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  1. Todo empezó el primer día de colegio de anteultimo año. Había un chico nuevo que entraba en mi clase. Yo siempre tuve amigos y es por eso que quise hacerme amigo de él para incluirlo rapidamente. No sabia lo que me esperaba. Llegue a las 7:50 al colegio y ya habia todo un alboroto. Salude a varios que hace mucho o poco que no los veía y me dirigí a mi clase. Los bancos ya los tienen armados desde el primer día y cuando entro a clase y veo a todos sentados veo que solo quedan dos lugares adelante del todo. Uno que tiene mi nombre y otro sin. Deje mi mochila y me dirigi al baño. Al abrir la puerta me encontre con la espalda mas grande que hubiera visto antes. Parecia un jugador de rugby profesional. Me llevaba una cabeza, y yo soy promedio. Debia medir un metro ochenta y cinco, y de ancho una puerta y media. Tenia la espalda un poco triangular y al bajar vi el culo mas grande de mi vida. Ni siquiera las minas de los videos porno se le comparaban. Era como dos sandias juntas. El pantalon lo tenia muy apretado y se le notaba claramente la raya del culo. Desde atras podia ver que tenia unas macetas imponentes. Que iba al gimnasio hace rato decian esas piernas que tenian gemelos del tamaño de mis cuadriceps. Al mirarle los pies vi que debia calzar por arriba de los 45. Eran pies inmensos que explotaban el zapato izquierdo y derecho. Todo este analisis lo hice en los segundos que tardo en girarse para lavarse las manos. Sacando mi mirada de este gigante fui a mear. Senti algo extraño en el momento y a los segundos escuche el ruido de la puerta abrirse y volver a cerrarse. Iba a ser un buen año pense. Tire la cadena y me fui a mi clase. Abro la puerta y veo que todavia nadie se habia sentado en mi lugar. Me siento y espero. Ya esta a punto de arrancar la clase asi que supongo que va a venir la profesora. Entra la directora a nuestra clase y por detras la sigue un mamut. Es el del baño? Pienso. Para entrar la bestia se pone de costado porque el ancho de la puerta no lo deja pasar, y veo que tiene una panza de birra, pero dos tetas solidas que la sobrepasan y estan a nada de tocar el marco de la puerta. Por poco su cabeza toca el marco de arriba y ahi es cuando le veo la cara. Una cara masculina, con barba afeitada creciendo, pelo castaño y cara redonda pero marcada. Ojos marrones serios y nariz mediana. Un cuello grueso, como el de los toros y el pecho mas ancho que la cintura, es el del baño claramente. Las tetas tienen la delantera pero la panza solida no se queda atras.Veo que se le marcan un poco los abdominales a traves de la remera y campera, que lo hacen parecer mas grandote. El bulto se le marca mucho. Tiene una anaconda parece. El pantalon lo explota y los cuadriceps son enormes. Se le marcan a traves de la tela pero se nota que son mas tamaño que definicion. Tiene dos rodillas grandes y gemelos del tamaño de melones que terminan en los pies gordos que vi en el baño. La directora frena enfrente mio, ya que estoy en el primer banco, y anuncia: Buenos días chicos! Que arranque de año e! Les queria presentar personalmente a Toto. Entra este año al colegio y viene de Alemania. Es un gran jugador de rugby, que se pueden dar cuenta por su tamaño, asi que se van a hacer amigos rapido jugando. Los dejo con el y la profesora que ahora viene. Suerte!. Se va por la puerta y me quedo con Toto enfrente mio. Lo veo desde abajo y es mas grande todavia. Tapa toda mi vista. El sigue mirando hacia delante y se acomoda la pija. Puedo ver como estalla la campera. Le queda apretadisima. Tiene los brazos inmensos, son como dos piernas mias. El antebrazo es grande tambien y las manos son gigantescas. Tiene dedos largos y gordos. Son como chorizos. Veo que me mira a la cara y rapidamente saco la mirada y miro el banco al lado mio y le digo: Toto! Te sentas al lado mio creo. Veni hacete amigo.- Me mira. Hace un intento de sonrisa y se sienta. O al menos intenta. El culo se le escapa por derecha e izquierda del asiento. Es muy chico para el. Y las piernas le quedan por afuera de la silla lo que hace que las rodillas empujen la mesa. Sus brazos estan pegados a los mios y siento el calor que emanan. Son musculo y fuertes porque con una mano levanta la mesa y la mueve a su derecha. -Mas comodo.-dice gravemente. Tiene una voz seductora y muy masculina. Entra el profesor y comienza la clase, no sin antes echarle una mirada disimulada a Toto. Lo ficho y se sento, empezando a hablar de como iba a ser el año. De reojo lo miro al macho que tengo al lado mio. Esta mirando hacia delante al profesor, y se acomoda la pija que se le sube para arriba por la posicion en la que esta. Deja su mano gorda y grande encima de su ingle, como protegiendose y tocandose suavemente. -Que calor- dice y su voz retumba en mi cabeza. Abre la campera y puedo observar mejor su panza y si, tiene panza de barril pero se le marcan levemente los abdominales. El pecho lo explota. Se le notan los pezones grandes y tiene un estante ahi parece. Pero al momento de sacarse la campera es cuando me sorprendo. Los brazos mas grandes que vi en mi vida. No se comparan ni con los de fisicoculturistas amateurs. Son dos bichos gigantes. Deben ser del ancho de mis dos piernitas juntas y la pelota del bicep como una de volley. Veo como los flexiona y se inflan casi al doble. Gira y me ve. Se da cuenta que estoy hipnotizado y se los comienza a masajear un rato. Saco la mirada rapidamente pero veo que me guiña el ojo. Siento algo que cada vez voy entendiendolo un poco mas. Me salgo de ese tema y me concentro en la clase, que se pasa volando. Ya se todo lo que tengo que saber para este año y me siento preparado. Suena el timbre del cambio de hora y me dirijo a mi otra clase, pero noto que Toto se queda en la misma. Supongo que solo coincidiremos en historia por el momento. Al levantarme, me acomodo el pantalon, agarro mis cosas y me voy. El resto del día sucede como cualquier otro y no vuelvo a ver al mamut en todo el lunes. Me vuelvo a casa, hago lo que tengo que hacer y cansadamente me voy a dormir. Ya arranco el año pienso.
  2. “But you’re as small as a mouse!” “Yeah, but a mighty mouse.” “Dude, you’re a dweeb - a shrimp. There’s no way you should be able to do that!” “What can I say, I’ve just been blessed with power beyond your imagination. You should see what happens if I really squeeze. Scares you, doesn’t it?” I removed my hand from the top of the hammer. His face turned as white as a sheet. The steel head was now mangled and crushed into something unrecognizable – something insubstantial. My fingers had squeezed the tool with so much ease, even I had been impressed. I was clearly getting much stronger and that could only mean one thing – it was time to go out and find even more bullies for me to terrorize. I needed to do more cleaning. This present scum was known across campus for being rude and abusive to girls he dated. I had ‘dropped by’ for an unexpected visit with the intention of making sure he was always nice to the ladies in the future. He had opened the door and his very tall frame had caused him to look over my much shorter body – missing me completely. I had to clear my throat for him to notice. He had looked down and actually laughed at my size – my head below his pecs. Laughed, because he had not been introduced to my power at that point. When I told him, I was there to correct some of the mistakes he had made with women on campus, he guffawed even louder and went to close his door. My palm had then been placed on the hollow metal fireproof barrier and its movement stopped abruptly – completely catching Mr. Rude off guard. He glanced down to the floor to see what was in the way, seeing nothing. He pushed harder and his eyes got wider when the thing didn’t move and his pea-brain started to connect the dots. He looked at me and I smiled. That’s when I gently started pushing the door back open with my mousey hand and he had doubled down his efforts – foolishly, I might add – to stop me from coming in. When the thing was completely open and the guy was freaking out at the dented in metal around my palm, I flicked the back of my other hand against his mid-section and sent him flying into his dorm room where he landed on his butt some ways back. During the time it took him to catch his breath and realize he had been flicked by a dweeb – merely flicked – to the floor, I came inside and shut the door behind me. I turned around, smiling at how he now had to look up to me – his butt on the floor. He’d have to find a way to explain the caved-in metal to his dorm mother – that wasn’t my concern. “I must be dreaming,” the big guy said as I handed him the hammer. He had been saying that a lot since I arrived. I, myself, sometimes felt that way – I mean, to be able to flick the back of my hand into a grown guy and send him flying was pretty unbelievable. I had to admit, however, that it also turned me on. To have turned into this secret bully patrol of the campus sounded like I was being altruistic and heroic, but I did it mostly because I got to shock guys with my power – and that fueled my late-night wank sessions more than any morphed muscleman pictures on the internet. Big guys just couldn’t fathom a little dude with my kind of power. It made them crazy with confusion – and shame, I think. In typical jock-boy fashion, as soon as the bully had regained his breath he jumped up and came running at me – intending to squash me between his big shoulder and the door. I waited with glee, as my cock started to dance in anticipation. Come on, what normal blooded human male doesn’t want to be able to instantly stop a charging bull with his body – just by standing there with his hands on his hips and being so incredibly dense nothing could unmoor him. This time, I felt a little sorry about the pain my unmoving body inflicted – but it was his own fault. The wind inside him was knocked out even more with this powerful jolt. His body froze against mine for a few seconds. He then slid down my leg to lie flat-faced on the ground, moaning from the agony. That sound – a guy breathing hard and whimpering just because he was trying to recover from being introduced to all my power – made my balls pulse and my heart beat with joy. I stepped to the side of the dude, reached down to grab the back of his jeans, and easily lifted his body into the air. Here was what most people would call a scrawny ninety-pound weakling picking up a huge college football player like he was as light as a stray sock. I then tossed him across the room onto his bed. The moans of pain turned into moans of complete and utter shock as he turned to gaze at me with a look that could only be described as total fear. I was ruining all of his preconceived knowledge of the laws of the jungle. The biggest had to be the strongest! As I moved closer I explained how things were going to be from now on – he was going to be nice to the ladies and, actually, nice to everyone, he was going to never mention me or my powers to anyone, and if he broke either of these new rules I would return and do to him what I was going to do to the hammer I pulled out of my backpack. I banged on the top of his desk a few times to show him it was a genuine steel tool for building or tearing down. I then wrapped my small hand around the top and squeezed. His eyes had bulged wide when he saw deformed metal seep out between my tiny fingers. There was also this high-pitched screeching sound that had actually come to cause the little nipples on my slight, concave chest to turn hard since I knew it was steel giving up against my small, but mighty hand. Now, watching the dude shaking his head back and forth in disbelief as I handed him the crushed hammer, I became fully aroused and knew I’d have to get back to the privacy of my own dorm room pretty quickly to relieve myself. That, in and of itself, posed different kinds of problems since my ejaculations could power through concrete or stronger stuff with no problem. I kept having to hang up new posters all over my place to cover up the damage I had done. I could have imagined how that news would have made the bully feel even more insecure. “So, big guy, have I made myself clear? Or should I squeeze some part of you like I did the hammer just to drill my point in a little more?” “No!” he screamed, still holding the hammer and staring at its head, “I understand. I understand. Be nice and not a word to anyone. I promise.” “Good man. Good, changed man. And now, I must be off – in more ways than one.” ‘Wait, mister,” he said, and the added title of respect for little old me brought a smile to my face, as well as bringing me a lot closer to orgasm, “Will you come back sometime and show off your strength again? It’s so fucking hot.” This was a first. So, our big bully had a strength fetish. There was probably a connection between that and what he did to others, but I wasn’t a therapist. I did, however, figure a frequent reminder to him about my strength would have him being nicer than the best altar boy at church pretty much for forever, so I nodded my head. “You’ll need to supply the tools,” I said, smiling and leaving him – still dumbfounded and staring at the demolished hammer like it was some religious artifact. As I quickly made my way home, I remembered being told about three bullies who had been terrorizing people at the campus gym. A quick stop there, to see if my future converts were working out would be fun. It would also add some much-welcomed fuel to my promised powerful ejaculation.
  3. The Prologue is found here The preceeding chapter is found here Preface The song Little Boxes was written and composed by Malvina Reynolds in 1962, which is hereby recognised. It became a hit in 1963, when Peter Seger released a cover version, and it remained popular in the entire 1960s. The inclusion of of quotes from that song in this story is for non-profit literary purposes, in the belief that this is fair use. Please let me know, if anyone want the quotes removed, and I will happily oblige. The Orgone Accumulator: Part Five John unpacked his bags at his hotel room in San Francisco. He had just finished his phone call to Jim, and the time difference had become painfully real. Jim! His heart felt warm. He had thought, that it would be just a single night's innocent fun, no strings attached, but they had both considered, that it could be something more than that, when they woke up the next day. It had never occurred to John, that he would be able to enjoy the vanilla-version of BDSM, but the New Yorker was so incredibly playful and happy and incredibly hot ... Jim had guided John through some soft games with boots and handcuffs, but the props were just icing on the real cake: Jim was an incredibly warm and caring man. John missed the seven year older man. Older — slightly older — but they both belonged to those years in-between young adulthood and the real middle-age. John hadn't expected himself to warm up to the leather scene: His book had begun as an entirely dispassionate journalistic matter -- no personal taste involved. And now he was here for a one-week course, supposed to lead him closer to the whereabouts of the man he wanted to interview. "Improve your life holistically!" The New-Age-speak didn't appeal to him, but, according to the folder and the website, there were separate courses running for straight men, straight women, lesbians and "men-who-have-sex-with-men". He wasn't used to the latter moniker, but it made sense that it included both gay men and bisexual men. From what he could gather from the vague description, most of the course would take place somewhere in the Californian countryside, and the participants would leave San Francisco by the same bus. A therapy session in downtown San Francisco was included, as a preparation for the course. Therapy session? He wouldn't need any therapy session, and the words on the website didn't mean anything to him: "... combine the best methods from client-centered, Reichian and post-Jungian therapy". The labels "rainbow-friendly", "contact with your inner nature" and "in the company of real men" sounded assuring, but slightly cheesy. Some of his friends in Portland wouldn't agree with the latter label: "Who had the right tell another person what masculinity is supposed to be, or assume another person's gender?" Jim knew which sort of masculinity he felt grounded in, and he had explained how the leather scene, or parts thereof, was playing with exaggerations. "Relax. Have fun. Don't take everything too seriously. Go with the flow. Later on, you might discover things about yourself, but, for now: Have fun." Jim would probably upset some of his Portland friends, if they ever met. Which was unlikely. For now. Jim. Confident. For a few seconds, John felt a lack of confidence, and then the crack closed again. * * * The young man unpacked his bags at his cottage at the premises of The Foundation in California. He had just finished his phone call to his mother, and the time difference had become painfully real. He left the black bakelite telephone on the floor in the, otherwise empty, hallway. He wouldn’t have dreamt of this a few months ago. Now it seemed to be the beginning of a new life. Free from the shackles of his childhood town. Nice wage for his new work as an office clerk at The Foundation — the doctors weren’t good with the administrative side of things, and they had needed an office clerk for some time now. An anonymous benefactor had payed his cost for moving, but the young man guessed it might be The Businessman. When they had met the second time he stayed at The Foundation, The Businessman had noticed The Change. ”Did you listen to that advice of mine about joining a boxing club, son? You carry yourself in a more confident manner, than last time we met.” ”No, Sir, but I have spent some time on exercise on my own.” ”Listen, if you have any expenses for that exercise, I’m willing to pay.” ”I didn’t have any expenses, Sir. I’m using my own bodyweight. I don’t think there are any boxing-clubs in my town. They prefer football and baseball there. It’s a rather small place. I was surprised to even find a psychoanalyst there.” ”Do you consider yourself to be a smalltown boy?” ”For ever? No, Sir. If I had the means, I would probably move somewhere bigger.” He returned to the present. There were not much furniture there to speak of. One of the psychoanalysts had donated an armchair and a standard lamp to the cottage, and he had bought a transistor radio on his way there. The former occupant had left the old immovable wardrobe. The vanload of his old furniture would arrive later that day: A kitchen table with a fancy modern plastic surface with the reputation of withstanding all scratches, four simple wooden chairs, a bed, his grammophone, his vinyl records, the low teak table for the telephone in the hallway, his black-and-white television set and his sofa. He had returned the table — also teak — he had borrowed from his mother. He supposed he had to buy a new one, an expensive one to demonstrate his step upwards, if that sort of demonstrations weren’t futile. His therapy sessions had gradually led him to question some habits his older relatives — and some of his old classmates — took for granted. What was success — real success? And did you need to show it in any way? Why? Mirroring his thoughts, his transistor radio began to blare one of those contemporary protest songs: He put a few shirts on hangers, and put them in the wardrobe. He put his suit on one of the hangers, and put it in the wardrobe. One of his faces. His workplace face. Not his real self. He wouldn’t look the same as anyone else. Not his uncles. Not his classmates. Not the other employees at The Foundation. Not the guests. He would be himself. He would become himself. Continue to reshape his body. Constinue to reshape his mind. Reshape himself. He went into the bathroom and watched himself in the mirror. Already different. Blue denim jeans. White cotton t-shirt. The outline of his chest through the fabric. He took a comb and some pomada. That parting had to go. Go with his old life. Go with his hometomwn. Shed himself. After a few seconds he looked different. Less like your standard office clerk. He looked younger. But not like the hippies. Like the opposite of the hippies. Also like the opposite of those mindless patriots spluttering pre-fabricated slogans. Also like the opposite of those doctors and lawyers and business executives, who look all the same. Not the newest style, perhaps — it had been around for some time now — but the style of a rebel. Yeah: rebel. He felt how he became hard. He allowed the thought to return: Rebel. He became harder. He placed his left hand on his right biceps and clenched it. He became harder. Reshape himself. Become himself.
  4. The phone rang again— a telemarketer. Max slammed the phone down and let out a grunt of frustration. He didn’t have the time for this and he knew it. He was a goddamn corporate manager, not some secretary with enough energy to spare to answer spam phone calls. Weren’t they supposed to filter those out anyway? Max let out a deep breath through his nose as he looked over at the framed picture on his desk. There he was, in his cap and gown, graduation from university. He still had a bright smile then, so full of hope, still optimistic. His smooth brown hair was all tousled from wearing that dumb graduation cap, yet it still looked like it was meant that way, like it was going with the flow. His entire personality fit it well. Back in his college days, Max was known to be a chill guy. He did whatever he liked and usually got it when he asked, his striking eyes and toned body were impossible to ignore. But times have changed. Things are different. What was once a six pack was now a beer belly. Beautifully styled hair was neglected in a greasy mess. He had money, sure, but he wanted his vitality back. He wanted to be powerful. The job wasn’t too bad. He had power, sure, but it wasn’t the same. Power to tell people what to do had its limits. It had its laws. But human strength, that was something he craved. Nobody could control his own body. Max stood up and stretched, pulling his arms over his head and twisting his back. “Nobody could control his body” was right. He could decide when to move or what to do; so he took a walk around the office with a stack of papers in his hands. They weren’t actual important papers, mind you, but they allowed him to move without question. Nobody asked what you were doing when you had a stack of papers in your hands. Max opened the office door and picked up his random stack on the desk parallel to his glass office wall. “Hey, Max!” Phoebe interrupted from a cubicle nearby. Although neither of them could see each other, she knew the sound of his door opening and she took her chance at his attention. “Can I get some help with this invoice? There’s some inconsistencies and—“ Max interrupted. “Sorry Phoebe I’m busy right now. Ask someone around you.” He abruptly turned to the right and strolled along the gray corridors, glancing at the posters framed on the bland walls. “Big Action Protein Powder!” “Mega Large Testosterone Booster for Men!!” ”Giant XXX Hormone Set Extreme!!!” over and over masculinity was shoved in his face. Overseeing a “men’s fitness” company was cool at first, but he was no longer 21. He was what the gay men called “daddy,” which both stung and aroused him. Unfortunately, he had been so busy with work that no men had been calling him at all for months. “Maxie! Come over here, will ya?” a voice called, this one not immediately recognizable. It was a male voice, but lower pitched than he was used to. Maybe it was a new intern. Hopefully not, however, because someone new shouldn’t be calling him nicknames already. But before Max could object, he continued. “It’s the research department! They’re having major issues.” the research department. That explained it. He nearly never had business there since it wasn’t in his jurisdiction really. He only worked on the sales floor. Nevertheless, his walk would have to wait, so he set the stack of assorted papers down on the floor and went into the elevator where the voice came from. Luckily, it wasn’t far away and the papers were out of foot traffic, so he’d be okay leaving them behind. When Max emerged from the office hideaway and through the metallic elevator doors, he nearly knocked over a poor scrawny man half his height. He must have been a little under five feet tall, and he probably weighed as much as Max’s beefy arms. His face, however, was still round and childish, defying the thinness of the rest of his body. When Max looked down, all he could really see was his cheeks and his wiry gray hair that fell past his forehead. He must have been one of those young people who were into looking like grandparents. Gray was not his color. “I’m sorry about that,” Max apologized. “What’s the problem?” the man didn’t look up but took a step back to give him more room. Then, still not responding, he leaned across the floor and pressed the bottom button on the elevator, sending it down. “You see,” he began. “Marcy had some troubles with a new supplement because the male subjects got ill at the same time and the women refuse to test it.” Max nodded along, but secretly, he had no idea who Marcy was. “Furthermore, I’ll allergic to one of the components. It’s supposed to help your...” he paused, glancing up only briefly. “Your male parts.” Max had to hold in a laugh. They worked at a male enhancing company and this man refused to say penis. “I understand sir. What do you need me for then?” ”Well,” he said. “We just need a quick trial test and then it’ll be over...” ”Fuck no. I’m not insured for this stuff! I’m not going to be stupid and agree to take whatever it is!” the man tried to stutter his way to goading him, but Max refused. When the elevator doors opened, he closed them and pressed the button to go back to sales. What he didn’t do, however, is look down at the man slipping a small piece of tape onto his black work pants. The man scuttled away into research and Max went back upstairs, picking up his papers, and finishing his walk with relative ease. He set the stack back on his desk and walked inside his office, turning the blinds so he can get some privacy, and opening up his computer. Emails. Spam. Bills. It was all the same. He looked at the clock. 5:13. Almost 45 minutes until he could leave. He shifted in his cushy black office chair and rearranged his legs. “Fuck I need to get that AC fixed,” Max complained. It was getting hotter. He shifted again in his seat and tried to get comfortable. For some reason, his balls kept on getting in the way. No matter which way he moved, they blocked him from comfort. After minutes of trying, he stood up, rearranged himself, and tried to sit back down. His chair was a gift from his ex boyfriend. It was about four feet tall, rolled well, and was always comfortable when he laid his arms on the armrests. The same armrests which refused to let his ass slip through all of a sudden. Max grunted and tried to squeeze in, but the harder he pushed, the tighter it got. He was just in it a second ago! How could it be? He started to sweat, small pools forming at his armpits, spreading along the white button up shirt like someone left a hose on. He took off his navy suit jacket and set it on his wooden desk while he tried to cool down, but it was still too hot. Taking off his black tie didn’t help either. Neither did unbuttoning his top button. Max kept shoving himself into that seat over and over again until he heard a loud rip. Slowly, he stood back up and grazed his hand across the back, anticipating the worst. To his dismay, there it was, a giant rip in the back of his pants, exposing the bright blue Lycra underwear he had on. “It’s okay,” he repeated to himself. Over and over he whispered this as he reached for his suit jacket to tie around his waist. But as he grabbed it, he heard another rip coming from his shoulder. Then when he stood up, his shirt untucked itself from underneath his pants and his belt. Max looked around helplessly, trying to figure out what was going on. Research department. It had to be. His body started warming up even more, but he couldn’t leave before he fixed his wardrobe. There was no way he’d let himself be seen with a ripped shirt AND ripped pants. A jacket couldn’t cover it all. So, with no other options, he looked around for a blanket or sheet he could use. Rummaging around a tiny office didn’t help much because he knew where everything was. There was no blanket. No sheet. Just stupid papers and knickknacks he stashed away. If he had the time, he would have looked at them a bit longer, but he was in a hurry. It was getting hotter. Max stripped off his shoes and socks and threw them against the wall with a loud bang as he resumed scrambling for anything to hide himself until he stopped growing. “Max? You okay dear? We heard a thumpy sound.” fuck. He couldn’t let anyone see him like this. “Y-Yeah! Dropped my stapler. Thank you for checking. I’m alright!” he heard footsteps dissipate into nothingness, and he let out a sigh of relief. He had more time. Or so he thought. Suddenly, without any warning, one thought , and one thought only, entered his mind— sex. It was orgasmic. His pants became tighter and tighter as he felt his bulge start to balloon, his cock pushing against the fabric as it got harder and harder. Then, with a burst of size, another rip, this time from the front. He let his gargantuan cock hang loose in his Lycra briefs, the sensation of cool finally taking over the exasperating heat. His bulge had to be the size of a basketball now, way too big for anything natural. He was a freak, but God, his dick commanded him to love every second of it. It was like the feeling of masterbation multiplying over every inch as his cock grew larger and larger. He stumbled backwards in joy, but his giant ass cushioned his fall. He had no clue how his briefs stayed on for so long. He had a basketball in front and beach balls in the back. But that wasn’t the only thing growing. His legs started to press against each other, growing so wide that they had nowhere else to grow. Of course, this turn of events led pants to be obsolete. His legs were past XXXL now, bigger than he’s ever seen on a bodybuilder. With awe, he rubbed his hands against them and felt the sheer hardness of his body. It was unbelievable. If he wasn’t so fucking horny he would have been upset at his size. But as he grew larger, so did his appetite for more. His chest puffed outwards, slowly at first, but gaining in speed as time passed. It was hardly noticeable at first over the feelings of his lower body, but as his second most top button flew across the room and his the glass, he couldn’t help but see. Max took his big hands and squeezed his pecs, ogling how they looked like the men he advertised on poster. But they didn’t stop there. Eventually they became like the WOMEN he saw on advertisements. And then even more as his chest popped another button down the line. And suddenly, another. Then one more. Another. Another again. Over and over until his pecs covered his vision. Max let out a mighty roar as he flexed his biceps, tearing out of the cotton shirt like it was paper. His arms bulged and swelled with power as they peaked above his head and kept rising towards the ceiling at an alarming rate. They grew in every direction, his arms expanding both up and down with muscle until he could hardly move them anymore. More and more he gained, until the floor started to bend. Someone outside of his office screamed “earthquake!” And everyone yelled and ran. But not Max. Max stayed put. That is, until the floor caved in and he crashed down, his giant ass once again cushioning his fall. His briefs were long gone now. Max was a being of pure mass, tons of concentrated muscle in one spot. The building couldn’t handle it. As he inches bigger and bigger, he fell down another floor. Then another. His cock couldn’t handle the sensations. He kept it growing. What was once a rather pitiful 4 inches became 4 feet. Then 8. 10. 20. 50. 100. 1000. It stretched across the building and onto the one next to it. Fuck he would have felt awful. Max would have been traumatized. But he couldn’t. All he felt was lust as he outgrew his very office building. Over ten stories high, international news reports told of the Monster of California, wreaking havoc over the west coast. Which, luckily for Max, he outgrew in a few minutes. His cock stretched across the Midwest. His balls sunk into the Pacific Ocean. His biceps scraped the ozone layer. And God, was Max happy. “More!” Was all he could chant. And that’s what he got. Never ending, never slowing. Each time he demanded it, he got it. But hey, it wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t insured for this type of thing
  5. (Panting) "Grayson! What were you thinking?! I don't care how strong you are, you can't be doing this shit, and if you do QUIT DRAGGING ME INTO IT" "Oh hush Jack. They come up, I'll drop them" "Not as easy as you think it is. C'mon its this way. Ever since I met this man years ago, hes been a big help but, he be taking too many risks. He has this power that lets him controls and grow his muscles at will and thinks hes invincible. "This way, this way!" A Soldier screams. "Shit grayson. They're coming!" "Let Them come through. I got something for their Ass" Grayson says with a evil smirk. "There they are! Jack and grayson, you are under arrest for stealing the wishirite. Give up now or we will engage!" We both put our hands up but Grayson is smiling. I hope whatever he's plotting will get us out of here. "Checkmate..." Grayson says confidently. I instantly knew what that meant and dove behind them. He gets into a power-up pose and stands there grinning. One soldier shoots at him and the bullet hits him but doesn't penetrate his skin. Another Soldier empties a whole clip into him but again, doesnt kill him. "All right, you think we playing games huh? Men! Ready, aim, fire!!" All at once, all 9 soldiers empty all their bullets into Grayson, but to no avail. He hasn't grown his muscles yet, so this is new shit to me. All of the men stood there shocked, "how could that not have killed them" they thought. Grayson is still in the power up pose chuckling. He turns to me and says "I know you're not gay but don't cream your pants for whats about to happen." OH BOY "All these bullets you have shot but not one killed me" Grayson laughed. "It did sting a little bit I'll say that. But I might as well get a lil bit more comfortable. Grayson rips off his shirt showing a rock hard 8 pack and a really chiseled and veiny chest. "WTF are you doing?" I ask. "You'll see. Because I've had sex plenty of times with other girls, and they that I CUM A LOT. But since you soldiers wanna play around, its time to retaliate!" All of rhe bullets still on grayson are now being absorbed into his body. "WTH is happening" I thought. He starts moaning for a good 30 secs till I realise he's growing his cock in his shorts. I'm not but that just happens come in my peripheral vision. His pants starts ripping the fabric till eventually he has his own little fly. And his cock just bursts out, showing all 11 inches and veins and striations. "Ahhh. That feels better, but it wont compare to this." He continues to moan and he continues to grow his dick inch by inch every second. 14... 15... 16... 17 ... 18... 19... 20! A massive 20 inch cock with even more veins. "Ay sergeant Cole! Ready or not, HERE I CUM!!!!!" His cock starts shooting bullets back at the soldiers like a machine gun. SHOORING BULLETS. He screams and enjoyment and all if the soldiers fall down. He continued for a good 2 mins as he still shooting tbe bodies on the ground, getting a kick of his cock being a 50. Cal gatling gun. "All right they're dead! Stop!. Grayson stops and starts panting. "Sorry. I get a kick out of that. I can give this power too. The pleasure is unimaginable." "No thanks, I'm good. Let's just get this wishirite home...
  6. The Prologue is found here The preceeding chapter is found here The Orgone Accumulator: Part Four It was evening. He was back at The Foundation, and all the guests (and the analysts) were eating dinner in the dining room. Snippets of conversation reached his ears, but he found it hard to follow, for several reasons. "... and then I told him, that the meditation room was entirely unnecessary, and that the money could have been spent on improved massage benches. And there was no reason to include a lot of Carl Jung and Carl Rogers in the library. All that money on Eranos yearbook was mis-spent, in my opinion. It is supposed to be a Reichian collection." "By the sound of it, you seem to be obsessed by some sort of Reichian purity. I'm interested in psychological methods that really works, not in any attempt at doctrinal Gleichschaltung. Do you forget the entire work on liberation from authoritarian ethics? An authoritarian person will never reach full orgastic potency ..." "... very nice potatoes. Did you read those news about the dangers of pesticides? Who could have known? In retrospect, I think it was the right decision to farm The Foundation's own vegetables. And this sauce! So delicious ..." "... will watch TV with me in the TV room tonight? There will be a new episode of Perry Mason. I never miss ..." "... as Camus put it: 'The Soviet Union isn't really socialist, and the United States aren't really liberal', and by that he attempted to say ..." "... a new car, a mint-green one with large fins, and then she said ..." "... not the same since Dr. Witt returned from his sabbatical at the Esalen Institute, but I do not complain: If clients become healthier and more liberated by mixing Reich with other methods, the aim of The Foundation will be reached ..." "... opinions about the Vietnam War?" "Well, it is complicated. We can't allow the Communists to trample another country, but on the other hand, I'm not entirely sure if war is the best method to ..." "... listened to a lecture by Alan Watts a few months ago. Zen Buddhism is fascinating." "I don't know anything about Zen, though I read The Dharma Bums once. In my opinion ..." "... the new masseur? Isn't he a dream?" The young man didn't listen. He had spent most of the afternoon and the early evening in San Francisco with The Businessman. It was much bigger, than his hometown, of course --- he had expected it to be -- but it was not just the number of inhabitants: People were individuals there, at least some of them. Of course, there were lots of men hiding who they were by wearing identical suits and ties, but there were also young people in colourful clothes, young men with long hair and beards -- beards! It looked ridiculous, of course, but at least they had made a decision to stick out from the crowd -- from other crowds than their own one. The Businessman had bought him a milkshake at a milk bar, and there had been two bikers at a table nearby. He couldn't forget the bikers. Their hairstyle. Their tight denim jeans. Their posture. Confident. Faces. Laughing. Happy. Their leather jackets and boots. Black. Glossy. For a moment, he had felt like The Businessman was reading his thoughts, and he had felt very embarrassed, but The Businessman continued talking. Telling stories about The War. The young man had used the word 'war hero', but that had only caused The Businessman to sound irritated. "Terrible things happen in war. There is nothing heroic about it, most of the time. I've seen atrocities. But what would have happened, if we had allowed Hitler to win? It was necessary. There were good things about that time, though. I have never, before or after, had better friends than I had when I served in The Army. Friends from all walks of life." The Businessman fell silent and finished his coffee. The bikers left the milk bar, and started their motorbikes. Legs wide. Boots. Black. Glossy. Confident men. Riding their bikes. The speed. The Businessman watched them, too, through the large window. "Enjoying their life, I guess. More than some people do." He didn't continue that line of thought. Instead, he asked the young man about his home town, family, work. About how Dad left. How Mom was still working at a bakery. That college was not even a thought. About working at an office. "Do you find psychoanalysis helpful? You don't have to answer, son. I've no right to intrude." "I'm glad, that Dr. Witt listen to me, Sir. The massage is nice. Dr. Witt told me, that I have inhibations, and that a wounded soul cause tensions in the body. Dr. Witt repeatedly tells me, that man is both body and soul. I think, the analysis help me to become comfortable with that." "Did you ever enjoy sports?" "Not particularly. Some of my friends were recruited to the football team, but I wasn't." "What about tennis? I played tennis in my youth, but for some reason I never continued doing so." "I don't know, Sir. I think tennis is not widely popular in my town." "Have you considered boxing? You look like you could toughen up, son." The young man blushed. "No, I haven't considered boxing, Sir. Work at the office by day and going to the theatre some nights is what my life consist of." "You are young. You have life before you. Don't waste your youth. I'm not telling you to mismanage your work. I'm just telling you to have fun when you don't work. Society is changing -- I don't understand exactly what happens, to be honest -- and the world is changing. They send spacecrafts into space, and they are able to cure diseases thought incurable. The colonies are free now, and young people in the free world are enjoying life." He shook his head, and continued: "By 1990 they will probably have flying cars. Don't waste this first step of mankind's modern progress by feeling sad. I like to watch young people enjoy life -- even those strange incomprehensible beatniks." "Thanks for your encouragement, Sir. And thanks for the milkshake." On their way home in The Businessman's big fancy car, they had bought some cigarettes, fruits, candy and magazines. Among the newspapers and magazines in the newsstand, the young man had found magazines he had never seen before: They seemingly were all about physical exercise. A jolt went through his spine. He had to swallow. The hair on his head bristled, and he felt blood rush to his still boyish cheeks. The drawings of men on the covers. So built. Impossibly big muscles. A muscular biker talking to a muscular man from The Navy on one of the covers. A big man on a beach on the other. On the back cover there was an advert for Charles Atlas' correspondence course about physical exercise. He bought two of the magazines, and hoped, that The Businessman didn't notice his choice of reading material. On his way home, he hid the magazines in the brown paperbag, where he had put his fruits, candy and cigarettes. Next morning, he began his day by doing push-ups at his room at The Foundation. * * * Next chapter is found here.
  7. As soon as Mr. Alpha asked which guy was Rubio, the group of men parted like the sea before Moses and revealed a large muscled man wearing Ray Bans and tight-fitting fatigues at the back. Antoine was immediately impressed with the size and muscularity of the boss-man, but was disappointed that the guerillas had so quickly turned over their leader. He had hoped there would be more fighting, so he could show off for longer. He figured the bad guys had finally gotten it through their head that there was no way for them to win this fight. Bullets bouncing off a mostly nude humongous body had finally registered as something pretty powerful. Antoine thought he might egg them on – in hopes for on last battle. “What gives fellas? No Spartacus moment where you all claim to be Rubio to save your boss? That would have been epic. It’s like you’re leading the lamb to slaughter or something. What kind of bad guys are…” When you are a superhero you didn’t get surprised that often. As a matter of fact, it never happened. That’s why the big fist seemed to come out of nowhere to Antoine. Suddenly, the big man felt a blow to his stomach and registered a little abs discomfort as he was knocked off his feet and flew through the wall of the plane behind him. His body burst another giant hole in the machine as he rocketed another fifty yards or so and landed hard on the ground. The superhero was stunned a little and disoriented. He’d never felt a punch before. It was a little disconcerting. He looked up to see the massive Rubio – truly a lot bigger than he had seemed when sitting down – stepping through the hole Antoine’s flying body had just made. It took a few seconds for the giant muscled hero to figure out what had happened. Rubio had come flying off the floor of the plane so fast that Antoine had not been prepared for the oncoming fist that punched him off his feet. Rubio’s body had some super power, too. Antoine’s head stopped spinning as the other big man spoke. “My men tell you who I am because they know I am strong like you. They fear me more than you, Mr. Alpha.” Destroying a tank had excited Antoine. Ripping out an entire wall of a humongous vault had really turned him on. Destroying an army made A400M ‘Grizzly’ had made him leak pre-cum. But the idea of taking on someone that seemed to be as strong as him sent the guy into the realm of ecstasy reserved only for your first time of ever having multiple orgasms or the first time you fucked the engine of a semi. The big man’s tiny posers finally gave up the battle of the bulge and seemed to instantly disintegrate as Antoine’s massive member raced to be fully hard – actually harder than the superhero had ever remembered it being before. He actually had to pause for a few seconds until the throbbing pain, caused by how quickly it inflated, subsided. Antoine had no idea he could actually be this turned on. It felt like he needed to plow the side of a mountain. But then he thought about fighting Rubio and that was even better. The superhero’s temporary immobility, caused by all his super testosterone-filled blood rushing to his big rod, made him not notice the huge shadow appearing around him until it was too late. Suddenly, the giant ‘Grizzly’ was slammed on top of him as if it had been a mega mallet and Antoine was the waiting target in a giant Whack-a-Mole game. As the superhero’s feet sunk into the ground up to his knees and his body, yet again, plunged through the steel of the plane, he realized with total glee that Rubio had actually picked up the freaking thing with his bare hands and hammered Antoine’s head with hit. The bad guy had hit the nail on the head, so to speak. Slightly dazed, Antoine glanced out one of the side windows and saw the pilots and other guerillas frantically running across the airfield – clearly thankful they had escaped before Rubio had decided to do some pounding. Antoine spoke to himself as he began to free his feet from the earth. “Fucking hell, he’s strong! This is going to be fun! I’ll be leaking my Antoine-seed throughout this entire fight – I can feel it.” Suddenly, there was bright sunlight as the plane went back into the air. It took Antoine’s eyes a few seconds to adjust but then he was rewarded with the sight of the giant Ecuadorian muscleman holding the ‘Grizzly’ by its tail end and the monstrous thing sticking up in the air like a giant caveman club. The superhero paused to take in the sight – marveling at the other guy’s strength. He was definitely the kind of guy that could appreciate power, even if it was in his opponent. Antoine could have kicked himself for getting caught up in the moment, though, for that gave Rubio time to bring the already demolished body of the plane back down on top of him. Antoine’s body made yet another hole in the side of the plane and he was pushed further into the ground. At this rate, he’d be buried up to his neck after just a few more hammered blows. The muscled hero had to get his mojo back. He wasn’t one of the bad guys who never learned anything. Enough of this ‘being blown away by another guy’s strength.’ Antoine needed to be Mr. Alpha again. Where’s the thrill in having someone who matches your strength to fight with if you don’t get up and take him on. The idea of actually getting to use a full fist to punch a guy instead of just thumping him slightly with your finger made Antoine’s dick throb with excitement. It was time to kick some Rubio muscled ass. “Get ready to meet Mr. Alpha, Rubio! Otherwise known as Mr. Pain.” Antoine’s muscles definitely swelled bigger just from the fact that he was ready to rumble. Blood was pumping through his body like millions of bullet trains shooting testosterone to every corner of his huge frame. The superhero could actually feel the fur covering his pecs, arms, legs, and face sprouting out longer in reaction to the powerful raw masculinity propelling his muscles to bulge even more. The idea of completely letting loose with his full strength made him grow. Antoine kicked slightly and the ground surrounding his legs exploded as if a ton of TNT had been ignited. At the same time, he reached down and grabbed hold of the plane around the hole his body had made. He quickly and easily lifted the ‘Grizzly’ into the air above his head, noticing that he took an unsuspecting Rubio into the air with it. The bad guy was still holding on to the tail end. The naked superhero shook the frame of the plane with enough force to bring down all the buildings of a few city blocks. This caused Rubio’s unprepared body to flap around violently and finally fall to the ground – the guy couldn’t hold on because of the tremendous earthquake-like shaking. Immediately, Antoine brought his arms back and then thrust them forward with tremendous force, slamming the end of the plane into the still-wobbling big chest of his opponent. Rubio’s big body was sent flying backwards across the airfield like a rock being ejected from a slingshot. The guy landed with a huge thud near a clump of trees on the edge of the field – skidding and digging up a mound of earth the size of a small house. “Rubio eight ball – corner pocket. And Mr. Alpha sinks it for the win. Haaaaaaaahhhhhh! The crowd goes wild. God, I love superhuman extreme sports. Come back to papa, big guy, it’s time for some Rubio baseball.” True to his villainous nature, Rubio was back on his feet and running towards Antoine at full speed – not really having a plan, just thinking his moving bulk could do some damage. Mr. Alpha, however, had already anticipated this stupid move. With the same kind of effort it might take a normal guy to open an umbrella, the superhero flicked the big plane up in the air so the tail end came down into his waiting hand. Antoine dug his fingers into the steel so he could grip the big thing tightly and at the same time he swung it out to the side like he was a little-league slugger at the batting range. “Batter, batter, batter, swing batter!” Antoine immediately knew it was going to be a homerun – out of the park, as they say. The bulk of the plane connected with Rubio’s oncoming body so hard that the bad guy didn’t have a chance in hell to not be sent flying far away. Antoine’s follow-through was perfect and his man-ball shot out across the length of the field, over the big house, and into the distance somewhere far, far away. Antoine listened for the loud noise when Rubio hit the ground and made a huge crater. The boom was worth the wait. Antoine dropped the big plane to the ground and turned to Jose, throwing his hands up in the air in a victory pose. Jose was clapping hard. “I’d run the bases, but there’s no need. Besides, he’ll be back. A good superhero is always prepared,” he said to himself and then he cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled up to Jose, “Get ready for the disgruntled bad guy to throw some toys, my little sidekick. He’s really upset because I’m so strong.” Jose made a thumbs-up gesture. Sure enough, at that exact moment a jeep came sailing over the house above Jose’s head aimed perfectly toward the superhero. Antoine was impressed – both by the choice of object thrown and the accuracy of the toss. Clearly Rubio was, indeed, very upset. The jeep was in horrible shape – obviously the bad guy had taken out some of his Antoine-induced frustration on the poor vehicle. It looked to be beaten into an almost unrecognizable big metal blob. Mr. Alpha waited until almost the last possible second and then leapt into the air, causing the jeep to miss him completely, hit the ground hard enough to send huge clods of earth into the air, and then it bounced across the field like some kind of giant deformed ball. A mangled jeep – Antoine was impressed. Not bad for the guy’s first throw. The superhero quickly guessed what was coming next as he landed back down on the ground and a glance upward confirmed that he was right. A huge boulder – the size of a small house – was careening through the air with the same spot-on aim as the jeep. Antoine braced himself and quickly flexed his left monstrous biceps – just to piss off the villain even more. When the boulder was within striking distance, Mr. Alpha’s right fist came flying up and connected with the rock with the force of one hundred missiles. The massive thing exploded into millions of small pieces of gravel upon impact with the much more powerful fist – which then rained down around the superhero like a light summer shower. Punching into dense solid rock and disintegrating it upon connection would never get old or boring for Antoine. He thought it was one of the most muscle show-off things a big guy could do. The cheers from his sidekick, Jose, up on the balcony of the house, confirmed this, as well. “What’s next, dear Rubio. I’m having a blast.” Antoine was surprised and impressed that the next thing to come sailing through the air towards him was Rubio, himself. This seemed much more logical and creative than most villains would have chosen. Antoine’s own immense legs quickly bent and powered his body into the air – the two speeding massive objects made impact even with Jose’s gaze, so he was able to see the entire thing up close and personal. Antoine’s blast from the ground had intentionally been more muscled than he’d ever leapt before. He wanted to test the limits of himself and those of his newfound nemesis. Unfortunately, Rubio had blasted into the air with equal power. When they met it was like two meteorites zooming into each other in outer space. There was something just slightly less than a sonic boom that shook the entire neighboring countryside and both men bounced off the other in a way that guaranteed much destruction. Antoine slammed back into the ground and that caused a cavernous hole so deep, if filled with water, it could have been listed as a giant lake. Rubio bulleted uncontrollably back through the western wing of the house and took out a major chunk of three stories, slamming into the driveway on the other side. He made a giant hole, too. Luckily, Jose was on the other wing and crossed himself three times to say thank you as he gazed at the damage done to the other side. It looked like the place had been bombed. Both big men were unaccustomed to being stopped so violently. It took a few seconds for each of them to shake the stunned feeling that rocked their bodies. Antoine’s cock throbbed harder than before as he joyously experienced discomfort like he had never known. He had used enough force he could have propelled his body through a mountain and, yet, this Rubio – this villain – had stopped his trajectory mid-air. Antoine was turned on because he realized he was now ready to do what he had always longed to do. He was being given permission to use his full super powers. He didn’t have to hold back. He didn’t have to worry about hurting or killing someone. He was about to test his abilities completely. Something he had thought he would never be able to do. He shot out of his deep hole as he let out an earsplitting battle cry and leaked copious amounts of pre-cum. “Come on Rubio! Let’s jack this fight up a few notches. Show papa Antoine what you can really do!”
  8. The Prologue is found here The preceeding chapter is found here The Orgone Accumulator: Part Three The young man stood leaning on the balustrade, admiring the scenery from the terrace, which ran in front of the facade of the main building. The white-painted concrete must have been considered avant-garde thirty years ago, but The Foundation hadn't been able to maintain the building the way it deserved, and the white paint fell from the facade like unmelting flakes in the wind. Smoke rose from the cigarette in the corner of his mouth, a pillar of smoke spiralling upwards, disappearing. The road. Valleys of trees. Vineyards. Forests. Perhaps a hint of glittering sea, far, far away between some of the hills, but it was also possible, that he imagined the glitter of waves, because he knew it must be somewhere over there, westward. Sunny California, indeed. Not like his wintery home-town. Useful? Yes, useful therapy, to an extent, but none of the other guests at The Foundation were of his age, and the garden, atelier, library and meditation room felt suffocatingly still and lifeless. The Businessman approached, wearing his expensive costume tailored to look dull. The Businessman's actual name sounded fancy, but the young man hadn't yet been able to associate it with that famous company. "Do you mind if I join you when I smoke, young man?" He must have been more than fifty years old. By his look, he must be living a very successful life. What was he and his pearl-decked wife doing at The Foundation? Were rich people really supposed to be in need of therapy? Couldn't they buy happiness? America. The land of opportunities, as his grandparents had used to say, when they immigrated in another century. "Of course not, Sir. I hope, that I don't trouble you." "Not at all, son. I have attended The Foundation together with Julia for years, and I always appreciate when some guests are somewhat younger than we are. It enlivens the place. Julia and I don't have any children of our own." The Businessman lit his own cigarette, and looked thoughtful, as he seemed to take the natural scenery in. "How old is this place, Sir?" "The main building was built in the style of early modernism in the 1920s by a German-American architect, but most of the smaller buildings were added in the 1940s, when Dr. Witt founded The Foundation. Dr. Reich visited several times in the beginning, but then the unpleasant business happened in 1956." "Unpleasant business?" "You haven't heard? Dr. Reich spent his last two years in prison, and died just a few days before being able to obtain a parole." "What for?" "The Food and Drug Administration didn't approve of some of his inventions. They believed his methods were fraudulent." "But he was a doctor, wasn't he?" "He was a psychoanalyst, but his methods differed from Sigmund Freud. Have you heard about Freud?" "I think, I'd seen his name mentioned in some newspaper before Dr. Witt explained more about him. What do you think? You wouldn't come here, if you didn't trust Dr. Reich's ideas, would you, Sir?" "Talking to someone -- a priest or a rabbi or a psychoanalyst or someone else bound to not gossip -- wont hurt. I don't think highly of the navel-gazing. The massage is nice. I've eaten worse food than this, but I am not entirely sure what to make of The Orgone Accumulator. To be honest, I mainly come here, because Julia believe in Reich's theories." "Orgone Accumulator?" "They haven't prescribed it to you, yet? Fair enough. I suppose Dr. Witt -- you are one of Dr. Witt's clients aren't you, not a client of one of the others? -- will give you the treatment after some initial cycles of analysis and massage. Did Dr. Witt ever mention Orgone?" "Yes. Dr. Reich theorized, that there is some sort of life-force in every living being, but Dr. Witt never explained any details." "It's the details I distrust, not the basic idea. He even attempted to draw Orgone from the clouds with some sort of antenna. The American authorities burned his books in 1956, which I think is a shame: In a free country, all citizens are free to present their thoughts freely, and if they contain bogus, they will be exposed as such in a free debate, not by censorship. A shame, really." They fell silent a little while. "Do you have any analysis or massage booked for today?" "Not this afternoon. I had a therapy session with Dr. Witt early this morning." "I'm going into the city. Want a ride?" "Thank you, Sir. It's not like I dislike the fresh air out here, but I wouldn't say no to a few hours away from The Foundation." * * * Next chapter is found here
  9. Note, Just a quick and dirty one shot that I typed up on my phone to get back into the swing of writing. Enjoy! Dream Body I woke up feeling completely strange. Was it because I apparently passed out in my computer chair? No. Stretching the sleep away, my undershirt felt weird. I felt really heavy too and the chair groaned audibly as I moved. That was when I noticed my forearm. It was smooth and, more importantly, thickly muscled. I fell over as I leapt up in a panic. Looking at my legs, I could see why. They were absurdly thicker! My boxer briefs were stretched beyond belief. I swear I could see the beginnings of tears at the edges. Panning up, my undershirt was in a similar situation. Large, full pecs pushed the fabric away from the rest of my body, allowing me to see down the deep valley between them. My meaty hands followed the taut straps of the undershirt up to a pair of mountainous traps. "What the fuck…" escaped my lips in a voice that wasn't mine, but that I was immediately familiar with. It was a deep, gruff voice that just oozed confidence and power. It was Rex. Looking at the body, now that I was slowly able to stand, I realized it was his too. My hands finding a rugged beard all but confirmed it. I remembered chatting late into the night and getting to see Rex on cam, but everything after was a blur, aside from it being clear I passed out in my chair. A rhythmic pulsing in my underwear drew my attention downward. While partly obscured by pecs, I could see his dick throbbing for attention in my boxer briefs. My throat went immediately dry. His throat. Fuck was it confusing. My mind raced. It was his body. I couldn't, no, shouldn't touch it, right? A thick bead of pre soaked into the end of what looked like at least a thick 8 inches. Shaking his head, I snapped out of my growing lust. Going there would be wrong, but I could enjoy other things. Looking at his arm, I flexed the softball sized bicep. I made sure to do so as slowly as I could. The fibers bundled and bunched as the peak ascended. Once it hit full flex, I placed the free hand on it. Warmth. A powerful and inviting warmth radiated from the iron ball of muscle that was his bicep. I carefully darted over to a box of old clothes I had collected to donate. Clothes flew farther than intended as I tossed them aside. The strength was something I had barely any grasp of how to control. "How does he manage this body?" I questioned as I continued to rummage. Eventually, an old button up shirt came into view. It was from when I wore mediums and had long been snug in all the wrong places. Without a second thought, I did my best to cram his super soldier like body into the shirt. Even just getting the forearms in was a struggle and the sleeve came full stop once it got past the elbow. "Fuck you shirt. This is happening," I barked as I slowly but surely inched in. Once one arm was in, I attempted the second only to find that the shoulders of the shirt weren't wide enough. With a groan of annoyance, I hunched forward long enough to allow the uncovered arm to find the open sleeve. With great difficulty, I managed to get both arms in. Standing, I could feel the shirt already pulled near skin tight across the back. I slowly began to button the shirt up and could hear the fabric threatening to rip. Each flex of his back and arms ushered in the soft shredding of cotton fibers. I was lucky the shirt was still as stretchy as it was. I managed to get the bottom 3 buttons on, leaving the shirt spread wide open from the bottom chest up. The ample overhang of the pecs pressed down into the fabric, exaggerating the spread even further. “If I button any more, it’s going to rip before I can have my fun…” I rumbled. The fabric hugged every muscular conture, as if it was spandex. Rolling his beefy shoulders back, I spread his chest wide, the shirt opening even wider and threatening to undo the lower buttons, before doing my best to go into a lat spread. I moved slowly at first, but the moment I heard the shirt giving way, I popped straight into the flex. Cool air kissed his back as the shirt split straight down the back. Extending his right arm, the tricep shot through the back of the sleeve. On the opposite side, I once again curled up slowly. As each fiber of the biceps pressed against it, the fibers of the shirt gave way. In moments, the iron ball of muscle punch through the shirt. Licking his lips I thought of what to do next. I had no way to really test this bodies strength. It had to be amazing. With no other options, I opted to drop to the floor and begin doing push ups. Fifty reps in, I realized that I would be able to keep this going for an absurd amount of time. I barely felt any resistance as I rose up and down. If anything, it felt like I might push myself off the floor and into the ceiling if I went too quickly. Even switching to one arm barely proved any more difficult, though feeling every muscle transform from rock solid to steel hard with each rep quickly brought my attention back to the one gifted area I had refused to look at. Fabric fluttered to the floor as I stood back up. It was then that I noticed my undershirt had also fallen victim to the powerhouse that was Rex’s body. I looked down at the looming package. It was still throbbing, almost violently so. What had been a small bead at the end had grown to a sizable wet spot. “I mean, it is Rex’s body. If it was him, he would take care of this and not just let it be. For all I know, this might be my body now. I should get used to all of it, right,” I reasoned aloud. Hearing that deep voice sent even more shivers down my body. I used my rough, gym forged paw of a hand to stroke my thick beard. The body belonged to me and I was ready to take it for a real ride. With a blink, sudden pain rushed through my side. I was on the floor near my chair. Once again, something immediately felt different. There was no hefty weight. I couldn’t feel the weight of my chest heaving up and down with every breath. I couldn’t feel what felt like the power of multiple men in just one body. Looking over my body, I was normal me again. I was in my chair, which had tipped over with me in it. Rex’s body was gone. The only thing that remained was a desperate boner. Not a massive pillar of manhood, but my old standard model. I hadn’t even gotten to see it. All I could do is shake my head and mutter a solemn and regretful, “Fucking damn it.” A loud alert ping chimed from my computer. A message box from Rex had popped. Maybe my luck wasn’t all bad.
  10. Mommy Muscle Growth Episode One - “Power Corrupts” Part 1 ***************************** Authors Note: for all the “geektofreek” fans out there. an attempt at a FMG version. ***************************** My best friend, Brian, called me before the big game. “Getting stoned with everyone... Where you at, bud?” He asked repeatedly. But even I couldn’t tell him what was going on that night. “Yeah, dude. I’ll be leaving in a few minutes.” I lied with a small gulp. Because you see the real truth was, I had already made much bigger plans that night... “Oh god, Mom... it’s 18 inches!” Weeping with utter amazement as I feasted upon, what must have been, one of the worlds biggest female biceps. “Ohh yeah!” Mom, groaned with excitement. With a cute giggle I might add. Pumping up and down this entirely massive bowling ball of womanly strength. Right up against the measuring tape. Right up against my own shrinking two hands. “It feels like I’m still growing too!” She exclaimed. Having curiously consumed over half of Dads muscle growth pills last night. Making us both take pause to watch her peaking arm muscle rumble even bigger with each flex. “18.1... 18.2... 18.3...” Mom, announced out loud. Pumping both her arms over and over and over. Not stopping until they reached 18.5 inces! “Jesus, Mom! Pretty soon you’ll be just as big as, Dad!” I just had to say it. Making a lightbulb go off in her head from the look of things. “Oh god, could you just imagine it...” Mom, said lustfully. Looking down at her already massive mommy physique with a smirk. The idea was crazy, unthinkable. I mean, Dad, really was this big muscle guy. With these colossal 23-inch arms. 30-inch thighs. The biggest door wide backside you could ever conceive on a man. Yet that still didn’t want to seem to stop her. “The growth would have to be tremendous...” As, Mom, giggled a bit. Shamelessly fantasizing. Almost as if I wasn’t even there. “More muscle then ever before achieved by another woman...” She continued. Feeling up her two blimp-sized power breast. The fat diamond cut muscle-nips. Playfully lifting up her shirt up. Making my drop my jaw drop to the floor. As she rubbed her pretty pink painted nails all over these silky smooth monster looking abs. A full fucking 12-pack! With this deep cut v-line. “Not just bigger then all the woman, but MOST of the MEN too!” She still continued. So unbelievably power drunk. “I had no idea you wanted to be SO BIG, Mom!” The whole situation made me gasp for breath. “Well of course...” Mom giggled a bit. “What girl doesn’t want to be Queen!?” She, said with a lustful groan. Eventually reaching down to the bottom of her ready-to-burst gym shorts. Peeling them up chiseled layers of strength like some slow strip tease. Devilishly chuckling as she revealed the most massive mommy muscle thighs on the planet. “A muscle queen?” I weeped under my breath. Making my knees just tremble and shake. *RIIPPP* *RIIIPPPPPPPP* And then that’s when the unthinkable began to happen. “Oh god, Mom... Your clothes...” ****************************** LMK what you guys think of Part 1 by commenting below. Hope you enjoyed.
  11. Omniman, the beginning Bea Research Co. was always a top of the line center for technological innovations, but this new invention certainly takes the cake. As a breakthrough emerged in molecular rearranging, the top scientists at the headquarters took heed in creating a solution to world hunger. The kitchen kit, as it’s aptly named, can rearrange any molecules through the nozzle and can turn it into food. Although untested, it already showed promising results in the individual parts mechanics operations. Standing at the same size as a cardboard box, this new contraption is all you’ll ever need for the rest of your life! And furthermore, it uses the breaking apart of molecules as its energy source. The more you use it, the more energy it has! It works very easily. First, you strap the hose to your mouth and secure it comfortably. Second, you turn on the machine and whatever object you desire can be put into the hole to be turned into food. Anything at all can be used, although typically, carbon based things taste best. Even old, rotten, or toxic foods can be put inside and eaten again. There’s even different settings depending on diet! Keto? No problem! Want to lose weight? The body customization menu has a wide variety of options! There’s nothing you can’t do with the Kitchen Kit! Only $199.99! Wild was a white-haired young man studying graphic design. Not too exceptional in talent to the naked eye, but with every layer removed, he was more and more amazing. He was ideal for this. He was sweet and kind and unsuspecting (and incredibly attractive too). Which made him the perfect candidate for trial testing. He was a tad on the short side, coming in around 5’4, but his tight body made up for his lack of height when it came to conventional standards. It gave him the confidence necessary for the adventure he was about to embark on. Wild saw the note up on the bulletin board. $100 for human test subject for new Kitchen Kit. Visit this address for more information xxxxx xxxx rd. So, like any broke student, he took the paper. He was just glad that he was the first to see it. He drove over to the location and went inside carelessly. It was a giant white building immaculately cleaned and polished. It was charmingly sparkly. He walked to the information desk and showed the receptionist the flyer. The man was on the phone, but pointed him over to the sign on the wall. Wild followed it to the lab room, where he walked inside and was greeted by an older woman with a lab coat and a clip board. “Oh. Goodness. You’re here for the testing?” She asked. “Y-Yeah! I am! There was a $100 promise?” She frowned a wrinkly frown. “I’m sorry dear, but we’re all done with the testing. But to make it worth your time, you can take one of the prototypes. The central unit was removed so it’s no longer functional. But if the product picks up, then it may be worth some dough later on!” Wild didn’t know what to do, but not wanting to confront the kind old lady, he took the machine and went home to me, his loving roommate, who wasn’t with him officially, but who had a cute relationship together. Little did they know when he walked through the door that it would end in world annihilation “Hey baby! You’re back! How was the test?” I asked, my enthusiasm evident. Wild smiled and walked inside. “It was okay. I didnt get the money, but they gave me a non-functioning prototype.” “Awww, it doesn’t work? That’s lame. They should have just given you the cash like they promised.” “It’s alright cutie. We can still open it up and take a look!” I laughed. “Hell yeah babe! Sounds fun!” So with screwdrivers in hand, we took that damn thing apart and studied it and put it back together again. It was a really fun time despite some annoying moments with the mechanics. “You know,” Wild began, “this thing looks pretty functional to me.” “Yeah,” I agreed. “It does. Do you want to...try it out?” Wild looked at me with glee and nodded his head. “Easier than cooking dinner, I guess.” I opened up the menu on the screen of the blank white box while Wild set up the tube and the funnel. It was just like a phone screen. There were many different options, but the one that stood out to me first was the diet option. So I opened it up. And, to my surprise, I found a shit ton of sub levels and folders to choose from. Everything from weight to muscle to hair growth to even sex drive were all accounted for. “Hey babe, I’m gonna try to do every option I can do at once. See how far this thing can go!” Wild looked at me and smiled sheepishly. “Well, we don’t want to break it. But I suppose it isn’t supposed to work anyway. So go ahead!” I laughed with apparent thrill and pressed all the buttons I could. Then, with a sparkle in my eye, I strapped the hose over my mouth and gave a thumbs up The machine began to whirr. Wild started to look around for something to put inside, but the Kitchen Kit began to make food anyway. It wasn’t needing any input! It was taking the air and turning it into calories! A thick gray liquid began pouring into the hose and down my mouth. It tasted like nothing before, as if engineered to be the best food for my own tastes. I didnt even need to chew and swallow. The warm liquid just went right down. And I was loving every second of it. Wild was watching in awe. He already saw the effects begin to take place. My shirt began stretching outwards as my belly expanded and I put on twenty pounds in mere seconds. The machine worked, alright. There must have been a mistake. But Wild wouldn’t stop it. And I didnt want him to. I felt the food hit my body with a warm embrace, but at the same time, it didn’t relinquish my hunger. I felt bloated. I felt big. But big was always a good feeling. It was powerful! But the power wouldn’t end there. Like blowing up a balloon, my stomach continued to grow and grow until my shirt climbed its way up to my chin like I was wearing a scarf. Then I felt a grumble. My belly’s expansion slowed down and wild sighed with relief. It was over now. He touched my giant gut and couldn’t help squeezing it tightly like a bean bag. It was so hot to him. It was to both of us. But then something else happened. My stomach wasn’t the only thing growing. As Wild caressed my belly, something knocked him over from under his feet with a giant ripping sound and plopped him onto my gut. As he looked up, he saw my face glowing red with sexual pleasure. And looking down, he saw a cock the size of a pirate cannon with balls bigger than beach balls. He could feel the cum churning underneath my belly. And it continued pumping. My gut was rising. Blowing up even more as more food came into my mouth. But my balls were growing now too. And my cock was only getting longer and longer. Thicker and thicker. But once again, that wasn’t all. A muffled gasp of sexual joy bubbled from beneath my mask. Then, with a rise of my arms, I flexed my two gigantic arms and instantly ripped whatever was left of my clothes right off. It was like I was made of rubber and helium. The food kept pouring in at faster and faster rates until Wild felt his butt hit the ceiling. My pecs collided with him at the same time, my gut no longer the biggest thing on me. My cock stretched outside of the garage and into the street. The distant sound of screams kept coming. But there was still way more to go Wild let out a moan and grabbed his hard cock. He became squished between my giant pecs, engulfed in hot mass. There was nothing else he could even think about. He stripped everything off and grabbed his smoking hot cock with his hand and started jerking off like never before. Then, as if in sync, both Wild and I orgasmed and spewed cum all over. For him, it ended up on his cute sexy body, but for me, it wiped out half the country. But the machine liked that. As soon as it came out and flooded America, it went right back in through the machine and pumped exponentially more. Pump after pump, muscle on top of muscle, it was all too much for anyone besides us two. Crushing and demolishing the nation was an easy feat for the Omniman and his beautiful servant, Wild. I flexed my biceps again and again as my arms grew taller than I was and nearly as wide across. It looked like pool floats were on my arms, except those floats were bigger than Texas. But then Texas was too small. America. Then that was too small too. Every part of me grew bigger and bigger as my throat expanded and made way for cosmic portions. But Wild still wasn’t satisfied. He came again. This time, soaking his face. And feeling this orgasm, I came again too. And it went right back in after flooding the planet. But unfortunately, there wasn’t anything left to vacuum, right? After all, all the air was gone! But that wasn’t true in the slightest. Slowly, the entire earth began to tremble as the machine began to suck it in with the force of a black hole, every molecule fueling its acceleration. Wild felt my growth slow down a lot, but he didn’t see the stuff going down in the back. I rolled my eyes to the back of my head and tried not to scream with pleasure. In addition to each and every rolling galaxy of muscle, was an ass about to rip open space itself. Then, almost instantly, both Wild and I were blasted from behind as my ass grew so big it hit the end of the universe and pushed us along as speeds that shouldn’t have been possible. Luckily for us, my rapidly expanding pecs cushioned us forward and my biceps kept us stable as they pushed against the ceiling. This time, not of a house, but of the entire universe. There was no beginning and no end. My legs were wider than even I could feel. My ass crushed everything behind us and my balls and my pecs crushed everything in front. My arms crushed everything to the sides. Only he was safe. “Wild, I know you can hear me. Do you...want me bigger?” I mustered. Wild didn’t know what to say. He wanted more. But what was there even more of to have? He was in heaven. He came three more times in that last growth spurt, and he felt another coming. But he knew what I wanted. “Yes! Always more, Omni!” “Then cum for me, babe. Aim your cock to my voice. If you cum, I’ll have just enough power to break the bonds of everything. Ill truly be Omniman if you do that!” And he didn’t even have to try. Wild instantly shot a load when he heard my booming cosmic voice. And, like I planned, it was just enough. My body began to rumble. Every single crack left in the universe began full with a final pump. But then, a giant rip emerged in the fabric of space as my cock tore through everything there ever was. Upon encountering new universes, the machine kept going, expanding me more and more exponentially, my gut and my muscle pulsating with power. We broke universe after universe, absorbing everything there was. And it kept speeding up. After a while, I couldnt even keep track of it. I had reached infinity. I was Onmiman, and Wild were the man who got me there. And he’d be with me forever and ever.
  12. “Cut it out Enzo,” I said trying to push by him. “Come on, Antonio. You’re the only gay guy I know. Just answer my question,” he said as his body made it quite clear I would be unable to pass. “This is not funny, Enzo.” “Listen, do you think gay guys would be attracted to my big guns? I mean, I know the ladies are – trust me, I know the ladies are. These big things have gotten me laid more times that I can count. But I’m trying to put myself out there as a caring, open-minded metrosexual and someone told me that meant I had to be nice to the faggots . . . oh damn, that’s not a nice word . . . I meant to say the gay guys. I’m sorry, Antonio.” I was floored. Not because of what he was saying, but because he actually apologized and changed the term every man in the extended DiMarco family to describe people like me ever since before I was even born. It made me stop and actually look my cousin right in his pleading eyes. He smiled, showing me that his apology had been sincere. The big ape was actually trying. That floored me. “Geez, thanks Enzo. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard a DiMarco boy correct himself. For the record, though, faggot doesn’t bother me. I view it like a term of endearment.” “A term of what?” Enzo asked and, immediately, we were back to the Neanderthal stage. “I was told that this shirt would be hot if I wore it to gay clubs…” “Wait. What? Did you just say that you are going to go to a gay club? Why?” “For the chicks, Antonio, for the chicks. Hot women love gay bars. I figure I’d finally go with some co-workers who’ve been asking me to join them for a while.” “Why?” “You know . . . to meet new people. Open up my horizontals.” “Horizons.” “What?” “To open up your horizons. Horizons . . . never mind, Enzo. What’s the real reason you want to go?” “Fuck, are all gay guys mind readers? You always know when I’m not telling the whole story. It’s like when we were in junior high together and I told you I was joining the drama club to learn to talk better and you asked me what girl I liked. I bet you even knew it was Iris Loftus, but you were too shocked I liked an Irish girl to say her name.” “Who’s the girl this time, Enzo?” “See, that’s what I’m talking about. I hadn’t even mentioned a girl and you already knew it. No wonder you graduated Harvard with those things called honors.” “Who’s the girl, Enzo?” “Why does there always have to be a girl, Antonio?” “Because it’s you, Enzo.” “Okay, okay. It’s Carla Luigi.” “The singer from down at the club?” “Yeah.” “Enzo, your taste is improving. It’s like you’ve gone from zero to ninety in mere seconds. I’m impressed. Careful now, she’s an out and proud liberal.” “I know, Antonio! That’s why I’ve got to change. I can’t be calling guys fag . . . um, names, anymore. I need to know about dressing right, where to get my hair cut, and about wine that doesn’t come in a box. You’re my only connection to class, Tony. Help me, please. We’re going to some place called ‘Beefeaters’ tonight and I gotta seem cool – and I ain’t ever worried about being cool before. So, help a poor guy out, cousin. Will the gays like my big arms? I got this shirt specially for tonight.” I looked at my cousin and felt the same stirring at my crotch whenever I gazed at Enzo. He was one good looking guy. Granted, his hair could be improved, his wardrobe lacked a little class, and the guy really needed to go back and finish high school – but none of that mattered when you gazed upon his dark brooding eyes, his thigh-quivering stubble, and what he always used to call his ‘gigantic bazookas.’ The man had the kind of arms that made you suddenly feel puny and weak whenever he was around. They didn’t just scream power – they yelled it from the highest mountain nearby. He had the kind of body that most men worked all of their life for and never achieved. The crazy thing was Enzo wasn’t a gym rat or powerlifting fiend – he just responded well to the workout he got at his construction job in addition to frequent use of the set of free weights he’d had since he had been in eighth grade. It was like some muscle fairy godfather had blessed him with a body that grew just from lifting the milk carton. I came home each Christmas specifically to get a lift-you-off-the-floor hug from those monstrous arms – both when I arrived and when I was leaving. Enzo used to protect me in school. No one dared bully Antonio DiMarco or they’d have to answer to the ‘gigantic bazookas.’ A visit from those arms usually meant you’d be dangling by some pipe the back of your pants was attached to after being lifted off the ground or, worse, literally being stuffed into a locker. The first part of my senior year was hell because Enzo, only a junior, decided to drop out of school. My protector was no longer there. After he heard I was having some problems, Enzo dropped by the school to say hi and remind the bullies I was off limits. The silent threat worked. “Enzo, there’s not a breathing homosexual on this planet that wouldn’t find those arms stellar.” “Cool. Stellar is good, right?” “Very good. Now listen, I have a few other pointers that I think will help you a lot tonight, if you care to hear.” The man seemed like I had just handed him the keys to paradise. He broke into a huge smile, grabbed two beers from the fridge, and ushered me into the dining room so we could sit and talk without being interrupted. I could tell he was all ears. I was impressed he didn’t take out some paper and a pen – he always made lists of things he wanted to do, but then promptly lost the list. He was actually going to listen and remember what I said. This was, indeed, a new Enzo. He looked at me like an eager puppy ready to please. “First of all, gay clubs are a lot different than those places you call a bar. And most of the gay men you are hoping to impress – along with your girl, Carla – are not like the guys, and even, forgive me, the girls you know. With your regular group of friends, it’s fine for you to act like a bull in a china shop.” “A bull where?” “Um, it’s fine for you to come on strong – really strong. I’ve been out with you and you’ve flexed your arms more in one night than all the guys in the Mr. Olympia contest put together. It’s like you’re some power-hungry mafia guy that busts into a place wielding heavy artillery.” “Very cool analogy, Antonio.” “When did you start using words like analogy.” “Since Carla started talking to me.” “Remind me to thank Carla. Anyway, in a gay bar like ‘Beefeaters’ you want to be really subtle . . . um…” “I know what subtle means, dude.” “Of course,” I said and I could feel my face turn red – causing the big man to cup my cheek with his big hand to show me all was okay. “So, you want to be subtle. Let those monstrous arms…” “You’ve always been into my guns, haven’t you, Antonio?” We stared at each other for a few seconds in total silence. This was all new territory for me. There wasn’t a DiMarco family member that had ever discussed anything personal with me, except my mom and that was always limited to ‘have you met a nice doctor’ or ‘Mrs. So and So needs some decorating advice.’ This was someone actually calling me out on what I was into. I knew, however, that the new Enzo was ready for honest answers. “Yes. I think they are stunning. And so will everyone at the bar tonight if you just let them do their thing naturally. There’s no need to announce them loudly like a foghorn on a cloudy night. Their size will let them speak for themselves, when you are taking a sip of beer, waving to a friend, or scratching the back of your head – which, by the way, I would suggest doing quite regularly.” “That’s kind of funny, since that’s what I do when I don’t understand something and I have a feeling I’ll be doing that a lot tonight.” This kind of self-awareness in a DiMarco man was unheard of. I suddenly felt a surge of love for this big dude that had never existed before. Evolution had never really been a thing I thought about, but I had a feeling Enzo’s growth as a human was going to make me read some books about it. He could tell I was impressed by something he said and this made him sit up taller – which made him look even more huge. “You want people stealing glances at your arms all night long. Trust me, if you don’t make a big deal about them from the get go, they’re going to be what everyone in the group is talking about when you go to the bathroom. Now, forgive me – I know you’re a changed man, but I feel I need to also say – no loud burping, no sliding your fingers down the front of your pants while resting, no spread eagle adjusting of your family jewels, and do not – this is huge – be the first to take your shirt off on the dance floor. Let other people convince you to take it off. I’m pretty sure some of your co-workers will be tugging on that tight thing and pulling out your shirttail pretty early on. Let the anticipation build. Let there be lots of other guys that have their shirts off before you unveil that body of yours. I have a feeling lots of shirts will immediately be put back on when yours comes off and that’s what you want.” “Why didn’t you tell me all these things I’ve done for years weren’t cool.” “Enzo! They were cool for your group of friends. Do not be ashamed of who you are. Remember, you hugged me and said those exact words to me when I came out to you. It was one of the most moving moments of my life. You’re simply doing something most DiMarco’s don’t do – you’re going out to experience a different culture. And when you’re in a different culture you need to strive and learn their customs, their preferred way of living. Now, have you thought about what you’re going to do if some guy hits on you?” “I thought I’d tell him I was flattered, but that he wasn’t my type.” “Who told you to say that?” “No one, I came up with it myself.” “Our little boy is growing up,” I said, grabbing both of his cheeks and squeezing. “The old Enzo would have lifted the guy and shook him like a rag doll or back-handed him across the room. I’m impressed with your new plan of attack. And, trust me, it will impress Carla, as well. I think you’re going to have a successful night.” “I know I am,” Enzo replied. “With you as my wing-man how can I fail.” “What? Oh no, buddy boy, I’m not Beefeaters’ material. That place likes their boys chiseled and gorgeous. I’d feel so out of place.” “Why do you say that, Antonio, you’re very handsome.” His sincere words moved me. I looked for any sign of the normal DiMarco sarcasm in his statement, but it didn’t exist. He again cupped my face and brought his close to mine. “Everyone says you’re the best looking DiMarco.” “Thank you, but I’m still not going.” “Yes, you are, cousin. You owe me, Antonio DiMarco.” “Owe you? For what?” “Junior high and high school protection!” And with that, he leaned in closer and kissed me hard on the lips. The kiss lasted a lot longer than was acceptable between two Italian guys. I knew he was giving me a gift. I knew he realized I had dreamed of kissing him for years. His hand, at the same time, reached over and grabbed my crotch. His hand quickly found my hard meat and he squeezed. He pulled his head away and shook it in dismay. “The most handsome Dimarco and with the biggest sausage in the family. Life is just not fair.” Enzo got up from the table and walked away – sure of the fact that I would be heading to ‘Beefeaters’ later on. I knew the crotch grab meant nothing. Ever since childhood the DiMarco boys had compared their endowments like you might show off a new car. I didn’t partake of the custom until around age twenty when five of us were down by the river drinking one night and my cousins drunkenly held me down and pulled down my pants so I’d finally be part of the crazy club. The shocked faces and total silence when my piece had been unveiled, plus the way they quickly let me go and returned to their beers, made me realize my assumption that all DiMarco men were huge below the belt was not true. From that moment on I had been treated with a lot more respect than ever before at family gatherings. “Yeah, well you’ve got the biggest arms,” I yelled at him as he passed through to the other rooms. “That’s for damn sure. We’re leaving at ten!” he shouted back. (To be continued…)
  13. When you Bitch Upon a Star Absolutely nobody cheered. There wasn’t one smiling face in the audience. Everybody in Hemingway Conference Room D was disgusted at the way that Lucas acted on stage in front of all his coworkers. There he stood, slurring all his words at the podium and rambling about how Garrett from Corporate had a penis unlike any other. His short black hair was oily and ruffled. His freckled face was flushed with liquor. His tailored brown suit was ripping at the seams of his muscled frame. Anyone with eyes could see that he was drunk and disorderly, hence why the police arrived shortly to escort him back home. Lucas was raving. He thrashed with the officers and yelled at them to put him down. He wasn’t going to have any of their bullshit today. But he didn’t have much of a choice. When he entered the back seat of the police car, he passed out and slept the whole ride home. He awoke to being jostled by the bigger policeman. He had dark skin and darker sunglasses, making his silhouette look as if it was from a dream as the sun shone behind the man’s body. Unable to tell a dream from reality, Lucas didn’t respond to the man and remained limp. “Sir! Your boss, among many others of whom you offended, has agreed not to press charges for making sexual remarks during their meeting. However,” he continued, his gruff voice coming off harsh, “you’re suspended from work for an indefinite time. Please get out of the car and into your house before we have to force you” Lucas groggily slumped out of the car and leaned on the door to his city apartment, passing by the officers without passing a glance. “Lucky son of a bitch.” Lucas whipped his head around to see what they were talking about. “If that was our boss,” the main officer said, “we’d be fired on sight.” The other one chuckled, his voice less masculine and intimidating than the first. “If that was our boss, we’d be SHOT on sight!” The two men got in the car and laughed as they drove away, leaving Lucas on his own. He rustled for his keys and opened the door and walked up the stairs to his tiny little apartment he could barely afford. And now with his job gone, he’d likely be evicted any day now. There was no way that things could get any worse. So, to numb the pain, Lucas drank even more. He drank until his pain went away. He had nothing left to live for. His boyfriend, Jeremy, dumped him for a better-looking man four whole months ago and he still wasn’t over it. He worked out every single day to try to bulk up to match Jeremy’s new man. Then, when that didn’t work, he went to steroids. He bulked faster than anyone has ever seen. But when we asked for Jeremy back, he still said no. So he grew even more. And more. And more. Never stopping until he ran out of cash. But, like anything, his cash supply was finite. Jeremy still didn’t want him back. He was broke, jobless, and drunk. Lucas was a pathetic excuse of a man. People gawked at him on the street like he was a muscle-bound freak. His proportions were off. His biceps were too big. His waist was too small. And his ego was shattered. Every ounce of manhood he had left faded away along with his consciousness. When Lucas woke up again it was nighttime. His head pounded nails into his skull. His stomach churned up a storm. But nevertheless, he stood up and tried to walk outside for some fresh air, his suit feeling constricting on his sweaty body. He tumbled his way down the stairs and opened the front door to the outside world. City smog and the growling of raccoons greeted his unshaven face and he immediately turned around into an alley to avoid the shrieking noise of cars passing by. It was dark, gloomy, and dank, much like how he was feeling. So, like any hopeless man did, he sat down on the ground and leaned his back against the grimy brick wall. Lucas lifted his head up and watched the stars above. They twinkled in the midnight sky and put a small smile on his face. “I just wish that I could teach them all a lesson. I wish that I could be bigger than all of them combined, that I could finally let them know what a mistake they made fucking with me!” And with the final words, Lucas started to cry softly to himself. He felt powerless. But, little did he know that as soon as he slumped his head down, a shooting star went by and heard his plea for help. Lucas cried himself out and wiped his eyes when he was done. He wasn’t just going to sit around and wait for life to destroy him! He was going to get even! Lucas stood up and hailed a cab. The woman driving looked just as tired as he did, her long red hair puffing outwards with knots and her face drooping like a bag. He told her Jeremy’s address and waited for her to arrive, but on the ride there, he realized that he didn’t want to end the ride there. He had some more people to teach a lesson to. “Miss, can you wait for me outside his house? I need to go somewhere else after.” The lady grunted and shrugged her shoulders, not really caring what she did as long as she got paid for it. Lucas grinned maliciously and stepped outside Jeremy’s house. He rummaged through his pockets and took out his key ring. He never did get rid of Jeremy’s key. It was a memento. But now, he realized, it was literally the key to revenge. Lucas opened the door and barged inside, stepping over discarded beer cans and pizza boxes to go up to Jeremy’s bedroom on the second floor. His house was a mess. It was the perfect cover-up. All Lucas had to do was deny ever being there and the sheer mess of his house was a water-tight excuse. He’d say that Jeremy must have fallen and hurt himself or something. When he got to Jeremy’s door, he slammed it open with all his might. “Wake up, you little slut!” Lucas roared, his aggression only rising as he saw his ex-boyfriend sleeping in the same bed he slept in when they were still together. Jeremy fell off the frame and stood up, his tiny pale naked body wrapped completely in his sheets, his brown hair messed up from sleep. “Lucas! Get out of my fucking house! What the hell do you want?” Jeremy cried. Lucas stomped over to him, his six-foot frame overshadowing Jeremy. He then grabbed his neck and lifted him up in the air like the men he’d seen in movies do. Then he started to squeeze. “What do I want?!” Lucas bellowed. “I want you to go to hell!” Jeremy’s eyes went wide as he saw Lucas’s biceps begin to swell with power. His already-torn suit began to rip even more. One by one his muscles started to bulge outward and surge his body with strength. The sound of cotton ripping echoed around the room. Lucas didn’t notice. His rage was too uncontrollable. He just kept squeezing and squeezing Jeremy’s writhing body as his life began to drain away. “You made a fucking mistake dumping me for that slut, wherever he is! I’m gonna teach that bastard a lesson RIGHT after I finish you, you pathetic little ant!” Then with a final grip, Lucas smashed Jeremy’s neck and left his bloody body on the messy floor. There was no explaining that one to the cops, but he didn’t care. The power felt so good! He needed more! Lucas slammed open the door and heaved his way down the stairs, everything left of his clothes cutting off his air flow. He was huge. Even bigger than before. Now there was no denying that something wasn’t natural with him. He was bigger than any bodybuilder. Closer to the Incredible Hulk, really, except even bigger. Lucas opened the cab door outside and stepped in, having to lean down and squeeze into the middle in order to fit in the tiny vehicle. “Where to now, love?” The cab driver asked, not looking back at the monster before her. “Lamplight Insurance. It’s my office,” he replied. As they drove down to his old job, Lucas started to feel the adrenaline slow down. Then, with newfound clarity, he looked at himself in the rear-view mirror. He was fucking GIANT! His pecs extended at least a foot long. His arms bulged like beach balls. His legs looked like tree trunks. Even his bulge was noticeable through his pants, which were now completely torn off except for his pelvis line, making him look like he was wearing a speedo and a tank top. You could hardly even see his face behind his mountains of muscle. But if you did, you’d see it smiling with lust. The cab finally stopped outside and let him out, still not understanding why it felt like the drive had such heavy cargo inside. Lucas gave the lady all the money he had left and let her drive off. After all, he wasn’t going to need money anymore. He had much bigger plans. As the sun began to rise, Lucas smashed open the glass doors to his office and sauntered inside, not caring about the alarm blaring around him. With each pounding step, Lucas grew more and more. He felt each vein pumping more and more mass into his already giant body. But as he approached the elevators, he realized that he was too big to go up. And he was too wide to go through the staircase. That made him very upset. And with his anger came more growth. Lucas let out a fierce roar as his body bubbles up taller and wider than ever before. The vaulted ceiling wasn’t too high anymore compared to Lucas. And he loved every second of it. He would show them all! He would make them pay for mistreating him and getting him suspended! They would all pay! The sound of police cars joined the symphony of alarms. As Lucas heard the sound of doors slamming, his pecs overshadowed his face and he couldn’t see anything. But he felt the ceiling above him, his biceps pressing into the stone. “What the fuck is that?!” An officer yelled. “I don’t fucking know, man, but we have to fucking stop it!” Lucas heard gunshots, but only felt pebbles bouncing off of his naked skin. His clothes were obliterated. There he stood, a fifty-foot-tall mass of Lucas, his body filling up the lobby of his office building. But as he stopped rising, his muscles pressing into the ceiling, he started growing outwards. “Oh...fuck YES!” Lucas cried. His cock started to rumble. The pure pleasure of growing bigger than anything else was immeasurable. The ecstasy of becoming more powerful than modern weaponry was pure bliss to him! And it showed well. As Lucas started to moan, his cock began getting bigger. It stretched out with so much force that it barreled through whatever was left of the front entrance and started crashing through buildings. To Lucas it felt like the worlds biggest fleshlight. “More!! I need More!!” He yelled. He heard the officers call for backup. That was exactly what he wanted. He wanted to feel more bullets. He wanted to feel them TRY to stop him! “I’ve found a weak spot!” Someone cried out. Then Lucas heard dozens of men running around back past his swimming pool-sized balls and to his back. “Fire!” Lucas got an ass massage like no other. With the heaviest weapons they had, an estimate of a while police force laid raid to his bubble butt. But luckily for him, it only stimulated the growth more. He felt his ass begin to inflate like two giant balloons, crushing all the men underneath like mere insects. But the pleasure was too much. Lucas’s body responded too well. With the sound of cracking, the ceiling collapsed and Lucas exploded through the next few floors of the building, his growth only gaining momentum. “MORE!! FUCK YES! HERE’S YOUR MOTHERFUCKING OFFICE, OR WHATEVER’S LEFT OF IT! HAVE FUN IN HELL, BITCHES!” Lucas flexed his biceps and demolished the entire skyscraper in one go, each floor crashing onto his body. But with every stimulus that he got, he only grow exponentially more. His pecs soon covered the whole block. His biceps reached to the clouds above. His ass lifted him dozens of stories high. His legs practically grew into one as they expanded outward. His cock stretched all the way across the state. Then soon, all of that doubled. Like he was growing against sandpaper, hundreds of buildings were crushed by his weight almost instantaneously. Then hundreds became thousands. Millions. Billions. Then soon he felt the pull of the earth fade away. Slowly but surely he was outgrowing the whole planet. He was his own gravitational force. And as science states, gravity attracts things to large objects. Lucas felt giant objects start to squeeze onto him like magnets shot from a gun. With each new celestial body, Lucas’s body bursted with more muscle. His cock ripped through galaxies. His ass stopped black holes. His biceps hit the edge of the universe. Exponentially faster and faster Lucas grew until he no longer felt anything all all except his pure muscle. He was the biggest thing in existence. He was the whole universe. Even as he kept flexing, he felt his muscles start to grow into each other with nowhere else to grow. That was it for Lucas. He had to cum. As his muscle started growing around his cock, jerking it ever so slowly, Lucas let out a final roar and let out immeasurable loads of cum. Cosmic galaxies of sperm exploded and covered any remaining gap in the hot, white liquid. Lucas was going to be very happy. After all, nobody could stop him now. He was all power incarnate. And who wouldn’t wish for that?
  14. The Prologue is found here: The Orgone Accumulator : Prologue The Orgone Accumulator: Part One He finished his three articles about Portland Waterfront Pride and sent them to the news-site editor per e-mail. Brad Taurus. He smiled. If your name is John Smith, and your occupation is freelance journalist and writer, you have to use some eye-catching alias to stick out in the crowd, even if it sounds silly. He scratched his hipster beard, took a sip of green tea, and clicked on one of the files that contained one of the chapters-to-be of his new book about the history of gay subcultures. Stud of Dakota ... One of the models of Robert Mapplethorpe's artistic black-and-white photographs back in the late 1970s and early 1980s. The guy had been huge and muscular long before working-out became fashionable. At a time, when other men allowed their hair to grow long like Peter Berlin did, Stud of Dakota went from a rockabilly hairstyle to a crewcut, like he had predicted the approaching fashion-changes of the 1980s. Stud was surrounded by urban legend: Had he lived among the San Francisco leather scene before it became publicly visible? Was he devoted to kinks too extreme to describe in words? Was his disappearance from the public eye in the mid-1980s caused by AIDS? No-one knew. The New York art scene was probably where to sneak around, if you wanted answers. Mr. Smith booked himself an airline ticket. His guilt-stricken conscience told him, that his travels would be bad to the environment, but the thought of a coast-to-coast railway journey caused him to shudder. He compensated his carbo-dioxide emissions with a click, and prepared to pack his bag. * * * It was days later. He had presumed, that he would enjoy New York, but he was wrong. The streets were sticky of some unknown dirt, the air smelled funny, the cabdrivers were impolite, and there were beggars or psychos in the streets. "Brad! Darling! So this is how you look in real life! I've wondered who the mysterious Mr. Taurus behind all those articles is. No-one told me, that you are a bear-cub." The Queen was overwhelming. The art dealer known as The Queen was in his eighties, and remembered the Stonewall riots and days long before these. His suit was luxurious, he wore androgynous wristbands, and his arms gestured in a manner reminding of someone's aunt, in a way that didn't feel natural, but seemed like a skilfully rehearsed act aimed at provoking bystanders, which it probably did. The comment surprised John, and it felt like it dissolved and evaporated all the polite stuff he had planned to say. Startled, he answered: "I'm not a cub, and 'Brad Taurus' is a pseudonym." "You don't say?", The Queen answered waspishly. "I would have guessed, that your inventive and creative parents came up with the name before your birth. You can never be too careful when you select your parents. My parents had the grace to bestow unto me independent means, and they tended to pretend not to understand, that the vagina business was way outside my comfort zone, just as the upper classes of their generation used to do." The elderly man's eyes glittered of mischief, and he gave the impression of being considerably younger, despite his silver hair. "Anyhow. Come in, come in, and let me give you something to drink. Something bubbly perhaps?" A few minutes later, John was sitting in a chair constructed to look artistic, but it wasn't particularly comfortable. In his hand, he was holding a flute of champagne. "So what brings you to the doorstep of my humble abode? Chin chin!", The Queen asked and toasted. "I mentioned my book about history ..." "Indeed you did, darling. Did I tell you, that those puppy eyes of your's suit you very well?" "One of the chapters will mention, how some gay men in the past behaved effeminate, in order to mock the prejudice of straight society ..." "Oh, honey! I have no idea what you are talking about!", The Queen shrieked in falsetto, but his eyes glittered of intense irony. "However, I ask for your advice about a different matter, since you are knowledgeable about the arts scene in the 1970s ..." The lustre in The Queen's eyes changed from flippant to businesslike. Even his gestures became more restrained, less studied. His body language went from a stereotype to a real person. "One of Mapplethorpe's models, the alias 'Stud of Dakota', disappeared in the 80s, and I don't even know his real name." The Queen let out a low whistling sound. "Those young boys were in an entirely different league than I or my late husband were. Beside being younger than me -- he must have been born some time in the 1940s, I guess -- Stud and his handsome friends hang out with an entirely different circle than mine: Nice to watch at a distance, but only watch, no touching! It doesn't probably come as much of a surprise, that most of my friends belong to old families with old money, but one of the benefits of moving in artistic circles is, that you encounter men from many ways of life, including some gorgeous working-class and lower middle-class men. I encountered them a few times when Mapplethorpe arranged something, but I don't know much about them -- neither Stud nor his friends." John's facial expression must have revealed the wave of disappointment, which began to well up inside him, because The Queen continued: "But have no fear. I have a fairly good idea which ones to ask. You'll have to ask the older patrons at The Eagle NYC." "The Eagle?" "A leather bar. Not my personal cup of tea, as you might guess, but the oldies over there would possibly know something. You wouldn't be able to enter dressed like that ..." The Queen evaluated John's hipsterish attire with critical eyes. "... but if you wear well-polished boots to those jeans, the men at the entrance could possibly sell you some suitable gear to wear at the bar. Better ask them first. It's not my type of place." * * * The story continues in The Orgone Accumulator : Part Two
  15. The Orgone Accumulator - Prologue - "And how may I help you?" The voice of the psychoanalyst -- if that was the correct word -- was soft and assuring. The client reclined in the sofa, gazing into the ceiling. The client -- a young man, perhaps in his early twenties -- cleared his throat. He had left his rather modern, but not too modern, jacket on the back of the chair close to the desk, and he had loosened the knot of his narrow, modern tie in some synthetic fabric. Unlike the considerably older analyst, the client didn't wear any vest, as these were falling out of fashion: It was the goddamn 1960's after all. The crown of the analyst's head was bald, but a wreath of grey hair reached from his temples to the back of the bespectacled older man's head. "Do you mind if I smoke?" "If that helps you to talk more freely, you are free to do so." The young client rose, approached his woolen jacket, fumbled with a package of cigarettes and a Zippo, and returned to his reclining posture at the hard sofa, holding a burning cigarette between his fingers. Afternoon sunlight filtered into the office between the blinds. Absentmindedly, the young client checked the parting of his hair with his fingertips, as if he doubted the perfection of his conservative male hairdo. He glanced at his wristwatch. "Don't worry about time. I'll keep track of time." The analyst fell silent again, allowing the client the time needed to open up. The walls surrounding the sofa lacked any paintings or photographs, in order to allow the thoughts of the clients to wander -- unlike the other walls, which were covered by black-and-white photographs from the 40s and 50s and some old-fashioned artwork in art deco style. The client cleared his throat. His cheeks and ears became rosy. "I ... I ... There is something wrong with me, Doctor Witt. I seek your help, because ..." The client fell silent again. "Take your time, son. No hurry. Take deep breaths if that helps you." A fly emitted a buzzing sound somewhere behind the blinds. "Sometimes ... Sometimes, during high school I felt attracted to team members of the football team." The client blushed and fell silent. "What does it mean, Doctor Witt? Do you think, there's a medicine, that may help me?" "You left high school a few years ago, didn't you? Have you ever had any similar thoughts after that?" The client blushed again. "When I go to theatre. Movies about the Wild West. Something stir inside me. It's embarrassing. And when there was a re-run of The Wild One on TV." "Stir inside you?" "It's like ... It's like I want to be the hero ... But I also want to ... Um ... I also want to hug the hero. Or the anti-hero ... "Anti-hero" is a word, isn't it? This is unnatural isn't it, Doctor Witt? Is there a cure? Psychoanalysis is all about unrepressed healthy sexuality adapted to societal norms, isn't it?" "Before we continue this session, you have to know, that I don't follow the orthodox methods, as it were, of Doctor Sigmund Freud. My work, and the work of my associates, is mainly based on the methods of one of his disciples, Doctor Wilhelm Reich. In my experience, Reichian therapy is much more efficient." "I wouldn't know the difference. A friend talked me into consulting you, but he don't know about this ... this secret. I may not have got a college degree, but this office work pays the rent. I think, that I could afford your therapy, at least if it doesn't go on and on for years. Lots of people consult analysts today, don't they? I just want to be normal. To feel normal. I don't even know, what this feeling is supposed to mean: I can't be a fag, can I, Doc? Fags are all supposed to be girly and limp-wristed, aren't they? I don't ... I don't feel girly, and I don't feel anything for unmanly men, so what is all this supposed to mean? Isn't opposites supposed to attract? Is there a diagnosis, Doc?" "I will need some time to understand your condition. Why don't you keep one hour a week free for our therapy sessions, will you?" "I probably will." "And if you have the opportunity, I think, that spending a week or two at a treatment center I know of would have a beneficial effect on you." "Treatment center? Like a vacation?" "Something similar to a vacation, in sunny California, outside San Francisco." "Some sun wouldn't harm, would it?" At the time, none of the men would have presaged what was set into motion. The story continues in: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/18476-the-orgone-accumulator-part-one/
  16. Ok now I can get these stories organized the right way Ok, so... Shit I dont even know where to fucking start, this shits fucked up. Ok... Lemme do this then. My name is DeMarcus or Marcus or Marc however you want to call me. Lemme start off by saying I am a black male and live a normal life. I have a beautiful wife named Jacqueline or as i like to call her "Jacqui" and we live in the suburbs of LA. We live in the hills in a big mansion living the good life. I mean it would an even better life if we didnt live next to our neighbors we like to call them bitch ass Niggas, The 7 muscle bros... Or the big 7 or any other bullshit y'all can call them. Now lemme get my point clear, I dont necessarily HATE Them, in fact they are good friends but they can be quite annoying. And i mean ANNOYING. Now even though it's about a good 3-5 minute walking distance from our house to their house, still doesn't mean we are safe. I mean we could move to another mansion, BUT, they be coming clutch sometimes and all the other mansions are already bought. As i mentioned there are seven of them. The first one is Elliot, I guess the ringleader of the big 7. This man had long blond hair all the way to his shoulders, blue eyes and has a perfect smile. For some reason he's always smiling and the one time I've seen him with a straight face it wasn't pretty. Now he isnt always happy go lucky like spongebob but you get the idea. He's towards the more nicer person of the group which is good for the people he hangs around with. Next we have Devin. He's about 5'8" with short black curly hair. He's nice to most people he meets but there have been some occasions where he would look at somebody and automatically hate them. He got green eyes always wear a Rolex wherever he goes for some reason. Then we have Reece, the shortest one there and constantly gets Shit about it, but that doesn't stop his confidence. He's the calm one of the group no matter what happens. He has the classic school shooter or the brown "Bowl haircut" with freckles on his face. He also has gray eyes. Now he have Dominic. The overly arrogant one. Now we not talking bout vegeta pride, its much bigger than that. He has a car he's really proud of having and coming from a car guy I can't really cant blame him. Its a 2013 Mercedes C63 AMG. Anyway he's about 6'1" with short black hair and really prideful. But not all the time. Then we Luíz the Cuban boy. He's got once again short black hair (What's with this group and short black hair?) and has a tattoo on his chest on each pec LUIZ HERNANDEZ written in cursive on his pecs. With mixed skin he's more of the lady's man of the group always with some bitch with the spring break titties. Next we have Chase the gay one. Surprisingly you wouldn't have known if he was gay wothout somebody or him telling you. He doesn't have any gay accent or any gay clothing he just looks like a normal person. He has this time short Brown hair and is the tallest one in the group going in as 6'4" tall. He's more worried abiut the the way he looks than anything else except family, but hes constantly fixing his hair or re-ironing his shirt in public. (You're about to find out how) Last but not least we have Case. Cade is even more arrogant than Dominic is. How so? Because he is sex demon. Meaning he is always aroused and horny for some fucking reason... Having nutted 10 times in a span in 5 minutes he's still horny. It get bad when he see a girl he really thought was hot. He nutted nonstop in his pants at target for like 30 min straight. With a black g-eazy havin ass haircut and sex drive higher than a pornstar Cade is the one I dislike the most. Now you're probably wondering shy their called the the 7 muscle growing bros. We have an rare element that we call wishirite. Wishirite can Grant anyone 3 wishes to anyone who possesses it. Elliot came across this gem and got what he wished for. To be friends with other muscle friends and he got what he wanted. The big 7 have the ability to grow and shrink whatever muscle they flex. Bicep flex, bicep grows. But they can only go so far, they can't grow that much taller. Only by like 8 inches. Ok so... Remember how i said chase would iron his shirt in public, well it wasnt with an acrual iron. Its with his cock. Yeah you niggas heard me his fucking cock. They also have the ability to grow their cock to any proportion they want and can even grow their cock taller and thicker than them. They even have the ability to shoot anything out of their cock and other handful of abilities. Heating their cock and using it as an iron, cumming really fast and really hard being able to shoot anything our of their cock like bullets, water, rockets, a fucking kamehameha anything. I had to learn that the hard way when my car was a victim to their machine gun cocks one time. It was a 240 sx too. And since Cade is the sex demon, his cock and get much much bigger and veiny. When he nuts I swear that shit goes to the moon. I've seen his cum break ceilings, lights, his own clothes, etc. Its crazy they each have their favorite muscle too. Elliot is biceps, Luis is his pecs. Reece is his legs, Dominic is his abs, chase is his back, Devin doesn't have a favorite and Cade is to no one surprise his cock. Well they the big 7 have been introduced maybe Elliot will tell the story of how he got the wishirite gem but thats a story for another day
  17. There we were, sweating our asses off with Dominics veiny forearm on both our shoulders. "C'mon you can't leave so soon. The best part isnt even here yet." While he says that, I signaled Jacqui to look down at his pants to see of his dick is growing. She can see his dick print running down his leg. He's horny but he is clearly holding back. "Ay bruh, what you doing here?" I say with a concerned face. You dont like cars like i do. "I just thought if you could enter your car, i could enter my car in this car show" Dominics face is jolly, but i can tell he plottin. "Nigga your car isnt anything special" Jacqui says this is with a straight face, and it's so perfect that i couldnt help but snicker. "Whatever. But anyway have you been to the V8 stars section? The Dodge Challenger Demon looking rather fine today" "We can't" i say calmly. "There's something back at the house we got to take care of" "Like what?" Good question "Look bruh, we gotta bounce" "But hold on there's one thing I gotta show you" I look at Jacqui who then look down at dominics pants, who still has a dick print but slightly bigger and more veins. This isnt good. We go to the back corner where Italian designs are and see a 2006 lamborghini Gallardo in orange and my heart dropped. Lamborghini is my favorite Manufacturer of all times and the Gallardo is my favorite. It even has the orange. 5.0L V10 aint got shit on the V8. I start fangirling in front of a bunch of people, while Jacqui tries to calm me down. After my mental "breakdown" I start asking who's car that is so I could have a picture to post on Instagram. Cade being the little devil he is, He says "I know who it is, but its a surprise. Ungh..." Hol up, now i aint gonna act like I ain't just hear you moan. "Wait what you say?" I say in a concerning voice "I said it's a surprise. Unnggh." See he did it again. I signal Jacqui to check on his dick, but he's been bigger without us knowing. Italian designs are in a big tentand everybody left to go look at something else. While me and Jacqui were distracted by the Gallardo, all you hear is "Now!!" And the tent entrance is completely shut. No way in or out, what kind of bitch ass design is that? I see this and jacqui and I immediately starting sprinting for the entrance trying to get through but to no avail. And I left my pocket knife in my car,. Dominics sees this and says, "No no no, you can't leave yet! We waited so long for this!" "Wait we?" I say confusingly "Who the fuck is we?!" Jacqui screams. "He means us" a voice says. Except this voice was threatening and evil, but sounded familiar. And out of nowhere, Elliot comes down with nothing but his boxers and vans on, in a super saiyan pose with his dick out through the fly. And one by one, everybody else came out. Luis, Reece, Chase, etc. They all had no shirts on, dick through the fly of the boxers in a super saiyan pose, (You know the pose when they power up). Their muscles have been increased quite a bit with veins running through the biceps to the chest and even their abs. Their dicks has to be at least 20 inches long, and 7 of them staring at us with their evil grin and veiny dicks leaking pre. This doesn't look too good...
  18. You don’t really answer right away. That thing about promising to do whatever they ask bothers you. But the waitress buys you a little time when she starts bringing plate after plate after plate of food for Mitch. “Those trials you were talking about?” you ask. “Yeah,” says Mitch. You figure you better get your questions in before he starts eating. “How long do they last?” you ask. “That depends entirely on you,” says Mitch. “Some guys get through them in just a few days. I took a few weeks. But I heard of one guy who took over a year! Seriously, I don’t know how anyone could stand that for a year!” “That bad?” “They are not fun,” says Mitch. “You will not enjoy them.” “When do they stop?” you ask. “They stop when you’re ready,” said Mitch. “When’s that?” you ask. “You’ll know,” Mitch says. “Sorry, that’s all I can tell you.” You take another look at Mitch’s amazing physique, his giant sculpted muscles and his bulging veins and you decide to go for it. After all, if Mitch could get through it, so can you. “I’m in,” you say. “You’re sure?” Mitch asks. “Remember, no turning back.” “Where do I sign,” you say. “A hand shake will do,” says Mitch. “It’s a bond of honor that will hold you, whether you want it to or not.” “I want it to,” you say. “Okay,” says Mitch and the two of you shake. “While I’m your mentor, I can’t be your friend,” says Mitch. “Why not?” you say, alarmed. “Because I’m going to have to be tough on you and do things a friend would never do.” “That sounds ominous,” you say. “But don’t worry about that now,” says Mitch. “Let’s go over to your place and have one last night of gaming. Then, tomorrow, meet me in the Downtown Fitness Center locker room at 6:30 am and we’ll get started.” “Sounds good,” you say and you sit there and watch Mitch devour a ridiculously large meal while you nibble on your cheese burger and fries and try to contain your excitement for tomorrow. That evening is awesome! It’s just like last summer all over again, except for Mitch’s humongous physique, which you can’t stop staring at. But Mitch doesn’t seem to mind. The next morning, you get up bright and early, pack your gym bag and head for the Downtown Fitness Center. You get there 10 minutes early. You figure its just enough time to change into your gym gear. Mitch shows up at 6:30 on the dot, but he’s dressed in his jeans, which his massive muscle pylon legs are stretching to their limit. “It’s 6:30 and you’re not ready,” you say, grinning. “We’re not here to work out,” says Mitch. “We’re not?” you say. “I hope you don’t hate me,” said Mitch. “Hate you?” you say. “It’s been bothering me,” says Mitch. “I hated my mentor, right up until my initiation. Now, I’m grateful to the guy. We’re good friends. And the thing is, I think he went easy on me a few times. I think if he hadn’t, I’d have gotten through the trials a lot quicker. “So, I’m not going easy on you, Jared. I’m going to be just as tough as I can be. And, well… I hope you don’t hate me.” “I don’t think I’m gong to hate you,” you say. “That’s what you say now,” says Mitch. “Come over here for a minute.” Mitch leads you to a spot just around the corner from the sinks. There’s one guy in there and he’s pretty big. “You see that guy?” says Mitch. “His name is John Stanton and he’s a total douche. He has a hot girlfriend called Sarah Gibbons who he is insanely possessive of…” Suddenly Mitch starts shouting. “And you wanna fuck her?! You wanna fuck Sarah Gibbons? Dude, she is so hot! And you think she looks like a total slut? You’re shittin me? Dude, I gotta hear all about this. I’ll be right back.” “What are you doing?” you say, genuinely alarmed. That John Stanton dude does not look amused and he is heading right toward you. “This is a joke, right? That guy is a friend of yours, maybe another member of the cult, right?” “Hold that thought,” says Mitch, “and stay here. I’ll be right back.” And Mitch leaves the locker room with amazing speed for someone so big. What the…? Where’s he going and at a time like this? “Hey Asshole!” comes a thundering voice from behind you. You turn around only to be confronted with a pissed off John Stanton, and… he’s even bigger up close. “John, right?” you say, offering your hand, but he does not stop mad dogging you for second. “Jerad,” you introduce yourself. I think there’s been a little misunders—” “You’re taking shit about my girl!” And with the first punch that hits you, you realize that this guy is not Mitch’s friend. And with the second, you start to wonder if you’re Mitch’s friend. And with the third… well, you stop counting with the third. When he’s done, John Stanton grabs his gear and storms out of the room. And then you look up, and, almost like magic, Mitch is back. “Welcome to the trials, Jerad,” he says. “I told you you wouldn’t like them.” “If that isn’t the understatement of the century!” you say. “What the fuck was that in aid of?” Mitch just shrugs and says, “The trials.” “What does that mean?” you say. “It means I can’t give you answers,” says Mitch. “Okay, International Man of Mystery, after due consideration, I don’t think this trial-thing is gonna be for me,” you say. “Too late, bro,” says Mitch. “You’re committed. I’m your mentor and you can walk away from me, but you can’t walk away from the trials. They will find you, now, wherever you are. Trust me, it’s better with a guide.” So, what do you do? Mitch says you can’t walk away from the trials, but you’re willing to give it a try. Do you tell Mitch what he can go do with himself? Or do you accept that what Mitch is telling you is true, that you’re stuck with these trial-things and that you’re better off with him than without him?
  19. Me and Jacqui went to car show down at the pier that I convinced her to go with. She's not into cars like I am but she knows beauty when she sees it. Guess I raised her right We saw everything from JDMs to European supercars and hypercars, to even trucks and jeeps both lifted and lowered. I even entered the car show myself, with my pride and joy, but not my favorite. 2003 Lexus IS300. Jacqui even helped me build it, despite her not liking cars as much as i do. 2JZ twin turbo, RWD, who wouldnt want that? I wasnt trying to turn it into a Ferrari killer, but a fast and overall fun car to drive. We went our separate ways to explore the show. One thing that happened was a shocker but not a shocker at the time. Dominics 2013 Mercedes C63 AMG is here. She saw this and sprinted back to me. I was distracted by the Rocket bunny Nissan 240sx. "We have to go now" Jacqui said. I can feel the dread and worry in her voice "So soon?" I said confusingly. "We've only been here for 30 minutes" Jacqui: "Dominics Car is here, I noticed those scratched rims anywhere! WE have to go now!" She points to his car and my heart drops. That's definitely dominics car all right. I go to the registration counter to collect my keys when Dominic appears behind us and wraps us both with his arms. "Leaving so soon guys? The party just started!" Me and Jacqui look at each other sweating. Is this it? Is this where we get nutted on? In front of a thousand people?
  20. Antoine moved quickly toward the wall in the direction where the sound was coming from. He still held Jose with one hand – a grip of power at the back of the guy’s pants. As he neared the wall, Antoine threw out his free hand and punched hard when he was close enough for contact. The wall exploded as if ten wrecking balls was pummeling through it at the same time. Chunks of concrete shot out far and the opening he made was wide enough for a couple of Hummer’s to drive through together with no problem. Antoine’s massive moving mass didn’t slow down for a second – the wall had simply been a tiny blip in the way. It barely registered to the big man that he careened through solid thick concrete so easily. He wanted to reach Rubio as quickly as he could and through the side of the house seemed the fastest way. When Antoine and Jose finally stopped moving a short distance from the building, the muscleman’s posers became tighter from the excitement he got by what he beheld. “Oh hell yeah, Jose, Mr. Alpha’s got a new toy! My muscles get to play.” There was a makeshift airstrip down a slight embankment from the house and the motor sound filling the air was from a massive ‘Grizzly’ beginning to move on the ground a few yards away. This was the nickname given to the army’s Airbus A400M transport propeller plane because of its hulking design. Antoine knew a thing or two about army equipment since items made to withstand a lot of abuse were usually his favorite kind of toys to destroy. This thing was a beauty. It had four 11,000-shaft-horsepower engines and each engine had eight huge thick, powerful propellers. The things were built to carry infantry vehicles and a bunch of soldiers in its giant hold. And, finally, it’s twelve-wheel landing gear allowed it to land on and take off from soft airstrips, like the field beside the Ambassador’s huge residence. Antoine knew he had some time, since it took a lot of effort to get a big ‘Grizzly’ fired up and moving. He looked back at the house and saw that there was a huge balcony on the third floor – probably off the master bedroom. The big man immediately knew this would be a great spot for watching the show. There was a big blue umbrella over a table and chairs – a perfect way to shield Jose from the hot sun. With one powerful leap, Antoine carried the small man up to the balcony. He spoke as he placed his new sidekick in a chair. “Gotta keep you safe, little buddy. I have a feeling there’s going to be a lot of flying debris and probably a lot more gunfire. I need to keep you in one piece, but I don’t want you to miss any of the show, either. I think it’s going to be a good one. Sit up here and enjoy yourself while Mr. Alpha has some fun.” When he finished speaking, Antoine patted his small sidekick on top of the head and then leapt back down to the field below. Jose marveled at how leaping great distances was merely like taking a step to Mr. Alpha. The ‘Grizzly’ was now moving. The big man didn’t look, but he was pretty sure a certain part of his body was leaking from the anticipation of what was to come. Mr. Alpha didn’t just walk across the field; he sauntered with so much cockiness he looked like a muscle enhanced bullfighter waddling into an arena. His unclothed body glistened in the sun and he appeared even bigger than ever before. Of course, compared to the massive plane he looked small, but there was something about the way he carried himself – that, and the way his muscles bulged – that made him look as invincible as he truly was. Jose immediately felt sorry for the Airbus A400M. The machine had no idea it had met its match. The massive plane was mid-field and had started traveling toward the end so it could take off. Antoine confidently stepped in its path and placed his hands on his hips. The huge muscleman glanced up at the balcony and Jose could see that the guy was smiling like a kid in a candy store. The big man’s gaze turned back toward the plane and he locked eyes with the two determined pilots, who had clearly been given the order to mow the almost-naked huge man down and slice him into pieces. Antoine yelled out to taunt the drivers, even though he knew they couldn’t hear him – but he was sure they’d sense his cockiness. “Come to papa, boys! Big daddy wants to play.” For a moment, Antoine contemplated the fact that he knew this was a battle he could not lose. The machine didn’t have a chance. Some guys would let that fact allow the battle to be boring or unnecessary. Not Mr. Alpha – he loved showing off his power much more than the actual confrontation. He knew he was powerful beyond imagination. He knew he could make even a powerful army ‘Grizzly’ submit to his strength. That didn’t matter to him. He simply loved that the plane carried a boss-man, Rubio, who assumed, without a doubt, that he would escape. He also knew the pilots felt protected and safe in the big machine – who was this poser-clad beefy man who had a death wish. And he also knew the plane was probably loaded with a bunch of soldiers who had not heeded the frantic calls of their comrades who reported that there was only one freakishly huge man causing all the havoc to their supposed stronghold. Everyone on that plane probably assumed it was a massive army attacking them. And it was – a massive army of a man – Mr. Alpha. It was the thrill of knowing so many men were about to witness things they thought were impossible. They were also going to get mysteriously turned on by the power display – that was for sure. It was something that happened every time Antoine did something amazing with his strength. Guys just couldn’t help themselves – men simply love things that are powerful. The plane advanced dramatically toward the muscleman in the middle of the airstrip. “They think their machine slices and dices. Little do they know they won’t be going anywhere. It’s almost a shame to ruin such a beautiful aircraft. But showing off will be so much fun.” The motors of the plane were roaring so loudly that Antoine couldn’t even hear his own words. He simply stood there turned-on beyond belief and waiting for the impact. The certainty in the pilots’ faces was almost too much fun for Antoine to bear. These two men did not care they were supposedly about to chop a fellow into a million pieces. They were following the orders of a bad guy in the back of the plane and didn’t know any better. Antoine figured the two men actually looked forward to the anticipated bloodbath. He wondered if they’d be sad about losing their big machine. As the multiple propellers on the two right engines started hitting the unshakable hard body of Mr. Alpha, he tried to imagine the shock and disappointment the pilots would feel as their plan took a dramatically different turn. Powerful metal propellers traveling at those speeds merely shatter into pieces when they hit something so impenetrable – something so much stronger. Blades shattered into chunks of metal and broke off from the engines as soon as they came in contact with Antoine’s shatterproof skin. The plane continued moving forward as the man’s body totally destroyed the pilots’ intended weapon. Nothing remained of the propellers within thirty seconds. Pieces of metal flew hundreds of feet away and a big piece even got lodged into the glass of the cockpit’s window – sending the two pilots into the kind of amazed panic Antoine loved. “And now, to really ground this puppy!” Antoine jumped up and grabbed the edge of the giant wing before it passed over his head. With one semi-hard heave he snapped the long thing from the body of the plane. He simply broke the wing of an army A400M like it was nothing more than a popsicle stick he fractured in two. The propellers had felt like nothing more than an annoying fly as they battered against Antoine’s shoulder, head, and arm. The wing had ripped off the plane with barely a tug. Antoine was now back on the ground holding the long strip of metal above his head and he broke the thing in two like he would a cracker. He held the broken wing parts in his hands for a few seconds, marveling at how light they were and then he tossed them to he side, like a kid might throw a broken twig. To him, all of this had seemed so easy and effortless. He knew, however, to his friend, Jose, to the two unnerved pilots and to the other fearful faces now watching him from the plane, it had been amazing. Antoine figured it would take everyone a little while to process exactly what had happened – since it was beyond anything they could imagine. Jose had already seen Mr. Alpha do many astounding things, but that didn’t make this any easier to quickly comprehend. This kind of strength – this kind of power in one’s hands and body – was simply unimaginable – even in superhero fantasies. The planes two remaining engines were still chugging away, so the plane started to turn in a compact circle because of the imbalance. Antoine walked confidently up to the giant front tire and the thick metal bearing connecting it to the front of the plane. With one huge hand, the big man reached up and, realizing even his big paw was too small to reach around the thick cylinder of metal, he simply dug his fingers into the steel, gripping the long support strongly. The plane immediately stopped turning. With one tensed, massive arm Mr. Alpha was holding the huge ‘Grizzly’ in place – easily matching the power of the two remaining engines under the other wing. You could hear that the giant machine was freaking out because it couldn’t move – the engines had a high pitched scream. “Kind of like holding an umbrella in a slight breeze. I’m disappointed in the power of a ‘Grizzly’. I anticipated it would give me much more of a struggle. I guess I keep forgetting just how strong I really am. Time for a little nose dive, fellas.” Antoine pulled – just a simple tug, really – with his massive arm and the bearing and wheel ripped away from the plane. It broke apart easily – metal wrenched from metal. The loud scream of mangled steel could even be heard over the roar of the engines. For a second, the plane stayed in place – suspended in air, but then the nose of the plane fell to the ground with a loud smack. The power of the engines made the plane still turn and the nose dug up ground as it moved, finally stopping when the mound of dirt was too big to push. The weight of the engines – and the fact that Mr. Alpha no longer held the plane in place and upright – made the entire machine list to one side and the giant propellers cut into the field below and finally stopped moving as the engines hit the ground. Suddenly, the roar of the plane slowly stopped – the pilots finally getting smart enough to turn the thing off. It had become quite clear, even to them, that they weren’t going anywhere. Antoine had basically immobilized an entire army aircraft with his bare hands. The big man knew the shock of what he had done had still not sunk in completely for the passengers and crew on the plane. Antoine walked down the side of the plane. A stub of metal stuck out from where Mr. Alpha had ripped off the wing. He made it to the back wheels. “Hi, my name is Antoine. I’ll be your flight attendant, today, but I regret to inform you that this plane will not be going anywhere . . . well, unless I choose to lift it up and toss it in the air.” With those simple words, Antoine – again – easily ripped off the wheels from the back of the plane and the entire belly of the ‘Grizzly’ fell to rest on the ground below. The wild beast had been totally beaten. With two huge wheel bearings in both hands, Antoine walked back toward the middle of the plane. He squeezed the steel in his palms as he passed windows, making sure his onlookers could see his big paws crushing steel and making the long cylinders fold up on themselves in the center. He then tossed the wheels to the side. By now, he stood in the middle of the long body of the plane – not far from the front door. The big man looked at the supposed entranceway and laughed. “Doors are for sissies. Why rip off a flimsy door when I’ve got such a powerful noggin?” In a sudden and unexpected flash, Mr. Alpha pulled his upper body back and then sent his forehead slamming against the metal side of the plane. It felt like he was banging into tissue paper – bursting through the plane’s side easily. The hangar like cavern inside the plane echoed loudly from the big man’s head butt – sending the fifty some odd men inside into a frenzied panic. It wasn’t every day a handsome bearded face came plowing through thick steel. Antoine smiled broadly for his group of shocked onlookers. “Here’s Johnny! Annnnd cue gunfire.” Again, as if it were a golden rule of bad men, gangsters, and guerillas, the gentlemen pointed their guns in the direction of the intruding head and unloaded a barrage of bullets at the smiling face. It was as if machine guns made you stupid or so drunk with made-up power you didn’t think straight. This giant muscle man had just destroyed an army-grade airplane with his bare hands. They still somehow thought their gunfire would be something more than a gnat-like nuisance to that bearded mug resting on such a thick bull-neck. Pellets of metal hit Antoine’s cheeks, nose, eyes, and forehead and immediately flattened into coin-like flat blobs before falling to the ground. The guy opened his mouth – allowing a gob of bullets to fill it up, as if he had been pouring cereal from a box. The gunfire petered out – most of the men had used up all their ammunition or finally had a brilliant epiphany that their supposed powerful weapons weren’t doing a thing to the guy. Antoine chewed the bullets up making sure to smack his lips loudly and rudely, even leaving his mouth open. “Thanks fellas – you help me get my daily allotment of iron. I’m a growing muscle boy, you know, and I need my vitamins. Those bullets would go down better with a little salt, though. I also appreciate the facial – machine gun spray keeps the skin looking fresh, don’t you think. You fellas look like you’ve seen a ghost. A big muscled scantily-clad ghost, that is. The sound of thousands of bullets being compressed against my super strong skin kind of turns me on, gentlemen. You’ll have to forgive the imposing massive hard-on presently giving the triple reinforced material of my posers a battle it may not win. You think those weapons of yours are scary – wait until you see the giant rocket launcher I’m sporting if it rips through my undies. It could ram through the side of this plane as easily as my head did. But I digress, fellas. I’m here to shock and amaze you with my freakish strength – like the good superhero that I am. I’m going to show you that your life of crime has amounted to nothing, now that you’ve come in contact with Mr. Alpha. Let’s leave no man standing before I come in. How does that sound, tiny dudes with big weapons? You know what they say – if the plane’s a-rocking, don’t come a-knocking.” The muscled beast pulled his head back out of the hole it had made and put his massive hands against the side of the giant grounded body of the plane. A loud screeching sound filled the air as thick fingers easily dug into the metal siding – to give the smiling behemoth more leverage for his superhuman task and, actually, just to show off. With a simple tug - that actually equaled the force of a small earthquake - Antoine rocked the body of the plane like it was nothing more than a balloon he was playing with. He heard the sound of fifty or so men falling to the ground in one unified plop – the jerking of the plane had been too much for anyone to remain standing. Antoine stuck his head back in the hole, even as he continued to shake the plane. “Striiiiiike! Better than bowling, fellas . . . much better. It’s like you’ve all had too much to drink and can no longer remain vertical. I tend to knock a lotta guys to their knees and butts everywhere I go. I just have that kind of effect on people. It’s a gift. Time for me to come in, gents, so we can get to know each other on a more personal level – and you can see all my bulges up close. Let me show you how a muscleman makes an entrance.” When powerful hands easily rip apart flimsy cloth or cardboard it can still seem impressive or amazing. Imbedded fingers pulling apart the thick metal siding of an army plane – and making it seem like nothing more than cardboard – can cause a group of men to lose control of all bodily functions. Sunlight suddenly spilling into the dark cavern of the plane as Antoine’s hands pulled open a space the size of a large armoire was like watching a modern version of Samson bringing down the pillars of a temple. Mammoth bulging muscles filled the gaping hole as the superhero stepped through steel that had been peeled back as easily as a banana. Fifty so men stared at the muscled giant – each with eyes the size of dinner plates. From the aroma that filled the space it was clear that everyone had either pissed themselves or dumped a big Antoine induced cum-load in appreciation. Everyone on the plane was still on his ass, shell-shocked by the rippling muscled monster that had ripped through steel as if he had simply been parting a curtain. Antoine dropped his hands to his waist, to give the men his best superhero pose. “Geez, fellas, it smells like a sleazy sauna in here. I have a feeling there are a lot of sticky crotches causing that aroma – the best compliment or welcome a guy could ask for. And it’s clear I have caused quite a few full masts in this here plane. Couldn’t help yourselves when this big man pulverized the side of your big plane so easily, could you? Don’t worry, that kind of destruction turns me on, too. I see a bunch of you gazing at my before-mentioned mammoth tool with looks of awe and a few lustful licked lips. Can’t say as I blame you, gentlemen. I’m just too much to handle, aren’t I?” Suddenly, there was a loud cry from one of the guerillas, a big handsome guy with a macho seventies handlebar mustache. He jumped up, came running at Antoine, and slammed the butt of his heavy machine gun into the big man’s rippling muscled gut. The war-like yell ended as soon as the end of the gun met the immovable densely packed abs of the smiling he-man. Nothing was getting through that wall of muscle. The superhero and the guerilla both looked down at the butt of the gun up against Antoine’s corrugated stomach. The big muscled dude continued to stand there with his hands on his hips - smiling. Then, the two men finally looked at each other. Antoine shook his head in disbelief. “Really? Bullets bounced off of me like they were nothing more than tiny rain droplets and, yet, you thought your silly puny gun would hurt me? My forehead busted through the thick metal wall of your plane. These are abs of steel, dude, made for withstanding a lot stronger stuff than your little machine gun. Let me show you what it really means to crunch your ab muscles.” The wide metal rubber-covered end of the gun was suddenly engulfed by muscled ridges about the size of rolling pins. Antoine’s mid-section was suddenly tensed and immediately there was the sound of heavy crunching – like someone big walking over gravel. There was also a high-pitched screech, which could only come from steel being deformed by something much more powerful. The superhero’s stomach muscles were destroying the butt end of a machine gun. This was something that would not fully compute in the head of the guerilla staring as his weapon was demolished by abs more powerful than anything he had ever encountered. Antoine released the ‘crunch’ and the still-shocked guy in front of him raised the end of the gun to his face so he could see how a guy’s abs – only his abs – had crushed steel as if it had been nothing more than soft foam. The contours of Antoine’s rolling pins were forever indented into the butt. It was squeezed as thin a comic book. “Some guy’s get turned on by gut punches, dude – but I can actually get you off quicker by destroying a high-powered jackhammer being rammed up against my mega strong tummy. You should see it when these puppies take the blow from a speeding car and I don’t even budge – the poor vehicle ends up totaled and I haven’t even got a scratch. Let’s give you something to remember me by, dude.” Antoine reached out and grabbed the long gun from the guerilla. He then raised and lowered it quickly over the guy’s head. The big man grabbed the barrel with his other hand and wrapped it around the waist of his surprised onlooker. It was like he was dealing with nothing more than a wire hanger. Antoine’s powerful hands bent the steel of the machine gun around the guy’s stomach and squeezed both ends tightly together into something like a knob. It took mere seconds and the metal of the gun screamed loudly as it was easily manhandled. Antoine wasn’t sure how this thing would finally be removed without cutting the guy, but that wasn’t his concern. He then grabbed the twisted ends with one mighty hand and lifted the smaller man into the air so they could be eye to eye. At the same time, the muscled hero lifted his other arm into a massive biceps flex. “That’s a pretty impressive weapon, little man, but my humongous gun is a lot more powerful, don’t you think? I wouldn’t go eating a lot of food, if I were you, I didn’t leave much room for growth inside your machine gun belt. Who knows, it could become a new fashion trend. An Antoine original for rehabilitated bad men. Everyone will be wearing them and I’ll be the only man that can make them. Dream about that. Nighty night, mister.” Antoine brought his flexed arm down and thumped the chin of the guy – with just his index finger. The man’s head flew back as if it had been slammed with a battering ram and the dude was out cold in seconds – a lifeless blob wrapped up in a demolished gun. Antoine placed him gingerly on the floor of the plane and turned to the other men – loving all the mouths gaping open in astonishment. It was clear no one had ever seen a superhero before. “Which one of you is Rubio? It’s time to play.”
  21. For the past 3 weeks they have been trying to cum on me and Jacqui to no avail. Why you ask? No idea. But they have literally tried EVERYTHING to cum on me. They even snuck into our house. C'mon now. Jacqui and I would've have killed them by now since we got AK's and other weapons stashed at the house, but their muscles are too hard (Pause) to penetrate (Pause again) Chase and Cade are the worst ones with it. Believe it or not, Chase is gay for me Cade Elliot and Dominic. (Got me fucked up) so he always wants me to get covered in his nut, and when he sees Cade grow his muscles, his cock gets like 25 more veins and gets harder and cums harder than a firehouse, and Cade since he is an sex addict, he's always horny, and has to cum at least 30 times a day. 27 of those times is aimed at me and Jacqui and the rest is aimed at the neighbors house across the street. Feel sorry for them. They all have tried and failed miserably, except this one time...
  22. The bell rang at St Matthew's University to signal the end of another day. Lee O' Conner, in his 1st year at the uni quickly stuffs his pencil case and books in his bag and makes a quick exit to catch his bus home knowing if he misses it its another half hour wait till the next one. Lee couldn’t wait to get home so he could continue to use his older brothers gym setup they had in the basement of there house. Lee like his older brother had inherited some great family genetics/Genes, his brother was in there local towns rugby team and at 21 had one of the most enviable physiques in the team thanks in equal measure to his genetics and hard work and determination in the gym. Due to the gyms setup the weights were no longer a challenge for his older bro, who now uses a chain gym, so he said he would keep it there for Lee to use if he wanted. Lee who was 17 was no slouch, already broad shouldered and solid of chest and arms, although not a menacing sight as of yet, could probably still handle himself no problem. So Lee rushed out of university and headed for the bus stop which was around a 5 minute walk, the walk takes him down a tree lined passage, on approaching he could hear the sound of faint cheers and egging on, as he turned the corner he saw a group of older students gathered round in a kinda circle, every now then he'd hear the faint noise of something getting smashed together, Lee crept a little closer to try and get a better look without causing distraction. He eventually saw two final year students having a fight, well I say a fight, it was more a one sided beating, the guy dishing it out was a well built older student Lee had seen, although not huge like Lee's brother, he was still thick of chest and beefy strong looking arms, his opponent was a skinny guy who didn’t stand a chance. Punch after punch was getting played on this teens body, Lee could see the blood pouring from his nose and mouth. Now looking at this, most kids would feel sorry for the weak one and label the big guy as full on bully and then run away. But bizarrely a different feeling was filling Lees head, a feeling of ‘serves the kid right for being weak and skinny’. Lee couldn’t keep his eyes of the bully, watching him mercilessly pounding the other guy to a pulp, every now and then balling his hand to a fist and copying the bully's moves. Lee was enjoying watching this, he wanted some of this for himself. “ it’s time for a new bully in this place” he whispered to himself. Lee now had a evil look in his eyes, like he meant business. Lee eventually left and headed for home, now with a definitive purpose in his mind. Lee got home, his older brother not back from his rugby training yet , he headed upstairs and quickly got out of his uni stuff and into some training shorts, he decided to remain topless as his plan was to work his arse off and get sweaty as anything. He turned and looked in the mirror, his solid 17yr old body staring back at him, “ time to make me a mean bastard, wanna get big, wanna get strong and wanna get insanely bad!” he roared to himself. Lee made his way down to the basement, it was a basic gym setup, a bench press with plates upto 20kg, a selection of dumbbells up to 20kg and a standalone cable tower. In the corner of the room hung a punch bag, “ damn I forgot about that, yeeesssss, I’ll be giving that some treatment later!” he said out loud. Luke started with the weights first, he loaded the bench bar with 30g each side, so 80kg including bar weight. He managed a respectable 6 reps before racking it, he jumped up and started dancing around on the spot and let loose some shadow boxing, after a minute of that he loaded the bag with a further 10kg and went onto lift it 4 times, he would stick at that weight for now, and mix bench with shadow boxing. After a few sets of that he moved onto leg work, he grabbed a 20kg db and started some goblet squats, mixing just past parallel with ass to grass, for the last set he decided to use a 20kg db, with a 15kg plate ontop his genetics to thank he managed 8 solid reps, again he did a minute of shadow boxing all the time eyeing up the punch bag. Lee picked up a couple of 16kg dumbbells and started curling them he wanted a good pump on his arms so he did low weight high reps, each set consisted of around 25-30 reps. After those sets he dropped the weights and turned to face the mirror, he flexed his biceps, small peaks appeared on his arms, granted not as impressive as some of the other studs at his uni, but better than all the students in his year. His chest also looking pumped from the workout. Lee wasn't daft, he knew he would have to get a lot bigger and stronger if he wanted to rule the roost at uni , but every bully has to start somewhere right! He turned and eyed the punch bag. He strutted over with a new found belief, he walked round it a few times, danced up and down and hit a few shadow punches, then it began. Lee approached the bag and started pounding it left and right as hard as he could, Lee had quite a strong punch. The onslaught continued for 10 mins and he showed no signs of tiring, sweat was beginning to drip of him. He stopped momentarily to towel himself, then off he went again, this time mixing left/right with single jabs 5 per hand , this mix went on for 15 more minutes, by this time the sweat was pouring off him, aggression had taken over Luke's mind, he pictured in his mind a skinner kid pinned against a wall and him laying punch after punch an evil grin etched on his face. Lee continued to batter the bag for a further 30mins. His knuckles reddening and the bag getting permanent dents in it from the persistent pounding Lee was giving it. Lee’s thoughts were then interrupted by his older brother returning from rugby practice. “ Hey Lee you downstairs? “ his brother Dave called out. A part of Lee was annoyed that he was disturbed, and briefly thought about making him pay such was his aggression thought, but he quickly thought again as his bro was twice the size of him and would make mincemeat out of him without breaking sweat, he let out a muted grumble, “ grrrrr". “ hey bro, yes I’m down here, I’ve finally found a hobby to get into, come and see" Lee replied . His brother came down to the attic and straight away noticed his brothers sweaty pumped appearance and the battered punch bag. “ Boxing??” he replied. “ Yeah non of this football, rugby stuff etc, I’m really enjoying it!” Lee replied. Dave knows all about the physical aspect of sport with playing rugby so he kind of knew his little bro would do some sort of physical hobby but boxing never crossed his mind. Lee had no intention of taking up boxing, this was bully training. Lee wanted to put his training to the test as soon as he could and had made his mind up to do it after uni the next day. After the gym, Dave rustled them both up a protein rich meal of lean beef mince, sweet potato and veg. For the rest of the night, Lee was planning inside his head how to snare his first victim.
  23. “Well, it looks like it’s just you and me . . . hey, what’s your name, little man.” “Jose.” “Good name. Well, it looks like it’s just you and me, Jose. Are you ready to go take on some bad guys . . . who actually used to be your leader and comrades?” “I only work for Mr. Alpha now.” “What’s that, Jose?” “I am your assistant, now . . . sir.” “Hey, I always wanted an assistant. Do you do laundry? Not that I have a lot. I mostly wear posers. I’ve just always wanted to ask someone that.” “I can do laundry, clean, and cook.” “You’re hired. When we’re done here I’ll take you back to my pad. Oh, do you do light repair work . . . you know, like holes in the ceiling.” “I do construction and painting.” “That makes you even more invaluable. I tend to break things, if you haven’t noticed.” “Trust me. I notice.” “Okay, to the big house we go, my friend, Jose.” The Ecuadorean smaller ex-guerilla had clearly become accustomed to the big man, in just a few hours. He raised his arms slightly, so Antoine could wrap a big arm around the guy’s torso for carrying. It was as natural as a child expecting his mother to lift him when he needed something, except, to Antoine, the small man weighed even less than a small child. The superhero had just lifted a tank as easily as someone lifts a paper cup. Jose was now an official sidekick. A normal human assistant, who would help clean up after Antoine got too excited and made a mess when he destroyed things. The giant knew his old friend, Marty, would be happy that he had a new ally in Jose. Marty didn’t appreciate Antoine’s strength the same way Jose obviously did. Mr. Alpha assumed he’d now get begged for strength feats at home. Each day would be filled with Jose making up labors for Antoine to do – just like some modern day Hercules. The thought of pleasing the little fella made the superhero contemplate wrapping up his present assignment in less than a minute – so they could head home – but then he realized all the exciting things he could do here to show off for Jose and that got him even more excited. By this point, Antoine had his new sidekick under his bulging right arm and was soaring through the air to land beside the big house. Jose was getting used to the way the powerful thrust of Antoine’s legs made the wind super strong as it whipped by his body. The big man, of course, felt nothing, but it was like being in the middle of a hurricane for his sidekick. After they landed, Antoine set the little guy on the ground. “I was thinking they could use some double wide French doors in this spot. You know, to catch those beautiful sunsets on those hills behind us. That’s me, always thinking of someone else. There are a few men on the other side of this thick wall, Jose. I’d stay to the side until they run out of bullets. Trust me, even though word had surely gotten out that bullets do nothing to me, they’re still gonna let loose like I was a hundred men invading. It’s just what the bad guys do – even if they know I’ll deflect them like they were feathers. Here we go. Stay protected little man. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get to watch all the good stuff.” “It is awesome, yes?” “What’s awesome, Jose?” “To know you can, how do you say . . . bust, yes bust in wall with hands.” “Oh . . . yeah, yeah it’s really awesome. There are a lot of things I can do. It will be fun to show you. It’s actually pretty easy for me to ram my fist through a wall . . . well, actually anything. I can punch through anything.” Antoine smiled at his little sidekick. He knew at that moment he had made the right decision to bring the strength junkie into the fold. Having an adoring fan around him all the time was going to be fun. Marty got tired of strength displays and destruction. Mr. Alpha had the feeling that his new partner had no limit to his love of strength. It was weird – the guy was not in love with Antoine, he wasn’t wired that way – but he was, however, in love with what the big man could do. Antoine turned back toward the wall and raised his larger-than-a-man’s-head fist to easily plow through the wall. An almost imperceptible light tap on his other biceps stopped him. When he turned to look down toward Jose, the small man was smiling and holding up his little pinkie. Mr. Alpha immediately understood. “I like the way you think, little friend. It is time for a workout for my little finger.” Antoine’s pinkie was actually thicker than both of Jose’s thumbs put together. The small sidekick kept renewing his envy of the big man’s hands every time he looked at them. He felt inadequate every time. Mr. Alpha pressed his small finger against the big wall. He applied pressure – the same amount another guy might push against wet tissue – and suddenly there was a popping sound and cracks started shooting out all over the concrete, originating from the fingertip. Tiny fissions turned into long cracks. Long, narrow cracks turned into big cracks, which then turned into gaping valleys until, with a loud crash, and elephant sized hole in the wall fell inward. Inside it had probably sounded like some kind of monstrous machine was barreling through the wall. The stunned looks on the guerillas’ faces inside made entering with just a pinkie push that much more exciting. Antoine just smiled at the armed cadre of soldiers as dust settled and the sound of destruction subsided. “Ooops, sorry fellas, I might have pushed a little too hard.” Antoine knew what was coming next, so he pushed his small friend behind the part of the wall that was still standing. He knew the minds of criminals – especially when they were introduced to the unimaginable strength of Mr. Alpha. All logic escaped the brain. No matter how many times these guys had been radioed that the giant, mostly naked muscleman that had arrived found bullets nothing more than a nuisance, that information left all consciousness as soon as they were gazing upon his massive bulges in person. Without even thinking, they wanted to put a ton of bullets between him and them – in hopes all the stories they had heard were untrue. Even if the guy had just taken out an insanely thick wall with what seemingly seemed like nothing more than a press you’d use to ring a doorbell, they hoped to heaven they could stop him or slow him down enough to make a run for it. Thousands of bullets shot out towards Antoine. And each one flattened against his hard flesh and fell to the ground. To make the guns look even more useless and to put on a little show, Antoine began to pose as he was sprayed with machine gun fire. It was sort of surreal, even for the superhero, to be throwing his arms into a double biceps pose or crunching out a most muscular as he deflected bullets the way most people’s bodies absorbed and popped bubbles. Jose was close enough to see the bullets compact on themselves as soon as they touched the muscled-packed body of Antoine. It was just like bugs hitting the windshield of a car traveling over a hundred miles an hour. The big man just kept on flexing – as if it was only sprinkling rain a little onto his huge body. Guns finally ran out of bullets and the cacophony ended. “I see you fellas didn’t get the memo. Your bullets don’t even dent in my skin – they do tickle a little. I’m sorry you wasted so much ammunition, but it really is your fault for not listening to the shocked voices of your friends earlier screaming through their walkie-talkies. Everybody give my buddy, Jose, your guns.” Antoine reached behind the wall and grabbed the back of his small partner’s collar. Lifting him off the ground easily and moving him through the hole in the wall and setting him on the floor. Jose still had his fingers in his ears because of all the rapid fire from before. He took his right finger out and made a meek wave to his former comrades. He then quickly went around the room and gathered the ten to twelve guns in the room. It was difficult for him to carry them, but he finally made it back to Mr. Alpha. The big man wrapped his arms around the bouquet of machine guns and squeezed – tightly. To say the guns molded together was an understatement. It was more like some giant machine had melted the middle of each weapon, wrapped them all together like someone wringing out a dishcloth, and then let them refashion into one glob as they solidified again. It looked like some weird piece of modern art. Jose wasn’t sure if Mr. Alpha had increased his body heat a hundred fold to make it happen or if he had merely squeezed so hard it happened automatically. Either way, it was impressive as hell. “I don’t think you guys will ever get those things apart again . . . and even if you did, I can guarantee you they won’t work. Just imagine what a hug from me could do to the group of you fellas. Whoa, the looks of fear on your faces say you’re definitely imagining it. Well, look at this, Jose. These fellas are trying to get into the door where the Ambassador and his family are imprisoned. It seems like something’s keeping them out. That’s a mighty big drill you have there, fellas, if I do say so myself – and I know big drills. Looks like you haven’t gotten very far. Mind if I give you a hand?” It was clear that Antoine’s earlier handiwork – inside the prison vault – had definitely worked. A computer console with multiple gunshot holes over near the door led the big man to believe the soldiers had gotten quite disturbed when nothing they did would open the mechanical door. He was sure they had chosen to machine gun the console – just to see if that would make it work. Now, they had a major heavy looking, artillery-grade drill, which they had been clearly using to try and get through the huge thick metal door. It was clear that the piece of machinery was so big it needed three normal men to use it. Antoine walked over and easily picked the thing up in his huge paws, handling it like it was nothing more than a water pistol. “Now that I’m here, guys, you won’t be needing this thing. I’m much more powerful than this little thing.” With those simple words, Mr. Alpha snapped the huge drill in two – ripping it apart being nothing more than child’s play for him. The thing screeched loudly as Antoine pulled it into two pieces. Jose was starting to love the sound of metal when it screamed because Mr. Alpha manipulated it in a way that was not normal. As a matter of fact, the noise was beginning to be an automatic stimulant below his belt. Antoine then smashed the two drill pieces together in his hands and pushed so hard that they basically became one. He then tossed it on the ground in front of the still stunned soldiers. The poor men still hadn’t gotten used to the powerful masked muscleman in front of them. “Let’s open this little door, shall we?” Antoine was so ‘in charge’ that he turned his back to the little cadre of guerillas and faced the huge vault like door that was about the size of a garage opening. The big man knew the soldiers were so enwrapped in what he was doing that they would be passive and obedient, even without him giving any orders. They definitely wanted to see what came next. Antoine’s back seemed almost as wide as the door, itself. He inhaled deeply, sending his shoulders back and highlighting his insane V-shape even more. The man’s physique truly was spectacular – even for a superhero. Antoine had not wanted to just be powerful – he had desired to look powerful, too. He wanted to be one of those men people always begged to take off his shirt. He desired to look strong and huge no matter what he was wearing . . . or not wearing. The big man could feel the others in the room admiring him – and feeling deep awe as they gazed at all his beefiness. “It seems the combination for opening this door, fellas, is pretty simple – it’s muscles, strength, and Mr. Alpha.” Antoine spread his arms and pressed his fingers against the metal of the vault door. His arms exploded with veins and deep striations as he pushed in – his fingers sinking into the metal as if he were some chef fingering dough. His hands sank into the thick steel until his fingers completely disappeared – total submerged. He braced his thumbs against the door and bent his fingers – anchoring them securely inside the steel frame. Every muscle on his body exploded as Antoine pulled – his upper body responding to the powerful pull from his biceps and his legs bulging out because of the door’s resistance. Mr. Alpha was immediately surprised that his super strength didn’t rip open the door with one tug, but then he remembered, that he, himself, had secured the thing on the inside, so he was battling his own work as well as the door and wall. The huge muscleman also knew, however, that the door would certainly submit – it would just take a little more effort. That was the best part of being a superhero, never having to doubt your power. Antoine, wanting to make sure he still impressed his onlookers, let out a deep, guttural growl and doubled the strength in his pull. Jose could not control himself when he saw what was happening. He made the sign of a cross on himself and spoke out loud. “Santo infierno and holy hell!” Muscles exploded bigger everywhere on the superhero. It seemed that he doubled in size or grew like the Incredible Hulk from the exertion. Ripping the steel door off wasn’t enough for Antoine; he was ripping most of the steel, double enforced wall off the front of the room, as well. The entire façade was coming off in his tight grip; like it was some kind of doll house you could open up to play. The entire house seemed to shift as Mr. Alpha pried steel from steel – tearing an entire room apart. Steel girders popped in two, concrete disintegrated because it was powerless against the man, and the entire metal front of the vault was carried away in Antoine’s hands. The entire room sounded like it was part of an explosion – the men shielded themselves in case the wall came tumbling down. That, however, didn’t happen. Antoine knew everything was connected to the giant thick metal wall that had been the fourth for the room. He continued to hold the huge thing in his hands and turned to his new friends. “Now that’s what I call an entrance! What does one do with a wall? I guess lean it up against another one.” The big man kind of looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He was looking around – trying to think of how he could best deposit his handiwork somewhere. Ripping off a wall isn’t something one does every day, so there wasn’t really a precedent set as how to handle it. Antoine carried it over to a far side of the big lobby-like room they were in and leaned it against the wall where his earlier hole had been shoved through with just a pinkie. He banged the thing around like a bull in a china shop – hitting the ceiling, knocking furniture over, and causing men to run quickly as to avoid being smashed. As soon as he had dislodged his hands from the steel, Antoine shot his arms into a double biceps pose and looked at his now freakishly big peaks. “There’s nothing like plucking out a wall to build up the arms. Wouldn’t you agree, Jose?” The guerilla-turned-sidekick merely shook his head up and down as he gazed at his new friend’s huge arms. They were now bigger than small children. The biceps ballooned beside Antoine’s head in a way that made him seem like a living morph. His strength was certainly amazing, but the combination of his strength and size was beyond what anyone would think possible. Antoine dropped his arms and walked over to the giant gaping entrance he had made to the prison vault. “Oh no, fellas, look. The vault is empty! There’s no Ambassador or his family. I completely forgot to tell you I saved them a couple of hours ago. Yep, see that big hole in the middle of the room – where the metal floor is ripped apart like wrapping paper. That was me, fellas – busting up through the floor and helping your prisoners escape. I didn’t let on because I still wanted to have some fun – you know, ripping apart a tank, deflecting missiles with my pecs, and tearing out walls with my bare hands. So here’s what I think you should do, my friends. I think you should jump down that hole and when you get out on the other side of the tunnel I think you should return home and be good men. I could have easily flattened all of you with the wall, but I didn’t, did I? I don’t think you all are bad guys; I just think you were convinced by someone to do turn bad. What do you say, fellas? Do you want to escape or shall I show you what these monstrous arms can do to each of you?” There wasn’t even a heartbeat between the end of Antoine’s question and the moment when every single guy in the room started running towards the handmade torn hole in the floor. No one doubted the strength of Mr. Alpha – they had seen what it could do, firsthand. They also had no intention of finding out what kind of damage a bear hug could do to their bodies. Even Jose, getting wrapped up in the moment and forgetting about Antoine’s earlier proposal, started running toward the hole. Seeing the wall so easily destroyed made him a little nervous about his new friend. Mr. Alpha quickly reached out and grabbed his intended sidekick at the back of his pants – lifting him off the ground as if he weighed nothing more than a toothpick. Jose’s legs kept pumping hard and it was clear the guy thought he was still traveling across the room even though he wasn’t moving. He finally stopped and looked up at the big man. “I didn’t mean you, Jose. I still want you as my sidekick, if you’ll have me.” The look of relief on Jose’s face definitely gave Antoine the answer he desired. It was quite clear that the little guy was still trying to grasp the full extent of the power his new friend possessed. It was not every day a superhero asks you to be his sidekick. What did you bring to the relationship to match his ability to fold a tank into something the size of a napkin or the strength it took to rip apart houses. Jose was still dangling in the air – held easily by the one hand of his big friend. That’s when they heard the sound of what could only be the motor of a plane being started. Antoine looked down at his friend and smiled. “Rubio is trying to escape. This ought to be good.”
  24. Like I said before I don't HATE them, they can be pretty annoying. Examples follows, doing stunts that can destroy my neighborhood, cumming on my house, (They can cum as much as they want at will, remember that) and ruin whatever parties I host. But nothing can compare to the thing they try and do CONSTANTLY. Apparently they have this urge to try and cum on me. Key word: TRY. They always fail and each failure results to them trying more drastic measures. Plenty of times they caught me off guard, but I was still able to recover. But as kain carter says, desperate niggas do desperate nigga shit. They have grown their dicks as long as 5ft long, veiny as fuck just to try to cum on me, which I what I will NEVER ALLOW TO HAPPEN. Fucked up part is, the longer and harder and their cocks are, the more horny they become, and to those guys, especially cade, they can cum as much as 500 gallons and be able to shoot to the fucking moon. Now dont get it twisted, they dont do ALL the time, but this happens every other day. Now if Reece cums on my car on more time...
  25. Guest

    no sex Dream Fulfilled

    You find his slow, rhythmic breathing comforting. It had been a long, stressful day at work and lying there, being held in his arms was one of the best ways you found to recharge. He was always there for you, helping you breathe through the hard times. The two of you had been together for a while and he had always been your rock. Sometimes you feel like he is a better person than you. You felt like you were always taking, giving nothing in return and he was always there. You had decided it was your turn to give and it was something you knew he wanted, something he dreamed of. Your work as a pharmaceutical rep gives you a lot of advantages. You basically get a lot of over the counter medications for free and prescriptions aren’t that hard to get. You also get to be around a lot of clients testing new drugs, things that might not exactly be public knowledge. Work had been stressful today because you stole from a client. A large agricultural company looking for ways to grow their profits by growing their cattle. He’d always talked about his desire to be bigger, broader, hairier. You felt you could at least give him that. Tonight’s dinner contained the serum. You had thought about taking some for yourself but decided against it. He deserved everything the vial had contained. His chest rises and falls with each breath and as you lay with your head snuggled against his pec you begin to wonder how long before it started to take effect. It was a warm night so you both had decided against covers, which you didn’t mind. You liked admiring his body. He was taller than you but wouldn’t be considered tall at 5’10”. He was built broad to begin with and the muscle mass he had accumulated over the years only seemed to enhance that. He could grow a pretty full beard considering the rest of him only had a light dusting of hair besides his armpits and his crotch. He sported a fairly large endowment, growing to about 8.5” when he was fully erect. Someone you wonder how you were able to catch a man like him. Almost like you knew you were thinking about it, his cock began to stiffen. With each beat of his heart you could see it begin to swell, slowly swinging up towards his abdomen. It pulsed, fully erect, the skin across the head taut, seeming almost overly swollen. You begin to stroke it, wondering what he must be dreaming about, when you see it shudder and stretch up towards his navel. Your heart begins to beat a little faster, your own cock beginning to stiffen. This must be it. You watch as his cock swells and stretches, slowly creeping its way up his abs. You begin to get a little worried. If everything stays proportionate afterwards, he was going to be huge. His balls begin to stir and inflate, knocking against each other, fighting for room with his thighs. They bulge upwards and sag down, his sack stretching with their increasing size. His cock leaves a trail of precum up his abs, finally stopping near his chest. You feel his pec begin to push against your face, the skin stretches, his nipples slowly start pointing down. As his chest expands you can feel it slowly pushing you. You wrap your leg around him, stretching your arm across him and holding on to his other side, pressing yourself against him. You want to feel him grow. His neck thickens and you can see his adam’s apple become more prominent. His shoulders aid his chest in stretching across the bed, you feel his hand move down your arm as his arms lengthen. His fingers thicken, you watch the nails broaden, his knuckles bulge and swell. His hips begin to rise as his ass begins to grow. You watch as his toes stretch out and his feet broaden, you can see the tendons ripple. His calves balloon up and look almost comical until his thighs begin to grow to match them. His feet inch towards the edge of the bed until they slide off, then his ankles, then his shins. His abs are like bricks on his stomach and you can see the veins snaking their way up his torso. A prickle brings you back to his chest and you notice thick, dark hair beginning to spread across his pecs, his already hairy armpits becoming even bushier. The hair traveled down his abs to his crotch and then spread down his legs, even on to his toes. He moans slightly and arches his back, stretching as his body continues to spread out across the bed. You can feel your body begin to sink with him as his increasing weight makes him begin to sink into the mattress. You hear his massive feet hit the floor with an ample thud, his other arm rolling off the side of the bed and you hear his massive hand smack the carpet. You hadn’t realized he was such a heavy sleeper. His cock throbbed and you could see his balls jump. A hot, thick stream of cum came shooting out, coating his chest, splashing you in the face. You could hear him moan in a deep bass, hear the air escaping from him as his hips thrust in ecstasy. With a few final thrusts and one last groan he stopped. It was over but it had done a lot. You’re not the best at measurements but you knew he had to be pushing well past 7’. You couldn’t even begin to guess his weight. He fell back into his rhythmic breathing, his muscles bunching with each movement. You creep out of bed to go clean yourself off and grab a towel for him. You want him to be decent when he wakes up.
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