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Two The next morning Brad awoke with a strange feeling: the mixture of too many beers and the pride of being a DEXAMENI-frat member buzzed around in his head. He groaned as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked around the unfamiliar room. He was laying in a bed against the left wall, the bed against the opposite wall was empty but the sheets were tossed on it. He tried figuring out how he'd gotten there. All he remembered was the initiation, the first two beers and then everything was blurry. "A shower would do some good", he said to himself as he sat up in his bed and tossed his sheets aside. He noticed he'd worn his boxers to bed. He tried stepping out of the bed but his spinning head made him pause for a second. The door opened and he looked up. "Ah, ya're awake, roomie", Brock said as he entered the room. "Roomie?", Brad asked while his buddy, wearing nothing but a towel rapped his waist, closed the door and turned around. "Yeah, Keith agreed you moved in with me since we're friends. Normally the new guys have to stay together in the other part of the building but I convinced him to let ya stay with me", Brock replied. "Thanks, buddy." "Don't mention it", Brock stated with a grin, " Ya really let yourself go at the party. I carried ya upstairs to our room. Ya were too wasted to make it up the stairs. Ya passed out in my arms. Ya didn't even hear me get up an hour ago for my morning workout." "A shower would be a got idea", Brad said and stepped out of his bed. He walked over to the center of the room but his 45 pound heavier friend didn't move and blocked his way to the door. "There are some rules around the house ya don't know yet, rookie", Brock said. "What do you mean, B.?", Brad asked and looked into his friend's eyes. "Well, I'm the senior member here. Second in line after Keith. So ya have to do what I say", Brock said as he placed his hands on his hips to flare his lats and emphasize the width of his 229 pound body. Brad nodded as he took in the size of his best friend's pumped arms. A hint of jealousy going through him since he'd always envied Brock's good muscle building genes. "I could use a blowjob right now", Brock said. "No way", Brad blurted out. He gulped as he saw the look on the bigger man's face. Brock folded his pumped arms in front of his chest, making the mounds of muscle that were his biceps swell into the rack of pecs. Brad reluctantly fell down to his knees and looked up at the veins snaking along the cords of muscle in his buddy's forearms. He reached for the towel when the 45 pound bigger man began laughing. "Got ya", Brock said as he exploded in laughter, "Man, ya should have seen your face. Priceless!". He grabbed his buddy's armpits and hoisted him up to his feet. "You mean I don't have…", Brad began. "Na. I could make ya, but you're my friend", Brock stated, "Serious though, if ya want a good blowjob let me know. One of the new members from last year is great at giving head. Might gonna see him right now". Brad noticed the stirring motion beneath his best friend's towel. "Shower's in the hallway", Brock said as he disappeared from their room. The semester went by like a breeze: Brad had the time of his life in the DEXAMENI-frat. He enjoyed the friendship of his roommate who kept watching his back. Every time one of the older frat members wanted to put him up with some humiliating chore, Brock would show up and say that he was his personal rookie and made him carry his shoes or gym bag while the others laughed at him. They kept working out daily, pushing each other to their limits. Brad had managed to gain three more pounds, now brushing 185 pounds of ripped muscle. Brock on the other side put on another 12 pounds, making him a whopping 241 pounds of bulky mass, his arms now measuring nearly 23 inches cold. Some of his newly gained mass was fat though, a role of lard began obscuring the bottom row of his muscle gut, but being the biggest guy on the football team was more important to Brock than a ripped six-pack. A week before the Christmas holiday, Brad walked into their room. His eyes went wide as he stepped in. Brock was lying naked on his bed while some small wrestler was nestled between his thick quads and sucking him off. "Jeez, I'm sorry", Brad muttered as he backed away. "Get in and close the door, rookie!", Brock ordered as he looked up to his roommate. Brad closed the door and stood in the center of the room, staring at the incredible scene in front of him. He actually felt his own dick hardening in his pants as he looked at the small, yet muscular wrestler sucking his buddy's 10 inch pole with gusto. "YEAUGHN", Brock groaned deeply, his meaty chest flexing as he blasted his load down the wrestler's eager throat. "Good one, Jay", he said as he gently ruffled the wrestler's hair. Brad watched as the wrestler got up and noticed the large wet stain on the guy's tented boxers. "You've such a hot body", the wrestler said as he rubbed his hands along the masses of meat atop Brock's chest. Brock bounced his meaty pecs under the guy's grasp and looked at his roommate. "Ya want a blowjob too, Brad?", he asked. "Na, I'm good", Brad replied. "Your loss. Jay's got the best mound on campus", Brock said and clenched his fist to make his right bicep harden under the wrestler's touch. "Wow", Jay said as his hands were pried open by the orb of steely meat. "Ya can train with me after the holidays like I promised, Jay", Brock said, "Now leave me and my roomie to it. Happy holidays". He threw a double bicep and sent the wrestler off. Just as Jay passed by Brad he said to him: "The offer stands. If you want a blowjob, let me know. Brock said you have a great body too". Brock exploded in laughter as he saw the dazzled expression on his friend's face as the wrestler left their room. "Told ya he's real good. He came up to me the first week he'd gotten in the frat and offered me a blowjob right there in the showers! He's even more into my body as I am. Ya should really give it a try, buddy. So, what's up?". "Problems at home", Brad said as he sat down on his bed, "You mind putting on some clothes?". "A shame to hide any part of this body", Brock replied and slowly rubbed his hand along his bulky frame and gave his deflating 10 incher a good squeeze. He did pull on his boxers. "My little brother dropped out of high school and is in constant fights with my parents. Some holiday I'm up for", Brad said. "Why don't ya ask him to stay here on campus. He could sleep here in the frat house, most of the guys are going home. I'm staying since I'm an orphan so ya don't have to be here alone with him", Brock replied as he walked over to his roommate's bed and sat down next to him. "Sounds pretty good to me. But I'll never convince my parents", Brad stated and looked into his buddy's eyes. "I'll give 'em a call. Say ya have some stuff to do on campus", Brock said and patted his friend's back. "Tell them my brother's in for some pre-student program", Brad said and thanked his best friend. Brock indeed managed to convince Brad's parents and a week later his brother arrived on the nearly deserted campus. A faint knock on the wooden doors of the frat house echoed through the hallway. Brock opened the door and looked down on the skinny boy standing there. "Little T.", he said with a grin as he recognized Brad's little brother Tristan. Tristan instinctively stepped back as he looked at his older brother's massive friend. Despite having turned 18 a few weeks earlier, Tristan looked like puberty had completely forgotten him. Standing 5'5 and weighing a measly 124 pounds, he looked like an emaciated kid. Even the thick hoodie and the baggy jeans he was wearing couldn't hide his skinny frame. Brock looked into the small boy's dark brown eyes and felt a bit uneasy, despite outweighing him by more than 100 pounds. Tristan just stared back into the huge man's eyes. He noticed the unease and a smug grin formed on his lips. He'd always used his intellect to mess with his jock brother and Brock, enjoying their stupid reactions. "So", he asked, "Can I come in or do I have to stay out here?". "Oh, sure thing, little T. Come on in. I'll show yar room", Brock said moved aside to let the small boys enter. "You're getting fat, Brock", Tristan said as he squeezed his frail body between the wall and the huge man's muscle gut, "Jeez, you're taking up half the corridor with your bulk". "Biggest man in the house and on the football team", Brock said with pride and flexed his right arm in front of his torso, making his 23 inch gun harden in a veiny, striated orb of meat. Tristan stared at the round ball of hard meat and shook his head. "If I want to see some dumb meat, I'll watch some cows. Just show my room. Then you can go back at mindlessly pumping iron to compensate", he said in a harsh tone. Brock relaxed his pose. "Let me grab yar bag", he said to break the tensed atmosphere. He tossed the bag over his broad shoulder and silently led the small boy to his room, wondering why the guy didn't admire his muscles like the others. Even though he could squash him like a bug, Tristan always made him feel somewhat unsecure. "Here we are", he said as he opened a door in a deserted hallway, "If ya need anything, let me know. Yar bro and I are staying on the other side of the house. I'll come get ya for diner", Brock said and left the small boy. He closed their door behind him and went for the gym. Tristan looked around the room but couldn't get the image of Brock's huge body from his mind. He'd always had a crush on the guy ever since he'd seen him shirtless, comparing his muscles to Brad's. Since then, Brock had only grown bigger and he'd often jerked off thinking off the guy's big muscles. He'd only played cool and uninterested to avoid being caught. Now, having stared at Brock's bulk stretching his tank top to the max, his cock was raging hard since the huge man had opened the door. Tristan unbuttoned his pants, pulled his throbbing 5 incher from his briefs and began stroking his hot shaft. Within seconds, he blew a watery, meager load, thinking about Brock's beastly body. He pulled his pants back on and got unpacked. A few hours later Brock returned from the gym with Brad. They found Tristan sitting in the kitchen, quietly eating dinner. "Hey, little bro. Heard you dropped out of high school", Brad said. "So?", Tristan replied without looking up. "Cool with me", Brad stated a bit uneasy. "Let's eat too", Brock said to break the tension. He knew Brad and Tristan had never really gotten along. "Good workout, man. Still feeling pumped", he said to Brad while he bounced his pumped pecs. Tristan looked up as he finished his meal and saw the meaty mounds of muscle dance atop the huge man's chest. "Lucky I'm done eating. One could easily lose his appetite looking at a half naked man with a role of fat protruding from his gut", he said while his cock hardened in his pants. "Sorry", Brock replied uneasily and put on a shirt he pulled from his gym bag. "Little bro. It's Brock who got the idea to invite ya over. So ya could get some distance from man and dad. So show him some gratitude", Brad said to his brother. "Wow, Brock. You're improving: you had an actual idea", Tristan answered instantly. He snickered as he noticed the embarrassment in the huge man's eyes. "I'm going to bed. Exhausted from the trip.", he said and disappeared from the kitchen. "I'm sorry, man", Brad said to his bigger friend, "I really thought my brother would thank ya for letting him stay here. I'll talk to him in the morning. So, nice record ya set on the bench today." A smile appeared on Brock's face when his buddy mentioned his new record. He felt testosterone flow through his 241 pound body just thinking of his lift. "I'm gonna trash our opponents on the football field. Can't wait to break the 250 pound mark", he said and groped his thick pecs. The confidence of being the biggest man around returning to him. The rest of the week went by as it had started: Tristan stayed in his room most of the time, avoiding his brother and Brock as much as he could. Brad and Brock let the small guy alone and spent lots of time in the gym, constantly pushing each other. They decided to throw a party just for the three of them, hoping to take Tristan's mind off things at home. As they ended their workout, Brad said he would get the booze. He took a quick shower and went to the store, while Brock blasted out some more sets to make his 23 inch arms grow some more. Brock smiled at his reflection as he did a double bicep and saw his pumped arms. Brock arrived back at the frat house, pulled off his sweat-drenched workout gear and strutted into the mutual showers. He heard the water running and saw Tristan standing under the farthest shower head. He nodded at the small guy and took the shower next to his. He sighed as the hot water cascaded down on his beastly body. Tristan looked up in shock as he heard the heavy footsteps and saw Brock stepping up to him. He quickly turned around, facing the tilled wall as the man he secretly lusted for stood next to him. He felt blood flowing to his flaccid cock and focused on hiding his beginning boner. Brock began soaping his wide, muscle-filled frame and looked aside to the small boy standing next to him. Up close and without his baggy clothes the guy looked even wimpier. "Nice tan ya have", he said, giving Tristan a compliment to break the tension that somehow always appeared between the two of them. "So that's why you're always in the gym: to look at other guys' bodies", Tristan replied and glanced aside to look at Brock's pumped arms. A shiver went through him as the masses of hard meat, choked with veins bulged while the huge man soaped his body. Another jolt shot through his further hardening cock. "No, I…", Brock muttered, "I really mean it: ya look good. Wish I had a bronze tan like yours". He felt even less sure after his remark, like the small guy made him feel weak and helpless. "Thanks, I guess", Tristan answered coldly. He turned off the shower, getting ready to leave. He turned toward the tilled wall on his right, his small back facing the huge man next to him and his hands covering his half-hard dick. Brock noticed the skinny boy's back and decided he had to talk things through."Tristan, wait", he said as he turned off his own shower. He gently put his paw atop the boy's frail shoulders. Tristan jumped up as the huge man's paws covered his bony shoulders completely. "What the fuck are you doing, Brock?", he yelped in his high-pitched voice and tried to squirm free. "Calm down. I just want to talk.", Brock replied and gently spun the small boy around so he could look him in the eye.

One "Come on. One more, buddy!" Brad grunted from the effort, his face beet red as he curled the 100 pound barbell up. "10", he groaned between his teeth as he completed his rep. "Nice job, man", Brock said as he helped his buddy lower the barbell back down and place it on the floor. Both aged 21, the two had been friends ever since their first day in kindergarten and had always been in the same class up until university. Even then, they had both chosen Orchid University. After setting their first steps in the gym at age 15, they had continued working out together on a daily base and joined their high school's football team. Now they we're both among the star players of the university football team. Brad controlled his fast breathing and looked down at his former roommate grabbing the 120 pound bar from the rack. "Come on, final set!", he said to his buddy as he sat down on a bench, exhausted from their workout and took a sip from his shake. "Fuck yeah!", Brock growled as he began curling the barbell with perfect control. "Grow", he said to his arms, his big biceps swelling with every rep as more blood flowed into them. "8, agh, 9, agh, ten…", he groaned, "gimme a spot, man!". Brad got up from the bench and stood in front of his roommate. He placed his fingers underneath the middle of the barbell and assisted the movement. "Come on, one more!", he said to encourage Brock. "Eleuhven…", Brock grunted. His body trembled as he lowered the barbell back down. "Tweuhlve". Brad's eyes widened as his roommate went on to complete twenty reps before he helped him put the barbell down. While Brock grabbed his towel from the nearby bench, Brad looked at his own reflection in the mirror. He grinned and raised his right arm in a flex. The pumped bicep hardened atop his meaty arm, blue veins snaking along the muscle. "How big are those guns?", Brock asked as he emptied his shake and looked up at his buddy. "Just under 18 inches pumped", Brad replied and hardened his flex some more. Brock moved next to his friend and raised his right arm to copy his pose. His bicep, pumped and red from the workout, mounded upward as he brought in his lower arm. The peak pushed against his skin and a web of blue, thick veins fed the steely orb. "Nice man", Brad said while he stared at the obviously bigger arm. "22,5 inches all pumped", Brock stated with pride. "Let's hit the shower, man", he said as he relaxed his arm and strutted toward the exit. "Yeah", Brad answered. "So, any other news?", he asked as he caught up with his buddy. "I told ya a million times, man: I'm not the president of the frat. Just be patient", Brock said and patted his buddy on the back. "I've been waiting for an invite ever since we've got here three years ago. You got in during the second semester of our freshman year. This year is my last shot", Brad went on. Ever since Brock had been allowed into the Dexameni-frat, the most exclusive frat on campus that housed most of the top athletes, he'd been jealous. He'd been checking his locker for an invite every day since his best buddy had gotten in. Brock turned to face Brad, grabbed his shoulders and made him look in his eyes. "Your chance will come, buddy. Be patient!", he said in a loud tone to cut off Brad. He released his friend and continued his way to the locker room. Brad sighed, knowing his friend was right and followed him inside. The locker room was completely deserted. They took off their sweaty workout gear in silence. Brad was down to his boxers and reached for his locker when he noticed the little black envelope. "No way", he mumbled and took it. His hands trembled as he ripped it open and read the piece of paper inside. You've proven worthy to join the ranks of the Dexameni-frat. Report to the frat house this Friday at 1900h "Good news?", Brock asked, keeping his back to Brad as he stripped completely. "I'm in!", Brad blurted out. "Told ya to be patient, buddy. I'm glad for ya", Brock replied and strutted toward the shower zone. He turned on the shower and let the hot water cascade down on his muscular body. He looked aside to Brad standing under the shower to his right. "Did ya bulk up during summer?", he asked, "Ya look bigger than last year". "Yeah", Brad answered, "I'm up to 182. I'm catching up, buddy". Brock smiled at the reaction. Even though Brad was a tad taller, 5'9 to his own 5'8, their bodies looked different. Brad had the muscular physique of a ripped fitness model, while he had the heavily muscled look of a bulky amateur bodybuilder. "Still some work ahead, buddy. I've gained some mass too: up to 229,3 pounds." Brad turned to his side and faced his buddy. Every muscle on Brock's body looked fuller than his defined ones. "Ready to burst through the 230 mark, he big guy. We'd better change your nickname from B-rock to B-wall", he said. "My abs look better though." He caressed the grooves of his ripped six-pack. A smug grin appeared on Brock's face when his friend used his nickname. He'd always liked being called b-rock; it made him feel even bigger than he was. "Ya know what they say", he said playfully, "abs on a skinny guy don't count". He flexed his abs in response, making his somewhat protruding muscle gut harden. "You're lucky we're friends. I should have kicked your ass for that remark", Brad stated with a smile. They always fooled around but he knew his buddy always had his back. "Kick my ass? You and what army?", Brock answered in an amused tone. He turned to his right and faced his friend. Brad's defined muscles gave him an athletic look. His own muscles were clearly fuller and rounder, his shoulder's half again as wide than his buddy's. "Think ya could challenge the b-rock?", he asked as he threw a most muscular. Brad stared at his 229 pound friend flexing right in front of him. The bulky muscles hardened all over his broad frame: his thick arms digging into the rack of pecs atop his muscle gut, his meaty quads pushing against each other. "At least, I'm taller", he said with a smirk and stood tall to stretch out his 5'9 frame. "Ya have to have something to attract some female attention", Brock replied playfully, " otherwise no one would notice ya next to me." He relaxed his pose and gently punched his friend in the shoulder. "Na. You're lucky to have your big muscles. Your ugly face scares off anyone", Brad answered. "Thanks for helping me get in the frat. I really appreciate it, man", he said and thankfully patted his buddy's broad back. "I'm happy I could help. See ya on Friday for the initiation", Brock said as he turned off the shower and strutted away from the shower zone, water sliding along the crevices of his bulky muscles. Two days later, Brad made his way over to the Dexameni-frat house. His legs quivered slightly with every step he took and his stomach clenched together: it felt like his first day of school again. He looked up at the façade of the mansion he'd passed nearly daily since he's been on campus. Two flexed, muscular arms were painted on the wide door and the name of the frat of his dreams sat atop it: DEXAMENI. Brad inhaled deeply to calm his nerves and stepped up toward the entrance. He knocked three times and waited. What seemed like an eternity passed before the heavy wooden doors opened squeakingly. A muscular, bare-chested figure appeared in the dark corridor. "Come in!", a deep baritone boomed. Brad sighed, he had recognized Brock's deep voice and eagerly entered the frat house. "I'm glad it's you, Brock", he said, "I'm…". "Silence!", Brock rumbled, "you only speak when spoken too! Follow me!". Brad jumped up as the heavy doors closed behind him and by the harsh tone of his best friend. He nodded and followed the big guy through the long, dark corridor. Brock opened a door on his right and entered, his smaller buddy following right behind. "Strip down to your boxers", he said and folded his meaty arms in front of his protruding pecs. Brad obeyed and stripped off his clothes until he was standing in his American flag boxers in front of his friend. "So what's next?", he asked. "SILENCE!", Brock roared. Brad shivered, his friend's deep baritone rumbling inside his stomach. Brock led his friend into another room and made him wait by the door while he stepped up to the center of the room. He stopped at the base of a wooden staircase that led to an altar with a throne behind it. "O great leader", he said as he looked up to the figure in the throne, "I bring you a new recruit that wishes to join the ranks of our noble frat." "Bring him before me", the leader replied. Brock walked back to the door where Brad was standing and brought him to the center of the room. Brad's heart pounded nervously but the feeling of his buddy standing behind him, comforted him. "Step forward, brothers", he figure on the throne said. The other frat members appeared from the shadows and formed a circle around Brad and Brock. All of them were bare-chested like Brock and looked at Brad. Brad looked around and recognized Orchid University's star athletes. Their muscular torsos glistened as if they had been oiled up. He saw two of his teammates from the football team, the three top wrestlers and some other athlete's he didn't know which sport they played. He looked up at the figure on the throne and recognized him as the captain of the swim team. He wondered why the clearly smallest guy in the room was the leader of the frat. Keith, the frat leader, stepped from his throne and looked down at Brad. "Everyone that wishes to join the noble DEXAMENI-frat needs the advocacy of a senior member. Step forward he that backs this recruits acceptance!". Brad looked around nervously, but none of the frat members moved an inch. He felt his heartbeat going up, seeing his long awaited dream shattering before his eyes. "I support his candidacy!" Brad inhaled in relief as he heard Brock's voice and felt his buddy's paw atop his shoulder. "Very well", Keith said, "You have the support you need, recruit. Now let's see if you're truly worthy of joining the noble DEXAMENI-frat!". Before Brad could react, his boxers were yanked down and he stood fully exposed amidst his fellow athletes. He felt the blood race to his face and his cheeks started reddening. He moved his hands to cover his cock but two frat members moved in and tightly held his arms at his sides. He felt Brock's left paw grab his side and steady him. He inhaled deeply as his best friend's right paw grabbed his soft cock and began stroking it. He felt his cock harden and swell inside the strong paw that clenched around his inflating shaft. Within seconds he was rock hard. He looked down and saw that his fully hard 8 incher was completely engulfed by Brock's meaty paw. He noticed the tension on the corded muscles atop his friend's lower arm as the paw kept clutching his cock. His breathing fastened more and more as he felt on the verge of orgasm. "UGHN", he groaned as Brock gave his rock hard 8 incher a final, very hard squeeze and his balls spewed out their load. Six heavy blasts shot from his cock in an arch through the air before splattering down several feet further. He felt his muscles relax but the strong grasp of the two frat members that were holding his arms, kept him upright. He sighed in relief as Brock released his softening cock and grabbed his sides with both hands to steady him. "Seven feet and nine inches far", Keith said, "He's worthy of joining our noble DEXAMENI-frat!". The other frat members cheered as their leader grabbed the chalice from the altar and moved in front of Brad. He nodded at Brock. Brad felt his buddy release his right flank and grab his half-hard cock again. "Ughn", he grunted as his cock was stroked back to hardness. His drained balls stabbed in protest as a second orgasm was milked out of them only minutes after the first. His entire body went rigid as the warm, meaty paw grabbed his balls and clenched them together. Three watery loads leaked from his nearly fully hard cock into the chalice Keith held at its end. He would have collapsed as Brock hadn't grabbed his left armpit so secure him. He looked down and saw his buddy pull up his boxers before the warm right paw grabbed his other armpit. A feeling of relief went through his exhausted body. Keith shook the chalice, held it above his head for all the frat members to see it and placed it back on the altar. He turned around and looked back at Brad. "Welcome to our ranks, Brad!", he said, "now, let's party!". The frat members howled loudly and left the chamber. Bard followed them, not caring he was in his boxers. The feeling of finally being part of the frat filled him with joy.

This is my first story. It's been rolling around in my brain for quite some time now, and I finally typed it up. I hope you enjoy it! ****************************************************** I opened my laptop and logged into my email. I had just gotten a notification that the custom video I requested had landed in my inbox. I was tentative to open the file. I had requested custom videos before, and I was always a little disappointed. No one had ever been able to fulfill my request completely. Maybe what I was asking for wasn’t realistic. But this guy seemed different. I allowed myself to get my hopes up just a little bit. I opened the video, and his face flashed onto my screen. That face alone could make me weak in the knees: square jaw, perfect skin, and dark brown eyes that sparkled intensely but joyfully. He’s Asian, and his blue-black hair was spiked perfectly to frame his lovely face. He had crazy thick hair; almost as crazy thick as his body. He flashed a winning smile, and dimples appeared in both cheeks. “Hey there. Thanks for ordering a custom video, and thanks for ordering other videos from my website. I think I’m going to be able to give you what you asked for.” Another smile. I noticed that he was wearing a baggy t-shirt, and I was momentarily confused. “I need to go change quickly. I’ll be right back. This won’t count towards your twenty minutes.” That was thoughtful of him. He pushed himself out of his computer chair and walked out of the room. As he walked away, it was hard to see his body under the t-shirt and sweatpants he wore, but I knew what was underneath. After what seemed like an eternity (but was probably only two minutes), I heard him call from the other room, “Okay, here I come.” He walked slowly into the room and came into focus. I couldn’t tell if he was walking slowly to increase the drama, or if he was walking slowly because of how constrained he was by his new outfit. On the bottom, he wore the tightest pair of jeans I have ever seen. They must have been those lighter weight jeans that have some stretch in them, otherwise I can’t possibly imagine how he got them on. You could see the incredible bulk of his legs through the denim. His thighs we monstrous, and the various heads of his quadriceps muscles could be seen pressing against the pant legs. His calves were even more impressive. The bottom of his legs looked like diamonds, and they jutted sharply out towards one another. Even with his huge thighs, I bet his calves still brushed against one another when he walked. My eyes moved to his upper half and I think my jaw actually went slack. He was wearing a short-sleeve white button down shirt that was filled to, rather past, its capacity. The top two buttons were undone (I don’t think it would have been possible to button them), and his full, square pecs were pressing threateningly against the rest of the buttons. The shirt was tapered, so it only became slightly looser around his tight abdomen, but even his midsection filled the shirt amply. His incredible arms bulged out of the short sleeves, which he had pulled up a bit to accommodate their mass. “Well, what do you think?” He raised his arms slightly as he asked the question, and I heard a couple of stitches pop. “Whoops. Better be more careful. Or I guess I should just get started.” He turned around slowly in a circle so I could see him from every angle. As he turned, his remarkable ass became visible, full and round and clearly all muscle. When he was facing away, I could see every major muscle group of his mountainous back straining the shirt. It’s a mystery to me how he even got into it and managed to button it as far as he did. As he turned back around to face me, the camera angle changed a bit. “I wanted to let you know that my husband is handling the camera. I hope that’s okay. I didn’t want it to suddenly go out of focus, or have it accidentally miss something. Don’t worry, you won’t see or hear him. Unless you want to, but you’d have to order another video for that. He’s a pretty big guy, too.” He winked, and I almost died. “Okay, here we go. Let’s start from the bottom, shall we? I know you like my big calves. You specifically said you like big calves in your video request, and mine are the biggest around.” He started slowly going up and down on his tiptoes, and his calves flexed and swelled in response. “I did ballet as a kid and into high school. I think that’s why they got so big. That, and my genetics. I would have continued in ballet, but in college the rest of my muscles really started growing and I got too bulky. I still remember the poses, though.” He raised his arms in front of him and made a circle while bending one leg up and resting his foot just above the other knee. As he did this, he slowly and gracefully went up on the toes of his other foot. He held that position for a moment, and then it happened. RIIIP. The side of his lower pant leg split open and the diamond ridge of his calf muscle bust through. He smiled, and slowly lowered the other leg back down and lowered his arms to this side, returning to “ballet first.” “Well, we’re off to a good start. Let’s see if we can’t make these pant legs match.” He turned away from the camera so that his back was facing me. The camera zoomed down onto his lower legs. He repeated the pose from before, but this time went up onto the tiptoes of the other foot. He held the pose again, and I realized I was holding my breath in anticipation. He started slowly raising up and down on that one foot, each time his calf seeming to swell larger. I heard a faint pulling, and then RIIIIIIP, the pant leg split open down the back of the calf this time. The camera zoomed in, and through the tear in the jeans you could see a massive, upside-down heart made of muscle. He looked over his shoulder into the camera. “Well, that’s not really a match. But that’s how these things happen. I never know when or where my muscles are going to bust through a seam.” He turned around and examined his lower legs. “This is why I can’t wear anything above an ankle sock. I can’t tell you how many pairs of dress socks I’ve completely wrecked. They just don’t make elastic built for these bulls.” As he said that, he flexed both his calves one more time, and each tear spread open a little more, threads popping. “Okay. The next part is easy.” The camera zoomed back out so his whole body was in focus. “Many people don’t know how pumped you can get simply from holding a pose. Isometric exercises are an essential part of any good strength-training routine.” He took a deep breath and stepped his right leg out wide. He brought his hands together in front of him and lowered down until his thighs were parallel to the ground. “And now we hold. So…how are you?” He smirked. I could tell that, even though it looked effortless, it was probably a huge amount of work for him to hold his mass that still and that steady in that position. After about a minute, I started to hear a creaking sound. “Yeah, this won’t take long.” Another minute. More creaking. I think I even heard a faint rip. “Okay. Here we go.” He came out of the pose, and stuck one leg forward. Then he started shaking his relaxed thigh back and forth, the way you see bodybuilders do before they flex their quads. BAM! He flexed his quads, and the muscle split through the denim with a loud pop. He immediately moved onto the other one, swinging his massive thigh muscles before SPLIT!, he grunted and flexed and effectively bust the other pant leg open. “Whoo. I feel a little freer now. Still one more thing, though.” He turned around with his back to the camera and started twerking to some imaginary music. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” He laughed. Before I could prepare myself, he dropped into a deep squat and BAM! The seat of his pants split wide open, showing neon green underwear underneath. He came up out of the squat, and walked closer to the camera. “How we doing so far? Everything you dreamed of? Just you wait.” He grinned a mischievous little grin and started bouncing his pecs. They punched at the fabric of the shirt, pulling the buttons this way and that. “Now here’s the thing about hulking out: You have to do it in a certain order or it won’t work the way you want it to. I know you would probably like for me to finish with arms and save the best for last, but I’m going to be doing a lot of flexing, and if I don’t start with the arms, they will probably rip my sleeves before I’m ready. And it would be a real shame if my sleeves ripped while the camera was focusing on my pecs or my back. So when you’re watching this video again, and I am guessing that you’re going to watch it again, and again, and again, you can just fast forward and rewind and watch it in the order you want.” This guy clearly wanted to please his customers. And from what I had seen thus far, I was damn pleased. “Again, I am going to have my off-screen assistant help me out so we don’t have any ripping accidents before we’re ready.” He stepped out of frame, and I could hear my heart beating in anticipation. When he came back on screen, his arms were at his sides and the short sleeves had been pulled down and stretched over his massive arms. The shirt he was wearing had a thicker cuff at the end, and he had managed to find a short-sleeve shirt that covered the full length of his unflexed biceps and triceps. “We’ll do one at a time so you can savor it.” He slowly raised his right arm in front of the camera. The thick muscle bellies of his biceps rolled and shifted under the sleeve, and as he bent his elbow, the sleeve pulled taut. “Now, I’m not actually flexing yet. I want to draw this out as much as I can for you. This sleeve isn’t going to rip until I tell it to, but when I tell it to, believe me, it will rip.” He stared straight into the camera and got a really intense look on his face. I think he was enjoying showing off for me as much as I was enjoying the show. “You ready?” He looked back at his bent arm and it started to swell. Any wrinkles there had been in the material were pulled straight, and you could see the cuff of the shirt pressing tightly into his arm. “Here comes the peak.” His flexed arm, already huge, changed shape in front of my eyes as he twisted his wrist. The softball-sized muscle split and grew into a mountainous peak. I couldn’t believe the sleeve was still intact. His arm started shaking a bit and he twisted his wrist and re-exerted his flex one more time. Then it happened. The sharp peak of his immense biceps split through the top of the sleeve. He looked at the camera again and smiled. “Peak-a-boo.” He relaxed his arm just a bit and then forcefully flexed again. The rock-hard mound of muscle burst forth with an incredible satisfying RIIIIIIIP. The sleeve ripped open almost all the way up to this shoulder. He lowered his arm, and readjusted the cuff. He kept his arm straight and twisted it so I could see massive triceps underneath. With one strong flex, his triceps bulged with power and snapped the cuff of the sleeve. “Huh. Didn’t think that would actually work.” He adjusted in his seat and turned his left arm towards the camera. “Let’s try a different angle this time. You think my right arm is good? Just wait until you see what lefty can do.” He raised his left arm as he had done before, but this time I was looking at the rear view. Again, his sleeve filled up like a balloon as he bent his elbow. He bounced his biceps a few times, and I heard a couple of stiches pop. He got that intense look on his face again as he stared at his growing arm. “Rip that sleeve. Rip it. Rip it.” POP! A sharp mound of marbleized muscle tore through the sleeve. This time he didn’t relax the flex. He held it tight, twist his wrist back and forth, forcing his biceps to peak higher and higher, ripping the material as it went. When the ripping seemed to stop, he straightened his arm, pulled the cuff up a little bit, and flex his biceps hard with a “YEAH!!!” The cuff snapped like a piece of paper as his powerful biceps and tripeps decimated the sleeve, splitting it open from cuff to shoulder. He lowered his arms and looked at the camera. For the first time during this whole video, he was breathing heavily. “I bet the other cam guys couldn’t do that. I’ve got the biggest, strongest, freakiest peaked biceps around. And they just keep getting better.” He struck a double biceps pose and roared. His right biceps, which was still partially wrapped in a sleeve, swelled towards the sky through the hole it had created, tearing it open wider to accommodate for its pumped mass. The sound of ripping material poured of my computer’s speakers. I think both of us realized at the same time (virtually) that the tearing sounds weren’t just created by his biceps. He lifted his arms a little more, and the side seams of the shirt were ripped under each armpit. “Oopsy daisy. That’s what I was talking about before. I guess I got a little over-excited flexing my biceps for you and my lats felt left out of the fun.” He lifted each arm and examined the jagged tears created by his swelling lats. “When my muscles wanna grow, they grow. Can’t stop ‘em. But I am going to make my lats wait just a little bit longer. Husband, can you help me out one more time?” He stood up and stepped off camera, and when he sat back down, the top two buttons of his shirt had been fastened. The poor guy looked like he was choking. He stared rolling his pecs, one at a time. I could see the thick striations through the shirt. His muscle control was astounding. I found myself hypnotized. “Okay, this is uncomfortable,” he croaked. He flexed his thick neck and the top button popped open. “That’s a little better. But these big pecs of mine have been waiting to breathe for too long.” Bounce bounce bounce. Flex flex flex. In one swift movement, he brought his arms forward and flexed his chest. The sound of buttons flying filled the room as they ricocheted off the camera and the wall. His beautiful chest burst forth, bigger and fuller than I had ever seen it. He gave one more strong flex and the shirt tore on the sides of his solid, square pecs. The pocket over the left pec flapped up a bit and a perfect perky nipple became visible for one exquisite moment. Bounce bounce bounce. “I repped out 500 push-ups before I started taping. Just for you.” He slowly rolled his pecs one more time. On some guys, this kind of cockiness would be downright obnoxious. But on him, it was fucking adorable. The bottom buttons of the shirt were still fastened, and I could see the top two abdomen muscles through the opening. “Almost done. I still feel a little constrained. Let’s finish what was started.” He put his fists on his waist and began slowly expanding his lats. Threads popped one by one as his glorious wings tore through what remained of the side seams. Then, he stood up and turned around. He grabbed onto each side of the shirt and did one more epic lat spread. The back of his shirt split wide open down the middle, and his incredibly developed back came into view. He turned around to face the camera and effortlessly ripped the bottom of the shirt open, sending the remaining buttons flying. He roared one more time and struck a most muscular pose that most bodybuilders would envy. The tears on his sleeves ripped open more as his boulder deltoids flexed. Still flexing, he reached up and grabbed the shirt on either side of the collar and pulled down. The collar snapped, and he pulled the remains of the shirt off in two, tattered pieces. He stood up straight, chest heaving, forehead glistening with sweat. “And that, my friend, is how you hulk out.” He slowly swaggered towards the camera, leaning in close. “Until next time.” He winked, and the screen went black.

I had a day off and decided to make this happen. Not sure if this is part one or just a one-shot. Comments and suggestions are appreciated as always, especially on if I should continue. *Zap* The bright beam from the sky attenuated rapidly. And then only a man remained, stark naked in the middle of the desert. But what a man he was. His pecs were the first thing to flex. Slowly at first, those globes of muscle rising, becoming fuller and rounder by the second. He stood there casually, pecs unapologetically standing at full mast, for a solid minute. After what felt like an eternity, he let one drop and proceeded to bounce them. The rest of his body was still except for the massive balloons heaving up and down on his chest. He looked as though he was enjoying himself. With pecs still bouncing (it almost looked automatic now), he pushed his elbows in and let his triceps stand in relief. Like sand dunes carved into his arms, immense and sharp. But they didn’t stay for long. He brought his arms up into a classic double bi pose. Like Everest, mountainous peaks piercing the heavens. The belly of each muscle was so fat and engorged that it seemed to spill over the edges of his arm, barely contained by his skin. He followed with an unbelievable most muscular pose. A dimple formed in his pecs where the major met the minor, while his forearms and biceps formed a thick, pulsing frame for his cobblestone abs. His dick was long, full, hard, throbbing. The head bobbed up and down menacingly, threatening to release. He came without as much as a wince. The cum shot right through his arms still held in the most muscular pose. 2 points. Wallace was not inclined to believe in fantasy or science fiction, but the evidence stood there proudly, cumming into the sunbaked dirt. He had just been out categorizing local species of lizards when the giant laser shot down from space and dropped off, of all things, a naked man. The Adonis from the sky. And he had Jason’s face. It had been a while since they had last hung out in high school, but Wallace was pretty confident that this extraterrestrial hunk used to be Jason. His hard on was leaking pre in his denim jeans. The desert sun shone on his olive skin, the bushy cactus he was hiding behind providing no shade. A second cylinder of light left some clothes on the ground nearby before fading away. They were garments for giants. Jason reluctantly put them on, obviously still wanting to explore his newfound prowess. The white tee shirt fit tightly around his arms and his shelf of a chest made a tent where the fabric draped over it. The mesh shorts, while equally as oversized, did not do much to hide his mind-bendingly massive quads or his apparently constant erection. As he moved to a double bi pose again, the fabric seemed to be barely holding together. -- It felt good to flex. It was somehow right in this body, natural. The constant arousal in his dick felt good, too, but it was almost annoying. His cock was permanently hard and he felt like he was going to cum every second. It was hard to focus, especially when he flexed. Which was almost impossible to resist. Should probably get that adjusted. On that note, they could’ve dropped him off closer to his house, too. Even though they gave him clothes (that barely fit, honestly), he was a spectacle. It hadn’t mattered much in the wilderness when no one was around, but as he walked around the oasis of a suburb he called home he received more than a few stares. He was probably going to have to get used to that. It took him a while to get inside once he reached his place. His hands were just so much bigger now. He thought for a second that he might just bust the door in, but he figured his landlords probably wouldn’t like that… Success. He got inside without breaking anything. But the house he was renting felt a little different somehow. He picked up an old framed picture of himself and his parents from high school. An average looking dude stared at him out of the photograph, maybe a little scrawny. Dark messy hair fell over his tan brown skin and framed his sly smile. He absentmindedly tossed it towards his bed. It flew into the wall and shattered. Well, so much for not breaking anything. It didn’t really matter, anyways. That was the old him. He picked up the photo, dusting off shards of glass and wondering if they could even hurt him anymore. Or if anything could hurt him anymore. He shoved the photo in an old travel guide. He was about to set it down when a thought crossed his mind. He grabbed each end with just his finger and thumb and tore it right in half. Like it was a napkin. The pieces dropped to floor with a thud, utterly defeated. The torn photo spilled out of the pages and onto the floor. Then he grabbed a phone book and tore that apart too. It was nothing. He reached for a pan and was about to crush it, but then he thought better of destroying all his worldly possessions. Clearly he could if he wanted to. Might as well not use them up all at once. As he looked for somewhere to rest, he finally noticed his room was much smaller than it was before. He couldn’t even lift his arms without hitting the ceiling, and he had to turn sideways just to get through some doors. He felt the strain in the boards and the concavity he created when he sat on his bed. It creaked and moaned. His cock was entirely ambivalent about all of this, meanwhile, and it had been silent for far too long. Jason’s balls had been churning non-stop and it was about time they get release. He tried to resist, but it was pointless. So he accepted it, tensing every muscle in his body as the ejaculate forced its way through his cock and drenched his shorts. Shit. That was his only pair. He took them off and started to look for new clothes. -- His hard on had not died down since he began following Jason. Which had posed a real problem, since he was basically sprinting from one hiding spot to the next trying to keep up with this Goliath. Wallace was unaccustomed to stalking. It made him feel a little uneasy. But this was not something you saw every day. He could even convince himself it was journalism if he didn’t think too hard. Which was easy, considering he kept leaking pre like a broken faucet. There was not a lot of time for fixing rationalizations between spurts. In spite of his uncomfortable erection, he found Jason rather easy to follow. It might have had something to do with the fact that he was approaching King Kong status or that he seemed to be blissfully unaware of his surroundings, but Wallace never lost sight of Jason. He wondered how many people had followed him in a similar manner. Though let’s be honest, it probably wasn’t that many. He pushed up his coke bottle glasses and unbuttoned the first button of his plaid shirt. The running joke was that he had raided Urkel’s closet but left his brains behind. Coworkers can be so kind. He pulled out the binoculars that were fortuitously located in his backpack. He never imagined that lizard hunting could prove to be so…lucrative. Yeah, that was the word. And boy was it fucking lucrative. By the time he had adjusted to a position where he could see most of the room Jason was in, the hulking monster had left his Gap for Giants clothes on the bed and began to rummage through his wardrobe. He pulled out a blue tee shirt with a video game character on it that looked like it was sized for toddlers in his gorilla hands. And then he tried to put it on. It was almost comical. Emphasis on almost. Wallace’s cock clearly had a different opinion. The shirt started to rip before Jason could even get his arm through one of the sleeves. By the time the other arm made it through, the shirt had already been transformed into a tank top. A lousy one, too; it barely even reached his abs. Meanwhile his pecs were practically suffocating with the tightness of the fabric. He laughed. And as he laughed he came all over the floor. Fucking ridiculous. Although Wallace wasn’t really in position to be critical right now. He wasn’t quite sure of when he came. He only felt it in his pants sometimes afterwards. Journalism at its finest. Jason’s laughter halted abruptly and was replaced with a stuporous state. Wallace could have sworn that a blue glow came over his eyes. After a few moments of drool-laden daydreaming, Jason grabbed his game boy and a Gatorade and ran out the door. Wallace was forced to follow, pants drenched in cum, binoculars swinging on his thin shoulders. -- Jason had hoped to spend a little more time on his own before they called him back. But it sounded pretty important. He hoped he wasn’t going to explode or grow extra limbs anywhere. They would probably laugh at him for saying shit like that. Jason realized half way down the street that he had forgotten his clothes. He had honestly only noticed when his stiff cock met the breeze. A few minutes later he was back on track, fully clothed, spunk drying on his shorts as he briskly trekked back to the pick up spot. A fierce battle between his Venasaur and a Charizard kept his mind occupied while he made his long journey back out to the desert (though really, it was only a mile). He had meant to bring Pokemon Yellow instead of Pokemon Red, but it would have to do. By the time he left his neighborhood, he had grown tired of his clothes. It was approaching 100 degrees anyhow. How could you blame him? So he ripped them off with one hand, never letting go of the Gameboy with the other. They would give him new ones, probably. -- Wallace started getting hard again approximately the same time that Jason’s clothes hit the ground. His glutes bounced as Wallace watched, and their metronomic, perfectly controlled motion was almost hypnotic. Wallace would have stayed captivated by their mesmerizing rhythm if Jason’s calves had not stolen his attention. Bellies like diamonds, it was hard to imagine he was not moving the earth every time he took a step. And if that wasn’t enough, the broad curvature of his lats swayed back and forth, accentuating their impossible size while each little back muscle flexed individually to highlight the definition. Wallace could have stared for hours, but Jason stopped rather suddenly in the middle of nowhere. Wallace couldn’t see any conspicuous landmarks, but Jason turned off his Gameboy and was clearly ready to ascend back to wherever he came from. And so Wallace ran. He ran faster than he ever had in his life, leaving his backpack and binoculars behind. His little lungs and legs burned in the desert heat, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to give up. By the time Jason turned around, Wallace was already on him, clinging his relatively tiny waist. Jason was amused. He grabbed Wallace by the back of his collar and lifted him up. It was kind of like picking up a cat by its scruff. Jason couldn’t say that he didn’t enjoy it, just a little. Watching the little man squirm in his grasp, knowing that there was absolutely nothing he could do. And then the beam came down, and off they went. *Zap* And within a few seconds it was like they’d never been there.

This story is more silly than erotic, but it might get your imagination going or serve as a nice appetizer before reading some of the more graphic postings. Once upon a time there were three bears who lived in a cabin in the forest. Boris was the oldest, biggest bear. He had a huge, barrel chest with a bloated roid gut. His body was covered with fur head to toe and front to back. Brian was an off-season bodybuilder who enjoyed watching his body hair grow back after shaving it for each competition. Billy was the youngest, smallest bear. He was a former high school linebacker now growing a firm furry beer gut. One day after gorging themselves with a huge meal, the bears decided to go out for a walk. While they were gone, Gary Lochs happened to stumble upon the empty cabin while out for a hike. Gary knocked on the door, but when no one answered he let himself in. Gary wandered around a bit and saw a home gym set up in the back of the cabin. Being a bodybuilder himself, he decided to have a quick workout. Gary saw a rack of dumbbells along the wall. He picked up a pair of 25 pound weights and started curling but they were too light. He then went over to a pair of 125 pound weights - he could barely lift them off the rack! He struggled to curl them but they were too heavy. Gary wondered how strong must the man be who uses these weights! He then found a pair of 75 pound dumbbells. The weights felt good hanging by his sides - they were just right. Gary did 3 sets of curls, loving the feeling of his biceps pumping up during his workout. Gary then saw some resistance bands. He grabbed the first band with both hands and stretched it across his chest so far that it snapped in two. The band was too thin. Gary grabbed another band, but as much as Gary tried to stretch the rubber it wouldn’t budge. It was too thick. Gary then found a third band and started stretching it across his broad chest. It was just right. Gary could feel his pecs swelling up inside his shirt with each rep. The far side of the room was covered with mirrors, and there were some hooks with posing suits on them. Gary stripped off all of his clothes and grabbed a powder blue poser. He tried stuffing his dick inside, but the pouch was too small. Gary then tried on the black poser. Gary’s nicely-sized cock couldn’t fill up all the fabric of the posing suit - it was too big. Whose manhood were these posers supposed to contain?! Gary then tried on the red poser. It cupped his balls nicely and Gary could see the outline of his head bulging through the fabric. It was just right. Gary went through some poses, admiring the reflection of his pumped up physique in the mirror. He was getting a bit sweaty from all the workout and all the flexing, so he took off the poser and went into the bathroom to take a shower. Meanwhile, the three bears returned from their walk and saw the dumbbells sitting on the gym floor. “Somebody’s been lifting my dumbbells!” growled Boris as he returned the 125-pounders to the rack. “Somebody’s been lifting my dumbbells!” echoed Brian. Then young Billy said the same - “Somebody’s been lifting my dumbbells!” The bears then saw their resistance bands. Boris picked up the thick cord of rubber that Gary couldn’t budge and easily stretched it several times across his massive chest. “Somebody’s been using my band!” he yelled. Brian picked up his band and said “somebody’s been using my band!” Billy picked up the torn pieces of his band and said “somebody’s been using my band and snapped it in two!” Boris then picked up his black poser with the huge pouch. “Somebody’s been wearing my poser!” Brian held up his red trunks and said “somebody’s been wearing my poser, too!” Billy picked up his suit with the skimpy little pouch and said “somebody’s been wearing my poser and stretched the fabric out!” The bears heard water running and they went into the bathroom. They pulled open the shower curtain and saw Gary standing there lathering up his muscular body. Gary was so shocked at seeing all the hairy muscle staring back at him that he jumped out the window naked and ran out into the forest. And the three bears never saw him again. coming up next: Little Red Riding Hoodie

It's prom time again, so I thought I'd repost this story from the old forum. Enjoy! THE MUSCLE PROM BY GLAMLEATHERPUNK (AKA GLAMROCKCOWBOY) 18-year-old Billy Green was not in a good mood as he walked down the street. He had just attended the funeral of his parents. They had been waiting at a traffic light, only a few nights before, when a drunk driver, traveling at over 90 miles an hour, had plowed into their car in a head-on collision that the investigating police officers had called the worst they had ever seen. Both Billy’s parents and the drunk driver had been killed instantly. Billy himself had been out on a date with his long-time girlfriend, Alice Johnson, and had met his par-ents at a local restaurant for dinner, before going to a Justin Bieber concert, including a “meet-and-greet” prior to the show, for which they had won tickets from a local radio station. To their astonish-ment, Justin had even invited them to ride with him in his limousine to an after-concert party. Thus, they had been spared from being killed in the accident itself, since Justin’s limousine had been several cars behind at the time. In fact, Justin, feeling an incredibly strong premonition of danger, had actually ordered the driver to take a side street, and then go around the block, arriving at the cross street of the intersection just in time to watch the accident take place! Of course, Justin had been as horror-stricken as Billy and Alice had. Although he had had to continue with his concert tour, Justin had done everything he could to help his new friends. He had even donat-ed a portion of the income from that night’s concert, and from the rest of the tour, to a trust fund that was set up for their benefit. That income, together with the huge financial settlement from the drunk driver’s wealthy family, plus the proceeds from his parents’ life insurance policies, had left Billy an after-tax multi-millionaire. As he walked down the street that afternoon, however, with Alice at his side, Billy’s mood was every bit as black as the new suit he was wearing. He would gladly have given up all of his sudden wealth to get his parents back, alive and well. Of course, that was simply not possible. Like it or not, Billy knew he had to get on with the business of living. It was for this reason that Billy and Alice, having wound up the funeral and related errands, were now walking down the main street of their town’s trendiest shopping areas. Their high school prom was coming up in a few weeks, and as President and Vice-President of their school’s Senior Class, Billy and Alice knew they would be expected to be present. Despite the circumstances, they both knew that they would need formal wear for the prom. Both Alice and Billy, however, had been distinctly turned off by this year’s crop of prom-oriented formal wear styles. That being the case, Alice’s mother had suggested that they check out the many vintage clothing stores in this district, and see if they could find outfits that would be more to their taste. Billy and Alice had both agreed that it was worth trying. Hence their presence in the vintage clothing district on this warm, sunny spring afternoon. Apparently, though, a lot of other high school prom-goers had had the same idea, for although Billy and Alice went from one shop to another, none of them had anything in stock that suited either one of them. Several shop owners told them that they had had some styles in line with what the two young lovers would have liked, but they had sold out of those styles days or even weeks before. As the afternoon wore on, the young couple’s faces grew longer and longer. It began to look as though they would have to give up, when Alice spotted a shop on a side street they had not yet visited. The shop had signs in its windows reading, “Going Out of Business!”, “Last Days!”, and other similar notices. Billy looked at Alice, who shrugged her shoulders indifferently. This being the only shop in the area that they had not yet visited, the two teens realized they had nothing to lose by going in and looking around. Loosening his tie and opening the collar of his dress shirt, with a sigh, Billy led the way into the shop. As might be expected, a bell attached to the top of the inside of the door rang as they came in. A tall, thin, elderly gentlemen looked up from the counter. “May I help you, Mr. Green?” he courteously inquired. Startled, Billy was about to ask how the man knew his name when he saw several newspa-pers neatly stacked on the floor behind the counter. The one on the top had headlines that Billy recog-nized only too well, for it concerned the very accident that had caused the deaths of his parents. The old man, obviously the owner of the shop, quickly sized up the situation, and apologized for inad-vertently upsetting his two young visitors. “You see,” he explained, “the circumstances of that accident were strikingly similar to the one that caused the death of my son and his fiancee just over 20 years ago, the day before they were scheduled to attend their own senior prom, and formally announce their engagement!” Billy and Alice groaned sympathetically, and expressed their condolences. “Thank you,” the old man replied softly, a sad but appreciative smile coming over his features. “And now, how can I help you two youngsters?” he asked. “Well, I’m sure this may sound strange to you—not to mention ironic—but Alice and I are looking for prom outfits—something from the glam rock era, or maybe even the rave era of the 90's!” Billy ex-plained. In response, to the two teens’ horror, the old man’s face turned white as a sheet, and he reeled as if he were going to faint. Billy instantly grabbed him by the arm, and helped him into a chair behind the counter. Meanwhile, seeing a restroom at the far end of the counter, Alice went to it, pulled out se-veral paper towels, ran cold water over them, then wrung out the excess. She then took them to Billy, who wiped the old man’s face and neck with them in an effort to revive him. To the two teens’ immense relief, their efforts were successful. As the color slowly returned to the shop owner’s face, Alice pulled a paper cup from a dispenser and filled it with cold water from an old-style filtered water dispenser nearby. She then handed it to the old man, who drank it gratefully. Billy went to refill the cup, and again the proprietor gratefully consumed its contents. “I’m sorry if I frightened you,” he explained, “but those were precisely the kinds of styles my son and his fiancee were wearing when they were killed! As a matter of fact, their personal wardrobes are all the inventory I have left! Everything else got picked over by other young prom-goers over the last few weeks!” Billy and Alice were startled by this information. “Your son and his fiancee were glam rockers?” Billy asked. “Oh, were they ever!” the old man replied, actually laughing as he spoke. “Just a moment—let me show you some pictures I have of them, and you’ll see what I mean!” Billy helped him to his feet, and he went behind the counter into a small office area next to the restroom. A moment later, the old man emerged with a thick binder containing dozens of photographs of two of the biggest, most muscu-lar, most drop-dead-gorgeous teenagers either Billy or Alice had ever seen. Billy let out a long, low whistle of astonishment. “Man! Talk about being glam rockers! WOW!!” he exclaimed. The young man, obviously well over six feet in height, was incredibly handsome, with big, sparkling sapphire-blue eyes, high cheekbones, a perfectly-shaped nose, and lips which were so big, so full, so pouty and sensual, that they all but screamed to be passionately kissed. His hair, a gorgeously rich chestnut brown in color, was teased up into a gigantic mass of tightly-wound curls, in a style typi-cal of the “big hair heavy metal” look of the 80's. His physique, which was displayed in several pic-tures, was mountainously huge, even by current standards. His wardrobe ranged from 80's-style glam rock to vintage-style Western to studded leather with multiple chains to incredibly wide-legged rave pants with black patent leather shoes and boots with incredibly high heels and platform soles. His wardrobe was rounded out by waist-length tuxedo jackets with matching tuxedo pants with extremely wide legs—and wide satin stripes down the legs to match! To go with the jackets and pants, the photo-graphs showed the young man wearing several different poet shirts with more rows and layers of ruf-fles and lace than either Billy or Alice had ever seen, along with brocaded ties and cummerbunds in almost every color of the rainbow! The girl was also well over six feet in height, and was a prime specimen of what was now referred to as the “femuscle” look. Both her muscles and her curves were extreme in their size and development. Her eyes were a brilliant emerald green, while her own huge head of curls was a gorgeous honey gold in color. The shape and contours of her lovely face complemented that of the boy to utter perfection, as did her wardrobe. The formal gown she wore in one picture—one of the last pictures to be taken prior to her death, judging by the date stamped on it—was of a huge, hooped-skirt design very similar to those that Billy and Alice remembered seeing in “Man In The Iron Mask,” in which Leonardo Di Cap-rio had starred in the early 90's. Even with that, however, her extreme muscularity and curvaceousness were both clearly evident. As the two teens shook their heads in amazement, the shop owner showed them another, smaller binder. “These are the last pictures I took of them prior to their deaths,” he said softly, a sad, wistful smile on his face. For a long moment, Billy and Alice each put a sympathetic hand on the old man's shoulders. Then, almost reluctantly, they opened the binder—and, when they did, they almost fainted. The first group of photos showed the young couple together, in what was obviously a set of formal prom por-traits. Only in these pictures, however, did the young couple’s true size and sheer good looks, aug-mented almost to the level of obscenity by their formal attire, truly become apparent. The last pictures of the young couple, however, were startling in their contrast to the previous group. These photographs displayed them in Western parade outfits that fairly dripped, oozed, and radiated vintage-style Western wealth, luxury, and extravagance. Virtually every square inch of each outfit was laden with gold, silver, platinum, and precious and semi-precious stones in every color of the rainbow. The saddles, bridles, chaps, spurs, and other tack in these outfits were easily worthy of being worn in the Tournament of Roses Parade, to say nothing of virtually any other parade or rodeo imaginable. Again, Alice and Billy shook their heads in amazement as they closed the binder. “And you’re selling both of their wardrobes?” Alice inquired. The old man nodded. “Even the rodeo outfits are included,” he said. “In fact, their wills specifically stated that both of their wardrobes must be sold together and complete—even their jewelry. That’s the major reason I haven’t been able to dispose of them before now.” As the two teens’ jaws dropped wide open in response, he went on, “Come, let me show them to you.” He thereupon led Alice and Billy from one display area to another, showing off both the boy’s and the girl’s attire. “These outfits look awfully big,” Billy remarked as he looked over one of the waist-length tuxedo jackets. “They were supposed to be that way,” the old man explained. “Aside from the fact that both of them were avid teenage bodybuilders, outfits from the ‘glam rock’ era of the 80's were often made oversized to emphasize the look of luxury and extravagance. All of them, however, can be altered without any difficulty, and since you still have almost two weeks until your prom—well, need I say more?” The old man smiled, and the two teens grinned appreciatively. “Before you make a final decision,” the shop owner went on, “let me show you the rodeo gear. I have it locked in a vault in the back of the shop for security reasons, as I’m sure you can understand.” As the two teens nodded, the owner went to the front of the shop, where he locked the front door shut. “I’m required to do this for insurance reasons,” he explained. Again, the two teens nodded their understand-ing, as the old man led them to the back of the shop. Here, a large vault, similar to what might be en-countered in a bank, stood buried in one of the walls. Using a magnetic key similar to ones Alice and Billy had seen in restaurants where they had worked in the past, the owner keyed in a combination. The mechanism buzzed in response, and the old man tugged on the door handle. Slowly, the ponderous door swung on its hinges, revealing a single large chamber containing the elaborate rodeo gear Alice and Billy had see in the final group of photographs. The two teens were awestruck. They had never seen such Western splendor in their lives. While both Alice and Billy were avid Western horsemen, and could easily qualify as college-level or even profes-sional rodeo or parade performers (especially trick riding, trick roping, and whip handling), neither one of them had ever dreamed of owning outfits as fine as these. Every piece in the collection, from the huge, wide-brimmed hats to the studded, fringed, gauntletted gloves, and even the spurs, was in as per-fect condition as if it had been made yesterday. After silently looking over the collection, Billy and Alice looked at each other for a long moment with-out speaking. Then, quietly, Billy looked the old man straight in the eye and said, “We’ll take it—the whole kit and kaboodle!” The owner hesitated for a moment, then asked, “You’re sure that this is what you want?” Quietly, but firmly, Alice replied, “Yes, sir—we’re positive!” In response, the old man lift-ed his eyes upward silently for a long moment, as if he were giving thanks for an answered prayer. Then, he led the two teens back out of the vault, locking the door behind them. As they went back toward the front of the shop, Billy asked, “How much do you want for all of this?” “$500,000,” the owner replied, “including all sales taxes, insurance, and delivery costs.” Billy’s and Alice’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Both teens had expected a much higher figure, especially given the size and quality of the rodeo gear collection. Nevertheless, they accepted the figure without a mo-ment’s hesitation. “I’ll have my attorneys make the necessary arrangements first thing in the morning,” Billy assured the old man. Then, checking his watch, he went on, “In fact, they should still be in their office, so let me call them right now.” As the old man unlocked the front door, Billy pulled out his cell phone. Within a few minutes, he had made the necessary arrangements. He then discussed delivery arrangements with the shop owner, who was only too happy to work around Billy’s and Alice’s school schedule. As they wrapped up the final details, the old man sighed gratefully. “At last, I can close up this shop and wind up my personal af-fairs,” he commented. At sight of the look of alarm that came over the two teens’ faces, he smiled and explained, “You needn’t be so alarmed, my friends—I'm not talking about cancer or suicide or anything like that! Nevertheless, I’m at an age now such that I’m more than ready to retire. My dear wife passed away several years ago, and my other relatives are well taken care of, so when my time comes, I should be as ready as anyone can be!” “Billy and I hope that time is a long way off, sir!” Alice said quietly, as the two teens took the old man’s hands in theirs. His eyes filled with tears as he replied, almost in a whisper, “Thank you, kids—thank you very much!” With that, they went to the front door. As they did so, the old man took a sign from underneath the front counter. As the two teens bade him goodbye, he fastened it to the door. On the sign, four words were printed: “CLOSED—OUT OF BUSINESS.” With that, the two teens went on their way. Three days later, the wardrobes arrived at the large ranch at the edge of town where Billy had grown up with his parents. Alice was there to help him sort out the various items between Billy and herself. By mutual consent, however, the rodeo gear for both teens stayed at the ranch, whose tack room had been equipped with an alarm system. Billy had arranged for the alarm system to be upgraded while waiting on the rodeo gear to be delivered, and when he and Alice got another look at the items included, he was glad he had done so. Between schoolwork and the prom arrangements, it was not until four days prior to the prom that the two teens finally got the chance to actually start trying on some of the outfits they had purchased. To their surprise, everything they tried on fit them surprisingly well, despite its being oversized. After try-ing on at least half a dozen combinations, Billy and Alice both decided to wear the fanciest outfits they had in their new wardrobe. After all, they both reasoned, a senior prom comes along only once in a lifetime, so why not get gussied up to the max for it? Alice had been studying cosmetology at the high school where she and Billy attended, so it was only natural that she should be the one to work up an appropriate makeup scheme for each of them. The result was a smoky, sultry color scheme for both teens, accented with multi-colored glitter. Even the lipstick they both decided to wear had multi-colored glitter in it. They also opted to wear so-called “rainbow” crystal ear studs as an additional accent. As a final touch, the two teens decided to tease their respective hairstyles up as big as they possibly could. This last touch would be carried out at the high school’s own hairstyling facilities, under Alice’s personal supervision. In the interim between his parents’ deaths and the prom, Billy and Alice, who were already very much an item at their high school, had become even closer. So much so, in fact, that by the eve of the prom, Billy made what he well knew would be one of the most important decisions of his life. To that end, the night before the prom, after Alice had gone home for the night, Billy went into the tack room, where all of the previous owners' jewelry had been stored. Awestruck as he was, Billy looked carefully over the jewelry collection. As he did so, Billy could not repress a wistful sigh. While both he and Alice were decidedly athletic—especially when it came to their rodeo performing—the simple fact was that neither one of them was anywhere near as big, or as brawny, as the previous young owners of the collection had been. Although the outfits they had chosen would look undeniably good on them, Billy could not help wishing that he and the girl he loved were big enough, and brawny enough, to fill out their respec-tive prom outfits the way they really deserved. Finally, after looking through the jewelry collection repeatedly, Billy found a pair of ring boxes that he had not noticed before. When he opened them, he instantly realized that he had found precisely what he was looking for. One box contained what were obviously his-and-hers engagement rings. The other box, as might be expected, contained his-and-hers wedding bands. All four rings were lavishly studded with precious and semi-precious stones in every color of the rainbow. Furthermore, a careful scrutiny showed that the engagement rings and the wedding bands were designed to lock together, thereby symbolically emphasizing the binding nature of marriage. With a nod of satisfaction, Billy took the box containing the engagement rings and set it aside, returning the box containing the two wedding bands to their original location. As he prepared to exit the tack room, on impulse, Billy bowed his head and silently prayed that the out-fits and the jewelry that he and Alice had chosen for the prom would prove to be a fitting tribute to the two young lovers who had perished so tragically some two decades before, just when they had been ready to crown their relationship by becoming engaged. As Billy left the tack room and re-engaged the lock and the alarm system, he felt as if the two teens in question were somehow smiling down on him. He carefully locked the ring box in a hidden safe in his parents’ former bedroom, and then went to bed. The day of the prom dawned sunny and warm, with brilliant blue skies and low humidity. For some reason, Billy felt unaccountably full of strength and energy as he fixed his breakfast, which was much larger then normal for him. Even so, Billy all but inhaled his morning meal in only 15 minutes. His lunch was even larger, yet Billy did not feel the least bit stuffed or overfull. On the contrary, in fact—Billy felt as though his energy levels were being pumped up higher than they had ever been before. As he finally began cleaning up before getting into his prom outfit, Billy suddenly got a good look at himself in his full-length bedroom mirror. His mouth dropped open for a long moment as he realized that both his hair and his muscles were already substantially larger and handsomer than they had ever been before. What was more, it actually looked as though they were both still growing. Even his sex organs were noticeably larger than Billy remembered, and they too appeared to be swelling with ever-increasing size, sexual power, potency, and virility. Billy swallowed hard as he realized the implications of what was going on, and even more so as he considered what could be happening to the girl he loved. If this continued, Billy realized, by the time they got to the prom Billy and Alice could be every bit as big, as strong, and as drop-dead-gorgeous as the two teens who had originally owned the outfits that Billy and Alice were even now preparing to wear that night. He humbly bowed his head and prayed for God’s guidance and protection going to and from the prom, as well as during the prom itself and the post-prom breakfast, not only for himself and Alice, but for all of those involved in the night’s activities. As if in direct response, Billy felt his strength and energy levels skyrocket as he headed for the bathroom to shower, shave, do his hair, and put on his makeup. By the time he was actually ready to get into his prom suit, Billy’s chest had more than doubled in size, and his other muscles had grown in direct proportion. As he put on one article of prom clothing and accessories after another, his muscles swelled even further and faster, as did his hair. By the time the young millionaire put on his rainbow-brocaded tie and cummerbund, and then put on his waist-length tuxedo jacket, he looked for all the world like a teenaged glam rock superstar. As he opened the safe and drew out the engagement ring box, he truly felt that way as well. After putting the ring box into his right jacket pocket, Billy pulled on his white kid gloves, then carefully put on a gorgeous top hat that complemented the rest of his outfit perfectly. Then, picking up the dress cane which had come with the wardrobe, Billy preened himself in front of the mirror in his bedroom. Almost perfect, he realized—al-most, but not quite. Something was missing—but what? In a flash, Billy realized that he needed to wear a cape to take his prom outfit over the top. Looking in his closet, he quickly found just such a cape and put it on. That did it! Now, Billy realized, he truly looked like the “King of the Prom, ” even if he wasn’t. His muscles seemed to swell up bigger yet, as the horn of the super-stretch limousine he had reserved sounded outside his front door. As he locked the front door and engaged the alarm before getting into the limo, Billy silently gave thanks for the outfit he was wearing, and prayed that Alice's outfit would be just as gorgeous. In response, his already huge physique swelled up bigger, stronger, and handsomer yet as he got into the limo for the short drive to Alice’s house. During that short trip, Billy silently prayed that Alice’s parents would look with favor on the request he would shortly make of them. His muscles swelled yet again as he exited the limo, carrying the corsage he had bought for the girl he loved. Alice’s parents were astounded at Billy’s enormous size and power, to say nothing of the glamor and panache he fairly radiated in his prom outfit. While he was waiting for Alice to join them, Billy took a deep breath, his chest expanding to even more gigantic proportions, and very quietly and humbly asked Mr. and Mrs. Johnson for permission to marry Alice. He was overjoyed when Mr. Johnson replied, “Take her with our blessing, son—we couldn’t possibly want a better son-in-law in the whole wide world!” He instantly threw his enormous arms around his future in-laws in a super-powerful, yet gen-tle and loving embrace. Only moments after he released them, Alice finally came to join them. Billy almost fainted as for the first time he beheld the girl he loved in her full prom outfit. She had become nothing less than the ul-timate cross between a supermodel and the so-called “femuscle” look. For her part, Alice almost swooned at the sight of her long-time boyfriend, now raised to the level of glam rock muscle royalty. Billy carefully fastened the corsage in place on her gown, then gave her the deepest kiss they had ever shared up to this point. Then, in the traditional manner, Billy went down on one knee, pulled out and opened the box containing the engagement rings, and humbly asked Alice to marry him. Alice's swift reply was, “Oh, yes, Billy, YES, a thousand times YE-E-E-E-E-E-S!!” Billy instantly rose to his feet, growing even larger as he did so. The young couple exchanged the rings, and then they ex-changed a kiss more powerful than even the one from a few moments earlier. As they then threw their now-gargantuan arms around each other in a tearful embrace, Alice’s body grew to a perfect match with that of her future husband. Even as they rode to the prom, the young couple felt, not only that they were becoming even more su-per-muscular, but that their outfits were becoming more decadent as well. Their arrival caused a total sensation among the other prom-goers, who showered them with cheers, wolf whistles, compliments and congratulations. The announcement that Billy and Alice had unanimously been elected Prom King and Queen (many of their friends and classmates told them they really should have been called “Prom Emperor and Empress”) was topped only by the further announcement of their engagement by Billy himself, including a formal invitation to the entire class to attend the wedding, which would take place directly after graduation exercises some six weeks later. The entire senior class went wild with joy, and the young couple found themselves being mobbed as though they were glam rock megastars! As the festivities came to their conclusion with the traditional post-prom breakfast, after which Billy and Alice rode home in their limo, Billy and Alice smuggled up to each other, finally falling into a light doze. As they arrived at Alice’s home, where her smiling parents were waiting for her, the young cou-ple awoke. With a puzzled expression on her face, Alice turned to Billy and reported, “You know, babe, I had this strange dream that those two teens who originally wore these outfits were actually smiling down on us the entire evening!” With a wicked grin, Billy replied, “Maybe they were, darling—or maybe it was a vision of some kind! Either way, I'm sure not gonna argue with it—especially after what’s happened to us!” He flexed his mountainous arms for emphasis, and Alice promptly did like-wise, a wicked grin on her own drop-dead-gorgeous features. The two exchanged a deep kiss, and then Billy returned home. After he had bade the limo driver farewell with a huge tip, Billy finally headed inside, picking up the Sunday paper as he did so. As he began to remove his prom attire, the young giant (now over 7 feet tall, with more muscle packed on his frame than he had ever thought possible) began reading through the paper. He froze as one item captured—nay, riveted—his attention. “Oh, no!” he groaned. The story he had just read was the obituary of the elderly gentleman who had sold Billy and Alice the ward-robes of the two dead teenagers. Indeed, the obituary mentioned the earlier tragedy, and that, just prior to his short retirement, he had sold the two teens’ wardrobes as his last act prior to closing his shop. Billy was deeply saddened. Still, he remembered that the old man had told them that he was ready for death whenever it might come, and especially now that he had been able to carry out his late son’s final wishes in making his wardrobe, and that of his girlfriend, available to another young couple who would enjoy getting glammed up as much as they did. As he continued perusing the story, Billy’s phone rang. He was not surprised when the caller proved to be Alice, who was practically in tears after having read the story. Billy gently pointed out to his fiancee that, if nothing else, they had helped the old man wind up his affairs, so that he could truly “rest in peace.” They talked a little while longer, and then they both finally went to bed. Just over six weeks later, Alice and Billy were married, in what the local papers called, “the richest, most glamorous, most luxurious wedding in this city’s history.” (Although he was still on tour, Justin Bieber made a point of send the young couple a message of congratulations, along with tickets to the final concert on his current tour.) Both teens were now a whopping 7' 7” tall, with muscles and hair to match, and wore the richest, most “glam-rocking gorgeous” outfits in the wardrobe they had purchased nearly three months before. As they entered the limo which would take them to the airport to begin their honeymoon, the two young super-giants silently gave thanks for what had been bestowed upon them. As they dozed off en route to the airport, they once again seemed to see the two teens whose wardrobes they had purchased—only this time, the boy's father and mother were with them, smiling warmly, as if to bestow a final blessing on them as they began their new life together.

This story is coming to an end. Got some hot stuff here. Enjoy! Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 A College Weight Room Story: The Path to Gains Thursday. Cardio, Biceps, and Back Day: Part 5 It is 9:45. Troy and I are standing in the weight room drenched in sweat. I’m pumped as fuck. We ran 2 miles this morning and decided to work chest and back afterwards. We are 15 minutes into our bicep workout. I can see the veins in Troy’s blood pumping with blood with each dumbbell curl and his arms aren’t all that’s pumping with blood. His cock is obviously hard through his running shorts, which are so short that they barely reach the middle of his thigh. I see his meat twitch with every curl and in a way I can feel his alpha energy radiating from his body. I have two 40 pound dumbbells and he has two 45 pound ones. His biceps are obviously stronger than mine. His rock hard biceps are burning read as he curls and I wish so much to be as big as him. We finish our last set and I pat him on the back. It is still drenched with sweat from our run, but I don’t care. “Fuck bro, your biceps are swole as ever,” I say. “Thanks man,” he says. “But look at yourself. Those are boulders. Flex those babies.” He looks in the mirror and flexes his bicep. I flex both of my biceps. I am wearing a black stringer tank top and the flexing reveals my hard pecs and with both biceps flexed, I look amazing. Troy’s eyes light up. “Shit bro!” he says. “I need to get a pic of this!” He takes out his camera and we strike the same pose. “Look at the two of us alphas.” He says this while showing me the picture. “Two powerful bros, ready to crush all of those that get in our way.” “Me, an alpha?” I say. “Yeah dude!” he basically yells. “Look at these arms!” he says and grabs holds of both of my biceps. “You’re a beast!” I don’t know how to respond to this, but before I can Troy gets a message on his phone. He looks down at his phone and his eyes open wide. “Holy shit, man! I got an internship in Superset City!” “WHAT?!?” I am shocked. Superset City is the fitness capital of the entire United States. The only people that live there are pro bodybuilders, extreme fitness enthusiasts, and basically anyone with a bod worth showing. “I got an internship in the swollest city in the word! Fuck!!” He is shaking with excitement. “When will you leave?” I say. I am a bit panicked. Troy can’t just leave. “Next Fall is our senior year. Dude, you should apply. I don’t have a roommate yet and it would be cool to be able to work out and chill with you every day!” “Really?” “Yeah, man! Just promise me you’ll think about it” I hesitate. I never thought about doing an internship, but to go away with Troy would be amazing. I don’t know why he wants me to go, but I don’t want to let him down. “I’ll think about it.” I say. “Great!” We continue to work out. Troy is even more pumped than before and we charge our way through the rest of our biceps and back workouts. We are burnt out by 10:45 and in a desperate need to shower. Troy follows me into the locker room. I no longer feel nervous when I go in here alone with him and I immediately begin stripping. Once my clothes are off I see that Troy is already naked too. He stands directly behind me and I know he is looking at me. “Wow man,” he says. “I feel like you are swelling up every time I see you.” I turn around and look at him. He stands in front of me fully erect and I feel like I could ask him anything at this moment. He just doesn’t seem to give a fuck that his showing me his all. I look down at his hard abs. They are protruding from his stomach, each individual muscle begging to me caressed. His cock points straight to the ceiling and is oozing with pre-cum. My dick starts to stiffen up and I see his eyes twitch down towards it. “Like what you see, bro?” he asks. This question shocks me. How do I respond to such a question? Should I tell him that his hard body turns me on or would that ruin our friendship? I decide to try to turn the conversation. “Dude, you look great, but I need to take care of this hard on,” I say. “I always feel like busting one after a good workout.” He looks at me inquisitively and slowly begins to move forward, his eyes never leaving mine. He stands right in front of me and I see him debate something in his mind. His eyes are full of questions and then suddenly a look of remorse comes over him as if he suddenly changed his mind about something. He backs away slightly and walks towards the showers. “Let’s go man!” he says over his shoulder. I watch his tight ass as he walks away. Fuck. My cock is dripping just thinking about those swollen globes. I follow behind him and get into the second shower, He is in the first and I hear him turn on the water. I turn mine on and thinking about his ass I start stroking my cock. I feel so close already. Suddenly my curtain is open and I am shocked. My hand is immediately off my erect dick and I turn around. TROY IS STANDING IN THE SHOWER WITH ME!! “You know… Out of all the muscles on your body that I have touched,” he says, creeping slowly towards me. “I have never touched this one.” He slowly reaches his right hand down and wraps it around my cock. Fuck! What is happening? He begins to stroke me and my body is filled with immense pleasure. His other hand begins to play with my nipples. I feel so good that I don’t know how to reacted, so I just melt into his hands. He begins to stroke faster and faster and his left hand beings to feel my abs. I begin to shake, my climax is building. “There it is big guy,” he says, “Let it all out. Show me what an alpha’s cock can do!” My cock bursts! Hot white streaks splatter Troy’s chest, dripping down onto his own cock and I finally let in a gasp of air. I fall back against the wall soaking wet. “Nice, bro!” he says and steps out of my shower and back into his. I’m still shaking as I hear him begin to moan. I finish cleaning and I know he is done when he turns his water off. I wait a minute, still lost in thought and then I turn off my water and go out to get changed. I don’t speak as I get dressed. I don’t know what to say, but then I remember his text about wrestling from yesterday. “So dude, you still wanna wrestle tonight after dinner?” I say “That’s right!” he says. “Heck yah man! I don’t have a singlet, I hope you don’t mind if I don’t wear one.” “Nah man, that’s cool. I just won’t wear mine.” “No! You have to wear it dude! I love that thing on your bod. It shows off the best of you.” “You mean my dick?” I say and laugh. “That’s just one of the good parts,” he says and laughs also. Well, at least he likes my dick. That’s good. Right? Troy’s phone begins to go off and he looks down at it. The light in his eyes die down as he ignores the call. I notice that his attitude is a little damp. “You ok, man? I ask. “Everything is cool,” Troy says anxiously. I can tell that everything is not cool “What wrong?” I’m just a bit worried about my relationship. My girlfriend is worried that I will get too big and she doesn’t want to date anyone bigger than me.” “So what does that mean?” “She wants me to stop working out.” What?! That’s crazy as fuck.” “Agreed.” “Well I hope you guys can work it out,” I say although it is a lie. “Thanks, bro,” he says. We begin our walk out of the gym and plan to meet to wrestle an hour after dinner. It wasn’t until dinner time that I heard from my friend Angelica, who had heard from Cassidy, who had heard from Joy that Troy and his girlfriend had broken up, not even an hour after the two of us had left the gym.

I will apologize ahead of time, there is no growth or sex in this scene, but it is setting up for the next scene. I hope you enjoy and please leave feedback if there is a certain direction you would like to see this story go. I keep hitting roadblocks in this story. Thank you everyone for all of your support Blue Pill Part 10 Modest would not even begin to describe fletcher valleys quarterback. It wouldn’t even begin to describe the massive home he lives in either. Chris had just returned home after his most recent fuck session in the gym with Luke amped up and ready to long dick his girlfriend Stacy for a few hours. “Hey baby, did you miss me? Cause my dick sure missed that tight snatch of yours!” Chris arrogantly flexed his dick inside his shorts, making the head of his python pop out the bottom. Stacy couldn’t take her eyes off the newly grown muscle man. “My god Chris, you’ve gotten so huge!” her eyes caught the tip of his dick peeking out of his shorts, so she reached forward and grabbed hold. She began massaging the meat in one hand until she realized that she couldn’t encircle it as it began to harden. “Jesus Christ! This things not even fully hard yet” Stacy exclaimed in awe as she got closer to examine it. Not believing what she was seeing. “Not even close.” Chris said with a smirk on his face. Chris reached one of his meaty paws out and wrapped it behind Stacy’s head, pulling her into his groin. He felt her begin pulling back so he let go. “There’s no way I can suck that thing! It’s too big already Christopher!” She had the look of fear in her eyes as she backed up, looking up from her man’s mammoth dick all the way up his muscular torso to his rage filled eyes. “Well if you won’t suck it, then I will just fuck you with it. How about that?” It was more of a statement than a question coming from Chris as he reached out wrapping a hand around her torso and pulling her closer. Stacy could feel Chris’s dick throbbing between her legs and up her skirt. “Now I’m fully hard, all 14 inches of me. Do I not have the biggest dick you’ve ever seen?” Chris began reaching under Stacy’s skirt with his other hand, moving her panties to one side as he readjusted his dick so the head was lined up with her clit. Stacy began to push against Chris’s rock hard pecs in protest. “You’re not fucking me with that freak dick! I don’t know how you got this big so fast, but you weren’t this big a few days ago.” “I know it’s great isn’t it!” Chris said with an evil gleam in his eyes. He began rubbing his gargantuan helmet along her pussy lips, getting his dick head wet with her juices. As Chris began pushing the head of his dick into Stacy, she began to scream in protest, punching Chris everywhere she could. “ENOUGH!” Chris slapped Stacy across the face. A look of shock and horror filled her eyes. “NOW I’M GONNA GET LAID AND YOUR GOING TO TAKE MY DICK WETHER YOU WANT TO OR NOT!” Chris grabbed underneath Stacy’s arms and easily lifted her up as his dick head once again found the entrance to her moist cave. “Chris, please don’t!” Stacy shouted as tears began to fill her eyes. “Once I get completely inside you, you’ll love it, I promise.” Chris began lowering Stacy down onto his dick. She just rested on the head of his dick. Her pussy not accommodating to the girth of Chris’s gargantuan tool. Chris began getting frustrated so he switched his hand to rest on top of Stacy’s shoulders and he began applying force. Softly at first and then with increasing pressure. “STOP IT CHRISTOPHER! YOU’RE GOING TO RIP ME OPEN” becoming panicked, Stacy only thought of one way out. She swung her leg back and with all her might swung it forward. With the force of the impact of her foot on Chris’s baseball sized testical, it was enough for the behemoth to become winded. Chris let go of Stacy and grabbed for the shooting pain coming from his aching nut sack. Stacy tumbled to the floor and without missing a beat, ran out the door and out of Chris’s house to her car. “FUCK YOU, YOU STUPID BITCH. I WAS OVER YOU ANYWAY!” Chris yelled in agony as he lay on the ground holding his balls. Stacy sped off down the driveway leaving Chris and his aching balls in the dust, tears rolling down her face and anger in her eyes. After a couple minutes of lying on the floor, Chris began to get the nerve to get up. He grabbed onto the edge of his bed and when he fully stood he had a sharp shooting pain emanating from his balls. “Fuck! I need some aspirin.” Chris headed towards his bathroom. He flipped on the light and stepped up to his vanity, noting his body’s reflection in the mirror. Seeing his mass filled frame and vein covered beef only started to make his dick hard again. He opened the cabinet and rummaged through all the contents, not finding a single bottle of aspirin. “Shit!” Chris said slamming the cabinet door shut. “Maybe dad has some in his bathroom. Chris waddled his way out of his bedroom and pain stakingly made his way down stairs. Once he made it to the end of the hall he turned into his dads room and then into his bathroom. He opened the cabinet pushing bottles out of the way as they fell out and rattled across the tiled bathroom floor. Finally eyeing some ibuprofen at the back of the cabinet, Chris grabbed the bottle, popped the top off and downed 4. “That should do it.” Chris leaned down to get a drink of water from the faucet. Chris stood back up to his full height and once again caught eye of his own reflection. He began flexing his massive peaked biceps in the mirror. Making his pecs jump as he tweaked his diamond hard nipples. “Man that bitch is fucking crazy not wanting to get fucked by this.” Chris said as he went into a double bicep flex. Grunting and beginning to sweat, Chris noticed the head of his dick poking its way up past his belly button and along the ridges of his abs. Chris held one arm flexed as he reached down with his other hand and began massaging the head of his dick. Pre- cum began gushing out of the tip as his dick reached full hardness. He began lubing up his dick with his pre-cum. “Fuck, I gotta fuck something and soon. Maybe I will see if I can get that tight ass Luke to sit on my dick again.” Chris began to head out of his father’s bathroom, when his foot made contact with something on the floor sending it rattling across the bathroom. Chris hadn’t seen, over his mammoth pecs, all the pill bottles he had knocked out of the cabinet. Chris bent over and began picking them up and placing them back in the cabinet. He walked across the bathroom to pick up the bottle his foot had made contact with. As he reached down, he noticed that the bottle didn’t look like any of the others in the cabinet, but looked very familiar. As Chris looked over the bottle he recognized the label. It was the same label that the two bottles had in his locker at school. Chris popped the cap off and inside were black pills.

Hey guys, thanks for the awesome feedback on the first chapter. Here's the second, once again, it was written on my phone, so please excuse the errors. Enjoy! READ PART 1 HERE DWARFED BY DAD PART 2/4 When he grabbed the same weights as me, the same 80-pound dumbbells off the rack, I knew, just like the old man said over breakfast, that he was going to totally outgrow me. But it wasn't going to happen in a week, or even a few days, it was going to happen in a matter of hours. Almost as if he was literally growing bigger by the minute, the second, a growth experiment gone wrong, only it was my father, and there was seemingly no end to his new found muscle lust... “You know what?” Dad suddenly chuckled under his breath. “I think these weights are to LIGHT!” My jaw dropped to the floor, watching him move his way up the rack, right to the bodybuilding coveted 100-dumbbells. As he picked each one up, his sleeveless and huge chiseled grandpa-looking arms suddenly surged in size, definitely bigger than my own, looking like some real bodybuilder, not just an amateur, but some professional title baring bodybuilding hunk, a definition of physical perfection I could only dream of achieving. “OH-fuck, does that feel GOOD!” Dad groaned out loud, all while the whole gym stared, shocked, as he somehow began picking up the pace. He wasn't slowing down like he should have, gritting his teeth, grossly snarling, as the veins in his musclebound and hairy grandpa-looking arms suddenly exploded to grotesque size. Then his biceps, the fat steak sized meat packed triceps, began to rumble, quake beneath his already tight translucent skin, like some ready to erupt volcano. Soon his arms didn't just look twenty-inches, but twenty-one inches, then twenty-two inches. The already obscenely tight sleeveless shirt squeezed tighter, then out of nowhere, impossibly, his indecently painted on gym shorts ballooned even bigger, strained around his bloated old man thighs, his groin, even the back his disgustingly swampy and global muscle man butt. “AW-Yeah, look at this PUMP I'm getting!” Dad roared, continuing his relentless pumping, rep after rep. “I'm looking HUGE!” *RIIIPPP* *RRIIIPPPPPP* “D-Dad, y-your shirt…” I whimpered in concern, in total dumbfounded disbelief, but of course, the old man couldn't have cared less. He stared at himself in the gym mirrors proudly, arrogantly, looking like his ego had exploded ten-fold, the pride of a young testosterone dripping teenager, marveling over the display of hulking muscle bulging destruction, happening right underneath one of his heaving hairy daddy-pecs. There was a small snicker, as he just kept on lifting, unapologetically even, staring right back at me, swinging the two massive weights around like it was a warm up, not stopping until the other side of his shirt unequivocally matched. *RIIPPPPPP* *RIIIIPPPPPPPPP* “HAHA, OH-God damn, would you just check out this PUMP!” *THUD, THUD* Dad set the two weights down on the ground, standing fully up, looking horrendously bigger, a lot bigger! We used to be pretty much eye level, but now, somehow, we weren't even close! The top of his burly bearded face and piercing blue grey eyes soared a couple inches over my own. And then there was the all that muscle, all those rippling layers of bulging new bodybuilder power. He turned to me almost immediately, with a giant smirk on his face, flexing one of his colossal and nearly sixty-year old arms, an absolutely monstrous and musky twenty-three inch hairy arm muscle, this peaking sweaty mountain of bicep, right in my jaw dropped face. “J-JESUS, d-dad!” I whimpered in humility. “I can BARELY breathe!” “GOD-damn, BOY!” Dad chuckled mockingly. “Your old man's BICEP is as big as your whole FACE!” “P-PLease… D-Dad…” I found struggle in my own words, to even breathe, burning red in the face from humiliation, as my dad just continually publically tortured me, feeling as if this eclipsing mountainous muscle stuffed against my face, would be my inevitable doom. But my father luckily pulled away, moving onto the display of his own meaty male muscle cleavage, his own massive hairy pectorals, the cinematic destruction of his workout shirt. You'd think the embarrassing spectacle would have been over, but it wasn't, far from it actually. “HAHA, never thought that I would have TITS bigger than most woman…” Dad joked looked down, relishing on the insane rolling view of his blimping silver chest. With the now insane measurements of his own chest, he nearly effortlessly, not even having to muster up half his strength, that mind-blowing muscle cleavage, to explode through the rest of his upper shirt fabric, huge pec after pec, fat nipple after nipple, suddenly unleashed. *SNAP, SNAP* *RIIIPPPPPPP* “OH-fuck yeah!” Dad bellowed. “W-WHOA, BRO!” Some random college jock approached my father. “You're like the HULK with those giant pecs!” “The HULK, huh!?” Dad responded with a grunt, a gigantic smirk, looking down at the marveling and significantly younger gym jock, having another lightbulb, a deliciously devilish idea, go off in his twisted head. He suddenly turned his stance, the strain of his clothes loudly audible as he walked, cracking and popping all the fabric like branches in a storm. The college aged stud gulped, trembled a bit, with his mouth dangling open, his eyes bulging out of his own sockets, as he came into sweaty view of my father's mammoth and ready to explode backside. It didn't take much more than simple movement, flaring out his grotesquely muscle engorged veiny arms to the side of his godly stance, placing his hands on his waist, right before everyone heard the first dramatic tear. *RIIIPPP* My dad couldn't help but chuckle once more, snicker even, his voice sounding even deeper then before, manlier, powerful. With one sudden and swift flex, the back of his sweaty bulging gym shirt was detonated, exploding all the pieces of sweaty grandpa-pungent fabric, right onto the jocks whimpering awestruck face. *POP, SNAP* *RIIIPPPPPPPPP* “H-HOLY-shit, bro!!!” The jock wailed in amazement, removing the destroyed fabric from off his dumbfounded face, the inside of his dangling mouth. “How's THAT for the HULK!?” Dad roared with arrogance, tilting his now bull-sized neck to the side, staring into the large gym floor mirrors reflection, seeing that tiny college jock stand behind him pathetically, like a little school girl, whimpering. Soon after, his two other jock-friends joined him shortly, absolutely losing themselves, as well, over the incredible live muscle devastation. One of the onlooking guys even had this pudgy boner, a pea-sized wet spot, tenting against his light gray gym shorts, totally fagging out. My dad couldn't have cared less, so power drunk off all the attention, he actually fed back into the three men’s queerness, rubbing one of his iron blistered hands right down the middle of his humongous muscular bodybuilding butthole. . “H-HEY man, I'm n-not GAY…” The main college stud whimpered, looking frantically around at his equally jaw-dropped friends, but of course, they all couldn't stop themselves from continuing to stare, drool for that matter. Dad, with an enormous grin plastered on his face, began slowly flexing his lower half, causing his totally titanic swampy old man muscle butt, those unbelievably pumped mammoth muscle thighs, to swell even bigger, just by just a single blink of his commanding power. The ready to blow gym shorts began splitting obscenely around the seams, first around his legs, then right down the center of his gigantic ballooning bodybuilder butthole. *RIIIPPPP* *RIIIPPPPPPP* “O-OH M-MY God!” The three jocks wailed. “FUCK-yeah!” Dad roared. “Just check out the size of those GLUTES, BOYS!” The old man confidentially roared, right as his shorts fell to the ground, leaving him almost completely naked, just his pair of shoes and the most rank sweaty briefs you had ever laid eyes on, so much grandpa-looking pubic hair spilling out the front of his briefs it was grotesque. But my dad continued to flex anyway, enjoying the whole mind boggling spectacle from his own reflection, maneuvering his nearly naked gigantic muscle man butt, even closer to the three whimpering and comparatively puny college jocks, bending over like it was some muscle porn show. “OH-man, he's S-SO fucking H-HUGE!” Another jock wailed like a girl, just as my dad’s tattered white slightly shit-stained grandpa-briefs began squeezing up between the enormous canyon of his own swampy ass crack, helplessly gobbled up, inch by inch, as if his ass was actually eating, leaving nothing more than an inch or two to cover himself from behind, barely anything in the front! “HAHA, looks like ALL my CLOTHES are about to go!” Dad roared with laughter, leaving those gym jocks speechless, in there own puddle of drool, two of them now, boning humiliatingly, stammering to strap their throbbing cock-shafts into the waistband of their gym shorts. As I looked around, out of the bubble of my disbelief, there was a whole crowd of people with their smartphones out, taking pictures, taking videos. Eventually we were asked to leave by the manager, but once again, my dad couldn't have cared less. He strut his huge and nearly naked, grotesquely hairy, old man physique, right out into the parking lot, right out into broad public daylight. He didn't even care about the clothes he left in the locker room, knowing, laughably, that they would no longer fit. “UN-fucking-believable!” Dad roared, adjusting his entirely horse-sized manhood beneath the wheel. “Did you SEE their faces!?” He continued boasting to me in the car, on the drive back to his place. As if things couldn't get any worse, when we got to a red light, about five minutes later driving, dad, besides continually fixing his out of control aroused musky-old man cock, began playfully flexing his now mammoth and hairy musclebound thighs, thirty-four inches each from the looks of it, right against the underside of the steering wheel, wondering if it was going to “POP OFF”, he kept on repeatedly joking. “D-DAD, don't break the car!” I whined worryingly. “Why NOT, son?” Dad chucked, no doubt mustering up another joke. “It'll just turn into good scrap-metal for me to LIFT!” He roared with laughter, raising, more like hauling, his colossal silver muscle arm over my comparatively small little head, still being at a red light, he began twisting and squeezing his power striations against the thin metal roof of his old Honda Civic. I watched looking up, with my mouth once again hanging wide open, seeing the metal actually warp and make the most god-awful groaning sound. *CRRREAKKKKKK* Dad just kept it though, even after the light turned green, flexing his huge skull-sized peaking hairy bicep relentlessly against of the ceiling of the car, almost like he was trying to blow the whole roof off. He giggled after about a minute, like some innocent little boy, playing with his new toy, three or four cars honking behind us, as he no doubt fantasized about another muscle destructing scenario. “HAHA, guess I better invest in a convertible…” Dad joked, smirking right at me, winking. He looked so stuffed into that tiny car already, it would have actually made sense. To think, when we had left the house this morning, he looked like a mere average bodybuilder, an old one, but now he was this total stage- ready competition-crushing muscle hunk, insatiable for more size, a desire to grow endlessly. The next two days were our off days, Saturday and Sunday. The whole situation had me absolutely biting my nails, sick to my stomach even, especially about the growing part. Even when I watch the videos online that people posted, “Huge Grandpa Growing”, over and over again, I just didn't understand how he was doing it, how this whole thing was even possible. Luckily, dad, wasn't to savvy with computers. “Morning, DAD!” I showed up to his house Monday morning, for our usual pre-workout breakfast. Usually the old man would be already cooking in the kitchen, but this morning, there was only these loud beastly grunts, emanating from the bathroom down the hall, the running shower. I know it was wrong of me, it was so wrong of me to even think it, but with an enormous gulp, I began, feeling intoxicated by the prospect, making my way down the long dark hallway, seeing the light at the end, the open bathroom doorway, a view of his naked figure after a long weekend. He was without a doubt jacking-off, the old-pervert still had it in him. As I turned the corner, even I had to cover my mouth from the loud escaping gasp about to be released, but it was tragically too late. “Is that YOU, son?” Dad’s voice bellowed. He was huge, monstrous, godly, a voice so deep, it vibrated my ear drums. The shadowed outline of his physique, this totally door-wide gigantic muscular backside, even through all the steam, I could tell, his shoulder width must have easily stretched up to four feet wide. Sitting below, two watermelon-sized glutes slammed against the steamed glass, the silhouette of these two tree-trunk sized legs, with nowhere to go, bloated and stuffed so largely together with muscle, it was a wonder how he could even move, how he even got into the shower in the first place. I knew I had to say something... “Y-Yeah…” I stuttered nervously, shaking, creeping out from behind the corner. “S-Should I start making us b-breakfast, Dad?” “SO glad you're here, squirt.” Dad blatantly ignored my question. “I need help WASHING my backside. There’s just TOO much muscle for me to move, HAHA!” My eyes bulged as he laughed, right out of my sockets, wanting to cover my ears from his tremendously deep voice, the loud thumping of the shower with each small movement of his no doubt gigantic feet. I couldn't believe what he was asking, what I was still seeing. We had seen each other naked tons of times, even when I was growing up as a kid, but this was different, this felt GAY! “U-Uh…” I stuttered, looking down at my bulging cock. “OH-come on, son! Don't be a QUEER about this.” Dad bellowed demeaningly. “Your DAD needs help.” He made it sound so serious, but I could hear that undertone, that snicker. I undressed anyway, knowing what was about to happen, whimpering at my misfortune. There was no going back from this... ******************************************** READ PART 3 HERE Comments are appreciated !

Please excuse the errors as this was written on my phone. Enjoy! DWARFED BY DAD PART 1/4 It was shortly after my dad’s second divorce that he would start joining me at the gym. I was a hobbiest bodybuilder, at best, standing at five-foot-eleven and weighing in at around 235-pounds. He was definitely eager to get in shape, “impress the ladies”, to quote him correctly. Things started at a little slow, especially those first couples months. I wasn’t really holding my breath though, given the fact that he was pushing sixty-years old. But one week as we rinsed off in the locker room showers, after a nearly three-hour workout, I noticed the remarkable faint rippling of muscle beneath his usual beefy silver haired abdomen. Then as he raised his hands to wash his hair, there was slight bulge beneath his upper arms, a simple curvature, a bicep. “Looks like you’re finally showing some results, dad!” I proudly complimented “About time!” Dad said giving his arms a couple quick pumps, holding back his excited smirk. “Just the beginning I hope…” The unexpected scenario made me wonder, not by any means worryingly, just how big the old man was planning to get. I was excited to see his motivation. Seeing actual visual results had my dad pushing harder then ever after that day, so hard in fact, it felt like having an actual workout buddy, rather than just my father tagging along. “You ready to see these gains, dad?” It was towards the end of this one week, about seven weeks later, I felt so mammothly pumped from this totally insane new workout plan I was on, I honestly couldn't wait to see the results. A couple weeks back, we had agreed to only start weighing ourselves once a week, just for kicks. So with my dad standing next to me, showing the slightest signs of muscle bulging beneath his old man skin, I might add, we both stood on the gyms identical digital scales. At the time, he weighed about fifty-pounds less than I did, or so I thought. “How did I LOSE weight?” I blurted the words out loud, feeling my smirk, my pride, fall out my gut and onto the gym floor. All the work I had put in these last couple weeks, all that time, just seeing the loss of eight-pounds, on the scales digital readout, had me absolutely nauseous. It had to be an error, I thought. But I stepped back on, seeing the same readout, “239-pounds”. I was so close to finally reaching my goal of 250-pounds last week, it didn't make any sense! “Looks like the opposite over here, champ.” My dad delightfully remarked, making me turn piercingly, cringe my teeth even. The old man really did mean the opposite, standing there proudly next to me, pumping on his old arms, creating this ridiculously meaty bulge against his arm, this defined bicep, with the scale blinking a readout of 194-pounds, a gain of exactly eight-pounds. I'll be honest with you, seeing the slightly smaller gap between us, had me slightly anxious. “W-Wow...” I still tried to play it cool, with an embarrassing stutter. “I never thought that you would actually start gaining muscle, dad.” I’m pretty sure that statement just added fuel to the fire, as my old man, with those piercing blue grey eyes, turned to me looking like some arrogant teenager, the glamour of a new challenge, twinkling behind his once bored now lustful eyes. The next day, he showed up strapped into proper gym clothes, bulging even bigger than yesterday, or so it looked. I figured it was just a different clothing size, but then, and I know this sounds crazy, it was almost becoming impossible, as the days went on, to even keep up. “Look at this, champ!” Dad raised his bulging silver muscle arm in front of my face. “Sleeves are getting tight…” He had gained ANOTHER eight-pounds since last week. The small curving mound of muscle had developed into a full blown peak, this enormous baseball, stuffed beneath his silver haired old man arms. Dad couldn’t help but love showing off his incredible developments, at the gym, at home, even at the grocery store. I'll admit though, they were incredible to look at, even though I was still bigger, it was just crazy to see that kind of muscle on a man old enough to be most people's grandpa. “Now my shorts are getting tight…” Another week past, and this time he gained TEN-POUNDS of muscle. I couldn't believe it. In fact, most days I wanted to be sick. With all that extra weight, he was now less than twenty-pounds away from outgrowing me, this huge bodybuilding grandpa, in just a matter of months, weighing in 212-pounds of muscle. Just like he said, his shorts, the brand new ones he had only too recently bought, were now bulging with insane dimensions of his veiny bloated silver old man muscle thighs, disgustingly cupping his groin area obscenely, especially when he would squat. “J-Jesus, dad, I’ve never seen anything like it…” I still tried to play it cool, liked the avid bodybuilding I am. “You’re telling me, kid” Dad lifted up his shirt, revealing this EIGHT-pack of abs. “I’m EXPLODING with muscle” I dropped my jaw, the whole gym did. What fucking sixty-year old has hairy deep cut chiseled abs! On top of that, he looked almost twice as ripped as yesterday, with this iron-plated-v jutting down into his sagging, yet horrendously overstuffed and bulging, neon gym shorts. That day, while we were in the shower, I honestly couldn't stop staring, gawking, and my dad just ate it all up. How was he growing so fast!? To make matters worse, as far as feeling emasculated, that is, I was born practically hairless, barely any hair on my body at all, “baby smooth”, my dad would often comment. “I look like a fucking KING!” Dad, however, as he spouted his arrogance, lavishly rubbed and soaped up his growing rippling display of hairy meaty male muscle cleavage, rubbing and pinching his flapjack-sized nipples, getting off on his prowess, all his newfound power, like some total king, just like he said, this unstoppable growing alpha man. RIIIPPPPPP RRIIIIIPPPPPPP “GOD-damn, would you look at that!” Two weeks later, dad finally grew to the point of bursting through his first article of clothing. He said the words so delightfully, looking unapologetically smug, like he expected this to happen, turning his gaze delightfully, raising his arm, to see the small gaping hole on the underside of sleeve, right in the middle of his huge sweaty hairy armpit. He was so playful and curious, some big kid at the breakfast table, fingering the small opening almost like it was pussy, even going as far as slightly tearing it, which seemed to gave him an idea. It was with a devilish chuckle, like a lightbulb going off in his head, he raised that same arm and gave it a mighty and monstrous flex. RIIIIPPPPPP “GUNS bigger than Superman's!” He roared as his bicep, this totally massive bowling ball of chiseled hairy perfection, suddenly exploded through his sleeve, an atomic-bomb going off, blowing the fabric apart into a million threaded pieces, a scene out usually only my comic books, my dreams, all while I was eating breakfast. Then, continuing his disgusting piggish muscle show, he held up and squeezed the huge chiseled peak of old man muscle, right into his face, with so much silver hair flaring out, it was if a forest had grown in this entirely monstrous muscle cave, but it was just armpit “Fuck, I smell like an APE!” Dad gave his armpit a big whiff, inexplicably wafting his horrendous sweaty odor into my face, so sultry it made my dick suddenly bulge underneath the table. I wasn't gay, but fuck, he was just so manly. With my mouth completely dropped open, the half-eaten bacon and eggs falling back to my plate, I knew it would be hard for dad to not keep demonstrating and showing off his superior growing muscle strength. RRIIIIPPPPP “FUCK, yeah!” It wasn't long before he quickly raised his other arm, in a detonating fashion, with an equally loud laugh, a pleasing roar, as his other bicep exploded through the fabric even faster than the first. With both arms free, he began taking turns flexing and posing each magnificent peak of hairy muscle, over twenty-inches now from the looks of it, nearly the same size as mine! He also tried to flex through the front of his shirt, inflating his chest, the enormous blimping grandpa male muscle cleavage, but thankfully he couldn't. That didn't stop him from whistling in delight, openly fantasizing about the prospect of getting even bigger. “Won't be much longer, kid. I expect I'll probably outgrow you by the end of the week…” “I didn't e-even realize you WANTED to grow so big…” I stuttered like a kid. “Are you kidding me? Now that I've got a taste, I don't think I EVER really want to stop growing…” Dad smirked wildly, as he continuously pumped his huge hairy meaty man arm, slowly walking away. I was speechless, dumbfounded, watching, as his big old man bubble butt gobbled and thundered the back of his skin tight gym shorts. I know it may sound kind of weird to note this, I swear, I'm completely straight. But I’m giving you all the details because, and I'm gulping just saying this, his sleeves, weren’t the only thing that he would destroy that day... ************************************************************ Comments are appreciated! ************************************************************ READ PART 2 HERE

Hey guys! This story was supposed to be only a singluar chapter, but the growth scene is getting longer then expected. As usual, I wrote this all on my phone, so please excuses the errors. Enjoy! THE BLACK STALLION PART 1/3 Marcus, took off his shirt in front of me, revealing his totally smooth, yet thickly carved, half-black muscle chest, handing me his smartphone and asking me, his own mother, to snap some pictures of his progress. We stood outside by the pool. I knew it was wrong of me, but I whimpered at nearly every shot. When did my baby boy get so handsome, I kept on thinking, as I bit down on my lips. “Hey, mom!” Now the the boy was even bigger. Standing outside his college dorms, filling up nearly every inch of his college branded hoodie, bloating almost obscenely his once loose basketball shorts. He looked so unbelievably masculine and huge, this big black stallion, I thought, as he stood outside and waited for me handsomely in the rain. “W-Wow!” I stuttered as I got out of the car. “Just look how big you’ve grown!” “Thanks, mom. Sorry about the rain!” “That's Seattle for you!” I tried humorously replying, trying to hold back my motherly whimper, just from receiving the smallest hug. His huge black male muscle cleavage nearly suffocated me, entrapping my tiny white womanly face, between the depths of his musky and incredibly iron carved breast, pungent, even through the outside of his sweater. I squeezed a little tighter, making him squeeze a little more back. I honestly could barely breathe at this point. The powerful wall of his abs, eight huge bricks, combined with his pecs, compacted against my tiny motherly frame, nearly crushing me, with ease, like I was nothing more than some insignificant human grape. “Mind if we go upstairs, for a second, mom?” Marcus shamefully scratched his neck. “I really have to use the restroom.” I figured the poor boy had to take one of his glorious protein dumps, watching him quickly publically scratch his butthole, remembering, with a smile, just how many shit’s he used to take back in high school. It was almost hard to comprehend, just how many he would possibly have to take now, to even sustain such a beastly and huge physique. FARRRTT “S-Sorry, mom!” Marcus stuttered embarrassingly. The smell was nearly unbearable, as I walked closely behind him, behind his monstrous and muscular swampy bubble butthole, up four flights of stairs, up to his dorm room. But that didn't stop me from moving my nostrils any closer. All that was missing was a swinging horse tail and some flies, I queerly joked in my head. That big black stallion ass. He probably could have crushed me up there, if he wanted to. “Here it is.” Marcus said opening the door. “It's pretty tiny.” The smell was even worse in his room, so much overpowering shit and body odor, that in fact, there really was a small swarm of flies in his tiny closet-sized on suite bathroom. Marcus didn't seem the slightest bit phased, opening a window to his room, yes, but only complaining that it was a little hot, and not because of the horrendous smell. “It's cute, sweetie.” “Thanks! My roommate, Carl, just moved out. I don't think he liked that I used the bathroom so much…” Marcus grabbed the base of his sweater. “Oo-OH, well that's a s-shame!” I whimpered frantically, as he suddenly exposed to me every inch of his totally monstrous and muscle bound, now completely hairy, chocolate brown bodybuilder chest. He had pulled up his sweater, accidentally lifting up his t-shirt. There wasn't a single part of my body that could move, so glad that that my little boys face was covered, as I grew so weak in the knees and my panties began sopping wet. “A little help here, mom?” Marcus struggled beneath his own sweater. His beautiful teenage arms had grown so colossally muscular, so overly developed with these obscene black chiseled boulders, that even his t-shirts sleeves became hopelessly caught, the verge of exploding, was more like it. I quickly tried to help, so overwhelmed by his rank manly odor, all the curly and practically afro-thick armpit hair, exploding out into my face. Even I found myself eventually struggling with a whimper, just to help get my baby’s own shirt off, almost afraid that I might slip, fall into the absolute cave of his dark smelly armpit, underneath the mountainous black peaks, twenty-four inches, of teenage bicep, coming down and snuffing me out. “Thanks, mom!” Marcus finally pulled off his sweater. “All my clothes have been getting real tight lately.” He said the words, snapping me out of my daydream, as he raised both arms for a quick flex, proudly and confidentially, high above my small little head. His huge grinning white smile stretched across his black stubbled face. I honestly couldn't hold back this time, as he demonstrated his awesome and titanic teenage muscle strength, to his own proud and watching mother. “OH-OH!” I squealed openly. “Look at the SIZE of my baby’s arms!” “You like these gains, mom?” Marcus flexed a little more. “I really want to get big.” He said the words as if he wasn't big enough, as if the two bowling ball, bigger than my face, skull popping black powerful biceps, weren't enough for my baby’s giant dreaming appetite. I reached up with a gulp, trying so desperately not to show, that at this point, I was on the verge of having some totally out of control, panty destroying, hands-free orgasm. My small white womanly hands, my tiny painted pink fingernails, got nearly lost in the immensity of each bulging muscle head, the sirloin-sized sweaty meat-packs of triceps, dangling from my son’s mammoth arms. They were the biggest arms I had ever felt. FARRTTTT “My goodness!” I yelped. “S-Sorry, mom!” Marcus squirmed, cupping his flatulating butthole. “I almost completely forgot about using the bathroom.” Marcus took a huge couple thumps, turning around and carefully stuffing himself into the tiny closet-sized bathroom. To think, it was just the start of the school year, I lustfully thought. I heard the horrific groan of sewage pipes beneath the walls, the old hardwood floors creak and bend beneath my feet, the walls bow and strain, as he undoubtedly, innocently sat down to go poop. I know it was wrong of me, the smell was so grotesque, but I pressed my ear lightly against the door, imagining the view of my big baby boy, that huge beastly physique, crammed between those small bathroom walls, those massive hairy black bloated muscle thighs, hauling down on that tiny porcelain throne. My baby, must have been pushing over 300-pounds of solid muscle, I delightfully thought, and he was only eighteen years old. What a fucking man! FARRTTTT FARRTTTTTTT Marcus groaned loudly, as the flies began swarming even more, the smell grew even worse. I knew the whole dorm hall, awkwardly, could hear every minute of it, the gigantic muscle man devastation, his huge bull-sized protein shit. Eventually the smell got so bad I had to stand by his bed, or I should say, the airy open window. It gave me a small chance to look around his dorm room. The brand new laptop, grandma, had purchased him, looked fairly untouched, dusty practically. Probably from being at the gym all the time, I gleefully thought. His old roommates empty bed area, was now a stash for all his gigantic tubs of protein powders, towering bottles of supplement pills, and hundreds of protein bars, most of them already eaten and unwrapped. “O-oh my.” I whimpered underneath my breath, fingering, palming, as I squeezed my thighs together, my now completely soaked groin area. “Doesn't my boy want to grow big…” Thankfully, Marcus, was still so preoccupied, as I practically teared from overjoyed pleasure. He would always tell his father, that he never, sadly, wanted to become an actual “bodybuilder”. But now, as I looked even closer between the seemingly endless stash of muscle growth products, I became filled with ecstasy, coming into view of an absolutely pornographic array of fitness and bodybuilder magazines. I always hoped that my little boy would desire more, more than what he actually told people. That he would just keep eating and growing, never stop wanting more, until he transformed, my big black stallion, into the biggest and hairiest muscle-god… “...to ever roam the entire PLANET!...” I moaned in ecstasy out loud, just as the toilet flushed. My motherly pussy was on a total orgasmic breakdown. The best part, as I composed myself with his desktop tissues, while he washed his hands, there was this little post-it note that read, “Ask mom for more food money. Get BIGGER”. I was visiting him up at Washington State University, for an entire weekend, visiting from San Diego, and within fifteen minutes, I was already torrenting an orgasm. “Wow, I feel so much better.” Marcus groaned happily, thumping and squeezing his huge shoulders and legs from out between the small-framed door. He quickly then closed the door behind him, still itching his big butthole, but it was because of that I noticed, that at the top of his own global ass, the top of his huge bulging black watermelon-sized muscle glutes, was this entirely gross, shockingly long, dangling piece of shit covered toilet paper, swaggering now behind his big bloated muscle legs and ass, just like a horse, with each thumping step. “Oo-oh, s-sweetie…” I tapped him gently on the ass, so embarrassed to even bring it up, clenching with ecstasy as I felt, just how overwhelmingly powerful, even just a corner, of one of his tremendous, earth-quaking, stallion-sized black buttcheeks were. “Wh-when did THAT get there!” Marcus yelped embarrassingly, making things stupendously worse, as he thumped and hoofed around, clumsily trying to reach the stuck toiletpaper for it himself. It wasn't long, my big little growing boy, soon came to the shocking realization that I soon came to marvel over, that his arms were just too pumped and swollen with muscle, to even attempt to reach the middle of his gloriously huge muscular stink hole. “OH-my-ga-gawd!” Marcus roared in humility. “S-sweetie, just let me help.” I reached around his thumping beast-sized black muscle legs, the beauty calming down the beast, I romantically thought. It smelled unbelievably bad being that close, right after having him taken a dump, but you wouldn't believe the view. His shorts could barely contain, in fact they couldn't, the tremendous size of his chocolate colored, teddy-bear hairy, child-gobbling bodybuilder butt. It was no wonder my baby was having so many growing problems. “WH-WHAT are you doing, mom!?” “Stop fidgeting, Marcus! It's just your own mother!” The words dropped out of my mouth like it was a sin, as I tugged and pulled down the back of his skin-tight red basketball shorts, unleashing, like two air-bags going off, the expanse of his enormous, horrendously musky and farm smelling, black muscle butt. It was even more glorious than I could have ever possibly imagined, the most gigantic, most freakishly muscular bodybuilder butt I had ever seen in my life. Not to mention the fact, that it was slightly smeared with shit. “Ooh, ga-gawd, M-Marky…” I whimpered in disgust. “I'm sorry, mom!” Marcus wiggled and stepped uncomfortably, his big swampy black bodybuilder butt. “The showers here, they're just so small. It's hard for me to clean myself!” It was the perfect opportunity, I gulped, perversely thinking to myself, to finally get some real close alone time with my little boy’s, this stallion-sized, black muscle man butt. I grabbed a washcloth, while he stood there, bending over so obediently, still humiliated, that his own mother was going to wash out, with a wet rag, his own ass, but what choice did he have. “I'm so s-sorry, m-mom…” Marcus groaned, faintly under his breath, stepping and pushing back, his huge shit covered muscle butt, bending over, deeper against my motherly cleaning hand, the large wipes of my warm rough wash cloth, taking tender care of his beast-sized ass. There was a moment where his humongously powerful glutes couldn't stop quivering, flexing, especially as I wiped deep against his tender, I'm sure, teenage virgin male prostate. The more mommy buried my hand, the more my baby tried to fight back his deep grunting moans. “W-W-Wait… M-Mom, stop!” RIIIIPPPPPPP Eventually he asked me to stop, but it wasn't because of my washing. I was confused at first by what had happened, the indefinite sound of fabric tearing, my huge black stallion, heavily whimpering with whispers of embarrassment. He was trying to cover something up, trying to hide something in the front, his massive carved arms flexing to keep it from my eyes. Was it really that big, I devilishly began to thought. I put down the washcloth and began making my way to the front, coming into view of his blown apart briefs... ************************************************************ READ PART 2 HERE ************************************************************ Comments are appreciated.

*BUURRRRRPPPP* Thanks Guys, that was a great stream! Enjoy the rest of your night!” Jason turned off the webcam and sat back in his chair. He could finally relax and was glad for that. It was a hard day at work and then had to come do a stream that he promised that he would do some time ago. However, Jason wasn’t streaming games, no…Jason was streaming food, or more specifically, him eating food. He had taken the idea from the Korean form of entertainment called “mukbangs” (lit. food room) and thought that he could use that to capitalize on the gainer community that he was a part of. He was not a terribly attractive man, quite overweight, but like many men of his size, he was jovial and had a good personality. He was also a good entertainer, which made him very popular for his streams because he could entertain the crowd by providing more than just a show of him eating large amounts of food. As evidenced by his large following, he saw an opportunity and did something that no one else was doing and managed to capitalize on it. He set up a funding method and people (mostly men) would donate money, either when they felt like it, or sometimes even a monthly subscription. This provided Jason the ability to purchase the large amounts of food he would eat on camera but also provided him with an extra income that allowed him to live more comfortably than his salary from work would normally allow. Sitting on the sofa away from his computer desk, which was now buried in food serving dishes and other such paraphernalia, he sighed. He knew that although he loved doing these streams, it was taking a toll on his health. He was overweight when he started streaming but his weight ballooned up and he was practically obese. He dreaded going to the doctor because he knew that it wouldn’t be good news. He also wasn’t very lucky in the romance department; he had gone on a few dates with some from the gainer community but there was no magic, no spark, and he didn’t know where that would come from. He was alone, and sometimes felt doomed to be that way. Getting up, he adjusted the very large UnderArmor shirt that he was wearing to accentuate the bloating from all the food. Shambling over to the computer area, he started picking up the food containers and utensils. He discovered this little box tied up very beautifully with ribbon. Carefully pulling on the ribbon, the bow came loose and fluttered to the floor. Opening the box, Jason saw four elegant little chocolate truffles, and thought “why not, a little dessert won’t hurt” and ate all of them, one by one. At the bottom of the box was a note: “Jason, Hope you enjoyed the truffles! Now watch this video at the URL below to see what happens next! - Jace” Jason smiled. Jace was one of his younger fans, only 20 and lean, but an enthusiastic supporter. The two of them interacted outside of the stream, sometimes chatting or via email, just talking like two friends would. This note however, was a little strange although not something that would be completely out of the ordinary for Jace. Jason walked over to the computer, fired up a web browser and went to the URL given on the note. It took him to a private video with no title or indication of what was the subject of the video. After loading for a bit, the screen showed the back wall of a room and Jace walked into the room, dressed up in a dress shirt w/ tie, black dress pants, and black dress shoes. Jason knew that Jace was a cute kid, but now he looked downright handsome. Jace took a deep breath and started to speak. “Hi Jason! Glad to see that you enjoyed the chocolates that I sent you. I have a confession to make. You are a great and funny guy and watching you eat food is just part of the entertainment, but the only gaining I want to do is muscle. I’ve loved muscle for years, and I finally get the chance to experience it. My brother found this formula that is supposed to pack on a lot of muscle on you in a short amount of time and tried a tiny bit of it so I know it works. You’re such a great friend so I want you to be the first to see the new me after I take a full dose! Here goes nothing!” Jace drank a clear glass vial. Nothing much happened for a few seconds, but then some sort of rumbling was heard. As Jason looked closer to the screen, he could see parts of Jace’s clothing moving outward. The muscles looked to be getting bigger and broader, Jace was in ecstasy as the feeling moved throughout his body. “Oh yes! This feels so damn good!” Jace’s pants started to rip as his quads and hamstrings overcame his dress pants, causing the seams to split farther and farther with every second. You could clearly see the teardrop taking shape as his quads grew bigger and bigger. His calves were next, ballooning out the back of his legs into huge diamond shaped footballs. Just as his calves were almost done growing, Jace’s chest burst the front of his shirt, causing buttons to fly at the camera. allowing the chest to grow bigger, thicker, wider, forming a huge shelf on his upper body. Arms soon followed suit, as Jace flexed one arm and then the other, causing the seams to just explode open with the sheer mass of the biceps. The growth crept up to his shoulders, causing them to grow like bowling balls of mass, before his neck and traps caused the collar to pop open and forcing the tie off his bullish neck. Finally, the growth reached his back where it flourished and blew up Jace’s lats in both width and thickness, causing Jace to have a vicious v-taper from his super wide shoulders and lats down to his tiny, shredded waist. Jace started posing like a bodybuilder on the posing dias and then spoke with a rumbling voice that sounded like it had dropped an octave during the growth. “Aw fuck…that felt so damn good…wish I could have more of it! Now, on to my note…uh..I think something more is going to happen” The rumbling started again, but this time, Jace grew six inches and along with it, his feet shredded his dress shoes. While Jace was still figuring out how to properly stand at his new height, his cock added another 4 inches in both length and girth, with huge balls to match, bursting out of his crotch and tearing the remaining parts of his dress pants. “Shit, what the fuck?! Wow, ok, that didn’t happen with my brother. It all feels so good. Wish you could be here to feel all of this muscle, because I think you’d enjoy it *wink*. But, you’ll find out soon enough, because I couldn’t leave my best buddy out of this, so I added a half dose of the formula to each chocolate, accounting for your larger size. Just sit back and enjoy the ride. Oh, you better get the door” As soon as the video ended, there was a knock on the door. Jason went to go answer it and there was Jace, standing there in nothing but some workout shorts, a smile, and a bouquet of roses in his hands. Jason let Jace in, who put the roses down on a side table and, with his massively increased strength, pinned Jason to the wall and gave him a big kiss. Jason started worshipping Jason’s big muscles, squeezing and licking them, finally realizing that he found the spark he’d been looking for. “Oh yeah man, feel those big muscles, feel their power…fuck man I can’t wait to see what this formula does to you” Jace didn’t have to wait long, because soon there was a rumbling that emanated from Jason, signalling that his growth was about to begin. What Jace didn’t know, though, was how it was going to take place on a man of Jason’s composition. Similar to Jace, Jason’s legs started growing bigger and bigger, causing the jeans to rip at the seams, and same with the calves, but what was different was that it didn’t look like Jason was losing any fat, but just gaining muscle underneath his fat, making him look even more massive. His calves blew up, becoming more like bowling balls shoved underneath his skin. Jason’s chest started to expand, changing the shape of his chest somewhat, making it look a bit more like his had pecs. Growing further and further, his chest finally defeated and spilt the UnderArmor shirt that he was wearing. Same for his arms, gaining a little more shape, but mainly just looking absolutely massive and finally splitting the seams. Shoulder, traps and neck followed suit, making Jason look like a freaky huge offensive lineman. His back grew thicker and wider, just accentuating his look. Jason, for his part, looked down at himself and tried to move, but found his movements restricted due to his extreme bulk. He frowned a bit and looked dejected as he looked like he was monstrous in a bad way. A lot of muscle maybe, but all covered in fat. “What the hell! Jason, I’m sorry, I didn’t expect this to happen” Jason said as he looked and felt guilty for what he had done to his friend. “It’s ok Jace. Maybe in time, the extra muscle will burn off the fat. I can see if I can join a gym” “Yeah, but…” Suddenly, Jason felt something…something different. He felt hot, REALLY hot. “Hey Jace, I think something’s happening” Jace looked at the perspiring Jason, and then down at his legs. His legs looked to be shrinking, but only the fat…the fat was being burnt off and you could start to see the definition in the muscle, faintly at first, but then in full, shredded glory. This made Jason smile a mile wide. Slowly but surely, all the extra fat on Jason’s body, all of which he had carried for a good portion of his life, was being burnt up. His chest went from being man-tits to a set of pecs worthy of a statue with their huge shelf. His back shredded up and was like a cobra hood, with many nooks, crannies,and veins. His arms went from being indistinguishable balls of muscle to being ripped enough that you could tell each individual muscle that gave them a wicked peaked bicep, complimented with a vicious horseshoe tricep. His shoulders similarly got lean enough that you could easily see all the striations. His waist shrunk to almost nothing, with some of the most amazing 8-pack you would ever see, completely shredded and striated. As Jason’s body temperature returned to normal, he breathed a sigh of relief. Jace walked over and felt Jason’s huge muscles, even bigger than his own…much bigger in some cases, like Jason’s legs were already well-developed from years of walking around with a large body and the extra muscle made them monstrous and powerful. Just as Jason had worshipped Jace’s muscles, now Jace was worshipping Jason’s muscles. Just as Jace was about to kneel down to go fishing for Jason’s cock, they heard the rumbling that signified the final phase of growth for Jason. Jason stepped back, and felt himself be torn apart. His body was growing in all directions..height, width, thickness.. He slowly grew another two feet, topping out at around eight feet tall. His muscles grew as well to compensate for the increased height, but then grew even more on top of that. His legs, freaky before, grew even freakier, with massive quads, boulder sized calves, and monstrous hamstrings. His pecs, arms, back, shoulders, all of them just blew up in size, becoming almost cartoonish in their size. He looked like someone had done a morph of his previous self after all the fat had melted off. Finally his cock burst out, growing another 10 inches and adding 6 inches of girth, balls so big that they could only belong to a cock so big. Jason felt the growth subside, breathed out a sigh of relief, and looked down at Jace with his mouth still gaping wide open. Jason picked him up, closed Jason’s mouth, saying in a basso profoundo rumble “You’re letting flies in sweetheart, how about we head to bed and talk about this in the morning?” With that, the two of them went off to Jason’s bedroom to retire for the night. Jason knew he wouldn't be part of the gainer community anymore.

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Here is Blue Pill Part 2 if you haven't had a chance to read it Blue Pill Part 3 “Looks like I have some explaining to do.” I really didn’t know where to begin, but before I could say anything we could hear the announcer’s voice over the P.A. system. I knew we had to get out of their and quick before Chris came back for round two. “Are you gonna tell me how the hell you went from zero to hero in the matter of just a few hours or do I have to start guessing?” Eric was hammering me with questions the whole way home. “I think it’s best if I just show you, otherwise you will just think I’m crazy.” So that’s exactly what I did, or at least I tried to do. ************************************************** ******** Alright, so a little back story about my life. My dad Titus used to be a bio-medical engineer for the government. He was secretly working on a new drug for feed efficiency in cattle. Not just any kind of drug though, this was a government test drug that wasn’t meant for human consumption. It produced amazing results in the bovine that it was tested on. It was intended to increase feed efficiency in cattle and also increase fertility at the same time all while minimizing body fat. The drug was a huge breakthrough for the ranching community. My mom had told me that the reason my dad went to federal prison was that he was bringing his work home and testing it himself, which is a big no-no if you are a lab scientist working on a top secret government project. The only reason he was caught was his co-worker James, and best friend, had sold him down river and went to corporate about him working on the test drug at home. Mom had said that before dad left, he had been taking the drug and it changed him. It had made him more aggressive more dominant. He would get into fights with random people all the time. He would spend all of his time in the gym he had created in our basement. So mom did what any concerned wife would have done, she went to her best friend for advice. Her best friend just so happened to be my dad’s coworker’s wife Sarah. So she in turn told her husband so he could maybe talk to my dad, try and figure out why he was bringing his work home. James had dropped by the house one day to check on my dad, because he hadn’t been to work for a few days. He knocked on the door a few times, but nobody answered. James took a quick look in the garage to see if my dad was home. “Well I’ll be damned,” James whispered to himself. “His car is here, that means he has to be somewhere around here.” So he slipped into the back yard and reached his hand above the stoop next to the sliding glass doors that came out to the hot tub on the deck. As his fingers fumbled for the key he knew had to be there, he heard a faint sound coming from in the house. He finally grabbed hold of the key and worked it into the lock. When he finally opened the door, the sound was much louder and much deeper than what he could make out from outside. “MMMMMMMM…..AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH…” If James weren’t mistaken he would say that it sounded like moaning, but where was it coming from? James rounded the corner from the kitchen into the hallway, trying to be as quiet as possible on the tiled floor. As he made his way down the hall the sounds kept getting louder, and he had begun hearing a clanging sound, like metal hitting metal. The only door left at the end of the hall was the basement door. James crept up to it slowly, trying not to make any noise. He reached his hand out to turn the knob just as the clanging sound stopped. James also stopped because his heart was beating extremely fast. He listened very carefully for any sound. “OHHHHH FUUUUCCCKKKKK!” James didn’t know whether he should turn in fear or check to make sure Titus was ok. James couldn’t just leave his best friend, what if he was hurt. James flung the door open and ran down the stairs. What he saw was astonishing. It was a complete gym. Every kind of machine you could ever imagine was in that basement. As James began looking around the room at all the equipment his eyes finally fell upon something he thought he would never see in a million years. In the corner of the room was a massive bench press machine, and on it sat a naked overly pumped Titus. His muscles, that he didn’t have a few weeks ago, were bulging all over his body. Veins snaked their way across his biceps and forearms. His chest jutted extremely far out hanging over his cobblestone 8 pack abs. However his abs were hard to see because of the massive flesh pole that was in the way. James knew Titus was well endowed because of the stories his wife and Sarah talked about, but his dick had to be at least ten inches long and 6 inches around. It was throbbing to what I assumed was his pulse. Apparently Titus hadn’t seen me yet, because both his hands reached forward and began to jerk on his massive dick. I crouched down and watched, not quite sure what to do. His hands began making sounds on his dick, like when you rub your hands together under soap and water. I could finally see the reason why, his hands and massive tree trunk thighs were coated in a clear coating. I could only assume it was pre-cum. As I watched Titus squeeze the pre from his dick he released his dick and grabbed back onto the barbell. Only then did I notice how much weight was stacked on each side. He had a total of seven hundred pounds on that bar. I thought there was no way he was going to lift that. To my surprise, and with a really loud grunt, the barbell was lifted up and then brought right back down to his bulging pecs. As Titus cranked out rep after rep on the bench press, I noticed how the bar didn’t have to travel as far to reach his pecs. That’s because his pecs were bulging bigger after each rep. As I sat there crouched on the floor in his gym it had then dawned on me, how much of this drug had Titus taken. When I looked back up, I expected to see Titus making his pecs bulge up even more. Instead there was nothing there. My heart began to race as I looked around the gym to try and find him. I felt something warm and sticky touch my hand and a wall of heat behind me. As I turned around, all I could see was a massive cock in my face as it dripped pre-cum all over the floor. It had begun to turn into a puddle and my hand just so happened to be in the middle of it. As I looked up past the massive dick in my face, past the rock hard abs, past the bulbous pecs that jutted out freakishly far from his torso, I saw Titus staring at me. “Long time no see James.” He said with a crooked smile on his face. “How did you do all of this in a matter of a few weeks?” I said as I pointed towards his massive physique. “Well, you know that new drug we’ve been working on? I figured out how to re-sequence its chemical make up in order for it to be digested by humans. With amazing results as you can see.” Titus pulled his arms up into a double biceps pose and I watched as veins exploded all over his arms and his lats flared out like a cobra head. “James, you can’t just test the drug on yourself! There are trials that still have to be ran. We don’t know what kind of effects this could have on you in the long run!” “At this point I really don’t care what could possibly happen, as long as I keep getting bigger, that’s all that matters.” “What about your family? What about your wife Rachel? What about your son? For Christ sake Titus he’s only three. Do you really want Jake to grow up not knowing his father?” Titus moved even closer to me as I began to stand up. “What makes you think my son is going to grow up not knowing me?” “Titus, I turned you in to corporate. It was the right thing to do, for you and for your family.” “My best friend….I should have known better than to trust you. Well they aren’t gonna take me, I will run before they have the chance.” Titus began walking towards the corner of the room where a gym bag and water bottle sat. He opened the gym bag and pulled out some clothes. Clothes that were screaming to rip apart the minute Titus pulled them over his engorged muscles. He then grabbed a bottle out of his bag and popped it open. He shook out a handful of blue pills and put them in his mouth, grabbed his water bottle and swallowed all of them. “They’re not coming to take you Titus, I am.” I grabbed the tranquilizer gun from my side pocket and shot Titus right in the chest. “I’m so sorry Titus, I didn’t want things to turn out like this, but I knew you wouldn’t listen to me.” “You son of a…” Titus slowly fell to the ground as he slurred the last of his words. He dropped the bottle of pills and blue capsules littered the floor. James began looking for Titus’s lab. He noticed a door ajar towards the staircase. He opened the door to find a room full of computers and diagrams of muscle groups. So James grabbed all of the pertinent information for the research and left the stack of blue pills in the corner of the room. “The lab is going to need all of this as evidence; I’ll just copy the formula and see if I can’t recreate it later. This could prove to be a huge breakthrough for MD.” James took one last look at the hulking form on the floor. “Goodbye old friend, it’s been fun.” As he rounded the corner of the upstairs hall he flipped open his cell phone and dialed a number. “The subject is down; you can take him into custody now.” ************************************************** ******** “I still don’t understand how you look so amazing. I mean I saw you in 5th period biology class and you didn’t look anything like this!” Eric continued on trying to figure out how I had gotten so buff. “I’m telling you, it will be better if I just show you.” So I led the way into my dad’s old gym basement. Mom wanted to turn it into storage, but couldn’t bring herself to come down here. So instead it is now my new man cave. I spend all of my free time down here, obsessing over the same thing my father did. We got to the mirrored wall with the racks of dumbbells on them and I grabbed the thirty’s and began doing curls. The veins in my arm began to pop out, but my arms didn’t seem to grow any bigger. “I’m waiting!” Eric said impatiently as he sat down on one of the benches with his arms crossed. “I swear, all I did was worked out and I got bigger. I felt this amazing rush of energy and then felt the urge to dispose of that energy.” So I moved over to the bench press and put two 45 pound plates on each side. I began pushing out rep after rep of presses, but still no growth. I began getting frustrated. “Well it worked before I swear! Something must be different…” Then I remembered my bloated belly and how as I worked out it began to shrink down. “All I need to do is get Chris to fill me with sperm again and then I can show you.” “What?” There was a puzzled and slightly disgusted look on Eric’s face. “What the hell are you talking about Jake? You sound really crazy now. You know, if you didn’t want to meet me for pizza, all you had to do was say so. I’m going home.” Eric got up and began heading up the stairs. “When you decide to tell me the truth, I’ll be waiting.” Just like that he was gone. Great, now my best friend doesn’t believe me. I’ve got to find a way to prove it to him, but how? Continued in Blue Pill Part 4

Yep, it's a Halloween costume story. Sorry for falling into well-established tropes, but I hope the timing is right and you enjoy! Jeff looked through the packaging again. There is no way this was all that was supposed to be included, the guy at the shop had obviously ripped him off. He had been invited to a costume party, and in typical college student style, he'd waited until about 3 hours before the party to actually find something to wear. In a panic, he searched the internet for top quality costumes available in his college town. It wasn't a big town, options were limited to say the least. But still he'd found a small little hole in the wall shop that had a few 5 star reviews online, so he'd hopped in his car and booked it to the shop. He wasn't disappointed; inside was an assortment of everything from superheroes, to pirates, to every monster that had ever graced a movie screen. Jeff was a bit of a nerd. Well, that was putting it lightly, he was 5 foot nothing, and weighed maybe a buck thirty soaking wet if you used heavy water. He wasn't socially that proficient, and had spent most of his High School and now college career hunched over a D&D table, rolling die, playing the strong hero, and basically living out everything he wasn't in real life. It was no surprise he'd found himself in the fantasy section, filing through various knights, knaves, peasants. Then he saw it! A very convincing barbarian costume. He grabbed for it as childhood memories of He-Man came rushing in. He'd always wanted to be He-Man, every boy his age had wanted to. His heart rose a brief moment before he realized looking at the model pictured on the box, that he did not have anywhere near the body to pull it off. He put the costume in its box back down, a little dejected. "Why don't you get that one? You want it, it's written all over your face!" Jeff spun around and found the owner of the voice behind him, an older gentleman with a white modest beard that just hid most of a name tag on his shirt that Jeff could discern must have said "owner". "Are you kidding? There's no way I could pull that off. Look at me," he gestured down to his puny frame, "no one wants to see this in a skimpy costume. I'd never do it justice," he smiled at the man, still wistfully longing to be able to actually wear and do the costume some justice. "Oh! No, you don't understand, those muscles, the hair, all of it is included in the costume. You'll look fantastic in it!" "What is it, like some sort of padded shirt or something?" Jeff picked the box back up and scrutinized the model on the front. He really couldn't make out where the muscle padding ended and the skin of the model began. "Sure, padding, yep, that's exactly what it is," the old man gave a reassuring smile. And somehow, Jeff had believed him, bought the costume, ran home to change, and now found himself sitting on his bed staring at the package with a picture of a bodybuilder of a model in barbarian shorts with bracers, long hair, boots; the works and only a pair of what he only could describe as "fur briefs" to show for it. He picked up the brown leather "tighty whities", holding them up at arm's length to inspect them. They looked like underwear, except for the thick blond-ish fur that was pluming up out of the waistband and the leg holes. "Ok...", Jeff thought to himself, "I need a saving throw if I'm going to make the party." He just stared at the fancy loin cloth. "Maybe I can pair it with something, get some sort of mashed together costume." He gave out a hopeless sigh. He had to admit the idea sounded completely stupid. "Never say die...just put it on, and let's see how bad it actually is. It won't be that bad. Sure, it won't be that bad, and something to put on with it will present itself." Jeff really didn't believe himself, but with 2 hours before the party, there really wasn't an option. Jeff peeled his shirt off his thin, pale body, catching a glimpse of himself in his mirror in the corner of his room. His lanky form and shaggy black hair adding to the general air of "unkempt" that summed him up. He threw his shirt in the other corner of the room, along with his jeans he'd just removed. His own underwear was the final piece of clothing gone. As he reached for the leather briefs, he averted his eyes from the skinny, unimpressive figure in the mirror. "Alright, here goes nothing," he muttered to no one else in the room as he closed his eyes and yanked the briefs on, the waist being far to big to fit his own, and the leg holes looking like they were made for a man with legs so big he'd have trouble walking. 'Roomy' was the vastly inadequate word to describe his feeling in the very oversized leather garment. He stood there, trying desperately to hold the briefs up, and squeezed one of his eyes half open, trying to soften the blow of what he knew he'd see in the mirror. His gaze was met with a very small, pasty, unimpressive guy in oversized fur underwear. "Oh no, no, no, no...", Jeff let the briefs go in desperation. He'd expected the cloth to just fall down when he let go, but he noticed as he dropped his hands, the briefs stayed in place. And there was something else, a feeling of 'fullness' around the top part of his thighs, almost like they were touching. Jeff adjusted his stance a bit wider, and looked down. He almost fainted when he saw his quads, and calves, already noticeably bigger than they were before. He stared in awe as he felt veins actually creeping up under the skin, showing in the stark relief of the definition of his legs. Adjusting his stance wider to accommodate the growth, his legs felt like they'd been inflated with way too much air, but as he reached down and felt, they were hard as rocks....and getting....harrier? He looked closer, and saw fine blond hairs, lighter than those on the briefs poking through the paper thin skin of the hard muscle on his legs. He reached down again, and was startled - as he reached, his arm, particularly his bicep, brushed against something. Something hard. He looked down and realized not only had his arms grown to bodybuilder size while he had been inspecting his legs, his chest had too. He tried moving his arms in front of his body, testing the range of motion with his newfound brawn. He found he could no longer reach across the front of his body, his muscles were just too massive, his arms and chest kept fighting for space. He raised his right arm, and tried touching his left shoulder ("Oh my god, it's a bowling ball!"), getting about three quarters of the way across before his chest prevented any more motion, bunching up with a thick valley ranging from his neck down through his abs, only slightly obscured by the blond pelt his body was receiving. He turned his head and saw something in his field of vision. Jeff realized it was his traps - raising up to just below his jaw from the mountains he now called shoulders. He looked in disbelief down at himself, having to bend over slightly to get past the view of his chest. Calves like diamonds as he flexed them. Quads that were huge, every head of the muscle visible beneath the blond fur. "Well, I'm going to be walking different from now on." he thought to himself. Cobble stone abs led up to the most massive chest he'd ever seen. He felt so heavy, he grinned at his transformation. Jeff was reveling in the sheer mass of his body, he'd never felt what it was to be 'big' in any sense of the word, and now he was bigger than any bodybuilder. Just moving brought a whole new range of experiences. Muscles plump with definition. He looked briefly in the mirror and held his arms straight up above his head as if he was raising a sword. His body was in stark relief as his biceps and triceps gave way to shoulders that could carry the world to armpits that were deeper than he'd seen formed by the wings of his lats as his back became the envy of any pro bodybuilder - his pecs still plump and defined even with his arms stretched up there was still a good inch of shelf underneath them. Cobblestone abs with blond hair leading into the waistband of the loin cloth, hinting at what might lie underneath. Quads blossoming out of their confining holes in the briefs. "By the power of GraySKuLL I HAVe The POWERRRR!", as he yelled his voice dropped a good two octaves as his adam's apple grew. Jeff laughed, he really did look like He-Man come to life. Only maybe bigger. He chuckled to himself and let his arms, now covered like the rest of him by blond hair, drop to his side - as much as they could. His triceps hit his lats, another new, exciting sensation of muscle on muscle, and Jeff realized now he'd always have his arms hanging at a 30 degree angle away from his body, his powerful back flaring out behind him like a gargantuan cobra's hood. Jeff finally got a good look at himself in his mirror. Any trace of the old him was gone, except maybe in some of the facial features. His shaggy hair was now a long flowing blond mane, the briefs were no longer large on him, and actually looked like they were a bit small on the behemoth bodybuilder lurking in the mirror. Jeff turned around - he glutes were globes of muscle. "Guess I've got squatter's ass now," the thought thickly moved through his mind. His muscles were massive. he tested flexing as best he could, his mind overloaded with the new feelings of his added muscle. He was big, huge. More importantly he felt huge. As he was flexing his bicep, admiring the vein popping out on its way down his massive forearms, he noticed his skin was darker. Like he'd spent a few days at the beach. His skin was thicker, tough, though still thin enough to show off his musculature. He had a dopey grin as he raised a hand and felt the cleft beneath his chest, losing a good portion of his hand under the massive pecs. He felt something else start to enlarge. He let out a guttural, deep, primitive, dull laugh as he glanced downward, noticing a fullness in the briefs being pushed out by the girth of his thighs, and actually slightly distending the front of the briefs. He'd have to examine that further after the change completed. In the last few seconds, his eyes changed to a steel blue, and something else. He tried to find the right words, but words weren't his strong suit now. In fact, as the Barbarian settled into reality, Jeff couldn't really concentrate on much at all. He heard a noise, a beeping of some sort, and traced it to a small rectangular thing on a table in the room. He looked at the strange glowing thing across the room from him, making out the letters C-H-A-R-L-I-E on it. Jeff would know that his friend Charlie would be calling him to arrange for a ride to the party, but a war was going on in his head as thoughts slowed and Jeff drained away. The Barbarian that was left just looked at the strange magic device. He walked over to it, his massive thighs rolling against each other as the Barbarian lumbered. He had to bend down from his massive six foot seven height to see over his pecs to look at the glow closer. He scrunched up his face, the short blond beard and mustache on the former college student forming a quizzical look at the strange markings on the screen, not able to comprehend their meaning. "Jeff" wasn't in control anymore, but Ja'Carr the Barbarian warrior was. Ja'Carr reached out a huge arm and touched the glowing, flashing thing, which caused the glow to go black. A booming bass voice rang out "I guess that wasn't important, heh." He looked as his massive arm, veins wrangling their way up his forearm, across the bicep and up to his huge cannon ball shoulders. He laughed out loud again, his voice so deep it seemed to make the windows of the room rattle. He didn't know why this body made him so happy. He couldn't quite get rid of the feeling that this wasn't his body, but he just crunched his abs, flexed every muscle in his legs and screamed into a most muscular in front of the mirror, muscles swelling, veins about to burst, relishing in the power and strength he had, the low reverb of the battle cry carrying though his apartment building and out into his neighborhood.

It had been a long day, slaving away in my cubicle. The drudgery of routine had long since taken over any type of excitement I may have ever had about my job. I was middle age, out of shape, and quite frankly broken. And as I completed the arduous tasks put to me by my boss, and drove through the rush hour traffic back to my apartment, I had ample time to reflect on my station in life. I pulled up to my complex, drug myself out of the car, and nearly tripped on a box that had been unceremoniously been tossed near my front door. I opened my door, and kicked the box in. I went through the routine of cleaning, cooking, eating, and doing my rituals after work, when I noticed the box on the floor where I'd kicked it. Walking over to it, I noticed that there was no identifying label on it. It wasn't addressed to anyone, and apparently hadn't come from anyone. Curious, I opened the box somewhat hesitantly. I dunno, maybe I thought something was going to jump out at me. No movement, so I took the top completely off and found what I thought was a blue, shiny tank top resting at the bottom. I'm by no means athletic, too many hours of a wasted youth in front of video games rather than doing anything outside. Not fat, really, just not 'muscular', or anyone that could in any way fill out a tank top. I pulled it out, and realized, it wasn't just a tank top, it appeared to be a onesie. Maybe a wrestling singlet? Ok, now I know somebody screwed up - I have absolutely no business using or wearing this. I turn it over in my hands, the fabric must be that spandex / lycra stuff. It's shiny, and looks like it's supposed to hug against whoever's wearing it. It's got some white inlays on the side - made well, looks durable. It looks like it's an XL, probably would fit someone 220-225 lbs or so, maybe heavier. I look down at my 165 lb body and laugh slightly to myself. Looking back at the singlet, on the right leg is a little white square with a red logo of what looks like a stickman with his hands raised. The word "Brute" under the logo on the tag. "Yep," I think, "you'd have to be one to wear one of these things." Holding the singlet, I thought of those pictures I'd seen of college athletes completely going at it. There was something of a primal urge to dominate about them. I guess I could see that. I looked closer at it, then back at myself in the mirror I'd walked over to my brown eyes nestled under a unruly mop of black hair that sort of defied any meaningful style. Why not. I stripped down to nothing and realized that besides being painfully pale, having no muscle to even mention, and looking as far from an athlete as one can be, I had no idea how to put one of these things on. No zippers or anything, so I guess it's in through the neck. I stepped in and put each leg through the appropriate holes, then without much effort draped the straps over my nonexistent shoulders. It was laughable, really. My legs didn't even come close to touching the holes that were meant to grab them, and if I didn't hold the straps on my shoulders, they'd fall down my arms. The neck line was so large, it draped past my smooth 'chest' and would've exposed my abs if I'd had any. I looked like a little kid in their big brother's wrestling gear. It really reminded me of when I'd tried on my first singlet - my big brother's in fact. I couldn't have been more than 5 or 6 and was really curious about the sport. He was a high school wrestler back then, very muscular. Someone I looked up to. I loved his legs. They were his secret weapon. He really overtrained legs, something his coach loved because of the strength, but his quads got so big he had to customize his singlets, the leg holes were just too small. I widened my stance in front of the mirror, shifting my weight. I smiled to myself. My legs were bigger than his. My singlet digging into my deeply etched quads, every muscle standing at stark relief. Square stances were always hard for me, but they were my favorite. Fake out whoever I was rolling with at the time, let them think they have the advantage, then Boom! - Quads sprung, and immediate take down. Plus, with legs this big, it was almost impossible to get my lead leg out without a waddle to adjust my hip position that threw me off balance. I reached down to touch my legs, and felt the singlet rub against my abs. I stood straight and saw my 8 pack, in stark relief, like the singlet had been vacuum packed on my torso. God I'd worked to train those. I wasn't gonna let anybody get backs on me! Had to get my bridges just right, and the secret was always a tight core. Hours doing bridges, planks, anything to build a bulletproof torso. Dieted like hell to get 'em, but damn did it pay off. I rolled my bowling ball shoulders, trying to get some room from the straps clinging onto my traps, moving my huge bi's off my lats, the singlet almost digging into the cobra hood that was my back. I raised an arm and flexed a 21 inch bicep in the mirror, a cocky grin on my face. Coach always said my pecs and my arms were going to kill my growth allowance. I never gave a fuck though. The size is what was made my opponents run screaming. Hell, they'd basically stick themselves to the mat if I just glanced at them. Sure I'd bare my teeth and give a guttural growl, but that's beside the point. I looked at the veins snaking their way down my massive forearms and up my bi's and tri's to my shoulders. Faces of opponents those arms had wrapped up and took down flashed past. Even guys that had more mat time than I did couldn't get past my sheer strength. Those shoulders gave me more inner control than any opponent I ever faced. My pecs strained against the fabric of the singlet. A deep trench between them. They were so big, the singlet actually folded up underneath them, just accentuating my immense size. I flexed a most muscular, the blood rushing into the muscle, pumping the veins larger, and let out a primal roar, my deep voice echoing through my room. I gave a deep dumb laugh. It was something I'd always done at staging at any tournament. Scared the hell outta anyone around me. I mean after all I was a monster. Not a shred of fat or water on me, and nothing but dense, powerful, primal muscle. Holding the pose, feeling an almost orgasmic pump, I saw a blond glint on my chest. Damn, the hair was already growing back - I'd never get through the groom check like that. It'd had been a problem since high school when I started juicing - my transition from human to mutant beast. Sophomore year, it'd gotten so bad it earned me the name "Beast". I liked that though. Primal, masculine...dominating. My 10 in cock stirred to life just thinking about controlling an opponent, toying with them, then using my raw strength to force them to the mat and make them submit - Holy shit I almost blew my load - God I love wrestling! I looked back, game face on, locking stares with the blue-eyed blond hulk in the mirror. My deep tan and flawless skin popped agains the shiny blue of the singlet. I gave a deep growl, never breaking the penetrating gaze to my opponent: myself. This would be my last year wrestling for the college, but maybe I could go on and trade in my singlet for posing trunks. I was almost bigger than most of those bodybuilders anyway. and the thought of getting even bigger - I flexed my lats, arms and chest again and watched the raw power in the striations - transitioning from beast to full on mutant. Oh yeah. That was me. Pure masculine muscle and raw power. I noticed the clock - 1 hour before practice. Better get to the gym, coach does not like to be kept waiting. I flexed a double bi in the mirror, lats straining against the blue fabric. The Brute logo stretched out against my quads. "Damn right I fuckin am!", I gave a knowing grin at the stud in the mirror and strutted off to the gym.

Hey Guys, been a while since i last posted a story on here, so heres my newest entry. enjoy!! This is a story about Jack, Jack is no ordinary 19yr old……………. “COME ON ONE MORE!!!!” shouted Dean, Dean was jacks training partner. “ARRRGGGHHHHHH” grunted Jack as he lifted the last of his 12 reps on bench press on to the rack, jack stood up and looked in the mirror, staring back at him was a sight that drew gasps from both dean and others in the gym. Jack was a 6ft brick shit house. His chest was rippling with thick dense rock hard muscle, the vest he had on could not contain the sheer size of his pecs, they were so thick every time he breathed in the vest would ride up his torso And begin to tear under the sheer mass of his chest. “add another 25kg on each side mate” he asked dean Dean placed the weights onto the bar which was already loaded with 300kg, bringing it upto 350kg. Jack repped out another 12 reps like it was nothing, re racked the bar and got up again. “This is to easy, I need a real challenge! Whack another 100 on!” Dean added the required weight so that the bar had 450kg loaded on it. “ Man this is crazy shit jack, can’t believe what you’re doing, your pressing over 4x my body weight!!” “Well when you’re as big n strong as me there’s no room for light weights, its heavy as fuck or nothing at all, you don’t get pecs like these by lifting sissy weights!!” Jack bounced his enormous pecs, each bounce shifted his perilously frail vest close to breaking point. Jack laid down on the bench, got his tree trunk arms into position and with a mighty grunt lifted the bar from the rack, each rep was greeted with an almighty grunt, his pecs were bulging with blood pumping round his massive chest. Jack managed 8 reps before re racking. He stood up. “Arrrghhhhhh, im fucking pumped man, look at me? This is what u call pure beastly muscle!!” Jack was pumped, like nothing anyone had ever seen , he moved closer to the mirror, ripped off his vest to reveal the rest of his enormous body, his pecs still filled with blood and rippling from his bench press, sweat was dripping down to his stomach which resembled a block of marble which had had eight large chunks carved into it, his triceps were also rippling from the routine, his tri’s n bi’s were huge at least 35” round, veins snaking down to his beefed up forearms, his giant boulder shoulders looked strong enough to barge through brick walls, his meaty traps stretched up his thick bull neck and his lats were two thick slabs of rock jutting out of his sides. It truly was a sight to behold for everyone not at least dean who was trying so hard to hide his erection going on in his pants. “Jesus jack you look incredible, I’d hate to see a guy cross you!!” dean said with a hint of jealousy. “if they did, they would end up like this!” Jack picked up an olympic sized barbell with no weights on and began to bend it in half like it was made out of rubber, then tossed it aside. “anyway dean im 400lb of freaking huge muscle, I’d be surprised if anyone would cross me!!” Dean gave a laugh of a guy who was like ‘yeah I suppose so but really wanna see it’. “true enough, ok now its my go!!” Dean was inferior to Jack in height, weight and strength so before he could even start his lifting he had to take 400kg worth of weight of the bar. Dean was only 17 and had the physique of a track n field athlete, so he was fairly toned with a bit of size but that size looked skinny compared to Jacks mammoth size. So with 50kg left on the bar dean started his routine. Even though Jack and Dean were good friends jack always took the piss out of dean for his inferior showings, mostly to try and spur him on but also to show his superiority and dominance over him, dean could not help but feel intimidated by jack, he daren’t tell him to shut up or go away in slight trepidation of what jack might do. “ Come on you skinny git, call that heavy lifting I can’t even see your pecs there that small and feeble, if you don’t start tryin harder im gonna crush you, now LIFT!!!” jack’s booming shout reverberated around the gym. Dean finished his first set and sat up, “ Jesus jack im tryin alright!!” Dean bit back a little. “that’s not trying that’s playing safe, you wanna grow ? You want to lift heavy!!! That isn’t heavy look!” Jack then proceeded to lift the loaded bar of the rack with one hand and start repping some shoulder presses, after 20 reps he re racked the bar. “see!!” “alright jack stop showing off ya big headed freak!!” dean sarcastically replied. “Jealous you skinny fuck? Well you better be coz unlike you I wanna grow! I wanna get bigger and stronger than ever before.” “ well maybe you do mate but im an athlete, my sport does not require me to get big n bulky, so i maintain what I have!” Dean tried to hide the fact he actually likes jack being all dominant etc coz it makes him hard, and whether jack will like the fact that dean loves being with this muscle mammoth. After dean had finished his chest routine he and jack decided to hit some biceps. As Jack was so big and strong the dumbells the gym had were to light for him so jack had to curl using an Olympic bar and plates, he started of light by curling 100kg for 15 reps, “easy!! Whack another 250kg on dean.” Dean added the weight. Jack composed himself, lifted the bar off the ground and slowly started to curl the 350kg bar, with each curl his massive biceps ballooned to unprecedented sizes, thick veins popped and stretched with every move, after hitting 10 reps he placed the bar back on the floor, looked in the mirror and hit a double bi pose, his biceps bulged and formed a gargantuan mound of granite muscle that looked bigger than his head, he relaxed then hit it again this time managing to squeeze an extra inch on top of his already impressive bi’s. Dean had never seen jack hit a bi pose before, his cock was now so hard it was making an impression in his shorts. “ WOW jack they are awesome man fucking huge!! Im gobsmacked!” “I can see your impressed, I only have to look at your shorts to notice that, ya big gay, come over here?” Dean walked over to where jack was, the size comparison was breathtaking, next to jack dean looked like a twig. “take your top off” jack asked Dean didn’t dare disagree so he took his shirt off, his tight body glistened with sweat. “now stand infront of me and flex!” Dean flexed his biceps, moderate sized peaks appeared from his arms, they looked pretty cut but looked no bigger than 15”. To rub the salt in more jack then flexed his bi’s behind him, his bi’s clearly 3x the size of deans. Then without warning Jack picked dean up and started curling him, every curl took deans face to within cms of jacks biceps, jack curled dean 20 times before putting him down. “you like that gay boy, your cock sure did!!” Dean looked down and saw a dark grey wet patch were he had cummed, he looked up and said, “ that was awesome!!” Jack and Dean made their way to the changing room.

This was a short and sweet one I did, toying with the idea of a series. Not sure if I posted on here before. Enjoy TC Miss Darcy's Stable By TattcubCopyright © 2014 Tattcub. All rights reserved. This story may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author.Hi all, Haven't posted for a while. This is a short and sweet one that hopefully will spawn more stories as I go on. Enjoy. P.S. I know there may be a few little spelling/grammar errors, please don't let that spoil your fun. TC My name, dear heart, is Miss Darcy. I am an artist. I am a sculptress of destiny. I am passion, I am desire, I am a karmic razor. I am a complete bitch when I am feeling exceptionally fabulous. I am also a witch, a rather good witch in fact. I believe in crime and punishment, and the principle of what goes around, comes around.' But, make no mistake, I am not a wicked person or a fury. The people I punish deserve it. In fact, anyone I deal with is generally the architect of their own, well - I don't think destruction is the right word here...let's say retribution, that's closer. I don't punish the innocent. I reward them, whether they think they deserve it or not. I have sisters all over the world. Some keep a low profile, and some don't. One even set up a nightclub and is doing excellent work there, by all accounts. I am more of a free spirit than she. I drift from town to town, place to place. I go where I sense I am needed. And today, I was needed in New York. I was sitting at a small cafe, sipping a divine iced tea and watching the world go by. My attention was drawn to a luxurious car that the driver had just reversed into a parking space while talking on his mobile phone (dreadful things, those phones). You know his type, my dear: sharp suit, $300 haircut and a bad attitude. He didn't look properly and ended up hitting the delivery truck parked in the next bay. He stormed out of the car, marched straight to the truck and starting abusing the young driver who had literally only just started the engine. The delivery boy - named Dwight, bless him - just stood there and flinched every now and again while he let the city boy unload his vitriolic rant. Darlings, you have no idea how much poor manners anger this Georgia girl. Now where was I? Oh yes, poor little Dwight. Ill-fitting uniform and an equally ill-fitting body. He had a lot going for him: he was kind, friendly and generous to the core. A decent man. A boy blessed with heart of an angel and the body of a permanent teenager. Dwight was mid-twenties but definitely passed for 18 or 19. He still had the pale, sweaty complexion of a teenager, blemishes and all. His long, thin hair and heavy-framed spectacles really did nothing to reveal the boy's delightful inner charm.He kept on pushing the heavy frames back up his long too pointed nose. He jad no chin to speak of and what he did have wasn't visible as he kept his head bowed in submission to the obvious superior man he was dealing with. His skinny arms hung out of his too baggy short sleeved uniform shirt. They dangled there like to bits of string tied in a knot where the elbows should be. His legs were not much better. Oversized shorts with too big boots and pipe cleaner legs. Dwight couldn't fight his way out of a wet toilet paper bag. He was the quintesential wimp, the geekm the eternal teenager. Spotty face and spectacles and all. He was the sort of man who was eaten alive by the Alphas. Alphas like the one that was currently bellowing at him. His opponent,the "Alpha" (Yes dear you can still hear the sarcasm in my voice) Wade Bradley, was red with fury and frothing at the mouth slightly. Through his fitted suit, it was clear that Wade had the nicely toned body of a man who could afford a personal trainer and had the dedication to back it up. He was good-looking, from his thick black hair to the clear blue eyes that surely brought the ladies to their knees. He matched these natural attributes with expensive shoes and a manicure, but the man forgive my swearing was a true asshole. Something had to be done, and this is where I came in. I decided I could play this in a few ways and decided that a cause-and-effect spell would be rather splendid here. I clutched the pendant round my neck and muttered a few arcane and mysterious phrases unheard of in this realm: "What you do, Wade, cannot be, you bring your own catastrophe. Dwight you now will be rewarded; Wade's downfall means you will be applauded." What did you expect dear? I am a witch of quality, not a poet. The original translation rhymes much better. One has to work with what she has. And regardless, magic is all about the intent. I settled back in my chair to watch the fun begin. \-------- Wade was certain he was in the right. He was a Bradley, dammit, so he was right by definition! A spoiled man who was used to getting his way. "Goddammit, you geek! What the hell do you think you were doing, asshole?" he screamed into the face of the retard in the brown shorts, with stick-thin legs poking through their openings like string with knots for knees. "S-sssorry s-sir," said the peon, whose name tag read Dwight. "Dwight, is it?" Wade said in a condescending tone, "when I am finished with you, you won't have a license to push a toy cart around. Sorry just isn't good enough," he continued, pointing his finger in the guys face. It satisfied him to see a red flush creeping up the guy's neck onto his sallow cheeks. Good, Wade thought, satisfied that he had embarrassed the guy enough into believing it was his fault that the two vehicles had crashed and not Wade's, even though Wade was the one who had been in the middle of a call to another girlfriend his wife had no idea about. "You get paid to drive that hunk of junk, you should kn-know better!" He shouted as he waved an arrogant finger in Dwight's face, his anger deafening him to his own mid-sentence stutter. "Sir, I think it was your f-fault. I hadn't even started the van," Dwight said clearly this time, surprised that he'd managed to get a word in edgewise and quite proud that his stutter had held back for the majority of the sentence. He was a PhD student and was really only doing this job part-time to help his parents who were paying his tuition. He didn't want them to struggle, so he did this job alongside the long hours of hitting the books and the test tubes. He caught a brief flash of light and his eye was drawn for a second to a café, where a sensibly dressed lady was sipping iced tea and watching him rather intently. She smiled at him and raised her glass politely. He felt dizzy for a moment, must be the heat and the embarrassment of this asshole having a go at him. "Sir," he said in a voice that was high and tremulous a few seconds ago, but now seemed rougher. It had a hint of decisiveness as well. "SIR!" Wade was momentarily confused by the delivery guy's rumbling voice...wasn't he just stuttering with the voice of a pencilneck? Not the bass boom he had just heard, which was a voice that demanded respect. "S-ss-sir," said Wade automatically. As he spoke it was almost as if an invisible needle had pricked him, deflating his huge ego just a little. He felt internally smaller, almost. Dwight was holding a package in his skinny arms. The oversized sleeves of his uniform, hanging almost to his elbows, did nothing to enhance his look in any way. He glanced down at the package again and noticed the hairs on the back of his hands. He didn't have hair on his hands, did he? He barely had it anywhere...it was like his body had taken a quick look at puberty and waved it away to the next person in the queue. He stared at his hand. It seemed to swell. The fingers grew firm and calloused. He even noticed an unusual bulge of muscle on the meaty ball of his hand and thumb that only comes from years of heavy lifting. His eyes travelled up to his forearms, which were swelling too, filling with hard corded muscle. Massively thick and covered with the same black hair he'd noticed on his hands. Thick veins crisscrossed the monstrous forearms, flexing and swelling underneath the swarthy paper-thin skin. Next, Dwight felt the heavy swell of his biceps in the sleeves of his rapidly tightening uniform, filling the bursting material with thick, heavy, veined beef. The drop of the triceps underneath, with their perfectly-striated horseshoe shapes, completed the arms which revealed themselves as the overstretched material finally gave way with an audible rip. Dwight was left holding the package with the arms of a god. The shredded sleeves receded further up as his shoulders started to flex out, raising the ruined shirt higher as it was pulled out of the uniform trousers. His delts grew and rounded out: perfect, round mounds of solid muscle that led to the traps. The traps started to grow, rapidly mounding up and swallowing Dwight's thickening neck, going from a 15.5 to 21 inches in a few seconds, almost up to his ears in a monstrous triangle of beast-man muscle. The neck was a much more fitting home for his voice's bassy thunder. I tell you dears, this old girl is looking around her handbag for her fan. Then, Dwight's chest just unfolded from underneath his humongous traps. His pecs dropped out of his skin like two slabs overfilled with concrete. They literally tore what remained of his work shirt apart. Striated and huge with beautiful dark nipples, thickening and pointing ever downwards due to the vast shelf of immovable muscle behind them. Dwight raised his hand and pointed at the somehow smaller lawyer. "You should have more respect mister, you never know who or what trouble you will run into, he boomed. "You ran into me, not the other way around." His deep rumbling voice made his balls churn. He felt so good right now. So hot. Dwight towered over the now much smaller Wade, who seemed to pull inwards a little more. Wade's hair was a little more dishevelled, and his suit seem looser somehow. Wade's mouth suddenly felt dry as the delivery guy turned the tables on him. "Maybe it WAS my fault", Wade thought. The van driver was huge. Big muscle bulging out everywhere. Wade felt a twinge in his groin, his cock reacting to the driver's sudden Alpha Male power that had gone unnoticed before. "Err..." Said the suddenly unsure Wade. "I'm s-sorry about the van" Wade was horrified. He hadn't meant to say anything to this monster. He might get hit or something. Something about the thought of being dominated by the uniformed hulk in front of him made his cock jump again. Blood seemed to be rushing to his dick and out of his brain. Again he had the feeling of getting shorter. "What's going on? " he said out loud and realised that his voice, like his body was now somehow smaller. He couldn't think straight and felt confused and suddenly frightened. He remembered he was the one who had started the argument with the delivery guy but couldn't remember why. The man was so powerful he couldn't do anything except look up at the towering figure of muscle now looming above him. He gulped as he looked at the guys huge traps and shoulders. The massive shelf of his pecks and the tightness of the waist. The guys back was beyond human and led to an ass that defied description except that it was the bubble but of all muscle bodies. The mans legs showed through his uniform, perfectly form pillars of huge, male power. Wade felt his now little dick get hard. "I'm sorry sir" He whispered halfway between awe and terror. Dwight shifted his huge bulk, all the muscle fighting for place with each other. His clothes stretched out a little more until he'd completed his transformation. Dwight realised what had been done to him as he marvelled at his beautiful vascular forearms and bunched and flexed his biceps in amazement. He also new who was responsible. He glanced over at the cafe for the strange lady. She sat there quite primly and once again raised her glass of tea to him. He tipped his hat and mouthed the words "Thank you ma'am" to her. She smiled at him. And then was gone. Dwight looked down at Wade and saw that the little man was staring at him in amazement. He even noticed the slight bulge in the guys trousers. "Do you like what you see, little man?" said the 290lb monster of muscle "Yyes S-ssir, I do." came the reply. "Are you sorry for your rudeness? " He said "Yes sir" "Want to apologise ?" "I am sorry sir." Said the tiny Wade, no longer the big man. Dwight flexed his biceps in front of him and assumed the famous crab position, His massive from jumped to attention through his uniform popping the top two buttons and ripping out the sleeves. His traps tried to crawl to the top of his head as his thick neck all but disappeared in the mountainous muscle. Wade gasped and reached out a hand to touch Dwight and Dwight let him. He suddenly felt a wet patch and realised he'd shot his load then and there. He felt ashamed and confused. Dwight smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "No hard feelings little guy" said the mammoth man. "I'll see you around" He turned and squeezed into his truck and was gone. Wade stood there in the street with cum staining his oversized pants. He had to find the guy again...

The heavy fire door swung open so violently the closing mechanism snapped with a sharp bang as Adrien Brody crashed through into the alley like he was shot out of a cannon. Josh stepped through the frame and caught the edge of the door deftly as it rebounded off the side of the studio’s wall. He looked back over his shoulder to Jet. “Tell everyone to take the rest of the morning off, we’ll come back after lunch,” he directed bluntly, then slammed the door behind him and approached Brody, now sprawled on the ground, clutching his lower back were he’d hit the fire door’s horizontal pushbar. “You and I are going to have some words, asshole,” Josh said angrily as he closed on the actor. “Actually not words so much as sound effects.” With that he slammed a hard fist into his own thick palm with a loud SMACK! Brody scrambled backwards to get some distance, his cockiness evaporating. As a tall guy, he hadn’t been manhandled like that since he was a teen, and never by a dude 8 inches shorter than him. Jesus, what the fuck was that? He still couldn’t quite believe what was happening. His back hit the alley’s opposite wall and he reached his arms back to lever himself back up to a standing position. With his height and reach advantage re-established he felt some confidence return. “You’re gonna regret that, motherfucker,” he growled and, raising his fists up in a boxing stance, he closed on Josh and went for a left jab, straight right, left cross combo. With reflexes the likes of which Brody had never seen, Josh batted the punches aside like he was swatting flies, and leapt forward to smash a brutal head butt on Brody’s elegant brow. “Gaaaah!” the handsome actor screeched as he stumbled backwards into the alley wall, then bent over and clutched his head in searing pain. His skull rang like a bell and when he opened his eyes he was seeing double. Josh gripped the actor’s shiny black locks and pulled his head up to get right in his face. Through Brody’s filmy, concussed gaze Josh looked practically demonic, his face flushed and his eyes flashing. Dontpanicdontpanicdontpanic. “Are you starting to get an idea about what I’m ‘gonna do about it’, bitch?” Josh hissed. “L-l-listen. Dude. Don’t you fucking know who I am? I’m Adrien Brody and I got a Sony film set to be on tomorrow! You think you’ll ever get work again when I tell them you fucked up my face?” Josh folded his taut muscular arms over his chest, the adrenalin of the fight pumping up his torso so that the Black Flag t-shirt clung to his powerful physique like a second skin. “Thanks for reminding me, dumbass. I guess I now have nothing left to lose.” “W-w-wait” Brody backpedalled uselessly as the director grabbed the actor’s head and shoved it between his thighs. Before he could register what was going on, Brody felt two strong arms around his waist and suddenly he was airborne again. Josh had pulled him upside down into a piledriver position. But he put too much muscle into the lift and Brody over rotated, throwing Josh off balance. Brody sensed a chance and wrapped his own long legs around Josh’s head and flexed hard. The actor wrung a muffled grunt from the director as he stumbled, releasing Brody’s head from his thighs, then fell onto his back. Brody ended up on top as Josh landed hard, his face mashed into Brody’s crotch as he got the wind knocked out of him. Brody shouted with glee at this turnaround: “Yeah mother fucker, how do you like me now?” He brought his own hard lean arms up into a double bicep flex, as he gloated over the breathless director. “Get… your… bony… fucking… ass… off… my… chest,” Josh gasped, sucking in air to get his strength back. Brody reached back to pound a fist into his diaphragm, but Josh’s stomach was granite hard. Josh raised his legs up to hook under the actor’s arms and easily threw the taller man off him. Josh got to his feet and lifted the bottom of his tee to show off an eight pack of carved abs. “Wanna try that again mother fucker?” he sneered, “see if those pipecleaners you call arms can dent these babies?” Enraged at being mocked, Brody clocked Josh across the face and then followed up with a flurry of body blows. Rather than winding him like Brody hoped, Josh just threw back his head and laughed. “And I ain’t even flexing yet, you’re fucking pathetic. Who’s your boxing coach, Honey Boo Boo?” he grinned, totally unfazed by the head shot too. What the fuck, this guy is made of metal! Josh then smashed a left into the actor’s stomach with so much force it sent Brody reeling backwards toward a dumpster. A wave of nausea overcame him and he fell to his knees retching. As he dry heaved and gasped, his hands felt something long and cold on the ground. His long fingers closed on the end of the piece of rebar. Brandishing it as he got to his feet, he tried to get a hard look back on his face. But Josh looked the furthest thing from scared. “Now things get interesting,” he said, gesturing to Brody, “Bring it, bitch!” The actor leaped forward and swung three times with the half-inch thick bar, but Josh dodged each one. On the third he grabbed the bar, wrenched it down to the horizontal and held it between them. Brody grabbed the other end too and pushed hard trying to use his height and weight advantage to drive Josh back. Josh planted one foot behind him and stopped Brody’s momentum cold. Goddamit , pushhhhh! Brody muscled arms and lean pecs surged as he put everything he had into pressing Josh back. Sweat pored off the actor’s face and arms as he strained, his face contorted in a teeth-grinding grimace. Josh was sweating too, but a huge grin plastered his face. “Smug motherfucker! I’m gonna wipe that smirk off your face.” With a surge of adrenaline, Brody growled and threw his whole body into his next push, and felt Josh’s arms tremble. Yessss! But his glee was short lived. He saw Josh was now concentrating and straining with huge effort. His traps bunched up high on his strong neck, his lean pecs inflated to twice their size, and his arms… Holy shit! With a bang, the sleeves of Josh’s Black Flag t-shirt tore in jagged rents up to the shoulder, busted utterly by an avalanche of bicep muscle. Josh let loose a primal roar that Brody felt in his bones and the half inch rebar bent into a hairpin sharply before snapping in two! Brody, stunned, dropped his hands to the side momentarily before something primitive in his brain took over. Before he even knew what was happening he was fleeing in panic. But Josh was faster and tackled him into the side of the dumpster. “Not done with you yet, asshole,” the director hissed as he stomped on Brody’s chest to hold him in place. “I should throw you into this thing because that’s all you are, fucking trash! But I’m in the mood for a bigger challenge than tossing your puny body around again.” Giving Brody another stomp, Josh turned and reached up to grip the edge of the dumpster with both of his well muscled hands. Brody, winded from the two chest stomps, and utterly exhausted, could only shake his head in disbelief. No fucking way! Josh’s back exploded as he hauled on the edge of the dumpster like a man possessed. Tanned wings of lat muscle ripped through the seams of Josh’s now thoroughly destroyed shirt as the alley dumpster slowly tipped up on its outer edge. Holding the huge steel box with arms now positively bloated with pump, the director stared down at an astonished Brody. Josh’s torso, silhouetted against the alley lights, flared like a cobra hood. His deep hairy pits dripped sweat and testosterone. “Take a good look at what a real man looks like, punk. And think about what kind of man you want to be while you’re in traction. Josh dropped his arms and let the dumpster go, and started walking out of the alley as he heard the satisfying crunch of Brody’s arms snapping while reflexively trying to break its fall. After dialing 911, Josh crushed his phone in his fist and tossed the pieces aside. Fucking awesome pump, gotta lay low for a bit, but definitely gonna get my hands on some more assholes who’ve screwed me over in this town. Tearing the scraps of cloth from his hairy and unbelievable jacked torso, he stalked off into the night. Acknowledgement to zipman for a story element

Hey folks didn't have much luck getting a response to my stories on Tumblr, think it's more visual. Hope you like it, will post the conclusion soon. Let me know what celebs you want to see in my fistfights. Josh was fuming as he called for a set break. Fuck! This music video he was directing had become a nightmare since Adrien Brody had horned in. The tall lanky actor, insecure about his relationship with his model girlfriend Monica, had shown up on set and kept interrupting with unsolicited advice – like he knows anything about fucking music videos . He was also staring daggers at Jet, the band’s lead singer who is the object of Monica’s affection in the video. Jet was a sensitive soul and was intimidated by the actor who was half a foot taller and ripped from honing his body for another Predator sequel. Brody, in a tight black tee, would stand with his burning gaze just to the right of Josh’s camera, his long muscled arms folded over his chest. Jet’s concentration was shot and the takes Josh filmed were useless, hence his call for a break. Josh hit the can and glanced in the washroom’s mirror as he washed his hands. You look, stressed, kid, he thought, gonna have to have a motherfucker of a workout to forget about this day. His hairy lean forearms rippled as he quickly lathered and rinsed in the sink. The gym was his release from the pressures of the Hollywood rat race and he never missed getting his pump on. “POW!” he sneered, as he snapped his arms up into an impressive double biceps, his baseball sized peaks stretching his Black Flag t-shirt’s sleeves. Fucking jacked! Some cocky flexing always went a long way to boosting his confidence. Josh knew Brody got pumped for his movie over 3 months with a million dollar personal trainer, but he’d be back to his regular diet of booze, cigarettes and cocaine the day filming wrapped on the shirtless scenes. For Josh though, fitness was an obsession, and a necessary way to manage his volatile temper. His ferocity in the gym was legendary, and he had the respect of the muscleheads at his hard-core gym even though the place had dumbbells that weighed more than his 145 lbs. Recharged, Josh left the washroom and made his way down the hall back to the studio. When he turned into the next hall, he saw Brody had Jet cornered by the fire exit. Brody pressed up against the wall, a hand on either side of Jet’s head as the slightly built singer tried to flatten himself backward. Josh could see Jet was trembling. “I don’t want to see you even looking at her, you hear me punk?” Jet burbled something incomprehensible as he tried to avoid Brody’s malevolent stare only to find himself gawping at the brooding star’s flared triceps. Josh shook his head. You clueless moron. Josh knew that Jet was gay and he was far more likely to stare at the pale skinned, dark haired hunk than his girlfriend. In fact he was probably speechless being this close to Brody, in this position, the short sleeves of his black tee rode up, exposing the curve of his rounded delts and tufts of black pit hair. Given that they had all just been sweating under hot studio lights, Josh knew Jet – such an armpit whore – was probably weak in the knees from Brody’s man stench. Easy Joshie, deep breaths. As he approached the pair, Josh tried to control his temper. He was still trying to make a career in LA and flipping out on a Hollywood star was the last thing he needed. “Okay folks, back to the set.” He announced in non-chalant fashion to the hallway, as if it was filled with crew. With relief he saw Brody turn away. He turned himself to reach for the studio door but froze when he heard the tall star sneer: “Just fucking remember what I said, faggot.” Turning back, Josh slowly shook his head and rubbed his stubble-bearded jaw. “Aw. You really shouldn’t have said that, asshole.” Brody looked down on the much shorter director and laughed derisively. “Yeah, squirt? And what are you gonna do about it?” Josh looked up into the actor’s eyes with a cold, deliberate glare, then spread his lean muscled arms wide, only to snap them closed like the jaws of a steel trap. Brody cried out painfully as strong hands clamped onto his arms just above the elbow, forcing them into his flanks. Josh’s delts bulged menacingly as he raised the lanky actor into the air. Brody gaped in disbelief as he felt his feet leave the floor. “Guess you’re about to find out, prick.”

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Hey Guys, here it is, the last chapter of Hard Mountain. It feels really weird putting this up. Thank you for everyone that's liked and commented, it's meant a lot. This started off as something a lot shorter and, like a muscle, the more I worked on it the more it grew. So thank you for reading, enjoy the last part. It's a bit of a wrapping up kind of thing but hopefully it'll satisfy. I'm working on another long story but it's nowhere near ready yet, though I have a story to put up next week that you should enjoy. Anyway, here we go... Chapter One Chapter Two Chapters Three and Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapters Seven and Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Hard Mountain - Chapter Fourteen: The week before we headed back to campus, I had gone home early to see my family. Danny had driven me back and was heading to the apartment we’d found off-campus to get us set up. Most of his belongings were in Jack’s jeep that had driven up behind us the whole way. My Stepdad was at work and my sister was back at college so only my Mom was waiting for me. I knocked on the door as Danny drove off and soon Mom had answered. “Hey Mom,” I said, nervously. “Sam?” she said, looking me over. “You’ve… grown. When did you get so tall?” We both chuckled and she led me inside. I took a seat in the living room and she brought me some water, sitting next to me on the sofa. “You had a good time at the cabin then?” she asked. “It was incredible,” I said, smiling. “You remember how big Danny was? Well his dad, Jack, is a big guy too. They got me off my ass and I started hitting the gym. I think I had a bit of a late growth spurt out there, my jeans started getting a little high on my ankles but Jack was really nice and bought me some new clothes. They both… they really helped me out there. I managed to start coming to terms with Dad’s death. They… they helped me talk through it.” Mom smiled, taking my hand in hers and squeezing it. “I always worried about you when you were younger,” she said. “You… you held your father so highly. He was your hero, you would literally be stuck to him like glue every minute you could. You probably don’t remember but you refused to see him when he was really sick. Even when he died, you refused to go to his funeral but I made you. It was heart breaking, seeing you like that.” “I know,” I said, sadly. “I’ve regretted it though. But with Jack and Danny’s help, I’ve started coming to terms with it. I’m beginning to move on. Danny lost his mom too, when he was six, they had some good advice. They… listened. I miss him, Mom. I’ve missed him everyday since he...” I started crying and Mom pulled me into a tight hug as she cried with me. We just let it all out. “So,” she said after a while, wiping her face dry. “What did you get up to? I want to hear all about it.” “Well we went hiking a lot,” I said. “The cabin is out in the middle of nowhere, beautiful forest. We explored caves and I even climbed a mountain.” “Well, look at you!” she laughed. “It really did do you some good. I remember a time when I would read report card after report card detailing the many ways you were cutting gym class.” “Well, people change,” I said. “Well it’s a good change, for sure,” said Mom. “Did you and Danny find an apartment yet?” I nodded. “A pretty good one, actually. And… Danny and I… we’re dating.” I thought it best not to mention that I was also sleeping with Jack. Nonetheless, Mom smiled. “Well I never suspected he was… you know, but it’s good you’re seeing someone like him,” she said. “He’s a very nice boy, hopefully you’ll bring him over for dinner again? I’ll remember to make extra portions.” I spent the rest of the afternoon at home catching up with Mom about what had happened while I was gone. When my Stepfather came home I gave him a tight hug and told him how much I loved him, how much I appreciated him as a father figure. After dinner, I feigned sleepiness from my long journey home and hid up in my room to check a whole summer’s worth of posts. My yahoo lit up with dozens of messages from friends asking how I was and where I was. I began a topic on the forum and began to write, adding some photos I’d taken of myself at the cabin. Hey guys, sorry I’ve been gone so long! That cabin I told you I was going to had no internet! L I have a lot of catching up to do but first I thought I would tell you everything that has happened over the summer. Remember my roommate I was telling you about? Well, his dad? HUGE! 365lbs of beef. They had their own gym out there and… I started using their stuff. I placed a photo of myself from before the summer into the post. This is what I looked like before I went. Yeah, I was skinny. But while I was out there… I got bit. Bit by the lifting bug. Now look at me: I placed a photo of myself from last week in the post. I worked like a beast and now I’m nearly 170lbs. I feel incredible; they really pushed me hard out there. Speaking of my roommate… we’re now dating. I am now dating a real muscle guy. He told me that he had been working hard during our freshman year so that he could impress me and we finally admitted that we liked each other. His dad is cool with it too, which is great. I became really close with his dad too. I need to talk to them about posting pics because I’m not sure how they’d feel about it. I want you guys to see what I was living with over the summer but we’ll see. My boyfriend knows about the site though but you’ll probably be seeing more of him anyway as he wants to be a pro bodybuilder. We have a plan too, he’s gonna enter some local comps and we’ll see how things go. I’m really, really happy. This summer has changed my life completely and everything feels right. I’m gonna continue to lift and get bigger and I have a beautiful man to watch get bigger too. He’s put on some mass over the summer as well. He’s just under 275lbs right now (and he knows how to use it ). I’ll post some more updates in the future but for now, I gotta run. Talk to you all soon. -- Hard Mountain - Epilogue: Five Years Later: “And the winner of this year’s Mr Olympia is… Danny Maine!” I jumped from my seat and screamed as Danny walked across the stage, holding his trophy aloft in triumph. At 6’2”, 390lbs and 2% body fat, Danny’s golden and oiled monstrous muscles looked incredible under the stage lights, making his body bulge as he screamed in victory. Jack pulled me into a tight hug, wiping tears from his eyes. Danny had the biggest, most vascular and perfectly symmetrical body of all the competitors, plus his bright blue posers had the biggest bulge too. We headed backstage and Danny pulled us into his huge chest and we squeezed each other tight. Danny was crying, I was crying, Jack was crying; we were all so happy. “You did it,” I said. “I knew you would!” “I’m so fucking proud of you, both of you,” said Jack. Jack tapped on the medal of my chest; I’d won the Mr Olympia Men’s Physique competition earlier in the day. I was now 210lbs even, 5’10 and 3% body fat. Danny pulled me into his body and kissed me, his huge pecs pressing into mine. I could feel my cock starting to get hard, as was Danny’s and we both blushed and giggled. “Boys, save it for when we’re in the hotel,” whispered Jack. We walked out onto the floor where people were taking photographs of Danny. He flexed and showed off his trophy as journalists shouted questions. “Danny! How does it feel to win?” “What’s next for you?” “Are you planning to compete again next year?” “Guys, please!” said Danny, smiling. “One at a time. I’m very proud of myself today but I couldn’t have done it without my Dad who raised me alone most of my life and my beautiful partner, Sam Richter. Without them, I wouldn’t be here today.” He waved us over and we stood on either side of Danny. We held up our medals and trophies and Jack grinned with pride. Danny kissed me again, cheekily cupping my big, bulbous glutes in my posing shorts. “Sam! What does your win today mean for your career as an author?” “Danny, will you and Sam be getting married?” “When’s the next book out Sam?” “Is it true you’re studying to be a lawyer, Danny?” Life was good. Danny had won a bunch of amateur and national competitions whilst we were at college and I spent every summer with him and Jack at the cabin, while Danny spent Christmas and thanksgiving with my family. When we graduated, the three of us went to Europe and Danny competed in some international competitions to great success. I’d written a novel in college that had been released last year to good reviews and even won a couple of small awards. I’d recently finished my follow up and it was being released in the next few months. I’d spent the last year competing too, winning some competitions but I wasn’t looking to make a career of it. I did it because Danny and Jack had encouraged me to take a chance. Jack was a great guide for us, always happy to dispense advice and help, and he’d begun to work from home more so he could spend as much time with us as he could. Once a year, no matter where I was in the world, I would make my way to climb Hard Mountain on the anniversary of my Dad’s death. It was a journey I would take alone and I would get into the pool on the top of the mountain and I would see him there. We just talked, I’d ask him for some advice but mostly I would just listen to him talk. Once our time was up, I would make my way down the mountain back to the cabin where Jack and Danny would be waiting. We’d converted mine and Danny’s old rooms into one big bedroom so the three of us could sleep together on a specially built bed. This was our home now, the three of us together, with no one to disturb us. The End --

Hey buds. Thought I'd try my hand and writing some muscle fistfight stories. Decided to try tumblr so pics and stories can be side by side, but can repost them here if people wish. Nobody quite is into the "just right" thing you are into, another reason to write my own. These stories will be one-on-one fights usually between a hot guy from the inter webs and a more famous celebrity. Themes of toughness, masculinity, surprising strength, growth (will be restricted to semi-realistic adrenalized shirt-busting pumps), dominance, comeuppance etc. Hope you will visit and comment, reblog and like! http://broodingmuscle.tumblr.com Thanks studs! Mack

Hey guys, here's another long one. Hope you enjoy! Kinda sad as there aren't many chapters left to post. Chapter One Chapter Two Chapters Three and Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapters Seven and Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Hard Mountain - Chapter Eleven: Night was beginning to set in as I trekked higher up the mountain, the wind grew colder against my bare skin and I would occasionally shiver. After leaving the cave, the path had gotten very treacherous with collapsed ground I had to jump over. If I had missed by an inch, I would have plunged to my death. At one point the only way to pass was to press up against the face of the mountain and carefully sidestep along the tiniest path that I had just fit my heels on. My body was exhausted, aching and bloody; my feet were bleeding and my back had been cut up from shimmying against the mountain. Out of fatigue I had tripped and my hands and knees were bleeding too, but I soldiered on, refusing to quit. I had come so far and the peak was getting so much closer. Soon the path had run out when I was a few hundred feet away from the summit and the only way up was a near vertical wall. Small rocks bulged out the sides and it looked climbable. I reached up and began to climb, trying to ignore the pain from my hands and feet and the shivers from my frozen body. About halfway up, the stones were getting wider apart so I had to really reach out to get a good hold. There was one rock that I’d really stretched to get a hold onto when my foot slipped. I swore loudly as only my tired arms held onto the rock, feet dangling in the air. I tried to get them to latch onto a stone but they only touched smooth rock. I looked down and almost cried, all the rocks I’d been climbing on were gone, replaced with smooth mountainside. I was beginning to panic; I looked up and saw there was a stone only two feet above me. I tried to pull myself up but my arms wouldn’t obey me. They were exhausted, begging for mercy and throbbing with pain and my fingers were beginning to join them. If I didn’t do something fast then I wasn’t going to be able to hold on much longer and I would plunge to my death. I tried to pull myself up again but it was no use, my body just couldn’t take any more punishment. “I can’t do it,” I said aloud, choking back a sob. “I’m too weak. I’m too weak and I’m gonna die.” This was it for me, I knew it; I was willing to give up now. I started to think about Jack and Danny, wondering if they would feel guilty if I died on this task they had given me. Then I started to think about my Dad, how I would soon be joining him in whatever afterlife there was; would he be proud of me or angry that I had spent the last thirteen years hating him and his memory. For the first time in years I allowed myself to think of him, how even when he was sick and bedridden he would still put on a smile and play with my sister and me, even force himself to get out of bed to go with us to the movies. I finally realised that even at his worst, even when the chemo and cancer and drugs were really taking their toll on him, he would still do his best to be strong for us. I looked up at the mountain above me with determination; I had to be strong now and I had to keep going, I couldn’t let myself give up. I readjusted my grip and pulled myself upward with every last ounce of my strength, grunting in pain as my shoulders and biceps protested. I flung a hand up and grabbed a rock above me, repeating until my feet had something to stand on. I climbed up with a ferocity I had never felt in myself before until, at last, I was pulling myself onto the top of Hard Mountain. I lay on my front gasping for air, my body finally giving out. I had done it; I had climbed right to the very top. Getting back down didn’t matter at that point. I had conquered the mountain with nothing but my bare hands. “You did it. You made it.” I looked up at Jack’s voice and saw he and Danny were walking over to me, stark naked, picking me up and putting my arms around their shoulders. They carried me towards a small pool of water no bigger than a hot tub and lowered me in. The water was warm and about chest high and I leaned against the edge. “I’m so tired,” I mumbled, exhausted. “I know,” said Danny. “It’ll be over soon and we can go home. Whatever happens, don’t leave the pool.” I nodded, too tired to ask what he meant but the wind began to swirl around us. The clouds in the dark sky began to cluster above us, flashes of light coming from deep in the darkness and the soft sounds of thunder echoing from above. A bolt of lightning struck the ground in front of me and I covered my eyes to shield them from the blinding light. When I opened them again, the opaque figure of my father stood before me. He looked just as I remembered him before the cancer, wearing his trademark tight t-shirt and tattered jeans. His muscles were just as they had been, big and broad but he was by no means huge like Jack, just a little smaller than Danny. He walked to the edge of the pool and crouched down. “Dad?” I asked, softly. “Is it really you?” “Shh,” said Dad, smiling. “It’s really me, Sammy.” I smiled back, blinking tears from my eyes. He looked so young, so healthy and happy. “How’s is this possible?” I asked. “This place… I’ve been sent to speak to you by a…. greater power,” said Dad. “I’ve watched you. Not just today but since I… since I passed. I’m so proud of you, son. I’m so proud.” “Daddy,” I said, my voice breaking. “I’m sorry I never saw you in the hospital. I’m sorry I never got to say goodbye to you. I’m sorry for everything.” “Shh… it’s okay,” said Dad gently. “I know. That was one of the tests you did today and you passed.” “Tests?” I asked, confused. “Yes, Sammy,” said Dad. “I know that you have heard the story of Hard Mountain, how men coming of age would climb the mountain to prove their manhood, to become noble and powerful warriors. The mountain is a series of tests designed to show your worth. “First is the test of survival, climbing the mountain alone with nothing but your own skin. The second is the test of courage, being able to face danger even under the fear of death. Everyone stops at that creek, at which point the bear comes to see if you would let fear overcome you. If you stare it down, knowing that the enemy is greater than you are, you pass and all the bear takes is what belongings you brought that wouldn’t be allowed on the mountain. Third is the test of conscience, to prove whether you would let your past mistakes, your pain and regret, overcome you. I’m sorry you had to relive those memories but it was to see, after being forced to confront your repressed feelings, if you would allow them to consume you or accept them and move on. And finally is the test of strength, where the last part of the journey up the mountain involved climbing up the mountainside. It presented the challenge wherein your life was in total danger and, despite fatigue and pain, you could either force your body to keep going or give up and die. You did it all, Sammy. You passed the tests.” “Great…” I said. “So, now what?” “When a person conquers Hard Mountain, they speak with their ancestors to learn how they can be a strong warrior and pass on the family line,” said Dad. “The warrior then receives the power of his ancestors to become that great warrior.” “But Dad, we’re not warriors,” I said. “You were a fireman, grandpa was a newspaper salesman.” “Well… times change,” chuckled Dad. “Son, I just want you to be happy and healthy. You’ve become a man in your own right and I have no clue what to pass onto you. You have a lot of love in your life…” I looked over at Jack and Danny who were sitting nearby, watching me patiently. I blushed and looked back at my Dad. “I’m happy for you, Sammy,” said Dad. “And I just want you to be happy, no matter who you love. What can I give you now that I’m gone?” “Dad when I was kid, when you were alive, all I wanted to be was big and strong like you,” I said. “Even in the face of death you always had a smile on your face. Even when you were getting weaker and sicker, you never gave in until you couldn’t fight anymore. I see that now. I could have been strong like you but I chose not to. And because I was so childish, after you died I stayed weak and lazy. I want to be strong like you, like Danny and Jack. I don’t want to be weak ever again, in mind or in body. I want to be the one to carry the burdens of others, not be carried anymore. I’ve been attracted to guys with muscle because I guess I wanted to replace you in some way. Maybe now I can be like you, and when I look at myself looking bigger I’ll remember how much you meant to me.” My Dad smiled, tears in his eyes. His ghostly hand touched my face and it felt warm, loving. “My Sammy, I’ll always be proud of you,” he said. “If ever you feel lost or need guidance, come back to the mountain, I’ll be waiting for you. But until then, just be the person you want to be. Jack and Danny, I know that they feel very strongly about you. You will always find happiness with them. You were always meant to find happiness with them. I will be watching you. Goodbye Sammy.” “Goodbye Dad,” I said. I’d finally been able to say it and I was comforted in that fact as Dad faded away. The clouds above swirled and the thunder grew louder. I looked up, watching the storm brew within the dark sky. A bolt of lightning struck the water and I felt my body seize and shake. Power was flowing from the water directly into my body. Electricity rippled throughout my body, through every bone, muscle fibre and vein. The lightning faded, the sky cleared and I felt aware of my body for the first time in my life. I got out of the pool as Jack and Danny ran to me. They wrapped me into a tight hug, sandwiching me between their muscular bodies. The feeling of their rock hard muscles crushing me felt good, my cock growing rock hard. “Guys, guys, guys,” I said muffled, as my face was pressed into Jack’s pecs. “I can’t breathe.” They released me and I could finally breathe. I looked down at my body and it was different, my shoulders were wider, my muscles were fuller with noticeable bumps all over me. I wasn’t massive, not a mountain like Jack or Danny, but where once was flatness was now the beginnings of hard molehills. My cuts and bruises were gone, the hair on my body was gone and my skin was completely clear and smooth and there was a little less fat on my body. “I don’t understand,” I said, confused. I grasped my throat, my voice felt a little deeper than normal. “I thought I would be bigger?” Jack smiled, stroking my arms. “Remember what I said yesterday about feeling the rewards of getting bigger, stronger? The mountain gives you the building blocks, it’s up to you to become the warrior.” I nodded and Danny hugged me from behind. “You have changed a lot though,” said Danny, reaching down to my cock. “This is definitely bigger.” I looked down and gasped as Danny’s touch made my cock swell to full hardness in seconds. My cock was no longer average in size and girth but a monster jutting from my legs. It had to be at least at least ten and half inches long, as thick as a can of red bull and hanging below were a pair of big, orange-sized balls churning happily away. “This has changed too,” said Jack, cupping my face. He let go and led me to the pool so I could look at my moonlit reflection. My face was different. It looked a lot like it normally did, but there was more of my father in my face now, more masculinity. A stronger jawline, a straighter nose, thicker cheekbones and thinner cheeks; I could see myself there in the water but it was unfamiliar, though I wasn’t complaining. I looked sexy and I felt sexy for the first time in my life. -- Chapter Twelve: With the mountain conquered, a new journey begins...

Hey guys, me again. Bit of a long chapter but a lot certainly happens. Enjoy, comment and all that stuff. Chapter One Chapter Two Chapters Three and Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapters Seven and Eight Chapter Nine Hard Mountain - Chapter Ten: The forest at the base had been uneventful and the incline up began to increase. I'd managed to find a trail that seemed to lead upwards. When I reached a clearing I would plant a stick in the ground to measure time. It was getting into the afternoon now and the sun was still very warm. My feet were aching, I kept standing on stones and my blisters were only getting worse. The slightly mossy brush disappeared once I'd left the forest so I was walking on mostly dirt and rocks. The path wound left and right, growing steeper and steeper. My legs burned but I kept going; if I stopped now then I would never get going again. Eventually the path began to level out and stopped as I reached the mouth of a cave. I couldn't see anywhere else to go except inside, the side of the mountain was very steep so without proper equipment there was no way up. I entered the cave and it was pitch black, I held my hand next to the wall to guide me forward. There were no forks in the road but it wound left and right. I had no perception of time in the darkness and I was going forward very slowly so I didn't stumble. I started to shiver as the temperature dropped the further in I walked. Occasionally I'd jump as an ice-cold drop of water hit me from above, blind as to its source in the darkness. I had no clue how high the cave was but I never came across any stalactites to bash my head into. A dim light started to come into view as I edged around a corner and the path started to illuminate the closer I got. I came out into a larger cave with a pool of water in the middle, much like the one I had visited with Jack and Danny. There was a large opening above where the light of the early evening sun shone through, casting a reddish glow around the cave. On the other side of the pool was a set of stone steps that looked like they had been carved into the rock face that led upwards and, I guessed, outside. The shore of the pool where I stood only stretched about twelve foot by six and the cave walls were smooth so there was only one way forward, through the water. I dipped a toe in and remarked at how warm the water felt. I waded in and the water never went higher than my waist. It was certainly refreshing after walking in the freezing cold for so long and the bed was smooth underfoot. As I reached the middle I felt a gust of wind start to swirl around me, and the water started to ripple a few feet in front of me. A pale, sickly-looking and hairless figure in a hospital gown rose up from the water. I recognised him instantly and my throat choked up. The hollowed out eyes and gaunt, sallow face staring at me with sorrow, pain and disappointment. I tried to turn back but something had stuck my feet to the bed of the pool and I was failing to hold back my tears. The figure was stumbling towards me, the water splashing with each of its laborious steps. I was crying, sobbing loudly, trying to look anywhere but at him. “No!” I screamed. “No! You aren’t real! YOU’RE NOT HIM!” “I am,” he said. “Please… Sammy…” “NO!” I cried. “Make it stop… make it stop…” “Why do you hate me, Sammy?” he asked. “Why do you hate your father?” “BECAUSE YOU WEREN’T STRONG ENOUGH!” I screamed, blood boiling and my face growing red with an explosive rage. “YOU GAVE UP! YOU FUCKING GAVE UP! YOU SAID YOU WOULD ALWAYS BE STRONG BUT YOU WEREN’T! YOU LIED TO ME! You… you… Why did you leave me?” The figure never answered, it fell face first into the water and the haunting sound of a flat heart monitor echoed in the cave. I ran to the figure and pulled them into my arms. “No, no, no, no, no,” I whispered. “Don’t go, keep fighting Dad. Please!” I felt like I was six years old all over again, back in the hospital the day he died. We were both pulled under the water, but I found myself back in my house. “Hey!” said a familiar voice. “I’m home!” “DADDY!” said another familiar voice. A young boy of about three ran past me as a man entered the room. I felt my throat close up as I remembered where this was. Reaching down to pick up the boy was a broad shouldered, muscular man in a fire fighters uniform. The man was my father, before he was sick. He was thick chested, wide-shouldered, strong-armed and had a handsome, scruffy face. The younger version of me was in his arms, almost strangling him as I hugged him as tight a young kid could. “Did you save lotsa people?” I asked. “Not today, but I did help a cat that got stuck up a tree,” said Dad. “Yay!” I cheered, kissing him on the cheek. “Would you save me if I was stuck up a tree?” My Dad chuckled. “Of course, I’ll always get you out of trouble Sammy.” My Mom came in and Dad put me down, pulling Mom in close as his hands rested on her waist, kissing her gently. “I missed you, honey,” said Dad. “I missed you too,” said Mom, stroking his chest. “Sam made up another story today.” “Another one?” Dad chuckled. “We’re gonna have to start writing them down.” I smiled, my cheeks wet with tears. This was the father I remembered. Loving, caring, strong. The scene faded as I started telling my dad my story about a rabbit that had lost its ears. I then found myself in my backyard. The younger me was lying on the ground with a kid’s tricycle on top of me. “Heeeeelp!” I cried. “Help! Will nobody save me!?” “I’ll save you!” said a deep, confident voice from behind a tree. Out popped my Dad wearing a tablecloth as a cape and some speedos over his jeans. He stuck his arms out on front of him and jogged in a zigzag around the garden before stopping at my younger self. “Looks like you need a hand!” said Dad. My younger self pretended to gasp with relief. “SUPERDAD!” My Dad took hold of the tricycle and he pretended it was very heavy. He grunted with fake exertion as he slowly lifted it up and over his head. He put it down on the floor and crouched. “Are you injured citizen?” asked Dad. “Yes, SuperDad,” I said, feigning injury. “The evil Barbie stuck me with a jelly-legs poison and I can’t walk. The only cure is ice-cream!” “Ice cream, eh?” said Dad. “Well I’ll take you to my hideout and I’ll cure you of the evil Barbie’s poison!” He lifted me up under his arm and ran around the garden in circles. My Mom and sister had been watching and giggling from the patio where they had been gardening. “I want ice-cream too!” said my sister. My Dad ran up and grabbed her in the other arm, spinning us all in a circle until he finally ran into the house. My mom shook her head and I followed her as she walked inside. My Dad had put us on the kitchen counter and he was pulling ice cream out of the freezer. He popped the lid and got three spoons out and we all began spooning it in our mouths, my Dad eating huge mouthfuls and making us laugh. The scene began to fade again until I was in a hallway in a hospital. My younger self, about six now, was sitting on a bench with my sister, waiting. My parents came out of a door looking like the world had ended. My Mom had clearly been crying and my Dad was slimmer, not quite as muscular; his hair was missing in patches on his head and he was incredibly pale. We ran to them when we saw them and my Dad crouched down and pulled us into a tight hug. “Daddy, are you gonna be okay?” my sister asked. My Dad looked like he was about to speak but he didn’t, he just held us tighter. “Of course Daddy’s gonna be okay!” I said. “Daddy is real strong, he’s never lets anything beat him, right Daddy?” My Dad smiled. At the time I took it for a happy smile. But now that I was watching the memory again, now that I was older, I recognised it as a lie. He knew the truth but he didn’t want to scare us, to let us down. No, it was a smile that said: “it’s not okay, it’s not going to be fine, I’m going to die.” “Daddy’s gonna keep fighting until he gets better,” he said. “And you two are what keep me strong. Sammy, Gemma; you have to be good to your Mommy and help her out lots, okay? Daddy might get a little weak, I might have to go to the hospital more and I might not always be able to play but if you’re good kids for Mommy then it’ll make me stronger, okay? Promise me?” “Daddy, are you going to die?” my sister asked. My Dad froze again, my Mom bit back a sob above us, but he saved face with another smile. “No, sweetie,” said Dad. “So long as you’re good, Daddy will be strong and I’ll… I’ll get better in no time. So no fighting, no bothering Mom or making messes; you both have to promise me, okay?” “We promise,” my sister and I said in unison. My Dad began to tear up and pulled us in as tight as he could. The scene disappeared and I was in a different part of the hospital standing behind my younger self, my sister and Mom as we walked down the hallway. My sister was holding a “get well soon” balloon and flowers, while I was carrying a handmade book with an illustration on the front in crayon. A doctor stepped out of a door and noticed us approaching. I recognised that doctor, as he would later become my Stepfather. “Can we see Daddy?” I asked. “In a minute honey, let me talk to the doctor first,” Mom said. We waited patiently as the doctor pulled Mom aside. They spoke in hushed voices that even I couldn’t hear but Mom hung her head and the doctor put a hand on her shoulder sympathetically. We walked into the room and my younger self ran out almost instantly, dropping the book on the floor. In the hospital bed was the same figure that had appeared in the water, my father after month and months of very intensive chemotherapy. As I remembered, he’d been staying at the hospital for a month and hadn’t been home which was why we had visited. Mom ran after my younger self and grabbed me. “Honey, what’s wrong?” she asked. “Don’t you want to see Daddy? He wants to see you.” “THAT’S NOT DADDY!” I screamed. “MY DADDY IS BIG AND STRONG AND HE’S A SUPERHERO! HE DOESN’T LOOK LIKE THAT! WHERE’S MY DADDY! I WANT MY DADDY!” “Daddy’s a little weak right now,” said Mom. “He’s not very well.” “NO! DADDY IS NEVER WEAK! HE TOLD ME HE WAS STRONG AND HE PROMISED HE WOULD BE STRONG FOREVER!” My younger self began to cry and so did Mom. She hugged me tight and I continued to beg for my Dad, the one I remembered and not the sick man lying in the hospital bed. I suddenly felt my body being pulled back, the hallway getting further away from me but I wanted to stay. I emerged from the water, gasping for air. I was back in the cave on Hard Mountain, alone in the pool. I began to cry, really cry. I was crying for the father I had hated for so long because he had died of cancer, a childish hatred that he hadn’t kept his promise to be strong and let it take his life. I cried for the memories I had shut away out of that childish hatred of him, the replacement of my grief, the years of repressing all happy thoughts and memories I’d had of him. I cried at my own self-hatred because I had refused to see him after that last memory, even when he was moments from death. I had never said goodbye, I sat outside in the hallway, even when the haunting sound of the heart monitor going flat was all I could hear above the sorrow of my family. I stood up from the pool. In my heart I wanted to drown myself, let the water consume me. I could do it right here and now and no one would know, not even Jack and Danny, until it was too late. I wanted to, so badly; the temptation and the water were so inviting. But I knew I couldn’t. I had to be strong and keep going, keep climbing Hard Mountain as they had told me, or else I would die anyway. I walked to the other side, wiping my face clear and taking the stone steps slowly. Up and up and up they led until I was at the end, coming out onto the mountain. -- Chapter Eleven: The higher you climb, the harder it gets...