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  1. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Guess what? I'm back and I have plenty of twist and turns coming! Sorry for taking so long. I had to plan and I was pretty busy. Technically I still am but I will be posting once a week on Wednesdays. Have fun. A College Weight Room Story: The Path to Gains Saturday: The Void Part 7 It has been over two weeks since Troy and I last spoke of him quitting working out. We never hung out outside of fitness related activities to begin with, so I found myself with a huge problem. Working out alone has been lame and I wanted him to be in the gym with me. Something he does not. I still want to be his friend too. He is my bro, but how do we maintain our relationship if the one thing we bonded over isn’t allowed anymore? How can I even speak to Troy if it isn’t about gains, protein, or a gym pump? How do I be his friend while trying to ignore the one thing we bonded over? “Von, are you listening?” Ethan says. “Sorry man. I’m just a little distracted,” I say. It’s 5:30 and we are in the dining hall getting out fill of baked chicken and pasta. You can never have enough protein and carbs. “You work out today?” “No.” I would go to the gym today eventually. I just had no motivation to go just yet. Going alone sucks and now I usually wait to go at night when the usual lonely people go. “Then maybe you should go and blow off some steam.” “That probably won’t work,” I say. “Well how about a little wrestling to take your mind off of things? He says this with a huge smile. Wrestling is his favorite past time. “That actually doesn’t sound too bad, but I still need to workout.” “Well you will be at the gym. Just workout afterwards, dude!” “What about you bro? Don’t you workout? I know you didn’t just wake up swelling like a beast!” “Of course I workout man!” he says and laughs. “I wouldn’t have much time to workout though. I have a night class.” “How about this? We figure out a time to wrestle and lift. I’m in a desperate need of a workout partner.” “And you want it to be me?” he says, eyes widening. “Dude, we could destroy the gym together,” I say laughing. “Alright then. Let’s do it, bro! My night class ends at 9pm every night.” “Let’s go then. You’ll need a pick me up afterwards I bet.” “Right!” he says this with his eyes flashing with joy. “This is great man. I always go to the gym alone but now I won’t have to. Don’t you go with someone already? What’s the kids name? Tony… Trae…” “Troy,” I say silently. My elated mood drops a bit and Ethan notices. “What’s up? Why are you down suddenly?” I’m surprised that he asked. Ethan and I usually don’t talk about feelings. Our conversations usually involve who is going to get beat down first on the wrestling mat. I look him straight in the eye and I see that he genuinely cares. No, bull shit either. Should I tell him? “Uhh… Troy is taking an extended break from the gym,” I say. “Extended as in…” “Extended as in his girlfriend has banned him from working out for the rest of his life and I lost one of my best bros.” Ethan pauses. I can see his mind calculating what he wants to say. His eye flicker in his head and eventually his eyebrows arch into two pointed angled. He is angry. “Well fuck that!” he says. “What jerk of a girlfriend takes something so great away. Working out is an amazing experience that everyone should enjoy!” “I know…” “Like… Damn it… Troy is huge as fuck. That dude is gifted and to throw it all away just so he could keep boning. That’s horrible!” “I know. Now I usually work out alone” “Don’t you take a gym class?” “Yes, but it’s only twice a week and honestly those guys will never be as swole as Troy. He was a bit special.” “Sounds like you had a bit of a crush on him.” “Naw man! It wasn’t that! It’s just. I really admired him.” I say. I’m fighting to find words. “I wanted to be like him and it sucks that he’s giving up.” “You really think I can replace such a beast?” “You are a beast, man!” “I don’t see it.” “Trust me man. You got what it takes.” He motions to open his mouth but stops. I can tell he is thinking. “Alright, let’s do this, bro.” he says and reaches across the table to give me a fist bump. I reach up, my fist connecting with his. “And so starts a new path to gains.” I say with a smile. “What are you up to tonight, bro?” “Nothing. I could actually go for a good workout tonight. Want to go at 6:30?” “That sounds like a good plan. I’ll head back to my frat house and change and I’ll see you there.” “Cool.” The clock soon strikes 6:30 and I find myself in the gym with Ethan. We decide to work biceps and shoulders and it is amazing. We start with preacher curls and I am mesmerized by the sheer size of Ethan’s biceps. He is wearing a tight blue compression shirt and his biceps bulge through the sleeves like boulders. I can see each dip and curve in his thick arms before he even begins doing curls and once he starts his biceps immediately begin to swell with the rush of blood. “Damn man!” I say. “Your arms are so fucking jacked.” He looks at me and turns a little red. He continues to curl the 70 pound bar with ease and I just watch in admiration. “Dude, your chest is the equivalent of my biceps. I wish I had those thick pecs, but you already know that man haha.” After we finish preacher curls we move on to hammer curls. I grab two 35 pound dumbbells and he grabs two 45s. “You going in strong man?” I ask. “Nope, this is just where I start.” Fuck. “Man, I need to be where you are.” “Give it a few weeks and you will be just as big as me.” We work our way through and everything moves so smoothly and naturally. It was a whole new and completely awesome experience. Ethan is just as strong as Troy and while he does not have the competitiveness within him that Troy had, he has his own thing going on. He’s a cool dude and I’m glad he decided to give this a shot. After we finish working shoulders we are sweaty and in desperate need of showers. We walk side by side out of the gym and I look at the locker room door. So many memories flash through my head. Memories of Troy walking around nude without a care in the world. Memories of me hearing him cum in the shower. Memories of him grabbing my cock. That’s definitely a complicated one… “Von!” “Huh. What’s going on?” “You zoned out there man.” “Sorry dude. I was thinking about some stuff.” We continue our walk out of the gym. Guess we won’t be having the locker room fun Troy and I had. It’s fine though. I did not expect it from him. “You want to meet tomorrow to wrestle or play basketball, bro?” “I’m down for that. What time?” “Tomorrow is the Spring festival so sometime after 3.” “Alright, I’ll see you then man.” We are outside now and I’m about turn to walk away when Ethan reaches up and grabs my bicep. He gives my right arm a nice hard squeeze and smiles. “I can already fell those stones growing, man. You may be able to dominate me physically one day.” “You mean how I already do in wrestling!” I say laughing. “Hey, you know I’m stronger than you when we wrestle!” “Yeah, but I’m faster.” “For now. I’ll make sure to thicken you up a bit,” he says this with a cocky smile on his face, turns away, and walks off to him room. Maybe he isn’t so different from Troy.
  2. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Hey guys, things are getting intense in this story. There are a couple ways it could go next and if you have any routes you would like it to take in particular, leave a comment! A College Weight Room Story: The Path to Gains Thursday Night: Wrestling. Part 6 I’m lying on my back in my bedroom with my eyes closed. Many thoughts run through my mind as I lie there. “Troy broke up with his girlfriend,” I whisper to myself. “No,” I respond. “She broke up with him…” I honestly have no clue. Who did the breaking up and why? My bed begins to vibrate and I am jolted out of my thoughts. It’s my phone. I pick it up and read the message. Just another text from Joy. “Shit.” It is 6:30 and I planned to meet with Troy an hour after dinner. I ate dinner at 5:30 and I remember seeing him there. So technically we should be meeting now. “Maybe he’s just waiting for his food to digest,” I say to myself. “Or maybe he’s too upset to wrestle after his break up.” I hope that he wasn’t too upset. I really hoped we could wrestle today. I felt like he was finally...VRRRTT! VRRRTT! My phone vibrated again. It was a message from Troy! Troy: Hey man, I’m ready to wrestle! Meet me at 6:50. I quickly change into my singlet and in 5 minutes I am walking into the gym. I make it my biggest priority not to mention his break up. He is already in front of me, sitting on the mat, looking at the ceiling with blank eyes. Yeah, I definitely should not bring it up. I walk over to the mat and hearing my footsteps, he opens his eyes and smiles. “Hey, bro,” he says quietly. He lacks his usual energy and that bothers me a little. I try not to let it show. He is wearing an extremely tight black compression shirt and a pair of tight, blue running shorts. This makes me a little happy. He’s still wearing clothes that show off his bod. Good. “You ready for this man?” I say. He laughs. “Ready for what exactly?” “To get your ass kicked,” I say smiling. His eyes widen at what I say. “I will fight as strongly as I can, but I’ll be honest. I don’t mind being dominated by you at all.” I hesitate to speak. I was not expecting that. “Game on,” I say. We get on the mat and move into our positons in front of each other. I size him up and look into his eyes. They have this deeply serious look. Like a threatened animal he looks at me with so much intensity that I begin to feel afraid. We continue to look into each other’s eyes. There’s tension in the air and he is beginning to breathe heavily. His chest and shoulders begin to raise up and down. Then suddenly he lunges at me. He pins me to the floor, his chest directly on mine, and I immediately flip him on to his back. “You’re faster than me,” he says. “But I’m stronger.” “We’ll see” I say. He rolls onto his knees and lunges at me again. I quickly dodge him and I’m on his back in an instant. I pin him down and all he can do is grunt and whine beneath me. He tries his best to get out of my grip but it is no use and he eventually taps out. I let him go and in a flash he turns around and is on top on me with both hands clamped over my wrists. “Whoa!” I say. “This is cheating!” “Well I gotta do something to beat someone so experienced.” The word experienced slips off of his tongue as if it had some sort form of double meaning. I wonder what he meant. I can’t move and he continues to look into my eyes as he pins me down. My dick twitches a little from the position I am in. I need to move. “Fine,” I say. “You can cheat a little you big baby.” “Prepare to get owned” He lets me go and we go at it again. This time no rules. Troy plays dirty. On two occasion his hand made harsh contact with my cock and balls causing me intense pain and giving him an advantage. I knew he was doing it on purpose, but I didn’t want to seem like a bitch so I fought through it. He pins me down about three times before I begin to notice that he is a one trick pony. Each time he pinned me he had a handful of my cock and used it to his advantage, but now I was ready. I saw his hand coming down and dodging it, I grabbed for his arm and spun him onto his back. Then I did something risky. With one hand pinning down his left hand I used my other and put pressure onto his own dick, giving him a taste of his own medicine. “Oh fuck!” he says. His eyes close shut and his head tilts back in agony. I jump on his stomach and pin him down. He gives up easily. That was the beginning of the end. I pinned him 4 more times after that within seconds and he begins to get angry. “You’re going down, man!” he yells at me. Anger is in his eyes. We are both sweating. But Troy is soaked from how much effort he is putting into fighting me. He rips off his shirt, his hard pecks and abs in full view now and I’m caught off guard that I have no time to prepare myself when he tackles me. His sweaty pecs touch my face and I can feel the dense, hard muscle push against my teeth. My cock springs to life and I’m fucking embarrassed. Shit. “Look how the tables have turned,” he says. “Not so fast!” I say. I wiggle beneath him and be begins to laugh. Luckily I wiggle just enough to free my leg and I bend my right knee right into his crotch connected with his rock hard cock. “Ugh!” he yelps and rolls onto his side with both hands over his dick. He lays there for a second and suddenly he springs back to life and comes at me again. I have time to react and duck. He tumbles over my back, grabbing my spandex as he falls, and pulls me onto him. He lies on the floor on his back holding me in his arms, my back to him. I struggle but eventually break free and try to stand. He grabs at my legs and I fall back onto him. My face lands directly between his legs and I basically lose my shit. His shorts are so thin that I can feel his dick pressed against my cheek. I can smell the musk from his dick and I get harder than I was before. The awkward part is that my dick is also in Troy’s face and he doesn’t seem to give a fuck. I feel like this moment is frozen and I don’t move and suddenly I am flipped on to my back and I see Troy with hatred in his eyes. He jumps at me but I dodge him quickly and make I am quickly on top of him with both of his arms pins. “Shit!” he yells. He struggles beneath me like a wild animal. He seems crazy. Withering like a mental patient wearing a straitjacket. His breathing is heavy and his eyes and face are red. Then suddenly he calms down. His breathing slows and his eyes begin to glisten. Tears drip down his face, adding to the sweat on his face and he looks so pitiful that I let his arms go. I stand up and put my hand out to him. He slowly raises his hand and I help him up. “How are you doing, Troy?” I say. “Are you ok?” “No… but I think I will be.” “What’s going on?” “My girlfriend…She left because I didn’t want to give up bodybuilding, but I’ve been thinking a little. Maybe I should stop.” “But she was wrong for wanting to ruin your dreams of being bigger and stronger.” Troy turns away from me and continues to speak. “I don’t think I should let her go.” I get angry at this. There is no way I’m losing him to some bitch who can’t see something amazing in front of her. I grab his shoulder and turn him around to face me. “You are strong! Look at these arms, these legs, and those abs.” I lightly punch each body part as I describe it. I notice his cock violently twitching through his shorts as I do this and his hand quickly clamps down on it. “Don’t give up on gains, man. You can find someone else, maybe someone as into body building as you. Someone just as strong.” “Who then?” he says. “Uh… I don’t know man.” “Exactly.” Troy stands, picking up his shirt and putting it back on so he can leave. “What are you going to do, Troy?” “I think…I think I’m done with lifting. I quit bodybuilding!” His fists are clenched and are turning red. “I’m doing it for her…” he says and walks away, leaving me in the gym alone.
  3. Hey dudes, here is part 4 of the story. If you haven't read the previous chapter, here is the link. Have fun. A College Weight Room Story: The Path to Gains Wednesday Leg day: Part 4 I walk into the gym with Troy, both of us with our pre-workout bottles in hand. I can tell that Troy is pumped. He shaking a little and I can’t tell if it’s from the pre-workout or the idea of working out again. “I fucking love leg day, bro,” he says. Yeah, definitely pumped about working out. I love this go get em attitude. “Let’s do this man!” I say. We walk past the front desk and into the weight room. Zeus and Kris are missing so I won’t have any partners today. This day is already starting to suck. Damn. “Von!” Russ yells from across the room. “Kris and Zeus are sick so I’m partnering you with Troy today.” “Sweet!” Troy exclaims as he begins to softly punch me in the abs. I smile and shrug him off. “Alright bro, let’s go!” Russ tells us that our first exercise will be back squats, so we walk over to the bar. “You should go first. I have a feeling I’ll need to add more to what you’ll put on,” Troy says. I laugh. “You cocky bastard!” “Hey man,” he shrugs his shoulders and puts up his hands in surrender. “I’m just being honest.” I agree and load the 45 pound bar with a 45 pound plate on each side. Troy stands behind me in case I’ll need help and I begin my reps. After 10 reps I stop squatting and put the bar back. My ass is already feeling the burn, but it’s a good burn. “Alright bro, let me show you how it’s done” Troy says. He makes his way over to the plates and adds an extra 35 pounds to each side. That’s 205 pounds on his first set! That’s way more than my bitch weight of 135 pounds. “Fuck man!” I say. “Are you serious?” “Watch and see.” He begins his squats and I am in awe. He slides up in down with ease and each time he comes up a power burst of air blows from his mouth. All I can stare at from behind is his ass; it looks so powerful. Each jacked globe poking through his tight joggers. The grey joggers strain as his ass grows beneath them. If only he didn’t have them on. That way I could see the full power of those muscles and view them with pleasure. He finishes his set and sets the weight back down. “Your turn.” I walk to the bar. I’m intimidated by him now. I want to try the weight he just did, but I don’t know if I have it in me. I don’t want to take any weight off the bar because I’d feel like a little bitch. I can feel his eyes burning into my back as I make my hard decision. “I think I’ll try 8 reps with this weight,” I say. “Oh really now?” he says. “Guess my heavy set got your competitive juices going, huh bro?” He claps me on the back. Oh yeah. Game on. “Something like that,” “Alright, show me what you got. I’ll stand close to be sure you don’t fall.” I immediately put the bar on my shoulders and start the set. The weight is heavy and I can already feel it hurting my back. “Shit,” I mutter. “Don’t worry bro, I got you.” Troy comes up behind me and puts both hands on my waist as support. I feel jolts of electricity shooting through where his fingers are making contact. Must be the pre-workout. I squat down and the weight is insane. My legs tremble but I keep pushing. He’s still there for me and supports me through it all. By the 8th rep I am beat, but I feel accomplished. When I put the bar back Troy looks at me with impressed eyes. “Way to go man!” he says. He goes for another ab punch. I let him get me once and then I block his next punch. He’s such a bro. “Alright,” I say. “Your next set.” We blast through our workout. After squats we go to leg presses, leg curls and leg extensions. I try my best to keep up with troy, but the man is a beast. He powers through it all like a train and by then end of it all I am beat. Class is over and I check my phone; it’s 3:40 and my wrestling buddy Ethan has texted me. Ethan: You, me, Jason. On the mats. Today. 4:00. Bring your singlet. Good? It seems that Ethan wants to practice a little today. Back in high school I wrestled a little, but I never joined the team. It wasn’t until I came to college that I found myself liking more and more wrestling. Ethan, Jason and I all joined the team our freshman year, but college gets busy and we never had time for matches so we would just put singlets on once a week and beat each other down when we could. I reply that it sounds like a good plan and walk with Troy to the locker room. Once inside he immediately begins to strip down and is once again standing naked in front of me. Thankfully I am used to it after our last jerk off session. His cock flops between his muscled thighs still swollen from the workout, and I try to avoid looking at his thick meat. “Ready to shower bro?” he asks. “Nah man, I can’t today. I gotta get changed into my singlet for a little wrestling.” I walk to my locker and pull out a blue singlet and begin to change my clothes. I feel him watching me as I pull off my shirt. “Wrestling?” he says as he begins to scratch his twitching cock. “I didn’t know you wrestled.” “Yeah man, actually, I wanted to ask if you were interested in a little wrestling yourself.” My shirt is off and I pull down my pants and boxers, now completely nude. I can still feel him watching me and decide to toy with him. “Like what you see?” I say. His eyes widen and he is completely taken off guard. I stand there nude, dick out and he still doesn’t look away. “I’m just seeing that you are getting stronger. That’s all, bro,” he says and laughs. “Thanks for noticing.” His dick is starting to get hard and his hand is doing a terrible job at covering it. I decide to put the singlet on before he blows. At least I think I’m the reason he is getting hard? With Troy, I actually don’t know. “I’m gonna go shower man. Maybe I’ll wrestle another day.” I’m a little disappointed…Ok I am very disappointed. Guess I’ll have to figure out another way to get to him. “Alright man, I’ll see ya.” I now have my blue singlet on and he continues to stare. My bulge is clearly seen and each outline of my defined abs poke through the shirt. My pecs stand out like shelves. I look great and I know it and so does Troy. After a few moments of staring he quickly turns around and runs to the shower, hand on cock. I have a good idea of what he is about to do. In fact, I think I already hear moaning. Hahaha. I walk out of the locker room and make my way to the mats with a smile on my face. I kind of wish I took Troy up on his offer, but I can’t leave Ethan and Jason waiting. It’s 3:50 now and they are already out there waiting for me. “Sup bro!” Ethan exclaims. He daps me up and throws me into a strong bro hug. After he lets go Jason comes by and fist bumps me. “You ready bro?” Jason asks. “Hell yeah man. Who am I gonna destroy first?” I say. “You mean who are YOU going to be destroyed by!” Ethan says. “That will be me!” Ethan is about an inch taller than me. He has pale white skin, long black hair around his ears and has a similar physique to me. The only difference would be our biceps and our chests. His bicep are jacked as fuck. I’ve measured my biceps and they are barely 13 inches un-flexed and I know just by looking at Ethan that his chiseled arms are at least 16 or 17 inches around. My chest, however, is thicker than his and although he beats me in curls I am a stronger bencher. Jason is dark-skinned like me, but a little lighter than I am. He is a little smaller than me. He weighs about 140 pounds compared to my 150 bulk and I can honestly say I am going to love dominating him. They are both wearing black singlets and are ready to get the fight for power started. Ethan and I get in our positions on the mat and so it begins. Ethan’s arms are powerful so I am at a little bit at a disadvantage, but I somehow manage to take him down by ducking under his arms and grabbing him around his waist. I slam him to the floor and he lets out a puff of air. “Fuck man, you’ve gotten stronger. I flip over and pin him down with all of my strength. We are both sweating now and I’m pumped as hell. I can feel a twitch in my cock. I’ve needed this for a while. I’ve needed to dominate. Ethan looks vascular as fuck. The veins covering his arms and stretching to his pecs pop out of his skin. He is tired and decides to give up so I move on to Jason. As Ethan walks off the mat I noticed that his dick is standing tall, poking through his tight singlet. “Having fun there?” I say. He looks down at his dick and turns a little red. “Don’t worry about it,” he says and laughs. I take on Jason easily. I am fully hard now and I don’t care. If Ethan can be aroused, I won’t be ashamed. I flip Jason over and end up on his back. My dick is in his crack and he grunts and struggles beneath me. This just makes me feel even more powerful. I’m so turned on that I could burst at any moment. I also have this strange feeling that I am being watched, but I ignore it. We continue to wrestle for the next 30 minutes. I’m on my last match with Ethan and I still have this nagging feeling that I am being watched, but I continue to dominate my two contestants. When we are finished wrestling, it is agreed that I am stronger, but next time Ethan knows he can beat me. Afterwards, Ethan, Jason and I are all sitting on the mats dripping sweat. My dick is still hard as a rock and I look down and see than Ethan’s dick is still proud as ever. All three of us are pumped. “Looks like someone needs a good cum,” Jason says. He swings his hand down and smacks my clearly visible dick. “Shut up,” I reply and I begin to laugh. “Ethan’s dick is just as hard as mine.” “Probably harder,” Ethan says and winks at me. We all break out into laughter at this comment. I look up and I see Troy, watching with his eyes wide open in a mix of admiration and shock. I knew that nagging feeling wasn’t just in my head. I wish I had known he was watching us earlier. I’m still hard and I have a little pre-cum showing through my singlet which I really don’t want him to see. I’m freaking out so I pretend I didn’t notice him. “We should get changed and head to class,” I say. “Right!” they both agree. They grab their gym bags and we rush back to the locker room to change out of our singlets. I follow closely behind them and I almost make it to the door when Troy is suddenly standing in front of me. They go in without me and I’m startled as fuck. I thought he would have left by now. "Hey, dude!” I say. “Did you just get here?" “Yeah dude. I just finished showering and saw you on your way into the locker room.” Strange….he lied to me. I know he was watching me wrestle. Why wouldn’t he admit he saw me? Then again, why did I pretend I just saw him? He is wearing jeans and a polo while I stand here baring all in my singlet. All I can think about is what he thinks of my body. He seems confused. I can tell by the look in his eyes that he doesn’t quite know what to say. "So it looks like you guys were wrestling?” he says as he lets out a small chuckle. He smiles humorously pointing at our singlets. "Yea!" I say and laugh. "How did that go?" Troy responds. "Oh, we were just sparring and getting a decent workout at the same time." Troy nods his head in dull agreement. It looks like there is so much more he wants to say, but it seems that he doesn’t know how to express himself. "So who won?" he asks. I feel like being super modest so I won’t come off as a douche. I know he saw that I wiped the floor with my bros, but I lie anyway. "I mean, we just kinda wrestled each other and tried different moves to pin each other and see if we could escape the moves or reverse them. It wasn't really an official match, haha." Holy shit. Why am I rambling? "Cool," he says with a hint of underlying excitement. This entire time I’ve been standing with both hands covering my still bulging crotch. I’m still sweaty and a bit exhausted and just about ready to change. "We were heading back to change now,” I say. "No one really wants to walk around in these suits. It’s a bit embarrassing." I don’t want to feel like I’m rushing the conversation, but standing here is making me insane so I slowly start walking towards the locker room door to hint to him that I need to change. Surprisingly, he starts to follow me. "Nah man, don’t be embarrassed,” he says behind me. “You look like a beast in that!” “You don’t say?” I reply in the cockiest voice possible. “It shows off your pecs better than anything!” He gives a full happy smile but turns his face sideways to avoid eye contact. "Thanks man," I say smiling. "It’s always cool when you encourage me. I…I like being your friend." Troy takes a deep breath in as he searches for what to say next, but his face goes into a trance so I speak again. "Well lemme go change. I smell horrible.. I'll see you in Western Civ later, dude." “Yeah, no doubt.” I make my way into the locker room and as the door closes behind me I think to myself. What the fuck was that?!?!? My phone starts to buzz and I check and see that it’s a text from Troy. Troy: Hey man! We should definitely go running tomorrow morning and work on our back and biceps after. I’ve been thinking and I want to take you up on your wrestling offer. Let spar tomorrow after dinner! Take it easy on me bro. You’re a tough dude. Flex at ya later
  4. Hey guys, I accidentally posted this is the wrong place, but I 'm leaving it here now. So I got a decent amount of good responses from my last real life muscle experience called College Locker Room Heat. Here’s the link to it if you haven’t read it. https://muscle-growth.org/topic/8409-college-locker-room-heat/#comment-85672 A few little things have happened since then, but since things have died down (not many muscle interactions lately), I will begin to dip into fantasy and create a few stories involving more interactions with myself and my gym buddy. Who knows, maybe they will come true one day. Here’s the first new story. Btw I didn’t put my gym buddies name but let’s call him Troy. Also, just so you know; Troy is White about 5 ft 8, brown hair, weights about 170. The narrator is Black 5 ft 5 and 150 pds. More Growth is to come. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Gym Class. Monday Afternoon: Chest day Part 1 I walk into the gym after 2 and a half hours of classes. I’m pumped! I downed 2 shots of pre-workout on the walk over and I’m already feeling it. My hands and arms are already tingling as I make my way past the basketball court. I turn left and go into the locker room. As soon as I walk in my heart skips a beat. Troy, he’s here again. He immediately sees me as I walk in. “Hey bud,” he says. He looks at me with wide eyes and a warm smile. “Hey man,” I say. He’s fully clothed but his shorts and gym shirts are sitting in a pile on the bench in front of him. I walk up to the bench and take off my backpack, setting it down on the floor by the bench. “So when are we going for that run, man?” he says this as I reach into my bag. I take out a tank and a pair of joggers. “Oh yeah,” I say. I hadn’t forgotten, but I didn’t think he was being serious when he asked the first time. “How about tomorrow–morning?” He begins to take off his shirt and my breath catches a little as it slips up. His abs are a little more pronounced than before. His shirt slips completely off revealing his pecs and massive traps. He’s gotten a little bigger since our last gym sesh. “That sounds good, man. I’ll definitely text you and remind you around 9 tomorrow.” “Sounds good to me,” I say. He starts to take of his pants and I strip my shirt to change into my tank. His eyes flicker to my pecs and I notice. A sense of pride swells up inside me and I have to stop myself from smiling. I had gotten a lot stronger this month. My bench had gone up from 145 pounds to 155 in the past month and I knew he noticed. I doubted he would say anything though. “Man! You’re looking huge. Your chest is really growing.” He walks a little closer to check me out and my pride swells even more. He’s still shirtless and in his boxers. His pecs and thick shoulder muscles look even better up close. I look down at his massive pecs. There are little hairs around his nips and I imagine what the stocky muscle underneath feels like. I can’t believe he’s mirin me when he looks so huge. “Dude!” I say. “You are way bigger than I am. I know you weigh like 170 and I just hit 150 pounds!” “Nah man, you are catching up. I mean look at these arms!” he says this and grabs my bicep. “Flex for me bro.” What the hell is happening? I think this but I decide to flex anyway. I can’t believe he is touching me. I flex my arm and my relaxed biceps turn into hard rocks. He gives them a good squeeze and says, “Yeah man, that’s strength right there. Your arms are almost as huge as mine and I need to bulk up before you’re as strong as me.” Troy’s unsubtle hint at a competition got me way more pumped. The pre-workout was flowing through my veins now. I’m ready to workout and get this chest pumped! He looks down at my watch and sees the time. “2 o’clock. Shit, it’s time for class, bro.” He lets go of my arm and gives my traps one last slap. “Damn. Man! Getting big!” he says. He walks back over to his clothes and slip them on. I finish getting dressed and we make our way to the locker room door. He slaps me on the back. “Nice back gains, bro.” I smile. He’s mirin me so hard. I can’t wait until we start lifting. He’s gonna love my pump… To be continued.
  5. Parts 1-3 Parts 4-6 Parts 7-9 One month saw Dan a transformed man. Puberty had struck, hard. Dan’s last growth spurt had left him five inches taller, but thin and gangly. This time, spurred by his superhuman levels of testosterone and fuckton calorie intake, he had just exploded. He was 5’9”, 135 lbs to start. He was now 6’1” and 220 lbs, up eighty-five pounds and bigger than Gordon. His hair had grown back a little, rough and bristly but still short, tapering to a point on his forehead and bleached light brown by the summer sun. His face had squared out, losing some baby fat and his jawline had been reinforced with heavy stubble which now extended the line of his sideburns down his cheeks, jaw and chin and connected with a light moustache upon his lip. He was trying to grow a beard like his father’s, who he idolized in every way. Every day he took his measurements, comparing them to Bruce’s and desperately praying that he’d catch up. Even in this past month, Bruce had continued his progress and his stats dwarfed Dan’s: twenty-four inch arms to nineteen, 300 pounds even to 220. When Bruce had reached 300 pounds he had cut himself loose, talking up every woman in the street who dared turned her head, seducing them and one by one fucking their brains out until they were shivering, squealing heaps on the ground. Still unsatisfied and restless, he had knocked on Mr. Connor’s door and they had spent hours wrestling, pressing the vast surfaces of their muscles together and providing each other the exertion that no one else in town could properly offer them. Naked in front of the mirror, Dan inspected the changes to his body, his previous life as Samuel a distant dream overrun by the constant rush of aggression that eternally infused every cell in his brain. He had a proud chest, the upper and lower pectorals split by a strict line of definition, protruding enough that he derived pleasure from rubbing them against surfaces without any of the rest of his body touching. His neck, traps and shoulders had filled out the massive gaps that had been there before, which along with his squaring jaw gave a sense of intimidating denseness to his silhouette. He was twice as broad as he was a month ago, his rounded shoulders and bulging arms pushed out by the spread of his corded lateral muscles. His wrists spoke of massive bone growth, having grown to a thick eight inches from six before. He ran his hand down his washboard abs, feeling his fingers patter along the mounds until they were stopped by his erect cock. He drummed his fingers down his member, as if casting a spell that would cause it to grow further than it already had. Seven inches wasn’t big enough for him, but he was confident that the growth hadn’t ended. After all, his feet had dramatically expanded, from size 10 to size 16, and he knew the saying about big in the shoes. There was a knock at the door. Dan put on some pants and opened. Outside, blocking nearly the entirety of the frame of the door, was Mr. Connors. Mr. Connors ran his rough hands down Dan’s sides, his thumbs tracing the bottom of his pecs. He took a hand and pressed on Dan’s shoulder, feeling the padding, and then slid down, feeling the rock hard muscles of his arms. He huffed in approval . “Time to learn some football?” “Yes, sir.” Dan followed him out the door and just behind him, was Gordon. A rush of memories came back momentarily, but Dan’s confidence in his new body was unshakeable. He held his head up and strode out proudly. “Who’s this, dad?” Gordon asked, “He ain’t from around here.” “A new teammate, now no more questions, boy.” Dan walked right up close to Gordon and they sized each other up, face to face. Dan realized that Gordon had been doing some growing of his own. In the past month, Gordon had grown two inches, which Dan noted with satisfaction meant that he was now two inches taller. But the jock had grown laterally into his frame, looking less now like the proportionate hunk he was before but rather starting to look more juiced up and massive like his father. He had put on perhaps fifteen pounds, mostly in his upper body, making him thicker than before, and with all that extra weight spread on a shorter frame, he looked hulking in comparison to Dan. Dan had thought he had surpassed his once-tormentor, but now he realized furiously that he was still smaller and he was filled with a bitter, driving dissatisfaction. He felt the craving rising up within him, the hunger for more, the drive to be bigger, better. “Alright, Dan, time to learn how to tackle.” Dan had known that Gordon was the star quarterback on the team, but what he hadn’t realized before was that Gordon was known particularly for his unstoppable rushing. His throwing arm was real good, but using his big frame and power, Gordon would smash through the enemy’s defense and it would take several guys to take him down. This is the man Dan would have to practice tackling. For hours they drilled on end, with Gordon, ball in arm, charging straight forward and Dan trying to block him, Mr. Connors shouting advice from the side and sometimes demonstrated what to do, but Gordon was unstoppable. Dan knew what the problem was. He wasn’t big enough. Even just ten pounds lighter, he felt puny compared to Gordon, and he wouldn’t be able to stop him until he was the one dwarfing him. He tensed his arms, as he lowered into the partial squat ready position, feeling what power he had. It wasn’t enough. He would get better at tackling and running along with his progress on the iron. Seeing the fiery ambition in the eyes of his new recruit, Mr. Connors smiled in satisfaction. He had a new linebacker. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Late August arrived, along with football tryouts. A fierce pleasure erupted in Dan as he realized that he was the biggest guy there. He had outpaced Gordon in every way since they had started working out together, growing three inches taller and packing on forty pounds of muscle onto his frame to Gordon’s one inch and ten extra pounds. They were buddies now, a friendship forged by rivalry, by ramming into one another over and over like bulls. Dan though, was emerging as the clear winner. He could now stop Gordon, easily. Dan had become overwhelming strong, fueled by the determination to beat each and every one of Gordon’s personal records. Bench press: 405 lbs (to Gordon’s 385) Rows: 375 lbs (to 335) Overhead press: 245 lbs (to 215) Squat: 535 lbs (to 405) Deadlift: 705 lbs (to 465) Pull-ups: 15 (3 plates added) As Dan stepped on the field, he heard whispers all around him, rumours of where the monstrous Dan Davidson had come from. Some said he was a twenty-two year old undercover cop. Some said he was the pinnacle result of seventy years of secret Soviet eugenics. Dan paid them no attention. He was here to dominate each and every one of them on the field. He finished tryouts leaving several of the football team’s seniors lying flat on the ground wondering what had happened. He went over to Gordon, who was standing next to a similar pile. No one save Dan had come close to stopping a rush from Gordon, and Dan could hold three guys on the line by himself, laughing mad at his strength all the while. By the end of the week Dan had earned the nickname “The Great Wall,” cementing his spot as the starting linebacker on the team. The team worshipped the ground he walked on, and his power and size had become the goal of every guy on the team. Those who hadn’t been juicing had taken it up eagerly, already seeing some results and loving it. To everyone, every day was now gym day. For junior year, Dan and Gordon had unleashed an unprecedentedly large and aggressive jock population upon their high school. When school started, Dan roamed the hallways like a lion. He took what he wanted, fucking girls, guys, teachers, even the principal, who soon divorced her pathetic beta of a husband and dedicated herself as a slave to Dan’s every whim. As a result, his will in school was law, and he was judge, jury and enforcer. He would grab puny little geeks by the collar and whisper into their ear, “You like the feeling of power?” He would then rub them over his muscles, wrapping their whole bodies around his bulging, monstrous pecs and feeling for their dicks to inevitably rise. Then he’d roar in a thunderous bass, “Little fuckin’ faggot! This is fuckin’ power! Get a little bigger and maybe I’ll let you suck my cock,” and then slam them whimpering on the ground. A surprising number of them could later be found in the weight room, obsessively trying to push what little weight they could. Four months later, with Dan and Mr. Connors in charge, everything about the school had changed. With Gordon obliterating all defenses, Dan destroying any semblance of offense, and growing, hungry monsters filling every other position, the football team was now unmatched and crushed school after school. The team was central to the whole school and every single boy, desperate to join, worked out and juiced in the school’s gym, which now covered a third of the school grounds. Male students were now required to attend school shirtless, a policy eagerly taken to by all. Surrounded by something resembling peers, Dan thrived, growing bigger than ever. 6’5” and 305 pounds, his twenty-four inch arms pulsed with power, threatening to throttle anyone who dared challenge him. Bruce had grown extraordinarily rich, The Naked Butcher now serving as a front for the biggest steroids supplier in the United States, protected by hundreds of enormous, young, aggressive gang members willing to kill to secure their supply. A young thug sauntered into the shop, declaring he had news for Bruce. Bruce listened, dismissed him, and left, barking out instructions to scores of lackeys to cover for his absence. He then took off in his Hummer, heading over to the hospital. The desk clerk bowed to him in deference, before taking him to the ward where Lisa lay. Mr. Connors was already there. He held a baby boy, fourteen pounds, with a keen expression in his face. “This kid’ll grow up with no fuckin’ weakling bullshit. No prissy beta men tellin’ him he oughta be nice and serve others and be a general fuckin’ pussy. None of that holdin’ him back. We raise this kid as a man.” The baby reached out, grasped Bruce’s beard, and pulled with all its strength. A strange light filled Bruce’s eyes. He thought of the dozens, hundreds of women he and his son had filled with their potent seed. An army whose sole purpose was to grow strong and to acquire power. He felt the last vestige of the Bruce he once was, the gentle, kind, respectful soul, finally fade away to black. Power is Everything. “Fuck yeah.”
  6. TannerBradley

    Father's Descent Parts 7-9

    Parts 1-3 Parts 4-6 Parts 10-11 On gear, Bruce’s growth was explosive. A month had passed, and he had put on forty-five pounds on the scale and another four inches on his arms. His face was broader, aptly supported by a thick corded neck and traps that wrapped around like a yoke. His shoulders were globes, leading both to the sinewy ridges of his back and to powerfully separated biceps and triceps. His crushing forearms were covered in veins leading down to his meaty hands, in which he handled the large slabs of meat that were not unlike his pecs. The ridges of his back were mirrored by the ridges of his obliques leading to cobblestone abs that were now fully developed. All of this lay on the solid trunk of his quads and butt, propelled by powerful bulging calves. None of his old clothes fit and so he had torn each and every one apart with his hands and had burned them in a huge pile. He worked out now in a wife beater and shorts, and that was all he wore around the house. Even when he went out all he would add would be a flannel button-up and jeans that could barely contain his new mass. He buzzed his hair and gave up shaving altogether, choosing instead to keep a minimally kempt short beard. The meat shop, no, butcher shop as he now insisted it be called, was doing better than ever. Women and some men from all over town flocked over to chat and with a little flex here and a pec bounce there and they could be persuaded to buy almost anything. Samuel was pretty sure his father hadn’t slept with any of them but it was hard to tell, it certainly seemed like he was tempted. Ever since he realized that on steroids he no longer needed rest days, every day was workout day. Bruce pretty much just ate, fucked Vena and worked out all day. That suited Lisa just fine, who had started to show some signs of pregnancy. Her bouts with Mr. Connors were becoming less frequent as a result, but they still happened several times a week and miraculously Mr. Connors and Bruce had still never had a confrontation. Bruce was easily bigger than Gordon now. He was 245 pounds to Gordon’s 215, and Samuel had taken the chance and spied on one of Gordon’s training sessions once more. It turns out he skipped leg day every so often and his lower body wasn’t as developed. Still, Gordon was damn strong: Bench press: 320 lbs Rows: 275 lbs Overhead press: 155 lbs Squat: 315 lbs Deadlift: 375 lbs Pull-ups: 15 (1 plate added) Even Bruce couldn’t match that bench press number, but otherwise he was stronger: Bench press: 295 lbs Rows: 285 lbs Overhead press: 175 lbs Squat: 405 lbs Deadlift: 455 lbs Pull-ups: 17 (1 plate added) Any notion Samuel had that his father would solve his bullying problems had been long since shattered however. He tried to bring it up but Bruce had just snarled with contempt. “You’re your own man, aren’t you? Solve your own fuckin’ problems.” In fact, Bruce barely took any notice of Samuel at all. The bigger, stronger, and better he grew, the more he saw his son for the weak pathetic brat he was. Samuel had been to the basement many times, but the idea of him taking up weights was so incongruent to his sense of self that he couldn’t even bear to pick anything up. The one thing he could look forward to was that the school year was coming to an end. In just three weeks he wouldn’t be forced to go to the den of the bullies and he could spend time alone, away from everyone. That night, he heard the first altercation from his parents for the first time since everything began. He couldn’t hear much more than the low rumble of his father’s voice and a growingly insistent vocalization from his mother, so he snuck closer, staying behind the wall next to the door. “Mmm, Bruce, you know I want to, so fucking bad, but no.” A growl from his father, “Fuck it, cunt. What’s it to him?” He slid his large hands over to cup her breasts, then ran them down her midsection. With two thick fingers he began to rub her clit rhythmically. There was a moan of pleasure from Lisa, but then the sound of her rolling away. “You’re so damn sexy now,” she admitted, breathing heavily, “but he’s still bigger than you, Bruce, way bigger. I serve him now, not you.” Bruce gave a murmur of displeasure, “Rolf and I are gonna have a little talkin’ to.” The following afternoon, Bruce came home to find himself face to face with Mr. Connors. The man was, as always, in his coach’s suit, tightly fitted, every line of the suit stretched along the ridges of his awesome muscles, broadening their lines even further. Bruce stepped right up to his face, using his inch of height to look down on him, but Samuel could see the difference, a sixty pound difference. His father was strong now but Rolf Connors, that man was a brick shithouse. Bruce unbuttoned his flannel, throwing it down to the side. In acknowledgement, Mr. Connors shrugged off his suit jacket. Bruce removed his wife beater, exposing his bare chest and the ripples of muscle underneath. Mr. Connors smiled and obliged. He flexed into a most muscular, popping the buttons of his Oxford shirt and shredding it to tatters. Samuel was transfixed. The football coach’s shoulders were absolute boulders, their size matched only by his powerful pecs, which twitched explosively every time he moved his enormous python arms. His abs weren’t developed in the same way as Bruce’s, instead faintly outlining a muscle gut on a waist solid enough to be worthy of his nickname “Immovable.” Bruce swung first, with a right hook to the face. It hit Mr. Connors square on the cheekbone. He recoiled a bit, surprised at the force behind the swing, before taking a swing of his own. Bruce was faster though, and managed to dodge underneath. He spun around, landing a fist right into Mr. Connors’ midsection, but his fist hit a rock hard wall. He shook out his throbbing hand, and then deftly stepped back, but this time Mr. Connors was ready for him. The mustachioed man grabbed Bruce from under his arms, hoisting him up and lifting him above his head, and then threw him hard to the ground. Bruce rolled as he hit the floor, then leaped from the floor with a resounding uppercut to the jaw. Mr. Connors gave a grunt of pain, but was otherwise unmoved. Bruce, seeing how little damage he had done, stopped, and was quiet for a moment. Then, he began laughing heartily. Surprisingly, Mr. Connors joined in, and the rumble of both their voices shook the house, harder and harder. “Fuck man, Immovable, huh?” “Your throw a solid punch, Davidson.” Mr. Connors slapped Bruce on the back, and then both men shook hands in mutual respect. Bruce opened the front door and gestured outwards, and they waltzed out together like old friends. “Who’s yer dealer? Mine does most of the football team but had never heard of you. I’d been wonderin’.” “Fuck, just some dealer on the internet. Just did a little research is all.” “You gotta try this guy man. He deals some quality shit. Quality shit I tell you.” --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- With Mr. Connor’s steroids coursing through his body, Bruce’s progress renewed with vigour. By the end of the school year, he had put on another forty pounds, putting him at 285. He had put another three inches on his arms, up to a total of twenty-three inches, but the biggest difference of all lay in his strength. Samuel’s notebook read: Bench press: 385 lbs Rows: 355 lbs Overhead press: 225 lbs Squat: 515 lbs Deadlift: 565 lbs Pull-ups: 12 (3 plates added) The numbers boggled Samuel’s mind. He was sure his father could take Mr. Connors in a fight now, and he just dwarfed Gordon. Not that this would ever happen now. To his horror, Mr. Connors and his father had become fast friends, buddies even. They often worked out together and played football with Gordon in their free time. Bruce had ditched a layer of clothing altogether with the warming weather. Any time he spent with a shirt at all was in one of his wife beaters, now stretched to extremes accommodating his ever expanding muscles. The rest of the time, while at home or walking about or on sprints, Bruce remained shirtless. He’d also been experimenting with other body modifications. He got a tattoo on his bicep and another on the opposite deltoid. The first was barbed wire for flexing at the butcher shop, the second was a skull and two barbells with the words “Power is Everything” inked indelibly underneath. He had bleached his chestnut hair and beard blonde, looking now like a bearded twin of Mr. Connors. The two shared Lisa, taking turns with her or even fucking her together in orgies with other hot ladies from the shop. Lisa, having now not one but two massive muscle masters to serve, was catatonic with pleasure. Mr. Connors, being a physical education teacher at the end of the year with little to do, often came to the shop, now called “The Naked Butcher,” and the two of them would shoot the shit. They would take turns bringing clients to the office out back and fucking the lights out of them. Samuel couldn’t imagine his life more ruined than this. He headed out past both of them in the living room desperate to get out alone and find some peace, but Mr. Connors called out: “Samuel.” Samuel froze like a deer in headlights. This was practically the first time they had noticed him altogether. He was like an ant to them. Even his father was now more than twice his size. “Samuel. Why the fuck do ye call him that? Samuel sounds weak. Dan sounds strong. If we want to change him we oughta stop referring to him with a pussy name.” “Dan it is then. Fuck me. What’re we gonna do with him?” “Bruce, I respect ye, but yer son is the puniest sorry sack of shit I’ve ever laid my fuckin’ eyes on. Lay down the law. That’s what I did with Gordon and look at him now. He’s a taker. He takes what he wants and gives no fucks. Once the new baby is born, do ye want him to outgrow Dan? Cut his hair. He looks like that Bieber girl. Can’t have yer son lookin’ like a fuckin’ pussy like that.” “You’re fuckin’ right, mate. Dan.” “Yes dad?” “No more dad this, father that shit. Either ye man up enough to call me by my name proper or it’s sir to you, boy!” “Yes, sir.” “Now, while you’re in my house, there are no fuckin’ shirts. If I see ye in one, I’ll fuckin’ rip it to shreds, get me?” “Yes, sir.” Mr. Connors went off and the first thing Bruce did was grab a razor and buzz Dan’s hair real short. Dan sat, dazed, as he saw chestnut pile up all around him. He felt lightheaded, but all the same Bruce pushed him down dazed and confused into the basement. He was going to start straight away with the strength training. “Now, I’m going to watch you with just the bar. We don’t leave here until ye’ve performed everythin’ with the right form, perfect and to my fuckin’ standard. Bench first.” He lay on the bench, and Bruce placed his hands into the right grip. He unracked the bar and lowered it shakily to his chest and back. “Again.” He tried again. “Again.” This continued until Bruce was somewhat satisfied, and he continued in that fashion all the way to pull-ups. When he saw Dan couldn’t perform a single one, he spat in disgust. “Fuck, fine. Negatives for now then. Don’t know why I didn’t start ye earlier.” After the session, made a meal for them, one bigger than Dan had ever seen. Bruce wolfed down a metric ton as usual, but this time, he forced Dan to eat too. Plate after plate Dan would obediently finish, but after only four plates he started to feel sick. Bruce commanded him to keep eating but he couldn’t swallow one more bite. He tried to put the food but his gag reflex triggered and he threatened to vomit out everything he just put in. Annoyance flashed across his father’s face but he laid off for now. He ordered Dan to stay put while he went to the kitchen sink and pulled out an enormous vat of chocolate protein powder from underneath. He took some bananas and peanut butter and water and blended it all up, and then gave it to Dan. “Ye’ll be drinkin’ this the rest of the day. Three a day, until you can start eatin’ like a real man.” Far from being the relief he had desperately desired, the holidays now filled Dan with misery. He followed the four day schedule his father had started with, but far from progressing at the rapid rate Bruce had quickly maintained, his father made him drill with the bar over and over again, calling him pathetic when his shaky arms collapsed and he couldn’t continue on for the day. He felt sick from gorging himself with food all the time and shivered every time a breeze blew past his bare, thin chest. He tried several times in secret to put one on, to even just hold a shirt close to himself to cover up for warmth, when he knew Bruce was out for work. Every time, though, he was caught, and Bruce would menacingly tear his shirt to shreds with barely any effort. He was quickly running out of spares. Every morning he woke up with aching sores across his entire body. Every night, shivering and wrapped up in his sheets, he sobbed quietly. But the only response he got was, “Shit son, man the fuck up. I guarantee ye’ll look back one day and hate what a fuckin’ pussy you are now.” --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A week passed and finally the shaking stopped. Dan found that during the workouts the exertion gave him a sort of warmth that provided some relief, and on off days he had started doing push-ups and bodyweight squats to try to warm up whenever he could. He could now complete several reps with the bar with form that earned him a nod of approval from his father, who had decreed that he would start adding weight to his lifts. Dan had nearly passed out in fear. The next workout day Bruce called out to Dan, “Dan, time to workout. Addin’ weight today.” Dan gathered all his courage, and spoke one word. “No.” “What did ye say to me, little fucker?” Bruce brought his whole might to bear in front of Dan, his face narrowed with rage, his muscles tensing in anticipation of swift, decisive action. Dan watched his father’s chest contract, the cleavage of his pecs popping out, able to crush Dan’s wrist on their own. His padded shoulders dropped aggressively, rising and falling with his angry breaths. He slightly bent his knees, flexing the powerful pistons of his quads and calves. If Dan attempted to escape, he’d be flattened before he could take a step, “No… sir,” Dan squeaked, much more weakly this time, his courage ebbing away. Bruce growled and started for Dan, but he stopped and considered a moment. “Why?” “I-I’m… I’m scared,” Dan managed to sputter out. “Ha!” Bruce bellowed with satisfaction. “I know what’ll fix ye up.” He slung Dan roughly over his shoulder, knocking the wind out of him and went into the office. He retrieved a cardboard box from under the table, and Dan realized what was happening. He started to kick, to struggle, but he was smothered between engorged deltoid and forearm and was unable to escape. Bruce laughed in contempt as Dan’s feet pattered harmlessly on his well-padded back. He hoisted Dan over his head to switch him over to his left side, and then with his other hand prepared the syringe. “No,” Dan protested weakly. Bruce shifted his grip, pinning Dan’s upper arm into motionlessness. “No!” Dan cried. Bruce jabbed the syringe into Dan’s upper arm, releasing the contents into the flesh. “NOOOO!!!” At first Dan felt only soreness, a pulsing burning sensation localized in his shoulder, then, quickly, a surge of heat radiated down his arms and body. Emotions started to well up in him, jumbled and confused. Anger at his lot in life. An inexplicable, powerful, erotic horniness, a lust for strength and power. Confidence, as if he could do anything. He was Superman, he could walk through walls and sweep anyone out of his path. But the most overwhelming feeling of all was of aggression. He felt an overpowering need to channel force, to assert himself, to take action. He opened his eyes, finding himself with his back on the bench, and then he felt a very heavy weight dropping on him, pushing down on his chest and threatening to crush him. He could feel the roughness of the middle grip of the steel bar scraping on his bare chest. He exhaled forcefully and pushed upward. This was far more weight than he had ever handled in his life, and he could feel the resistance of gravity as he struggled upward, but he locked out fearlessly. There was not an ounce of fear left in his body. “One. Again.” An automatic reaction had been drilled into him over the past week. Without hesitation he lowered the bar, and pushed it up again. “Two.” Feeling the need to exert more effort, he grunted in that guttural almost-roar he remembered so vividly he dreamed about it at night. Yes, it felt easier. “Three.” And so he continued, struggling with each rep but locking out each time with a loud grunt of effort. For the last one he groaned long and hard as he slowly pushed upwards, exerting more force than he ever had before. Lock out. “Eight. Enough.” Dan racked the bar and jumped up, yelling in triumph and pumping his fists. It felt like an eternity before the next set. He couldn’t wait to do it again. It would be easier this time, he was sure of it. And so it was. Every time he completed a set, Bruce nodded in approval and Dan was filled with exultation. When all was done Dan was able to complete the whole routine: Bench press: 85 lbs Rows: 85 lbs Overhead press: 65 lbs Squat: 135 lbs Deadlift: 155 lbs Pull-ups: 5 He knew those were shameful numbers, but he had seen enough now that the anticipation of his rapid strength gains was enough to give him shivers. Bruce slapped him on the back. “Only one way to finish a workout like that, son. FUCK YEAH!” He bellowed. “Fuck yeah!” Dan bellowed back. “Louder! FUCK YEAH!” “FUCK YEAH! FUCK YEAH! FUCK YEAAHHHHH!”
  7. TannerBradley

    Father's Descent Parts 4-6

    Parts 1-3 Parts 7-9 Parts 10-11 Monday came and Samuel left for school early. His mom was still sleeping and his dad was at work so he put together two pieces of toast, noticed that there weren’t any eggs left, and poured himself the last of the milk from the carton. Football practice was today, and he knew that they always started with weights in the morning in order to make time for drills in the evening. He wanted to go see for himself just how strong Gordon was. He got to the window of the weight room just in time, and his eyes bulged out as he saw bars loaded with plates. All of these guys were clearly monsters, but he zoomed onto Gordon who was trying to one up one of the senior linemen at the bench press. They kept on loading plate after plate onto the bar. Finally, on a particularly heavy set, the lineman’s eyes bulged and he wriggled mightily, but couldn’t push the bar up all the way. Gordon pumped himself up, doing a haka of sorts filled with flexing poses. He threw himself onto the bench and lifted up the bar, slowly after first, shaking, but finally exploding upwards into a lock out. He racked the weight, jumped up and ripped off his shirt, roaring in triumph and pulling a double bi, his arms, back and chest pumped to high heaven, exploding with power. Samuel held his breath and counted the weights on the bar. 1 plate, 2 plates, 3 plates! Gordon could bench a full 315 pounds! He took out his notebook. His dad had done 135 pounds. Almost two hundred pounds less. He was devastated. Mr. Connors was enormous. If Gordon had eighty pounds on Samuel, Mr. Connors had a further ninety pounds on Gordon. And where did that leave him in the mix? He struggled with just the bar. He continued watching Gordon, marking down all of his lifts: Bench press: 315 lbs Rows: 265 lbs Overhead press: 155 lbs But Gordon didn’t do all of the same lifts as his dad did. Samuel watched as Gordon curled dumbbells, barbells and cables in several different ways. Slowly, lovingly, squeezing his prodigious biceps with each rep. He tucked away the notebook in jacket. Maybe for now he’d just record the lifts that his dad did as well. He continued watching for a while, savouring the view as he watched each jock pump up his muscles just a little bit more, squeezing in a little more blood in order to grow and get - SMACK! Samuel was hit upside the head. Dazed, he looked up. It was Gordon. “What’re ya doing here, dweeb? Watchin’ the jocks get all pumped and sweaty? You a fag? A fag with a whore mother?” He put his arm across Samuel’s neck, his swollen bicep pressing hard into Samuel’s Adam’s apple. Samuel tried to make a sound but. He couldn’t. Breathe. RINGGGG! The school bell rung and Gordon released Samuel from his headlock. Samuel gasped. Sweet, sweet air rushed into his lungs, and the heat in his face started to flow away. “Hah! Know your place, dweeb! If you’re good, maybe I’ll let ya watch me bench some time!” That evening, Samuel was doing homework at the kitchen table when the door burst open. In came Bruce loaded with bags. Bruce winked at Samuel. “Thought our fridge was getting a little empty, so I brought back a little something from the shop. Help me get these in the fridge will you?” In the bags was three gallon jugs of milk, four dozen eggs and stacks upon stacks of meat of all kinds: sausages, bacon, steak, chuck, game, ground, and more. There was sweet potatoes, rice and some vegetables. These were in reasonable quantities but as Samuel unpacked them he kept on uncovering more meat to add to what was becoming an extremely stuffed fridge. When he was done he could already hear his father grunting away below. His heart fell as he remembered the numbers Gordon was putting up in comparison, but he went down to check on his dad anyway. To his surprise, there was more weight on the plate than last time. So quickly? Samuel took out his notebook as Bruce exploded with each rep, determination written all over. Bench press: 145 lbs Rows: 125 lbs Overhead press: 90 lbs Squat: 175 lbs Deadlift: 195 lbs Pull-ups: 7 Samuel’s heart filled with hope. His dad was still undeniably weak, but if he could get big, if he could get strong. Maybe, just maybe… That night, Samuel dreamed he was with his father, who was just the same as always: gentle, neat, unassuming. Jocks started surrounding them menacing, jeering, looming over them and threatening unimaginable pain, but Bruce threw away his glasses and ripped apart his clothes to reveal a Superman costume and a physique of rippling muscles. With a few swift punches, all the bullies were dealt with. And then, there was his mom, coming out demurely from behind a door. Unable to contain herself, she ran to her husband and threw herself at him. As he caught her, carrying her easily but gently with a single hand, she exclaimed proudly. “I’ll never leave you again! You’re the only one for me, my love!” --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Two weeks passed and Samuel had been astounded by his dad’s progress. He had fallen into a solid routine, pumping iron on Mondays, Wednesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays and going out for sprints on Tuesdays and Fridays. Sundays were his day off, just like his work schedule. Every workout Samuel recorded a gain on every lift Bruce did, and currently his numbers were at: Bench press: 185 lbs Rows: 155 lbs Overhead press: 115 lbs Squat: 245 lbs Deadlift: 275 lbs Pull-ups: 10 Every breakfast Bruce would stuff himself with eggs, bacon, sausage and oatmeal and every night roast chickens and steaks were devoured wholesale. He didn’t make big bluster about his progress, but he was obviously pleased and sometimes flexed his bicep and let Samuel feel it, his son longing to measure them and see how close his dream was to becoming a reality. One night he had brought his son over and had commented, “You know son, there is a lot to be said about strength. I’ve been re-evaluating my position on strength and technique and you know what? Maybe they’re complementary. A little brute force can make your technique go a longer way. I’ve been feeling great at the shop lately, everything’s just that little bit easier.” He was so pleased he started doing some bodyweight workouts in the mornings of his workout days. Quickly he was progressing to handstand push-ups, diamond push-ups, and trying a variety of pullups, chin-ups and the like. The morning workouts and huge breakfasts were taking a toll on Bruce’s morning routine, however, and he stopped parting his hair, choosing instead to run a comb through it quickly just to straighten it out a bit and he gave up shaving altogether on workout days. Samuel’s life, on the hand, had taken a turn for the worse. Almost daily he returned home to the low groan of Mr. Connors’ orgasm and now that the game was up his mother had made no more attempts to hide how much pleasure she took in making love to the powerful man. The ceiling practically shook every time Samuel opened the door. Each time Mr. Connors came down the stairs, saw Samuel on the couch with his notebook and textbooks, huffed in contempt and then stepped out. The day Mr. Connors didn’t come Lisa had sat on the couch, openly masturbating with a huge vibrator that Samuel suspected was representative of Mr. Connor’s cock, yelling at the top of her lungs. “Big! Big! BIG! HUGE! ENORMOUS! STRONG! OH! OH! POWER! OHHHHHHHH!” One time, there was even someone else. It was Mr. Peters, the defensive coach and also a massive man, 6 foot and 280 pounds, though with a gut. He and Mr. Connors came down the stairs loudly, laughing and slapping each other on the back. That time they didn’t even take notice of Samuel as they sauntered out the door, bantering energetically the whole time. Samuel had taken a peek inside his parent’s room, and sure enough his mother had been left lying naked in bed, delirious with pleasure. The bullying, too, had gotten worse. Gordon Connors sought him out daily with remarkably accurate re-enactments of the noises Samuel heard up in his parents’ room every day. Every jock that passed him by would pelvic thrust and act out a woman’s orgasm. What few friends, more acquaintances, he had avoided him entirely. He coped by retreating into his Superman fantasy at every possible moment and charting out his dad’s progress in his notebook. He was fascinated with the rate at which his dad grew stronger, and he spent a great deal of time charting it out and excitedly guessing where Bruce would be in a week, in a month, in a year. Samuel visited the shop on a Saturday and had seen a long black-haired woman there. Spying through the window, he could see that she was very busty, wearing low cut top and letting her long straight hair fall over them as she sat on the counter, her short skirt leaving a lot of leg on display. She kept trying to tease Bruce, trying to stroke his stubble and ruffle his hair and snatch away his glasses, but he was stoic and polite through it all. Finally she ran her fingers down his shoulder and onto his bicep feeling it for a moment then tracing down his rolled up sleeve onto his forearm. She said something to Bruce which actually incited a smile, before he composed himself and rolled down his sleeve. Finally, she dropped down from the counter and sashayed over to the door, which jingled merrily as she opened it. “I’m telling you, lose the glasses and keep the scruff. You’d look so fucking sexy.” She had then noticed Samuel at the door, and gestured at him. “While you’re at it, cut his hair. He looks a like a Bieber wannabe.” Samuel recoiled at the thought. His hair was getting a bit long, but he never wanted to be anything like. What? No one could even think- Not long after, however, Bruce bought a pair of contact lenses. That evening, he had spent an abnormal amount of time in front of the mirror, scratching his stubble, rolling up his sleeves and unbuttoning his collar. That night too Samuel noticed that his dad had pushed out a couple more reps on each of his lifts. But Bruce let Lisa cut Samuel’s hair, just as usual, and she trimmed it absentmindedly, almost as if he wasn’t even there. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Samuel could tell that Bruce was starting to get obsessed. Twice a day, he weighed himself. It had been about five weeks now, and Bruce was pushing 195 pounds. “Gotta get to two hundred, five more pounds, just five more,” he had been growling to himself the past couple of days. He had bought himself a soft tape measure, and after every workout had started measuring his arms. Sixteen and a half inches was the last measurement, impressive by Samuel’s standard, but Samuel heard him mutter under his breath. “So close to seventeen, so close!” Samuel could barely contain his glee as he saw his father come down the stairs each morning, struggling to button up his shirt. Bruce had never subscribed to the new fashion of buying everything small, but unbeknownst to him it was starting to look that way. It never occurred to Bruce that he might need to buy up a size now and he was starting to fill his clothes nicely. There was a slight strain every time he moved that reminded Samuel of Gordon’s polo shirts, and Samuel froze, shivering ever so slightly in delight whenever he noticed it. He was pushing solid weight now, numbers that Samuel never dreamed his dad would be lifting: Bench press: 205 lbs Rows: 185 lbs Overhead press: 135 lbs Squat: 285 lbs Deadlift: 315 lbs Pull-ups: 15 His morning workouts were too getting impressive. He was now onto one-handed push-ups, pistol squats, or he would do push-ups with Samuel sitting on his back. There was one worrying trend, however. Over the past week, his progress had begun to slow. Sometimes, he wouldn’t be able to add weight for a couple of workouts in a row. Every time that happened, he doubled down and beat himself up. Samuel was getting a bit worried. After all, Gordon had to be making progress too, right? Bruce’s bench was still over a hundred pounds lighter than the jock’s. If his dad was slowing down so soon, he might never catch up. Samuel dared not spy on the weight room again to confirm his suspicions. After every workout now Bruce was in a terrible mood, muttering underneath his breath and checking his weight again. Still not two hundred. That Monday, Samuel watched as his dad tried 210 on the bench again. Bruce took a deep breath and cracked his neck. He lay on the bench, pressing his hands lightly on the bar in anticipation. Then, a mighty heave and he unracked the bar. He slowly lowered it onto his chest, touching lightly before pushing back out with all his strength. Slowly the bar went up, up, up… and then paused half way. He tensed up and tried to push again. It rose, but less than an inch. He struggled, pushing, pushing, his face turning red and sweat pooling on his chest but it still wouldn’t rise. Finally he growled. “Help- Sam!” Samuel ran over and helped his dad rerack the weight. “FUCK!” Bruce snarled, “Fuckin’ useless. Fuckin’ weak! Samuel, I’m fine. Go.” Samuel went up the stairs but sat at the top step. He heard his dad struggle some more with the other lifts, cursing every time. This wasn’t what he had imagined. Finally, Bruce came up the stairs, drenched in sweat, he shoulders rising and falling wildly and his eyes narrowed. “Get the fuck out of my way.” Samuel hurried to oblige, and Bruce went to his office and retrieved an unopened cardboard box. Samuel recognized it. The mysterious package had arrived in the mail just the day before. Bruce tore the box open and his eyes greedily scanning the contents. Inside there were rows and rows of vials, carefully packaged so as not to break. He took one out, shivering with longing and anticipation. “Finally. 200 will be in reach. Yes…” He took out a syringe, exposed his thigh and swabbed it with alcohol, drew the steroids from one of the vials, and then with one sharp thrust jabbed it into himself, his eyes wild and racing as if he could feel the surge of testosterone in him. He opened and closed his fist, tensing, and smiled at the feeling. Slowly he put everything away and made his way downstairs. Samuel followed behind, morbidly curious. Bruce limbered up for a bit, waiting for another surge of confidence and strength to well up within him, and then put 210 on the bench one more time. He unracked, and then down and up. Easy. Too easy. He was incredulous. He upped the weight to 225. This was more of a challenge, and he pushed out eight solid reps. He started laughing, laughing, madly, marvelling at how easy all this had become. By the end of the session, he had made a new personal record on every lift. Afterwards, he shook out his limbs restlessly, feeling he had more energy to burn. He had a realization and turned his attention to the dumbbells. Bruce then performed set after set of bicep curls. After each set, he’d throw the previous set down and pick up a heavier one. Finally, at eighty pounds, he stalled. Dropping the dumbbells, he punched a hole in the wall, roaring with untamed aggression. Samuel made a mental note to record everything in his notebook: Bench press: 225 lbs Rows: 205 lbs Overhead press: 145 lbs Squat: 315 lbs Deadlift: 365 lbs Pull-ups: 15 (weighted with 20 lbs between his knees) Bruce didn’t even bothering showering after his workout. He went straight for an enormous meal whereupon several pounds of steak were consumed, and spent the next hour shirtless in the mirror, weighing and measuring himself. Two hundred pounds, seventeen inch arms. The next day, Samuel went to the meat shop after school. He looked in the window. There was his father, unshaven even on an off day, his hair just casually tousled, his sleeves rolled up, with no tie. He was laughing, confident and assured. Beside him on the counter was Vena. Bruce flexed his bicep and she squealed, feeling it with both of her long pale hands and then using them to probe his broadening shoulders, developing traps and deepening chest. She lifted the bottom of his shirt and ran the back of her hand down the abs that were forming. She reached down his pants and rubbed his groin, running her fingers along his growing penis as she unbuttoned his pants and pulled it out. Then, she pushed him back roughly. Startled, he fell, but she grabbed his apron, pulling it off. As Bruce rose again she stopped him by kissing him squarely in the lips, trying to unbutton his shirt. Bruce stopped her hand, and in one swift motion he ripped his shirt off, casually tearing it in two and throwing it away like a rag. He then grabbed her head and guided it purposefully towards his member, his face brimming with lust and aggression. Samuel put his ear to the window. “Suck it bitch. You want this? Yeah. Suck my fuckin’ cock and don’t you dare spit out.” Vena passionately obliged and Bruce closed his eyes, revelling in the pleasure. He kissed his bicep, then made Vena kiss it too. “Power. Fuckin’ feel this. This is power. And I’m not going to stop. I’m gonna keep growin’. I’m gonna get bigger and stronger and you will love it. You keep comin’ to the butcher and I’ll keep givin’ you my meat.” Samuel dropped to the ground, conflicted. What about principles? What about the code every man should have? What about Superman? He rode home, trying to fit this new version of his father with the father of his daydreams but with every passing minute his dream grew dimmer, the new dark side Bruce growing sharper and clearer in his mind at its expense. By the time he arrived home, the mild-mannered man in his head was replaced by a scowling figure, and he realized he was afraid. He was afraid of his father. He opened the door, and sure enough there was rattling in the ceiling.
  8. TannerBradley

    Father's Descent Parts 1-3

    Parts 4-6 Parts 7-9 Parts 10-11 Hey y'all. I'm a long time lurker here but the kind of stories I like can be few and far in between so I decided I better write some of my own. I finished this story before posting so it's all done but I think there's more impact if it's split into parts. I'm gonna be posting 3-4 at a time, for a total of 11 parts. Hope y'all enjoy. The bell rang and Samuel shuffled out the door with the purposeful scurry of a practiced avoider. It was incredible to him how every geek in every high school there ever was had the same tactics for bully avoidance. It was even more incredible how resoundingly unsuccessful these tactics had been. He could feel Gordon’s eyes burning into the back of his head, his lowered head that marked him as the vulnerable, skinny geek he was. Samuel glanced back furtively. He had broken one of the cardinal rules of bully avoidance, but he couldn’t help himself. Both Gordon and he were the same height, 5’9”, and both were sophomores, but that was where the similarities stopped. Gordon had a full eighty pounds on him and was one of those teenagers who somehow looked like he was in his mid-twenties. A perfect golden dusting of stubble framed his broad jaw and mouth, and he had short and wavy locks of that same wheat gold hue that fell casually around in his head. He had an easy confidence to his movements rather than the awkwardness that had followed so many teenagers into puberty. And he knew how to dress to show it off. When we wasn’t in his jersey, Gordon always wore a short-sleeved polo that was just tight enough to stretch just a tiny bit every time he moved his arm. Even in the winter, he was fond of showing off how even the cold couldn’t kill the pump of his round, full biceps. Samuel felt himself freeze. An onlooker might have registered his non-motion as fear, but he was transfixed. Part of him loved being hurt, roughed-up, manhandled by Gordon. He secretly loved watching the big almost-man asserting his dominance, and if it happened to him, well, that was just front-row tickets. But it hurt. And it hurt as he was lifted by his collar and slammed against the wall. He had been bruised enough to be able to anticipate the aching he’d feel all morning the next day, and he hated himself for how powerless he himself was. So weak and puny compared to the brash, bold, muscular specimen pinning him up. Gordon smirked. “Hey dweeb. Your mom’s a whore.” Whore? That was a new one, amazingly. It was odd that it hadn’t come up before but Samuel could hardly finish his- “She just loves the dick. BAM! BAM! Oh, oh, oooohhhhh! Take me! Take me!” God. Gordon wrinkled his brow mockingly but all it accomplished was further furrowing it into a look of aggression and power. Before he could finish that thought Samuel was thrown to the ground and Gordon sauntered off followed by his two beefy lapdogs, two fellow jocks who knew staying in his wake would provide them with amusement and ways of asserting their own dominance. “I guess I should go get myself checked out,” Samuel thought as he picked himself up and dragged himself to the nurse’s office. He was a regular there. Often he was fine, but he felt it was wise to make sure each time. This time however the school nurse was busy with a freshman who looked like he had badly burned himself. “Not today, Samuel,” she said with a sigh. Without even looking at him, she reached a hand down into a drawer, drew out a slip of paper, signed it and gave it to him. “Whatever it is, just go home and deal with it. I’ve got three boys who decided it’d be smart to play chicken with a Bunsen burner.” The excuse to skip class was not lost on Samuel, and within five minutes the slip was in the hands of the school office secretary and he was out on the street riding his bike home. As he pulled up to his front yard though, something was off. In the window of his parents’ room, he saw his mom’s hand pressing on the glass. It quivered, and then stretched out and pressed itself a little bit higher. He decided that he wasn’t going to announce his presence on arrival. He held the front doorknob tightly as he put in his key and muffled the sound as he turned the lock. With the tiniest click, it opened and he gingerly slipped in, making sure to keep the doorknob turned and slowly release it back into its latch. He stood still for a moment. There was movement upstairs, he could feel it. He tiptoed up the stairs and to the closed door of his parents’ room and placed his ear. To his horror, Gordon’s rendition of his mother was painfully accurate. “Take me! Take – OH!” He mentally calculated. His dad was a meat shop owner (not a butcher, he always insisted) and today was Wednesday. He wasn’t going to be home until eight at the earliest. “OOOOHHHH!!!” Samuel cringed. He heard a long deep moan of a man and realized what this meant. It meant that he most definitely certainly couldn’t be found just outside the door and that this particular door was going to be opening soon – very soon. He scattered backward, almost falling but managing to catch himself lightly with his fingertips before very quickly but very quietly sprinting down the stairs. He opened the door, thanking his stars that he hadn’t locked it when he had entered, slipped out, closed it, picked up the bike, and brought it behind the fence where no one could see him. It wasn’t long before he heard the front door open, and slam shut again. Heavy footsteps rang out on the pavement and Samuel hurriedly slung his leg over his bike to look as if he had just arrived. Out of the fence appeared a very large, very mustachioed wheat blonde man. Samuel recognized him right away, and was filled with a jumbled blend of fear and disgust. It was Mr. Connors, the football coach and Gordon’s father. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Mr. Connors had played football in college. He was an offensive lineman and looked every inch the part. 6’1”, 305 pounds, with a thick solid midsection but an enormous barrel chest and thick trunk legs that had earned him the nickname “The Immovable.” His normally sleeked back hair was clearly roughed up and there was no mistaking the cause. Samuel shrunk back a little but Mr. Connors noticed out of the corner of his eye and soon Samuel had a mass of football coach bearing down upon him. “Boy. Why aren’t you in school?” “I- I-,” Samuel knew telling the whole truth wouldn’t end well for him. Mr. Connors was notoriously protective of the football team and especially his son. Any accusations slung their way would certainly come back to bite Samuel, “I wasn’t feeling well and the nurse sent me home.” Mr. Connors huffed disapprovingly, twitching his golden walrus mustache. “I had a note, I gave it to the office,” Samuel added weakly. Not gracing him with a reply, Mr. Connors walked past Samuel, patting him condescendingly on the shoulder as he passed by, the casual blow practically toppling him over. Samuel watched for a long time as he walked away, the ridges on his back rippling the fabric of his tight fitted suit. Dejected, he slouched back over to his house, bringing in his bike and this time making no furtive movements. He could hear the patter of the shower upstairs. Samuel thought back. The signs had all been there. A new Armani handbag here, some new Prada shoes there. And his mother had seemed so satisfied lately. He realized that there had been a difference to her. She took more care to look good, spent over an hour in the morning applying makeup. Of course… She came down the stairs and he noticed just how radiant she was. Red headed with long wavy hair, curvy and healthy, but with an athletic trim. People often wondered aloud how his dad had bagged her. She was indeed a real catch. And it all made sense now, at least in a perverse sort of way. But still, Gordon Connors had been right, his mother was a wh- Samuel couldn’t bring himself to say the word. How should he say it? She was… unfaithful. Right then and there, Samuel decided he had to tell his dad. His dad was his role model, who he had aspired to be all his life. Mild-mannered, with a gentle face hidden behind a pair of neatly placed glasses. His dad, Bruce Davidson, was handsome, but subservient. He was tall, at 6’2”, but wiry and thin and flat just the way Samuel was, maybe 170 pounds at the most. He kept his chestnut brown hair parted and he was always clean shaven, without a speck of hair on his face. At the meat shop he took great care, practically bending over backwards serving his clients, presenting himself formally in a tie and vest even underneath his apron. His hands were quick and skilled, and he proved time and time again that he could use technique and well-cared for tools to cut through even thick bone. In everything he taught Samuel that strength wasn’t needed. It had seemed to Samuel that his dad’s success had proven this but still, somehow, that hadn’t satisfied his mother. He pushed his way out the door, grabbed his bike and started pedalling to the meat shop. The bell jingled as Samuel stepped in the door. “Bruce Davidson’s Fine Cuts.” His dad glanced his way quickly and smiled at Samuel, appreciating his presence before holding up his hand to show him he was dealing with customers. It took nearly fifteen minutes but finally they were face to face and Samuel relayed everything that had happened since he had first seen the hand in the window. Bruce’s face fell slowly with each passing minute, but he was quiet the whole time. He only had one question at the end. “Mr. Connors. What is he like?” “Big dad. Real big. He’s not super tall but just so much size on him. He has Gordon’s hair colour and a walrus mustache and this real intimidating look to him that just bears you down. And his arms are just so thick and his back strains his jacket so that…” He trailed off, realizing he’d outed himself, but Bruce was no longer paying attention, instead lost in thought. He looked like he had come to an understanding. “Go home, Samuel. Let your mother know I’ll be home at 8 as usual.” All seemed normal for the rest of the evening, if awkward on Samuel’s part. He wanted to scream “How has nothing changed!?” but everyone was so calm. He couldn’t believe his dad. Maybe his dad was weak. Maybe his mother was taking advantage of a meek man who was destined only to be a provider. He was able to keep a stony face, however, and it wasn’t until he was in his bedsheets that he screamed silently into his pillow and fumed. He tossed and turned, but couldn’t get to sleep. Soon enough, elevated voices rose from downstairs and he snuck over to the stairs to hear what was going on. His dad’s normally soothing baritone was raised for the first time in years. “That’s who you want Lisa? You want someone powerful, someone strong? Is that what it takes to satisfy you!? You swore I was enough, that you were happy with me! We laughed at all the jocks, back then, don’t you remember? In college!” “I needed it, Bruce, I need him. He’s just so strong, so powerful, so BIG! When he took me, I realized that was what I was missing all my life. Yeah, he took me. You want honest communication Bruce? Here it is. I’m pregnant, Bruce, and it’s not your child. Our boy is a weakling. He’s mild and gets bullied and doesn’t even bother defending himself. It’s clear where he gets it from. I want my child, my new child to grow into a big strong man like Rolf. He just takes what he wants. He doesn’t live his life to serve others and that’s the man this child will be.” Stomping, and then the slam of the door. And there was nothing for Samuel to do but cry into his pillow. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Samuel was woken up by the slam of the door. He could hear the beeping of a backing up truck outside and then the voices of men working. There was clattering downstairs he groggily he wondered if his house was being demolished, and if so, couldn’t it wait until Monday. A splash of water to the face made him more alert and he tiptoed down the stairs to see what was going on. There was Bruce, looking dishevelled for the first time in his life. He was still in the same clothes he had worn the previous day and his hair’s part had fallen apart, restoring his hair’s natural tousle. For the first time, Samuel could make out a faint five-o’-clock shadow around his father’s jaw and cheeks. He and several other men were carrying a power rack, straining with the weight and ruddy-faced. They made for the stairs leading to the basement carelessly crashing into objects around the house along the way, and slowly but surely carried it all the way down the stairs. A crash downstairs, and then soon afterwards, they came again for an Olympic weight set. Set on trees were more plates than Samuel had ever seen, even in the school gym where the jocks practically lived. “Samuel? What’s happening?” Samuel jumped. Behind him was Lisa, his mother, yawning in her midnight blue cashmere housecoat. “What’s with all this racket? It’s 6 AM,” she added, annoyed, so loud her son jumped. Bruce came up the stairs, finished with his work and motioning for the men to leave. He stared for a long time into Lisa’s eyes, his face fierce with some kind of resolution. He then checked his watch. “Samuel, fetch me my comb, please. It’s time for me to go to work.” Samuel did as he was told, and Bruce, quickly combed his hair into a rough part, not quite as neatly as before, and staring the whole while into his wife’s eyes. The tension was palpable but for all his determination he broke first, dropping his comb onto the table by the TV, grabbing his apron and heading out the door. Lisa yawned again and went back upstairs. Having woken so early on a Saturday morning, Samuel let his curiosity get the better of him and looked into the basement. Down there, all of the junk had been pushed and stacked to the wall and in the clear space left was a magnificent powerlifting gym. There was several large bars, trees covered in plates from the tiny 2.5 pound ones up to 45s, red rubber plates and black steel plates. There was a power rack, a bench, flooring, and dumbbells up to 120 pounds lined up neatly in rows. Samuel tried to pick up a 45 pound plate and nearly dropped it. Gingerly he put it back and picked up the bar. He remembered watching the jocks do the bench press and he tried it. The bar felt heavy as he tried to push it up, but he made it, his arms shaking violently as he did. He was too scared to try any more though. This really wasn’t his thing. He jumped up to the bar of the power rack and tried to pull himself up. He heaved and kicked his legs but struggle as he might he couldn’t pull off a single one. He let go, landing lightly but hating himself for it. He had always been such a quiet little wimp. Not even all of this gear could change that, and he was certain it wouldn’t change his dad either. His mother was right, compared to Gordon and Mr. Connors, both of them were worthless. He couldn’t spend the whole day feeling sorry for himself, however. Having missed some classes there was a lot of make-up homework to do, and so Samuel lost himself in his studies while the day passed. Evening came with a slam of the door. He swiftly ran down, curious to see the state of his dad. He seemed to have cleaned up a little while he was at work. His hair was back in the neat part it was before, and his clothes seemed to have been smoothed over several times. Over the course of the day however, his scruff had grown out even more, outlining his features handsomely. He seemed out of sorts, but it was different from his expression that morning somehow. Noticing Samuel, he called out. “That lady with the long black hair, Vena. She couldn’t keep her hands off of my face! And making advances on me. As if I’d stoop to that level. Samuel, you’ve got to stay loyal to your loved ones. We men need to have a code, to have principles. Always remember that.” Samuel nodded vigorously and Bruce stepped past him making his way down into the basement. For a moment Samuel was reminded of the way Mr. Connors had pushed him by and walked away the day before, but he shook his head and rid his mind of it. His dad was nothing like that. Not long after, he heard grunting below. He snuck down, taking a peek at what was happening, and he was surprised at what he saw. Bruce’s face was a mask of fury, and he pulled every rep with what was practically a roar. It was anger, all rage, channelled into moving the bar up and down. He had stripped off his vest and button-up, having tossed them aside into an uncharacteristically messy heap while he worked out in only his undershirt and pants. Samuel had a small gasp of anticipation. Sweat shined from Bruce’s furrowed brow as he forcefully shifted the weights, roaring with effort. He carefully counted the plates on each of the exercises his dad did: Bench press: 135 lbs Rows: 115 lbs Overhead press: 85 lbs Squat: 155 lbs Deadlift: 175 lbs Pull-ups: 6 He made a mental note to check out what the jocks at school did. One last long growl as his dad pulled the bar from the ground one last time and dropped it. That was Samuel’s cue. He tiptoed up the stairs and pulled out the notebook he had been holding for school. He noted the weights of the lifts he had just seen, hoping his parents would think he was just doing some homework. “Hey there, hard at work?” Samuel snapped his book shut. There was Bruce, dripping with sweat, running from his now-messy hair down the side of his face and dripping from the scruff on his chin. He had work clothes in his arms. Samuel opened his mouth, thinking fast about what to reply, but there was no need. Bruce was already making his way upstairs and soon enough there were the sounds of the shower. Dinner came soon enough and Bruce was again clean-shaven and back to his impeccable self. A few words were exchanged about school and whatnot but Samuel had no intention of bringing up any of the uncomfortable events that had recently occurred, and it seemed the same for his mom, who continued with her meal in the same bored fashion she had spent the rest of her day. He finished his meal as he was always taught to do but then noticed that his dad’s plate was full. Hadn’t he been eating? He sat in silence watching Bruce finish one plate, and another. Lisa always made enough food to keep for leftovers in case anyone was hungry later, usually herself when she didn’t feel like cooking lunch. At the end there was nothing left, and to Samuel’s surprise, Bruce got up and went rummaging in the fridge. He eventually settled on the carton of milk, and poured himself two glasses to top off his large meal. “Thanks kindly for the meal, Lisa,” he remarked cheerfully, as he started doing the dishes. That evening, instead of sitting down on his reclining chair to read as usual, Bruce went to the computer and started browsing the internet. When it got late and Samuel headed up to bed he was still at it, intently looking at whatever it was he was looking at.
  9. GlamRockCowboy

    Repost: Gypsy Muscle

    GYPSY MUSCLE BY GLAMROCKCOWBOY (Author's note: This story is, in part, inspired by bodybuilder Sergio Carpathos, as well as the legendary lost continent of Atlantis, and the incredible “femuscle” creations of the artist known as Tiger-San, on the Deviant Art website. I should also note that, while the flamboyant appearance and style of the Romany or Gypsy peoples plays a part in my narrative, all characters depicted herein are entirely my own creation, and are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and unintentional. Finally, while the names “Boris” and Natasha” were in part inspired by the characters from Jay Ward's “Rocky and Bullwinkle” cartoon series, no infringement of any kind is intended. This is a work of pure muscle fantasy—no more, no less! Enjoy!) It was a cold, raw, depressing day in early spring, as a slender teenage figure made its way through the out-skirts of the city proper, heading toward an affluent, but more sparsely populated, suburb. 17-year-old Scott Franks, a recent high school graduate, was looking for the palatial estate where two of his best friends, Boris and Natasha Radelescu, lived with their parents. He had just received his diploma the day before. Now, in accordance with the drunken edict of his brutish father, having packed his few worldly goods in a duffel bag, he had left the only home he had ever known, never to return. His father had repeatedly declared that he had never wanted to have a child in the first place. Having gotten Scott's mother pregnant, however, both his mother's and his father's parents had forced his father and his mother to wed. Ironically, his mother had passed away from uterine cancer more than a year before. His grandparents were all deceased as well. Since he had now graduated from high school, and was therefore now legally an adult, Scott knew that he could no longer depend on the juvenile authorities for any help or protection. Only the Rade-lescues, whom he had known, and whose friendship he had cherished, for more than six years, had offered him any hope of shelter, any means of getting back on his feet. Boris and Natasha, who were of Gypsy descent, had been aware of Scott's situation virtually from the day they had first met. On being advised of their best friend's impending rejection by his father, the two teens had promptly assured Scott that he would be more than welcome to move in with them. Now, the slender young graduate was searching for the Radelescu estate to take his friends up on their pledge. There were, however, several obstacles still confronting him. For one thing, although he knew their street address, he had never actually been there, his father having previously forbidden him to visit the estate. Furthermore, he had no cell phone, let alone a tablet or laptop computer. Since this was a Sunday morning, all of the city's public libraries were closed, and there were no so-called “Internet cafes” in the area where he could send an email message to his two friends to alert them to his plight. As he slowly made his way toward the address his friends had given him, Scott thought back to the day when he had actually met Boris and Natasha, more than half a decade earlier. He had instantly been drawn to the two sib-lings by their unusually exotic appearance. Their father, they had explained, was of Romany, or Gypsy, descent, while, surprisingly, their mother was pure-blooded Hawaiian. The result of this extraordinary union had been two of the most strikingly gorgeous “tweens” Scott had ever laid eyes on. The pair had chosen to amplify their good looks still further by adopting the “New Romantic” style of the 1980's, including the use of makeup and the so-called “big hair” styles that had been a major part of that trend, as exemplified by such artists as Nick Rhodes of Duran Duran and Adam Ant, to say nothing of the “glam metal bands” of the later 80's and early 90's. As if that had not been enough, even when he had first met them, Scott had been aware that Boris and Natasha were unusually muscular. In the course of time, the two Radelescues had grown and morphed into far and away the two biggest, most massive muscle teens anyone at his school had ever seen. By the time of their own gradua-tion, three months earlier than his own, they had grown so massive that, even when relaxed, both Boris's and Natasha's pectoral muscles were literally within a few inches of their chins! The remainder of their physiques were proportionally massive. In addition, Boris's gonads were obscenely large, while Natasha's figure, amplified by her incredible musculature, was almost unbearably curvaceous and voluptuous. Little wonder, then, that Scott had been head-over-heels in love with Natasha from the moment when he had first set eyes on her. For her part, Natasha had been just as strongly attracted to Scott, despite the fact that Scott unavoidably looked like a human beanpole next to her and her fraternal twin brother (primarily due to an exceptionally high level of myostatin in Scott's DNA). Boris and Scott had also hit it off, to say the least, and the two of them had become as close as brothers, while Mr. and Mrs. Radelescu had virtually become Scott's surrogate parents, especially since Scott's mother had passed away. All of that, however, Scott realized, would do him little if any good unless he could make contact with the Rade-lescues, whom he knew had recently been out of town. Even when Scott had first known them, Boris and Nata-sha had been among the hottest and highest-paid young models in the industry, and the demand for their services, along with their net worth, had skyrocketed over the years. Since their own graduation from high school, the two Radelescues' careers had seemingly “made the jump to light-speed,” so to speak. As a result, Scott knew that there was a better than even chance that his two best buds would not be at home when he called. Still, Scott knew he simply had to try. It was nearly 11 o'clock in the morning when Scott finally arrived at the address his friends had given him. As he walked up the long drive, the massive gates in front of him suddenly began to open, and the youth's keen ears detected the velvety thrum of what turned out to be a customized “mega-stretch” Lamborghini Diablo limou-sine! Scott neatly jumped out of the way as the limo roared up the drive from behind him—only to come to a screeching halt a few seconds later! The rear passenger door on the left-hand side popped open, and Scott's weary heart leaped as his best male friend, Boris Radelescu, jumped out and came running to his side. After the two had exchanged a hug and a kiss, in his deep, rich bass voice, Boris asked, “Scott, what are you doing here? Mind you, I'm glad to see you, but you're about the last person I'd expect to see here—and especially on a Sunday morning!” Scott briefly explained his plight, whereupon Boris instantly ushered him into the limo, which then resumed its journey toward the Radelescu mansion. On arriving at the rear entrance, the limo again came to a halt—this time more slowly. As Scott and Boris made their way out of the limo, the kitchen door swung open. Natasha Radelescu, along with her parents, Frank and Beryl, came out to retrieve the groceries from the limousine's massive trunk. They were shocked to see that Boris had picked up a passenger, and even more so when they saw who the passenger was. On hearing of Scott's plight, Frank instantly began snapping out orders, directing the household staff to immediately prepare a bed-room for Scott's use. By this time, Natasha had made her way to her long-time boyfriend's side, and the two promptly exchanged a deep, rich French kiss, and a hug such as only long-separated lovers could appreciate. Scott then hugged and kissed her parents warmly, and the group made its way inside. After taking his duffel bag, Boris gently but firmly ushered his friend into the den, where a hot fire was cheerily blazing in the big Russian masonry fireplace. To his dismay, Scott had hardly seated himself in one of the big, rich leather recliners when he fainted from utter ex-haustion. Frank, an experienced physician, took one look at the unconscious youth, and instantly sized up the situation. Rather than disturb the now-sleeping teen, he gently moved the chair to full-recline position. For his part, Boris fetched a big satin comforter and tenderly draped it over his best friend. It was 3 o'clock in the afternoon when Scott's blue eyes flickered open. Slowly, he returned the chair to its nor-mal upright position, then, just as slowly, got to his feet. He stretched and flexed his slender muscles, tossing his rich, golden tresses back over his shoulders as he did so. A moment later, Boris came into the room, put his huge arm around his best friend, and warmly kissed him on the cheek. “Feeling better?” he inquired. “Infinitely bet-ter!” Scott gushed in response, his handsome face lighting up with even greater pleasure as the woman he loved came to join them. As the two young lovers exchanged a deep, rich kiss, Beryl's voice made itself heard. “Scott, I've got some soup and sandwiches ready for you if you'd like them.” “Ma'am, you just made my day!” Scott replied, leading the way into the kitchen. As he seated himself at the big kitchen table, a smiling Frank came into the room. He mas-saged Scott's shoulders for a moment or two, then asked, “Am I correct in deducing that you walked all the way out here from your old home?” Wincing slightly, the youth replied, “Yes, sir, I'm afraid so.” Upon finishing his lunch, Scott led the way back into the den. After everyone had seated themselves, Scott gave them a complete explanation of what had happened earlier that day, and the reasons behind it. By the time he finished, even Beryl's face had turned brick red with fury, and they all had to fight hard to keep from expressing their opinion of Scott's father in terms that they all knew Scott would never approve of. Scott sighed as he looked up at the mantel clock. “By this time, he's left town, and he told me he would never be back!” he commented sadly, shaking his head in disappointment. “He'd better not ever come back here!” Natasha shot back hotly, her enormous muscles swelling up to even greater proportions as a result of her anger. Boris's muscles were also expanding in size and power, almost to the point of “hulking out.” Scott's face turned deadly pale, and he shrank back in fear, recognizing for the first time how dangerous the Radelescu twins could be if he ever got on their bad side. Seeing this, Boris and Natasha promptly put their mountainous arms around him, hugging and kissing him, and repeatedly assuring their best friend that their anger was directed at Scott's father, and not at Scott himself. As his two best buds snuggled up to him and cuddled him, Scott took a fresh look at them, as if in fact he were seeing them for the very first time. Both of them had long, rich jet black hair reaching almost to the top edges of the huge, heavy black belts they both wore. Their eyes were also black, a stark contrast to the rich, heavy silk satin brocade of the extravagant poet shirts they were wearing. Boris's shirt was a fiery metallic red, while Na-tasha's was an equally fiery royal blue. Both shirts had bigger sleeves, and more rows and layers of ruffles and lace, than Scott had ever laid eyes on. The shirts in turn were tucked into pairs of black patent leather pirate pants, whose lower legs were sheathed by even richer looking buccaneer boots with 6-inch-wide cuffs, 7-inch stacked heels, and 5-inch platform soles. Above the belts, wide satin sashes (Boris's being silver, while Nata-sha's was a deep metallic gold) provided an extra touch of extravagance and luxury. Despite their sheer volume, however, the two teens' outfits served only to emphasize their gargantuan phy-siques, as well as their strikingly gorgeous facial features. The total effect was enough to make Scott shake his head in wonder, and not a little despair. Although Scott was strikingly handsome in his own right, the disparity between his size and that of his two best buds was discouraging. He actually found himself wondering why these two wealthy young giants even noticed him, let alone counting him as a friend! Boris and Natasha, however, had no such qualms. They well remembered how, from the moment they had first met, Scott had gone out of his way to make them feel welcome at the middle school they all attended. Their attachment to him had only grown deeper and richer when they had moved on to the same high school together. It was there, too, that they had truly come to grips with the verbal and physical abuse that Scott's father had increasingly heaped upon him, especially after Scott's mother had passed away. Only a violent confrontation between the two “Gypsy Giants” (as the other students referred to them) and Scott's father had kept their best friend from being literally beaten to death. It had been at that point that Boris and Natasha had offered to take Scott in should the need arise, an offer that their parents had instantly backed to the hilt. As they now nuzzled the blonde youth (who was moaning in ecstasy at their ministrations), the two Gypsy teens wished they had carried out their promise much, much sooner. For his part, Scott's features were of a distinctly Nordic cast, with rich, honey-gold hair that came just to the bottom of his shoulder blades, eyes that were so blue they were almost violet in their intensity, a perfectly shaped nose, and, like those of his best buds, lips that were so big and full and pouty that they all but screamed to be passionately kissed again and again and again, something that Natasha was doing at that very moment, and that Scott was avidly repaying in kind. While he was far less muscular than Boris, his bone structure (ironically enough!) was every bit as big and heavy as his best bud's, a fact which served to make the disparity in their physiques even more cruel. Even so, Boris and Natasha both realized that, with the right makeup and clothing, Scott would easily become every bit as glamorous as they were—maybe even more so! Scott's ecstatic moans were growing louder and more intense by the minute as the Gypsy twins continued to nuzzle his face and neck. “Take off your shirt, my friend,” Boris requested, his rich, deep bass now thick with their ancestral accent. Without question, the blond youth complied. Then, Natasha asked, “Now take off your T-shirt, my love,” with a rich, soft, throaty laugh that was so arousing it was almost ribald. Again, Scott complied without hesitation. As he did so, he glanced at the large mirror the hung over the mantelpiece. He was shocked to see that his two friends were now sporting fangs, both upper and lower, that were growing longer and sharper every second. Yet, since he could clearly see them both in the mirror, and they were both casting shadows in the afternoon sunlight, he knew they were not vampires. What was going on here?, he wondered. The answer came only a moment later when the two teens suddenly bit into his slender trapezius muscles like a perfectly-matched pair of king cobras! Pain lanced through him for just a moment, then it was replaced with feelings of power and strength and well-being such as Scott had never experienced before. Far from resisting them, the blonde youth actually opened himself to these new sensations, which grew all the deeper and stronger in direct response. A minute later, just as Scott was on the razor's edge of going into full orgasm, his two friends released him. Instantly, the puncture marks on his shoulders healed and vanished, as though they had never existed to begin with. Not even a single drop of blood showed itself, either on his traps or on the two Gypsy teens' fangs, which were now rapidly re-tracting, disappearing altogether only moments later, although their gigantic chests were expanding and contracting to their very limits. As the three teens regained their senses, Scott managed to pant out, “What—what was that all about?”, as he put his T-shirt and outer shirt back on. “We just injected you with an anti-myostatin enzyme our bodies produce,” Boris explained, as his breathing began returning to normal. “ANTI-myostatin?” Scott echoed, his face betraying his surprise at his best male friend's reply. The twins nodded as Natasha explained, “This is why we're both so big, Scott—and we're both still growing, by the way!” The latter prospect caused the young blonde's male member to swell up bigger and thicker and longer than it ever had before. He was trembling with lust as he visualized the girl he all but worshipped becoming even more powerful, more muscular, more voluptuous and curvaceous. In fact, had the two of them been alone at that moment, Scott realized that he would have ravished Natasha with all the power he could muster. What was more, he could see from the look in Natasha's dark eyes that she would have responded in exactly the same way. Boris, however, placed a gently restraining hand on his best friend's shoulder. “Easy, my friend, easy!” he cau-tioned, in a deep, velvety purr. “Let's not go too far, too fast, all right?” Scott nodded gratefully, realizing that his friend was absolutely right. He had long wanted to marry Natasha. Indeed, he had actually proposed to her pri-vately at the Senior Prom only a few days earlier. She had joyfully accepted, and her parents had gladly given their blessing, as had Boris himself. Even so, they had all agreed not to announce the engagement publicly, not only for the sake of the twins' modeling careers, but to prevent any possible reprisals or interference from Scott's father as well. Now that Scott's father had abandoned him, however, and was therefore out of his life altogether, Scott naturally wanted to marry the girl of his dreams as soon as possible. Even so, he forced himself to calm down, and all the more so as his curiosity asserted itself. Seeing this, the elder Radelescues, who had remained in the background up until now, gently took command of the situation. Leaning forward in his armchair, Frank explained, “It's a long story, Scott, but for now, suffice it to say that we first noticed this 'genetic anomaly' in Boris and Natasha when they were about 6 years old. It wasn't until they entered high school with you, however, that we were able to put together at least a fairly complete explanation.” His wife, who was also a fully trained physician, continued, “We may never know all the details, Scott, but it appears that our family is descended from the royal family of the lost continent of Atlantis. At the time of the Great Flood of Noah, the people of Atlantis had reached a level of scientific and technological advancement that our civilization is only now even beginning to catch up to. They were even experimenting with genetic modifi-cation in humans—what some people today call 'eugenics'--to a degree that would make most science fiction writing of today pale into nothing by comparison!” Boris added, “They were also idolaters—snake worshippers, to be precise. That was why they worked the 'fangs' angle into what you just experienced!” “Another reason,” Natasha put in, “is that the enzyme we just injected you with is extremely delicate—it oxidizes and becomes useless instantly on contact with the air. That being the case, they decided on using snake-like fangs as a means of injecting the enzyme from one person to another.” Scott shook his head in amazement. He had seen George Pal's 1964 movie, “Atlantis—The Lost Continent” several times over the years, but he had never dreamed that anything like what he had seen in that film—es-pecially the “House of Beasts”--might even have been close to being real. “Man,” he mused, “if they were do-ing that kind of weird stuff, it's no wonder God brought the Great Flood to stop them!” “Precisely,” Frank responded, nodding his head. “Anyway, our family records indicate that several of the princesses of the royal family married the sons of Noah. In fact, Shem's wife is said to have been the Crown Princess of Atlantis! Had Atlantis survived, Shem could have become the King of Atlantis, or at least what we might call the Prince Consort, when his wife succeeded to the throne!” Boris grinned wickedly as his future brother-in-law once more shook his head in amazement. He had realized that Scott would have a hard time processing all of this. Still, they had all agreed that it would be unfair to Scott not to disclose this information. In truth, Boris and Natasha had long been aware of Scott's disappointment on learning about the high myostatin level in his own DNA, which, of and by itself, would make it all but impossi-ble for him to “muscle up” to any significant degree, let alone to get anywhere near as big as his two best buds. That had, in fact, been the last straw as far as his father was concerned, and had prompted him to disown and reject his offspring immediately after graduation. When they had finally uncovered enough information in their historical research to get a clear picture of the “muscling up” procedure, as they called it, and how to carry it out, Boris and Natasha had become determined to carry it out on Scott at the first opportunity, and all the more so after he proposed to Natasha. Both Boris and his sister felt that it was the best and greatest wedding present they could possibly bestow on the youth they had both grown to love with all their hearts and souls. Their parents, whose testing had revealed Scott's high myostatin level to begin with, had readily agreed. A few moments later, Scott raised and shook his head, causing his long blond tresses to ripple back and forth in a way that even Boris found arousing. Grinning wickedly at the realization, Scott queried, “Okay, so what hap-pens now? Do my muscles just start growing, or what?” “It's not quite that simple, Scott, unfortunately,” Na-tasha replied. “We gave you the biggest dose of the enzyme our bodies could muster, because your level of myostatin is so high. It'll take several days for your body to process it all. Once that happens, you'll grow your own set of fangs as a signal. Your hair and gonads will also grow—in fact, they'll become HUGE!” “Yeah,” Boris put in, with a grin so wicked it was more like a leer, “You'll become a glam-rockin', ultra-mega-maxi-SUPER-stud!” That prospect was so arousing to Scott that, before he even realized it, he was grabbing Boris and kissing him on the mouth with the ferocity of a tiger. What was more, Boris was kissing him back just as ferociously, while his sister, grinning from ear to ear, waited for her turn. Sure enough, just a few moments later, Scott released her big brother, and then, with his chest heaving and a leer of utter lust on his handsome features, he lunged toward the young woman he loved, kissing her just as intensely as he had kissed Boris. For her part, Natasha kissed him back with equal intensity. As the two young lovers finally released each other, Beryl wordlessly caught her husband's eye. Then, silently pointing at the two, she then made a gesture of putting a ring on her left ring finger, mouthing the letters, “ASAP” as she did so. Frank emphatically nodded his concurrence. They had, after all, already given their bles-sing to Scott and Natasha's getting married. Now it was clear that they needed to follow up on that blessing as soon as possible. “So what happens after I grow my own fangs?” Scott queried, his slim chest still heaving from the kisses he had just exchanged with his two best buds. “Do I get to bite you guys?” “Exactly!” Boris rumbled in response. “Then, after our bodies process what you give us, our fangs will grow out again, and we get to bite you a second and final time. Then, your muscles will start to grow—and I mean fast!” “How fast—and how big will I get?” was Scott's next question. “We have no way of knowing that at this point, Babe,” Natasha replied. “There are simply too many variables in the equation for us to be sure.” The young blond nodded his understanding, then asked, “Do you think I might actually get as big as you guys?” “If not,” Natasha vowed, “we'll give you a second treatment!” Scott rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling, his whole body trembling as he contemplated repeating such a powerfully erotic experience. “Let's not cross that bridge unless and until we come to it,” Frank dryly advised, as his three younger companions grinned wickedly. With that, he and Beryl went to the kitchen to get supper underway. In spite of the hearty lunch he had consumed only a few hours earlier, Scott did full justice to a New York strip steak, baked potato with butter AND sour cream, a small tossed salad, and French vanilla ice cream for dessert. His friends warmly encouraged him to eat his fill, realizing that he had had little if anything else to eat prior to his arrival. Boris and Natasha then conducted Scott to his new bedroom, one of several suites on the ground floor. Each suite contained a master-sized bedroom (with California King-sized beds yet!), a bathroom with a whirlpool tub, and a parlor with a working Russian masonry fireplace, bookshelves, and a top-of-the line multi-media computer system, complete with 7.1 surround sound speakers! As Scott shook his head in wonder, Boris, with a wicked grin on his exotic features, opened the door to an ex-ceptionally large walk-in closet, whose racks were already groaning under the weight of numerous pirate, poet, and even rumba shirts, wide-leg jeans and pants in a variety of styles and colors, luxury high-fashion suits, and over a dozen pairs of platform shoes and boots. At the rear of the closet, there was a large 3-way mirror, along with a dresser and jewelry box containing numerous earrings and ear studs, rings, watches, pendants, neck-laces, neck chains, and other jewelry. The dresser contained any number of waist sashes, head wraps, neckties, floppy bow ties, scarves, and neckerchiefs. To top it all off, at the back of the right-hand side of the closet, there were several leather jackets and coats in various lengths, and even several full-length capes! Above the clothing racks on either side were shelves holding a number of wide-brimmed “cavalier” and “Pirate King” hats, and even several top hats to go with the more than half-a-dozen tuxes and full dress outfits, which even included high-fashion patent leather platform dress shoes and boots! As Scott gaped in utter astonishment at what was clearly intended to be his new wardrobe, Boris explained, “These are all outfits that I've outgrown over the past three or four years. They're all in perfect condition, and in a variety of sizes. I didn't want to just give or throw them away, and when you told us that your father was threa-tening to throw you out once you graduated, the decision to keep them for you to wear once you moved in with us was an easy one!” Scott instantly turned around, buried his face in Boris's massive shoulder, and unashamedly wept with joy. Boris promptly put his mountainous arms around his best male friend and held him close, rubbing his slender back and nuzzling him with infinite tenderness. It was several minutes before Scott was able to compose himself, whereupon Natasha showed him his new bathroom. On the vanity counter, she pointed out a wide variety of toiletries and cosmetics, including eye shadows, eye liners, and even lipsticks in a variety of colors. “Tomorrow,” she promised, “we'll start showing you how to use cosmetics to make yourself look more glam-rocking gorgeous than you've ever dreamed of!” As she concluded her words with a rich, throaty laugh, it was all Scott could do to keep from burying his face be-tween her massive, muscular, yet still voluptuous breasts, and giving the woman he loved a full French kiss all the way up her incredible cleavage. Somehow, though, he managed to restrain himself, although he did allow himself to give her the deepest, richest kiss he could summon up. As the two young lovers reluctantly let go of each other, both of them moaning in ecstasy, Boris gently purred, “On that note, my dear friend, I think it best that we retire for the night.” Scott nodded his agreement, whereupon his two best buds both embraced him for a long moment, and then left him to go to their own bedrooms. Scott then undressed and went over to a dresser to the right of his new bed, where, to his further astonishment, he found a wide variety of underwear and pajamas, all in the richest luxury fabrics money could buy. Swallowing hard, the young blonde chose a set of pajamas in a rich, royal blue satin, then put his feet in a pair of ankle-high sheepskin slippers and walked over to his new bed. He groaned in delight as he removed his slippers and slid between a set of deep scarlet satin sheets, then laid his head down on pillows that were sheathed in matching scarlet satin pillowcases. He had hardly done so before falling into the deepest, soundest, most wonderful sleep he had ever experienced. As might be expected, Scot experienced a number of EXTREMELY erotic dreams that night, every one of which culminated in a wet dream of increasing intensity and duration. Consequently, when he finally woke up late the next morning, they young blonde stud found himself virtually wallowing in a huge puddle of his own semen. Blushing more furiously than he ever had in his life, Scott carefully slid out of bed. As he began gathering his soiled linens, he was relieved to discover that the mattress had been fitted with a rubber sheet to protect against such accidents. Obviously, Scott realized, the family had been through something like this before with Boris, and had planned accordingly in his case. Leaving the soiled linens in a rough bundle on the bed, Scott went over to the dresser, where he chose a t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts, both in a rich royal purple. Then, carefully wrapping himself in a matching purple satin bathrobe, Scott made his way to his new bathroom, where he divested himself of his soiled underwear. As he looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, Scott's eyes widened in surprise. His gonads had actually doubled in size during the night, while his hair, already mid-back in length, had now grown down to his waist, and was significantly thicker, fuller, richer, and silkier in texture, while its honey-gold color was noticeably deeper and richer in color, with a softness and shine that would have done credit to any supermodel on the planet! As he shook his head in wonder, Scott's augmented tresses moved back and forth in rippling waves that caused him to experience an erection like none he had ever had before. He could actually feel his manhood becoming longer, thicker, and harder, while his testicles swelled and ballooned outward before his very eyes. Realizing that he was on the verge of an orgasm, Scott quickly began drawing a bath, activating the whirlpool as he did so. Even as he washed his growing gonads, his augmented sex organs went into an eruption the likes of which Scott had never before experienced. Moaning in unspeakable ecstasy, the growing young blonde stud opened himself to this new experience, which responded by becoming even more intense. It was a full two hours later before Scott was finally able to extricate himself from the tub, having actually had to drain and refill the tub to wash off the accumulated semen from what he could only call a “super-orgasm,” as well as washing and conditioning his hair. As he was finishing up blow-drying his “super-mane,” as he now called it, Boris came into the bathroom to check on him. On seeing the latter, Boris's mouth dropped open, his eyes widening in astonishment. “WHOAH! AWESOME!” he whispered. His eyes widened still further as his brain registered the growth in his future brother-in-law's gonads. “Dude,” he commented, his voice still an awestruck whisper, “Natasha is gonna be all over you when she sees you!” “Not if I'm all over her first!” Scott smirked in reply. Boris promptly threw back his head and laughed, then took his best bud's face in his hands and looked it over carefully. “You know,” he commented, “I think that enzyme is even making your face look prettier—I mean it!” Scott looked at his facial features in the bathroom mirror. He was shocked to realize that his best bud was right. While his face was still distinctly Nordic, a delicate refinement in its shape and contours had definitely taken place, making it look increasingly exotic, much like Boris and Natasha's complexions. It was as if the best, the prettiest, the sexiest parts of both their faces and Scott's were being mixed together into that of a SUPER-super-model! Just then, Natasha came in to check on her fiancee. She almost fainted at the sight of the results that the enzyme had worked on her lover in just one night. Thankfully, Scott had already donned his underwear, as the sight of her fiancee in the nude would have unquestionably been too much for her. She somehow managed to pull herself together and helped Scott put on his makeup, in a subtle but smoky, sultry color scheme with touches of gold and silver at the outer edges. The finishing touch was a light, golden-colored lipstick that rendered his mouth almost unbearably kissable. Natasha proved as much, in fact, by giving the man she loved the deep-est, richest kiss she could muster. Scott replied with an even deeper, richer kiss than that, to the point that Boris actually felt it necessary to intervene, gently but firmly pulling the two apart. As the affianced couple slowly recovered, Scott panted, “Natasha, we need to apply for our marriage license TODAY! The way this enzyme is working on me, there's simply no way I'll be able to keep my hands off of you much longer!” Natasha wordlessly nodded her agreement. “We also need to get you signed up for a modeling contract like we have, Bro',” Boris put in. “Your good looks are becoming almost unbearable! You'll make a mint doing what we do!” “Yeah,” Scott replied, an increasingly wicked grin coming over his gorgeous features, “and maybe we can do some super-glam assignments together!” The two Radelescu siblings looked at each other for a moment. Then, as they realized how right their best bud was, they both responded in a slow drawl, “YE-E-E-E-A-H!!” With that, Boris led the three back out to the bedroom, where Beryl was gathering up the soiled bed clothes from the night before. Here eyebrows shot up in surprise as she saw the changes that had taken place overnight in her prospective son-in-law. Then, after she had left, Natasha looked over her future husband with the practiced eye of a costume designer. She then dressed her fiancee in an all-white satin outfit—a white satin poet shirt with a white satin floppy bow tie, white satin dress slacks with a high waistband, wide, flaring legs and wide cuffs, a wide white patent leather belt, white silk over-the-calf stockings, and ankle-high white patent leather platform boots. To top off the outfit, she then had Scott put on a white satin waist-length, double-breasted suit coat. As Natasha fluffed up the ruffles on Scott's shirt front and cuffs, Frank called out over the intercom that Scott's breakfast was now ready. The young blonde, now rendered at least doubly gorgeous by his new attire, prompt-ly led his two best buds to the kitchen, where he promptly did full justice to the big breakfast Beryl and Frank had prepared for him. The two elder Radelescues shook their heads in wonder at their future son-in-law's en-hanced appearance. “So what are your plans for the day?” Frank inquired, as Scott finished his repast. “Well, the first thing we're going to do is go get a marriage license,” Scott replied firmly, as he rose to his feet. Natasha promptly snuggled up to her fiancee, as the others grinned knowingly. “Then we need to go to a jewelry store and get both an en-gagement set and a wedding set—his-and-hers on both counts!” Boris added, “and then I thought we'd take him by our agent's office and see if we can get him signed up to a modeling contract, similar to what Natasha and I have.” Natasha wound things up by adding, “And then I want to take him to our hair stylist, and see just how big we can get these glorious locks of his teased up to be!” “Sounds good!” Frank said approvingly, as Beryl nodded her concurrence. With that, the three teens headed out the kitchen door. The Diablo limousine sat waiting for them, its engine purring gently. As they got in the limo and settled themselves in the rich, pillow-style leather seats, Boris inquired, “By the way, Scott, do you have a driver's license or birth certificate? It's required for the marriage license, you know.” Grinning, Scott promptly produced both documents on the spot. “Right with you, Bro',” he smirked. Boris grinned and gave his future brother-in-law an emphatic double “thumbs up” gesture as the limo pulled out into the late morning inbound traffic. “That reminds me,” Scott commented, “I need to get my driver's license updated to reflect my new ad-dress!” “And we also need to get you a smart phone, a mobile broadband adapter, and a laptop,” Natasha added. “Yes, and we'll also need to have your bank accounts changed to joint account status,” Boris put in, with a wick-ed grin, “with debit cards for both of you!” As the young blonde rolled his eyes in ecstasy at the continuing improvement in his status, the limo arrived at the County Court Clerk's office. They encountered no difficulty in obtaining the marriage license for Scott and Natasha, and were on their way to the jewelry store Boris recommended within 15 minutes. At the latter, Boris took charge. He not only bought a gorgeous multi-jeweled ring set for the young couple, but insisted on buying several gorgeous pairs of jeweled ear studs for Scott, including one set which had multiple threads of smaller gemstones in every color of the rainbow that came all the way down to his shoulders! Scott insisted on wearing them out of the store, with his companions' full approval, feeling more and more like a glam rock peacock as he did so. Once inside the limo, Scott and Natasha formally exchanged engagement rings, along with the most ero-tic kiss either one of them had ever experienced. The next stop for the now officially engaged teens was another jewelry store, this one specializing in Native Am-erican jewelry. Here, Boris insisted on loading his two best buds down with a huge collection of rings, bracelets, armbands, pendants, necklaces, earrings, and concho belts. To top it all off, Boris presented the two young lovers with a matching pair of six-inch-wide belts, each of which was loaded down with double rows of huge silver-and-gold conchos, each of which had an enormous chunk of pure turquoise in the middle, along with a custom-made cowboy-style trophy buckle big enough to cover their abdomens! One buckle was studded with Scott's name, the other with Natasha's—both in letters of turquoise edged in sterling silver! It was obvious that Boris had been planning this gift for quite some time, and he was rewarded by having both of his best buds literally cover his face with kisses, all of which he was only too happy to return. Scott was higher than a kite as he and his companions carefully packed their purchases in the limo's capacious trunk. They then proceeded to the office of Boris and Natasha's agent, not only to see about getting Scott signed to a modeling contract, but also to formally notify him of Natasha's engagement and impending wedding. On seeing Scott for the first time, the agent almost fell out of his chair in amazement. Without even requiring a photographic portfolio, he promptly signed the young blond stud to a contract every bit as lucrative as the one Boris and Natasha were under. He instantly agreed to their condition requiring that the young couple be allowed to work together on assignment whenever possible. As the three prepared to leave his office, the agent gave both Boris and Scott a warm handshake, along with a kiss on Natasha's cheek by way of congratulations. After stopping for a late lunch at a local buffet restaurant, the trio's next stop was the local driver's license of-fice, where Scott's driver's license was quickly and efficiently updated to reflect his new home address. They then proceeded to the city's hottest and most exclusive electronics store. Here, Natasha insisted on buying her fiancee the very top-of-the line gaming and multimedia laptop and tablet computers the store had to offer, along with the very latest smart phone, and mobile broadband adapters and service for all three of them. Their next stop was the family's bank. Here, Natasha's checking and savings accounts were updated to joint ac-count status, and a debit card and new checks were ordered to allow Scott access to both accounts. Scott was genuinely shocked when he learned the balances to which he now had access. In effect, he had become a multi-multi-millionaire in one fell swoop, and it staggered him. The final stop on the trio's agenda was Boris and Natasha's personal hairstylist. He gazed in awe at Scott's gor-geous locks, and actually groaned aloud in delight as he handled them to test their texture. To everyone's sur-prise, however, Scott had a specific request: “I want you to curl my hair.” “You mean the kind of curls that DeAndre Brackensick from 'American Idol' has?” the stylist inquired. Scott shook his head in emphatic rejection of that idea. “I want BIG curls,” he answered firmly, “as big and brawny and beautiful as you can make them!” Just over an hour later, Scott nodded his head in satisfaction as he looked in the mirror at the largest head of curls he had ever seen. So good did the results look, in fact, that Boris and Natasha both decided they wanted the same treatment for themselves as well! Thus, it was another two hours before the glam-rocking trio finally left the shop, after paying the stylist a huge bonus. Scott, who up to now had been quite talkative, suddenly became unusually quiet as the three of them got into the limo. “We need to head home, guys—right now!” the young blonde declared. A glance at Scott's teeth quickly revealed the reason for his request: Scott was growing fangs, just as Boris and Natasha had the night before. Without a moment's hesitation, Boris directed their chauffeur to drive the trio home without an instant's delay. As they did so, Scott commented, “I know you said there was no way of knowing how long it would take for me to reach this stage, but to reach it this quickly frankly frightens me!” “Not to worry, Babe,” Boris purred in reply, as he and his sister each put a comforting arm around the now super-gorgeous young blonde stud. As the two Radelescues snuggled up to Scott, nuzzling him in the process, they also noticed that Scott's package was now substantially larger than it had been when they had left home that morning—and it was still growing! “We're not getting you two hitched any too soon!” Boris commented with a grin so wicked it almost constituted a leer. “Tell me about it!” Scott commented dryly, then flashed a wicked grin of his own which showed that his fangs had grown even larger, longer, and sharper in the short time since they had entered the limo for the trip home. Like the young blonde's gonads, his fangs too were still growing constantly. It was almost—yet not quite—like a transformation scene in a werewolf horror movie. On arriving home, Scott and his two best buds went directly to the den, leaving Beryl and Frank to handle the unpacking of the limo's trunk. As his two best buds undressed enough to expose their massive shoulders, Scott's fangs grew to an almost frightening size, like that of a super-giant king cobra. He waited until the two of them nodded to indicate that they were ready, then sat down between them. Natasha was first. Scott took a deep breath, then bit into the young giantess's massive left trapezius muscle as far as his fangs would go. As if by instinct, he concentrated on pumping as much of the now-modified enzyme into her as he could. As he did so, Natasha groaned aloud—not in pain, but in ecstasy, as if this were part of their ma-ting ritual. Then, exactly thirty seconds later, Scott released her, then bit into her right trapezius muscle in the same way. Once again, Natasha groaned in delight—and this time, Scott did also! As he released the young woman he loved so deeply, the young blonde stud was relieved to see the fang marks in both shoulders fill in and heal completely in a matter of seconds. Not a single drop of blood could be seen anywhere, not even on his own fangs. Assured that he had carried out the process correctly, Scott now turned to his future brother-in-law. Since Boris was just slightly bigger than his sister, Scott's fangs, already freakishly large, long, and sharp, became even more so to compensate. Once again, Scott took a deep breath, and then he bit into Boris's left trapezius muscle with all the power he could muster. The two youths moaned together in ecstatic glee as Scott concentrated on pumping as much of the enzyme into his best friend as he could. As he did so, his male member began to swell and expand like it never had before. Then, thirty seconds later, Scott released Boris's left trapezius muscle, and, with an almost feral growl, he bit into his right trapezius muscle with all the power he could summon up. As he did so, Scott began to experience feelings of sexual arousal such as he had never had before. Despite this, however, Scott concentrated on getting the job done, so to speak. Then, finally, it was all over. Scott released his future brother-in-law, his fangs already retracting rapidly. Again, there was no sign of bleeding of any kind. As Scott panted heavily, both from sexual arousal and from his recent exertions, Natasha rewarded him with the deepest, richest, most erotic kiss she could summon up. Then, mo-ments later, somewhat to Scott's surprise, her brother did exactly the same thing! As Boris released him, Scott let out a deep moan of ecstatic bliss, then sank back on the leather sofa and fell into a deep sleep. The two young Gypsies, who had expected Scott to react in just this manner, promptly swung him into a horizontal position, removed his boots, then gently put a pillow under his head, and the big satin comforter over the rest of his body. Laying the boots on the floor near the young blonde's feet, they then went up to their own rooms, where they changed into more casual but still rich attire. They then came back downstairs, where they sorted out the various purchases they had made, and transferred them to the appropriate bedrooms. It was nearly four hours later that Scott awoke, his super-blue eyes flickering open, a groan escaping his even more kissable lips as he stretched, sat up, and put his boots back on. To his delight, the family was just putting supper on the table. As he rose to his feet and prepared to join them, he glanced at his reflection in the huge mirror which hung over the mantelpiece. He was shocked to find that his hair, so recently trimmed and styled, was now almost twice as big as it had been when he had left the salon! Furthermore, his package looked as though it had also grown significantly larger, bulging almost obscenely with increasing sexual power and potency. Scott tossed his head around a few times to see how his new hairstyle would react. To his delight, the massive mane of curls repeatedly fell around his face whenever he stopped, framing his features to utter perfection, caus-ing the young blonde to look even more glamorous and gorgeous. As Boris and Natasha came up behind him, their best bud actually began to tremble in awe at his increasing beauty. They each kissed him and snuggled up to him for a few moments, rubbing his back and shoulders to help soothe Scott's understandable anxiety. Their efforts were rewarded as Scott quickly became visibly calmer. He then walked back into the kitchen with them to join Frank and Beryl at the dinner table. After doing full justice to an excellent pot roast with all the trimmings, Scott, Boris, and Natasha went back up-stairs to Scott's bedroom. Here, they spent the next several hours setting up Scott's two new computers, as well as his cell phone, and, finally, the mobile broadband adapters for all three of their laptops. Then, with these tasks accomplished, Boris and Natasha retired to their own bedrooms (although of course Scott and Natasha shared a deep, rich good night kiss!), and Scott prepared to retire for the night himself. He had hardly laid his gorgeous head upon the satin-covered pillow, in fact, before he fell into a sleep that was even deeper than he had experi-enced the night before. As might be expected, Scott's dreams that night were even more erotic than those of the night before. When mor-ning came, Scott was not overly surprised to find that he was lying in an even larger puddle of his own semen than that of the previous morning. As he went through his morning ablutions, Scott noticed that his mane of curls now towered a full six inches over the top of his head, and came down to the bottom of his shoulder blades. His gonads were now positively enormous, with balls the size of cantaloupes, while his male member was as big a-round as a baseball bat—and that was when it was soft! Not surprisingly, when he donned his boxer shorts, the bulge between his legs was obscenely huge, and was still throbbing and pulsating with continuing growth. That morning, Scott chose an outfit consisting of a flaming orange satin poet shirt, black patent leather pirate pants, a 3-inch-wide studded white patent leather belt with an enormous carved silver Mexican buckle, and white patent leather buccaneer boots with 6- inch wide cuffs at the tops, 7-inch stacked heels, and 5-inch platform soles. To provide contrast, the young blonde tied a wide royal blue satin sash around his still-slender waist. He then completed his look of luxury with a smoky, sultry makeup scheme that included touches of silver, gold, and even turquoise. When the young blonde stud understandably strutted and swaggered his way down the stairs and into the kitchen for breakfast, the Radelescu family took one look at him—and their mouths all dropped open in utter as-tonishment. In fact, Natasha's gorgeous face turned a deadly pale—and then, to Scott's horror, she fell to the floor in a dead faint. With a wordless cry of alarm, Scott rushed to her side, as did her brother. As they seated her in a chair, Beryl ran cold water over a dishcloth, wrung out the excess, then ran the cold cloth over her face and neck in an effort to revive her. To their immense relief, Natasha promptly responded, especially when Scott climbed into her lap, put his arms around her as best he could, and gave his bride-to-be the deepest, richest kiss he could muster at that moment. As he slowly released the woman he loved, Scott's eyes were full of concern. “I didn't mean to scare you, Natasha,” he said softly. “You didn't actually scare me, darling,” Natasha replied, just as softly, her eyes glowing with unutterable love. “You overwhelmed me. You look so drop-dead-gorgeous in that outfit that it was more than I could take at first glance. Boris felt the same way.” “She's right, Bro',' Boris added. “You've gotten to be so pretty—so cute—so gorgeous and glamorous—that it's just too much!” As he spoke, the young super-giant gently took Scott's face in his hands, moving it back and forth to allow him to look it over as carefully as possi-ble. “Your face has become so strikingly handsome, especially now that your hair has gotten so big and all, that you can put any teen idol or teen supermodel on this planet to shame—even us!” he added emphatically, yet without the slightest trace of envy or resentment. As he ran Scott's increasingly luxuriant locks through his fingers, Boris actually moaned with pleasure. A moment later, Natasha did likewise. As she also moaned with delight at her fiancee's sheer gorgeousness, Scott gasped as he noticed that her fangs were growing again. Scott turned his head to get a look at her brother. Sure enough, his fangs were also growing. “It's time, Scott,” Boris said quietly, then favored him with a wicked grin that fully revealed his rapidly growing canines. Natasha did likewise. As the young blonde processed the implications of Boris's statement, he began trembling violently with antici-pation. This was the final step, he realized. If what his two best buds had told him was accurate, before long he would grow as big and brawny as they were. His long-time dream would soon become a reality. Swallowing hard, without a word, he led the way back into the den. He seated himself on the couch. Boris sat down on his left, Natasha on his right. Trembling even more violently, Scott nevertheless removed his poet shirt and T-shirt. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself, then quietly told his two best buds, “I'm ready whenever you guys are.” Almost instantly, Boris and Natasha began covering Scott's face, neck, and shoulders with the richest, most ero-tic kisses Scott had ever experienced. In direct response, Scott's now-augmented male member began growing and swelling and lengthening as it never had before. His breathing became deeper and more rapid, and a long moan of sexual ecstasy escaped his lips. Then, just before Scott would have gone into a full-blown orgasm, Boris and Natasha sank their fangs into his traps with with a fervency that was almost savage in its intensity. Scott threw back his now even more gorgeous young head and let loose with a wild, rapid, throaty laugh. “AW, YE-E-E-E-E-AH!” he bellowed, doing everything he could to open himself up to the enzyme that his fiancee and future brother-in-law were pumping into him with everything they had. Then, suddenly, it was over. Less than a minute had passed from the start of the bite to the moment when the Radelescu twins released him. As before, the puncture marks instantly dwindled away and disappeared, healing without the slightest trace of any scars. Slowly, Scott got to his feet, then went to the bathroom, where he put his T-shirt and poet shirt back on. He was still breathing heavily as he went back into the kitchen, where the others were waiting for him. Boris and Natasha too were breathing heavily, although the two of them were making an effort to calm themselves. Scott did likewise. As he tore into the huge breakfast that Beryl had set before him, Scott became conscious of a strange, warm, tingling sensation spreading throughout his body. He mentioned this to the others, who nodded their understand-ing. “That's actually a good sign, Scott,” Frank told him. “It means the enzyme is doing its job.” “So when do I begin muscling up—or should I say 'hulking out'?” Scott asked, with a wicked grin spreading over his now super-gorgeous features. “No telling, Babe,” Boris rumbled back, an equally wicked grin on his own handsome face. “It's like we told you before—there are simply too many variables in the equation.” “So, it could be an hour from now—or it could be a week, or even longer—is that it?” Scott queried. “I don't think it'll be too long,” Natasha responded, “particu-larly since your body has already responded the way it has. I mean, look at your face, your hair--” “And my package,” Scott broke in with a leering grin, his face now almost fiendishly gorgeous, as he sat down at the ta-ble and all but inhaled the huge breakfast the family had prepared for him. In truth, Scott's features were becom-ing more attractive with every passing second, while his mane of honey-golden curls was rapidly increasing in both size and length. Scott himself quickly began to realize this, and it thrilled him. He was even more thrilled when he felt his gonads once more growing not only bigger, but also more powerful and potent. He could actu-ally feel himself becoming more incredibly virile with every second, and his desire for his bride-to-be was sky-rocketing by the minute. Even so, Scott was determined to wait until after he and Natasha were officially wed before going to bed with her. The remaining two days went by in a blur. Scott and Natasha made a point of counseling with the family's pas-tor in preparation for the wedding. In view of the circumstances, the family had decided on a small, quiet cere-mony right there at home, with only the immediate family present. They prepared another bedroom, in the other wing of the house, as a super-luxury bridal chamber and honeymoon suite. Boris pulled out all the stops in put-ting together his new brother-in-law's wedding outfit, then turned right around and did the same for his sister, and then finally for himself. In addition, both Scott and Natasha's appetites grew and grew, until the night before their marriage, each of them consumed one half of a 25-pound turkey, plus stuffing and other side dishes! Fortu-nately, Frank and Beryl had fully expected this, and had made preparations accordingly. Frank explained to Scott that this was their bodies' way of preparing for the major growth surge that would soon get underway, and that they need not worry about becoming fat as a result of their eating binge. When the wedding day finally arrived, Scott felt more energy coursing through his body than he had ever known. His hair was a full seven times bigger and longer than it had ever been before, and had now begun curl-ing on its own. Those curls, in fact, were an incredible seven inches across, sprawling over both the front and back of his shoulders, towering a foot over the top of his head, then tumbling all the way down to the small of his back. His gonads were now freakishly enlarged, his balls now the size of giant cantaloupes, his male member now a whopping fourteen inches long and seven inches around—soft! When fully aroused, it grew by an unbe-lievable 50% in both length and thickness! His face, already like that of an angel to begin with, was now almost unbearably gorgeous, and became even more so as Scott put on his makeup in preparation for his nuptials. Scott's wedding outfit was one that would have been fit for any teen monarch who was about to be formally crowned—a lavish royal purple waist-length, double-breasted coat in silk velvet, matching slacks with incre-dibly wide, rave-style legs with 4-inch-wide cuffs, a cloth-of-gold poet shirt with bigger sleeves and more rows and layers of ruffles and lace than he had ever worn before, a huge floppy bow tie in cloth-of-silver, accented by an enormous rainbow crystal brooch, his white knee-high patent leather platform boots, plus the six-inch-wide concho belt and buckle that Boris had given him as a wedding present. In fact, Scott actually insisted on wearing all of the jewelry Boris had bought for him—except, of course, for the wedding rings that the two young love-birds would exchange during the wedding ceremony itself. Little wonder, then, that by the time he was ready for the ceremony, Scott was actually trembling in every limb with excitement and anticipation. Even the legendary Liberace, in his most lavish stage attire, would have paled in comparison to the almost god-like figure that now preened himself in the full-length, 3-way mirror just prior to descending the staircase and walking silently into the parlor to begin the wedding. Scott almost fainted when he beheld the young woman he was about to wed walking into the parlor to join him. She was gloriously dressed in a gown of the richest, heaviest, most lavish white silk satin brocade Scott had ever beheld, with a veil that, to say the least, was equally extravagant. For her part, Natasha also nearly swooned as she beheld the fabulously-clothed young man who was about to be-come her husband. It took several moments, in fact, and several deep breaths for each of them, before they were able to proceed with the ceremony. As the marriage ceremony continued, Scott's energy level grew higher and higher, as did Natasha's. When at last the pastor officially pronounced them husband and wife, and their lips came into contact with each other, it was as though a floodgate had burst open. From that moment, Scott's muscles began swelling and expanding and bal-looning to a size, and with a speed, that Scott had never dreamed of. By the time he and his new bride released each other, Scott's muscles had literally doubled in size, while his strength had quadrupled. (Thankfully, Boris had insisted that his new brother-in-law wear an over-sized outfit, to allow for just such a contingency.) In addi-tion, his already huge mane of curls began growing faster, larger, and more beautiful than ever before. Scott and Natasha literally ran to their new bedroom, their desire for each other now all but uncontrollable. They paused just long enough to give Boris a last hug at the door, then closed and locked the door behind them. Even as they began disrobing each other, Scott's rate of growth was tripling and quadrupling. Natasha was also growing larger, more muscular, and more voluptuous by the second, especially after her new husband buried his head between her massive breasts and gave her a long French kiss all the way up her incredible cleavage. He then proceeded to give her the raunchiest, most erotic French kiss to the mouth he could muster. In the next instant, Natasha grabbed hold of his massive super-manhood, guided it to the right spot, then all but impaled herself on it as the two young super-giants became one flesh. In direct response, Scott threw back his massive, unbearably gorgeous head and let out an exultant bellow at the very top of his now-gargantuan lungs: “YE-E-E-E-E-E-S-S! I LOVE YOU!” For her part, Natasha screamed back, “I LOVE YOU, TOO! KISS ME-E-E-E-E-E!!” Scott promptly did just that, as the new husband and wife wrapped their arms and legs around each other, holding on for dear life, as Scott erupted into Natasha with the power of an exploding volcano . . . It was more than a day later before the two super-giant newlyweds finally awakened. Scott woke up first. His now violet-blue eyes flickered open, then widened as he beheld his awe-inspiring reflection in the huge mirror that hung over the California King-sized bed in which he and Natasha were lying. “WHOAH!” the young super-giant whispered hoarsely. Since Natasha was still asleep, he carefully slid over the super-rich satin sheets, sat up, and then slowly got to his feet. He then swaggered as quietly as he could to the oversized 3-way mirror that stood in the corner next to the double-sized walk-in closet in the couple's new master bedroom suite. The mountain of muscles that now constituted Scott's body was staggering to behold. Now well over 7 feet in height, the young blonde mega-stud had pecs that were at least twice the size of the biggest watermelons he had ever beheld, with traps that came up over his ears and all but swallowed his otherwise massive neck. His upper arms looked to be about three times the size of the largest medicine balls, with forearms and calves roughly about half as big. His thighs were bigger than any giant pumpkins currently in the record books, with the biggest, tightest, sexiest-looking “bubble butt” Scott could possibly have wished for. It was his face and hair, however, that actually turned Scott on the most. Although his features had been grow-ing steadily handsomer, cuter, and prettier virtually from the moment that Boris and Natasha had bitten him for the first time, it had now matured into a face that simply had to be the ultimate cross between Scott's original good looks and the striking, exotic beauty and sex appeal of Boris and Natasha's Gypsy heritage. No glam rock “pretty boy” or teen idol on the planet could have matched the mega-gorgeous visage that Scott now be-held in the mirror. The crowning touch, however, was the 12-inch-thick, waist-length mane of the biggest, richest, silki-est honey-gold curls Scott had ever seen. Just below his waistline hung a set of gonads that had more than quad-rupled in size from their previous staggering dimensions of the previous night. Even as he watched, Scott's package came back to life. As he flexed his gargantuan physique, his “mega-man-hood” began swelling and lengthening until it was more than 2 feet long and at least a foot in circumference. When he flexed his abs, Scott was astounded to find that, instead of merely a 6-pack or even an 8-pack, he ac-tually possessed a 16-pack, with the most powerfully-developed intercostals he had ever dared to dream of. His shoulders and back proved to be just as powerful, if not more so, and looked to be at least 4 feet wide when flexed. When at last Scott summoned up the courage to do a “most muscular” pose, the young super-giant actually felt as though he were going to burst, as every muscle in his incredible body looked as if it had doubled or even tripled in size, while his strength seemed to increase beyond anything he had even remotely dared to imagine. As Scott continued to flex and pose before the mirror, Natasha rose from their marriage bed and came over to join him. She was genuinely stunned at the sheer size and power now embodied in the man who was now her husband. For his part, at the sight of his new bride, Scott felt his “mega-manhood” swelling and hardening with even greater arousal than he had felt on their wedding night. She was every bit as big and as tall as he was, and proportionately curvaceous and voluptuous as well. They were truly a “match made in Heaven,” physically magnified to the Nth degree! After exchanging a deep French kiss that left them both moaning with pleasure, the young couple headed for their (thankfully!) oversized bathroom, where they spent over an hour washing and primping each other. After dressing in satin poet shirts and pirate pants, accented with wide patent leather belts, even wider satin sashes, and patent leather platform buccaneer boots, the two “super-newlyweds” quietly made their way to the kitchen. Upon their arrival, Scott and Natasha found Frank, Beryl, and Boris talking quietly at the kitchen table. Seated with them was a young flame-haired giantess whose muscles and curves matched Natasha's to utter perfection. The young couple instantly recognized her as Betty Johnson, Boris's long-time girlfriend. They were delighted to see a heavily-jeweled engagement ring sparkling from her left ring finger, indicating that she and Boris had also become formally engaged. They instantly threw their massive arms around the affianced couple, then exchanged a warm embrace with Frank and Beryl as well. “So you and Natasha gave Betty here the same treatment you gave me—am I right?” Scott inquired, flashing a super-wicked grin at his brother-in-law. “Exactly!” Boris re-plied, giving him a super-wicked grin in return. The two mountainous young couples then rose to their feet and spent the next several minutes flexing and posing for each other, although they were all still fully clothed. Although Scott and Natasha were at least 1/3 bigger than Boris and Betty, all of them realized that, by the time Boris and Betty's nuptials were completed, they would be every as big as Scott and Natasha. They also realized that the four of them would doubtless grow even bigger in the months and years to come. Two days later, a second wedding took place in the Radelescu parlor. Once again, as soon as Boris and Betty had officially become husband and wife, the newlywed couple ran upstairs to their new bridal suite to consummate their marriage. Not to be outdone, Scott and Natasha retired to their own bridal suite and spent the evening mak-ing love with super-volcanic intensity. Not surprisingly, the two young mega-couples joyfully greeted each other two days later. They all laughed out loud at the very top of their enormous lungs as they flexed and posed for each other. As they went downstairs to join Frank and Beryl for breakfast, Scott could not help shaking his super-gorgeous head in wonder at the transformation he had experienced. Only a week before, he had been a 6-foot, 6-inch “hu-man beanpole,” as he had once bluntly described himself. Now he was a whopping 7 feet 10 inches in height, with a physique that would have put any or even all of HSMusclboy's characters to shame. What was more, he now possessed a head of honey-gold “mega-curls” bigger than any glam metal rocker from the 80's or 90's could ever have dreamed of, with a face surpassing that of any glam rock “pretty boy” who had ever lived. Boris, who was now every bit as big and as super-gorgeous as Scott himself, put his massive arm around his new brother-in-law's equally mountainous shoulders, pulled him close, and kissed him on the cheek. “Welcome to my family, Bro,” he whispered into Scott's ear. As he reciprocated Boris's affection, Scott whispered, “it's OUR family now, Babe—our 'Gypsy Muscle' family!”
  10. GlamRockCowboy

    Re-Post: Muscle Beach Dream

    BEACH MUSCLE DREAM BY GLAMLEATHERPUNK (AKA GLAMROCKCOWBOY) INSPIRED BY NO NAME'S REMORPHED PICTURE OF THE SAME NAME ON THE DEVIANT ART WEBSITE It was a cold, raw, brooding day in early February—the kind of day that exactly suited the mood of the solitary figure walking up a deserted beach in northern California. 18-year-old Greg Brzinski was slowly making his way towards an old lifeguard's beach house. Just that morning, he had finally re-ceived his high school diploma in the mail, after passing all his exams a semester early. On learning of Greg's graduation, his father had immediately pulled out a gun and forced his son to pack all his mea-ger worldly possessions in the large duffel bag that was now slung over his slender shoulders. He had repeatedly told Greg that, once he did graduate, the two would part ways forever. Even with that, how-ever, the boy had never expected to be forced out of the house at gunpoint. Once he had packed his things, his father had actually blindfolded him, put him in his very old and rus-ty car, and driven him out of the city, cursing Greg all the while. He had never wanted a child, he said. Indeed, he even went on to complain that the only reason he had married Greg's late mother was that he had been forced to do so by his own parents after getting Greg's mother pregnant. He then went on to curse her, and his parents as well, in the vilest language imaginable. (Greg's mother had died of cancer some two years earlier.) When they had reached one of the entrances to the beach, they had stopped. Greg had then been flung out of the car, followed, only a moment later, by his duffel bag. As Greg slowly picked himself up, his father pulled the door shut and drove away, laughing insanely as he did so. Despite his having been blindfolded, however, Greg had immediately recognized where he was. It was a small private beach, owned by an alumnus of Greg's high school, that Greg and his schoolmates had often used during the spring and summer months. Now, however, the beach was closed for the winter. Even the lifeguard's beach house toward which Greg was now headed was most likely deserted, although it was available for rent on a month-to-month basis during the winter months. Greg was acquainted with the owners of the beach. Indeed, he had told them of his father's threats the last time they had seen each other at the beginning of the school year. To his astonishment, the owner's son had given him a key to the house, telling him that he would be welcome to reside there if necessary until he could make some sort of other arrangements. Now, with his father having disowned and aban-doned him, Greg had no choice but to do just that. The slender youth sighed with relief as he came up to the door and gently laid his duffel bag on the ground beside him. Then, digging deep into his pockets, he extracted the key that his friend had given him. He sighed again as the key unlocked the front door of the house without the slightest difficulty. Breathing a prayer of thanks, he went inside and locked the door behind him. Much to his surprise, the beach house appeared to be clean and comfortably furnished. He flipped a light switch on the wall beside him. A series of concealed fluorescent fixtures along the walls instantly came to life, setting the room ablaze with light. Greg blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted them-selves to the higher level of illumination. Although the house was small, it had a combination living room and dining area, with a fireplace along one wall. To one side, there was a large wood box, which was filled with driftwood as well as kindling. There was even a box of matches on the mantelpiece. Since the house was already reasonably warm, Greg saw no need to start a fire as of yet. Instead, he went into the small but well-planned kitchen, along with a small pantry, that opened onto the dining room. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the shelves were all fully stocked, and so was the large refrigerator along one wall. There was even milk, butter, orange juice, and eggs, and all recently pur-chased at that, judging from the dates on the packaging. Greg shook his head in wonder as he made his way to the bathroom. Here again, the room was fully stocked with towels and wash cloths, along with soap and other toiletries. There was even a bottle of liquid bubble bath, along with a Jacuzzi tub! A front-loading combination washer-dryer stood in an alcove off the bathroom itself, along with a linen closet which was also fully stocked, including detergent, fabric softener, and non-chlorine bleach. Greg once more shook his head in wonder as he made his way up the small staircase to the beach house's second floor. Here, there was an enormous bedroom, with a California King-sized bed. To Greg's astonishment, the bed was swathed in what had to be the richest satin sheets, pillowcases, and comforter that he had ever laid eyes on. There was also a small bookshelf and desk area, including a telephone and computer, complete with high-speed internet access. The room was completed by a large overstuffed recliner, upholstered in the richest, softest black leather Greg had ever beheld. Indeed, the recliner appeared to have been a recent addition to the bedroom, for the aroma from the leather all but filled the room, actually causing Greg to experience an erection! Off to his left, there was a set of curtains, which, when opened, revealed a sliding glass door that led to a roofed balcony or porch, complete with beach chairs and a small picnic table. The view from the porch was nothing short of spectacular, even in weather like this. Indeed, even with the glass door shut, the occupant would have a marvelous view from the inside. Clearly, this beach house was not only built to last, but for comfort as well, even in the stormiest weather. Going back downstairs, Greg fetched his duffel bag, then returned to the bedroom and began putting his meager wardrobe into the walk-in closet and dresser. As he did so, Greg wondered if the house's owners might not have been keeping tabs on him, and prepared the house accordingly. Well, he would check on that possibility soon enough, Greg thought to himself. Right now, he needed to get a hot meal and a hot bath, and then maybe take a nap. Going back down to the kitchen, Greg decided on some hot chicken noodle soup, a couple of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and a large glass of milk—a simple but comforting repast. After washing the dishes, Greg then drew a hot bath, including an appropriate amount of bubble bath, and turned on the Jacuzzi jets full force. He sighed in delight as he settled into the tub, where he lounged for over an hour. He slowly got out of the tub and dried himself in an enormous, incredibly soft bath sheet, which he had hung on an electrically heated towel bar earlier. He then swathed himself in a rich white satin bathrobe, slid his feet into a set of sheepskin slippers, and headed upstairs to his new bedroom. On checking the bedside clock, Greg saw that it was only 1:00 in the afternoon. He wondered if he should try to call his friends to let them know that he was now safely ensconced in their beach house. A surprisingly strong wave of sleepiness, however, made him decide to postpone doing so until later in the day. He thereupon knelt down by the bedside and gave heartfelt thanks for this unexpectedly rich safe haven, then doffed his robe and slid between the rich satin sheets, falling asleep just moments after his head touched the pillow. As he slept, Greg dreamed that he was walking up and down the beach on a warm, sunny day. As he did so, he noticed, to his astonishment, that every muscle in his body was growing. With every step he took, he was getting bigger—taller—stronger. His skin, which before had been a sickly, pasty white, gradually morphed to a gorgeous golden tan in color. His hair was growing, too—longer, thicker, ful-ler, richer, shinier, softer, and silkier every minute. His already cute face became even cuter—prettier—handsomer—sexier—with a perfectly-shaped nose, high cheekbones, and lips that were growing big-ger and fuller and poutier and more kissable, until finally he became what could only be called the ulti-mate beach pretty boy. As he now turned and walked back toward the beach house, his stride changed slightly, becoming more and more the swaggering strut of a full-blown bodybuilder. The pace of his muscle growth now quick-ened, while his gonads now swelled to a size and power and potency he had never even dreamed of. By the time he reached the beach house, Greg had morphed into what most of his peers would have re-ferred to as a "muscle freak"--and Greg revelled in that realization. So much so, in fact, that as the dream came to an end, Greg experienced by far the most powerful orgasm of his life, pumping out what seemed like gallon after gallon after gallon of his male essence. As his "wet dream" finally tapered off, Greg's sapphire-blue eyes flickered open. He flushed with em-barassment as he realized that he was lying in a huge puddle of his own semen. He promptly flung the satin comforter to one side, then jumped to his feet. As he did so, he caught a glimpse of himself in the large 3-way mirror that stood to one side of the bed. His mouth fell open, and he stiffened in astonish-ment as he realized that at least part of his dream had come true, and that he now actually was a full-fledged muscle freak. Even his hair had grown every bit as big, as long, and as rich as he had dreamed it had. To top it all off, his skin was now an even more beautiful golden tan than it had been in his dream! Greg shook his head in utter wonderment, then realized he still had some cleaning up to do. He there-upon pulled the soiled satin sheets and pillowcases off his bedding, then went downstairs to the alcove where the washer-dryer sat waiting. He loaded the machine, then began measuring out the appropriate amounts of detergent, bleach, and fabric softener, which he then added to the proper dispensers. As he did so, Greg noticed a brand name on the packages that he had heard of, but had never seen before: “Nu-Yu.” Greg's pulse quickened. He had read about the Nu-Yu company online. They had recently been under fire from a number of government agencies for their extravagant claims. The resulting combined law-suit had gone all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court—and the company had won! In a stunning unani-mous decision, the Court had overruled the various government agencies, couching their decision in language that was so strong, so unequivocal, so decisive, that even the Attorney General of the United States had publicly admitted defeat. The memory prompted Greg to check the labels of all the other cleaning aids and toiletries he had used. Sure enough, they were all labeled, “Nu-Yu.” In fact, every cleaning aid and toiletry in the entire beach house carried the “Nu-Yu” label. On a hunch, Greg examined the labels of the bubble bath, the soap, and the shampoo and conditioner he had recently used a little more closely. The soap and bubble bath both bore a designation of “Ex-treme Beach Muscle,” while the shampoo and conditioner were labeled “Extreme Glam Rock Big Hair.” Greg promptly grinned from ear to ear as he digested the labels' implications. Then, realizing that he needed to clean himself up as well as the bed sheets and pillowcases, he removed his underwear (which had somehow enlarged itself to accommodate his new size) and added it to the washload. After starting the machine, Greg went back to his bedroom to fetch fresh underwear, as well as the satin bath-robe he had worn earlier. Then, hanging the huge bath sheet on the towel heater once more, the young giant took another bath, being especially careful to wash his newly-enlarged gonads. As he did so, an incredible feeling of pleasure and exultation came over the young muscle giant, for he realized that his muscles were growing even larger and more powerful, while his hair was growing into what could only be called a super lion's mane, towering more than a foot beyond the top of his head, then rippling down in super-luxuriant, coal-black waves over his rapidly-swelling chest, shoulders, and yard-wide back, fi-nally terminating at the bottom of his now medicine ball-sized calves! As the now teen muscle super-giant got out of the tub and dried himself off, he realized that not even such big-haired rock legends as Bill Kaulitz of Tokio Hotel and the 90's rock group Nitro would be able to match his hair in length, volume, or for sheer beauty. After putting on deodorant and donning his newly super-sized underwear, on impulse Greg decided to look for some makeup. After all, he thought, since he now possessed tresses worthy of any glam rock megastar, why not complete the look? Checking the vanity top, for the first time Greg noticed a wide selection of unisex cosmetics, as well as shaving cream, after shave, and cologne, all of which bore the Nu-Yu label. There were even a Nu-Yu toothbrush and toothpaste and mouthwash! Despite his still-increasing size, Greg found that he was easily able to shave, brush his teeth, and put on a selection of cosmetics that amplified and magnified his “pretty boy” good looks and sex appeal until they were almost unbearable. As he headed back upstairs, Greg suddenly realized that his new abode had somehow modified itself to accommodate his now super-giant status. He shook his head in wonder as he re-entered the bedroom, carrying a load of satin sheets and pillowcases to replace the ones he had soiled earlier. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the now “California Super-King” mattress was undamaged, despite the volume of his earlier ejaculation. After putting the replacement linens on his bed, Greg took a good look at himself in the big 3-way mir-ror that stood next to the closet door. He was genuinely shocked to see how enormous his muscles had become. By this time, his pectoral muscles had actually grown to the point where they were within an inch of his nose, while his traps were up to the tops of his ears. His neck had been all but swallowed up by his shoulder muscles, including his deltoids, which were as big as medicine balls. His biceps were also medicine ball sized, while his triceps were at least half again as big! His thighs were each the size of a 1200-pound giant pumpkin, while both his calves and his forearms were slightly larger than medi-cine balls. His glutes were about the same size as his calves, giving him the biggest, tightest, sexiest-looking “bubble butt” he had ever seen. Even the muscles of his face were bulging with power, yet in such a way as to maintain, and even enhance, his “pretty boy” looks. The incredibly deep cleavage be-tween his massive pecs enabled Greg to breathe, talk, and eat without any difficulty. In fact, despite his incredibly massive musculature, Greg found that he could move around with surprising ease and flexi-bility. He was also astounded to to see that his each of his testicles was now the size of a giant canta-loupe, while his now “ultra-mega-SUPERmanhood” was now a whopping 14 inches long and 7 inches around—and that was in its relaxed state! Greg swaggered over to the closet to see if there was anything he might be able to wear, given his now-enormous size. To his astonishment—and relief—he found several dozen pirate and poet shirts, over a dozen pairs of what could only be called “pirate pants,” plus several pairs of buccaneer boots, super-wide belts, sashes, enormously wide-brimmed “pirate king” hats, and even several 17th-century-style “commander's coats.” He also found several satin sharkskin business suits in both single-breasted and double-breasted styles (all with wide-leg slacks!). While all the suits were in an unmistakably high-fashion style, he noted that some of the suit coats were waist-length, while the rest were regular-length. To complete the wardrobe, there were several pairs of ankle boots, some with stacked heels and plat-form soles, as well as a selection of neck chains, earrings, pendants, and other jewelry. Greg was agog to behold such a luxurious wardrobe, and he was surprised to find so many pirate-type items in the closet. On giving the matter a little thought, however, Greg realized that, at least for now, he was living in a seaside environment, and so it made sense for him to dress accordingly. So the young super-giant swaggered into the closet and selected a white silk gauze pirate shirt with sleeves that actually dwarfed even his huge arms, a pair of black rayon pirate pants whose legs all but swallowed up his enormous thighs and calves, a pair of thigh-high buccaneer boots in black patent leather with high stacked heels and thick platform soles, a 3-inch-wide black patent leather belt with a huge ring buckle, and a 4-inch-wide sash in royal purple satin. Checking the dresser that stood to the right of his 3-way mirror, Greg burst out laughing when, in addi-tion to a fine selection of over-the-calf hosiery, he found more than a dozen pairs of what could only be described as men's pantyhose! Then, remembering from one of his history classes that men had in fact worn stockings quite similar to pantyhose back in Elizabethan times, he cried out, “Well, why not?” He thereupon selected a pair of black silk pantyhose and put it on—and promptly experienced the erection of his life! It took several minutes, in fact, for Greg to calm down and thereby avoid yet another super-orgasm. Once he did, however, he quickly proceeded to put on the shirt, the pants, the belt, the sash, and finally the boots. Greg almost fainted as he looked over the final result of his efforts in his 3-way mirror. If there were any such thing as a “super-swashbuckler,” he decided, he surely qualified, especially with his rich, dark chocolate-brown tresses coming down to his ankles, both in front and in back. On impulse, he selected a rich burgundy velvet coat and the biggest, widest-brimmed “pirate king” hat he could find and added them to his outfit. The result was nothing short of staggering, both in looks and in sex appeal. Greg let out a positively thunderous laugh of exultation and exuberance as he once more preened himself in his 3-way mirror. He didn't just look like a “pirate king”--he looked and felt like a “pirate emperor!” Now that he was fully dressed—and then some!--Greg decided to let his benefactors know that he had taken them up on their kind offer to reside in the beach house. He thereupon powered up the computer, which of course took several minutes to get going, especially in view of the number of system updates that needed to be downloaded and installed. While all of that was going on, Greg decided to go down to the kitchen and brew himself a pot of hot tea, especially in view of the fact that it was cold and raw outside. As he did so, he spotted several bottles of food supplements in one of the kitchen cabinets. He was not surprised to find that they too carried the “Nu-Yu” label (including, of course, the customary and mandatory FDA disclaimers, the sight of which caused Greg to snort with amusement). As he looked over the labels of the supplement bottles, he saw that one was labeled, “Extreme Super Intelligence,” the second read, “Extreme Wealth,” and the third read, “Extreme Musical Ability.” After reading the directions on each label, he took one—and ONLY one—tablet out of each container. (The directions warned that taking more than one would render the supplement useless, especially if more than one supplement were to be taken at the same time.) Since the directions indicated that each sup-plement was to be taken on an empty stomach, he filled a water glass, then took each of the pills, one at a time, washing each pill down with at least two swallows of water. Within a matter of minutes, the supplements began to take effect. In five minutes, Greg sensed that his intellectual capacities had increased to the point that his already high IQ had skyrocketed beyond any measurable level. In ten minutes, Greg's net worth had shot up to over a trillion dollars, and the beach house had morphed into a mega-mansion that even the Sultan of Brunei would envy. Lastly, by the time fifteen minutes had elapsed, a huge pipe organ had become part of the walls and ceiling of the beach house, and manuscripts for several new organ symphonies had appeared on the solid gold coffee table in the mansion's huge new music room. As the transforming effects of the supplements tapered off, Greg suddenly noticed that there were jew-eled rings on every finger of both of his massive hands, while his outfit had become at least a hundred times more lavish and extravagant than all of the legendary Liberace's richest costumes put together. Shaking his head in wonder, the young trillionaire made his way back to the bedroom, now enlarged to the size of a small house. He was amused to notice that the computer he had turned on just half an hour before was only now finishing up downloading and installing the system updates it had begun working on when it had first been powered up. Before he could even sit down at the desk, however, the computer, having finally completed its soft-ware updating, suddenly began updating its hardware as well, finally morphing into what Greg knew had to be the hottest, fastest, most advanced luxury gaming computer system on the entire planet. He once more shook his massive, gorgeous young head in wonder as he finally seated himself and began the task of contacting his benefactors and letting them know what had happened to him. Within five minutes, Greg had composed an email to his benefactor, David Johannsen, thanking them for their incredible generosity, and briefly describing the changes in himself and the beach house. Within another five minutes, he received a reply, telling him that the beach house was now his to keep, along with its contents (all of which, of course were now greatly augmented in luxury and value due to Greg's taking the “Extreme Wealth” supplement only a short time earlier). The message also stated that David, along with his twin sister, Jenna (Greg's long-time girlfriend) and his own girlfriend, Ruth Bohr, would be coming to visit him shortly. Needless to say, Greg promptly acknowledged the message. He then logged off the Internet and printed out a report listing both the hardware and the software that were now installed on the system. Greg whistled in admiration as he looked over the listing. All of his favorite computer games, as well as the latest in multimedia production software and his favorite glam rock music videos and audio tracks, were at his command. In addition, the system was equipped with full 7.1 surround sound capability, as evidenced by the numerous satellite speakers positioned around the room, to say nothing of the massive subwoofer in one corner of the room. He also had a full selection of cable TV channels at his disposal for viewing on the big 50-inch monitor on the desk in front of him. By this time, Greg realized that David and his party would be arriving shortly. He was about to turn off the computer when he saw a notice on the screen that more updates were being downloaded and in-stalled. With a snort of amusement, he arose from the desk and left his new toy to augment its capabili-ties still further. As he did so, Greg felt an enormous surge of increasing power and strength rushing upward through his body. He felt himself growing taller as well, and he somehow sensed that he was now at a height of well over 7 feet. His already massive gonads swelled up even bigger, creating an obscene bulge at the front of his pirate pants, which were now of heavy black silk satin. Thankfully, his trousers promptly enlarged themselves just enough to correct the problem. As he made his way down the stairs toward his now-massive front door, his hair began to sparkle from the presence of gold, silver, and platinum dust, as well as powdered precious and semi-precious stones in every color of the rainbow. Although Greg was ecstatic about his now ankle-length tresses, he still could not help thinking that having his hair styled in long, big, brawny-looking curls might actually be more fitting, given his greatly-modified appearance. As if in direct response, Greg's hair began curling itself exactly as he had envisioned. Even when the curling process concluded, however, his hair was still long enough for him to sit on! Just before he opened the door, Greg pulled his hair back such that it all fell over his incredibly broad back and shoulders. He then fluffed up the numerous rows and layers of ruffles and lace on his “mega-pirate” shirt, which was now of cloth-of silver, and straightened his massive “commander's coat,” which was now of cloth-of-gold. He then opened the massive door, only to be confronted by three of the biggest, most lavishly-clad young super-giants he had ever seen. Quite clearly, David, Ruth, and Jenna had had given themselves the same “Nu-Yu” treatment that he had. The very sight of his three transformed friends enraptured him, as he threw his gargantuan arms around each of them in turn, es-pecially Jenna, whom he favored with what could only be described as an “ultra-mega-maxi-SUPER kiss”--a kiss that kept going deeper and deeper and deeper, until at last Greg simply had to break it off in order to breathe. David had brought the necessary documents for Greg to sign in order to formalize and legalize the transfer of the property from himself to Greg, an action which Greg promptly carried out with all man-ner of flourishes. David then gave the documents to a lavishly-clad young servant who was standing outside the front door, with orders to forward them to the proper authorities. Even as he did so, much to Greg's delight, his best friend's outfit became even more lavish, indicating an increase in David's net worth. He joyfully covered his best friend's face with kisses, thanking him again and again for his in-credible generosity. David, for his part, did the same to Greg, thanking him for his love and friendship, which had begun when they were both in kindergarten, and was now reaching its apotheosis. The culmination of these events took place two days later, when the two young couples were formally married in Las Vegas. Local newspapers described the affair as “the most lavish double wedding in Las Vegas history.” Every member of Greg and David's graduating class was present for the ceremony, all of them gorgeously dressed for the occasion. They all went wild when Greg announced that he was arranging full-expense-paid scholarships for each and every one of them all the way through their PhD studies, should any of them want to go that far. The reception and concert that followed featured the hottest glam rock groups and singers from the 1980's, all of whom wore outfits so extravagant that even Adam Ant shook his head in wonder. As might be expected, the two young “MEGA-couples” then proceeded to consummate their unions in the most luxurious honeymoon suites Las Vegas had to offer. They then returned to the beach house, now a “mega-mansion,” where the whole affair had begun. The two couples had decided to share the house, for they wanted to live together always. Despite the staggering wealth and muscle they all now possessed, the four young “mega-muscle-teens” were humble and grateful, and they all recognized the enormous responsibility that came with such blessings. As they made the return journey to their new home, they all prayed sincerely for God's guidance and help as they began their new lives of muscle and luxury together.
  11. Here are the next two installments of my story, I hope you like them as much as I enjoyed writing them! Parts 1-3: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/6460-dont-stop-parts-1-3/ PART 4: While Andrew was getting off on his improved physique, Nicole was wondering if she was moving too quickly. She hadn’t counted on him getting taller and more muscular so quickly, but she couldn’t deny that she wasn’t getting off on his improvements too. “Especially,” she though, “his biggest improvement.” She couldn’t stop thinking about how great their sex was and about how much more he was filling her up now than the night before, and she started to get wet. Her hands almost automatically drifted to her dripping pussy and started massaging herself. In almost no time she was moaning and gyrating thinking about how much more Andrew will be changing in just a few hours… Andrew had started masturbating almost as soon as he threw the ruler down on the bathroom floor. His dick felt so much thicker in his hand than before and so much more powerful. He ran his hands up and down his abs feeling the small ridges that he hoped would soon get deeper. He cupped his right bicep with his free left hand feeling how round and hard it was. He could feel it flexing and unflexing as his stroking got faster and harder, thinking about how it could get so much bigger if he started working out more. And just like that he felt a freight train rolling up through his balls and abs until he came all over his bathroom mirror. This wasn’t a small load either. This may have been the biggest load of his young life as he shot six thick streams of milky white cum all over the sink. He almost felt embarrassed that felt as good if not better than the sex he had just had with Nicole a few hours ago, but he chalked that up to having a bigger penis now. Just as he finished cumming he heard Nicole gasp and scream from his bedroom. He ran to her thinking something was going horribly wrong, but when he reached the bed he saw that she was just masturbating and had just orgasmed. In her sex-crazed state she grabbed his still hard dick and pulled him into bed, threw him down, and pulled of his pajama bottoms. She needed to feel his bigger dick in her mouth now, and she knew that she could make it bigger too. Andrew was having the time of his life. Just two days ago he had been a shorter, fatter, less confident student who had never had sex before in his life. Now he had the girl of his dreams pulling his pants off to give him his fourth blowjob in just two days. He had the added bonus of having just cum a few minute earlier, so he lasted a lot longer than usual. He was riding high on endorphins and starting to fall madly in love with Nicole. Everything was going well for him, and he finally felt truly happy for the first time in his life. And with that beautiful thought, he orgasmed. It was so powerful and thick he was afraid he might drown Nicole in his jizz, but she was a trooper and greedily sucked down every sweet drop. Andrew started to sit up once he felt his orgasm finally subside, but Nicole pushed him down again and sexily said, “Oh I’m not done yet, I’m still thirsty.” Andrew was only too happy to comply, although he did think it was a little strange that he could get hard so soon after cumin twice in just a little under a half hour. But once his cock started plumping up in her mouth again, he definitely stopped worrying and started basking in the pleasure she was providing him. The couple only got to sleep an hour later after Nicole had finished blowing Andrew for the fourth time. It seemed to him like she was addicted to his dick, but he had no idea about her ulterior motives. He just knew that he felt completely drained and would need to drink a gallon of water the next day to rehydrate his balls after the epic cumming he had just done. He knew it was 4:30 am, but he didn’t have class the next day, so he turned off his alarm and decided to sleep in the next day. Nicole fell asleep next to her soon to be improved boyfriend wondering if four doses in one hour was too much, but she realized that what was done was done. She was too committed to stop now. PART 5: Andrew woke up, even more peacefully than the day before. He rolled over and saw that Nicole had already left. He reasoned that she probably had to get to lab early, but he was still somewhat disappointed that he didn’t wake up to her gently sucking his dick like the day before. He rolled over on to his other side to check just how late he had slept in. He was shocked to see that it was already 2:00pm. He jumped out of bed, ran to the bathroom, and was about to jump into the shower when he caught a glimpse of his reflection in his bathroom mirror. The first thing he noticed was that his mirror was still caked in his dry cum from last night, but the next thing he notices was that he had transformed even more than he had noticed the night before. He was muscular now. Not bodybuilder muscular, but he could easily get hired as a fitness model by any supplement company. His pecs were round and firm and protruded an inch from his body. He tried flexing them and was surprised when they bounced way more than he thought they could. Looking above his pecs he noticed that his traps had grown significantly and that his neck was almost as wide as his head. His shoulders were so broad he was worried that he might have some trouble going through narrow doors now, and they were large enough that he could easily make out the heads of his delts. Turning his attention to his arms he noticed a large vein crawling over the top of his much bigger bicep. He did a double bicep pose in the mirror and could see nice clean split heads in his biceps. He could also tell that his arms had gotten to be at least 16 inches around (although he made a mental note to actually measure them later). His triceps looked swollen and hung from his arms like fleshy horseshoes. His forearms had also gotten much larger even though they were pretty large to begin with because of Andrew’s masturbation habits. Below his pecs lay a perfect cobblestone six pack with deep ridges just like he had hoped for the previous night. He flexed his stomach hard and could almost make out the beginnings of his last two abs. Even though he was proud of his six pack, deep down he didn’t think it was enough; he wanted his eight pack to show. His legs had finally made considerable gains and now looked thick and powerful. His calves had the beginnings of a strong diamond shape and made his look like he never skipped leg day. His upper legs had a width and thickness to them that made Andrew realize that he could easily be called “thunder thighs” and it wouldn’t be sarcastic. Turning his attention away from his sexy muscles (“Whoa,” Andrew thought, “did I just call myself sexy?”), he noticed he was much hairier than before. His face a nice even coating of five o’clock shadow. He ran his hands up and down his cheeks and felt just how bristly and manly he felt because of it. “I can probably grow a beard now,” he thought proudly. His chest was also covered in a light even coating of soft dark hairs that lead to a confident treasure trail leading to his crotch. His legs were also very hairy now, covered in thick wiry hair that was very noticeable “and very manly,” he thought. He was probably one of the hairiest Asian men that he knew at Cornell, but he still had nothing on some of the White guys who even as freshmen had sported thick full beards and chest hair. “Maybe soon…” he thought. As he looked down at his legs he noticed that the floor seemed farther away than usual. His growth spurt from the night before had dramatically increased his height. Like most kids, Andrew’s mom had kept a height chart on his bathroom doorframe to mark how much he had grown. His mom insisted that he continue the tradition while away from college even though he had almost fully completed puberty by the time he got to Cornell, and as expected, he had only grown a quarter inch in four years. However, this height chart now came in handy as he could easily see that he had grown significantly overnight. Getting out his tape measure he determined that he had grown to be 5’ 9”, an increase of four inches in the past two days alone. He was finally within average height range for men in the U.S. and well above average height for Asian men. All of his changes started to make Andrew aroused which drew his attention to his final change he hadn’t noticed because he was still wearing his now too short pajama bottoms. He almost cried tears of joy after pulling them down to his ankles and looking at his penis. It was magnificent. His ruler told him that he was now 4.5 inches flaccid, but his cock didn’t stay soft for long. It soon jumped to attention and ended up at its new rock hard length of 7 inches with a girth of 5 inches. He could hardly fit his whole hand around it and noticed with great happiness that he could almost fit a second hand on top of the first. All of a sudden Andrew realized that his life had transformed into something perfect and his endorphins rushed. He grabbed his bottle of lotion and begin furious masturbating to his own image. Pictures of Nicole and of their sex flashed in front of his eyes, but he was mostly focuses on the sexy facial hair, the beautiful biceps, his thick thighs, and his big cock. It took him no time to cum, having the greatest orgasm of his life (a feat which he seemed to be achieving every day now). His orgasm lasted for a minute, and his dick never stopped shooting thick ropes of spunk coating every surface in the room. After what seemed like an eternity, Andrew regained sensibility and decided to take a shower. He could clean up the bathroom later. However, his dick had plans of its own and decided not to soften at all. “Well, I guess I have no choice,” Andrew said with a stupid grin on his face. His shower lasted four times longer than normal and he masturbated an extra three times, each time cumming harder than the last. After stepping out of the shower he returned to his bed where he continued his epic jerk off session. He didn’t even look at the clock, he just kept going and going and going. He finally had to stop when he realized he needed to take another shower to clean the cum off of him that his Kleenexes couldn’t get. Looking at his clock now he realized that three hours had passed. Taking about 10 minutes to cum each time, Andrew then estimated that he had just masturbated 18 times in a row without stopping or running out of semen. He knew this wasn’t normal and this shouldn’t be happening, but he didn’t want to stop.
  12. hoola

    Don't Stop: Parts 1-3

    Hey everyone! This is my first story, but I've been reading the work on this forum for years now. I was finally inspired to write my own story, so I hope you all like it! These are the first three parts in what may end up being a long story, so let me know if you have any suggestions for directions to take in the next parts. There isn't any growth in the first part, but stick with it, this story is going to get juicy... Don’t Stop PART 1: Andrew woke up from his nap feeling refreshed and ready for his date that night. It had been weeks before he had finally worked up the courage to ask Nicole out, but he knew he had to give it a try before it was too late. They were both in their final year at Cornell and were at the top of their class, Andrew majoring in biology with a focus on human physiology and Nicole majoring in toxicology. Andrew was practically sweating out of his skin earlier this morning during biology lab, but all of his nervous planning paid off. She had said yes, and not just any yes. She seemed genuinely happy and excited to go out with him. Her excitement was only matched by his relief. With all the thoughts of Nicole running through his head, Andrew understandably had a “little” problem in his boxers, so he decided to take care of it before picking Nicole up. He pulled off his shorts and threw them hastily on the floor letting his four inch dick stand up proudly from his lap. Andrew knew he was under the national average in penis size, but as a Chinese man he had grown up accustomed to people making fun of his size and ancestry. Personally, his size didn’t really bother him too much, but he had always wondered what it would be like to be bigger. Not only that, but Andrew was not the tallest or most fit person at Cornell. He was only 5’ 5” tall and had just the slightest hint of a tummy bulging out from under his T-shirt. He had very little facial hair, and almost no body hair to speak of either. Despite his mental acuity and high academic achievements, his physique had always held him back from ever asking a girl out. Except for until earlier this morning. Although he had never had sex with a girl before, he had no shortage of sexual fantasies to play in his head as he was jerking off. Kissing Nicole at her doorstep, coming up for “coffee”, undressing her, seeing a vagina and breasts in person for the first time, sucking on one of her nipples, penetrating her with his rock hard… and with that Andrew exploded all over his sheets. He couldn’t believe how intense his orgasm was and how much he had cum (much more than ever before). He could have lay there for hours basking in his post-orgasm bliss, but turning over he noticed that it was already almost 7pm. He quickly jumped in the shower, cleaned himself off, grabbed his car keys, and sprinted out the door. He made it to Nicole’s apartment just in time. She walked out of the house looking so good Andrew thought his eyes would literally pop out of their sockets. A backless dress, stilettos, and a nice long leg slit made Andrew wonder how long he would be able to hide his erection. “You look amazing,” he said to Nicole as she got in the passenger’s seat. “You’re not looking too bad yourself,” she replied with just the slightest hint of a wink. “So where are you taking me tonight?” “I thought we could go to a movie and then grad dinner if that’s ok with you,” Andrew stammered nervously. “I mean, we can definitely do something else if you don’t want that. Or whatever, I don’t really care,” Andrew finished with a whimper. Nicole of course loved this scared puppy demeanor, it was what had made her interested in Andrew for the past year and a half. “Movie and dinner sound great!” she said. And it was great. They went to an old classic movie theater and watched Casablanca which he thought was great but she thought was a little too cheesy compared to the modern style of movies. Then they went to a little French restaurant where all the cooking was done by two old French grandmothers who were experts at making boeuf bourguignon. They realized that they actually had a lot in common aside from a mutual physical attraction and ended up leaving the restaurant holding each other’s hands. Finally, they ended up in front of Nicole’s doorstep. Andrew was both terrified and extremely excited to get his first kiss. He leaned in ever so gently and kissed her on the cheek. After a brief silence, Nicole turned to him and said, “Why did you stop?” The two then kissed passionately, sparks flying and fireworks dancing behind their eyes. After what seemed like an eternity Nicole spoke up again, “It’s a bit chilly outside right now, do you want to come up for some coffee?” Andrew’s jack off session started playing through his head again and he found himself thickening to his full four inches. “Definitely. I don’t want this night to stop.” PART 2: Nicole and Andrew couldn’t keep their hands off of each other as they ran up the stairs to Nicole’s bedroom. They tried to be quiet so as not to wake up Nicole’s roommates, but their moans and groans could not be stifled. They made it to the top of the stairs, burst through her bedroom door, and collapsed on her bed. It took no time for Andrew to remove Nicole’s shirt and bra, but it did take him a while to stop marveling at the first pair of boobs he’d ever seen. Nicole meanwhile pulled down Andrew’s shorts and underwear allowing her to stare and Andrew’s erection, the first erection she had ever seen. The two virgins wasted little time trying to throw off those titles as Nicole smoothly guided Andrew’s throbbing cock to her wet pussy. Andrew’s fantasy was finally coming true. He could feel every glorious second of his first penetration, her velvet walls enveloping him in a feeling of utter pleasure. It took everything he had not to cum right there, but he managed to hold on and start thrusting. Andrew’s thrusts were understandably weak and inexperienced, but he soon got into the swing of things. He was able to notice what Nicole liked and what she didn’t like as much (although to be honest she was enjoying everything a lot) and adjust his thrusting style to make her moan more and more. After a minute or so Andrew couldn’t hold it in anymore. He could feel the best moment of his life building in his balls, churning up through his core, and eventually erupting out of him like a primal roar. He screamed as he emptied his balls into Nicole which in turn triggered her orgasm. The two then collapsed on top of each other, panting furiously, silly grins spread wide across their faces, virgins no more. Andrew was on fire. His boner showed no signs of going away, and Nicole was only too happy to help him out. In his post-orgasmic haze he hardly even noticed her putting on some chap stick before taking his whole cock in her mouth in one go. “Oh baby my dick is going crazy!” he screamed. Her response was limited because his dick was in her throat now, but she managed to look up at him and wink in her special subtle way. Andrew continued to moan as Nicole went to work on his rock hard shaft and as her throat massaged his sensitive head. He lasted for a surprisingly long time (but still only a few minutes) before he managed to choke out, “I’m cumming!” He poured his load down her throat, and she greedily drank it down with no problems. This orgasm was so much more intense for Andrew than the first one. It was so intense in fact that he passed out soon after the biggest ejaculation of his life. As he drifted off into sleep he remembered thinking about how rude it was that he didn’t go down on Nicole, but those thoughts were soon replaced with dreams and fantasies replaying the past half hour all night long. The last thought he had before succumbing to sleep’s welcoming embrace was, “I hope this perfect feeling never stops.” PART 3: Andrew woke up from his perfect dream to the perfect view. Nicole had woken up a few minutes before him and had started to massage his morning wood to get it ready for some morning sex. Andrew couldn’t believe that he had had sex last night. He woke up feeling very refreshed and yet super horny. He also felt like his dick was about to explode out of its skin. As soon as Nicole sat on top of him and guided his cock into her open hole he forgot all about how weird it was that his dick felt bigger and instead started to ride the towering waves of pleasure he was experiencing. He came with a roar just like the night before, but this time he felt like he shot by far the biggest load of his life into Nicole’s quivering vagina. Unlike the previous night, Andrew decided to reciprocate the oral sex Nicole had given him. This was the closest he had ever been to a vagina, and he relished every second of it. She tasted so sweet and smelled so good he wondered if she had added any perfumed product around her vagina to make it taste like that. He felt like he could keep eating her out for hours, and by the sounds of her intense moans and gasps it sounded like she could go forever. However, after about fifteen minutes, Nicole’s alarm went off signaling that it was time to get ready for class. She hopped in the shower leaving Andrew to bask in the sunlight streaming in from the window… Andrew woke up to a sudden pain in his balls. He looked over the blanket to find a larger tent than he used to pitch. He ripped the blankets off the bed and stared at his dick. “There’s no way it’s still just four inches long,” Andrew mused to himself. It looked to be at least an inch longer than it used to be and maybe a hair thicker, although he wasn’t sure about any of it. “Maybe a trick of the late morning light,” he thought, although he secretly hoped he actually had grown. As he got up from the bed he noticed he felt a little off balance and dizzy. “That’s strange,” he thought out loud, “I thought I was finished growing taller years ago.” That wasn’t the only thing that had changed though. He also noticed he no longer had a chubby stomach. In fact, he could almost see the faintest outlines of his abs. Lastly, he noticed dustings of hair on his legs and the barest hints of a mustache coming in. “Finally,” he said, “I haven’t been able to get any facial hair no matter how many growth products I’ve tried.” He chalked up his increased masculinity to the fact the he had just lost his virginity and that his testosterone must be pumping in overdrive. Somewhat concerned but happy with his new appearance, Andrew decided to go home, change, and head off to class. He had a hard time focusing on anything though and spent most of the time texting with Nicole. She was only too happy to text back: A: Last night was fun right?! N: LOL yeah totally. And this morning A: Best alarm clock ever hahaha. After waiting a few minutes: A: How would you feel about round three tonight after dinner? My place? N: Sounds delicious. I’ll be over as soon as I’m done in lab! A: Awesome, I’m thinking about cooking sausage for dinner ;P And so with that Andrew ran to the supermarket to grab the ingredients he needed to make the best sausage paella Nicole had ever tasted. He also grabbed a pack of regular condoms and some lube (just in case she was more adventurous than he had hoped for). Dinner was delicious, and afterward they decided to relax and watch a movie together. Except that by the end of the first thirty minutes both of them knew that the other didn’t really want to finish the movie. Nicole stood up and straddled Andrew catching him a bit off guard and firmly kissing him. After a few minutes of making out Andrew asked, “What flavor chap stick is that?” “Oh do you like it? Some of the grad students in my lab are focused on making entirely non-toxic cosmetics and they said I could take a tube to try!” Nicole replied before diving back in for another kiss. Truth be told, Andrew really did love the taste of the chap stick and wanted more of it. Kissing didn’t last long though before the couple decided to ramp things up. Andrew ripped off Nicole’s shirt, happily surprised she wasn’t wearing a bra. Nicole in turn completely undressed Andrew and admired his new masculine traits. “Wow, I thought you had a little bit of a tummy last night,” she teased. “And the leg hair, I’m a huuuge fan. Emphasis on the huge which by the way…” she said looking aright at his fully erect cock. She could tell it was bigger than last night, and she needed it inside of her right away. She started sucking him off and could tell he was enjoying it by how loud and frequent his groans were becoming. For someone who had never given a blowjob before last night she was very talented. The pleasure soon became too much for Andrew to bear, and he shot at least five times down her expectant throat. He was just getting started. Andrew quickly led her to his bedroom, and Nicole threw him on the bed. Her pussy was on fire and it was not going to be satisfied until she and Andrew shared an orgasm. He mounted her and rapidly thrust his newly grown cock deep into her pussy. He could feel he had grown a little bit, the way her vagina felt tighter and the way his head felt bigger and more sensitive. He began jackhammering quickly in and out of her, pulling out completely before each thrust to feel the maximum effect of continuous penetration. Nicole meanwhile was just mouthing “oh god yes, ohhh so good” after having screamed so much she literally became speechless. Andrew on the other hand felt like a real man for the first time in his life. He grunted powerfully and felt completely in control. She had already orgasmed and he was proud that he had held off for so long already. However, just as Nicole was nearing her second orgasm, Andrew felt his balls begin to tighten and felt the familiar rush of energy through his core. And then they came together and it was beautiful. Nicole’s sex was undulating so much Andrew almost fainted from the amount of stimulation his head was experiencing. It seemed to last forever (and they both wanted it to last forever too), but all good thing must end eventually. They finally stopped convulsing and collapsed into each other’s arms. Both were too exhausted for words, but they cuddled together until they peacefully fell asleep. Andrew woke up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and almost tripped over his own feet trying to get there. He finally made it to his mirror and turned on the bathroom light. “What the fuck is happening to me?!” he gasped. Staring back at him from the mirror was still Andrew, just an improved version. His mustache had thickened and was becoming darker and more noticeable. He even had several dark hairs on his chin and a few thin dark hairs beginning to sprout on his chest near his nipples. Looking down he noticed that his shirt was fitting him better so he removed it to find out what was hiding underneath. He gasped again after seeing his newly defined muscles. His pecs were still pretty small, but there was a noticeable separation between the two and they protruded a bit from his body when he stood up straight. His arms were looking pretty good too, and when he flexed them he could see small golf ball sized mounds where he knew his biceps and triceps were. He also definitely had abs now, although they were the kind of abs that skinny people have because they have no body fat. Looking past his abs he could see that his thighs and calves had also bulked up, but not to anything truly spectacular. It merely looked like he enjoyed running every now and then. But the thing that really shocked him and made him gasp for a third time was what he saw when he took off his underwear. His flaccid penis which had previously only measured two inches long was definitely bigger. He wanted to know exactly how much bigger, so he snuck back into his bedroom to grad a ruler from his desk and then returned to the bathroom to measure himself. Three inches soft. He was overjoyed, and his dick began to harden thinking about his new growth spurt. He began stroking himself to reach full erection so he could measure just big he had become. Once he was as hard as an iron rod he found that he was five and a half inches long. Now remember, Andrew was a biology major with a focus on human physiology, so he knew this shouldn’t be possible. However, he wasn’t thinking about how illogical this all was or how improbable these changes were. He wasn’t even thinking about why this was happening. All he could think about was that he didn’t want this growth to stop.
  13. sl97aq

    Andrew Stories

    March 28th, 2013, 12:47 PM Andrew’s Senior Year: Prologue (Which is expanded into multiple Chapters in the Andrew Prequels) Andrew Pearson of Orillia, Ontario, Canada was a normal-sized kid for his first 10 years. He was even a bit on the small side, even though his father was 6 foot 3 and 230 pounds. He had red hair and blue eyes. His father Chad was one of the vice-presidents of a big sports company: Harrington's Sports Suppliers in Barrie, Ontario. Chad promised to provide Andrew with a complete home gym when he started growing, which occurred around his 11th birthday(October of 1998), when Andrew was in Grade Five. So Chad kept his promise and bought Andrew a bunch of gym equipment for his 11th birthday. He also got Andrew a guest pass to his company gym and began training Andrew in the proper weight-lifting techniques. Andrew wanted to be an NFL Player one day, so he wanted to get big for high school. By Grade Eight(Fall of 2001), Andrew had dedicated almost three years to his weight-lifting. The diet his father gave him, combined with puberty, helped Andrew enter Grade Eight weighing 200 pounds and standing six feet tall. He was the biggest kid in school, and his friend Mike Stevenson was almost his size. Mike had been weight-training with Andrew since the summer of 1999. Andrew and Mike both got top marks in gym class and the gym teachers were very impressed. His gym teachers had the high school football coaches come to scout Andrew at recess, when he played football with his friends outside. The high school coaches were very impressed with Andrew and Mike’s performance on the Youth Football team as well. They arranged for both Andrew and Steve to be put on the junior football team at ODCVI when they entered Grade Nine. In high school, Andrew and Mike were the biggest kids in Grade Nine. They were the only Grade Nine students to join the Orillia District Junior Football Team in the fall of 2002. Andrew now had regular access to the school gym, and his home gym as well. His father Chad had constantly updated his gym every birthday with the latest equipment. Andrew’s mother, Susan, had made a lot of money in a home-based computer business and then as an author, and she was a millionare. Susan and Chad wanted the best for Andrew and his sister Sarah, who had brown hair and green eyes and played on the girl's hockey team. So instead of buying a big fancy house in an exclusive neighborhood, they invested heavily in their kids’ education. Andrew wanted to go to one of the big football schools in the States, and so did Sarah, so their parents started the RESP investing early, to make sure they could finance their kid’s education with no trouble, if necessary. Of course, their hope was that both Andrew and Sarah would get athletic scholarships to big sports schools in the NCAA, which would completely fund their college education. Chad and Susan also made sure Andrew and Sarah got jobs after Grade 8 and saved their money to buy their first (used) cars for cash. By Grade Eleven(Fall of 2004), Andrew was the biggest person at O.D.C.V.I., weighing in at 275 pounds, with a height of 6 feet 7 inches. His friend Mike was a close second at 6 foot 6 and 260 pounds. They had been put on the Offensive Line of the Senior football team by Coach Everson. Andrew regularly broke through the opposing team’s front line in football games, sacking the quarterback before he could throw the ball. Then he showed great sportsmanship, helping the players up with an outstretched hand after he had knocked them down. Andrew also jumped to intercept the ball, and smashed through the opposing players to score touchdowns, after making the recievers fumble the ball. He simply ran over anyone who tried to stop him. Many opposing players left the field on stretchers that season thanks to Andrew, which he never intended. Andrew had a major shy streak however, which became evident whenever anyone praised him for his athletic achievements. He was tremendously admired and respected for his athletic gifts and sportsmanship. He was truly the ‘Big Man’ at his high school. Andrew felt guilty about all the people he had accidentally hurt on the field, so he visited them in the hospital to make sure they were all right. No one except the players he hurt knew he felt guilty, so to help him out, they told everyone about him helping them up off the field instead. Andrew worked slowly on ways to control his great strength so that he would not cause anyone any further injuries. By the end of the 2004 football season, he managed to get through the last few games without knocking anyone out. Andrew was respected for his academic gifts as well. He took a school IQ test in Grade Seven and the results came out to 150. Andrew didn’t want everyone to think of him as some kind of genius, so he begged his parents and the testersto keep the results quiet. They agreed, but told him that he would need great marks to qualify for a full athletic scholarship to an American football school. So Andrew studied hard, even when he didn’t need to, and regularly got 90s in the last years of public school. He even won a math award at Grade Eight Graduation. In high school Andrew's academic excellence continued, and he won at least one academic award every year. He also tutored a lot of football players in math and science, subjects he regularly got 90s in. Andrew also acted like a sort of mentor to the kids who were just starting to work out. Some of those kids helped him in return by tutoring him in subjects he found difficult, like Physics. Andrew also got a part-time job in his father’s company, using his great strength to lift heavy boxes and skids. He managed to get his bench-press to 700 pounds by the time he entered Grade Eleven; it had increased by about 100 pounds each school year. Andrew’s coworkers were amazed by Andrew’s awesome strength and how he always helped them when they needed it. Andrew acted mostly out of shyness or guilt, but everyone assumed he was just being helpful and kind. The only person who knew Andrew’s hidden feelings of shyness was his girlfriend, Carrie Peterson. She was Steve’s sister, but even though Steve was not friends with Andrew, he knew that he had no chance of taking Andrew on in a fight. So he kept his mouth shut about Andrew dating his sister. He knew Andrew would treat her like a lady anyway, so he didn't worry that Andrew would ever hurt her. Carrie knew how shy Andrew was and how he overcompensated with the jock act. She also knew how guilty Andrew felt whenever he hurt people on the football field, even though it was just part of the game. She was the one who helped Andrew control his own strength, by advising him to treat people as respectfully and gently as he treated her. So Andrew followed her advice and began helping up the people he knocked down, and visiting them in the hospital, if he had knocked them out. Later he managed to knock them down more gently, so that they could actually get up and play again. Most people saw Andrew as just a big jock, but Carrie knew better. I realized that this story could actually be a teaser for the Andrew Prequels (which I will rename Andrew's training) or a Prologue for his Senior Year (as titled). Please let me know which you prefer, as I have 14 Chapters complete of the Prequel and three chapters complete of Andrew's Senior Year.
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