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Jay's new year's resolution was to get in shape, but it was already late January and he hadn't made much progress. He had always been a spindly beanpole without much interest in sports or working out, and it had never really bothered him much. In fact, he enjoyed having a metabolism that allowed him to eat pretty much any crap he wanted without gaining an ounce. Despite his sunken chest and scrawny arms, his ex-girlfriend had always insisted that she liked "skinny boys". Then again, she always claimed to to like his reddish-brown hair and pale complexion, right up until the day she dumped him for a tall, blond, tanned surfer who looked like he had just stepped off an Abercrombie bag, only he was in color. Jay had discovered one problem with taking up exercise in his mid-twenties was that he had never built up much endurance. Even though he made a concerted effort to get up early each morning to come to the health club before work, he found that his energy waned quickly once he got there. He would plod along on the treadmill for a while before he grew winded and pooped out, sometimes venturing toward the weight machines in a futile attempt to beef up his twig-thin limbs but barely working up enough of a sweat to merit a shower. It didn't do his already low self-esteem much good to start off each day surrounded by the extremely buff dudes who populated the place. Seriously, every guy here looked so jacked, Jay wondered if there was something in the water or a radiation leak. One morning, after a particularly unproductive session, Jay was on his way toward the exit, fondly pondering the sausage and egg biscuit he planned to buy on his way to the office, when he heard the whiz of a blender echoing his direction from the gym's juice bar. Jay realized that he was not helping to reach his fitness goals by stuffing his face with a pile of grease every morning, so he spun around and headed back to grab himself a smoothie. He waited behind a wall of muscle who was practically busting out of his orange stringer tank. With a bleached-blond flat-top, the guy reminded Jay of that Russian boxer from that one "Rocky" movie, just not as oily. He was handed a jumbo styrofoam cup by the guy behind the counter, and pushed his way past Jay without even registering his presence. The counter guy was not as inhumanly built as ol' Flat-Top but annoyingly handsome, with dirty blond hair, riveting blue eyes, a model's cheekbones and a firm jaw upon which he kept a carefully maintained two-day growth of stubble. He crossed his arms, which only highlighted the pump of his biceps and thickness of his pecs. He let loose a gleaming white smile as he saw Jay approach. "Hey, what can I get you, buddy?" Jay jerked a thumb toward the departing steroid case and joked, "I'll have what he's having." The guy behind the counter squinted at Jay uncertainly. "Not sure you could handle what he ordered." Jay decided not to explain that he hadn't been serious and turned his focus to the menu on the chalkboard behind the counter, wondering why all of the drinks had such stupid names. Perhaps just to embarrass the customers when they ordered them? Jay opted for the least cringeworthy flavor. "Can I just get an Orange Delite?" "Sure thing," said the clerk, assembling the ingredients with a flair for showmanship, even tossing a scoop of frozen yogurt from behind his back and over his shoulder, then deftly catching it in the pitcher of the blender. Just before he was ready to mix the concoction together, he paused and glanced back at Jay. "Do you want a boost with that?" Jay shook his head. "Nah, that's okay. I don't think I need one." The guy gave Jay a long look. "Gotta say, you look pretty tired, my man. You could really use something to kick up your energy level a notch." He pointed toward a plastic canister heaped with deep red granules. "What are you talking about, like caffeine or something? I don't want to be jittery at work." The guy waved his hands dismissively. "Nah, this stuff is totally safe, completely natural. Just gives you a pleasant buzz that keeps you revved up all day." When he noticed that Jay was still wincing with uncertainty, the guy sweetened the deal. "Tell you what. I'll toss in a scoop for free today. You come back tomorrow and tell me how you liked it." Jay shrugged. "Well, I guess I can't argue with free!" Before he had even finished the sentence, the guy was dumping a scoop of the red powder into the blender and whipping up Jay's drink. He poured it out and handed it across the counter to Jay, who took a cautious sip. Not only was it delicious, but he felt a definite tingle across his taste buds, a bit like the explosive burst of a mouthful of Pop Rocks. Jay nodded approvingly and handed over the money for the drink. The guy rang up the transaction and placed the change in Jay's palm, grasping his new customer's hand in a firm shake in the process. "I'm Max. Nice to meetcha." Jay swallowed a mouthful of smoothie and gave his name in response. "All right, Jay. Look forward to getting your full report tomorrow!" Jay could feel the first effects of the boost kicking in by the time he reached his car. It was subtle but he definitely sensed an extra spring in his step. By the time he reached work, he was greedily sucking the last drops through his straw. He raced over from the parking lot to hold open the lobby door for Francine, the pretty young receptionist, who was arriving at the same time. Jay had long harbored a bit of a crush on Francine, but he knew she was dating a bearded outdoorsy type who sometimes showed up at the office reeking of Old Spice and B.O. Francine stepped into the elevator and held the door open for Jay, but Jay informed her that he would take the stairs today. In the two years he had worked here, Jay couldn't recall anyone ever mounting the seven flights between the lobby and the office except during a fire drill, but today Jay felt like he had energy to burn. He bounded into the stairwell, taking the steps two or three at a time. When Francine's elevator arrived on seven, Jay was already waiting outside the office suite with his arms folded, trying to look nonchalant and conceal his heavy breathing. Jay volunteered to start the coffee, usually one of Francine's tasks, although he had no need for any himself this morning. He was already sufficiently buzzed from the boost. He sat down at his cubicle and dug into his work, finishing all of his assignments for the day by eleven a.m. He would usually take advantage of a lull by surfing the internet or playing computer solitaire, but he was far too restless. Instead, he roamed the office, asking if anyone had anything he could help them with. Jay's middle-aged boss Henry overheard this and gestured Jay into his office, handing him a thick folder and saying he needed a summary of its contents written up by the end of the day. Jay eagerly grabbed the folder and said he would get right on it. He dove right in, his attention so riveted on the task at hand that he worked straight through lunch, not even taking a break for a snack or a leak. At three o'clock, he brought Henry the finished summary, still warm from the laser printer, then informed Henry of a (non-existent) dental appointment that he had forgotten to mention earlier. Henry was so astonished by Jay's sudden productiveness that he gladly let Jay take the rest of the afternoon off, promising to read through Jay's work overnight. Jay pulled off his necktie as he ran down the seven floors to the lobby. When he stepped outside, he inhaled deeply, relieved to have escaped the stuffy confines of the office. He was still so pumped that he considered heading back to the gym, but decided instead to go to his car and slip on his workout clothes for a quick jog in the nearby park. It was a cool day, but Jay found the brisk air invigorating as he chugged around the running path. He wasn't setting any records -- he barely outpaced an elderly woman out for a stroll with her walker -- but, for the first time in memory, he was honestly psyched to be exercising. He rewarded himself for his productive day by swinging into a sports bar, still sweaty in his black tank top and gray sweat pants, and filling up on Buffalo wings and a pitcher of beer. When he was done, he headed back to his apartment with the intention of catching up on the "Downton Abbey" episodes that were piling up on his DVR, but once he sat down on his sofa, his energy level plummeted. He was dozing in a matter of minutes, not waking until he heard his alarm sounding in the bedroom at 5:30 the following morning. Jay felt miserable, an unholy union of utter exhaustion and the worst hangover of his life. He could barely lift himself off the couch, and crawled his way into the bedroom to shut off the buzzing clock. He was tempted to blow off the gym, but he felt the need to complain to Max about how shitty he felt. At least he was still in his workout clothes and didn't have to expend any effort changing. He stuffed his work clothes into his gym bag and dragged himself out the door. Max spotted Jay the moment he entered the club, an eager smile plastered on his too-perky-for-six-a.m. face. When he noticed Jay's demeanor, Max's expression shifted abruptly to one of concern. "Dude, are you feeling okay?" "No, 'dude', I'm not," Jay said, his voice prickly. "You should have warned me that I'd crash like this." Max cringed. "Ooh, sorry, yeah, I forgot to tell you, the first day does take a lot out of you. But the good news is, the effects are cumulative. The more the boost builds up in your system, the less extreme the drop-off. But tell me about yesterday? Didn't it feel amazing?" Jay couldn't deny how jazzed he had felt throughout the day. "Yeah, it was awesome, just like you promised, but I don't think it's for me. I don't think it's good to be walking around on an artificial high." "Dude, I told you, this shit's a hundred percent natural. Here, let me give you another freebie. See if it peps you up through your workout." Jay began to object, but Max waved a finger his direction. "Uh uh uh, you listen to your old doctor Max here. This is just what you need." Soon, he had whipped up a frothy Orange Delite and was handing it to Jay, who felt it would be impolite to refuse. The moment he took a sip, he felt foolish for hesitating. The cloud of fatigue that had been wearing him down lifted almost immediately. Jay gave Max a thumbs-up, and Max shot back a "told you so" grin. Jay dumped his gym bag in the locker room and polished off the smoothie before heading to the treadmill, where he managed a full thirty-minute sprint without getting winded. He then made his way to the weight machines and found himself easily lifting weights that were overtaxing him the week before. They were still comparatively miniscule, and he felt embarrassed each time he stepped into rotation with some top-heavy lifter and had to reduce the stack by a full hundred pounds before he did his set, but by his own standards, he had made a remarkable improvement. He could honestly feel his muscles growing tight, and between sets, he focused his attention on the guys around him, studying their movements for tips on improving his form. Jay was so wrapped up in his workout that he didn't even notice the time until he glanced at a clock that read 7:45. He couldn't believe he had been exercising for close to two hours. Although he normally would have become frantic at the realization that he was now unavoidably late for work, Jay felt remarkably unperturbed. There was nothing he could do about it, he told himself, so why stress out over something he couldn't change? Instead, he took a luxurious shower, dressed himself slowly, and stopped by the smoothie bar on his way to the exit. "I think I'll try the Choco-Mocha Loco," he declared to Max. "With a boost." Max looked at him skeptically. "Another boost? On top of the one you already had." "I feel like I burnt off a lot of that in my workout. I wanna keep this feeling going." "Oh-kay. You're the boss." Max set about gathering the ingredients. "But no more freebies, okay? I insist on paying for this one. So, how much will it be?" "Large smoothie is $7.99. Boost is another ten. So, $17.99." Jay gulped, surprised to discover that he was about to pay eighteen bucks for a friggin' milkshake. Then again, ten dollars seemed like a bargain for the feeling the boost gave him. He gladly forked over a twenty, putting the change into Max's tip jar. Max smiled appreciatively and handed Jay his drink. With a second scoop of the powerful substance surging through his veins, Jay felt ecstatic. He took the stairs again, bursting with so much energy that he overshot the seventh floor by five flights before he realized his mistake. He strode into the office with absolute confidence, and rather than ducking the wrath of his boss, he walked straight into Henry's office and said, "Sorry for being late." "What?", said Henry, glancing up from his schmeared onion bagel, spitting particles of cream cheese onto his desk. "Oh, no problem. Listen, Jay, hell of a job on that summary. Really impressive." "Thank you, Henry," responded Jay with an uncharacteristically cocky grin. "I'm glad to see you showing some initiative." Henry studied his employee curiously. "What's different about you? You lose weight or something?" Jay barked a laugh. "With MY body? I sure hope not. But I have been working out every morning." "Oh. That must be it," Henry said with a nod. "The wife keeps telling me I should get in shape, but..." Henry shrugged and slapped his palm across his expansive belly. The resulting concussion echoed around the room. "Maybe you'll have to let me in on your secret." Jay just smiled and went to his cubicle, eager to dive into work. But unlike the previous day, Jay found it hard to stay focused on his tasks, as his thoughts kept drifting back to how good that morning's workout had felt. He squirmed in his chair, the words on his computer screen blurring into gobbledygook. His palms grew clammy, and drops of sweat beaded up on his forehead. He popped his top shirt button and loosened his necktie, feeling straitjacketed in his Oxford shirt and Dockers. He slogged through his assignments the best he could, but he found himself longing to get back outside. Maybe he could go for another run at lunchtime. He ducked out for lunch twenty minutes early, changed clothes in the car and hit the running path, vowing to take it easy but soon finding himself taking long strides and whizzing past other joggers. He wondered why he hadn't taken up running when he was in high school, as he was finding the adrenalin rush addictive. He loved the feel of his hair blowing in the breeze, the cool air rushing past his skin, the envious glares of the slowpokes he was passing. When he returned to his cubicle, munching on a power bar from the vending machines, he was drenched in sweat, still wearing his tank and sweats. He had hoped that the run would clear his mind, but he had even more trouble grasping what he was reading than he had in the morning. Besides that, he was distracted whenever he glanced down at his arms, which shone with perspiration and still retained their pump from that morning's workout. He kept flexing his arms, unable to get enough of the sight of stony biceps rising in rigid semicircles beneath his skin. He was in the middle of checking himself out when he noticed Henry out of the corner of his eye, hovering at the entrance of the cubicle. "Yeah, Henry, what can I do you for?" Henry looked uncomfortable as he whispered, "It's nothing personal. It's just that...some of the other employees are complaining." "What about?", asked Jay, swiveling back and forth. Henry leaned closer, but backed off, wincing. "It's just that you...you kinda stink." "Really?" Jay lowered his nose toward his armpit. He definitely detected a musky scent, but he kinda liked it. "Sorry, I went running over lunch." "Yeah, about that. I'm all for you getting fit and everything, but this really isn't proper office attire," he said, waving his hands toward Jay's tank, sweats and sneakers. "Well, I woulda showered if we had the facilities, but..." Jay shrugged his rounder-than-usual shoulders. "I couldn't exactly put on my office clothes and smell 'em up." "Yeah, I know. Look, don't worry about it for today, but how about from now on, you restrict your workouts to before and after work?" Jay wasn't sure he could endure a whole workday without breaking for exercise, but Henry had always been a decent guy and treated him well, so Jay agreed. For the rest of the afternoon, Jay continued to struggle with his work. He knew what he was doing was routine, the sort of stuff he could usually breeze through, but his heart just wasn't in it today. He handled what he could, but his attention drifted further as the day dragged on. When five o'clock hit, he left a few folders in his inbox so he could tackle them in the morning when his mind was fresh. On his way out, he couldn't help but notice that Felicia couldn't keep her eyes off him as he strode through the outer office, his bare arms swinging at his sides. He found himself winking at her, which felt odd. He'd never been a winking kind of guy, but it just felt right all of a sudden. It warmed his heart when she smiled back. Jay swung by Whole Foods on the way home, stocking up on groceries more appropriate for his new regimen. Once he got home, he whipped up some grilled chicken and settled in at his computer. After glancing at his emails and Facebook, his gaze drifted to the file which held the bookmarks for his favorite porn sites, but he found that nothing was holding his interest for long. Instead, all he could think about was getting back into the gym in the morning. He searched online for tips that would make his workouts more productive and grew envious of the shredded models on all of the fitness sites. He stripped off his tank and stared in the bathroom mirror, disappointed that the modest gains he had seen during the day had all but faded away. He chided himself. "What the fuck did you expect? You work out for one day and suddenly you're the Rock?" He switched off the computer and flopped into bed before eight o'clock, totally wiped out. When his hand slammed onto the buzzing alarm clock at 5:30, Jay felt weary but, just as Max promised, not quite as miserable as he had been the morning before. Today, however, he had no hesitations about heading into the gym. There was no way he could get through another day without a little boost. Or two. "Two?", Max asked. "You sure you can handle that much?" "I did two yesterday and I was fine," Jay told him, writing off his distractedness on the job as part of getting acclimated to his new routine. Jay consciously puffed out his chest so it better filled his crisp white tank, knowing he still had a lot of hard work ahead of him if he ever hoped to get as toned as Max, let alone the more shredded adonises parading around the gym. He was almost giddy as he slid twenty-eight dollars across the counter to cover his Razzleberry Extreme, slipping Max an extra five for a tip. He guzzled his drink so quickly that an ice-cream headache pierced his brain. As he waited for the cold-induced agony to subside, Jay reminded himself, "No pain, no gain." Jay didn't have to wait long for the rush of the boost to kick in, and soon his legs were flying on the treadmill. He pushed himself to forty-five minutes, unsure whether to attribute his euphoria to the boost or to the "runner's high" he'd heard so much about all these years but was experiencing for the first time. At any rate, he was thoroughly pumped when he finally stepped off the treadmill and, instead of using the weight machines, decided to wander over to the free weights, where the serious bodybuilders congregated. Jay held his shoulders back as he approached the dumbbells, attempting to hoist a pair of sixties before realizing they were far too heavy for him. He worked his way down the rack, testing each lower weight unsuccessfully until he finally managed to budge the thirty-pounders. As he strained to curl them, he heard a lumbering voice from behind him. "You're not doin' it right." Jay glanced in the mirror and saw the guy with the blond flat-top looming behind him, his absurdly jacked muscles fully visible in his black mesh tank. Flat-Top waddled closer on his bloated legs and gripped Jay's upper arms, adjusting their positions. "Try that. And do each rep slower. You'll feel the burn more." "Uh...thanks," Jay said. He raised his right arm gradually, immediately noticing the difference. He glanced into the mirror and nodded appreciatively. The big guy just smiled back and walked over to a 200-pound barbell, which he hoisted over his head with a scream and a grimace. Jay became completely engrossed in his workout, his attention focused intently on the effect each exercise was having on its targeted muscle group. Flat-Top would stroll past from time to time to check on him or offer advice on proper form. Two days ago, Jay couldn't have imagined ever talking to this guy, but now he felt, if not accepted, at least tolerated, despite the vast disparity between their physiques. On one such pass, Flat-Top leaned close to Jay and murmured conspiratorially into his ear, "So, you on the boost?" Jay was flustered, nearly letting the weights slip from his hands. How did the guy know? "Uh, yeah, maybe, a little," he said with an apologetic tone. "Ain't it awesome?", asked Flat-Top, flashing a gap-toothed grin that made the he-man look momentarily like a goofy kid expressing his excitement over a new Christmas toy. Jay nodded, then turned his attention back to his triceps, pausing mid-curl when he had a sudden realization. Flat-Top must be on the boost too! After all, the first time Jay had noticed Flat-Top, he was getting a smoothie from Max, one that Max had said was too much for Jay to handle. Holy shit, how much of the stuff must it take to get as ripped as Flat-Top? Just the thought that he might eventually grow to such a massive size was enough to stiffen Jay's cock in his sweats. He was relieved that they were too baggy for his hard-on to be noticeable. He found himself wondering if the boost had the same notorious shrinking effect on your junk as steroids. He was satisfied with the answer he got from glancing in the mirror at Flat-Top's reflection, as a zucchini-sized lump was clearly outlined by his body-hugging compression shorts. Jay shook his head to get the visual out of his mind, wondering how he had reached the point where he was checking out other guys' bulges. Jay thought it could be wishful thinking, but he could swear that his arms were looking heftier. His shoulders looked distinctly round, a marked change from their usual boniness, and that telltale weightlifter's vein was now faintly visible over the surface of each of his biceps. This only encouraged him to keep pushing himself, moving up to heavier weights with each set. Logically, he ought to be feeling fatigued, but surprisingly his stamina seemed to be growing the longer he worked out. He was so engrossed in lifting that, before he knew it, it was closing in on ten a.m. How was it possible that he had spent four hours at the gym? He knew he couldn't simply waltz into the office two hours late without facing repercussions. Plus, he really was not in the mood to spend the rest of his day imprisoned in that cubicle. Jay headed to the locker room and checked his cell phone, which had three missed messages from Henry. He didn't even bother to listen to the messages before he dialed his boss. Henry sounded exasperated when he picked up, demanding to know why Jay hadn't called him back sooner. Jay spoke hoarsely, his voice sounding even deeper than he had planned to make his ruse sound authentic. "I'm sorry, Henry. I woke up in the middle of the night with a terrible head cold, so I slammed some NyQuil and I musta shut off my ringer, 'cause I didn't hear any of your calls come in. I really don't think I can make it in today." Henry paused before reluctantly saying, "Okay. Take it easy and feel better. But from now on, you leave your phone on. A bunch of us here were worried about you." Jay smirked. Yeah, I bet "a bunch of you" were worried. He thought of the way Henry had asked about his weight and had seemed so nervous when Jay was wearing his tank in the office the day before. He wondered if Henry was checking him out. He knew Henry was married and all, but that didn't mean shit. Jay chuckled. As if he would be interested in some old, out-of-shape guy like Henry when he was surrounded by so many hotter, younger guys at the gym. Jay hung up, delighted that he now had the whole day ahead of him. He was tempted to go back on the floor and lift some more, but surely four hours was plenty for one day. A nice, long shower sounded tempting, so Jay stripped down, wrapped a towel around his waist and headed toward the shower room. Rounding the corner, he immediately collided with someone. "Oh, sorry, dude," said a familiar voice. Jay took a step back and realized it was Max, totally naked. As fit as Max looked fully clothed, it was nothing compared to seeing every facet of his finely-wrought musculature on display. His skin seemed to be shrink-wrapped around every curve of his well-defined muscles, without a trace of a tan line. Max took a long look at Jay and said, "Whoa, Jay-man, look at you! I guess you COULD handle two scoops!" As Jay looked down bashfully, he noticed just how pumped he had gotten from his long workout. His whole body seemed to have swollen, and a cleft had developed down the center of his abdomen, branching out to the sides in the beginnings of a six-pack. "Yeah, I guess so," Jay said, his voice still surprisingly raspy. He felt his erection rising, tenting his towel enough that Max must have noticed it. "Very impressive," Max said, placing his palm over Jay's shoulder and sliding it down until his thumb grazed the slope of his biceps and his fingers wrapped around Jay's triceps. Jay's first instinct was to pull his arm away from this unwanted contact, but for some reason he didn't mind Max's touch. He noticed Max's unencumbered cock growing plump and tilting slightly upwards. Jay's brain struggled to comprehend the possibility that a seemingly regular dude like Max might be turned on by guys or, even more unbelievably, might be turned on by Jay. "I gotta go," said Jay, unconvincingly, his voice cracking as if puberty were reasserting itself a decade late. He tried to step away, but Max maintained a firm grip on his arm. "Do you? Really?" Max flashed his winning smile and his blue eyes locked in on Jay. "'Cause I could swear I just heard you calling in sick." Max's hand grazed across Jay's pecs, then down his rudimentary abs until his fingers came to rest along the edge of Jay's towel. Jay's breath grew shallow, while his pulse raced. Goddamn, he realized, Max looked even more handsome at such close proximity. Although Jay was straight, he couldn't deny the attraction he was feeling for Max at that moment. It occurred to Jay that Max wasn't just a good-looking guy, he was objectively prettier than any of the women Jay had ever dated. While Jay couldn't really understand the strange feelings he was experiencing, they were strong and impossible to ignore. He stood frozen in place, unsure what to do next. Max handled the decision making, taking Jay by the hand and dragging him into the sauna. He shut the door behind them and posted a "closed for maintenance" sign to keep out intruders. The dry heat was making Jay lightheaded. His knees buckled, but Max kept a firm grip on Jay's hands to keep him from falling down. Max yanked the towel away from Jay's waist and smiled approvingly at the sight of Jay's bobbing erection. Although Max couldn't be sure how well-endowed Jay had been before starting the boost, he hadn't possessed the swagger and confidence one would normally expect from someone packing such a hefty slab of meat between his legs. Besides, Max had seen the boost's effects first-hand so many times that he could easily identify its exquisite handiwork. Jay's eyes were glazing over as Max leaned close to his ear and whispered, "Don't be afraid. This is all perfectly natural." At the sound of those words, the final shreds of Jay's resistance melted away and he surrendered to his physical desires. He cupped his hands around Max's bristly cheeks and planted a succulent kiss on Max's soft lips. Jay's cock indicated its approval by tilting toward the ceiling and oozing out a dollop of cum. Max cupped and fondled Jay's balls as his tongue migrated into Jay's mouth. Max guided Jay to one of the wooden benches along the side of the room, gently pushing him downward to a seated position so Jay was at eye level with Max's rigid cock. Jay began to salivate at the sight of it hovering right in his face. He gazed up, his eyes silently pleading for permission. Max just nodded, and Jay leaned forward, lips open as he slid the other man's rock-hard dick inside his mouth. Jay had never done this before but, to quote Max, it felt perfectly natural. Max stroked his hands through Jay's thick brown hair, clutching its strands and gently sliding Jay's head back and forth. He had known on first sight that Jay would be an excellent target for the boost. Anyone who radiated that much shyness and insecurity would be much more receptive to the radical changes brought about by the boost. Max knew that the powder's rapid results had an addictive allure which would quickly leave Jay craving more. He had also known that the boost's most notorious side effect would soon permanently alter Jay's deepest desires, just as it had for so many before him, such as Chuck, the behemoth who Jay thought of as "Flat-Top". Three weeks ago, Chuck had been even shorter and meeker and more frail than Jay had been. Now Chuck had undergone a total transformation into a ferocious muscle beast who, when he wasn't pumping iron, spent his days prowling the city, attempting to quench his insatiable desire for dick and discovering that someone as shredded as he had become didn't need to search for very long to find a willing partner. And then there was Max himself. Max had been a collegiate swimmer engaged to his high-school girlfriend when he was first exposed to the boost five years ago while seeking a safe, legal substance that would give him an edge in the pool. He quickly succumbed to its allure, exploding with two hundred pounds of solid muscle before plunging off the deep end into a lost weekend of cock-centric debauchery that lasted six months. When he finally bottomed out three years ago, turning tricks and committing petty thefts for the sole purpose of scrounging up the money for his next hit of the red stuff, he was befriended by a dashing young businessman who took Max into his home and nursed him back to health. His benefactor gradually cut back Max's intake of the boost to a maintenance level that sustained the trim, nicely-proportioned physique Max now sported and set Max up with a job behind the smoothie counter at a local gym that he owned. Max figured he owed the businessman his life and was willing to do anything for him, even if it meant luring new customers into using the boost, despite what Max knew personally of the consequences of excessive use. Easily half of the club's clientele had been turned onto the boost by Max, and they owed their hard bodies and ravenous sexual appetites to it. Max had long suspected that his mysterious guardian was also the manufacturer of the boost, since he could get his hands on unlimited quantities any time he wished, but Max felt powerless to say anything. If he didn't do as he was told, his supply could be cut off immediately and he would once again be back on the streets, doing whatever it took for his next boost. Jay, of course, knew none of this. He just knew that nothing had ever turned him on as much as feeling Max's mighty meat against his tongue. Jay wrapped a free hand around his own cock, stroking it furiously, the pre-cum euphoria already more dizzying than any full-blown orgasm he had experienced. He felt something warm and viscous squirt against the roof of his mouth, followed by a larger blast which shot straight down his throat. Jay nearly gagged, but kept sliding Max's shaft between his lips as it throbbed in rhythm, pumping out so much cum that it began to dribble out the corners of Jay's mouth and trickle down his chin. Jay's cock fired off a torrent of jizz which squirted upwards onto Max's taut abs and dripped downward, sizzling as it hit the sauna's hot wooden slats. Jay leaned back his head, spent but satisfied. His smiled blissfully, unaware that the boost was deadening any parts of his brain which didn't immediately involve what would become his new twin obsessions, working out and fucking guys. By now, Max knew how to spot all the signs of this final stage of the transformation. Tension evaporated from the body, leaving the user feeling completely chill, even in a sauna. This total relaxation relaxed the facial muscles, which not only made the user happier and feel more at ease but inevitably made them look more handsome too. Finally, the eyes intensified in the vibrancy of their color, while the light behind those eyes noticeably dimmed. Max still retained a faint memory of having been smarter once, but he never could recall exactly what kind of information used to clutter up his mind. Whatever it was, he never seemed to miss it. His interests may have narrowed, but the absence of intellectual distractions let him devote his full concentration to his body's more elemental cravings. Max looked down at Jay with a kindly grin. "Did you like that?" Jay tilted his head up, his lovely face beaming dopily. "For sure!", he replied. His brain felt pleasantly fuzzy, like his skull was filled with cotton candy. Noticing the trail of cum still trickling down Max's torso, Jay leaned forward and placed his tongue on Max's salty skin. He gradually rose to his feet, licking up the mixture of his own cum and Max's sweat as his tongue navigated over the bumps of Max's abs and the smooth crevasse between his pecs. When he reached his full height, Jay discovered that he was now eye-to-eye with Max and nearly as ripped. There was nothing better than being a big strong guy, thought Jay, aside from fucking a big strong guy. Max unlocked the sauna door and led Jay into the shower room, so they could clean off. Jay took particular delight in lathering Max's body and scrubbing him down. Returning to the locker room, Jay sat down beside his locker, struggling to remember his combination. When he finally managed to open it, he pulled out his work clothes, but the sleeves of his shirt were now far too narrow to accommodate his thickly-muscled arm. He managed to insert most of one forearm before the seam split loudly. "What are you doin', man?", Max asked. "Aren't you gonna work out today?" Jay puzzled over that, realizing Max was right. What was he thinking, coming to the gym and then forgetting to work out? Man, he sure was feeling dumb lately. He wriggled free from his ruined dress shirt and began to pull a white tank top over his head, but even that was too constraining for his broad chest. "Looks like you need some new clothes, my friend. Tell you what, I'll take you shopping after we're done working out." It just so happened that one of Max's benefactors' business was a big-and-tall menswear store, and Max had brought them dozens of loyal customers over the years. He tossed Jay an XXL shirt and roomy basketball shorts. "Here, you can wear these for now." Before working out, Jay insisted on getting a double-boost smoothie, indicating no memory that he had already had two boosts that morning. Jay ducked behind the counter at the juice bar and whipped up a Pina Cool-ada, handing the cup across the counter and saying to Jay, "That'll be fifty bucks." That seemed kinda pricey to Jay, but he couldn't honestly remember what he had paid before. All he knew was he desperately needed that boost in order to achieve the results he desired. He didn't have enough cash, so he put it on his debit card. As Max knew better than most, once you were hooked on the boost and chasing that rush, no price was too high. The key, his mentor had taught him, was to charge the maximum amount possible without drawing undue attention to your actions. There was a reason the boost wasn’t officially on the menu board and was never rung up on the register. Jay slammed down the drink in a single gulp, then roared, "Let's fuckin' do this, bro." He gave Max a fist bump, then he marched purposefully toward the free weights. Max followed behind, admiring the way Jay's new muscles rebalanced themselves in an intricate dance with each stride and the way his prominent glutes bounced inside his shorts. Jay and Flat-Top alternated sets, egging on each other to ever-increasing weights. Flat-Top was already impossibly shredded, and Jay seemed determined to catch up to him as fast as possible. Max hung back, sporadically doing a few light curls to keep himself toned but not overdoing it, knowing that moderation was the key to preventing him from relapsing. He was happy with his physique, although he could still appreciate the sight of others pushing themselves to the max. When Jay went into work the next morning, he brought with him a box full of free smoothies, compliments of the gym. He wore a white polo shirt which snugly hugged the contours of his torso and cargo shorts which showed off the sinewy bulges of his calves, eliciting stares of wonder and gasps of disbelief from his co-workers. They wouldn't be his co-workers for long, as Jay already planned to submit his resignation. He no longer had any interest in his job and, although he didn't realize it, had lost the intellectual capacity to do it effectively any more. No, he planned to spend his days at the gym from now on, hanging out with his new buddies and perfecting his bod. The other guys at the gym had been very cool and welcoming to him, even though he still had lots of work to do before he was quite in their league. Jay wasn't worried about no longer having a salary, because Max had said he would cover Jay's expenses, including the hundred dollars he owed for every boosted smoothie he drank. All Jay had to do in return was recruit new members into the gym and sing the praises of the boost. That shouldn't be a problem for someone as uninhibited and outgoing as Jay, who rarely talked about anything other than the gym. He was literally a walking, talking billboard for the results that could be achieved there, with a brand new tattoo of the gym's name arching across his traps. Jay walked into Henry's office and placed a large smoothie in the middle of his desk. "You wanted to know my secret? There it is!" Henry looked at the drink, then up at Jay, who had somehow grown phenomenally during his "sick day". The face was still recognizable, although somehow more handsome, perched atop his thickened neck and broad bodybuilder's physique. Henry's jaw hung slack, speechless. "Go ahead," Jay's voice boomed as he gestured toward the drink. "Trust me, you'll love it." Noticing Henry's hesitation, Jay said, "Don't worry, man. It's totally natural." Henry found it impossible to defy the commanding figure hovering on the other side of his desk. He took a cautious sip. It was definitely tasty. And it had an indefinable zing that sent a charge through his body the second it hit his tongue. He was impressed. "Mmm. I think I could get hooked on this." Jay grinned. That was exactly what he wanted to hear. He could already envision Henry's gut melting away, his double chin vanishing, his wrinkles fading, his comb-over filling in... Why, give Henry enough boost and he could be downright fuckable. Francine sidled up beside Jay, gently pressing her hand against his upper arm. "Think I could get one of those, Jay?", she asked with a slight purr in her voice. "Sorry," Jay said, looking down with mock regret. "I only brought enough for the guys." * * * Jay escorted his former boss Henry into the health club like a proud tour guide showing a foreign dignitary around the White House. Henry was awestruck -- not by the building, which was a bit run-down and grungy, at least compared to the slick and sanitary big-name chain gym his wife had bought him a membership to a few years ago (and which he visited a handful of times before deciding he was a lost cause). No, what caught Henry's eye was the clientele. He was practically getting whiplash noticing all of the stunningly well-muscled guys circulating around him. The place was hard-body heaven. Henry only had a single boosted smoothie the day before, a freebie that Jay had given him at the office, and his response was essentially the same as Jay's after his first one. Henry had become incredibly energetic and productive on the job, his instincts keener and reflexes sharper than he had ever experienced. Even colors and sounds seemed more vivid than usual. This was followed by a wave of overwhelming fatigue that set in with a vengeance around suppertime. All afternoon, the rejuvenated Henry had hoped to surprise his wife Diane with an uncharacteristically vigorous night in the sack, powered by his sudden surge of virility, but he was already snoring on the sofa before Vanna lit up a single letter on "Wheel Of Fortune". Diane dutifully dragged her near-comatose hubby into the bedroom and hooked him up to his sleep apnea machine, where he remained deep in slumber until dawn. So much for romance. When he awoke in the morning and stumbled bleary-eyed into the bathroom, seeing his reflection in the mirror was a crushing reality check. He may have felt like a dynamo the day before, but staring back at him in the mirror was his familiar 46-year-old self, with sagging jowls, an ample gut, and graying strands stretching desperately from one ear to the other in a valiant but unsuccessful attempt to create the illusion of a full head of hair. He may have felt like a million dollars yesterday, but this morning his body would be lucky to fetch twenty bucks on Craigslist. And that would only be for the chemicals. Henry's brain was about as functional as a six-pound wad of bubble gum, so when he first heard the doorbell, he had no clue who could possibly be paying him a visit at six a.m. In his bathrobe and slippers, Henry shuffled to the front door, where his former employee Jay stood in a blue tank top and ripped jeans, jacked arms arcing outward like steroid-fueled parentheses at his sides, bountiful bangs descending across his forehead. "Ready to get pumped?", Jay asked enthusiastically, reminding Henry that he had agreed to come to Jay's gym for a complimentary workout. Henry attempted to weasel out, claiming extreme exhaustion, but Jay insisted that Henry's attitude would change once he actually got there. What finally changed Henry's mind was the promise of another smoothie like the one he had so enjoyed yesterday. He hastily tossed a plain white t-shirt, sweatpants and his grass-stained lawn-mowing sneakers into a paper bag, kissed his dozing wife on the cheek, and followed Jay's car to the health club. Entering the club, Henry figured he must be the oldest man in the place by a wide margin. He knew he was twenty years older than young Jay, and Jay had grown even more youthful-looking since he had started coming here. Henry had been amazed by how swiftly Jay had transformed, with the meek and anemic non-entity from the office exploding practically overnight into the strapping, confident stud now preening beside him. He didn't expect those kind of results, but if there was even a chance that this place could help Henry lose a few pounds or look a smidgen younger, he wanted in on the secret. Jay led his new recruit to the juice bar, where Henry saw the dazzlingly rugged Max standing at his post, dipping as he leaned back against a shelf, sneaking in a few reps as he worked to keep his triceps in top condition. Jay was sure that Max would be pleased that his first recruit was such a potential gold mine. Thanks to an errant accounting document that was left in a copy machine and promptly circulated throughout the office, Jay knew Henry's exact income down to the penny. Given Henry's pedestrian wardrobe, ten-year-old compact car, and modest suburban home, Jay knew Henry must have socked most of that salary away in savings. Now that Henry's first taste of the boost had lit the flames of a desire to become hunkier, he could afford to pay handsomely to achieve handsomeness. Although Max had been excited when Jay texted him that he had "reeled in a big fish", Max was less enthusiastic now that he saw Henry in the sagging flesh. He wasn't a lost cause by any means. If you looked past the wear-and-tear of parenting and a half-century of a sedentary desk job, there were still traces which suggested that Henry was probably a decent-looking guy in his youth. But at middle age, Henry was, to put it charitably, a fixer-upper. Sort of like New Orleans, post-Katrina. For this kind of heavy lifting, Max knew that even the boost would need a boost. "Henry, this is my main man Max," Jay boomed proudly, gesturing toward the man who manned the blenders. "Just tell him what flavor you want and he'll mix you up another one of those incredible smoothies." Henry would definitely need something to perk him up if he was actually going to exercise at this godforsaken hour. He surveyed his options on the blackboard behind Max's head with the worried gaze of someone scanning the menu for something suitably bland and recognizable on their first visit to a Botswanan restaurant. "Is the Peach Perfection any good?" "What part of 'Perfection' don't you understand?", asked Max with a charming grin that put Henry at ease. Henry watched as the master tossed together a combination of peaches, frozen yogurt, skim milk, and a scoop of some kind of red powder. He excused himself to the back room and returned carrying a fistful of what looked a bit like cranberries, only they were a deep, inky black. "What are those?", asked Henry warily. Max just shrugged impishly and winked. "Mystery ingredient." With the press of a button, the berries were obliterated into tiny bits swirling through the frothy liquid. After thirty seconds, Max poured the results into a cup and handed it to Henry, who took a cautious sip. He definitely recognized the enticing tingle he had experienced from the previous day's sample, but also detected something extra, something intoxicating that seemed to go straight to his head. The mystery ingredient, no doubt, as he'd never gotten that kind of ecstatic rush from a peach before. Henry nodded his approval and pulled out his wallet. "Delicious! How much do I owe you?" "That'll be ten dollars today." Henry had no idea that the key word in that sentence was "today". Max's rates for his smoothies were notorious fluid, varying from customer to customer, but he knew to start out low with a newcomer. As their need for the stuff grew more urgent, prices had a curious tendency to skyrocket. Henry didn't flinch at the price, although his tightfisted nature showed itself with the twenty-five cent piece he dropped in Max's tip jar. Max just smiled politely and said, "Thank you," knowing that Henry would soon be coughing up the Benjamins once his craving for the boost became sufficiently desperate. Jay ordered a double-boosted Banana-Rama Ding-Dong, which Max happily put on Jay's account. Henry was relieved that the locker room was empty as he changed into his workout clothes. He tugged at the hem of his extra-large t-shirt, embarrassed that it failed to cover the entirety of his gut, and he hastily wiggled his pale, pudgy legs into his sweatpants. In his peripheral vision, he noticed Jay pulling on a newly-purchased, form-fitting sleeveless tee which left no question about how toned every inch of his upper body had become. Stripping off his jeans, Jay revealed a surprisingly hefty cock, flopping freely in the absence of underwear. He shimmied a pair of compression shorts over his thickly muscled thighs and stuffed his dong inside. Studying himself admiringly in the mirror, Jay twisted his body in an amateur's approximation of warm-up stretches. "Ready, Henry?", he asked with a sparkle in his eyes. Until this recent metamorphosis, Henry had always assumed that Jay was straight, but the young man was now sending off a barrage of signals that even the ordinarily gay-blind Henry could detect. Diane frequently teased Henry about his adorably naive shock whenever some "OB-viously" gay movie star would come out of the closet. Henry always figured he just wasn't hip enough to pick up the signs. Besides, as an overweight middle-aged office manager, he didn't figure he was in much danger of finding himself on the receiving end of unwanted advances from Doogie Howser any time soon. Henry and Jay began their workouts on side-by-side treadmills. "Just start off slow and find your pace. Don't worry about keeping up with me," Jay advised, the voice of several days' experience. "Not much chance of that," Henry chuckled with self-deprecation as he struggled to figure out the control panel. He hadn't seriously jogged since sometime in college, so he was anticipating nothing more than a leisurely stroll, but as he gradually picked up speed, so did the boost surging in his veins. As his feet thudded on the conveyor belt, his belly and man-boobs jiggled like cranberry sauce with each step. He watched enviously as Jay's long legs whipped back and forth, his blindingly-white Nikes making only brief contact with the treadmill during each stride. Henry focused his energies and chugged onward, mentally setting himself the seemingly impossible goal of someday being able to keep up with the kid. After a blistering thirty-minute dash during which he had become lost in the techno music flowing through his earbuds, Jay cooled down to a trot. He had glanced over periodically to check on Henry's progress, impressed that the old guy had stuck it out so long. Grimacing with determination, Henry was still lumbering along, his cheap t-shirt clinging to his skin, rendered nearly transparent by the sweat pumping from his pores. "Great job, Henry! You've definitely earned a shower." Henry panted and shook his head, splattering the treadmill console with a cloudburst of perspiration. "I'm gonna...keep going...some more," he blurted out between gasps for air. "You done plenty, man. You don't hafta prove anything to me," Jay said reassuringly. "It's...not...for...you," Henry panted, pointing his thumb toward his chest. Jay was impressed by Henry's commitment, and even more awestruck by the powerful properties of the boost that could be giving Henry such endurance. He strolled over to the juice bar to inform Max of Henry's stick-to-it-ive-ness. "Not surprised," Max said softly. "He's got a lot of youthful energy to keep him going." Jay wasn't as quick a thinker as he used to be, but he caught Max's implication. "What, you mean the berries? Why, what do they do?" Max just stared into the distance, with no intention of explaining further. Jay grew pissed. "You mean you got somethin' good and you're holdin' out on me? How come?" Max muttered so only Jay could hear him. "Because you don't need it. Your buddy Henry's got two decades of road miles on him that you don't. So unless you have a desperate urge to return to your glory days of being a five-year-old, you'll steer clear of the berries." That stern warning was enough to make Jay back off. He was too in love with his body and his life to mess with anything dangerous. Except for more of the boost, of course. Jay ordered a Strawberry Chia Forever with a single boost, just enough to recharge him up for a session of pumping iron in the free-weight pit. Jay swelled with pride as he watched his protruding veins snake across his buff arms while he did curls. Seeing his massive quads stretch the elasticity of his clinging shorts, he knew that his devotion to leg crunches was paying off. In the dim chronology of his boost-warped mind, he took it for granted that he'd been perfecting his body as a gym rat for years and would have howled with laughter if anyone had informed him that he had been thin as a twig just four days ago. Although not everyone at the gym was on the boost, those who were lived in a strictly A.B. world -- After Boost. It was as if their lives before encountering the miracle powder had never happened or were, at best, a faint memory from long ago, quite literally another life. They had quit their jobs, they had drifted away from family and loved ones, and they defined themselves not by who they had been but by what they had become. After an hour of heavy lifting alongside his ripped buddy Flat-Top, Jay grew curious about Henry. He couldn't believe that Henry would have left without at least swinging by to thank Jay. To Jay's surprise, Henry was still plowing forward on that same treadmill. He even seemed to have gained steam, moving more briskly than before, mopping his abundant sweat with a soaked towel. Jay brought over a fresh towel and a bottled water, which Henry took appreciatively without slowing his pace. "Jeez, man, take a break. It's not like you hafta get in shape TODAY!", Jay said, although that appeared to be exactly what was happening. Henry was still husky but had easily sweated off fifteen pounds, and his eyes burned with determination to keep the process going. He even looked a bit younger, although Jay figured that was just the natural result of dropping some weight. Still, seeing such marked and immediate improvements in Henry bolstered Jay's enthusiasm for going out and drumming up more customers for the gym. Jay suggested to Flat-Top that they hit the beach and search for potential new recruits. Flat-Top didn't need much convincing. When he wasn't perfecting his physique at the gym, Flat-Top loved nothing more than hitting the sand, catching some rays, strutting his stuff, and ogling some Speedos. Jay urged Henry to take it easy, then headed to the showers with Flat-Top. When Henry finally did tucker out, he wobbled to the juice bar, smiled victoriously at Max, and promptly passed out, crumpling into a heap on the floor. Max rushed from behind the counter and knelt down to check for a heartbeat, relieved to hear it kathumping along at a healthy rate. He roused Henry back to consciousness and gave him some water to sip. Max chided Henry for overexerting himself, even though Max knew full well that Henry would have been nearly powerless to resist the boost-and-berry-driven imperative to push himself further. Once he felt rejuvenated and rehydrated, Henry shuffled to the locker room and slowly peeled away his sopping t-shirt, revealing the magnitude of what his mini-marathon had accomplished. His gut had receded to more of a paunch, and his arms had lost some of their gelatinous qualities. He was a long way from being beefcake, but if this was what he could expect from a single workout, tomorrow could not arrive soon enough. He wished Jay still worked for him so he could give him a promotion just for introducing him to this place. He'd have to find some other way to show his appreciation. It was mid-morning, and Henry could not face the prospect of a boring day trapped at the office. He called in sick for the first time in years, liberated by a sudden sense of freedom. He headed home and busied himself with all of the repair jobs his wife had been urging to take care of for months or, in some cases, years. After a productive afternoon during which his energy remained sky high, Henry luxuriated in a long hot shower, invigorated by the droplets pelting his skin. His cock chubbed up as he lathered himself thoroughly, but he didn't want to squander a good erection. It would only be fair to save himself for Diane. He pulled on his favorite Hawaiian shirt, amazed by how loosely it hung on his frame, and was able to squeeze into a pair of Dockers he had outgrown three years earlier. Diane immediately knew something was strange when she pulled into the driveway and saw Henry's car, as he had not arrived home from work before her in at least a decade. As she entered, she was greeted by unexpected aromas from the kitchen, where Henry was busy preparing spaghetti and meatballs and garlic bread, one of the few meals he had ever learned to cook on his own. She stood in the doorway, silent and wide-eyed, as her husband bounded excitedly around the room, boisterously singing "That's Amore", humming to fill in the gaps for the lyrics he couldn't remember (which was pretty much everything other than "That's Amore"). Finally noticing his wife's arrival, Henry dashed across the room to plant a tomato-and-basil-flavored kiss on her lips. "Hello, honey," he sang in place of "That's Amore", and danced back to the stove to resume stirring the sauce. Diane was so stunned by his uncharacteristic exuberance that his weight loss didn't even register. She just knew something was different. "What has gotten into you, Henry?", she asked, but Henry just smiled and kept on sing-humming. She walked over to help him, but he poured her a glass of Chianti and demanded that she take a load off and relax while he finished fixing dinner. During a leisurely meal, Diane told anecdotes of her taxing day and Henry vaguely described his, telling her little more than that he felt "marvelous" and "like a kid again". The more she looked at him across the table, she could swear it looked like he had lost weight, but she had been on enough diets over the years to know it was impossible to drop more than a handful of pounds of water weight in a day. She figured his fresh appearance must just a pleasant byproduct of his unaccountably chipper attitude. Whatever had caused this boost in Henry's mood, she wasn't about to complain. Uncorking a second bottle, Henry insisted that they leave the dirty dishes until the morning and maneuvered Diane to the sofa for some heavy petting. He was friskier than he had been the night before, and had no concerns about his energy plummeting, but as he nuzzled his wife's neck, something felt off. Much as he wanted to please Diane, his dick was staying soft. On top of that, unfamiliar thoughts began to assault Henry's mind. Images flashed and then vanished, at first so brief that he couldn't identify them, but they were distracting enough that Diane could sense his concentration waning. "What's the matter, honey?", she asked. "Nothing," Henry assured her, although he was not so certain. As he held Diane's face in his hands and closed his eyes to kiss her, a single image finally gelled in Henry's mind. It was Jay in all of his newly-buffed splendor. Standing completely naked in the locker room. With an eight-inch erection. Pointing straight in Henry's direction. Henry was shaken by this vision. He was even more unnerved by the realization that his penis, flaccid until that moment, had sprung to life, stiffening inside his boxers. "Oh, Henry!", Diane gasped as she felt his hardness press against her thigh. Early on, Max had insisted on being up front with his customers about the radical changes that the boost would impose on their brain and their hormones. It was never an issue with his gay clients, as the boost only intensified their pre-existing preferences and markedly heightened their erotic pleasure, but he had felt morally obliged to alert straight men that the boost would permanently reconfigure their sexual orientation. Max's boss had frowned upon this level of honesty, not wanting to cut off potentially lucrative sources of revenue. In the end, Max had realized that giving the warning was ultimately pointless. Even those who strenuously objected and put up some kind of struggle against their newfound desires would inevitably surrender, their overwhelming craving for the benefits of the boost proving far more powerful than even the most virulent homophobia. Max himself had been something of a bullying asshole toward two teammates on his college swim team whom he had learned were gay, although his attitude evolved quickly once they began to supply him with the red powder that they promised would do wonders for his performance. Now, all these years later, Max had only the faintest of memories of having once been attracted to women, while the teammates who had been the targets of his abuse were now two of his oldest and dearest friends. Max had no idea why the boost made its straight users gay and its gay users gayer, although he suspected the surge in testosterone that it caused was at least somewhat responsible. He did know that the triggering event for the irrevocable transition was invariably the same: one's first post-boost orgasm. Henry's mind mounted some resistance as his brain was flooded with more thoughts of Jay and Max and the other shredded specimens who had surrounded him at the gym, his visions fragmenting into isolated close-ups of straining biceps and striated quads and ripe ass-cheeks and upward-arching cocks. There was still a tangible allure to Diane's warm body pressed against his, still a nostalgic familiarity to the scent of White Diamonds perfume on her skin, and he knew he was still intellectually in love with this woman with whom he had shared the past quarter-century, but these intrusive thoughts had become too persistent -- and too arousing -- to ignore. Once he stopped fighting them, he ejaculated immediately, pumping dollop after dollop of thick, warm cream into his undershorts. The energy swiftly ebbed from Henry's body and he collapsed on top of Diane, the events of the day finally taking their toll. Diane squirmed out from under her bulky husband, sighing with disappointment at the speed with which their romantic evening had come to an end, although it was far from unprecedented. As Henry began to snore, Diane adjusted him on the couch so he would be more comfortable, tucking a comforter around him and bringing out his sleep apnea machine. The spark may have left their relationship long ago, but she still doted on the big lug. Meanwhile, as Henry slept, the boost set about reordering his priorities. * * * Jay moseyed into the gym around ten the next morning, mirrored sunglasses shielding his eyes from bright light. He and Flat-Top had spent a productive day of recruiting at the beach, their exposed physiques providing ample evidence of the gym's benefits. They had lured in over a dozen new prospects with the promise of a free workout and a sample smoothie. Jay knew at least two of them would be arriving in a short while, as soon as they and Flat-Top finished showering together back at Flat-Top's condo. Jay had been invited to join them, but he had already fucked himself raw the night before and was desperately in need of a boost. Jay had no idea how much alcohol he had consumed the night before. His improved metabolism meant that a great quantity of booze was required to achieve even a slight buzz, so he must have downed a couple bottles of tequila to end up as blotto as he had become. Dim memories of dim nightclubs filtered through his head. He could recall flashes of colored light and the cool sensation of dry-ice fog against his shirtless torso. He remembered feasting his eyes on a buffet of delectable dudes, and being the object of innumerable devouring stares and roaming hands. The two twinks who had accompanied them back to Flat-Top's place came back to him as little more than nimble blond and ginger blurs, but he knew the four of them had stayed busy most of the night as Flat-Top taught Jay the joys of versatility. Jay had awoken this morning wracked with unfamiliar aches, feeling as if every orifice had been stretched beyond its intended limits. Since he had started on the boost, Jay had never waited as late as ten o'clock to get his morning jolt, and its absence in his body was killing him. His colossal hangover was merely miserable icing on the agony cake. His energy had dwindled precipitously, his impressive bulk had softened noticeably, and his extremities were riddled with the pinprick sensations that preceded numbness. Desperate for his fix, Jay staggered the final twenty feet toward the juice bar before flopping onto the counter, spread-eagled as he begged Max, "Blueberry Bonanza. And make it a triple." Max felt a twinge of guilt as he saw Jay so strung out, but he also knew there was only one remedy that would satisfy him. Max chastised Jay, "As happy as I am to see you shed your inhibitions, we do have health codes around here." He shooed Jay off the counter and whipped up the drink in record time. Jay guzzled it down greedily, purple trickles leaking from the corners of his mouth and down his chin. Jay's spirits revived, he filled in Max on the previous day's recruiting successes, but he found his attention drifting toward the gym floor, where a dark-eyed young stud in a black tank top and knee-length black shorts was scoping out his surroundings. He had thickly muscled arms and a broad chest, but slimmed down to an enviably narrow waist and the lean, perfectly toned legs of a disciplined runner. His jaw and cheekbones were precision sculpted, and a wild, undisciplined thatch of chocolate-brown hair jutted over his forehead before curling back like a breaking wave off Malibu. Jay figured he had to be a newbie, because there was no way this guy could have escaped Jay's notice. Even before the boost had altered his predilections, Jay would have fixated on this guy out of pure envy. To Jay's amazement, the kid's face lit up the moment he spotted Jay. As he sauntered coolly toward the juice bar, all of the sexual confidence Jay had gained from the previous night's conquests faded into anxiety as he fretted over what he could possibly say to this adonis. "Jaaaaaay!", shouted the young man, beaming as he rushed over. He wrapped his python arms tight around Jay and easily hoisted the considerably heavier man off his feet. Jay shot a baffled glance at Max, who was stifling a chuckle. "I don't blame you, boy," crowed the young man. "I don't recognize me either!" The voice was instantly recognizable, but bubbling with an unfamiliar zest for life. The tan Jay had gained from his day at the beach blanched instantaneously as his brain grappled with the realization that the lanky hunk squeezing the breath out of him had emerged from the great white whale that was Henry. Even after witnessing Henry's treadmill endurance test, Jay could never have imagined that Henry's lump of coal could have been refined into such a diamond. Could such immaculate bone structure really have been lurking beneath Henry's jowls and wrinkles all along? How had the sparse shrubbery on Henry's head sprouted so spectacularly overnight? Jay's own boosted body seemed like a minor overhaul when compared to how Henry had been super-remodeled into a supermodel. Henry lowered Jay back down to the floor, then spun around so Jay could get a complete look at his wide v-shaped back, his buoyant butt, his firm, wrinkle-free skin. "Can you believe this shit?", he asked, yanking on his unwieldy mop of hair, giggling with delight when it remained attached to his scalp. "I feel like a kid again, but I never looked half this good when I was young. Isn't it a-fucking-mazing?" Words were eluding Jay. All that emerged from his mouth was one long "Uhhhhhh...", but it still managed to convey his approval. As Henry slept, his body had undergone extensive renovations. When he awoke to this phenomenal discovery, he made his way quietly out of the house, careful not to wake Diane, and drove directly to the gym. Max prepared him a smoothie with a double boost and two handfuls of berries, for the reasonable price of thirty dollars, which Henry paid without blinking an eye. Once the smoothie got into his system and he began to exercise, Henry's improvements had only become more and more refined. "I've been here since five a.m., and every time I check myself the mirror, I look better. It's like watching Michelangelo carving David out of an ugly chunk of marble. Only I was the ugly chunk of marble. And now, I'm David!" Jay's head was swimming, only in part because he no longer knew who Michelangelo was. "Hey, what do you think about David?", Henry asked excitedly, conducting a quick poll of Jay and Max. "Think about him for what?", Jay asked. "For a name. For me. I sure as shit don't feel like a Henry any more, and I sure as fuck don't look like one." "I dunno," Max chimed in. "You ever seen that Henry Cavill?" Max wolf-whistled and his eyebrows leapt. "Naaah, Henry's an old man name," Henry insisted with a dismissive wave of his hands. "I feel like a David now." Jay was still grappling with the whole situation. "So you're just gonna go into work looking like this, and tell 'em to start calling you David?" Henry burst out laughing, the picture of youthful rebellion. "Fuck that. I'm not going back to that shithole. If I spent one more second cooped up behind that desk, I think I'd fucking die. No, man, I'm following your example. THIS is my life now!" He spread out his arms, his mighty wingspan stretching wide to indicate the whole gym. His eyes gleamed with enthusiasm for his future. "All those years of slaving away, stashing away my money for a rainy day. Well, it's finally raining, honey, and..." He broke into song, "It's raining men! Hallelujah!" He spun Jay around in a few sloppily improvised dance moves, effectively disproving the cliche that homosexuality correlates directly with a knack for choreography. Jay backed away, feeling personally responsible for how radically Henry had changed. "So if you're not going to work, what ARE you gonna do now?" "Now? You mean, like right now? Well, I got at least one idea." With that, he stared seductively into Jay's eyes. Jay had never realized that Henry's eyes were so mesmerizing, so deep and dark, especially at the office where he kept them imprisoned behind glasses that, from all appearances, he no longer needed. Jay felt unable to look away. Without taking his eyes off Jay, Henry asked, "Hey, Max, can Jay and I use your back room for a bit?" Max expressed amused annoyance. "You want to have sex behind the juice bar? What is it that you guys don't grasp about health codes? Go find yourselves someplace more fuck-friendly." "Well, we could go get a room somewhere," David said with a grin. "I just wasn't sure Jay could wait that long." "Huh? What?", Jay said, suddenly aware that his rigid cock was straining inside his compression shorts, stretching so far down the right leg that the head was in danger of poking its way to freedom. When he looked back up, Jay's conflicting emotions over what had happened to Henry were swept away, replaced by a single crystal-clear thought. "Fuck me, David."

Mike had become very worried. It had been two weeks since his ex-co-worker David had made his presence known anywhere on social media. What made this so worrisome was that social media was the only place that David actually WAS social. Extremely shy and lacking in self-confidence in person, David would only dare to offer his opinions online, whether griping on Facebook about the casting of the latest comic-book movie or posting on gamer message boards the latest video-game cheat codes he had figured out. David had been one of the earliest employees of DigiWarp, the software company for which Mike worked, while Mike had only been hired a year ago, straight out of college. He admired David, who was a brilliant coder, while Mike considered himself adequate at best. Mike's brains were never going to stumble upon a game-changing breakthrough the way David had a few years back. The best Mike could hope was that he'd be on a development team with people far brighter than he was and reap some of the benefits of their success simply through proximity. Mike didn't know if he had the right to call David his friend, but he might be the closest David had to one. Given David's seniority and Mike's lack of it, there were few reasons for the two men to cross paths at work. But at a lavish party for all of the company's employees at the CEO's mansion overlooking San Francisco Bay, Mike and David found themselves isolated from the rest of the crowd, standing nervously beside each other in a tight corner of the room. Neither man said anything for the first ten minutes. Mike tilted his head to read the spines of the books the host owned, realizing that not only had he never read any of them, he had never heard of most of them. David fixed his attention on his shoes, which he must have tied and retied eight times in those ten minutes, and kept running his fingers down the crease in his chinos, in a futile attempt to make it stay at a perfect 90-degree angle to the floor. They first bonded over their shared allergy to seafood, which they announced simultaneously to the waitress carrying a tray of crab puffs. This led to a twenty-minute discussion of various foods that disagreed with them, a conversation which, if you boiled away the awkward silences, would have amounted to about three minutes of actual conversation. To look at him, you wouldn't think any food disagreed with Mike. Although he and David were both about five-foot-eleven, Mike was easily 200 pounds heavier. Every part of his body weighed too much. His eyelids looked like they could lose a few pounds. His wide head seemed to melt directly into a wider neck. His torso was nearly spherical, and was largely unchanged since childhood when his classmates had dubbed him "Frosty" due to his snowman-like contours. His legs were bulbous and knock-kneed. In an attempt to outwit the male-pattern baldness that ran in his family, he had been shaving his head since college. He comforted himself by thinking of all the celebrities who managed to maintain their sexiness or even become hotter when they went full-cueball; unfortunately, the only celebrity Mike resembled was the Michelin Man. He was also apparently the only invitee to this party who had not noticed the request to dress fashionably. Even if he could afford to buy fashionable clothes, he had no idea what would make his body look in any way fashionable, so here he stood, not eating crab puffs, in a polo with wide red and white stripes providing lines of longitude across his surface area, and cargos which ended about an inch above his black plastic sandals. Aside from their similar heights, David's body was a contrast to Mike's in nearly every way. David was worryingly gaunt, all straight lines and sharp angles. He had a Zuckerbergian head of unruly red curls, which he never thought to get cut until someone pointed out that they could no longer see his eyes. A Wicked-Witch nose dominated his pale sunken face, with an Adam's apple that echoed the nose's shape and prominence. David had no more natural fashion sense than Mike, but he did have a high enough salary that he could walk into an expensive store and ask what he should buy. The only thing he liked about the experience was going home and devising a color-coded program which would tell him, based on the personal shopper's advice, what items should be worn with what other items, which is how he arrived looking positively preppy in his navy-blue sweater vest, pale-blue Oxford shirt, chinos and deck shoes. In a rare oversight, he had neglected to include socks in the program, which explained the green argyles covering his ankles. David always had problems knowing what to do with his large bony hands, which tended to flutter on uncharted courses when he spoke, so he mostly kept his hands buried deeply in his pants pockets. Standing beside each other, rotund Mike looked like a big zero and spindly David looked like a big one. Depending on one's era, this juxtaposition might call to mind Laurel and Hardy, Mutt and Jeff, Mama Michelle and Mama Cass, or Steve Martin and John Candy as the mismatched travelers in "Planes, Trains and Automobiles". But to a roomful of Silicon Valley techies, whose entire lives revolved around manipulations of ones and zeroes, they suggested only one thing. "Hey look," shouted one of their inebriated colleagues, "it's the Binary Brothers!" The initial comment got a few chuckles, but the hilarity grew as more and more partygoers passed along the remark and created a wave of laughter and pointing through the crowd. Mike attempted to join in the laughter, under the flawed theory that they can't be laughing at you if you're laughing with them. David stood uneasily, then decided his shoes needed to be retied. From that point onward, David and Mike found themselves hanging out with each other from time to time, eating together in the company cafeteria, occasionally getting together after work to play video games. Perhaps it was only the gravitational field of Mike's greater body mass pulling anemic David into his orbit. Mainly it was that, even within the hive of worker geeks where they worked, David and Mike were still the last two likely to be picked for a hypothetical game of dodgeball. They were the nerds who even embarrassed the nerds. In the Binary Brothers, Mike might be the zero, but David felt like a zero too. Mike sensed they had another shared interest, although the two men never discussed it. Even at that first party, when David seemed to be averting his eyes completely from the other guests, Mike noticed that David's head would swivel ever so slightly but involuntarily whenever one of the handsome waiters walked past. Mike hoped that his own sampling of the beefcake was more subtle, and he made exaggerated efforts to more blatantly ogle the waitresses, avoiding taunts by maintaining a facade of heterosexuality. The sad fact was that none of the other guests were paying enough attention to David and Mike to give a shit who they were mentally undressing. The pickings were slimmer at the office, where few had gotten ahead on their looks, but Mike did notice David leaving his corner cubicle more frequently when a copier repairman or the UPS guy dropped by. And when the two played video games, Mike noticed how muscular David's avatars always were. Then again, it wasn't like Mike was exactly opting to look like Jonah Hill onscreen. When David took the company buyout and put an absurd number of zeroes in his bank account, he did invite Mike over to his new house once to play games on his sweet seventy-inch HDTV and back him up and down the driveway in his new solar car. But the evening was uncomfortable for both of them. For Mike, he felt inadequate in the presence of such pricey playthings and could sense David's general malaise, which Mike took to be boredom from having to hang around with his sad, fat and broke former colleague. In fact, David disliked the feeling that he was flaunting his obscene wealth which he felt he didn't deserve, despite being the primary brain behind the software that led to the buyout, and he felt disillusioned that all of this money had failed to make him any less dissatisfied with his life. When Mike left the house that night, he vowed not to bother David, not wishing to seem like a pathetic hanger-on. But after two weeks with no trace of David online, Mike was concerned. Maybe David had decided to go on a cross-country drive, or take a cruise, or do something else totally unlike him. Maybe David had met someone. Guys might find him more attractive now that he had such girth in his wallet. Mike wondered whether David was the type to resort to suicide, but considered that unlikely, as it would require physical effort of some sort. He had left voicemail messages and texted David, but never heard back. Finally, he decided he would just go to David's house after work and drop in unexpectedly, in hopes of discovering a simple, logical reason for David's silence. They'd both have a laugh and maybe even get a little drunk on the couch together and, who knows... Mike shook off this scenario for a multitude of reasons, not least of which was that neither of them was likely to make the first move. Besides, it was hard to envision a comfortable way for the Binary Brothers' bodies to mesh sexually. It's not easy to make a one and a zero add up to sixty-nine. Mike trudged up the driveway to David's house with a copy of the latest "Call of Duty" and a sixer of Mike's Hard Lemonade. Despite dismissing his earlier fleeting fantasy, he discovered he was actually nervous about the prospect of meeting David tonight. He had already sweated thoroughly through his black Astro Boy t-shirt and baggy purple shorts, and his calves were chafing from rubbing against each other on the walk here. He noticed that David's solar car was still in the driveway, which he took as a good sign, although fallen leaves and dust were coating it. Mike leaned a beefy arm against the front door and rang the doorbell, but heard no noises from inside. He knocked, first timidly, then more loudly, but still got no response. Too winded to walk back downhill right away, he took a seat on the stone steps and cracked open a bottle to refresh himself. The bottle was half-empty when Mike felt he was seeing a vision. A heavily-muscled shirtless dreamboat jogged from the sidewalk up the driveway. His artistically-carved abs were heaving with each breath and his taut hairless torso was covered in a layer of glistening sweat which reflected the setting sun. His dark hair was trimmed close on the sides and hung in limp, curly, sweat-beaded strands on the top. He was more thickly muscled than the stereotypical runner, with his meaty quads and glutes threatening to widen the slit that went up the side of his skimpy royal-blue running shorts. His tanned calves bulged, forming powerful masses above his matching blue Reeboks. The man was clearly at the end of a lengthy run, while Mike had worked himself into a similar state of exhaustion and perspiration by walking the one block from his bus stop to David's door. Mike gulped a swig from his bottle of alcoholic lemonade as he drank in the runner's body. Mike's hard, indeed. The new arrival wiped a heavy forearm across his brows to shake the sweat from his eyes. His eyelids parted, revealing pale green pupils that seemed somehow familiar to Mike. The man was startled to see someone seated on the steps. "Can I help you, dude?", came a resonant voice that also vaguely rang a bell. Embarrassed, Mike hoisted himself to his feet, grappling with the video game and his drinks. "Sorry, maybe I'm in the wrong place," he said, feeling he must have screwed up somehow, even though he knew this was David's house, and David's solar car was RIGHT THERE in the driveway. Maybe this stud was some rentboy that David had hired with his new wealth...and who could blame him? "I was trying to find David Tanner." As Mike brushed past the hunky jock, pausing just slightly to take a deep whiff of his masculine musk, the runner said, "I'm Dave Tanner." Mike stopped dead in his tracks and turned around slowly. He studied the man before him. It couldn't be. Sure, this guy did have the same color eyes as David. And the voice did sound a lot like David's, only slightly slower and with all the anxiety drained away. And if you dyed David's hair black and trimmed it nicely, it could look like this guy's. And if you put a team of plastic surgeons to work for a couple of years, and piled on the protein shakes and steroids...maybe. But he'd only seen David two weeks ago. This was clearly impossible. Maybe David had a studly cousin named Dave who he'd never mentioned. Not impossible, since Mike and David's conversations never veered near personal topics. "David and I used to work together. Are you maybe a relative of David's?", Mike asked. "Nope, I'm me," the other man said, followed by a throaty chortle. "You okay, buddy? Looks like you're gonna barf." "My head's spinning a little. I think I just need to sit down." The alluring young man studied Mike's face curiously. "I could swear I seen you somewhere before. You work out at Gold's?" Now it was Mike's turn to chortle. He lifted up his bottles of alcohol and said, "This is the only six-pack I'm working on." Looking with confusion at Mike, the man entwined his arms behind his tilted head, his stony biceps seeming to stretching his skin to its limit. Unconsciously, he was alternately flexing his left and right biceps to make them pop, and Mike's eyes were automatically drawn from arm to arm as they peaked. The guy shook his head. "Now it's totally buggin' me. I KNOW I know you from somewhere." He reached into his shorts and extracted a house key. He opened the door and gestured for Mike to follow him. "Come in and cool off before you stroke out." Mike hauled himself up the steps, gripping the railing for support. The inside of the house was largely as Mike remembered it from his single previous visit. For the living room, David had not purchased much furniture beyond the jumbo television and a single gaming chair. When they had played games, David had graciously allowed Mike to use the chair as David sat cross-legged on the floor. To these items had been added a beanbag chair, a wooden dining tray and a couple of bar stools, suggesting that this mansion's interior designer was Pier One. The guy calling himself Dave kicked off his running shoes and peeled off his sweaty ankle socks, which he tossed onto the hardwood floor, joining previously discarded items of athletic clothing scattered around the room. He pointed toward the drinks Mike was holding and asked, "You mind?" Mike handed him the whole six-pack. The dude laughed and said, "I only need one." He uncapped it with his bare hands and slammed down the contents in a single uninterrupted chug. He ripped a belch that echoed on the house's hard surfaces and yelled, "Fuck, I needed that. Thanks!" He clapped a sweaty palm on Mike's shoulder, then flung himself into the beanbag chair, legs unapologetically spread wide, allowing Mike a clear view of the thin white lining of his running shorts and, beneath that, a jockstrap that was working overtime to hold in something major. Mike had to get to the meat of this (so to speak). "So you're sure we never worked together?" "Dude, I can't remember the last time I had a job. But I swear I'm motivated now. I'm trying to get in shape to take the fire department's entry exam." Mike gaped at the body sprawled in front of him. "YOU aren't in shape?" "I gotta work on my stamina. Bein' a fireman, there's no fuckin' around. Lives are on the line and shit. But I think my cardio's coming along pretty excellently. I only been at it for two weeks." Mike's legs got a bit wobbly. David had been missing for two weeks. "Two weeks? So, what were you doing before that?" The guy in the beanbag casually scratched his balls as he thought. Nothing was coming. "Fuck if I know, dude. Just livin', I guess." Mike took a seat in the video-game chair and tried to make sense of this. "Hey, I'm gonna grab a quick shower, but you're welcome to play a video game or whatever. I can trust you not to steal my shit, right?" Mike nodded as the guy called Dave leapt energetically from the beanbag chair, his big bare feet slapping hard against the wooden floor. Without a thought, he pulled his nylon running shorts down the full length of his legs and kicked the shorts through the door into his bedroom. He paused in the doorway to wriggle free from his jockstrap, which he dropped with a soggy flop onto the floor. Mike stared in awe at the exquisite symmetry of the ass cheeks across the room, and was tantalized by the glimpse of a cock head he could see in the narrow gap between Dave's brawny thighs. Once he heard the water running in the bathroom, Mike rose and began to search the house for any clues about what might have happened to David Tanner. He found no obvious hints in the living room. The kitchen was even more barren of furniture aside from appliances. A dietary chart was Scotch-taped to the wall, with fresh fruits and oatmeal containers on the counter top and a fridge full of steaks, chicken breasts, yogurt, eggs and veggies. Mike crept into the bedroom, careful to avoid being seen by Dave in the adjoining bathroom. Mike had only gotten a brief tour of the house on his previous visit, but from what he remembered, not much had changed. The king-size bed was unmade, which the anal David would never have allowed. More clothes were strewn about, along with the bags from the stores where they were purchased. Mike rifled through the empty bags and found receipts for the items purchased, all within the past two weeks. A cheap cellphone rested on the floor next to the bed. Mike checked it and saw it was not David's old number and that only a few calls had been made on it, also in the last two weeks, with no text messages. Then Mike noticed the one strange item that would differentiate this from any average sloppy bachelor's bedroom. Hanging on the door to the closet was a San Francisco fireman's uniform. It seemed bizarre to Mike that the fire department would give a uniform to someone who wasn't a member of the force. Maybe this Dave guy was fucking a fireman who had left his uniform behind. Mike tiptoed across the room, flinching when the floorboards squeaked under his weight. He reached the closet and began to rifle through the pockets with his stubby hands. Nothing in the jacket pockets, but in the pants pockets he felt something. He reached in and pulled out two items. One was a business card that he couldn't read in the unlit room, the other was another cell phone. Mike attempted to switch on the phone, but it was drained of juice. His eyes scanned the room until he saw a charging cord plugged in the wall behind the closet door. As he plugged the phone into the charger, he heard a voice behind him. "I toldja not to steal nothin'." Mike spun around, terrified at being caught, dropping the phone and stuffing the business card into the pocket of his shorts. He'd been so caught up in his snooping that he hadn't heard the shower stop. He attempted to look nonchalant, but was stunned to see Dave standing in silhouette in the bathroom doorway, towel draped casually around his shoulders, his skin slicked with water and backlit. "I'm sorry, I was just...my cell phone..." Dave laughed and waved an arm dismissively. "I'm just fuckin' with you, man. C'mon, you hungry?" He slapped his hand over his firm abs and motioned for Mike to follow him to the kitchen. Mike would have felt foolish to do anything other than what this dude requested. He walked several steps behind, admiring how Dave's bare ass shifted with each stride. Goddamn, this guy had absolutely no self-consciousness about his body. He was walking fully nude in front of some fat slob he only kind of thought he might know, and it didn't bother him a bit. This cat was cool. Dave set about making his supper, grilling a steak and whipping up a spinach salad. Despite repeated inquiries, Mike insisted that he wasn't hungry (not for food, at least). He pulled up a bar stool and downed more hard lemonade as he watched the naked chef go about his business. Dave stuffed a spinach leaf in his mouth. "So what's your name? Maybe that'll jog my...ya know..." "Mike. I work at DigiWarp." The word "DigiWarp" did seem to ignite a spark in Dave's eyes, but the spark dulled by the time it reached his brain. "You look so fuckin' familiar, dude. I feel like I should remember you from somewhere. I mean, you're a lot to forget." He gestured toward Mike's gut. Mike smiled weakly, as always trying not to be overly sensitive. Dave detected this and looked immediately apologetic. "Sorry, that was a real fucked-up thing to say. I didn't mean nothin'. You seem like a cool guy." No one had ever said THAT to Mike before. "Well, we can't all have a body like yours," Mike said, quickly plugging a bottle of booze in his mouth to prevent drooling. "All you need is a good diet and discipline, man. You think I always looked like this?" "I don't know," Mike said. "Did you?" Dave had to consider that. His memory was so shitty lately, like part of his brain was just plain gone. He sure hoped there wasn't gonna be a lot of math on the fire department exam. He dodged the question and pointed toward Mike's bottle. "Ya know, that shit fucks up your body. Lemme have another one, 'kay?" Mike playfully pulled the remaining bottles out of Dave's reach. "No. Maybe I don't want you fuck up your bod." Did he actually say "bod"? Was he seriously flirting with this man who was so far out of his league? Even if somehow that really was David inside that cocoon of beautiful muscle, he sure wasn't acting like it. Mike hardly felt like he belonged to the same species as the gorgeous specimen standing naked before him. Dave sauntered across the kitchen and stretched an arm around Mike to grab a bottle. "I just ran ten miles. I think I deserve a treat, don't you?" As Dave's cock grazed against Mike's arm, it jolted and rose slightly. Dave noticed as Mike's eyes dropped down to gaze at his dick. "Unless you can think of a better treat." Mike became short of breath again and looked at Dave to see if this was a gag, but Dave was staring back through half-closed eyes that radiated sincerity. "You serious?" "Serious as the heart attack you're having, dude." He grabbed Mike's pudgy hand and led him back to the living room. Dave flopped into the leather gaming chair, his damp, bare skin clinging to the upholstery. He leaned back and stroked himself lazily while waiting for Mike, who was frantically trying to pull himself free from his stupid, sopping-wet XXXL shirt. He clumsily lowered himself to the floor, kneeling before Dave in his leather throne, and wrapped his lips around the head of Dave's glorious cock. It was already semi-hard and leaking cum, but grew dramatically as soon as Mike's tongue made contact. Dave leaned his head back and let the sensation rush through his body. He didn't know why he'd been so sex-crazy lately. He didn't remember always being so willing to fuck any guy he met. Then again, he didn't remember NOT being that way either. This Mike guy might be a tub of goo, but he seemed harmless and it was obvious from the way he'd been staring that it would be a major "Dear Diary" moment in this guy's life if he could just polish Dave's knob once. Even though he had whacked off in the shower, Dave still needed more release after that long run. A mouth is a mouth, thought Dave, and this guy seems to be eager. Why wouldn't he be eager? Just fuckin' look at me! Mike was so thrilled by what was happening that he had already shot a load in his pants, but he didn't let on to Dave. He continued sucking and licking, trying to remember any move he'd seen in the videos he had watched in college while his roommates were out banging cheerleaders and poetry majors (of both genders). He had always thought himself so undesirable that he had never found himself in a situation that even offered him the opportunity for sex. To be deep-throating this stud, however strange the circumstances, was a chance he could not pass up. He started to wheeze as Dave's cock swelled to its full nine inches, but he refused to gag. Dave's cock fired, launching clots of thick cream so far down Mike's throat that, only as Dave pulled out, dragging his still pulsating head across Mike's tongue, did Mike get a full sense of the flavor of Dave's cum. Exhausted, Mike flopped shirtless onto the floor, smiling euphorically. Dave waited a respectful fifteen seconds before loping back into the kitchen. It was all over so quickly that his steak was still rare. * * * The next thing Mike heard was gunfire. It startled him awake and he lifted his bulky shoulders off the floor. Propped up on his elbows, he looked beside him and saw Dave seated in his gamer chair and lost in a ferocious gunfight on the massive video screen. Dave's empty plate, salad bowl, and three more empties of Mike's Hard rested by his bare feet. While Mike was dozing, Dave had gotten dressed...to an extent. He wore a black Under Armour sleeveless and skintight black compression leggings which clung so tightly to every contour of Dave's body that he may as well have been spray-painted black. Mike smiled up at Dave, who glanced down for a millisecond to smile back and inform Mike, "You fuckin' snore, dude." Mike rolled his substantial frame on its side and watched the action on the screen. Dave was slaughtering anyone who came in his path. His reflexes were astounding. His long-fingered hands masterfully worked the controls in a frenzy...just like David's had. "This game is great for hand-eye coordination. I am gonna fuckin' ace the firefighting exam." Mike turned back to Dave, smirking. "Just because you're good in a firefight doesn't mean you're good at firefighting. You do know that you don't actually fight fires with guns, right?" "Yes, I know. You think I'm an idiot or something?", Dave said, laughing and pushing a bare smelly foot into Mike's face. Mike squirmed away, yelling, "Gross," but he secretly loved it. His cock was semi-hard again. "I gotta take a leak." "Go ahead. Piss your heart out." Mike waddled through the bedroom and into the bathroom. He didn't want to break the awesome mood he was in, so tried to avoid catching a reflection of his flab in the mirror. But reality hit home when he needed to pull out his penis and, as usual, had to fumble around under his enormous overhanging gut to extract it from his shorts. He had come to think of his cock like a black hole: he couldn't actually see it, but based on the evidence, he was convinced that it must exist. He was tempted to jerk off, but his bladder was shouting more urgently to his brain, and maybe if he was lucky, he'd get Dave to jack him off or blow him or... "Stop it," yelled Mike's bladder, "I'll never get to piss if you keep thinking about things like that." Mike sighed with relief and unleashed perhaps the longest piss of his life. After a few final afterthought squirts, he pulled his baggy shorts up to what technically qualified as his waist. As he dragged the shorts up his thigh, he remembered there was something extra in his pocket. He dug in and pulled out the dog-eared business card he had found earlier. He examined it in the fluorescent light of the bathroom. It read, "MR. LEE, X-DREAM MAKEOVERS", followed by some Chinese symbols. "X-Dream Makeovers," Mike thought. Could this be the explanation for how shy, nerdy David had seemingly been transformed into the musclehead currently racking up kills in the living room? There was no address on either side of the card. Mike remembered the cell phone he had found along with the card and tiptoed into the bedroom. The phone was still recharging but had enough juice that Mike could boot it up. A quick look at the phone showed that the ringer had been turned to vibrate and that all of Mike's texts and voicemails had come through, but none seemed to have been read or listened to. As he scrolled around, he noticed that the last message received and read two weeks ago was from someone named Kenneth. It gave a street address that Mike knew was on the fringes of Chinatown, followed by "IT'LL BE THE BEST INVESTMENT OF YOUR LIFE. CALL ME AFTER. ;)" Could whatever had happened to David have been so dramatic that it wiped out his memory to the point that he didn't even remember where his phone was? Did he even remember to get back in touch with whoever sent him to get the makeover? Mike forwarded the text to his own phone, so he would have the address, and stuffed the business card back into his pocket. Returning to the living room, Mike held the cell phone in front of Dave's face. "Is this your cell?" Dave shoved the phone out of his face and continued with his game. "Could be. I couldn't find my phone, so I just bought a new one. You know what's nuts? Turns out I got like crazy amounts of money in the bank." Of course he does, thought Mike. He's David Tanner, tech wizard and multi-millionaire, only he's oblivious to those facts. Now he's Dave Tanner, Mike's dream boy, with nothing on his mind beyond getting in shape, becoming a fireman, and laying waste to whatever videogame character pops up around the next corner. Dave addressed Mike without ever turning his attention from the screen. "Listen, I gotta get to bed so I can hit the gym at five a.m. It was great to meet you and all. I hope you find that guy you were looking for." "Thanks. I think I did." Dave was already lost in the game again. Mike pulled his Astro Boy shirt back on and made his way to the front door. He sneaked back into the living room, grabbed one of Dave's used ankle socks from the floor, took a whiff and stuck it in his pocket. Whatever happened next, at least he would have a souvenir of tonight. * * * Mike went directly from Dave's house to the address in the text message, so jazzed by the evening's events that he walked a full three blocks before getting too tired and riding a bus the remainder of the way. When he reached the address, he was disappointed. It was a tiny shop with dingy windows. Mike attempted to look inside, but the streetlamps barely penetrated the grime on the glass and revealed almost nothing of the interior. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep or be able to focus on his job tomorrow morning, so he faked a convincingly scratchy throat and left a message on his supervisor's voicemail that he would not be in to work. Mike did indeed stay awake all night, surfing the web. He could find no references anywhere to "X-Dream Makeovers", which seemed impossible. If someone could indeed change David the dud into Dave the stud, how could that ever remain a secret? Why wouldn't everyone one earth be storming the place? Maybe they wiped David's memories to keep him from revealing the details of his transformation? But then who was this Kenneth who told David this would be "the best investment of his life" and that he should "call me after semicolon end-parenthesis"? So many questions, so many hours until daylight. Mike tried to pass the time by watching porn, but he kept closing his eyes and fantasizing about Dave instead. As dawn broke, Mike headed back towards the address he had found, wearing a long-sleeved sweatshirt and cut-off sweat pants. The shop was not open and looked no more like a going concern than it had in the dead of night. Mike decided to grab breakfast across the street. He headed to a 7-Eleven but, rather than his typical Diet Coke Double Gulp and a couple of donuts, he decided to try yogurt and a banana this morning. If the day went as he hoped, he might be eating more healthy from now on. Regardless, the creamy texture of the yogurt and the long firm slope of the banana in his mouth brought back pleasant memories of last night. Mike hiked back to the shop, amazed by how much energy he had exerted in the past twelve hours. He still saw no lights or activity inside, but he finally decided to try the door. When he pushed the handle, the door swung open and an elderly Chinese man with a mustache was seated calmly behind a counter. He looked like he had been expecting Mike. Mike had no idea how well the man spoke English, so he pulled out the business card and pointed to it, asking, "This. You?" The man smiled serenely. "This, me. You may call me Mr. Lee." Mike took a few steps forward but realized he had left the door open. As he was turning back to close the door, Mr. Lee raised a hand and the door seemed to close on its own. The dim light which seeped through the dirty windows gave the room a feeling of foreboding. "Hi, Mr. Lee, my name is..." Mr. Lee raised a hand to stop him. "I do not need to know names." Besides, the gifted Mr. Lee already sensed that the man was named Mike and had discerned several other details about the new customer. "What can I do for you today?" "I think you helped a friend of mine a couple weeks ago. His name was... Well, his name doesn't matter. But maybe you remember him. He was a skinny quiet guy who designed brilliant software. Only now I went to his house last night and there's this big hunky guy living there who wants to be a fireman." Mr. Lee showed no outward sign of it, but he indeed remembered the one who left dressed as a fireman. He also remembered the fireman who had left behind the uniform in the first place. Mr. Lee remembered many things. "You are sure it is the same man. Perhaps the first man moved away and the fireman moved in." "No, no, no, they've got the same name. They've got the same eyes. They've got the same voice...sorta. I mean, that's about it, but I'm still sure it's the same guy." "So what is it you wish from me? You also wish to be a fireman?" Mike realized that he had not planned an answer for this question, even though it was the one he hoped he would be asked. "Well, I dunno. What exactly do you do here?" "You tell me what you want to change about yourself, and we agree on a price you are willing to pay for that change." "Oh, man. I don't have anything like the money Da...my friend has. No wonder you don't have lines around the block. You must charge like a billion dollars." "I do not charge money. I ask you to give me something of yours in exchange for what you wish. From this, I replenish my stock of ingredients." He gestured with a practiced flourish to indicate the multi-colored jars on the shelves behind him. "What do you wish to change about yourself?" Mike looked down at his body, then back at Mr. Lee. "Isn't it kinda obvious?" "I never assume. Unfortunately, to be blunt, I do not need more fat in my inventory. There is not much call for it, except the occasional gentleman who wishes to be...what is they call it...a grizzly?" "You mean a bear?", offered Mike. Mr. Lee nodded. "Yeah, I've been carting around this lard for years. I can understand why no one else would want it." Mike looked ready to give up. Compassion was Mr. Lee's greatest flaw. He couldn't bear to see a potential customer disappointed, even if it meant stockpiling ingredients that he would never use. How many times had he removed a customer's acne, knowing that no one would ever enter his shop and ask to have MORE zits? "I will not have much use for it, but better in my store room than on your body." Mike was getting seriously excited now. "You mean it? Great!" "But you have still not told me what you can give to me in exchange." Mike thought it over seriously. He felt he wasn't being falsely modest or brutally self-critical when he said, "I can't think of anything about me that's special that anyone else would want." As he heard those words out loud, Mike realized he had just stated his entire philosophy about romance. "Perhaps I could take some of your intelligence?" After all, that is what his friend had sacrificed for his new body. Mike laughed heartily. "I do not have a drop of intelligence to waste." "That is too bad. I can always use brains." Mr. Lee placed his fingertips together and hinted, "Surely a young man like yourself can think of something else." It took a moment for the suggestion to sink in. Young man? "You want...my age?" "To be accurate, what I want is your youth." In most cases, Mr. Lee discouraged people if they asked him to make them older. Those who ask for it usually regret the years they have skipped over and quickly ask for their youth back. But this young man seemed to be carrying so much weight, not just physically but emotionally, that he already seemed ready to be old. "I sense you have been worn down by life, despite your young age. You do not even have your hair." "Maybe you could give me some?", Mike said, raising his eyebrows hopefully. "I could. But only in exchange for something else." Mike had not anticipated this complication. What would he be willing to give up to gain what he wanted? It made him question the entire concept of who he was. If he was miraculously thin all of a sudden, how would that affect the way he acted and the way others acted toward him? If he showed up at work and was twenty years older, would he get newfound respect or would he be thrown out by security as a crazy person? "If I go through with this, will I still remember who I am?", Mike asked. "You should." Sometimes, when he drained off someone's intelligence, memories got lost in the process. Mr. Lee was sure that was what had happened to Mike's friend, David, but he had seemed so delighted in his new fireman's uniform, and all of the innate wisdom and common sense he would need as a firefighter were still intact. Mr. Lee never wanted there to be negative consequences from the changes he made. He didn't want to read in the newspaper one day that someone had died in a blaze because their fireman was an idiot. "And will other people still remember who I am?" "Depends on how much you change. Big change, more problems. How you explain is up to you. If you need new name, new driver's license, new Social Security, that up to you. I do not handle paperwork" Raising his voice for the first time since Mike entered, Mr. Lee thundered, "But the one thing you must NEVER do is tell anyone about this store!" "Oh, right, absolutely, my lips are sealed." Of course Mr. Lee depended on customers breaking this vow in order to bring in new business. But he figured it didn't hurt to spook them with a little threat, so they would only mention the store confidentially to those who could truly benefit most from Mr. Lee's services. Mike couldn't believe he was negotiating this. "How many years are we talking about?" "Depends on how skinny you want to be." "Let's say I lost 180 pounds." Mr. Lee pulled a wooden abacus from under the counter, slid the beads around in a way he had never learned to understand but gave his presentation a certain level of showmanship, and declared, "Eighteen years." "Whoa," said Mike, contemplating walking out of this store as a 40-year-old, albeit a skinny 40-year-old. "Can we make it fifteen?" Somehow the notion of being 37 was slightly easier to stomach. "We can make it whatever you want. It is your decision." "Would that mean I'll live fifteen years less? That I'll die sooner?" "You could live to 115. You could be hit by a truck tomorrow. The question: how do you want to live whatever time you have?" Mike looked down at his bulbous body. He definitely didn't want to be carrying around this load for the rest of his life. But wasn't he crazy to be considering something this weird and drastic? Maybe he should just grow some balls and join a gym. Oh, who was he kidding? That would never happen. Whereas what Mr. Lee was offering was immediate, and he'd already seen the results it had on David. Mr. Lee was already getting jars off his shelves, as if he knew that Mike had made his decision. Which, in fact, he had. "Okay, fifteen years." Mr. Lee raised his hands and the room became dark, except for a single spotlight shining on Mike. Showmanship again. "If you are ready, I will take your fifteen years from you." Mike braced himself, not knowing how you prepare to lose fifteen years of your life. He tensed up, closed his eyes and nodded. Mr. Lee opened a jar with a small amount of yellow powder at the bottom. It had been so long since he had persuaded anyone to sacrifice their youth that his supply was nearly gone. He watched as Mike's large body began to sag even more than usual. Light yellow particles, like clumps of pollen, began to seep out of Mike's pores and float across the room into the open jar. Mike's head remained bald, his eyebrows became flecked with gray, and the spotlight even caught the emergence of small hairs from his ears and nostrils. "Can I look yet?", asked Mike. It felt to him like his body was melting. "No, keep your eyes closed please." Mr. Lee didn't think Mike would like what he saw if he opened his eyes now. If he was unhappy with his hefty body as a 22-year-old, seeing that same body at 37 might be a devastating shock that could damage him permanently. To remove Mike's fat cells, Mr. Lee used a jerry-rigged device with ropes, a funnel and a hose. It looked like the sort of thing the Amish might use to perform liposuction. He pulled up Mike's sweatshirt to reveal his enormous belly and positioned the funnel at Mike's navel, tying it in place with ropes stretched around his back. The hose fed from the funnel into an underground tank where the fat was collected after removal. Mr. Lee always had such an excess of his customers' fat in the tank that he was forced to sell it, just to get it off his hands. He knew never to eat fried food from any of the restaurants who purchased it. Mr. Lee clapped his hands twice, which somehow activated this non-mechanical device. Immediately, Mike could feel the fat cells from throughout his body being drawn toward his belly button like iron filings toward a magnet. Clots of liquid lard began to ooze through the hose and under the floorboards. As the body fat shrank, Mike's skin began to tingle as it contracted. Untoned muscles which had been camouflaged for years by thick layers of obesity were revealed. The viscous stream from Mike's navel slowed and eventually stopped. Mr. Lee removed the device and declared, "Now you can look." Mike grimaced in the glare of the spotlight, then caught his reflection in a mirror on the wall. The man looking back at him was startlingly unrecognizable, but at the same time familiar, and Mike suddenly realized that it was like looking at a tweaked version of his own father. He stroked his newly slender fingers across his cheek, stunned to discover cheekbones and an elegant nose that had been lurking unseen on his face all these years. He found his chrome-dome look was considerably more bad-ass on this less bloated head. Crows' feet by his eyes and wrinkles on his forehead provided evidence of the years he had lost, but also suggested the wisdom of age. All Mike was missing was the actual wisdom. His cut-off sweats and boxer underwear had dropped to the floor once his waistline receded, revealing knobby but not unattractive legs. His sweatshirt now felt like a circus tent draped over his shoulders. He essentially climbed out of the shirt, tossing it aside so he could take in his fully naked body. No question, he looked middle-aged, but he now had the slim build of someone who was generally healthy but didn't exercise much. Maybe he could whip himself into better shape with a hand from Dave. Mike's mind toyed with the vision of Dave whipping him with his hands, and Mike's cock stirred to arousal. He was glad that he hadn't aged further, as his cock was still spry enough to spring into action after a single fleeting horny thought. Seeing his cock and balls on full display in the mirror, Mike realized they looked pretty much the way he'd remembered, but they looked bigger now that the body surrounding them was so much smaller. He hadn't turned into a traffic-stopper like Dave, but given how little he had to barter with, he was pleased with his new body overall. And somehow, with age, he felt less agitated and more serene, less self-doubting and more self-assured. It certainly didn't hurt his self image that he could finally see his toes again. "Are you pleased, Mr. Mike?", asked Mr. Lee. "I'm amazed," responded Mike, not realizing he had never told Mr. Lee his name. Mr. Lee pushed the mirror aside, revealing a room filled with clothes. "Please choose some clothing that suits the new you. I will give you some privacy." Mr. Lee went back behind his counter while Mike entered the room and evaluated his options. He felt like he'd wandered into a thrift shop, where clothes of different styles and even from different eras hung side by side. Mike had no idea what size clothes would even fit this new body, so he tried on several items, all of which he discovered were too roomy for him. He strolled down to the smaller sizes and spotted a gray hoodie and khaki shorts which looked very familiar. They were practically a uniform for David when he worked at DigiWarp, at least on the days when he didn't need to use his color-coordinated system to look more put together for visiting clients. Curious, Mike attempted to slip on the shorts, but even after all this weight loss, Mike was still heavier than the old stick-thin David had been. He did, however, discover something folded in one of the pockets of the shorts. He pulled it out and noticed that it was an envelope from a law office: "Mr. Kenneth Donnelly, Attorney At Law." Could this be the Kenneth who had directed David to Mr. Lee's store? He pulled out the letter, which was about provisions for David's post-buyout investments, not life-altering body changes. Still, Mike kept the letter, as it provided him with Kenneth's work address and phone number. Mike was still completely naked with no clue what he could wear when he spied a pin-striped black suit, white shirt and red tie. He tried the pants first and they fit his new measurements almost perfectly. The whole suit couldn't have been a better fit if it had been tailored. He rummaged around the piles on the floor until he found socks and shoes that matched, then emerged into the store, modeling his new look for Mr. Lee, who nodded approvingly. Mike admired himself in the mirror, amazed by the trim figure he cut. As the front of his slacks bent outward, he realized that he was becoming aroused by his reflection, another new phenomenon for Mike. As Mr. Lee was placing his magic substances back on the shelves, he dipped a tablespoon into the yellow powder of youth and swallowed it down. A small dose like that didn't produce any major changes, maybe a few darker hairs in his mustache. Mostly, it gave Mr. Lee the quick jolt of energy he sometimes needed in the morning ever since he had given up coffee. * * * "Mr. Donnelly, there's a gentleman here to see you," came the voice over the intercom. Kenneth Donnelly looked annoyed. He had taken off his jacket and was loosening his tie, preparing to take his midday exercise break. "I was just about to head out." The assistant's voice squawked again. "He says it's regarding David Tanner." Kenneth stopped suddenly, leaving one end of the tie dangling much further from his collar than the other. "Send him in please." The door opened and Mike strode in with a sense of confidence and purpose he had rarely felt, still wearing his new suit from Mr. Lee's store. He made a quick evaluation of Kenneth Donnelly. Based on his wavy graying hair, Mike would peg him in his early forties, although his blue eyes were bright, penetrating and youthful. At first, he appeared stocky, but on closer inspection, his dress shirt was simply loose to accommodate the impressive arms and torso underneath. Through the shirt, one could clearly see the outlines of a ribbed white tank tightly caressing Kenneth's curves. Donnelly was used to making quick judgments about people as well, and he was immediately curious to hear what the man in the pin-striped suit had to say. "You have information about David Tanner?" He gestured for the man to take a seat, but Mike remained standing. "I'm a friend of David's and I believe you have information about what happened to him two weeks ago." Donnelly looked alarmed. "What do you think 'happened' to him?" Mike thought Donnelly seemed genuinely concerned, but he could just be a lawyer who was good at feigning emotions when required. Mike pulled Mr. Lee's business card from his pocket and showed it to Donnelly. "Do you know anything about this?" Donnelly kept his hands in his pockets and studied Mike. "What do you know about it?" "Can you give me any answers that aren't in the form of a question?" Donnelly pondered what he should tell this stranger. "Can I at least know who I'm talking to?" "My name's Mike. I worked with David at DigiWarp. And I'm pretty sure you're the person who sent David to see Mr. Lee." Donnelly motioned for Mike to lower his voice and crossed the office to shut the door so they wouldn't be overheard. He gestured again for Mike to take a seat, but he found that he preferred to remain standing, eye to eye with Donnelly, alpha male to alpha male. Although they were roughly the same height, Donnelly seemed to shrink a bit under Mike's glare. "I knew I shouldn't be spreading the word about Mr. Lee. Are you telling me David actually went?" "Didn't you tell him to?" "I...mentioned it. He was such a mess when we were working on his buyout, so lacking in self-worth despite all his success. I thought it might be a good idea for him to see a shrink. When he shot that down, I told him about Mr. Lee. But I never heard another word from him, so I figured he had ignored my suggestion and was just sulking around in that new mansion of his. So..." Donnelly paused before asking, "How does he look?" Mike could tell from the glint in Donnelly's eye that the lawyer was very curious to hear a detailed description, with exact measurements if possible. "He looks amazing. Keeps saying he wants to be a fireman, but I get the feeling he'd settle for exotic dancer. Anything that involves sliding on poles." Donnelly grinned, tantalized. "So if you already knew about Mr. Lee and what he had done to David, why are you here?" Mike put his cards on the table. "Because he's dumb as a bag of hammers now. He's like this big, lovable, well-hung puppy dog." "And, what, you want me to take him back to Mr. Lee and make him smart again?" Mike hesitated. "No, I don't think I want that. I mean, I've never seen him so happy. It's probably good for him that he doesn't have a care in the world. I'm just worried that someone will come along and take advantage of his good nature and rob him blind." "Not a problem. I will personally look after all of his interests and will not let him sign anything that is against his interests." Mike nodded, but didn't say anything. Donnelly could sense what was bothering Mike. Donnelly ponted at Mike and said, "YOU want to be the one who makes sure he's taken care of." Mike nodded, feeling a bit foolish. Donnelly smiled more broadly. "You're in love with him." Mike took a long time before he was able to say a simple "Yeah." "Since when?" "If I'm honest, probably since I met him. He was such a special person, and not just because of his mind. And, now, I swear to god, it's not just because of his body. I think I always saw something sweet in him that nobody else did. Look at me. I'm just a nobody. I'm not special at anything and I'm never gonna be. But if I can be the person looking out for someone special, maybe that's special enough." Donnelly was not immune to sentiment. He knew the man before him was being genuine. "If David looks as good as you say he does, there will be a lot of people trying to get between you and him." Mike looked up with determination. "Let 'em try." Donnelly was impressed. He cast a lingering glance at Mike's body and asked, "So what did Mr. Lee do for you?" He'd never met Donnelly before. Donnelly had no idea how Mike had looked before this morning. "How do you know he did anything?" Donnelly smirked as he pointed to Mike's wardrobe. "Because that's my old suit." * * * Dave was doing crunches on a yoga mat when a faint pounding seeped through the earbuds that were cranking house music. He finished his set of one-hundred before popping out the earbuds. Yup, somebody was beating on his door. He shouted, "Who is it?" "It's Kenneth Donnelly, your lawyer." Dave tried to remember if he had a lawyer. And what exactly a lawyer was. He walked to the door and opened it without checking the peephole. Donnelly stood on the front stoop with his briefcase, dressed casually in his after-work wardrobe of a polo shirt and white slacks, the shirt's elastic cuffs riding high on his ripped biceps, exposing his Celtic tattoos. If anything, Mike had undersold his description of Dave, who was bathed in sweat and wearing only a pair of soaked olive-green boxer briefs. Donnelly would have loved to get a court order to poke through those briefs, but he firmly believed that the only time you should fuck your client is when you send them your bill. Donnelly set aside prurient thoughts and got to business. "I've got some papers I want you to look over, so I thought I'd swing by on my way home, rather than making you come into the office." "Cool," Dave said, waving the man inside. He had no clue what this was about, but the guy seemed to know what he was doing. Dave took the video game chair, leaving Donnelly the option of a sweaty yoga mat or a beanbag chair. He opted for squatting in the beanbag. "First, just for official identification purposes, can I ask what is your name?" "Sure you can." Dave waited for another question. Even Donnelly was surprised just how precipitously David's IQ had fallen. But Mike had been right, all traces of David's crippling anxiety and lack of confidence were absent in the dude seated across from him. "Okay. What is your name?" "Dave Tanner." "Good, Dave. Now you might not remember it, but you recently came into a lot of money. And you hired me to help safeguard it. But you have a friend who, if you agree to it, would like to help you on a more day-to-day basis. Does that sound good?" "You bet! Who's the friend?" "Do you have a friend named Mike?" Dave scratched his tangle of curly hair vigorously, as if he were trying to scratch all the way through to the brain. Finally, it hit him. "Oh, you mean the fat dude from last night?" Donnelly smirked and shouted through the still-open front door. "Hey, fat dude, come on in." Dave swiveled his chair around and watched as a man in his mid-to-late thirties stepped through the doorway. The bald head and slightly wrinkled face were recognizable from this morning's visit to Mr. Lee, but from the chin down, this was Mike 3.0. If the first transformation had changed Mike into the equivalent of a middle-aged accountant, he would now be more firmly typecast as a gay-bar bouncer or motorcycle-gang member. Much of his bulk was back, but in the form of enormous muscles. His traps strained the straps of his black stringer tank, which was stretched tight across his solid shelf of pecs. Veins leapt out in sharp relief against the mighty curves of his arm muscles. Black denim shorts hung down to his knees, exposing calves which were once again the size of piano legs, just more elegantly carved. He exuded confidence as he nodded, "Hey, Dave." Dave crossed the room to get a better look at Mike's body. If Dave had become an ideally sculpted David, Mike was now a crushingly powerful Goliath. "Dude, you gotta tell me what gym you go to!" Mike grinned. "Same place as you." After Mike's visit to Donnelly's office, they decided another trip to Mr. Lee's shop would be necessary if Mike were ever going to have a shot at competing for Dave's attention among the sea of well-built men surrounding them. Mr. Lee broke his primary rule by not giving Mike muscles in exchange for some other attribute. Instead, he agreed to accept free legal counsel from Donnelly for the next year. As careful and selective as Mr. Lee tried to be, there were always disgruntled customers threatening to sue, so having a powerful attorney -- legally and physically -- could come in handy. Donnelly was willing to make such a deal because he felt guilty that he hadn't accompanied David to Mr. Lee's shop to keep him from making any ill-advised choices, although seeing the joy on Dave's face right now, he wasn't sure that Dave hadn't gotten exactly the body and mind he wanted and needed. "So," Dave asked Mike, "how was your day?" Mike shot a glance at Donnelly. "Eventful." Donnelly left a sheaf of papers on one of the barstools. "I'll just leave these here for Mike to explain to you. They'll allow Mike to make routine purchasing and investment decisions for the two of you. If you agree to it, you two can just sign the documents where the flags are and get the originals back to my office. You can keep the second copies for yourselves." Donnelly may as well have been speaking to an empty room, as Mike and Dave were now kissing hungrily. Mike's meaty hand was palming Dave's firm ass, and Dave was frantically unbuckling Mike's belt. Donnelly had to squeeze his own substantial body past them to get to the door. "Okay, you two have a good night. I'm sure you will." Donnelly headed down the sidewalk, smiling with certainty that at least two of Mr. Lee's customers wouldn't be suing him in disappointment. As Donnelly reached his Tesla double-parked in the street, he realized he'd forgotten to remind Mike of something. He jogged back to the front door and said, "Mike, don't forget to call DigiWarp and tell them you quit." Mike and Dave were both now naked on the yoga mat, grunting and moaning, with Mike taking his new eleven-inch cock for a test piledrive up Dave's tight ass. Donnelly smirked. Mr. Lee had resisted throwing in that cock for free, but Donnelly talked him into it. "Tell them you got a better offer."

I was dreading this tech expo. Another out-of-town trip to another interchangeable hotel, with the same old overpriced mini-fridge and the same old hotel-TV porn. Eating at the same old breakfast buffets where you would run into the same old reps who were at the last convention, all hoping to find some new product that truly excited them. It was the first full day of the conference and I was already bored stiff -- or, more accurately, bored flaccid. Nothing aroused my interest as I wandered from booth to booth in the vast convention hall, hearing pitches from either droning geeky techheads with few presentation skills or perky actors and actresses who could memorize their spiels but had no clue what to say if you asked a follow-up question. I was already lugging around two plastic bags stretched to their limits with pamphlets and presentations and souvenir t-shirts and drink koozies. I had taken them all, just to be polite, but I planned to chuck most of them in the trash rather than bothering to tote them back to my room. I was feeling like a nap and was just about to exit the ballroom when I noticed a lantern-jawed young man seated at a booth getting little attention at the moment. The guy had a movie-star face but an appropriately casual, approachable attitude, and his strawberry-blond hair was short enough to suggest serious business but shaggy enough to convey a rebellious streak. (After all these years, I now found myself more fascinated by all the subtle ways that companies tried to manipulate you into checking out their products than by the products themselves.) His company polo shirt was stressed impressively by his shoulders and pecs, while tapering to a narrow waist that tucked into khaki cargos. His hands were pressed against a stool behind him and he was slowly raising and lowering himself, working in some exercise for his stand-out triceps while he waited for people to drop by the booth. He had earned my attention, so I walked over to chat. As I approached, he stood up and grinned, creating two deep dimples on his cheeks. I pointed to the banner behind him which contained nothing but the letters "NU". "What's NU?", I asked. "I dunno, what's new with you?", he replied a bit stiffly, with the weariness of someone who has been making the same lame joke all day. "Actually, it's Nu-You. The N is the Greek letter nu," the guy explained, gesturing to the single demo model which sat on the table in front of him. No wonder the guy wasn't getting much traffic. All he had on display was one little black rectangular product which looked like just another iPhone knockoff. Still, I wasn't about to end the conversation so quickly. Nobody who looked as stunning as this guy would ordinarily have any reason to speak to me in reality, but now for a few minutes in this artificial setting, his job required it. "Okay, I'm game, give me your sales pitch," I told him. "You just need to try it. The product sells itself," the guy assured me. I had heard that before, but it usually preceded a long-winded pitch. Here, this guy let the statement speak for itself. "All right then, who is it for?", I asked. "Anyone." "And how much does it cost?" "Each unit is two-point-three million dollars." I stared at him blankly. "But we're hoping to get that under two million once we are fully operational." A laugh percolated through my body, starting with a subtle vibration in my chest until it built to a chuckle and finally to a cackle that sliced through the loud murmur that constantly filled the hall. I picked up the sample unit, which was attached to the tabletop with a reinforced cable. "So it's for anyone...as long as they have two million dollars." The guy just grinned knowingly and asked, "Would you like to take a demo with you tonight?" He reached underneath the table and unlocked a safe from which he brought out a black box identical to the one on display. He handed it to me, saying, "Take it to your room and try it. Bring it back to me in the morning. Tell me what you thought." "You're giving me a two-million-dollar demo?" "Two-point-three. Yes." "How do you know I won't just wander off with it? Or take it back to my company and reverse-engineer it?" "You'll be back." He seemed awfully sure of himself and his product. He had certainly created an aura of mystery that piqued my interest, even if I still had no real clue what it did." I walked away from the booth with a skeptical smile, stuffing the Nu-You Whatever-It-Was into one of my bags. I thought of grabbing some food, but by this point I was too curious. I needed to investigate the mystery doohickey right away. I headed straight to my room, kicked off my shoes and rested my back against the bed's headboard. I switched on the device and saw the "NU" logo pop up, followed by a screen asking me to select my gender. I clicked on "Male" and a new screen appeared, asking me to select the gender of the person I was looking for. This was the guy's revolutionary product? Hooking people up? Had he never heard of Tinder and Grindr? I almost tossed the gadget aside then and there, but maybe he had come up with some novel twist. Still, one that was worth two million a unit? I had to find out what that might be. I clicked that I was interested in finding a male. I glanced across the room at a mirror above the desk. I definitely was going to need some kind of miracle technology to find a date the way I looked these days. It was a wonder I'd ever gotten laid at all. My thinning blond hair hung at random angles across my forehead. I'm not sure why I still kept my mustache, since it was so close in color to my skin tone as to be nearly invisible. I had a rare combination of a heavy brow, a bulbous nose and a weak chin which made my head look top-heavy, as if my forehead were several feet closer to you than my chin. The drab clothes hanging unflatteringly over my gaunt frame were a study in shades of tan and had been chosen not for fashion but for how wrinkle-free they stayed with all of the packing and unpacking I needed to do in my travels. In short, I was a real boner-killer. If I hadn't already felt hopeless, the next screen offered more discouragement. Under the banner "Choose Your Model", the screen showed a dozen thumbnails of men who ranged from handsome to extremely handsome to painfully handsome. I scrolled down to discover dozens more thumbnails, some of which were grayed out with the words "IN USE" superimposed over them in red. Curious, I clicked on one which caught my eye, and the photo enlarged to full-screen. Staring seriously back at me was a young man, maybe college age, maybe still in high school, his black hair thick and neat, black eyebrows resting heavily over deep, probing eyes. His long straight nose led to slim lips with just a touch of a cocky smile, and his chin was firm but still boyish. He wore a crop-top mesh workout shirt exposing part of his eight-pack before it disappeared again into his bulging silver Lycra shorts. Powerful arms hung out from each sleeve, both fists clenched with determination. Below this photo were two buttons: "Choose" and "Back". I chose "Back", but instead of taking me to the previous screen, it showed me the back of this same young stud. Damn, those shorts looked spectacular pulled tight across his muscular ass, and I scrolled down to inspect his well-defined cyclist's calves. The pressure in my pants was growing painful, so I unzipped and let my five-inch hard-on breathe. These photos were already bringing me so close to the brink of orgasm that I might not need to hook up with anyone, but a device that can show you photos to jerk off to was not worth two million bucks. Nearly everyone in America was already carrying such a device. I stripped off my pants and unbuttoned my shirt. I was down to my boxers when I noticed a red countdown flashing over the photo onscreen. It was at five and ticked down once a second. I picked up the device and stared at it as the count reached zero and displayed the message, "Model Chosen". A red line appeared onscreen and panned down, emitting a red laser-like glow which crossed from my head to my toes, as if my entire body were being dragged across a supermarket checkout scanner. Another message appeared: "Alteration Commencing". A sharp electrical jolt from the device zapped me. I fell back on the bed, woozy, and it felt like tiny ants were invading under my skin. I wondered if these were those nanobots which I'd been hearing about at conventions for years but which never seemed to emerge in any marketable technology. I swore I could even see whatever they were marching from my hand and up my arm before spreading slowly through the rest of my body. There was something undeniably creepy about what I was seeing, yet my mind simultaneously experienced a rush of endorphins that gave me a feeling of unfathomable bliss. I leaned against the headboard again as the sensation washed over me. Through fluttering eyelids, I could see the mirror on the wall and began to notice changes happening to my body. My sunken chest seemed to be inflating itself like an airbag, and my belly button was soon surrounded by ab muscles that appeared to be surfacing from underneath my skin. My shoulder muscles thickened into meaty curves and my biceps became like stone. My hair and eyebrows darkened from dishwater blond to middling brown to coal black in a matter of seconds. My potato of a nose grew sleek and slender and my pathetic chin shifted down and forward, baby cheeks speckled by a hint of stubble. From across the room, my eyes looked dark but with a fascinating sparkle. I was now staring at the young man from the device, only he was me. Or I was him. Or something. When I had gone to the "Choose Your Model" page, I thought I was choosing someone to meet, not someone to BECOME. I swung my legs off the bed, making contact with the floor sooner than expected. My legs hadn't just packed on muscle, they had grown longer. As I stood to my full height, I realized my whole body was taller and perfectly proportioned. With a swagger that came naturally to this new shape, I crossed the room and inspected myself in the mirror. I looked like a wholesome All-American jock, but the thoughts racing through my head were anything but wholesome. I lowered my Jockeys and unleashed a nine-inch cobra which whapped hard against my deeply-etched abs and deposited a sticky dollop of pre-cum above my navel. I wrapped my right hand around my cock. It was a boy's hand, soft and smooth, unlike my usual veiny and rough mitts. Aside from a light crop of hair on my forearms and a thick bush of black pubes around my dick, this new body was hairless, creating no distractions from the sharply defined muscles on display. I began to stroke myself vigorously, while my left hand explored this fresh terrain, eventually finding its way into my tender -- and reborn virgin -- ass. Ooh, that was going to need attention soon. My eyes lingered on the face in the mirror, its youthful cuteness caught in mid-evolution to chiseled beauty. That was the trigger to launch my cum spurting skyward, coating my hand, my chest, my bare toes, the carpet beneath me, the unused ice bucket, and the flat-screen TV. I fell back onto the bed, arms spread, brain tingling, dick still pumping. I must have laid there for ten minutes, reveling in what I had just experienced. Eventually, the jism on my torso began to harden and I felt the need to clean it off. I loped to the bathroom and took the longest and best shower of my life, scrubbing every new curve thoroughly until my focus returned to my cock, which had regained its rigidity. I couldn't resist stroking it and was soon on my way to another earth-shattering, wall-splattering orgasm. As I watched the thick white cream blasting forth and being washed down the drain, I had no idea my body could store so much sperm. Then again, this was not really my body. Or was it? I wiped the condensation off the bathroom mirror and looked closely into -- his? my? -- deep blue eyes. I could see no trace of myself in the person looking back, but I knew I was in full control. Realizing I had not yet spoken, I said "Hi there" to my reflection, and a youthful tenor ricocheted off the bathroom tiles, completely unlike my own raspy, cigarette-ravaged baritone. I enjoyed my stroll back to the main room, my long cock slapping against my damp leg with each step. I pulled open the drapes, shoulders flung back to display my muscles at their best in case anyone in the apartments across the street wanted a cheap thrill. I lay on my stomach across the bed's white comforter, feet crossed and hanging off the edge of the mattress. I picked up the Nu-You device and saw the notification "Alteration Complete". The photo of the stud I had become was now grayed out with "IN USE" over his face. A button labeled "Find Partner" blinked at the bottom of the screen. When I clicked it, all of the faces which were previously grayed out as "IN USE" became full-color, while the other images were marked "UNAVAILABLE". For a product that wasn't on the market, there sure were a lot of people using it. "Duh!", I realized. Obviously I wasn't the only one with a demo of the product. The guy in the booth must have given sample devices to everyone he met at the convention, and now they were all trying it out. My cock grew hard again simply at the thought of so many people simultaneously going through the same sort of metamorphosis as I just had. Unconsciously, my hips began surging forward and back against the comforter, nursing along my latest erection as I scrolled through the faces of all the men who were available. It was like browsing the world's sexiest smorgasbord, and I wanted to eat everything I saw. I first focused on a shirtless surfer dude with killer abs and sun-bleached hair, but his picture faded out and became "UNAVAILABLE" before I could choose it. My attention then shifted to a deeply-tanned weightlifter in a fluorescent orange tank top. I touched his photo on the screen and was alerted that he was in my hotel. Another click sent him "my" photo and an inquiry whether he wanted to meet up. I waited and waited, starting to feel rejected despite it not actually being MY body he was rejecting, but a message eventually popped up, indicating that he did want to hook up. A box appeared asking if I wanted to send him a text, but before I could type a character, I received a message from him: "U WANT ME??" I typed my reply: "Yeah. Do you want to come to me or should I come to you?" I waited for nearly a minute before I got this message: "U BETTER CUM HEAR. DONT THINK MY CLOSE FIT ANYMOR! :)" That was an interesting quandary I hadn't anticipated. I had a lot more muscle and had grown a few inches, so my normal clothes would no longer fit. This body deserved better than my sad wash-and-wear wardrobe, but I had few options. Eventually, I pulled on some gray sweatpants and rubber flip-flops from my suitcase and an XXL t-shirt I'd been given as a freebie at the convention. Not exactly Armani, but at least I was presentable enough to walk the hallways and ride the elevators. I knocked on the door of his room and heard heavy footfalls from inside. The door cracked open and I had to look up to see his brown eye peeking through. "God damn," he said with a low rumbling chuckle, then swung open the door just enough for me to enter. The room was dark, with the shades pulled and only the light of the muted TV casting shadows on our bodies, but he was indeed an amazing specimen in person. My boyish soccer-player's muscles appeared anemic beside this naked, shaven-headed giant who looked ready to become the next Mr. Universe. His massive arms swung wide as he waddled toward me, sporting a long curving dick that made my impressive cock also seem puny. "You ever done this before?", he asked me with innocence and genuine curiosity. "I don't think it's ever been technologically possible before." "No, I mean...had sex...with a guy?" This mountain of a man seemed positively skittish. I smiled and nodded. "Oh, that. Yeah, here and there." He said, "Then maybe you should take charge." I walked over and knelt before him, inserting the head of his cock into mouth, tongue circling it masterfully. I got the immediate sense that the young man I was currently inhabiting had a lot more experience in this department than I did. I had to assume that this was not the first time this body was "IN USE". The man I was blowing put his hands on my shoulders and began a monologue interrupted by frequent gasps as my tongue-bath became more intense. "I'm not a big -- ooh -- technical guy. I'm more of a -- aaah -- salesman. So when -- oh! -- I started playing around with that -- oh my god -- thingamajig, I didn't realize what I was doing. I hit the wrong button and -- owww -- before I could -- oh, fuck, you're good -- before I could stop it, my body looked like this and my brain was -- oh, Jesus! -- was full of all these images of naked guys. Ho-o-o-ly shit!" I hadn't expected him to come so quickly, but those images of naked guys must have gotten him well-primed before I even entered the room. A lot of spunk surged down my throat before he pulled his cock from my mouth. He dropped to his knees and stared with fascination at his mighty organ as its output slowed and it shrank to a mere seven inches. We took a breather, cuddling on the bed, after which I gave him some quick pointers on how he could satisfy me. He seemed at war between his usual self, which thought that what I described sounded awfully painful for me, and the impulses that came pre-installed with his new body, which were already launching his cock into another upward trajectory. Horniness won out, as it usually does, and although he was awkward at first, by the third time he was finding new twists I'd never even thought of. We ordered from room service. I had to pull on my clothes and answer the door to keep out the delivery boy. I overtipped him so he would go away quickly. As I glanced down the hall, I noticed a number of semi-clad men and a few nearly-nude women knocking impatiently on different doors. My companion didn't want to give me his name, and I never mentioned mine either. We spent the night together, chowing down on room service and watching a movie -- a normal one, because we couldn't imagine any porno living up to what we had just done in real life, if you could even describe what was happening that night as "real life". After a couple of beers, he tentatively asked if I would mind fucking him in the ass, so he could know what that felt like. I led him gently through the experience and, although he seemed to be enjoying himself, I doubted he would be going back to it on a regular basis once he returned to his own body. But who knows? Stranger things have happened. Like this entire night, for instance. Suddenly I wondered, what if he didn't return to his own body? What if we never changed back to our original selves? The device itself offered no instructions and came with no explanatory booklet. I booted up his laptop, but Nu-You had no corporate website, no online presence at all. I figured I would just have to wait and ask Mr. Nu-You at his booth tomorrow, but I got my answer sooner than that. We had fallen asleep in each other's arms, but I awoke around dawn to find myself entwined with a stranger. Interestingly, the man I had shared last night with turned out to be young and blond and quite a looker with a slim but very fit body. I could feel myself growing hard as I checked him out. Without any changes at all, he'd have been a nice match for the dark-haired hunk I had been last night. I was glad I woke up first, because I could sneak away without him ever getting a look at the letdown that would be the real me. Then an idea hit me. Maybe I could switch myself back to last night's body and fuck blondie this morning. Sure, he had said he was really straight, but after last night, he had to be reconsidering his options. Sadly, as I checked my device, I found an alert in red letters: "TRIAL PERIOD OVER -- RETURN DEVICE TO NU-YOU", followed by fine print detailing dire penalties for failure to return the device. I imagined that, if you didn't bring it back in a timely manner, it would self-destruct, "Mission: Impossible"-style. Two million dollars, up in smoke. Two-point-three. I slipped on my now baggy t-shirt and sweats and made my way back to my room, letting my mind drift. I already felt a bit sad, marooned back in my real body, and saw how using Nu-You could become incredibly addictive. You could really spice up a relationship if, every so often, one or both of you swapped into another body. Or imagine installing Nu-You suites in every hotel in the country. Business travelers could become a different person every night and fuck other people who also weren't themselves. You could mentally detach and rationalize to yourself that you weren't REALLY cheating on your boyfriend, your girlfriend, your husband, your wife. It was just those sexy avatars who did it. In-room porn rentals would plummet. But how could you control the technology? How could you be sure that someone wouldn't use it to disguise themselves to rob banks or commit murder? The exorbitant price would tamp down demand somewhat, limiting the market to the very wealthy, but that would also make those elite owners prime targets for thieves who wanted to get their hands on a Nu-You for their own purposes. The liability costs alone would be enough of a nightmare to make any sensible investor leery. I got dressed, putting my drab old clothes on my drab old self, and wandered back to the exhibition hall to return my Nu-You device. Looked like I was going to have to wait a while, though. Mr. Nu-You was besieged at his booth, surrounded by dozens of potential investors, some barely dressed, begging to get in on the ground floor -- and, more importantly, desperate to sell their cars, mortgage their houses, or liquidate their 401Ks to reactivate their devices immediately. And no one was more frantic than one young blond looker with a slim but very fit body. Finally, a convention with a little excitement.

"So, is it true? Ya know, about the formula?", Casey asked eagerly, kneeling on the bed of the San Diego motel room, his lithe body dressed in nothing but his camouflage-patterned briefs. "What formula?", said Andre, the incredibly muscular young man wearing nothing at all. Andre stood by the window, scratching at the stubble on his cheeks as the morning light seeping through the blinds cast flattering shadows across the impressive contours of his body. "You are such a bad liar!", Casey giggled, rolling onto his back. "You do that scratching your face thing every time you fib. You must be terrible at poker." "When have I told a lie?" "Let's see," mused Casey, stretching his right leg toward the ceiling. "For starters, last night at Rich's, you told me you were a mailman." "I could be a mailman." "Riiiight. Like, only the most awesomely jacked mailman in postal service history. Plus you told me your name was Sam Adams, which you only said after staring at the label on your beer bottle." Andre hung his head in exaggerated shame. "You got me." "Indeed I did," Casey said with a grin, his eyebrows jolting victoriously upwards. "It's a good thing you're not a spy. I could figure out all your secrets." "How do you know I'm not a spy?", Andre teased. "I do some of my best work undercover." Casey groaned, hurling a pillow toward the windows, which Andre deftly dodged. Casey extended his slender arm toward Andre and wiggled his fingers beckoningly. Andre wrapped his beefy fingers around Casey's hand and, when Casey gave the slightest tug, Andre tumbled onto the bed as if yanked by an irresistible force. Casey rested his chin on Andre's meaty shoulder and brushed his fingertips over Andre's massive torso, skipping lightly over the bumps of his ribs and tracing figure-eights in the grooves of Andre's well-defined abs. Casey had been certain Andre was a marine from the moment he spotted him walking tentatively into Rich's nightclub alongside a couple of similarly buff buddies. The theme that night was "Active Duty", when marines from nearby Camp Pendleton were allowed in with no cover charge. Casey observed that most of the military guys had gone out of their way to dress as "civilian" as possible, getting more than their share of playing soldier in real life, while the other boys on the dance floor took advantage of the theme as an excuse to get dressed up in some sort of uniform. Andre's Hawaiian shirt, baggy cargos and leather flip-flops didn't fool Casey. With his rigid posture and severe buzz cut, Andre simply screamed "marine", and if Casey had his way, he would have that marine screaming by the end of the night. The "Semper Fi" tattoo poking out from under Andre's sleeve only confirmed Casey's assumptions. Casey, who had assembled his own outfit at a surplus store in El Cajon, was dressed in a garrison cap, floppy black boots, camo underpants and white shorts. A corporal's khaki shirt was draped like a tent on his lanky frame, its tails knotted loosely over his bare tummy. With his minimal muscle tone, boyish face and gelled hair with frosted tips, Casey was unlikely to pass as a real serviceman no matter what he wore. Casey had a lifelong obsession with the military. His father and two of his brothers had served, and Casey had grown up assuming that he would follow their path. But he had never sprouted to a formidable size like his brawny brothers and was prone to asthma attacks, which had cemented in place an inferiority complex which he had never overcome. He also realized at a young age that he really, really, really liked boys, which he initially figured would be an automatic disqualifier, although the exquisite hunk of man on the bed beside him proved him wrong on that count. He knew he was cute and fun and could turn on the flirtatious charm when necessary, but he was still amazed that he had lured Andre away from the club when there were so many more studly specimens on display. Maybe Andre just had a thing for twinks, or maybe Casey simply pestered him so much that he surrendered to the inevitable. Either way, Casey had achieved his goal and, as the dull ache inside of Casey reminded him, if Andre had any complaints about Casey's body, they sure hadn't stopped him from fucking Casey all night. "So you're not gonna answer me, huh?", Casey persisted. "About what?" "The formula," Casey said with a brisk playful slap against Andre's eight-pack. "It's all anyone has been talking about lately in the clubs and at the gym, how much more ripped you boys from Camp Pendleton have been getting all of a sudden. Rumor has it that you're using something based on that super-soldier serum from World War Two." Andre glanced sideways at Casey and chuckled. "You mean like Captain America? You are aware that's a comic book, right? Do you think we're all getting bitten by radioactive spiders too?" "I wouldn't put it past them. I'm just saying, I study you boys...very closely. And I gotta say, I've never seen anyone make these kind of gains." "Maybe we're just trying harder," said Andre stone-faced, purposely rubbing his whiskers to taunt Casey. "Now you're just being a dick," Casey sneered, followed immediately by a grin. The two men grabbed a quick breakfast before heading out for a brisk hike. Andre pulled a change of clothes from the trunk of his car, hitting the trails in a tight olive-drab tank, cut-off jeans and a rugged pair of Timberlands, while Casey still wore the half-assed uniform he had worn to the club. "You know, you really shouldn't be walking around in public like that," Andre warned. "People will think you're trying to impersonate a marine." Casey tapped a finger against the sternum of his flat chest, exposed by his unbuttoned shirt. "If someone sees the two of us, you're honestly saying they'll think I'M the marine?" Casey cackled and ran ahead of Andre on the dirt trail. Andre stayed in place, giving Casey a head start and allowing himself a few moments to admire Casey's firm little ass. But once Casey tauntingly berated Andre for being a "wuss", Andre could not let that stand. He pounded his way up the trail, quickly breezing past Casey, who was already chugging along and looking winded. "Ha, look at you! Who's the wuss now?" Andre's laughter boomed across the hillside as he jogged ahead of Casey, facing backwards. He continued to chuckle as Casey staggered and clutched a hand to his chest, but the severity of Casey's wheezing and the purple hue of his face made Andre stop in his tracks. When Casey turned his ankle and dropped to one knee, Andre rushed back and guided him to the side of the trail, where Casey sat down and rested his back against a tree. "Shit, man, are you gonna be okay?" Casey nodded as his coughing fit subsided. "It'll pass," he said, extracting an inhaler from his pants pocket and sucking in a much-needed puff. He shot a glance at Andre squatting beside him, his powerful quads practically bursting out of his shorts. "It's not fucking fair. I bet you were already totally built before you even entered the service, and every day you just get fitter and sexier. Me, I can't run fifty feet without collapsing like a ninety-year-old who had his walker stolen. I'd give anything to be like you." Andre placed a comforting hand on the soft slope of Casey's shoulder and leaned over to plant a gentle kiss on his lips. As the kiss lingered, Casey's body shook as if stifling a chuckle. Andre pulled back and asked, "What's the matter?" "It's just funny," Casey said, flashing a wide grin. "Here I am suffocating, and you're taking my breath away." Andre stood up, holding Casey's hand. "You think you can walk with me?" Casey nodded and rose on wobbly coltish legs, and the pair resumed their hike, slowly strolling side by side and hand in hand. After a sunset dinner at the Chart House, Andre drove Casey back to his apartment. "I wish you didn't have to go," Casey said. Andre shrugged his shoulders. "Me too, but I gotta report back..." "To your mail route, I know." He kissed Andre, then asked, "Am I ever gonna see you again?" "Absolutely. You know the mailman's code." He pointed to the "Semper Fi" tat which spanned his right biceps. "Always faithful." Casey smirked. "Fuckin' A." He turned and gimped his way toward his apartment. As Andre watched, he made a silent resolution to himself. After two weeks without a word, Casey had given up hope of seeing Andre again. When he did eventually spot Andre strolling into Rich's on a Saturday night, in a body-hugging white tee and obscenely tight jeans, Casey was simultaneously thrilled and angry. Wearing only silver hot pants with matching high-tops and liberally sprinkled with sparkling confetti, he marched across the dance floor, skinny arms swinging furiously, hands balled into unintimidating fists. "Whatever happened to 'Semper Fi', asshole?", he demanded. Andre was taken aback by Casey's fury. "Uh, hi to you too, Casey. I love what you're not wearing." "Where the fuck have you been? You never heard of texting?" "I'm sorry, man. I was away on training exercises," Andre shouted over the music. "But you're right, I am an asshole. I should have taken a second to drop you a message. If it makes any difference, I was thinking about you the whole time." "Riiight. Easy to say," Casey said, crossing his scrawny arms in defiance, on the verge of hyperventilating. "Let me make it up to you. I'll buy you a drink. What do you want?" A drink hardly seemed like sufficient penance, but at least it was something. "Kamikaze. No ice." "You got it. Be right back." As Andre marched toward the bar, Casey watched as dozens of heads swiveled to take in Andre's sculpted body. Casey sulked, mired in the feelings of depression and rejection that had dogged him in the two weeks of silence since he had last seen Andre. Sure, he might have been able to smile seductively and waggle his pert ass enough to capture Andre's attention for one fun weekend, but what chance did Casey have of holding onto a guy like Andre who could clearly have his pick of any man in the club? He gyrated half-heartedly on the dance floor as he awaited Andre's return. "Here is your kamikaze," Andre said, handing the glass to Casey, then clinking it with his own bottle of Samuel Adams. Casey took a gulp of his drink and gagged. The vodka and lime juice were strong, but they couldn't entirely mask the taste of some foreign ingredient. "What the fuck? Did you slip something into my drink?" "What? No!", Andre insisted, unaware that he was rubbing his hand across his five-o'clock shadow. "You better not be Cosby-ing me," Casey said, bracing himself before taking another slug of the drink. There was definitely something extra in there, although he had no complaints about the unfamiliar sensations which were starting to flood through his body. Casey's skin flushed and his cock began to expand inside his shorts as a pleasant heaviness fogged his mind. His dark eyes widened as he looked fondly toward Andre, but before he could say a word, his knees buckled and he tumbled forward. Andre reached his hands under Casey's armpits to prevent him from collapsing. The empty kamikaze glass slipped from Casey's limp fingers and shattered on the floor. When Casey's eyes opened, he was back in his apartment, tucked cozily under the comforter of his bed. A sliver of light emerged through a crack in the door leading to the living room. Casey drowsily swung his legs out from under the covers and placed his bare feet on the hardwood floor. He shuffled toward the light wearing only his silver-lame shorts, noticing that his silver high-tops had been placed neatly in his closet. Andre was seated on the sofa, staring at a muted TV displaying nothing but snow. "Why the hell do you have so many fucking remotes? I just wanted to watch SportsCenter and it's more complicated than launching a missile." Casey rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. "Did I pass out?" Andre cringed apologetically. "Yeah, sorry about that. I didn't realize it would hit you so fast. I should have taken into consideration your size." Casey barked, "Didn't realize what would hit me so fast? How dare you sneak something into my drink without my permission!" "I'm sorry! Jeez! The way you kept asking about it, I thought you'd be excited." "Kept asking about what?", Casey demanded. Andre glanced around, as if worried that he would be overheard, then whispered, "The formula." Casey rolled his eyes and flopped down into an upholstered chair. "Ha, ha, very funny. Make fun of the idiot." "Hey, I'm not kidding," Andre continued, keeping his voice low. "You know how tough it was to sneak that stuff off the base? Maybe you should be a little more appreciative." Casey leaned forward, studying Andre for a tell, but he wasn't scratching his face and his eyes were burning with sincerity. Casey slowly settled back into the chair as an amazing realization sunk in. "When I saw how miserable you were on that hiking trail, it just seemed wrong that you weren't allowed access to something that I knew would help you. You were right, I was already in good shape before I joined up. I was probably the last person who needed that kind of boost. I gave you the same size dose they gave me, but I've got no idea how it will work on a shrimp like you." Casey jokingly flipped Andre the finger. "Okay, I guess I deserved that. But, just think, that's the last time anyone will ever be able to call you a shrimp! I'm just glad you woke up before the changes started kicking in. You wouldn't want to miss them." "Huh? Uh, no, I sure wouldn't." Casey was shaking with anticipation, his stomach churning, his still-bony fingers drumming anxiously on the armrest. It had only been a minute since he learned what was going to happen to him, yet the waiting had already become excruciating. What was the hold-up? Why couldn't it just start alread...? Just then, Casey's body jerked violently, like a head-to-toe charley horse. He shrieked in agony and wrapped his arms around each other as his legs seized up. He tumbled out of the chair and curled up in a fetal position on the floor. Andre leapt off the couch and positioned himself behind Casey, rubbing a comforting hand along Casey's narrow back. "Don't worry, the pain will go away soon." "You never said anything about pain!", Casey bellowed. But, just as Andre promised, the misery quickly eased, replaced by a comforting tranquility as his body was suffused with a feeling of great power. He stretched out, leaning his back against the sofa as he felt energy spreading throughout his body. Andre was huddled beside him, watching closely for the metamorphosis to begin. The first changes Casey noticed were to his arms which were pulsating in rhythm with his heartbeat, swelling larger with each pulse. His biceps arced outward, hardening into solid masses. Thick veins emerged under his skin, bisecting his biceps and thickening across the back of his hands as they pumped more of the mysterious formula through his growing forearms. His anemic chest began to puff out with each breath, his pecs thickening into sinewy slabs. He could feel his back and shoulders broadening while his waistline remained trim. The skin was sucked tight across his stomach as his abdominal muscles tensed, surfacing like islands emerging from beneath the ocean. Beyond that, he watched as his thighs and calves ballooned into fleshy trunks that would be the envy of an Olympic bicyclist. He felt himself rising slightly from the floor as his glutes firmed up and bulged out. He also felt his cock hardening and elongating, its head snaking toward the suddenly inadequate elastic waistband of his silver shorts. Casey was unaware of the ecstatic smile on his face, which retained its boyishness while losing some of its baby fat. He beamed at Andre, awestruck by the extraordinary gift he had been given. The two men kissed, and Casey's erection shredded the strained fabric of his shorts, springing upright like a turgid ten-inch flagpole. Casey broke away from the kiss to stare in disbelief, then looked back into Andre's eyes. "So the formula is real! The rumors were all true!" Casey gasped at the maturity in his new resonant voice, a confident, commanding voice, the voice of a leader. "You didn't hear that from me," Andre grinned slyly. Casey wrapped his fingers around the base of his towering cock and gave in to the irresistible compulsion to stroke it. "You don't need to tell me. I've got the evidence first-hand!" "Well, can I be the second hand?", Andre asked, curling his own palm around Casey's hard-on. The two hands coaxed the erection to further heights, nearing a foot by Casey's astonished estimation. When pre-cum began to sputter out, Andre shifted himself until he was straddling Casey's legs, then lowered his lips onto the bright red mushroom of Casey's head. Casey's neck fell slack and he braced his arms against Andre's shoulders as Andre's tongue masterfully nursed Casey's cock until it gushed, pumping thick gobs of cum down Andre's throat. Casey slid away from the couch until he was fully prone beside Andre, post-orgasm drowsiness combining with the literal heaviness of his enhanced body. Andre rested his cheek on Casey's firm belly as Casey rubbed his palm across the bristles of the marine's buzz cut. "You're not gonna get in trouble for this, are you?" Andre shook his head. "I was extremely careful. Besides, the way I look at it, all I'm doing is bringing them an amazing new recruit." Casey chortled. "Yeah, right. Me as a marine." But the more he thought about it, he realized he now unquestionably had a marine's body, as the formula had made him as big as Andre, if not bigger in some particular areas. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly. "Holy shit. I'm not winded at all. Do you think it could possibly have cured my asthma too?" "I dunno. You think Captain America has to carry around an inhaler?" Casey smiled dreamily as he pondered where this new body might take him. "Semper fi," he declared. Andre closed his eyes and murmured, "Fuckin' A."

This is a story by Speaker from the old Evolution Forum written in 2007, which never got the credits it deserved. Sadly the story is unfinished and there seems to be no way finding the author now. Therefore, I am posting this story on his behalf, hoping he will see, like and continue the story. If the author wishes to take down the story, then I will do that. I also took out the liberty to correct spelling mistakes and revise a passage or two, as well as add a little bit at the end to open up for more possibilities for this story to be continued. Hope you enjoy! Help me find the author to ask for a continuation or permission to continue the story. ______________ "Paradise" by Speaker (Sept, 2007), revised by MuscCanon (2016) Joey woke up, not having the slightest clue whatsoever as to where the hell he was. He was content to simply lay back on this sinfully comfortable, warm bed, and just relax. Joey had no idea how he'd gotten here either, but he really wasn't complaining. He just had no desire at all to move. His bliss, however, was not everlasting. After simply lying in bed for what unkindly felt like about three minutes, he heard a voice above him somewhere. "So, still asleep are ya?" Joey had no desire to answer. Part of his brain wondered if he was drugged, because he normally was not this sleepy, and answered any question he was given. Unfortunately for him, that was not the part of his brain in control, so he just continued to lay there, mute. "Figured..." Joey felt a needle pierce his skin, and when he still made no movement, the suspicious part of his brain knew that there was something wrong. The needle emptied into him, and after about a minute of continued bliss, he stopped being so sleepy. He sat up and looked around. Whoever had spoken to him was gone now, leaving him alone in this cell-like room. There was the incredibly comfortable bed, a door, and lamp. Nothing more. Joey stood up, noticing while he did so that he was completely naked, which seriously embarrassed him, as he knew that there was no chance that there weren't cameras in this room. He put one hand over his privates, and walked to the door, where he was not surprised to find it locked. He sighed, "Wonder what the hell this is about." He muttered to himself as he walked back towards the bed. He sat on it, and given that he really had no choice in the matter, stopped hiding the fact that he was naked, exposing his average dick and balls to the free air. Normally he'd be scared in a situation like this, where he had no idea where he was or how he had gotten there, but Joey at least thought things through. Scared or not, he was here anyways, and there didn't seem to be any chance of escape, so why be afraid if you can help it? He hummed music, to distract himself from the fear welling up deep inside of him. The door opened suddenly, and Joey stood up, covering his cock and balls with his hand out of instinct. A man in a white lab coat walked in and smiled at him. Joey instantly relaxed, but he kept a hand over his crotch just to be safe. There was something about this man's friendly, smiling face that put him instantly at ease. It wasn't hard to notice that the doctor absolutely had to work out like a beast whenever he wasn't working wherever they were. His lab coat was huge, but it had to be to hold a man as huge as he was. His upper arms completely filled the upper portion of the sleeve, and even through the coat Joey could see some of the incredible definition in the man's arms. His pecs forced themselves outward from his chest, arrogantly pushing the lab coat out far enough from the front of his body that it almost looked like a table. Joey had no doubt that this man would have trouble seeing the rest of his body if he looked down, simply because his huge pecs blocked the view. Except maybe his cock, which was, although Joey couldn't see it clearly through the material, obviously exceptional. His thighs filled his pants to bursting, and his face topped it off. The guy looked like he couldn't be a minute older than 21 years old. He was a Latino obviously, from the tone of his skin and his black hair and dark eyes, but he was also the sexiest Latino that Joey had ever seen. His white teeth stood out perfectly from his dark brown, perfect skin. His black, curly hair was cut short, and he had an impressive 5 o'clock shadow around his perfect face. The man was absurdly sexy, the kind of man who would put Mr. Olympia to shame, while having the face and dick of the best male model in the world. Joey's dick immediately, and obviously, hardened fully under his hand. The man grinned, and said to him, "There's no need to cover that up. I get that reaction a lot. My name's Miguel, and I bet you're wondering what the hell you're doing here." Joey nodded, and the simple tone of Miguel's reassuring voice brought his hand away from his dick, exposing it's hardness to anyone who cared to look. He simply couldn't take his eyes off this man. Quite a large part of him wanted to put his hand back on his dick and start stroking, but he wasn't prepared to go quite that far... not while Miguel was looking anyways. "Simply put, you are in essence a guinea pig. I know putting it that way sounds cruel, and I assure you it is not. I'm one of the first people who was tested you know, and now here I am, working to continue the testing." Joey finally found the courage to unglue his tongue, "Yeah but what is it you're testing?" "In essence it's a combination of a muscle-enhancement formula the military has been using, and a sort of fountain of youth. Guess how old I am?" Joey guessed, "21?" "Try tripling that. I only look 21 because of the formula, but I'm actually 64." Joey gaped at the man, who didn't look like he could possibly be 64, but if what he'd said was true, then of course it was possible. Duh, he thought to himself, he just said that he was 64 and that the formula made him look younger, so of course he doesn't look like he's 64. All that thinking didn't stop him from wondering how it was possible though. "But if it's a fountain of youth thing, then why am I here? I'm only 18. Are you trying to make me younger?" Joey thought in horror of having to start puberty again if he was going to be shrunk. "Well no. See it actually happens by us injecting a sort of template into a person. That template overrides your genes for age, and muscularity and sort of bootstraps itself in, but it leaves the rest of your genes alone. Of course, everyone doesn't end up the same height and weight, but it's reasonably close, and the rest of your genes determine how you grow when you lift weights, even after you've grown from the formula. That's why we're all muscular and look like we're 21 years old. It's because the template makes us look that way, but the rest of our genes are in place, which is why I'm Latino, Antonio is Italian, Brandon is black, and so on and so forth. You aren't the first person we've tested who is younger than the age that the rest of us are, but the first person came through perfectly and we want to see if it works well on everyone. That's where you come in. Joey stared at the man. He'd understood almost half of what Miguel had said, but he at least comprehended the most important things like if he took the formula then he'd become a 21-year-old muscleman. He really didn't care about the rest of whatever Miguel had said. If all he'd said was 'We're going to make you a muscular man.' Then that would have been enough to hook him! "So, whaddaya think?" Miguel asked, "Do you wanna do this?" "Hell yes!" Miguel led Joey into another room, this one with an ominous looking machine in the centre of it. There was a large glass tube in the heart of the machine, easily big enough to hold two men comfortably. The tube was surrounded by other wires and there were other tubes that entered the glass one in the centre. He assumed, correctly that he was supposed to get into the big tube. Miguel nodded when he gestured at it and Joey got in it. He entered the tube and heard Miguel's voice from a speaker somewhere inside. "Don’t be afraid, but the other tubes are going to attach to you." As soon as he said that, the tubes inside the main chamber attached to his body. One to each leg, each arm, and one to his chest. He looked at them apprehensively, as they were as thick as two fingers in diameter. "Those are for the muscle mass you're going to be gaining. You're going to gain weight in muscle mass, and that mass has to come from somewhere, so we inject it straight into your bloodstream with these. I know they look big, but that's to get the growth over with quickly because I won’t lie to you, it's painful. Knowing that do you still want to proceed?" Joey nodded. He didn't care if it hurt if it gave him a body like Miguel's. "Ok. I'm starting the procedure." Through the tube into his right leg a small amount of a purple fluid entered his leg, which began to burn immediately. It hurt, but Joey gritted his teeth and attempted to ignore it. "That's the template. We have to wait a minute for it to circulate to the rest of your body before we can actually start the growth." It was probably the longest minute of his life. The fire in his leg, spread up into his dick, up his abs, chest, arms and even into his head. It was like being forced to stay in a campfire even as he slowly started burning. "Ok, here we go." He heard Miguel say Blue fluid rushed into his body from the tubes. Joey grunted as the fluid entered him in five places. He felt, rather than saw, his body starting to swell. He really didn't care about the muscle growing along his body at the moment. He suddenly understood what Miguel had said. He really did want this over with quickly. Through the pain though it was impossible not to notice some things, like how his thighs forced each other outwards, forcing him to adopt a wider stance. How his back thickened and widened, forcing his arms out wider. How it was getting difficult to look down over growing pecs. How his body itched as hair grew in. All those were easily ignored however at the pain. He screamed as his bones lengthened, and the muscle fluid just kept pouring in. The growth had only taken another minute, but it had felt longer than that when it abruptly halted. The door of the chamber opened and Joey staggered out, unaccustomed to walking with massive thighs. He looked up, panting and saw Miguel slowly stroking his really thick, uncut, Latin cock and staring at Joey. Miguel walked over and pulled one of Joey's thick arms around his shoulder. "Tired eh? I know that transformation takes a lot out of you." Joey nodded, still staring at Miguel's thick dick. It wasn't hard for Miguel to notice this. "Sorry but the transformation is pretty hot to watch, even if it's not so fun to experience." Joey managed to gasp through his panting, "Are you... gay?" Surprise filled Miguel's face, before he laughed suddenly. Joey looked at Miguel in confusion. "GAY?! Of course we're all gay! That's the one prerequisite for the transformation you know. I can't believe I left that out. You have to be gay or the transformation won't work!" Joey stared at Miguel, who was laughing so hard tears fell out of his eyes, and despite being riddled with residual pain (which was quickly ebbing), felt like the happiest gay guy on Earth. "How many people have had this?" Joey asked, not panting as much anymore. "About 100 now. We try to keep it relatively quiet, but it's hard to do so with a hundred 21 year old horny musclemen in one place." "In one place? So we don't leave here?" Miguel smiled at Joey. "You can anytime you want." It took Joey only a moment to understand. "Yeah I wouldn't want to leave either. Not with 'a hundred 21 year old horny musclemen in one place.'" Miguel slapped his hand on Joey's newly broad back. "Now you're getting it. Look you're probably exhausted. I was when I transformed. Just let me take you to a room and you can rest up a bit before you meet the rest of the guys." Joey nodded. He let Miguel practically carry him to a much nicer room than the one he'd previously been in, lay him down on a bed, and he was sleeping the moment that his head touched the pillow. ----- Joey woke up, energized. He noticed that he was sleeping naked on top of the sheets but didn’t care at all. He sat up and stood up, marvelling at how abnormally easy it was. Normally standing up really wasn't much of an exertion, but people usually do get tired of it after a few hours. Joey instinctively knew that he wouldn't. He jogged into a private bathroom, noting that the room he was in looked more like a hotel suite than anything, complete with a balcony overlooking some ocean from atop a cliff, although he still didn't know where he was. Joey stared at his new self in the mirror. He was huge, easily 6'1" tall and he couldn’t be a pound less than 300, which he quickly confirmed on the scale in the bathroom. His chest was absurdly huge, like two massive dinner plates had been grafted onto his torso, and adorned with a half-dollar sized nipple. The crevice between his pecs looked deep enough to lose things in, although he knew that was an exaggeration. His pecs were so smooth, there was no hair to be seen. This gaze led him down over his 8-pack and then to his cock, which hung at least half-way down his tree-trunk thighs. He'd noticed that it was hard to walk, and gazing at his thighs gave him a shrewd idea why. His calves looked as though someone had shoved a football under them. He looked up again, this time at his arms which hung out of bowling ball sized shoulders. His guns had to be at least 24 inches around, if not bigger. He went into a double-bicep pose and stared at the proud peak which stood up from his arms. Veins covered his biceps and his forearms, which were absurdly thick as well, even at the wrist. Last, but not least, he stared at his face. His brown eyes somehow had more of a lustre, a shine than previously. His face was covered with brown shadow, and he noticed that he really needed a haircut. Joey grinned at the man, and the man in the mirror grinned back at him. He swaggered back into the main room, even though there was a separate room with a TV, a sofa bed and a computer. Joey doubted that he'd use the TV and computer but he had to marvel at the computer. Before his transformation, he would have been astounded at the quality of it, but now he really had no desire to use it. He looked around but found nothing that even looked like a dresser with clothes in it, so he shrugged and walked to the door. There was a note pinned there. ____ Hey! Welcome to the community! I'm Antonio and since our rooms are across the hall from each other, they asked me to give you a bit of an explanation, but I really didn't want to wake you up. The rooms are private and are set up to allow access when it scans your hand. We've already put in your fingerprints so if you want to get into your room, just put your hand on the panel next to the door and it'll open up. If you wanna know more, just come across the hall. I'll be in my room until 6 tonight. There's a clock next to the bed if you dont know the time. Antonio ____ Joey read the note, and looked at the clock. It was only 3 in the afternoon so he walked out of his room, into a carpeted hall which looked like nothing more than a hotel hallway, with rooms stretching along it. He walked across the hall and knocked. He heard feet moving and the door opened. Antonio was the epitome of an Italian hunk. Joey had just undergone his transformation and therefore hadn't had an opportunity to work out and grow any more. Judging by Antonio, he had only recently arrived too, but to Joey he looked like nothing less than perfection. Joey had a fair amount of brown body hair, but Antonio's pelt put his to shame. Antonio's chest was covered in about twice the black hair as Joey's was in brown, and it only continued down Antonio's abs, surrounded an impressive cock, and covered his legs as well. Antonio's short hair was curly and he had, like every man here apparently, an impressive black 5 o'clock shadow around his mouth. His muscles were about the same size as Joey's, but his body practically screamed 'HUNK' to Joey. Joey stared, open mouthed at Antonio and Joey could feel his dick harden as he stared. Antonio only grinned. "Hey man I was wondering when you'd wake up." Like Miguel, despite Antonio's obviously Italian heritage, he had no discernible Italian accent. "Joe isn't it? Come on in!" "It's Joey." Joey muttered and followed the Italian stallion into his room. It was physically the same as Joey's room, but there were the unmistakable scents of man, sweat and a fair amount of cum in the room that only aroused Joey further. "Ah ok Joey. I'm Antonio, and it looks like we're the next best thing to roommates! I suppose you want to ask a few questions?" Joey shook himself, nodded, and asked "Are there any clothes?" "Why would you want them? We're in a tropical paradise, the room temperatures are permanently set to 80 so they're never cold, and all you'd be doing is covering up that glorious bod." Joey couldn't argue his logic. "Where are we?" "We are on a nice small island in the south pacific. It's owned by Dave, who had the original idea for this growth. He's actually only 30 but he's probably the richest person in the world. Inheritance you know. 'Course he doesn't look like he's 30 since he got transformed too. You'll meet him later. He was the first guy to be transformed and is the biggest of us because of it, although Miguel, the doc, is almost as big. Nobody comes here unless they're delivering food or bringing another person here to be transformed, and then they only see the front, where they see a massive resort for 'The rich and famous,' which explains why they've never met anyone who's been in here. The private beach is on the back side, which is in a little cove and can’t be seen from the outside. We've got everything here. An AWESOME weight room, all the food you could possibly eat, none of it junk food either so you can grow more. You name it, we've got it." Joey laughed. "Well that answers pretty much all my questions, but I’ve got another one. How old are you really?" Antonio smiled, "I'm 19. I was the first guy they tested the formula on who wasn't over 21, and you're the second." Joey grinned at Antonio. It didn't seem possible that a 19-year-old could have that kind of body, but then, he was living proof that it was indeed possible himself. Joey couldn't resist anymore. He reached forward and kissed Antonio on the mouth passionately. He loved the feeling of Antonio's rough facial hair against his own, which told him beyond a doubt that he was kissing a man, and that he loved every second of it. They broke off the kiss after about a minute and Joey muttered, "God I've wanted to do that since I saw you. You're so hot." Antonio grinned and muttered, "So are you." Then Antonio beckoned Joey to follow him. "I want you to meet someone." Joey walked into Antonio's bedroom and saw in bed, what had to be the most massive man here. The man had his huge arms behind his head, showing off what had to be 30" guns, and Joey couldn't even imagine the colossal chest the man had. The man's body was entirely hairless, save his eyebrows and a crew cut, but it only showed off his size even more. This man had the most freakishly huge legs you can imagine and they were covered with veins. The man spoke, "So you're Joey? I'm Dave, the owner of this place and the biggest fucker you'll ever meet." Joey was loving his 'tough guy' attitude. Joey walked up to the Dave's naked body, knelt and started sucking on Dave's massive cock. Or at least he tried. Joey guessed his to be about 14" hard, but Dave's had to be at least 18" and it wasn’t fully hard yet. He couldn't imagine what it felt like to have that inside of him. It was hard enough to get it in his mouth. Whilst sucking this huge cock he couldn’t stop feeling all over Dave’s huge legs and calves. Just a moment later, he felt a thick cock enter his ass. He didn't need to look to realize that Antonio had taken advantage of Joey's ass in the air and hadn't needed any more invitation than that. He released Dave's cock for a moment to moan with pleasure as he felt that 14" cock pounding away at his bubble butt, before he went back to sucking on Dave's cock with gusto and looked up at Dave’s face. His impression showed pure bliss. He must have been really enjoying Joey’s sucking. At the same time Dave was playing with his big nipples, which were hard and erect. It didn't take long before Dave's cock started throbbing hard and spewing a massive load down Joey's throat. Joey didn't know if he could swallow it all but he tried anyways. Suddenly his own cock began shooting its load all over the floor. He tensed from the pleasure, and that was enough to squeeze Antonio's dick with his ass cheeks and drive Antonio into climax as well. Joey was getting cum into him from his ass and his mouth and was shooting his own load as well. All at the same time. He was in the ultimate state of ecstasy. Nothing could ever match this. Nothing. He slowly felt himself getting fuller and fuller and started touching his muscle belly in shock. His ones flat 8 pack muscled abs were now replaced with a bloated but rock hard roid gut which kept growing bigger and bigger by the second. After five minutes of this pure, sweet sex Joey and Antonio stopped shooting. Dave, of course, continued for another minute or so before he too was sated. Joey grunted as he felt Antonio slide his thick cock out of his own ass. Joey released Dave's cock and stood up. The floor was covered with his cum. He'd shot at least a gallon, maybe two, and it was oozing along the floor. Dave looked at Joey’s new roid gut and laughed “don’t worry boy. All that cum will transform into muscles really soon. It’s the fuel that makes us grow. And by the looks of it, you have a lot of growing to do.” Just the thought of it made Joey hard again and leaking pre all over the floor. Dave was watching him, absentmindedly stroking his cock, which was hard yet again. "If you haven't noticed Joey, we can have sex pretty much 24-7, but most of us do other things as well. I, for example, am going to go down to the weight room and shame all of my other guests. Antonio, after sex, usually likes to go surfing at the beach, but of course, what you do is up to you. This is a pleasure island. You can do anything you want here as long as it doesn't harm or steal from one of the other guests. Of course, I wouldn't have brought you here if I thought you would do anything like that, but just to be sure, I'm laying down the rules. The formula is reversible and if you piss enough people off, we can reverse it, wipe your memory of this island and send you back to the mainland. I'd prefer not to do that, as you're one of the better cocksuckers I've ever encountered, and you'll look good with another 100lbs of muscle on you. So be good." He flashed a grin, and walked sideways out of the room. His yet again hard nipples hit the side of the door, which obviously gave Dave shudders and pleasure, as his dick leaked more pre on the floor. Antonio looked at Joey and smiled. "He's right you know. I like surfing after sex, but I guess I could be persuaded into a little more fun." Joey smiled back. He knew he could have Antonio anytime he wanted. But right now he couldn’t stop thinking about Dave. “Thanks for the offer, but I would really love to lift some weights. Getting my fully blown out roid gut down to a more reasonable size. Do you want to join?” Antonio was a little bit disappointed but changed his mood in a second. “Follow me, I’ll show you the way”. As both muscle hunks left the room and walked down the hallway, Antonio kept on pointing out who lived where and all the opportunities they had. Once they turned the corner, Antonio stopped in front of a particular door and obviously got nervous. Joey also noticed that Antonio’s dick got harder by the minute. Joey looked up at the door sign and read Miguel. “Follow this way, then turn left and take the elevator down to the first floor. You will find the gym right there. Don’t be shocked but what you will find there. I will follow you right after. Just need to finish some business first.” Antonio absentmindedly started stroking his cock. “Ok, see you around. Have fun.” Joey couldn’t stop smiling thinking about what Antonio will do with Miguel. Were they lovers? Once he reached the elevator and got in, he clicked the button with a big G.Y.M. sign to it. The elevator closed and slowly started going down. His head was full of ideas what he will find at the gym. But most of all he was looking forward to see Dave work out. Maybe he will be able to work out with him. What will Dave look like pumped? Is Dave still growing? How big will Joey grow? The door opened and what Joey saw made his dick rock hard in an instant. TO BE CONTINUED....

Yeah, I know. Two chapters in one week. What the what!?!? Hahah. I had fun writing this one. Have fun guys! Jealousy and Rage: Part 13 “Troy! Get off of me!” I scream into his face. He looks directly into my eyes with hatred as he crushes me with his weight. He’s so strong. I feel weak. I hate feeling weak. This makes me angry and from this anger I draw strength. With grunt I manage to raise my arms that are trapped beneath his. The force behind me lifting pushes him off balance and I flip him onto his back and wrap my arms around his back. We’re pressed, my bare chest to his clothed one, on the ground and he shakes and groans beneath me. “Get the fuck off of me!” he says. I can smell the alcohol on his breath. “Have you been drinking?” I say. “What do you fucking think!?” he says and head butts me. I yelp in pain and the impact causes me to go blind for a second as I roll over onto my back. I grab my forehead and feel around for damage. None. Thank god. I quickly roll over onto all fours, feeling the damp grass beneath my fingers, and try to get up, but I immediately feel his weight on my back. “Where do you think you’re going, ass hole?” he says, wrapping his arms around my stomach and arms and putting me in a full body lock. “Me!? You’re an asshole! Why are you doing this?” I can’t move. He is still wrapped on top of me. My face is in the grass and I can barely breath because he is holding on so tightly. “I can’t believe you! I hate you so much! How could you do this to me!?” “Do what!?” I scream into the ground. “Ethan! That stuff with Ethan! I saw you two. The way you look at each other. The way he shows off for you… That’s… That’s…” “That’s what!?” “Shut the fuck up!” he says, squeezing me harder and making breathing almost impossible. It was at this point that I started to fear for my life. I need to find a way out of this before he kills me. “Troy please. Stop. Don’t hurt me anymore,” I say. My voice is cracking and I want to punch myself for being such a bitch. “I’ve barely hurt you,” he breathlessly says into my ear. “What are you going to do to me?” I say, the words barely escaping my mouth as I try to breath. He stops at the question. I don’t know what he came here to do. Maybe beat the shit out of me for betraying him or hurt me in another way… No, he wouldn’t do that. Would he? His being drunk could take away some of his humanity and the result could leave me emotionally scarred for life. “I… I came here to talk to you…” he says, his grip on me loosening. I suck in a hard gasp of air and immediately start coughing. He let me go and I roll onto my back, grasping onto my stomach as I cough and suck in air. There are tears in my eyes and I tightly close them. I’m so embarrassed. I should be angry, but I’m not. I feel like a pussy. I feel his hand lightly touch my shoulder and I flinch immediately. I quickly open my eyes and look at him. He’s siting in the grass hovering above me. I see the stars shining above his head and I wonder if I’m hallucinating from the lack of air. I decide to break the silence “You want to talk?” I say. “Yes… Please,” he replies. “I really need to talk to you. “Let’s go inside.” He stands up and reaches out a hand to me. I slowly reach up to him and my body stiffens as he lifts me off of the ground. I’m still shirtless and there’s grass all over my stomach and back. He takes both of his hands and begins to brush the grass off my pecs. He slowly wipes the sweat and grime off and he is taking his time. He doesn’t look me in the eye but I watch him as he looks deeply into my pecs. I feel him stick his finger between the crack of my thick chest. His finger trails down to my abs and he trickles his fingers down them. Once he’s done with my front he walks around me and does the same to my back. I feel relaxed now. I’m not scared anymore. “Thanks,” I say quietly. “I’m sorry,” he says. I nod at him and turn to go into my house. He follows me and I type in the code to unlock the door. Once open I see no one is inside. No brother could save me if he gets aggressive again. Hopefully I won’t need saving. “Let’s go to my room,” I say as we walk up the stairs. We make our way into my room and as I sit on my bed he closes the door behind him. I immediately stiffen up and he notices. “Don’t worry, man. I just want to talk about something private.” He stands still by the door. “Ok, well talk,” I say. The sooner that door is open, the better my odds of escape are. “I don’t exactly understand it, but I’ll try. It’s a lot though,” he says. I don’t know where to start.” “Start with what you said outside. Start with Ethan.” I see a flash of anger as soon as I mention Ethan’s name. “Ok. Well I saw you guys swimming earlier today. I saw him flexing for you and the look in your eyes…” he says. His fists are clenched. “The way you looked at him… I just… I got so fucking mad, man. I’ve never been that angry before. I don’t know what happened! I just ran away and I was back on campus halfway done with a bottle of tequila. It didn’t even make me feel better, but I needed something to fight what I was feeling…” “What were you feeling?” “I felt… jealous. I felt so jealous. We used to have that, you know? Now it’s gone!” he says walking close to me. I keep my ground and sit still on my bed. “You have a girlfriend Troy!” “I know, but we had something! Now it’s gone! The things we used to do! The different ways we would worship each other! It’s all fucking gone and I miss it! I… I need it!” He stumbles over to the bed and I lean back. Suddenly he is cradling me. His ass is on my crotch and each arm on either side of my head. “Drunk on a Wednesday,” he says as he looks down on me. “How pathetic am I?” I don’t answer. “I miss being your bud. I miss flexing for you. Watching you flex. I miss feeling your body.” He slowly reaches down and drags his fingers over my chest and abs. His hands begin to move lower and he eventually dips his fingers into my shorts. “Troy—“ “No… I want this… and I know you do too.” He continues and pulls down my shorts. My flaccid dick flops out and he immediately grabs hold of it. “I missed this so much,” he says as he jerks me off. My dick grows in his hand and I begin to moan. “I love feeling your gains. I love your chocolate muscles so much.” He bends down and starts sucking my nipples. I gasp. I can’t believe how good I feel. “I’m getting – ugh.” He begins to stroke harder and lick his way down my abs. I’m gonna come soon. I can feel it. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he says and then he wraps his pinks lips around my cock. He sucks on my dick like he was starved. Honestly, he probably is starved… starved of dick. He lifts his head and says “You’re so fucking salty!” Then continues to suck. My body is starting to buck and I can feel my climax coming soon. “Fuck Troy! I can’t hold it anymore!” I say. As soon as I do, my dick explodes into his mouth. He swallows every drop and he seems to love every moment of it. He continues to suck even after I’m done coming, but I have to push his hungry mouth away. “Please, no more,” I say. “But I want more” he says, his eyes blinking a little more slowly. I can tell that he is tired. He slowly crawls his way up to me and lies beside me on the bed. I turn on my side and look at him. “Thank you,” he says. “For?” “My first time having a guy inside me.” “I wasn’t really inside you ya know.” “I know,” he says with a yawn. “This was something new to me though. Something good.” He closes his eyes and within seconds he is snoring. I find it amazing how quickly drunk people fall asleep. I don’t know if I should wake him and tell him to go home, but I know I don’t want to, so I don’t wake him. I feel myself getting tired and I get to turn off the light. I walk over to the light switch and look over at my bed. I watch him breath slowly in his sleep. How lucky am I to have this beautiful, alpha hunk in my bed. Even if it is only for one night. I will always remember it. I flick off the light…

This happened Sunday night, or I suppose early Monday morning. I wanted to capture what happened and what went through my mind. Feedback appreciated ----- As we were working on each other’s cocks with frenzied pawing, my boyfriend came before me. He took control of his own shaft, coaxing out every last little ounce of pleasure and semen, while I turned toward him and chewed on his left nipple. His chest tightened and gathered into a flex as the pleasure of his release overcame him. (Nice. I love it when I feel him flex, even if it’s unintentional) His abs fired, and his upper body lurched up an inch or two. He groaned with the teasing pangs of his orgasm. I hadn’t come yet, since we had sucked each other off that morning and it had been a long, tiring day. At this point it was really late, and after a moment of blissful drowsiness he asked if he could go clean up. I said sure. So he stood up, his still heavy cock bobbing in front of him. The body hair on his relaxed belly and just below his chest was weighted down with his cum. He leant down and grabbed a moistened wipe from the tub in his bedside table. I continued to stroke myself as he loomed over me, the light from the lamp on my side of the bed played over the peaks and valleys of his trim, athletic body. He brought the wipe down and swabbed his swollen member, and as he did, a low sigh of pleasure escaped him and his eyes closed. I don’t think he intended to put on a show for me, but it was turning out that way. He was facing squarely toward me and the light behind my head. I found myself wanting to demand that he turn 90 degrees to the right so I could see his still engorged penis in profile, the same time as his fine cyclist ass dimpled as it flexed a bit, keeping him upright while he handled the task of cleaning the saliva, lotion and trickle of semen off his dick. But this was a great angle too. He moved the wipe upwards and carefully gathered the thick and musky cum off his nicely furred belly. He looked down and shifted, pushing his belly out a bit so he could see what he was doing. As his large woodworking hands moved inward, the motion drew his chest forward and it peaked nicely. I congratulated myself for getting him interested in some weight training, because his already shapely form was showing a bit of the iron he’s been lifting lately. Of course, we had a lot of potential to build him up further. As this thought crossed my mind, I felt my dick pulse. Not quite ready to cum, but really digging the idea of hulking up my man. He had finished cleaning the cum off his belly and grabbed another moistened wipe to swab under his balls. Then he noticed my laser-eyed focus on him. By his expression I imagined he was a little self-conscious, but a little exhibitionistic as well. He knew that I could rocket out an orgasm while staring at him. But I didn’t know if this fact emboldened him or not. Then I understood why he hesitated. He brought the wipe back and around to his ass, and fanned his butt out so he could clean the drool and lube off his pucker and taint. This meant that his upper body bloomed before me, his chest and shoulders pushed forward and out in order to balance his ass and lower body leaning back. He braced his other hand on his thigh. It was beautiful to watch, though I understood why he felt awkward: who wanted to be stared at while wiping their ass? I was transfixed, even as the color rose a bit in his face. It was over all too quickly, and he returned to his normal stance, dropping the finished wipe into the trash. His eyes met mine, and the question on his face was clear: Did I want him to continue standing there and tease me with his body while I rubbed one out? But it was late, so I said, “go ahead,” knowing that he wanted to head into the bathroom and finish cleaning up. I didn’t mind continuing to wank after he left the bedroom. As he turned to leave, I was gifted the exquisite view of his shapely ass, just below his gently muscled kayaker back and crowning his thick cyclist legs. (I could write an ode to the gods of weekend athleticism while massaging all the meat and flesh of his back and lower body, and hearing him groan into the pillow in relaxed pleasure. Please, go far and push hard if it brings you home with sweat slicking down the fur on your flushed skin, and if it means you’ll want a rubdown later that night). As the mounds of his ass disappeared out the bedroom door, I clamped my eyes shut and replayed our recent exploration of each other’s bodies. Foremost in my mind was the thick and meaty shape of his cock. That flared head. That protruding channel of swollen flesh on the underside. The way he thrust his hips into my tight grip. The way his heavy balls drew in and up as he got closer and closer. The pulsing thick feel of his taint, as I fingered between his ass hole and his tightly drawn in scrotum. His hot gasping breath and ravenous kisses on my neck and throat. I worked on myself, imagining that thick cock pushing into my ass. Remembering the feeling of many previous times where he gently but firmly loosened my resistance with progressively deeper thrusts until he eventually ground his pelvis against my tailbone. It was definitely gay, as our balls definitely slapped against each other while he rutted me. I started to pant and go faster as I imagined his body, as hot as it was now, with another 10, 20, 30 pounds of muscle erupting from his neck, shoulders, back, arms and, oh god, his chest. His bright blue eyes, his thick and groomed beard, his nicely symmetrical body hair, and the fruits of his labor lifting weights based on my instructions and eating the healthy and muscle growing food I made for him. But instantly, right now, bursting from within, ramming his heavy cock into my ass and crying out in orgasm as his body flared into a creation that unified the heft of his upper body with the heavy meaty size of his legs and ass, which have always been large thanks to his lifelong cycling habit. My vigorous pumping of my cock went into overdrive as my mind struggled to imagine this beautiful man I love throwing his head back and moaning as he shot hot cum into my ass and somehow gaining 2 shirt sizes over 10 seconds. The sweat glistening on his gorgeous lightly furred skin, now rippling with taut muscle that I have ached to gift him with my imagination. I want him, this variation on my dreams grafted upon the very real man in my life. What if, just imagine, if he came walking back in from the bathroom, ready for bed, standing where he was previously cleaning himself up, and struck a pose that made his already respectable lats grow and grow. Popeye arms filling out without the spinach, hulk pecs bursting without the green rage. This last mental image set my heart thudding as my legs, butt and abs clenched and I came hard. I lay there, catching my breath and dozing into half sleep. I knew he’d back in a minute or two, and he’d look the way I remembered him: gorgeous and trim like an otter with a bit of a tummy, rather than my imagined otter-bull hybrid. I resolved to take the long way, coaching him into gaining that upper body heft, and asking for his support getting into the muscle bear shape I want for myself. He’d be game for both, and I love that about him.

I know its been a while but just been busy with life. Let me know what you think. If you missed the first three here they are... Part 1 & 2 - https://muscle-growth.org/topic/9162-jeff-the-college-roommate/?do=findComment&comment=96313 Part 3 - https://muscle-growth.org/topic/9409-jeff-part-3/?do=findComment&comment=100640 JEFF THE COLLEGE ROOMATE PART 4 “Billy what is your opinion of homosexuals?” Jeff asked half timid; half afraid of the question and my answer. “Jeff, if you don’t know already, I’m gay and I don’t think there should be any special treatment either way.” As I continue to massage his traps and delts. Each group I squeeze seems tighter than the muscle before, but over time he is not so tense. “I thought so by the way you kept touching me during our first encounter. But I didn’t want to say anything to upset you. I don’t really care either way as I have gone to school with gay students that are an absolute blast to be around. But with you it’s so much better cause you don’t mind me lifting you and playing with you. Billy, don’t mean to shock you but I’m gay too. As for working out all my muscles, in one week I ensure that all my muscle get some kind of work out. I work out my grip and feet and everything. Why do you ask, Billy?” “Well, it’s just, um, do you mind if I feel or massage everywhere? I mean, Jeff, can I worship your muscles?” Jeff laughs and peels off his shirt and shorts so that he is only wearing a pair of old stretched boxers, “Sure little buddy feel away.” I laugh with him at his answer and slide off the bed and come around and straddle his thighs. I start feeling his pecs and try to put my hands around his neck, squeezing the best I can but not having much success on inflicting any kind of serious grip. I move down to his abs and start pressing them, then start light punching them. I look up at his face and he’s just smiling as I play. “Jeff, let’s test your legs?” As I slide down his right leg so that my crotch is snuggled against the top of his foot. “Leg lift, big guy. Let’s see those thighs in action.” Jeff smiles seeing how much fun I’m having and lifts his right leg high in the air and as always I go along for the incredible ride. As Jeff lifts his leg for reps, I feel his thigh. SO hard. So massive. No strain for my whopping buck 20. After about 50 reps, Jeff sets his leg down and I climb to his left leg and Jeff repeats the process. During the last set I notice Jeff’s cock has worked its way out of the briefs and is just lying there and I look at Jeff’s face. Huge grin as he watches my every move, enjoying my reaction as his cock becomes unwrapped from its bondage. I watch his cock slowly come alive and as it starts to rise, I grab a hold with both hands. Even flaccid it is about 8” long and a good 6” around. I look between Jeff’s face which has a huge grin and the cock as it grows and starts to lengthen and slowly becomes erect. The great thing that I notice, as I hold on for deer-life, is that my body is slowly being pulled up Jeff’s leg moving closer to his crotch. His cock is sliding me and Jeff just smiles bigger and bigger. Finally, it is sticking straight up and down and it has pulled me a good three feet. We just look at each other not breaking eye contact and both of us smiling then start laughing. Jeff reaches down and grabs me under the pits and slowly slides me up and plants a big kiss on me and we stay there for what seemed like heavenly forever. As we were lip locked he slid me a little higher up his abs and then slowly slid me back down. When we broke the kiss, he slowly maneuvered his legs to stand and he rose up to full height. This is when I went into full fantasy overload. Jeff let go of me and his arms where at his side; his body was at full height; and me? Well my feet where almost two feet off the ground and I turned my head to see that I was being held in the air only by the power of his cock. I was wedged very snug between his abs and his cock and not moving at all. Jeff started laughing as he saw me come to realization that his cock was strong enough to hold me with ease. “Oh my goodness; no way; it’s not possible! Is it?” I stammered. “Not tight enough for you?” Jeff asked. I felt his cock tighten and push me tighter against his body. I put my hands on his abs and tried to push back but I didn’t move. “Jeff you lifted me with just your cock. Are you telling me that your cock muscles are that strong too?” Jeff nods his head and laughs at the same time as he lets me sit there to come to grips of his power. I push one more time just to tests its strength and I don’t move. “How about I show you some more of my tricks?” Jeff asks smiling “What? I suppose you’re going to tell me or show me that it can actually do reps too?” I laugh not believing what I was saying. Jeff pulls me up out of my perch and sets me down on the floor. He kneels down and wedges the head of his cock under the waist strap. He smiles and winks, “You ready for a true Hercules feat of strength?” Without even waiting for me to hold on or get ready, he stands up and I am swaying back and forth on the head of his cock. It is pointing straight out from his body. I grab his waist to steady myself. Then I feel my body going up, I check his arms and see his hands on his hips in a superman stance. His cock is lifting me, “no way!” I mutter as his cock lifts me to its full erectness. Jeff just laughing at my reaction. Then I feel my body going back down, then back up, down and up, rep after rep by his monster muscle cock. I hear Jeff counting of the reps, 5…10…15…20 and I stop at the top of the last rep. “How’s that for a feat of strength?” Jeff grabs me under the arms again and pulls me off his head and sets me down in front of him. I just stare at his cock not really believing what just happened. His cock is still erect in the up position. I grab it and try to pull it down, but it doesn’t move. I pull with all I have and it’s not moving. I am trying to arm wrestle this monster cock not having any success with moving it at all. “Jeff, I know what you just did with me but I just can’t believe how strong your cock is. Hell there is nothing on you that I can overpower at all. This is blowing my mind. You are a muscle god and you’re my roommate.” He continues to stand there, hands on hips, chest jutting out and naked as a new born baby. At this point, I figure it’s best if I follow his actions, so I remove my harness, shirt, and pants, so that I am naked as he is and we just look at each other with huge grins. “Would you care for another ride? Have you ever had anything this big in you before?” He asks. “Not that big but what the hell let’s try.” I say scared of how it may tear me up but thrilled to try. Jeff sits on the bed and I straddle his thighs again. He starts off with strong kissing using his tongue to invade my mouth and overpower my tongue. He kisses my neck and pulls me up so he’s not bending over. We continue to kiss and fondle each other. “Let me loosen you up a little.” Jeff lifts me up sliding my cock over his abs and then he nestles it between his pecs and starts to flex them, not too hard, but hard enough to let me know I’m not in control. He relaxes and slides me up to his mouth. He takes my tool in his mouth in one swallow and start sucking like I’m a lollipop. His tongue playing or should I say wrestling with my cock and making me so freaking hard. With a popping sound he pulls me out and lift me even higher then slowly lets my hole down onto his face and his tongues invades me and plays with hole like an expert loosening me up. After about 3 minutes of his tongue play, he lifts me up and slides me down the front of him. As I get closer to his lap I feel the head of his cock at my opening. His head enters with some pain but I just grab his forearms and squeeze knowing I won’t hurt him. Deeper and deeper he goes. Five inches in and he stops letting me come to grip with the pain. He bounces me up and down a few times sliding his head almost out but then back down. On the last rep he pulls me farther down the shaft. Jeff whispers, “Almost half way in, how ya doing?” “Fine” I grunt Inch by inch he enters me, being very careful not to hurt me too bad. Before I know it, he says, “there all in, how that feel?” “Full” I say exhausted just from him entering me. His cock feels like a steel pole deep inside me. “Ok now let me show you something else.” Jeff calmly says. “What you going all the way in wasn’t what you wanted to show me?” I say slowly able to catch my breathe. So there I am, parallel with Jeff, his hands back on his hips, my feet a good two feet off the ground, my body just hanging on his cock, my hands and legs just dangling from my body. Jeff smiles and I feel my body going away from his, down, down, down I go until I am horizontal to the floor and I stop moving. I can’t believe this; I am just dumbfounded. Up, up, and up I go back to facing his pecs. “One” he says. “Oh shit” I say as the motion starts all over again. 2, 3, 4, 5, 10, 12, 15, 18, and 20 reps with a buck 20. His strength is phenomenal but mine isn’t; as he reaches the 20th rep I blow all over his abs. “My turn,” he says as he grabs me with just his right hand at my waist and starts sliding me up his cock then back down. “What do you think I am your flesh light?” I ask as the motion continues and intensifies. But that is exactly what I am to this mountain of pure power. Up and down over and over, I feel his cock getting harder if that’s even possible. Then I slow down but the pumps are fiercer and impactful. Jeff throws his head back like a wild animal and roars as I feel his hot jizz filling my insides. Jet after jet pounds inside of me like a spurting fire hose. Everything goes into slow motion as his spurts subside. Jeff flops down on his bed and lays down with me still secure on his cock. Both of us breathing hard after our wonderful session. I awake and am still impaled but his cock is soft. I slide up trying not to wake the gentle giant and his cock pops out, sounding like a suction hose. I slide down off of Jeff and run to the bathroom.

After a fun weekend on the beach, I had a bit of inspiration and this is the start of what I thought would really just be a short scene type of story. Please forgive the typos, grammatical errors and such as I just needed to get this started and posted... I literally couldn't sleep with this story floating around in my head haha. Hope you enjoy! The Grow Fish Part 1 The weather was perfect. You couldn’t ask for a better day on the beach, and it was the 4th of July no less! The local gay beach would be overrun with guys from LA to San Diego, and as luck would have it, I arrived with my boyfriend early enough to secure a prime spot, just up the sand from the wave tossed water front. This was exactly where you wanted to be to watch all the hot, bathing suit-clad guys as they ran into the water in varying degrees of near nakedness. Yes, today would be the perfect start to another glorious Southern California summer! My boyfriend, Jesse, and I had been dating nearly 7 months. Surprising to both of us, considering our much longer history of chatting on and off on Grindr. It took us practically a year to even meet in the first place. I wasn’t in a hurry to date, enjoying new found freedom from my previous relationship… Ok lets call it what it is: I was being a sex crazed man-whore. And with the body I’d been working on over the past couple years, finding some hot hookups was not a challenge! At just a hair under 6 foot, I’d taken my 32 year old rather average and slightly overweight 215 pound body down to a lean, muscular 185. Not that I let it go to my head, really. I was still a bit modest and unused to the amount of attention I could garner from the thirsty crowd of horny males cluttering the gay apps… all ultimately looking for sex, thinly veiled behind a mask of friendship or gym buds, or whatever line they cared to use. But modesty didn’t stop me from enjoying the reward of my hard work! In contrast, Jesse, was all too happy to give me time and space to explore. Apparently, he saw more in me than one night of fun. We did meet last spring, however, and hit it off epically. What originally started as a few dates turned into a couple months, and some really great sex along the way. While he’s not a buffed up gym rat like myself, he sports a smaller, less muscular 5’7” dancer’s frame. The difference is actually what I find appealing… I get to be the big muscular boyfriend, and he loves appreciating my bigger body and how it feels against his own. Sometimes I'd even noticed him proudly showing off his man to his friends via some of my Instagram photos. Eventually, though, he broke it off, saying I was still unprepared for anything serious. We stayed in touch, and after months with a growing sense of desire for something more concrete and a distaste for all the meaningless sex, I asked him out again. With some obvious trepidation and discussion of what he was truly looking for in this potential relationship, we agreed to make it exclusive. Now, nearly 2 years after our initial online conversation, here we were: madly in love, enjoying the sun, sand, and cleverly disguised drinks of Gatorade and vodka with our close friends, under one of a couple hundred canopies, umbrellas and tents that lined the beach. All that remained was to kick back, and mentally undress the horde of sexy men flaunting their bodies before us, while avoiding eye contact with any previous hookups that I preferred not to have to introduce to Jesse as they walk by. Of course, that didn’t stop a few from making their presence known, along with a handful of friends I actually enjoyed seeing amongst the crowd. A couple hours into the day, I saw a couple from my gym. They are a somewhat oddly paired match once you get to know them a bit, but are the sweetest and truthfully sexiest married couple I know. Hell, they even wanted to have me over one evening for some fun, but schedules never worked out in my favor sadly. Nevertheless, both go by Chris strangely enough, both are nurses, and share the same height of about 5’8”. However, thats where the differences start. While Chris #1 is a fiery and outgoing Latino with a leaner build and a wild streak, Chris #2 is a quiet, reserved Asian guy with a thicker muscular body and a go with the flow personality. I honestly never can quite tell what he’s thinking, he just smiles and lets life happen. We stood a while, catching up on each others lives, talking about how I was doing with Jesse and the new relationship, and other random gossip of the day. Chris #1 continued on about their latest adventures at EDC in Las Vegas and all the fun they had, when suddenly he stopped mid sentence. His eyes grew large, as I could tell his attention was drawn away to something happening beyond our conversation near the water. It wasn’t until his usual effeminate exclamation of “oh my god”, that I turned to see what was happening behind me. A rather large fish (what I thought to be an over grown dolphin) had washed ashore, and had a small group of guys gathering around it. Dolphins aren’t an uncommon sight around our beaches. They’re often seen swimming through the open waters, scaring surfers, and delighting tourists, but I’d never seen one this close, or this large. The group of guys around it seemed to be discussing what to do and how to get it back in the water, when two of them bent down to touch it. What happened next set both of my nurse friends running into action, as I stood there mouth agape. Upon contact, both guys appeared to have been shocked with a sort of electrical discharge and flew several feet back from where they were kneeling. Naturally, this caused the other guys around the creature to quickly retreat, leaving it to suffer further on the wet sand alone. About the time that my two friends reached the two that were unconscious, I snapped out of my stupor and joined them to see how I could help. Latino Chris had reached one of the guys and knelt over him, asking him if he was ok and shaking his shoulder to see if he was responsive. However, his arm recoiled when he grabbed the guy’s shoulder, and he yelled, “Shit! I just got shocked.” He attempted to rouse the guy again, roughly rubbing his chest and once again jerking back from an apparent shock. Asian Chris seemed to be having the same experience as they looked at each other, sitting on the sand next to the bodies and discussed what to do. One victim seemed to be breathing while the other next to my Latino friend either was not breathing at all or it was so shallow it was undetectable. He reached up to his neck to check for a pulse and despite some obvious discomfort from more electrical shock, he determined the guy needed CPR. His husband moved over and started compressions as best he could, while Latino Chris performed the mouth to mouth breathing functions. Both would take a few seconds between their duties to back off, shaking their hands or head and release a few expletives due to the jolts they were taking, then return to action. Not even my own CPR training could have prepared me for something like this. You never actually expect to use it, much less face something so bizarre in the process of trying to save a life. Ultimately, the guy started breathing and shuddered back to life after about a minute of CPR. Coughing, he weakly sat up and put his head between his knees, trying to catch his breath and recover from the trauma. The Chris’s fell back on the sand, breathing heavily from the dramatic experience and rested for a moment. The 2nd victim began to stir as well, and we could breath a sigh of relief that it seemed they would be just fine. After a few moments, I gave my hand to my friends to help them up off the ground. To my surprise both of them shocked me! It felt almost like a quick static discharge and it was done. I shook my hand out and laughed, as I asked them if they were ok. Looking up from my hand I realized, at that moment, I wasn’t looking at the top of their heads like I usually do. Instead, Asian Chris was eye to eye with me, if not slightly higher, and Latino Chris was clearly looking down at both of us from a few inches above. My first response was to look down at the sand, as I must have been standing in a hole or they were on the higher part of the beach as it sloped up from the water. But neither was true, and the odd height difference was just the beginning. In fact, I watched as both of their feet elongated slightly, pushing through the sand a couple inches. Then calve muscles developed, pushing out an inch or two on either side of their legs, followed by their quads. Latino Chris’s growth was even more prominent as his legs exploded with new muscle and size. Large tear drop shapes formed as his quads pulsed bigger, pushing into each other and causing him to adjust his stance significantly. My gaze traveled higher as his cute red, white and blue speedos stretched to its limit both in the back and the front. Already decently endowed (he’d once told me he was just shy of 7.5” downstairs), I saw his suit bulge forward like a water balloon. The top opened slightly as his cock grew in obvious length and girth, competing for space against his enlarging balls. A curved portion of his brown hose like penis pushed up and over the edge of his speedos, the head buried somewhere far below visibility, which just served to accentuate his new size. Even in its current flaccid state, I couldn’t imagine it being anything less than 9 or 10 inches soft and already thicker than any cock I’d ever seen. His abs, which had already been well maintained, began popping into greater definition, the valleys between them etching deeper and deeper by the second. The top row was quickly being eclipsed by a growing shadow casted by pecs which had previously been firm and tight, but were now much fuller and stretching all directions into large manly slabs of meat, and pushing out a couple inches from his chest. While his nipples began pointing downward and tanned areolas growing wider than a half dollar coin, the sides of his pecs were beginning to spill out beyond my view, rubbing against swollen and inflating veiny biceps. Large and growing arms attached to thick, rounded deltoids practically the size of my own head, began to flex in response to the growth being experienced. Unexpectedly, I heard him chuckle, the typical effeminate voice I’d grown accustomed to now gone and replaced with a much deeper rumble. I looked up now, further than before, and stumbled back a step, shocked by how much taller he’d gotten. My eyes were just level with his chin, so I had to guess he was close to 6’6” now, maybe more… a growth of practically 10” in just minutes! His face, sitting above ominously sloping, thick traps, was even more rugged. He’d gone from a cute pretty boy, to gorgeously handsome; a look you could only describe as devastatingly attractive masculinity. A grin formed slowly on his lips as he looked down on me. He was most certainly the new alpha between us and clearly enjoying the revelation as he explored his massive body, and I tried not to pass out myself. To be continued...

Hola. Que tal. Esta es la primera vez que hago una historia, espero que les guste. (La hago en español porque me es más fácil así, además de que es difícil encontrar historias en este idioma y me gustaría aportar) 1 ------------------------------------------------- Benjamín caminaba tranquilamente por la calle mientras silbaba distraído. Miraba como el Sol comenzaba a irse para dar paso a la noche. Venía exhausto de la escuela de su último día de colegio y estaba feliz de por fin tener vacaciones. Ben era un chico de 19 años, bajo (de 1.64 metros) rubio, de tez blanca, de rostro atractivo, sonrisa perfecta y de complexión delgada y débil. Su cuerpo lo hacía parecer mucho más joven y algo torpe, pero su bello rostro lo compensaba un poco. Tenía una pequeña barriga ya que no hacia mucho ejercicio y detestaba los deportes y su brazos parecían dos palillos. -¡Ben! -gritó alguien detrás de él. Benjamín identifico la voz y no pudo evitar pararse en seco, ponerse nervioso y girar la cabeza hacia atrás. Corriendo detrás de él estaba uno de sus compañeros de escuela. Pero no uno cualquiera. Era el chico más atractivo y al que más le gustaba a Ben. Danny. Danny era un año mayor que Ben, pero parecía que fuera mucho más grande. Danny era alto (aproximadamente 1.82), tenía un bonito cabello castaño y estaba perfectamente bronceado. Pero lo que más le atraía a Ben de Danny era su cuerpo. Danny se ejercitaba bastante y tenía un cuerpo musculoso y fuerte. Danny llevaba puesta una camiseta roja ajustada sin mangas y unos shorts deportivos que le quedaban muy cortos (seguramente a propósito) y unos tenis para correr. Su fuerte pecho parecía que iba a explotar debajo de la tela de la camiseta y, debido a que estaba sudado, sus perfectos abdominales sobresalían perfectamente. Sus brazos morenos y con venas se marcaban con cada movimiento, especialmente los bíceps y sus antebrazos, como si estuvieran hechos de roca. Su cadera era delgada, pero tenía unas piernas velludas gruesas y marcadas que parecían ser capaces de romper el suelo de un pisotón. Su cuello era ancho y su espalda aún más, lo que le daba un aspecto de ser aún más grande de lo que era. -¿Vas a tu casa? -dijo Danny mientras se secaba el sudor de la frente y su bícep se levantaba y marcaba con solo subir el brazo. Se notaba que había estado corriendo por su respiración agitada y por todo el sudor. Ben trago saliva y tardo unos segundos en responder. -S-sí -balbuceó nervioso. Danny sonrió y miro la pesada mochila que Ben llevaba en la espalda. -¿Quieres que te ayude con eso? -preguntó señalando la mochila con la barbilla. -Creo que... creo que yo puedo -murmuró Ben- G-gracias. -¡Oh, vamos! -exclamó Danny- Pareciera que se te va a romper la espalda con tanto peso. Deja que te ayudo. -Yo... -Además, esa mochila no es nada de peso para estos -dijo mientras levantaba ambos brazos, flexionando sus bíceps mientras soltaba un gruñido exagerado mostrando los dientes. Los músculos de sus brazos se tensaron y dos bíceps del tamaño de una pelota de béisbol aparecieron. Ben rió nervioso y resistió el impulso de tocarlos. -De... de acuerdo -dijo Ben y con mucho esfuerzo dejo la pesada mochila en el piso. Danny le guiñó un ojo y levantó la mochila con un solo brazo y después se la colocó en la espalda. -Bien, vamos. ------------------------------------------------- Llegaron a la casa de Ben después de unos minutos. Durante todo el camino el chico no podría evitar voltear a ver a Danny discretamente. Admiraba como sus piernas se marcaban con cada paso, sus fuertes brazos y como su poderosa espalda cargaba la mochila sin problema alguno. En más una ocasión a Ben le pareció que Danny se daba cuenta que lo miraba. Pero el musculoso chico solo se limitaba a sonreírle o a tensar un brazo como si no se fijara en lo que hacía. Sinceramente a Ben le molestaba un poco esos actos de superioridad. Tal vez celos. Ben siempre había querido ser grande como Danny y otros chicos, y a veces se imaginaba como sería cambiar posiciones y él ser el fuerte, al que todos admiraran y quisieran. Ben entró en su casa y estrió la mano para pedirle a Danny su mochila. -Gracias por ayudarme -dijo y Danny le dió la mochila. -No hay problema -contestó el chico. Ben se giró para entrar pero Danny lo tomó de un hombro. Ben sintió como la fuerte mano lo hacía girarse sin esfuerzo alguno y se sintió como un debilucho. De pronto quiso haberse girado SOLO cuando ÉL quería, no cuando un grandulón lo jalara. -Lo siento, a veces no mido mi fuerza -dijo Danny retirando su mano- Escucha... Realmente no tengo nada que hacer y si voy a mi casa mis padres me estarán fastidiando todo el día. ¿Podría quedarme contigo un rato? A Ben se le aceleró el corazón. Nunca antes había tenido éxito con un chico, mucho menos como ese. Danny lo miraba con una sonrisa cautivadora y su musculoso pecho subía y bajaba con su respiración. -Eeeh... ¡Sí! Sí, pasá -respondió Ben rápidamente al darse cuenta que se había quedado mudo unos segundos. -Gracias, pasaremos un buen rato, ya verás. ------------------------------------------------- 2------------------------------------------------- Ben se dedicaba la mayor parte de su tiempo a jugar videojuegos, ver películas, masturbarce y dormir. Realmente no sabía que podría hacer con Danny. Pero parecía que él ya tenía controlada la situación. En cuanto entraron en su habitación Danny observó sus películas y le menciono que le gustaban muchas de ellas, hasta que encontró una y le dijo que si la podrían ver. Ben aceptó alegre de no tener que pensar en algo con que entretenerlo y puso la película. Ben se recostó en su cama y se puso tenso cuando Danny se recostó junto a él, demasiado pegado. Estuvieron viendo la película un rato así, pegados uno al otro y en silencio, hasta que Ben desvió su mirada sin darse cuenta hacia la entrepierna de Danny. Vio sus fuertes muslos, duros y anchos, y luego su mirada pasó a donde debía estar su pene. Ben parpadeó incrédulo cuando vio el enorme bulto que sobresalía de los shorts. "¿Alguien lo puede tener tan grande?" pensó Ben entre fascinación y envidia. Se sobresaltó cuando se percató de que Danny lo miraba. Ben pensó que se incomodaría y se iría, o al menos que le pegara o hiciera una broma, pero se sorprendió cuando dijo: -¿Es grande, cierto? Ben sonrió tímidamente y asintió con la cabeza. -Sí, me gusta que todo en mí este grande -dijo Danny como si nada- A veces me excita el solo verme en el espejo -flexiono su pecho derecho y luego el izquierdo repetidamente, mientras sonreía fascinado de su musculatura. -¿También estas tan duro como pareces? -dijo Ben armándose de valor. -Compruébalo tu mismo -le susurró en el oído Danny y flexiono uno de sus brazos frente a su cara. Ben estiró su mano y rodeó sus músculos acariciándolos y apretándolos. Sin poder evitarlo empezó a sentir una erección y llevo su otra mano ahí, masajeando su bulto. Danny se dio cuenta de esto y en un segundo se abalanzó sobre Ben y lo beso apasionadamente. Ben rodeó su cintura con su brazos y apretó las nalgas de Danny, sintiéndolas duras y firmes. Luego acarició su espalda mientras Danny hacía subir y bajar su cadera, presionando su bulto contra el estómago de Ben. Pronto ambos tenían una erección, pero Ben se dió cuenta que el pene de Danny era tan largo, gruero y grande que se había salido un poco por un lado de su short deportivo. "Yo debería tener ese pene" se dijo Ben, incómodo por el pequeño tamaño de su pene "Yo debería estar arriba, yo debería tener ese cuerpo" De pronto sonó el timbre de la casa y ambos muchachos se sobresaltaron. -Ahorita vuelvo -murmuró Ben con intención de ir a abrir pero no pudo con la fuerza de Danny, que no se había movido de encima y le sonreía engreídamente. -Intenta moverme -dijo Danny haciendo lagartijas sobre Ben y besándole el rostro cada vez que bajaba. Ben puso sus manos en su fuerte pecho e intentó empujarlo, pero Danny se tensaba y hacía las lagartijas más rápido, haciendo que Ben no pudiera empujarlo efectivamente. A pesar de que Ben estaba muy excitado se enfado y se escabulló por un lado. -Dije... ahorita vuelvo -dijo Ben algo molesto. Danny se puso de pie y Ben pudo apreciar su pene salir de su short aún más. Era enorme. A Ben le aumento la erección y se le quedó mirando, pero decidió que dejaría eso para cuando atendiera la puerta. -Aquí te estaré esperando -dijo Danny- Es más, me prepararé para que lo disfrutes mejor. Danny se dirigió a un pequeño sofá que Ben tenía en su habitación, lo levantó y comenzó ha hacer pesas y sentadillas con él. Ben bufó como si le pareciera un engreído, pero en el fondo él quería mover también ese sofá. Le costaba incluso arrastrarlo. Salió de la habitación y dejo que Danny disfrutara de su sensualidad.

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.

A little something from my tumblr that I've adapted for here. Much less involved and epic than the last story I posted. It started as a little vignette inspired by a Hardtrainer01 morph. Like its protagonist, though, it simply grew larger than expected. I hope you enjoy it! Day Fifteen. He was getting really big now - bigger than he ever thought he’d get in his life. And there were still four weeks to go. He’d been to the doctor’s office that morning, where the experimental compound was administered. 267 lbs - he was gaining almost five pounds a day, all of it muscle - if anything, he was more vascular and defined now than when the trial started. He asked the doctor if other people in the trial were responding in this way, and the doctor refused to answer, but Sean figured, just from the doctor's expression, that they weren't. People were starting to stare as he walked down the street. Friends, family, coworkers, they’d noticed within the first week - how could they not - but now they were starting to give him worried looks as his body inflated with dense mass way faster than should be possible, even on the most powerful steroids. But he was finding it hard to care. He was finding it hard to do anything much other than lift weights then go home and engage in hours-long edging sessions, sometimes not even touching his cock, just letting it throb and throb and throb. This morning, at the clinic, after weighing in and getting measured, they gave him a shot, just like the four times before. But this time they did something new - after the shot a topical cream, administered by the doctor personally. Administered to his balls, actually, cool and tingly. His almost permanently-hard cock stiff and jerking of its own accord as it was reverently applied, gently rubbed in until it disappeared. He came, without meaning to, without trying to, just spurting and spurting and spurting as the doctor finished his gentle ball-massage. “S-sorry!” he gasped as his cock turned into a powerful fountain, cum rocketing a good five or six feet into the air. “Ahh! Sorry!” The doctor smiled, removed his rubber gloves and tossed them into the trash, handed him a towel. “Don’t worry about it, Sean. It’s a natural reaction - it shows me everything’s in working order.” And since then, well, Sean had just stayed at home. Whatever that cream was, it had put the sexual aspect of things into hyperdrive. Sean lay in his tortured, cum-soaked underwear, his titanium-rod cock throbbing excruciating pleasure with every heartbeat, hands gripping the sofa under his tensed basketball-sized glutes, toes curling and uncurling, moaning. He never had to touch himself - sometimes he used his non-dominant left-hand, giving a feather-stroke, experimental, to see how it felt - and the electric pulse of obliterating erotic bliss was almost too much - he’d give his cock three or four slow, careful carresses and then he’d pull his hand away, as if it had touched a hot stove. No work. No social engagements. Just his body and what was happening to it. When hunger got too much he’d order delivery online, pay with his credit card, yell for the delivery person to leave it on the counter. He’d go retrieve the pizza, the pad thai, the chicken tikka masala, and eat it over the sink, his cock dribbling precum, painfully, distractingly hard even as he satisfied his raging hunger. His body was still growing - he needed the calories - but frankly he hadn’t stepped on a scale. He was ordering massive quantities of food, though, and none of it was going to fat … Day Twenty. Work friends hadn’t seen him all week - he was in danger of losing his job. He sometimes worked from home but he hadn’t even checked in for days. He wasn’t answering his phone. He’d disappeared from social media. People were worried - they forgot about his recent astonishing muscle growth, focused instead on the possibility that something dire had happened to him. Tim, his best buddy on the job, finally came around his apartment after Thursday’s shift, to see if he was OK, fearing the worst. Ready to call the police and file a missing person’s report. He knocked. A thick, deep voice, sounded distracted, sounding … clenched? called in response. “It’s open!” then a groan. “Unh, just, uh, leave it on the kitchen counter!” It didn’t sound like Sean. Tim, hesitant, opened the door, walked in. The place reeked. Pizza boxes, take out trays, littered the counter and floor. The air itself was stale. It smelled like a locker room, mixed with … some other smell? “Sean?” Another groan “Unnh, who’s that? Fuck, hold on.” Tim felt the floorboards vibrate, like someone with a very heavy tread had just planted their full weight on the floor. “Fuck, I don’t have anything to put on. Sorry.” More vibrations, footfalls. Then Sean came into view. All 298 lbs of him, not an ounce of fat, muscles fit to burst his pale Irish skin, with a five-day gingery hobo-beard. BO strong enough to stun an ox. A couch cushion clutched in front of his crotch. Stance wide to accommodate thighs that were each about the circumference of Tim’s slim chest. Otherwise naked. “Sean, what the fuck’s happened to you?” “Oh, hey Tim. Pardon the state of the place.” Sean still had his mannerisms, his voice deepened by the gallons of testosterone rewriting his body but his blue eyes the same. But then, not the same, as something a little … predatory? seemed to glint in them as he sized up his substantially smaller friend. “C’mon in. Stay a while. I’ve got some food on the way. I’ll tell you all about my little, uh, problem. Maybe you could even help me out?” Day Twenty-Three. Tim came to, groggy. He had no idea if it was morning, afternoon, or night. His whole body was sore, head to toe. He was dehydrated. His eyelids dragged when he blinked and his tongue stuck inside his mouth. He staggered off the bed and to his feet. His limp cock flopped against his inner thigh like an overcooked noodle. Memory came flooding back, and with it an empty ache in his ass. Sean’s unbelievable body was heaped before him, taking up almost all of the bed. Memories from the last three days rushed through his mind’s eye, and Tim’s overcooked noodle quickly transitioned to something more substantial and al dente. Sean pumping into him mercilessly, insatiably, spurting in him and not even stopping, just slowing down for a few minutes before resuming his frenzied pace. Finally pulling out after what felt like hours. Tim lying groggy in the bed, spent and useless, hazily watching Sean, a monster of muscle, gorge on ridiculous quantities of food, his body slightly bigger at each such feeding session. Sometimes Tim felt he could see Sean growing - or was that just a trick of perception? Each feeding session followed by more fucking. When had Tim found time to eat? When had he slept? What day was it? Tim groaned and kicked his jeans on the floor. His phone skittered out of his pocket. The sudden reminder that there was life outside of this dank cave of an apartment. Fuck. Tim bent to retrieve the phone, joints aching from days of hard use and dehydration. Of course the battery was dead. He looked over at Sean. Sean was sleeping. It was the first time Tim had seen Sean sleep this whole time. Best not to wake him. Tim decided to try to find a place to charge his phone on his own. But first: water. Tim stood by the sink, drinking water, draining then refilling his glass, then again. He collected his thoughts. Something had gone badly wrong with his friend. Or badly right. No. Stop it. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t healthy. Sean looked like some kind of roided freak, some kind of cartoon of masculine musculature. Just last month he had been a normal athletic sort of guy, the kind of late 20s young professional who filled out a medium t-shirt nicely but nothing more. Tim doubted there was any off-the-rack size that could contain Sean’s massive torso now. How many X’s in front of that L? And why bother? He was obviously still swelling. A shirt that fit today he’d hulk out of by the end of the week. The thought hit Tim like a suckerpunch. How much bigger is he going to get? Tim had fallen into the same rabbithole that had swallowed Sean. Both of them had disappeared, as far as the outside world was concerned. But it was Tim’s duty to remind Sean of the outside world. To bring him back. He’d come here to help his friend, not to join him in this… endless bacchanal. Tim shook his head, the cobwebs clearing. He set the glass on the counter. He saw Sean’s phone, plugged into the wall. They shared the same model. Tim unplugged Sean’s phone in order to charge his own. When he did, he saw the missed notifications, the missed calls. Everyone had been trying to reach Sean. He was friendly. Sociable. A popular nice guy. His family loved him. And everyone was worried. Where had he gone? What was happening to him? His own phone safely charging, Tim gathered his will and walked calmly to Sean’s bedside. “Sean,” he said as he approached. “Sean. Wake up.” Sean grumbled like a distant avalanche. “Sean. I mean it. We need to break out of this. Wake up.” “Huh?” Sean rolled over, raised his body up on one arm. The shapes that tricep morphed into as it supported his overdeveloped torso! His arm had to be at least 24″ around - maybe more? “Tim?” “Yeah, buddy,” Tim said, cursing as he realized he was still naked, feeling the blood rushing to his cock at the sight of Sean’s beautiful face, his clear blue eyes, innocent and trusting as he awoke, perched atop that godly body. That heap of muscle that continued to expand at an unholy rate. “Look. We need to focus. Something isn’t right here. You’ve been missing for more than a week now, and I’ve been - god - I’ve been here for three days, and all we’ve done is fuck and eat. It has to end. This isn’t sustainable. Something’s not right. I think we need to get you to a doctor.” Sean chuckled darkly. “I know, buddy. Don’t think my brain has turned to mush. I’ve been thinking this whole time - this has gone wrong, I need to stop this, I need to get help, I need to stop before my whole life is wrecked. But do you know how difficult it is to ignore all this?” He casually flexed a bicep and popped a pec; the gnarled peak of arm muscle strained towards his fist, still some distance to go but clearly wanting to close the gap, while his pec’s simple twitch was like a fault-line earthquake, a tectonic plate heaving under a mountain. “A doctor got me into this situation in the first place. A doctor’s just the last thing I need. I need to let whatever chemicals they put in me run their course, get out of my system.” He groaned, clearly becoming aroused against his will, aroused by his own body, by what was happening to him. “I didn’t think it’d take this long, to be honest. I thought I'd have stabilized by now. Returned to something like normal.” “Look,” Tim said. “Even if a doctor is to blame for this - if this is some kind of medical trial gone wrong - you’ve got to go see him. He’s obviously the person who knows best what’s happening to you, he’s the person who best knows how to help stop this. Or reverse it.” “Reverse it?!” Sean snarled like a threatened animal; it would have been threatening from a normal man, from a mutant like Sean it was terrifying. Tim jumped back. Sean quickly regained his resolve. “Oh wow, sorry. Sorry. My god. Yes. Of course. Stop it. Or reverse it. Maybe… go back to halfway between where I was and where I am now…. maybe?” He whimpered, shifting from snarling beast to anxious puppy. “Tim, man. You have no idea how good this feels. I know I need to stop if I want to have any hope of living a normal life again, but…. to go back to how I was before? Stop the growth - yes - certainly. Reverse it…. I don’t think…..” “OK. You’re clearly agitated. That’s understandable. I’d have a million different feelings if I as in your position, too. I’ve got your phone here. Why don’t you give that Doctor’s office a call and explain what’s happening and we’ll get you in there as soon as we can. I’m sure he’ll be able to see you.” Sean grudgingly took the phone from Tim. He held it at an odd angle as he navigated the menus. “Can’t see it over my damn pecs,” he said with a weak smile when he caught Tim’s questioning look. But after hitting the dial button, the real dilemma became apparent. A look of shock came over Sean’s face. “I can’t reach,” he said, trying to bring the phone to his ear. His basketball-sized deltoid pressed against the side of his face; his enormous bicep mashed against his hamhock forearm, preventing the elbow from bending any further. “It won’t go. I’m too big. Holy fuck.” “Speakerphone!” Tim said urgently, hearing the soft sound of the rings going through. Sean hit the button just in time. “-en’s office,” a pleasant female voice said. “How may I help you today?” “This is Sean McGrath,” Sean said. “From the recent trial? I think… I think something has gone wrong. I'd like to see the Doctor ASAP.” The sound of computer keys tapping. “I see you’ve missed your last two appointments, Mr McGrath,” the woman said frostily; she hesitated, then, and when she spoke next the tone of her voice was very different, low and urgent. “Please stay on the line, sir, I’ll get the doctor right away. I know he’ll want to speak with you. Please stay on the line.” In the minute of silent waiting, Sean and Tim looked at each other, not exchanging words. Tim felt his body responding to the dense gravity well that was Sean’s mere physical existence, the way his unthinkably huge muscles tested the limits of his pale skin, the shapes morphing and shifting uncomfortably even as he sat there, almost motionless, waiting for the doctor to come to the phone. Tim wanted nothing more than to leap at Sean, to feel his body surrounded and overwhelmed by that dense hot burgeoning flesh. He swallowed hard and tried to summon as many deeply unsexy thoughts as he could. It was no use. His cock throbbed in time with his heartbeat. “Mr. McGrath,” a male voice said. “Finally. We’ve been trying to reach you for more than a week, ever since you missed your next appointment. The last treatment you received. It was-” “-messed up?” Sean said, testily. “-I’d perhaps use a different term, but certainly. Please. I have your address on file. I will come to you immediately. I don’t trust that you’ll reach me if you venture out into public. For reasons that I most likely don’t need to explain.” The doctor paused. “Uh, Sean…. how large….?” “I don’t know,” Sean said, still sounded annoyed. “My scale only goes to 300, and the last few days it displays a big red electronic E when I step on it.” “My word,” the doctor said. “Very well. Sit tight, try to stay calm, and I’ll be with you in a moment.” Sean reached over and ended the call. He looked up at Tim, naked, slender, his proud 7″ cock straining at full mast, betraying how he felt about the whole situation. Sean, on the other hand, felt like he was thinking clearly for the first time in weeks. “If you could get me a glass of water,” Sean asked, “that would be nice.” Tim swallowed, nodded, and headed to the kitchen. Sean’s place was open concept, so he could watch Tim’s tight little butt shift with each step; memories of the countless times he’d stuffed that hole over the last few days flooded Sean’s mind. “And a protein shake. Make it a double.” His gut loudly grumbled. “Triple.” Somehow they managed to keep their hands off each other until the knock on the door. Sean guzzled three more protein shakes as Tim watched, almost shaking with erotic need. Sean glared. This was serious. He needed Tim to focus. Tim was going to help him get out of this. Finally, a knock on the door. “Come in!” Sean yelled. “Hello Sean,” said a slight, well-dressed middle-aged man with a gentle face, as he strode purposefully into the room, carrying a large medical bag. His stride faltered as he caught sight of the behemoth sitting in his bed, taking up almost all of the queen sized mattress. “Yeah,” Sean said. “Drink it in. Get a good look. It’s your handiwork after all, isn’t it?” “Beyond my expectations….” the Doctor muttered. “Well beyond….” He opened his bag and began fiddling with equipment; Tim could see he was preparing a syringe. “It’s very good you called us, Sean,” he said. “You see, you are what we call a super-responder. The other healthy subjects have gained, oh, perhaps eight or nine pounds of lean mass. You have gained.... substantially more. An understatement. A dangerous amount of time has elapsed without us observing you. Who knows what might have happened if a few more days had gone by? In any case,” he said, standing, “I’m here now, and I’ve brought everything you need. Not a moment to lose.” He wiped Sean’s orb of a delt with an ethanol swab and quickly checked the syringe for air bubbles. “Yes, I’m here now, and that’s what matters. You will feel a little pinch.” “What’s that? Some kind of antidote?” Sean asked as he felt the needle plunge into his muscle tissue. “Well,” the doctor said, pushing on the plunger, emptying the syringe. “In a manner of speaking.” He pulled the needle out expertly, wiped the tiny drop of blood away with yet another ethanol swab. “To speak with strict honesty: it’s your next dose, Sean.”

Partly inspired by true events : P Part I Part II Part III – All The Way It was hard to consolidate beauty as I knew it before with the erotic sensations that were now constant and overwhelming. The sun shot red rays across the sky in protest of the coming night, and the trees watched silently, their leaves soaking up the last of the usually sporadic sunlight. I felt the pump in my arms, fibers straining against the weight. Normally I would take solace in the calmness of the twilight, in the gentle passage of time between phases of the day. But fuck, I was huge. It was hard to focus on anything else. The tree branch began to bend as I lifted myself up towards the sky. It wasn’t iron, but it would have to do. It was easy. With just a simple flex my will was transformed into action. Nothing could stop me. I rested my chin on the bending branch. The sun set. I had grown twice since last night. I didn’t have the desire for anything else. I worked out upon waking up and then again after I ate and rested. I bought new clothes in the interim too. The others fit me way too tightly, making it almost uncomfortable to breathe. Every motion was exaggerated by the fabric stretching against my hardened stature. Although by now I didn’t really care. I was out here without a shirt on. People could look at me if they wanted to. I was going to be gone soon, and they would not recognize me except for my hair. I lifted my chin from the branch and started to let myself down slowly. My bare feet descended to the grass, toes touching first and then heels falling softly. I couldn’t help but flex each of my swollen muscles, starting with my calves. The impressive cliff they formed created a shadow even in the fading light. Next it was quads. Big, bloated, and cut to the nines, they strained my already exasperated shorts. And I didn’t even have to flex them very hard. It didn’t help that my glutes stole most of the fabric, forming firm, round globes that eclipsed my lower legs. I ran my hands up and across my abs, each brick bringing my erection to greater attention, and finished with a double bi pose. That one was my favorite. It put the power that lay just beneath those titanic arms on display so effortlessly. My dick now rose to full mast, my shorts struggling to hold together. It felt good to be a man. I went back inside to the guy I had just fucked. He was tight, wiry, but nothing like me. He was face down, ass up. The smell of the candle I had left burning mixed with the smell of his skin as I ran my tongue down his back and up to his neck. I turned him around to face me and folded my legs on each side of him so that I sat comfortably on his abs. I let my body linger there, imposing, towering over his. My pecs hung heavy in the bottom frame of my vision. I bounced them, just because I could. I looked straight into his eyes, almond-colored, framed by long, dark, curly hair. I loved the way he tried to move but could not make much of an impression. He blushed a little bit. He almost reminded me of myself a few days ago. What a different life that was. I moved closer and kissed him, gently. I could feel his body tense with pleasure under me. “Where’s your shirt?” I asked. “On the side of the bed,” he said. I casually reached for it and felt how light and small it was in my hands. “Do you mind if I try it on?” I said. He nodded, trying to maintain his composure and pretend this was a normal request. He was doing a subpar job of it. Who could blame him? I knew I had picked a good one. A muscle junkie through and through. And here I was to provide the fix. I lifted it over my head and from the very start I could feel how little of my body was going to squeeze into this tiny polo. By the time my arm reached the sleeve I got stuck. I fumbled awkwardly for a minute, wrestling this puny piece of fabric over my muscular frame. He giggled, and I allowed it. Finally I was pulling it down over my abs. The fabric wrapped up each ab individually, like they had been covered in cellophane. I ran my hand over it just to feel how tight I stretched the fabric. I noticed as I looked down that the buttons sat undone and my upper chest was popping through. I motioned to button them up, but there was obviously no way that they were going to come together. I smiled down at him. “You’ve gotta catch up, dude. I can’t even button up your shirt.” Throb, pulse. I lifted up my arms almost in auto-pilot. I heard a tear. Fuck, if I wasn’t hard already. His dick responded too, jolting on the crevice of my ass. I felt around to know what part of the shirt had torn. It was the underside of the seam where the sleeve meets the body. “I’ll lend you one of mine,” I said, unapologetically. I left out that most of my shirts had succumb to a similar fate when I had tried to find just one that fit my massive frame. I tried as hard as I could to split the shirt around the bicep. I wasn’t quite big enough yet. But I would be. It was only a matter of time. Damn stretchy fabric. But fuck if I didn’t look good filling them up. Every last inch of it. Approaching eighteen, last I had counted. With that, the show was over. I lifted the shirt off, this time with care to avoid the clumsy nature of its donning. More tears, here and there. I didn’t bother to avoid making them, it didn’t matter anymore. I got off of him and lifted him up, putting my arms under his knees and grabbing his torso. His arms clasped about my neck, hands reaching down my back. His hands were soft, and I could feel them navigate over the muscles in my back, exploring every bulge, solid, strong. I sat on the edge of the bed, my arms the only thing preventing him falling from the ground. I kissed him, in reassurance that I was not going to drop him. His cock pressed against the tight, warm flesh of my abs, and his hands migrated over to my pecs, circling my nipples with his fingers. That sensation was more erogenous than I expected, and I almost let him slip. His body falling away from mine startled me, and I pulled him close again. I took my cock, throbbing and begging for release, and pressed it right up against his hole. Pre smeared across it, and I started stroking up and down. I wanted release. I grabbed him tighter and began to lift his ass up and down across my cock, my arms getting tired and swollen and all the more pumped as I kept using him like he was a fleshjack. Before I knew it I was already about to cum. I lifted him a little bit higher and brought my cock between us, cum spurting onto my chest and up to his chin. “Now it’s your…” I touched his dick and within a few seconds he was gone. His cum only managed to splash up against my abs, but it was appreciated nonetheless. I couldn’t help but grin as his face was lost in the ecstasy of orgasm. I stood up, holding him, and walked over to my dresser. I set him on top and pulled out a shirt, handing it to him with a towel. “That’s for you.” I gave one of those cheesy jock-like winks, and turned around to head to the bathroom. I could feel his glare as my solid, round cheeks fell up and down with my stride. I gave them a good flex (and threw in some calves too) before I left his view. It was time for a run. -- An hour later I was outside. The night air brushed against my skin, my entire torso free and exposed. Darkness was my only company for most of the path until I reached the more suburban part of town. I was alone even though my path was now lit. Hardly anyone roamed about at this hour, and they wouldn’t have recognized me. But I wanted them to see anyways. To recognize me for what I had become. My footsteps fell heavy on the ground and made echoes on the still houses, but I was hardly any slower than before. It wasn’t long before I made it to Charlie’s place. I stopped under a streetlamp, the light reflecting the prodigious results of my transformation. He was in his garage, working on some old beat up truck that looked like it was from the 1950s. No one else seemed to be home. Despite the noisy footfall, he failed to notice me. I watched him for a moment. His skin was dark under the fluorescent bulb hanging over him, his back solid and clinging tightly to his wife beater. Every motion showed a muscle working, displayed the effortlessness that he carried himself with. He pulled what must have been the oil dipstick out of its place, and the various muscles in his arms flexed to form dark shadows beneath them. I felt a flush of embarrassment that I did not think I would ever feel again. “Hey,” I barked clumsily. He paused for a moment and wiped his hands before he turned around. He stared directly at me for a moment, the radiant jade of his eyes investigating my presence. His brow folded in the slightest confusion, as if he were trying to decipher someone’s face in an old photograph. And then he smiled. Teeth white as an ivory tomb. “Sup, little man.” Shit, he beat me to it. Did he recognize me? Or did he say that to everyone who passed by? Now that his initial confusion had passed, there was no hint of alarm or concern on his face. I started walking towards him, trying not to let my confidence falter as I stepped out of the streetlamp’s light. I tried to convince myself there was no reason to let my conviction falter. By now I must have been bigger than he was. Stronger. Nonetheless, he didn’t flinch. Neither his stance nor his expression wavered at my approach. And then we were face to face. He leaned on the grill of his car, relaxed. “What brings you around here?” he said casually. I didn’t really know. “Just out for a run,” was what came out of my mouth. “You seem to have been through a lot in the past few days,” he said. He lifted his arm, and without thinking I grabbed it. He did not seem to mind; if anything, he was amused. I held my hand still too, at first. His calm demeanor startled me. I just needed to break his confidence; I had to make him know just how much stronger I was. I pushed, and he gave just a little. The thick bellies of my triceps knotted and I could see his forearm tighten up and strain against the force of my powerful arm, the thick calluses on my hands rubbing rough against his soft skin. Still, forcing his arm back was more difficult than I anticipated. I was winning, but just barely. Meanwhile I could feel the blood rush to my cock even though I was using all of my strength. “Say uncle,” I said. I wanted him to admit it. Without changing his expression, he opened his mouth and his face leaned in towards mine. I almost expected a kiss. Instead I heard music. Even though it must have come from him, it sounded rich and deep as though it were another person’s voice. It resonated all around me like a bell, sonorous and pure despite its depth. Between long notes, the melody rang with strange sounds that were akin to words that I did not recognize. All of my anxiety and rivalry faded as the strange tune resounded in my ears. My vision started to become hazy. His golden arms blurred into the fluorescent lit background, his soft lips disappearing as everything began to go dark. I felt my head fall on his chest. It hummed with the bell’s tune. I could not stay awake any longer. -- I awoke as the sun was rising. My head was still foggy, but not unpleasantly so, as I lifted out of my near comatose state. My body was similarly sluggish and numb. I felt clumsy as I attempted to orchestrate my way off the ground, feet stumbling in the grass. I also discovered a ringing in my ears, but low and distant-sounding. It faded slowly as clarity came back to me, my body regaining its composure. Beams of sunlight loftily fell through the morning fog and landed on my silken skin. I had not changed. I gave my pecs a quick bounce just to be sure. Still massive. Memories came back from last night slowly and sporadically, like mud through a sieve. The details were mostly unclear, but my awakening here on the ground meant that I had lost. Despite all of the changes I had gone through, Charlie was still stronger than me. My heart fell into my chest, full of anguish. I could not even remember how he managed to subdue me. But I had an idea on how to fix that. I reached into my pocket to find my car keys. There was a note inside. It said: “Next time, make a better wish.” Whatever that meant. I was fortunate enough to see Delilah’s car leave as I turned the corner on her street. I didn’t know how to explain to her what had happened or my plan, and I wasn’t about to be talked out of it. I parked at the end of the block and walked as casually as I could feign up to her doorstep. The tacky porcelain frog that stood out harshly from the otherwise bare porch revealed her spare keys. Luckily, they held one that opened her basement. I threw it into the grass, not taking the time to remark how light it was for me now. The basement was even more cluttered than the last time I had been inside. Old musty books full of pseudoscientific literature and what looked like very serious scholarly articles littered the tables and floor. Clearly Delilah had devoted most of her free time to discovering what they were and how to make sure they didn’t kick the bucket in her care. However she did it, it was working; they seemed just as irreverent and indignant as ever. My arrival only seemed to encourage their frenzied buzzing. Inside the dull plastic box, she had left a small bag of blood as their only company. An iron meal for an iron bug. I paused for a moment. No, this was what I wanted. The risks were irrelevant. I needed to get bigger. Bigger than him. Bigger than anyone. That was all that mattered. I cautiously opened the container and slid my hand quickly over the opening as I removed the lid. It was almost instant, the sting. My hand clenched; fuck, it hurt. But unlike our first encounter, it remained stuck in my skin. I could feel it. A warm, almost hot sensation emanated from the sting. Like a hot summer day running through my blood, up my beefy arms and into the rest of my formidable body. It flowed through me, saturating me with whatever chemical or enzyme or magic flowed from its metallic proboscis. It felt as though I was going through the most intense workout I ever had while standing completely still. It was completing me. I was strong, alive, vibrant, unstoppable. Eventually the iron bug dropped from my hand, satiated. It scuttled away lazily, finally ending its fervent rampage against its impregnable prison. It seemed to shine crimson beneath its metallic sheen. I slid the lid back on, careful not to let out the other bug that was still madly trying to escape. Attempting to head towards the exit, I found myself dizzy with euphoria and my body was somewhat difficult to move. My flesh felt hard to the touch, like an insane pump from a non-existent workout. My blood was still warm, marked by a pleasant tingling. I don’t really remember getting back to my house. I only remember putting the keys back under the frog and somehow finding myself lying under the sheets in my bed, wrapped up like a cocoon. My blood was still warm, and the muscles beneath my skin were unbelievably tense, pumped, and changing into something even harder. My cock matched them in turgor, fighting for attention. But I was too busy wrapped up in the novel sensations to pay it any attention. Soon the heat began to make me dizzy, and I started to drift off. My eyes shut. I smiled. It worked. I couldn’t wait to find out what I had done. Part IV

Thanks again for all the great feedback everyone! Once again this was mostly written on my phone, so please excuse the errors. Hope you enjoy the next installment. - PART 1 - PART 2 ************************* DWARFED BY DAD PART 3/4 “Oh-NO… Dad, not my NEW pants!” I barely even made it through the front door of his house, suddenly overshadowed by his colossal bodybuilding figure, hearing the all too familiar sound of his gigantic arm muscles beginning to work and move, simply flex, the tortuous ear filling commanding power, the old man's twenty-nine inch bicep, raising towards my face. His horrendous forest of silver armpit hair exploded against my nose, smothering me in his rank grandpa-aged musk, causing my dick to bloat, bone up humiliatingly. Then I felt the warm marbled layering of muscle striations build against my whimpering lips, this entire mountain of inhuman strength stack, so high, the peak reached the outstretch of his hand, erupted dangerously into his own face. It was as if someone had stuffed this enormous jack o'lantern under his skin, the biggest arm muscle the world would ever see. Within a few seconds, a few simple pumps of this gigantic daddy spectacle, I started shooting streams of jizz, pathetically, right into my own pants. “HAHA!” Dad voice thundered above me. “Measured them at THIRTY-inches this morning!” He pumped his arm once more, once again suffocating me in his arm muscles, the now thirty-inch monster of old man power. My brand new khaki pants were literally destroyed, soaked, sopping wet with the humiliating incestuous juice of my own boy-sized dick, right through the front of my zipper. I cringed embarrassingly. You think I would have been used this by now. After all, this was now at least a twice-daily occurrence, the rules and regulations of being a slave to a growing muscle-god. “Should I get my mask on, sir?” I still timidly asked “Nope!” Dad grinned looking down at me, barely visible through the outstretch of his own titanic male pecs. “I got something SPECIAL planned for you today…” Now usually the old man would make me wear this demeaning monkey-mask, an old costume from childhood, ever since that first day in the shower, a mere two weeks ago. He never wanted to participate in anything “queer”, the whole “ignorance is bliss” thing, even though he was letting another man, his own son for that matter, worship his gigantic naked physique, most of the time until he would shoot, shower me with his creamy thick gallon-sized load. But today, just as he said, he had something “special”, a new level of mockery that I was inevitably going hopelessly eat up. As he placed his hands around his waistband, as the floor and walls began quaking with every monstrous step, as he slowly turned around, bulging out of these sweaty skin tight gym-shorts, I knew, what was grossly in store for me. “W-Wait, d-dad, p-please…” “I always did enjoy the feeling of women's TONGUE up my ass.” Dad snickered. “And now you're going to CLEAN me with yours!” The old man menacingly laughed, beginning the long and lengthy process to pull off his own shorts, wiggle and squeeze down the swampy grey fabric, so much musk wafting his obscene child-gobbling asscrack, I honestly thought I was going to pass out, let alone even make it to the licking part. I held my nose together as the elasticity in his waistband began to crackle and pop, watching his tire-sized hairy muscle-glutes heave outward towards me, blimp almost dangerously large, breaking any known barrier of bubblebutt size. “I can't imagine how BAD I smell…” Dad continued his bantering. “After a SIX-hour workout, I must be RIPE!” The old man laughably struggled, barely able to pull his own shorts down even halfway his ass. There wasn't so much the problem of his swampy bubbled butthole, or his equally growing large male appendage in the front, but more so with his insanely monstrous and inhuman massive forty-two inch bloated hairy daddy-thighs, eighty-four inches in diameter combined! Even a pair of XXL shorts found complete struggle, fabric fraying and stretching to unbelievable transparency. I honestly didn't think they were going to make it... *RIIIIPPPPPPP* “Fucking UNREAL!” Dad roared proudly, as his shorts ripped and blew apart to the floor. “Won't be long before I'm squatting entire NAVY-ships!!!” He grunted jokingly, taking and rubbing one of his colossal hands along the lining of his gigantic hairy stink-hole, the seemingly endlessly muscle canyon of his asscrack. That was just a taste of how the old man had been talking lately, by the way, his insatiably unrealistic dreams of growing, leaving me always speechless, stammering in dumbfounded fear. Last week he actually tried lifting his Honda right in the driveway, right in front of all the onlooking neighbors, the jaw-dropped kids in the street. He grabbed it by the tail end and growled furiously, his muscles surging bigger than ever, as they always did, but thankfully, the car didn't budge. I know a vehicle is nowhere near being some ship on the sea, but I don't know, just the fact that he was even trying, still endlessly growing, gave me worry that these ridiculous dreams of his, would soon become my nightmare of a reality. “WELL?” Dad boomed questionably. “You going to get CLEANING or what!?” “...yes sir.” I responded with a gulp, but what choice did have? That's not to say, I wasn't completely drooling over the once in a lifetime opportunity, monkey-mask free, to get my actual face up against those two mighty and stage-crushing monster muscle glutes. It was still just so humiliating to me, especially with the way dad would treat me, about the “comical” rate he outgrew me, how he was excited to “double me”, he would often remark. I guess he was getting close, weighing in at a shocking 383-pounds of bone crushing grandpa-aged silver hairy man muscle. But you know, it was just three weeks ago I was some proud bodybuilder, and now... “FUCK-yeah!” Dad deeply groaned. “Get your tongue WAY up there…” He grabbed the back of my hair, smothering my face into all his sweat and left over shit before forcibly squeezing my head, an insignificant grape between his buttcheeks, further up into dark depths of his swampy asscrack. Who knew the old man would like this much assplay, or that I ever would ever turn out to be such a fag for muscle freaks. I'll admit though, there was something kind of comforting about digging and licking my way up his suffocating muscle hole, that familiar fatherly musk I had known since birth. The whole scene ended with the old man groaning like a pig and bent over, his foot long horse cock draped on the floor like a Python, splooging a river of cum, out of this totally tongue-sized piss hole. Then he made me lick up the whole thing up. “Now I really do feel like a KING…” Dad remarked, relishing on the whole humiliating view in the reflection of the living room mirror, as he relentlessly posed. Those words were the beginning of the end, destiny veering it's ugly head. A few days later, the old man demanded I moved in with him, needing his “slave” to be around whenever he commanded. He still fucked woman regularly, daily almost, “pussy splitting” them with his grotesquely veiny old man cock. I still didn't get how he was doing it, how he was growing all over, like some testosterone dripping teenager during a growth spurt. His height had reached a daunting six-foot-four, his feet to a shoe-popping size sixteen, clothing dimensions you wouldn't believe. “Hand me another one, SQUIRT!” Dad boomed above me. “Y-You want M-MORE?” I stammered in disbelief. It was about a week later at the grocery store, aisle seven, the frozen meat department. Dad had finally surpassed his eagerly awaited 400-pound mark, 423-pounds to be precise, so much muscle bulging into muscle, it wasn’t just freaky, it was downright terrifying. Yet he still wanted more, guzzling back four protein shakes already as we wandered up and down the aisles, a man dying of thirst, only it was his muscles, and you wouldn’t believe how much they needed to feed. His brand new XXL-sized clothes looked on the verge of bursting, especially around his grotesquely bloated muscle-gut, the nearly painted on and tortured light blue denim, splitting obscenely around the seams of his legs and groin. I reached down into the shopping cart regardless, never wanting to disobey my master, handing him another bottle of Muscle Milk, only two left now out of the original six-pack. The old man swiped it fiercely from my hands, blowing off the cap with a single thumb, raising the spout to his lips. “God-DAMN, feels like my shirt is gonna BURST!” Dad winked looking down at me, another devilish grin on his face. “OH-Well!” He was so unapologetic, so arrogant in his actions. He didn’t even stop to think about the mounding spectacle of people forming, women and men alike, staring at the over 400-pound muscle god with three full shopping carts. There was this pregnant wife with two children, some little cheerleader with all her friends, even another father with his son after baseball practice, then came the smartphones. With all that protein building up, filling him with a nearly boundless amount of fuel, I knew, it was only a matter of time before there would be another incident, another explosion of muscle growth, just like that day at the gym, captured on the endless amount of cameras surrounding us. “MMPF, SO-good!” Dad grunted under his gulping breaths. “D-Dad, y-your clothes…” I cringed, whimpering devastatingly, as his nearly transparent shirt, the already painted on and skintight ripplings of his freaky muscle striations, began ballooning even bigger. You could already hear the whispers and squeals of the crowd, the baseball boy roar in amazement, as if he had just seen the Hulk, a real life superhero. The various artificial sounds of camera shutters echoed throughout the store, just as I could hear the first small tear, somewhere underneath his armpits, then a second around the underside his two overshadowing inflated blimps of hairy mammoth pecs. *SNAP, POP* “SORRY folks!” Dad chuckled carelessly with a belch. “I was just SO hungry!” *BURRPPPP* *RIIPPPPPPPPPP* As he let out another thunderous belch, before I could even blink, nearly every thread in his shirt suddenly unraveled across the insane rumbling muscle dimensions of his chest into a million tiny pieces, blowing around his beachball-sized arms, detonating around his barn door wide lats, absoluting exploding around his gorilla-sized neck. The crowd variously gasped as every inch of his shirt helplessly fell to the floor, revealing to all them, even the now drooling store employees, the worlds most disgustingly powerful, the most musclebound hairy old man chest, the biggest daddy to walk the planet! “OOPS...” Dad smirked, hearing the various pathetic remarks, the words of disbelief and terror. He started posing anyway, with that wild grin on his face, flexing nearly every muscle he could, starting with his arms first, his burly and gigantic thirty-three inch beasts, nearly crushing his own skull as the two mountainous peaks collided with his stubbled silver face. Then he pleasurably began to bounce and quake his gigantic chest, the blimping hairy chest cleavage, the two overshadowing airships of power, feeling as if the aisle was actually beginning to shake. A few of the women's awes turned into sweet tiny moans, as they publically grabbed grabbed their sopping wet groins, finger-damming there uncontrollable gushing pussys. Even some of the men began bulging in there pants, throbbing pervertedly, continuously adjusting themselves. “JUST started working out a few MONTHS ago!” Dad arrogantly stated, the big crowd pleaser, making everyone chuckle, as if it was a joke. He looked down at me right afterwards with that smirk again, like they had no idea what was to come, as he powerfully turned his stance and showed off his absolutely door-crushing backside. You could tell that he was aching for more, more muscle, occasionally glancing down at the two remaining bottles of Muscle Milk with his piercing blue eyes. I thought he was going to do it, but then, out of nowhere, embarrassingly enough, the old man let out this gigantic grandpa fart. *RIIIPPPPPPPP* “OH-fuck!” Dad devilishly laughed, turning his neck and attempting to look down towards his ass. “Was that my PANTS!?” The crowd gasped once more, I couldn't believe it, covering my mouth and staring like everyone else. His two bulbous and obscene muscle glutes, the pornographic airbag sized butt cheeks, just from a simple fart, had rumbled and quaked to such a severity, that the light blue denim fabric had actually torn apart, right down the shockingly deep muscle valley of his asscrack. Luckily, for the all children's sake, the now dozens of families watching, his swampy grey briefs were still strongly held together. But you could still hear the sound of fabric crackling, slowly snapping apart, as if the old man wasn't done growing yet, as if this whole show was just beginning. “He’s G-GROWING!!!” This woman suddenly shrieked. “You FOLKS want to see some REAL MUSCLE!?” Dad roared, the old man was fucking eating it up. I don't know if he was growing on purpose, or if he just couldn't stop, but he did forcefully and ultimately playfully pump and flex his legs, blowing the remaining seams around his tremendous muscle thighs and groin in an instant. Still mostly held together, however, the now tattered and tortured blue jeans, he let out this deep sinister laugh as the growth took place, as the skin of silver monster muscle legs began effortlessly squeezing through the gaping holes of the fabric, torrentially swelling bigger. It was shocking to say, that his nearly basketball-sized calves were the first to completely blow through the bottom of his pants. *RIIIPPPPPPP* “I make ARNOLD look like an ANT!” The old man mocked, towering above us looking six-foot-seven, posing like the champion he was, the total reigning supreme bodybuilding god of the world. After his calves, his shoes completely blew apart, tearing around the front first from these gigantic hairy toes, then around the laces due to his widening feet, brand new Nike’s, completely destroyed. The crowd continued to gasp, most family's ran. It was just in time as his over fifty-inch muscle thighs blasted through the rest of his denim, the teeth of his pant-zipper erupted with this firehose-bulge of musky underwear fabric. The whole thing ended with those planetary muscle-glutes, those two car-crushing swampy butt cheeks, snapping what was left of the destroyed fabric clinging to his legs. “Better SHIELD your EYES!!!” That was dad’s favorite part, as he boomed the words with laughter, as he shattered the aisle with a most muscular pose. We watched the video what must have been a dozen times, one of many recordings posted online, along with hundreds of shocking photos, the old man's new ego-exploding treasure trove. He couldn't even operate the computer his hands were so big, crushing his desktop keyboard at first, making us revert to my tiny eleven-inch laptop. “They're calling me a GOD!” Dad chuckled delightfully, slowly standing up from his broken chair. “I think it's time you WORSHIP your GOD…” I'll just let you know, that he was completely naked, and he was pointing to his size-twenty feet. It felt just like that first time in the shower. I didn't even ask if I should wear my monkey-mask. My tongue started slowly with those gigantic-toes, kissing and working my way up to those cock-boning disgustingly freaky bowling-ball calves, then I made my way up his gigantic monstrous silver thighs. It was absolutely terrifying, being next to these legs nearly triple the size of my own body. But I kept on worshiping, despite his questionable movements, the occasional thump from a single tiny motion, shaking the entire house, nearly snuffing me out. It was then I looked up, terrified, just knowing what was going to happen next. “GOD-damn, just look at those pretty little LIPS!” Dad suddenly grabbed me by the cheeks, stuffing his gigantic thumb down my throat. “I think it's time you SUCK your DADDY’S cock!” I always knew I was a little gay... **************************** Comments are appreciated

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 !

Links to other chapters: Links to chapters of "The Twenty": "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - The Musclemen Revealed: Inside Zaftig's Lab "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 19 - Further Encounters, Part 1 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 20 - Pose and Approve: Further Encounters, Part 2 Chapter 21: Sam and Casey February 10th, 2022 2035 Hours Right after the presentation, Moster briefly convened the men in the corridor around the corner from the lab. “Okay, what just happened?” asked Alvarez. “Didn’t you see? The Army creamed in their pants at the sight of us,” answered Chad. Hension, as always, stood by, pensively flexing his muscles and dreaming. Chad clapped him on the back of the head. “Ow! What’d I do?” “Pay attention.” “Head back to your quarters, men. Await further instruction. Visitation tonight strictly prohibited.” Moster was specific. He’d turned his broad back and strode away, but all saw as he turned he was grinning. “Strictly prohibited?” asked Alvarez. Moster glanced back at them briefly. “Just keep the volume down.” And he was gone down the corridor towards his suite. “My room, 10 minutes,” Alvarez said to Lang. “Yeah, baby!” They were gone. Hension looked after them, and followed a moment later. Casey was thinking of Sam. He could think of nothing else – the way the handsome young ensign had stared at him. He’d caught his name on the way out. Sam. Sam Victor. Schumacher glanced briefly at Tiffany, who was, as usual, smiling and opaque. “I’m gonna go train,” grumbled Washington. “Me, too,” said LeFevre. Tiffany walked away without a word. Schumacher watched his butt as he went, and turned and walked back to his room, seething as usual. “I’ll join you,” said Waring, looking after Schumacher. “Me, too,” said Jin. “Wait for us,” said Reed. “You in?” he asked Blankenship. “Sure.” He clamped his hand around the back of Eli Meyer’s head and gestured, train? Eli shook his head no, mimed he was going to go to bed and jerk off. Blankenship laughed. “Maybe I’ll join you instead.” Meyer nodded and off they went together, Reed following. “Not gonna train?” Washington called after him. “Changed my mind.” He threw his arms around Meyer and Reed and walked away with them. “Showers after?” asked Obatu. “Whaddya you think?” asked Blankenship. “Wait for me,” said Chad. He turned to Bogarde, who was headed to his room. “Not you?” “Yeah, I’m coming. Wanna get my nipple clamps first.” “Gonna work pecs?” “Yeah.” “I’ll bind your tit clamps if you spot my curls,” said Gunst. “Tonight I’m gonna blast these big guns to the limit.” Abdul said nothing. He went on his way alone, looking for Pedro. His dick was twitching. Casey ran back to his room and quickly brushed his teeth and combed his hair. He reeled off 300 pushups, which took him less than 3 minutes. Then he ran out the door in search of Sam. After a moment he came back, climbed up on a steel chair he kept in the corner, reached high, and carefully adjusted one of the lights on his posing dais. Nice and easy. "That's better," he said to himself. Then he went out again, in search of Sam. October 21st, 2021 1843 Hours The men gathered around Casey, now kneeling on the hard concrete floor before Abdul, who stood before him, cock out, ready to plunge in. Unexpectedly, before he started, Casey spoke. “Tell them to pull up their pants. I want to see their dick outlines in their pants.” A pause. “Pull ‘em up, gentlemen,” commanded Moster. “And when I say so – and not before – they can pull them down again. At my command. Or I stop this.” The White Caps seemed to be working. Moster suppressed a smile as the men in line looked at one another, bent, pulled up their jeans, and fastened them – with some difficulty, as each man was now sporting 10 – 15 inches of wood. The bulges were….dizzying. Casey leaned in closer to Abdul, the Arab’s 15 inch cock now bobbing two inches from his face. “Yeah,” he said. “I like that. I like the view. They can flex, too. Tell them to flex.” “Gentlemen, front double biceps, please.” “Yours too, Sergeant Moster.” Moster raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest. Biceps slowly rose, like the rising of 36 suns over distant mountains, hitting the ceiling, filling the room with flexed muscle. “Dr. Lang?” The video cam whirred to life. “Okay. Here goes.” And Casey opened his mouth, and for the first time in his life, took a male organ inside. Abdul, above him, spread his legs wide, and began slowly pumping his hips into Casey’s face. February 10th, 2022 2050 Hours At the same time that Alvarez and Lang were just getting under way with Pose and Approve, Casey was standing in front of Sam in the corridor outside the men’s room. Even now, months after he first arrived in the main building, Casey had gotten lost four times. He worried that Sam may have left the building. And that he’d lost his opportunity. But no, for there he suddenly was 40 feet down the main corridor, coming out of the men’s room. His heart filled with joy as he ran up to him. Sam stopped short, surprised. The 6’-7”, 330 pound bodybuilder muscle giant Casey Rockland was suddenly just there, standing shyly before him, legs spread awkwardly wide, his hands held meekly at his side. He was breathing deeply as if he had just been running. “Hi!” he said, a little desperate sounding. “Well, hello,” answered Sam. Casey was still wearing the white VALHALLA LABS t-shirt he’d worn before he stripped down for the presentation to the brass, bulging with barely sheathed muscle, the gigantic arms pouring out of straining sleeves, the tight white jeans, bursting at the quads and calves, and the black army boots. A light coat of sweat gleamed in the corridor light. Sam tried to meet his eyes at first, but in spite of all his control his vision wandered as he began to take in the staggering proportions of the handsome young behemoth standing before him. The dude was perfect. Fucking perfect. Casey radiated golden-tanned muscle, his taut skin gleaming a natural sheen of rich, deep brown-gold. The sleeves of his t-shirt strained to half-cover the bulging, hard, veiny, cannonball masses of his unreal, sick biceps. His firm round pecs were held hugely high, and Sam could easily make out the shape and slight coloring of the man’s large red-brown nipples. His square jaw was alluring, with a movie star’s cleft chin and a day-old scruff. His eyes shone a deep violet blue. The crew cut was of thick burnished gold. The hands? Each the size of both of his, held together. Below, the outline of an 8-pack of deep, firmly ridged abs pounded through the t-shirt, hillocks of muscle deeply sloping to ridges of darkest ab lines, all tapering to an improbable – no, unbelievable – 30 inch waistline. The boy’s broad lats spread horizontally behind, like eagle wings, the traps above the pecs boulders of pure power, his deltoids powerful triple-headed mountains of strength. And then Sam’s gaze went a little lower – and held there. O My God. There it was again. And now only five feet away. “I was afraid you’d left.” “No, I’m still here.” “Yeah! Um. I see….good!” The fly of Casey’s white jeans wasn’t merely bulging. It loomed with the weight of the heavy member firmly curled, tucked away and packed inside. It was if he was carrying a long, thick, heavy snake in his pants. A boa constrictor. No less than that. Clearly, the boa was currently at rest. The barely-restraining fly was fully revealed by the fly flaps, forced back by the tautness of the fabric. The zipper appeared to be industrial grade. No doubt made of some sort of reinforced steel. Sam stared openly at the ungodly bulge. Then he heard a voice, and he shifted his eyes back up. “So…you’re…you’re Ensign Victor. Is that your name? And, um, your rank?” Casey was fumbling to think of something, anything to say. He stumbled forward, hand extended to shake. “Does that mean you’re in the Navy?” So Casey wasn’t the brightest bulb in the billboard, was he? All the better. “Call me Sam.” He smiled, offering his hand and Casey shook it with firm eagerness. He nearly crushed Sam’s fingers in his vice-like grip, but Sam never blinked. He smiled sweetly. “Nice to meet you,” Sam said. Casey glowed. Sam turned slowly, smiling, and resumed his walk toward the main hall. Casey trotted up alongside. “Where you going?” “I’m under orders to find about more about you men.” “I can tell you more!” “All right, then. Shall we talk? Before I meet with the others?” “Yeah! I mean, you don’t have to talk to them. I’ll tell you everything you wanna know!” “Everything…?” “Welll…..” Casey looked around. “Enough.” “Fine, then. Where shall we go?” “My quarters! How about my…quarters…? Okay?....” “Lead the way.” October 21st, 2021 1845 Hours In the first moments, Casey didn’t think he’d much like sucking Abdul’s cock. The huge Moroccan pushed his hard cock into his mouth without any ceremony. As new to this as Casey was, shouldn’t there be something like…he didn’t know, maybe some foreplay? He knew Abdul was not about to kiss him or anything – geez – but still, as his enormous penis came, hard as iron, enshrouded with thick veins, like a freight train, slow and big and hard and powerful and unyielding, the corona and the shaft pushing resolutely past his lips and teeth and deeply into his mouth and down his throat, Casey wondered, just a nanosecond, ‘Shouldn’t there be a little – something more?’ But, no. Guess not. For there it was, huge and throbbing and hot, crammed down his throat, deep and firm, in one thrust. And no nothing else. Just cock. Not even any flexing. No challenge, no demand to feel his muscles. It was just cock. Big and hard and throbbing and hot and unyielding. At first, Casey was stunned. His eyes went wide and he looked up, his mouth full of cock, even fuller than he’d ever imagined, his lips enveloping the thick shaft of a man’s penis for the first time in his life. Okay, so he had to get used to this. He was beginning to realize they did a lot of this here at the top of the mountain. And he did want bigger muscles, so….. So. It didn’t take him long. February 10th, 2022 2055 Hours Casey practically skipped ahead down the corridor, talking excitedly to San over his shoulder as he went. “I heard about you. The men…the other guys…..you know, in the lab…. They said you were coming tonight. I wanted to meet you before they did.” “Who said I was coming? Who knows me here?” Sam asked calmly. “Oh. Oh, they all do. All of them. They’ve talked about you. Um.” He stepped ahead of Sam and gestured hopefully down the corridor. “I was hoping to …. um….talk to you first. So you want to know more about us?” Sam stopped, turned, and smiled serenely with plain honesty. So the others talked about him. How did they know him? Still, the thought pleased him. “Yes. But principally, I want to know more about you. Personally. And we’d all want to hear more about the project. We’d like to learn more about all of you. Who you all are, where you’re all from.” Sam paused. “But I’d like to hear a little more about you in particular.” Casey’s eyes grew wide with joy. “I’d like to ask you a few questions,” Sam continued breezily, “if I might. You sure you have the time for me?” “YEAH!” Casey said, almost shouting, and then glanced around in quick alert spasms to ensure no one had heard him. Tiffany could appear at any point and stop the fun. Of late, Tiffany had been stalking him….and Casey didn’t like it. Not to play, but to keep Casey under personal wraps. “I mean, yes, sure, I have time,” Casey said again, more quietly. “Let’s go.” “It’s late. Sure you don’t mind?” “Naw. Tomorrow’s a rest day anyway. We trained hard tonight. Got all pumped up for you guys.” He paused, and then added. “I’m really pumped up.” “Are you?” “Yeah! REALLY pumped. Very big. Um…” He was getting ahead of himself. He stopped, shyly, confused, and then continued. “Down here. I think. Yeah, I’m right. I get lost sometimes. This way.” He walked ahead fast, heading down the corridor, looking either way, watching for spies. “Down here.” Sam picked it up and hustled a little behind. He was in complete control of himself. His eyes were half-lidded and studiedly casual. He watched the muscleboy’s dancing butt as he ran ahead of him down the corridor. He sure is happy about something, Sam thought. I'm gonna pose for this dude for hours," Casey was thinking happily. October 21st, 2021 1846 Hours Casey closed his mouth around the hugeness of Abdul’s cock with an eagerness that surprised him. His lips held firm. Hey, it wasn’t so bad. In fact, it felt right. In fact, it felt great. He glanced up, and then bent his head down and went to work. He started to suck. Lotta veins here. Nice. He pulled back, managed to get his tongue out to wet his lips. In a moment his mouth was wet and milky with thick gobs of spit. He leaned in an resumed. Wow, this was cocksucking? He really liked it. Abdul began to pump his face, first slowly, then fiercely. His big penis started to glide powerfully, in and out of Casey’s mouth. “Mmmmm,” Casey moaned. “Uh hunh,” Abdul moaned. “Fucking your mouth, boy.” The men stepped closer. “Wow,” breathed Hension, and this time, no one smacked him. So, all in all, and pretty fast, it got fun. February 10th, 2022 2056 Hours Sam could hear some moans and groans drifting from various rooms. “What’s going on?” he asked Casey. “Oh, they’re probably all fucking and sucking dick by now." Casey had stopped in front of a door. "Here’s my room. These are my quarters. You wanna come in?” He unlocked it, opened up and went in. Sam was pleasantly startled. “Yes, of course.” Fucking and sucking dick by now? So much for the claim by Zaftig that the muscle giants didn’t have sex. The truth would seem to be otherwise. He followed the giant in. Casey was waiting on the other side of the door, closing it behind Sam as he entered. “Welcome to my room,” he said. October 21st, 2021 1837 Hours “Breathe through your nose,” instructed Moster. “Yeah, we all have to do it that way or we’d suffocate,” said Lang helpfully. Casey looked up. Abdul nodded. “Do it,” he said gruffly. Casey, on his knees, gazed a little up at Abdul’s black eye. It made him hotter, remembering he was still sporting a nice big shiner himself. “Okay.” He’d never sucked a cock before. But of course his masturbation fantasies had included it since he was 8. His bed sheets at the Home had been stiff and sticky with boy cream produced from midnight fantasies of just such a scene. Him, on his knees, servicing the huge penis of a muscle god. And Abdul’s penis was satisfyingly huge, yes, a full, warm, salty dark log of beef gliding forcefully between Casey’s lips and sluicing powerfully, relentlessly down his throat. It plundered deeper into his larynx than he would have thought possible. Casey would have been startled, if he’d thought of it, at how easily his throat opened up, taking it all, without resistance or gagging, swallowing the hugeness of it. The man’s penis was uncut and slightly cheesy to the taste, and the foreskin proved something interesting to nibble on. It filled his mouth – and Casey had a big mouth – and lay at intervals resting with heavy satisfaction atop his tongue. It grew even larger when inside, too, taking on the warmth and liquid of Casey’s mouth. It expanded and began to throb and play and jump, scraping against his teeth. He couldn’t help but bite, just a little, but Abdul, above him, his eyes closed and his face to the ceiling, didn’t seem to notice, mind, or care. The cockhead should have choked him, or gagged him, or something, but rather immediately, Casey had no problem taking it in, 14 inches of girth capped by a huge mushroom corona. Precum must have been dribbling from the piss slit, because right away Casey could taste cum oozing down his throat, coating his tongue. He knew the taste well. He always ate his own, every time he jerked off, 5 to 6 times a day. Abdul was moaning loudly now and was probably unaware of it. “He any good?” asked Blankenship. “Kid knows how to suck dick,” said Abdul between moans. Casey was licking now, playing with the enormous cockhead with light tongue taps. “Oh, God. This kid is good. Really good. Get ready.” “Look, he don’t even gag,” breathed Lang. The other men nodded sagely. “Pants Stay UP!” Casey suddenly yelled. General groans. All were playing with their tools in their trousers, getting big, hard and ready. Hension was flexing for himself, as usual. Gunst was rubbing his 8 pack, while Jin and Schumacher were unconsciously pawing each other’s packaged schlongs. And Tiffany was there, too. Smiling. Always smiling, his fat big organ poling straight ahead in his pants. Casey guessed he’d have to suck his cock, too, but as beautiful as it was, he wasn’t looking forward to it. He was about 8th down the line. Okay, so that would be later. “No gag reflex on this boy,” said Moster from the back. “That’s a good thing. You can suck cock all night, right, Cadet? And not get tired? And keep breathing? Your jaw hurt?” Casey nodded, then shook his head, confused as how to answer. He pulled back. “I like it, sir” he answered. “My jaw don’t hurt.” “Don’t stop,”said Abdul, his voice now had a note of pleading in it. Wow. Casey smiled. “Okay,” he said, and bent down, his mouth full, going back to the business at hand, his throat crammed, sucking a big cock, as all the bodybuilders in the room watched. The tension in the room added a thick layer of electricity, covering them all. And there in the corner, there was Dr. Irving, as always, shooting video. Casey reached down began to steadily work his own gigantic tool, completely popped out of his baggy sweatpants. “Shit, look at his junk,” muttered Chad. “Big as Moster’s,” said Waring. “Close.” Moster looked up critically. And – he had to admit it. Casey’s cock was indeed close to his own in girth, weight, thickness, and circumference. Hmmmm. February 10th, 2022 2058 Hours Casey’s quarters were an efficiency studio with kitchenette and bathroom. The room was large as befitted a huge muscleboy, but somehow with the lighting and the sofas and the pillows – and the posing dais with all the mirrors, and lighting just so– it was still cozy. It was all concrete, everywhere, true but Casey had tried to enliven it with an LED TV, a computer, some stuffed animals and a few plants. There were dozens of books in a study bookshelf. A small private terrace just beyond double glass sliding doors and dark with night gave a beautiful view of the bright stars above. The terrace walls were high and covered with ivy. No one would be able to see Casey sunbathing naked in the late afternoon sun. Sam could envision him spread out on the extra-durable steel chaise longue, his 12” soft cock languidly lying atop a ripped quad. Sam could see Casey watering his few little plants, desperately trying to keep them alive. A lonely boy’s room. It was sweet and sad. Lonely and alone. No muscleman this beautiful should ever be alone. “Want some coffee? Water? A beer? Juice?” he asked eagerly. Sam wondered if he ever had any visitors at all. Sam nodded. “Sure, that would be great.” Casey headed towards the darkened kitchenette and snapped the light on. Sam’s eyes followed his round, rock-hard tightly jeaned ass swaying as he went with its own inner rhythm. It was like dancing steel. “You have coffee?” Casey nodded, pulled an instant coffee jar from a cabinet, and filled a cup with hot water from the sink. “Yeah. Got it. Milk? Sugar?” “Just black. I see you have beer? I thought caffeine and alcohol were supposed to be bad for you.” “Naw. We can eat and drink anything. It won’t show up.” He stirred the coffee. “Come on in here,” he gestured. “Get it while it’s hot.” It sure as shit is, thought Sam. He came into the kitchenette. “Yeah, we can eat or drink anything. We just train it out. We’re gonna look like this for years. Except maybe we’ll get bigger.” He handed the cup to Sam. “Have a seat,” he offered, and Sam sat down at a small round table in the kitchenette. He looked back at the books in the shelf. “Looks like you work hard.” “I have to. I’m not as smart as the others. I’m pretty dumb, really. I don’t understand half of what’s in them books.” He corrected himself. “Those books. Coffee okay?” Sam sipped, nodded. “Fine.” It tasted terrible. Casey sat down at the little table with Sam. His heavy shoulders and pecs loomed over the table surface. He folded his big hands together and leaned in slightly, shy but – determined – about – what? Sam noticed there were slight tears in the tight sleeves of the t-shirt, still straining to cover the massive biceps. Casey followed Sam’s gaze. “Those guns are pretty impressive,” Sam said. Casey nodded, solemnly, without smiling. “They’re big. Not the biggest in the barracks, but close. They’ve always been big. 26 inches. Moster’s are bigger. Gunst’s too, I think, but I’m getting close to him. I think mine are harder than his, though.” “Impressive.” There was a long pause. “Would it be okay if I flexed for you?” Casey asked shyly. Sam sipped his coffee. “Sure, let’s see what you got.” October 21st, 2021 1843 Hours As he sucked, licked and played with the Arab dick, Casey became intrigued with the latticework of heavy veins that lined Abdul’s lower abs. Hmmm, he thought. Rough. Masculine. Ripped. He thought for a moment of Ramon Ramon, and then Miles Donovan. Maybe he could take a trip back to Raw Weight Gym sometime soon. Suck their dicks, too. In fact, there was also Banks, and Taylor, and the other cadets who wanted to touch and worship him. In fact, there was a whole world of cock waiting for him now. And who was going to say No to a kid as big and muscular and good looking as he was? Casey was, in fact, still discovering his own power. Looking down the line of men waiting, all of them hard and hot, he could see Gunst was next. Looking up, he saw that Abdul was now posing for him, doing a front lat spread, his fists buried in solid obliques. “Yeah, pose for me, big man,” muttered Casey, who continued to suck. “You pose for me, and then I’ll pose for you, and you’ll suck MY dick.” “Fuck you,” said Abdul. “Yeah, and I’ll do that, too,” replied Casey. February 10th, 2022 2058 Hours Casey didn’t need for Sam to prompt him further. He was ready to flex. Joyfully, he stood, towering over Sam. He slowly brought up his right arm, extended it, made a fist, and flexed. “Ka-boom!” he shouted. He flexed it again. “Wham! Bam!” The powerful peaks rose to the ceiling, pumping with sheathed veins. The tear in the shirt sleeve cloth widened a little more, the threads straining to cover the cannonball peak. Then he brought up the left arm, cocked the fist, and flexed it as well. Then he flexed both together, in a massive front double biceps display. “Pow Pow Pow Pow,” he added, whispering now, his gaze never leaving Sam’s face. “Look at my biceps. Check out these huge mother fucking guns.” He was whispering low, his face a foot away from Sam's. Sam gazed. In truth, he had never seen such muscle before. But still he seemed calm. The tendons of Casey’s forearms spasmed as if charged with electricity, and veins seemed to audibly pop as the heads of each biceps peaked. Casey clenched his fists powerfully and grinned, showing teeth. Then he grew shy again. A pause. “What do you think of me?” he asked timidly, still flexing mammoth biceps. “I think you’re fucking unreal.” Casey nodded seriously. “Yeah, I am.” He turned and inspected his flexed arm muscles closely. “26 inches. I have dense muscle fibers,” he reported. “And, um, good bones.” There was silence for a moment. Sam sat still, watching the unwavering young muscleman flexing his biceps. After a minute, Casey looked up, and brought his right arm closer to Sam. “You can touch it,” Casey said eagerly. “Feel how hard it is.” “Okay,” Sam said calmly. He rose to his feet, brought his hand up and touched the enormous biceps head with his fingers. It was impossibly hard and hot. He looked into Casey’s blue eyes, and smiled. Then he clapped the mountainous biceps full with his palm. He stroked, softly and more thoughtfully. In spite of himself his eyes grew wide for a moment. He had never felt any part of any man to be so hard to the touch. It was as if he was stroking hot, smooth iron. Casey looked at Sam a moment, then turned away, lowering his arm. He pulled a 5-gallon aluminum thermos from the refrigerator, unscrewed the top, and drank heavily. Sam watched him. He drank about a gallon, water running down his beautiful scruffy chin, then stopped, and held out the bottle for him. “Distilled water. Want some?” “I’m good.” “Okay.” He drank the another 2 gallons while Sam watched. “Sit down,” said Sam. “Thanks,” said Casey, as if he were the guest. He sat. Both men sat at the table. Casey wiped his mouth. “Hang on a minute,” Casey suddenly said. He reached into the kitchen table drawer and brought out a little vial. He shook out three capsules, grabbed his water bottle and swallowed them down, drinking the last gallon. Sam smiled. “Drugs?” Casey smiled back. “Just some P21.” He paused again. “Wait a minute while I get an orange.” He got up and walked across the room to a bowl of fruit. He grabbed an orange and chowed it down whole, without bothering to peel it. Then he smiled. “Okay, I’m ready,” he said. October 21st, 2021 1845 Hours “Pay attention. Lick it,” Abdul commanded, and Casey licked Abdul’s lengthy shaft from base to tip, as he would an ice cream cone. “Balls,” Abdul added, and Casey leaned in and turned his head up into the man’s perineum, the massive log now lying hard and lazy on his face, extending from jaw to hairline, gobbling at the leathery scrotum sacs that hung and swayed, slapping against Abdul’s iron muscled quads. Lolling the cock around in his mouth, Casey glanced up. The men were gathered around him now. Waiting, their pants still buckled, their flies up, bulging, waiting their turn. Waiting. 17 more cocks, all huge, bobbing, erect, ready to be tasted, probed, learned. His head was reeling now. The P21 was zinging about in his system. It was, after all, an aphrodisiac (although in truth, Casey wouldn’t have known the word). Wow, thought Casey. I like this. I really, really like this. No, 18 cocks. For there he was, in line, at the end, waiting. The monster cock. Sergeant Moster. Moster’s monster. “Moster has a monster….” Casey began to giggle. “Get serious and keep sucking,” commanded Abdul. “Yes, sir,” said Casey. The P21 was still kicking in. Even as Abdul pulled out, shooting thick rivers of white Arab cream, his blasting cum covering Casey’s face, and Blankenship stepped up for his turn, his own monster machine pushing through Casey’s lips, Casey knew he wanted it, too. “AUUUGHHHHNNN GGGHHH!!” cried Abdul, his mammoth pole shooting ropes of semen onto Casey’s face. Casey received the facial calmly. It felt warm and wonderful. He didn’t bother to wipe it off. Cum streamed down his face. Badge of honor. He wanted them all to line up to suck his cock. Now. It was as if Moster was reading his mind. “You’ll have to wait your turn, boy. Before you get your cock sucked in this squad, first you have to suck all of ours.” Casey shrugged. “Okay,” he said, and a moment later, his mouth was full of Blankenship’s ploughing, plundering machine. And on either side of him, Chad and LeFevre were now rubbing their protruding trouser bulges on his traps, impatiently awaiting their turns. He could also barely make out between Blankenship’s hip plunges that Lang was on his knees now, feverishly servicing Alvarez. Obviously Lang couldn’t wait. Okay. It was fine with him. It was all good. He looked up. Blankenship was closest to him, flexing biceps now. Wow, Casey thought. But mine are bigger. Wait till he sucks my cock. Behind Blankenship stood Gunst, eagerly awaiting his turn. Gunst’s cock was one he was looking forward to. He rapidly finished up on Blankenship, bringing him to climax, and then pushing him out of the way, grabbed for Gunst, who, surprised, came forward awkwardly. “Give me your dick, big man,” said Casey. “And let me see those big guns of yours.” Gunst began to flex huge biceps, as Casey took the giant cock in his mouth and began to chow down on it. Wow. Even bigger than Abdul’s. February 10th, 2022 2100 Hours Casey had oiled his arms up just before he met Sam in the corridor. He knew he wanted to show his biceps to the handsome young officer. It was as if he knew Sam would be coming. An instinct. From across the lab earlier that evening he’d seen the gleam in Sam’s eye, saw the once-over that was a little different, saw the stare Sam couldn’t cover at his large package. He knew there would be deep-throating going on before the evening was over. He could hardly wait. But first, he had oiled his biceps. “Play with then. G’wan. Feel my biceps. Have some fun with them. You know you want to.” Casey raised his fists higher and took a step closer. Sam could feel his breath. Sam brought up both his hands, and ran them along the flexed biceps of both Casey’s arms. He clapped the hard peaks, smacked the left forearm, and ran his fingers along a network of thick veins. Casey moved a little closer still. He brought his left arm right up under Sam’s nose. “…….why don’t you lick it…..?” he murmured. Sam gazed into Casey’s eyes. His gaze was mild, unthreatening, encouraging, hopeful, but firm. He wanted his biceps licked. Sam slowly leaned in, his eyes never leaving Casey’s and lightly flicked the biceps head with his tongue. Casey’s eyes closed and he inhaled gallons of air, heavily heaving forward. Then…… R-r-r-i-i-i-i-p-p-p! That was all it took – the touch of Sam’s tongue. Each of the straining sleeves of his t-shirt gave way, and tore open wide. Casey’s biceps burst free of their final confine, both gleaming with power. Sam licked the peaks, ran his tongue firmly up and down mountains of muscle, tasting dusky mineral oil. A droplet of moisture streamed slowly down the left peak. Sam licked it up. “Your shirt’s going,” he said quietly. “Fuck it,” said Casey. The fabric stretched to its maximum length, and split again in six different places, drifting gently down his torso and hanging at his belt. Casey tore off the remnants of the shredded t-shirt and blasted into a front lat spread. “It’s gone. I go through a lotta shirts this way.” "I'm sure of it." “I wanna keep posing for you.” “Go for it.” “Stand back then.” Casey started reeling off poses. First, he showed off his 60” chest in six different ways - front lat spread, most muscular, side chest left and right, crab shots, and slow pec dancing. "Boom Boom Boom Boom," he yelled out proudly as his pecs leaped and danced. His nipples were taut and high and hard. He wriggled and slapped his quads, still encased in the skintight white jeans. He turned full around and went into a lat spread, hands on his hips. “Watch this,” he commanded. His lats flared wider than seemed humanly possible. He arched his butt towards the ceiling and threw his head back, and every tendon of his back leaped out. Veins criss-crossed the canvas of his physique. Sam resisted a momentary impulse to fall to his knees and bury his face in his glorious butt. Somehow he restrained himself. Casey turned back front. “Doin’ hair now,” he said, cocking one biceps up and palming the back of his head with the other arm. Sam laughed. “You’re too young to remember Tom Platz.” Aha. In an instant, Casey got it. This dude knows who Tom Platz is. The dude likes muscle. Casey covered well. “I know who he was! He was awesome! "BAM!” Casey flexed his biceps. “You’ve never seen guns like this!” His enormous muscles danced, gleaming brilliantly in the bright kitchen light. Sam saw the look in Casey’s eye, and knew in a flash that he’d blown his cover. He was a muscle worshipper, too. Shit. Still, he covered well. “How about a little more oil there?” “Sure!” Casey said eagerly, secretly overjoyed. A worshipper! WOW. He whipped open a cabinet door and produced a large bottle of mineral oil. “Pour it on me, baby!” Sam stood and smiling, slowly unscrewed the bottle cap. He poured a generous amount of oil into his palm, and began to apply to Casey’s pecs. Casey brought his hands back to his hips and expanded his chest to its fullest size. Sam smoothed the oil onto the muscle boy. Beneath his hand he could feel Casey’s heart beating, the blood pulsing, the unyielding hardness of warm muscle. He rubbed the oil in. Casey’s pecs glistened, and droplets of sweat beaded into the mixture. Sam poured more oil and layered it onto to his rocky washboard abs. He smoothed the liquid evenly, then rubbed his hands together and took hold of the flaring lats, running his hands down Casey’s obliques. Sam glanced down at Casey’s jeans. The looming fly was beginning to bulge even larger. The men’s eyes met. Casey’s face colored a little. He was embarrassed. “Sorry, man,” he said. “Getting oiled always works me up.” He reached down to his crotch, squatted a little, pushing his big butt out, and adjusted himself. His face was bright red now. He explained. “These pants are too tight. Zaftig made us wear them tonight. Usually we’re just in jocks. Or posers. They’re made specially just for us. So we can fit everything in them.” He was breathing heavily, now, and though he felt slightly humiliated that his priapic eagerness was showing so clearly. All the same he was happy and satisfied that things were going so well. He had gotten to show Sam his muscles up close before the other guys did, and without getting caught. He flexed again his biceps and stood back. “I like doing that,” he said. “Go right ahead.” “Okay!” He flexed a few moments more, and then stopped. “So what do you want to know?” he asked happily. He looked down. “Sorry about the hard on.” There was no hiding it now. “It’s okay. You’re young. It’s bound to happen. Not a problem. Pull your pants down.” “Yeah?” asked Casey happily. “Yeah. I know you big bodybuilders love to pull your pants down, keep them over your ankles, waddle around with your pants over your big feet, showing off your quads…” “Okay!” Casey was practically singing with joy at the prospect of showing this handsome new guy, a guy he’s just met and already was swooning for, his huge muscles. “And my hams, wait until you see my hams…..” he crooned as he pulled his pants down to his ankles. October 21st, 2021 1900 Hours Casey looked down the row of waiting musclemen, shifting nervously, eagerly from foot to foot, and saw that Moster would come last – that implacable huge mountain of a member would be the last of the evening to maraud his throat. He closed his eyes and dreamed as Gunst let loose with a cascade of gism down his throat. Casey swallowed every drop. And was on to the next, who, it happened, was Chad. Followed by LeFevre. Together the two men plunged their cocks down Casey’s throat at the same time. He’d been sucking cock twenty minutes now, on his knees, his face thick with cum deposits, now and then flexing his own huge biceps while he sucked, now and then switching back and forth to Schumacher and Waring. The men watched intently. Casey pulled back and called out to Moster. “Tell them all to pull their pants down. Now. Around their ankles. Keep them down. I want to see their quads. And their hams.” He licked his lips, then wiped his hands on his cheeks and lapped up the cum. He grinned. It was even in his eyes. He didn’t care. “You heard him, men,” called out Moster from the back of the line. He unzipped and plunged his pants down to his ankles. All unzipped. Pants around ankles. Huge quads blazing with veins. And thick cocks, erect, lining up, down the row, one after another. Even Tiffany’s. And even Tiffany’s was huge. And beautiful. “Yeah, lookin’ good,” Casey mumbled, licking his Chad’s cock now. “Take ‘em both, boy,” Chad growled, his good humor vanished. “Yes, sir,” said Casey, sucking obediently. His knees were beginning to hurt. He reached down to rub them, and in an instant, the sweet-hearted Eli Meyer, from the back of the line, was suddenly there at his side with a pillow, which he got from God knew where, fluffing and arranging. He tapped the top of Casey’s quads and, one knee at a time, and never breaking his suck rhythm, Casey lifting each leg and allowed the pillow to be slid under his aching, bruised knees. Eli rose and Casey saw his bobbing cock, eye to eye. “Wanna thank you,” he muttered. He reached up and tousled his hair. He could see Eli was hoping for service. Casey pushed Chad and LeFevre roughly away and grabbed Eli by the hips, pulling him close. “Unzip,” he commanded, forming the words clearly so that Eli could read his lips. He unzipped and his eager, big young muscleboy penis spilled out. Casey’s mouth enveloping his now-at-attention rigid cock. Chad and LeFevre grumbled angrily but backed off, impressed by Casey’s determination. He was done with them. “Maybe we should have gotten him the pillow?” “It’s okay,” said LeFevre as he knelt before Chad and finished the job, grabbing Chad’s cock and enveloping it with his lips. He pumped himself to release as Chad shot in his mouth. “AUUUGHHHGGGHHH FUCCCKKK!!” Casey paid no attention. He worked Eli to a frenzied climax in no time. Thick spurts of cum travelled down his throat. An instant later, there was Obatu’s big black rod, marauding his mouth. “Keep those pants down around your ankles,” Casey commanded. “I wanna see quads. And bulges.” “Yes, sir,” answered one of the men. Probably Lang. “You heard the boy. Pants down. Around the ankles. Keep those cocks covered till he’s ready for you,” ordered Moster. “It’s what the boy likes,” he added. All the while, Dr. Irving’s video cam continued to whirr. Dr. Shaft will pay major bucks for this tape, thought Moster with some satisfaction. Thousands. Casey finished with Obatu, cumming in his mouth, sperm dribbling down Casey’s chin into big pools on the pillow beneath his knees. “AUUUGHHHGGGHHH shittttt!!” "Glad you enjoyed it," said Casey. "Next?" The line moved forward one more man. Moster’s turn was coming up soon. February 10th, 2022 2115 Hours Sam stood back and smiled, still breathing hard himself from the posing routine he had just witnessed. The kid was charming. Was it an act? Had to be. No matter. Casey was right. His hamstrings were sick. Back-blooming with thick roiling mounds of sheer striated muscle, in line with his rock hard butt, sweeping past the back of his head, thick and solid and bursting. But everything about the swole, beautiful young muscle beast was sick. And swole. Sam caught his breath. Casey was sweating now, standing before him in only his bulging posers, his pants still around his ankles. Sam decided to play it calm. “So. How long have you lived here?” “Three years.” Casey was breathing heavily, trying to seem casual, but with his swelling penis smoothing out the few folds that were in his posers, poling ever outward, it was increasingly impossible. “I think give or take, 3 years. Um. I don’t remember. Seems like forever. I got here when I was 17. But I only moved up the hill here a few months ago. When they thought I was big enough.” “When they thought you were big enough.” “Yeah.” “I see.” “Had a really tough workout tonight before the showing. Let’s see. Got here three years ago. I think.” He put the bottle down and started counting on his fingers, thinking hard. “Zaftig first spotted me when I was 15. I just got thrown out of school. I had nowhere to go. He told me to start training heavier, and he got me a little apartment. He paid me to train, said he wanted to see where I would be in two years.” He ticked off a finger. “I trained hard on my own for two years. When I was17, um, yeah, when I was 17, I finally met Zaftig. And that’s when he moved me here to the mountain.” “Why were you thrown out of school?” “Fighting.” He picked up the bottle and drank again. “I put about 12 guys in the hospital one night.” “I see.” “They were laughing at my dick.” “Uh hunh.” Casey changed the subject. “Zaftig thought I had real potential. But there were a few guys ahead of me. One or two dropped out of the program. A few got promoted into ranks. Once I got here, I started really training, training hard. Day and night. Had to follow a strict regimen.” “Sounds tough.” “Naw. I like it. I mean, what else can I do? Not much. I’m dumb.” Casey chugged the last of the 5 gallons. Sam watched him silently. He put the empty bottle down and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “I mean, yeah, it’s tough, but not so much when you love lifting like I do.” “Tell me about it. Tell me more about you.” “Hunh? Really? You want to know about me?” “Sure.” October 21st, 2021 1940 Hours Tiffany’s session had come and gone as fast as Casey could get the mean little muscleboy to cum. In his mouth, as it happened. Now Moster stood in front of Casey. It was finally his turn. All the men leaned in to watch. “Men, dismissed,” Moster said calmly. “Casey, to the showers.” The men looked at each other, stunned and perplexed. Abdul grumbled and walked quietly out of the room. He would head for the heavy bag room first and once he’d worked up a sweat, then find Pedro again. “Let’s go pose,” said Lang to Alvarez after a moment. “Yeah. Let’s go.” The two left the room. All filed out, a little perplexed. “Ain’t he even gonna spank him?” Hension asked plaintively as they left the gym floor. “How many times do you have to be told, don’t say ‘ain’t’,” barked Obatu, clapping him on the back of the head. “Ouch!” “Hit him in the face and he’s yours forever,” said Chad. Casey heard the men roaring as they headed down the hall. He wiped some of the cum off his face. Damn, every time he met with these guys he walked away coated with cum. Stlll, it tasted good. Damn good. He wiped his cheek and licked his fingers. “That was fun!” Already Casey recognized Blankenship’s voice. The laughing subsided as the men moved away down the hall. Yeah, Casey thought, it was. He had to agree. “Casey? The showers.” “Yes, sir.” He got up and turned to go, wiping his face and mouth with a towel. Eli scrambled to get the cum-covered pillow, which he threw at Dr. Irving, getting cum all over his lab coat before scampering out of the room, grabbing his clothes. Moster watched as the harried Irving packed up the camera and the lights and left the room, wiping his coat and muttering angrily as he left. What came next Casey couldn’t quite believe. “I’ll join you in the shower in 10 minutes. Get ready for me.” Casey turned back and stared. Moster had crossed to his desk and reached into a drawer for a small vial. He was taking a handful of white caps. He smiled up at Casey. “My guess is that you need a little more intro into what we do here. To relax. Go ahead, Casey. Showers.” “The showers……” Casey repeated dumbly. “Yes. Hit the showers. I’ll join you. I think I need one, too.” Moster stretched, raised his arms behind his back, rotated his massive torso. In his trousers his huge organ shifted lazily. Casey gaped a moment at Moster. “You need a …..?” “A shower. Yes.” “With…..just me?” “I think so. Few things I want to talk about. Privately. Got it?” “Uh….” “Go on then." “Yes, sir!” Casey backed out the door, turned, and and ran down the corridor. Towards the showers. This time, he knew exactly where he was going. February 10th, 2022 2125 Hours Casey was thrilled that an officer as handsome as Ensign Victor was interested in his story. He sat down on the stool opposite Sam and spread his arms out wide. But he paused, perplexed. “What d’ya wanna know?” “Well, do you ever get out?” “Away from here? Sometimes. We’re told to stay away from town, but some of the guys go sometimes. At night. And sometimes we head down to LA.” “LA? Why?” “Some of the men who fund us live there. We show up and demonstrate our progress.” “I see. In a group? All of you at once?” “Occasionally. Usually we, you know, split up. Into smaller groups. And we’re allowed, if we’re discreet, to make private appointments, and we can keep the all money, too.” He stopped, proud. “I’ve made about $30,000. Just in the last six months. They’re keeping it for me.” Sam tried to keep a straight face. “$30,000?” He coughed. “Okay. So ….you hustle?” Casey colored, looked down, and seemed a little mortified. “No, not really. Is it? I guess it is. But some men like to see our muscles in private sessions, and ask us to do….um, things…to them…to show off our strength.” “I can imagine. And they pay you?” “Well, they contribute. And if they want to, um, suck our cocks, or fuck us, or have fuck them, or kiss our buttholes or something, then they have to contribute more.” “Isn’t that hustling?” “Okay, I guess it is. You see, I hadn’t had much experience before then.” “Experience? You mean you’d never had sex with a man before?” “No. Never. Not with anyone. Not until I got here. I still haven’t fucked a girl. They won’t let me. I want to, I guess. I mean, if she likes muscles, I mean, why not? But no, no sex. Not before I got here. But …then…after that – WOW. Like, every day! And I like sucking cock, I guess. And fucking. And I really like fucking tight bubblebutts. And I go nuts when I get worshipped. When littler guys, like you, tell me how big I am. How strong. How muscular. When guys….” He stopped, suddenly mortified. The words had come out in a rush. Maybe he was revealing too much. But Sam was calm. “Go on.” He plunged back in. “I just go crazy. You see…” he paused, now completely beet red with embarrasment, “getting my cock sucked while guys talk about my muscles takes me to……another planet, I guess. I lose all control.” “How?” Sam’s tone was warm, understanding. “I……I guess I get mean. Happy. Nasty. Mean. I mean, I like it. No, that’s not right. I crave it. I crave getting my cock sucked. And I like to show them how strong I am. You know, throw them around a bit. Pick them up. Carry them around, throw them down on the floor, step on them, sit on them. Sit on their faces. It’s easy. And they pay more, too.” Sam leaned in, his voice sympathetic. “You sit on them?” “Yeah….” Casey’s voice was low. “Tell me all about it,” he said. “Okay,” said Casey. He thought back. “It started when they made me start to suck cock. To see if I liked it. And….I did. I do.” And he remembered back to that first night – when he’d first sucked cock. When he’d first sucked all of their cocks, as it happened. He leaned in, and began to talk. How exciting it all was at first…but then how he longed for something more. He knew he could trust Ensign Victor. Sam was, after all, a muscle worshipper. And Casey was close to the best there was. Casey had long dreamed of his very own muscle worshipper. The legend that bodybuilders are aloof and don’t want to be worshipped? Bullshit. Bodybuilders wanted their very own private worshippers just as much as muscle schmoes wanted bodybuilders. If Casey knew anything at all, he knew that. He’d learned it in LA. And now he was going to tell Sam all about it. And then tell Sam that he knew just exactly what he was. And Sam, of course, was all ears, all solicitation and comfort. Even as he felt his own excitement growing. He felt his cock, too, burgeoning in his trousers, until he didn’t think he could stand it much more. But of course, he’d have to stand it. At least until Casey was finished talking. And so, Sam listened. Patiently, as it happened. And Casey talked and talked. As Sam’s cock got stiffer and stiffer.

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

The Price is Buff - Showcase Finale by F_R_Eaky Part One Rebroadcast here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/8421-the-price-is-buff/ Part Two Rebroadcast here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/8471-the-price-is-buff-second-half/ "Welcome back to the Price is Buff. I'm Brian Kean. This is the Showcase Showoff section of our show, where we'll have James who won our first Showcase Showdown bidding against Vuk to see who can win their particular showcase. Let's see what they are. Johnny what do we have?" "Well, the first Showcase is.... A Day at the Gym! "The first thing you need in order to have a day at the gym is a gym to attend. That's why we're giving you a premium membership to one of the oldest and most established gyms across the country - GOLD'S GYM!" "Ooooooooh" [clap clap clap clap clap] "You get a five year membership to you hometown Gold's Gym as well as VIP access to any of the one hundred Gold's Gym across the country. Included with the package is enrollment to any specific classes being held. No need to sign up, just show up. As well instant entry to any of Gold's special events for challenging or charitable works throughout each year of your membership. [Clap clap clap clap clap] "Next on those odd or off days when you need to focus on your workout alone, it's a new home weight set!" "AAAAAAHHhhhhhh" [clap clap clap clap clap] "New Rogue weight set & bench comes with squat stand, multi grip bar, pull up bar, adjustable bench, bar & bumper set, vertical plate tree, and up to three-hundred and fifty pounds of weights. New Rogue weight set to get you in shape. [clap clap clap clap clap] "Now that you have that smoking hot bod, you need to show it off in style as you put your muscles through their workout. That is why you need this.... Under Armor Fitness Clothes!" "Ooooaaaaaaah!" [clap clap clap clap clap] "You'll get a four week supply of New Under Armor Clothes: UA Cold Gear Armour Crew, Short Sleeve T Shirts, Leggings, Shorts, Boxer Jock, and even a Stretch Fit Cap. Available in an array of colors to fit your style and show off every bulge of muscle you've sculpted. [clap clap clap clap clap] "And to ensure that you fuel that hot bod with the correct foods you should use this brand new juicer and outdoor grill set!" "WHOAAAAA!" [clap clap clap clap clap] "First it's the Omega J8006 Nutrition Center Juicer. Black and Chrome Easy-to-use masticating juicer with powerful motor. Low speed of 80 RPMs; no foaming, clogging, or heat build-up with 110 volt. High juice yield; auto pulp-ejection function for continuous juicing Dual-stage juicing system; quiet operation; Measures 14-1/2 by 6-1/2 by 15-1/2 inches; 15-year warranty. The juicer screen is already installed in the juicer. "Second it's the Lynx 36-Inch All ProSear Outdoor Grill!" [clap clap clap clap clap] "This 304 stainless steel propane mack daddy is a beautiful tool for the serious grill master. One or all three of its main burners (boasting 69,000 BTUs) can be infrared based on your personal prejudices, its main and secondary cooking areas combine for 935 square inches of grilling area and a three-speed rotisserie enables slow roasting. On wheels, it’s a machine to make backyard party-goers tremble — and salivate. [clap clap clap clap clap] "Now that you have made the outside of your personal temple look so good, you need to make sure it's running smoothly and very well on the inside, so be sure to take some male enhancement formula!" "Ooooooooh" [clap clap clap clap clap] " A two year supply of ASOX9 Male Enhancement Formula chock full of ingredients to help fuel your testosterone, libido, and virility. Tongkat Ali Extract, Maca Extract, L-Arginine, Ginseng, Zinc Oxide), Oyster Extract and Boron, (Amino Acid), Sarsaparilla (root) Extract, Muira Pauma (Bark) Extract, and other ingredients all help boost sperm quality & sperm count, stimulate blood flow to the penis, improving your sexual performance by increasing sexual desire, endurance, and energy. [clap clap clap clap clap] "Of course once you have gotten that serious pump, you'll want to show it off and possibly compete so we're giving you Gold VIP Passes to the Mr. Olympia contest!" "ooooOOOOOOOOoooooo" [clap clap clap clap clap] "We'll fly you and one guest, round trip, out to Las Vegas, Nevada via Southwest Airlines to stay at the beautiful Orleans Hotel & Casino in the Deluxe Suite with King sized bed. A five night/ five day stay to see the Olympia Press Conference, Meet & Greet with the Olympians, Weekend Expo, Judging & Finals for Fitness Olympia, Figure Olympia, Bikini Olympia, Women's Physique, Men's Physique, 212 Showdown, as well as Mr. Olympia itself, Victory Gala and Sunday's Superstar Seminar. [clap clap clap clap clap] "Of course we also understand that workouts are always more achievable if one has a workout partner, so as a bonus prize we'll give you this certificate entitling one person of your choice, family or friend, to win duplicates of half of the gifts you've won today. [clap clap clap clap clap] "And this showcase featuring a day at the gym could be yours if the Price is Buff!" "Ok, thank you, Johnny. We're going to turn first to Vuk, as he was the largest value winner between him and James. So, Vuk tell me, would you like to bid on this showcase or pass it on to James?" Vuk stared out into the audience trying to see Connor, but he couldn't due to the rest of the crowd jumping up and towering over him. He tried to think quickly on if he should be on this showcase or not. Usually the second presented showcase was always better, especially if the first one seemed a bit bland. However, they stuck the bonus gift in this one, and it was one where he could share with Connor some of what he would win. "Come on, Vuk. I need to know what you're going to do. Bid or pass?" "Uhmmmm....I think.....Brian.....I.....will....... pass." Vuk's heart sunk nearly as low as Connor's did when the words came out of his mouth. Why did he say that? Did he want to just the rewards of all this stuff himself? Was he going to leave Connor so far behind after all these years of support? "Alright, James. Vuk has passed this showcase on to you. I need to know what your bid is. Remember, the bonus gift doesn't count as part of your showcase, although you will win it. Calculate your price guess without that in mind. What is your bid?" "Uhm....." James scoured the audience for his friends and after just a minute of trying to hear them over the rest of the crowd, bent forward to his microphone and said, "Uh...... Twenty Six hundred, Brian." "Twenty Six hundred? Do you mean that as two thousand six hundred...." "No! No no no that's twenty thousand, six hundred dollars, Brian." "Alright that's twenty thousand, six hundred dollars for James we'll lock that in and see that Vuk's showcase will be this....." "Vuk, your showcase is the day the Avengers attempted to get the Hulk to improve his image!" "Ooooooooh" [clap clap clap clap clap] "First up was Tony Stark, Ironman, who told the Hulk that what women really went for was a sharp dressed man. That's why he needed to ditch the torn jeans and get..... New Clothes from Casual Male XL Big & Tall Men's store!" "Awwwwwwwwww" [clap clap clap clap clap] "A week's worth of sharp new, well fitted clothes for the extremely tall, barreled, or built man, or any giant combination in between. Polos , T-shirts, Shawl-Collar Fleece Pullovers, Dress Shirts, Dress Pants, Jeans, Shorts in array of fashionable colors and styles to help keep the biggest of men looking runway ready. [clap clap clap clap clap] "But here comes Steve Rogers, Captain America, who tells Ironman that he's slightly off base. It didn't matter how good his clothing looked as long as he was still running around barefoot. What the hulk needed was Big Boated Shoes!" "ooooOOOOOooooo" [clap clap clap clap clap] " Two pairs each of Big Boated Shoes in styles of Tennis Shoes, Dress Shoes, Sandals, and House Slippers, not only in array of styles and colors, but in sizes for the big footed man! When your large dogs need protection, put on your boats! Big Boated Shoes. [clap clap clap clap clap] "Laughter filled the air as Black Widow approached them all and said that it didn't matter what the clothes or shoes were that the hulk wore, but how his skin and hair were taken care of and that he should get this Skin-Hair care and tanning set from Gardnier & Suave!" "Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa" [clap clap clap clap clap] "A year's supply of Gardnier Pure Clean Shampoo, Pure Clean Conditioner, Power Putter Surfer Hair Gel, Clean & Purifying Skin Cleanser and Moisture Rescue Refreshing Gel Cream. A line of products made to help treat and condition hair or skin with natural fruity ingredients like Acerola Berry, Citrus, Taurine, Grapefruit, and Pomegranate. Antioxidants help ensure these products won't dry out one's skin or hair or strip it of nutrients it needs to stay healthy. Get the clear and smooth skin and surfer like hair style you want with Gardnier. "Also from Suave Visible Glow Self Tanning Lotion. Enjoy an even, natural-looking tan anytime by simply using Visible Glow self-tanning daily body lotion. The formula’s subtle self-tanners gradually provide a streak-free experience that gives your skin just the right amount of color, but not in shades of green. Plus, the rich, hydrating formula moisturizes your skin for 24 hours. Available for “Fair to Medium” and “Medium to Tan” skin tones. [clap clap clap clap clap] "Next came Clint Barton, Hawkeye. He pointed out that what good was it to be well dressed, have great shoes, and nice hair and skin, when one still looked so largely out of proportioned. He needed to tone his size down by appearing in furniture that catered to his size, such as this new living room set from Ashley Furniture!" [whispers whispers whispers clap clap clap clap clap] "This Wilcot 4 Piece Loveseat Sectional is sophisticated and comfortable, and is a perfect fit for large gathering places like the Hulk's living room. Designed for supreme comfort, with premium UltraPlush seat cushions bolstered by loose back cushions and decorative pillows. Classic roll arms and plush chenille upholstery soften the seating. Includes 4 pieces: left-arm facing loveseat, armless loveseat, wedge and right-arm facing corner chaise. This set also comes with a Watson Coffee table, two Galveston End tables, and two Shellany Table lamps. [clap clap clap clap clap] "Finally comes Thor, the God of Thunder. He pulls the Hulk aside and let's him know if he really wants to improve his image with the ladies, he's got to show them he knows how to handle his hammer. He also needs to hint at how grand his personal hammer is so that the ladies will clamor to get it. But the hulk should know that most women believe the bigger the man or his vehicle, the smaller the hammer, so he should change down in to Bruce Banner and travel around in this Mini Cooper!" "WHOOOOOOOOOOA!" [clap clap clap clap clap] "This MINI Cooper is the "Hardtop 4-Door" version. Twenty-nine city, forty highway fuel economy, six speed hatchback, with front wheel drive, heated seats, and bluetooth technology. Height adjustable driver seat and passenger seats made of leatherette, remote keyless power door locks, one touch power windows, cruise control, front and rear cup holders, door pockets, electric power steering, tilt and telescopic steering wheel, audio and cruise controls on steering wheel, four speakers, AM/FM stereo, and Auxiliary audio input and USB with external media control are some of the special and unique features that make this small car a joy to drive and show off in. "And this showcase where the Avengers helped the Hulk or rather now Bruce Banner, could be yours... if the Price is Buff!" "Alright, thank you, Johnny. We come back now to Vuk. Vuk, what would you like to bid on that showcase?" Once again Vuk tried to look out to Connor, but Connor was kind of miffed at him and he continued to stay seated. With people trying to scream various prices at him or catch his attention, Vuk closed his eyes and desperately tried to figure out a guestimate price on all the things offered to him and thus a possible price of the showcase. "We need your answer, Vuk." "Uhm.... okay... alright...Brian.... I'm going to say.... uh.....twenty-seven thousand...." [OH NO! NO! TO HIGH! TO LOW! NO NO NO NO!] "Uhm....twenty-seven thousand, three-hundred dollars." [DING!] "And there is Vuk's bid at twenty-seven thousand, three-hundred dollars. We'll be right back to see who wins , right after this....." Vuk felt heartbroken. He was nearly ready to cry. His best friend, the man he just proclaimed as boyfriend, has felt betrayed by him. There was a gold opportunity for both of them to walk out of there taller, stronger, buffer, more virile and hung, and he passed on that opportunity to share. Why did he feel the need to pass? Was he even going to win now? Vuk thought about his bid and began to shake. He was positive he wasn't close. He was either over or he was thousands of dollars off base. James was going to win; he wasn't going to get anything extra all. "Ok....welcome back to the final of the Price is Buff, the Showcase Showoff. We start with James here who had to bid of the showcase passed to him by Vuk. The showcase of a Day at the Gym... James has bid twenty thousand, six hundred dollars. Actual retail price is... ... ...twenty -thousand , five-hundred forty-three dollars. You've gone over.... [bUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUM] ".... by a total of fifty seven dollars. Soooo sorry, James. Now we come to Vuk. Vuk all you have to do is not go over and you'll win your showcase. You made a bid on the Improve Hulk's looks showcase with a bid of twenty-seven thousand, three-hundred dollars. Actual price is... ... ... Twenty-seven thousand, four-hundred thirty dollars.... a difference of.... [DING] "One-hundred thirty dollars!" [WHOOOOP WHOOOOOOO WHOOOOP WHOOOOOOOO WHOOOOP WHOOOOOOOO!] "YOU WIN BOTH SHOWCASES!" "WHAT?!" "YOU'VE GUESSED THE RETAIL PRICE WITHIN TWO-HUNDRED FIFTY DOLLARS AND THEREFORE HAVE WON BOTH OF THE SHOWCASES!" "I.... I DID WHAT?!" "YOU'VE WON BOTH, VUK! GET ON DOWN THERE AND TAKE A LOOK AT YOUR WINNINGS!" "OH...MY....GAWD...." [WHOOP WHOOOOOOOOOO WHOOP WHOOOOOOO WHOOP WHOOOOOOOO] "This is Brian Kean remind you to help control the spread of STD's and VD's. If you're not going to practice abstinence it is always much sweeter if you package your peter! Good day and good bye!" [DAT DAT DA DAAAAAAAA WHAAAAAM WHAAAAM DAT DAT DA DAAAAAA WHAAAAAM WHAAAAAAAM DAT DAT DA DADDAT DA DADDAT DAT DAT DA DAHHHH!] "Connor! CONNOR! IT'S MY PRIZE! IT'S OUR PRIZE! CONNOR! COOOOOONNOOOOR!" Vuk scanned the audience as best as he could as he shouted over the music, the siren, and the chanting crowd, while waving at the camera. He couldn't see Connor anywhere. He felt very sad inside, feeling almost certain Connor was sneaking off away, hurt by what Vuk had done. Vuk didn't have much time to think about it. Suddenly there was Brian Kean, the host, grabbing him by the arm, pulling him, and smiling. "Congratulations, Mr. Gavrilovic. I need you to step behind this line right here. Thank you." Very quickly the stage doors for that section of the showcase closed and another set was closing in on the back end of a moving van that pulled right up to him. "What...what is going on? My boyfriend....he..." "Is right here, Mr. Gavrilovic." Just as the walls were forming on the right hand side, there appeared a fairly burly bouncer kind of gentleman who had picked up Connor, obviously with great ease, from the audience and brought him here. He was followed by the same man who came and brought them into the studio in the first place. "Mr. Gavrilovic, we need to know whom you're going to give that bonus prize to? The certificate that will give the recipient duplicates of half of what you won today." Vuk turned and looked at Connor who was still getting over the shock of being plucked out of his seat like some stuffed toy. Connor meanwhile looked like he was coming to from a dream and sour looking expression was coming over his face as he stared at Vuk. Quickly grabbing Connor's hand, Vuk held and squeezed it and said, "He's right here. It's this man. Connor Callinan, my boyfriend." "What... what are you doing, Vuk? What are you talking about?" "Good. In that case I need you, Mr. Gavrilovic to sign these papers at the bottom, while you, Mr. Callinan, sign these two at the bottom." The two young men signed their papers and then handed them back over to the gentleman. "Thank you. This room is off limits and will be completely closed off once I stepped out of it. Don't worry about anyone hearing you or seeing you. The audience leaving and the crew working on tear down won't be able to hear or see a thing or walk in on you." "What?" cried out both Vuk and Connor. "Have a good day and congratulations." The man left, leaving Vuk and Connor to stand there, looking at each other and standing in silence. Both men were in total awe of the difference between them now. Connor still in his small, diminutive 5' tall, thin and skinny frame, looked straight ahead at Vuk and saw that his eye level was only lower level of Vuk's abs as the top of his head only came up to the middle of them. He swallowed hard, seeing not only how tall Vuk was now but how thick with muscle and hair as well. It made his clothes cling very tightly while causing little tufts and spouts of hair to poke out from under hems and openings. His arms although not proportionately as big as any Mr. Olympia were still, due to his height, big and full enough Connor was certain they were as big, if not bigger, than his tiny little waist. Connor's gaze continued to go down...down....stopping first at the slightly-decent bulge in Connor's shorts but then moving on down to the pretty large shoes Vuk was wearing on what would be his new feet. Connor developed as big of woody as his little prick could muster. "Hey!" said Vuk "What?" "You seem distant and upset." "Well, yeah. I thought you forgot about me and went to take on more changes just by yourself when you passed up that first showcase. I thought small, little me wasn't going to matter anymore." "Hey now...." Vuk picked up Connor with excessive ease and cradled him in his arms like most men would cradle a good sized child. "To be honest, I can't tell you why I decided to pass on it. For some reason I just felt that I should. I felt immediately sorry once I did it, but I think I was supposed to pass on it, so that I could win both." "You... won both?" "Yeah... .... .... since I came within two-hundred fifty dollars without going over of the price of my showcase I won both. That's why they had you sign paperwork; I gave you the certificate for winning half of what I've won." "Oh....Vuk! " said Connor as he flung both arms around Vuk's waist and pressed his head into Vuk's abs as best as he could. "I love you." "I love you...oo...ooo ooo....t...t. tt...t..t. t....ooo too." "Vuk?" The lights began to dim and flicker in the area they stood in. Around them the noises of bouncers thanking people for attending and telling them to make their exits or crew with tools making construction sound filled the air. There was also noise coming from inside the back of the moving van as it was loaded, whose cab was in the room they were in, but Vuk didn't seem to notice. There was a look with a mixture of pain and euphoria come over him and suddenly he began to move. The air inside this room began to fill with small little rips and tears. Connor began to feel Vuk's feet push his so he straddled them and watched as they grew bigger and bigger, wider and thicker inside the shoes Vuk was wearing, becoming a skin tight mold of Vuk's ever growing feet. They grew and grew splitting the side seams, pushing through the front of the shoe with ever lengthening and thickening toes. The heel of the shoe simply snapped and burst as the heel of Vuk's foot backed through, out, and over it. Laces were snapping left and right and the feet kept throbbing and growing, getting heavy and meaty. Finally they stopped growing, just shy of being a tile and a half long, which Connor knew were twelve by twelve inches square. But Connor couldn't concentrate on that for long as he felt his arms being carried upward and being pushed out more and more so that he was not going to be able to continue to hold onto Vuk's tight waist line for long. Vuk was growing and growing up and up and up. The hems of his pants and his shirt bottom were riding higher and higher on his frame revealing ankle and then shin, a row and then two of abs along with his belly button. His biceps began to push and roll up the sleeve of his shirt while his shoulders kept oozing out of the sleeves and lifting them up towards his delts and traps. More ripping and tearing sounds were being heard for although he wasn't proportionately gaining any muscle size and strength just yet, the current amount on an increasing in size frame were already beginning to shred Vuk's clothes into nothing but strips of fabric. Pant seams began to split. The button on Vuk's waist band gave way and struck Connor in the chin as it popped off violently. Vuk's pants looked like knickers. His shirt looked like a sleeveless crop top. Both of which were stretched beyond belief against an amateur body building physique, but that wasn't to last long. A moan escaped Vuk's lips and he began to pop and roll his body this way and that. To twist and contort causing each and every single muscle of his body to pop and flex. Every time they did so they swelled just a bit larger. They inflated a bit thicker. They tightened just an ounce harder. Vuk's muscles were growing, swelling, inflating at a frightening rate. The soft sounds of small tears and rips gave way to massive rips that ran down the entire length of fabric. In mere moments collar and sleeve bands were snapped, pant hems broke, back and ass fabric tore asunder and ripped all the way down. The front fabric fibers of the t-shirt tried to cling to each other but they clung to Vuk's ever mounding and barreling chest even better and thus screamed in agony as they were ripped apart. Snaps here, pops there, rips, tears, shreds, as before Vuk's clothes gave up their ghost and then fluttered off of him onto the floor to join the tattered remnants of Vuk's shoes. Connor stared in awe at Vuk. The top of his head now just barely came up over an inch above Vuk's belly button. Connor watched as Vuk's abs rolled and bunched, hunched and crunched forming every larger bulges and deeper cuts in Vuk's abdomen and oblique section. He stared wide eyed as Vuk began to perform squats and then calf raises onto the balls of his feet. He could see Vuk's calves and thighs growing....bigger....Fuller.....THICKER! Growing and growing impossibly large. The calves becoming as large as the thighs. The thighs growing to be as thick as Vuk's waist, each. Connor had to move his feet from outside Vuk's to inside Vuk's feet because Vuk's stance was widening farther and farther until Vuk stood feet shoulder width apart and beyond like some kind of super hero stance. Vuk's arms did no better at staying normal looking. His lats, back, shoulder, traps and delts having grown too long, so round, so thick, so full, they became as wide as Vuk's stance. He didn't have a V shape, he has bracket shape that tapers down into his seriously bricked wall of abdominals that looks like something one would rock climb. But this left his balloon like inflating arms to rise up higher and higher until hanging down, relaxed, they still looked like he was imitated a plane with them damn near parallel with the ground. And they were huge, massive, round, so full and so thick, they almost weren't roundish anymore but almost squarish with so much muscle. His forearms were extremely thick and powerful with all these purplish cables of veins crossing this way and that feeding these growing muscles with what they need to grow and grow more. Connor looked straight up Vuk's abs and saw Vuk's chest inflating, rolling out more and more, mounding up thicker, higher, wider. He saw Vuk's nipples come to rest and point downwards. He saw this boyfriend's face, going....going....going....gone. There was now no way to look straight up Vuk's body and see his face. There was nothing but protruding pec shelf whose cleavage was so deep, Connor was certain he could hid an ax head in there and never see it. Vuk's body just swelled and swelled until he had it.... those exact proportions of the Hulk with dense, impenetrable, everywhere. A muscular body that was covered in thick, feathery hair that mounded and lay over each muscle belly in such a way so as not to hide the muscles but to help further define them. Connor grabbed a hold of Vuk's ass feeling it tighten and expand, harden and bubble out more and more, while he pressed his nose as deep as he could into Vuk's abs and breathed in deeply the rising aroma of musk coming off of Vuk's body. Backing up Connor finally could see Vuk's head as his great column of a neck finished getting taller and thickened out to be as wide as Vuk's head. It was supported and help in place by Vuk's mounding traps which now looked more like a set of encompassing flying buttresses that supported Vuk's ample neck. Vuk tossed his head and a cascade of ebony black, semi-curly hair came rolling off the shoulders, down the pecs, and tickling the upper abs. His features sharpened just a bit more. Cheek bones rose a little higher. Jaw became a little squarer. Chin a little more pronounced. Eyes deeper and more vibrant in color, just like his skin was doing as he became more and more swarthy looking. He was the ebony haired Fabio or Chris Hemsworth only with about three times as much muscle. "oooooh" Vuk's eyes fluttered as he moaned and a slight smile came across his lips. Connor looked down to catch just in time the inflating of Vuk's testicles. Rounder and rounder, fuller and fuller they grew and grew, rising and pushing out Vuk's flaccid cock more and more as they kept on swelling to inhuman proportions. They stopped somewhere in the citrus range of size: lemons, oranges, maybe grapefruit. And now it was the prick's turn as it began to just slowly ooze out of Vuk's groin like a tube of play-dough being pushed through a pump, only this tube not only got longer and longer but got thicker and thicker as well. It finally stopped with the tip of the cock head landing about three-fourths of the way down Vuk's thigh, even despite the fact of having to roll over and off his massive balls. "Oh....my......" Connor said breathlessly as he stopped tracing and digging into every muscle crevice with his tiny and thin fingers. He started to say something but it just kind of fell into a gurgling noise. "Connor?" Once again the sound of small pops and tears filled the air. This time the snapping and ripping was coming from Connor's shoes. Vuk squatted his massive frame down and tilted a little forward to be able to see as Connor's feet began swelling and lengthening, bunching and widening outgrowing his small, small shoes in just a minute or two. Vuk watched as the toes sprang out and the sides ripped the shoes open almost like a can opening taking off the top of a can. He saw as Connor's foot went from dainty and small to large and thick and soon large enough the ankle snapped the foot hole hem and all the laces clean through. Now Vuk began to watch as Connor started to climb and sprout up just like he did only moments ago. Connor was growing and growing from a very short man into an average sized man to a kind of tall man, to a fairly tall man, to a very tall man. His clothing began to strip, pop, rip, shred, tear in every which direction and that: down the back, across the chest, under the arm, bursting the sleeve, snapping the side seams, ripping the crotch, and all because of how tall and just average raw boned he was becoming. The muscle hadn't even started yet. But now it was. Connor began contorting, hunching, bunching, scrunching, flexing, popping in all directions. His muscles were swelling and growing - all of them at the same time! He took a step forward to regain his balance and his muscles swelled. He took another step back and his muscles inflated. A sway and his muscles flexed. Diamonds replaced his calves. Tear drops and cable chords replaced his thighs. Two globes replaced his ass. Cobblestone and tile work covered his midsection. Two mounding half kegs replaced his chest, while bowling balls and medicine balls replaced his deltoids and biceps. His back became some sort of wall while his lats became a giant set of wings to make that wall fly. His forearms looked like ham hocks while his neck became a marble column. Next to any other man, Connor would be behemoth, a giant bodybuilder looking like Hercules or Atlas, but next to Vuk he looked short and like a featherweight. No wonder for his build was pretty much like Vuk's was after his second win, that of an amateur bodybuilder, while Vuk's was like the Hulk's...at his angriest. Suddenly Connor tossed his head and his hair grew out, almost shoulder length and became much more vibrant and rich in its red color. the strawberry-blond was gone replaced with something slightly darker than tiger orange. The color seen in the stripes that are not the black or white on Bengal tigers. That color with slightly lighter high-lights. This fiery hair framed his face and his eyes had become a most brilliant shamrock or clover green that sparkled like jewels. His face became more angular with higher cheek bones, strong jaw and chin, but it was softer in its appearance than what Vuk's face looked like. Connor had the face of a young adult male who still had that boyish face, only it wasn't so boyish with a light, golden fuzz of a five o'clock shadow on his face. His hair came in thick and soft under his arms and over his groin, but very fine over his arms and legs, and just the slightest hint of a love trail mid abs on down. Underneath that hair, Connor's skin seemed to lighten and brighten a couple of shades whiter. The heavy amount of freckles that he had faded away and his skin was smooth and clean like alabaster or marble. Then a wry smile appeared over Connor's lips and as Vuk looked down, he saw Connor's ball sack swell as though filling with water, but no, it was filling with two ample sized testicles growing to nearly match his own. Once that ball sack had grown full and packed, Connor's cock sprang to life growing and snaking its way out of Connor's burning bush until it too was long and thick while in a flaccid state, hanging about half way down Connor's thigh. Connor started to swoon and lose his balance. Vuk was there in the blink of eye to help catch him. Connor smiled up at his savior. "Oh, Connor..." Vuk said as he got Connor to a standing position. "I wish I could find a way for you to finish growing till we were equal." "No... It's ok, Vuk. Truthfully, I like this. I get the best of both worlds. I am taller and stronger than almost any and every guy I meet and yet to you I am still a twink." Vuk laughed. "You are a far cry from a twink." "True, but next to you I look short and thin." "I wonder how big we are." "You are eight feet tall." "How do you figure?" "The magic is working on our licenses. Mine says I am exactly seven feet tall and since the top of my head comes up to your shoulders, that puts you at about a foot taller." "And as my cock and your cocks are inflating and swelling right now, do you know how far we need to back up? Our licenses won't carry that information on them." "No....but if you lie down right there.....I would say your cock is about twenty-one inches long and mine.... .... .... is probably about sixteen inches long. Now stand up." "Why? I think I'd like to see you down here." "No.... I want to see all of you. Blocking my vision, making me look up." Vuk stood up and then stood directly in front of Connor, chest to eye. "Gawd....you make me so fuckin' horny, you huge muscle man mountain. Arch your back backwards just slightly." "Ok...." "Now put your head all the way back...." And with that Connor put both hands upon Vuk's massive shoulders and jumped up hoisting himself in the air as if he were a gymnast on the pommel horse. "Ok..... now grab me around the waist.... that's it....and lower me slowly....slowly.....oh...to your left just a little bit and OH! oh oh OH! OH! MY! GAWD! THATISSOHUGE!" "Is it so huge or are you so tight?" "Buh-OTH!" And Vuk walked over towards the cab of the truck and leaned himself on it, waist and butt on the grill. He hoisted and dropped Connor up and down on his shaft over and over and over again until he blew a load that gushed and squirted out from Connor's hole, all over himself, even though he was still fully erect in Connor's ass. "Oh my gawd...that was some load....." "Yeah and you need to bust one out like it, I'm certain." Vuk pulled Connor off his cock, then opened up the cab door of the moving van and grabbed all the moving blankets he could, laying them out upon the tile floor. Inviting Connor to lie down he then proceeded to lay down slightly askew to Connor so that he could suck on Connor's cock. Connor squirmed and wriggled, clutching the blankets, clawing at Vuk's back, although never making a scratch in them, until he blew a load and such a load he thought he would never finish draining and Vuk thought his stomach would be distended. The two made love over and over again as it became less noisy and darker in the studio. They didn't really notice what was happening, but the crew dismantled everything once the audience members were all gone. At one point the stage doors that slid shut behind Vuk when he entered this section opened up. Then their walls disappeared. Then the walls of the room that had appeared around them disappeared. The Showcase Showoff stage disappeared as well as it's wall. The colorful curtains all vanished and all the spotlights as well. Little by little everything melted away until the only things that were left was the small moveable stages Vuk & Connor's prizes were on, but they were bare their gifts now loaded into the moving van. They too eventually went away and all the lights vanished, leaving only the moving van, the two giants on the bare concrete floor and blankets in front of it, and a small area marked out for a drain, a showered head, and a light to illuminate it. After several sessions of sixty-nine, feeling up the other's muscle until that other came, and straight out doggie stylin' fucks, Vuk and Connor fell asleep in a most comfortable spooning position. ********************************************************* "HOLY SHIT! Trudeau, look at the size of these two! Mother fuckin' giants." "Well, quit staring at them and see if you can rouse them, Hodgkins." "Hey... HEY! You two! Jolly tan giant and his younger brother!" "Wha....what?" Vuk and Connor woke up to a man standing over them, nudging them with his foot attempting to wake them up. There was a bit of bright light pouring in from a large garage door opened up in the side of a far wall. Realizing someone was there and not knowing who it was the two stood up quickly and groggily backed up towards the truck. "OH GAWD! They stood up! HANDS AKIMBO AND THEIR WEARING NOTHIN' TRUDEAU! AND THE BOTH HAVE MOTHER FUCKIN' BASEBALL BATS FOR PARTS!" "THEY CAN'T HAVE BASEBALL BATS FOR PARTS, HODGKINS!" "LOOK, MAN. I'M A SIX FOOT TALL MAN. NOT GOING TO GO DOWN IN BEING HUGE IN THE STRONGEST MAN OF THE WORLD COMPETITION OR THE MARCH MADNESS NBA PLAYOFFS BUT I AM NOT A SMALL MAN. WHEN THESE TWO STAND UP AND I ONLY COME UP TO HALF WAY UP ONE OF THEIR ABS, I'M TELLIN' YOU THEY HAVE COCKS THE SIZE OF BASEBALL BATS, OK?!? SERIOUSLY I THINK THEY ARE AS LONG MY WHOLE DAMN ARM AND THEY DON'T EVEN HAVE MORNING WOOD YET." 'JUST FIND OUT WHO THEY ARE AND WHAT'S GOIN' ON!" The fog clearing in the head, Vuk and Connor quickly moved forward and grabbed some of the blankets and attempted to cover up. "Well, thank you. Now that we've got that covered, let's see if we can get some other things covered. Names?" "Uhmmmm, I'm Vuk Gavrilovic and this is my boyfriend Connor Callinan." "Boyfriend, huh? Well that makes sense. If you tried to have a girl friend you'd be up for at least involuntary manslaughter after the first time you had sex. She'd be split from hole to her head and then to her momma's hole." "HODGKINS!" "HEY! YOU WANNA HANDLE THIS YOU COME OVER HERE AND I'LL SNOOP OVER THERE! Now then, where were we. So... Mr. Gavrilovic. You got a green card?" "I'm a U.S. citizen I don't need a green card. I can show you my I.D. so can Mr. Callinan." "Where's you i.d.'s gentlemen?" "Actually they're there on the floor in our wallets. " "Gotcha... ... ... ... ... well you don't live around here that's for sure." "Actually we just moved here. We're staying at a local hotel until we can get jobs and afford a place." "Just moved here, huh? When'd you get in?" "Yesterday." "Yesterday...GEEZEO MEO! Are these correct? Are these your actual birthdays?" "Yes, sir." "My GAWD! TRUDEAU. YOU'RE NOT GOIN' TO BELIEVE THIS.... THEY'RE ONLY EIGHTEEN! What experimental program are you with. Never had any eighteen year olds fuckin' big as you since I've been alive." "Cut them some slack would you, Hodgkins. Have you even introduced yourself yet?" "Well..." "I thought not. Go check the parameter, ya perv! Hi. Sorry about him. I'm officer Trudeau, that was officer Hodgkins, of the Los Angeles County Police Department. Can either of you two gentlemen tell me how you happened to be in an empty garage, nude, and asleep?" "Empty garage?" "Yeah this is garage for car parking, only it's not currently owned and it was all locked up." Vuk and Connor looked at one another completely confused. They told the officer that they thought they had entered a studio building to be a part of a game show, but woke up here. Officer Trudeau explained there had been a slew of this kind of attacks where people were being found in various styles of abandoned buildings with items they had supposedly won. They figured that these people were attacked using some kind of conventional methods, but given the size and strength of them, Trudeau figured the perps have had to have moved on to something like tranquilizer darts or knock out gas. After allowing the boys to get dressed in clothes from the van and then double checking all the paper work for all the items in the van, the officers stood their scratching their heads and wondered what to think of all this. Eventually they allowed the young men to go, moving van and all. They didn't charge them with anything. Vuk and Connor drove off away from the building. Connor turned and said to Vuk. "So....what do we do now?" Vuk smiled and said, "I think we go put our monetary winnings into our new bank accounts; load up a temporary debit card so we can pay for a storage room; unload the furniture, weight set, grill, juicer, car and any other solid items into the unit; register and get plates for my car; take the clothes back to our hotel room and surprise the hell out of the desk clerk; and then order enough pizzas to scare the delivery boy." "And after that?" "After that we make love to each other and our muscles until we break the bed."

Links to other chapters: Links to chapters of "The Twenty": "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - The Musclemen Revealed: Inside Zaftig's Lab "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 19 - Further Encounters, Part 1 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 21 - Sam and Casey "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 22 - Field Trips for Worship, Part 1 "The Twenty" - Chapter 23 - Field Trips, Part 2 – Casey Rediscovers Muscle Worship, and Makes a New Friend Chapter 20 Pose and Approve: Further Encounters, Part 2 February 10th, 2022 2050 Hours Alvarez, already shirtless and oiling himself up, answered the knock on his door. Naturally, it was Lang. “Right on time. Come on in,” he said. Lang came in, babbling with his usual over-the-top excitement that preceded every Pose and Approve session. “So what do you think the brass thought?” he asked eagerly as he pulled off his t-shirt. Alvarez tossed a bottle of heated mineral oil to his buddy, who uncapped it and began to smear oil onto his muscles as well. “Did you see that old Admiral Whatsisname? Jesus, he looked awesomely p i s s e d o f f, man! And what about all those other dudes? Didja hear them? Didja hear them groaning?? Dude! D’ya think they all creamed their pants?” “Of course they did. They always do. It’s the guaranteed effect.” Alvarez sighed, oiling his triceps, shaking his head. "It's why we're here, man. It's the only reason." Lang laughed excitedly, working the oil into his muscles. “Man, those dudes ain’t never seen muscle like ours before, right? Right?” He flexed powerful biceps and nodded into one of the room’s full-length mirrors with a frowning sneer. “Asshole dudes never seen guns like these, right? pow! bam!!” “Oh, shut the fuck up,” muttered Alvarez. Lang stared. He was suddenly quiet. Alvarez continued to oil himself up. He looked worried. “What’d I say, dude?” Lang asked plaintively, his arms outstretched. Alvarez walked over to him and stood nose to nose before him, the bulges in Alvarez’s jeans and Lang’s posers just touching. He reached around Lang to the back of his head and, guiding his face close, planted a deep kiss onto his perfect lips. He worked his tongue into Lang’s mouth, who responded deeply. Then he pulled back and gazed long and hard into Lang’s deep brown eyes. “I’m sorry. Forget them,” he said reassuringly. “Let’s pose.” “Yeah! Pose and approve!” shouted Lang, and then giggled apologetically, clamping his hand over his mouth in response to Alvarez’s stern look. “Shut up. We don’t want everyone in here.” “Sorry, dude.” “Tonight is just us.” “Sorry, dude! Let’s rock!” Both turned and looked at their reflection in Alvarez’s three-paneled mirror. Excepting Alvarez’s mustache, the two powerful musclemen were almost exact duplicates of one another: tall, dark, and handsome, with deep brown eyes, taut cheekbones and shiny black hair. Their ripped, 285-pound physiques were perfect symphonies of bulging muscle. Lang nodded and forgot all about the brass. He did a crab crunch into the mirror. “Freakkkkyyy…” he muttered. “Swole. So swole.” His veins exploded with throbbing power. Alvarez was undoing his belt, unzipping his zipper, working his tight jeans gradually down his ripped quads. “Pose and approve time, man,” he said to Lang. “Pose and approve.” He picked up a remote and lowered the room’s lights, bringing up the glare of the overhead spotlight focused on the 15' posing dais in front of the mirrors. “Yeah, man, let’s get to it!” Lang ripped off his clothes and stepped up onto the dais as Alvarez kicked away his jeans. Both men were now only barely covered with skimpy royal blue competition posing trunks with hundreds of bright spangles sewn onto the extra-large pouches. The spangles caught the light and glistened like small sapphires. Alvarez stood before him. “You go first.” For an instant, Lang was honored to be going first, as the unspoken law between them during their nightly mutual muscle worship sessions was that Alvarez always got to pose before he did. Tonight was apparently different; even so, Lang was instantly caught up in the sheer joy of his own reflection of muscular near-perfection, and he forgot it right away. The muscleman stood quietly, his heavy arms around his back, his hands clasped. He waited. His ripped abs seemed to extend forever, cobbled fatless bricks laced with thick veins. His cock poled out in his posers. But still he waited. Alvarez was always in charge of Pose and Approve. “Go.” “I’m fucking ….. awesummmmm…..” Lang moaned, loving himself. He slowly curled his huge body into a side biceps pose and turned his head to cockily grin at his reflection. Then he glanced uncertainly at Alvarez in the mirror. “Talk to me,” he demanded, but Alvarez knew he was really begging. “Tell me I’m huge.” Alvarez was not about to let him down. “Yeah, you’re huge, man,” whispered Alvarez with warm smoothness, and he shifted his weight, smoothing the small pools of oil onto his delts. “Those guns of yours look to be about 23 inches. Check out your fist. Motherfucking huge. You could seriously do some serious bare knuckle damage with a fist like that.” His muscles were now gleaming with oil. Lang laughed joyfully. “I have, man! I’ve cleared a few barrooms in my day!” “Punching out ba-a-a-d dudes with those fists?” “Yeah, punching out the bad dudes! Check out these veins, man! They’re like super highways, man! Pumping, buddy. Pumpin’ it up for ya, man.” Lang pumped and flexed. Alvarez capped the bottle, set it down, and turned back, rubbing his hands together. “Oh, yeah, man. That’s good. Nice. Big old motherfucking biceps. Flex those guns for me, man.” “I’m flexing these guns for ya, bro. BOOM. Big muscle in the house,” he cried out joyfully. “Yeah, I see you, man. Nice. Nice big muscles. Biggest muscleman on earth, man.” “’Cept for you, bro. You’re bigger,” said Lang. Alvarez stepped onto the dais under the spotlight, and standing between Lang and the mirror, smoothed hot oil onto Lang’s glistening pecs, stroking his muscles appreciatively. They stood nose-to-nose, not six inches apart. Lang flexed powerful biceps. “Don’t know about that.” Alvarez smoothly applied oil to the granite softballs of Lang’s peaks. Lang stared at himself, transfixed. In his posing trunks his heavy cock was already pointing straight ahead. Alvarez clapped Lang’s huge biceps in his palms. “Like fucking rocks.” “Yeah, man, like fucking boulders, I know. Feel ‘em, man. Feel my muscles.” His eyes took in the mirror reflection of Alvarez’s awesome glutes. “I’m there, man, doing your muscles for you, man.” Alvarez licked his pecs, kissed each bulging biceps, and lightly bit Lang’s nipples. Then he knelt, leaned in and whispered again, his face now level to Lang’s bulging crotch. His breath softly exploded onto Lang’s stiffening cockshaft appearing as his posing trunks poled heavily outward. “You’re big, man. Real big.” “I’m big, hunh?” asked Lang. Now that Alvarez was on his knees and not blocking his upper body reflection, he was gazing at himself with hypnotic eagerness. “Motherfucking huge muscleman, dude.” Lang could feel Alvarez’s breath lightly exploding onto his junk. Still, he never looked away from his own reflection. “So reward me, man. Reward me for my muscles. Reward me for this pose.” “You got it, man. Here comes your reward.” “Thanks, bro,” purred Lang, gazing now in rapture at the pointing peaks of his biceps, his tongue slightly hanging out. His buddy approved. He was in heaven. He’d taken first place in the show running in his head. He and his buddy. “Just keep posing, man.” Alvarez gently opened his mouth and tenderly began to suck Lang’s big cock through his posing trunks. Lang glided into his next pose, a side-chest. And then a front lat spread. His pelvis pushed forward. His poser straining with cock. The pose and approve ritual always began with each man wearing his posing trunks for as long as he could manage to keep them on. They mentally pictured themselves on a competition stage, posing for overwhelmed judges and an audience of thousands of screaming fans, while under the lights, they were really posing only for each other, taking turns kneeling and occasionally bending and sucking each other’s erect cocks through their trunks. They fantasized no one else would be allowed to touch them. They’d turn and punch the lights out of anyone who dared. But the reality was that anyone who wanted to suck their cocks could do so. With just a little begging. After all, big musclemen deserve to get their cocks sucked. Now Alvarez was licking the bobbing cockhead through the straining cloth, running his tongue up and down Lang’s piss slit. Then he deep-throated him, holding the giant cock tenderly in his warm mouth. He held it for 30 seconds. Above him, Lang gulped and continued to pose. Then Alvarez slowly slid his lips off the big dick. The bulging fabric of the bursting poser was wet with saliva. He looked up and winked at the grateful Lang. “Big musclemen like you work hard,” he said with a quiet smile. “You pump those awesome muscles into unbelievable size. When you flex those muscles, it’s mind-blowing. You deserve a reward for all that hard work. You deserve to get your big cock sucked.” “Thanks, man.” “Don’t mention it, bro.” Alvarez ran his hands smoothly up and down Lang’s obliques, smacking his firm sides. He nodded, then looked up. “You got a lat spread you want to show me, man?” He licked his buddy’s abs and waited. “Comin’ up, “Lang breathed, and with a small explosion of breath, he grabbed the straps of his posers, pulled them taut, planted his fists into his obliques, and pumped his rocky pecs into their full mass. He spread his legs wide, the pouch of his posing trunks bulging forward with his fully erect 10-inch penis. Alvarez, still licking the washboard abs, stroked the cock with his thick fingers, glanced up and nodded. “Good lat spread. Great pecs. Lemme see you bounce ‘em. Show me, now.” “Okay.” Lang began to bounce his flexing pecs back and forth in dance of perfect machine gun muscle rhythm. “Yeah, man. Doin’ some serious pec dancing for you now. Boom. Boom. Boom. Watch ‘em, now. Watch these pecs of mine do their thing.” “Do that pec dance thing for me, baby,” said Alvarez. He watched Lang’s bouncing pecs for a full minute. Then he leaned in and licked the cockhead, again through the posers. “I approve. Here’s your reward.” Alvarez once again opened his mouth wide, and with a quick fleck of his tongue against his lips, took the bulging pouch of Lang’s posers full down his throat. Lang, his pecs still dancing, began to slowly pump his hips, fucking face. Bursts of warm precum began to stain the poser fabric, blooming into a widening pool of moisture. Alvarez could see the giant slit of Lang’s big penis head, and licked respectfully. After a minute, he released another small explosion of breath to signify to the bodybuilder kneeling before him that he was going to change his pose again. “Front double biceps,” he announced, and swung his arms up into mighty peaks. Alvarez pulled back slightly, licked the cockhead again, and rocked back on his heels. In his own posing trunks his cock was now full 11 inches erect and poling above the waistband, slap tight against his abs. “Lookin’ good. Now hold that for two minutes. No, three. Hold that pose solid without moving for three minutes. Then you’ll get your reward.” It was agony. Lang loved it. He fiercely held the mountainous peaks of his 23-inch biceps for three full minutes. Sweat began pouring down his face. “Flexing for ya, man!” He bared his lips and gritted his teeth into a grimace. His veins exploded down his neck. The veins in his forearms were like cables of steel wire. He raised one biceps, then the other, again dancing them back and forth. The baseball peaks of his guns gleamed in the spotlight. On his knees before him, Alvarez gazed up worshipfully, pumping his own cock right out of his posing trunks, but not touching Lang. “It’s been more than three minutes,” Lang finally said through his gritted teeth. “So reward me, man! Suck my cock, man!” “Think you deserve a reward?” Alvarez teased, now stroking Lang’s cock tenderly with his tongue. “For these guns? You bet, baby. Take that big cock of mine down your throat now!” “You got it, man.” Alvarez fell forward onto his knees again, his mouth wide open, and landed bulls-eye onto the giant pole bursting in Lang’s posing trunks, taking it all into his mouth. For three minutes, he sucked cock, up and down, licking, spitting, back and forth, deep sucking. Lang gazed down at him, relaxed his biceps a few seconds, and then resumed the pose. He was rock hard. “Dig these guns, man, and suck my cock. Suck your approval. Pose and approve me. Pose and approve.” “Yeah, you like it when I suck your cock while you’re posing?” breathed Alvarez. He licked the mammoth bulge in Lang’s posing trunks. “I can see you onstage, man. Flexing for all those asshole judges. Blowing them all away. Never seen biceps as big as yours. Never seen a cock as big as yours. Poling out in your posing trunks. Big old heavy bulge. Big cocks need to get sucked.” “Yeah? Well, man, I like it when you suck my cock. I like it when you suck my cock while I’m posing for those assholes.” Greedily, Alvarez licked the cloth covering Lang’s heavy testicles. “Lickin’ your balls now, man, licking your balls.” “Put ‘em in your mouth, man. Put my balls in your mouth.” Still flexing, he looked down and eyed Alvarez’s cock hungrily. Alvarez was pumping it now with both hands. It looked like a firehose. Suddenly Lang wanted to suck it. But he didn’t want Alvarez to stop. He dropped to his knees. Alvarez lowered with him, knowing what he wanted. As he watched, Lang flexed his right biceps one more time; Alvarez nodded approval; then Lang leaned in to Alvarez’s cock. He pulled the posing trunks over the cockhead onto Alvarez’s balls, and brought it into his mouth. Alvarez kept sucking. Together the two bodybuilders slowly lowered their huge bodies onto the posing dais under the spotlight and began to service each other with a full-body 69 grapple. Their arm muscles rippled against each other as each man gripped the other’s hard glutes, thick fingers gripping slabs of butt muscle. Each man ecstatically sucked his muscle buddy’s gigantic rod, their balls both still barely covered by their straining posing trunks. After 18 minutes of violent 69 sucking, their posing trunks finally tore from the strain. Rrr-i-i-i-i-pp! Their bullish balls burst free in unison, and each man eagerly licked the other’s heavy testicles passionately. “Next time, you pose first,” whispered Lang, and Alvarez looked over at him, grinned, and flexed a biceps. Lang nodded seriously. “I approve,” he said, “now here’s your reward,” and he bent in, sucking cock. The slurping, moaning, sucking sounds echoed down the corridor. In his room, Private Chris Hension, lying naked in bed, covered with sweat, his pole rising stiffly towards the ceiling, finally couldn’t take it any more. He jumped out of bed, grabbed a robe and a pair of purple spangly posers, stepped into them, fitting his huge member into the pouch with some difficulty, and tore out of his room. He ran down the hallway, his half-tumescent, half-sheathed cock waggling in the breeze, and stopped at Alvarez’s door. He waited an instant – and was about to knock – but, what the hell. He banged on the door, threw it open, and walked in. He knew it would be unlocked. Somehow instinctively he knew they were waiting for him. And so they were. The two musclemen lay on the dais, sucking each other’s cocks, their mammoth physiques coated with a glistening layer of sweat. Without removing dick from mouth, each man slowed for a moment and gazed up at Hension questioningly. “Were we making too much noise?” asked Alvarez, his speech garbled by Lang’s cock. “Yeah. I’d say,” said Hension. He threw his robe to the floor and stood before them in his favorite posing strap, his own erection poling straight ahead. He slammed the door behind him and stepped forward, whipping his arms up into a front double biceps. “Check me out,” he commanded, but there was a note of hopefulness in his voice. Of desperation, Alvarez quietly noted to himself. Good, good, all to the good. “Damn. He’s a pretty little muscleboy, ain’t he?” said Alvarez, momentarily releasing Lang’s cock. “He sure is,” said Lang, doing the same. “You see me every day, guys. I ain’t so little,” said Hension, flexing. “Maybe we’ve never noticed you before.” “Fuck you both.” “Oh, sorry. Maybe you should leave?” “NO! I wanna play too!” Hension flexed feverishly. “Okay. We’ll think about it.” Alvarez licked Lang’s dick a few times and lolled his head back towards Hension. Lang, however, appeared to take no more interest, turning his full attention to sucking his buddy’s dick. He bent in and deep-throated Alvarez’s stiff penis a few times, gagging slightly, and then resumed his gentle, steady sucking and licking. “You sure are pretty. Big biceps. Big. Good quads. Turn around.” Hension turned around, did a rear lat spread, pointing his shapely round glutes to the ceiling. “Nice. Awesome hams. Lang, you see those hams?” …..Suck suck suck suck suck…. “No? Hmmm. Guess he’s busy. Come on over here and flex for us while we suck some cock.” And Alvarez turned back to Lang’s quivering member, appearing indifferent. “I’ll show you guys,” muttered Hension, stepping onto the dais. He was ready. He’d been waiting a long time for this. And he’d been kidded, slapped, punched, and pushed around too long to not grab the moment. His moment. “I’m gonna flex now, and you’re gonna watch me!” he shouted. From the floor of the dais, Alvarez and Lang turned and looked up at him. There was a pause. “So go ahead,” said Alvarez. “Let’s see what you got.” He paused. “Boy,” he added.

Links to other chapters: Links to chapters of "The Twenty": "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After NG "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 19 - Further Encounters, Part 1 Chapter 18: Inside Zaftig’s Lab: The Musclemen Revealed February 10th, 2018 2020 Hours “Are we all here?” asked Zaftig. “Get on with it, man,” said Admiral Walrus testily. “We haven’t got all night.” “Of course. Dr. Irving, are the men ready? They are? Good. Then bring the subjects in.” Dr. Irving moved quickly to another set of double doors that were marked “To the Showers”. He opened the door, and a red light next to it began to signal. “Come in, gentlemen,” he called. A few moments passed. A few in the assembled ranks of waiting officers and adjutants shifted nervously from foot to foot. The sound of distant footsteps, growing closer. The Twenty entered the room in single file. Their audience gasped involuntarily. The Twenty were an awesome sight. All were dressed in tight white t-shirts with “Valhalla Labs” printed across the chest. All wore insanely tight white jeans, white socks and tightly laced black leather Army boots. The men marched across the room to the left in perfect cadence, snap-turned and faced the Officers at full attention. The sight was ungodly to behold. The men were of different nationalities and ages, and they varied in height. One or two were of average height, and one was unusually short. Three were as tall as Casey. The black man at the head of the line was the tallest and biggest of all, nearly 7’-0”. Four others were black, two Asian, the rest Latin or white. Each man was unusually handsome and clear eyed. All boasted extreme mass and astonishing muscularity. Their shoulders were broad and wide, their traps sloped down from thick necks, and their powerful chests rippled with power in their tight t-shirts. They all held their heavily sinewed arms at their sides, again with thick thumbs slightly crooked inward, as if pointing at the looming, floor-pointing bulges pouting behind the flies of their skin-tight white jeans. “Project Herculaneum reporting for inspection, Dr. Zaftig,” barked the tall black man. “Thank you, Sergeant Moster,” said Zaftig. “I think we’re all here. Private Rockland, will you step forward, please?” Sam looked down the line-up. There stood Casey in the flesh, the fifth man down. He looked over at Zaftig, and then shot a quick, questioning glance at Sergeant Moster. He seemed surprised and a touch uncertain to have been called out, looking slightly right and left at his fellow musclemen. No one else moved. He stepped forward. “Sir,” he said, quietly. “Come here, Private.” Casey started to cross the room when he caught sight of Sam, who was watching him evenly. His step never slowed, but eyes lingered a moment on Sam’s face. Sam was all attention. “Strip down for us, Casey.” “Yes, sir.” Unhesitatingly Casey stripped off his tight white Valhalla Labs t-shirt, which popped slightly and deflated with a rush of air when released from his mammoth shoulders. He turned away momentarily and bent over to unlace his boots. All were drawn to the mountainous glutes, the double pockets strained over rocks of muscle, the seam of his jeans sharply marking the likely deep butt crack beneath. Casey stood, turned back, and undid the top button of his jeans. He unzipped the looming zipper. With difficulty he pulled his pants down over his thick quads, looking up a little embarrassed at his clumsiness. “Casey has troubles undressing sometimes,” explained Zaftig with a paternal smile. “He needs clothes that vanish at the push of a button,” muttered General Needling. “Boots next, Private,” said Moster. “Yes, sir,” said Casey. Sam thrilled at the sound of his deep, resonant, mysteriously shy voice. Casey stepped out of the boots, pulled the jeans down the rest of the way, and kicked everything away. He was wearing the white Spandex poser, which fully revealed the top 6 inches of the shaft of his massive organ. His huge penis spilled forward a few inches before disappearing into the smooth synthetic mesh pouch. Now Sam could see that the fabric was translucent, and the shadows of heavy cock veins pressed outward. He wondered for a moment why Casey bothered to wear it at all, but conceded it was probably a pale gesture towards some feeble sense of modesty. Or perhaps more likely, his big baseball balls were just so damn heavy he could use the extra support. Wow, he thought to himself. “Show our guests some poses, Casey,” said Zaftig. Casey nodded, took a step away, and complied. Standing before the Officers, Casey opened his huge arms wide. He balled his hands into fists and angled them toward the group and held the pose a moment. Then he slowly stepped right, and spreading his mammoth legs wide apart, he slowly curled his arms up into a freaky double biceps pose. “Thank you. Hold that pose, please, Casey.” “Yes sir.” Casey stood motionless, his arms steady and upright, his biceps flexing mightily. He didn’t quiver. His eyes flicked back in Sam’s direction for an instant, and then he returned his gaze front. Jesus H. Christ, thought Sam. He’s flexing for me. He grinned lazily across the lab floor at Casey. Casey didn’t respond, but after a moment he pivoted ever so slightly towards Sam. He raised his square jaw just a mite. His massive biceps rippled a little, and grew even a little more, slowly gaining even more size, glowing more intensely, bulging all the more fiercely. Sam smiled. Casey turned his eyes away and resumed his gaze straight ahead, as a single creek bed of sweat appeared in the split head of the flexing left biceps, making its molasses-slow, thick journey down the front of the rocky peak. “Project Herculaneum has been entirely financed by a few private anonymous investors,” Zaftig was saying now. Sam roused himself back to attention. “No public moneys have been siphoned to create the magnificent specimen you see before you now. Casey – and indeed, all these other 19 men we have laboriously trained and developed here at Valhalla Labs – hasn’t cost the United States government so much as a thin nickel.” “I’m interested in his other dimensions,” came a comment, seemingly from nowhere. Sam looked around, wondering who would dare at this moment to refer to the obvious. The other aides froze with tension, but it wasn’t clear who spoke. “Who said that?” screamed Walrus. Two or three of the musclemen smiled a little, and one, an unusually short pretty boy, snorted. Sergeant Moster glared at them, and their smiles faded instantly. Zaftig beamed. Dr. Irving pushed his heavy glasses up his nose, and fumbled with his clipboard. Walrus turned back to Zaftig and then spluttered. “Damn it, no man should be this big! And why the hell are you showing him to us with no goddamn clothes on?” His aides twittered nervously. Emboldened by the ownerless comment, the room lit up with flashes from a few iPhone cameras. “Goddamn it!” roared Walrus, turning around. “This is supposed to be a secure meeting! Turn those damn phones off!” The phones promptly went dark. I should have made them check their phones at the door, Zaftig thought with a sardonic inner smile. He turned to his audience and smiled, all innocence. “Gentlemen,” he said, his voice bubbling with feigned surprise and ill-concealed glee. It was all going just as he had hoped – that is, except for the question of Casey’s I.Q., a subject he fully wished to stonewall for the evening. “I apologize. I didn’t consider the fact that you might be offended. I wanted to personally display Casey for you in his full magnificence.” His eyes glinted towards Dr. Shaft, who was pulling nervously at his tie. “What do you think, Dr. Shaft?” he asked. “Impressive. Most impressive,” Shaft mumbled. Zaftig took a few steps around Casey, who towered over him. “Casey, front lat spread,” he ordered quietly, and Casey’s pose shifted, his fists tucked in his sides, his pecs raising up, and his impossible lats flaring wide. He still gazed straight ahead. “Side chest.” Casey pivoted sharply left on his heel and brought his left arm up behind him. He caught the wrist of his right arm at the small of his back and cocked the heel. His triceps ballooned as his pecs expanded. His cock had quivered a little with the turn, and it slowly swayed and came to rest. “Casey’s chest measures 68 inches. Let’s see your back, Private,” Zaftig went on. Casey pivoted again, and there they were – the huge glutes, huge, hard and full. He tucked his hands into his obliques and his blew his lats to their widest expanse. Next to Sam, Tyler was fumbling a little with his fly. Sam didn’t even bother now to arrange his package. His erection thumped in his slacks, poling outward. He glanced at the other aides. Growing bulges were appearing in all their trousers. “Thank you, Casey, you can turn back now. As Casey turned around, Zaftig paced casually. “I see you all may have noticed Casey’s unusually large, well-developed organ,” Zaftig said offhandedly. “Casey, and indeed, all of the men you see here tonight have been blessed in much the same way. Do you feel blessed, Casey?” Private Rockland, surprised to be spoken to again, snapped into attention. “Sir, yes, sir,” he said, his eyes straight ahead. Zaftig turned a little and winked at the group. “And you’re blessed for what reason, Casey?” Zaftig asked. “Sir, that I have a big penis, sir,” said Casey. Holy Shit, Batman, thought Sam. Next to him he could see Tyler staring at Casey as if hypnotized. Zaftig laughed. “An unusually big penis, Private Rockland. Sergeant Moster?” he boomed suddenly. From 1st place in the line up, the Prototypes leader, the huge black super heavyweight, who had entered the room first, stood at sudden attention. “Yes, Dr. Zaftig!” he barked. “Are you blessed, too, Sergeant?” “I am even more blessed than Private Casey, Sir!” “And why is that?” “I am more blessed because both my muscles and my penis are even bigger than Private Casey’s, Sir!” “How much more blessed are you than Private Casey?” “Much more blessed, Sir!” Moster shouted. “Splendid. Thank you, Sergeant Moster. Men?” “Yes, sir!” they shouted in unison. “Are you all blessed, soldiers?” “Yes, sir! We’re all blessed, sir!” This is too much, thought Sam. I’ve died and gone to heaven. He shot a look to Walrus. The old man can’t take much more of this, he thought. “Casey, please demonstrate with a full routine of mandatory poses. Start with front double biceps.” “Yes, sir!” Casey complied, silently reeling off pose after pose. “You should all be aware, gentlemen,” Zaftig went on, “that we have remanded Casey – and all of the men, in fact - from any sexual encounters of any kind.” Behind the posing Casey, the musclemen stared straight ahead, and made no move. No one even snickered. No sex? What was that? Hunh? Sam turned and stared at Casey. He hadn’t wavered, but again he turned his eyes full on Sam. His face was blank, his look impossible to read. Was it an invitation? A threat? Or nothing at all? Sam just didn’t know. He glanced down at the impressive cock filling out the tight spandex posers, and brought his eyes back up. Casey, now in a most muscular crab pose, shot a quick look at him, and glanced down at his own package shyly. His gaze returned, quizzical, wondering. “Sexual relationships are a distraction. Because the men all have needs, as do all humans, we have organized regularly scheduled periods of masturbation. Dr. Irving and Sergeant Moster lead these sessions, under the most extremely controlled laboratory settings. The necessary psychological stimulant material for each man varies, of course. The confidential information has been determined by Dr. Irving in collaboration with Sergeant Moster, and is applied to each subject through headphones and situational simulating helmets calibrated individually. These sessions are critical, as each man has an average ejaculation proponent of the equivalent of six quarts per week.” “Okay, now I know that’s goddamn impossible,” grumbled Walrus. Sam was dazzled. The rest of the group was too stunned to speak. Sweat was now pouring down Dr. Shaft’s face. Ensign Tyler turned beet red. Two or three aides were taking frantic notes. The others just stood and stared and tried to ignore their crotches. “The men you see before you all have Casey’s extreme gifts. In different proportions, different heights, weights, and ages perhaps, and at different bodyweights. But all have the same superbly developed physiques and physical skills. Men!” he said suddenly, turning to the group. “Strip down, please.” The men seemed to hesitate. All looked to Sergeant Moster. “You heard the man,” he growled. “Kick ‘em off!” He began to unbuckle his belt. At his command, all of the men remaining the line-up began to strip. The tight t-shirts popped as if in unison as they were released from the massive upper body of each man. The boots were unlaced and pushed away. 19 belts hit the floor, and 19 pairs of skin tight white jeans followed. Beneath, all wore the same barely restraining white Spandex posers. Cocks and balls bulged forth, each man spilling half a foot of visible cock into barely sheathed pouches. Sam felt a dribble of precum shooting in his pants. “Arms behind backs!” barked Moster, clearly now the leader of the group. He turned to the audience and became one with his men. The Twenty placed their hands behind their lower backs. “Spread legs!” All spread their legs wide, shooting their right legs out in choreographed unison. In front, Casey did the same. “Prepare!” Fists clenched, crammed in solid obliques. “Front double biceps!” All arms slowly rose. And 40 cannonballs of enormous power ball biceps snapped into ungodly peaks. The men faced straight ahead, all eyes high and level, as if gazing into infinity. “Jesus,” breathed Walrus. He fumbled with his watch a moment. The lineup of 20 men stood before the small group, all flexing with massive front double biceps power. “Sergeant Moster, step forward please,” said Zaftig. “Next to Casey. The rest of you, hold the biceps pose.” The black muscle god brought his arms down strode slowly across the room. As he moved, his half-covered organ swayed heavily from side to side in his posing pouch. Behind him, the lineup of men continued to flex without wavering. He stood next to Casey, and impossibly, appeared to tower over even him. Casey didn’t glance at Moster. He stood gazing straight ahead, his arms up and steadily holding biceps pose. “You’ll note that Moster is taller than Casey. He is, in fact, far and away the biggest man here – so he has become this squadron’s de facto leader. Moster is the old man of the group – how old are you, Moster?” “44, sir!” barked Moster. He stood beside Casey, flexing. His arms looked to top 29 inches in girth. Sam reacted with some surprise. Moster appeared to be no more than 27. “I have been working with Moster for more than a decade,” said Zaftig. “He weighs 390 pounds and is 7’ tall. When he first came to me a decade ago, in 2015, he was already an Olympian. It took us years to get the poison of those primitive muscle-enhancing drugs out of his system. But the results have enabled him to realize a depth of definition and a degree of strength unachieved as of yet in any of the other men. Moster,” he asked, turning to the sergeant, “let’s all see a little demonstration of your strength.” “Yes, sir!” Without hesitation, Moster brought his arms down and walked purposefully across the room to the doors marked ‘Showers’. He grabbed a single door and quite effortlessly ripped it from his hinges. Then he turned, door tucked under his right arm, and approached the group. Everyone backed away just a little. “This is circus stunt, Zaftig,” sneered a retreating Dr. Shaft. “Any circus strongman could do this. And how do we know the door was not prepared in advance?” Moster said nothing, but walked straight to Dr. Shaft. “Good evening, Dr. Shaft,” he said, winking. “Nice to see you again.” “Er – good evening, Rod – um, Sergeant. I didn’t mean anything personal…” “I’m sure of it,” said Moster. He flexed his left biceps for Shaft and smiled. Shaft stared at it and, not quite knowing what he was doing, licked his lips nervously. Moster rotated his fist back and forth and popped the biceps head a little. Then he brought his arm down, and offered the door. “Would you like to hold this, please?” He offered the door to Shaft. Shaft tried to take it, but the weight of it was too much for him. He dropped it to the floor, barely able to hold one corner. “How heavy would you estimate this door to be?” he asked politely. The others watched, slightly stunned. The musclemen remained serene. “I…I don’t know…. 80 pounds?” “This door, with hardware, weighs 108 pounds. How thick would you say the wood to be?” Moster’s questions were politely posed. “Two inches?” “The door is actually 2-7/8s inches thick.” Moster took it back from him as if taking a feather. He held it up before him with both hands. Zaftig suppressed a smile. He knew what Moster had planned. Sergeant Rod Moster began ripping the door in two, just as if he was tearing paper. The wood roared in protest. Rrr-ii—ii-pppp! In 10 seconds he was done, each thick hand holding a splintered shard of door. In what seemed a single move, he suddenly hurled each section of the door away from him – in opposite directions. Each door half flew 20 feet across the room and slammed into the floor with echoing clatters. It was too much for Zaftig’s audience. Ensign Tyler moaned, and Sam knew the jerk had just shot a load in his pants. He wasn’t alone. A few quiet cries rose from the group. Sam held back. He always did have great control. He grinned and winked at Tyler, who at least had the class to grin back and shrug. “Shit happens,” he murmured to Sam. Sam chuckled. “Not to me,” he said. The rest of the crowd was in something like mass hysteria. “Damn it, Zaftig,” shouted Walrus. “You’ve gone too far!” “Why?” asked Zaftig calmly. “After all, it was our door.” Behind him, the 19 other men did not move, frozen, legs spread wide, holding their mighty biceps pose. Sam knew they couldn’t have helped but realize that about 10 men watching them had just cum in their pants. The men in the audience looked miserably down at the cream spreading across their uniformed trousers. Tyler glanced helplessly at Sam. And still, Sam had not cum. He had more control. He grinned at Tyler. Tyler shrugged and smiled. Oh, well, he mouthed. Admiral Walrus was not one of them, either. In fact, he had had it. “Zaftig, I want to talk with you!” he screamed. “Now!! In your office. Gentlemen, you will accompany me.” He turned to the enlisted men. “Men, wait for us outside. And,” – he couldn’t help himself - “it would seem that a couple of you babies need to go clean yourselves up. Ensign Victor! You stay here.” “Relax, Men,” said Zaftig. All brought their arms to their sides. “Men, get dressed. Sergeant Moster, take the men back to their rooms. We’re done for this evening.” The shooters in the audience were humiliated but relieved at the same time, more than half of them looking around a little sheepishly. “The rest room is down the hall,” said Dr. Irving. Eight men, Dr. Shaft among them, headed to the door. "Shaft, you're going nowhere," barked Walrus. Dr. Shaft stopped in the door and waited, shifting from foot to foot, the cream from his shriveled little cock melting into his skinny thighs. “You heard the man,” ordered Moster. “Pick it up! Let’s get moving!” The musclemen relaxed, Bent and gathered their clothes. Adjusted huge cocks in posers. Casey turned slowly and walked back to his own pile of discarded clothing. As he went, he absent-mindedly scratched the back of his head. Sam watched him go. His glutes rolled his boulders as he paddled, bow-legged, across the floor. Sam watched his mammoth, perfect butt as he went. It’s all a little confusing, isn’t it, Casey boy? Sam thought to himself. Don’t you know what just happened? Is it all a little more than you can understand, son? Casey picked up his clothes and shambled back into line with the others. He glanced again at Sam, and for the first time Sam noted that Casey was just a little bit cross-eyed. “Why, you poor dumb baby,” Sam said softly to himself. “You’re just a kid, aren’t you?” The musclemen filed out of the lab through the splintered empty doorway. Walrus grabbed Sam’s sleeve and took him aside. “I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but I sure as hell intend to find out,” he snarled, looking back at Zaftig, who was conferring with Dr. Irving. He turned to the Ensign. “Sam, you’re smart. I want you to slip away from the group and track down some of these guys. Start with that blond big boy. Find out his story. What the hell is he, a test tube baby? Zaftig’s lab rat? No grown man should be walking around this goddamn bunker wearing only a little white handkerchief with his fucking balls hanging out, flexing and posing for himself in the mirror.” “Yes, sir. I don’t see any mirrors, sir.” “Damn it, man, don’t take me so literally. That’s what this big bodybuilder guys do, just walk around all day long flexing their muscles for themselves in the mirror. It’s goddamn gay, that’s what it is. The military doesn’t need that –“ “Actually, sir –“ “Don’t interrupt me. Okay, it doesn’t matter if he’s gay or not, if you’re going to get all P.C. on me, but I want to know who the hell these men are and what Zaftig has them doing. These aren’t soldiers from any regular Army I know about. They’d be hopeless in the Navy.” “I believe Zaftig is also in talks with the SEALS.” “Is he now? Is he now? Fine, let it be their problem. But in the mean time I want to know what this so-called protocol is. It isn’t natural! It isn’t even human.” “They looked pretty human to me, sir.” “Project Herculaneum. My ass. Group discipline shot to hell. Go ahead, get moving. I want you to follow these men and find out something about them. Even if it isn’t taxpayer money, this facility ought to be shut down. Goddamn it!” Sam wondered for a moment why the old man was so enraged. Old man sure has a bug up his butt. Hmmm. What’s that about? He let it go for the moment, filing it away as back-story, to be continued. Zaftig approach. “Admiral Walrus. Shall we go to my office? I believe you want to discuss what you’ve just seen.” Behind him Dr. Irving was unlocking a drawer and pulling out files, checking them hurriedly. I wonder what he’s looking for, thought Sam. “You’re goddamn right I want to discuss it. Men, follow me.” Half his retinue had already left the room for the nearest men's room, to take care of cleaning up - and perhaps more business. “Goddamn it!” he swore again. He started to head back to the auditorium. "Shaft, you're coming with me!" "Yes, sir," said Dr. Shaft weakly. “Admiral Walrus?” said Zaftig with preternatural sweetness. “This way.” He started toward a far door. “My office is just through here.” He walked to the door without looking back. The others hesitated and glanced at Walrus, who stared for a moment, and then stomped after Zaftig. Drs. Shaft and Irving followed hurriedly behind. As Walrus went he turned back to Sam. “Get moving, Ensign.” “Yes, sir. With pleasure, sir.” "I mean now!" "I'm on my way, sir." And he went through the door down the long, white corridor, where only moments before, the twenty muscle giants had disappeared.

Links to chapters of "The Twenty": "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - The Musclemen Revealed: Inside Zaftig's Lab "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 19 - Further Encounters, Part 1 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 20 - Pose and Approve: Further Encounters, Part 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 21 - Sam and Casey "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 22 - Field Trips for Worship, Part 1 "The Twenty" - Chapter 23 - Field Trips, Part 2 – Casey Rediscovers Muscle Worship, and Makes a New Friend "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 24 - Further Encounters 5: Sam and Casey Again, and Moster and the Cadets Chapter 17: The Presentation February 10th, 2018 2000 Hours “Rose, dim the lights, and please – please leave us alone. Lock the auditorium doors behind you when you leave so we won’t be disturbed. Does everything have everything they need? Wi-Fi connection good? And Rose….tell Dr. Irving to bring the men upstairs to the lab. We’ll be ready for them in about 30 minutes.” A crisp response in the affirmative. The auditorium lights dimmed. There was a tapping of sensible heels, and the double doors at the back of the Valhalla Laboratories Assembly Hall opened and shut quietly. The lock clicked. Dr. Ira Zaftig cleared his throat, took a drink of water, and looked out serenely at his audience. He clicked his remote. The screen lit up, the light spilling out into the chrome and concrete bunker auditorium. “Are we ready, Gentlemen? Good evening. Welcome to Valhalla Labs.” The Valhalla logo glowed on the 20’ screen. Zaftig’s calm voice echoed darkly into the far regions of the room. “Gentlemen, I know you’ve had a long day. Flying in from Washington, checking into your quarters, touring the facility grounds, and now, after that splendid dinner, I know you’re curious to see the results of our mutual contract with the United States military and the Joint Chiefs. The unveiling, in fact, of our great 15-year initiative.” The five Officers in the front row murmured quietly. Out of courtesy, one or two nodded. Admiral Walrus, the Joint Chief Chair and Committee head, was seated dead center. He said nothing. He waited. Well behind the officers in the half-light sat a row of junior officers and young aides in attendance to the brass. “We here at Valhalla Labs know that we have achieved stunning success. We’re proud to be able to share it with you tonight.” Zaftig spoke easily, confidently. He clicked the remote again, and the first slide came into view. In their swivel chairs, the five Pentagon Officers sat back and turned their attention to the image on the screen. And then they stared. “Jesus, Zaftig, what the hell is this?” demanded Admiral Walrus. “Gentlemen, I give you Prototype 1-A of Project Herculaneum, Specimen Casey: Mr. Casey Rockland.” The image of an impossibly huge, muscled behemoth of a young man was on the screen, presented in four views: front, left, right, and rear. He was squared-jawed, thick-necked, blue-eyed, and handsome, with a deeply cleft chin and full, luscious lips. His arms hung at his side, and his legs were spread confidently well apart. His gaze was centered straight ahead, his jaw set firm with business-like grimness, his head erect. His waist was impossibly slender, given the mass above and below, perhaps 29 inches. His cobblestone abs rippled insanely. His posture was that of a classic anatomy chart. Every vein, every muscle appeared to pulse right off the screen. The young man was clean-shaven. He had a short blond military crew cut, but his eyebrows were thick, dark black, and lustrous. The left brow was slightly elevated with cocky arrogance. His face set him at about 19 years, but the muscle density of his enormous physique made it difficult to precisely age him. Seated in the dark behind the officers, Ensign Sam Victor, Admiral Walrus’ coolly handsome young personal aide de camp, looked evenly up at the screen and took in the image of the young muscleman with cool calm. The muscle boy’s skin – for he was, with his angelic face, little more than a boy, at least in years - was shrink-wrapped over the most astonishing display of musculature Sam had ever seen. Every muscle group, every vein, every cut, every separation stood prominently sculpted, in separate relief from the adjacent muscle group. He wore only the briefest of posing trunks, which sagged deeply to expose the gently curving, then plummeting, upper 6 inches of his tawny-colored, vein-lined penis. His oversized ball sac bulged ferociously in the heavy pouch. The Joints Chiefs were stunned. In the front-view image on the far left, subject Casey Rockland displayed hugely rounded, shining, mountainous pectoral muscles, gleaming with powerful deep furrows of striations, punctuated with thick dark brown, 3-inch sand dollar-sized nipples, poutily pointing downward. His broad shoulders, thick powerful traps and heavy delts looked as if the boy could easily carry a 600 pound bull around a corral. His lats spread almost horizontally behind him like the outspread wings of an eagle. The mighty 3-headed biceps were triple slabs of muscle on each arm, huge beyond all reasoning, the forearms laced with networks of half and quarter-inch iron thick veins. The boy held his enormous hands at his sides, his heavy fingers and thick thumbs crooked slyly inward towards his bulging crotch. Smokestack quads rippled and burst with muscle, and he was supported by a set of calves that ballooned behind him. His feet were enormous, with large thick toes and perfectly groomed nails. His tanned skin glowed with health. Sam assumed the subject’s teeth were probably perfect, too, but for the moment his gaze was leveled just below Casey’ rippling midsection. Well, well, he thought. Let’s just look you over, now. Just who are you, buddy? Superman? Captain America? Tiny Yokum? Johnny Holmes? Naw. This was no cartoon character. No porn star. But no superfreak that Sam had ever encountered before – and he had known many – could boast the cock this boy had. Between his legs in the front view hung a monster penis, less than half covered by the straining, flimsy Spandex posing trunks. The top half of Casey’s shaft was plainly visible. The trunks loomed heavily with the outlined round bulge and piss slit of his cock head. The generals were now murmuring loudly in shocked disapproval. Admiral Walrus just sat and stared. Behind them in the darkness, most of the aides and junior officers avoided one another’s glances. A few men gazed meekly down into their laps, looking up only furtively with appreciative eyes. A few stared outright. “This specimen, gentlemen,” intoned Zaftig’s voice out of the dark, “or, if you prefer, Private 1st Class Casey Rockland, is at present only one the world’s most perfectly-developed men. There are, of course, 19 other specimens.” Sam let out a low whistle. Ensign Tyler, to his immediate left, caught it. “There are 20 of these dudes?” Sam murmured to Tyler. “There’s a challenge for you, Sam. Never known you to turn your back on a challenge.” Tyler responded. “Shut the fuck up, Tyler, or no play time later.” Tyler smiled sardonically but said no more. Sam leaned back to enjoy the view. His brought his big hands behind his head, and leaned back in his seat to contemplate. He focused on the image of Casey’s crotch and allowed himself to dream, if just a little. Casey’s testicles bulged heavy and full in the sac of white Spandex, and the top quarter of the shaft of the penis spilled out and curved visibly downward before being enmeshed in the barely restraining pouch. The cock appeared flaccid, but no matter: the thickness was like tube of a flashlight, and the cock head bulged and pointed down with insistent heaviness. Under the thin sheath of Spandex, Sam could make out the long, curling, resting shaft, the rim of the bulbous cock head, the bulging cock head itself, the inviting piss slit, and the 2-softball scrotum. Curled tufts of iron black pubic hair spilled out from beneath the poser’s tightly hemmed edges. The poser straps strained mid-hips, threatening to burst from the weight. In the left and right side views, thick horseshoe triceps rippled along the battlefield-ready arms, their huge round sweep arcing backward. His pecs bloomed mightily, those taut brown nipples still tantalizingly pointing down. Lower, brick-like washboard abdominal muscles tapered into that impossibly slender yet powerful, vascular waistline. His obliques curved up and outward with menacing power. The roundness of the hard butt and the sweep of Casey’s hamstrings jutted past the back of the line of his head. In the rear view, his deltoids upended mightily blending into mountainous traps, soaring into a thick network of back muscle. His legs were spread wide. Two tight globes of thick, oblong gluteus muscle curved below a rock-solid butt shelf of power. His rocky butt glistened with sweat and oil: a blissfully full, solid, fatless furnace of power. Each splendidly ripped butt cheek appeared to be glancing slightly to the side, barely opening the center spread. Mr. Rockland’s poser was as inadequate going as it was coming, and unable to hide the deep red cherry butthole, which glowed invitingly around the right edge of the tight thin strap that traveled and sank into deep, darkened buttcrack. Below, the exponentially huge, shaped and separated hamstrings exploded, supported by freaky split calf muscles. Get a grip, Victor, Sam thought to himself. It’s just a picture. In his loose white Navy uniform slacks, Sam felt his own cock twitch longingly. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and reaching down surreptitiously beneath his regulation belt, his slipped his hand into his rapidly knotting underwear. He rearranged his package. Next to him, Tyler was doing the same thing. They caught each other’s eyes, and in spite of themselves had to suppress immediate blasts of explosive mirth. “Quiet, back there!” barked Walrus. Then: “We came here tonight to see a fucking muscleman?” he said dangerously to Zaftig. Tyler was suddenly seized with a fit of coughing, and Sam busied himself with his laptop, seemingly taking serious notes. Lucky he thought to bring it, he mused. It was covering a fierce erection, now pushing protestingly out of his tight uniform trousers. “I think you’ll find all the men interesting, Admiral Walrus. This specimen, Casey Rockland is 19 years old. He is 6’- 7” tall,” said Zaftig, now in full control. “He weighs 335 pounds. Casey was enrolled in the project formally only a few months ago, when he was just 18. Already he has made extraordinary gains.” Sam noted that the men on either side of him seemed to be breathing more heavily. His cock stirred heavily in his pants, and Tyler was still fooling around with something in his lap. He glanced down the line. Even in the half-light of auditorium he could see that all of the men were beginning to sprout fierce trouser trouts. Even the straight men. “Hmmm,” he thought to himself. “I wonder…” Zaftig continued. “Casey has 1.5% bodyfat. He’s in splendid health, his heart very slightly enlarged perhaps, but his blood pressure holds at an even 130/80. Casey’s lungs are clear. To our knowledge, he has never in his life smoked a cigarette. He can run almost 30 miles per hour for 2 to 3 hours at a stretch. He bench-presses 800 pounds, and can easily perform single arm curls at 160 pounds. He squats easily with 500 pounds, and has been known to do deadlifts of 600 pounds in a set of 25 repetitions.” Zaftig coughed modestly. “Casey is also an accomplished gymnast, and can hold an iron cross on the rings without moving for 5 minutes. His extreme flexibility enables him to land from a flying dismount into a full 180 degree split.” Baby, breathed Sam to himself. Come to daddy. He licked his lips just a little. Tyler was taking short, shallow breaths, as if he was hyperventilating. “Calm down,” Sam chuckled to Tyler, who was trying in vain to appear neutral. Tyler elbowed him sharply. “You calm down…” he muttered, shifting uncomfortably. Sam smiled and ignored him. “Go, man, go!” came a breathless voice from down at the end of the row. Clearly Sam and Tyler weren’t the only men excited by what they were seeing. Zaftig clicked his remote. A new slide appeared with Casey holding a front double biceps pose. “Casey has 26 inch biceps,” Zaftig continued. “His waistline measures 30” after a heavy meal. His quadriceps are 32 inches, and his chest, when expanded, measures a rather staggering 69 inches. His calves and his forearms are, respectively, 20 inches and 25 inches.” Yes, I was going to ask about Casey’s dimensions, Sam thought wickedly. He glanced right and left and observed his colleagues were probably wondering, with various degrees of personal interest, the same thing. “He eats 8 times a day, about 15,000 calories daily, a special diet of lean meat protein, clean animal fat, and low carbs. He drinks between 5 to 8 gallons of water during the course of a normal day. He trains 4 days a week, and the other three days he is required to remain at full body rest and in meditation, so that his body may fully recover and continue the growth process. His workouts are not shade less than brutal. Still, we are very careful not to overtrain any of the men, but because of Casey’s particular passion for heavy bodybuilding, in his case, we have to be unusually strict and watchful. He’d be in the gym day and night if we allowed it. Fortunately, over the years, we’ve learned better.” “I’ll bet you have,” thought Sam. “Casey’s also a black belt in karate and could be a champion extreme fighter – that is, if I ever let him out of the lab.” Zaftig smiled devilishly. “He has a mean left hook,” he added. “He can knock a 250 pound man unconscious with a single punch. His vision far better than 20/5 – what you can see at 5 feet, he can see at 20. Casey doesn’t drink or do drugs. And he has never in the three years we have worked with him here at Valhalla had so much as a gram of processed sugar. In short, gentlemen, Casey Rockland is a perfectly-developed male specimen.” One of the 1-star generals on the Committee blurted out. “Doesn’t do drugs,” General Needling echoed, as if appalled. “That’s a steroided physique if I ever I saw one!” he shouted. Walrus frowned. Another officer, General Wampum, added his harsh agreement. “He’s Ahhh-nold,” came a deep voice from somewhere in the junior officer row. “I’ll beeee beck.” Some chuckles, immediately silenced when Walrus, without turning around, sharply lifted an index finger to one ear. The men were clearly covering their growing excitement with feeble jokes. Zaftig continued. “On the contrary, gentlemen, there are no contraband controlled substances anywhere in Casey’s bloodstream. He’d test negative for any drug. No growth hormone, no insulin, no pain blockers. Nothing synthetic. I assure you there have never been any sort of street drug protocols at any time in Casey’s extraordinary development. Casey receives nightly injections of P-21, Valhalla Labs patented muscle-building enzyme, painstakingly developed by our technicians a decade ago, and unavailable to the general public. All of Project Herculaneum’s subjects receive nightly injections. There are no negative side-effects of any kind to P-21.” He paused for effect. “And it is not a steroid.” Zaftig let that sink in. Admiral Walrus snorted. He didn’t believe a word of this crap. He’d had enough, and the meeting wasn’t 3 minutes old. “What the hell are you talking about, Zaftig?” demanded Walrus. “Is this how you’ve been spending your Pentagon contract? Is this what you’ve brought us across the country from D.C. to see? A muscleman?! Some gym freak? Goddamn it, man!” “Admiral Walrus, sir, “ said Zaftig, his voice lowered to easy familiarity, “let’s just look at the facts. Casey Rockland is no ‘gym freak.’ He’s not simply “a muscleman.” Casey is the result of years of pain-staking research, protocols, hard-core training, and delicate systemic honing. He and the other 19 men we are presenting to you tonight are uniquely developed physically perfect beings. They are trained to exert control in all situations, and to follow orders to the letter. To the letter, I might repeat.” I can think of a few orders I could issue, thought Sam, shifting in his seat. Once again, his twitching cock was beginning to bind in his shorts. He mused if such wishful thinking might indeed have a payoff. The Generals murmured in low tones to Walrus, who nodded fiercely. “He looks – what did you call it?” Needling whispered again to Walrus. “He looks Photoshopped! How do we know this is real? No man looks like this!” Zaftig turned and faced the group. “Gentlemen, I assure you, there’s no trickery here,” he confided with a touch of theatricality. “Zaftig, this is a waste of our time.” Walrus started to get up as if to leave. The other officers stirred, hesitating. Zaftig resumed pacing. “Gentlemen, I confess, I’m disappointed. In fact, I’m speechless. You think this is all pure speculation?” He gestured at the figure on the screen. “Theory? Scientifically uncertain? Wish fulfillment, perhaps? Photoshop?” He paused for effect, and turned to a tall, lanky, owl-like man hovering at the end of the first row. “Dr. Shaft? Perhaps you might confirm to the Admiral…..?” He waited smugly. The Joint Chiefs personal physician, Dr. Shaft, was invariably called in as a paid expert on any matter remotely medical, for which service he balanced his time between coasts, living half his life with his annoying socialite wife of 35 years in an impressive Chevy Chase McMansion near the Washington, D.C. beltway, the other in a smaller, more secluded ocean-front home off the Pacific Palisades. Shaft had remained silent and withdrawn up to now. He turned meekly to Admiral Walrus, cleared his throat and spoke nervously. “Admiral Walrus….requesting your indulgence, sir, but Dr. Zaftig is quite correct. Casey – and the other 19 muscle specimens – does indeed exist. And his specifications and dimensions are just as Dr. Zaftig is presenting them to be tonight.” Walrus grunted. “After all, Admiral Walrus,” said Zaftig smoothly, “Dr. Shaft is your own representative in Project Herculaneum.” “And they’re all living here in this compound?” he demanded. “Now? Tonight?” “Yes, sir. They’re all in residence here at Valhalla Labs. You can see them for yourself in a few minutes, if you wish. In fact, we have planned on it.” A moment passed. Walrus resumed. “Get on with it, then,” he muttered. “It’s a waste of my time, but get on with it.” He snorted. “Admiral Walrus, sir,” said Dr. Shaft, placating him with superior charm. “Dr. Zaftig and the team at Valhalla are indeed introducing a species of super-beings. I have had the opportunity to personally review them myself in the not-too-distant past.” For years, Dr. Shaft had upon occasion enjoyed the discreet company of out of town young male visitors from Venice, California in his West Coast home, whose ‘careers’ on the bodybuilding competition stage he had generously funded. When Zaftig’s informant, one retired pro bodybuilder by the name of Miles Donovan, revealed Shaft’s little secret, Zaftig knew he had an ally, if an unwilling one, amongst the Joint Chiefs. He’d played his cards right, and covertly brought Shaft in months before for an unofficial unveiling. Shaft had been stunned into fawning speechlessness, and gratefully accepted a deal in exchange for support. Zaftig found the man useful but repugnant. And now - review the men? Is that what he calls it? “Let’s not exaggerate, Dr. Shaft. I haven’t created a species. After all, I’m not Victor Frankenstein,” Zaftig said humorously. “Aren’t you?” asked Dr. Shaft. “Who are they? Where did they come from?” asked General Wampum, glaring at Shaft. “They all came to me on their own at different times during the last 18 years,” replied Dr. Zaftig. “On their own, they were already splendid specimens, ranging in age from 18 to 40. Though I searched them all out personally, no one was recruited. Moreover, their dedication to this project is unquestioned.” Zaftig’s audience began to murmur. “This is crazy,” said Wampum. “Crazy?” Zaftig responded, his voice raising. “Crazy, you say? I assure you, General Wampum, these men are real and at the height of their development.” The officers all seemed to speak at once. “Perhaps, to satisfy your doubts, I might pause and take some of your questions now.” “They’re volunteers?” “Are they soldiers or civilians?” “What are their backgrounds?” “How about their general health? Are they medical freaks?” “Are they even Americans?” Walrus demanded to know. “Are they even human?” asked Wampum. “Dr. Zaftig, I have a question.” Sam raised his hand. Walrus half turned, but nodded, permitting the question. Ensign Victor may look like just a pretty boy, but he has brains and guts, Walrus thought. His gesture silenced the group, and he allowed the Ensign the floor with a slight nod of his head. “You haven’t mentioned I.Q. How sharp is Casey’s intellect?” For the first time so far that evening, Zaftig seemed to hesitate. He recovered instantly, but Sam caught momentary crack in the façade. “Casey has the normal requirements of intelligence for a gifted soldier,” he answered. Aha. “This man’s a soldier? He’s enlisted in the US Army?” demanded Admiral Walrus. General Wampum preened a little. “Casey Rockland holds the rank of Private 1st Class in the US Army,” repeated Zaftig, but offered no more information. “Dammit, Wampum, why didn’t you know this?” Walrus demanded. General Wampum stopped preening and slumped in his seat. General Needling came to his defense. “We didn’t know any more about this than you did, Walrus,” he growled. Zaftig turned back to the image of flexing Casey, resuming his presentation as if nothing had happened. He brought his pointer up, lightly touching the tip to the biceps of the left arm. “Note the triple biceps head,” he continued. “The unusually separated deltoids, and the dynamically thick trapezius muscles.” His pointer lightly tapped each muscle group as he spoke. “You see the unusually dense vascularity. Also, pay special attention to Casey’s thin skin. Men with this low bodyfat are often cold, their own bodies incapable of supplying sufficient heat, and their skin can be fragile. Casey is never cold. His metabolism prevents it. And his skin is as tough as rawhide.” I’ll just bet, thought Sam. Zaftig clicked through a series of images showing Casey stripped down in different posing straps, in a various array of training room shots and routines. He lingered on a final image of Casey in a deep leg squat, a barbell of several hundred pounds weight resting easily on his shoulders. His hams were so thick they almost touched the floor. Behind him his butt curved powerfully upward. Far from grimacing at the colossal weight, Casey’s handsome face appeared serene. The auditorium pinged with tense silence. The officers stared hard at Dr. Zaftig. Zaftig gazed calmly back, his mouth now a thin line of determination. Behind him at the head of the table, the screen was frozen with Casey in deep squat suspension, the only light in the dimmed room. Zaftig resumed airily. “Casey Rockland and the other 19 perfectly-developed specimens not only are living and training full time in this very facility, they’re thriving. Within this very complex, these 20 perfect men completed their second shift in another day’s hard training protocol 30 minutes ago. They’ve showered and changed two levels below us while we’ve been talking. In fact, they’re not more than 100 feet away from where you’re sitting now.” Sam’s ears perked up. Zaftig placed his palms on the dais table and leaned in towards the uniformed officers. “I am ready to present them to you now, if you wish.” He let the statement sink in for impact, and pushed away from the table. Behind the Generals and Admiral Walrus, the Junior Officers shifted uncomfortably in their chairs. All except Sam. This is getting interesting, he thought. “Perhaps I should do just that,” Dr. Zaftig said, “We might amend the agenda tonight. I think we need to break a little early. You all probably want to see the results for yourselves. Only then can you make an informed determination for your report.” He crossed toward the stage apron and turned to the group. “If you will all will be so good as to accompany me into the lab?” Confusion. The officers look dumbly at one another. Even Walrus said nothing. No one moved. Zaftig clicked his remote again, and the screen rose. “Dr. Irving?” he called out, climbing the stairs to the stage. “We’re coming into the lab now. Get the men ready.” He flicked some switches on a panel and the stage lights came up. At the back of the stage, a white-coated lab technician appeared, opening double doors. Beyond, the white glare of Valhalla Laboratories was revealed. “Admiral Walrus, Dr. Shaft, General Needling, Gentlemen: if you’ll all follow me.” Zaftig turned without a backward glance and crossed the stage to the opened lab doors. He turned and beckoned the group to follow him. A moment later the group rose, and with some uncomfortable putting away of laptops which had been hiding bulges, and with embarrassing shifting of slacks and trousers, which told the telltale signs of arousal, they crossed the stage and entered the lab. And with the notable exceptions of Walrus and Wampum, Zaftig noted with some satisfaction, that every man in uniform was sporting a straight-ahead trouser trout bulge. ******* Click below for the next chapter! "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - Inside Zaftig's Lab: The Musclemen Revealed

Chapter 5 – The Recruitment of Gods. October 5th (Today): Sam smiled broadly at seeing the two massively thick men that stood up ahead. The anticipation in him was overwhelming. He had been waiting for months to see this day come. As he drove the patrol car closer, he was able to make out which one was his brother, Lloyd. He was so happy that Lloyd had completed his task as well; really well in fact as Steve was such an amazing specimen of his new self. The broken up cop car splashed through the white glowing puddles of liquid as if the clouds had just burst uncontrollably, only it had not rained in over a week. The intensely strong smell of sweat and sex in the air was so overpowering that with every breath Sam took in, his cock lengthened and rose up toward his chest. He looked over at his 2 hour old, new lover, Jake, who was fast asleep, resting from the incredible excursion that he had just gone through. Sam smiled even broader at the beauty of Jake. He remembered how only a few hours ago, everything was different since Jake and Steve hadn’t come into their own. He remembered when he himself first had the change and how much he wanted to have his partner by his side. He remembered how Uncle Matt had told him and his brother, Lloyd, that they were the ones who would bring the “New Breed” (as he called Jake and Steve) to life and begin a new colony. Both men were not only changed, but had become their lovers. He remembered all of Jake’s feelings and thoughts and all that he and Jake had gone through to get to this point. He looked at his watch…8:28pm…yep right on schedule. 6:14 pm, (the same night): It was just after dusk when Jake and Sam had pulled behind the bush-covered guardrail to set up their radar. Their little speed trap had become quite successful. Lately there had been a lot of traffic on the old country road of 35 mph that was going well over 50. The mayor and sheriff had ordered the speed trap in hopes that it would slow everyone down, by the quick word of mouth that always was around town. But to Jake it seemed that it wasn’t the town folk that were doing the speeding, it was only a few travelers. Most of the time, the partners would just sit there and talk about their lives. Every now and then they would get to pull someone over for speeding and Jake really enjoyed it when they would pull over a huge hulking man from that farm over the mountain and across the county line. Their body frames were enormous and positioned on bikes that could barely contain their massive weight. Jake loved pulling these huge men over and always would be semi hard, by the time that he would walk up to these gladiators of steel. Some of them would check out Jake’s own nicely worked out body and flirt with him. He loved their attention and he LOVED men that had huge thick muscular bodies. Lately he had been hitting the mother load; especially with his partner. March 4th (7 Months ago): Jake was new to the town and the job. He had moved from Louisville about 6 months ago. Right before moving, or rather part of the reasons for the move, his now ex-girlfriend left Jake for some trucker she had met at the diner she worked at. Thus, Jake had just graduated from the Louisville police academy and had seen that a position for a cop had opened up about 20 miles out of city, in the town of Flatbush. He also found only one apartment that was available in town. He immediately called for the apartment and talked to a guy named, Zach. Zach told him the place was only a small one bedroom place with not even a full kitchen, but Jake told him he’s take it. Then Jake called the station’s Captain to talk about the job. Without even much effort, Jake got the job. So he packed up his stuff and headed for a new adventure. Jake had always thought himself to be bisexual. He had had sex with guys and girls, sometimes at the same time, but he realized that they guys that he wanted always seemed to be huge and muscular. Even as a child, Jake had always felt a certain…closeness to bodybuilders and superhero types of men. Women were okay and basically were safe in a conservative town as Louisville was, but Jake always knew that huge muscle was what he desired. When Jake arrived in Flatbush, he noticed how everything was really neat and tidy in the town. He noticed that there was no trash in the streets and everyone there looked happy and healthy. Some actually looked “Really” healthy, like fitness models. No one seemed overweight and if they did look big, it wasn’t because they were fat. Everyone was very friendly and when Jake stopped at the local bank, he asked the teller if there were any places that he knew of where he could get a good workout. The teller told him that there was a gym in town, next to the barber shop and that is where most everyone went to stay fit. He also mentioned a farm on the outskirts of town, but that not many people went out there, since it was a little far out. When Jake arrived at the apartment building, which was above the gym, the teller told him about, he met the landlord, Zach at the door. Zach was a small skinny, pre-Captain America Steve Rogers type of guy. Even though he was small and thin, he looked very healthy and Jake couldn’t help notice the enormous bulge in Zach’s pants. Oddly, this stirred up Jake’s hormones. Zach had not only owned the apartments upstairs, but he owned the whole building, including the gym. They went into the apartment and it was perfect. Just the right size and it was just as neat and tidy as the rest of the town. Zach invited Jake to his place, down the hall for some coffee and they could go over rent and stuff. Zach and Jake talked about the rent and the town some, but then the conversation shifted to their personal lives and family. Jake told Zach about his ex and Zach said what a shit ass punk she was, which made them both laugh. Then Zach started talking about his family and he said that all he had left were two brothers. One of them had left the town and he thought that he was living out on a farm of one of his friends. The other brother, Sam, just happened to be one of the cops that Jake would be working with. The police force for the small town was very small itself as there wasn’t much going on in the town of Flatbush. But, that there always seemed to be a lot going out on the outskirts of town. After about an hour, Jake got the car and trailer unpacked and he was moved in within a few hours. That night, Jake had the most restful sleep that he could remember in a long time. The next morning he was to report to the station and start his new job. The first time Jake saw Sam, was at station when the captain introduced Jake to the officers in the department. There were only 15 total including the captain and Jake. Jake noticed, though, that he only counted 14; 12 guys and 2 girls. He also noticed that almost every male on the force looked as beefy as most men in the town, but none of them were huge, just built a little bigger than most, like a cop should be. That’s when another figure came into the building from outside. Jake’s mouth went dry, his knees went weak, and his cock started to involuntarily grow. Sam introduced himself in a low commanding voice and walked…no swaggered over to shake Jake’s hand. Sam smiled as he could see that Jake was visibly shaken by his size. Sam was all cop, with his jargon and lingo and the way he was so hyped up about “catching the bad guys”, but physically, he looked like he had played for a professional football team all his life. He stood a little less than 6’8” and was enormously proportioned. His whole body was thick and big. He looked like a cross between a Viking and Scottish Highland Strongman. When Sam and Jake met face to face…rather, face to chest, Jake could hardly think straight. Sam noticed Jake’s staring but to him it was only admiration in his new partner’s eyes, instead of the lust that Jake had felt. Being a straight guy, Sam took it was one Hell of a compliment coming from a good-looking guy, like Jake. Sam had a girlfriend that he loved and they had plans to get married. Even though he loved his fiancé, it didn’t stop Sam from being a chauvinistic jerk as he was always talking about how much she loved his super thick 10” cock ramming her wet pussy. When they were on patrol, just the two of them sitting in their cruiser, Sam would get as graphic as a porn novel telling Jake his escapades with Lucy. Jake could tell that Sam would also get turned on by his own stories. Sometimes as he talked about it, Jake would notice Sam’s huge pant snake start to burrow down his partners leg. Scared of Sam noticing his own impending 9”er making a pants tent, Jake would cover his lap with the ledger for the day. Then after every shift, he would go back to his apartment and beat his cock for hours imagining Sam’s huge body pressed against his and causing him to have some of the most powerful orgasms of his life. Lately, it was becoming almost a daily ritual and Jake really never thought about girls much anymore. It was beginning to be all about Sam. Jake and Sam had been partners for about 3 ½ months now and Jake was feeling his way with his new partner. He fantasized doing that literally, feeling all over Sam’s big muscular, thick body, but he knew Sam was homophobic, so he had to take it easy with any hints or allegations. Sam was always talking about how disgusted he’d get seeing two guys kiss. He said that he would never let some guy kiss him. He’d rough ‘em up good. Make them pay for being such a pansy. Once he talked about how he’d fuck the hell out of em, just to teach those “fags” a lesson. The idea of Sam fucking Jake to teach him a lesson, made Jake almost cum in his pants. As their time together on the job progressed through the months, Sam’s stories of the past chicks he had banged, plus his girlfriend’s ability to deep throat him and getting his cock so wet she never needed lube, seemed to get more intense, and more off the straight and narrow. Sam seemed to be getting turned on more and more every time he’d talk about it. At first it was all about the girl’s breasts and tight asses, but slowly the details of the girl’s bodies changed as it got less and less about their bodies, and more about how he loved watching his cock, seeing it growing and cumming in buckets when he was filling up the bitches. Once Jake thought he heard Sam almost cum in his pants, as he was really getting into it, talking about his muscles, body and cock so much that his breathing became heavier and heavier, till he seemed to moan under his breath. It was really dark in the car, that night, so Jake only was able to hear Sam, which actually made it worse for Jake, since he almost came himself at the lusty sounds of Sam right next to him. God, he wanted to touch his godlike partner, so bad, but he knew that it was impossible. August 5th: Then it happened, Sam came into work that day and he looked like something was on his mind, but he also looked relieved. As they were changing in the locker room to get ready for patrol, Sam told Jake that he left Lucy. He said that she wasn’t satisfying him like she used to and that he needed something…more. He said that after he told Lucy, she freaked out and went ballistic. He pulled down his pants to show Jake his thigh, where he said that Lucy had taken a salad fork and tried to stab him with it. Jake looked at where Sam said she stabbed him, but he didn’t see a mark. All he saw was the biggest most scrumptious thigh he had ever laid his eyes on. He asked Sam, where did she stab him and Sam quickly pulled his pants back up and said that she was such a weakling that she didn’t even give him a scratch. He said that for the past month he had been getting stronger and stronger and that he had no use for her pathetic ways. As a matter of fact, Jack thought that Sam actually did seem to be getting larger every day, growing from that thick mass to a chiseled muscle god. They both worked out together at Zach’s gym, but Sam seemed to take off like wildfire, getting all cut and growing even bigger, so much so, that it made his uniform skintight and strained the fabric to the point where you could see every nook, mound and crevasse of his tightly muscled frame. At the gym, there was a height tape against one of the walls and one day Sam happened to be standing next to it. Jake’s eyes bugged out as he saw that his partner was over 7’ tall and barefoot, nonetheless. In fact he was 7’ 3”. Most men increase their size slowly, but Sam was packing on 10-20 pounds every week. He had to get several new uniforms. This growth spurt started about a month before, after Sam went camping up in the mountains with his other brother and two of his buddies from out of town. Jake also noticed how different Sam acted around him since the camping trip. It was almost like he was flirting with Jake at times, but that was impossible, with Sam being such a homophobic dick. Jake had met Sam’s other brother, Lloyd and he was just a big as Sam was when they first met. Lloyd lived on a farm with a few of his friends. In the past month or so, Sam’s brother, Lloyd, seemed to be gaining a lot of mass too, as did their two buddies, Carlos and Penn, both of which were smaller than Jake a month and a half ago, but now they were visibly larger than him. All of them seemed extremely touchy-feely with each other as well. It was getting to be more than Jake could take. He wanted Sam so bad, that he started to bone up every time he saw the man. There were days that Jake would jerk off 2 or 3 times, just to get his hardon to go back down. September 20th: Then two weeks ago, the two of them were at their normal “speed trap” spot when Sam had an idea. He said that they should bust a bunch of those “fags” at the local rest area on the other side of town. He said he knew that men frequented that place a lot at night and there never seemed to be any chicks. The thing that was strange to Jake was that Sam was the one to come up with busting the place in the first place. Sam knew right where it was and what took place there, but Jake hadn’t ever heard of the spot being cruisy, much less had been there for some cock, himself. The only time Jake ever got sucked off in public was in the local Wal-Mart restroom. Sam seemed actually excited at the prospect of rounding up some “faggots”. At first Jake thought that maybe Sam had been propositioned there and wanted to get even, but he questioned that later, too. The two of them caught about 6 guys there, that were fucking and sucking, but as they were handcuffing them, 2 of the purps got away. Sam ran after them. Jake finished cuffing the other 4 and strangely he knew every one of the 6 guys, a couple were from the gym under his apartment. After Sam took off after the 2 escapees, Jake apologized to the other 4 and “accidentally” let the men go free. One of them was one of Jake’s best friends from the big city. He told the guys to stay away from there since the cops were on the hunt. The men thanked him and took off, leaving Jake alone. While he waited for Sam, he heard what sounded like trees snapping and the ground seemed to shake. Then there was the sound of what he thought were animals attacking the men, but it was over too quickly to warrant him to chase down the sounds. Still, Jake still was worried about his partner. So what if the guy was a muscle god, he could have still gotten in some type of trouble. He started to walk into the woods just as Sam started showed up with the two purps over his shoulders. Their pants were around their ankles and each had huge hard-ons with bodies that were all red and appeared swollen. Neither one looked upset, but rather content and satisfied. Their bodies were almost thick, which was strange since one of them, Joshua was the local barber and had always been quite thin. Jake saw Joshua, just about every day, since the barber shop was right next to his building. Sam set them down on the ground and without a word; both men pulled up their pants, gave Sam a strange look and freely got in the back of the patrol car. What shocked Jake even more was that Sam himself looked bigger, everywhere. His uniform was slightly torn and tearing more, since it was so extremely tight on him. The men had a fluid of some type that glistened in the moonlight, all over their faces and bodies and the inside of the car smelled like sweat and bleach. Sam told Jake that he had caught them in the act and that they put up a good fight but of course they were no match for him. Jake pointed at Sam’s crotch as he looked at his partner huge wet mound of fabric around his cock area. Sam replied, “Hey, since I dumped that bitch, I guess I need to get somewhere. Heh. Oh well.” Then Sam finally noticed something was missing and quickly changed the subject. “What happened to the other 4?” “Oh they got away. I guess I didn’t have them restrained as well as I thought?” “Oh well, at least I got two more of them for my trophy case.” Sam laughed hard and loud. “Yeah, I guess so? Bet you want to mount em, huh?” Sam threw Jake an evil look that told him to take that back. “I’m sorry dude, I was just kidding.” “No harm, let’s get these two back to the station.” Both men got in the car and Jake suffered a massive hard on the whole way, smelling the mixture of sweat and what he now realized was cum. The rest of the night was surprisingly uneventful and Sam kept pretty much to himself, which certainly wasn’t like him. After the two were released from jail, Jake never saw them again. It was if they had just disappeared. That was only two weeks ago. 6:14pm, October 5th (Today): Tonight though, just like clockwork, they had set up their speed trap and were anxiously waiting the night’s “kill” as Sam would call it. Strangely though, they hadn’t seen a car for over an hour. The only passing vehicle was a pickup truck that had Sam’s brother Lloyd, driving and a kid in the passenger seat that Jake thought he recognized but wasn’t really sure about. Still there was something about the young kid that made Jake’s cock jump and throb. There was something strange going on in Lloyd’s truck as they passed. It was all too quick, but it looked like the kid was rising up and down as if getting fucked from underneath. It was really weird but extremely erotic looking at the same time. In fact, there was something about tonight that had Jake’s libido supercharged. It was almost like the air that he breathed could turn him on. The patrol car was getting really warm inside and as usual, Sam started talking about getting his big cock getting wet, but this time, he never spoke of a girl; his girlfriend had moved out back in early September. No...all Sam would take about if he was referencing someone other than himself was that they were just a “hot hole”. He was getting into such detail this time; visually describing his horse cock to such extend that Jake was so hard and in pain from the pressure he had to physically hold down his clipboard to his lap to hide his excitement. Sam kept hinting to the fact that his story telling to Jake was making himself really horny, causing Sam to constantly and blatantly grabbing his crotch. Jake began to sweat as his own hormones raged for his partner. The sexual tension in the car was becoming completely overpowering, more-so than ever before. Sam began to slowly and erotically rub his massive legs, going down toward the knees on the outside of his giant quads then rubbing even slower up his inner thighs brushing his lengthening cock like it was a magic wand of power and lust. Over and over he did this as he very descriptively told Jake just what his cock could do to a person. He talked about the power it had like a mighty warlock’s scepter that caused anyone it gets in contact with to do his will. The more Sam talked about his cock, the more Jake’s breathing became incredibly deep and strong. Jake was starting to lose himself in Sam’s story and the scene that was playing out. Then, just as Jake thought he could take no more, Sam started to tug on his massive cock. Harder and harder he began to grab it and move the fabric of his pants over his cock. With every squeeze and pull Jake could see it thickening and slithering down Sam’s muscular thigh almost to his knee. At this point, Jake figured that if Sam was going to put on a show, who was he not to sit there and watch in enjoyment, but he was still very worried that this was a trap and Sam would beat him to a pulp if he found out how much in lust Jake was for him. His barrier was breaking down very quickly, though. “God this fucking feels good. I’m sorry dude, but I just can’t stop it. You can join in if you want. Go ahead and work that pipe of yours, partner. I know I got to work mine. Mmmm yeah…God I’m so fucking horny!” Still hesitating, Jake started to involuntarily rub his rock hard cock in his pants, but he kept the clipboard over it as he stared, mesmerized by Sam’s blatant display in front of him. Sam switched on the interior light and he looked up from his own lustful indulgence of his cock and over at Jake, “Look at that thing buddy, what hole wouldn’t love having that huge pipe opening it up. Tearing into it and filling it up with my fantastic spunk.” Sam squeezed his rod hard and almost instantly there was a huge wet spot where precum shot out from the piss hole soaking his leg and pants. He shook it some as if to wave it at Jake. “Damn, I’m so fucking horny tonight, I think this cock really does have a mind of own cause it wants to fuck and get sucked anyway it can. I really want to get off tonight. I’d let anyone that wanted it, have it.” Jake knew words out of Sam’s mouth were like that of a bad porno, but it seemed natural coming from him, since he loved to always talk about his sexual life. Jake looked up at Sam’s face with that last comment and Sam was looking straight at him, licking his lips and motioning with his eyes, for Jake to look back down and marvel at his God Cock. “So Jake, do you think I could make a cave outta someone’s tight hole? Make them never want to stop having me fuck them and give them a gift like no one has ever given them before?” With that comment Jake noticed Sam’s pants start to rip apart slowly where the wet spot was as if his cock wanted free from its prison. In fact most of his pants were straining to start ripping apart, ever so slowly as this God of a man began to grow. Jake couldn’t hold out any longer as he blurted out, “Damn, Sam you are the most impressive man I’ve ever met. You’re like the fuckin’ Hulk. I…I bet anyone would love having your ramming them. I know I…” Sam interrupted Jake before he could finish what they both already knew, but Sam wanted to play with Jake a little longer, “Probably any guy, too. What do ya think? You think some faggots ass could take my super dong. I bet a man’s rock hard muscle ass could take my giant cock easier than any nasty pussy could, huh? I'd make him cum without even touching himself, don't ya think?” “I…I dunno. Maybe, it could.” Jake was still playing along as well, even though he didn’t consciously want too. “Because right now; I just want to get off. I don’t care who I’m with. I just want a warm body with a tight hole to fill with my super cock and its special sauce. Like I said, I’d let anyone do me right now. Whattya think, partner? You know of any takers, or maybe you think you’re up to it…” Sam toyed with him. Still guarded, Jake said, “Why are you asking me?” “No reason, just thought…well…you might want to…at least…see it…maybe I can show you something even more amazing with it?” In a last ditch effort to hide his true desires, Jake said, “What are you crazy? I think I’ve seen plenty, already. I’m done with this, I’m no fag!! I’m sure some girls gaping gash would be just fine…” As Jake said the words out of his mouth, he turned away and grabbed the door handle, hoping to make a quick escape, before he gave into the lust that was inside of him. His heart started pounding as hard as his cock. His head was reeling and reality was dreamlike. He was fighting his desires as best he could, but deep inside, he knew it was a losing battle. For a moment, Sam was alarmed. “HOLD ON, DUDE!! It’s okay, seriously. I don’t think you’re a fag, man, but I know you’ve got to be curious. I know you are, everyone’s always curious. Lately, there have been a lot of people that have wanted to see it. Even some of the other guys on the force have seen it and almost all of them that have seen it were glad they did. They all said the same thing that you just said, but once they saw it, they knew they had wanted to see it all along, even if it was just for the penis envy and curiosity alone. Hell, until a month ago, I would’ve said no fucking way and kicked the piss right outta them, but lately I’ve seen a new outlook and it’s fucking awesome. Come on Jake; it’s cool. No one’s going to know. Hell, you should know by now, how much I enjoy the attention from you. I’ve noticed how you look at me with admiration and longing, but tonight...tonight buddy, you have a hunger in you, I can tell you are just full of desire and that's cool. That's totally cool. We’re just two horny guys showing off what we’ve got. I’m sure your cock is really nice, too. By the looks of your pup tent, I’ve noticed that you have a pretty big package as well, especially when you try and cover it up when it gets hard during my stories. Yeah, I’ve noticed it all the time. And in some weird way, it makes me even hornier when I see that you are all horned up over me. You always get really excited when I talk about fucking and all the sex I have. It’s cool, dude. I bet you jerk off thinking about me. I do. I fucking love myself and I love getting off on myself. I love you getting off on me too. So....let’s just show off what we’ve got to each other and get all this chicken shit out of the way” Sam could tell, Jake seemed a little more at ease. He tried a friendly challenge next. “Still you’re no match for my monster, but you look really good all hard and shit. Hell, I bet other guys are jealous of you too.” Jake looked embarrassed and turned his gaze away. Sam continued, still afraid that he almost lost Jake for a moment, “I know you’re not a fag, man. Anyone would get hard listening to my porn stories. Besides, you’re a guy, and guys love to see what someone else has, don’t they? Hell, I've had guys ask to suck it, too. And I don't judge, I just love getting off. Here, just take a look at how big, thick and long it is already here in my pants and I’m only half hard.” “HALF HARD!!” Jake thought and he turned back to look at it and he could clearly see that Sam’s cock must have been well over 10” now. “What does he mean only half hard.” The two words and the sight of Sam’s growing cock made Jake even more intrigued and horny. The voice in his head said, “I thought he was only 10” long, period.” Jake was embarrassed but kind of relieved that Sam knew he got hard during the sex stories. He was happy that he wouldn’t have to hide his rock hard cock anymore, but he still was extremely leery that this was a trap that Sam had set to bring him out. So he apprehensively said, “I don’t know, Sam. This is pretty weird. But…” “But what?! What’s the big deal, bro? I know you’ve GOT to be curious. You have to be. It's okay...I wanna see yours too.” “Well, maybe…” “You want to see my big shaft, don’t ya? Everyone does and I’m happy to oblige. They’re always very satisfied after they see it. I make sure of that. All I need is for you to tell me that you want to see it in all its glory.” Sam’s voice deepened and softened to the point of a low grumbled whisper, “Tell me, Jake. Tell me that you wanna see my huge cock. I know you do. Let go of your fear, Jake. Let go and give in to me. Listen to my voice...Listen to my cock telling you to want it. I’ve known you’ve always wanted too, haven’t ya? I’ve known that for a while now. My brother showed me a better way and now I want to show you. I know you love my massive muscles and I can feel your desire for it. Your body's on fire for me. Look at your own cock. It’s going to bust through your uniform, you want it so bad.” Sam pointed down to Jake’s throbbing crotch that was now wet with his own precum. “I…I guess I am. Maybe it would be cool to see what you’ve been talking about for the past 6 months. You always cover it up in the lockeroom.” Both men chuckled. Jake’s mouth was dry, but his lips and jock strap were soaked. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He was finally going to get to see what Sam had been teasing him with for the past 6 months. He knew he had to keep his cool, though, but he wanted to see that cock in “all its glory” as Sam put it. Hell, he wanted Sam in all his glory too. Jake’s asshole began to throb and pucker. His cock ached in his pants. He was so hard that Sam was right in assuming that it felt like it would bust through his uniform. God, what he wouldn’t give to be able to do that. Still, he was embarrassed that Sam had seen his trouser tent, but he thought, maybe it’s for the best since Sam was clearly interested in Jake seeing his monster. He knew he wanted to say yes. Yes, to see Sam’s incredible body, Yes, to Sam’s incredible cock. Yes, to whatever may happen. Maybe Sam would let him play with it, he thought. God, that would be a dream come true. Just the thought of that made Jake’s cock jump and shoot some more precum into his already drenched pants. He wanted that huge cock in his hands or better yet in his ass, which was puckering up even more. But he was still unsure if Sam were testing him and that he would kick his ass, if he tried anything. But now Jake’s passion had gone over the threshold. His inhibitions left him like a new morning. He felt free and clear of the barrier that was holding him back. Sam had got the best of him and he blurted out, “Yes, Sam, show it to me. Show me your big fucking cock. I want it!! I fucking need it!!! Give it to Sam. Give me your huge cock!!!” Sam heard the words he longed to hear from his partner, which caused a burst of energy inside him and suddenly there were more rips in his pants, not only where his cock was, but in the thighs, calves and ass. Sam’s whole lower body seemed to be expanding inch by inch. Soon Sam would not be able to control the growth in him and it would take over his mind and body and he would only be able to go along for the incredible ride. Since his change at the farm, he would long for the growth to hit him every day; sometimes 2-3 times a day. His training was finally over and he was able to finally control his body and its growth. There were times, such as now, that the growth would begin to get away from him, but he would regain his hold on it as best he could. The growth was like a drug and he was hooked. Now he was about to have the ultimate high, since he was going to feel the growth but as well, he would have the love and lust he had felt for his partner. It was time to bring Jake into the family. Jake’s mouth dropped open and began to moisten as he could clearly see his partner growing. It was as if Sam’s body were a balloon of muscle that was slowly getting blown up, expanding and the muscles getting larger under the stretching skin, becoming more pronounced as they grew. His shirtsleeves began to rip. A few buttons popped off. One cracked the plastic glass covering the speedometer. Sam slowly worked the split open in his pants, but instead of using his hands, he let his cock control itself as it tore through the fabric like a wild animal slowly escaping its cage. Jake could see that the naked monster pushing itself free as it was actually pulsating now, expanding and contracting through the confines of its imprisonment. He was in awe of its ability to tear through Sam’s trousers. It shimmered with all the precum and sweat that had enveloped it. Yes, it was huge, but he thought that it was the most perfect and beautiful thing he had ever seen. Envy and curiosity were true understatements for what Sam said other men must have felt, for Jake was in complete admiration and yearning. He knew it needed his worship. Thoughts ran through his head as if it seemed to call to him, telling him to want it, to treat it as an Idol or a God’s tool for which he was to serve and please. He started to become hypnotized by it. Inch by inch he could see the beauty of it come into view. He started feeling dizzy and lightheaded. His palms were sweating, as was his forehead. He felt a hunger for it in his stomach and his asshole started to twitch uncontrollably. His cock was almost continually leaking precum in his jockstrap, soaking it. His eyes were wide and his chest heaved as his breathing become increasingly deeper and stronger. He developed a thirst in his mouth and throat to coincide with his mounting hunger. Jake was completely enthralled now, but he still had his wits about him. He knew, or rather quietly prayed that this cock that grew before him was going to be his to play with and to serve as was the growing man before him. Sam was right, it WAS bigger than 10” now, and in fact it was almost 14” and still growing. It was incredibly thick, too; like a baseball bat. There was a thick vein snaking all the way from Sam’s thick forest of pubic hair to under the hood of the massive cock head that looked like a fully ripened, delicious apple. It was as if a snake was crawling out from the bushes to engulf the forbidden fruit. Jake could see the movement of life fluid through the massive vein, giving Sam’s super monster all the nourishment it needed to grow and extend into its God-like status. As the huge appendage came more and more into Jake’s view, more and more of the real world melted away and all that Jake could think or want in this life was Sam and his giant cock. With every deeper breath of air into Jake’s lungs, he could smell the pungent aroma of Sam’s fuckpole; sweat mixed with pre-cum and Sam’s pheromones. With each whiff, Jake felt more alive and went deeper under Sam’s spell. His own way of thinking was gone, now and all Jake could think and pay attention to was Sam’s humongous cock and body expanding for his own private show. The lust in him rose with every thread of fabric that tore away. He had never in his life been more turned on. He began to hit a constant state of euphoria. Sam could tell that just as all the others, Jake was almost completely conquered to be his disciple of servitude and to become a muscle god himself. Sam knew he had to start the process of sealing the deal that Jake was unknowingly starting to sign. So, in one swift move, Sam took his hands and quickly tore his pants completely off and down over his huge column causing it to spring up to an almost 90 degree angle standing straight up at over 22” long and 9” around. This happened in just a matter of seconds and it was fully hard enough to stand more rigid than a steel pipe. There was so much precum already spurting out like a fountain from the nickel sized piss slit that when it sprung up, it shot large globs all over the car and one in particular flung over onto Jake’s face partially covering his right cheek, chin and lips. Jake felt it tingle on his skin and he left it there as he was now completely under Sam’s power. There was a large vein on top of Sam’s cock that was almost ¾” thick and pulsating with waves of a dark purple fluid flowing through it. The precum flow began to slow as it came out like a leaky pipe cascading down the shaft, completely covering it like posing oil for a bodybuilder. Jake felt his own cock jump hard in his pants and he had his first orgasm as it shot so much cum that it felt like he’d pissed himself. His voice cracked, “Oh God, I’m Cumming. I can’t help it…Jeeeezzzzus. Holy Shit!!! God, you’re so fucking huge and beautiful.” Sam let Jake have his orgasm and after it subsided he said, “It is, isn’t it? It feels so good to let it out. It loves being free from the confines of my uniform, where it can breathe. So what about you, Jake? Let’s see your cock buddy.” “I’m…I’m nothing like you, man. I’m just a little over average.” Jake moved the clipboard away from his cum soaked pants and pulled down his zipper. Normally he would have never been so blasé about showing his cock, especially since he had just filled his pants and he imagined he would begin to go soft, but not tonight. Tonight, he stayed rock hard and he was too far under Sam’s domination now. He dug down and fished out his normally impressive 9” cock, but, like he said, it was rather insignificant, when compared to Sam’s snake. To another normal man, though, Jake was very ample in the cock department. He began stroking it while looking at Sam’s anaconda that had consumed him. The pleasure running through him was so strong he began to softly moan. Only a few more strokes and Jake would have his 2nd orgasm. “STOOOOOOOOOP, DON’T CUM AGAIN,” Sam commanded. “I want this to last. Take your hand off your cock and close your eyes.” Jake did as he was told. He could feel his cock pulsating and pleading for the release of an orgasm. In fact, he was stalled at that state of euphoria just before your sperm comes rushing out of your cock. Sam knew that Jake was completely his now, but he still loved to play the game and in order to take over Jake and help him start the change; Sam had to get Jake into complete submission, first. He slyly spoke, “So Jake, very nice piece of meat there, buddy. You’re doing really well. I want you to keep your eyes shut and remember what my cock looks like in your mind. Remember its sheer beauty and size and tell me what see? Do not, I repeat do not hold back. I want your true feelings: Your true desires.” “I see something more beautiful than anything I have ever laid my eyes on. I see sheer joy and ecstasy in your cock, Sam. I see an Idol of worship attached to a God of a man that I have longed for and needed and wanted to worship and be with since the very moment I met him walking into the police station. I see my complete longing and desire for you. I see a life dedicated to you and I see that I WANT YOU.” Those last three words came out of Jake without any remorse or fear of being outted. Jake, finally gave Sam all he needed to hear. Now it was time for the “kill”. “Open your eyes and look at me.” Sam commanded. Jake opened his eyes and looked over at Sam. Every fiber in his body longed for the Man-God and his gaze showed every facet of complete submission. “Go on and touch it if you want, partner. Don’t worry about it. I don’t care. Everyone wants to touch it. Once they see it, they have too. It calls to them, just like it’s been calling to you. Don’t fight it, Jake. It wants you to feel it, to worship it, to make you one with it. Take it in your hand and feel its awesome power. It wants to give you its power and strength. It wants to make you huge.” Jake shook his head in agreement, casting his gaze back from Sam’s dark blue eyes to his giant pole and Jake was thrilled that he no longer had to hide his feeling for Sam and he would never again have to deny how bad he wanted the man of his dreams. A tear slowly crept down his cheek. He would never have to forgo his primal desire again: A desire that he was no longer in control of but it was now in control of him. He was happy to be completely in Sam’s control. In fact he was getting off on it. “You want it. You want to feel how heavy and huge it is. I know you do. In fact, Jake, I know you always have. I knew even before the night my brother and I changed your friends at the rest stop. Yes, you were right in suspecting me. They hardly put up a fight when they saw my cock. It called to them, just as it is calling you now. At that time I wasn’t fully able to change them myself, so my brother had the honors and they are reaping huge rewards for receiving our gift unto them. They are well on their way to becoming more than just great men; they are becoming GODS, like me. Go on and give in to it. It needs your worship. It needs your lust. It needs your hunger. I want you to be part of it. I want you to be a part of me. I want you to become a God, Jake.” Wide-eyed and trembling, Jake looked up from his gaze at the huge fuck pole due to that last comment and looked into Sam’s eyes. Tears were now streaming down his face. He was completely happy and relieved. He was more turned on then he had ever been in his life: Mainly he finally felt, free. That was the last moment that Jake would ever remember being a normal human. He was on his way to being one of Uncle Matt’s Godlike men. His hand trembled as it moved toward Sam’s giant cock. The monster glistened in the moonlight as Jake touched “glory” for the first time. He wrapped his large hand around Sam’s cock and still his fingers couldn’t touch due to the thickness of it. He began to slide his strong hand up and down feeling the power of it. Jake could tell that its weight was well over 15lbs. It was rock solid and throbbed of life. The precum covering it was like sheer seethe of thick oil that actually made Jake’s hand tingle and become increasingly warmer. Saliva escaped out of the side of Jake’s mouth. Then he realized how hot the side of his face was remembering the glob of precum that had hit him just moments before. He rose up his other hand, collecting some of Sam’s incredible potion mixed with his own tears and licked it with his tongue as he brought it into his mouth. He swallowed and a bolt of electricity immediately shot through him. Waves of a powerful new feeling and sexual highness more intense than he had ever felt before poured through him like an internal orgasm and he lost all control as he lunged at his idol of worship. With a deep breath, Jake took the entire head of the monster in, stretching his mouth to its limit. His lips cracked at the edges and started to slightly bleed. Sam yelled out. “FUCK YEAH, JAKE, SUCK DADDY’S HOT POLE. I’M GONNA MAKE YOU AMAZING. I’M GOING TO MAKE YOU A FUCKING TITAN.” Jake swallowed as much of Sam’s mammoth rod as he could, which at first was only a mere 2 inches, but with every push of his mouth down, it seemed easier to go further. Sam’s endless supply of precum was mixing with Jake’s own bodily fluids of saliva and blood causing his change to begin. Soon he had over half of Sam’s gigantic cock down into the back of his mouth and beginning down his throat. With every suck he swallowed more precum, energizing him even more and helping his body become more elastic to take the huge prick in him. His entire body was warming up and feeling more energized. “Yeah, Bitch, Dammit Mother Fucker, swallow my cock. I’ve been waiting for over a month for this. You are going to be my best. You are going to be colossal.” With that, Sam grabbed the back of Jake’s head and simultaneously rammed his hips up and his partner’s face down shoving all 20 inches of God cock into the back and then down into his new bitches’ throat. “Fuck yeah, bitch, you are going to make Matt one very happy man.” Jake was so into Sam’s cock; he thought Sam had said ME instead of Matt. Little did both of them know that this was just the beginning of Uncle Matt’s master plan. You see, Jake and another of Uncle Matt’s men were to meet later and change mankind. But good things come to those who wait. Jake was amazed at how easy it was to take all of Sam down his throat and how good it felt. He felt that god cock pulsating in his throat as it continued pumping Sam’s muscle juice into him. His body took over, beginning with his throat as it massaged Sam’s huge cock on its own. Jake felt consumed with lust and the need for more from his partner was becoming overwhelming. Just when his mouth seemed to stretch wider and his mouth cavity was even fuller of cock, something more began to happen. Was it his imagination or was Sam getting bigger, AGAIN? Another large stretch and Jake noticed that even though he hadn’t moved up or down on it, there was an added 4 inches from his face to Sam’s pelvis. Then Sam screamed and the whole car jumped as Sam’s orgasm began, flowing huge amounts of cum deep into Jake’s gullet. So much cum was pouring into the smaller man’s body that it began to flow out of his mouth and all over them and the inside of the care. Sam’s massive cock seemed to continue to grow inside and down Jake’s throat as his body seemed match his cock growing at a fast rate as well. Jake held onto Sam’s cock the best he could and then he began to realize that it wasn’t only Sam’s body that was increasing. Wave after wave of Sam’s cum flowed into Jake, continuing the process of Jake’s transformation. His body was on fire and his skin felt like it was soaked in sweat and cum. Suddenly, his clothes felt extremely tight. So much so that he felt the ass of his pants rip with force up the center and continue to rip completely around the waist and down the right side first and then the left of his legs till they fell onto the seat below him. His socks and his boots started to rip off of him. Then his shirt and the rest of his pants literally exploded in the car, shattering the passenger window with his holster. Meanwhile, Sam was accelerating in his own growth and beginning to lose control as well. He realized that if he didn’t maintain himself that they would both grow to insane proportions and quite literally be unable to function, let alone return to a normal human like size. In a desperate attempt to stay in control, Sam quickly unbuttoned his shirt before he ripped through another one. He usually was able to control the speed and mass of his size, but this time even he was almost out of control as his new subject was. He had been yearning to get his partner to join him as a huge muscle god since the day after he had become one himself. That was when Lloyd, his brother, took him by surprise one evening after they had closed up the gym. He had been working out extremely hard that night in anger and frustration, due to his girlfriend’s cold, rigid attitude toward sex with him. She said he was getting to rough and when he fucked her it hurt instead of arousing her. Lloyd took Sam’s frustrated body to the message room to “calm” him down. Sam was so horned up that even his brother’s touch got him hard. Lloyd told Sam to hold on for a moment as he made a call and in about 15 minutes later, there was a knock at the gym garage door. Lloyd answered the door and Sam saw what looked to him like a human wall. Within seconds, this beast had Sam’s cock in his mouth causing Sam to go into overload and the next thing he can remember from that night was waking up the at Uncle Matt’s farm with his huge hard cock and his body completely massive beyond belief. The next day he learned how to control his morphing and began his training as well as helping to recruit others for the farm. Within a few weeks he had recruited more men than anyone else, combined; over 57 men were given a new life because of Sam. Now, 2 months later, his lust for turning Jake was so much that he, again, was going into sexual overload and knew he couldn’t control himself much longer. He got the shirt off just in time as his chest and arms expanded to Herculean proportions, causing the roof of the car and the driver’s door to bend up and outward. He knew he had to move quick or his already 8 foot high massive frame could inhibit Jake’s newly developing body if they stayed in the police cruiser much longer. Since his partner was over the top of his pants with his growing cock filling him up, Sam just let them rip to shreds. He loved the feel of shredding his clothes; his favorite moments were the initiation of a new member and exploding out of his clothes with his massive body. There wasn’t much room left for Sam and Jake to grow in the car so he tore off the car door and pulled his cock out of Jake’s hungry mouth leading him out of the car like a dog to a bone. Jake had already grown over a foot everywhere and was shredded from his own clothes. Sam was almost completely naked too, with only tattered pieces of fabric hanging off of him, but he knew they were too close to the road and would be noticed, so he led his prey into the woods. The car on the other hand, looked totaled. It wasn’t going to be easy to explain that to the captain, but he shouldn’t mind, since he went through the change last weekend. Once he felt at a safe distance from the road, Sam grabbed Jake’s expanding body by the ankles and pulled him up so they were at a vertical 69 position and Sam inhaled Jake’s own throbbing and growing 11” cock. It had grown 2 inches in a matter of minutes. For a moment Sam let go of one of Jake’s ankles and realized that due to both of their incredible strength, they were able to sustain this position without holding on to each other by their arms, hands and legs. All they need to use was their super strong suction and jaws. Both men were well over 10 feet tall now and Sam decided that he himself was tall enough, but to let Jake continue to grow. It took almost all of his concentration to stop his own growth. They held on like this long enough for Jake’s expanding body to grow well over 12 feet tall, causing Jake’s head to reach the ground, Sam’s eyes widened in awe as Jake’s massive growing frame lifted Sam off the ground as it continued to gain height and mass. Jake’s cock had now also surpassed his mentor and was a good 22” long and over 9” around. Sam began to gag some and again was in awe at this since he had never gagged on another cock. Just when Sam felt that he either would need to begin to grow himself or die from suffocating on Jake’s humongous cock, Jake stopped growing. His body immediately started to convulse and thick gushing streams of cum poured down Sam’s willing throat. Sam drink and drink for what seemed forever until Jake’s giant orgasm’s finally subsided. Sam could hold out no longer and he erupted so much cum out of his cock that Jake felt as though he were drowning. This was the point when Jake passed out and both men fell to the ground causing a minor quake to rip through the forest. As they were unconscious, they proceeded to change back to their normal states, but for Jake his normal state was now that of one of the largest bodybuilders in the world. Twenty minutes later, Jake woke up in the arms of the man he had secretly loved for over the past 6 months. He looked over at Sam, who was still out and kissed him on the cheek. He realized that they were both naked and then every memory of his change came rushing through him as he saw his new “normal” body. His new massive godlike body was somewhat equal to his partner’s but his cock was noticeably larger. He quietly released himself from his sleeping lover, standing up and began to feel what yearned to have his entire life: A God’s body. Sam woke up shortly after and both men kissed. They walked back to the car. As soon as they reached the car, the ground began to shake and from over the hill that was part of Uncle Matt’s Farm, they saw a shock wave barreling toward them. Both men instinctively knew the cause of it and instead of shying away or hiding from the impending burst of energy, they embraced it and faced it head on with their arms outstretched behind them and the welcomed the approaching blast. As it leveled trees and most everything it came in contact with, the two men were in their instinctive trance and ready for the next phase of Uncle Matt’s plan to begin. The shock wave hit them both head on, causing the patrol car to overturn and the billboard sign along with most of the trees around them to be mowed down. Neither of their super strong bodies flinched, all that they felt was what was needed for the continued genesis of the evening. Both men instantly came as the rush of euphoria unlike anything they had ever felt passed through them. Visions of two colossal men who they both recognized as Sam’s brother Lloyd and his passenger, changing into God’s even larger than they had become. When the shock wave passed, each of them walked over to the car, Sam picked it up and turned it back over as Jake watched in amazement. Sam told Jake to try and lift the car, which he easily accomplished, sending a rush of sexual excitement through him. With the roof torn off the car, the both got it, started the car to their amazement and drove to the epicenter of what would be the beginning of a new race on Earth.

I swear, I do write muscle growth stories that don't also turn into macrofests. This, however, is not one of them. Plenty of muscle growth to be had though... as well as a wide array of other kinks including but not limited to growth, shrinking, even some muscle/cock drain. I actually do a bunch of stories with dick shrinking as a theme, but seeing as that is pretty much the opposite of what I assume people here want to see, I doubt I'll be posting any of those here. That said if anyone's curious I have a full tag for those [Over on my Tumblr] ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sid stood in line with all the other acolytes and fidgeted nervously. This was it. He had come of age and all that was left was to officially ascend to adulthood. He just wished he could shake the overwhelming sense of dread that had plagued his mind all day. The dark, indigo skies did nothing to alleviate his panic. “Hey. Relax. You’ll be fine.” Sid’s best friend, Zen said. Sid glanced over at his pal and tried his best to smile, but his expression looked pained and forced. “That’s easy for you to say.” Sid replied flippantly. Of course Zen wouldn’t be worried. He already had a great body. There was no doubt that he was bound for greatness. Sid on the other hand was a total shrimp. He didn’t even come up to Zen’s shoulders. The tip of Sid’s head was just barely even with Zen’s exposed nipples. Like all the acolytes. Sid and Zen were clad in little more than a ceremonial loincloth. The small cloth was enough for Sid, but it didn’t cover Zen’s goods at all. The tip of Zen’s huge, soft, cock poked out past the bottom hem of his ceremonial garb. Sid tried his best not to stare, but Zen was just so hot. Zen’s toned, firm muscles were simply spectacular, and his ashen grey skin looked fantastic in the purple light from the torches that lined the path of up the ziggurat. The light made his already purple-tinged flesh look even more lavender than it normally did. The light even seemed to make his shaggy, purple hair sparkle which just served to make him look even more handsome. Zen put his hands on his hips and puffed up his chest dramatically. “You were staring so hard I thought I’d give you a nice view.” He said playfully. “As if I was staring.” Sid sputtered indignantly. “Whatever you were doing it looks like you enjoyed it.” Zen replied playfully. He gave a quick nod towards Sid’s crotch and gave his shorter, slimmer buddy a sly win. Sid glanced down and saw that his dick was standing straight at attention. He gasped and shot his hands down to cover up – less because he was embarrassed about popping a wood in line and more because he was embarrassed about the size. Even hard his dick was nowhere near as big as his buddy’s soft cock. Sid could feel the heat on his face. He just knew that his cheeks had to be turning new and exciting shades of magenta of even indigo as the blood rushed to his cheeks. He was so embarrassed that even his pointy ears felt like they were burning. Zen just laughed and gently rustled Sid’s green hair. “Just relax. Your size doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t affect your ascension at all.” Zen explained in an effort to soothe his bud’s nerves. “That’s easy for you to say. I’m already halfway to being an imp…” Sid grumbled. Zen tried to keep a straight face but ended up laughing at his friend’s comment. “That’s just a story they tell acolytes to keep them from slacking off in their duties. I’ve never heard of anyone actually getting turned into an imp at an ascension ceremony.” He explained. “What about that cage that the groundskeeper has outside his window. He says it’s the perfect size to keep an imp in.” Sid replied and shuddered visibly as he did so. “He says a lot of things.” Zen replied and rolled his eyes. “I’ve never seen or heard of anyone getting turned into an imp. No one here is going to fail their ascension least of all you.” “How can you be so sure…?” Sid muttered. “He can’t.” Came a haughty voice from beside Sid. “No one asked you, Vin.” Zen growled. “You didn’t have to, but I knew I was needed.” Vin replied. He was almost as huge as Zen in every way imaginable, but what made him really intimidating were his two lackeys at his side. The two lackeys were every bit as big and as built as their leader. Zen may have been able to handle Vin one on one, but three against one would be nearly impossible. Vin and his posse liked to terrorize the acolytes throughout the course of their training. He was openly hated by most, but everyone knew there was no way to directly oppose him without it coming to blows which would end poorly for everyone involved. Vin had a remarkable ability to keep his nose just clean enough to stay out of trouble but still throw his weight around and boss others around. Vin leaned down and peered menacingly at the much shorter, smaller acolyte. Sid recoiled in fear but for the most part stood his ground. Vin sneered and let out a menacing chuckle. “I don’t see why you’re so worried about becoming an imp.” He said darkly. He paused for a moment and stared down the cowering acolyte as he waited for his words to sink in. Sid didn’t know where he was going with this line of reasoning, but he sure it wasn’t good. When Vin finally finished his line of reasoning he proved Sid’s suspicions correct. “You’re already such a shrimp that you won’t even notice when you inevitably become one. Why, I doubt you’d even notice the difference. You mighteven add on a few inches in the process.” He said sinisterly. “The only one who has anything to worry about is you.” Zen replied defiantly. “Oh? You gonna do something about it?” Vin sneered. “No. I won’t have to. Everyone here knows what you’ve been up to these past few years. Do you really think you’ll be judged highly when you take the trial?” Zen asked. “You think I care about some stupid trial? Look at me. I’m fit to be a legionnaire. This whole ceremony is just a joke. I’m gonna walk up there and take my armor, and no feeble old git in a gaudy robe is gonna stop me.” Vin replied. He folded his arms in front of him and glared menacingly at Zen. At first Zen said nothing in reply, but he didn’t back down either. He met Vin’s glare and stared right back at the would-be bully. After a long, tense moment, Zen finally spoke. “I wish you all the best in trying it.” He said. “I don’t need luck.” Vin replied flatly. He then turned and marched his way back up towards the front of the line. His two lackeys made sure that the people who were in line in front of him didn’t get make any effort to deny their boss his rightful place. “If anyone deserves to be an imp it’s that guy.” Zen spat. Sid shuddered. “Even he doesn’t deserve that.” He muttered. Even just thinking of it made his stomach turn. He felt like he was going to be sick. Zen clapped a hand on Sid’s shoulder and smiled down at his little buddy. “You’re the nicest guy here. They’d never make you an imp.” He said reassuringly. “I wish being nice counted for something. They don’t grade you based on how nice you are. They grade you based on how strong you are or how brave or how smart. I’m none of those things!” Sid lamented. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’d be a great addition to any caste, and… you know… I’m still not saying it’s possible. I don’t think you have anything to worry about, but just for a second, let’s say the worst does come to pass, I’ll look after you, ok?” Zen said sweetly. “You mean like your pet?” Sid asked. “Well… I’d never think of you like that, but I’d do anything in my power to help you. So… stop worrying. I’ll take care of you, ok?” Zen replied. Sid nodded silently and wiped a tear from his eye. He was still terrified, but at least he knew that his best friend would look out for him. Even being cursed to live as an imp didn’t seem so bad if he could spend it with Zen. Sid’s gut churned again. He was so worried about failing his trial that he had completely forgotten about another serious issue. Even if he did succeed there was no guarantee he’d ever see his best pal again. He could get shipped off to any corner of the known universe. Suddenly failing his trial didn’t sound like such a bad idea… A loud horn blast split the air. The sound announced the beginning of the initiation. All the acolytes returned to their place in line and waited quietly to be called up to the altar where four priests stood with their staves held aloft. Each priest wore a different costume to denote their status and the caste they represented. Rah, owner of the red gem, had crimson robes and an iron mask to denote his ties to the worker caste. All who wished for a life of quiet fulfillment hoped for his favor. Sin, owner of the purple gems, had on ornate, layered robes. Each layer was a different shade of purple, and on his head was a helmet of solid steel. He oversaw the warrior caste. Those who sought to prove themselves, bring honor on their families, or protect those closest to them sought out his blessing. Next was Sol, owner of the blue gem. He wore simple, blue robes and a faceless, porcelain mask. He oversaw the caste of the learned; scholars, merchants, scribes. Those who wanted a more intellectual life hoped to earn his good graces. And behind all three of them sat an old, faceless figure clad in threadbare grey robes. No one knew his name or his status, but it was clear he was revered by the other three priests. His gnarled staff had a black gemstone on the tip of it. There were more myths and rumors surrounding him than there were facts. No one knew for sure just what to make of him or what caste he represented. The acolytes went up one by one to receive their blessings. Unsurprisingly Vin and his cronies were at the front of his line, but what was surprising was that Vin hung back and let his lackeys go first. No doubt he wanted to make a big show of getting a better result than they did. His two cronies went up one after the other, and both received the blessing of the red gem. Rah signaled for an attendant to come forward and pulled out what appeared to be four earrings, but it was clear that that was not the intended use. Only scholars got their gemstones placed anywhere on their faces. The attendants stepped and held the rings up to the lackey’s nipples. The rings instantly clamped down on the exposed flesh, but the two newly designated workers didn’t seem to feel a thing. There was no blood and no pain. There wasn’t even any irritation of the surrounding skin. Their brand new nipple rings looked as if they had been there for years. The small red gemstones on their new rings began to glow brightly, and the lackey’s already massive frames expanded rapidly under the power of the red gems. Their already defined muscles grew and grew. Soon their chests were so broad and their pecs so large that even just one of those slabs of brawn could have been used in place of the ceremonial altar. Their abs were so deep and so thick that each individual bump of their eight pack abs was as large as a couch cushion. Their biceps bulges like beach balls. Their legs were as thick as tree trunks. Their pitiful little loincloths which were the only holdover from their days as acolytes were now so tiny on them that the lower hem of the cloth didn’t even dip low enough to cover the base of their cocks. Their huge, fat cocks were easily two feet long and dangled down to their knees. Their massive nuts were as large as basketballs. Their huge, hulking bodies were now perfectly suited for the arduous lives that awaited them on the frontier mining colonies. They stood by and silently waited for the approval of their leader, but Vin hardly seemed to notice them as he walked by. It wasn’t until he reached the altar that he turned back and sneered, “Enjoy your lives as peasants.” His lackeys were saddened but not altogether surprised by his response. The first priest stepped forward and held his gem aloft. The red gem did not react to Vin’s presence. Vin sneered at the priest and then waited for Sin to step forward. Sin came forth and held his staff up towards Vin, but none of the gemstones began to glow. Vin was furious. “What’s the big idea. I’m destined for great things. I’m not some pencil pusher.” “No…” came a raspy voice from somewhere behind Him. Vin spun around quickly as if he was ready to fight whoever it was that dare deny him his destiny, but upon seeing the aged, faceless priest glaring down at him from behind his dark, threadbare cowl, Vin fell suddenly silent. “You clearly lack the intelligence to be one of the literati…” the ancient priest rasped. His lifted his staff high. The jet black gemstone atop seemed to gleam and glisten, but it would be imprecise to say that it glowed. Rather it seemed to be sucking the light from the air around it. As Vin stared into the swirling, black vortex terror began to well up inside of him. Vin tried to back away, but his two former lackeys stepped forward to hold him down. Vin thrashed as hard as he could as the ancient priest slowly shambled down the steps to the main altar. Soon he was standing mere feet in front of Vin. Even as close as he was, Vin couldn’t make out any features from beneath the cowl. It almost appeared as if he was gazing into the abyss as he tried to look for any sign of mercy under the ancient priest’s hood. The old priest pulled a small, tarnished iron ring with a jet black gemstone from his robe and held it up to Vin’s neck. The ring was far too small for Vin to wear on his fingers, but he got the feeling that that wasn’t where he was supposed to wear it. Vin could feel the malice emanating from the ring. The priest continued to move the ring closer and closer to Vin’s throat until it was actually touching his exposed flesh, but the priest kept pushing. The ring began to sink right into the flesh of Vin’s throat like a rock being swallowed by quicksand. Vin could feel it sinking ever deeper into his throat. The ring finally stopped sinking when only the small black gemstone was left exposed. Vin could feel the lump of it nestled right against his Adam’s apple. “H-Hey… Guys? Let me go, would ya? I mean, Workers. That’s not bad, right? You can take pride in your jobs and all that, right? In fact, I wouldn’t mind joining you. So come on? Give me some of those rings and let me join you. It’ll be great, right?” Vin pleaded nervously, but his former lackeys showed no signs of remorse nor did the wizened priest. Vin turned back towards the priest and tried to protest some more, but he couldn’t get the words to form. The ring seemed to be growing within his throat. The lump in his throat was now so huge that it was actually blocking his windpipe. He felt sick to his stomach. His skin felt like it was crawling. His very bones felt weak. The priest moved with a speed that belied his age. In one deft motion he sliced the string of Vin’s loincloth causing it to fall from his swole frame and fall to the floor. Vin was left completely nude in front of everyone, and he could do nothing to cover up. Vin whimpered pitifully as he saw the effects begin to take hold. His firm, rippling abs which he had spent years sculpting slowly began to smooth over. His big, beefy pecs began to deflate. His thick, muscular quads shrunk and shriveled before his very eyes, but perhaps what was even more terrifying was what was going on between his legs. His cock slowly pulled inwards. His balls slowly pulled upwards. With each passing second he could see his nuts get ever so slightly smaller, his cock getting ever so slightly thinner. He glanced back up to plead one last time. It was then that he realized something else was happening. He had to stare up to even see the faceless priest’s hood. Just moments earlier he had been taller than the wizened old priest by a good margin, but now he barely reached the grey-clad figure’s shoulders. He then realized why the ring felt so huge in his throat. It wasn’t growing. He was shrinking around it. He was dwindling by the second, and it didn’t seem like it would stop any time soon. With each passing moment he got smaller… shorter… slimmer… His muscles melted away to nothing, and his dick continued to recede. Before long he was so short that his feet didn’t even touch the ground. It was now pointless for the two newly ascended workers to both hold him, so Vin was passed off to just one of them to hold. The worker turned and lifted Vin up for the whole crowd to see. Vin tried his best to cover up, but there was nothing that he could do. He didn’t have the strength to fight his giant captor, and he was quickly losing the will to fight back at all. Already he was so tiny that either of his captor’s giant hands eclipsed his entire arm, and yet he was still shrinking. He couldn’t figure it out. How tiny was he supposed to get? When would it stop? It was then that he remembered what that shrimp Sid was saying before. Vin had made sure to tease the twerp about his misguided fears, but Vin now saw that he was the mistaken one. The curse did exist. It wasn’t just some story told to scare acolytes into behaving. He was being shrunken down to… an imp. He remembered the tiny cage that sat outside the groundskeeper’s house. He remembered how he used to joke about how nothing could fit in that. He used to say it was obviously just decoration. Nothing could possibly be that small. Not even rats could fit in that cage, but as he continued to dwindle down to the point that he easily fit in the palm of his captor’s hand, he knew how wrong he was. He could feel the band of tarnished iron pushing its way through his skin. He was now so tiny that the ring – which was too small to even fit on his pinky when he was big – was actually bigger than his neck. He then realized that it was never meant to be a ring. It was a collar for a tiny animal. It was a collar for him. The tarnished iron band passed seamlessly through his flesh. There wasn’t even the faintest mark on his skin to show where it had come from, but it didn’t look like the ring would slide through his flesh so easily the next time. It was firmly locked in place around his neck. The opening wasn’t tight enough to be uncomfortable, but it was far too small to slide over his head. There was no way he could get the ring off without getting someone to slice it off for him. The jet black gemstone stuck out from the front of the collar and gleamed directly below his chin. It was so heavy that he could barely stand, but he refused to let them see him collapse. He mustered what resolve he could and stood shakily to his feet and stared of defiantly at the gigantic priest and his two towering former lackeys. Vin had to be no more than four inches tall at this point. His muscles had all vanished leaving him with a slim, slender physique. His dick and balls had dwindled considerably even in comparison to his vastly shrunken body. His once hefty, foot-long cock which once dangled over halfway down his thigh was now a tiny little nub between his legs which looked much like a small acorn, and his once massive, chicken egg sized balls which used to hand down nice and low were now as tiny as the tip of his shrunken dick. His tiny nuts now longer hung low. Instead his sack had pulled up tightly against his groin which just made his junk appear all that much smaller. Vin was furious, but he knew he was powerless. His former lackey poked and prodded him with one meaty finger. Even just the tip of the hulking worker’s broad fingertip was as wide as Vin’s now slim and slender torso. Even just a soft poke from the giant was powerful enough to send Vin toppling over. Even as he was herded into his tiny cage he glared defiantly at his captors. As far as Vin was concerned there was nothing more they could do to him, and there was no way he was going to give them the satisfaction of seeing him crumble. One of the attendants took his cage from the priest and carried it down the main aisle. As he traveled past all of his former classmates Vin saw a multitude of glances sent his way. Some people were shocked. Some laughed as they saw the former bully being toted away like a mouse in a cage, but most of them had this smug sense of vindication. It was as if the overwhelming majority of them were glad to see him get his just deserts. Vin was not at all surprised by any of these. It was no secret that he made his fair share of enemies in his time as an acolyte. It was no surprise that many of them harbored ill will towards him, but there was one acolyte that amazed him. There was only one person that shocked Vin. As he passed by Sid he could see the terror and sorrow in the scrawny guy’s eyes. Vin couldn’t help but gawk at the guy he once tormented mercilessly. Sid was now far bigger, far buffer, and far better hung than Vin, but Sid was still considered the smallest, weakest, and littlest guy in the class. Even though Sid was by far the smallest acolyte, his dick alone was now bigger than Vin’s entire body. Vin felt a twinge of remorse. Just minutes earlier he had mercilessly teased the shrimpy acolyte about the curse. He had menacingly told Sid that he’d be doomed to live his life as a tiny imp, but Vin had not believed such a thing existed back then. He had merely been tormenting someone smaller than him to make himself feel bigger and stronger, but now that he knew the truth he would never wish such a fate on anyone else. As Vin was carried out of the ascension grounds he heard one last comment sent his way. Sid turned towards his bigger, stronger protector and softly uttered, “He didn’t deserve that… Nobody deserves that…” “Yeah…” Zen murmured awkwardly. He felt sick to his stomach after what he had just seen, and he felt even worse because he had been secretly wishing that it would happen. Even as he watched the black gemstone suck the light from the air around it Zen had felt his pulse race. He had to fight back his own arrogant sneer as he watched the terror well up in his former tormentor’s eyes. Zen had enjoyed watching the tables turn. He had enjoyed watching the bully plead for mercy, but as the inches melted away and Vin’s cock and muscles receded away to next to nothing, Zen felt a pit form in his stomach. The curse was worse than he had imagined, and he knew more than anything he could not let that befall his best friend. He’d do whatever he needed to. The rest of the ceremony went off without a hitch. The acolytes all went up, received the blessing of the gems and were given their new body. There were quite a few acolytes who got sent to the worker caste, a few scholars, and there were even a lot of soldiers. All but three of these had been given the blessing of the deep, purple gem which denoted that they’d be low level soldiers. The other three received the blessing of the lavender gem which meant that they were destined to be leaders and generals. There was much rejoicing and congratulation as these acolytes took on their new forms, but never once did anyone notice the third purple gem glow. Finally it was Zen’s turn to take the trial. Rah waved the red gem in front of him, but nothing happened. Nobody was surprised to see this. Everyone had figured Zen had the makings of a general so when Sin stepped forth with the purple gems an expectant hush fell over the ascension grounds. As most people suspected, the deep purple gem did not light up. There was some muttering amongst the crowd. Even some of the attendants were baffled. The gemstone on the tip of the priest’s staff was glowing brightly, but none of them had seen this color before. A resplendent magenta glow filled the altar. “I have not seen this in centuries…” Sin muttered. It was the first time anyone had ever heard him speak. His voice sounded frail and feeble, but he moved with the speed and vigor of a young man as he marched away from the altar and into the ziggurat behind them. He returned a few minutes later with an ornate jewelry box. Another hush fell over the crowd. All the acolytes recognized the seal on the front of the box. It was the emblem of the royal guard. “No way…” One of the recently ascended acolytes muttered. “A Praetor?” Another gasped. “I thought they were only fairy tales!” Another murmured. Sid was excited for his best bud – he really was… but there was something gnawing at the back of his mind. Praetor was such a rare and powerful position. Even though it was purely symbolic since there hadn’t been a monarch in centuries, Zen would no doubt be shipped off to the capitol to stand guard over some official location. Sid had no doubt that Zen might even be sent to oversee the senate itself. The secret meeting grounds of the high council was strictly off limits to all but the elite of the elite. Even if Sid managed to get a good ranking and a good gemstone and a position somewhere on the homeworld, his chances of every seeing his best bud again were slim to none, and even if he could somehow keep in contact with Zen, the chances they’d have to actually visit one another would be few and far between. They might even go years without seeing each other. Just thinking about it made Sid feel incredibly sad. He almost found himself wishing that he’d fail his trial. At least then he could stay by his best friend’s side… even if it was confined to a small cage like some sort of exotic pet. Sin reached into the box and pulled for a small, silver ring with a glowing amethyst set into it. Sin then knelt down before Zen and placed the ring against the exposed tip of Zen’s cock. The platinum ring passed through the soft skin of cockhead like a warm knife passing through butter. The ring left no marks as it passed. The flesh reformed behind the metal just as it had been before. If not for the band of silver which now protruded from the underside of Zen’s glans it would have seemed like he had never been pierced at all. Zen felt the effects immediately once the ring was in place. It was a strange yet familiar sensation. He could feel his cock chubbing up as it had so many times in the past, but it felt far more intense than it ever had before. The blood rushed to fill his cock, but it seemed like no matter how much blood flowed to his loins it was never enough. His cock just continued to chub up indefinitely. He glanced down at his dick and saw that what he was feeling wasn’t far from what was actually happening. His already sizeable dick was swelling before his very eyes, but it wasn’t just plumping up from the rush of blood and flood of arousal. His cock was literally growing by the second. It stretched longer, swelled fatter, grew heavier with each passing second, and it wasn’t just his cock. His already full, chicken-egg sized balls were growing too. Soon they were the size of baseballs and his dick dangled down past his knees. The plump, meaty shaft was already as thick as his huge, muscular forearm and showing no signs of stopping anytime soon. Zen was used to people seeing his dick. It was no secret that he was hung before, and his acolyte garb rarely covered the entire thing, but this was different. He was usually able to keep his arousal in check, but his cock was chubbing up in front of everyone that he ever knew. It was a little embarrassing. Especially once pre began to trickle from the tip of his huge chubby. The clear liquid dribbled across the silver ring that stuck out from the bottom of his slit as it oozed out. Zen felt like he should do something to stop it. The ring was so pretty that it seemed a shame for it to be laminated in his juices like this, but there was nothing he could do. The growth felt too good. There was no way he could get his libido under control at a time like this. Zen felt another rush flow through him, but this time the energy coursed through his entire body. His already firm, sculpted muscles grew and expanded before his very eyes, but the change was nowhere as severe as it had been with the workers earlier. His pecs grew thicker. His abs grew deeper. His biceps bulged farther. His lats flared out from under his arms. His quads grew larger. He was definitely getting bigger and stronger by the second, but his form was more built for speed and grace than it was for manual labor. Zen was so excited that he wanted to rush towards his best friend and gush about his good fortune, but as he glanced down at Sid he realized something was very odd. Sid was always on the short side, but now Zen’s best buddy barely reached his thigh. Sid now stood eye level with the base of Zen’s cock although it didn’t look like Sid was complaining. Sid was staring straight at Zen’s cock with a look of out and out lust and awe, and Sid’s little dick was standing straight up at attention. Sid was so hard that his loincloth couldn’t even hide his arousal. His rigid dick had lifted the cloth out of the way so that his dick and balls were clearly on display. Sid stared on in awe as Zen continued to grow and grow. Sid had seen a few ascensions before. He had watched the rest of his graduating class take their trials already and he had even served as an attendant for one or two in the past. He had seen acolytes grow up to be sentinels or legionnaires, but nothing compared to what was happening to Zen. The tallest Sid had ever seen anyone grow was almost ten feet tall, but Zen had already passed that mark and was still growing by the second. Up and up he went. It wasn’t until Sid barely reached halfway up Zen’s shin did the growth finally taper off. Zen’s stood completely nude. His loincloth had snapped loose and fluttered helplessly to the floor early on in his transformation, but he was hardly worried. He was so overcome by huge and powerful he felt, and he could tell from the look in his best friend’s eye and the stiffy that Sid was sporting that he looked hot as hell. His changes weren’t even over yet. His muscles and frame had stabilized, but his dick was still growing. It was now almost as thick as his hips and almost as long as his legs, and still it kept growing. His massive nuts already dwarfed the altar beside him. Either immense orb was almost twice as tall as Sid and far, far wider. Zen’s massive nuts continued to grow by the second. Soon his enormous orbs rested solidly on the ground. His massive, fat cock draped over his nuts, and even then his dick was still long enough to rest solidly on the ground. The tip of his dick came to a rest mere inches in front of Sid. Sid stared on in awe at the cavernous maw of his best bud’s cock. The slit alone was taller than he was. He had never seen anything so hot in his life. He could feel the heat emanating from it. The scent of Zen’s pre flooded his nostrils. Sid took a moment to soak up every inch of his pal’s cockhead. It was so massive that it blew his mind, and the ring had grown right alongside the dick. The silver band was now every bit as wide as Sid’s slender shoulders. The glowing amethyst was now larger than Sid’s whole head. It blew his mind to think that just a minute ago that ring was small enough that he could have worn it on his finger if he had wanted to. “So what do you think?” Zen asked playfully. He even went so far as to puff out his chest and put his hands on his hips as he posed for his best bud. Sid couldn’t respond – at least not vocally anyway, but his awed gaze and rock hard, dribbling boner said more than enough. Zen chuckled as he watched his tiny pal eyeing him up. He couldn’t wait to see what changes the crystals had in store for his little buddy, and since Sid was next in line, all that was left was for him to undergo the trial and get his own crystal. Sin returned to his post alongside the other priests and beckoned for Sid to come forward. Sid felt like his stomach was about to go supernova. He was so caught up in watching his pal transform that he had almost forgotten that his turn was next. He was so nervous he felt like he could puke and was visibly shaking as he slowly made his way up to the altar. Zen tried to cheer him on, but even the towering, twenty foot behemoth of a best bro wasn’t able to sooth Sid’s nerves. The ritual began as it always did. Rah held forth his staff and waited for the crystal to react. There was a tense moment as everyone waited for some sort of reaction, but no one was surprised when the crystal remained dormant. Nobody thought Sid to be the worker type. He was too much of a daydreamer to be expected to focus on manual labor for extended periods of time. Sin took the stage next. He raised his staff high and waited for some reaction. A tense silence fell over the crowd as they waited, but it soon became apparent that none of the military gems saw him suitable for their service. No one was really surprised by this though. Sid was too gentle for a life in the military, and it wasn’t that he was weak. The gems had the power to alter his physical stature any way they saw fit. Sid was far too kind to be expected to raise arms against another. He would never be able to carry out his duty as a soldier. Sid fidgeted excitedly as the third and final priest made his way forward. Sid never thought of himself as the intellectual type, but it was sure a better fit than the other two roles, and plus there was always the slight chance that he could get assigned as a scribe in the capitol. As he saw it, it was the best possible outcome. Sol raised his staff high. Sid closed his eyes involuntarily. He was so excited and nervous that he couldn’t bear to look. He was already imagining how he would look once he ascended. Scribes didn’t get much growth, but he hoped he could get a few inches of height and some more length downstairs at the very least. He was tired of being so short and tiny. An unearthly silence fell over the crowd. Sid felt like his gut was doing flips. This wasn’t right. Someone should have said something. There should be some cheering or something. Sid still couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes, but the reason was different this time. His excitement gave way to fear. He couldn’t have failed the trial, could he? He slowly worked up the nerve to open his eyes. He started slowly. His right eye slowly inched open, and he gazed out at the staff through his half-open slit. His jaw dropped. His gut lurched. The stone was still inert. There wasn’t even the faintest glimmer of light in it. “There must be some mistake!” Zen shouted. Sid could feel the ground around him shuddering as his titanic pal stomped towards the altar. “There is no mistake…” Sol said solemnly. “I… I failed…?” Sid murmured softly. He still couldn’t quite believe it. He felt sick. He had seen what happens to those who fail. Is that what awaited him as well? Would he get to be as small as Vin? He was already so small to begin with… what if he shrunk down even smaller than Vin? He shuddered just thinking about it. The thought terrified him, but try as he might he couldn’t shake the image out of his mind. Already his imagination was running wild. His mind’s eye replayed the scenario again and again, and each time he shrunk down smaller and weaker. Even if Zen agreed to take him in what kind of friendship could they even have if Sid was too small to speak too…? Too small to see? “I can’t allow this. I won’t let you turn him!” Zen shouted. Sid could hear the arguing going on around him, but it all seemed like it was miles away. He was still too in shock to fully comprehend what this meant. “You will stand down…” The ancient, faceless priest rasped. Somehow the audience fell even quieter. It was as if the air itself froze in time and space as the wizened priest stood up from his chair and limped down towards the altar. “I swore I would protect him.” Zen replied defiantly. “And you will.” The grey priest replied. Zen was taken aback. It wasn’t that the priest was menacing… far from it. His demeanor was far different than it had been when dealing with Vin. He sounded almost amiable. It was as if he found Zen’s defiant attitude enjoyable and even endearing. “Yes… I see now why you were chosen. You’ll make a great Praetor.” The old priest mused aloud as he placed his hands on the box from earlier. Zen watched intently as the ancient priest opened another compartment on the side of the box. The seal of the royal guard folded away to reveal another, more ornate emblem emblazoned on the side. Those who were close enough to actually see the emblem turned to whoever was nearby and started muttering amongst themselves. They had seen this seal before, or rather, they had seen a close facsimile of it. It looked much like the emblem of the ruling council, but crude X that made up the council’s emblem was replaced with an ornate set of wings. There had long been rumors of an older emblem that predated the council’s seal, but no one had seen it in centuries and even the records of it had been erased from history. Everyone was wondering if this could be it, and if this was the ancient emblem then what did that mean for Sid? The faceless priest strode over towards Sid and gestured over to the altar. “Please. Have a seat.” He said gently. Sid was still shaking like a leaf, but at least it didn’t look like he was going to be shrunken down into an imp in the immediate future, and it seemed the best way to ensure that that didn’t happen was to play along so he did just that. He obeyed the priest’s suggestion and hopped up onto the stone altar. The smooth stone felt cold against his exposed ass which did nothing to alleviate his shivers. As the priest stepped forward and stood directly in front of Sid, Sid became aware of something different. The gemstone atop his staff was glowing! It wasn’t like it had been with Vin. The gemstone atop the ancient priest’s staff was emitting a brilliant green light. Even just seeing the warm light put Sid at ease. He steadily began to relax, and as he did so he became aware of more changes that he had missed before. The priest’s staff was no longer the warped, sinister hunk of rotting wood it had been before. Sid could see small sprouts of fresh vegetation cropping up along the gnarled wood. “Here. Put this on.” The priest said gently. It wasn’t so much a command as it was a suggestion. It was almost as if he was offering Sid a gift. Sid nervously held out his hand and waited for whatever it was the priest had to give him. He was surprised when he saw the circular medallion and the platinum chain that it was attached to. The medallion bore the same strange emblem that he had seen on the box. Sid glanced nervously over at his pal as if pleading for Zen to give him some advice. Zen merely nodded silently. He was as confused as Sid was, but for the time being it seemed best to keep doing as the priest asked. Sid swallowed in an attempt to clear the lump that had formed in his throat, but it didn’t help much. He was so nervous he could barely keep his fingers steady. He almost dropped the medallion more than once as he tried to put it over his neck. The chain was the perfect size for him. It slipped neatly over his head and rested comfortably around his neck, and the medallion itself rested directly against his chest. The fit was so perfect that it was almost surreal. Sid glanced down and marveled at the small, circular piece of jewelry. It just felt right. He gasped as he saw the small gem in the center light up. It glowed with the same brilliant green as the priest’s staff. The glowing light spread outwards until the wings on the medallion sparkled with emerald light. It was then that Sid first felt something was wrong. Something was different. He could feel his body changing. It didn’t feel bad per se, but it certainly didn’t feel good. It felt as if he was being re-written from the inside out. He could feel his body adjusting and shifting. His bones moved. His muscles shifted. His shoulders felt like they were about to pop clean out of his body, and there were these two odd lumps forming on his back. He wanted it to end, but he wasn’t ready for what he would become when it was over. He glanced pleadingly over at his best bud. He figured if anyone could help him it would be Zen. “What are you doing to him?” Zen asked the priest. His voice was even and metered. He was polite enough so that the priest would not have reason to be upset with him, but he had just enough force behind his words to make it clear that it was in the old priest’s best interest to answer him. “Consider this another trial.” The priest said dismissively. “What if he fails it?” Zen asked. The priest shrugged in reply and said, “That would have been a pity, but it’s best not to dwell on what might have been. Look.” He then pointed over to Sid who was now sitting bolt upright atop the altar. He had a look of shock on his face that was slowly giving way to relief. Sid had been holding his breath for the entire process. When he finally felt the changes begin to subside he let out a long, relieved sigh. Right as the breath left his lungs, the two lumps on his back cracked open, and his new wings began to unfurl like sails in the wind. The sheer, emerald material billowed out behind him and slowly began to take form. By the time they had fully formed Sid’s diaphanous butterfly wingspan was easily five times as wide as his shoulders, and his wings were over twice as tall as he was. Two long, ribbon-like tails flowed from the bottom of his wings. Attached to the bottom of either tail was a sparkling green gemstone that was every bit as resplendent as the one glowing atop the priest’s staff. “What happened? What am I looking at?” Zen asked the priest. “That…” The priest replied with a pleased chuckle. “That is a Monarch. The first one we’ve seen in over a thousand years.” “So… what now?” Sid asked. “Now… you receive your gems.” The priest replied. Sid glanced down at the pendant around his neck and then back up to the priest. “You mean this wasn’t it?” He asked as he held up the pendant he was referring to. “Just one stone wouldn’t do for a Monarch, and that medallion you wear is the royal seal.” The ancient priest explained. He then reached into his robe and pulled forth a handful of small, platinum rods and a platinum ring. “These…” The priest explained dramatically. “These are your personal gems.” “Woaahh…” Sid murmured as he stared at the array of jewelry. The ring itself was very similar to the one Zen had had implanted into the tip of his cock. Even just the thought of having matching rings with his best bud got him excited, but he had never seen anything like the small rods before. He could only imagine what kind of effects they could have, and since it looked like he was no longer in danger of being turned into an imp, his mind was free to race with erotic ideas of just how huge and sexy he could grow to be. It wasn’t long before his dick was fully boned. Sid could barely contain his excitement. His body trembled with anticipation. His rock hard stiffy shuddered with arousal. Beads of pre cascaded down his dick as the priest knelt down before him. The wizened priest’s hands steadily drifted towards Sid’s cock. Cid was so excited that everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. He just wanted to shout at the ancient figure to hurry it up, but he knew better than to sass such an ancient and powerful sorcerer. The priest slid the first rod through the front of Sid’s cock. Sid gasped in shock and sat bolt upright as he felt the narrow metal bar slide into the soft underside of his rigid dick. It didn’t hurt – quite the contrary. He felt a small bit of pressure as the rod broke the skin, but for the most part it just tickled. He could feel the bar slowly sliding through his dick. He could feel the metal grazing past the puffy, sensitive ridge on the underside of his cock. He soon felt the gentle nudging of the rounded tip of the bar poking against his exposed flesh and knew that the first bar was all the way in. The priest then placed a similar sphere on the other side of the bar effectively sealing it in place. The process continued again and again. The priest slid a third, a fourth, and even a fifth rod into the underside of Sid’s rigid, shuddering cock. Sid was so excited that he felt like he could burst at any moment, but the suspense was killing him. Despite all the jewelry he now had adorning his dick he hadn’t seen a single inch of change. The priest raised the ring up high. Sid tensed up. He knew this was it – the final piece. Once this was in place he would take his true form. He was as excited as he was nervous. There was no telling how he’d look when it was done. He wasn’t even sure he’d see much change at all. He didn’t necessarily want to be as big and bulky as one of the workers, but he knew he was tired of being so small. The priest slowly and methodically placed the ring against the soft, spongy flesh of Sid’s flared up cockhead. Just as it had with Zen, the metal band sunk into his flesh. Sid watched intently as the ring slowly sifted into place. It wasn’t long until the black gemstone on the tip of the platinum band poked out directly above the slit of his cock. The thin, sparkling metal band looped back around and then sunk into the underside of his cock directly before the lower ridge of his cockhead. Nothing happened at first. For a brief moment Sid was sure it was another dud, but what did that mean? He was already a Monarch. Could he really fail his trial at this late of a stage? Then Sid noticed a small glimmer. He was so fixated on the ring that he had forgotten to even look at the bars. The lower rung on his Jacob’s Ladder began to glow with a dazzling green hue. Then the next rung lit up as well… followed by the next… and the next… Finally the top rung lit up, and the gemstone atop his ring began to steadily stir to life. Sid was so excited that he was leaking pre like a faucet. The beads of clear liquid rolled across the gemstone atop his cock, washed over the narrow, platinum band, and cascaded down his cock – zigzagging across the parallel ridges of the consecutive bars which were buried just below the surface of his cock as they did so, and finally oozed over his balls and pooled on the cool, stone altar directly below him. Sid could feel the changes welling up inside of him. He didn’t feel anything in his body or his muscles, but he wasn’t too worried about that. He could feel the unbridled energy coursing through his cock and balls. He stared on with a look of manic glee plastered across his face as he watched his once small cock steadily creep up in size. The changes were slight at first; just a few inches in length; a little bit of thickness; his balls grew from the size of ping pong balls to the size of avocado hearts, but the changed soon ramped up. The inches rapidly turned to feet. His cock soon reached a foot long. The tip of his dick reached all the way up past his belly button. The shaft was every bit as thick as his wrist. His once small balls grew to the size of chicken eggs, but that was not the end of his changes. His cock continued to grow and grow, and his piercings swelled right alongside his growing dick. Soon the tip of his dick stood at eye level. He stared in awe as he sat face to face with his own cock. The pre-oozing slit was as long as his own currently agape mouth. His thick dick was as wide across as his shoulder and far, far thicker around than his lean, slender torso. His nuts had reached the size of beach balls, and still his growing showed no signs of slowing. It wasn’t long before his towering cock was so huge, so thick that he could no longer straddle it. The girth was simply too huge for him to spread his legs far enough. He quickly pulled his knees in close to his chest and watched on in awe as his cock continued to surge up in size. It had already outstripped even Zen’s own cock in terms of size. Sid’s towering boner stood well over ten feet tall. It was easily twice as tall as he was, and far thicker around. The thick, meaty cock was as wide as a set of double doors. His balls had already reached the size of sofas, and still there was no end in sight. Up and up his cock surged. Out and out his balls swelled. Sid soon realized that he was no longer seated atop the altar. His nuts had grown so large that they lifted his small, slender figure off of his perch. Sid stared down at the ground as he watched the ceremonial grounds grow ever further away. From his perch atop his swelling balls he could see for miles. He could even see past the outer walls of the ceremonial grounds. When he had first visited the grounds, he never understood why it was so far removed from civilization. There was nothing within the walls save for one lone ziggurat and a small altar at the base of it. Empty fields spread on for miles and miles in every direction. Towering walls surrounded these fields. The walls were so high that not even Zen at his new towering size could have hoped to peer over them, but now Sid was higher than those walls while perched atop his own growing nuts. His balls had already exceeded the size of average houses and were closing in on the size of mansions. His cock towered hundreds of feet into the air. Sid was so overcome by the rush of growth and the amazing pleasure that coursed through his cock and balls that he hardly noticed the other sensations against his exposed nutsack. It almost felt like he had ants crawling all over his balls. He soon found out that that wasn’t too far from the truth. The first person to come into view was Sid’s best friend, Zen. Zen had the faceless priest perched atop his shoulders and Sin and Rah clinging to his back. He had scaled the sides of Sid’s ever-growing nuts while carrying all three of the priests. One of Vin’s former lackeys had helped carry Sol, the fourth and final priest up and out of the way of the expanding wall of ball flesh that had rolled over the ziggurat and the surrounding ceremonial grounds. Slowly more and more of the graduating class and the attendants came into view. Soon everyone who had attended the ceremony was gathered atop just one of Sid’s swelling nuts. His balls were so huge that there was far more room than they all needed to be able to spread out, and he was still growing. By the time his growth had tapered off, the walls of the ceremonial grounds pressed against his nuts on all sides. The walls were easily hundreds of feet high, but his monolithic nuts were so massive that they even spilled over the top of the towering walls. Sid stared at his cock in awe. His dick was like a solid wall of flesh that stood before him. He glanced left and right and tried to see the edges of his dick, but his cock seemed to stretch on to infinity. It wasn’t until he looked up that he could see the shape of his titanic cock slowly coming into focus. His dick was now so massive that only the lowest rung of his glowing green ladder was still beneath the clouds. His colossal, glowing jewelry shone so bright that it made the very sky itself shine a brilliant green. Somewhere far above the skyline, up in the outer rim of the planet’s atmosphere, the colossal crystal atop Sid’s cock shone like a second, dazzling green sun in the sky. The gleaming beacon could be seen across much of the planet. Even neighboring colonies could see it sparkling in the night sky. Sid slowly began to catch his breath, but it was but a brief respite. He soon began to feel something new welling up inside of him. He could feel bristling energy surging from his nuts up into his body and out through his back. There was no way for him to turn around and witness the effects firsthand, but he knew instinctively what was happening… His wings were growing and at a surprising rate. Soon his wings blotted out the entire skyline. The shimmering, green appendages flowed and billowed like banners in the afternoon sky. Sid’s entire body felt light as a feather. He felt like he could just float away at any second. He couldn’t help himself. Even though he had hundreds of passengers along for the ride, he had to try it out. He flapped his colossal wings. The gust of wind blew across the plains with the force of a typhoon, and his body ever so slightly rose up. Sid was too amazed to stop at just that. He had to test his limits. He had to see if he could really fly. He pumps his wings again and again. With each flap of his massive wings, he rose ever further from the ground. Soon even his mountain size nuts began to lift from the ground. Sid was ecstatic. Despite the immense size of his nuts he could traverse the whole world if he wanted to. He could soar through the skies atop his flying fortress of phallus, his floating continent of cock, but for the time being he was satisfied. He slowly coasted to a landing right back where he had lifted off from. The ground beneath him trembled as his colossal balls made landfall beneath him. Once the trembling stopped and once the spunk pent up in his massive balls stopped sloshing, the four high priests made their way forward and all knelt down before their new ruler. Sid was suddenly feeling very awkward. “Um… what do I do now…?” He asked nervously. “That is up to you. It is your right to rule if you so choose it.” The faceless priest explained. “Alone…?” Sid asked. “No. Not alone. You have your Praetor. He will serve as your personal guardian and closest advisor, and should you need anything of us, we will do whatever we can to assist you.” The ancient priest said. Sid was excited to say the least, but not because he was now de facto ruler of the planet. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that kind of responsibility, but this meant that he never had to part with his best pal. Zen would be by his side for eons to come. “I… don’t know if I’m ready for that. Can I just start with a few simple commands?” Sid asked. “If that is what you wish. What would you have us do?” Sol asked. “It’s Vin… Is there any way you can undo what was done to him?” Sid asked. Sin shrugged. Rah shook his head. Sol merely bowed his head silently. The nameless, faceless priest was the only one to speak up. “What you ask is beyond our power.” He explained. “It is the will of the crystals. Only they have the power to undo what was done.” “Oh…” Sid murmured dejectedly. The priest could tell that their new leader was distraught. “…but….” He began to say. Sid perked up instantly and listened intently to what the wizened, grey priest had to say. “But it is possible… in a future ascension that he could be judged anew. Maybe in a year or two he will be ready to join the castes.” The priest explained. “Really?” Sid asked excitedly. “Then… bring him here. I’ll look after him. I’ll see that no harm befalls him before the next ceremony.” He said. The priest nodded and then gestured for one of the acolytes to come forward. The young trainee stepped forward with the small cage still in hand. He had not had time to go anywhere before Sid’s growth had caused his balls to envelope the countryside and was camped out with the rest of the ceremony attendees atop Sid’s nuts. Sid gingerly grabbed the cage and held it in his hands. He stared down and marveled at what had become of his former bully. “You’re safe.” Sid said softly. Vin seemed to relax ever so slightly at even the mere words. Vin was so tiny that Sid could hold him in the palms of his hands, but even so, Sid’s shrinkage was nothing compared to the changes that had befallen Zen or even Sid himself. Sid now had the population of an entire town now camped out atop his mountainous nuts and had a drill that pierced the heavens. There was no doubt in his mind that life was going to be interesting going forward. Sid wasn’t sure he was ready to protect someone else’s life let alone lead an empire, but he had his best friend by his side. He was sure he could manage.

Chapter 1 James didn’t have much going for him. He wasn’t large. He wasn’t small. He wasn’t even ugly. He was alright looking by most accounts; he just didn’t really stand out. It worked all right in high school since he could slink into the crowd and avoid bullies, but back there he had had all his old friends. His relative anonymity was getting to be tiresome now that he was in a new city and a new school. He had been so looking forward to college because he had heard about all the great parties that he could go to, but having gone to a few already, he could safely say they weren’t any better than the ones back in high school. He spent the entire time with his back to the wall and a red solo cup in one hand. James let out a sigh as he trudged into his last class of the day. It wasn’t even a real class; it was just a TA session. Every Wednesday night, his physics class had an extra hour long session tacked onto his already tedious schedule. The only plus side was that the nerdy grad student who instructed the class during this period was hella cute. The black haired guy was a little on the chubby side, but he carried his weight well. His small, round, thin, gold rimmed glasses gave him an endearingly goofy look like something out of a children’s fantasy novel. Even the guy’s name was cute. When James had seen the name “Mathis” on his syllable he had expected some dour old geezer or some Axe’d up dudebro. He was very pleasantly surprised when the cuddly looking grad student had shown up and insisted they all refer to him by his first name, Donnel. James threw his book bag under one of the desks and gave a nod of recognition to the dude seated two seats down. This was the closest thing he had to a friend this early into his new school life. With any luck, by midterms they would even know each other’s names. James whipped out his smart phone and began flipping through his various apps. An errant porn gif crossed his dash which caused him to hastily turn off the screen. The last thing he needed was one of the other students to catch him staring at big, floppy, dongs in the middle of class. He took a quick glance around to be sure no one had seen him; he seemed to be in the clear. He let out a sigh, and waited for his dick to decide to forget what he had seen. His own respectable cock was refusing to obey and steadily chubbing in his loose cargo shorts. James could do nothing but slump back into his chair and wait. He might not have much going for him, but what he did have was an overactive imagination. His mind was still replaying that pixelized cock bobbing and flopping in rhythm with the deep thrusts that the dude was receiving from behind. James stared into the blank screen of his phone. He was too afraid to turn it back on for fear of someone catching sight of the gif that was most assuredly still playing on his dash. All he could do until the TA decided to show up was stare at his own reflection in the black screen. The college student staring back at him looked just as skittish as he felt. The thin, face was covered in freckles, mostly clustered along his cheekbones. The tussled mop of light, reddish brown hair looked like something from the Beatle’s early career. He wasn’t particularly fond of the Beatle’s or their hairstyles, but he had been too broke to get a haircut and too lazy to touch a brush in months. The lean student absentmindedly twirled the phone in one hand as he watched the second hand tick away on the old and busted little wall clock that had probably been mounted on that same wall since the physics building had been christened in 1973. Eventually, the cute, chubby grad student staggered into the classroom, huffing slightly as he struggled for breath. “Alright class… Get your books out… we’re going to review for your first exam.” Donnel rattled on between gasps for breath. It was obvious that he had been running to get there. A slight layer of sweat had soaked into his shirt causing it to cling to his skin. It wasn’t the first time Donnel had shown up to class slightly late and even more out of breath. Apparently he had one of his graduate level classes all the way across campus that let out immediately before the class he was scheduled to teach. It was no doubt a serious inconvenience, but James couldn’t help but wonder if the chubby guy had lost a few pounds over the last few weeks. James was sure he could see a little definition showing through the TA’s clinging shirt. James never really had trouble in physics. He could memorize formulas and laws and theories really easily. At this rate this class was going to be ridiculously boring for him. Sure enough, his mind began to wander within the first five minutes of their review. His mind always wandered in this class, but he never got called out on it. His eyes were glued to the cute TA the whole time. He was sure that Donnel had lost a little weight in the past few weeks. James couldn’t help but think how much better the guy was looking now. James mind began to drift farther and farther. Donnel was cute now, sure, but he’d be frickin' hot with a bit of beef on him. James’s mind drifted to thoughts of the chubby instructor filling out his green and white plaid button up shirt with brawn instead of pudge. James could actually see that dude’s shirt fit him snugger as his flabby little moobs gave way to thick slabs of brawn. As the teacher’s shirt got tighter and tighter, the ripples of his toned, beefy abs began to show through the front of the fabric. The grad student’s chest got wider and thicker as his pecs and lats grew and spread. The TA’s now huge muscles pressed against his shirt on all sides causing the fabric to pull away down the center. Large gaps could be seen up and down the front of his shirt as the buttons struggled in vain to bring to two halves of clothing together, and still the TA kept swelling. The buttons eventually gave up the ghost and began to burst free at mach speeds. The miniature projectiles ricocheted off of desks and walls, but no one in the class seemed to notice. The TA’s shirt sleeves ripped loudly as his huge, muscular arms got to be simply too much for them to handle James was actually a little startled by the noise, but it alerted him to all the growth going on in other areas as well. He could see now that it was not just the cute teacher’s chest that had been beefing up, but the rest of him as well. The seams of the TA’s tight jeans were already showing signs of popping and snapping. It was obvious that his thick, brawny quads were going to overpower the tight denim at any second. James’s eyes focuses on the cute guy’s pants as he waited with bated breath for those to follow his shirts example. As James eyed the teacher’s lower half he became aware of the pronounced bulge in the front of the guy’s jeans. James had to silently give his subconscious a mental high five for thinking about that too. It was only fitting that such a massive, burly stud of a man have a cock to match. James couldn’t wait for the beast to burst free of its cruel captivity. Something that great deserved to be seen by all. The lanky student bit his lower lip as he stared at the lewd sight before him. He wanted to rub one out so bad, but he dared not do so in the middle of class. There was no telling just how much of his actions would be visible in the real world. He might find that he would be beating off in the dream and also in front of the actual teacher. With an audible shred, the teacher’s jeans burst into ribbons, leaving him completely nude except for a skin tight pair of grey boxer briefs. The briefs did absolutely nothing to disguise the magnitude of the TA’s cock. It was thicker around than James’ skinny arm and well over a foot long. The thing had to be closing in on two feet. It was impossible to tell for sure due to the way it bunched and folded in the confines of the teacher’s way too tiny undies. James’s jaw dropped. That thing was that huge and still soft! The massive dick was accompanied by two equally massive, cantaloupe sized nuts. It was a miracle that the immense package was still contained within the thin layer of fabric. “Not for long.” James thought to himself with a smirk. This dream was too good to stop now. He was going to go for the Full Monty. The TA had another surge of growth, but still no one except for James seemed to notice. The last vestiges of the guy’s clothing broke away, leaving the now towering wall of toned beef completely nude. His huge, nude TA still paced and spoke confidently as he rattled on about gravity and inertia and friction and wind resistance, but James couldn’t care less about that shit. The TA’s cock was so huge that the head of it grazed the ground as he walked. The shaft was as thick around as James’s lean waist. The two enormous nuts were now the size of jumbo beach party beach balls. His broad chest was almost three times as wide as James’s shoulders. Either individual massive pec was easily the size of James’s Torso. James could curl up like a cat and nap on that broad, burly chest of he wanted to, and he really wanted to. James was so entranced by that fantastic brawn that he just had to get up and get close to that. He had to feel those glorious muscles against his flesh. He wanted to rub his tongue against that colossal dick. James smirked as he noticed the steady chubbing of the teacher’s cock. The gigantic schlong steadily hardened and lifted itself up and up. James couldn’t have peeled his eyes away if he wanted to. He couldn’t be sure, but it was almost as if the giant dick was reacting to his thoughts. James shrugged and rolled with it. This was his dream after all. He began imagining even more lurid acts he would do if he ever got the chance. He wanted to straddle that giant cock like a roadhouse mechanical bull and ride it as it bucked and lurched. He would latch his arms and legs across it and rub his tongue along every inch that was available to him. The TA’s giant cock was already oozing pre and shuddering in response to James’s imagined touches. James wanted all the cum that was contained in those massive, heavy nuts all over him. He was just about to hop up from his seat and begin attending to Donnel’s amazing, growing, dream cock, but the teacher seemed to be one step ahead of him. Donnel set down his text book and went about pacing around the room while absentmindedly stroking his colossal dong. James’s eyes followed him intently as did the eyes of most everyone in the class. James couldn’t help but wonder if anyone else was part of his dream. All eyes seemed intently glued to the now beefy instructor and his massive, oozing cock. Quite a few students had a pink tinge of arousal visible on their faces. James could even catch sight of a few boners pressing against the fronts of some of the guy’s pants. One or two of the braver ones even had a hand down the front of their pants shamelessly stroking their hard-on. He quickly dismissed the idea. If anyone else could see this, surely they would have freaked out by now. James shoved his doubts and inhibitions aside and slowly walked up to the TA. No words were exchanged, but the look of sheer, unadulterated lust in James’s warm brown eyes made it absolutely clear what he wanted. He stood in front of the massive, muscular dude and began to stroke and lick the enormous cock. James dug his own respectable bulge against the soft underbelly of the massive cock and began to grind passionately. He was so overcome by the sheer magnitude of the cute young teacher that he forgot everything else. The thick, veiny cock pulsed and shuddered against his face and chest. James knew it was only a matter of moments before it blew. Seconds later, James was knocked to his feet by a surge of jizz from the monstrous cock. The spooge was so warm and thick that it was like being bathed in tar, but it smelled and tasted so wonderful that James didn’t mind at all. The thick, goopy spunk soaked his clothes and clung to his lightly tanned skin, and yet more and more kept flooding from the TA’s immense nuts. By the time the torrent of spooge had tapered off, James was so coated that his own load was completely lost in the giant tidal wave of spunk from the teacher. James could do nothing by lie in the giant puddle of spooge that now covered the entire front of the classroom. “Oh! I’m terribly sorry. I don’t know what came over me!” Donnel sputtered in shock. James chuckled silently to himself; he knew exactly what just came over him. The huge, brawny guy slowly reached a hand down to help up his jizz soaked student. James reached up and accepted the teacher’s help. James was feeling so great from the intensity of his own climax that he was only vaguely aware of how sticky his skin was now. His gut felt pretty heavy too. There was no telling how much of the salty spooge he had guzzled in his erotic trance. James’s eyes slowly scanned the classroom. All eyes were on him now. The other students looked at him with a look of awe, shock, and even some jealousy. As the afterglow slowly began to fade, James was snapped out of his trance by a loud, rattling ring from the bell. He nearly jumped from the shock. He came crashing back to reality. He suddenly felt incredibly embarrassed. All the other students were gathering their books and packing their bags, barely paying attention to him, but one or two would occasionally glance his way. Something just seemed off. He was sure he had woken up from his dream, but he was still coated in spunk. A firm hand on his shoulder brought his attention back to the cute guy. James looked up to see that same cute face looking down on him, although the face had noticeably trimmed down since the beginning of class. No surprise there, considering the TA no longer had an ounce of fat on his. He was now a huge, hulking muscle god with a four foot cock. “Again, terribly sorry about the mess… You know how it is with guys like me… Sometimes we just can’t help it.” Donnel said apologetically. “Although… Given the lengths you went to to get me off, I suppose I can’t really take all the blame.” He added with a sly wink. James was dumbfounded. He could no longer tell the difference between his dream and reality. Just how much of what he had dreamt had he really done? Had he really transformed the cute, portly grad student into that massive, nude wall of brawn and balls? The real question was could he do it again if he wanted to? A devious smile crept across his jizz-coated lips. This was going to be an interesting semester after all.

Previous chapter: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster Chapter 16: Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After Casey’s first workout demonstration for The Nineteen that afternoon promised to be brutal – and awesome - as he had hoped it would be. He knew he would love every moment of it. He knew it would almost make up for the confusion and fear he had felt the night before. He would be as strong as a god, sailing through every lift, every rep, every set with strength he didn’t know he had. Almost make up for it. Not quite. But maybe afterwards, he could pose for them? Just a little? In the locker room, alone, and about to go before these crazy huge guys once again, he ruminated. He was, if he admitted it to himself, not a little leery about these guys. After all, he had a big black eye. And just about 12 hours ago, thick, creamy jets of cum had shot from18 firehose cocks and plopped down on him while he lay tangled in a sweaty muscle mass mess with Karim Abdul, both of them with swelling black eyes and bloody noses. Kind of a strange introduction to the world of supreme muscle he had been looking forward to for two years – and had been fantasizing about for far longer. “I wonder what Miles would say,” he thought to himself. He had glanced at his black eye in the mirror in the locker room. It was fully open, not bloodshot, just rimmed with black and blue. Not too bad. Actually, it looked fucking hot. He quickly did a side chest. Bam. Nips high. Rivers of striations. Yeah. Lookin good. He was hot. He knew it, too. Or, rather, was beginning to know it. He found his old sweats, thoughtfully hanging up and waiting for him in a large locker with his name on it, which he assumed was his. He noted that the lockers themselves were almost like storage units, not the shameful, small individual skinny things most gyms had. He looked up, slightly startled. Musclemen Gunst and Obatu were suddenly there at the end of the locker row, waiting for them. At first he barely noticed what they were wearing. But then he saw. “What the fuck?” “You ready?” “Uh. Yeah.” “Let’s go, then.” He stripped down fast, found his old jock in the locker, and grabbing his huge cock and balls, shoveled his heavy machine into the pouch. As always, it sagged heavily, groaning softly from the weight of his manhood. He glanced down the row. Gunst and Obatu were blankfaced. Casey threw his sweats on. “Now?” “…..yeah.” Casey slammed the door and waddled towards them, throwing a bathsheet towel over his broad shoulders. “Let’s go lift.” Gunst and Obatu brought Casey onto the workout floor. All of the musclemen in the squad were in attendance, naturally wanting to see how much weight the pretty muscle boy Casey could handle. After all, he may be huge, and all realized he was pretty fucking strong in the ring. He could move fast, and his mandatory poses last night were impressive. But could the dude lift? Could he train?? Dr. Irving stood by with the video camera, fussily taking his precise notes. And Zaftig was there, of course, hanging back, saying nothing, just watching, watching. And now, at least, Casey could remember the dude’s name. Dr. Zaftig. After all, this was the dude who was going to make him huge. He nodded shyly to him. “Good afternoon, Dr. Zaftig.” “Good afternoon, Casey. Welcome to Valhalla.” “Thank you…” “Let’s get going, Casey,” said Sergeant Moster. “You’re keeping us waiting. Again.” “I’m sorry,” Casey said. Moster frowned. No signs of reaction to all the White Caps swimming around in his bloodstream. There were, inevitably, more moments of muscle awkwardness to be had first. First off, Casey was entirely unprepared for the men’s workout gear. His usual workout clothes fully covered him, a ripped and worn outfit of dirty, sweaty baggies, a sloppy oversized sweatshirt that seemed to have been made for a man of 600 pounds, and full-length sweatpants, ragged and much the worse for wear. Even in these baggies, his bulge loomed heavily, swaying from side to side as he came onto the floor. Moster had changed into his full-dress spotlessly clean green uniform slacks, boots, and a skin-tight regulation t-shirt. His mammoth black muscles gleamed with ferocious power, and his crisp, clinging t-shirt outlined every peak, valley, cut, bulge, thick vein and crevice of his astonishing physique. Casey tried not to stare at him. He was oddly drawn to this black mountain of muscle. “I wanna be as big as you someday,” he said softly to himself. The squad, on the other hand, he nervously noted, were all dressed in White Cap Night Valhalla regulation gym gear: ripped, torn and ragged wife-beaters with muscles bulging every which way. Dripping sweat, muscles red and inflamed, their workouts over. No shorts, Army boots, heavy cable socks, and sweaty, swollen, looming Army-green mesh jocks. Bulging packages protruded, looming cocks, also swaying heavily with each muscleman movement, all around the gym floor. “This is how you guys dress to work out?” asked Casey timidly. Okay, so it was still weird. His question was ignored. There was a lot of barely sheathed bulging heavy duty muscleman dick on this gym floor. His own was more modestly covered. If just as bulging. And just as evident. And no one’s on the floor appeared to be as big as Moster’s. Once again he stared for a moment at the man’s obviously huge, looming penis, outlined clearly in his green trousers. He could see the penis corona, even the deep piss slit through the thick dark khaki fabric. Moster sure wasn’t ashamed of his cock. So maybe Casey shouldn’t be ashamed, either. And what Casey couldn’t know is that the men, just having finished their workouts, were delaying their shower sports. White Caps racing in their bloodstreams. And holding back. Not 10 minutes before Moster had sternly separated Blankenship and Lang from some foreplay, giving each man a quick spanking on their bare bottoms before all the other men. Afterward Alvarez pulled Lang back and eyed him dangerously. There would be words between them tonight. Lang was staring at the floor. Blankenship, of course, was grinning. Toothlessly. “How about starting off with some incline flyes?” said Moster. “You need a warm-up set?” “I wanna stretch first,” said Casey. Miles had always taught him the necessity of proper technique. Light warm-ups were part of that, though once he actually started lifting, what constituted a warm-up for Casey might be a final blasted set for another man. “Always smart.” The men stood watching Casey intently. “Don’t you guys wanna go workout somewhere?” he blurted out. “We’re done,” said Alvarez. “We’re waiting for you.” Abdul was staring at him with undisguised hatred. Tiffany was smiling sweetly, butter not melting in his mouth. Schumacher was blank-faced, and all the scarier for it. The others were intent, if blank-faced. Even Hension, whose thoughts were usually betrayed on his handsome face, wasn’t reacting much. He just was staring. They were all staring. Casey shuffled off to a corner of the Marley mat and began his stretch routine, arms swinging, legs kicking, gentle but firm. The men watched him. “He’s bow-legged!” whispered Hension. Loudly. “Yes, we see that,” said Alvarez, mocking the whisper. “I think that’s so hot….!” Casey heard a resounding smack! echoing through the room. “Ow!” Someone had hit Hension again. Casey, his face turned away, had to smile. Apparently the pretty boy got hit a lot. “Um. This takes 20 minutes,” Casey said. Suddenly he didn’t care what they thought. He was going to stretch. He started torso turns, his hands behind his head. Moster spoke. “Casey, we don’t have all day.” Casey turned back to him and repeated himself firmly. “This takes 20 minutes. I stretch for 20 minutes. If you don’t want to watch, don’t.” And he turned back, cupping his big hands together, continuing his torso turns. Moster smiled slightly. Good. The White Caps had obviously kicked in after all. It seems Casey required more White Caps for an effect, and the societal restrictions weren’t so easily abandoned. But the boy was asserting himself, and quite naturally. Zaftig was suddenly next to Moster. “He’s not so easily bullied,” he whispered. “Not like your other men. You won’t have your way with him so easily.” “You don’t think so?” “No, I don’t.” “Well, we’ll see, then, won’t we?” Zaftig frowned. Clearly, Moster wasn’t concerned about Casey digging in his heels at his first workout, doing it his way, defying the Sergeant. “What do you know?” Zaftig hissed at Moster. Moster, never taking his eyes off the teen muscle giant now doing rapid pushups, turned to Zaftig, laid his cards on the table. “The kid has never been worshipped before. He wants it, he needs it. He needs someone to tell him how amazing he is. And he needs musclesex. Badly. He doesn’t know how much.” “I see. It’s your musclesex thing again. Goddammit, Sergeant. This project is about youth and strength and creating the most fearsome army the planet has ever seen. It’s not about sex. It never was. It was about creating the perfect physical specimen. The most extraordinary physiques the world has ever known.” Moster smiled sardonically. “You’ve forgotten, Dr. Zaftig, or perhaps you never knew. Even when you were a young man. Were you ever young?” Zaftig smiled. “Amazing to consider, isn’t it?” Moster continued. “Everything for men is about sex. And bodybuilders? Even more so. And for these bodybuilders? All that times about 200. 500. All these guys want is to be admired. Worshipped. Sucked off. Felt up. Fuck. And, I might add, get fucked. Train, lift, eat, sleep, shit, fight, suck, get sucked, fuck, train some more, fight some more, fuck some more, suck some more, eat, shit, sleep. And,” he added sweetly, “…that’s about it.” “Fuck you, Sergeant.” But now Zaftig was smiling. He knew there was more to it. Wasn’t there? Moster sighed. “I’m sorry, Dr. Zaftig. But that’s what you’ve created here. Millions of dollars poured into fucking machines. But look at the bright side.” He leaned in. “It’s going to make you millions, as well. All of us.” “I already have millions. I don’t care.” “Well, I don’t, and I do.” “By the way, how did the boy get that black eye?” “Looks pretty hot, don’t it?” “Less than 24 hours in the compound and already someone’s slugged him.” “Don’t look too closely at Abdul or Blankenship.” Zaftig glanced over at Abdul, sporting a shiner of his own, and noted the missing teeth of the blond bomber beauty Blankenship. Zaftig groaned inwardly. Another trip to the dentist. He hated having to take the men off the mountain. But there was a dentist in San Jose who fixed up the men regularly, regular hygiene, capping, replaced teeth, crowns, implants, the works, and charged nothing, content merely with big biceps flexed in his face while he sat in the chair playing with his tiny dentist dick. Then, Moster to Casey, “You about done there, boy?” “No, sir.” “All right, then.” The men were getting restless, shifting from foot to foot, now staring at Zaftig and the ever-cool Moster. Alvarez was the only man on the squad who seemed calm and in control of himself. A fact not unnoticed by Moster. Or Casey, for that matter, now secretly watching all this play out for himself. He was beginning to catch on that there was even more to these big dudes than just training, taking this crazy drug, and spanking their monkeys. “Men, time for some biceps curls,” Moster announced. “All of you go do 15 sets of light reps. 25 reps per set per arm. No ball busting, now. Get to it. No more than 25 pounds. I mean it.” He turned back and smiled at Casey. “We’ll wait until The Boy is ready.” Okay, so he was The Boy again. Zaftig wasn’t done. “In a few months the Joint Chiefs will be here for review. I want Casey ready and I want the men at their sharpest, and no funny business. Intensify their training.” He turned away. “You leaving?” Zaftig turned back. “Hell, no” he smiled. “I want to see my latest boy wipe your men all over the floor. Maybe you’ll listen to me then.” Moster nodded. Inwardly he had to admit he respected Zaftig deeply. The man may have been a puny genius with no body, but he wasn’t dishonest, and he was clearly unafraid of Moster. He had no personal need for muscle worship, and never bothered the men. He was, at the end of the day, a partner Moster could trust, if never take advantage of. He admired that. Moreover, Zaftig had never indicated another other than scientific curiosity about Moster’s treetrunk tool. That was a plus on his side, too. Moster turned to Casey and called out. “Okay, you’re done,” he said, brooking no denial. “What’s your starting weight for inclines?” “Um…..180?” Hension, 20 feet away and now doing the ordered biceps curls, stared at Casey. “Damn!” he squeaked. He put the dumbbell down and scratched his barely covered balls. “180?? To start?” Casey looked away, trying not to notice. That boy certainly was pretty. A perfect face. Without realizing it, Casey licked his lips, staring a little at Hension, who, gawking at the muscle monster, inadvertently smiled back, absently scratching his balls. The exchange did not go unnoticed. Lang nudged Alvarez, who nodded sagely. “180 it is. Let’s see what you got.” Moster strode to the bench, grabbed two 180-pound dumbbells as if they were sacks of feathers, and handed them to Casey. Casey took them without a blink, two sacks of feathers. And so the workout began. One by one, the men re-racked their light weights, approached the bench where the giant Casey lay, ready to lift. Casey’s perfect technique was evident from the start. He smoothly lowered his huge bulk onto an incline bench. He raised his arms into position, the two dumbbells easily held aloft overhead. In no time he reeled off twenty reps of perfectly calibrated incline flyes, then peeling off into overhead presses, gently touching the dumbbells one another, then down to the tips of his big brown nipples, outlined in his oversized sweats. His chest bloomed, rivers of sweaty muscle flowed, the pumped pecs seemed to reach to the ceiling as he pumped. “Pow, pow, pow, pow,” he breathed to himself with each rep. Light stains of pec milk appeared on his sweats. “Wow….” breathed Hension. “Do you see that??” “What’s next?” “Do it again.” “Okay.” He reeled off another set. The men watched him stonily, now all gathered around the bench. More pec milk appeared. “Now?” “Do another.” “Sure.” He did another set. Finishing, he clanged the weights to the floor. “Can I work with something heavy now?” Moster smiled. The White Caps had taken effect. He shot a look over at Zaftig, who merely raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Certainly, boy. Take it to 220.” So he was still Boy. “Anyone have gloves?” “Sure, Case!” Lang reached into his bag and tossed a pair to Casey. Casey smiled a little, hearing Lang call him by the same nickname the cadets down the mountain did. “Thanks.” He caught the gloves and slipped them on. Everyone was watching now. The red light of the video cam continued to blink. Standing next to Lang, Alvarez was blank-faced, but not unapproving. In the corner, Dr. Zaftig now had his head tilted back, musing. This boy will go the limit, he thought. No matter what Moster says about what the men really want. This boy is different. He’s pure muscle, and nothing else. No, that was not right. He was muscle, cock, and butt. This boy would be worth millions. And very, very soon. An uncommon sex machine of the first power. Innocent Casey, unaware of the plans being made around him, rose, took the two 180 pound dumbbells, and re-racked them, two sacks of feathers back to the their featherbed. He strode down the line and grabbed two 220s, returned to the incline, lowered his bulk, and reeled off another set of 20 reps, grunting loudly and blowing out air with each rep. More milk flecks appeared on his shirt. He blew sweat and spit, began to groan mightily. “ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh….” When he was finished he set the dumbbells down gently on the marley floor, and looked up at Moster. Absently he wiped the milk away from his nipples with thumb and forefinger. “Nicely done, boy,” said Moster. He spoke loudly to the group. “Notice that Casey does not drop the weights.” He looked pointedly at Jin, who was famous for throwing the weights to the floor after the punishing final set of any lift he did, excepting squats – where he re-racked as noisily as possible, all while screaming. Jin looked back, defiant. “Why do you do it that way, boy?” Casey shrugged. “Way that Miles taught me, I guess. It’s harder.” “Miles?” “Miles Donovan, Raw Weight Gym.” So that was it, thought Gunst. Miles Donovan. He should have known. Donovan was a biceps freak, and hosted many others in his gym, taking their pay-offs for private posing from men who liked to blast big guns in the faces of the hapless, endlessly paying schmoes. No doubt Casey had been a major revenue stream for the notorious Donovan gym, he reasoned to himself. Of course he had to have huge guns. Miles would have seen to it. Blankenship grinned, a front tooth missing and looking all the hotter for it. “Yeah, makes sense, he came from that old horn dog Donovan’s gym. You worked out on the 3rd floor yet?” Casey looked at Blankenship a little blankly. “Um. No.” Obatu spoke up. “Casey is still too young and green for the 3rd floor. Besides, he has been training at the cadet gym down the mountain for the last several months. Haven’t you, Casey?” “Yeah, I guess. What’s next?” “You flat bench?” “Sure. How much weight?” “Let’s see what you can do.” The squad backed away a little as Casey, gripping each elbow and stretching his arms over his head, walked towards a row of flat benches. Gunst despaired a little. He was wrong. Casey wasn’t posing and being paid for it at Donovan’s. Which meant he’d built those mountainous biceps on his own. “Lose the shirt!” squawked Hension. “I want to see your nips milk!” “’Kay,” said Casey. He stopped, slipping out of his sweatshirt, folding it up carefully. Underneath he wore a baggy green t-shirt, which may probably have been at one time a pup tent. “My nipples always make a little milk when I train,” he explained. “See?” He reached under his soaked t-shirt to a nipple, gathered some white liquid, held out a finger dripping with milk droplets. “But it looks like I’m making a little more today.” In spite of himself, Moster was touched by Casey’s innocent neatness with his sweatshirt. And his explanation. “T-shirt too,” said Waring. “Not yet,” said Casey. Moster’s eyebrow raised a little. He glanced over at Zaftig, who nodded. Good. Good. It was all good. The White Caps were claiming his ego. Casey was showing signs he could stand up on his own. “Load up a starting weight of 360 pounds,” directed Moster. “You can handle 300, can’t you, Casey?” “Sure, easy.” Casey laid his bulk down on the flat bench while Waring and Lang placed eight 45-pound plates on either end of the bar. He began to suck in air in preparation. “Hey, can someone wrap my elbows?” he suddenly asked. “Sure. Washington, grab some heavy wraps for Cadet Rockland. Get to it. The man has to lift.” He lifted the bar off the bench and began to bench, pumping his enormous pecs. Now he was working his hardest. He was now more determined than ever to fit in with these huge men. He was going to show them now. The workout continued. Flat bench, declines, more flyes. All pecs stuff. More milk. Throughout the workout Hension, Lang, Jin, Bogarde, Washington, Meyer, Waring, Duncan, Chad, and Corporal Blankenship were cheerful and approving. They howled their encouragement and counted the reps. “10! 11! 12! 13! 14! 15!" Throw the weights, Casey!” "Okay to throw them?" Casey asked Moster, holding 600 pounds aloft, just about to bring it down to his milky nipples. He was calm. "If the men want. This time. Throw it when you're done." "Okay." He finished pumping, and instead of reracking... Clang! Casey threw the weight on the floor, sat up, grabbed the plastic bottle and chugged a half-gallon of water. Water poured from the side of his mouth onto his shirt. The men whooped and hollered. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and strode forcefully to the next weight. Immediately the men were counting again. “10! 11! 12! 13! 14! 15!” Clang! Wipe. “YEAHHHH….!” And on it went for 45 minutes of grueling, punishing lifting. Corporals Schumacher, Obatu, LeFevre, and Alvarez and Private McIntyre seemed more reserved. Corporal Abdul just grunted. But he was impressed, in spite of himself. The boy was training harder than he had ever seen. His muscles were blooming, seeming to grow as he watched. Gunst was quiet and watchful. Zaftig was beaming with professional pride. Moster remained aloof and keenly observant. And all the while, Dr. Irving followed every move with the video cam. The cocksure little Private Joe Tiffany cheered him on just as loudly. Casey pretended not to see the evil glint in the muscleboy’s eyes, but he couldn’t help it. He’d learned at the Home how to read signals. The Home…..hmmm. A memory appeared dimly, and, just as quickly, was gone. While resting between two punishing sets, Casey was still silently agog at the size of Moster’s muscles. Occasionally he found himself staring at the improbably large mound resting atop his CO’s left quad. The tip of the mound reached to just above the giant’s knee. He noted the other men seemed to be avoiding looking directly at Moster’s leg. Even though they all seemed to be sporting packages of similar size. Damn, their dicks are big, Casey thought. Are they real? And deep inside Casey, a little voice proudly squeaked…..”Wait until they see MINE…” Then he remembered – …..oh yeah.... They’d already seen it. And he had seen theirs, too. Sorta. Between his half-closed black eye. His hand went up, and he rubbed the black eye. Looked at Abdul, and his black eye. Adbul was smiling a little now. Not friendly, but hard - but still, a smile. Casey grinned wearily as he finally finished up with the last set of triceps pulldowns. Private Meyer, a big toothy grinning lighting up his handsome, beaming face, burst forward from the group, and pumped the newcomer’s hand. “Thanks,” said Casey. Meyer nodded enthusiastically. “He can’t hear you,” said Private Waring. Casey looked at Meyer, stricken for having forgotten that Meyer was a deaf mute. “It’s okay, he doesn’t mind.” Casey, touched, shook Meyer’s hand vigorously. Meyer shook his head cheerfully, touching his lips, and shrugged his shoulders to show that indeed he didn’t care that he couldn’t speak. Then he stepped back and proudly flexed his own powerful, round right biceps, smacking them with his left hand, and reached down to grab Casey’s wrists. He pulled his arms up encouragingly and Casey, getting the message, proudly brought his huge guns up and flexed mightily. “Mother fucker!” yelled Lang and Hension simultaneously. The men roared with laughter, and Casey colored a deep red, smiling sheepishly. Alvarez clamped that affectionate paw of his around Lang’s shoulders and hugged him close. But he looked worried. Something was on his mind. Behind them Hension eyed them both steadily, with longing. Meyer kept his hands on Casey’s obliques as if he was rotating his upper body for all to see. “It’s okay, plebe,” said Jin, laughing. “You’ll get to know us all.” While all through the devastating workout he had been stronger than he could ever remember, now he felt – well, almost frail – as if something, suddenly, was missing. “All right, men,” said Moster calmly. “Rec room in 15 minutes. Casey, shower up.” “Yes, sir.” “Men, file out. Casey, come here a moment first.” He glanced at the men, who leaned in, curious as to what Moster might be saying. “Well, Cadet Casey, it looks as if you’ve made it.” Moster spoke quietly. Casey looked up at him, and grinned wearily. “Thanks, Sergeant Moster.” The men gave him a round of applause, Casey noted that even Corporal Schumacher seemed to approve. He lowered his head, modestly grateful. Then Moster turned back to the group. They were still applauding. Casey was embarrassed, turning to go. He didn’t see Moster’s stone face shift into a slight smile. “Men, get dressed. Shower up. No play time. Get to it. I expect you all in uniform, neat and clean, in the rec room, in 10 minutes. Hop to it. Get a move on.” Then, to Casey, “Casey, use my private locker room to shower.” He pointed to a door across the floor. “You’ll find clean sweats in there. They’ll fit. Grab them after you shower. And no jerking off, boy.” Casey, embarrassed that Moster seemed to be reading his mind, nodded dumbly and headed to the door. He was worried again. He had only masturbated once today so far, and on a day like today, he needed a lot more….especially after that worship session with the cadets this morning. He was discovering….something….and his huge cock wanted to know more. But he went, dutifully, into the private locker room, showered, and changed into the clean sweats he found there. Before he left, he checked his guns and his pecs in the full length mirror. Flexing, he breathed to himself. “Damn. I’m fucking awesome.” And with the capsules still not in apparent full-force effect, dressed in baggy trunks and a clean, white light tee, he stumbled his way to the rec room. For what, he couldn’t tell. Probably more weirdness. But now, he was ready. Dr. Irving was there ahead of them all. He had set up chairs for all the bodybuilders in a semi-circle, with the inevitable video cam set up. There was a chair in the center, obviously meant for him. He glanced over at Moster, who nodded and gestured towards the chair. Casey waddled with his bodybuilder’s walk towards it slowly and sat. He looked around with anticipation. “So now what?” he asked. Zaftig took Moster aside. “This boy is gentle. We don’t want to break his spirit. He’s had a tough time and he just wants to make friends. Go easy on him.” Moster’s shoulders stiffened. The veins in his neck popped a little. He looked Zaftig dead in the eye, and said, “Being sweet to him now will kill him later. Is that what you want?” “No.” “Then let me handle it. I know what is best.” “Did you at least give him a capsule?” “Sure,” answered Moster. “He’ll be just fine.” “Doesn’t seem to have taken effect yet.” “He’s a big boy. Blood volume and all. It takes time.” “Fuck you, Moster.” Moster’s eyebrows raised slightly, but he knew not to protest. Zaftig was properly proud of his discovery. “You know fucking well that White Caps P-21 take effect immediately regardless of ‘blood volume’, if you want to put it that way.” “Dr. Zaftig, it’s my turn now.” “It’s always your turn.” Zaftig turned on his heel and left the rec room without further comment. Moster watched him go. The men were sitting impatiently. “All right, men. Let’s get to it.” He turned to Casey. “All right, Casey. Welcome. You’re one of the group now. We’re now….The Twenty.” “Yeah, baby!” “Bout fucking time.” “Tell him what that really means….” said Alvarez. “Spank him!” yelled Hension, and then, before Chad, sitting next to him, could swat him, he said, “Don’t you fucking hit me!” Chad did anyway. “Ow!” yelled Hension. Casey chuckled. “That’s gotta hurt. These dudes seem to hit you a lot.” “You will too, in time,” said Waring. “What did …he….”….um…” “Alvarez,” said Alvarez. “What did Alvarez – sorry – mean – when he said “tell him what that really means?” Silence. Casey continued. “I mean, what does it mean to be one of The Twenty?” Moster smiled. “Yes, let’s talk about that, Casey. Men, why don’t we show Casey what it’s all about?” Then he paused a moment. Casey wasn't reacting. He was just sitting quietly, albeit with great body tension. His muscles were hugely pumped, and Moster could see the fabric shifting as Casey's enormous cock began to uncoil in his sweats. Soon he would be hard. But the boy wasn't moving. Odd. Quietly, he asked, leaning in, “Casey, level with me.” He looked the teen in the eye. Casey couldn’t look away. Inwardly he was stammering. He was looking at Moster's crotch. “No, look me in the eye. Look up. Not down there. Up. How many White Caps have you taken?” “White Caps?” “The capsules. The pills. How many?” He gazed at him levelly. A pause. “Four, I think. Five?” He shrugged, weakly. "i don't remember." "Where did you get them? I gave you one...." "Uh..." Casey didn't want to indict the men on his first day. Weirdness notwithstanding. “Never mind. I can guess." Moster looked back at the group, all standing still, attentive, neatly dressed in their uniforms. And every cock seeming at attention, poling out hugely in their khakis. The men were ready to play. Past ready. Mmmmm. Not much effect on Casey, though, for 5 White Caps. A few moments of assertiveness and a powerful workout, but…..not much. "Are you feeling anything…unusual?” “Well….” Casey paused and looked away. He found himself staring at the men and their looming erections. Jesus. Here it came. Strong societal blockers, Moster thought. "Do you want to have sex? Like now?" No answer. Casey just stared at the cocks in the room. The men were deadly quiet. Then it hit Moster. Of course. “Casey, are you hypoglycemic?” Not so much to his surprise, even the dimwitted Casey knew exactly what that meant. Still staring the the men's rocket crotches, he spoke softly. “......I need oranges or candy bars sometimes.....” “They told you this when you were growing up?” “They told me in the Boys Home. My blood sugar. I have problems.” Of course. That was it. It happened sometimes. He reminded himself he had to mention it to Zaftig. It was the same for Obatu when he first checked in, and then, years later, for Eli Meyer. Since Meyer could neither speak nor hear and his sign language didn't encompass the subject of hypoglycemia, it took them a few days to realize that a cup of chocolate milk worked wonders on the tight glutes of the hot little muscle fuckee Meyer. Give the boy some cocoa and he'd take massive tool after tool up his butt for hours. He called over his shoulder. “Dr. Irving, please step into my office and get an orange. You’ll find a bowl of fruit on my conference table.” He turned back to Casey and smiled a little. “It’ll be just a moment. Then we’ll tell you what The Twenty is all about.” Irving left the room, used to being invisible except when ordered about. Moster stood up, in front of Casey. "It will only be a minute now." The men, behind him, were now pawing the floor like racehorses, ready to rock and roll. Casey, sitting, was now eye-to-crotch to Moster, in front of him. He stared openly at Moster’s enormous bulge in the fly of his uniform khakis, a thick pylon of sheathed cock snaking heavily along the edge of huge quad muscle, and gulped, looking up. Though Moster was the only man in the room without an erection, his penis yet appeared to be the biggest. “Yes, sir,” he stammered. And stared again. His heart was pounding. Moster put a hand on Casey’s beefy shoulder, kneading his fingers slightly into the thick muscle. “Hang on. It won’t be long now.” He turned to the men behind him. “Men? Drop trou.” Zippers unzipped, belts slipped out of belt loops and went to the floor, as the 18 bodybuilders – even Abdul – dropped their uniform slacks to their ankles. Pants down. Around the room. Now all the men were in micro posers. Those massive bulges were unleashed. Looming, heavy, hard, all already pointing straight out. Their cocks almost fully exposed except for the bulging, straining fabric barely covering cockheads. Some of the posers were ready to snap. Casey stared at them all. "Wow...." he breathed. "Men why don't you do some posing for Casey? You've seen his muscles. I don't think he's had the opportunity to see yours." "You, too, Sergeant," said Abdul. Moster looked at him. He paused. "All right, then." He unbuttoned his bulging dress shirt and slipped it off. Casey could almost imagine he could hear the groan of relief of the fabric, suddenly relieved of the need to stretch over the man's massive muscles. But he wasn't prepared for the massive musculature of Moster. Cocks and balls bulged forth, each man spilling half a foot of visible cock into barely sheathed pouches. Casey felt a dribble of precum shooting in his posers. “Arms behind backs!” barked Moster, clearly now the leader of the group. He turned to Casey and became one with his men. The Nineteen placed their hands behind their lower backs. “Spread legs!” All spread their legs wide, shooting their right legs out in choreographed unison. “Prepare!” Fists clenched, crammed in solid obliques. “Front double biceps!” All arms slowly rose. And 40 cannonballs of enormous power ball biceps snapped into ungodly peaks. The men faced straight ahead, all eyes high and level, as if gazing into infinity. “Jesus,” breathed Casey. He fumbled with his crotch a moment. His head was spinning. The lineup of 19 men stood before him, all flexing with massive front double biceps power. The black muscle god brought his arms down strode slowly across the room back to Casey. As he moved, his half-covered organ swayed heavily from side to side in his posing pouch. Behind him, the lineup of men continued to flex without wavering. He stood next to Casey, and impossibly, appeared to tower over even him. Dr. Irving returned with the orange. “Chow down on this, Casey,” said Moster as Irving handed it to him wordlessly. "Men, drop the biceps pose." The men relaxed. Hension snickered. "Yeah, chow down, Casey." Then, warning Chad...."Don't you hit me...." “Dr. Irving, would you get back to your camera, please?” Dr. Irving went back to the video cam, checking his clipboard, and began to tape. The men circled around Casey as he took a big bite out of the orange, and then another, and then another. A moment passed. Casey began to flush, a deep crimson red – and then, just as quickly – the flush faded. He looked up at Moster, and smiled. Broadly. “I’m fine now,” he said. “Casey,” asked Moster evenly, “have you ever sucked cock before?” “No, sir.” “Would you like to?” “Yes, sir. I think I would.” Snap! Snap! Gunst's and Blankenship's posers snapped. Their cocks bloomed free, swaying heavily, ready for service. Gunst stepped forward, but Blankenship elbowed him heavily out of the way. Gunst looked at him threateningly, raised his fist, ready to punch face. Moster stood back. "Easy, men. There's time for everyone. Who should he start with?” he asked the group. “I think he starts with ME,” said Abdul, striding forward, his hands on the straps of his bulging posers. The 14 inch shaft was fully exposed, the tendrils of Abdul's thick pubic hair shining in the rec room light. “Fine with me,” Casey said, still smiling. “How do I do this?” “Don’t worry. It’ll come naturally. Just let it happen.” Abdul took his position in front of Casey and pushed out his powerful hips. As Casey leaned in, Abdul roughly cupped the back of the teen’s head, and pulled him in close. "Get to work, boy..." Casey open his mouth. Wide. "Sorry about last night, " he said up to Abdul, who loomed over him, taking his mammoth cock out of his posers and aiming it. "Wider," said Abdul. "Can I pose for you guys later?" Casey asked. "Sure thing!" squeaked Hension. Smack!! "Ow! What did I say??" "I said OPEN WIDER," commanded Abdul. "Sure thing," said Casey. He opened his mouth wider. "Let's go." And so.... it began. **** Want to read "The Twenty" from the start? Links to chapters of "The Twenty": "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - The Musclemen Revealed: Inside Zaftig's Lab "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 19 - Further Encounters, Part 1 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 20 - Pose and Approve: Further Encounters, Part 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 21 - Sam and Casey "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 22 - Field Trips for Worship, Part 1 "The Twenty" - Chapter 23 - Field Trips, Part 2 – Casey Rediscovers Muscle Worship, and Makes a New Friend "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 24 - Further Encounters 5: Sam and Casey Again, and Moster and the Cadets