his place, several dozen men appeared, like white dolls all wielding a variety of weaponry from clubs, knives, guns and even rocket launchers. Within seconds Peter's Spider Sense went off. Where once it would warn him of danger within close proximity, it now gave him much greater perception of his environment. Everything was... slower, yet time moved normally. He could feel his opponents' every tiny movement in his mind, able to identify each individual threat, even if they weren't in his field of vision, and form a plan in his head. He shot a dozen webs from one hand, each attaching to the men with melee weapons and pulled them from their grasps whilst simultaneously flipping around and twisting his body at greater speed than before to dodge a hail of incoming bullets. Peter noticed that his equilibrium and balance were a little off as he wasn't used to bouncing around with such weight and momentum but quickly adjusted to prevent himself from slamming into the ground and leave himself open to attack. In less than a minute, Peter had disarmed and webbed up half of his opponents without taking so much as a single hit. He had a natural control over his ability to weave his new organic webbing and formed a thick dome of webs around his crouched body as his enemies shot at him, the bullets ricocheting off his shield. When their guns were empty, Peter sprung out from the web some like a cannon, taking several out by clothes-lining them and snipe-webbing a couple of others to tangle up their bodies with thick, explosive globules of web. Soon they were all defeated, webbed up and stuck to buildings and hung from streetlights. It had taken less than three minutes and Peter was in awe at his speed and agility in taking down such a large, multi-armed gang with such ease. Though his basking was short lived as his spider sense went off and he sensed that right behind him, barrelling down the street at 120 mph was a six car train merely seconds from hitting him. Peter spun on his heel, digging his feet in with all the strength of his spider-adhesiveness, putting his hands out in front of him. The train slammed into him at full speed, the ground crumbled and trenches formed as his feet went backwards, as Peter used all his strength to stop the train. His body was racked with pain but it only fuelled his will. He screamed as he pushed back, muscles flaring and bulging, the train beginning to slow as he demanded that it submit to his strength. The wheels of the train kept spinning, but they were losing the battle of wills, until finally Peter brought it to a halt. Then he started pushing back, forcing it to reverse until he was gaining momentum and running back down the street, the train feebly trying to push forwards. He dug his hands in, bending the white metal into his palms to get a good grip. He jumped, pulling the train up with him and then slammed it to the ground, watching the train crumple into a conjoined heap, lying helpless and immobile. He landed with a thud, chest heaving and muscles twitching, examining his handiwork. “So much power,” he muttered. “Look at what I’m capable of…” “Impressive, is it not?” asked Experimenter, appearing before Peter. “Yes, it is,” Peter replied. “But it is too much for one man to hold. With great power comes great responsibility and this... I feel out of control. Like, if I don't keep my body in check then the power will overwhelm me." The White City shrank away until the two men were standing in the room they began in. Experimenter cocked his head to the side and massaged Peter's deltoid soothingly. "Perhaps, then, you need a reminder of who you really are," said Experimenter. He stood to the side and waved his hand, a full length mirror appearing in front of them. Peter took in his unfamiliar naked reflection, how much different his body looked. He felt awkward, exposed and, despite his size, vulnerable. "I've seen into your memories, Peter," said Experimenter. "Even after you became Spider-Man, you have always seen yourself as the skinny geek you once were..." The reflection changed to Peter before the spider bite that transformed his life. The reflection stood wearing thick glasses, loose pants held up by a belt on his thin, awkward body with almost no muscle on his shirtless chest. Peter felt tears begin to well up in his eyes. "You don't feel strong unless you're Spider-Man, do you?" asked Experimenter. "The mask, the costume, you feel the strength and power from them but it also reminds you of the responsibility." Experimenter placed his hand on Peter's pec and the familiar red and blue costume expanded over Peter's body. Now reflected was an Olympia-sized Spider-Man, costume hugging every bulge and clinging to every separation on Peter's body. "It's more than a costume," said Peter quietly. "It's a symbol, a reminder that these powers are not for my own needs, but to help others." "Perhaps then your new strength is not such a bad thing, Peter," said Experimenter. "In your memories I have seen how you have overcome obstacles beyond your abilities by coming up with solutions to compensate for your shortcomings. But now your power is greater. You can do more to protect the people so long as you keep reminding yourself of your responsibility. You're stronger, faster, your limitations are now fewer. Isn't that better?" Peter slowly nodded, remembering the feats he had just accomplished with his greater powers. Experimenter smiled at the acknowledgement, seeing in his mind how Peter was beginning to sway. "Perhaps you need a new symbol, a new costume to reflect your greater power and responsibilities. A new reminder." Experimenter waved his hand and Peter's old costume disappeared. In its place, a new costume formed over his body. Tight black spandex covered him head to toe and like before, clung to every bulging muscle and hugged in every separation. The upper body was sleeveless, his thick deltoids protruding and showing off how powerful his body was, with a red spider emblazoned across his thick pecs and down his stomach. His arms had long black gloves where the upper hems hugged his bulging biceps, the fingertips and elbows covered in a red web design. Covering his lats and down his waist was a similar red web design that only pronounced how wide his upper body was, whilst highlighting his solid, deeply cut eight-pack. His lower half was similarly black. Along the outsides of his thighs was the red web design, which also covered over his calves. The soles of his feet were red which led up to red webs covering his toes and heels. The mask was black up to his cheeks and up to the back of his head, above there it was red with a black web design. The large lenses covering his eyes were red, shaped like the eyes on his previous costume. Peter was impressed at his new costume, turning around to see his back. There was another red spider, the upper legs stretched across his back and the lower four going down to just above his jutting glutes. "A new look for a new Spider-Man," said Experimenter, massaging his hard cock through his clothes. "A stronger, unstoppable Spider-Man." Peter grinned under his mask, flexing his muscles and watching how his body stretched the costume. He really did look powerful, he thought to himself. "Thank you," said Peter. "And I get to stay this way? No strings attached?" Experimenter grinned, but it was a darker smile. "Who said I was finished yet?" Peter found himself unable to move again. He growled, furious. "What more do you want from me!?" barked Peter. "Tsk, tsk," said Experimenter, tutting, running a finger over Peter as he walked around him in a circle. "That's no way to treat the person who so easily gave you your new powers, and could very easily take them away again. And more." Peter went silent but still scowled. He had no way of gaining any hand in this place so reluctantly remained docile. Not that he had much choice. "Now, if you promise to behave then I will let you have control over your body again,” said Experimenter. Peter said nothing but with a wave of Experimenter's hand he was on his knees. "Promise?" Experimenter asked again. Again, Peter was speechless. Experimenter sighed and with another wave of his hand, sent shockwaves of pain throughout Peter's body. Peter ground his teeth together to stop himself screaming. "Promise!" growled Experimenter. "I won't say it again." "I PROMISE!" screamed Peter and the pain stopped. "Good boy." Experimenter waved his hand and Peter was able to move. He was a little shaky but managed to get up on his feet. He was sweating profusely and ripped his mask off to get a little air. "So... there's a memory of yours I'm quite curious to revisit..." Experimenter mused, scratching his chin. "Oh yeah?" asked Peter, his voice shaking. "Which one?" Peter was feeling like hell and it was getting worse. The pain Experimenter had hit him with before must have been stronger than he thought, Peter mused. His head felt light and he like the room spinning. "What would be the fun in telling you and spoiling the surprise," said Experimenter with a sly grin. A pain greater than what Experimenter had hit Peter with shot up his sides. Peter fell to his knees, hunching over and wrapping his arms around himself, grunting loudly in pain. "M-my sides," Peter managed to choke out. "The... The pain..." Peter's body shook, the pain wouldn't stop. He gripped himself tighter, sweat pouring off his body. "What... What are you DOING TO ME!?" Experimenter just smiled, watching Peter try and fight what was happening. "Pain... The pain, it's excruciating," Peter snarled through his teeth. He suddenly felt something touch his arms through his costume and Peter's eyes bulged with fear. And then it pushed again, several things, fighting for room. He tried to stand but he was in so much pain he could barely move. Four distinct lumps under the tight spandex forced his arms away before shrinking away. Peter dared to look down at his body and he screamed at what he saw. There were four hands pushing out and going back down under his costume. "No!" he shouted. "No please! Not t-this! Must... Control... It... The pain... No... Feels like I'm being r-ripped apart. Can't... Let it... Happen. No! AHHHH!" Peter wrapped his arms back around himself but it was too late. The pain grew greater and greater, building to a head, until he couldn't stop what was coming. Four huge, muscular arms ripped through the sides of his costume, each one as big as his usual arms. Two were attached to his lats while the lower two came out from just below them above his obliques. Peter screamed in horror as he watched his extra limbs grab each other. He could feel their individual touches, feel the muscles in each new arm bulge and flex with every movement. He wanted to rip them off and they reacted to his thoughts, pulling at each other with all their strength but it just shot pain through his body. “W-why!?” gasped Peter. “Why did you do this to me?” Experimenter just shrugged. “This… this was one of the lowest points in my life,” snapped Peter. “I tried to cure myself of my powers, depressed and questioning my life, blaming them for my personal tragedies… But it only made me like this, made me more like a spider and I was lucky to be normal again. Please, I beg you, change me back!” “No,” said Experimenter. “What is more fitting? I have increased your powers exponentially, and now I have made you what you truly are. Spider-Man. A body to fit the power from whence they came. Glorious.” Experimenter waved his hand and Peter’s costume repaired itself, as well as long gloves appearing on his new limbs. “Six arms to web around the city with, four extra arms as strong as the other two, even more power to fight crime with, even more strength at your disposal.” “But I’m a freak!” growled Peter, trying to control and coordinate his extra limbs which seemed to have minds of their own. They were grabbing at his thick pecs and glutes and rubbing their hands over his body. He had to really fight to get them to stop, despite how good their touches felt. “You were already a freak, Peter,” smirked Experimenter. “You said it yourself over and over again in your memories.” Peter was having difficulty with his extra appendages, just getting them to rest at his sides was a difficult enough task. It was bad enough now that there were four more arms, their musculature left his with even less room. Peter shut his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm himself down, to clear his mind. The arms seemed to respond, falling naturally in place. When he felt calmer, he started to test their coordination. Each side would move collectively unless he gave them a command. He started with general movements, working out ways to move them individually without them getting tangled up whilst Experimenter watched gleefully. Soon Peter had enough control that he was satisfied, giving a sextuple bicep flex; six huge arms, their individual circumferences as big as Peter’s head, all bulging and stretching the hems of the tight gloves they were encased in. “You were more than prepared to live with six arms back then,” commented Experimenter, massaging his crotch. “How does it feel now?” Peter sighed, running his upper two hands through his hair as the lower four crossed themselves. “I guess… there’s no fighting it,” he admitted, defeatedly. “I guess you’ve seen in my memories that I’ll never be destined for a normal, happy life. No doubt you’ve seen my future too and made the same judgement.” “Of all my powers, Peter, foresight is not one of them,” said Experimenter. “I have empathic and some telepathic abilities. I can read your mind, read your feelings, but I cannot influence them or see beyond the present.” “Well that does kind of explain why you’ve put my mind through this much anguish from your experiments, and despite all you've done you haven’t forced me to accept these changes unwillingly,” said Peter. “Just… promise me you won’t change me from Spider-Man into some kind of Man-Spider.” “Oh goodness no,” said Experimenter. “I’ve seen that memory and I wasn’t keen myself.” Peter nodded and thought, ‘you and me both’. He raised his arms and shot six web lines, approving the result. ‘I could get used to this’. Experimenter smiled and waved his hand again, ready to begin his next experiment. Peter hadn’t noticed this, but he did notice the throaty, heavy breathing coming behind him. He turned around and once more, his eyes bulged in fear. A distorted black, liquid-like, form with holes where Its eyes and mouth should be began to stagger toward Peter. “The Symbiote!” he gasped. “You gotta be kidding me!” “There’s nowhere to run Peter,” said Experimenter, disappearing. Peter used all six arms to shoot webbing at the alien goo but It just absorbed it, growing in mass and size. He changed tactic, willing his webs to shoot explosive web balls to try and snare it, but the Symbiote once more absorbed them and grew even larger, beginning to tower over Peter. Peter turned and tried to swing away in a desperate attempt to escape but he just hit an invisible wall. He began to climb but he was met with another invisible wall. He felt several tendrils suddenly wrap themselves around him and start to pull. He used every ounce of power in his wall-sticking ability to keep from being pulled down, but the Symbiote was too strong and he was soon tumbling to the ground. More black tendrils latched onto him and Peter desperately tried to rip them off, but with each touch the Symbiote latched further onto him. It started tearing his costume off, pulling it away in chunks as the spandex material stretched until it could stretch no more under the powerful pull of the Symbiote. Peter tried to crawl away but he was being pulled back, the Symbiote tearing away the remnants of his costume and began to slither up his naked legs. ‘Got to fight it,’ he thought. ‘Got to reject it...’ It started to grip tight on his legs, overlapping tendrils consuming his legs, sending a cold wave rippling through his body. The Symbiote covered his crotch and dove into his ass crack, burying itself past his hole and deep inside him, tendrils reaching up to latch onto his arms and force them back. Peter grunted and struggled under the grasp of the encroaching Symbiote but he knew the battle was lost, yet he was still mentally rejecting the connection. It was crawling up his arms and back, consuming him. It travelled up his neck, covering his hair until it went into his mouth and covered his eyes, leaving him in darkness. Peter felt himself lose consciousness. “Wake up, Peter.” Peter awoke and realised he was now standing up. Experimenter was sat in front of him, still pawing at his crotch, watching him intently. “I don’t want this,” said Peter groggily. He felt exhausted but his energy levels were getting stronger. “The Symbiote?” asked Experimenter. “But you had such a good time with it once before.” “Yeah, until I realised it was slowly trying to kill me,” replied Peter. Once again Peter was unable to move except for his head. “I can feel it, trying to take over,” he said. “Trying to bond with me.” “Why don’t you let it?” asked Experimenter. “It will only make you stronger.” “At what cost?” retorted Peter. “My life? Should I just let it consume me like the Venom Symbiote tried to? Let it suck me dry until it kills me from exhaustion or when it’s using my body dangerously?” Experimenter stood and waved his hand, the full length mirror appearing again. In his reflection, Peter could see he was head-to-toe covered in the black Symbiote with a reddish hue where the light reflected off the shapes of his muscles, two red patches on his face where his eyes would be. It was like a smooth second skin; every muscle, every vein, every groove and separation on display like if Peter were just standing naked; except for his head which covered him like a mask and his crotch which pooled like a codpiece, giving him some dignity despite how much it bulged. He was disgusted at the sight; with his size he could almost look like Venom, his old Symbiote that then bonded with Eddie Brock. “I can feel it in my mind, banging on the door and trying to get in,” said Peter. “I won’t let it take over me. And you can’t make me.” “That I cannot,” admitted Experimenter. “Though it is a sentient being, perhaps if you were to ask it what it will do to you, you might change your mind.” “No!” Peter barked. His head was killing him, a powerful headache throbbing from the Symbiote’s attempts. ‘Let meee innn…’ he heard a throaty, breathy voice in his mind say. ‘NO!’ Peter screamed in his mind. Peter suddenly felt a movement around his stomach and a large glob began to extend from his abs, reaching up to his face and beginning to take form. Holes appeared to form eyes and a mouth. “If youuu will not ssspeak to usss in your mmmind, then weee will ssspeak to you outssside,” said the Symbiote. “Join with usss Peeeterrr.” “No, no, no, no, NO!” growled Peter. “Your kind has caused me nothing but pain, suffering and grief. I reject you! You are not welcome in my body!” “Weee know what our kinnn have done to youuu,” said the Symbiote, its eyehole moving to convey shame. “But weee are not like themmm. Weee only want to helllp youuu. Make youuu ssstronger.” “I’ve heard that story before,” said Peter, sharply. “Weee do not lie!” It screeched. “Youuu know the hissstory of my ssspecies, how we mussst bond with othersss to live. And while weee live on thhhrough othersss, we give them betterrr livesss. Make them ssstronger!” “The last symbiote I encountered nearly killed me when it was ‘living’ off of me,” growled Peter. “And then, when I rejected it, it latched onto another man like a parasite and fuelled his hatred, again trying to end my life.” “We cannot ssspeak for the actionsss of our speciesss asss a whole,” said the Symbiote. “But do nottt judge usss on their actionsss. We are not the sssame asss themmm.” “Why should I believe you?” A tendril extended from the glob before him and connected with his face. Suddenly Peter’s mind was filled with flashing images, memories of the Symbiote. The joys of a new host, the hosts’ bringing good to their worlds, their hosts’ corruption from being drunk on their own power, the Symbiote being used and forced to destroy, constant rejection from hundreds, thousands of species. Betrayal, isolation, pain, loneliness, drifting for hundreds of years alone in the cold of space, frozen in its prison-like rock form. Peter could feel himself crying. He was then shown some other hosts, ones that had used the Symbiote for good. Memories filled with joy and pleasure, great companionship and harmonious coexistence, some even sexual; but these memories were a handful, eventually parting with the host at the end of a long life bonded together before being used for evil by the next host. “Wee arrre not a tool for dessstructionnn,” said the Symbiote. “Many of our hossstsss usssed usss, defiled usss. Can you sssee how weee tried to ssstop them? They were ssstronger than usss, imprisssoned usss in their mindsss so they could ussse usss for their ssselfishhh vendettaaasss.” Peter nodded, speechless. “From the brrrief glanccce into your sssubconsciousss we can sssee you are nnnot evil at hhheart, Peeeterrr Parrrkerrr,” It said. “Yyyour will isss ssstrong, even now you arrre keeeping usss out. You would beee a powwwerfulll massster. Weee woullld not beee able to brrring youuu harm.” “I’m nobody's master,” said Peter. “And you are nobody’s slave. A symbiotic relationship is beings able to live equally, each one benefitting from the other.” “That isss all weee desire, Peeeterrr,” said the Symbiote. “Weee wish to live through yourrr bodyyy and innn returnnn, make youuu ssstronger! Weee would neverrr hhharm youuu, our life dependsss on youuu living. Making youuu ssstronger keeepsss you alive, keeepsss usss alive.” Peter sighed. “If I bond with you, if I let you in, it’ll be on a few conditions,” said Peter. “Nnname themmm.” “One, I will not refer to myself as ‘us’,” said Peter. “I am me and you are you. Two, I will host you but I will be in complete control of my own mind and body. You will not take over when I’m sleeping or make me angrier and lose control of my actions, or make me more violent. The only exception to this is if I am unconscious and I’m in danger, you can get me away somewhere that’s safe until I regain consciousness and that’s it. Three, I will not consume brains, human matter or suck out people’s life force in any way, shape or form. Four, if I change my mind about you and I want you gone, even if we are fully bonded, you will leave my body without question. Are we clear?” The Symbiote was silent for a few moments before it responded, considering Peter’s proposal. Slowly, the glob in front of Peter nodded. “Weee accepttt,” said the Symbiote. “Youuu will not have to worry about usss, weee will cooperate fullly. And weee do nottt feeed as you dessscribed. Weee only feeed off your hormonesss, adrendalinnne, tessstosssterone and endorrrphinesss.” “That’s… good to know,” said Peter. “Before we bond, can I ask what your name is?” “Name?” It asked. “Weee dooo not have a name though manyyy have referred to usss as beeeing living obeeediennnce.” “Obedience, huh?” said Peter, chuckling. “No wonder you called me your master and agreed to my conditions. Okay Obedience, I’ll let you bond with me.” Obedience withdrew back into Peter and he opened his mind. He felt power begin to surge through him like a sun rising deep inside him, spreading outward into every fibre of his being, his already incredible strength growing exponentially. The feeling of fully bonding, which he had never done with his old Symbiote, was incredible. His mind filled completely with the memories of Obedience and of his previous hosts. The histories and knowledge of thousands of individuals and species filling his mind and Peter was able to access them instantly, like Google now powered his brain. He willed the Symbiote to change into the costume Experimenter had given him, the black goo covering him morphing into his desired shape. The costume was even tighter than before, a perfect second skin that looked painted on. Peter didn’t even realise Experimenter had disappeared while he had been talking with Obedience and that the White City had grown around him. “Alright, let’s see how good I am now,” said Peter. “Six arms and a Symbiote, here we go.” He pushed off from the ground, ascending over one hundred feet in seconds from a single jump. “Whoa!” cried Peter, laughing, shooting a web. He swung so fast through the city that he was a moving blur as he travelled. His even further enhanced Spider-Sense enabled him to see for miles ahead, calculating exactly where his webs would hit for the perfect, fastest route through the city and with six web lines instead of two, he made short work of the distance. He was able to travel across the entirety of the replicated island of Manhattan within a minute. Peter swung back into the heart of the city and landed from one hundred and fifty feet in the air, down to a grouping of vehicles on the street, making them all shake from the impact. Not that Peter was fazed by such a forceful descent, his body was now so strong that the landing hadn’t hurt him in the slightest; he’d just absorbed the impact. For him, now, it was just like jumping down one step on the stairs instead of high in the air. Peter lifted every vehicle but there was no challenge, no matter the size of the vehicle. He could lift them with one hand, one finger even, and they weighed almost nothing. His already enhanced strength further enhanced by Obedience gave him so much strength that Peter didn’t know what to do with it. He even tried piling them on top of each other, webbing them up and pulling the web tight to crush them down. He could lift the pile of thirty vehicles, each of varying size and weight, with two hands though his muscles bulged only slightly when he held it up with one. ‘Perhapsss you neeed sssomethinggg more challengiiing,’ said Obedience in Peter’s head. ‘I know, but what?’ thought Peter. Peter looked around but nothing struck out to him. Not even Experimenter, his omniscient captor who could read his mind, changed his surroundings to give him a new challenge. Peter sighed; he had to find out what his new limits were, what his body was capable of. He looked up and down the street and spotted what he was looking for, his challenge. Peter walked up to a building on the street. It was standing singularly, no other buildings attached, at least twenty storeys high with masonry and statues along the top. Peter could only guess at its weight but he was pumped, he knew he had to lift that building, or at the very least try. Peter contained the building in a tight, intricate web to keep it together structurally. He piledrived his six fists into the ground around the building, digging a trench down to its foundations. Peter shot a few extra webs around the sides of the building to keep it balanced and prevent it from tipping over. He let out a long breath and flexed his huge muscles to warm them up, get them loose. He cracked his neck, psyching himself up. He knew he could do this. Peter crouched down and buried all six of his hands into the foundations, filling the holes with webbing to keep them from slipping. He let out another long breath slowly and deeply breathed back in. Peter pushed his legs to go up, grunting. They shook under the exertion, all the muscles in his body bulging insanely as he forced them to lift the building. The building groaned at being forced against the will of gravity, the foundations cracking as they were torn from the ground. Peter grunted and growled, putting all his strength into defeating his obstacle. It was taking a long time but he could feel the building slowly move upward, millimetre by millimetre. His legs bulged so much that even the Symbiote had trouble keeping together. It would suddenly split open in places and then quickly reform. ‘Got to… keep… going,’ Peter grunted in his mind. ‘Keeep goinggg Peeeterrr,’ Obedience cheered. Peter felt his strength surge through sheer force of will and he pushed up harder with his legs. They slowly began to straighten, the ground breaking beneath him making him sink a foot down but he didn’t care, he just kept going. “That’s it Peter,” said Experimenter who appeared behind him. “Show me how strong I’ve made you.” Peter growled like a wild animal, sweat pouring off his body, veins pulsing so hard they look set to burst under his paper-thin skin encased mostly in the Symbiote. Up and up and up the building went and then, with a scream of victory, Peter raised the building overhead. His chest heaved as he took fast, deep breaths, astonished at his feat. He pulled his arms out from the holes and began to shift the building over him until he was dead centre underneath it. “Are you fucking impressed?” Peter roared. Experimenter nodded. “More.” Peter didn’t need telling again, and began to squat the building. The first rep took some time but as the reps increased the faster they became. A whole building was on top of him, held up only by his six arms and huge muscular body, and it was only getting lighter as he repped deep squats. “Yes!” cried Experimenter, pawing fast at his crotch. “MORE!” Peter stopped squatting and threw the building up hundreds of feet into the sky. He shot more webs up at it to keep it together. He braced his arms up and caught it, the force pushing him five feet deep into the ground, causing a crater to form. Only his head and arms visible under the ten-inch gap. Peter forced his legs to move and he walked up and out of the crater, holding the building aloft and continued into the street. “Do you want more?” he barked at Experimenter, who nodded fervently. With the smallest of movements in his arms, Peter tore the building apart. Experimenter had finally had his release, moaning loudly as the rubble and debris fell around them, smashing into nearby buildings and causing them to crumple apart. Peter swaggered towards Experimenter as the last pieces of debris crashed into the ground, his muscles pumped to the extreme, shoulders and chest rising with raw power as he breathed. Even his cock was engorged, pumped and tenting underneath his symbiotic costume, jutting out profusely and swaying with each heavy step. “Is there anything else you were curious about, Experimenter?” Peter huffed. “Or are we done here?” Experimenter was shuddering, licking his lips. He managed to catch his breath and waved away the White City until the two of them stood in the familiar white room. “Oh Peter, you have no idea how satisfied you’ve made me,” said Experimenter. “But yes, I believe we are done. I suppose now I’ll just put you back to normal and send you home.” “Wait, what!?” exclaimed Peter. “Turn me back? After everything you put me through you’re just going to… send me back home, as if nothing happened?” “Well, yes,” said Experimenter, making his chair appear and taking a seat. “Did you really think this would be permanent?” “Well… yeah,” said Peter. “I thought that was the point. You played with me, did what you wanted to me and then… I don’t know...” ‘Pleeeassse, Peeeterrr,’ cried Obedience in his mind. ‘Don’t lettt him take usss awwway.’ “Even the Symbiote you gave me wants to stay,” pleaded Peter. “And you can’t exactly wipe our memories, you said so yourself that you cannot influence my mind.” “That is true,” said Experimenter, waving his hand again as a glass of red wine appeared. He sipped it, savouring the taste. “But then why should I let you keep these changes? What’s in it for me? It could be fun to observe you back on Earth, discontented with your existence as normal, boring Peter Parker and Spider-Man, always remembering what it was like to have more and yearn and long desperately to have it again.” “That would be just cruel,” said Peter, quietly. “And it’s not just me you would affect, but also Obedience. I’m sure you’ve seen his memories, seen what he’s been through. I’ve accepted and bonded with him now, I know I will be the perfect host for him and… and I know he’ll enhance my life greatly. If you are anything, Experimenter, it is not cruel. Curious, but you didn’t do all of this to me to be cruel.” “But what will you do now back on Earth?” asked Experimenter. “You’re bigger, more powerful and with some additional appendages; surely the world would notice? Surely the world would notice that on Peter Parker, let alone Spider-Man.” Peter was about to respond when the Symbiote covering him started to shift and move. Peter’s extra arms began to shrink down, his muscles decreasing until Peter stood in normal clothes, just as he would have looked before Experimenter took him. Experimenter looked in fascination at the change. Images quickly flashed in Peter’s head and he smiled. “Obedience tells me that Symbiotes are natural tesseracts,” Peter said, looking down at his normal look. “They can not only change the appearance of their host, but also their mass. Camouflage. While I am still big and multi-armed, what you see now is just an illusion created by the Symbiote. I guess it shouldn’t be a surprise if you read my memories. You should have seen that when I had my last symbiote, I was able to carry things like my camera inside the suit without adding any extra mass.” “Fascinating…” muttered Experimenter, his soaked crotch bulging again. “Please,” said Peter, walking over to Experimenter and getting on his knees. “Let me stay this way. I know it is selfish but I know that with the changes you’ve given me, I can be more than I ever was. And, if you let me stay this way when you send me back, I promise that you can bring me back to your place anytime and do whatever you want me to.” Peter changed back to his muscular, six armed state, naked except for a pair of black briefs that hugged him perfectly. Experimenter looked Peter up and down before smiling, draining his glass. “I suppose I will allow it,” he said, rubbing his hands along Peter’s swollen traps. Peter smiled and stood up, holding out three hands to shake. Experimenter chuckled and shook the middle hand. “Thank you,” said Peter. With a wave of Experimenter’s hand, Peter was plunged into darkness. When Peter opened his eyes, he found he was on top of a building back in regular New York City. He looked down and saw his body was just as it was; thickly muscled with six arms and wearing only the briefs. He grinned, willing his new costume to cover him. Peter’s ultra-enhanced Spider Sense picked up a radio signal from the police, a robbery was in progress and the thieves had gotten away in an armoured car, officers were in pursuit. ‘Arrre you rrready, Peeeterrr?” asked Obedience in his head. ‘Yes I am,’ he replied. ‘Let’s show the world the new, improved Spider-Man.’ -- x -- Experimenter sighed contently, another satisfactory experiment. He would soon be seeing Peter Parker again, that he was sure of. He waved his hand and before him, a dozen floating screens appeared, showing different people doing various superpowered activities. Experimenter observed each one, taking in what he was seeing. “Curious…” he muttered. “Curious…” THE END…? Thanks for reading!

Leaving site

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Hello all. I'm posting my first story here. I'll be doing it in parts, once or twice a week, so as not to overwhelm you all with a massive wall of text. The story is about thirty pages long in a word document and it's the first story I've ever completed. Please be gentle. Smitten The first thing that I noticed was that he was impossibly beautiful. He sat in front of me on the bus, playing who knows what on his telephone while he waited on his stop. I think he must have been really invested in the game, because every so often his face would bunch up in concentration or his thumb would speed to the opposite corner of his device. He was so engrossed that I was able to take him in, really see him. He was a little shorter than me, about five-foot-nine or ten. His hair was dirty blond, streaked with lighter, golden patches. But I knew that this was natural, a product of the time he spent in the sun. His skin was a rich tan, like coffee with a little too much milk. He had a light dusting of facial hair, slightly darker than what was on the rest of his head. But what got me were his eyes. There really isn’t a metaphor for just how blue they were. I would say they were like the sky on a clear day after a week of thunderstorms, or even the color of the sea where the water and sky seemed to blend. They were really blue. I was smitten, without even really seeing his body. Bad things happen when I get smitten. I let my eyes wander down slowly from his face. He wasn’t all that big, but I liked what I saw. His neck was thick enough that I could almost draw a line from his ears to his traps, which stood out enough to be perceptible. He had broad shoulders, at least half again as broad as mine. As he played on his phone, his chest would jerk, moving his t-shirt up and down slightly. I could tell without really seeing that his waist was pretty trim as well from the way that his shirt hung off his body. His biceps would stand out, too. His arms were about sixteen inches around and twitched with each swipe of his thumb. When he reached for his collar and gave it a tug though, I knew I was really in trouble. He was filling out his clothes a little more than he had been when I first saw him. His gray shirt was now stretched a fair bit tighter around his pecs and shoulders, causing the fabric to start to bunch up at the seams. I gasped. Unfortunately, it must have been audible because he looked up at me. I looked away, more slowly than I would like to admit, and I pulled the cord on the bus to signal my stop. This always happened when I thought someone was good looking. Those men tended to become so much more…enhanced after an encounter with me. It wasn’t something I really meant to do. It just sort of happened the first time. * * * I was fresh out of high school when I discovered my ability. I never really thought things like this were possible, but there I was: a sophomore in college because I had done so much dual enrollment in high school and I was out to graduate as early as possible here so that I wouldn’t have to interact with childish people any longer than I had to. I wasn’t a genius by any means, just a very hard worker with no real desire for a social life. Then I met Chris. He was about three inches taller than me and built rock solid. He liked to wear basketball shorts and T-shirts, even in the winter time. He was thicker than most other students his age, and a whole helluva lot stronger too. We sat next to each other in Philosophy 101 and Principles of Leadership 210. I still remember the color of his skin. It was like molten caramel, as if he had spent hours in the sun making sure he was the right shade of golden brown. He was really easy to talk to. I was never very sporty, but he was incredibly athletic. After a few classes, he invited me to come watch him play on the intramural football team. We weren’t really a big enough school to have an official team. I went, and I had a good time, even if I didn’t understand all the nuances of the game. Is football really nuanced? I don’t know. “I’m probably the most boring fan that ever came to one of your games, Chris.” I told him this after a particularly brutal game. His team, the Pygmy Dolphins, had faced off against the frat boy squad. They won, if only by one touchdown. “You were great, Alex! I promise, you were the best fan on the field.”, Chris said, laughing. “Now you’re just patronizing me. I didn’t even shout like everybody else.” “You didn’t need to shout. I could tell you were following the game pretty intently.” “Well… even though I don’t really know much about the game, I did think you were pretty cool. I’m always amazed that people can move like you do.” I smiled despite myself, enjoying our conversation. Like I said, the man was easy to talk to. “You must be tired after your game. Can I give you a ride home?” I was really pushing it. I wasn’t quite sure why I offered to give him a ride. It just seemed right at the time. “Yeah, man, that sounds great. I rode the bus to campus today and the last one just left five minutes ago.” He chuckled. “I guess that’s the price you pay for having fun.” “I would really hate for you to have to walk all the way home or catch a cab.” “Dude, Alex, that’s so awesome. Thanks, man, just let me shower in the gym and we’ll be on our way.” I knew that he wouldn’t take too long in the shower, but I had something to do anyway while I waited. I pulled out a copy of my current project and started to take notes. Really, I was truly the most boring person on campus. I was so thoroughly engrossed that I didn’t hear Chris come up behind me until he said “Whatcha workin’ on there, Alex?” I must have jumped a mile. “Chris! Don’t do that, dammit! You scared the living daylights out of me!” He was sitting there laughing at me. His change of clothes was very striking. He was now wearing a tight, black tank top that hugged every curve of his body. His pecs stuck out and stretched the ribbed fabric. Even his abs were visible through the thin fabric. He wasn’t wearing his normal basketball shorts, but some rather short running shorts that left very little to the imagination. “Fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you cuss before!” he said, guffawing. His pecs heaved and shuddered with every laugh. “It’s kinda funny.” “It is not!” “Chill, brah. It’ll be fine.” His black hair was plastered to his scalp, still wet from the shower. “Everybody fuckin’ cusses.” We both started laughing then. He reached out and grabbed my shoulder as he doubled over slightly from amusement. I felt a shiver run through me then and I withdrew a bit. “Hey, man, it’s getting late. We better get going if you want to wake up on time for class tomorrow.” “It’s only 8:30.” “But you have a 7:45 class with Dr. Furlong tomorrow, right?” “How do you know that?” Crap. I really stepped in it. What straight man would remember his hot friend’s full schedule? He looked me in the eye, as if seeing me for the first time. Save the conversation, Alex, save it! “As often as I’ve heard you complain about the professor not allowing coffee, how could I forget?” This seemed to mollify him as we arrived at my car. Thank god for a good memory! My loose lips could always seem to be overwritten by some memory from a previous conversation. I unlocked the doors and popped the trunk, so Chris could put his gym bag in. As he slid into the passenger seat, I cranked the car up. “Ready to head home?” “Yeah. Let’s go.” I drove as slowly as I dared to Chris’s downtown apartment. He lived over a bar in the downtown area with two other guys: Mark and Francisco. That was the only way they could afford an apartment in such a prime spot. Mark was a little older and currently in middle Georgia on an archeology internship, helping excavate and catalog Native American burial mounds for the national park service. Francisco, better known as Paco, was almost always at the university. As a film studies and cinematography major, he often spent the night on the cutting floor in one of the cots set up by the department. There was a dedicated group of majors. I pulled into the parking lot behind Chris’s building, unlocked the doors, and popped the trunk again. “You comin’ up?” * * * I can’t believe I lost control like that again. The man on the bus…he was just so hot to start with. I can’t move again, change my name again, dye my hair again. I had moved to this city, twelve hours away from ground zero of my first incident, to get away from my first victim. Alex was legally dead, and I was Marlon now. I walked to my apartment and sighed, pulling the keys out of my pocket. I can’t believe that I still missed Chris and my old life. That was more than seven years ago, but I swear I could still hear his voice sometimes, feel his touch on my shoulder. The house key slid into the lock easily, and I opened the door. My apartment was quite modest, just a simple one bedroom. I had saved up over time and bought a washer/dryer combo, and a nice refrigerator and oven. Thinking about that makes me smile a little bit. Unlike many people my age, I actually like washing clothes and cooking for myself. The dryer puts me to sleep, and baking helps me relax. I needed both of those today after the bus incident. I pulled out the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies and started a load of washing. The machine had just filled up with water and started to move when I heard a knock at the door. “Who on Earth could that be?” I asked myself as I went to the door. I guess it could have been the landlord. In retrospect, I should not have opened the door. I did though. “Hey…” Oh my god, it was the hot guy from the bus. How did he find me? “I know this is really weird, but I saw you on the bus. I got off as soon as I could and…kinda…followed you here. I think I should say thank you.” Now that was unexpected. “I mean, you’re the reason I look like this, right?” Shit. He knows. He knows. * * * When Chris asked me to come up to his apartment, I was ecstatic. I could not let that show though. He was straight, I was a closeted gay guy. “Paco might be up there, and he’s been looking for an excuse to have someone else to talk to for a little bit besides me. I mean, sometimes I can be a little…” Chris hit a left bicep shot here. “…overwhelming for the guy.” “Really? You seem so level-headed and easygoing to me though.” I was almost salivating then, but I tried to hide it. His bicep just looked so juicy. Was it just me, or did they look a little tighter than usual? Normally, his arms were about seventeen inches, but right now they looked like they were pushing nineteen. Everything seemed bigger and more defined. “Yeah, but he’s got the hots for me, and I think if he doesn’t get a break from me every so often, his dick might pop right off his crotch. Even if he doesn’t want to admit it.” Chris smiled. “Something I think the two of you might have in common.” Fuck, abort mission, strategic retreat. Of course, my body betrayed me. I turned an almost neon red. “S’okay man.” He reached down and grabbed me by the chin. “I’m bi. So’s Mark. I looked for those two because my sex drive is a nice car: if you don’t rev the motor every so often in different conditions, it’ll rust through and fall apart. I like having some spare gas at the house, just in case the tank runs low.” Fuck him and his crappy metaphors. Fuck everything about him right now. I pulled my chin out from between his thumb and forefinger. “How…” I said, sitting down on the steps up to his apartment. I put my face in my hands. Fuck my life. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. They were surprisingly cold on my warm face. “How did you know? I haven’t even told…” I felt him sit down beside me. “Why the fuck couldn’t I control my fucking self?” I sniffed. I couldn’t let him see me like this. There was no way that I was going to let Chris see me cry. “Alex…” His muscular arms wrapped around my shoulders. “I’m sorry. I am seriously sorry. I thought that you were out already.” Again, he gripped my chin between his thumb and forefinger and turned my head to face him. “You just seemed to be so comfortable being the adorkable guy you are, and I thought that, ya know, you were flirting with me coming to my games and driving me home all the time.” He smiled. “I sure as hell was flirting with you when I invited you to that first game.” That was a revelation. He opened his hand and slid it to my right cheek, then a little further back until his fingers curved around my neck at the base of my skull. I couldn’t look him in the eye still, even though he had me facing directly at him. My eyes raked down his torso to his legs. That was a mistake. My cock twitched when I saw the way his little running shorts wrapped his crotch. Was he hard, like I was? No, that wasn’t possible. “Come here, you skinny fucker.” He pulled me in and started kissing me, dragging my hand to his dick. I felt it swell. It swelled, not hardened. This was my first experience with my ability.

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

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