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Found 968 results

  1. “Keegan . . . Keegan! I can’t breathe, man. Hey, Keegan!” I could tell he was falling asleep – the rhythm of his breathing was turning even and deep. I knew I needed to have him roll off of me or I’d be trapped for the entire night. Using a good amount of strength, I pulled my hand up between our bodies and found a big hairy nipple to twist, with as much power as my fingers could muster while smashed between us. This snapped the big guy out of his almost-sleep state, causing him to make a sound that was somewhere between a moan and a whine. “Mmmm-hmmmm, my baby’s ready for round two . . . wait, no, round three.” “As wonderful as that sounds, no – it’s just that you’re starting to fall asleep and I can’t breathe . . . or feel my legs.” “Oh . . . sorry, hon, I’m just too big.” The understatement of the year. The cold, winter’s night air briefly sent a shock to my body as he rolled off of me and exposed me to the elements. I immediately wanted to be smothered by his warmth and weight, again, even if it restricted my breathing and prevented me from being able to get up until he did. “I gotta pee, anyway,” Keegan said, sliding out of the much too small bed and waddling out the door and down the hall. I knew his wide shoulders made the narrow passageway leading to the rest of my tiny apartment look even smaller and very claustrophobic. I had watched him make that walk thousands of times – amazed that he wouldn’t have been able to fully extend his arms out sideways unless he accidently punched through drywall, which was always a fear of mine . . . or was it a fantasy. My small place was suddenly filled with what could only be called the sound of a waterfall. Not the trickling sounds of a small stream – more like the deafening pounding of Niagara Falls. Even the guy urinating sounded butch and powerful. And it seemed to last forever. Just when you thought it was ending – at that moment when most guys would be wagging off a few more drops, there’d come another loud steady stream that somehow told you it was a virile hugely muscled man crammed in the tiny bathroom. After what seemed like the same amount of time for a semi-long movie, I’d hear the floorboards complaining about having to support so much weight and then I’d be surrounded, again, with the kind of body warmth that helped me save on my energy bills because I never had to turn on the heat. This time, only a huge arm would be draped over me, but it would still feel like a giant, heavy, folded quilt on my body. “I really could go again,” came the deep sexy familiar voice, that caused the back of my neck to be caressed by his breath as we spooned. “I’m not you, remember? Not all of us can rebound quicker than all of the NBA put together. I also have the early shift tomorrow.” “You work too much.” “Tell that to my creditors,” I replied, pulling his beefy forearm around me tighter, which caused him to squeeze my body hard. “I had fun tonight. Thanks for coming out with me.” “Yeah, it was fun . . . but I’m not sure your friends like me.” “Not this again. Of course, they like you . . . it’s just that they’re still getting to know you. It’s only been a few months. “It’s just that you guys always talk about stuff I know nothing about.” “Well, we have a long history together, so there’s a lot of shared information.” “Yeah, like that friend all of you talked about – the one I don’t know – her name was Marianne something.” “You mean Marianne Williamson?” “Yeah.” “Um . . . she’s not a friend . . . so to speak. She’s running for president.” “You have a friend running for president?” “No, not a friend. She’s just famous and Kyle is like her personal cheerleader or something.” “See, that’s something I should know . . . to be able to join in the conversation. I think your friends find me boring and stupid.” I tried to turn my body to face him, but the weight of his big arm prevented it. I tapped it twice – our little signal for him to release whatever part of his body was making movement impossible. He raised his arms so I could spin around and then it came back down, holding me closer. I looked into his innocent, but serious face. I slid my hand up between us and tapped on a gorgeous bulging mound beside his neck. “What’s the full name of this muscle right here?” “The trapezius muscle and it’s divided into three areas - the upper, middle, and lower fibers – called the upper, middle, and lower traps.” “And what specific exercise, pray tell, makes these things get so huge?” “Well, there’s a lot of debate about that…” “What’s your favorite, honey, cause it’s obviously working?” I said, smiling. “I like power shrugs and deadlifts.” “None of my friends would know any of that. Your expertise is not Marianne Williamson, it’s muscle.” “You just want me for my body,” he said, sticking out his bottom lip in a forced fake pout. “That’s a huge part of my attraction . . . and by huge, I mean…” “I get the point. Name something else besides my body that you find attractive.” I faked a pained look on my face – as if I couldn’t come up with anything else and the big man squeezed my body hard, making me squeal a little. I suddenly realized that there was some true vulnerability being shown here. My big sweetheart was feeling ‘less than’ and needed some support. I snuggled closer and turned my face up to his. “Tonight, there was a moment when the beer pitchers were almost empty and I could sense everyone looking at their phones, going to the bathroom, or cruising the joint – anything to keep from being the person that noticed we needed more beer. You, however, poured what remained evenly in everyone’s glass without any hesitation and then took the four pitchers to the bar to get refills. You didn’t think twice. You didn’t have this scorecard in your head that was keeping track of who had already done what and who hadn’t. You just saw that more beer was needed and knew how to improve the situation. Your kindness often overwhelms me with a knowledge of how lucky I am to be with you.” I had just answered his question honestly – truly believing he was one of the nicest guys on the planet. But my answer moved him in a way I had not expected. A tear slid from the corner of his eye and dropped to the pillow below. My heart opened even wider for this wonderful man. “Keegan, honey, you are definitely not stupid or boring. Who cares if you know who Marianne Williamson is or not. I love your body, yes, but that is not even close to all the things I love about you. What’s bringing this on?” I double tapped his arm to be released and sat up, crossing my legs to look down at him. I had my hand on his big biceps, stroking him softly. He turned his head to look up at me and another tear slid down the top part of his cheek. “This is usually the beginning of the end. I’ve reached this point in too many relationships to even count – room being made for my toothbrush, being introduced to friends, and even being sent out with the guy’s ATM card and code to get money for him before going to a club. It’s just that nothing’s ever lasted more than a few weeks after this point. The guy’s all end up telling me that the conversations are too limited, I spend too much time at the gym, or – as one guy put it – they don’t want to look like they’re out with a hustler every time we went to dinner. I worry that I don’t know how to make it beyond this point. I worry every day that you’ll get tired of me.” “Hey, Mister Muscles,” I lovingly said the nickname I had given him the first night we met, which, at least, made him briefly smile, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here. You never bore me and as for stupidity – remember the first time you took me to a gym. What did I do? Come on, tell me.” “You thought you could bench what I bench.” “And what else?” “You went to pick up the dumbbells I was curling and threw your back out because you couldn’t even lift them a little.” “You had to carry me to the walk-in clinic down the street. If anyone’s making a fool of themselves in this relationship – it’s definitely me. Who’s to say that you won’t get bored with me soon, eh?” “That’ll never happen?” “And why not?” “Cause you give the best head I’ve ever had,” he said, turning slightly red and smiling. “Oh, so you like me only because of my mouth.” “Yes.” I took a pillow and swung it quickly into his face, leaving it there, so all I could see of him was his humongous arm, massive chest, and cobblestone abs. The view still bowled me over – even after all of these months. I heard him saying something under the pillow. I removed it. “And sex with you is better than chocolate cake,” he said, mentioning the only food that would ever tempt him from leaving his strict eating regime. “Now, you’re making ME sound like the hustler.” “You’d be a good one. I remember.” “Thank you . . . I think. What’s brought all of this on, Mister Muscles? Why the sudden fear of this fabulous thing between us not lasting? You’re not one for losing confidence.” “I was in the bathroom tonight, around the corner out of sight at the urinals, and I overheard Kyle and Demetrius talking.” “What did they say?” I asked, knowing already it was going to be something bitchy and unkind. “Kyle wondered how long you were going to continue to slum it with a Neanderthal and then he said he could see in my eyes that I had no idea who Marianne Williamson was.” “Fucking Marianne Williamson! When did she become the barometer for all things concerning relationships. First of all, Mister Muscles, Kyle has wanted me since junior high and doesn’t take quickly to any guy I date. Secondly, you intimidate the hell out of him because of your size and big muscles, and, thirdly, I’m going to kick his ass the next time I see him for saying all of this.” “God, you’re sexy when you defend my honor and talk that way.” “I’m serious, Keegan. He can’t treat you that way and I will tell him.” “Um, no you won’t. I don’t want there to be even more of a strain than there already is between your friends and me. I’ll just have to win them over with my princely charm.” As usual, the big man found a way to help me instantly release anger and tension. I looked down into his eyes and smiled. I lowered my face to give him a long, passionate kiss. I pulled back after a while and we looked at each other – silently. “So, we good. All this is good, now?” I asked, showing him how important it was to me. “Better than good,” he said and then lifted the quilt and sheet to reveal a fully hard ‘Tennessee’ – the nickname I had given his dick because I said it was as long and big as that entire southern state. “Show me again why I like you so much.” My mouth watered a little as ‘Tennessee’ was uncovered even more and two extremely muscled thighs begged to be the support for my small hands as I did what I was truly good at – servicing my big man. ********** “Five hundred dollars.” “Nope.” “Okay. A thousand, but that’s my final offer.” “It’s still no. I have a boyfriend…” “So?” “…and we’re in a monogamous relationship.” “But there’s enough of you to keep four guys happy!” “And I’m only interested in keeping one man happy.” “Then why be a personal trainer? These days, isn’t that just a code word for ‘hustler’?” “Um . . . no, I truly enjoy helping other people get into shape. By the way, are you going to come on to me every time we work out. I might need to start charging you more if I’m going to have to continue fighting off all your advances.” I grabbed the man’s hand, which was suddenly placed on my thigh, and squeezed a little too tightly before pushing it away. He let out a slight yelp and shook out his arm wildly. This was my fifth session with Mr. Groping Hands (names withdrawn to protect the guilty) and he was, again, in rare form. Saying the word ‘boyfriend’ had taken me back to earlier that morning when Chef Marco (okay, chef in training) had literally blown me away – no pun intended – with his unbelievable oral skills. I had never met such a talented mouth. The sensation of what his tongue, throat, lips, and teeth could do was still making my groin area buzz with excitement. Mr. Groping Hands clearly thought my bulging crotch was in response to his non-inspiring advances. This guy was definitely a ‘catch’ – rich, well-built, nicely endowed, and smooth in the way expensive liquor went down, but he wasn’t my Marco. He wasn’t the beautiful man that was able to suck my balls in some miraculous way that could make me not able to prevent myself from exploding in less than a minute. I swear, Marco’s mouth should be listed as one of the . . . what was it . . . five wonders of the world? Six wonders of the world? Neither of those sounded right. “How many wonders of the world are there?” I asked, as I carefully led the man through some sit-ups. “You mean besides you, Keegan.” “Yes, not including me,” I answered, signaling him to take a short rest. “Most scholars say there were seven wonders of the ancient world.” “Seven. I was close,” I said, tapping his stomach to begin again. “How about just letting me blow you in my car, Keegan? I can tell your cock is interested – it keeps bobbing up and down when you touch me.” We were out in the open area of Palisades Park – a hot spot for trainers who didn’t want to see clients in their homes or at the gym. Mr. Groping Hands was a pretty famous director and preferred the anonymity that came with green grass, lots of trees, and a gaze-stealing view of the Pacific Ocean to prevent gawkers. I appreciated his boldness – it was kind of refreshing after all the guys (and gals) that did head games to try and get me into bed. I looked over at his Bentley Flying Spur and then back at his red-from-training-hard face. “What’s the difference between your car and, let’s say, a Honda Civic.” “You’re kidding, right? First of all, kid, it’s the comfort. The Flying Spur is like first class on the world’s biggest airplane while the Civic is like where the dog crates are stored. Secondly, it’s the power and pleasure that comes from sitting behind the wheel of that beauty. And, among many other things, it’s knowing that what you’ve got is a classic – something everybody else wants.” “Well, let’s just say you’re the Civic and my man, Marco, is the Bentley. And you, my friend, are done.” “Ouch, you sure are a buzz kill. What a way to put me in my place.” “You worked hard, today. You know, you really don’t need me. You’ve got a clear understanding of exercise, great form, and a great body. I know it’s not good business, but you are paying for something you don’t really need.” “Are you kidding? You think I’m paying you for your expertise about working out? Buddy, I choose to have you as my trainer so for an hour and a half two days a week I get to look at the kind of perfection that probably inspired Michelangelo. I get to cop a feel or two of the hottest body in the city. I get more fodder from you for private spank time than anything on the great big web could ever offer. I’ll be yanking my chain in my office before you even make it home, Keegan. I hope this Marco fellow knows how lucky he is.” “I’m the lucky one,” I said, winking at the man. “Hey, the two of you wouldn’t be interested in a shared bed, sometime, would you?” “How often do you lend out your Bentley?” “Never.” “I’m the same about my man.” “When the hell did monogamy become so popular again?” he said, collecting his wallet, phone, and other personal items. “Ever since I met Marco.” “I’d like to meet your man, sometime, Keegan. Just for dinner, don’t give me that look. I really mean just a meal and conversation. I’d like to meet the guy that has slayed such a huge and handsome dragon. My offer on helping him get a chef position somewhere still stands.” “Dinner sounds good, I’ll check with Marco and get back to you. Marco always says thank you for the offer of a job, but he wants to make it or break it on his own.” “You two inspire me,” Mr. Groping Hands said as he reached up to latch a hand on my massive pec and squeeze, before walking off. “One more handful to fuel my afternoon release. See you Tuesday, Mr. Universe.” I watched the handsome guy walk to his car. He really was a good catch. He was successful. He was a fully ‘out’ director and producer in Hollywood and that was almost unheard of. His movies had won numerous awards and his sole Oscar was for directing an incredible heart-wrenching independent film about two older gay lovers. He was even liked by other people in the business. All of that, however, didn’t come close to Marco. I pulled out my phone and hit the only ‘favorite’ I had. “Hello, Mister Muscles,” answered the silky voice of my lover. “Bad time?” “Never a bad time for you. I’m just ironing some shirts. How was Mr. Grabby Fingers?” “Mr. Groping Hands was fine. He offered a thousand dollars today and wanted give me a blow job in his Bentley.” “You have such the glamorous life. You know, of course, I have figured out who this man is, even though you are the consummate professional and have never revealed his name.” “I’ll always be able to say I did not tell you. He’d like the three of us to go to dinner sometime. He’d like to behold the stud who has stolen my heart.” “I think he’d be sadly disappointed and baffled as to why you weren’t already fully ensconced in his Malibu mansion.” “Or he’d fall in love with you and steal you away,” I said, only half-joking. “Would his flexed arm surpass the size of yours,” Marco asked, sexily. “Not even close,” I replied. “Then you, my friend, have nothing to worry about.” “Oh, so the first guy you meet that is larger than me is who you’ll dump me for?” “Well, since I’m never going to meet anyone larger than you – and even if that crazy idea could come true – you have nothing to be worried about. Besides, there’s another huge muscle of yours that I’m pretty sure will never be topped by any other mere mortal.” “Speaking of ‘Tennessee,’ he’s definitely screaming for some attention from little Marco.” “Well, since you now have a session with the nameless Mrs. Famous Actress who stars in one of my favorite shows and is married to a world-famous divorce lawyer (no way I could figure that one out), you better calm down before she offers to blow you in whatever fancy car she drives.” “She always rides her bike to sessions. She’s very concerned about the environment.” “Of course, she is. Well, tell ‘Tennessee’ that I will see him in the shower this afternoon before I leave for work. One more thing, Mr. Muscles.” “What’s that, Boo?” “Don’t be mad when you get a call later on.” “What does that mean?” “Just don’t be mad. I’ll see you later. Love you.” And the phone went dead. I stared at it for a few seconds, wondering what Marco meant. I did not have to wait long to find out, however. The phone rang with a number I did not recognize and had not keyed in. “Hello,” I said, cautiously. “Hey, Keegan, it’s Kyle.” My knight in shining armor had not done what I requested. Kyle had been reprimanded and forced to give me a call. I would have to act angry with Marco for a little while this afternoon, but I knew ‘Tennessee’ would be begging for the beautiful man’s mouth - or even more - and would prevent me from sulking for too long. I returned to the upcoming awkward conversation. “Hey Kyle, what’s up?” “Listen, I’ve been thinking that I haven’t started off our relationship on the right foot. I’m pretty protective of Marco and always want what’s best for him. I just wanted to say I’m sorry if I haven’t always been cordial and I was hoping we could, you know, kind of start over and let me make it up to you. If that’s okay . . . with you.” I knew I wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer or the brightest bulb on the tree, but I did know a thing or two about men and how to act around them. This was a huge deal for Kyle – to be making this call – and it showed what a good friend he was to Marco. Dating a guy is not a private affair – if you wanted it to last, which I definitely did, you had to accept that you were dating his family and friends, too. You also needed to make sure your boyfriend’s best friend never felt too excluded or shamed. I understood Kyle. I also felt for him, since I had figured out, way before Marco told me, that Kyle had a longtime crush on his best friend. I was an unwanted interruption in their unrequited love affair. I knew how to make things right – or as right as they ever would be, because Kyle would continue to be jealous of me. I would just have to accept that. “Man, Kyle, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve always been cool. I know it’s hard to add a new person to a set group of friends, but you always seemed to go out of your way to include me. There’s no need for you to apologize, but consider it a clean slate if you need to.” I could feel the guy’s smile across the phone waves. He knew I was playing along with the game that he was playing. We both knew each other knew it. We both knew Marco knew we were playing it. But that didn’t take away from the fact that we were doing it. I was giving Kyle the gift of being able to call Marco and tell him everything was good. I empowered Kyle with a secure best friend status and the ability to embrace me just a tad more into the group. He was freeing me to completely be Marco’s boyfriend – holding hands when we were out, talking about intimate stuff around everyone, and even kissing, on occasion. We both were freeing Marco of worry and tension our unnamed battle might have caused. The universe shifted to welcome this new reality. “Okay, then,” Kyle said. “I’m glad. That’s great. I’m really happy you found Marco (we weren’t quite ready to be happy that Marco found me). I’ll see you for drinks tomorrow night, right.” “Yes, you will. And Kyle, thank you,” I replied and it was the most honest thing in the entire conversation – we both knew that, too. “Of course, man. Thank you. See you tomorrow.” “See you.” The phone went quiet and dark. I immediately texted my sole ‘favorite’ saved in the phone as I watched Mrs. Famous Actress biking up the path. The text was short and sweet. “Thanks for defending my honor. ‘Tennessee’ will be expecting extra attention to make up for it.” ************ The text made me long to have ‘Tennessee’ in my mouth right at that moment – or some other orifice of pleasure. My entire being missed the hugeness of Keegan – all of his hugeness – every second he wasn’t touching me. I knew that this feeling was part of the honeymoon period of a relationship, but I also knew it was mostly and specifically to do with how much the big man turned me on. My face only came up to his nipples – a convenient spot for my mouth – and I had a feeling the most accurate ratio would have been three and a half of my bodies equaled his one. I loved muscles – all of my friends knew this – but no one, especially me, would have anticipated the giant mountain of sinew that now shared a bed with me three, four, or – sometimes – seven days a week. We made sure we split our time between both of our places – just to be fair. I was also still amazed he didn’t go crazy in my small place – his enormous frame almost completely filling up any room he was in. His place was bigger, more expensive, and nicer – but Keegan always seemed happy to be at my place, too. He said he just wanted to be wherever I was. “This moment calls for Ms. Ross, the boss,” I said – to no one - as I found the song ‘I Want Muscles’ and blared it in my apartment. I had one more shirt to iron, but dancing around my living room took precedence. I thought about calling Kyle to tell him thank you, but that wasn’t how this worked. He needed to think I was still a little unhappy with how he had been treating my new gorgeous, wonderful, mammoth boyfriend. Kyle had heard in my voice the unspoken ultimatum that if I was forced to choose, I’d go with Keegan. It had been the first time ever I had insinuated this, we both felt that big elephant in the room. It scared each of us – a lot – and for the first time in our lives the conversation on the phone had faltered, even stopped for a few seconds. Kyle had been my best friend ever since he had scared the crap out of a bully on the playground in seventh grade by screaming louder than a police siren to alert teachers of a potential incident. The bully never bothered me again and Kyle and I became lifelong friends. We came out to each other in high school and he confessed his love for me in college. Our friendship was cemented even more when we worked through that, me finally letting him know I was drawn to big men. He first thought I meant I was a chub chaser, but then I had told him I liked muscles. We watched each other botch up a few serious relationships and more than a few one-night stands. Then we became locked into the scene in Los Angeles – he, as a new financial planner at his dad’s firm, and me, as one of only twenty-five people chosen to attend a posh three-year culinary school. He was presently working his way up the corporate ladder and I had graduated top of my class and was working hard as a sous chef at a prestigious restaurant. To help make ends meet I had taken a second job delivering nutritious homemade meals to the great people of Los Angeles who had extra money to burn. “Get that last shirt done,” I said to myself when Ms. Ross had finished singing about men’s bodies. A big mistake – one that cost me the delivery job – had changed my life forever, just a little over eleven months ago. I had been sent to one of those nice downtown high rises with a meal which could have been a late lunch or an early dinner depending on whomever had ordered it. I wasn’t paying attention – what was new – and got off on the wrong floor because someone had pushed the call button for the elevator but went back into their place to probably retrieve a forgotten item. I assumed it was the floor I needed when the doors opened and no one was there. I went down the hall and mistook 4-K for apartment 5-K. Meanwhile – only to find out later – a broken-hearted bodybuilder/personal trainer named Keegan Robinson was going through a fully acceptable slutty stage after a very hard break up and had made an afternoon booty call to help him relieve some sexual tension before he went to the gym to workout. Keegan lived in apartment 4-K. When he opened the door to find this cute guy standing there with earphones on jamming to some tunes, he was pleasantly surprised by how lucky he was to get such a wholesome looking hookup. He had pulled me into the apartment so quickly that I didn’t really have time to say anything. “Hey bud, sorry to be so direct, but I just really need to get off before I go and do this intense two-hour workout. You don’t mind if I pay you full price to just suck me off right here, do you? I’d really appreciate it.” I was still reeling from the fact that this smooth-faced Hercules had answered the door. I had never been this close to someone that size. I had a muscle fetish, for sure, but all of my big body encounters didn’t come close to matching the mountain range of bulges standing there in a tank-top and basketball shorts. My music was blaring, so I hadn’t heard what the giant had said, but when he pulled down his shorts to reveal the longest and thickest and most juicy-looking sausage of my entire life – making it clear he wanted a blowjob – I didn’t miss a beat. I dropped the bag of gourmet food, dropped to my knees, and then dropped that mammoth thing down my throat so quickly you would have thought I was a professional. Every guy I had ever slept with – and it was quite a few – had always said I was the best cocksucker he had ever met. Even if the guy ended up dumping me he always ended with, “I’m going to so miss that mouth of yours.” I have no idea why I was so good. Maybe it was because I just imagined what I would like when I did it. Or maybe it was just because I loved sucking so much. Either way, the stars were aligned that afternoon because my skills and the desire to be really good because of the hulking body I was getting to blow enabled me to give the bodybuilder the kind of pleasure he had never known before. I made him cum so hard he threw his body into a terrifying, but astounding most muscular pose as he spewed – causing me to swallow even harder, which – in turn – made him shoot a quick second round. The big man fell to his knees, his cock pulling from my mouth and his big arms engulfing me. “Fuuuuuuckkkk, what in the hell was that?” he said loudly between heavy breaths and trying to steady his still-swaying huge body. I pulled out my earphones and was about to ask what he said, when there was a knock on the door. The giant rose to his feet, still a little unsteady, and pulled up his shorts as he opened the door. A definite slutty player stood there, kind of fake-smiling – which turned into a real smile when he saw the behemoth that had called. I’m sure the hustler was super thankful it was some huge Adonis instead of a balding middle-aged married man. “Sup, Thor,” the hustler said, “I’m here to rock your world.” The bodybuilder turned to look at me, catching sight of the food bag at the same time. There was a stack of bills on a table by the door. The big man grabbed these and the bag at the same time. He looked at the address on the slip stapled to the carrier. He turned to slutty hustler and handed him the bag and money. “Changed my mind, dude. Something better unexpectedly came along. Here’s your money, though, and do you mind delivering this one floor up to 5-K. Thanks a lot,” said the muscled perfection and then he quickly closed the door. Turning to me he added, “Can you do that again?” Needless to say, Keegan never made it to the gym that evening. The hustler didn’t deliver the food, so I was fired by text when I wouldn’t answer my phone. I had been too busy, however, swallowing four big loads of the bodybuilder’s swimmers within a three-hour period. I had never known a guy that could produce so much semen so quickly. He was some kind of sexual superman. He kept saying each orgasm was more powerful than the last and claimed that I had some kind of oral magical powers. He screamed louder with each ejaculation and I was sure his neighbors thought he was being murdered. After blowing him in the kitchen, living room and bedroom his body was so jacked he said it equaled the two-hour workout he had missed. He ordered Chinese food and we ate it totally nude on his living room floor. After exploding the fourth time, he pulled me onto his humongous body and we kissed for the first time. Basically, my mouth had been filled with his cock for three hours straight and the guy was finally slightly spent, and ready to get to know me. “Fucking tell me your single . . . um, oh fuck, what’s your name?” “I’m Marco,” I said, holding out my hand to him as I rested my chin on his massive chest. “I’m Keegan.” “Nice to meet you, Keegan. You have the hottest body I’ve ever seen.” “And you, my friend, have the hottest mouth I’ve ever known. Please fucking tell me you are single, Marco . . . cause I’m in love.” “If only it were that simple,” I laughed, and pulled away, but his strong hands grabbed the sides of my head and turned my gaze back to his. “It is that simple, Marco.” I could tell he was serious. My instincts told me this was one of the purest moments of my adult life – so far. I knew I could let the cynical side of me take control and ruin the moment, but feeling the man’s hard body beneath mine and his stronger than strong grip on my head made me join him in his joyous world for a little while – even if it was just a fantasy. “I’m very single, Keegan. I’m also into muscle,” I added, internally saying ‘what the hell’ and choosing to be brutally honest. “That’s very cool, because I have a lot of that,” he said, smiling. “I noticed,” I replied. “Want me to pose for you?” “That would be awesome. I’ll repay you by sucking you off, again.” The big man easily tossed me off his body and was standing beside the bed before I even finished my sentence. He then threw his body into the kind of routine that usually made me spew uncontrollably when I watched bodybuilding competitions online. This time, however, I could reach out and touch the real thing as I watched – which seemed to make him happy, too. Soon, Keegan was covered in sweat and insanely pumped. “Keep posing,” I ordered, as I took his big cock in my mouth. When I started to have strong feelings for a guy – authentic feelings – my blowjobs actually increased in their power to turn the guy on. I guess it had to do with the fact that I knew this was something real and not just a quickie. I had already started to fall for this big man. I could feel it. Yes, we didn’t know each other and, yes, our meeting had been a big mistake, but something magical was happening between us. His love of my mouth and my love of his muscles were leading to something much more important – something much deeper. He hit a double biceps power pose and I swallowed his tool hard, causing him to buck back and forth with the strongest blast of the evening. He held the flex through the entire orgasm and then collapsed on me when his cock was completely empty. I laughed a little when the huge man was sound asleep in seconds. I guess even superman had a limit when it came to ejaculations. I somehow freed my body from his and started exploring the apartment as Keegan got some much-needed post-sex sleep. The trip around his apartment told me a lot about him – he wasn’t a reader (there were no books, only bodybuilding magazines), he was clearly out to his family (pictures of him kissing past boyfriends while with parents), he had one sister and one brother, he won lots of bodybuilding contests (a lot of first place trophies and medals), he must have been a pretty well-known personal trainer (pictures of him training lots of famous people), and he was well-liked (lots of cards and notes from people telling him how great he was). I also learned about Greg – some guy that had clearly broken up with him recently (note apologizing and saying goodbye and torn pictures of a trip together in the trash can). When I returned to the bedroom I took advantage of his passed-out state and ran my hands over every part of his hard, muscled body. I figured I might never get the chance again, so I should take the opportunity now. As my hands rubbed his perfect pecs, his hands came up and grabbed my head again. He led my face to his nipple and I used my expert sucking skills there, too. Soon I had him moaning like a wild beast. He pulled my head away, so we could, again, gaze at each other. “Stay the night,” he said. “On one condition, Mr. Muscles,” I said, using the future nickname for the first time. “Name it and it’s yours.” “Fuck me. My ass is getting jealous of all the attention you’ve given my mouth.” He flexed his right arm hard as his response. I climbed on top of him *********** Working out in the park – the sun, the breeze, the sound of the ocean – only seemed to make me hornier than a squadron of frat boys. The park and the thought of Marco’s mouth, ass, face, lips, earlobes, balls, kneecaps, toenails – just all of him, really, just did something to me. We’d been together for more than eleven months and I never stopped thinking about him. I kept expecting to stop craving him so much – eventually – but my desire only seemed to increase. I still couldn’t believe he didn’t hate me for thinking he was my rent boy showing up for a little afternoon delight. He had dropped to his knees so quickly that day and given me the kind of mind-altering orgasm you only heard about in fairy tales or sex stories. My legs, which are insanely big and quite powerful had become like liquid as I fell to the floor – a wiped out mess of a man. When I asked if he could do that again, I had truly expected we’d have another round and then I’d be off to the gym and he’d go try to get his delivery job back. I didn’t anticipate my mind would be altered over and over again every time he blew me that night. I finally had just fallen asleep, even my big body had its limits. I felt a little bad when I woke up, but then I found him caressing my entire body and my tool had become fully erect, again. He then asked me to fuck him and I quickly learned his ass gave his mouth some serious competition. Almost a year later I am still trying to decide which part of him gave me more pleasure. “See you next week,” I called out to the waving Mrs. Famous Actress as she rode away on her bike. I started gathering all the equipment I used for working out into the big bag that Marco could never budge when I left it in the path we had to travel from one room to another in my apartment. He had figured out that I did it on purpose so I could watch him unsuccessfully try and move it and then finally have to call me to do it. I’d pound on my chest and say ‘you weak, me strong’ before moving it with one hand. Sometimes, I then throw him over my shoulder and take him to the bedroom to show him just how strong a certain part of me was. That first night, before I plowed him, it suddenly dawned on me that he had blown me four times, but I had never gotten him off. I was such a self-absorbed asshole, but it was his fault for being so awesome at blowjobs. I quickly apologized for overlooking his sexual needs. He looked confused, then laughed, and explained he had gotten off every time I had cum. My baffled look amused him and he said making a big guy like me explode gave him much pleasure and he rocked out a load in unison with my orgasms. I had just been too wrecked each time to notice. I found this one of the most erotic things I had ever heard, which only fueled the plowing I gave to his ass even more. When I saw that gorgeous man throw his head back, moaning in ecstasy that first time I fucked him you would have thought I had been given the biggest and best gift in the world, for that’s how I felt. I suddenly understood how blowing me thrilled him so much. Making him scream with pleasure made me explode, as well. We were joined by some kind of inexplicable force that I knew – even that first night together – would never be broken. My phone buzzed and I saw a text which read, ‘I need my Tennessee.’ When Marco greeted me at the door totally nude, which happened a lot, I would so quickly shoot hard that I’d actually feel dizzy and like I might pass out. Today, to be greeted that way, and to immediately smell the wonderful aroma of his famous chicken parmigiana was almost too much to handle – even for a big man like me. Before the click of the door shutting echoed through his small apartment, the guy was on his knees, had ‘Tennessee’ fully unclothed, and was making my love for him blossom even more deeply than it already was. I was worn out from a day of clients, but that man’s lips, that man’s warm mouth, that guy’s deep throat could revive me like one of those electric shock thingies they sometimes put on your chest and yell ‘clear.’ He was some kind of magical Hoover made specifically for my penis. His oral skills made me turn into some kind of wild superman. He made me feel powerful, manly, and able to do anything in the world. My entire body would shoot tense and hard, as if I was showing off on stage or in the bedroom for hundreds of admirers. Sucking me off when I came in was equal to a kiss on the lips to Marco and that was more than okay with me. I knew it was pleasing him as much as it was me, so that made it even better. A couple of minutes later, I’d be leaning against the wall, my chest heaving up and down – unable to move for a few minutes – while he retrieved paper towels to clean up the mess he made on the hardwood floor. “God . . . I . . . wish . . . I . . . knew . . . how . . . you . . . do . . . that,” I stammered between breaths. “It’s all because of the magnificent temple I’m kneeling before. It’s all because of ‘Tennessee’,” he said, smiling and finally kissing me hello. “What’s that I smell?” I asked, as my heartrate returned to normal. “Chicken parmigiana.” “But I thought you had to work?” “Susan called yesterday to see if we could change shifts. I thought I’d surprise you.” “You little gorgeous sneak! Does this mean I get to have numerous orgasms tonight?” “It does indeed, Mr. Muscles.” “Hey, wait a minute. I just remembered I’m mad at you. Give me my cum back. I wasn’t going to give into my urges so quickly. I wanted to punish you for calling Kyle.” “It’s fine for you to be mad, but no one makes my big man feel small,” he said and my heart suddenly thumped harder. “Go sit down in the living room, Mr. Angry Pants, and I’ll bring you a glass of wine.” I gave him a mean face and walked down the hall. The fragrance hit me before I even got to the back room. When I stepped around the corner I beheld a sight that instantly brought tears to my eyes and made my shoulder convulse as I started to blubber. Every possible empty spot in the room was covered in red roses. The floor, the sofa, the chairs, the tables – everywhere. There were vases with roses, boxes with roses, and rose petals strewn everywhere. Through the water filling my eyes I saw a card sitting on a small table in the center of the room. In bold letters it said ‘open me’ on the front. I knelt down and tore open the envelope. It was a handmade card in the shape of a heart. I opened it and written inside it said ‘turn around.’ In my overwhelmed, confused state I simply did what the card told me to do. There, kneeling behind me, was a now clothed boyfriend holding open a small box with a beautiful man-sized band inside of it. I convulsed and blubbered more – like a baby. “As I said last night, Mr. Muscles. I’m not going anywhere. There won’t be a point where I say you bore me or that I want something else. I only want you. Forever. And ever. Amen. Keegan Andrew Robinson, will you please do me the great honor of becoming my husband so I can blow you every day for the rest of my life.” I had to fall back and sit on the floor I was sobbing so hard. I was a mighty oak of a man, someone who won bodybuilding contests and powerlifting competitions. I could make women and men cream in their pants with just a smile or a flex. I lifted more weight than ninety-nine percent of the men in my gym. I intimidated the hell out of powerful businessmen and bullies, alike. But at that moment, at that exact specific second, I became a baby – crying with the kind of joy that can burst a heart. I started nodding my head up and down even as the tears fell on the rose petals around me. “Yes. Yes. A lifetime of yesses,” I forced my mouth to say as I welcomed Marco into my open arms and squeezed him with way too much strength. “Whoa, Mr. Muscles, careful, there, don’t break me before you own me!” “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You’ve just made me the happiest man in the world. I love you, Marco. I love you so much.” “I love you, Keegan. Let’s put this ring on that big finger.” I sat there, with my other hand up to my mouth like some Victorian heroine beholding the love of her life naked for the first time. I watched as the man I loved – the man I would always love – slid a perfect ring on my finger. I held up my hand and started to cry again. Marco, put his palm against my cheek and just smiled at me. “I’m the luckiest guy I know,” he said, softly, and I cried more. “Sorry to ruin the moment, but you have to call your parents. I promised we would right after I – hopefully – got a yes. Your father actually said he’d give me all of his money if you said no – he was that sure of your answer. Maybe we should tell him you said no, just to get the money.” “You talked to my parents about this?” I said, shocked. “I flew up to see them a month ago – remember when you were in Vegas for that photo shoot. Well, I went up there to ask them if I could ask you for your hand in marriage. Your mother cried and your father opened a bottle of champagne that I think probably cost more than I’ve ever made in a year. I had to get their blessing, first. Your sister asked when we would have children – she said she hoped us having kids would get your parents off her back. Your brother started rambling on that it was time for me to start thinking about my portfolio, but then he simply said he’d be honored to have me as a brother-in-law. It actually made me weepy. Not like you, of course, but I still got a little emotional.” “You are such a hopeless romantic,” I said, hugging him tightly again, but not too tightly. “By the way, we also have another reason to celebrate – although it pales in comparison to this.” “What’s that,” I asked. “Well, it’s not definite yet, because you have to weigh in on the decision. But, if you say yes and I say yes, you’re looking at the new head chef at Grigio.” “What? Are you fucking with me right now?” “Nope, it’s true. I could be a real chef by the time we’re husband and husband.” “That is the best news ever . . . well, second to this,” I said pointing at the ring. “Of course, you should say yes. It’s what you’ve always wanted. You’ll be amazing.” “It’ll be a lot of hours as I learn the ropes, though. I just want us to be sure.” “Stop it, we’re sure. We're more than sure. We’ll make it work. We’ll figure out how to sneak in enough blowjobs to keep us both happy. Now, this is definitely the happiest day of my life. I am going to be married to a chef. Chef Marco. Wow, that sounds hot.” “Call your parents and I’ll finish getting dinner ready,” Marco said, turning his head up so we could kiss deeply. “Um . . . ‘Tennessee’ is ready to go again if both of those things can wait.”
  2. Chapter One "The Oregon Trail was laid by fur traders and trappers from about 1811 to 1840, and was only passable on foot or by horseback. By 1836, when the first migrant wagon train was organized in Independence, Missouri, a wagon trail had been cleared to Fort Hall, Idaho" As the legendary guide Kit Carson looked up at the folks gathered around him, he added "This is the second stage of what I believe can be truly called "The Great Wagon Train" but you saw what we had to deal with just then, that is why we must carry on" and with that nodded his head to his trusted lieutenant Jim who nodded his understanding and reported back to his wife at the back of the train with the news that she had been dreading to hear. “But Jim” protested his wife as she nursed her infant son, “he needs a rest from the jolting. He needs some soup!” Jim solemnly shook his head. “Sorry, Alice” he replied, “but Kit says no. Look, he’s asleep now. You can have a sleep yourself. When you wake up we’ll be nearer to California and he’ll be still by your side!” and with that he leaned over on his horse and kissed his wife. Reassured, she settled down and her husband re-joined the front of the train. As the train rolled on, a violent jolt woke up the child and as he yawned he caught sight of his still sleeping mother. Rolling over and crawling to the back of the wagon, he sat down and smiled. “Daddy, bang, bang, nice!” he gurgled He had seen his father use the rifle latched onto the end of the wagon on a number of occasions and had always wanted to touch it, but his father always said “Daddy’s bang bang”, however with his father nowhere to be seen and his mother asleep he leant over to touch it. Just then, the wagon hit a rock and caused the son to overbalance and he fell out of the wagon and landed with a heavy bump that caused him to start crying. Whether the mother heard those cries it was impossible to tell, as soon the child became lost in the high grass. About an hour later, the small child appeared out of the brush that marked the start of the Midwestern Plains and was spied upon by Chief Grey Cloud, the most powerful of all the Native American chiefs. The little child had been taught to fear the native Americans, however as he looked at the chief whispering "Mommy and Daddy lost", the chief dismounted from his horse and looked at the child then spoke to his braves in the language of the Apache people. “Comanche smoke signals, wagon train attacked not far from here!” “Then papoose orphan!”. Grey Cloud felt a great sympathy with this orphaned child. It had been two months since his own son had been killed in a hunting accident whilst out hunting buffalo and it had shaken his confidence greatly. As he looked at the child who smiled for the first time since they had met, he raised an arm to the sky and announced “I thank the Great Spirit for sending me this child, I promise to raise him as my own!” “Grey Cloud has spoken” answered the other braves and with that Grey Cloud placed the child next to him and geed his horse to return to his tribe. The chief’s arrival with the new member of the tribe was greeted with a great deal of interest and after an inspection by the medicine man who determined that the child was indeed an orphan, he was formally adopted by Grey Cloud and given the Indian name “Blue Eyes” on account of his piercing blue eyes.
  3. Listen, I know I’m being a little forward and maybe coming on too strong, but I caught you watching me as I worked out and . . . well, it kind of turns me on. I’m really an exhibitionist at heart. I crave attention. I guess you could say that’s why I work out. I want to get these muscles bulging so people will notice me . . . blatantly stare at me. I can see the desire in your eyes, man. Even now, you keep stealing glances down at my arms. I got ‘em nice and pumped for you, didn’t I? No need to answer, man, your open mouth is all the reply I need. Arms maketh the man, as they say . . . right? Look at you squirming. I’m making you nervous, aren’t I? What’s the matter, cat got your tongue? No biggie, dude, your body is speaking volumes. Each time I tense my arms, like this, your body quivers a little – like you got a chill or something. It’s really cute. And those nylon basketball shorts ain’t hiding a thing, man. You’re sporting a mighty fine slab of sausage, too – that’s clear to see. Something must be rocking your world. Muscles do it for you, man? Cause showing off all my bulging mass for a guy gets me stiffer than a Redwood. Wow, cue the heavy breathing. I could give you a show right here, right now if you’d like, man. It would be no problem. I don’t care if anybody walks in. Hell, they can enjoy the performance, too. The more the merrier is always my motto. I bet you like the way hard muscle feels, don’t you man? I bet you’re a groper. Cupping softball-sized biceps, kneading stone-like pecs, or strumming a solid six-pack. I’m thinking all of that makes you as weak as a wet noodle. Dude, you might as well just take a good long stare at my arms – quit with the furtive glances. I’m telling you I don’t mind. Yeah, that’s it, take a long gulping drink of my bulging guns. And now we have some major tent action in your shorts. The body never lies, bud. That rod of yours has just ratted you out as a verified Grade A muscle-pig. Just as I suspected. Nothing wrong with that dude, so quit your blushing. I pack on muscle to make guys like you happy. Sure, there’s a messy financial side of what’s taking place between us right now, but let’s not rush into anything just yet. I’m enjoying our little one-sided chat. Almost as much as I’m enjoying you turning into a blob of drooling blubber. Oh dayum, I just realized I must be your first time. Am I right, man? Another red face confirms it. You mean it’s possible that a guy as cute as you has never been approached before. Oh fuck, make my day and tell me you’re also a muscle worshipping virgin. Bingo! I’ve hit the jackpot. You look to be about twenty-six or seven. There must be so much pent-up sexual frustration in that body of yours you’ll be like Mount Vesuvius when you finally erupt. My hard chest is just dying to be the city of Pompeii and be covered by your hot man-lava. Oh bummer, gray shorts don’t hide leakage very well, do they? Sorry about that, man. Listen, I had a killer workout today and the endorphins that are kicking around in my body have me higher than a kite. That, in turn, makes me feel very generous. Very generous, indeed. How about I give you an introductory worshipping session for free? Consider it an early Christmas, birthday, or Hanukah gift. No, don’t go feeling guilty or non-deserving. Just take it in the spirit it is given. Trust me, I’m going to make sure I have some fun, as well. So, I take that bouncing crotch of yours as a positive response. I only have one request, dude. You fix me dinner when we’re done. You look like someone who’d be a good cook and I haven’t had a homemade meal in a while. Most guys into muscle just want to take me to fancy restaurants so they can show off their trophy. I don’t mind, but it would be kind of nice to drink my beer from a bottle, go shirtless at the dinner table, and stroke your hardness with my bare foot as we eat. Wait ‘til you see these puppies flexed, dude. You’re going to think you’ve died and gone to muscle heaven. I know I’ve kind of insinuated myself into your plans for the evening, but I’m thinking you don’t mind. I’m thinking I’m about to unleash a major muscle-loving whore that’s been buried inside of you for a long time. Let’s go do some groping, stud.
  4. The story begins in: The Orgone Accumulator : Prologue The preceeding chapter is found here: The Orgone Accumulator : Part One The Orgone Accumulator: Part Two The music made it difficult to hear what the other man said. "Could you repeat that?" Jim, the muscular forty-year old repeated, what he had just said: "I said, that the leather scene has changed. When I found the leather scene as a teenager, it was an entire subculture: Everyone made an effort to look like one's fantasy, and there weren't any visitors from the outside, like you." Visitors from the outside. John hadn't expected that to sting, but it did. His facial expression must have changed. "I didn't mean any disrespect. I just meant, that those who attend these clubs nowadays don't identify with the culture I and the middle-aged and the oldies does. Today you frequent some vanilla club with a rainbow flag one day, attend some gay rights manifestation another day, and wear a cheap harness for laughs at some surviving leather bar a third day. Community is falling apart. The apps are also a part of it. With Recon and similar apps, the need for leather bars is disappearing, and a lot of old bars and clubs have closed, not just here in the US, but also over in Europe. Gentrification has hit a lot of leather bars: The old Eagle had to move to the present location, and that's not the only one. Beginning to sound like someone twice my age, am I not?" "That's time, isn't it? Everything changes." "Everything. Not limited to the leather scene. Take bears, like yourself, for instance ..." "Wait a minute. I'm not a bear." "Sorry. You gave that impression. Take the bears, for instance. The movement began when some gay men felt left out, when all gay men were expected to be twinks, and when men were supposed to shave and style their hair, look like Ken-dolls and not share any hobbies with straight men. The bear movement emerged, when some men attracted to other men wouldn't accept to be forced into the twink stereotype. Or be forced into the mindset of the more built circuit crowd. Unlike the circuit crowd, bears didn't fear some chub nor the scent of honest sweat, but change happened, and today there exist muscle-bears, which runs counter to some of the original ideas." "You don't have to tell me. I'm writing about the history of the LGBTQ movement. Well, to be honest, more G than any other letter. Some B and Q, perhaps." "Don't say that aloud among the Trannies. They will kill you." "Speaking about history. You could show me the ropes and introduce me to the oldies you mentioned." "The oldies? Daddy chaser? I though we were have having something here." John took a step forward, put his hand at Jim's leather-clad bum and squeezed. It was obvious, that Jim enjoyed to work out, and his glutes were firm and unyielding. A lump grew in John's throat, and he felt how his own denim jeans became uncomfortably tight. Another hard bulge grew inside Jim's intimidating black and shiny leather-jeans. They pressed each other's groins against each other. "We are having something here, but I just wanted to know more about the changes you mentioned. Old times. Before your time." Jim lowered his head and kissed John. Smiling, he answered: "I'm interested in the past, myself. I know exactly which ones you ought to ask. Follow me." Their hair were grey or white and buzzcut. One of them had a beard, the other one an old-fashioned moustache. Similar to Jim, but unlike John, they were entirely covered in black leather, and, unlike Jim, they were wearing leather caps. Age had its imprint on them, but they obviously spent time to remain in good shape, and there was something intimidating about them. Jim introduced them to John. They enjoyed being called "Sir". "... all those changes. I remember, when you had to be initiated to belong to the community. Some call it hazing today, but it was a way to keep the standards up. Today they let every twink with a harness in, no offence, well, you don't look like a twink, more like a cub, than anything else ..." "I'm not a cub, Sir." "Good to know. Well ... let anyone in, and it all began when rubber was allowed, not to mention that modern "Jockstrap Wednesday", what sort of nonsense is that supposed to be?" After half a beer, John steered the conversation in the right direction. One of the elderly men had only seen the infamous photographs -- seldom or never included in any recent photo art books -- but the other man actually did remember: "Stud of Dakota ... Well, that was, uh, a specimen. Amazing man. Brings memories back. He looked like he had just stepped outside from one of Tom of Finland's drawings -- I suppose you youngsters still know Tom's art, yes? And you have to remember, that weight-training hadn't become mainstream back then. If you wanted to lift weights you joined one of those old-fashioned gyms which began as boxing-clubs, and rest of society looked at you like you were weird. Middle-class men were supposed to pretend like their bodies didn't exist, and the working-class, despite admiring feats of strength, well, they regarded the human body as a machine performing tasks, not as a piece of art to be shaped and nurtured, perfected and admired. When bodybuilding emerged in the 1950s it freaked most of society out. When gay men began to work out and wear leather ... Rest of society had expected us to be nellies, and we turned out to be hard, beefy leather-clones, well some of us, anyway, and Stud ... Well, that was not his real name of course -- I even doubt that he grew up in Dakota -- he and his friends inspired us, me and some of the other guys at The Eagle in the early 1970s. It was just some months after the Stonewall Riots, I think. Things begin to blur. Stud arrived from somewhere on the west coast and we all wanted to look like him, be like him ..." The elderly man fell silent and took a mouthful of his beer. He was visibly aroused. He took another mouthful of beer. "AIDS changed all that. It was an era that died with all those young and rather young men in the 1980s ... Died. Lost." Some more beer. "But what happened to the man, who called himself 'Stud of Dakota'. Did he die, too, or why did he disappear like that?" The old man watched John in silence, estimating him. "I might be able to help you, but there is a saying among some of my people ... You will not find Stud of Dakota. He will find you." John left The Eagle leaning on Jim's assuring glossy shoulder, surrounded by the scent of Jim's leather-clothes and with a California address in his pocket. * * * Next chapter is found here
  5. Ok guys, here’s the new story I’ve been working on. It’s of a similar size and scale to my last story "AJ & Noah". It’s told from the point of view of Woody (real name Sebastian Wood), a handsome, sassy, self assured (some might cocky) bodybuilder with a cheeky Instagram persona. Woody attends Montgomery University of Bodybuilding & Fitness; the only school in the world dedicated to turning its students into pro bodybuilders, where lessons include Posing Practice 101, Anatomy & Aesthetics and A History of Bodybuilding. There are a few references/Easter eggs to AJ & Noah and some of my other stories in here for anyone who’s familiar with them! I’ve got my friend @reeddune working on some illustrations too which I’ll be sharing soon. MUSCLE UNIVERSITY One I open my eyes and this feeling of warmth washes over me. I genuinely can’t remember the last time I woke up this happy. I look over to my best friend Emily lying in the bed next to me and she gives me this happy knowing grin. There was nothing particularly extraordinary about last night. Just two friends getting a bit drunk and going to the local gay club. But everything about it was awesome. The atmosphere. The people. And I just want to do it all over again. “How’s the head?” she asks me. I smile and shrug under the duvet of her bed. “I feel fine!” She shakes her head. “I can’t believe how much attention you were getting last night!” I beam back at her. “I’m used to it!” I reply cheekily. Even though I’m actually not. At least not these days. Emily grins and playfully rolls her eyes. “I loved it when that guy asked to feel my biceps!” I say excitedly. Emily giggles. “And then his mate joined in!” she says. “They were so funny!” I turn away from her and look up to the ceiling. God I love this room. This house. This town. Everything here is so … normal. It’s the complete opposite to my life at my own university. And now I feel a sudden pang of sadness at the realisation that none of this is mine. It’s Emily's. This is her room. In her student house. In her university town. And I’ll be going back to my (exceptionally not normal) student life in a few hours time. “I’m just surprised you didn’t meet someone and abandon me like you normally do!” Emily quips, with one eyebrow raised. I look over at her and smirk. “I probably should have done! It’s pretty much my only chance to pull these days!” “Seb, there must be other gay guys at your uni?” I pull a face. “You would think!” It might sound a little crazy, but I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if I was the only gay guy at my university. We stay silent for a while. “Is that club open again tonight?” I ask. She looks at me suspiciously. “Yeah?” I wiggle my eyebrows up and down. “What if I didn’t go back today and we go out again tonight?” What If I don’t go back at all, I think. “Erm … don’t you have an exam tomorrow morning?” I pull a face. “Meh!” Emily grins at me. I know she’d love me to stay another night, but we both know that I’m going to be sitting on that train back to Scotland in a few hours time. I sigh, pull the duvet down and look at the thick, perfectly pumped pecs bulging off my chest. “What do you think, boys? Do you wanna go back to Scotland today? Bounce once for yes, twice for no!” Then I bounce my pecs twice. Emily giggles in response. “The pecs have spoken!” I exclaim. She giddily beams back at me and everything suddenly feels good again. I love who I am when I’m with Emily. I love who I am when I’m here. It’s different to how I am at my own university. I don’t feel like I have to put on a front. I’m not competing with anyone. I can let my guard down. I can relax. I guess (like everything else here) I can be normal. Well, as normal as a sixteen stone bodybuilder with arms twice the size as most lads’ my age can be. A few hours later and we’re at the train station, my holdall thrown over one of my ridiculously broad shoulders. My train leaves in fifteen minutes and I want to get a good seat. As much as I love visiting Emily, the seven hour train journey to get there and back is never exactly fun. “Are you still coming down for your birthday next month?” she asks. “Yeah! Of course!” I can’t imagine spending my birthday at my own university. Jesus. How fucking depressing would that be? A couple walk past us; a boy and a girl. They both stare at me as they do and the girl pulls a funny face and looks at the boy wide eyed. Emily looks at me and we both grin. “Jeez! It’s like no one has ever seen a bodybuilder before!” I say. Emily laughs. “You’re definitely a novelty down here!” Something pulls in my stomach. A desire. This is what I want to be. What I should be. A novelty. A rare thing. Something out of the ordinary. This is what I want all the time. I suddenly feel a heavy sadness that I have to leave. “Do your think your uni would let me transfer down here?” I ask Emily. She gives me a sad smile. I know the answer to that one. “I’m not really sure if they’d be able to match your course!” I roll my eyes and manage to smile. Of course they fucking wouldn’t. No other university in the world would be able to match my course. I’m stuck there for another two and a half years. And then … well then there’s a very good chance that I’ll get to live my dream. It’s one small mercy I guess. The light at the end of the tunnel. The one thing I cling to during my shittiest days. Luckily the train isn’t that busy so I manage to have two seats to myself for the entire journey. On the journey down here two days ago some unfortunate fucker had to sit next to me. Because I’m basically built like a brick shithouse, I was spilling over onto his seat. The poor bastard was squashed up with half of his body hanging out into the aisle. Of course, there are some guys out there who would probably enjoy sitting next to me. Some who’d probably walk over hot fucking coals for a chance to be squashed up against my huge, muscular body in fact. The randy buggers. I divide my journey time up by revising for tomorrow's exam, listening to Spotify, staring at how huge and devastatingly sexy I am in the reflection of the train window (did I mention I’m a bit of a handsome fucker as well as being a two hundred and thirty pounds bodybuilder?) and thinking about how I’m going to spend the evening when I get back to my dorm room. By the way, you heard that right. I live in a shared fucking dorm room. Ugh. Just like the ones you see in all those films set in American colleges. Two beds. Two people. Two complete strangers chosen at random by a computer being forced to share a room. I mean … fucking seriously? My university is probably the only one in the UK that has them. They say it helps the students to bond. Really it’s just a cheaper way of housing us. It’s not like I can live off campus either. Trust me, I would if I could. But it's impossible. Because my university is in the middle of sodding nowhere. I’m complaining, but in actual fact, I’m one of the extremely lucky few first years who doesn't actually share his dorm room. Woo-hoo! My old roommate Craig (who was noisy, messy and had about as much banter as a brick) dropped out a few months ago so I have the whole room to myself. It’s mostly great, though there are times when I find myself getting a bit bored. There’s even been a few times where I’ve suddenly realised that I’m talking to myself. I have no idea what that’s about. Half way through the train journey I go to use the toilet. There’s a big mirror on the wall. Christ, I look huge. I’m always a little taken aback when I see my reflection in a foreign mirror. And this is no exception. My shoulders look ridiculous, my famously thick pecs (at least in the world of online muscle fans) are bulging underneath my plain white t-shirt (you should see them in a vest!) and my arms look straight up fucking monstrous. I guess I’m kinda known for my arms. I don’t mean to sound like I’m bragging, but you should see the size of my biceps. They just fucking explode off my arms when flexed. My triceps are pretty crazy too. I mean, at this point I’m basically just an all round freak. Strangers in the street would probably run away from me screaming if I wasn’t so bloody good looking with it. Which people feel the need to remind me about quite a lot on Instagram. I’m always getting told how handsome I am by random users. And it’s not just on Instagram. I read a crazy comment on a muscle blog once where someone said I wouldn’t look too out of place in one of those American high school films where the hot jock guys always look way too old to be playing teenagers. I kinda loved reading that. Then I started imagining what kind of character I could play. I was thinking an unusually buff, British exchange student all the girls go crazy over but who’s actually secretly gay. Then some big Hollywood producer could snap me up and put me in a Marvel film as a superhero. Or as some mutant freak in the latest X-Men film (no CGI needed). I mess with my brown hair a little, which is getting a bit too long at the top, to restyle it. I turn my head to the side and look at my jawline in the reflection of the mirror. People are always mentioning my jawline on the Internet. Then I wiggle my eyebrows up and down and flash a big, cheesy grin at my reflection. And then I laugh at myself. Because I’m such a fucking knob sometimes. I lift my t-shirt up and HOLY ABS. God, I love my stomach muscles. They really fucking POP. It’s like I’ve got six big cobblestones trapped under my skin and they’re trying to burst out. They’re definitely amongst the best developed and most aesthetic abs of all the lads in my year. An idea pops into my head which I can’t resist following through with. I whip out my phone and take a picture of myself, flexing the bicep muscles in my right arm in the mirror while pulling a funny face. Then I load up Instagram and type a cheeky caption. Me and this bad boy bulging off my arm are on a train back to MU. Everyone keeps staring at me. It’s like they’ve never seen a muscle monster before. Weird! #huge #biceps #watchmegrow #freak4life #hellyeah #sexymonster And BOOM … the post is up and my sexy face and bulging biceps are out there for all the world to see. Or all twelve thousand of my Instagram followers anyway. My chest flutters with excitement at the thought of all the likes and comments that will, without question, soon come flooding in. As I walk (well, more like strut) through the carriage to return to my seat, practically every passenger looks up at me. I clock one guy I’m fast approaching who has his head buried in a book. I cough loudly as I walk towards him and he casually glances up. This comical, shocked expression takes over his face and his eyes look like they’re about pop out of their sockets when he looks at me. Ha! I give my new admirer a mischievous smirk as I strut past his seat. And no doubt half the carriage are now checking out my obscenely huge, round arse which is stuffed into my painted on skinny jeans. When I settle back into my seat I load up Instagram again on my phone. I feel a surge of excitement because (as predicted) the reaction to my latest post is crazy. The likes are going mad and new comments keep popping up. Someone calls me a “super freak” (love it). Another person says I’m “so so handsome”. I get called huge, unbelievable and some dude tells me he wants to get his hands on my biceps. The filthy bugger! I like every comment, and even reply to some. Thanking them, or saying “hell yeah” or “I need to get even BIGGER”. For some comments I just leave an emoji. One gets a winky face, another gets the emoji with the one eye closed and the tongue sticking out (I LOVE that one) and, fuck it, the guy who wants to feel my biceps gets the face blowing a kiss emoji. It’s flirty. It’s cheeky. It’s outrageous. And it’s so fucking ME. I love getting all that attention. I love making people go crazy. And I love turning people on. Knowing that they’re aroused by my huge muscles. God. It’s such a bonkers and powerful thought. I jump in the Uber I’ve booked when I get to my final station. The poor driver looks fucking terrified. As we drive to my campus this unsettling feeling churns in my stomach. This is the worst part about going to visit Emily at her university, or going back to my parents for long weekends or holidays; the horrible feeling I get whenever I have to return. If I were in a better mood, I might give my Uber driver a cheeky flex of my biceps before getting out of the car. Instead I say thanks and reluctantly get out. I pause as I look at the assortment of big brick buildings before me and the surrounding greenery. There’s nothing particularly remarkable about my university campus from the outside. It looks like any middle tier university in the UK. I breathe a deep sigh as I look at the only clue that this is anything but an ordinary university campus - a graphic image of an arm with big, flexed bicep muscles on the side of the Prince House building sitting next to the following words: “MONTGOMERY UNIVERSITY OF BODYBUILDING & FITNESS. MAKING TOMORROW'S TOP BODYBUILDERS.”
  6. Part two to Trey's growth, like last time I'm gonna warn you that This story will contain a bunch of my fetishes. I'm not sure exactly where it will go yet though. I do know that it will include incest, macro, muscle growth, straight to gay, and musk. If any of those offend you, this won't be the story for you. After the wonderful sex with James, Trey sat worried on his couch. In his efforts to grow big fast, he didn't even begin to think about how the rest of the world would see him. But James's comments about work brought him back to reality. His dad would be home from his own job shortly, and would be expecting to see the short shrimpy boy that Trey formerly was, not the grown, muscular man that he had turned into. Trey began to walk to the bathroom, his now large soft cock flopping as he walked. He examined himself in the full body mirror. Now standing approximately six feet tall, Trey looked nothing like his former self. His body was strong and defined, and covered in hair, a sharp contrast from his twig like frame. On top of that, his face looked different too. Well, he thought to himself, not exactly different, just more... mature. He still had the large brown eyes and Roman nose, along with his larger than average lips, but the face itself was different. No longer round and boyish, he now had a strong jawline, and had lost any remnants of baby fat on his angular, chiseled face. He stared at his body again, realizing that he was exactly the type of guy he would have gone for. If anything, maybe a little small. His cock started to harden, from a soft 4 inches to its full, nine inch mast. I can't believe I'm getting hard at my own reflection, Trey thought to himself. But he couldn't stop. He was so damn horny. Trey grabbed his large cock in his meaty paws, and began to jack off. For the first time in his life, Trey used two hands, instead of his earlier two finger technique. His hands stroked up and down his thick tool, and played with his big bull balls, as he slowly stroked to erection. On a whim, Trey pinched his own nipples. A jolt shot through his body as his cock jumped. Damn that feels good he moaned, and continued to stroke. Trey felt an orgasm building as he rubbed his hairy chest with one hand and frantically jerked his cock with the other. His cock was leaking precum like a faucet. Finally, he couldn't hold it any longer. With a loud moan, Trey shot all over the mirror. Eight strong spurts of cum ran down the mirror, as the final shot trickled down over his inflamed cock head. Suddenly feeling self conscious, Trey cleaned up the mess with a towel the best he could, and headed to his room in order to find something to wear. Unsurprisingly, nothing fit. Trey tried to cram his body into the small clothes, but everything either looked ridiculous, tight on his body and unable to close up, or it just ripped from the strain of being put on. With that, he headed to his father's room. Trey's father had been the polar opposite of Trey. Standing at 6'2” and 210 lbs, the beefy construction worker was all man. The only thing that they had shared was a name, Trey being actually Raymond Warren III. Ray, the former football player had kept in great shape as the years went by, and only a slight gut and graying hair belied his true age, 39. Trey threw open his father's closet and began to look for clothes that would suit him. Giving up on finding anything in his style after a quick glance, he finally settled for an old college t shirt, slightly too small for his father, and a pair of jeans. With that, he heard the garage door open. Trey panicked and began to throw on the clothes. The jeans were slightly baggy on his muscled frame, but he couldn't find a belt. He began to slip on the shirt as he heard his father enter the house. “Trey, I'm home. You there?” the bear of a man called in through the door. “Yeah dad, I'm just in my room,” Trey yelled back, not remembering his deeper voice for a second. He quickly ran through the hallway into his room, shirt still half on. “You sound funny, boy. Are you getting sick or something?” His father asked from the kitchen. “Yeah I think so,” Trey finally answered, thankful that his dad had given him an out. “Anything I can do to help?” Ray asked. “No I'm good.” Trey responded, feeling guilty. Even though he and his father weren't alike in either size or in interests, his dad was great. After Mrs. Warren ran off when Trey was a baby, the two of them had been together, with his dad, who while encouraging Trey to play sports and be active, never seemed upset that Trey had been more of a band and chess club kind of kid. He also took the news of Trey being gay shockingly well, even if he did follow up Trey coming out with saying that he had thought Trey might be “a homo or something.” But he had immediately redeemed himself by hugging his son and saying he'd love him no matter what. Trey sat back in his bed and thought about what to do. He couldn't avoid everyone he knew forever, but with his new body, he'd barely pass as the old Trey. He sat on his bed and realized he was still sweating, massive stains beginning to show on the pits of his father's t shirt. There was a knock on his door. “I brought you some soup, sport,” his father said, as the doorknob began to turn. Trey shuddered, there was no avoiding what was going to happen. At that moment the door opened, his father took one look at the stud on the bed that had been Trey, and gasped, dropping the bowl to the ground. “Trey... Is that... you?” His father finally asked after a period of uncomfortable eye contact. “Yeah dad,” Trey responded. “I'm finally a big guy, huh?” Ray just looked at his son. “This is insane. You're all grown up.” He stared at the bulging muscles under the t shirt. “And you look so strong too.” “Like I said,” Trey answered, “something weird happened.” “Should I call a doctor?” “No I think I'm fine. Just sweaty,” Trey answered. “And I don't have anything to wear.” Ray looked at his son, wearing his baggy clothes. He admitted to himself that his son would look much better in something less baggy, that showed off his new definition, then wondered quickly where that thought had come from. “Well in that case, why don't we clean up this soup and then I'll make you a real meal. You must be starving. We can head to town tomorrow to get something new for you to wear.” “Sounds great dad.” Trey answered, and then climbed out of bed. His dad and him together began to mop up the soup, and sweep up the broken glass. As he stood in close quarters to his dad, the pheromones began to do their work, not that Trey noticed. But he did notice their effects. His dad seemed to have a raging erection. Trey pretended he didn't notice. After they finished cleaning up, he told his dad he needed to take a shower. Ray agreed, and said that he'd make them dinner while Trey washed up. In the shower, Trey soaped up his body. He wondered to himself if all the sweat was a side effect of the pills, or just his body growing. Either way though, he was covered in it. As he cleaned himself off, his cock began to get hard again. He thought of his father's erection at his body, as he began to jerk off. Trey sat in bliss, jerking his meaty tool until he was brought back to reality by a call from the kitchen. “Dinner's ready son,” his dad's deep voice yelled out. Trey groaned and painted the shower wall in his thick cum. “I'll be down in a minute,” he responded. After washing off the cum, Trey came out of the shower. He toweled his body dry when he realized his mistake. The only clothes he had near him that fit were covered in sweat. Wearing just the towel, he walked over to his father in the kitchen. “Hey dad?” he asked. “Can I borrow something else to wear? Nothing of mine fits anymore, remember?” Ray stopped what he was doing and stared at his sons body. Out of his clothes Trey was even more impressive. With his massive, hair covered pecs leading down to a treasure trail lined six pack, and the large biceps on display, his son was a true man. His eyes shot down, seeing the prominent bulge in front of his sons towel. His own 9 incher began to make his pants tent out. He must have been staring for quite some time because his son asked again, “Dad can I borrow something to wear?” Ray shook his head and came to. “Sure son, just pick anything from my drawers and set the table. I need to go to the bathroom.” Trey went up to get dressed as his father made a bee line to the bathroom. The room smelled like musk and cum, no doubt from Trey's previous actions in the room. He sat down on the toilet and took his own thick cock in his hand, and, for the first time in his life, jacked off to the images of a man. His own son, no less. Trey came down and set the table, wearing a pair of jeans from the back of his dad's closet and another old t shirt, he had finally found something that almost fit him, if it was hilariously out of style. But clothes were clothes at this point he thought to himself. His father came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, seeming flustered and a bit embarrassed. Trey didn't notice, however, being more concerned with stuffing his face with the burgers his dad had made. “These are great.” Trey commented, his mouth still full of food. “Glad you like em, sport,” Ray answered, stealing glances at his son as he ate his own burger. “I knew you'd be hungry after all that growing.” Four burgers, countless fries, and a salad later, Trey stopped eating. Ray sat at the table with his son, as they began to talk about their respective days. Ray related a story about his manager at work, while Trey talked about his day at the mall, and what happened when he grew, sparing his dad the details of the store front and the sex with James. His father looked intrigued. “What exactly sparked this random growth spurt?” he asked his son. Trey decided to come clean. “Well, I found these pills, and they made this happen.” Ray looked shocked. “Steroids? Even those don't work this fast.” Trey shrugged. I don't know dad. All I know is I took more than I was supposed to, and then this happened.” Ray still sat there, his mouth open. “I could show you if you don't believe me,” Trey said after a long pause. Ray was torn, part of him knew that this was a bad idea, that his son had already grown so much so fast, and any more could cause some real problems. Another part of him, a newly awakened part, would very much like to see his son grow huge and grow fast. The new part won out. “Go ahead Trey, he said, “Let's see this thing work.” Trey smiled and grabbed the jar of pills from the corner of the kitchen. Grabbing two pills and popping them in his mouth, he washed it down with a glass of water. “Last time it worked pretty fast,” he said, “so if you don't mind I'm gonna take off these clothes.” Trey's father more than didn't mind, the mere idea of seeing his son naked was very exciting to him all of a sudden. “Go ahead sport.” Trey stripped off his clothes, and stood naked in front of the man who had raised him. His soft cock sitting nestled in his prominent bush, hanging over his big balls. Ray's own cock was throbbing in his pants, and the show was yet to begin. First, Trey's frame began to stretch out, growing about four more inches, surpassing his father's own height of 6'2”. Then his body began to fill out. First his biceps, expanding from merely 15 inches around to an impressive 18 inches. He was beginning to look more like a lineman than a linebacker, as his pecs also expanded, growing hard and powerful. His nipples truly pointed down now. His six pack hardened further, becoming like defined bricks on his tight stomach, as his quads and calves expanded to become those of a hardened weightlifter more than a soccer player. His body hair grew thicker and more defined as well, becoming like a carpet across his pecs, and coating his abs, but not to the extent that they hid the definition. Then the last muscles in his body expanded. Trey's balls stretched to the size of tangerines and hung low in his sack and his cock began to stretch even farther. Soft now it had to hang six inches. As a final touch, his jaw became even more square, and grew from stubble to a short beard, maybe two days' growth. His body was covered in sweat by the time his growth slowed to a stop. “It went kind of like that, dad,” he said to his shocked father. Ray wasn't hearing a word of that. But the deeper voice sent him over the edge. He came hard in his pants, leaving a large wet stain. “Trey...” he moaned. “That was the hottest thing I have ever seen.” Ray smiled as he said it but still seemed embarrassed by the fact hat he was so turned on by his son. Filled with lust and remembering the effect that he had had on his friend, Trey smiled. “You haven't even seen the best part yet,” Trey said, as he began to flex. Striking the double bicep pose from earlier, his thick armpits became exposed. His father felt the effects immediately and began to get hard again. The pheromones filled the air, and Ray became overcome with lust for his stud of a son. He stood up and walked over to Trey, before asking, “May I?” Trey smiled, knowing exactly what his dad wanted. “Yeah dad, but let me see you first.” His dad grinned at the idea, and stripped down himself. Ray wasn't bad looking either. His small gut from drinking too much beer was covered in the same salt and pepper black hair that lay thick on his head, and his visible pecs had the same coating. His own biceps were large, but not as big or defined as his son's had become, and as he stripped off his pants it became apparent just how turned on Ray was by all of this. His own, nine inch cock was throbbing, with the slightly upward curve causing precum to run down the underside. Below that hung a nice pair of testicles, almost as big as his own sons had become, which sat atop thick thighs and strong legs, more those of a man who worked for a living than gym-built muscles. Trey was insanely turned on by his bear of a father, and his cock throbbed to its new length of 12 inches long and as thick as a beer can. Seeing this caused Ray to be pushed over the edge. His cock gave one final throb, and then he shot his load, coating his sons furry abs in his cum without even touching his cock. “I'm sorry,” Ray said. “Let me clean that up.” Ray leaned forwards, and began to lick his own load from the hairy muscleman's sweaty abs. He still didn't know why he was doing this, knew it was wrong to be doing to his son, but too turned on to care. He began to lick and suck on his sons chest, going up and chewing on the nipple and licking at his thick armpits. Then he began to lick down Trey's body. All Trey could do is groan as his father had his way with him. He stood there as his father's tongue gave his body immense pleasures. His cock, too, was throbbing without being touched. “Hey dad,” he said, feeling cocky. “You're missing my best muscle.” With that Trey jacked his cock a few times in his hand, before letting his dad take over. His father took over immediately, giving Trey's cock the same lavish attention that he had given the rest of his jacked body. He'd take the cockhead in his mouth, and play with it with his tongue, before removing it and licking up and down the sides of the hot dick. He'd occasionally take a break from the cock entirely to start to lick and suck on the huge balls and play with Trey's muscular ass. But he'd always return to the cock. “Oh shit,” Trey moaned, “I can't take much more of this.” Ray smiled, and grabbed Trey's ass, pushing as much as the cock down his throat as he could. About six inches were down Ray's mouth when he decided to put his son over the edge. He stuck a single finger in Trey's muscular ass, feeling his son's prostate. With that Trey shot his massive load. Ray moaned as he tried to suck down the whole thing. Although mouth of his son's load made it down his throat, it was too thick and came out too fast, and he drooled cum down his chin and onto his own pecs. He stood up, and looked up at his son. “Fuck that was great” he said, his rock hard cock straining as it brushed Trey's leg. Ray looked down at himself, and wiped off some of the cum. He licked it up. “Let's keep going in my room,” Ray said to his son, clearly not feeling uncomfortable any more. Trey couldn't agree more, and followed behind his father, watching his hot ass as they walked, thinking of the pounding he was going to give it. Little did they know, the drugs coursing through Trey's body caused a powerful effect on men when they are consumed, especially in the form of semen. ******************************* So I've decided to write a bunch more parts, because honestly writing this story made me horny as hell, and it got a great response last time. I'm not sure how much yet, but I can assure you you haven't seen the last of Trey's growth.
  7. “Professor Hutchens, something's wrong. I don’t think it's supposed to be bubbling like this,” says my assistant Josh, a heightened concern in his voice. "Ignore it and just follow the directions. I've been working on this particular formula for months and checked the calculations this morning. Don't forget, I've been doing this for over a decade," I say in a huff. I am too busy grading my students' papers to walk over to the other side of the lab and check on his work. I had been up all night perfecting this latest batch, and had done my due diligence in double-checking the formula this morning. So what if I got zero sleep last night. I had to make my deadline. Associate professor positions pay shit money and I have to pay the rent somehow. So here I am covertly using university time and lab equipment to perfect a serum for a private biomedical company who has contracted me for a secret project. It's a project I can't truly talk about — you wouldn't believe the number of NDAs I had to sign to get the contract — but at its essence, it's a formula that will boost human potential by unlocking the confines of human strength and capability. "Alright, professor. Whatever you say. I'm just saying. It looks funny," Josh replies. Ah, Josh. Ever the simpleton. But that's why I hired him. He can follow orders well enough and better yet, has no idea that what I'm doing is illegal. He just needs the money as bad as I do. He's handsome in a boy next door kind of way — square jaw, a smattering of freckles, and sweeping brown bangs that highlight his soft green eyes. Oh, and a body that's in pretty good shape for a 20-year-old who cares more about partying than pretty much anything else. An inch or two shorter than me at 5'10", I would guess he weighs around 180 lbs. Despite the unshapely lab coat, I can tell that his muscles are developed. Actually I know this for a fact since I creeped on his Instagram late one night and saw that shirtless pic of him at the frat party. He doesn't have washboard abs, but they're peaking under a thin layer of fat and good lord does he have a bubble butt to die for. Round and juicy. Geez, I'm getting distracted. At the end of the day, he gets me what I need: someone who will take orders and ask as few questions as possible. **glass shatters** "Professor, professor!" Josh yells. I look up and a crimson colored plume of smoke is quickly enveloping Josh's work station. I run over to survey the situation, stopping to grab a fire extinguisher in case of an open flame. Josh continues to shout as I arrive at his desk. To my surprise, there is no flame, just a broken beaker. The plume of smoke has dissipated. "Josh, are you alright?" I ask. Internally I'm freaking out. Where did the smoke go? How much of it did he inhale? If something serious happens to him as a result and the university finds out... My racing thoughts are cut off by a groan from Josh. "I don't feel so good," he exclaims. With another groan he reaches out and grabs the lab counter, slightly bent over. He looks queasy. "Maybe take a seat over..." I start to say before I am interrupted by an even louder moan. "Ohh... ughhhhh, ohhh..." he groans. And that's when I noticed that Josh was sweating through his clothes. This isn't good. "Fuck, it's hot. My skin is burning." Josh exclaims, clutching his stomach. "Water, I need water." I run over to the sink and fill a sterile beaker with water from the tap, but notice that Josh's breathing has slowed and that the moans have ceased. "Hey Josh, how are you feeling?" I say with concern in my voice. "Okay now. My skin is still a little warm but it's not so hot anymore. Just a little tingly." he says. "Okay, well let's drink this glass of water and maybe get you out of that soaked lab coat." I reply. "I'm feeling really tingly now, Professor Hutchens," he says, straightening up. I start to help him get out of his lab coat and that's when I notice that we're eye-to-eye. "How tall are you, Josh?" I ask. "Five foot ten, why do you ask?" he replies as he wipes the sweat from his brow. "No reason." I reply. If I'm just over six foot, there's no way... "Fuck," he exclaims. "I need to get out of this lab coat, it's feeling really tight." **rip** The back of Josh's jacket suddenly rips along his lats. I can see his sun-kissed skin poking through the stark white of the coat. "We need to get my pants off too, fuck they're tight." **rip** Josh blows out the back of his pants. Holy shit, I think. His ass is impossibly round and firm. What I would give to... Josh cuts me off. "Ugh. What the hell is happening to me, professor? Why are my clothes so goddamn tight?" Josh asks, anger rising in his voice. It's then that I notice Josh is clearly looking down on me. He notices it too. "Holy shit, I'm growing," he says in surprise. "Ugh, it must be a reaction with the compound you were working with, I'm sure there's no cause for worry." But I'm worried the fuck out. This was an untested batch of the formula. "I'm definitely getting bigger," he says surveying his growing body. Just then, Josh's shoes make a popping noise and start to rip at the toe. First his right foot, thick toes peek through as they lengthen. Then his left. Previously a sensible size 11, he was now clearly pushing size 15, maybe 16. Bigger and more powerful, each toe grows menacingly large. Josh takes a look at his hands, and they slowly lengthen and thicken before his eyes. It's then he notices that his lab coat is now straining helplessly across his broad chest. With one fell swoop, he grabs it and rips it to shreds. He groans. Tossing aside the sweaty, ripped remains, Josh's upper body is now on full display. Thick, dark, quarter sized nipples increasingly point downward as his pecs heave forward. Rounder and firmer they grow, hovering over his abs. Whereas only a faint outline could be seen before, the top two rows of abs jut out as fat melts away. Sex lines begin to appear above the waist of his now impossibly tight jeans. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I'm going to be in so much trouble. But then again, the formula clearly works. Better than I imagined it to. Also I'm hard as hell. Josh was quickly pushing 6'4" and there was no sign of the growth stopping. "FUCK, this is amazing. I'm going to be huge!!" Josh yells, his voice now deeper and filled with cocky confidence. He rubs his thick, meaty hands across his broad chest. Tweaking his nipples, a guttural moan escapes his lips. Grabbing the top of his jeans, he rips them open, buttons flying. Holy shit, he's strong. Pre-cum soaks through my pants. I take in Josh's bottom half and notice that round veiny calves anchor his now inhumanely thick legs. Meaty thighs quiver and thicken as Josh's white, sweat-soaked briefs strain against growing frame. It leaves nothing to the imagination — Josh is packing. Half-hard, his cock already appears to be ten inches and thick. I can't imagine how huge it is at full mast. Actually, I can and the stain of pre-cum on my pants grows larger. He grasps his dick through his underwear. Goddamn, that's so hot. Josh turns around to take a look at himself in the mirror and I get a glimpse of his back. Wider and wider his lats spread, as pound upon pound of muscle is added to his frame. His traps, growing thicker by the minute, give him an imposing air. Triceps flaring, I'm starting to get scared. Josh is quickly turning into a god among men, and a cocky one at that. "How fucking big am I going to get, doc?" he barks at me, cupping his growing pecs as he admires his own reflection. "I want to know. How fucking big?!" "I... I don't know. This formula has never been tested before. This is... more than I could have ever imagined." I stammer. "I hope it doesn't stop. I want to grow huge," he grunts as he gains another inch in height. He turns back around. Josh's underwear is hopelessly clinging on for dear life. Escaping the confines of the strained cotton briefs and snaking halfway down his thigh, a giant cockhead the size of a small apple stares at me. Fabric taut, his briefs are looking more and more like a thong by the minute, riding up an impossibly round and juicy bubble butt. **snap** Josh's underwear gives way under the pressure of his growing muscle ass. At this point, he's rock hard and stroking his cock with his meaty hands. I'm mesmerized. Never in my wildest dreams could I picture something so insanely thick and long, coursing with raw masculinity. Two large balls the size of lemons, quiver with young stud cum. The naked jock stares down at me, a hunger in his eyes I've never seen before. He had to be 6'8" by now. "Suck my cock," the giant demands. "What... do you... mea..." I studder. "I said suck my cock. I can see that my body is turning you on. And I'm horny as hell. Suck my fucking cock." he growls. I don't know what to do. On one hand, I've never been hornier in my life. On the other, Josh's cockhead alone is big enough to fill my mouth to capacity. I don't think it's even possible to take the whole... Josh grabs my head and shoves me to his crotch. Sweaty, I'm enveloped by his manly musk. "I said, fucking suck it!" he commands. I lick the head. His pre, salty and thick, is unlike anything I've ever tasted before. I open my mouth wide as Josh's places his baseball mitt sized hand on the back of my head and shoves me onto his growing member. I can only get my mouth around four or five inches of the shaft, it's much thicker than a soda can. "Yeah, you little bitch." Josh moans. "You turned me into a god, and now you'll worship me like one." I can't believe this is happening but I'm lost in the moment. He's right: my formula has turned him into a studly beast. Even though I can tell the growth is slowly, he must be pushing 7' tall at this point. And god, the muscles. They're unreal. Josh's cock surges in my mouth. Not done growing, I guess. I work his tool as best as I can. Tears stream down my cheek as I strain to take it in. I grab his round muscle butt for leverage and realize I can't hold on any longer. I blow my load in my pants. Josh's groans from the growth slow, and are replaced with increased moans as I service his cock. I lick and suck and spit, working the 16" rod with all my strength. "Ugh, I'm gonna shoot!" Josh roars unexpectedly. **pump** **pump** **pump** Rope after rope of thick, virile stud cum shoots down my throat. **pump** **pump** **pump** His dick quivers with each pump. Holy shit, this is a lot of cum. **pump** **pump** **pump** Josh continues to moan like an animal in heat. I struggle to take it all in and cum starts escaping from the corners of my mouth and drips onto my clothes. I shoot another load in my pants. **pump** **pump** The seemingly endless stream of cum slows. Josh's breathing, while labored, calms down a bit. Two more pumps and he's done. My mouth full, I swallow the last of his load. I've never sucked down so much cum in my life. "FUCK," he exclaims, pulling out his cock and leaning his huge frame on one of the tables. The growth has stopped. "I'm starving," he says as he grabs his torn lab coat and ties it around his waist, a futile attempt at modesty given his hulking frame. "I'm going to find some food." And with that, he walks away from me and heads to the lab's exit, ducking through the doorway. I'm at a loss for words, unable to make sense of what just happened. A dull, but noticeable tingle spreads across my body and I notice I'm soaking through my own lab coat. I'm covered in Josh's cum, yes, but also soaking with sweat. I should probably get out of these clothes, I'm feeling restricted because they feel... tight against my frame. God, it's hot in here. My skin's on fire. *RRIIPPP*
  8. bbmikenj

    m/m The Interview

    The intercom on his desk phone buzzed, and Tom Beck, the office manager, picked it up. “Mr Beck,” said his secretary Anna, “your ten o’clock interview is here.” “Ok,” said Mr Beck. “But why are you whispering?” “Well, he’s sort of an unusual candidate,” said Anna, still whispering. “Unusual in what way?” “His attire is a little odd, and he’s…he’s kind of a giant.” Mr Beck chuckled to himself. Anna was prone to exaggeration, and being a tiny woman, everyone seemed big to her. The first time he’d met her, her first words were, “My goodness, you’re huge!” At 5’10, 225lbs of pretty solid muscle, Tom certainly wasn’t small, but huge was a word he would not have applied to himself. “Go ahead and send him in, Anna.” “Ok, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Tom stood up at his desk as his office door opened. Even with Anna’s warning, he was not quite prepared for what he was seeing. The young man walking thru the doorway had to turn almost sideways to fit his vast shoulder spread into the room. Tom sized him up at a good 6’6” and at least 350lbs of muscle. He came across the room and extended his hand to shake with Tom. “Hello, Mr Beck. I’m Marcus.” As they shook, Marcus’s hand engulfed Tom’s with his beefy palm and sausage sized fingers. “Hello Marcus. Have a seat.” Marcus sat down, and made the office chair he was in look like it came from an elementary school. He was wearing a short-sleeved white dress shirt and black pants. He had a narrow black tie on, but it was loosened, and his top collar button was undone, giving his 24” neck some freedom to show. His huge arms strained the short sleeves, and his big chest strained the shirt buttons. His thighs stretched the gabardine fabric of his pants till it looked thin and shiny. His shirt pocket had a pocket protector in it. He looked like a monster nerd. Tom picked up Marcus’s resume and looked it over, giving himself some time to compose himself. He realized how Anna must feel around people so much bigger than her. It is intimidating just being in their presence. He saw that Marcus had graduated top of his class, and had been captain of his college’s weightlifting squad for all four years. “As you know,” Tom started, “we are a small marketing company representing mostly sportswear businesses and supplement companies, along with some gym franchises and weightlifting wholesalers. It helps to have a sports or fitness background when dealing with our clients. You certainly look like you keep yourself…fit.” Marcus laughed. “Does it show?” he said, then bounced his pecs under his white cotton shirt. “Geezus,” stammered Tom. “I gotta ask, Marcus, just how much do you weigh?” “385lbs this morning,” Marcus answered. Then he flexed his arms into a double biceps shot. The sleeves of his shirt got pushed back as his peaks rose up and up. As they swelled higher, both sleeves ripped. “Damn,” said Marcus. “another shirt ruined. Guess that’s what happens when your arm pass twenty-four inchs, Mr Beck. You like?” Marcus knew muscle lust when he saw it in someone’s eyes, and he was going to milk it to the max. “Holy….”said Tom. “Yep,” smirked Marcus. “ And they just keep on getting bigger. You wanna see my chest, Mr Beck?” Marcus stood up, his huge frame seeming to fill the office. “Why don’t you come over and unbutton my shirt?” Marcus undid his tie and tossed it aside. Tom knew he shouldn’t. He knew. But he stood up anyway, his heart pounding hard. He couldn’t stop himself. He was mesmerized by so much muscle mass right in front of him. He made his way around his desk. Marcus turned to face him, towering over him. “Go ahead,” said Marcus, thrusting his massive chest outward. As Tom reached up for a shirt button, his forearms grazed along the white fabric, feeling the solidness of the protruding pec slabs underneath. He undid one button, then another. The shirt had no choice but to spread open wide, and Tom could see a tattoo on the massive young man’s chest. He undid a third button, and the shirt opened up enough for Tom to see a big “ALPHA” tattoo, all in black ink, across Marcus’s upper chest. Marcus smiled as he saw Mr Beck soaking in his tat, and his swole chest. “Sixty-eight inches of chest and lats, Mr Beck.” He reached down and unbuttoned the remaining buttons, and spread his shirt open, exposing his powerful roidgut. Even though swollen and rounding out, his abs still showed through his tight skin. Marcus flexed his gut muscles and made the ridges deepen around his thick 8-pack. “Oh my god,” said Tom, as he stepped back and leaned against his desk. “Am I ‘fit’ enough?” asked Marcus. “Not too bulked for ya?” “No, no, not at all.” “Here, help me take my shirt off, I’m in the middle of my bulk, so it’s getting harder to maneuver this mass.” “Holy…” said Tom. He walked over behind the massive Marcus and reached up to his collar and started pulling it down. They both struggled to work Marcus out of his shirt, and Tom looked in awe as more and more of the massive landscape of rolling muscle was exposed on Marcus’s huge back. Finally free of his shirt, Marcus shook out his torso, and his muscle seemed to expand even more, and filling the office with the musky scent of testosterone. Tom was able to get his first look at Marcus’s backside. His huge glutes were mounded thick and high, making his dress pants tight as a drum. “God,” said Tom. He put one hand on Marcus’s big back to steady himself. “You ok, Mr Beck?” “You’re hired,” said Tom, feeling just how hard and thick the man’s back was. “What was that?” “You’re hired,” he repeated. “Yeah? Just like that? You haven’t even seen my legs yet.” And with that, Marcus turned to face Tom and began flexing his quads inside his dress pants. The fabric stretched so tightly that Tom could see the veins running up and down Marcus’s huge thighs. “Let’s talk about my salary,” Marcus said. And he flexed hard enough that front of his pant legs started to tear down the middle. “I’ll double it,” stammered Tom, staring at the pants as the swelling quad muscle pushed its way out. “That’s what I like to hear,” said Marcus. Then he shredded his pant legs with his huge muscles. Then he forced his big roidgut out, and the buckle on his dress belt snapped apart like a cheap plastic toy. He then sucked his gut into a deep vacuum pose, and his pants slid down his 37 inch quads and onto his shoes, exposing the black poser he’d been wearing underneath. He stepped out of his Italian loafers and what was left of his pants. “You’re looking a little pale, Mr B,” said Marcus. “If you think I’m big now, just wait until I’m well over 400lbs.” Then he started posing, hitting flex after flex, turning and showing Tom his back double bi, his lat spread, then turning back around and hitting side chest shot, then a most-muscular. Tom gasped at each pose, and his left eye was twitching as he watched the superheavyweight new hire swell with size. “Speaking of which,” said Marcus, continuing to flex, “I’m going to need a pretty big office…” “You can have this one,” said Tom. “That’s mighty big of ya, Mr B. You know, you look pretty jacked up yourself. I used to be as little as you, but then I graduated high school.” Marcus moved toward Tom, until his huge chest was only an inch away from, and level with, Tom’s face. “Suck my nipples, Bossman.” Tom didn’t need to be told twice. He went to work on the big nip jutting out of the huge pec. He put his hands on the bigger man’s pumpkin-sized delts, feeling the thin sheen of sweat coating the rock hard muscle. He sucked and sucked on one nipple till it was engorged. Then he moved to the other side. “Ah, yeah, you got a hot mouth, Bossman. I knew it the minute I walked in here. We’re going to make a great team.” Marcus pulled his new boss mouth off his teat, and went and picked up the chair he’d been sitting in earlier. He wedged the top of the chair underneath the doorknob of the office door. “But first, we’re going to break in my new office,” he said, stepping out of his poser and snapping it at Tom like a rubber band. It hit him in the face, and Tom held it there, breathing in the musk. He reached over and hit his intercom button. “Anna,” he said, “hold all my calls for….” He looked at Marcus. “The next two hours,” said the naked bulked superheavyweight.
  9. Club Rush Everything was normal and fine in the small town of Apperdale. A young boy named Christian Kloss was your average male, 5'10, pretty fit, kinda nerdy. He walked around his school during their annual club rush. He joined a few clubs already. Being in the closet was so scary for him. He was tempted to join the school's LBGTQ+ club, but was scared to because of all of the homophobic kids around his school. He then saw a club in the corner not even anyone in line or attending the booth. He walked up to it and saw that it was a gym club. No one had signed the paper to join yet , so Christian wrote his name and number down. He joined because he was tired of being called string bean. This was his chance become a better version of himself. He continued to walk. He bumps into some of the football players and almost gets knocked over. "Watch where you're walking string bean." "Yeah or we'll beat you to a pulp and you know we can" 'Ugh Chad and Brandon. They think they rule this school just because they are on the football team." Christian thought to himself *The final bell rang to go home* Christian walks home and the football players and their girlfriends pull up next to him on the road. "HEY STRING BEAN BITCH." One of them yelled out "HEY ARE YOU DEAF?!" The other called "Chad just leave him alone." One of the girls said sympathetically "WHY SHOULD I?" Chad yelled. "He hasn't done anything wrong to you, and you've bullied him since the 6th grade." Elizabeth stated "GET OUT OF THE CAR ELIZABETH, BEFORE I BEAT UP BOTH OF YOU." Chad said in a very monotone and annoyed voice Elizabeth got out of the car and stood next to Christian. She gave the entire car the finger before Christian and her started walking down the street. "I'm Elizabeth by the way." She said happily "Christian." He kept looking forward "Can I offer to walk you home Elizabeth." He said compassionately "Sure, but can I ask a question first?" "Go ahead." "Do you like me or something, Christian." "Oh no umm...How do I say this. I am not into girls." He stuttered but got it out *20 minutes later they end up at Elizabeth's house and by then they have swapped numbers* Christian was walking home when he felt a weird burning sensation in his chest. He got home and walked to his room to start on his homework. The burning sensation got hotter and hotter. It spread and spread. "AHHH. My skin burns it hurts." Christian's skin was feeling like lava after 5 minutes of pain. His back and shoulders started expanding. He grew upwards he grew so tall he reached almost eight feet. Then it moved to his pecs pushing them out further and further. His arms growing to proportions never seen before. His quads swelling so large he was to readjust his stance. His stomach growing deep groves and a set of abs looking like they have been sculpted by the finest marble in all of ancient Greece. His ass growing to big globular spheres that would compete with any Instagram model. His bulge snaking down his shorts and slowly poking out. He became a moaning mess and started to slowly jerk his growing erection. *Days Later* "Unghh." Christian just kept growing and growing. He worked out non stop and fucked so many guys and made so many of his past bullies pay. His muscles have grown beyond what they used to be three days ago. He was 10 feet tall and 469 pounds of pure muscle.
  10. “You’ll be training with Pops. He’s one of our best. We call him that because he’s probably the oldest guy working here, but mainly we do it because he’s the biggest,” said my new boss as he took me through the massive workshop. I liked the sound of that – the biggest. Of course, he could have been talking about the guy’s waist size – which wouldn’t have bothered me – but something in the way my boss spoke reverently and respectfully told me Pops must be really tall. Man, how I loved giant guys. We walked around one of the rows of many machines and I quickly noticed my mistake. I was instantly reminded of the sides of beef that hung from hooks in my uncle’s butcher shop back in my hometown. It sometimes took two guys to carry just one of those big things. Pops had sides of beef hanging down from his neck – highlighted beautifully by the fact that he sported a sleeveless green shirt. I could have been standing at the other end of the huge expansive workspace and could have easily picked out the guy. He was definitely the biggest man around. His muscles had a light sheen to them as he worked the big machine and I immediately thanked the gods for making this a warm day. When my boss called out his nickname and the guy turned to me I almost melted into a puddle of helpless mush. The man’s butch, half-smile lit up the room the same way a spotlight can illuminate an actor on stage. His raised eyebrow immediately told me he figured out I was his new trainee. I could feel him sizing me up in the seconds it took for us to reach him. He showed no sign of approval or disdain – a slight upturn of one side of his mouth was all I got. My new boss introduced me and when Pops took my hand it felt like I had slammed my fingers in a truck door. I forced myself to not scream in pain and tried unsuccessfully to squeeze back equally as hard. He clearly felt nothing. Again, I detected Pops making decisions about me based solely on my handshake. “Well, I’ll leave you in the capable hands of Pops. Come by my office at the end of the day.” “Thank you, sir,” I said, nodding, and Pops laughed at my choice of words – I immediately got the feeling that Pops was the only one in this place that usually received such respect. “Know anything about these machines, kid?” Pops asked and I was immediately offended by his choice of words – but also slightly turned on because of the way he said it and the fact that he sounded like a southern, muscled, super-masculine Barry White. “A little,” I replied – telling my first lie, since I instantly wanted Pops to spend a lot of time with me – so I didn’t tell him I probably had run similar machines all of my working life. Sex dripped off of this guy in amounts that equaled dew drops on every leaf of a giant willow tree in the wee hours of the morning. He rolled his eyes telling me he was bummed he’d have to spend a lot of time getting me up to speed. I figured I’d act like I was catching on fast, so he’d think I was a really smart student. He reached up to scratch his left pec and I’m pretty sure he caught me glancing down at the big rock-hard thing while he did it. There was a flicker of a smile and then he immediately started telling me about the machine in front of us. It was one I knew well, but I acted like I was listening intently and when he stopped and asked me to go through and reenact what he had just shown me, I did it without missing a beat and even showed off by doing the shortcuts he had barely mentioned. I could tell he was impressed. I also detected – in his eyes - a little spark of something beginning in the back of his brain. Maybe I was acting too smart – I decided to back off a little. This time, I was sure he caught me looking at his beefy arms. The rest of the morning was taken up with four different machines – all ones I was familiar with. “Time for grub,” Pops said and I was surprised to look at my watch and see the morning had flown by. The big man then just walked off – and I could tell he expected me to follow him. I just instinctively knew he assumed I was like his shadow today. I hurried to catch up with him. He grabbed one of those large black lunch pails, which look like a mailbox, from a huge fridge in the large break room. I grabbed my tuna fish sandwich in a brown bag, bought a soda and turned to see where he had chosen to sit. He seemed to know everybody – smiling, saying hello, and slapping guys on the back – but he had chosen a table over in the corner all by himself. He pushed out a chair beside him as I walked up. The silence that followed was kind of nerve-wracking. I could tell he was watching me closely as he unloaded large quantities of food from his packed box. The big man clearly had a big appetite. “Why do I feel like I’m being hustled,” he said, finally, staring at me. “I’m sorry?” I replied. “You know these machines. That’s quite obvious,” he answered – still staring at me. “I . . . um . . . wanted to impress you.” “Well, tick that one off your list, kid. You did. But don’t ever lie to me, again. Understand.” “Yes sir.” And instantly, I could see he was finished with the slight reprimand. Suddenly, his demeanor changed and I could tell he had forgiven me. His beefy body didn’t seem as knotted up as before and he even smiled at me. I felt like a puppy that had just been given a treat after getting in trouble by its master. I seriously sensed my body celebrating the fact that I had somehow pleased this big man. “You into brewskies, kid?” “Yes sir, I drink beer.” “A few of the guys meet up at a place called ‘Joe’s’ after work – to hammer back a few, shoot the breeze, and not think about machines for a few hours. It’s always open invitation and a good way to get on the guys’ good side. Trust me, you want these fellas to have your back – both in here and outside the workplace. Buying one round will get you a place at the adult table, kid.” “That sounds cool,” I said, trying desperately to come across as manly, in-the-know, hip, and part of the team all at the same time. “Yeah,” he said, smiling at my words, “it’s cool, kid. Cool. You youngsters.” I had no idea if he was making fun of me or complimenting me. I had a feeling you were never quite sure of anything around Pops. He didn’t reveal much – either in his speech or his actions. I could tell he was a private person and he watched everything happening around him as if he worked for the CIA and needed to recall details at the drop of a hat. That afternoon went smoothly, except for the bandana incident. It had gotten a lot warmer in the big shop and both of us were sweating over this particularly difficult job. Pops kept wiping his face, neck, and huge arms with this blue bandana he carried in his back pocket. I just wiped the sweat off with the back of my shirt sleeve. At one point, late in the day, Pops said he was going to hit the john and he dropped his bandana on the keyboard console of the machine doing the job we had punched in. I swear it looked like he left the bandana on purpose, looking at me to make sure I noticed what he was doing before he left. I figured I was just wishing, but as soon as he walked away I became obsessed with the thing and kept stealing glances around to see if anyone was nearby. The piece of material was soaked with his sweat and I longed to smell and taste it. I felt like I was addicted to chocolate and someone had left an opened Snickers package in front of me. God, how I wanted to pick up that bandana. Finally, after making sure the machine was still doing its job, and glancing around one more time, I picked up the bandana and first put it to my upper lip, so I could inhale the aroma of big Pops. It was just as I expected – a heavy masculine musk that made me think of a dense forest of tall trees, huge lumberjacks, and man-on-man action that ended with eruptions coupled with uncontrollable screams of passion. When my tongue darted out and got its first ever taste of Pops’ all-natural, thick, salty, he-man juice, you could have pushed me over with a feather. I’d never, in my entire life, tasted something that seemed so full of testosterone – so completely male. My crotch responded with a Pops-induced salute that was so hard I feared I’d pass out from the pressure. That’s when the corner of my eye noticed something massive and green in the distance. I quickly wiped my now totally crimson face with the bandana to cover up my lustful action, but it was quite clear by the look in Pops’ eyes when he arrived he had seen me trying to soak up all his manliness. I held out the bandana to him with a forced look of thanks. “Keep it, kid. I’ve got others. Consider it a ‘welcome to your new job’ present.” “Um . . . thanks,” I said, turning a darker shade of red and quickly stuffing the think into my back pocket and then turning to look at the work of the machine in front of us – feeling the man continue to stare at me, smiling. A few hours later I was sitting drinking a cold one at this hole-in-the-wall bar called ‘Joe’s.’ I instantly liked the place because it was full of more manly men than a gay sauna on a holiday weekend. I quickly did the statistical math and figured out I was probably the only gay man at the place – not that I came across as anything other than one of the men from the big shop down the road. It was quite clear to the other patrons that I was the new kid on the block – having ordered the second round of beers for the seven guys from our team gathered that afternoon and instantly being asked to join in games of darts, pool, and arm wrestling matches as the number of empty beer bottles increased a lot. I’m a decent-sized guy, so I held my own when it came to the arm-wrestling, impressing my co-workers in a way that made it clear I had been accepted. I noticed Pops only participated in darts and pool. I thought this odd, so my slightly buzzed mouth spoke without thinking. “Why doesn’t Pops arm wrestle?” I said a little too loudly and this made the big man look at me, a grin creeping across his face. “Just look at his fucking arms and you’ll figure that out, kid,” said a more-than-slightly inebriated co-worker standing in our small circle. “He beats all our asses all the time. We’ve given up trying. He even takes two of us on at the same time and still wins. The monster curls the back of his jeep when we beg him to show off, so there’s no way any of us will ever be able to beat those big guns.” I caught Pops watching my face, closely. My eyes uncontrollably got wider when I heard about him lifting the back of his jeep. My crotch also twitched uncontrollably, but I was behind a bar chair, so it was hidden. He was watching my reaction and patiently waiting for me to make some kind of move after the information sank in. I got the feeling that my next step would clinch some kind of deal with the man one way or the other. I let the numerous beers I’d inhaled guide me. I smiled at the group standing around. “I’ll take a shot at beating him,” I said with the kind of bravado usually saved for a superhero in comic books. You would have thought I was a mere mortal challenging the power of Zeus by the loud response of the guys around us. An approving smile crept across the face of the big man and it was followed by the kind of pec roll usually saved for gay muscle worship videos I constantly watched online. There was suddenly so much cockiness in Pops’ gaze I was thrust back to the feeling when I tasted him in the damp bandana. In a move that required the help of a guy standing next to him, the elder muscleman pulled his shirt off of his big body. My mouth dropped open without shame as I beheld his mammoth, lightly fur-covered, thickly-nippled chest for the first time. Two guys had been forcibly removed from their chairs and a table had been cleared by the crowd as soon as the shirt had been removed. I registered comments like ‘don’t break the kid’s arm’ and ‘fifty bucks he doesn’t last ten seconds’ being thrown out around me, but I only watched as the bare chested gorgeous mountain swung his leg over the back of a chair to sit down and then placed his right elbow on the table. He tightened his fist making the already big arm balloon to the kind of size that filled my orgasm-inducing fantasies. I knew there was no way I was going to win this battle – but I wasn’t arm-wrestling him for a victory and, somehow, I realized he fully knew this. My substantial sized manly arm was going to look like a twig next to his, but that didn’t matter. I was proving something – and I didn’t even know what it was – by taking on the elder god. “I’m not one to show mercy, kid,” Pops said as I sat down. “I’m not one to give up easily, old man” I said, trying to equal his confidence, which made the sparkle in his eye flash even more. I then did something unplanned and so out of character for me I would probably analyze the decision for the rest of my life and still not understand it. I took the big man’s bandana out of my back pocket, brought it up to my face, pressed it against my mouth and nose, and then inhaled deeply. The move clearly caught my huge opponent off guard, his fist unclenched, his biceps deflated a little, and the cocky smile disappeared. I saw a glimpse of vulnerability and shock. Pops wasn’t used to someone being this bold – this open. I pushed the envelope even further. “Just getting an extra shot of strength, sir. I got this from a big strong mountain of a man who radiates cockiness without even trying.” It was like when boxers are being photographed before a battle and they try to psyche out their opponent with a stare down, a surprise kiss, or even a creepy smile. My words and actions made Pops briefly lose his foundation – shook his core a little, just as I had hoped. That was also when I grabbed his big beefy hand and the guy leading the match, steadied our arms, and counted off for us to begin. It took a while for Pops to gain control of himself, as I knew it would - as had been my intention when I took out the bandana. On the word go I pushed my arm with all of my might – getting a head start on the still-startled Pops. I was no match for the big arm before me, but I took advantage of him being distracted. Instantly, his arm was pushed back and looked like it might hit the table. This caused the crowd around us to erupt in shocked cheers. The unimagined was about to happen. I felt powerful and hot as hell. The cheering from the crowd spurred me on, but it also brought Pops out of his temporary fog. The back of his hand stopped so close to the wooden top you wouldn’t have been able to fit a magazine between the two. For the first time ever, in my entire life, I got a glimpse of what real power felt like. My arm – decently sized for a man of my age and stature was halted in a way that could make wild beasts cower in fear. The green, golden-flecked eyes of Pops had instantly gained all of their confidence back and more. He had stopped my journey to a surprise victory with a fraction of his total strength and that fact instantly registered to my unmoving arm. His fingers gripped so hard that I had a feeling some of my bones would be rearranged. Pops surprised me – and everyone else – with an uncharacteristic deep growl as he started to methodically and devilishly raise his hand and mine slowly with what I could tell was little effort. “I specialize in putting young bucks in their place,” Pops said, whispering in a way that made it quite clear I was giving his hand no resistance. “That’s been obvious all day, Pops. I just needed to gain some respect by challenging you and shocking people with an almost victory.” Pops definitely didn’t like the idea that I even thought for a second I could have potentially defeated him. He was not a man who took to being challenged and, as a matter of fact, I guessed it almost never happened. Some kind of primal, I’m the stronger animal instinct suddenly overwhelmed the man and he quickly brought our hands through the arc to slam the back of mine into the table. A little bit of pain shot through my arm, but it was clear the big man’s fingers had taken – and not even registered – most of the blow. It was quite obvious that Pops needed a decisive and powerful victory. He had not liked the fact that his hand had dropped so low to the table. He held my wrist down – like a wrestler waiting for the count. He was the winner, but I had scored some points with the crowd . . . and, hopefully, with the big man, as well. There was a tight squeeze of my fingers before Pops released my hand. “You owe me a beer,” he said, swinging his leg over the back of his chair as he stood up, like he was dismounting a horse. I watched as he turned and was engulfed by a crowd that slapped him on the back and congratulated him. The last thing I saw before he was completely blocked from view was a tightly flexed bulging triceps and I could tell it was a gift offered specifically to me. I was also congratulated by onlookers and swept to my feet by a crowd that took me to the bar. Two, three, or maybe four more rounds were bought for me in the next hour or so. I couldn’t remember the exact number, since I was still high-as-a-kite from the euphoria of arm-wrestling Pops and feeling that brief squeeze of my hand at the end. I glanced around and couldn’t see the big man anywhere, feeling disappointed that he had left without saying goodbye or allowing me to give him the obligatory victor’s beer. I turned back toward the bar, a little sad. Suddenly, the now memorized massive gun of the older man was beside me as he rested his forearm on the wood in front of us. He was close enough for me to feel the heat of his body, but not close enough to be touching. “I’ll take that mug now, kid. The table in the corner at the back,” came his deep, sexy voice and then he was gone. He smiled at me when I walked up with two mugs and a pitcher. I intended on making this moment last as long as I could. I was pretty sure he understood that and maybe even wanted the same thing. I had luckily started my new job on a Friday, so there was nowhere I needed to be any time soon and I hoped the same was true for the big man. He took the pitcher from my hands and wrapped his hand around the thing – where I had been using the handle – and poured two mugs, making it clear that I did the buying, but he was in charge. He watched me, silently, as I took a sip from the frosted glass. To my disappointment, he had put his shirt back on. It still showed off his big arms, however. I just missed the massive salt-and-peppered furry chest. “You don’t play fair,” he said, taking a sip of his own beer and never letting his gaze drop from mine. “Look at those enormous arms of yours and then look at mine and tell me who doesn’t play fair,” I boldly said, not even blinking. “You challenged me, remember.” “And damn nearly beat you.” “Is that what you think?” he asked, smiling. “It’s what I’m going to tell myself.” “You probably still think the tooth fairy, Santa Claus, and the Easter rabbit are real, too, don’t you? Because those are more likely than someone beating me.” I knew the truth in his statement. I had felt it when the motion of my hand had been stopped so abruptly and easily. It suddenly dawned on me that he had probably allowed me to get his hand so far down on purpose – to orchestrate me being cheered on and befriended by co-workers and other patrons. Suddenly, there seemed to be less air in my self-congratulatory balloon. He picked up on the change within me and understood my disappointment and my gratitude at the same time. He needed to offer some kind of runner’s up prize. “The bandana really did catch me by surprise . . . both times,” he said and I swallowed hard. “The first time was a . . . um . . . pleasant and unexpected surprise.” We stared at each other – neither of us even breathing – for a good half a minute. He had caught me earlier than afternoon sniffing and licking his bandana. I was definitely excited beyond belief, but I was also very cautious. I knew nothing about this man, really, and my expert ‘gaydar’ didn’t even register a speck of closeted homosexuality in him. There might not be any hidden agenda in anything he was saying – even though I desperately wanted there to be. I got the feeling Pops was just a really nice guy and I’m sure he’d met tons of fellas over the years that found him stunning. He was simply trying to welcome the new kid – the guy who desperately wanted to make a first good impression. I relaxed into the moment even more and took another deep sip of my beer. He picked up the pitcher – again by just wrapping his hand around it in a macho sort of way – and topped off my drink. “I’ve never slept with a man.” “Excuse me?” I said, choking on my beer. “I’ve never been in bed with a man.” I didn’t comprehend what he was saying, at first, and then I worried that I had just imagined it – wished it was something he would say. I looked up and saw that there was a world of emotion in his beautiful manly eyes. There was fear – as if he was worried he had misread me, somehow. Had he misinterpreted my long stares and bandana tasting? There was doubt – as if he was questioning a lot of his own feelings and thoughts. And there was something akin to hope – as if he anticipated the next few minutes to change his life forever. My mind finally accepted, as fact, the words he had said and I was glad that sometimes our mouths work faster than our brains. I responded without even processing what I was going to say. “Have you ever wanted to sleep with a man?” I asked, staring into his beautiful green eyes. “Not until today . . . not until you,” he quickly replied.
  11. Chapter One "Those blessed Musketeers!" The roar that came from the office of Cardinal Richelieu had been heard on a number of occasions in the past, but over the last few years they had become more and more frequent and each time the phrase was uttered, dread followed in its wake for every guardsmen knew that the next person to enter was going to get bawled at as if they had personally caused the destruction of the Holy Roman Empire themselves, so when Milady de Winter opened the door to the Cardinal's quarters after his latest outburst, people began to wonder whether this was the day when her true identity would be revealed "My loyalty is always to you, Your Eminence" she purred as he curtseyed in front of the Cardinal's desk and didn't look up until a quiet "I am glad that it is you, Milady, I feel I can be more honest about my predicament when you are here!" As the Countess de Winter, formerly wife to the Comte de Winter, known to the Musketeers as Athos, stood up, she could see what had caused the latest outburst. On the Cardinal's desk were dozens of reports all of them summarised in a single sentence "The King's Musketeers prevented this plan from happening" "Your Eminence" said Milady in her trademark soft voice, "was it the Titan and his apprentice again?" As the Cardinal turned around he growled "Those two men are unstoppable, it was bad enough when the Titan was on his own, but ever since that apprentice arrived, they are like...Heracles and Samson" "Your Eminence, may I ask for advice from the Holy Scriptures?" "Advice?" "If one, or both of those men were to...vanish...and the means that caused that to happen was deemed...supernatural....would the Church be willing to forgive the person who had committed the act?" "There would have to be penance paid, but yes, I believe they would!" "Consider your problems solved!" And with that Milady, curtseyed once again and as she left chuckled to herself. The Titan and his apprentice had beaten her once before and left her to be killed by the axeman, but she had used her wiles to escape and now her revenge would be all the sweeter.
  12. The thought of a seventy-year old massive muscle monster kept me up most nights. It also kept my cock so hard that I couldn’t roll over or it would have acted like a kickstand and stopped the motion of my body instantly – causing a lot of pain. I wanted a senior bulging daddy to take care of me. I wanted a huge master to keep me in line when I got out of place and the same elder beast to reward me when I did something nice. It was completely crazy, but I craved the disciplining just as much as I longed for the rewarding. I knew I needed the constant positive reinforcement that only a strong, silver-haired, weathered-faced, golden-ager could give. I was a twenty-six-year-old gay man that wanted one thing in life – a humongous senior citizen mentor who would treat me as his boy, his pup, his plaything - all rolled up into one. I became so obsessed with this desire that I became one of the world’s leading chemists, even at my young age – having graduated high school and college within five years and getting my doctorate so quickly that professors at world-renowned universities came to me to learn. I, however, had one goal and one goal only with my newfound knowledge – a gray haired super daddy. I said yes to a very lucrative job with a major pharmaceutical company in southern California under the guise that I was helping them create resources for dermatologists to assist people to stay young and healthy looking. The work they paid me handsomely for was actually child’s play since I already had lots of ideas that would help to accomplish their goals – but it was the work that I got to do in my private lab that fueled me on daily. I was working on what powered my every waking and sleeping moment – my thirst for an enormous senior daddy. As part of my research I frequented gay bars and gyms that catered to older men. I knew that part of my dream coming true depended on finding the perfect man. I wasn’t interested in continuing my work after I attained my goal. I wasn’t interested in creating an army of big older men; I just wanted one muscled daddy that would rock my world. I think half the fun of my research was ‘interviewing’ potential candidates, since it gave me a smorgasbord of hot elder men to dream about at night. Many guys didn’t cut the mustard because of their attitude. There were a lot of elder men out there that only wanted a younger man so they’d have a companion. That was all fine and good, and I respected those people, but I wanted more from my elder muscled god. Don’t get me wrong, I certainly wanted to please and service him, but I also wanted him to demand a lot from me. I wanted a teacher, a coach, a guide, a trainer – in short, I wanted a muscled gramps. It took me only a year and a half to land on the perfect formula for accomplishing my goal. It took me longer, however, to find the right man for the job. I knew the stuff I had created would only change a man physically and that meant the interior self of my daddy needed to be there already. Sure, the added size and strength would definitely impact the guy’s attitude, but I knew there had to be certain characteristics in place prior to the change. A certain desire needed to already course through the veins of my elder god. My search was getting a little frustrating and almost discouraging until I met Mr. Dennis – Mr. Randy Dennis. I met Mr. Dennis on his seventy-first birthday. He was celebrating with some friends at Wrinkles, a neighborhood bar that catered specifically to older men. In the beginning, I had been mistaken for a hustler in the bar, but since I had gone there so often by this point I was now considered a regular. Mr. Dennis was there for the first time; a small entourage of friends had forced him to go out for his special day. I started to ignore the group and the birthday boy after taking a long gander at them and deciding they were all too young to become my desired daddy. Mr. Dennis, himself, looked to be in his late fifties or early sixties – a great age, in and of itself, but not old enough for me. It was only after I heard one of his friends threatening to offer him the obligatory seventy-one spankings that I sat up and took notice. The birthday boy definitely had a lot going for him. He clearly had a well-made body that seemed to still be in pretty good shape; something that definitely caused him to look younger. I used the huge mirror on one of the walls of the bar to get a good look at his smiling face and that’s when my cock started to pulse as strong as my heartbeat. All of my life an elder man’s face had been one of my biggest turn-ons. Mr. Dennis had that endured look I loved so much – crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes, masculine wrinkled brow, sexy receding hairline, indented jowls that still looked firm, and the beginnings of age spots that only complimented his look. It was the perfect graying of his hair that really got me going, though. He had dark hair everywhere, except along the temples and running around the entire edge of his closely cropped cut. It was always the look that actually sent my cock into spewing mode when I was imagining older men while beating off. When the man smiled he had great un-perfectly-whitened teeth. There was nothing fake about the guy and it was clear he was proud to be the age he was – even though he really looked a lot younger than seventy-one. My toes literally curled up in my shoes when I heard him speak. It wasn’t this deep voice that I had always dreamed of, but it was powerful and almost bossy – much more to my liking than what I had fantasized about in the past. The guy was giving his friends grief over making him do a shot and it sounded like a teacher scolding the entire class. I was in heaven – the man was definitely confident and already sounded a little coach-like. I stared more closely at the guy as I focused on the group’s conversation more. He was in pretty good shape, it seemed – still sporting a tapered look that was usually reserved to guys a third of his age. The guy’s chest actually bumped his shirt out a little – pecs pushing against the material even though I could tell they weren’t as hard as they used to be. He probably had that slightly droopy beef look that older men got as their muscles aged. His arms definitely filled out the sleeves of his shirt, but I could tell the triceps weren’t as firm as they once were. After he and his pals downed the shots that had been placed in front of them, the elder man actually wiped his mouth with the back of his hand – in that rough way, which was usually reserved for cowboys, construction workers, or bare-knuckle fighters getting rid of blood. I felt myself swallow hard as I watched him make the masculine move. It was the next moment that confirmed this was the elder man I had been looking for all these months. The guy took his full beer, downed it in one long gulp, and then let out the loudest burp I had ever heard. It actually made the entire bar go silent and every head turned in his direction. The act in and of itself was kind of repulsive, but when the spotlight was put upon Mr. Dennis in this awkward way, he simply raised his hands in a ‘what’s a guy to do’ sort of way and then spoke to everyone loudly. “Sorry, gentlemen, but I think within me there’s an aggressive Neanderthal beast just dying to escape. I feel like an ape that wants to pound wildly on his chest. I apologize for my behavior.” That clinched the deal for me. It was those words that grabbed my heart in the kind of vice-grip that happens very few times in one’s life. I felt the rush of euphoria that Dr. Frankenstein must have felt when his monster came alive. I tried to envision Mr. Dennis with about a hundred pounds of more densely packed bulging muscles. I imagined him with the kind of body that couldn’t be contained in mere shirts of other mortals. He’d need sleeveless tops – allowing for his massive biceps and triceps ballooning out in ways that would give him that ‘move out of my way’ look of giant musclemen. For some reason, I also envisioned him in cut-off blue jean shorts usually reserved for southern women or skinny junior high boys. His, however, would be stretched-to-the-max above bulging thighs and loose around the skinny waist. My mind then went to the stubbly fur that would constantly cover the lower part of his face – being unable to shave enough times during the day to remove what his testosterone-laden body would churn out daily. Randy Dennis would definitely be one of those handsome elder grizzlies that was perfectly comfortable totally nude or covered in a tight tuxedo – realizing that even covered up his body still looked hot-as-hell. While I was imagining all of this, the man, himself, had walked up to the bar beside where I sat to order another beer. We caught eyes and he did that manly up-tick of his chin and smiled to say hello. The opportunity of the moment emboldened me. “Happy birthday. Might I give the birthday boy a kiss?” “Sweetheart, I could be your great grandfather!” “Ah, trying to turn me on, are you?” I quickly responded, catching him off guard. “Would this so-called mouth to mouth moment involve any tongue, young man?” “Only if you instigated it, sir.” Maybe it was the shot and the beers, maybe it was because it was his birthday, or maybe it was just because I am, what a lot of people would consider, most handsome – but the older guy leaned toward me and placed his perfect lips against mine. On some level, I registered the whoops and hollering that came from his comrades, but I kept my focus on the beautiful, manly, worn face as it moved in to mine. I was surprised to see that he kept his eyes open, as well. It was the kind of kiss that would have had sparks shooting out everywhere or lightning bolts flashing if this had been a cartoon. I instantly knew the connection was not one-sided, either. The widening of his eyes told me he felt the electrical-like jolt, too. He pulled back quickly. “Fuck, what was that?” Mr. Dennis asked with an astonished face. “Fate,” I replied. “Who knew fate could feel so good.” “May I buy your beer, birthday boy?” “With lips like those, dinner would be better, handsome?” His comment caught me off guard. I started to speak, but my mouth just dropped open wide and I stared at him. Damn, his face was gorgeous – even in the midst of being dumbfounded by him I could admire his looks. Jade colored eyes with flecks of gold in them were emphasized by the light green perfectly crisp linen shirt which complimented his still wiry elder body. His clothes were expensive – I could tell – and that excited me in a way I had not anticipated. Maybe I was turned on by the fact that my future super-powered gramps was secure and established. I forced myself to return to the present moment and tried my best to react to his roundabout invitation to dinner. “How ‘bout it, stud? Care to take an old man to dinner for his birthday?” “I would . . . I would . . . like it more than . . . than…” “Spit it out, son.” “More than anything, sir.” “Fuck, no need to be formal, son. Quit with the ‘sir’ stuff. It makes me feel old. Call me Randy.” “I’m Thomas. It’s great to meet you, Randy.” “Likewise. I have expensive taste, Thomas. Sure you want to take me to dinner?” “Only if drinks at my place can follow,” I replied, having regained some of my bravado from earlier. “Damn, you’re a slick one, Thomas. You don’t need glasses do you, pal. You do know that I’m seventy-one, today, and you’re – let me guess – twenty-four?” “Almost twenty-seven.” “Damn, a cute spring chicken. No telling what the boys, over there, are going to call me behind my back when I leave with you. Let me go tell them goodbye and you take out that phone of yours and make reservations at some very nice expensive French restaurant. This is already turning into a birthday I will never forget. He had no idea how right he was. I was going to make sure it was a night we’d both always remember.
  13. Well... here you go. A new story... first part of... maybe three of four. Not really sure. Hope you enjoy it!! Oh... Ive seen so many incredible illustrators out there... if anyone is every interested in illustrating one of my stories... I would love it!!! -Q ThInk It: A Writer's Tool (Based on a True Story) Chapter One: The First Chapter Quinn O’Rourke had never been much of a writer until he began penning erotic muscle growth stories to help further feed his obsession. Finding both mental and physical release through his writing, he lived for sharing his monomania for serious muscle growth and transformation of both mind and body to all of the unknown readers on a website. It made him grateful when he read constructive criticism, and over the moon when people wrote or DM’d him on how much they enjoyed his stories, got off on them, and just like himself, wanted more. His own mania with all things muscle and growth had begun when he was 12 and read a Dungeons and Dragons Choose Your Own Adventure-type book. In it, the hero was a young ninja trying to save his land from a dark magician. As he read, Quinn had become spell-bound when the hero, finding a liquid in a bottle, drank it, and began to grow into a massive and muscular giant. Unfortunately for Quinn, that adventure had ended there as the hero grew and took down the castle, burying him beneath him. Quinn lay there after reading that page… and could feel his blood boiling. He didn’t know why… and he didn’t have the language to comprehend how reading this had turned him on… and how it would mark his future. He did disagree with the ending, and imagined one where the hero rose through the rubble like a God, growing as massive as a mountain, and becoming more and more muscular. When Quinn eventually hit puberty… late… at 16… he hit it with a bang. Up he shot to 6’6, his shoulders became naturally broad, and his body had the musculature of an active teenager. His mother, being somewhat over protective, never let him play after-school sports, but he did excel in gym class, and did go for a swim and run every morning before school. In his bedroom, he jerked off to daydreams of men with muscle beyond imagining, massive penises, and growing to enormous size… his mind always going back to that first story. In college, Quinn worked out for the first time… and took to it like the metaphorical fish to water. Watching his body change, sculpt, and grow became an obsession… one could say… an addiction. By senior year he had really bulked up, adding over 46 lbs of pure muscle, and discovered that his own body turned him on more than anything else… well that was not entirely true… As he stood in front of the mirror, flexing various muscle groups, admiring his own symmetry and size, running his hands over his meaty pecs, and loving how thick his quads were…. he would also fantasise about getting even bigger… more masculine… more muscular, taller… thicker… a beast of a man. Grabbing onto his 7” cock, he would stroke it slowly as he took in his body… imagining growth shooting through him making him bigger and more mighty… more mountain then man. Faster and faster he would stroke, not wanting it to end but needing to feel that orgasmic rush flood through him. Minutes later, sweat dripping from his head and his pits, beads flowing down through the valley between his pecs and over his cobblestoned abs, he would shoot a massive load all over the mirror. Exhausted and panting... he would lean his head against the mirror, frustrated that he would never reach his full potential. Time passed… Quinn graduated… got an internship with a bank… did well… they kept him on… and he began to climb the corporate ladder. He still worked out and took care of his body… but time never allowed him to do it with the same intensity… he was just maintaining. He dated guys… loved how it felt when they worshipped his body and screamed out when he fucked them, but he never could reach the high he was always searching for. Usually when the left or slept, he would go into his bathroom, stand in front of his mirror, flex, lick, and worship himself, imagining his shoulders growing broader, his pecs thicker and larger, his biceps ballooning to sizes larger than his head, and his quads bursting into redwood proportions. Ejaculating to this often satisfied him more than a mouth, ass, or hand could. He once met with a guy who simply wanted to worship his body and muscle, and ‘bask in his masculinity.’ Quinn thought that this might be exactly what he was looking for… but unfortunately it just did very little for him. Perhaps it was that he wasn’t physically attracted to the guy. He did do his best when it came to massaging, licking, cleaning, and all over worshiping Quinn, and even though he was an expert ass-eater and cock sucker… when it was over… it didn’t give Quinn the same high his own overactive imagination could give. Quinn was now 32… he had a high powered job, an office with a kick ass view, a body most 25 year olds would kill for, and a lot of money in the bank. When he was offered the transfer to London to oversee the international sector, with a raise and a bonus of £500,000, he packed his bags and moved. London was an incredible city… always on the move and always alive. There was something to do every second of the day, and when he wasn’t working or working out, he was going to clubs, the theatre, museums, and festivals in the park. It was at Hampstead Heath in July where Quinn’s future took a turn. The Heath, a popular gay cruising site, was a large park with three swimming areas: one for men, one for women, and one for families. With some friends, Quinn went one Bank Holiday to the pond, and there, while swimming, he met Russel. Lying in the sun, they talked, drank, and it was obvious that they both wanted the same thing. As Quinn fucked him at his flat, Russell screamed out words that rang through his head: ‘You’re huge… fuck your muscles... such power… you’re a beast… fuck me harder… use all the strength your body has… use me… show me how Alpha you are!!!’ Using Russell’s words for inspiration, he fucked the life out of him… and when it was finally over and Russell was leaving… he kissed Quinn and said: ‘Fuck!!! If I didn’t have work tomorrow I’d let you do me all night. Never met an Alpha like you! The only thing better would be two of you… or two of you rolled into one! Fuck yeah… muscles going on for days! Fuck… you’d be a mountain of a man! My ultimate fantasy come to life!!! Welcome to London, mate! They exchanged numbers with the knowledge they would never get in touch, and as Quinn lay in bed that night, his cock hard and leaking, he heard the words echo in his head: ‘Alpha… you’re huge… mountain of a man… such power… you’re a beast… use all the strength you have… your muscles… two rolled into one… muscles for days…my fantasy come to life.’ Yes, Quinn thought as he shot all over himself and the bed… that is my fantasy as well… ’ The next day, Quinn made a decision that changed his life. He worked hard but worked out even harder. As his muscles grew larger… he let the hair on his head and body grow out. No more shaving his chest for him… he was a beast... No one at work said anything… but everyone noticed the transformation occurring. You couldn’t miss it!! Within a year and a half he weighed 266 pounds of hard, swollen muscle. He had let his dirty blonde hair grow down to his shoulders, grew a beard, and had several tribal tattoos designed and inked to decorate his body. His exterior matched the Alpha he had always been inside… but as he venerated himself in front of the mirror… as he flexed and licked and touched and stroked… he wanted more… he needed more...he would have more. That was 8 months ago. With months of hard work, some hgh and test, Quinn weighed in at a stacked 293 pounds of ripped muscle. He still did extraordinarily well at work, and even if his boss didn’t like the new look… he couldn’t argue with a man who was bringing in millions each day. Quinn could care less, though. His heart just wasn’t in his job anymore. All he cared about was muscle… fucking… and being the biggest and best in the room. The true Alpha. Through a Google search, he found his way to a muscle growth story web site, and had spent days reading, and wanking. He loved most of what he read, and really respected a good handful of writers… especially the ones who could get him leaking and on the edge of cumming without ever touching himself. Now, those were outstanding stories… but he also felt that many didn’t go far enough. The desire for muscle was one thing… but the need… the obsession… the hunger and the yearning for supremacy wasn’t always there. That erotic mixture of bodily pain and pleasure… that was what Quinn needed. One night, when his fantasies and throbbing cock wouldn’t let him sleep, he decided to try his hand at writing a story of his own. The first couple were horribly cliche, and he wouldn’t dare show anybody. For a while he tried to write at night after work, but found that his imagination was completely fuelled right after working out. \in a new ritual, he would leave the gym swole and horny, his balls churning for relief, take a shower at work, get into a suit that barely fit him anymore, and sit down at his desk to write. Finally, after weeks of hard work, and afraid but willing to give it a shot… he decided to post the first chapter of one of the stories he had been working on… and people actually liked it!!! Soon his days were filled with working out and writing with some work thrown in. The good thing about being upper management of a bank is that everyone below you does the actual work for you. He was just there to manage a team, get the information needed to make the bank even more money, tie it together and deliver with a pretty bow. This gave him plenty of time to write. As he became more captivated by his own words… turned on by his own writing… he wouldn’t let himself cum until what he was working on was perfect! Everything was flawless until the bank put up a new firewall on all of the computers. No attachments could be sent to unauthorised outside computers. If he asked to have his home computer authorised, that would put up several red flags… what could he want to send to himself? If he brought a laptop to work… that would look odd, and if he used a Zip drive in the computer, that was logged automatically onto the system. The only thing he had left to write on was his phone, and his hands were just too large to comfortably hit the right keys on the touch screen. Opening the App Store, he searched for writing apps where he could use his voice to type. Several popped up, but one that caught his eye was called: ThInk It Writing Tool. Reading the app description, it had everything he could want: it was easy to set up, it would detect only one voice if he was outside or somewhere public, it could be programmed to only respond to his voice, it would sink to his cloud, and as an added bonus, it hosted a community of writers and readers if he was ever interested in putting his stories out there to a wider public. The one thing that solidified the deal was the logo: a muscular arm holding a globe with an illustrated brain in it. Waiting till he got home to try the App, he was grateful to see that his friend Jacob, from the States, wasn’t around. He’s probably either at rehearsal, out sightseeing...or whoring around, Quinn thought with a grin as he unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. Any one of those options was a possibility. Quinn and Jacob has been frat brothers in college, and used to play volleyball, and sometimes workout together. After graduation, Jacob followed his dream of staring in musicals on Broadway, and now he was actually doing it. He was in London for the next 8 months playing the role he had originated on Broadway in a West End musical. The production company had rented him a flat, but while it was being recarpeted and painted, Jacob was staying with Quinn. Their friendship was purely platonic, thought being the only two out gay guys in their frat house, they had fooled around together until they realised they were both tops, and just kept the friendship. Jacob fit the quintessential leading man stereotype. His was talented, his voice was amazing, he was an incredible dancer, he was tall, dark, and handsome with a tight hairless muscular body, square jaw, and a smile that could battle the brightness of Piccadilly Circus. The one thing he didn’t have going for him was that he had a small cock. Now, it wasn’t freakish small… it was about 4.5 when hard, and perhaps it was a little thin, but it worked perfectly fine. No one had ever told him that they had a problem with it… but for Jacob, with his height and looks, he was always subconscious. Quinn has never thought this was an issue to Jacob until the other night, when after a few drinks, he began to confess how inadequate he felt. Apparently he had gone home with this cute blonde twink, and found him to be packing a huge piece of meat. Jacob had felt so belittled that he couldn’t even perform and had to leave. He was the top!! The bottom couldn’t have a bigger cock than him!! Totally understanding how Jacob felt regarding his own body dissatisfaction, Quinn tried to talk to him, but Jacob blew him off with a laugh, exclaiming that he had to be joking: Quinn was a muscle master, he said, and he knew it! After that, Quinn never brought it up. Sitting in his favorite chair in the empty flat, a story began to pop into Quinn’s head. He couldn’t help Jacob, but he could write about it. He got out his phone and opened ThInk It! A blank white screen popped up. Character/Characters Name: We recommend using the name of people you know to create realistic characters. Using just his voice, Quinn said loudly: Jacob Effortlessly the name popped up on the screen. Yes, he thought. This is going to work out great. Wonderful. If you have additional characters, please return to this prompt. What is Jacob’s goal? To have a massive cock. Wonderful. How will Jacob achieve this? He buys an experimental drug from a sex shop in SoHo. Wonderful. What is Jacob’s location? My flat. Wonderful. Now dictate the first paragraph and we’ll bring your words to life. Jacob sat on the bus a few moments away from his stop. He was sweating and his heart was beating fast as he thought about what was in his backpack. If he got only half of what that guy had, he thought, he’d be a happy man. Pressing the button, Jacob waited for the bus to come to a stop, and got off. Quickly he walked down the street until he came to the door of the street entrance flat he was staying in for a week with his friend Quinn. Jacob unlocked the door hoping that no one was home, and as he ran from room to room, he was positive he was alone. Quinn must still be at work, he said to himself out loud… Quinn was startled as the door to his flat flew open and Jacob rushed into the living room. - Hey man!! How’s it… - Quinn?! You home? Quinn?? - I’m sitting right… Jacob walked right past him and began looking in each room, calling his name. Finally he returned to the living room. - Quinn must still be at work. As soon as he said those very words, Jacob stopped moving and stood frozen in place. - You okay, man? Quinn got up from his chair and walked toward his friend. Jacob appeared before him as if Quinn had paused him on TV. Even with all of his strength, Quinn couldn’t move him. - What the fuck?? A bell tone came from his phone. As he tried to move Jacob again, the bell tone occurred more often and proceeded to continuously get louder. Frustrated, Quinn grabbed it from where he had laid it down. Wonderful start! Jacob is waiting. What happens next? Quinn looked back at Jacob, looked at his phone, and spoke aloud: Secure that Quinn wasn’t home, Jacob grabbed his backpack, sat on the couch, and opened it. From within he pulled a black plastic bag. Quinn had just finished his last word when Jacob started moving again, doing exactly as Quinn had described. As soon as he pulled out the black bag, he froze again. The bell tone rang again and Quinn looked at the screen. Wonderful! Jacob is waiting. What happens next? When you feel that your authorship of Jacob’s story is complete… you will be faced with the options of saving, deleting, or editing.. How, Quinn thought, how can this be happening? He didn’t want to believe it, but it was true: Through the app, Quinn was controlling Jacob’s reality!! Lets see how far we can go with this! From the black bag, Jacob removed a long box. With serious intention, he opened the box, and sitting within with was a large syringe filled with an orange/brown fluid. Quinn laughed out loud as he watched his words come to life. Looking at the frozen Jacob, Quinns cock started to get hard as he thought about all of the possibilities. Soon his cock began to leak as his imagination went wild. Jacob pulled the large syringe out and looked at it, admiring the orange shine. With a steady hand, he placed it on the table. From the box, he removed a typed slip of paper and read aloud: In the chamber are 6 cc’s of compound 8GN. Although human trials have been conducted, we have discovered that the effectiveness varies per individual. As this compound is not diluted, feel free to dilute with saline solution 1:1 to soften results. As the adage says: a little goes a long way. Remember that all effects are permanent. To use, inject into quad. Results are nearly instantaneous. Jacob put the sheet on the couch next to him, stood up, removed his shoes, and pulled off his jeans and underwear at the same time. Taking a quick glance at his own quad, Jacob leaned over and grabbed the syringe. He had never been a fan of needles, but there was no stopping him now. On the count of three, he impaled his right quad with the syringe. Once the needle was all the way in, Jacob stood there questioning what to do next. With a shaking hand, his thumb pressed down on the syringe and watched as 1cc of liquid plunged moved into his muscle. Stopping for a moment, Jacob proceeded again, this time adding two more. Satisfied, he was going to pull it out, but he stopped himself. If this works… I know myself… I’m gonna use it all. That guy who sold it had a solid 12 incher, and that’s exactly what I want. I want some guys to turn me down cause it’s too big! I want a bulge that shows the world I have a serious piece of meat in my pants. I want to be known by everyone for my twelve inches!! I’ll be a fuckin legend!! Filled with new determination, he injected the rest of the compound, and swiftly removed the empty syringe. Returning the syringe to the box, Jacob sat back down on the couch and waited. One minute passed, then two, when suddenly Jacob felt a flush of heat go over him. A third minute passed, and Jacob began to giggle… he didn’t know why… he just couldn’t help himself. By the fifth minute, Jacob was leaning his head back on the sofa and breathing deeply. Rapidly, his cock went from flaccid to hard in less than three seconds. It’s working!!! I can feel it!! It’s fucking working!!! Jacob lifted his heavy head and looked down at his cock with a grin. It had never been this hard or this swollen ever in his life!! Every vein was plumped up as if he was wearing a cock ring, or had some sort of invisible vice around the base of his shaft. His head kept falling back as wave after wave of elation and rapture shot through him. With each heartbeat Jacob could feel his cock filling more and more with blood, but it seemed as if none of it was exiting back into the rest of his body.. Looking down again with a laugh, his cock looked purple and swollen, the head tighter than it ever had been before. His cock was pulsing to his heartbeat now as more blood was forced in. Jacob was beginning to feel serious pain in his cock, and through his euphoria, worried that perhaps he had made a big mistake. With each heartbeat, as more and more veins popped up and fed his shaft, he worried that the skin from his cock was just going to split open and rip his cock in two. Need to call 911 or watEVER… Jacob fell back onto the couch as he felt himself get kicked in the balls over and over again by an invisible foot. The pain was agonising as his body convulsed. Just when he was positive that he was nearing death, the convulsions tapered down until all he felt was a swelling and a dull burning ache in his testicles. Leaning his head on the back of the sofa, beads of sweat dripping down his face, he moved his shaking hands to his balls and could feel that both were much larger than before, and like his heartbeat, were pulsating. Every few minutes the pain would intensify, and Jacob watched as his balls swelled larger. Within four minutes his testicles had grown to two large eggs fighting for space in his sack. Quinn was certainly hard right now watching Jacob in a fit of pleasure and pain. How far was he going to take this? A rush of power went through Quinn as he suddenly realised he held Jacob’s future in his hand… everyone’s future. He simply had to speak it and it came true. An idea came to him that he wanted to try out. In his fog of testicular growth, Jacob was startled when Quinn came home from work. The chime on his phone went off again, stopping Quinn from proceeding. Wonderful! Are you adding an additional character? Yes Wonderful. What is their name? Quinn. Quinn’s name appeared on the screen. Wonderful. What does Quinn want? This remains to be seen. Wonderful! If you need any character goals, please simply say: Goals. Would you like to return to your story? Yes. Wonderful! Quinn took a deep breath and began again. - Fuuuuck!!! Man… I… Yes… Quinn thought. He can finally see me! I’m part of the story now. What the fuck’s going on?? Jacob tried to answer him, but was slipping into an abyss of carnal lust. My cock… growing… soon… gonna have… twelve inches… of…meat… UUURRRGGGHHH!! Jacob’s head was thrown back as he panted and moaned. He knew Quinn was there… but he didn’t care! He could feel it in his crotch… as his balls continued to swell larger… he knew the birth of his new cock was just around the corner. Lifting his head, he could see his balls were as big as large kiwis now and swelling faster. The pressure in his cock was rising, and either it was going to explode with growth, or burst apart. Here…. it… FFFUUCCKKKKK YYEEAAHH!!! Jacob’s cock began to swell thicker. Breathing heavily as if he were in labour, laughing as well… in minutes it was Coke can thick and he finally felt like he had a real piece of meat in his hands. Growing… a… real… ass… ripper... Throbbing pulsing, and growing with his heartbeat, Jacob realised with glee that his thumb and fingers didn’t meet anymore. Almost as… thick as… my… wrist… now… Quinn. I can fucking see that!! Feel… it… feel how hot… and thick… it is… Feel… it… grow… Quinn kneeled down and placed his large hand on the shaft. Fuck, man!! It’s nearly as thick as a Foster’s can!! Only… the… beginning… Jacob spread his legs wider to accommodate his orange sized testicles that were now laying on the sofa. His sack had begun to grow along with his balls now, and Quinn was shocked when he could actually hear them churning, becoming super driven cum factories. In no time at all, Jacob’s cock head flared wider, the slit grew longer, and pre began to shoot from his cock as if he were cumming. Quinn’s fingers were no longer meeting as Jacob’s cock continued to thicken. The room began to smell of bleach and musk as pre was continuously flowing. A couple of heart beats and a couple of throbs, and there was more than an inch between Quinn’s thumb and middle finger. Gonna… have to… train boys… to take… it… FUICCKK!! Jacob’s cock swelled even wider until finally with the pressure, it began to lengthen. Really… growing… Elated, Jacob and Quinn both watched as Jacob’s cock crept up over 5 inches. Once it had started, it seemed to Jacob that his cock made up for lost time. Passing 5 inches… it soon reached six… and then seven. Let me… feel it… growing. Quinn took his hand away from Jacob’s cock, and in the time it took Jacob to place his own hand there, it was 8 inches. Jacob grinned wildly at Quinn, and throwing his head back, began to stroke himself. Quinn could only stare in awe as his best friend stroked his growing python, Jacob’s moans getting louder and more primal as it grew. Jacob’s balls were larger than baseballs, and shooting out more precum in greater volumes. His cock was now most certainly thicker than Quinn’s own wrist, and showed no sign of stopping. Is it… ten inches… yet??? Oh yeah. Should… be… stopping… soon… But, his cock, enjoying its new power, lengthened to eleven inches and then twelve. Quinn noticed that the veins of Jacob’s cock had grown much larger to force more and more blood in, nourishment needed for the newborn monster. When it hit 13”, Jacob’s cock-head began to join in the growth as it swelled thicker, flaring up and outward. Wanting to be larger than the shaft, it began to lengthen as well as becoming meatie,r until Jacob’s cock head was longer than half of his old cock!! With a loud rip, the slit lengthened even more, till it rivaled the length of Quinn’s thumb. As it hit 14”, Jacob moaned loudly as his cock and balls proceeded to swell even larger. Won’t… be able… to fuck… anyone with… this… now…. too… thick.., I know… I… don’t… care!! I… want… a… monster… Make me… a… freak… Quinn.., It’s as if he knows what’s happening here…. Meeting his best friends eyes… as another wave of growth hit him and it stretched longer than 15” Is this what you want? YES!!!! Are you sure? Do… it!!!! Make me… a fuckin… freak!!! Jacob smiled at Quinn. Within moments of speaking those words, his cock proceeded to grow even faster. FUCK YEAH!!!! At over 17”, his cock head much longer than his old erect cock, and his shaft thicker than Quinn’s 22” bicep, Jacob’s cock began to dip down as the weight of his beast began to overtake it. His balls were bigger than grapefruits now, and were constantly producing enough cum and testosterone for ten men. Using two hands, Jacob was frantically trying to jerk himself off. When it hit 18”, Jacob looked at Quinn and spoke in a suddenly surprising deeper voice I… need more… hands!!! Jerk it… with me! Quinn placed his hands on the immense column, and felt waves of superiority coming from it. The musk Jacob was emitting along with the smell of pre was intoxicating… Quinn looked at his friend, and realised that where once he had been clean shaven, a thick five o’clock shadow had taken up residence on his face. My body… is becoming... a tool for... pure… sex…. Quinn stroked the immense stanchion as it continued to get longer and thicker. More and more veins erupted to the surface, thick as hosing, feeding the emerging beast. Jacob’s stroking along with Quinn’s became more vigorous as his cock grew to a whopping 19”. Quinn stood to get a better grip on the upper shaft and head. My God, he thought… Jacob’s head is bigger than two of my hands! Jacob gave up using his hands and started to simply thrust his cock through Quinn’s hands as if he were fucking them. Jacob’s moans got deeper and louder as his cock hit 20” and showed no sign of stopping its incredible growth. My balls… can you hear them… so loud… producing more cum... and testosterone... than an army of men!!! Quinn looked down at the laughing Jacob. Staring at Jacob, Quinn could see that a change was overtaking his friend. The testosterone flooding through his veins had indeed done a number on him, and he was looking more primal… more masculine than he ever been before. Even his face was changing as his brow began to extend a little further and his eyes became deepset. He had a full beard now, and hair all over his body had sprouted and thickened. The smell coming off of him in waves was overpowering… it made Quinn’s head swim and had him thinking that he wanted to submit himself to Jacob and be used as his sex toy. As the essence passed through both of them, it became apparent that nothing on earth mattered except Jacob and the colossus that was wildy emerging from his crotch. Moaning and thrusting himself faster and harder into Quinn’s hands, lost in his world of sexual stimuli, Jacob began barking orders at Quinn. Fucking… lick my.... Cock head… boy!!! His voice, Quinn thought… his voice is so powerful… so loud, so deep, and… and so commanding. What is all of that testosterone doing to him? Trying to keep in his head that he was the only true Alpha in the room, Quinn found himself obeying Jacob and starting to feverishly lick his cockhead. That’s it… boy… worship this cock!!!! I am. How big… am I… boy? At least 25” inches long… thicker than my quads… Am I… a sex… god… now? Quinn struggled to answer… but he knew he had to tell Jacob the truth. YES!!!! All of the world will worship your cock! Never has there been one so huge, so magnificent, so impressive, so potent, and dominant. In a few minutes... I will cum… I can… feel it… Tell me… what will happen? Your cock will shoot up even longer and thicker. Your balls will swell larger, flooding you with more and more testosterone… You live for one thing and one thing only now… SEX!!! Jacob threw his head back and in a voice that sounded amplified, echoing throughout the flat… a deep deep bass… oozing with sex and power. - YES!!!! Jacob thrust twenty to thirty more times as Quinn tried as best as he could to worship this mighty cock. Suddenly, without warning. Jacob stopped moving, stated at him wide-eyed… and Quinn realised in the silence he could hear the torrent of cum rising up from Jacob’s balls. FFFFFUUUUKKKK!!! Jacob tried his best to grab onto his cock, but as the largest orgasm known to man overtook him, all he could do was close his eyes, pant, moan, and shout. A minute later, a geyser errupted from Jacob’s cock, and cum shot all over the room, hitting Quinn and throwing him backward on impact. It was impossible to control the massive hose as it began to spray the walls, the ceiling, several windows, and shattered the screen of his plasma TV. With each pulse that sent more and more cum skyward, Jacob’s cock and balls proceeded to gain more and more size and mass, shooting up past 31” and getting so thick that it was hard to believe this was a penis and not some redwood or stone pillar. After 5 minutes of continual orgasm, Jacob’s cum production began to slow down until he was only leaking from the massive slit. Just when Quinn thought it was all over,Jacob let out a thunderous, FUCK His cock shot up several more inches, and then he collapsed onto the couch, barely able to hold his head up. Quinn looked around at his flat, completely covered in cum. His friend was frozen once again on the couch, a drop of cum leaking from his cock frozen in mid-air. Fuck, Quinn thought… it's really easy to let your imagination run away with you on this app. Needing to clear his head, Quinn opened up a window. I can’t believe I allowed his musk to become so strong that I couldn’t even control myself. A few minutes longer and I might have let him fuck me. Great to go huge my first time!!! Quinn was taking in another deep breath of clean air from the window when he heard the chime from his phone. Wonderful!! Is your story is finished. Would you like to: a) publish it so it lives on forever, b) delete it and no one will ever know it existed except you, or c) take a moment and edit your story with clearer eyes. What will be your choice? Quinn looked at Jacob and wondered what he would want. Is this how he would want to live… a sex dominated stud with an unimaginably massive cock, a musk that held guys in his power, guys falling to their knees to be fucked by him, cumming gallons every time…. is this how he would want to live? Is this how I would want to live? Looking deeply at Jacob, Quinn knew what he had to do. Jacob tried to catch his breath as he came down from his mind altering orgasm. As he looked around the room at the chaos surrounding him… as he took in his slowly deflating titanic cock and balls, and as he began to feel the beginnings of his balls starting to churn again, he moved his eyes up to meet his friend, grinned, and said in the deepest and most sensual voice Quinn had ever heard: Fuck me!! That’s a pretty powerful weapon you got there now! Tell me about it!! You going to keep it? Don’t think I have an option! Well… while you were firing cumshots around the room, I looked online to see if there was an antidote, and it seems that if you...um… rub olive oil and salt on it… … couldn’t think of anything better on the fly, Quinn??? … within the first three hours of injection, it sucks the formula out and everything goes back to normal. Yeah… I don’t think so. Well, you got your answer. This monstrosity is the best thing to ever happen to me. You have no idea how it feels!! For the first time I feel alive!!! Really alive!! I don’t even exist anymore! It’s my master and I need to serve it. My life now is devoted to sexual pleasure only. I need to find more and more people to worship it, lick it, suck it, let me fuck them with it, and cum over and over and over again. I’ve been called for a greater purpose, boy, and I need to minister to it. You understand? Yeah. I think I do. Good. Jacob stood up the best he could and walked on shaky legs to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water. It’s insane, Quinn. My balls are already starting to churn, and it feels even more potent than before, and I think this is how it’s always going to be… getting stronger and stronger… cumming longer and longer, until one day I just orgasm for eternity. How can you carry such weight so easily. The muscles in my groin… I think they evolved to enable me to. It’s heavy… but in a good way!! Love feeling the tug and pull!! Looks like I’m a grower and not much of a shower now! Quinn could see that fully soft, Jacobs cock was only twelve inches long and as thick as a Pringles can. Even his balls had shrunk to something a little more manageable. Take a good look because you’re not going to see it soft like this very often!! I bet! Join me!! Go buy a syringe and join me! I’d love to, man… but I have my own journey coming up… and I think it’s going to rival yours!! Good to hear! I can’t wait. Well, wish I could stay and clean up, but I have followers to initiate into the world of hedonism. Jacob took off the T-shirt he had been wearing and stood in front of Quinn in all of his glory. The testosterone of hundreds of men had perfected his body giving him a larger, muscular frame, and a hairy chest that made his muscles look even sexier. No more clothes for me anymore. Won’t need them. How will you survive? Didn’t I tell you? The day I left America, I bought a lottery ticket… and I won! 50 million dollars!! Good thinking, Quinn!! Give him an even happier ending... a massive cock and 50 million!!! That should be enough to build a temple great enough for this cock. Jacob walked toward the door, opened it, and was about to step out, when he turned back to his friend. Thanks for everything, boy. I might just go to that shop in Soho and buy another syringe or two… see what another dose will do! I bet it will be amazing. I think so too! See you soon, Quinn… and take a hold of that journey you’re about to go on by the balls, and demand the world sees you. Oh… if everything goes to how I imagine it… the world won’t have any option but to see me. Good boy!! It’s our time now. Quinn could hear Jacobs balls loudly beginning to churn and saw a flow of precum begining to leak from his cock head. The aroma hit Quinn right away, and he felt as if he needed to kneel down and worship that God-Cock. Before he submitted, Quinn moved toward the window to clear his head. Bye, Quinn. Don’t worry… we’ll meet again! With that, Jacob left Quinn’s flat. What did the future hold for him? Quinn wasn’t sure, but he knew whatever it was… it was going to be a life satisfying every carnal whim. Exhausted, Quinn leaned against the wall, his own balls aching for relief. Fuck!!! That was amazing, he thought! He was just about to whip his own cock out and jerk off when the bell tone came from his phone. Wonderful! I see your story is complete. Would you like to: a) publish it so it lives on forever, b) delete it and no one will ever know it existed except you, or c) take a moment and edit your story with clearer eyes. What will be your choice? A. Wonderful!!! Your story is now published and out in the world to see. Having completed one story, you have unlocked several new options. We look forward to working with you on your next story. Me too, he thought as he leaned against the wall stroking his hard cock. I can’t wait to see what my next one is!! ... to be continued
  14. MadDog

    m/m Spice

    Hey everyone, on the old forums I had begun posting a series I had written with my writing partner Mr. X (another forum member who preferred to be left anonymous) about a mysterious and fantastic spice that had the power to dramatically grow a person's muscles as well as their endowment. We had written considerably more than what had originally been posted, but it wasn't in publishable shape and I had lost motivation to continue editing it after losing contact with Mr. X. I've recently been motivated to continue posting "new" additions to the story and so I'm creating this topic to serve as a place for me to post all of them. There's wayyyy too many chapters for me to attempt to post all of them here again one by one, so I'll link to the collection of them at Metabods here. I'll be posting new chapters both here and at Metabods in the future. I hope that people enjoy what's to come and that maybe a new set of eyes will discover this delightful modern fantasy!
  15. Chapter 1 Chapter 2-4 Chapter 5-6 Chapter 7 CHAPTER 8 The sun well below its peak but already scalded the desert below. Sweat had long ago soaked through Lewis's skin-tight green shirt and his muscles stood out in bold relief through the fabric. He grunted as he bent over and picked up a thirty pound sand bag from the pile at his feet. After placing it on his free forearm, he bent over and loaded another on top. Then another. Then another. His arm bulged larger with every new addition, the giant vein pulsing along its peak grinding into the bags it supported. The young airman finally stopped at five bags and, after wiping dripping sweat from his brow, turned to walk the ten paces separating the pile from a three foot deep square ditch he just finished digging. He dropped the bags along the rim, organized them into a nice border along the edge with a few well placed kicks that sent his quads flaring, then turned again to retrieve more. His sweat darkened shirt clung ever tighter to his body. Deeply cut abs stood out boldly where it wasn't heavily shadowed by engorged pecs that heaved and fell with each breath. He bent over to retrieve more bags forcing his calves and hamstrings to flare in response beneath military issued shorts that rose well above mid thigh. The Christmas tree striations of his lower back bulged through the shirt as he stood. Every ripple and fold of his lats and traps writhed as he loaded another five sandbags onto his arm as if they weighed no more than couch pillows. Back and forth Lewis went, carrying his sandbags from the giant pile to line them up around his pit. That pit was ten feet by ten feet and had taken him only an hour to dig. A small crowd began to gather around him as he'd dug and had recently grown to more than twenty gawkers. Some stared in open admiration. Others made as if they stood there for other reasons and only glanced Lewis's way as if by accident as they carried on conversations that any sane person would have accomplished an air conditioned building, not in 100+ degree heat. I stood among the masses, arms cross and drenched in sweat myself. These heavy uniforms did a good job hiding my rapidly growing body but were better suited for freezing weather. I was there to officially observe Lewis's punishment for nearly strangling Whitaker. There were a number of authorized punishments available to me as the commander: reduction in rank, reduced pay, court marshal, etc. But the nineteen year old airman was already at a pretty junior rank, taking pay was relatively cruel for someone already played a pittance, and a court marshal was a little harsh since there were two sides to the story. For Whitaker, I had him reassigned to another unit on base. He'd already been gone two weeks and there'd been no issues since. For Lewis, I went with one of the lesser used (and more...old school) punishments: hard labor. The option was buried in one of the more antiquated but "still-on-the-books" policies, right next to being rationed bread-and-water. But the punishment seemed fitting: single handedly build a defense bunker. The process involved digging a ten foot by ten foot square three feet deep, then creating a defensible position using sandbags and roof slats, complete with turret holes. They were scattered all over base to provide quickly accessible shelter should a flock of terrorists come charging in. So at the crack of dawn a young and very buff Lewis started digging his hole. People took notice of the baby-faced bodybuilder, some even stood to gawk before making their way on. But as the day wore on, Lewis kept going. Instead of growing weary and exhausted, he instead appeared to get stronger and more virile as the process moved on. Once he finished the hole and shifted to the sandbags, his strength seemed impossible. That's when the passersby were suddenly stopped dead in their tracks, helplessly watching this sweat-covered god of a human toil under the desert sun. Standing at 6'2 (or maybe a little more), he was "big" enough to be maybe 230 or 240 pounds. Those weren't inhuman proportions. But just one look and you knew something was different. His muscles looked too dense. It was the small things: his biceps dented the sandbags instead of the other way around, his forearm didn't give against his forehead when he wiped sweat from his brow...all-in-all, the bulges of his body seemed too hard. It was hard to explain but there was something that just looked...fucking amazing. "Sweet Jesus," a familiar voice said admiringly at my shoulder. "He one of yours?" I turned to see Dasa smiling hungrily at Lewis as he toiled. "Yep," I said. "Strange, haven't seen him." Her eyes squinted at him. "I guess he kinda looks familiar." I just nodded; the last time she'd seen him he was half the size he was now. Lewis was now carrying six bags at a time, somehow supporting all that weight in the crook of his forearm. His biceps were screaming, skin stretched and shiny, displaying individual muscles I didn't even know existed on the human anatomy. The crowd around us continued to grow but, by his face, I wasn't sure Lewis even knew there was a soul around him. His eyes were focuses inwards and I could see he was relishing every moment of this "punishment." His face was contorted in a strained grimace as he lugged the bags over to the rapidly developing bunker. The fibers in his arm continued to quiver and shake under the load. I let my hand wrap around my own bicep and gave it a good flex, feeling the muscle jump under my sleeve and swell into my hand. I was quickly on my way to matching Lewis. In the two weeks since Lewis's incident, I'd put on another sixty pounds and my uniform was now snug in all the right places. Any more size could not be hidden. I was pulled away from my self-appreciation when I heard another baritone grunt. I looked up as Lewis now struggled with ten sandbags in an obvious effort to test the limits of his strength. I could see his massive quads ripple violently with each step as they supported the extreme combined weight of his body and bags. Lewis's back muscles bulged and his traps swelled up his neck. His face was red with the strain, veins bulging along his forehead. But his arm. Oh my god his arm. The muscles in it writhed and rolled as if they were fighting each other for space. Then something happened that no one in the crowd would ever forget. A few steps into Lewis's trek to the bunker, that quivering bicep suddenly...popped. That's the only way I could describe it. In the blink of an eye, his shredded nineteen inch arms just doubled in size to the circumference of a person's waist. The rapidly expanding boulder of muscle shoved against the sandbags he carried and they fell to the ground as if thrown. A rip formed at the base of his sleeve and cleanly tore its way all the way up to the top of his shoulder, letting the pumpkin sized deltoids swell out of them. A gasp ran through the crowd. "Holy shit," I heard Dasa say but I couldn't break my eyes away from the inhuman spectacle. Lewis noticed too. He stared down at his insanely proportioned arm and gave it a good flex. The peak of his bicep rose and rose and rose to a granite mountain and the fabric around his lat finally gave up as he raised his arm to admire himself. It was as if every muscle fiber in his arm just decided to double in size. Lewis smiled as he flexed the engorged arm. Blood vessels pulsed around the giant peak, feeding it. The crowd watched, dumbfounded and silent as Lewis finally bent over and picked up the bags he dropped, again resting them in the crook of his now superhuman arm. That over-sized arm flared angrily, sweat dripping down the newly formed ravines that ran from shoulder to elbow. But it now carried the ten bags with less effort than it once took him to carry half that. Lewis had grown stronger in an instant. A lot stronger. I felt my own body without touching it, its hardness, its growing size. I would have that power soon enough. "What on earth..." Dasa was having a hard time processing things but her eyes stared hungrily at Lewis as he continued his labor. "I may have to find an excuse to come by your office more often." She chuckled and gave my arm a playful punch. I thought nothing of it until I felt her hand rest against my arm and give it a squeeze. I smiled without looking at her and gave my arm a flex, letting my iron bicep swell under her grip. I looked down at her after a moment. She was looking up at me, her brows raised and her mouth parted slightly. She took her hand away and smiled. "See you later, sailor." There was heat behind those words. I smiled and looked back at Lewis, who was now lugging a full dozen sandbags on that supersized arm. His shoulder had joined in the grow game and was now the size of a basketball and still growing. The shirt sleeve that once contained it now hung in tatters, and a rip was now growing up the seam of his trap. Before too long it would fall away and his shirt would be more toga than t-shirt. The crowd around us was getting bigger now and I spied a two star general now among them, his arms crossed and eyes narrowed under a furled brow. My breath caught. This was not the attention we wanted. Shit, game's over. I walked up to Lewis just as he finished placing his latest pile of bags. "Consider the punishment complete," I said quietly and put a hand against that monstrous arm. Lewis turned to me, face red and sweating. His chest heaved and I heard popping sound of strained cotton strands accompany each inhale. He smiled through his exhaustion and nodded. Five minutes later he was back in my office, my metal chair grunting and squealing under his mass. He was fixated on his swollen arm, flexing the basketball sized monstrosity and rubbing its veined peak with his hand. He obviously liked what he saw as his dick had recently exploded through the inner lining of his shorts and was forced, fully erect, down the side of his tree trunk thigh. It protruded, thick and pulsing, from the hem of those straining shorts and ran halfway to his knee. It jumped powerfully when he gave his bicep a squeeze. I found myself speechless; so fixated I was on the scene before me. I was experiencing the dual wonder of wanting to join him rubbing that inhuman arm while at the same time knowing I was only a couple weeks away from having that power myself. "So fucking unreal," he said, mostly to himself. "Oh fuck fuck fuck." his dick jumped again and its head swelled. I considered moving in case it fired something at me but stayed put for some reason. "I've felt like a mousetrap this whole time," he said. "Like I was about to erupt. Fucking hell, I finally did." If I wasn't experiencing the same thing, I'd have no idea what he was talking about. But I knew all too well. I believed it had something to do with gaining all that weight but not having the size to match. I was so much denser now and I felt like a giant shoved into a child's body. I felt like I SHOULD be bigger, so much bigger, but I wasn't. I looked like a 220 pound freak of nature but weighed well over 300 pounds. And my body wanted to LOOK well over 300 pounds. It was like being constantly on the verge of an orgasm but just not able to climax. "Fuck," Lewis moaned and grabbed his collar with his free hand. "Too tight." He pulled and ripped his shirt off his body as easily as if it were a blanket lying over him. His concrete body seemed to balloon slightly now the constructing shirt was off. Taking a deep breath, as if his first since putting the accursed thing on, he looked back at his swollen arm then at me. "It's getting smaller," he said. "Pretty soon it'll go back to what it was." He turned his eye to the other bicep and gave it a good flex. The nineteen inch boulder was impressive but nothing compared to the monstrous other one. I was disbelieving at first but a closer look proved him right; the arm was indeed slowly shrinking back; like a pump an hour after working out. He was silent a moment before continuing. "I've stopped growing," he said finally. "I didn't want to believe it but I haven't gotten any stronger in the last week." He looked back at me. "I want more. I'm taking the next step." There was no doubt what he was talking about. He wanted to take the second canister. "What do you think will happen?" I said smoothly. Lewis shrugged, his swollen lats flaring between his engorged delts. "Only one way to find out." He spoke as if he was heading over right then and there. I took a deep breath (and couldn't help but relish how my uniform stretched across my chest). I brushed the euphoria aside, focused instead on the consequences if something...noticeable...happened to Lewis if he took the second canister. What if he took both?! If we got unwanted attention, it could ruin everything. I wasn't ready. I needed more time to max my own body out. I needed to be as big as Lewis...and there it was. You want to be the biggest, don't you? a little voice asked me. I shook my head to clear it. "What if it makes you smaller?" I asked carefully. "Takes away everything you gained." "It won't," Lewis said confidently and actually got up as if to leave. "Two weeks," I said, standing as well. Lewis's eyes crew dark and the muscles in his body all jumped as he grew tense. He seemed to gain twenty pounds in that instance. "I didn't ask," he said. I stepped up to him, hands up in a calming gesture. My mind raced, nearly panicked, searching for anything to give me more time. His body radiated heat and I could smell the musk of the day's work hanging in the air. He was taller than me and far more powerful. We both knew I couldn't force him to do anything. I put a hand against his granite chest, beads of sweat pooling around my fingers. I felt a thump against my leg and looked down to see his dick swelling and lifting itself up against the nylon fabric of his military issue shorts. Without thought, I reached down and wrapped my hand around it, feeling the tha-dump-tha-dump of his heart beat through the shaft. It was as hard as the rest of him. He moaned and I locked his eyes with mine. "Two weeks," I said again and started rubbing him. He gasped. I didn't know what I was doing or why. There was just something about two rock hard bodies leaning against each other like boulders. We touched and I let my eyes wander across the close up view of his inhumanly powerful body. His deeply chiseled abs rose and fell, flexing as his body tensed. I moved my hand faster and he swelled until my fingers no longer made it completely around him. Lewis's muscles flexed and fell, flexed and fell as veins bulged across his traps and upper chest. He leaned his head back, eyes closed and mouth open. I found myself on my knees, eyes locked on a foot long dick bordered by thighs as bulging and hard as any bodybuilder's. Before I could even think about it, he was in my mouth as my hands continuing to work him. He came a moment later and I felt molten hot liquid fill my mouth and force its way down my throat. I took him in, not knowing if the sudden powerful surge rolling through my body was real or psychological. Either way, I felt like I could lift a truck. I felt my own dick raging against my pants, desperate for freedom. Each spurt filled my mouth and I only had time to swallow before he filled it again. Afterwards , I stood and used Lewis's tattered shirt to wipe my mouth. "Two weeks," I said again and threw the shirt at him. Lewis nodded shallowly, eyes distant and blissful. "Two weeks," he agreed breathlessly.
  16. Since not everyone ventures to the artwork section, I figured ( and asked an admin first) that since my MuscleGrowth Graphic Novels are also steeped in story - that it would be cool to share with everyone in the story section. So far I have had 3 full comics published for my patrons on patreon, with the 3rd's epilogue being published this month. Anyway - I'm rambling... So without further adieu. Here ya go! Covers of comics with corresponding PDF links to read the stories. My other works and muscle art can be found here: http://www.patreon.com/gymjunkiemuscle A L I E N: Antares: https://www.dropbox.com/s/bftmbban7xiq5t2/ALIEN_ANTARES.pdf?dl=0 (Original Story 20+pgs) A Night in the Museum: The Crown of Hercules: https://www.dropbox.com/s/8tfbexaw6v43ccw/Night in the Museum.pdf?dl=0 (Original Story 20+pgs) King of Thieves: The Stone of Power: https://www.dropbox.com/s/i6o40u35q3jfa2x/KingOfThievesComic_0618.pdf?dl=0 (Based a short story I saw on Tumblr somewhere)
  17. Ncgazza

    m/m The Vessel

    Here we go. It's been a while since I've written anything. Ive been so busy in the world of finance as well as trying to enlarge and perfect my own body. Now, for two weeks I'm on vacation in Florance, Italy staying in an incredible villa that has a pool, a vineyard right next door, an amazing view... and several hot guys!!! Lying here, I've let my mind start to wander, and came up with this story. Hope you all like it. I've really missed you all!! Comments are always welcome. The Vessel Christophe looked into the pool with wild eyes taking in its sheer size and beauty. How could no one have discovered this before, he thought. It’s huge!! It’s more of a lake then a pool…. The closer he got to the water, the clearer he could hear it calling to him. Was he ready? Was he truly going to take the plunge not at all sure what the results would be? This journey of body and souls had begun 15 years prior. Christophe had always been an attractive man… a confident man… a man who always got who he wanted and what he wanted… a man who took care of his body, his wardrobe, and his mind. In a move of sheer genius, he decided to leave his banking job behind and focus on teaching others to be more like him… the man at the top of the food chain… The Alpha. It started out as some badly edited YouTube videos that only a few people watched, but Christophe persevered, knowing that men needed what he had to offer. After about a year, his videos began getting more and more hits, and as he continued making these, he began offering personal one-on-one consultations and classes. This was where the business took off. By the third year, Christophe was bringing in 2 million a year and knew that if he wanted to grow his empire, he would need to bring on a business partner. A surprise encounter at the mall brought him face to face with Neil Hamilton, a friend and frat brother from University. Neil was everything Christophe was not: he was quite, book smart, overweight, balding, and not at all physically active. What he did have going for him was an amazing sense of humor, a keen business sense, and an amazing imagination. Together they brought Christophe’s business to the next level, and then higher. Soon there were books, speaking tours, TED Talks, clothing lines, magazines. If you could imagine it… Neil would make it come true. By no means an Alpha in the physical sense, he was definitely one in the mental capacity. Now they were both forty-five and living the dream of mansions, yachts, sports cars, and vacations anywhere in the world. Everything was within their grasps that money could buy… almost. As he had grown older, Neil’s had become obsessed with the ‘Fountain of Youth.’ What had once been simply a laughable hobby, over the years became a worrying obsession. When not working on a deal or promotion for Christophe,, Neil had been conducting research in ancient texts, consulting brown and crumbling maps, and flying to distant lands to follow leads. Two weeks prior, Christophe was far from amused when Neil burst into his personal gym with a small package. ⁃ This just arrived!! I Wanted to share it with you. The older man was winded by his race through Christophe’s house, and beads of sweat were dripping down his forehead and onto his face. Although Christophe might not have been in the incredible shape he had once been in, he was far healthier than his overweight friend. Neil stood in front of Christophe who was sitting on a bench,, smiled, and carefully shook the box at him. ⁃ I can’t believe it!! I honestly can’t believe it!! Neil began to tear into the box. ⁃ What is it? ⁃ Exactly what I’ve been searching for!! The box revealed a wooden exterior. With careful hands, Neil slid the lid off and removed the contents: a vial of clear liquid no bigger than a test tube. Neil held it up to the light and looked at it. ⁃ After all this time... ⁃ That isn’t... ⁃ It is! Water from THE fountain of youth!! ⁃ How much did this cost you? 500,000. ⁃ You’re insane. ⁃ I thought so too... but I’ve seen the proof... recordings, etc. ⁃ Fakes! ⁃ No! I watched a man de-age right in front of me on Skype. He lost nearly 30 years in ten minutes. ⁃ Where did it come from? ⁃ The secret has been in this South American mans family forever. You should see him... so fucking hot, and he’s nearly 170!! He looks 30! He’s never allowed it out of his family until now. He’s the last survivor and eventually wants to cover the pool up and retire wealthy. ⁃ What happened to the rest of the family? Why aren’t they living forever? ⁃ I asked that very question... and he tried to explain how after living for hundreds of years... everyone eventually wants a rest. ⁃ So he’s selling this at 500,000 a pop? How much has he sold? ⁃ Only to seven people so far. ⁃ Have you talked with them? ⁃ All purchases are anonymous. ⁃ Of course. ⁃ Come on, Chris!! I brought this from home to share this moment with you. I want you to witness it. Neil took out two latex gloves and slipped them on his hands. ⁃ You can never let the water touch your skin. ⁃ But it’s okay for your insides With a smile Neil unscrewed the cap of the test tube and smelt it. ⁃ I’m hard just thinking about this!! ⁃ If this does work... and that’s a big if... how are you going to explain to the world how you suddenly got younger? ⁃ I’m not. If this works... I’m gone. I have to disappear... just like everyone else. ⁃ What? ⁃ We’ve made enough money to last us four lifetimes. It’s time for me to enjoy it... and I know the business is in capable hands. Neil took a breath and then smiled. ⁃ Wish me luck. ⁃ Wait!! How much do you drink? ⁃ It’s been measured to take twenty years off of me. I’m going to be 25 again. ⁃ And if it doesn’t work? ⁃ A foolish dream of an old man. Before Christophe could stop him, and without thinking twice, Neil downed the entire contents of the test tube. Gently he placed it on the desk, never losing eye contact with Christophe. ⁃ Well? ⁃ Tasted like water... very expensive water. Both men began to laugh, when a sudden look of shock covered Neil’s face. Reaching both hands up to his neck, he proceeded to sputter and cough and fall to the floor. Christophe jumped up from the bench and ran to Nei who wasl lying on the floor and smiling. ⁃ You do care! ⁃ You’re a fucking asshole! ⁃ You should have seen your face! ⁃ I was only concerned with what to do with your body! ⁃ Wouldn’t want anyone to think you mmm... murr... you... something’s... happening... ⁃ What? ⁃ It feels... so good... an orgasm... that keeps... building... and building...FUCK!!!! Christophe watched his friend writhe on the floor in ecstasy. In awe he could see Neil’s bald pate suddenly begin to blossom with dark stubble. Within seconds his hair was gaining length, beautifully covering the top of Neil’s head. Christophe found himself getting aroused watching and listening to his friend in absolute ecstasy, and at the same time seeing the hands of time being reversed. Everywhere on his body his skin was becoming taught and youthful. Even the fat all over Neil’s body was being burned away leaving a skinnier and healthier version of its predecessor in its wake. The hair on top of his head had continued to grow, and was soon joined by the hair on his face. Absolutely swimming in the clothes he was wearing, Christophe couldn’t believe the sight of the thirty... and then twenty-five year old form of his friend. Still he continued to get younger, until suddenly Neil’s entire body went stiff... a load moan escaped from his body... and he collapsed entirely onto the floor, breathing quickly but with a smile on his face. A few moments later the twenty year old version of Neil opened his eyes. ⁃ Fuck!!!!! That was the most intense.... Fuck!!!!! Neil laughed heartily on the floor. With a sudden leap, he was on his feet, his clothes pooling around him. ⁃ Mirror. I need a mirror. Quickly Neil moved to the side of the room that held a full-length mirror, and came face to face with himself. ⁃ It really worked!!! I can’t believe it!! Look at me!! Using hands that felt new and alien to him, Neil tore his clothes from his body until he stood naked before the mirror and before Christophe. Where once a severely overweight man had stood, a swimsuit model had taken his place. With just a dusting of dark hair trailing over his abs and down to his cock, the rest of his chest was smooth and tight. Trying to take it all in, Neil ran his hand over the new mound of his pecs and massaging his nipples. With the other arm he flexed, and watched his bicep and tricep swell. ⁃ I feel so strong!! I’ve never felt like this in my lifel! Raising is other arm to a 90 degree angle, he proceeded to flex this one as well, both arms swelling with power. ⁃ I look a thousand times better now than I ever did in my twenties! It’s like it perfected me! Neil simply couldn’t get enough of his new body. Exploring it from every angle, Christophe had to agree that he was indeed an ideal specimen. ⁃ Look at my cock!! So much longer and thicker than before... and foreskin!! I never had foreskin!!! Neil’s hand grasped onto his soft cock and began to massage it. As if on command, the organ began to lengthen and thicken. Christophe looked on in awe as it grew to an impressive 9” with a fat head even thicker than the mighty shaft it sat upon. He had only been hard for a few seconds when a river of pre began to flow, dripping onto the floor. ⁃ So fucking horny!! Haven’t been this horny since I was a teenager... even then... I was never this horny!! As he continued to stroke himself, Neil looked over at Christophe with a huge grin. ⁃ Suck it. You know you want to. In their business relationship, Christophe has always been the alpha, but now with this youthful stud standing before him, he couldn’t help falling to his knees, and proceeded to lick the sweet lubricant leaking from the swollen head. Shocked, Christophe felt Neil’s hand pushing his head from behind. No sooner had he brought Neil’s cock into his mouth, the new-born man began to face fuck him. Christophe stares intently at the pool remembering the rest of that night. Neil had proceeded to cum a massive load into Christophe’s waiting mouth. No sooner had Neil ejaculated, he was hard again. In a frenzy, he tore the clothes from Christophe’s body and proceeded to plunge his huge cock into Christophe’s ass. When it came to fucking men, Christophe had always been the dominant one. Now he couldn’t help but let Neil take complete control. That night, Neil fucked him over and over again until the older man begged him to stop. Unsatisfied, but yielding to his friend, Neil jerked himself off, another massive load splashing onto his pecs, face, and even above his head. The two lay in silence until finally Neil spoke. ⁃ I need to leave soon. No one can see me. ⁃ Where will you go? ⁃ Who knows! I’ll have to get a new passport... a new identity... but I have plenty of money to buy what I’ll need. Neil sat up and looked at his best friend. ⁃ Join me. Email The Keeper and get your own vial. Let’s live the life we always should have. That night, wearing clothes still to baggy on him, Neil disappeared into the night. He had made several phone calls, set up several meetings to get new paperwork, and had moved nearly all of his money into a new account he had opened a week prior under a new name: Gerald Grey... a distant relative that in a surprise change of his will... everything was left to. Kissing Christophe goodbye, Neil... now Gerald... handed over all he would need, which included signed documents handing over 95% of their holdings to him as well as the contact information for The Keeper of the water. ⁃ Don’t waste time. Join me. Still in awe of what had occurred that night, Christophe walked around his house trying to take it all in. If this could be bottled… if this could be created in mass… he would be even richer than he was now! He could make billions!!!! Arriving in the gym, Christophe saw the vial lying on the floor. Picking it up, Christophe saw one small drop at the bottom. He tipped it slowly over so the water flowed to his waiting palm. As soon as it hit him, colours flashed before his eyes, his cock went hard, and he was ejaculating all over the floor. Falling to his knees, Christophe cried out as more and more cum flowed from his penis. In minutes, it was over. That night he slept fitfully, dreams of the water… him… muscle… youth… power… He awoke with a voice in his head calling to him. He had wasted no time contacting The Keeper, and after three weeks of waiting, had finally received a response. The Keeper wanted the same 500,000 in exchange for a vial of the water that would give Christophe his youth back. In his reply, Christophe had a counter offer: £5 million, but he gets the vial as well as seeing the pool for himself. A strict refusal came minutes later, but a second counter offer was made... then a third... and finally a fourth that was accepted: 12 million in exchange for a vial and a glance at the pool. Met in Montevideo by a pilot working for The Keeper, Christophe was blindfolded and quickly brought onto a small plane. Once settled, the pilot quickly injected him with a sedative that had Christophe asleep before he could even protest. Unbeknownst to the pilot or The Keeper, Christophe had expected such measures, and had a small GPS implanted in an area right under his armpit. This GPS was constantly monitoring both his location as well as his heart rate. If his heart was ever to stop, all the information on where he was and what he had been doing would instantly be released. Also hidden away, sewn discreetly into the lining of his jacket was a small and lightweight pistol, undetectable by any sensor, and even if frisked, it would be confused for a piece of his clothing. Christophe refused to let anything fall to chance. If The Keeper didn’t want to do business with him and share in profits from the pool... he would just have to take it. While he slept, the dreams returned even stronger than before. Muscle… mountains of muscle… power unimaginable… it all could be his... From the darkness Christophe heard what could only be a deafening rumble of thunder. ⁃ Wake up!!! Christophe tried with all his might to pull himself out of the dark waters of sleep that held him in their embrace. ⁃ I said wake up!!! A hard kick in his side which felt like it propelled him several feet assisted in Christophe finally opening his eyes. Trying to focus, Christophe found himself face to face with The Keeper. The man... could this actually be a man... was naked because obviously no clothes could ever cover him. Standing nearly 8’ tall and weighing what Christophe could only gather was 1,000 pounds of pure muscle, The Keeper was a sight to behold. Tanned to a dark brown, jet black hair fell to the middle of his back and covering half of his face was a thick black beard that ended right before the massive plates of his pecs began. Staring deep into The Keepers piercing blue eyes, Christophe’s cock became erect, and he found himself convulsing in a fit of pure ecstasy as he orgasmed over and over. This man... this beast... this god was the epitome of virility... of masculinity. His body... forged in an artist's wet dream, put every bodybuilder to shame. His hairy legs were larger the tree trunks, his chest wider then several men, and his immense soft cock fell down to his knees. The only piece of clothing The Keeper carried was a belt that held a large canteen. The strangest thing of all... if any of this could get stranger... was that The Keepers wide and thick dark nipples leaked a drop of liquid every minute or so that fell and got lost in his chest hair. With one large paw, practically the size of Christophe’s own chest, The Keeper grabbed him by the head and twisted it fiercely to the left. ⁃ Is this what you wanted to see?! His voice, heavy with a Spanish accent, was a rumble that Christophe could feel deep within his own chest. Like a rag doll in the massive mans control, Christophe took his first glimpse of the pool. The pool was actually much wider than he had imagined. Though possible to swim from one bank of the deep blue water to the other, it would take some time and great strength. There was a breeze on the air, yet every inch of the water was still. Strangest of all, unlike most bodies of water, not one bird or animal graced its shores. At first glance it looked like a picture postcard... completely undisturbed.. yet there was something definitely supernatural... otherworldly even. In deep awe and reverence to the waters, Christophe was shaken once again by the massive man and lifted off of the ground. ⁃ Why does the pool want you here??? What does it want of you???? The Keeper gave Christophe a second to answer before shaking him again... his own body feeling as if it could be torn apart at any moment. ⁃ In my dreams I’ve seen you!!! Why??? What does the pool want??? ⁃ I... I... I don’t know... what you’re talking about... ⁃ How did you find me? ⁃ A friend. You sent the water to a friend!! ⁃ Who??? The beast began to shake him roughly again. ⁃ Neil Hamilton! His name is Neil Hamilton!! When The Keeper heard the name he stopped shaking Christophe, lifted him over his head, and hurled him to the ground. The mountain of a man took four mighty steps and was standing once again over Christophe. How small he must appear to this giant... how insignificant. Christophe hated feeling that way, and was quickly trying to figure out how to handle this beast before he was killed. Lifting Christophe with only his left hand, The Keeper brought them face to face. ⁃ When you found me... when you sent your message... I did as always and came to the bank of the pool to ask if it accepted you. Barely had I spoken your name when it screamed out for you... over and over and over!! Never had I seen the waters so agitated. I ran from the bank... hearing your name screamed from behind me. For weeks I stayed away from the water... wanting to refuse you... but screams only got louder!!! Louder and louder. Christophe attempted to grasp the gun that was attached to his coat, but The Keepers agitation grew to such a frenzy that he threw him once again to the ground. ⁃ To stop the screams, I accepted you... but then you requested to come here!! Here!!!!! Why did you want to come here!!!! I refused... but then the dreams came. Your face! I saw your face!!! The longer I refused you, the worst it became until I finally had to allow you to come... but on my terms!!!! My terms!!! Moving toward him again with steps that shook the earth Christophe lay upon, he tried to back away, but a foot as large as most of his torso pinned him to the ground. ⁃ Now for once the pool is silent... and now you have to die. Removing the canteen from his waste, the man proceeded to unscrew the cap that held the contents within. ⁃ It will all be over so quickly. You’ll drink and grow younger and younger until you cease to be. Don’t worry... it’s painless... my family never knew what happened to them... The Keeper moved his foot higher till he was standing on Christophe’s neck causing him to open his mouth, gasping for air. Lifting the canteen, he began to pour the liquid in the area of Christophe’s lips and nose.. Unable to breathe, Christophe was still able to move his head from side to side, not allowing the water to enter his mouth, but to fall on his face. As each drop hit his skin, Christophe felt a new strength invigorate his body giving him more will to survive. ⁃ No!!! You must never touch the water!!! Only I could touch the water!!! The man took his foot off of Christophe’s neck and leaned down to lift him up by his shirt. ⁃ The pool called me to be it’s Keeper... so I walked in to my waist, and this is what I became. The pool now wants you... but it never will!!! It’s mine!!! The Keeper lifted the water close to Christophe’s mouth, but stopped suddenly when the gun went off, and the bullet entered his chest. Dropped to the ground... Christophe watched The Keeper stagger backwards and try and look down at what had happened... but his immense pecs didn’t allow him to see below. Using his hand, he lifted some of the flowing blood to his face... and began to laugh. ⁃ You think a bullet can harm me?! I’m immortal!!! I’ve lived for over 500 years!!! In awe, Christophe watched the bullet be pushed from the open wound and then quickly close and heal. Christophe fired again... this time hitting The Keeper’s stomach... and the same thing occurred... the creature laughing even harder! ⁃ More!! I can do this all day!! Knowing there were only three bullets left, Christophe lifted the gun once again, and like David with Goliath, hit The Keeper directly in the eye. Startled, the man fell onto his ass with a thud. Watching the Keeper maniacally claw at his eye to remove the bullet, Christophe could see that it was already beginning to heal. Wasting no time, he approached The Keeper with speed given to him by his brief contact with the water, and shot him in the other eye. A scream that shook the trees erupted from The Keepers mouth. With one bullet left, he directed the gun right to the top of the massive cranium and fired, blowing off a small portion of his head and skull. In shock the mountain of a man fell backward onto the ground with a thud. Seeing that his wound was already beginning to heal, Christophe reached into the hole and began to frantically rip at The Keeper’s brain... pulling pieces of it out. Seeing that this was futile since it would only begin to grow back, Christophe did the next best thing. Taking the canteen, he brought it to The Keepers mouth and emptied the contents, forcing him to swallow. Within minutes, just as all of the wounds were nearly healed, The Keeper began to moan... and then quickly de-age. Quickly the beast shrunk down to the size he had once been before he stepped in the water... a skinny teenager... then a boy of ten... then five... four... three... two... a baby... then a fetus... then nothing. Falling to the ground in exhaustion, Christophe came to terms with what he had done... and a smile crept onto his face as he realised the pool was his. Only he knew where it was... what it did... and he would make trillions from it. Every rich person would pay greatly for a chance to live longer... and they would keep returning to him for more and more!! The business was endless... and he controlled it all!!! Standing, Christophe walked on shaking legs to the pool and looked at its wondrous depths. It looked so cool in the heat of the sun... so welcoming... On the wind he heard it again… calling to him… It wants me, he thought. It has always wanted me. Christophe took a step closer but stopped himself. Was this what he wanted? Was he to be the new Keeper? Would he allow the waters to alter him so that he became a mountain of power? He had always been an Alpha of a man… and now the pool wanted to give it all to him… to live beyond the life of an Alpha. In his mind… images of strength and power unimaginable were projected. His fingers moved quickly over his shirt as he began to unbutton it, swiftly removing it and his jacket. Is this what I want? Is this what I’m to be? Removing his trousers and underwear, he stood before the water naked, his 5” cock harder then it had ever been. If I am to be the next Keeper… I want so much more than you gave to him!!! I want you to propel me even further!!! I have never accepted half-measures. I want it all. A warm wind blew onto him and caressed him. Yes, he thought… but what is everything? Is it what I truly want?? As the new Keeper… what will I be? Refusing to turn back, with one step, his feet entered the pool, and he let out a loud moan. Even slightly covered... less than an inch... he could feel a source of power entering his skin and propelling itself through his body. Wanting more... craving more.. he continued to walk... trying to stay conscious as wave after wave of power coursed through his body. Within moments, as the water covered his chest his body began to spasm continuously from the onslaught of power that was swiftly flowing into him. This feeling is intoxicating... I can’t get enough. This was never what I had intended to happen... yet I was called to be the new Keeper and must take on my new mantle! Moving out still further from the shore, Christophe submerged his entire body into the waters... something even the original Keeper has never done. Screaming beneath the water, electric currents began to enter every pore causing the water to bubble around him. No longer in control of his own body, his mouth opened up, and Christophe drank deeply. The same current that was invading the exterior of his body found another passage as he continued to feed on more and more water. As he ingested more than any had ever drunk before... Christophe felt his entire body filling with new life. Not only was his body getting younger... but his skin, bones, and muscles had begun to throb... Still drinking more and more, and still fully submerged in the pool... Christophe feared he was overdosing on the power that was ravaging him. He felt sick to his stomach as his abdomen expanded and tightened... but still he took on more. Just when he thought his body couldn’t take any more power, he found that the onslaught was getting more and more powerful. Fearing yet welcoming the unknown of what he soon would become... Christophe’s 5” Cock went rigid, and he felt that at any moment his entire body was going to cum. As the power continued to gain strength, Christophe had a sudden realisation... he was never meant to be the new Keeper. The pool had no need for a Keeper… No!! It wanted more! It wanted him to become The Pool itself! With this realisation, Christophe’s body began to tense up and become rigid as his back muscles began to swell and grow. Larger and more defined they became... and showed no sign of stopping anytime soon. Beneath the water Christophe screamed as his scapula and collarbone began to expand and fracture, making horrid cracking noises as they grew wider. Watching in shock as his arms proceeded to move further and further away from his body as his back continued to grow wider, he realised that he could now breathe safely under the water as the two were merging together. The pain was agonising but Christophe desired this as he knew his body was being made mighty to hold all of the power the pool had to offer... more then anyone had ever understood or had been a part of. Christophe moaned in ecstasy as his shoulders proceeded to expand wider than any entranceway, and the growth showed no sign of stoping. The bones in his shoulders proceeded tobecome thicker and longer as his trap muscles became further developed. Already much wider than the original Keeper, Christophe knew he would never be able to hold himself upright unless held by the mighty hands of the pool. His delts were becoming thickened and rounder...his upper back packed fully with bulging muscle... his traps mountainous and permeating with strength. ⁃ What am I becoming??? Already My back has surpassed that of The Keeper... Never again will I be able to walk down a hallway built for human’s as I’ll be way to wide!! I can barely turn my head now my traps are so high... my back more muscular than that of a bull’s! With an eruption that rocked the whole pool, Christophe’s lats began to swell, pushing his arms even further from from his side ⁃ It is like 8 bodybuilders were used to form my back... and still I’m growing!! My back is now beyond any human comprehension… and I love it!!!! I can’t believe how quickly my upper back, shoulders and traps had become so monumental!! The pool is propelling me far from the realm of human possibility. Taking more of the water within himself, Christophe screamed for the entire power offered to him by the pool. He was willing to lose his humanity... willing to rise above all other human and be used as the pools tool. With the intake of more of the pool, Christophe’s neck began to bloom into a Roman column of muscle. Each moment he felt it grow larger... it became more difficult to move his head from side to side. Soon his neck was two columns shoved together... then three... As his neck grew further, his traps rose up higher until they fused with his neck right behind his ears. As his lats proceeded to swell even greater, Christophe knew his back must resemble that of an enormous cobra!! If watching from above, one would noticed that the water in the pool was slowly going down as if by evaporation. The bank began to grow larger as more and more of the pool’s essence was fused with Christophe. Soon, the calm lake began to slowly begin to rotate to the left, creating the beginnings of a whirlpool. The sound of cracking that resembled trees being split in two could be heard in the Amazonian rainforest. Far from the destruction of trees... this was the creation and growth of Christophe’s hands and arms as they began to lengthen. Within minutes his arms had surpassed his legs and continued to grow. ⁃ How massive... am I... to become?! The pool no longer needed to be ingested through Christophe’s mouth as his body had begun to mutate to enable the water to flow directly through every pore and orifice. Not to be outdone by his own arms, Christophe’s legs and feet began to elongate as well. To his surprise, it was his hands and arms that hit the bottom of the pool first, and then his legs, enabling him to stand for the first time. Attempting to look up and down, Christophe concluded that the entire pool was nearly 60 feet deep, and he was floating perhaps fifteen feet from the bottom. If he had been on land, he would have been towering above the ground... nearing the height of trees. With his feet planted firmly on the floor of the pool, Christophe proceeded to get taller and wider, his back so filled with peaks and valleys that it resembled a mountain range. The thickness of his neck and traps made it virtually impossible to turn his head anymore, and the human part of Christophe began to be inundated with thoughts of how impractical his size was becoming, yet he was calmed by the pool and began to comprehend his future life as a creature of power and muscle... of instinct... of brute strength. He was becoming new for the world to worship. Lifting his own hands in the water, Christophe marvelled at the sheer size. His palm... fuck... it was becoming wider then his own chest, and each finger... they were quickly surpassing the thickness of his legs!! Above Christophe, the whirlpool was beginning to gain speed and strength... it’s core the man named Christophe the pool was evolving. From above, a muffled scream could be heard as his torso began to snap, pull, and lengthen. As his body became taller and longer, Christophe could see that he was slowly being propelled to the surface. How tall am I now, he thought. Have I reached twenty feet yet? Will my head ever hit the surface, or will I need to crawl out of this pool? Christophe did his best to raise his arm over his head and found that if he were ten feet higher, his fingers would have been breaking the surface... and still he grew. As his back proceeded to grow even wider and more packed with muscle, Christophe began to feel the start of swelling in both of his pecs, and soon after, they were joining the rest of his body exploding with size. Like two king size mattresses growing from his body, Christophe’s pectorals grew firmer, larger, and rounder. The sensation of blood being pumped through his body, feeding his growing muscles made him feel light headed yet free. Stretching his neck forward as much as he could, Christophe smiled as his pecs gained complete control and mastery over the top part of his chest. Moving his immense right hand over his pec, Christophe let out a lewd and guttural moan as his fingers brushed over his nipple. Having never felt such a sensation in his life... Christophe began exploring his nipples more, grabbing onto both and squeezing them first tentatively... then tighter. His cock... so tiny and so far away from his pecs, got harder still and shot a massive wad of precum into the pool. Just as his pecs and chest grew bigger still, so did his nipples; larger, thicker and with wide brown areolas. Fuelled on by his intense nipple play, Christophe’s pecs continued to expand, growing feet after feet from his chest. The chasm between his pecs was now so deep, and as his pecs competed for more and more space, it grew tighter and tighter. Taking his hand, Christophe tried to force his way into the deep canyon, but found it was impossible as his own body fought him. These are the pecs that will soon topple mountains just by my flexing, he thought. Never had the world seen a man so massive... a man so mighty... a man with so much power!! Out of all of the world, I was chosen! Me!!! Since his traps, back, and lats were still getting larger, this new growth brought him more ecstasy and fantasies of his future. The pool was creating a vessel far larger more immense then even Christophe had ever thought. If he knew the plans the pool had for him… how gargantuan…. how colossal he was to be… would he have stopped? The pool promised strength and power… and now it was giving it to Christophe a million fold. As Christophe became lost in thoughts of the creature he was to become, his lower torso and abs began to inflate with muscle. One by one his abs exploded with size, but The Pool had no need for The Vessel to have have a simple six-pack. As his body grew and mutated, it would need more muscle mass to control it, to hold it up, so now he possessed an astronomical sixteen pac, each flexing and fighting for rooms. As the whirlpool grew stronger, and more and more water was sucked into Christophe, he continued to grow. As his head inching up toward the surface, his pecs began fighting each other to find more room in which to grow, both so weighty with mass that his nipples had begun to point down. While his chest expanded, his internal organs and ribs began to swell as well. Since Christophe’s head had only grown a small bit compared to the mountain his body was becoming, it began to become bound between his traps, which now grew mightily past his ears. Barely visible since both his pecs and his deltoids were eclipsing it, his neck had grown thicker than his own waist. Christophe’s top half was now so immense with lats wider than he could imagine. How wide am I now, Christophe wondered as there was no way he could comprehend his size in mere inches or meters. My chest has to be larger than a car... and getting bigger every second!! His abs and waist had proceeded to grow in leaps and bounds. Compared to his chest, no matter how wide and thick his waste became, it would always be the ultimate wasp waist. Each continued to grow wider and thicker forcing Christophe’s Adonis belt to sink in deeper and deeper. When his head was only five feet from the surface, Christophe’s legs started to quake as his feet began to thicken with muscle. Taking on mammoth proportions, both of his calf muscles stretched up and out, swelling so much that the diamond shape of the two heads began to expand outward on all sides and take up more room over his ankle until it appeared that his foot formed right from my calf. Christophe cried out in rapture as each muscle group erupted in size, and a titanic rumbling sound announced the birth of his new elephantine quads. Finding it impossible to hold onto his tiny cock with fingers so massive, he moved again to his other source of pleasure, his nipples. As Christophe pinched, squeezed, and stroked his nipples, he found that he quickly had to widen his stance as the medial and lateral muscles of his quads swelled. With each widening of his stance, it was only moments later that he could feel his quads fighting against each other for room. For a moment, Christophe thought he was shrinking as he realised he was suddenly getting further away from the surface. With a relief, he realised that it was simply his amassing weight that was forcing him to sink into the soill, and that he was still increasing in size. By the third time of spreading his stance wider to allow his quads more room, Christophe realised he could no longer stretch any further. With and exclamation of relief, his pelvis broke and grew, enlarging his stance. As his waist got broader and broader, his upper body was forced to widen even further to maintain his tapered look. As his pelvis cracked and grew three more times, Christophe felt the muscles in his ass start to grow. How long have I been underwater, he thought... how long have I been growing... how much more will I grow? The more I grow, the more magnificent I feel... and my confidence grows to rule this globe... I am becoming pure power... Wanting to feel his massive ass, Christophe tried to touch it with his hands, but soon discovered that his last were spreading so wide that it was virtually impossible for his arms to even reach his backside. Once again, trying to widen his stance even more to accommodate his inflating quads, his rectus burst forth, emerging as two massive teardrops that dipped over his kneecaps and forced him into a bow legged position for comfort. With happiness and resignation, Christophe knew that from now on he would be forced to walk with a crouched gait. Christophe’s legs were now so massive, so engorged, and so muscle bound that they were nearing redwood proportions. My existence as a mere human is ending, he thought... This was never what I wanted but now I can only beg for more. ⁃ Enter me fully!!! I give you this body as your vessel!! Fill me completely that when I walk... this insignificant world quakes beneath my feet!!! With those words, Christophe’s metamorphosis went into overdrive, and he gritted his teeth in both agony and ecstasy as his pelvus broke and grew for the sixth time, extending his waist even more and forcing his stance to be forever bowlegged. Within seconds of gaining hundreds of pounds more of mass... Christophe’s head burst out of the pool like a fetus leaving the womb. Laughing hysterically, Christophe realised that he now stood nearly 65 feet tall. Around him he could see the water spinning faster and faster with him as it’s focal point. With a cry that scattered every bird for miles around, Christophe’s arms began to shudder with a welcomed burning sensation as finally his upper arms joined the rest of his body in its symphony of growth. Lifting his arms out of the water and flexing, Christophe grinned as he watched his upper arm quickly bloat with size and strength… his biceps and triceps becoming thick and dense. A second shout of delirium erupted from Christophe as his clavicle fractured and enlarged to create more room for upper body growth. The prominence of his upper muscles made it difficult to bend his arms even to flex, forcing them to fall slowly down. As the strength and size of his arms continued to grow, Christophe knew that now he could destroy a building with his very hands, pound a mountain into sand… throw a tree miles away… and his strength only grew as his forearms surged with new size. Even the muscles of his hands would easily be able to pulverise the strongest substance to dust. What will the world see when they finally look upon me, Christophe thought as he grew further out of the pond, his pecs now leaving the water behind. I’ve allowed myself to become a total freak… a human monster… a creature of unstoppable strength! The water was soon touching his first set of abs as he surged even larger, his muscles becoming more grotesque with size. I must be 80 feet tall now and still there is so much water to enter me… to fill me! Throughout his growth, Christophe’s head had become only slightly larger then when the day had started. As the water began to enter him faster and faster, and as he proceeded to get even larger, the bones that formed his head began to fracture, stretch, grow, and re-fuse again larger than before. Trying to hold onto his head but finding the size of his lats and his traps made it impossible to reach, Christophe could only feel every aspect of his face getting larger to match his body. Larger and larger and in the throws of agonising bliss… Christophe’s neck muscles grew thicker to support the new weight of his cranium. As his eyes tripled and then quadrupled in size, his cheekbones, mandible, and nose grew as well. Finally, as his chin grew and squared off, and his brow ridge became more prominent, his traps burst larger and more massive than before and fused once again to just below his ears. Looking around at the world, the shrinking pool seemed so far below him as it barely covered his cock. Then, just as his whole body surged even taller… even bigger… Christophe knew this was the moment he had been waiting for, and he cried out as a massive wave of ecstasy hit him. He could feel his cock getting harder than it ever had been before, but it was his balls he really felt it in. He could feel them constantly filling up and churning… filling up and getting heavier. Soon, although he couldn’t see them over his pecs and abs, he could feel his balls swelling… growing larger… and as they grew, Christophe began to get hornier. Very soon his testicles were pulling down on his sack, blowing up like a water balloons Christophe began to pant as he felt his balls become even more hefty. I can barely concentrate, he thought. My mind… so full of lust.. of cock… of fucking… of muscle… MY MUSCLE!! While his balls tripled again in size, Christophe’s penis begins to squirt pre-ejaculate in larger and larger amounts, continuously throbbing and flexing, and getting noticeably thicker. Taken over by pure animal lust, Christophe closes his eyes tight, scrunches his whole massive face, and he could feel the mounting pleasure as his penis began to swell nearly to its bursting point. Smiling, Christophe could hear and feel the flesh of his cock ripping and repairing itself as his cock began to grow thicker… and thicker… longer… and longer… his heart beating faster as more and more blood was pushed into his cock. The weight of his own cock and balls was getting so vast that he could feel them starting to pull on his groin. His balls, growing at the same rate as his mighty shaft could be heard audibly churning more and more seed. Instinctually, Christophe wrapped his hand around his cock and found it was now so thick that he could barely get his own hand around it. As he stroked, pre flowed freely mixing with the remaining water of the pool. Another wave of intense pleasure hit him as blood was forced more into the head causing it to swell and give Christophe the impression that it just might rip in two. Feeling it with his hands, never had he felt a head so thick and meaty and with such a massive piss-slit!! Soon Christoph was using both hands to stroke himself as his cock and balls grew even more titanic. Every second his whole body was growing, but now it seemed it was all mostly focused on his cock. Grunting, Christophe tugged on his cock, feeling it stretch in his hand. - Need… to… fuck!!! Even when I cum…. I know I won’t be satisfied!!! I’m never… going to… be satisfied!!! I’ll live forever… constantly horny!!!! My whole body… so hard… so colossal! Christophe’s cock quickly became as thick as his own forearm, and together his whole body joined in a symphony of growth. As he stroked harder and faster, he realised that his cock was now becoming more sensitive as his body evolved to have thousands more nerve endings embedded throughout it. Opening his eyes, Christophe could finally see his cock over his pecs… so thick and long. Looking around as he stroked, he could see for miles over the trees. I must be at least 80 feet by now and still I grow… the pool only up to my ankles now… soon I will be completely filled… As his balls grew more and more immense, he began to grow even faster, adding on hundreds of pounds of muscle each minute. Christophe’s whole body flexed and grew as his newly evolved testicles sent massive amounts of testosterone flooding into his body and his final evolution went out of control. Like The Keeper, hair erupted all over his body, growing thick on his face and chest. So out of control was his evolution that, where one follicle would once have grown, he now had five or six, making his growing beard thick and dark. Within minutes, Christophe had a full beard that lengthened as he grew. His pecs, now coated in a pelt of jet black hair, grew even more immense so that no matter how much hair he had in his chest… no matter how thick… nothing would ever hide the musculature. Christophe could feel the hairs on his arms and legs growing as well, trailing down onto his hands and feet, and within minutes his underarms had a forest of long jet black hair. With his hands he could feel his pubes growing denser as they covered his pubic mound and ever expanding balls. Veins thicker than pipelines erupted all over his body to further feed his musculature. As this new body needed larger amounts of blood for his elephantine heart to pump, new arteries and veins were formed to send more blood coursing to his muscles. Christophe’s cock, now longer then his arm grew even thicker as pipe-like veins took root, crisscrossing the entire surface and feeding it. So immense was his cock that it stood out as a monument to all things muscle… to all things masculine… to all things powerful. Joining in the constant leaking of precum, Christophe’s nipples began to leak as well. Moving his hand from his cock to his nipples and then moving it as close as he could to his face… he realised that what was flowing out of him were waters from the pool. I am now the pool… he thought. The smell of the water was intoxicating as it emitted the most intense musk of masculinity and sex. The final waters of the pool was quickly being sucked into his feet, and Christophe felt all of his senses become heightened… as he screamed out in one last surge of evolution… his voice became deeper… a rumble of thunder… His body surged even larger as Christophe became the man he always wanted to be… Shooting up taller and thicker with muscle, Christophe let out a roar. Completely filled now with the water, his intellect also grew… the history of the pool… the history of this globe… now resided within him. Taking in his kingdom, Christophe knew he stood larger than 100 feet and weighed as much as a mountain. He was now more powerful than anything on Earth. He was indeed the true Alpha Male… more supreme than anything to come before or after him. As he began to walk, leaving behind an empty crater, he breathed in and discovered he could smell everything… every plant… every tree… every creature. What have I done, Christophe thought. What am I now? What does the pool have instore for me? This is too much even for me to handle. As I walk, the ground shutters… I tower even above the tallest tree… my musculature… nothing has ever existed such as me. Calming his sudden human fears, the wind of his new world blew through his long black hair and caused his titanic nipples to harden and to leak more of his waters. I am now the Vessel, he thought. I am now beyond the Alpha. Soon the chosen would flock to him… soon the chosen would drink from him… soon he would have an army to command… soon he would fuck… - YES!!! SOON I WILL FUCK!!! THE WATER WILL MULTIPLY GROWING EVEN STRONGER… EVEN MORE POWERFUL. The Vessel… which had once been the human Christophe DuPres, stopped walking for thirty minutes to stroke himself to orgasm, his roar echoing for miles as he showered the world down below with his water… with his seed. He was beyond anything imaginable. Soon the world would see him and worship… and what had begun millions of years ago would finally come to fruition. Smelling the air, The Vessel turned in the direction of the Ocean. Yes… it thought… soon we will merge and I will be complete once again!!!
  18. Lexfan

    Ben and Roger

    Part 1 Ben liked working out early mornings in a small gym because there were few personalities to deal with - he usually just kept to his business for the two hours or so his routine took. Ben was a bit obsessive about working out. And no denying his discipline had paid off. When he had graduated college two years ago, he had a slightly above average build. Now, at 24, he was 5'11" and 200 pounds with a muscular physique that would not look out of place on the cover of a fitness magazine. With his sandy blonde hair, broad chest and defined abdominals, he was an idealized version of the California surfer, except he had never actually been surfing. This Saturday morning Ben had arrived early to get in a heavy chest workout. Ben considered his full pecs his most impressive feature, and he liked to take his time when working them so he could put the maximum efforts into his lifts. Of course it would have been nice to have a partner to spot him, but besides the guy at the desk the place at this time of day was usually deserted. He was careful to make sure he never quite exhausted himself past the point where he could safely return the bar to the rack. As he was nearing that point in his third set of bench presses, Ben heard a deep voice behind him. "Go for it, guy, I got you covered." Looking up, Ben, saw a pair of large hands slightly beneath the bar, ready to catch it if he faltered. He could not see much of the guy those hands belonged to, but he could tell they were attached to an impressive set of biceps, more than capable of handling the weight. "Thanks, going to do two more." That was two more than Ben had originally intended, but he felt compelled to put on a good show now that he had an audience. When the bar returned to the rack, Ben swung off the bench and stood up to meet his spotter, a guy who Ben guessed to be in his mid-forties, although a touch of grey in his dark, short hair and slight beard suggested he might even be little older. He was taller than Ben, about 6'1," and even with the loose blue t-shirt he was wearing, Ben could tell the guy had an impressively muscled frame. To Ben’s eye, he must have weighed at least 220 pounds. Ben rightly considered himself pretty “buff,” but this guy put him to shame. What really caught Ben's eye was this guy's incredibly developed arms - the biceps bulged out like melons under his skin. He had a square-jawed masculine face that gave him what could be characterized as "movie star good looks." Not at all the type of guy that Ben expected to meet at this small out of the way gym on a Saturday morning. "Thanks guy, appreciate the hand." "No problem. See you're lifting some real weight. Mind if I work in?" "Sure, good to have the company. I'm Ben." "Nice to meet you, Ben, Roger here." He reached out and offered Ben a handshake, a gesture a little more formal than Ben was used to at a gym, but as he took the older man's firm grip in his own, Ben couldn’t help but notice the interplay of muscle in this guy's arm. "Want to take some weight off the bar for some warm up sets?” "No need. I'm good to go." Roger stretched his impressive frame across the bench and quickly pumped out twelve repetitions without any sign of strain. "Let's put some weight on, Ben." For the next hour and a half, Roger led Ben through a grueling work out, pushing Ben to higher weights on all his lifts. Ben was by nature competitive, and usually when he worked out with a partner, he tried to prove he was the guy who could lift just a little more. Ben grudgingly had to accept that on each exercise by their fifth set Roger was adding weight onto the bar for himself beyond what Ben could handle. As Ben spotted Roger during his sets, he could tell that underneath that blue t-shirt, the rest of Roger’s body was as impressively developed as those big arms. As they lifted, they talked and Ben learned that Roger was divorced, that he had founded a software company that had recently been bought out, that he had moved to the area about a month ago in order to start a new company, that he lived in a high rise with its own weight-room that was currently being refurbished, and he found this gym just looking for a place to use in the interim. Although Ben was by nature reticent to talk about himself,something about the older man's manner and the intent way in which he paid attention led Ben to discuss his life since college, his work, and his uncertainty about the future. They finished the work out with a set of tricep cable presses. Roger had given Ben some direction on form, and as Ben completed the last set, Roger stood behind him and gripped Ben's triceps with his large strong hands so he could feel the muscles exert with effort. "Nice. Good job!" Ben released the weight, and Roger stepped back. Ben took a deep breath and turned and put his hand on the shoulder of the man who had just coached him through the hardest workout he could remember. "Wow. Thanks man. Don't know I've ever felt this much of a pump." "No, Ben, thank you. I can't remember when I last enjoyed a work out this much. You have to come do it again at my new place once the weight room's done." "That would be great. Maybe you can give me some pointers on getting guns like yours." Roger glanced at his arms for a second, then smiled as he looked at Ben. "Thanks. Glad to show you what I can, but that's mainly a matter of pushing hard with consistency, and of course good genetics, which you obviously have in spades." Ben blushed slightly at the compliment, but kept his hand on Roger's shoulder. The two men awkwardly looked at each other for a few seconds. "Ben ... last minute, but have you got plans tonight?" Ben had made plans with a woman he had met a few weeks before, but he knew he could lie and get out of it. "No, not really." "Why don't you come by the apartment. I can grill us something, and we can watch a movie." "That would be great! When? Where?" "Let's say 7:30. Come out to the car and I'll give you the address." Ben followed Roger's broad shoulders out of the gym to a grey Mercedes sports car. Roger saw Ben's eyes grow when he saw the vehicle. "Nice wheels." "Can I give you a lift somewhere?" "Thanks . . . But I rode my bike here and I should be getting back." "Ok, well here's my number and the address. I'll see you this evening." As he watched the older man drive away, Ben realized that his pulse was racing. . . .
  19. 受到jaypat的启发,我决定制作类似的漫画故事。 这是我的第一个故事。英语不是我的母语,因此可能存在一些语法错误。我希望每个人都能理解并提出建议。 -------------------------------------------------- ------------------- 温是亚洲人。他跟随母亲探望了美国的亲戚。温家宝在那里看到了他未被玷污的大哥哥,他的继父的儿子杰克。 像他强壮的父亲一样,杰克是一名高大的篮球队队长。他身高6.4英尺,肌肉强壮,充满了代表力量的血管。幸运的是,杰克很友善。 在假期那天,杰克一起在野外锻炼。 “我做不到!” 温家宝坐在地板上说:“我不能跑,让我休息吧。” “兄弟,你不能这样做,只是热身!” 杰克走向温,用臀部看着他,然后蹲下来,伸手去拿。 “真是......”只看到一个强壮的麝香强壮的身体,无尽的睾丸激素,他的身体汗水闪闪发光,让杰克的肌肉看起来更加强壮,就像一个好莱坞演员英俊的脸,甚至他的包装看起来巨大而且非常猥亵。 “伙计,你应该每天都像我一样运动,让更多人喜欢它。” 杰克帮助韦恩,然后他显示了双二头肌。 “上帝,你还记得那个邻居的辣妹吗?她邀请我今晚去她家,我等不及了!” 杰克饥肠辘辘地摸着他那巨大的阴茎,在他的二头肌上微笑着点亮。。 温看着杰克完美的身体和傲慢的行为,硬化的阴茎开始泄漏并开始浸泡他的内衣。 “我不想听你怎么做爱,我现在只想回家!” 当文回到家时,他和母亲一起回到了自己的国家。杰克也回到平常生活,直到看到一份新报纸。
  20. (This picture has been hot on the forum recently. I just wanted to honor it in some way.) The fanny pack should have made me keep on walking. The gold chain should have made me not take a second look. The zip-up shirt with its hand warming pockets on the sides should have made me turn around and run. Then, there was the almost unibrow that was a sure sign of someone that was not aware. There were so many reasons to not notice the guy. It’s like he was writing a manual for all the things a gay man should not do. The dinner party was full of good-looking men – classy men - who would be what all my friends would call a ‘perfect catch.’ So, why did my gaze – as well as my thoughts – keep returning to the Neanderthal-like man that kept staring at me for all of the pre-dinner drinks part of the party. And now the dude was walking over to me. I had been talking to two beautiful specimens who both decided to get another drink at the same time, leaving me alone and open season for anyone. I panicked as I saw the guy most people at the party were shunning set his sights on me. It was too late, however. I couldn’t have gotten away without making it rude. “Solomon,” he said, holding out an ape-like hand. “I’m sorry?” I responded. “Solomon,” he said, again. I stared at him, baffled. “It’s my name,” he answered, laughing. “Oh yes, I see,” I replied. Pause. “And your name?” he asked. “Oh goodness. Sorry. I’m Paul,” I said, extremely embarrassed. A longer pause. “This is nice,” Solomon said. “What is?” I asked, glancing around to see if there was anyone who could save me from this awkward conversation. “This,” he said, waving his beer bottle (at a dinner party!) at the crowd and room around us. “Oh yes. It is. They always throw nice parties,” I answered and then took a long sip of my vodka soda in order to freshen my buzz and maybe prevent him from saying anything else. “I’m a powerlifter,” Solomon added, dashing my hopes for silence. “I’m sorry,” I said, again, after swallowing the alcohol. “I’m a powerlifter,” he repeated. “I don’t understand,” I responded. “It’s what I do. I compete as a powerlifter,” he explained. “What does that mean . . . exactly?” I questioned, knowing instantly that the nerd factor was about to shoot off the charts. Oh, how I longed to be saved from this misery. “It means I go to competitions and lift heavy things. Trying to lift more than anyone else,” he said, smiling. “You mean like those big round stones and cars without wheels. Things like that?” I asked, remembering briefly stopping on some sports station to see such a thing when I was channel surfing late one night. “Yep. Stuff like that,” he said. “Oh. It . . . um . . . looks . . . heavy,” I stumbled, looking for something to say – which made him laugh. “It is,” he replied. “What do you do, Paul?” “I’m a professor at a university,” I answered, slightly proud of some imagined status this job gave me. “Is that heavy work, too?” Solomon asked, but I missed the joke. “What? No. I teach,” I answered. “It was a joke, Paul,” he said. “I guess not a very good one, though.” “Oh yes, I see. Sorry,” I responded quickly, feeling like a fool. “How do you know Stewart and Barry?” This was the couple hosting the party. I was hoping to find a way out of this conversation and thought bringing up their names might miraculously make one of them appear to steal me away or something like that. Solomon either didn’t notice my discomfort or ignored it. He took another sip of his beer. I still couldn’t believe he was drinking from a bottle and a catered affair. “They call me sometimes for in-house visits,” Solomon said, with a smile that seemed naughty and innocent at the same time. “What does that mean?” I asked – completely missing the subtlety of his answer. “Well, they sometimes invite me over to do shows,” he answered. “What kind of shows?” I continued, now fully focused on our conversation. This seemed like some kind of juicy gossip. “Well, Barry likes feats of strength and Stewart likes to wrestle,” Solomon replied – as if this kind of information was normal or nothing more than something you’d describe like a Tupperware party. “You mean you’re a hustler?” I whispered, amazed at my own brashness. “I didn’t realize they were into three-ways.” “No, no you misunderstand,” Solomon said, laughing a little. “It’s not that at all. There’s no sex involved . . . well, there probably is after I leave. Stewart and Barry have a strength fetish and I’m really strong. I come over and help them live out some of their fantasies.” “You mean like role playing?” I whispered even softer, making what we were talking about seem very wrong and pornographic. “Not usually, but I guess it could,” Solomon said, and it looked like he made a mental note to check on that idea with the two men at a later date. “Let’s do this a different way. When you fantasize sexually, Paul, what do you think about.” “That seems like a personal question,” I snapped back. “Only if you’re hung up on stuff like that. I think we all fantasize – especially men. It’s how we rein in our urges and control our libido. I’m personally into middle-aged guys with dad bods and receding hairlines. Can’t tell you why – it’s just what turns me on. So, what about you, Paul?” “I don’t know . . . I guess I’ve always been into macho men with mustaches that look like they’re from the seventies. When I was young I had a thing for the swimmer Mark Spitz,” I answered truthfully, without even thinking about it. “Well there you go. Barry and Stewart are into strength. I lift heavy things to excite Barry and Stewart and I get down on the floor, oil up, and wrestle like the Greeks – only we’re not nude. How do you know them?” Solomon continued as if all of this was just a normal conversation. “Um . . . I went to college with them. Somehow, that seems like a really boring answer,” I said. “They met when they were freshmen.” “That’s cool,” Solomon said and took another swig of his beer. Another long pause, but this time it was because I was thinking. “Have you won many strength competitions?” I asked, amazed that I was now falling into a comfortable conversation with this man. “Almost all I have entered,” Solomon said and took a slight step closer to me. Another pause. “Um . . . what kind of strength feats does . . . um . . . Barry like?” I asked, suddenly noticing the room was getting warmer. “Lots. But he likes it most when I lift him over my head – like he’s my barbell,” Solomon answered, staring into my eyes. “Stewart loves it when I pin him to the ground and don’t let him move.” Some seismic shift happened within me. It was humongous and simple at the same time. I spoke, but it barely registered that it was me trying to say the words. “I . . . uh . . . I think…” I couldn’t finish my thought so I just took another long gulp of my drink. Solomon didn’t take his eyes from mine. The man’s size was just now becoming a reality for me. He had the kind of chest that made me think of couch cushions or gigantic pillows – only his massive things were clearly not soft. His gut protruded out with a solidity that was intoxicating – like a thick concrete wall. His torso seemed so much denser than regular human beings. His arms were like veiny bowling balls. It was like I was seeing Solomon for the first time. His body was a magnificent work of muscled art. The man couldn’t have been better built even if Michelangelo had carved him from a perfect piece of marble. “You were going to say something, Paul” Solomon said softly. “I . . . think . . .” I stammered, but that was all I could get out. I stared at his handsome face. A strong wide nose that somehow made him look even more muscular. Dark brown eyes covered with furry eyebrows and thick lashes. And a beard that made me think of Samson, Hercules, or even a younger Zeus. God, his shoulders were so wide and thick and his neck was like a stone column. His eyes beamed with something akin to sunshine or pure joy. He somehow made me completely comfortable even though I was having so many crazy feelings for the first time. “I think . . . um . . . that I would . . . uh . . . like to be . . . you know . . . lifted . . . by you,” I said and sounded like a junior high kid on his first date. I had lost control of my own body – it simply knew what it desired and was asking for it. The pause that followed was excruciating. I panicked that I had crossed some line or said something wrong. Come to find out, the big guy was just letting the intensity of the moment build. “I’d definitely like to lift you, Paul. I’d like to show you what I’m capable of,” Solomon said and it seemed like he was a snake charmer and I was the cobra. “You wouldn’t be any struggle for me at all.” “Oh . . . my . . . oh fuck,” was the gibberish that came out of my mouth in response – fully realizing he could easily lift my heavy frame. Solomon moved closer to me and it felt like a mountain was advancing. I found myself staring at his arms and thinking about how they would easily lift my forty-seven-year-old, normal, slightly overweight body high above his head. The feelings that thought caused to shoot through my body were new and unexplored territory – I was a little dizzy with excitement. That’s when I suddenly remembered him saying he was turned on by middle aged guys with dad bods and receding hairlines. He had been describing me. My eyes widened. He quickly figured out what had shot into my head. “I think you’re really hot,” Solomon said, smiling in a way that made my knees almost buckle. “And I have to say that I hope lifting you will lead to us having sex.” It took me a while to focus. My body and mind needed time to calm down from what he had said. “I . . . uh . . . never knew I had this . . . um . . . fetish before,” I said sheepishly. “You had never met me before,” Solomon replied, smiling a devilish grin. He was still the guy with the multiple zippered fanny pack. He was still the guy what could be viewed as having one eyebrow snaking across his forehead. He was still the guy wearing a gold chain as if he were part of the Italian mafia. And he was still the guy with the pocketed, zippered super tight 70’s disco shirt. But none of that mattered. He was huge, strong, and gorgeous. And he was also going to lift me – a thought that gave me a bigger thrill than I ever would have expected or even known before I met him. Barry and Stewart had a photographer walking around the party taking random shots of everyone – mementos we could take home. The guy came up to the two of us right at that moment. “Hey, you two love-birds, how about a picture?” the man asked. “Oh, we’re not a…” Solomon began, but I interrupted him. “We’d love one,” I said loudly as I slid my hand into Solomon’s. My move caught the big guy off guard – something that made me smile even more. He gazed at me with eyes that were suddenly a little watery. He tightened his big hand around mine. We both looked at the photographer, smiled, and he snapped the picture. That was five years ago and that exact photo still sits on my desk at work. Students often ask who’s the hot guy in the picture with me and I proudly tell them he’s my husband. A few of the jocks from my classes have even recognized him as a world-class powerlifter. They have commented on how strong he is and how he can lift amazing amounts of weight. I always confirm what they say is true and then secretly think about what he likes to lift the most.
  21. Here is another story for all of you. A short one. This will be a short 5 to 6 or 7 chapter story as a distraction from my main story. Will finish this before posting the next chapter of my main story. Also another note. Please, I would really appreciate if none of you were to reply on my stories for anything at all, if you could try. Thank you! Chapter 1 Lonely in School It was a new day of a new year of college. The week was fine. The lessons were fine. All the current topics were fine. Kind of an underwhelming first week if I was being honest. Had a few normal chats with my close friends. A bit of laughs and gossips. But nothing too interesting. I just needed something exciting to happen soon. At around Thursday, I had just finished school. School that day ended at 12pm which was lunch period. Last year I did have similar school days. Usually I would just go straight home and eat lunch that my mom made before working. But certain circumstances led to me having to eat lunch today. So I went to one of the canteen rooms. It had been a while since I had eaten Subway, so I queued up in the line. The line was quite long, so I just scrolled through my phone. But from the corner of my eye I saw someone. He seemed familiar, but I paid no mind. But then he looked at me. I looked back at him. He seemed to wave at me. I waved back naturally and he walked off. And then it hit me. Was that Skye? Back in secondary school, I was in the same school as Skye. He was never in the same class as me. We don’t even know each other that well. But he had friends in my class class and would sometimes come into the classroom when the periods changed. The fact that he recognized me at all was interesting. I had short hair back then as guys could never have long hair, and now I do. And I didn’t even look too interesting at all. I was just an average guy. I thought I was no different than any other short skinny guy. I only knew of his existence because of how he looked. Skye looks the same between the years we were apart. A slight difference was that now he has slightly unkempt hair, slightly taller and bigger. Skye was a big guy. He never worked out, so he was a chubby guy to say the least. He now stood at 5’10”, probably weighed at about 200lbs. He had fair skin, brownish eyes and black hair. He also had a chubby face. He was never muscular to begin with, just slightly fat. But he was capable of carrying people for quite a long while. To say the least, he was one of my secondary school crushes. I was just really into huge guys. There is no limit to that. The bigger the guy, the better. Any way they grew bigger I don’t mind. I thought that today would be great to finally socialize with him. But after grabbing my order, I didn’t see him at all. He probably took away the food to eat at home. A bit disappointing. But at least I could probably see him again next Thursday. All I had to do was wait. Next Thursday, I finally managed to strike up a conversation with him. I ordered the same food stall as he did. We managed to break the ice and talked about secondary school things to catch up. It was a wild ride. I asked him if we could eat together but he promised his mom that he would come home as soon as possible. But he did promise to eat with me next week. Great, I thought, I’m finally talking to one of my crushes. Another week passed by. We finally sat together and ate the same food. We had another great chat about being in secondary school. After a while, we talked about life in college and our interests as well. But realising our food was getting cold, we had to eat our food fast. A was a nice and pleasant lunch. No loud gossip of a group of 10 friends. And no fell silence of being alone. Just the two of us. And watching my crush eat in front of me. Oh what a wonderful experience it was. Then I saw him eat. The way he ate his food. Him rubbing his large soft belly after swallowing. Ooo I just wanted to hug and kiss him. Oh how I wish the more he ate, the bigger he gets. In the end, I never know how my wish ended up as a premonition... Chapter 2 Meal time It had been a few weeks since we ate together every Thursday. We began to go out a lot as well. We became good friends since that day. And since then, my crush hasn’t gone away either. In fact, my crush for him only grew more and more. But another thing I noticed was that he was growing bigger too. He was also eating more lately. His hunger seemed to be increasing lately too. I thought he may be stress eating. I was getting a bit worried about his eating habits. It got worse and worse. When we went out during the whole day, he would have 5 whole meals from 10am to 8pm. Each meal he would have servings that maybe 3 people would eat. And about an hour after eating, he would complain about being hungry. I had no idea what came of him. Did he suffer some sort of illness or something? But the weirdest part was how this all affected him. You would think that eating so much food would cause him to be the fattest person alive. However the effects were, unexpected and unpredictable to say the least. While he was getting fatter, he was also getting bigger and muscular. Over the past 2 months, he reached 6’3” and weighs about 375lbs. His body was certainly built like a powerlifter. Huge broad shoulders. A large back. Biceps the size of soft balls. Huge heaving pecs protruded from his body. Thick legs to support his giant body. And my goodness, he had hair growing at rapid speeds. But the biggest thing of all was his giant gut. I swear it looked like a beachball. While his whole body was all giant muscles, his stomach boasted muscle and fats. That belly protruded a whole foot and a half away from his body. It was like from all the food he had, all the nutrients and proteins went all over his body, but all the excess fats went straight to the stomach. I do not know how he wasn’t fat all over, let alone have any muscle at all. He still has never worked out in his life! I wanted to know what was happening to his body. It was hot as heck to look at not gonna lie. But such a rapid growing appetite is proven worrisome. We needed to talk about this. I had always been nervous to talk about this. Thinking it would be rude to call him fat for having such a massive belly. But I cannot hold on longer anymore. I needed a perfect occasion to ask him. A lunch with him. I thought. The usual Thursday lunch would be the perfect time to ask him. It was another Thursday. I spent the whole day thinking on how I would phrase my question. I was always the nervous type. I must think of every possibility and phrase the least offensive sentence ever. After all, I could be beaten up by his hulking body. But worse of all, we would probably not be friends after all. So we went over the usual food stall. I ordered a simple meatball spaghetti bolognaise. While Skye ordered 5 whole burgers, a bucket of fried chicken, 5 boxes of fries, 3 slices of cake, 3 apples, 2 oranges, 10 salads and 15 large bottles of pure water. The fact that he didn’t spill any food or water while heading to our table was so surprising. But the look of people’s faces made me so embarrassed. We sat down. We didn’t talk. I looked down the whole time. I ate as softly as possible, contemplating on what to say. Skye on the other hand. He ate as quickly as possible. I sometimes saw people looking towards our table. Skye was eating like a pig. I had told him before to eat slowly. And I think he did remember it when he saw me and started to eat slower. But I keep hearing stomach grumbles, which led him to eat faster. He really tried to slow down. But the louder the grumbles, the faster he ate. He looked like he was in pain to not eat quickly. I finished my food, still looking down. I tried to muster a word. To my surprise, Skye was the one who spoke first. “Friend… You seemed sad… I know, you told me to slow down, but I’m just so hungry.” “I’m worried Skye. What is happening to your body!” I said, without trying to attract attention. “What do you mean?” he said, trying to avert the question. He seemed fearful and sad himself. “You know what I mean. Your appetite. Your growth. Your giant belly.” He sighed and nodded. “I know you are rich and can afford the food. But don’t you think eating this much is healthy both bodily and monetarily” I said. I think I offended him slightly because he looked angry. Not sure at me or himself. But I kept quiet the rest of the meal. Right as we were about to leave, he held my shoulder. With such sorrow in his eyes, he spoke, “Friend… I’m just scared… I wanted to go to the doctor for a long time to get this checked out, but I’m scared of this condition. And I didn’t want to scare my family either. To scare you would be even more devastating.” I blushed. Did he really say that? He seemed to pretend that he didn’t say the last part and I paid no mind to him. “But since you worry so much of me… I’ll go to the doctors. But could you come with me?” “sure…”
  22. Shawn1978

    m/m Eric and Seth

    Hey guys, here's the first chapter of the new story I'm writing. Since it's not a story already finished or anything, the chapters will be released as I go. Im sure the story will have it's flaws and possible mistakes in it, since it's been a while since I've written anything, since my last story, titled "My Everything" which you can find on the nifty.org website, if you'd like to read it. That one is not finished, but I hope you enjoy that one, as well. Now on with my new story! Chapter 1 Eric was sitting, at his desk, in his private dorm room, at San Diego University, browsing the internet for more information about farms, on his laptop. Eric was a very kind hearted guy, with light brown hair, and the most piercing blue eyes you ever saw. At least when he was not wearing his glasses which was not that often. Eric stood about 5'11" and at 22 years old, was generally, a very active young man. Eric was also smart, but yet very sensitive, as well. His brow was furrowed, in frustration, as he looked over, his search results on farms. He had chosen to use the subject of farms for his college essay, and so far was having trouble, finding the right information he needed to begin writing his Essay. As he was wondering what to do next, he heard a knock on his dorm room door. He walked over to it, and opened it, revealing a very pretty girl, with brunette hair, on the other side of it. "Hi, Amy!" Eric said, warmly, smiling at her. Amy smiled back at him. "Hey, Eric!"Amy replied back, cheerfully. "Are you busy right now?" Eric ran his hand through his light brown hair, obviously frustrated, which Amy could clearly see. "Is something wrong?" She asked him, showing concern. Eric nodded. *I'm having trouble starting my college essay, for Professor Mastrian's class, and I could use my best friend's advice." Amy smiled, with a nod of her head. "I'd be happy to help you, any way I can, Eric." "Come in." Eric say, opening the door further and stepping aside. Amy walked in and turned back to face, Eric, just as he shut the door to his room. "What can I help you with?" Amy asked. Eric walked over and sat back down at his computer. Amy grabbed a nearby chair and sat beside him. "I chose to write about farms for my college essay, and I'm having so much trouble finding information on what's it like to run a farm. I mean, I see all the equipment, that you use for farming, like the tractors, and work supplies, and stuff like that, but I have no idea how to use that to get my essay even started. Amy nodded, understanding his frustration. She reached over and caressed his arm, affectionately. "I understand your frustration, Sweetie." She said, softly. "But if you want to know more about what's it like to run a farm, the only thing you can do is work on one. Get some hands-on experience. And as you experience it, firsthand, you can write about it. Keep a daily journal of your experiences, good and bad, that way it'll be easier to remember when you go to complete your essay. Eric nodded his head. What Amy was suggesting made a lot of sense. Which is why he truly appreciated having her for a best friend. He smiled at her, as he brought his hand behind her head and kissed her on the forehead. "Thank you, Amy." Eric said, warmly. "I'm glad I can count on you." Amy smiled. "What are best friends for?" She asked him, then added. "That's my job." Eric laughed, showing off his cute smile and beautiful white teeth. "Yeah, well, unfortunately, you're not being paid for it." Eric joked, earning him a slap on the knee, from Amy, which made him laugh harder. "You know money can't buy friendship!"Amy exclaimed, feigning shock, but grinning widely. "Besides our friendship is priceless!" " I know, I know!" Eric said, leaning towards her, and hugging her. "I wouldn't have it any other way." "Thanks."Amy said, as she pulled back from their hug. "Neither would I." Eric knew how lucky he was to have a friend like Amy. He had known her ever since freshmen year of high school. Since then, they'd become fast friends. Amy had been the first person Eric had told that he was gay and she had hugged him and told him that it didn't matter to her and that she was still his friend. Eric then remembered something. "Amy? Why did you come by, other than to help me with my essay?" Eric asked her. "Oh, right!" Amy exclaimed, remembering. "I just wanted to know if you wanted to join me for an afternoon workout. Yoga and cardio?" Eric beamed. If there's one thing he loved, it was working out. Especially when he was with Amy. "I would love that, right now." Eric said. "That'll take my mind off of this essay for a while." "Cool!" Amy said, standing up. "I'm going back to my room to pack my gym bag. You wanna meet outside the campus in 30 minutes?" "Sounds like a plan! Eric said. "In the meantime, I'm going to run out and pick up a newspaper from one of the stores, near the campus. "Alright then." Amy said, giving him another hug and a kiss on the cheek. "I will meet you, at the gym." Amy then headed for the door and left Eric's room, closing the door behind her. Eric took that moment to shut down his laptop, and close it. Then he closed his notebook and put it in his desk drawer. He then proceeded to go to his closet to pick out his workout clothes, as well as a fresh change of clothes. As he looked through his closet, he decided on a Nike tank top and a pair of Nike athletic work out shorts. He took them off the clothes bar and set them down, on the bed. Next, he picked out a solid light blue v-neck T-shirt and a pair of Levi jeans, that fit his toned body very nicely. He returned to his bed and dropped his clothes on it. He turned back to the closet and got out his gym bag and checked it to see if he had his spare deodorant in it, which he did, so he brought the bag back to the bed, and proceeded to pack his things in the bag. He ran to the bathroom to grab a fresh towel to pack in the gym bag. After finishing up, he grabbed his car keys and exited his dorm room, locking the door, behind him. He walked through the busy college halls, observing the students, walking around, some heading to their classes. Others were standing by the walls, talking amongst each other. As he was nearing the door, Eric heard a voice shout out. "Yo, Eric!" Eric turned towards the owner of that voice and saw his friend, Will, running towards him, from behind him. "Hey, Will." Eric said, "Nice to see you, man! "You too." He said. "You want to hang out with me and my girl tonight? We're gonna have pizza and rent some movies to watch on DVD." Eric wouldn't have minded the idea, except that he'd already had plans to stay in his dorm tonight and work on his essay. "Sorry, Will, I can't tonight." Eric told him, politely. "I have to work on my essay for Professor Mastrian's class." How about a raincheck?* "Sure." Will said, understanding, but still looking slightly disappointed. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?" "To the gym." Eric said. "I'm meeting Amy there for a workout, but first I have to go pick up a local newspaper to browse through later." "Oh, Ok." Will replied. "I've got to get to my psychology class now, anyway. Call me, later, alright? "Absolutely." Eric nodded. "See you later, man." Will left to head to his class, and Eric walked over to his red Nissan Altima and got into it. He started the car and headed down the street to the local supermarket to pick up the newspaper. He pulled into the parking lot and walked into his local Whole Foods Market, to get the newspaper. He grabbed the newspaper off of the news stand shelf and then decided that maybe he'd better pick up something for both he and Amy to snack on, after their workouts. He headed down towards the snacks aisle to see what they had there. Eric browsed the shelves and his face lit up when he saw some "Oats and Peanut Butter" squares and decided on those. As Eric turned to walk to the check out counter, he accidentally bumped into someone, who was also heading down the snacks aisle, for something, and his snacks and the newspaper fell of his hands, "Whoa!" Eric heard a man's voice say, as they collided. "Shit!" Eric cursed, as he bent down to pick up his things, not even looking at the man. "I'm such a klutz! I'm so sorry, sir!" "No, I'm sorry, man!" Eric heard the man, reply. "It was my fault, I shouldn't have been walking down the aisle as fast as I was." Eric was just about finished picking up all his stuff, just as the man finished saying that, but as he reached out to pick up the last box of snacks, his hand came in contact with the other man's, hand, since he had knelt down to help Eric pick everything up. It was then that Eric looked up at the man and found himself staring into the most beautiful ocean blue eyes he had ever seen! The man in front of him, was gorgeous! Not only did he have beautiful eyes, but he also had beautiful golden blond hair and a very chiseled face and jawline. "Are you ok, man?" Eric heard the man, ask. Eric snapped out of his trance and started to get up. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." Eric stammered. "Thanks." As Eric stood up, so did the handsome gentleman. Eric's breath also caught in his throat when he noticed something else, about the man. Eric saw that the man was wearing a sleeveless red and black paid shirt with some light blue jeans. But what amazed Eric even more was how muscular the man was! Eric could see how big his pecs were, since the shirt was unbuttoned down to his sternum. Eric could see a slight hint of abs, and knew without a doubt, this man definitely had a ripped six pack under that shirt. And the man's legs, as Eric observed, were massive. Just one of the man's legs was as big as Eric's torso. Eric could see the handsome man's quads, filling out his Levis to form. "Wow." Eric said "You're a big guy!" The man laughed. "Yeah, I get told that, a lot." He said. "I can understand why." Eric said. "You're built like a bodybuilder." "Actually, I used to compete,but I don't anymore." The man said. "How come?" Eric asked, frowning, in confusion. "Too expensive." The man replied. "Having to go through all you have to, just to win a bodybuilding statuette, is just not worth it to me, anymore." "I understand." Eric said. Then he realized that he hadn't introduced himself to the guy. "By the way, I'm Eric." Eric said, extending his hand out to the man. I'm Seth." The handsome man said, as he grasped Eric's hand. "It's nice to meet you." Eric and Seth shook hands, and Eric felt like Seth's hand lingered on his, longer than usual. Or was that just him? "Well, I'd better be getting going." Eric said. "I have to get to the gym and get my workout in, before I head back to campus to work on my essay." "Ok." Seth replied. "It was nice meeting you, man." "You too." Eric said, feeling disappointed that he had to cut their conversation short. But he knew that Amy was waiting for him, at the gym. "Take care." Seth said, lightly slapping Eric's shoulder and strutted off towards the meat department. Eric couldn't help himself, at that moment. He turned around to look at Seth again as he was walking away and saw just how tight those jeans really were on him. His big muscular ass, hamstrings and calves filled them out nicely. "Damn." Eric said, to himself. "He is literally the hottest fucking stud I have ever seen!" He turned and started walking towards the checkout counter. "Too bad I'm never going to see him, again." Eric said, to himself, sadly. Little did Eric realize how wrong he would be. Well, that's all for this chapter. Let me know what you think. All feedback is welcome, including criticism. I will use all feedback, in order to try to improve, my writing, as the story progresses. Thanks for reading!
  23. Part 1: Why Not Try It? Bzzz bzzz. Evan heard his phone vibrations from across the room as he fixed himself a sandwich. He had been waiting for a text back from his friend Brandon. Evan walked over and picked up the phone, swiping it unlocked and deftly typing a response. “I’m home from college for the weekend. Wanna hang out?” Branson responded faster now. “Yeah bro! I’d been hoping you’d come home some weekend soon. Wanted to catch up with you.” Evan remembered when he was home last year for a few days and he and Brandon had met up with a couple of girls their age, partying with them and eventually fooling around with them in Brandon’s basement. “Yeah? You wanna do a repeat of last November?” Brandon was Evan’s best friend from hometown; they’d done everything together, from homework to baseball, to hooking up with girls. Even though Evan was going to a university about 3 hours away, and Brandon was still at home at the smaller local college, the two still kept in good contact with each other. It took a few minutes to Brandon to reply, and Evan was a little worried he offended his buddy. Maybe he was weirded out by getting a blowjob in the same room as his lifelong friend? Still, they didn’t watch each other or anything. As far as Evan knew, they were both straight as an arrow. ”nah” the gray speech bubble finally read. “Wanna come work out with me? We can go to my campus gym.” ”works for me” Evan quickly typed out. “Be over in 10 to pick you up.” Evan was excited at the chance to get a workout in with Brandon. The two guys were roughly around the same build and physique which made them perfect workout partners for each other; around 160 lbs, 6’ tall, they normally benched around 140, taking turns spotting each other while shooting the shit. This was the first time working out at Brandon’s college, Evan thought, as he hopped into his parent’s Mazda and began driving towards Brandon’s house. Pulling up to the curb some 5 minutes later, Evan looked down to text Brandon to come outside. He saw the guy on Brandon’s front yard start walking towards his car, but that must have been Brandon’s uncle or something. That guy was nearly 200 pounds and had much thicker chest, arms, and legs than Brandon. Still, the guy walked closer until he reached the passenger side door and knocked on the window. Evan could see him closer now and recognized him instantly. ”B?! Is that you??” He rolled down the window and unlocked the car. ”Hey Ev,” replies Brandon, his voice no different than Evan remembered it. Brandon opened the door and hopped in. He was wearing a loose cutoff shirt and short mid thigh running shorts, which his thighs were nearly too thick for. ”Good to see ya man,” Evan said. Not wanting to waste any of their workout time, he started driving toward the gym. “You look...” ”Huge??” laughed Brandon. “Yeah, I haven’t seen you since last June, right? I’ve been putting in crazy time at the gym. What do you think?” Brendan flexed a little as he directed Evan’s route. “Yeah, I mean you look crazy!” Evan exclaimed. “I’ve made a couple big lifestyle changes,” Brandon said. “I’ll tell ya about it when we get there.” He grabbed Evan’s upper thigh playfully. “If you can keep my secret!” Evan stayed silent while Brandon let go and laughed. “I’m kidding man. Nothing more than good old fashioned hard work and nutritional changes! Oh, you can park here.” They arrived at a brown brick building with the sign “Eastern Student Fitness” our front. There were no other cars around and no sign of anyone else on campus. ”Where is everyone?” asked Evan as they walked toward the entrance. ”Fall break. But since I work here, I’ve got a key. And since they’re all gone, we’ve got the place to ourselves.” He flipped through the keys on his maroon lanyard, finally selecting a silver one and turning the lock open. “After you...” The motion sensor lights flicked on as the two guys entered the linoleum hallway. “Wanna hit the weights?” Brandon asked, sort of skipping down the hallway. ”Hellll yeah man, show me what you can now!” called Evan. They ended up at the bench press where Brandon had racked up 2 plates on each side of the bar. Before Evan could even get in position to spot him, Brandon was busting out reps, racking the bar after completing his 10th with ease. Evan’s eyes went wide. “Ok, well I usually do about 5x5 of 135...” he said sort of meekly, removing a plate from his side of the bar. ”No problem bro!” Brandon hopped behind the bar to spot his friend. Evan felt motivated by Brandon’s new swagger, and felt his muscles surging a little as he pressed the reps out. This continued for a while across the deserted weight room, with Brandon pounding out an impressive set while Evan removes weight and followed suit. The two guys were starting to get a little hot, and since no one else was around, they decided to take their shirts off. Evan had some pec definition and a modest 4 pack, with a fledgling few strands of chest hair. Despite being 20 now, he had never been able to grow any. Meanwhile Brandon had pecs nearly twice the size of Evan’s, covered in a light dusting of blonde hair that was shaved down to a stubble. Evan eyed Brandon up and down, noticing both his huge upper body, but stopping to notice Brandon’s butt tightly stretching his black nylon shorts in the back. ”You must be hitting those squats hard too eh man?” laughed Evan. ”Hah, yeah dude,” said Brandon, adjusting his shorts a little to show the white and black striped waistband of his underwear sticking out slightly. “Let’s do it.” Brandon loaded up around 250 lbs as a warmup weight and squatted it down. Evan watched him intently, especially his friend’s butt. I mean damn... it was incredible the way Brandon had changed in the last 5 short months. Evan peeked a small strip of skin and the crack of Brandon’s ass between the bottom of his waistband and the top of his shorts as Brandon squatted down and back up again. “Bro, you wearing a jock or something?” teased Evan. ”Oh shit, sorry man, didn’t mean for you to have to see that.” ”Its alright B, we’re like brothers after all. I’m impressed with how far you’ve come.” ”Dude it could totally be you too. I just got lucky with the way my body kept growing after high school.” ”No way man, you put in good work. You must be getting tons of chicks now!” ”Eh,” said Brandon. “Not really. But to be honest with you, I’m happy that way. Hey, you wanna shower here? It’s just us two and we really fuckin’ stink.” ”Sure man,” said Evan, as Brandon motioned toward the locker room and followed him out of the weight room. Evan pushed the swinging heavy door to the locker room open and walked down one of the far aisles of orange lockers. He raised his voice to talk to Brandon, assuming he’d take the next row over. After all, why change together if they could have privacy, right? “So what kind of diet’ve you been eating?” he called, looking down to untie his sneakers. Brandon was basically right behind him as he answered. “Oh you know, a ton of protein,” he calmly replied, also untying his shoes. ”Fuck!” cried Evan, startled. “I didn’t expect you to come down the same row as me dude.” ”Eh what’s the big deal bro? Nothing you haven’t seen before!” Brandon laughed. He was naked now except for his white jockstrap. His cock was starting to stir a little, the pump from the gym, his shirtless friend, and the musky smell turning him on. Evan turned around and saw Brandon’s stiffening bulge. “The fuck, man?” He was now naked himself, and covered his own crotch with his hands. “Calm that thing down dude, I’m not your chick Jenny.” ”Nah Jenny’s been gone for a while,” Brandon said. “Actually I’ve been hanging out with ‘Dave’ these days.” That sent Evan the message. “Dave? Who’s Dave? You’re fucking gay?! After all we went through, I can’t believe it. I mean I still love you man, in a friend way, but damn, how could you not tell me!” Evan felt betrayed. And scared at Brandon’s out of character behavior, and his openness. But most importantly, Evan was scared of his own cock stiffening underneath his cupped hands. ”Its a long story,” Brandon replied. “But I’ll tell you. And it has to do with this-“ he flexed his left bicep- “and this-“ he cupped his rock hard boner bulge through the fabric of his jock with his other hand. “But hey man,” he started to say, as Evan couldn’t look away from his body and moved his own left hand away from his crotch to balance himself on the wooden bench as he stepped closer to his friend. ”I can tell-“ as Evan stepped within a foot of Brandon now, sweating and smelling the manly musk of the locker room and slowly moving his right hand away from his cock, ready to show Brandon in all its 6-inch erect glory, as Brandon’s bulge pulsed and bounced in its jockstrappy-prison, the tip of it gently poking out at the top right of the pouch. ”You’re curious.” Brandon concluded as Evan took another step closer, his cock now gently poking Brandon in the thigh as he rested his hands on the big man’s chest, gently feeling them up. Brendan tilted his head right and down to whisper in Evan’s ear as his right arm wrapped around Evan in a tight embrace, his left reaching town towards his crotch, pushing his jockstrap pouch to the side, freeing his 10-some inch beast to press up fully against Evan. The warmth of Brandon’s meat pressed against his crotch and leg turned Evan on even more, as his cock bounced and stiffened even further. “Why not try it,” whispered Brandon as his left arm grasped both their cocks and rubbed them together gently, his right arm now holding the back of Evan’s head and pushing him down slightly, as, unknowingly to the pair of men, Brandon’s body pumped out gallon after gallon of invisible pheromones of growth and seduction. To be continued next time in: Part 2: One of Us Now
  24. I could see his hulking topless form from across campus. His body seemed to reflect the sun, like the wet rocky face of a rain-soaked mountain. It was like light sought out and emphasized every muscled bulge and tensed ripple. For an entire semester, I had obsessed over what his body might look like under his clothes and now I was going to find out. He saw me walking up and he smiled – more sunlight was deflected towards me. He was sitting on the back of my car, obviously waiting for me. It was clear he knew I couldn’t avoid him if he surprised me this way. I walked hesitantly toward him, forcing myself to not look at his body. “Hiya, Professor.” “Good afternoon, Oliver. Um . . . you’re on my car.” “I this your car? Wow, who would have guessed?” “Is there something I can do for you? Something that you want?” His smile turned a little mischievous. It was a subtle change, but his eyes signaled the change, as well. My heart started to race and its beat pounded in my ears. A little sprinkling of sweat appeared at the back of my neck. I felt at that moment – with profound certainty – that the handsome young man gazing back at me knew me better than anyone else in the entire world. I felt the urge to turn and walk away quickly, but the warmth from the sun he emitted enveloped me like a heavy blanket on a cold night. I was trapped, but I knew I didn’t really mind. “Come on, Professor, we both knew this is where I’d be on this particular day, at this particular time, dressed in this particular way.” “We did? I usually have all appointments with students carefully marked in my calendar, Oliver. I don’t recall setting up this particular meeting.” “I’m twenty-three, the semester officially ended about an hour ago, I’ve already met all the requirements for graduation, and this so-called appointment has been booked since the first day I walked into your class.” “I don’t understand.” “A biceps-hugging light blue t-shirt and butt-hugging jeans with holes at the knees. Don’t say you don’t remember, Professor.” My god, what guy with blood pumping through his veins and air in his lungs could possibly forget the sight Oliver described? It was etched in my psyche for eternity. It had been the fodder for enough dark night, self-satisfying seed spilling I couldn’t have erased it from my mind if my life had depended on it. He had walked into the large crowded lecture hall of almost one-hundred and fifty students and it had been like a spotlight hit him at the doorway, followed him to his seat, and highlighted him for the entire class . . . well, actually, the entire semester. Today, the sun was his spotlight. I cleared my throat – in hopes that it might help me to dismiss a growing excitement in a specific region in my body. “I was actually a little bummed that I couldn’t go shirtless in your class, Professor. I know that would have pleased you a lot.” “Oliver, I’m not so sure we should be having this conversation…” “Professor Michaels, every time we had a meeting in your office your hands shook, beads of sweat formed on your forehead, and the most eloquent teacher at the university fumbled for words for the entire session. Trust me, I’ve learned to read the signs from guys I turn on. I also think about you every time I lift some heavy weight in the gym and during other not-to-be-mentioned activities, as well. You pretty much dominate my mind every waking hour. You can’t honestly tell me that you thought the attraction was only one way, now can you?” He was completely right – I had noticed his lingering around after class, his volunteering to be on any class committee that had to meet with me, and the way his clothes had become tighter every time he showed up for class. I’d even noticed he wrote my name a few times in the margin of a book he borrowed – obviously forgetting it was there when he returned it. The adorable, juvenile, love-sick action had confirmed my suspicions and fueled masturbatory sessions for many weeks. The book of Rilke’s poetry with his handwriting still had a place of honor on my bedside table. “Oliver, I don’t know…” “Professor, don’t. Please don’t disregard me as if this were some kind of childlike crush. I’ve added twenty pounds of muscle mass this semester, simply because working out helped me to survive the torment of not being able to talk to you – honestly and openly. It’s been hell and heaven at the same time for me. I’m thinking it’s been the same for you. Please, let’s not waste time pretending there’s nothing going on here – between us. As sure as I am that the sun will rise tomorrow, I’m even more certain that this kind of connection doesn’t come around that often. Technically, I’m no longer a student at the university. As we both know, walking across that stage in a few days is just pomp and circumstance. It’s all for show. Treat me like an adult, please. Don’t patronize me.” You would have thought a huge boulder had just been lifted from my shoulders – that’s the kind of relief I felt. Briefly, I imagined the beefy stud in front of me holding that big boulder above his head, my very own Hercules rescuing me, but then I quickly dismissed those thoughts. It was a force of habit. The freedom his words caused, however, was undeniable. My body was suddenly no longer tense and the dizziness in my head disappeared instantly. I signaled for him to move over and slid up on the back of my car beside him. I put my satchel across my lap, not wanting my body’s reaction to his huge muscles and his loving words to reveal my inner thoughts even more at that particular moment. I paused to give us both a moment to calm down. “Twenty pounds, huh?” “Of pure muscle.” “Impressive.” “Not nearly as impressive as the ninety-nine I worked my ass off to get in your class.” “You did work very hard. Do you know how hard it was for me to not give you a perfect score on your final paper?” “Even though I felt bummed, Professor, I was actually impressed that you didn’t give it to me. I tend to get things I don’t deserve, sometimes. I guess people like to reward the work I’ve done with my body. I know you’re into all of this, but you didn’t let that sway you on my grade. That’s showed a lot of integrity.” “What makes you think I’m into your body?” “Look under your bag for the answer, Professor.” I turned to look at his beaming face. ‘Touché,’ I thought and smiled back. We held each other’s eyes for a few seconds. His dark skin, perfect teeth, broad nose and humongous traps made me stop breathing. It felt similar to the first time I had ever seen the ocean or the moment I noticed gay undercurrents in the poetry of Walt Whitman for the first time. You realized a seismic shift was happening even in the simplicity of the moment. I let my smaller clothed shoulder brush up against his beefy arm. Even though it was not a skin-to-skin touch, it sent off lightning-like jolts in both of our bodies. The young man actually sucked in air and I could tell his abs tensed inward hard. My toes cramped badly from being instantly scrunched in my shoes. We didn’t stop looking at each other. It was simultaneously the most comfortable and awkward moment of my life. I was lost and didn’t know how to move forward. I did what I always did in those situations. I turned to poetry. “when I fall, i don’t just fall in love. clumsily, i stumble down and then I land” To my utter surprise, Oliver recognized the poem by Cnè and continued. “awkwardly and graceless, stuttering utterly at the foot of a handsome man” Silence surrounded us as we drank in the intoxicating vastness of the moment. He was simply gorgeous. In that miniscule moment in the scheme of the world, I felt the weakest and most powerful I had ever felt in my life. I was shocked that two opposing feelings could exist so vividly at the same moment. I knew the muscled man before me felt the same way. I wondered if it was bizarre for such a strong body to suddenly feel defenseless and small. I had a feeling Oliver was experiencing the ‘weak at the knees’ syndrome for the first time. Or maybe not. I experienced it every time he was around. “I came one time when you read poetry in class.” You could have knocked me over with a feather. At first, I thought he was joking, but the look on his face assured me he was not. My face revealed my shock. “It was the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me. It was also the most exquisite orgasm I’d ever had. You’d be amazed to know the strength it takes to not jerk about wildly or scream in ecstasy while you ejaculate profusely in such a public place. Luckily, it was at the end of class and I was able to dart out the door before the aroma of semen permeated the lecture hall. I couldn’t go to any of my afternoon classes that day. I was too spent.” “I’ll have to read that particular poem to you in a more private setting one day.” You would have thought he had just won the Mr. Olympia contest from the look on his face. He had rightly noticed the promise of an intimate rendezvous in the future. He tensed his chest and arms in joyous celebration and my eyes were drawn to the flex like a moth to a flame. It was his gift to me in response to my revelation. I had a feeling my satchel rose a few inches – my response to his tightened body was instant and uncontrollable. He let his hand drop between our legs and stroked my thigh lovingly with a big strong forefinger. “I’m much more than just muscle, Professor.” “I know that, Oliver. It would be easy for me to ignore you if you were just a pretty body. Don’t get me wrong, your muscles are what made me notice you. I’m a sucker for big bulges. But it was your mind, your talent, and your sensitivity – laid out in your poems, papers, and other work that made me fall in love with you.” There it was. The miraculously most honest thing I had ever said in my entire existence and it came out so easily. No poem came close to matching the emotion in that moment. My words were like the big bang that had created the universe. Oliver’s massive chest heaved upward as he let out a slight gasp. His eyes instantly filled with tears, as did mine, and it seemed like we were in a race to see who had the first drop to slide down a cheek. It actually happened at the same exact moment – surely that was some kind of sign. “This kind of joy usually makes me want to flex. I like to pose when I’m happy.” “Then I’ll need to make sure you are happy a lot. I know we’re out in a public area and all, but surely a quick biceps flex would be acceptable.” “Would that please you, Professor?” “You have no idea how much, Oliver.” The young man lifted his right arm slowly, never taking his eyes away from me. He clearly wanted to soak up my reaction. My gaze, however, was only on the massive biceps that was being tensed into a hard, bulging, mighty mass. It was my time to gasp. I worried that the underside of my satchel might end up getting very sticky. What I beheld wasn’t just an arm – it was a mountain of thick, solid, blood-pumping, vein-covered muscle that made the gorgeous Oliver like a god, in my opinion. I’d seen those big things straining the sleeves of so many shirts I could have sketched them perfectly upon request. But seeing his right gun flexed powerfully just for me was thrilling beyond what I ever could have imagined. I knew my eyes had popped open wider and my chin had fallen downward – making my mouth into a gaping hole. How could a man carve such beauty simply by lifting heavy weight? I found it hard to even fathom the hours upon hours Oliver had spent in the gym molding that perfect mound of manly brawn. Here was a work of art that would never become old or unimpressive to my eyes. I was simply overwhelmed at the thought of Oliver possessing hard muscles and power beyond that of normal men. He was a Greek god to me and I was so ready to worship. “I dream about you touching my arms all the time, Professor.” “Funny . . . I dream about the same thing. I think it’s time you start calling me, Phillip, don’t you?” The bulging biceps ballooned bigger and harder in response. I had clearly granted a secret wish that had existed for a while. I was pleased my given name could bring him so much pleasure. Oliver lowered his arm. It was as if he knew, like I did, that continued posing could lead us into territory not appropriate for a parking lot in the middle of campus. I immediately missed the engorged hard biceps, but was happy that my gaze could return to his handsome, smiling face. He continued to stroke the side of my thigh with his finger. “My roommate has thankfully never figured out why I sometimes say your name loudly in my sleep.” “Maybe he thinks you have a thing for Phil Smith, that junior who is captain of the swim team. He is hot, after all.” “What? No way. He’s too young for me and wouldn’t know a good poem if it slapped him across the face. You think he’s hot, huh? Should I be jealous of his tight swimmer’s build?” “We both know you were aware of the answer to your question before you even asked it. My dreams are never filled with a swimmer’s body.” “What are they filled with, Phillip?” The satisfaction he received from saying my name for the first time was so obvious that the joy was infectious. I smiled at the sound of it rolling out of his beautiful mouth. He said it again, just to make me smile more. Oh, how I longed to kiss those perfect lips and feel his strong tongue invade my mouth. “Mostly by what you just flexed, Oliver.” “That little thing?” “Yes, your little arm that dwarfs mine by about five times. Those arms that make your shirtsleeves look like they are constantly struggling. Those mountains that often keep me up late at night.” “No pun intended.” “Hah, yes, no pun intended.” “It took me a while to figure out you were into muscle.” “I’m ‘into’ a lot of things, Oliver. A man’s physical form just happens to be one of them. Especially if the form is very well developed, as yours is. I’m afraid there is part of your dear old Professor that is very shallow and somewhat improper.” “I’ve always hoped so. I’ve wanted you to do improper things to me for a very long time.” “Oliver, I’m almost twice your age and less than half your size. You should be looking to meet some hot guy that spends his time in the gym and not the library like I do.” He gave me a serious look, then closed his eyes, and began to speak beautifully. “They are so moving in their sadness, gentleness and longing – all the sad old men who once were all the sad young men. How can you not be moved by their loneliness and desolation – their faint dreams and hopes of love, a new love, a friendship? …When I was younger and better-looking I always offered myself to old men. I had young men too, sometimes, but with the old I felt a special love…” A young huge bodybuilder slipping so easily into a James Kirkup poem had to be one of the sexiest things I had ever experienced. The idea of listening to him speak this way for the rest of my life seemed like the gift of some miraculous cure for a terminal disease. It was as if I were truly, just now, feeling the sun for the first time – and, again, that star’s warmth reached me because it radiated from the celestial being that sat beside me. I suddenly thought ‘to hell with what anybody thinks’ and leaned in to kiss the muscled angel whose eyes immediately welled with tears, again, when he realized what I was going to do. I never doubted that a kiss from those delicious lips would be more pleasing than childhood cotton candy, Nutella on toast, or, even, heaven itself. The softness of those tools of love juxtaposed with the incredible huge hardness of his body made me feel like I was the first person to ever combine the taste of bleu cheese and honey or mint and chocolate. This beautiful behemoth let me come to him – let me lead the entire kiss. It was as if he forfeited all of his natural alpha-ness just to please me . . . or maybe it pleased him more than I could know. No tongues parted teeth in that first kiss – clearly both of us just wanted to brush lightly against that holy chasm filled with lust, which we knew we would finally dive into at a later time. For now, a simple peck would seal an engagement that had been planned by the universe that first day of the semester. I pulled my head back and smiled as he kept silent with his eyes closed for a while, as if he were memorizing all the feelings of the moment for a lifetime of looking back on that first time. He finally spoke after about a minute. “I know this is highly inappropriate, Phillip, and it will totally ruin the moment, but I will always want to be completely honest with you. I have never longed to throw my legs over a man’s shoulders and be plowed hard as much as I do right now. It’s like if we don’t have sex soon I am going to self-combust and take out half the planet with me.” “That sounds a little painful.” “You have no idea how long and hard I have ached for you.” “I beg to differ. I understand and have felt similar pain.” “Ha, fair enough. I guess you do understand. Um . . . what happens now?” “I haven’t the faintest idea, Oliver. I vote the biggest guy has to decide.” “And I vote the oldest guy has to decide.” “I’ll make you a deal. We’ll ask the first person that happens to come by and we’ll do whatever they say.” The doubtful look on Oliver’s face made it clear that he was worried someone might find our relationship totally inappropriate and tell us to go our separate ways. Like me, he would not be able to bear that answer. My somewhat slightly evil smile made him clue into what I already knew. He glanced around and saw Professor Harry Gilmer – one of my oldest friends at the school – walking toward the parking lot. With some trepidation, but also with total trust in me, Oliver answered. “Deal.” “Hey Harry. Do you have a minute?” Harry Gilmer was loved by everyone on campus. He was a seventy-five-year-old gay man, who pulled no punches and never apologized for being completely himself. He had noticed us long before he was within hearing distance. By the sly look on his weathered face he had surmised what was going on even before we had called out to him. Luckily, his car was just two spots over so we weren’t inconveniencing him too much. I was touched deeply when Oliver slid off the back of the car to greet the elder professor. “My dear Phillip and if it isn’t one of our finest soon-to-be graduates, Oliver Gold.” “Hello, Professor Gilmer.” “You’re looking particularly bronzed and protuberant this afternoon, Oliver. Could it be that our young man, here, is all aglow because he is experiencing, as the Greeks would say, multiple kinds of wondrous love at the same time – perhaps Philia, Agape, Ludus, and Eros all wrapped up together? What do you think, Phillip?” “Um . . . you forgot Pragma, Professor Gilmer.” “Oh goodness me, Oliver. Pragma – longstanding love. Well then, this is very serious, indeed. No wonder you look as if you had swallowed the sun.” Dear old Harry noticed the way our planet’s source of energy seemed to be favoring Oliver, today. Harry also noticed the look in my eyes and realized a world of information all at once. It was as if he were looking into my soul. He smiled at me and gave me a ‘you dirty little rascal’ wink. I turned bright red. “How might I help you two gentlemen on this fine amorous afternoon?” “Well, to be perfectly honest, Harry, it seems that for an entire semester a formidable bond has been developing between Oliver and myself. Our true feelings have been only recently revealed and now that we are fully aware of this information . . . this desire, we are at a loss as to how to move forward. We made a pact with each other that we would ask the next person that walked by and, to our great fortune, that turned out to be you. So, we’d like for you to impart your wisdom upon us and know of our intended promise to do whatever you suggest.” The desperate look on Oliver’s face was priceless. It was almost as if he thought his pleading eyes could somehow sway the elder professor’s decision. The absolute joy and enthusiasm in Harry’s face made me smile. I had only made the deal with the gorgeous muscled stud because I had seen Harry coming. Legally, there was absolutely nothing wrong with Oliver and I getting together. Even the young man’s logic about him being technically out of school was spot on and would prevent me from getting in trouble even with the most conservative members of the administration. Our eventual entanglement was guaranteed – that had been apparent to me for a while, but how to move on from sitting and chatting on the back of a car truly did baffle me. It seemed like rushing off to some bed would be demeaning to this beautiful romance. I knew it had been building for an entire semester, so it wasn’t exactly new, but I did want to move cautiously to the next step. I wanted to honor the incredible connection that had already been established. I wasn’t ready to move immediately into sticky sheets or any disappointments the golden, broad-shouldered, young man may experience after our first sexual encounter. Basically, I was nervous that, for him, reality might not live up to his dream. Prolonging that sad fact somehow guaranteed a few more hours of my blissful joy. At the same time, I longed to get my hands all over Oliver’s bulging body. “Well, you give me a very important task, gentlemen. This duty cannot be taken lightly, not when such pure hearts are at stake. I feel like St. Peter at the gates, able to bless you with an eternity of happiness or send you into a darkness beyond measure. I think some more information is needed before a judgement can be handed down.” I sensed Oliver’s humongous body suddenly relax and realized, without even turning to him, he had figured out what was going on. He was, of course, a very smart young man. In mere seconds he realized I was truly not sure of how to proceed and that our present time with Professor Gilmer was purely artificial – except that the elder teacher would certainly give us some good advice on how to move forward. The young man probably figured out that Harry Gilmer had been in this exact predicament many times over the years. His words of wisdom, while guaranteed to give the blessing Oliver so desired, would also be beneficial in many other ways. “Tell me, Phillip, in a few words what is it exactly that you would bring to this happy union.” I chose to turn and look at Oliver. His face had a relaxed smile, again, and there was a knowing look in his eyes. “Total and utter devotion.” “Well that sounds promising, albeit perhaps a bit smothering. And you, young and strapping Oliver, what would you offer this blessed accord?” Oliver remained looking at Harry – but had a huge playful grin. “Isn’t that obvious, Professor Gilmer.” “Possibly, my dear boy, but please illuminate us.” “Powerful stability.” As he spoke these words, the young man threw his arms up into what could only be described as one of the most jaw-dropping double biceps poses that either Harry or I had ever seen. Poor Harry stumbled a few steps backward because he had not been prepared for such a sight. Oliver’s arms were amazing – huge veiny mounds that screamed of manliness and strength. I suddenly felt small and frail, but it wasn’t a bad feeling since I had such a virile stud who wanted me. Both Harry and I stared for what seemed like an eternity at the giant arms in front of us. Oliver clearly loved the fact that he could make us both speechless. He finally dropped his arms, having no need to continue proving his point. It took us a few more seconds to gain control of our bodies and our tongues. “Well said, mighty Oliver. You make your point most emphatically and no man, in his right mind, would attempt any kind of rebuttal. Some things are just too powerful to contradict. Gentlemen, I am now ready to impart my totally unbiased and heartfelt opinion on the matter you have placed before me. I also want you to know that I was in no way swayed by the thought of what kind of damage Oliver’s huge armaments could impose. The size of what I believe young people today call his ‘guns’ did nothing to influence my forthcoming judgement. Those gigantic instruments of power, which could…” “Okay, Harry, we get your point. What’s your advice?” “Assuming Oliver has some kind of tent-sized top he could put on over his vast torso, I would advise an afternoon of martinis or whatever libation one gives to young beefcake these days and then an early supper. I always find that a good buzz and a full stomach usually do more to help one find answers to life-altering situations like yours more than anything else. I suggest very dry vodka martinis with either a twist of lemon or delicious cocktail onions. Those have always helped me make the best decisions. And now, gentlemen, I must depart. Oliver’s little display has reminded me of some video tapes I hid away some years ago. I must go retrieve those and make sure they are still as wonderful as I remember. But before I go, as payment for the wisdom I have so unselfishly bestowed, might I be so bold as to request one little fondle of that gargantuan mound of muscle Oliver calls an arm?” “It would be my pleasure, Professor Gilmer. Grope away.” “Oliver, my boy, a gentleman never gropes. Heavens. I will simply massage that elephantine arm of yours for a few seconds and then be on my way.” From the proud look on Oliver’s face you would have thought he was bringing food to an impoverished village in some remote developing country instead of allowing an old queen to simply cop a feel of his huge muscled arm. The big young man took a step toward Professor Gilmer as he raised his massive biceps into the air again. Harry’s hand looked tiny when it pressed up against the side of Oliver’s flexed arm. Immediately, the older man started rubbing his fingers and palm all around the undentable bulging mound of muscle. None of us said a word. The only sound was Harry’s appreciative heavy breathing. Oliver looked over at me and smiled – conveying how happy he would be when it was me feeling his body. Harry dropped his hand and looked Oliver in the eyes. “Thank you, my boy.” “Thank you, sir.” “Phillip, let’s have tea tomorrow. I expect you’ll have a lot to tell me.” Harry had started moving toward his car as he nodded his head at me, but then he stopped and looked at Oliver again – drinking in his huge upper unclothed torso. “On second thought, dear boy, let’s make that tea sometime next week. I think you’re going to be busy for a few days. Ciao, gentlemen.” And just like that the adored Professor Gilmer got in his car, started the thing, gave a little wave, and drove away. I imagined Harry drinking his martini that afternoon completely nude, watching ancient porno videos, and happily remembering how Oliver’s hard biceps had felt like stone. Suddenly, the big young man of my dreams was standing right in front of me. I noticed we were basically the same height but his size made it seem like he was a giant. “A buzz and some food with you does sound nice, Phillip. We can think of it as an appetizer.” “Or we could skip to the main course.” “Neither of us really want to do that. We want to continue this foreplay on as long as we can. Giving into our base desires so quickly kind of makes the unrequited love thing of the last semester seem pointless. I’d like to save you for dessert.” “On one condition, Oliver.” “What’s that, Professor?” “You don’t put on your shirt until we get to the restaurant.” “Done. I have a request, too.” “As it should be. What is it?” “Let’s honor Professor Gilmer. Take me to a place where the two of you would normally eat and introduce me to vodka martinis.” “Um, those are really strong drinks, Oliver.” “I think this big bod will be able to handle it, Professor.” Striations popped out all over his chest as he tensed his pecs. I looked from one to the other and then on to his tensed enormous arms. Truer words had never been spoken.
  25. Hello everyone. This is my first post here in this site. And its also my first ever proper story written so please don't get your hopes up too high. This is part 1 or a 8 part story, maybe more is I have more planned. I also planned to write other growth stories that may link with this one. Currently only Muscle Growth will be in this chapter. But in the next few chapters, expect Hyper Muscle and Hyper Cock, Giant Belly, and maybe a bit of Multiversal Destruction from growing too big... Enjoy! Day 1 Campsite of Paradise Forest A frantic morning pumped adrenaline into my body. I woke up an hour late at 7am. I swore and immediately took a shower. I was late for a camp. I was supposed to arrive in school at 8am. Luckily it only took 30 minutes to reach school. But having some things left unpacked from the previous night made the morning a little stressful. But I managed to get it all worked out, albeit made me super tired. This was supposed to be an outdoor camp to help train students to become leaders for the new freshmen coming to school the next year. It was called Camp Paradise, located in the Paradise Forest. Paradise forest is about 3 hours away from school. It’s roughly 50 thousand square miles, mostly untouched due to preservation reasons. Not much is known about this forest, and yet, many legends surrounds this forest. A lot of sightings of mysterious creatures and giants can be heard. Yet not a single human seems to live there. No whatsoever society or village is found there. The only type of man-made creation is the campsite there. I was always interested in the legends surrounding this forest, but all the information i gathered were all super vague. So you bet your ass I was super eager to go on this camping trip. I arrived in school, excited. I saw a few of my friends who were also attending this same camp. We had a lovely chat and talked about which group we were in. I was the only person in my friend circle in group 7 while my other friends were in group 6. A bit disappointing to say the least. I thought I would have fun with my friends. But we had no choice in this. As more and more people began crowding the school hall, I came to the conclusion that this was a big camp. There were about 200 students here. A lot of them were recognisable as we all went to a different school camp a few months ago for the same purpose of training us to be leaders to our freshmen. 18 year old me was delighted to see all these people again. And excited to have another adventure with all of them in the new camp. The busses had finally arrived to pick all of us up. Luckily, group 6, 7 and 8 were on the same bus, my friends and I were able to chit chat a little bit more. As we journey to the camp, we did a little bit of research on the campsite. The site was something to behold. It’s extremely huge with many, very high quality furnished dorms, high quality amenities and lots of activities to behold. But due to the sheer size, different groups would be situated in different corners of the camp. So unfortunately, I was to be situated my with own group at one site of the camp. We were devastated. We thought the whole squad was going together but nope. Even worse, the guys and girls would be split up. So that would mean the adventure was going to be very lonely. This changed my perspective on the trip in an instant. But still with such a marvelous looking campsite with a forest full of legend, I guess being in a camp with about 10 guys couldn’t be all that bad. As we arrived at the camp, we got off the bus as experienced the scenery. And man was it a sight to behold. A luxurious campsite situated far from the towns. With beautiful forestry as far as the eye can see. A huge waterfall can be seen from afar. Mountains stretched across the landscape. Many camp buildings were scattered throughout the forest. From afar I saw some rock climbing walls, a river for kayaking or canoeing and a zipline that stretches far. I was also sure that there are more activities we could do here. All 200 campers gathered for a huge briefing in the mess hall and afterwards we were dismissed. I said my goodbyes to my friends and we all went off doing our activities. It was going to be a long camp for sure. An 8 day 7 night camp is going to be exhausting for sure. But at least there was something that could keep me company for a while. There was a group 7 camper there who also went to the previous camp. However we weren’t grouped together back then, so I barely noticed him at all. But during this camp, I managed to be able to analyse his figure. Man was I eyeing on him for a long while. His name was Jon. He is from a different course from me but our courses intermingle when it comes to our modules. So I sometimes see him. He is the same age as me at 18 years old and is a year 2 student like me. He was tall about 6'2”, which compared to my height of 5'8”, he was tall. Now I live in a country where tall and buff guys are not common at all. And while I would LOVE one, I grew to be more open to different types of men. So even tho Jon wasn't the buffest guy around, he was huge. He had an adorable tummy that looked hard yet soft to the touch. He has a wide back that was almost twice the length of my own back. He had huge arms that covered the entire sleeve hole. He had huge and hairy legs that looked strong. Now that description may not sound impressive at all and it really isn’t. He was just a big and tall guy with a soft meaty body, but a bit of training would make him a bodybuilder to behold. I bet y'all would have wanted massive bodies that triumph bodybuilders. But where I am from, he was considered huge and i'll take what I can get! Jon had slightly curly and messy black hair. It was slightly long. He had a roundish yet rectangular face. He was Chinese which meant small brown eyes. He was paler in the spectrum of chinese skin colour. He was quite the handsome individual but im getting sidetrack. So onward with the story. I was in Group 7 with Jon along with some other guys. Including us there were about 10 guys in total. Now the groups were scattered very far from each other to allow each group to have a 'unique experience’. While that sounds interesting, it feels very lonely to be with only 10 people. Now the entire camp spreaded far! So the other campers were about a kilometer away from each other. A camp instructor was given to each group to lead the activities. Our instructor was very nice. He told us that he wanted us to treat him like a friend rather than a teacher to make the camp a little more fun. He also told us that we got the best campsite among the rest. In his words, “It's the biggest site with the most amount of available activities.” That sounded interesting. Now our instructor was also very handsome. He had short black spiky hair, his face was rectangular and sharp. He was dark skinned, a brownish colour. He had a small moustache that connected to his slightly thick beard. He had beautiful hazel eyes that sparkled and had a very warm smile. He stood at an impressive 7’2” inches tall. He had a build of a bodybuilder. Strong impressive arms that pulled the seams of his sleeves. Huge pecs that sagged downwards each bigger than my head. He had a wide back that stretched his shirt to no end. His lats were huge too. He had a roided gut that heaved. It was huge and round, like a boulder. Despite the gut, he boasted a huge V-shape body. He had huge shoulders and traps that only accentuate his V-shape stature. He had huge powerful legs as thick as small tree trunks. His whole body was full of thick luscious black hair. He had a huge ass that stretched his jeans. He also had a very noticeable bulge that always caught my guard. It looked to be 8” soft. He was extraordinarily massive. His muscles were so huge it looked bigger than the biggest muscles on any bodybuilder. It was a sight to behold. And a massive one at that. It seemed that he wore XXXL clothing which could barely contain his massive body. While we were walking, the instructor was at the front, talking to Jon. Now while I thought Jon was huge, seeing the instructor right beside him was such a shock. But seeing the two of them together had me hard. Two of the biggest people i know right beside each other. The other 8 guys were behind me, but very far behind me. They were all in their own cliques and were distracted to even notice me or the instructor and Jon. This was my chance, I had to talk to them. So with every ounce of courage I had in me, I braved forward. “H-hi”, i say meekly, like the idiot I was. But even with my soft voice, I managed to catch the attention of the instructor. And with the deepest most sexiest voice I've ever heard, he responded with a “hey”. My entire body shivered and my face turned red. I hope the guys hadn’t noticed. But I had to continue the conversation. I introduced myself and said basic information about myself. He then introduced himself as well. “Well my name is Fajar. Nice to meet ya. So an art student I see. Well you would think from my body that I would be a huge jerkish dude. But I'm actually a nice guy, so don't worry about me biting your head off, “he said in a calm tone. I smiled, embarrassed. “Sorry I'm just a normally anxious person, so I'm a very socially awkward person,'' I replied. “That's okay,'' he said in a warm voice. As he said that he patted my back. “I'll make sure your experience is great here.” His hand felt huge against my back. It literally consumed it. He felt very warm and I was at ease. I then asked why he chose to be a camp instructor. “I always thought that nature is beautiful, and I wanted others to see it too. And what better way to do so than to be a camp instructor. Ever since I was 11 which was about 8 years ag-” “HUH??!” I yelled, “you're 19??!!” He chuckled with one hand on his back. His face turned red. “Yeah I get a lot of reactions from that. But yeah im 19 years old. A lot of people thought I was 30 due to my hulking size which is understandable. But what about ur friend over there” he points towards Jon. “Just look at this hulking beast.” Jon immediately turned red and rebutted “hey i'm not that big at all, i'm just fat and tall, I don't even work out. I mean I wanted to be bigger but school just got in the way is all. I only got tall cause I play basketball is all”. Me and Fajar chuckled at his reaction. “Hey I could give you some pointers. During this whole week I can help you get started. And you don't really need a lot of help, just look at yourself! Hey friend help me convince your dude over here that he can be a huge bodybuilder in no time.” He then proceeded to poke Jon's arm. “Your arms are quite big.” He then proceeded to squeeze his left pec. Your pecs are already quite developed. And your stomach could look like mine with a few techniques of mine.” Fajar said as he poked Jon's stomach. Jon was embarrassed, but he felt proud to be huge. It seemed weird how he’d let Fajar just touch him like that, he didn’t even stop him. God I wish i could touch the both of them, if only- “Come on friend, feel Jon’ body it's great.” We were both in shock. Was he asking me to do something that I have always wanted to do and yet couldn’t. “Aww come on Jon just let him, he needs to know how big you are. You both can feel my muscles too if you want.” I was so shocked. Am i dreaming. Jon sigh and let me at them. I felt his body for a moment. He felt really big and warm. I was in heaven just feeling his body. Fajar's words made Jon motivated about his body. With that, Jon began to flex his flabby muscles all around like the huge jock that he was. I began touching more and more. I noticed that his bulge began to grow slightly, but I must be imagining things. “Yeah! That's more like it Jon. Show the world who is a big guy. Thanks friend for helping me convince him too. I smiled back at him. Jon looked at me with an embarrassed smile. We began to bond with each other for the rest of the walk to the campsite. I knew this camp was going to be great from then on. As we head to the campsite, everyone gasped in awe. It was the most mesmerising thing I've ever seen. To the front was the river which curved away from us with a waterfall to the left of us. Right beside the waterfall was a huge field of flowers. To the northeast of us was a dense forest with mountains are the far back. Surrounding us were the dorms and loads of activities around us. Right in front of us was the camp fire with benches surrounding it. Fajar told us to each pick a dorm as a pair and to meet back at the benches. As he said that he placed his hands onto mine and Jon's shoulders. We immediately knew we were going to be together in the same dorm. I was excited. Now the dorms were placed quite far from each other and far from the campfire. As we headed out to search for a dorm, Fajar pulled us, “Wanna see the best dorm from here?” He said as we moved towards it. It was the farthest from the central part, but it was a nice looking dorm, situated far from the waterfall. It was a quiet looking building. Surrounding it was the forest and some fields of flowers. There was a mountain wall close to our dorm to the left. Fajar told us his dorm was to the right of our dorm. So if we needed his help we should let him know. As we entered our dorm we were in awe. It was bigger on the inside than the outside. It was a nice white house with brick patterns inside. It had a nice wooden flooring. To the left was the kitchen with large cabinets with marble surfaces. To the right was the living room. 2 large red sofas were placed evenly with nicely decorated pillows that said “welcome”. Many paintings were hung around the walls. Large windows showcased the beautiful natured outside. The windows were accompanied with large red curtains. Facing the sofas was a fireplace with a large television hanging above it. Directly in front of us was another door. We entered it to find the master bedroom. It had a huge king size bed to the left. A large closet was right beside it. A huge window with curtains was opposite the door. There was a balcony outside which had nice chairs and stairs that led to a jacuzzi? And a playground? With barbeque pits and really fancy gym equipment? The scenery of the waterfall and mountains were breathtaking. This felt more like a holiday rather than a camp. To the right of the room was a massive toilet. We were in awe and began to unpack our things and headed back to the main campfire. As we assembled, Fajar told us of our plans and set up some ground rules. It was about 10am. There was kayaking across the river till 12pm. Afterwards we would shower till 1pm and have our lunch. Afterwards was a minigame mania till 3pm. Then an amazing race challenge till 6pm. Then dinner till 7pm and the rest of the night we were free to pick random activities to do solo or as a group till whenever. Fajar even said we don't have to sleep if we don't want to. So after the briefing, we headed straight towards the river for the first activity. The first activity was kayaking. As the arrived, we saw a bunch 2 large wooden boats with 5 seats inside. Basically for this activity, it was a kayaking race across the river. The river route was simple. Row across the river. About 5 minutes after rowing, there is a turning point with 2 cross sections, keep turning to the right as it loops back to the direction towards the camp, just keep rowing until we reach the starting point. First kayak to come back wins. I teamed up with Jon immediately with 3 other guys we sat on the kayak. With a blow of a whistle from Fajar, we set off and began racing. Everyone began yelling at the top of their lungs, screaming to row fast and strong. The sound of the waters crashing against the kayak also added to the noise pollution. But other than that the kayaking was such a refreshing experience. The cooling waters splashing on our faces. The chilling breeze. Everything felt nice. I was very motivated to win. Along with Jon’s huge body right behind me, I just felt at ease. This was the best experience of my life. As we arrived at the intersection, many water drops appeared. Slightly jagged rocks appeared as well. We were all afraid, but ready to push on. The breeze also began to pick up. Right in front of us was the huge mountains. Me and Jon saw our dorm to our left. Apparently we saw a cave entrance nearby it. We were intrigued. Moreover, we saw a huge purplish light escaping from the entrance of the cave. Now we were curious. No one else saw because they were still focused. But now we wanted to ask Fajar about this. We finally reached the end of the race and we won! Our team screamed with glee. And afterwards we went to wash up. After that, we had our lunch. There was a lunchroom situated near the central area of our camp. We were in awe with the interior design. It looked like a fancy restaurant setting rather than a beaten up camp lunchroom. Albeit it still looked like a regular lunchroom. It just looked very cleaned and well decorated. Everyone sat on one long table lined with plates and utensils neatly arranged. The kitchen was loud with sounds of pots and pans banging and sounds of sizzling foods. The aroma of gourmet food wafted across the lunchroom. I sat next to Jon and the entire group began to start chatting with one another. All the while waiting for out food to arrive. As we waited, Fajar came by. He stood between me and Jon, one hand on each of our shoulders. He began to whisper into our ears. He said something about meeting him at our dorm later after our activities are over for Jon to start his first workout with him. Now I would like to talk about all the activities we did, but that would take too long. I just can’t wait to talk about the interesting stuff. So it was around 6pm. Fajar announced that we will be having a special dinner today. A campfire dinner! Everyone was stocked. We all sat around the campfire. There were plates of sausages, beef, mutton, all ready to be cook. There were even marshmallows too! We could even make some smores. It was a wonderful meal. We all had great laughs, told a bunch of scary stories and just had a wonderful time there. Right after dinner, Fajar told everyone that we can all go on to do our own activities. But me and Jon stayed with Fajar cause Jon had the bodybuilding training with Fajar. As everyone left, Fajar put out most of the fire and just sat on a bench beside us. I was in the middle of the two guys, enjoying the small fire. But it was really quiet. I asked Fajar why we were sitting here. He had a story to share with us about Paradise Forest. Finally my reason for coming here was being fulfilled. I was all ears. “This place has a very interesting backstory. A past unlike any other. Only known by a few people, and its history was recorded through inscriptions throughout the area. This area was once called the Growing Paradise to those who lived here.. Legend has it its natives were not known by the outside world. The mere name change to Paradise Forest was only a coincidence. They managed to hide themselves very well. We only knew about them through their inscriptions. The inscriptions, only found many centuries later. These inscriptions told us of a tribe of natives of only men. These men were so called the peak of humanity, as they apparently were extremely intelligent, even more so than us, yet only use simplistic tools for reasons unknown to us. The native tribe consisted of about 30,000 men. Their ways of reproduction are unknown. What's really fascinating was how they appeared. They were giants. As the inscriptions says. They are men who grew up till 15 feet tall! It's also said that their bodies were enormous. If you think i'm huge, hear this. Their muscles were so enormous that their pecs were the size of boulders. Their biceps, 3 times the size of their heads. Their stomachs, so roided that they could not even hug their own bellies. Their legs the size of redwood trees. And their cock, so long that the tip reached all the way to their own heads. That's all the description says. All we know is that they are giants with disproportionately gigantic muscle sizes. It was unknown how they disappeared. But those living near the Paradise Forest are said to be the descendents of the forest. But that much I can’t say.” I found it very interesting to say the least. Me and Jon were so intrigued about all of these. What didn’t surprised me was that Fajar here is a local and a descendent of these giants too. He mentioned that he had multiple books that have records of the past by these original beasts. And he has also written new books about the current state of these giants. Fajar began to mentioned how only about a few thousand descendents remained. And most of them don’t even realise that they are the descendents. That was one of Fajar’s quests, to research and find out more of his dying history and to hopefully find anymore descendents. That’s why he was so invested in Jon. Jon appeared to be another descendent. But he needed more proof. He said there is one way, without using genetics, to prove that one was a descendent. Sort of like a magical aura that can be detected if one to be a descendent. Honestly I found it interesting, but Jon seemed scared. What would this all mean for him. Jon asked for more information. Fajar mentions that the only way to determined is that Jon works out. A secret aura must be released from Jon in order to determine that he is a descendent too. Since it was so simple, we decided to try it out too. As we arrived at our cabin, Jon began to drink a special formula Fajar prepared for his workout. He said it was made with native berries grown from here. It was somewhat like a protein shake, but it absolutely does wonders for muscle growth. Jon prepared to do some bicep curls. He was also following Fajar’s method of bodybuilding too. As he did some curls, I noticed Fajar’s face turn from happy to confused. As Jon moved on to different workouts, more of that confused expression came out of him. As Jon stood up, I noticed that something was off with him. He seemed bigger. He began to flex. There was actual muscle definition. He went from a large chubby guy to a chubby guy with at least a month of working out. His arms looked slightly bigger with some muscle definition. So were his legs. His back seemed to widened quite a big too. A V-shaped body was almost visible. He pecs seemed to have jutted more. And his legs widened too. His shirt and pants seemed tighter too and he was much taller as well. While no fats were lost somehow, he appeared more dominating with his added size. But what was off was that his stomach was noticeably bigger, despite him not doing any abdominal workouts. Fajar began to talk, “Jon… You do not exert the aura that the descendents do. However, your muscle growth should have not even began at all.” We were all confused. “Jon, it appears that you have a much different body type than I imagined. You even exert a different aura. It appears that Jon is capable of growing far more than what I thought. Jon, your body is capable of growing to sizes we cannot even imagine. I’m not even sure that there is even a limit to your growth with workouts. It would be even more disastrous if you find the Infini- Oops, don’t mind that-t. Anyways-s I will go first see ya later bye!” And just like that, he dashed off. We didn’t even get to question anything. And what was the infi-something that he mentioned anyways? And what of Jon? What sizes is he capable of. Despite that, Jon began to work out some more. He wanted to see how big he could get. I was getting sleepy at that point so I went off to bed...
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