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Blue Pill Part 15 James always kept in good shape his whole life. He ran track in high school and played tennis, giving him a lithe build with sinewy muscles. It wasn’t until James left for college that he started visiting the weight-room more often. That’s where his lust for muscle began, it’s also where he first met Titus. Back then Titus was an Adonis, he had the body of a Greek god. James quickly became good friends with Titus, lifting with him, hanging out with him, only to find that they were both going to school for the same thing. Being around all that beautiful muscle always had James hard. James didn’t think he was gay, but something about Titus’s body drove him wild. It was at that point in his life that he would do everything and anything he could to become bigger. So throughout his college years, James had packed on some muscle to his thin sinewy frame, giving him more of a swimmers build. At 170 pounds, packed with muscle, he wasn’t much to bat an eye at but he was still quite the stud. After college he became obsessed with working out and it wasn’t until he stated working with Titus at the same government agency that James fell off the deep end and started taking steroids. He wanted to do everything he could to catch up to Tidus. No matter what he did though, Tidus was always bigger. James would say to himself, “One day I will be bigger than you Tidus. I will take all that you have worked so hard for and make it mine.” As he stood staring at his reflection in the mirror, James thought for the first time in his life that his dream could become a reality thanks to the muscle growth serum he had produced. James brought his arm up into a tight flex and watched as his 20 inch orb of sweaty, veiny daddy muscle bulged in front of his eyes. He reached up and tweaked one of his nipples and gasped in a sharp breath of air as pleasure rocked through his body, making his almost 10 inch turgid dick bob in front of him. He looked down as he watched a glob of pre-cum fall from the tip of his penis to the floor. James let out a low guttural growl as he continue to tweak his nipple and let one of his hands wander down to his cock to give it a few strokes, covering it in his slick pre-cum. “Let’s see what this body can do.” James started with his legs. Squatting all the way down to the floor with his new found strength it was easy. He found himself squatting nearly 400 pounds by the time he was done with his final set. He couldn’t believe how full and pumped his legs were. You could see veins branching off everywhere through the matted hair on his thick bulging legs. His legs had to be closing in on 28 inches, which was almost as big as his waist. James loved how his thick thighs now pushed his package out. James gave his hard throbbing dick a few more strokes, sending pre-cum all over his lower abs. Next James headed for the bench top do some chest presses. He loaded the bar up with 250, about 50 pounds heavier than his usual. James finished his first set with ease. “That barely even gave me a pump!” James said, astonished as head added another 50 to each side. James got under the bar and started his first rep and found that it was the perfect amount of resistance. He loved the feel in his pecs as rep after rep he watched his meaty mounds bulge higher, quickly making his rock hard nipples disappear out of view. His hairy pecs were covered in veins and sweat by the time he finished his last rep. He dropped the bar on the support and sat up. Instantly he felt the new weight in his pecs from his pump as they pulled further down then they usually do. James couldn’t believe his eyes as he looked in the mirror. His pecs were so red and swollen from all of the blood he pumped into them. He reached for a nipple only to find they were more sensitive than ever. This time James’s dick belched out pre-cum as if he were having an orgasm, but he wasn’t. He scooped up some of his pre-cum and rubbed it over his hairy pecs, giving them a shiny appearance and making them slick. James kept rubbing his slippery hands over his nipples, making his dick shoot out more ropes of pre-cum. James reached back down and scooped up more pre-cum, this time slathering his dick in it. He stroked his dick up and down as he was rewarded with even more pre-cum. James caught the pre-cum in his hand this time, curious, he brought his hand up to his mouth and licked his palm. A buzzing sensation rushed through his body as his sensory nerves were overloaded. James couldn’t believe the rush, so he quickly lapped up all that was left in his hand. His eyes rolled back in his head as he reached for his nipple again to tweak it. James was quickly brought out of his euphoria as he felt his nipple slowly stretching further down on his pec. He opened his eyes, but didn’t see anything odd. “Hmmm, that’s strange. James reached back down to stroke his dick, and when he wrapped his hand around it he could have sworn it felt meatier, thicker almost. James looked up in the mirror and gasped at the full body pump he had. “Holy fuck! I didn’t look this hard a moment ago!” James had scooped up another handful of pre-cum to test his theory that he had formed in his head as to how he looked harder, when his wife Sarah walked in. “CHRIST JAMES! What the hell happened to you?!?” Sarah looked shocked as she eyed her husband up and down. James turned to face Sarah. When he did, she saw his throbbing man meat for the first time since walking in the room. “FOR FUCKS SAKE!!! IS YOUR DICK BIGGER TOO????” Sarah’s eyes about bugged out of her head as a wet spot began to form in the crotch of her yoga pants. “You like it baby? It’s all for you!” James rumbled in his baritone as he went into a most muscular, sending all of his veiny, sweat coated muscles into sharp relief. Sarah couldn’t believe her eyes as she stifled a moan and bit her lip, the wet spot growing ever larger in her pants. “I know you want this thick daddy dick inside you. Come here and show me how badly you want this dick.” James said in a cocky manner as he flexed his dick, making it bob up and down, causing the veins running the length of his shaft to bulge even more. Sarah didn’t need to be told twice. She quickly closed the distance between her and James as she came in for a kiss. James pulled her into his embrace, she feel into his thick meaty pecs and had to stand on her tip toes to reach his thick meaty lips. While locked in their passionate embrace, James slid his pre-cum soaked hand down the front of Sarah’s yoga pants and began massaging her pussy. James slid his index finger in as Sarah let out a moan against his lips. Her eyes rolled back in her head as he continued to push his finger in past the knuckle. As James began moving his finger in and out of his wife’s pussy, he noticed that it was growing tighter around his finger. He thought that meant she was readying herself for an orgasm. So he pulled his finger out and backed his hand out of her pants. James reached down with both hands, grabbing on both sides of the wet spot of his wife’s yoga pants and ripped them open, revealing his wife’s leaking, quivering vagina. James pickled up his wife to straddle the hole in her yoga pants over his throbbing manhood. Pre-cum was pulsing out of the tip of his dick at a near constant rate now as the head of his turgid cock pushed at his wife’s pussy lips. It was a tight fit, but his cock head eventually made its way in. James began pushing in only to find that he hit the back of his wife’s wall with only 4 inches of his dick inside her. He kept feeling resistance as if her pussy was getting tighter. “OUCH! James that really hurts!” James pulled his dick out. “Sorry baby, but I’m too fucking horny. I’ve gotta fuck one way or another.” With Sarah’s legs wrapped around his torso, James reached behind his wife’s supple ass and ripped a new hole where her thick luscious cheeks split. James lowered her back down onto his dick, this time entering her tight pucker, he pushed until his cock head popped in. His pre-cum soaking her ass cheeks as he continued to spill more pre inside her. All the pre-cum made it real easy for him to slide his dick all the way to the hilt. “Oh My Gawwwwd baby! That feels sooo fucking good!” Sarah’s eyes were rolling back in her head now. James took that as a sign so he began to pull back out just to push his dick all the way back in. Supporting her weight and with his dick still inside of her, James walked them over to the Weight bench and lowered Sarah down onto the bench. Sarah had reached up and started playing with her nipples as James continued ploughing her ass. James remembered that he forgot to work his arms, lifted the bar above his wife’s head. He started doing bar curls as he continued driving his dick in and out of his wife’s ass. Each thrust with his rock solid dick driving him to lift the weight harder and faster with his arms. James couldn’t take his eyes off of his thick bulging biceps as each rep drove the peak higher and cause his veins to pulse even thicker. After about 100 reps, James noticed an odd sensation. It felt as if his wife’s ass was growing tighter around his throbbing dick. James looked down in shock, only to see his wife playing with her nipples. What shocked him though was the fact that his wife’s breasts looked bigger and more solid. That wasn’t the only thing though, her whole body looked harder. Like she had been lifting weights for the past 6 months. Then James got a real surprise when his wife gasped as milk shot out of her nipples. “Am I lactating?!?” Sarah asked with a look of confusion on her face. Sarah brought her hand to her nose to smell and James quickly grabbed her wrist and brought her hand up to his mouth. He sucked her finger into his mouth, tasting the sweet nectar that her jugs now produced. “mmmmmmmm” James moaned as he felt a familiar tingling sensation throughout his body. After sucking her fingers clean James leaned in and took on of her nipples in his mouth. The moment the milk spurted into the back of his throat, he lost it as he began shooting his pent up load. James began bucking into his wife’s ass harder and faster like a feral beast as he sucked even harder at her tit. Sarah could feel her husband shooting inside her as his dick throbbed over and over, however each time it throbbed it didn’t seem to decrease in size. Sarah’s eyes rolled back again as James began to hit new territory with his dick. “How the hell is that even possible?!” Sarah wondered out loud. Sarah realized that wasn’t the only thing that had grown as she latched onto James’s arms as an orgasm swept over her. She began summing and she could feel it hit her belly and the bottom of her tits. Sarah was so lost in her orgasm she didn’t pay much attention to it. She kept feeling her husband’s arms as she felt the rock hard boulders bulge larger in her hands. “Oh Fuck!” Sarah yelped as James had completely drained her first tit. Even though James had already cummed he continued driving his dick inside his wife’s ass as he felt his dick pulsing larger inside her. James quickly began sucking Sarah’s other tit. As he did his back muscles bulged thicker his lats bulged wider, pushing his arms further out. James had to reposition his stance as his quads fought for space. Probably the most beautiful sight of it all was his monstrous pecs. Which his wife had a wonderful view of as they began to sag lower, filling with more meaty muscle. Sarah reached up, feeling his rock hard pecs until she finally found his nipples on the underside of his pecs. Sarah pinched them and as she did her husband moaned while sucking her milk, driving his dick all the way inside her. Once again she felt her husband’s dick pulsating in her, spilling his seed inside her. Sarah felt odd as it felt as if her back was sliding along the bench as her husband continued ramming his fuck pole inside her. She looked down at her own arms as she watched them bulge thicker right before her very eyes. Her breasts no longer looked like breasts, they were hard and starting to show veins. She watched as her other breast started to inflate a little. She watched as her legs, which were up in the air from her husband fucking her, bulged thicker as more muscle was pushed into her ballooning quads. Sarah’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as her husband switched back to the other tit. He had drained it in no time and there wasn’t much to take from the one he was on now. Sarah didn’t have much time to test her theory as to why she was growing, so she quickly reached her hands back up and gave her husband’s nipples a flick. This time James clamped down on her nipple with his teeth as he saw stars. He instantly began firing his load inside his wife’s ass. This time he came so much that cum started squirting back out and onto the bench. Sarah began cumming almost instantly as she felt her husband’s teeth clamp onto her sensitive nip. This time Sarah felt the sum spray all over her stomach and she heard a shot hit the bottom of her husband’s thick meaty pec. She had a moment of realization as her husband was still cumming inside her. So that was her cum that shot all over her. Surprised by cum hitting his pec, James finished milking his wife’s tit, just as they started to fill back up again. He leaned back up and noticed that his wife looked insanely muscular, like an amateur bodybuilder and her muscles were bulging right before his eyes, getting bigger with each passing second. “Fuck yeah! You’re getting so big baby, but nothing compares to these!!!” James lifted his arms into a double biceps pose as the peak rose higher and higher. “Gotta be closing in on 23 inches now. Jesus, look at these things!” James couldn’t takes his eyes of his own rock hard mounds of muscle. His body hair was matted down and covered in sweat from his intense workout and fuck session. Sweat dripped from his rock hard nipples as he continued to flex his biceps. Sarah couldn’t contain herself with the sight before her eyes, she reached down to finger fuck herself but when her hand got there, it hit something hard. She grabbed onto it only realizing that she was grabbing onto herself. Sarah looked down in time to see her own dick where he pussy used to be. It was growing larger right before her. The head looking swollen and angry, she gave it a few strokes and laid back again as she fired shot after shot against James’s rock hard abs. As Sarah’s dicked pulsed with her orgasm it made a wet smacking sound against her husband’s stomach. The sound of wet smacking and the feeling of cum shooting on him brought James out of his lustful state. He looked down only to see an unrecognizable face and body below him. No longer were there the supple curves of his wife or the big bulging breasts. Instead a handsome seasoned bodybuilder lay on the bench with James’s dick still buried in his ass. “My God, What have I done?”

Plotline: After centuries of living in isolation, Zeus decides to return to earth and have some fun as a human. The following is a work of fiction, this story does not make attempts to presume religious practices, faiths nor retell any historical events with accuracy. I I sit in my small throne room, levitating high above Olympus where I was forced to relocate after the explosion of Vesuvius so many earth cycles—well, years ago. For centuries I have remained here, a prisoner of my own mistakes, I assume, watching as my creations have evolved beyond me and my fellow gods. The years of warring and brute control of our human creations resulted in a devastating loss. With many of the Titans destroyed due to their own brutality and selfishness, I no longer have the influence over my people as I once did. I should have had the foresight to understand that humans would move beyond their faith in me; after all, there are plenty of other deities both evil and good for humans to invest their lives in, and they do have free will. As humans have stopped believing in my existence, my powers have also diminished. I'm sure other Titans exist elsewhere, perhaps in far off places and times, but in any case I am comfortable where I am. I have actually found it amusing to watch the human civilization evolve and grow over the centuries, they have discovered so much about how I and my fellow Titans created them and their environment. As I walk to my reflecting pool, I realize that it has been nearly 2000 years since I was exiled from the Roman existence. Jupiter, as I was called then, was their leader, their source of power, their ability to conquer and discover and rule and love, lust. As an immortal and a deity I do realize that time bends to my will, but I have enjoyed my current role as a hands off god, living in solitude high above Olympus. I perform nearly the same ritual each day that I have since I settled here, and though I am not dissatisfied with my immortality or my power, these last few years I have become bored and restless. I look down at my reflection in the pool, the cool water shining an emerald glow of myself back into my eyes. I wear the same white toga I have always worn, prestine in its own immortality. I appear to the be same age as I always have, my bright blue eyes reflected against my blonde, curly beard and a thick, flowing blonde mane wrapping down my head and behind my neck. Not bad for a human, typical for a god, though. I smirk at myself, we Titans sure did have fun in our day. We languished in our fluid sexuality, our carelessness and candor with each fellow god as well as humans. Even in our selfish and turse natures, I had no regrets for what I did. Hyperion and I would often go to Earth, visiting in human form. We could take our picks of the strongest and worthiest humans to bond with, gracing them with our godly sex. Theia would challenge us to plant our seed into as many humans in one night as we could, I usually won because I could coerce multiple men and women to come to bed with me at the same time, Hyperion preferred one partner at a time. Pulling the strap from my toga, I undressed and dropped my garment. I put my hand against my chest and feel my blonde hair gracing over my sturdy and flattened pecs, leading a treasure trail across my six-pack abs and down to my thickly hairy pubic region. I miss my sexual encounters, my tool misses it too. Years of masturbation on my own have caused me to grow longing and restless. I flex my quads and see my hair raise over my sinew. We gods always enjoyed our nude rituals, and my daily swim in my lake remains one of my favorite activities. I take a perfect dive into the water and stroke back and forth across the lake, feeling the cool water rush over my naked body. I couldn't help but ask myself what it would be like should I return to earth today. Humans with their computers and vehicles, their vast languages, cultures and technology. Only few rituals remain from my time as a ruler, how I would love to participate once more in the activity of human life. Of course there really was nothing to stop me. As a controller of energy and electricity I could easily and quietly work my way back into the plane of earthly existence. But what would I do? The political factions and cultural phenomenons are so different now. Does it even matter? Of course not, for I am a god, and I can integrate myself back to visit the earthly existence once again. A smile grew on my face and I stopped my stroke. Floating in the water I decided right then to spend at least a few days on earth. I levitated out of my pool and toward my observatory. Up until now I simply used it to monitor human activity, but today I will use it to find a location and a group of humans to integrate myself with. I dried my body and stood before my observatory windows, watching the present time in every place on the plane. I wanted to be young, athletic and with a group that had fluid and constant access to each other. A university setting, of course! But where? Humans today seemed to enjoy fame, particularly with athletes, I should be in a university setting where a particular sporting match is popular and well-respected. My people had always reveled in the sport my fellow Titans created: wrestling. I should be a wrestler, of course. I had never visited the Americas before now, and I wanted to try a new location. I found a university with wrestling as a primary, popular sport near the east coast of the Americas and set my sights there. I could locate there in human form, but that would be difficult to integrate myself. Instead, I could share my powers and possess a male athlete already integrated, it would be perfect opportunity for me to have some fun, for the man would have already established any social necessities. I turned my focus to the athletic center of the university, where around 12 men were scrimmaging each other during their daily practices. I had not possessed a human in centuries, it would be best to take one of them while he was alone. One man stood out to me, someone of Greek heritage, a man named Lukas, someone who had a long string of Greek heritage. He was not the strongest of the sport, but he was on the team and had a fair set of friends. He also seemed to be a bit of a loner, not terribly social but people did recognize him. Perhaps I could help him establish himself as a true Power Player of the wrestling team. Yes, that would be my way of thinking him for lending me his body for a short while. I informed my demi god servants of my temporary absence and prepared myself for my journey. I could teleport myself into the human plane of existence, but I would need to be creative to possess this human and take on his form. I quickly moved to my chamber that bridged the plane of earth and set my course for the Americas. I stretched my body and prepared itself for metamorphosis, I would need to take on my form of pure energy to most effectively gain control of Lukas, it would be quick and painless for him. Actually, it would be quite pleasurable, any human gaining the awesome powers of a god would enjoy it. I smirked as my chamber began channeling the energy of my body out and toward the earth, perhaps the centuries in solitude has made me softer to the human condition. In the past I cared not for human feelings and sympathy, I simply ruled with my intent. But today I plan to take this human with care and compassion. I looked once more at my raw, nude body as my sculpted, muscular form broke apart and into waves of blue energy. I smiled as my body morphed apart, skin and muscle splitting into a blue blur of energy. “Take me to the Americas!” I ordered as the room rocketed my energetic form downward into the plane of human existence. II I wrapped myself into the energy cables that seemed to cloak every part of human life and traveled in them toward the university, into the athletic center and into the light fixtures above the gym. 8 mats lay evenly spaced apart as young, strapping collegiate athletes pushed their own bodies and that of their foes to their fullest athletic ability. These men held the same passion for sport, for respect of the male form, and for athletic camaraderie that the humans I ruled over used to have. These were men who respected and were proud of their bodies, they were the perfect vessels for me. Lukas was out of breath, his muscles ached, but he was able to pin his opponent Victor against his own odds. He was able to exhaust Victor as he slammed him in a last pin, claiming victory for himself. “Damn dude!” Victor said, out of breath, “you've been training hard, man, you got the strength! Can't wait for our competition tomorrow, I think you're going to rock it!” Lukas also out of breath answered, “thanks Vic, that was fun man.” Victor laughed, “hey dude! I know you're not in a frat or nuthin but we gotta party going on at the house tonight. You should stop by. I know you haven't been yourself since Mercedes broke up with you. We're gonna have the girls over tonight, might be nice to get laid before the big meet tomorrow, ya know?” he added with a toothy grin. Lukas shrugged him off, “yeah we'll see man, I'm tryin to get over her ya know?” Coach called Lukas before he could finish a conversation. “Lukas, I need you to condition your quads before heading back to the locker room. Rest of you men, run 3 miles then hit the showers!” Vic gave Lukas a slap on his ass as the other guys headed toward the track. With Lukas alone I should be able to take his form with ease. I traveled through the walls and electrical structure following the young man to the weight room where he hooked up a quad machine and started pumping his legs. He wasn't as big as Victor or the other wrestlers, but he had his own stature, and as I watched him pump the machine in his singlet I was reminded of the warriors I used to train. Lukas had dark, short hair and thick tuft of arm hair underneath his pits. He would have had hair on his chest and legs too but he shaved it. The guy was a jock in every sense of the word, but he was not the arrogant, stereotypical showoff I was used to seeing in other men. Lukas grunted with each pump of the machine, I could read into his head he was considering going to the frat party, he wanted to be social, but he also took his sport seriously. The thought of being with a girl was arousing him, and he started having memories of his sexual escapades with his former girlfriends. His dick started rustling under his jockstrap and he felt it best to hold off on his fantasies until later. Lukas stretched himself in the weight room and looked at himself in the mirror. He was the only one in the room, and he started flexing to see his physique. He smirked as he moved his forearms up and down, looking at the tension in his arms, his sweat shining on his skin, his sinew bulking up and down tightly against him. Lukas turned to see if anyone was around, deciding to get creative. He took his left arm and pulled down his right tank, sliding his arm from underneath it before doing the same with the left. His sweat stuck his skin close to his singlet but he was able to roll it down across his pecs and down to his abdomen, exposing his thinly defined six pack and a shaven, shaped treasure trail below his belly button. He crunched his abs and examined his back, flexing his shoulders to see how much muscle he had gained. “Not bad,” he told himself. I respected this young man, he was proud of his body. I realized now was just a good a time as any to merge with him. I just needed him to touch something that could let me connect with him. I flickered the lights in the weight room to get his attention then cut the power off of the lights. “Shit,” he said, “did the power go out?” I turned on the emergency light right above the light switch. If he were to touch it, I could reach out and into him. Lukas looked at the switch, contemplating to turn it. “Yes, Lukas, touch it!” I whispered into his subconscious. He walked toward the switch and I began anticipating the ritual I had not done performed in centuries. I could feel a flutter of excitement wrack through my form. “This is it,” I told myself. Sweat dripping off of Lukas, his exposed upper body walking toward me, I beckoned for him to reach out. As soon as his finger hit the switch I moved beyond the wall and touched his finger, a blue spark of electricity gracing the human. “Mmm,” I told myself as a wave of orgasmic pleasure hit me. I sorely missed this. I branched out of the wall and covered his hand as Lukas's eyes opened wide. “Holy shit!” he shouted, “What is the fuck is happening!?” Forcing myself onto his arm I started to move up his body, covering him in my electric power. The young man's body felt shapely and well-defined. He wasn't a muscular behemoth but that wouldn't be a problem, I could certainly help him with that. I wrapped around his neck and onto his head before covering myself over his pecs and abs, wrapping over his singlet and down his legs and feet. Feeling the entire body was nearly orgasmic, but I had to integrate with him. “Oh! Wow!” he said, feeling new surges of energy on his skin, “Oh fuck what is this?!” I lifted the human off the ground as he twitched his body in pleasure, Lukas's breathing started accelerating as my energy diffused around him faster and faster like a tornado picking up a toy. I dug underneath the signlet and toward the man's loins, ripping the fabric and causing it to fall to the ground. “Uhh!” Lukas shouted, he was starting to enjoy this and didn't mind exposing his whole body to my power. I graced his exposed ass within his jockstrap as it began to fray from the violent power surrounding him, but I needed the man truly naked to take his form. Picking up speed, I dug into his strap and ripped it off, let his large package hang free, whipped around my cyclical power. “Rarr!” Lukas shouted as he tensed his muscles and flexed his arms. I felt his dick and wrapped between his legs and up his ass crack. This human was in great form, but I was going to improve him. Pushing my energy, I dug immediately into his body, thrusting myself through his pores into his nervous system. I moved into his form, flowing into his body gaining control of his muscles, thoughts and consciousness. “Umm, moree!” he shouted as he felt me enter his mind, “YES! OH FUCK, A GOD YES I WANT MORE!” he shouted again, lost in his own wrath of pure power pleasure as his brain wrecked with my own consciousness. I pushed my power into Lukas, starting at his arms, buldging his forearms with power as veins snaked down them, regrowing his dark hair thickening on his skin. His sinew wrapped up his arm and into his shoulders as his pecs swelled and bulged with power, his skin tone darkening to a warrior-like golden hue. My powers then dug into his abs, expanding his flattening pecs engrooving his abdomen into a tight, well defined eight pack. Lukas rubbed his bulging hands across them as his midsection widened and shoulder broadened, expanding his upper body. “Oh fuck yeah!” he shouted through the wave of power surrounding him. Our minds met. "OHHHH God! Yes! YES, it's ARGH, Zeus! Fuck yeah! The powers of Zeus!" Lukas shouted as his breathing increased, his body taking in my powers. Lukas stretched his levitating body, lurching taller, his growth giving him inches in height. His arms stretched downward as he watched his body swell and grow like never before, thickening as his chest and lats continued to heave with every deep intensely pleasurable gasp of breath. Lukas looked between his legs as they began to pump and grow outward, football-sized quads hardening between his dick and balls as his shins tightened with muscle and feet grew outward. His formerly shaven legs began pushing his dark hair out with aggression, covering his legs and reaching up toward his now shaking cock and balls. His adonis belt tightened, creating a deep arrow directly toward his package, chiseling out this warrior form. His cock pushed out with power as it moved to the right and thickened with increasing girth. His balls began dropping lower from the verility of godly seed I was feeding into him. I entered my consciousness into his as I began to feel the human's body, his mind, his alignment with my all powerful abilities. “RARRR!” I shouted as I blinked his eyes and flexed his muscles. I had forgotten just how good it felt to be human! “OH YEAH!” I shouted again, lowering myself to the floor as I ran my hands across my new naked and bulked body. “Umm, yes,” I said again, “this feels fuckin good! Why didn't I do this sooner!” I looked at the mirror and began posing every possible muscular show off I could, stretching my back, wrapping my arms around me, crunching my abs and quads. I ran my hands down to my package and felt my dick and balls, remembering how good the sex organ felt. I shut my eyes as I touched my uncircumcised head, “I forgot some humans do this now, feels good,” I said. I crunched my butt and gave it a solid slap before turning around. This was going to be a fun week. III I picked up Lukas's tattered clothing and began walking toward the locker room when I could sense a human working his way toward me. “It's Freddy, another wrestler, a freshmen,” I told myself, sensing who it was. He was going to catch me nude and truly ripped. I could turn invisible. Or I could have a human to have a little fun with. Freddy approached the bottom of the stairs and saw me fully naked and ripped my arms crossed, in a pose to wait for him. He considered turning around but couldn't help but stare at me. “Uhh, Lukas? Is that you?” he asked. “Fuck yeah, man! I've been pumping up my body where you've been?” I answered. “Uhh, I just needed to lift some before tomorrow's meet. Coach said I gotta bulk up.” “Yeah you do,” I answered, a smirk on my face. “What happened to you?” Freddy answered, walking slowly, his guard somewhat down, now. “You're fuckin ripped, what did you do to yourself?” I didn't know how to answer that so I just said, “hard work, my friend! I was posing after I finished pumping the weights and my singlet ripped. Hope you don't mind I'm naked.” Freddy looked me over once again and gulped. If he wouldn't have known me he would have been intimidated, but he also couldn't look away, I was lusting him in ways he had never felt before. I smirked again, “hey man, I'll help you condition for tomorrow, hop on the press,” I said, pointing toward the bench. “I'll spot.” Freddy was in a t-shirt and shorts with a jockstrap on underneath. He wanted to look like me, he wanted to be me, he wanted to anything he could to get like me. So he excitedly agreed and hit the bench. I spotted him for a few rounds of pumping, Freddy driven to try harder and harder as he looked at my naked form. “How did you get like that?” He asked. “Can I have some of that, even 10% of your power,” he said. “Let's train,” I answered, “I'll show you some moves on the mat and maybe you can gain some of this physique.” I wanted an opportunity to share with him some of my strength, and this was the perfect way to get me laid and to get him some of my power. Freddy walked out toward the mat and positioned himself, but I crossed my arms and stared. He looked up at me. “What?” he asked. “Am I doing something wrong?” “You wanna be a greek warrior, right?” I answered, pointing to my body. “Get naked we're wrestling like real men did in the days of the true warriors!” Freddy's mouth dropped but his lust for me took over. He had only ever been naked before in the locker room, never actually on a mat. But he realized that he allowed his buddy Lukas to remain naked during his conditioning in the weight roomnow, why not get naked too? He let Lukas stay naked because he liked it, and with Lukas's suggestion he was starting to like the idea of being naked himself. He shrugged off his t-shirt exposing his sweaty arms and glistening chest. He kicked off his tennis shoes and slid his sweaty socks off of his brown, hairy legs. The guy was short but had muscular physique. He wasn't afraid to show himself and he wanted to further condition too. “Well, you went all out,” Freddy said, “I guess I should too.” Freddy dropped his gym shorts before stretching his jockstrap out and pushing it to the floor, stepping out in his own naked form. He fluffed his dick and clapped his hands. “We're true warriors, huh?” he asked. “Let's fuckin wrestle then!” We both took a starting pose and ran into each other, using our energy to try to pin the other. I could have easily taken him down but wanted the guy to enjoy this moment. We knocked our naked bodies together, grabbing each other in the back and on the ass to pin each other down. I let Freddy flip me over as he landed on my back. As he did I felt his full erection against my lower back, pulsing with each fast heart beat against me, booming over and over in rapid succession. I smiled, this human was enjoying this body as much as I was. I flipped him back over and kneel above him as he looked at me wide-eyed. “You have a big boner there, Fred,” I said, nodding down to his dick. “Look at you, Lukas!” He shouted between breaths, “how could I not with a body like that?” “You want some of this?” I asked with a smile. “Fuck yeah! But how?” Freddy answered. I gave my dick a couple of tugs and let it grow out, its girth gaining bloodflow and thickening as it went horizontal and began pointing high toward the ceiling. I wrapped my arms around him and picked him up like a ragdoll, the man going limp with confusion and letting me take over his body at my will. I pushed him against the wall and sat my erected dick against his back, feeling his hairy butt and reaching around to his dick. “This is going to give you the body you want,” I whispered as I entered into him, Freddy grunting with pleasure as my ever-powerful dick melded into his form. I could feel my powers brewing within my body, preparing itself to transform Freddy into a mortal but muscle behemoth. “Yes, Zeus, give it to me!” Freddy said, connecting with my mind, “I want your powers!” I rocked my hips as I felt a mortal orgasm build within me. I had forgotten how good it truly felt. I ordered my immortal seed to deposit muscular growth into Freddy and I shot load after load into him, hearing him gasp with pleasure as he felt my power building inside of him. “Oh fuck! YEAH! YEEEAAAHHHH HAHAHAH!” he started shouting as his voice moved into lower octaves. “The POWER!” Freddy started twisted as his body exploded with muscle, shoving his ass free of my dick. His sinew running from his bulking and square ass down his quads and up to his abs, back, pecs and shoulders. He stretched his arms and saw them bulk thicker and thicker as his neck widened and hair grew over his chest, down to his ass and between his legs. Freddy grabbed his package as he felt his penis explode with pleasure, growing downward as his scrotum accommodated for the weight in his growing testicles. “Mmmm,” he said, reality sinking back into him as he looked around. “Lukas, Zeus, whoever you are, thank you,” he said. He grabbed me and took his dick, pushing it against my legs. “I'm fuckin behemoth, now! How long...” he asked. “I will return to my plane on Olympus in 3 days, you will return to your former self at that time,” I answered, “you will not remember this physique and this event with much detail, you understand why.” Freddy didn't seem to mind, “gotta have some fun for the next few days, then!” he said. “Where are you going now? What are you doing tonight?” His energy was surging with excitement. “Off to the locker room now, my friend!” I shouted, “most of our team is still in the showers. I think there's some more worthy men I would like to share this with.” “You're the boss,” Freddy said, “lead the way!”

Sorry for the long wait. Without further ado, I present to you... Blue Pill Part 13 Chris’s father James had just pulled up to the drive when he noticed an unfamiliar car parked in front of his house. “Chris better not have any of his stupid jock friends over, I’ve got Tiffany coming over later for a good fucking!” James said out loud in a pissed off tone. He headed up the front steps and into the house. Once inside he noticed a sweater on the floor next to the door. He picked up the sweater and placed it on the coat rack. “Fucking kids today have no respect for others property.” As James put the sweater on the coatrack a bottle fell out of the sweater pocket and rolled across the floor. He picked it up and examined the bottle. Right away he realized it was one of the bottles from his lab. “That little shit is in some serious trouble now!” James stormed off up the stairs only to find that the stairs were slick and covered with an opaque substance. “What is that smell?” James recognized the smell. It was an all too familiar scent. It was the smell of sex. The manly aroma of testosterone and sperm. He made his way over to his son’s door and threw it open expecting to give his son the beating of a lifetime, instead he was surprised to find a naked busty woman in his bed passed out and covered in sperm. The sperm still dripping from her gaping pussy. “I didn’t think my son had it in him. Well maybe I won’t beat him to death, but he is still in deep shit for the mess on the stairs and stealing my lab products.” As James walked further into the bedroom, he realized that the shower was running. James stepped over to the bathroom door and pulled it open, only to find himself staring at a wall of muscle in his sons shower. “Holy Fuck!” James whispered to himself in excitement. The behemoth in the shower was furiously scrubbing something in front of it, but by the looks of this monsters back, James could tell that it wasn’t his son. The manly aroma that was in the stairway was 100 times stronger in the bathroom, causing James big daddy dick to slowly start inching towards the bottom of his running shorts. James continued to watch the behemoth as it continued its stroking action and it released a beastly moan. James was now rock hard as the head of his dick poked out of the bottom of his shorts, dripping precum onto the tiled floor in the bathroom. James slowly backed up and shut the bathroom door, so as to not startle the muscle freak in his sons shower. “My god he is huge! He had to of gotten ahold of some of my lab products, but which ones?” The girl on Chris’s bed began to stir and as she did she moved her arms down from up above her head. As she did, James noticed a tribal tattoo on her right arm. “My son has the same tattoo on his right arm. HOLY FUCK! Chris, is that you?” “D..adddd….” Chris said as he coughed up cum. “Christ! What happened Chris?!” but before James could get a response, he heard the water turn off to the shower, so he quickly darted out of his sons bedroom so he didn’t get caught by the monster on the other side of the door. Thinking quickly, James ran off to his bedroom. Closing the door behind him and locking it, he ran for his walk in closet. Once inside he threw back some extra bedding at the far end revealing a keypad. He entered his passcode and a doorway was revealed at the back of the closet. Stepping in, he was surrounded by computer screens and vials and desks where all of his recent work could be found. He shot over to a wall with a single vial in a case. It was pure black liquid inside. “I haven’t had a chance to test it, but desperate times call for desperate measures!” James pulled out a syringe jabbed it into the stopper and pulled the plunger back on the syringe, filling it to capacity. James lowered his shorts, revealing his plump smooth daddy dick. “Well here goes nothing.” James winced in pain as he stabbed the needle into his right testicle and injected half the syringe. He then pulled the syringe out stabbing it into his left testicle and emptying the syringes contents. James pulled the needle out and slowly massaged his sore swollen testicles. James dropped the syringe as he fondled his sore swollen testicles in his hands. They were about the size of large eggs, massaging them back and forth as he winced from the pain. “Time to go test out this serum and see if it works.” James heard a moaning sound as he left his lab and headed back towards the hall. As he got closer to his bedroom door he realized the sound was coming from his son’s room, but it sounded like the moans of a woman in the throes of an orgasm. James tiptoed down the hall, hoping to catch a peak of what his once alpha jock son was moaning about. James reached the door and grasped the doorknob, slowly turning it as to not disturb what was going on in the bedroom. As a sliver of light was cast into the hallway, James could see his son still laying on his bed. Writhing on the sheets as he continued to moan in pleasure. James leaned forward just a little more to see what was causing his son to moan with such pleasure only to find the behemoth from the shower at the foot of his sons bed. The muscular freak had a hand on each one of his son’s breasts and was tonguing his pussy hard. Pinching his nipples as milk began to flow from them. The behemoth leaned forward and sucked a little from each tit and James watched as the muscular monster slowly got larger right before his eyes. “You want to see me get bigger don’t you?” The behemoth boomed out in his deep baritone bass. Chris writhed on the bed in pleasure as Derek slid his muscle milk covered fingers into Chris’s tight snatch. “Please put it in me. I want to feel you fill me with your seed” Chris moaned delirious with sexual delight. “You know what I need you to do then” Derek said as he produced a bottle of pills from down on the floor and shook one out into his hand. “You’ve got to take one of these if you want me inside you again.” Without hesitation Chris snatched the pill out of Derek’s hand throwing it in his mouth and swallowing quickly without giving it a second thought. Derek stood up tall and then leaned down kissing Chris hard on the mouth as his throbbing python slick with pre rubbed against Chris’s moist snatch. Derek’s dick had to be close to two feet long now and Chris was beginning to wonder how he was going to take it. Derek began pushing his thick mushroom head into Chris’s pussy, finding resistance as he tried to enter. Derek pushed harder and Chris screamed as the head popped into his waiting pussy. “Fuck you’re so tight!” Derek moaned as he began moving the head of his dick in and out of Chris’s pussy, making the lips swollen and puffy from the workout they were getting. Chris began panting and shaking on the bed. “Fuck, I’m so fucking close. Derek I’m GOING TO CUM!!!” Derek quickly pulled out and leaned down to suck up all the sweet juice that Chris had to offer. Pushing his tongue deep into Chris’s tight snatch to make sure he got all of it. Derek stood back up and couldn’t believe the sight before his eyes. Chris had begun to grow. Chris’s fingers were tweaking his nipples as his tits began to push out even further, forcing his hands to reach even farther to play with his nips. His waist got more slender as his hips pushed out making a perfect hourglass shape. Derek couldn’t contain himself anymore. He quickly threw both arms underneath Chris and lifted her up as he made her straddle his throbbing dick, which Derek finally realized was slowly growing from Chris’s pussy juice. Derek lowered Chris down onto his dick but the pussy lips wouldn’t part. Derek pushed down hard on Chris’s shoulders as tears began to flow down Chris’s face, but those lips just wouldn’t part. The whole time this was going on, James had pulled out his dick in the other side of his son’s bedroom door and was stroking his 8 inch thick cock. “Now is my opportunity” James whispered to himself. James swung open his sons bedroom door, just as Derek was about to try to shove his cock in Chris’s back door. “Why don’t you give my son a rest and give me a go.” Derek quickly turned around, not expecting anyone else to be in the house. He was surprised at what he saw. Standing in front of him was a thick built muscle daddy in his mid-forties. He was hairy, but trimmed and to top it off he had a thick uncut cock dripping with pre cum. As Derek eyed up the muscle daddy, all he could think of was the potential mass that this man could help him add to his frame. “I’ll make a deal with you.” James said as he saw some slight hesitation in the massive monsters eyes. “Whoever cums first has to take one of those black pills.” Derek quickly looked at the bottle on the floor with a surprised expression. “Yes I know about those. Who do you think invented them?” James said with a sparkle in his eye. “What do you say? Sound like a deal?” James reached his hand out to shake with Derek. Derek reached his big paw out and shook James’s hand vigorously. Derek didn’t let go of his hand as he quickly reached for James’s other hand and pulled him up against his own muscular frame. Derek took in a big breath, breathing in James’s manly alpha essence. A grin formed on his face because he knew that everything James possessed would soon be his. Derek lifted James up until his hairy muscular thighs were straddling his enlarged python. “Fuck me big boy.” James growled in Derek’s ear. Derek, still on edge from Chris’s transformation, shoved James down on his dick as the head popped in and the first foot of dick went in with ease. James instantly threw his head back and began to moan as Derek filled him in ways he never thought was possible. “Yeah, how do you like that? Those muscles will be mine daddy!” Derek dove his mouth down on James’s thick daddy dick and continued to drive his own dick ever deeper into James’s hole. Derek could taste James sweet pre-cum filling his mouth and he wanted more. Derek began sucking hard like a vacuum. James couldn’t believe how fast he was reaching his orgasm. ‘This is going to be way too easy’ James thought. Derek could feel James was close to orgasm as he felt his ass clenching around his massive fuck pole. With one last thrust, Derek shoved his dick to the hilt in James’s ass and reached up pulling hard on his nipples as he sucked his cock for all it was worth. James’s eyes rolled back in his head as he could feel his cock bucking hard inside Derek’s mouth, shooting volley after volley at the back of Derek’s throat. Derek, amazed at the volume this older daddy could produce, had a hard time keeping up, but wanted every last drop of that sweet nectar. When the last remnants of James’s orgasm had been sucked clean from his quivering dick, Derek let the dick fall out of his mouth with a pop. With Derek’s dick still in James’s ass he threw both of his arms up into a double bicep pose and roared. “I AM A GOD!!! AND WITH YOUR MUSCLES I SHALL GROW EVEN MORE!!!” Every vein exploded forth underneath Derek’s paper thin skin has he began firing his pent up seed inside James’s tight man hole. Derek began pistoning his 26 inch dick in and out of James’s tight hole, making cum squirt back out as he continued to shoot. Derek dropped the bicep pose and latched onto his own nipples, pinching them. He reached his hands up tasting the sweet nectar from his fingers as it dripped from his nipples. Derek’s eyes flew open as he realized he was producing milk. James had a huge grin on his face as Derek finally looked him in the eyes. “What did you do to me?” Derek said with a look of panic in his eyes. “My Turn” James said as the walls began to spin around Derek.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Yo, I finished up this next chapter early so I'm posting it . I planning on writing the next one and posting it on Wednesday too. This section was really fun to write. I gets pretty intense in some places and I know you guys will love it. So here it is. A College Weight Room Story: The Path to Gains Monday: Resurgence Part 9 I’m standing in the locker room. I’m completely nude, but I don’t care. For the first time I don’t care if anyone walks in and sees me naked. My body looks great so why should I care? My pecs bulge out of my chest so much that my nipples point down. My lats are so swollen that they get in the way of my biceps. My biceps are rock hard with vascular veins pumping their way down my arms. My abs are rock hard, my ass is thick and my legs are as huge as tree trunks. I look down at my erect cock and smile; who wouldn’t want this cock? The locker room door suddenly opens and I look up to see Ethan walking in. His eyes bulge out of his head as soon as he sees. I give him a cocky smile, almost laughing at the bewildered look in his eyes. He stands frozen by the door. “Uh…What’s up man?” he says. He looks a bit embarrassed. His face is turning red, but he shouldn’t be. He’s not the one without any clothing. “Just getting changed into my compression shorts,” I say as I point to the bright red shorts on the bench. I turn towards him and continue to speak. My erect dick points in his direction and I know he is trying his best not to stare. “You gotten really big, man. Way bigger than when we first met. It’s amazing.” He slowly walks into to the bench beside me and takes his bag off his back. He starts removing clothes from it, not taking his eyes off of me once. “Like what you see?” I ask. His face turns red. I feel amazing. I love having this effect on people and when it’s a bro like Ethan, it’s even more amazing. “I…I…I want to see what your muscles looked like flexed…” “Really now?” I say with a smirk. “Yes…Could you flex for me? “I’m glad you asked.” I make my way closer to him and flex my pecs. They bounce up and down and I notice his breath hitch. “Have a feel,” I say. Within a second his hand is on my hard pec. He squeezes and I flex beneath his hand. I can feel my dick getting harder. I lift my right arm and flex my bicep. His hand makes its way to my biceps and he slowly caresses his hand across it. “You’re like a rock,” he says. “It’s not the only thing that’s a rock right now,” I say. We both look down at my dick. “Yeah, I can see.” BAM!! Ethan and I both jump. The bathroom door burst open with such force that the noise echoes through the entire locker room. We both look to see who it is. It’s Troy… and he is angry. He rushes over to us, his shoulders hunched up, grabs Ethan by the arms, and tosses him across the room. “Troy!” I scream. VRRRRRRRTTT…VRRRRRRRT…VRRRRRRTT… My eyes burst open and I see the ceiling. The sun’s morning glow caresses every surface of my bedroom. My phone is ringing. It’s what woke me up. I immediately grab my phone and answer the call. “Hello?” “Yo dude, what’s up?” “Ethan? It’s like...” I check the time on my phone. “9 am.” “Yeah, well I texted you and didn’t get an answer. I saw Troy after my 8am class this morning and he says today is a good day for a little wrestling.” “Really? What time?” “He’s only free at 10:30. He has a class at 12:30 and he wants to shower and get lunch before.” “That’s a little over an hour from now! I haven’t even eaten breakfast yet, Ethan!” “Well let’s go eat ASAP and meet him at the gym.” “Okay,” I say. I feel a sharp pain in my groin and look down at my swelling cock. I’m rock hard from my dream. I can’t ignore it either. “Give me 20 minutes to get there.” “Aight, cool. See ya man.” “See ya.” I hang up the phone and my hand is immediately on my dick. I usually sleep nude so it was easily accessible. Tossing the blanket to the side, I hastily begin tugging at my ever swelling meat. My body is craving the satisfaction of a good cum and I can already feel the energy building up in my body. I feel the energy flow from my cock up into my chest and my breathing gets heavier as this familiar spark of energy rushes through my veins. My hand continues to stroke even faster. Precum begins to leak from my cock onto my lower abs. The veins in my dick protrude as my blood pumps harder. I’m getting close. I’m moaning now. I can’t control myself because of how good I feel. The pressure in my nuts rises, the tension getting stronger and stronger and suddenly I burst. I suck in a large gasp of air as streams of cum begin to shoot out of my dick. My back arches as one jet, then two, and then another three jets of cum shoot out of my dick. The first shoots over my head onto my pillow, the second onto my shoulder and the last three onto my chest. My arm drops and I start to relax. “Fuck,” I say breathlessly. It’s been a while since I came this much. My breathing is slowed and more relaxed now so I grab the shirt I took off last night to clean the splattered cum off my chest. Thoughts of my dream start to come back to me. I imagine Troy throwing Ethan again and my chest aches. I could never see those two hating each other. Why was Troy angry and what does it mean? I have a bad feeling…a feeling like something horrible could happen, but I don’t know what could cause it to happen or why it would happen it all. Whatever may happen, I’m sure it has something to do with an altercation between Ethan and Troy. I look at the time on my phone. I have 10 minutes left to get dressed and then go meet Ethan. I go to my closet, put on some jeans and a T-shirt, and pack my backpack with my singlet. Then I’m out of my room and out of my frat house in a flash. “Bro, what’s on your mind?” Ethan says. We had been eating for about 10 minutes and our conversations had been shortened by periodic silences caused by me being lost in thought. He jerks me out of my thoughts and I look at him startled. “Nothing man. I’m just thinking of a dream I had.” “What was it about?” “Uhh… Just school stuff. I dreamt that I failed a test in my criminology class and then I had to drop out of school because I couldn’t finish my Criminal Studies major and then I died…” “Whoa, man! It was just a dream! None of that will actually happen.” Whew! He fell for it. There is absolutely no way I am telling him about the violent part of the dream. Maybe one day I’ll tell him about the worshiping. I love muscle worship, but I don’t know if Ethan does. Not yet. “I know. I’ll get over it. So how was your night?” I say as I scoop scrambled eggs into my mouth. I want the conversation to change. “Well after basketball yesterday I showered, ate dinner, and just chilled in my room. It was a pretty laxed evening. Not to be too personal, but every time I exercise I get a rush of testosterone so you can figure out what happened when I got alone in my room.” I laugh at him not so subtly admitting that he masturbated. “Bro, trust me,” I say. “I totally understand. This morning was pretty hard for me… wait I didn’t mean that! Shit!” Ethan spits out the milk he is drinking and we both burst into laughter. Ethan even ends up coughing a little. “Dude, I’m sure you said what you meant. I bet you were pretty hard,” Ethan says with a wink. This just puts me in another uncontrollable fit of laughter. It’s moments like these that I believe Ethan wouldn’t mind at all if I asked him to flex for me or vise-versa. Before we know it, it’s time to go wrestle and Ethan and I make our way over to the gym from the dining hall. We head over to the locker room as soon as we enter the gym and I begin to remember my dream again. I shrug off the thoughts. There’s no way that will happen. I open the locker room door to see one single person in the room, Troy, and he’s standing completely naked. He still has the round, full ass that I remember. His back is turned to us Ethan and I as he rummages through his locker. I look over to Ethan who seems pretty chill. Nothing unusual about a naked guy in the locker room right? He turns around and sees us. “Vonny!” he says. He gives me a huge smile and begins to walk over to me, still nude. His dick flops around as he comes near and I freeze up. He brings me into a tight bear hug and all I can think of is how strange this must look to Ethan, but this is typical Troy. He still feels as firm and strong as he did before. I guess muscle regression takes a little longer for him. “How have you been, bro?” I say as he lets go. “Hanging in there?” He looks over to Ethan. “What’s up, Ethan?” He walks over to Ethan, still naked, and gives him a handshake. “Nothing much, man,” Ethan says nervously. “I’m ready to kick both of your asses though!” I guess that nervousness was temporary. “Oh, really?” Troy and I both say. “Then let’s put our singlets on and wrestle!” I say to Ethan. We quickly change. Troy puts on his tightest grey compression shorts and a tight grey compression shirt. Ethan sports a dark blue singlet and I a black one. Once we are dressed we make our way over to the mats. “And so the fun begins,” says Troy. “Ethan, you and I go first. Winner takes on Von.” He moves his way to the mat and Ethan takes his position in front of him. I watch as the two beasts go at each other. Troy seems to have the upper hand. He’s about 30 pounds heavier than Ethan. I remember him saying he was 170 pounds in the past, but I have no clue how much mass he has lost since then. He is still strong though. He flips Ethan onto his back and slams him on the floor. I hear the breath leave Ethan’s body, but he doesn’t give up. He slips from beneath Troy and latches onto his back. Troy struggles beneath Ethan’s weight and lets out a deep grunt, his face turning red from the pressure. I watch in amazement as these two monsters go at each other and I feel the familiar surge of energy in my groin. “You can’t beat me, bro!” Troy says. He flips onto his back with Ethan on it. Ethan lets out a loud puff of air and he lets go. “Damn!” he says. Within a second Troy pins Ethan down again. I watch him struggle beneath him, the sweat dripping down his face. It’s nice to know that Troy still has his strength. After a few more rounds, Troy comes out as victor and it’s my turn to go up against him. “I thought you were top dog, Ethan!” I say to taunt him. “Guess today just isn’t my day, man,” he says. I look down and see a hard bulge protruding through his tight singlet. I smirk at it. “Alright,” Troy says pointing at me. “Your turn!” He looks at me with such determination. It has been so long since I’ve seen his eyes this bright. “Let’s go! Bring it” I say, edging him on. I move to the mat and suddenly he is on top of me. His thick pecs connect with mine and I feel his arms wrap around my back. His grip is strong and there is nothing I can do to break out. I miss how powerful he was and it seems that his strength hasn’t wavered at all. He is too strong, even for me and my body is repeatedly slammed and pinned to the ground. I’m amazed and in no way upset by his display of power. After a few rounds I am sweaty and tired, but Troy seems even more pumped. I can tell he misses this. He must miss exerting himself and feeling powerful like he is now. I feel a little sad for him. After he is finishes whooping me, we towel off. “That was the most fun I have had in a while,” Troy says to me and Ethan. “You’re telling me,” I say. “This is great!” I finally have my bro back. I feel that Ethan, Troy and I could be bros for life. “So Von, you wanna go for a workout? “says Ethan. “It’s only 12:00 and I don’t have class for a couple hours.” “That sounds great man,” I say. “You heading to lunch Troy?” “Yup, I’ll see you guys around.” He fists bumps us both and we separate. Ethan and I walk into the weight room and Troy out the gym door. We make our way over to a weight bench by the window. “So Ethan, I noticed you were a little happy down there earlier?” I say teasing. “Bro!” he says embarrassed. “You know how things get in the heat of the moment. Popping a boner is—“ He suddenly stops speaking. He is staring out of the window. I look in the direction he is looking and see what he sees. Troy is outside of the gym and he is yelling loudly at a girl in front of him. His back is turned to us and I can see the girl’s face. She has curly strawberry blond hair, freckles and glasses. It’s his girlfriend, Terri, and she is beyond pissed. They don’t notice us through the window, but I can hear their every word. “I told you never to go here again! You know I don’t want you looking like a fucking freak, Troy!” Terri says and begins to storm off. “I wasn’t working out, babe!” Troy cries. “I was wrestling with my friends!” He begins to follow her and their voices begin to fade as they walk away from the gym. “Wrestling!? Who wrestles!? I know that’s a lie. I know you are covering up and you were really in the weight room.” “But I fucking wasn’t!” “Don’t lie to me! Why can’t you do this one thing for me Troy!?” He speaks but he’s too far away to hear now. I stand beside Ethan in shock. I never imagined their relationship so…fiery. Ethan and I just look at them as they walk away. “What a bitch,” he says.

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

Blue Pill Part 12 Chris stared up in awe at the mammoth his was now impaled on. Never in a million years would Chris imagine the scene that he was living in right now. As Derek continued sliding his dick in and out of Chris’s ever tightening hole, Chris began to take inventory of his own body. “Oh my god, I’ve gotten so small!” Chris let his hands roam all over his body feeling his diminished abs and his now smaller arms. He finally got to his pecs and felt the deflated right pec, however his left pec was still engorged and pulsing with muscle power. “Derek! Please, you have to stop! I can’t get any smaller. I need to find a way to gain all my muscle back.” Chris said with a panicked look in his eye. Derek continued pumping his dick in and out of Chris as Chris tried pushing Derek back. It was no us, Derek’s adamantine ass was too powerful for Chris to stop the pumping motion. “I will Stop little Chrissie, as soon as I drain that last pec of all that delicious muscle milk.” Derek grinned as he reached towards Chris’s left pec, grabbing the swollen melon in his hand. “Ohhhhhhhhhh FUCK” Chris moaned out loud. “Derek please, you can’t do this. I worked hard for my muscles. I promise, if you let me go now I will show you where my secret stash is! Just let me go!” “Oh I already found your secret stash, why do you think I’ve gained all this muscle. However, when Luke had me take the white striped pill it didn’t drain my muscles. What did you do differently?” Chris’s eyes went wide with the realization of what the black pill does. “Oh my god, the black pill causes you to lose muscle mass!” “The black pill?” Derek looked at Chris slightly confused. “Tell me where this black pill is and I might let you go.” Derek teased as he began to lick Chris’s nipple. Chris began moaning again at the new sensation on his extremely sensitive nipple. “Ohhhhh…ok, but only if you promise to give me my muscle back.” Derek stood there staring at Chris for a moment. “Deal, now where are they?” Derek began backing up, pulling his long dick out of Chris. Chris, feeling ecstasy and relief at the same time as Derek pulled his dick out, thought maybe Derek wasn’t so bad after all. “Upstairs in my bedroom, in my desk drawer.” Derek leaned in to Chris and passionately kissed him on the lips, sliding his left hand behind Chris’s lower back and his right hand behind his neck, Derek began lifting Chris off the bench. As he did so, Chris began to slowly slight back down Derek’s mammoth pole. “What..what are you doing?” Chris said in a half moan half shocked sound. “I’m taking you with of course. I would hate for you to be lying to me and then make off with the bottle yourself.” Derek grinned maliciously as Chris’s ass finally touched Derek’s pelvis. Chris felt so full with all of Derek inside him, but he knew that 6 of those 19 inches were rightfully his and he would soon have them back. Derek began walking with his dick inside Chris, lifting his ass up a little and then dropping it back down on his dick. “So you only took the black pill?” Derek asked Chris as Chris’s eyes rolled back in ecstasy. “FUCK!” Chris yelled out as he blew another load all over Derek’s abs. “No…I took two blue pills… with a black pill…” Chris stammered between bated breaths. Derek had heard all that he needed to. He began kissing the base of Chris’s neck and working his way down as they rounded the corner in the hallway. Derek latched onto Chris’s pec as he began to ascend the stairs. His thick muscular legs bulging with power as he continued to lift Chris up and down on his pulsing rod as he pulled hard at the milk in Chris’s left pec. Chris couldn’t even process what was going on, “what… are… you… doing?” Chris’s eyes were rolling back into his head as Derek reached up to Chris’s pec with his right hand, while still supporting Chris’s ass with his left, he began to squeeze the pec, forcing the milk out even faster. Derek could feel the climb up the stairs getting easier and easier as his legs grew more massive from the flow of muscle milk. His arms began to bulge larger as it made holding Chris up easier and his pecs began to push Chris further away from him as he continued to fuck him and suck out the remaining muscle milk. Chris looked over Derek’s bulging boulder shoulder and noticed a sweater lying on the ground and two pill bottles sprawled across the floor. “Here, take these. You’ll need them to get bigger” Derek said as he handed Chris two of the plain blue pills. Derek leaned back in, pulling the last of the muscle milk from Chris as Chris greedily took the two blue pills. Once in Chris’s room, Derek finally began to lift Chris off his gigantic pole. Chris could almost touch the 8ft ceiling when he heard a loud *pop*, as the head of Derek’s dick popped out of Chris’s hole, releasing a flood of cum all over his bedroom floor. A loud wet smack was heard as Derek’s glistening dick head smacked into the cleft between his pecs. Chris felt weak when Derek finally lowered him to his feet. Like all the strength had left his body. “Alright, let’s get you bigger. Where are these black pills?” Derek asked as he began opening drawers on Chris’s desk. “I was afraid you wouldn’t stick to your promise, so I lied about where they were, but since you were honest I will tell you. They’re on top of my medicine cabinet, but I don’t think I can reach them at my current height.” Chris said as he stood on his tiptoes trying to reach the bottle of pills on top of the cabinet. “Here, let me help you with that.” Derek reached forward and grabbed the bottle with no struggle thanks to his new height. Derek quickly unscrewed the cap and looked inside. He shook the bottle, dropping a single black pill into his hand. “All I have to do is take this along with two blue pills and you will drain your muscles back?” “I believe so, that’s what I did before you came over.” Chris said looking hopeful as he saw two blue pills appear between Derek’s fingers. “Well here goes nothing.” Derek threw back the two blue pills and swallowed. He stared at the black pill for just a moment and then popped it into his mouth as well. “Before we do this, do you mind if I take a piss real quick?” “Not at all.” Chris said, all too anxious to gain his muscles back. He backed out of the bathroom and sat on his bed waiting for Derek to finish pissing so he could grow into the massive beast he was before. Derek shut the door as a huge grin spread across his face. He spit the black pill back out into his hand where it joined a blue pill with a white stripe. “He has more muscle to spare, plus he’ll gain it back really quick. There’s no way I’m giving up this body.” Derek whispered to himself as he looked up into the mirror. He brought one of his biceps up into a flex and he could touch the peak with his hand it was so big. Derek then brought his arm down and did a most muscular pose showing off his massive upper body. He began popping his pec muscles up and down. Watching the hefty meat pillows bounce. He reached up with his right hand and tweaked his nipple. He began to moan as pre-cum began flowing from his dick head between his pecs. *KNOCK KNOCK* “Is everything ok in there?” Chris said from the other side of the door. “Yeah, sorry. Just got a little excited in here is all. Almost done” Derek looked at the two pills in his hand, trying to figure out how he was going to get Chris to take them. He didn’t want to force him. As Derek continued to wrack his brain trying to think of a solution, his throbbing dick head continued to pulse out pre cum, throbbing and smacking him between the pecs. It was then that Derek realized the solution was right in front of him this whole time. Derek took the black pill and rubbed it along his dick head, getting it slick from all the pre. He then began to slide it into his dick hole. He pushed his pinkie in after it making sure it was down in there far enough. He then did the same thing with the white striped pill. Moaning the whole time he did it, the last knuckle of his pinkie finally pushing in through his piss slit. Derek pulled his pinkie out and turned to open the door. He swung the door open to reveal a shocked Chris standing on the other side. “Jesus Christ! That thing was inside me!” Chris couldn’t believe his eyes as he stared at the python before him. Derek’s dick looked red and swollen and thanks to its thickness you could barely see the two small lumps along the underside of his dick. “I would like to put it inside you again before I lose all this muscle.” Derek said with a sly grin on his face as he grabbed his dick, moving it side to side and rubbing pre all over his nipples. “However much I would love to have that thing inside me again, I don’t want to stray from the process of getting my muscles back.” Derek put a pouty face on “at least tell me that you’ll suck it for me and worship this rockin bod one last time before I lose it all.” Derek threw both arms up into a massive double bicep pose. Veins snaking all over his arms as his dick continued to throb between his pecs. Chris, feeling bad for Derek’s predicament, reached forward and grabbed a hold of the base of his warm thick flesh pole. “I guess I could at least do that for you, since you’re willing to do this for me.” Chris pulled down on Derek’s dick, finding some resistance as the thick snake fought to stay up. Chris began licking the cock head and swirling his tongue in the pre cum, drinking it up. Chris knew that part of this dick would soon be his again and it made him hungry. Chris launched himself onto Derek’s dick, taking the first 6 inches, but not being able to go any further due to the girth. Derek slowly moved towards the bed as Chris continued to suck in the tip of his dick. Once Derek could feel the bed behind him he lowered himself until his ass rested on the edge, the bed angrily protesting underneath his weight. Derek could feel himself getting closer as Chris began to stroke his meat as he continued to suck on the head. A moment of panic filled Derek’s senses as he could feel the two pills being pushed up his dick by Chris’s stroking. He knew he had to shoot and he had to shoot soon, otherwise Chris would figure out what he was trying to do. Derek laid back on the bed propping his upper body up on his elbows as he began tugging hard on his nipples. “Ohhhhhhhhh Fuuuuuuucckkkk, I’m about to shoot!” Derek leaned back up as he felt himself reaching climax. He grabbed the back of Chris’s head and shoved him down another 6 inches on his dick. “FUCK HERE I CUUUUUUUMMMMM” With a foot of his cock snaked down Chris’s throat, Derek began to unload his seed. He could feel the two pills leave his dick as they were launched out with the force of his orgasm from behind. Derek held Chris there for a moment, making sure the pills had made their way into Chris’s stomach. Derek let go of Chris’s head as Chris quickly backed off the pole, gasping for air. *COUGH COUGH* “What the fuck…*cough* is wrong with you! I almost died” Chris said as tears streamed down his face, gasping for breaths as the color returned to his face. “Oh, don’t over exaggerate!” Derek said with a grin on his face. Chris shot him an evil look. “You’ll regret that.” “Oh come on…here, I’ll return the favor.” Derek lifted Chris up by his armpits as he took Chris’s dick into his mouth. Chris’s dick quickly went from soft to rock hard as Derek’s expert cock sucking skills were put to the test. Even though Chris was 6 inches smaller than his previous size, 8 inches was still a decent size. Chris began to feel up Derek’s massive arms as he held him in place. Feeling all the veiny mass in each orb, he couldn’t believe what his muscle had helped create. Then something struck Chris as odd. “Hey! Shouldn’t our dicks have gone back to their normal size by now?” Chris began to feel panicked as he felt Derek’s dick head splitting his ass cheeks. “That’s weird, how is your dick head suddenly hitting my ass when you haven’t lowered me at all.” A grin grew on Derek’s face as he continued sucking on Chris’s slowly deflating cock. “Derek, you have to stop. Something is wrong. I think I’m still shrinking.” Chris tried pushing himself away from Derek’s expert sucking, but he didn’t budge at all. Derek began to moan as he felt his cock head finally penetrating Chris’s tight ass. It was too much for Chris as he began to blow his load down Derek’s throat he could feel his dick quickly shrinking in Derek’s mouth. Derek began sucking even harder at the feeling of Chris’s cum hitting the back of his throat. He could feel his dick tingling as it began stretching even faster, pushing further and further into Chris without either one of them moving. Chris was down to a tiny nub of a dick as it popped out of Derek’s mouth. It was too small to suck but it was still leaking precious dick juice, so Derek continued licking at Chris’s nub forcing his own dick to surge into Chris even further. Derek had to spread his legs further apart to make room for his ballooning testicles. Chris and Derek both looked at Chris’s dick in shock as it inverted into his body leaving a gaping hole where his dick once was. His balls shriveled up until they just became flaps of skin around where his dick used to be. “Holy Fucking Shit” Chris squeaked as his voice went higher. “Oh my god, Derek you have to stop, we have to figure out how to reverse this.” Derek didn’t listen as he dove into Chris’s new slit with his tongue. Licking Chris’s new moist flaps for all they were worth. Chris began moaning as he reached down and began tweaking his nipples. Derek pulled the head of his dick out of Chris’s ass and the dick head smacked Derek in the chin. “No fucking way! I’m a fucking god!” Derek moved his cock head to line it up with Chris’s new tight hole. “You ready for the fucking of a life time?” Derek looked down at Chris’s body. It still resembled a lithe swimmers build, but he now had a super tight vagina instead of a dick. Derek began shoving his dick into Chris, watching as it pushed his stomach out from the sheer mass of it. He watched the head of his cock travel further and further until it got lost in Chris’s rib cage. “Fuck! Your pussy is so much tighter than your ass!” As Derek bottomed out he looked down and realized he still had 10 inches of cock to go. He pulled his dick out and shoved it back in making Chris moan with tears streaming down his face. Derek began bucking into Chris faster and faster all the while making Chris bounce up and down on his dick across the bed. Derek watched as Chris’s bouncing pecs began to get fuller, bouncing more and more. “Why is this happening? They shouldn’t be growing again?!” Chris said with panic in his voice as he grabbed onto his enlarging man breasts trying to keep them from growing. They began to spill out past his hands. Seeing this drove Derek into a frenzy. Not wanting to waste a perfect opportunity, he grabbed Chris’s wrists with one hand and held them above his head as he leaned in and squeezed Chris’s right man melon, causing milk to spurt into his waiting mouth. Derek latched onto Chris’s tit as he squeezed and sucked for all it was worth. Amazingly the size didn’t diminish at all, it just got softer in Derek’s hand as he felt the milk slow down to a trickle. Derek reached over for the other tit and did the same. He began to feel his frame pulsing larger and piling on more muscle as he sucked all the male virility from Chris. Derek could feel himself reaching the edge as he continued to pump his dick in Chris’s tight snatch. Derek released Chris’s breast and threw both of his arms up into a double bicep pose as he drove his dick as far as it would go into Chris. “FUCK YESSSSS, WORSHIP YOUR GOD YOU LITTLE MUSCLE BITCH!!!!!” Chris watched as Derek’s biceps exploded with power. Chris began to squirm as his tight snatch clamped down hard on Derek’s dick, releasing his juices all over the massive schlong. Derek’s dick surged larger inside Chris, forcing the cock head even further in. Chris began choking as something felt very wrong inside him. Derek picked Chris up and pulled him into a passionate kiss as he plowed his exploding dick into his moist snatch. He wrapped his sinewy arms around her as he began to taste his own cum in his mouth. He pulled back from the embrace only to see that Chris was blue in the face and cum was spewing out of his mouth. Derek slowly slid his dick out of Chris and laid her on the bed as his dick continued spilling its seed all over her unconscious body. Derek continued flexing and worshipping his own body as he walked into the bathroom. “NO FUCKING WAY! I HAVE TO BE THE BIGGEST MAN ON THE PLANET!” Derek couldn’t believe the site before his eyes as he admired all the new beef on his frame in the bathroom mirror. Derek waddled his way over to the bathroom scale “330 FUCKING POUNDS! IM A BEAST!” Derek roared as he flexed his arms above his head! “I CAN”T WAIT TO BE TWICE THIS SIZE!”

Hey guys here is part three of A College Weight Room Story: The Path to Gains. Here is the link to part two. https://muscle-growth.org/topic/8710-a-college-weight-room-story-the-path-to-gains%C2%A0/#comment-89862 Enjoy! A College Weight Room Story: The Path to Gains Part 3 Outside. Tuesday Morning. Cardio and Abs Day: I wake up to my phones alarm at 8:45. I grab it from underneath my pillow and turn the alarm off. There’s a text from Troy. Troy: Morning bro. I’ll be at your front door a couple minutes before 9. Be prepared. It’s a nice day out. I jump out of bed and take off my clothes; my roommate has left for his early class so I have the freedom to walk around my room naked. I go into my bottom dresser drawer where I keep all of my gym gear and throw on a pair of black compression pants and a blue stringer tank top. Then I grab some black gym shorts and drag them over the compression pants. It would feel weird running in just the compression pants themselves. I can’t have the imprint of my dick visible for the whole campus to see. Before I leave my room, I look into the mirror. Perfect, the stringer hangs low enough to keep my pecs visible. The juicy round globes burst through the stringer and I’m not even pumped. Next, I grab a small bag and fill it with spare clothes and put it on my back, then I go downstairs and head for the front door. I check my phone as I open the door and I see Troy has texted me again. He’s already outside. I go out and he’s standing in my driveway wearing a fitted grey shirt and a pair of fitted bright yellow compression shorts that show a clear imprint of his heavy cock and balls. What… how… why is he wearing that outside? I can’t believe my eyes. He wears the shorts as if showing off his junk is a normal part of his day and I try not to look down at his cock. I gather my thoughts and try to behave normally. “You got here fast,” I say. “I woke up early and I was so pumped that I had to get here!” “Let’s do this then!” I reply excitedly. I really want him to turn around so my eyes stop wandering to forbidden places. “Yeah, let’s go!” he says and immediately turns around and breaks into a run. I start running and follow closely behind. Oh shit, now I have his tight ass to look at. Squats have really been doing him justice. I can see each ripple of his chiseled glutes through the yellow shorts. I try to focus on something else and I raise my eyes to his back. I can see his mountainous traps poking through the tight grey shirt, riding their way up his thick neck and I crave traps of that size. I need to have traps that huge. I notice darker spots appearing on his shirt and he begins to slow down to an eventual stop. “That’s one mile down,” he says. “One more to go.” He then strips off his shirt, revealing his solid abs and finely haired chest. He has a little happy trail that doesn’t take away from the marvel, but increases it. It makes him seem manlier. He turns and run again. I try to focus on other things as we run: the science buildings, the freshman dorms, the trees, the nice 70 degree weather, but his recent shirtlessness has all of my attention. I stare at every inch of his back as we run. His entire back seems to be flexed as he runs and I wish I could stand and punch it repeatedly to feel the power I know it holds. We stop in front of my house again after two miles and I am beat. “Alright,” I say between breaths. “That wasn’t so bad. Now I need to go to the gym and work on abs.” “Abs?” he asks. “I actually need to work my abs, bro. Can I come with?” “Hell yeah, bro! Why not?” We walk to the gym from my house. Troy puts his grey shirt back on and a little bit of my anxiety shrinks. I was starting to lose it from seeing him shirtless. It’s a short walk; takes less than 2 minutes. We show the desk worker our ID’s and head into the weight room. “So what do you usually do for abs?” Troy asks. “I start off with weighted ab crunches,” I say as I walk over to the weight rack and grab a 45 pound plate. “Ready, bro?” “Wow man, that’s a lot of weight. How many reps do you do?” “40.” “Jeeze.” He looks nervously at me. “I’ll try.” My world suddenly stops for 2.5 seconds. Did he just say he will try? I think I may have just found his weakness…Abs. He grabs a 45 pound plate and we make our way over to the floor mats. We both lay on a mat and begin doing crunches. Troy seems fine in the beginning, but he begins to slow down. He stops at around 26 reps, but I keep pushing. He looks over at me as he lies on his back with eyes that subtly hint at jealousy. “Damn Von, your abs are stronger than mine!” I push to 40 and then lay back, breathing heavily. “I know you have 3 more sets in you,” I say. His eyes basically pop out of his face when I say this. I smile cockily at him. I seem to have a lot of control in this situation and I have to keep myself from laughing. “Um...Maybe you have 3 more sets of 40. I’ll go for 20.” “Haha ok man.” I am awestruck that I finally found something I am better at. We finish our sets and move on to doing ball crunches, then hanging leg raises, then Russian twists. Our abs are burnt out so we head to the locker room, grabbing towels from the front desk on our way over. He walks into the restroom first and I take a leak. Troy takes his shirt back off and begins to flex his abs in the mirror. I finish peeing and walk over to the mirror. I take off my shirt and start flexing my abs too. Troy can't be the only one to put on a show. “Your abs are getting solid, bro,” he says. “Thanks man, you aren’t too bad yourself.” His abs are red and twitching beneath his skin. My hands are twitching to punch those muscles, to feel the solid impact, but I’m too nervous to ask. “Alright, I need to get clean. It’s shower time!” he says. He walks into the locker room and I follow behind him. He goes to a locker and removes his clothes for the day. I set my little bag down on a bench and take off my shorts, leaving on the compression pants. I look up and my body stalls. Troy is standing with his back towards me with his hard, chiseled ass out in the open. His ass is as white as the moon and his huge round cheeks look strong enough to crush bricks between them. I stand there with my compression shorts still on and he turns around. “Aren’t you gonna shower?” he asks. Troy is standing in front of me completely nude with just a hand covering his cock. “Yeah… I’m just… I’ve never seen anyone get naked in here before.” “What?! That’s what locker rooms are for!” he replies, both hand waving in the air, revealing his flaccid 5 inch meat. “The locker room is a safe place to be naked and enjoy it and the best part is that people can admire your body and you can admire theirs without any consequences.” He starts flexing both biceps as if he is being watched by anyone other than me; his cock is swinging between his legs mercilessly. He turns around and does a double bicep back pose, extending one of his legs and revealing his heavy balls between the cracks of his thighs. He turns around and I look back at him awkwardly. I notice that his cock is starting to get a little hard and he knows it too, his hand makes his way down and he starts to stroke it. “Let me help you, bro,” he says.” He walks forward, still semi-hard, gets down on one knee and grabs the band of my compression pants, ripping them down and revealing my 4 inch, flaccid, black cock and ass for anyone to walk in and see. His head is extremely close to my cock and I am paralyzed with fear. He looks down at my dick as if it was a normal part of his day and gets back up, turns around and walks to the shower. “Let’s go, man.” I follow behind him and he stops at the first shower. I go to the second, but barely make it past him before he slaps me on the ass. HARD! The sound resonates in the shower area and I jump a little. “Damn, bro. Those squats are doing you justice.” “Thanks,” I say and chuckle nervously. “Same to you man.” “You haven’t felt these beauties man. Give them a good squeeze.” He turns his back to me, his ass waiting to be worshipped. He didn’t have to tell me twice. I grab both of his ass cheeks and give them a hard squeeze. They feel like rocks in my hands. “Fuck,” I say. He begins to clench his cheeks and I feel so much power in my hands. It is getting harder for me to breath and I start to get hard from his clenching, so I let go. “Alright,” I say. “Shower time.” I walk into my shower and he goes into his. I hear his curtain close and his water turn on through the thin shower wall and I start to relax. I turn on my water and I make it extra hot. That was close. I feel the water rush over me and I start to breathe normally again. I desperately need to cum but I will save it for later. After two minutes, I hear something from Troy’s shower that sounds an awful lot like moaning. “Troy, you ok over there?” Uhh…I’m gonna be honest with you because you’re my bro. It’s been a while since I had sex with my girlfriend.” “So that means you’re— “Spanking the monkey, chocking the chicken, beating my meat, yup!” I can’t believe it. I’m in total shock. “Oh…” “Hey man, there’s nothing better than a good orgasm after a workout. Get hard and try it out!” He didn’t have to tell me twice, I was already hard and hearing him moan through the thin shower wall turned me on. “I always like feeling my pecs and nips when I jerk it. It makes my cock drip so much,” he says over the rush of the water. I begin to stroke my cock and then I hear his moaning. I begin to go faster and he gets louder. I start to moan and he hears. “There you go bro! That’s good shit right there. Fucking bust your nuts all over these walls.” I completely lose it at his words and blow all over the place. I moan in complete ecstasy and I hear him huffing and grunting as his wad shoots from his unseen hard cock. “Ugh..fuck!” he say. “I really needed that,” “Me too” “Well it was nice to do it in your company man.” We both finish showering and walk out of the showers, still naked but not awkward anymore. We walk to our clothes and as we get dressed, I see that his cock is still red and semi-hard from the tugging. “We should shower next to each other more often. It’s way more fun!” Troy says. I’m a little thrown off by what he says but I keep it together. “Haha yeah. Sure man.” “So see ya for leg day tomorrow?” “Yeah, for sure.” We are fully dressed by this point and walk out of the gym. Troy and I leave the gym and he fist-bumps me before we go our separate ways. There are so many questions in my mind. I know Troy is straight. He has never shown any sign of curiosity. He has a girlfriend, but why aren’t they having sex? I’m turned on by Troy, but only because he’s a strong alpha and I admire that. I admire how competitive he is and how he pushes me to be stronger. I know that I’m not feeling love for him, but today was strange. He’s never been this close to me before. He literally stripped me down today. Something is changing in Troy and I think I’ll start pushing him a bit to see what will happen. I know just how to push too… Wrestling.

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

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

PREVIOUS REFERENCE: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/4099-my-partner-moves-on/ https://muscle-growth.org/topic/3760-my-twin-moves-on-chapters-1-12/ --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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

Links to chapters of "The Twenty": "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - The Musclemen Revealed: Inside Zaftig's Lab Precis: Valhalla Labs is a remote mountaintop Northern California military facility, overseen by genius muscle growth scientist Dr. Ira Zaftig and CO Staff Sergeant Rod Moster, a 7'-0" ripped and hung 395-pound black muscle giant. There, 18 extraordinary bodybuilder-soldiers live, train, and play together, overseen by Moster's strict rules and brutal regimen for muscular perfection. Known as Project Herculaneum, the men serve as Dr. Zaftig's lab rats, receiving regular injections of P-21, a specially developed enzyme that facilitates muscle and strength growth in the very few bodybuilders whose systems can withstand it. The goal: to create an army of supermen, whose strength, size, and combat skills are unparalleled in the modern military. Unfortunately for the Project, the soldiers' enhanced strength and dramatically increased muscular size is accompanied by a corresponding increase in priapic size as well, along with a rapidly diminishing sense of social restraint and inhibitions. And along the way, the men's extraordinary physiques prompt their own extreme muscle fantasies into a daily acting-out sexual reality. Into the mix comes young Casey Rockland, a lonely, handsome, super-hung 18-year old bodybuilding giant. Inducted by Dr. Zaftig into the top-secret government muscle strength and growth project, Casey comes to learn the ropes amongst the muscle giants, whose hunger for hardcore training is matched only by their sexual appetites and growing fantasies, including their insatiable need to receive muscle worship. Casey's innocence, simplicity, and his growing need to receive both love and muscle worship threaten the very core of the decade-long Project, itself only now approaching its full potential. Chapter 19: Further Encounters, Part 1 February 10th, 2022 2050 Hours Sam moved quickly along the corridor. Only a few minutes before, The Twenty had walked this way. Probably still marching in single file, too. He paused for a moment. Which way? He strained to hear something. Beneath him the low rumbling of the compound generators churned the stillness the night. No other sound. To his left was a men’s room. He went in. It was vast and cold and institutional, but strangely it featured - or perhaps it was not so strange - a 20' wall of floor to ceiling, full length mirrors. He gazed at his reflection. “You need a shave, pretty boy,” he said to himself, rubbing his day old stubble. He grinned at himself. Sam Victor was an uncommonly handsome young man. His easy masculinity was accented by his graceful, lean swimmer’s physique. Stripped naked, he was all sinew, abs, tendons, and light, lean muscle. On the street he was used to turning heads, and when he visited his sister in LA a year ago everyone he encountered thought he was a young television star whose name they just couldn’t place. He enjoyed watching them stammer and pretend they recognized him. A trained athlete and all flexibility and power himself, Sam knew full well where his urges led him. He didn’t care, really. Neither did anyone else. A few years back, just 16 and an Annapolis cadet, Sam had learned that what he liked to do just about better than anything on earth was destined both to make him devoted new friends, and at the same time, just might advance his career in the Navy. Sam liked to suck cock. No, he loved to suck cock. He loved the feeling of a man’s erect penis plunging and exploding in his mouth. And he was spectacularly good at sucking cock, too. I’m just a cocksucking pig, he thought with a self-satisfied smile. And he had no compunction about using his dazzling good looks and slightly self-effacing charm to go about getting what he wanted. What he needed, that is. At first furtive and choosy about his partners in the dorm rooms back in his campus days, the word quietly spread that the winning young Junior Varsity swim team captain was unusually talented. Far from creating poisonous issues or problems, his fellow cadets were are first curious, then appreciative, then driven to frenzy when experiencing Sam’s delicately pouting young lips sliding down the poles of their burgeoning manhood for the first time. After swim practice, he could regularly plan on an hour or more of a selection of the Academy’s largest and finest young chlorine-soaked penises plunging powerfully down his throat. Sam’s square young jaw became as strong as his swimmer’s stroke. He could suck steadily and powerfully for hours, and had been known on a number of occasions to steadily service a roomful of 30 of the dorm’s biggest, eagerest cocks for hours into the night. Oddly, it never interfered with his studies. In fact, it helped him to focus. He dreamed at his own reflection. There before him just minutes ago he had been confronted with 20 of the largest cocks he had ever seen in his life, all lined up in a row. And then, there was Casey’s dick. Now there, there, there was a penis one could really get down with. This was a man’s penis. Sam’s mouth watered. In his uniform officer slacks his beautiful blond tool was still rigid with keen and specific intention. He closed his eyes. He envisioned himself working the line-up of those 20 musclemen, moving slowly down the line as he sampled the goods, taking each new man’s heavy penis into his mouth and sucking him languorously to full throated climax – and then moving on to the next. He’d save Casey for last. ***** The officers and Admiral Walrus were gathered at a large conference table in Zaftig’s spacious outer office. The door was closed. “You’re saying, gentlemen,” Zaftig said evenly, “that the United States Government has no investment interest in Project Herculaneum? A revolutionary anti-terrorist program? You astonish me.” Admiral Walrus had regained his composure. He smiled slightly, as if at a private joke. “We don’t see the effectiveness of this project. It’s expensive, time-consuming, a waste of personnel and resources, and, I might add, not just a little weird. To say nothing of the scientific bullshit of it all. Genetic encoding as secret weapon development is the stuff of speculation.” His smile grew a little conciliatory, but his eyes remained hard. “The Pentagon has felt enough public flak about taxpayer cost to know when to back off on initiatives that are both speculative and dubious at best.” “So you’re recommending shutting us down.” “That is my plan.” “Do you concur, Dr. Shaft?” “Well –“ Shaft paused. “Oh, don’t worry, Milton, we’re not closing the doors. Not just yet. You can still come for your monthly personal inspection. The men are always glad to see you.” “We don’t see how we can go anymore with this,” said General Needling. Admiral Walrus shot a look at 1-star Needling. Needling remained still and serene, but said no more. Behind him, Needling’s aide turned beet red and looked down into his lap. “Are these men your personal lab rats?” demanded Walrus. “These men are warriors. They’d do any army proud. They’re skilled in extreme fighting. They can withstand any climate. They follow orders without question.” And they cum three quarts a week, thought Dr. Shaft. Wonder what they'd make of that? “I suspect they’re dumb as rocks.” Walrus said, finishing up. He got to his feet. “We’re done here.” “Not so fast, Admiral." "What else can be said, Zaftig? You've wasted my time. Our time." "I have something to say. You can sit a moment while your cars are called. Can't you?" Zaftig was still serenely confident, as if talking to particularly slow children. "Dr. Shaft?" he added. "I know you don't want to leave. You see the value of the project. Don't you?" Dr. Shaft nodded dumbly. The chiefs sat. Walrus waited impatiently. "Well?" "I didn’t think you’d be willing to see the fighting value of The Twenty," began Zaftig. "As I have said, this project is privately funded. We can keep our doors open for some time to come. In Pentagon terms, of course, our budget is miniscule. Operating costs are about $20 million a year.” “One million per man,” said General Wampum. “Yes, General Wampum, one million per man. At current funding levels, we can stay operative for the next ten years. Our staff is relatively small: the tech security guys you saw along the way, the office staff, admins, medical, reception.” “What about perimeter security?” Zaftig smiled. “Gentlemen, you saw the specimens. The Twenty act as their own security team. No more is needed. Heaven help the Watergate burglar – or burglars - who try to crash our gates. The Twenty would ball them up into scrap paper and shoot baskets.” He turned to Dr. Shaft. “Isn’t that right, doctor?” Shaft nodded weakly. He remembered a punch he had received from Abdul when his fingers strayed too low and without invitation. He was in bed for a week, his jaw wired closed for three months. “So what is it you want?” Walrus demanded to know. “Give me five more minutes, gentlemen, and then I think we’re all ready to retire for the evening. I’ll let you sleep on it. In fact, take a week. Take two.” He leaned in. “Here’s the beauty part of the Twenty.” And the officers listened. ********** Sergeant Rod Moster lay back on his bed in his private quarters, his powerful hands cupped behind his head. He reviewed what had just happened a half-hour before. From what he could see, the first unveiling of Project Herculaneum had been a disaster. The men from the Pentagon were awestruck, yes, but confused, and the brass was dismayed. No doubt basic homophobia triggered. Responses they couldn’t calibrate or predict or understand. Most of them had cum in their trousers, too, at the easy show of strength he’d demonstrated, which couldn’t bode well for the future of the Project. Military men of this rank didn’t acknowledge weakness, and the recognition of probable gayness was probably particularly troubling. He was sure they were all confronting Zaftig with their displeasure in his private office just about now. Zaftig, Moster knew, would be serene and untroubled. He believed in the Project. And he’d probably disclose to them what it was all for. Exactly where it was headed. The moron. He’d fuck the whole thing up. Moster was sure of that. Which was just exactly what he wanted. He stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. This was his moment. He had his own plans. Dr. Shaft was his own personal tool. He’d get what he wanted, what was best for the men, and for himself in particular. It was all going just fine. He felt pretty good. He glanced at his watch. 10:30. Hmmm. Speaking of tool……he hadn’t jacked off for the day yet. A few hours behind schedule. Better get to it. He stood up, slipped out of his t-shirt, unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants to his ankles. His quads bloomed with fierce power. God, he was ripped. He stepped in front of his three-paneled mirror and gazed at himself appreciatively, his hands at his side. My God, I am fucking awesome, he thought, entirely satisfied with what he was seeing. He especially liked the view with his pants down around his ankles. When a bodybuilder pulls his pants down, it’s not just because he wants to show his legs. He wants to show his cock, too. And his was a fearsome machine, barely sheathed in the spandex poser, the sidestraps straining, the string in the back completely exposing granite buttcheeks of extraordinary shape and power. His black physique gleamed with superhuman strength and power. He popped his right pec, then the left, then the right again, in a little dance of muscle joy. He flexed his biceps, two black volleyballs of burgeoning power topped with baseball-hard peaks. He ran the fingers of his left hand down the cables of heavy, thick veins that crisscrossed his right forearm. Not bad. Pretty fucking good, in fact. In fact, the best in the world. No one had muscles like he did. Perfect. He was perfect. He tucked his fists into his abdominal obliques and slowly expanded into a full front lat spread, watching himself appreciatively as he fanned out into full Cinemascope size. Good work. Then he gazed down at his heavy quadriceps, and began to weave the right one back and forth. The mass swayed powerfully, heavily, lazily, right and left, until, Bam! He hardened it into solid ripped muscle. The veins bulged. Each muscle fiber stood out, powerfully feathered. The muscles gleamed. “Nice wheels,” he murmured to himself. He had to admit it. He chuckled softly. His poser, already groaning with the heavy weight of his dick and balls, began to pole outward. His muscles always made him hard – even now, he knew that he was no better than his men, always ready to shoot at the sight of his own muscles. He was ready to grab that pole of his and pump away. He liked to pump his dick while watching himself flex and bloom with huge muscle. He started to slip out of the trunks. His cock popped forth. “Boom,” he said. Time to play. There was a soft knock at the door. He wasn’t expecting any of the men tonight. He paused, the posers taut around his quads, his still flaccid 14-inch penis bobbing heavily outward now, ready for the strong manipulation of his pleasing fingers, ready to expand to its full angry 20 inches. “Who’s there?” he commanded. “It’s us, Sergeant Moster,” called out a timid voice from outside. “Cadets Banks and Taylor, sir.” What the fuck. “What do you want, Cadets?” Moster demanded through the door. “Sir, permission to speak with you a moment,” came a muffled second voice. Moster angrily jerked his posers back up and stuffed his protesting cock back into the pouch. He squatted deeply for a moment, making sure his balls were adequately covered. Then he smiled a little, and slightly pulled down the tops of trunks. The curve of the Spandex hem dipped so that the top 6 inches of his vein-pulsing erect shaft was exposed. Then he reflected. Hmmm. This could be fun after all. That cadet Banks needed some butt discipline, as he recalled. He glanced at his burgeoning manhood in the mirror for a moment. He grabbed a large bath towel and draped it around his iron-forged 29” waist. He took a last glance. Somewhat hidden. But poling outward. Good. Satisfied, Moster crossed the room and opened the door. He stared sternly at two younger cadets. On the threshold of the corridor outside, handsome young Muscle Cadets Brian Banks and Danny Taylor stood respectfully at ease. They were wearing the tight, pale green Valhalla labs t-shirt, the slightly snug regulation khakis and army boots. The two lean young musclemen were just 17, and though their training was going well, they had not yet entered into the ranks of The Twenty. Both trembled slightly at the sudden sight of a mountain of huge black ripped and ready muscle in front of them. But this is what they came for. Each cadet weighed about 198 pounds. Strapping, black-haired Brian Banks, with his greaser’s sideburns trimmed to the bare standard of military propriety, was naturally hairy and overly tattooed. He also smoked. These were things of which Moster definitely did not approve – any covering of muscle was a sin to him, and smoking anathema – and Banks had only been permitted into the program based upon his superb symmetry, round muscle bellies, natural leanness, and firm little butt. In his favor, he had become concerned about his tats, once a source of much pride, and as a result he was usually heavily covered in sweatsuit baggies all through the punishing workouts he was propelling himself through. He kept his body shaved as closely and as often as he could, but it wasn’t enough to stop the black stubbles of body hair from sprouting anew all over his thick chest and washboard abs by the end of every evening. If he missed a day shaving, by night of the second day he was covered once again with short, black, soft fur. Even so, the hair wasn’t enough to cover the rippling, hard-trained muscles. He smoked whenever he could, usually alone. Moster knew this. He knew everything about these men. He made sure of that. Banks was unusually good looking, and looking unusually good. While no huge bodybuilder, he was big, ripped, muscular, masculine, vascular, and packing some power in his khakis. He had been making nice progress. He also clearly hadn’t shaved his body for a few days. Moster could see a thick crop of black curly chest hair poking over the top of his crew neck collar. But not enough hair to obscure his deep pec cleavage. Prettty good. Taylor, no less disciplined, and looking no less than his buddy Banks, was all the same a different story. Lifting from the age of 14 and yet a rich boy by birth, the surfer-blond bland California pretty boy Taylor had rebelled against his Santa Barbara-entrenched mom and dad, who were shocked by their son’s growing muscles, having foreseen a very different life for him. By the time he was inducted into The Program, he had been living woefully in his car for almost six months on a street behind Raw Weight Gym in the heart of San Jose, 30 miles south. He lived only for training. Sometimes he hustled when he had to. Zaftig had come looking for him on a tip from the gym manager Miles Donovan, always on the payroll looking out for new talent. Superheavyweight Taylor, he told Zaftig, sports serious quads for one so young, and has impressively hard, round gluteus muscles, which he pumps endlessly at the end of his punishing leg workouts. Donovan ended his report with an observation that the dreamy-eyed muscleboy appeared to be trying to find something, feel something new, as he went through his deep squat routines. Zaftig had him off the streets and in the program within 24 hours. In no time the two young cadets had befriended one another. They trained together, showered together, and often were seen having lunch together privately in the cafeteria, respectfully apart from the other cadets. It was generally known that there were many after-hours visits as well. And though it was generally not known, on a few occasions, they had even been permitted to join their heroes, Alvarez and Lang, in their late night pose-and-approve sessions. “What is it, cadets?” Moster demanded. He towered over them. They glanced at one another nervously. Banks, far brighter than the dim, uncertain Taylor, spoke. “Sir, we’re friends with Casey Rockland, sir, and we were….uh….” “Yes?” “Sir, we heard in the barracks you might have been a little upset by this evening’s presentation, sir, and we wanted to come by to pay our respects. And express our belief and dedication in the project. Sir. For. In.” He paused, confused. “Yeah. That’s it,” added Tayler. “Do I look upset?” He whipped the towel away. The cadets each glanced down involuntarily and took in Sergeant Moster’s hugely protruding erection, poling out stiff and heavy and now less than a quarter covered by the straining poser Spandex. They stared. Taylor gulped. “God-damn!” he breathed, taking an involuntary step forward. “It’s even bigger than you said!” Banks nudged him hard. Taylor stepped back. “No, sir, you do not look upset, sir.” Banks’ eyes flickered down again timidly at Moster’s manmeat for an instant, and he spoke again, lifting his eyes and staring steadily with respectful determination into his CO’s eyes. “In fact, I would say you appear to be very relaxed, sir.” “Relaxed?” Moster let out a huge laugh. “You call this relaxed?” he asked mockingly, one hand sweeping wide presentationally before his heavy stiff penis. He shifted his weight onto one knee, leaned on the doorframe, and placed a fist on his hip, tilting his body powerfully. He rotated his lower body in a small semi-circle, and the throbbing 20-inch cock waggled pendulously from side to side inside his sagging posers. “Well, no sir, not really….” Banks stared hungrily at the pumping veins of Moster’s exposed cock shaft, dipping powerfully into the translucent Spandex. “What would you two boys say this looks like?” “Sir, it looks as if you have an uncommonly large hard-on, sir.” “It’s quite a woody, sir.” Taylor finally managed to get out. “Yes, it is. I was just about to get to work on it when you boys both come back banging on my door after hours and prevented me from doing so.” “Sir, we’re sorry, sir. Shall we go, sir?” Moster leaned on the doorframe, considering a moment. He raised a finger and twirled it. “Turn around,” he commanded. The cadets glanced at one another, and both turned clockwise. Moster looked them over appraisingly. Hmmmm. Two fine young butts. As if both boys could read Moster’s thoughts, both Taylor and Banks arched their backs slightly and pushed their inviting round blue-jeanned rears out an inch or two, as if pleading. Please. Fuck our butts. Or so it seemed. It was an appealing sight. And tonight, Banks also knew that Sergeant Moster’s massive, calloused palm would be itching. Ready to apply some special, deserved punishment to their aching bottoms. Moster reached out and grabbed Banks by the shoulders, who lost his balance and stumbled backward into the room. “Get in here, both of you,” he commanded. He hauled Taylor into the room as well and slammed the door. He turned to them, noting they were now trembling with fear and excitement. “Now suppose you tell me why you’re really here.” ********* I’m going to suck those musclemen’s cocks like there’s no tomorrow, Sam thought dreamily. I’ll give them all something they’ll never forget… Then he remembered the left hook comment. Suddenly his jaw ached from an imagined shattering punch of retribution from a stern Casey. “And there might be no tomorrow,” he acknowledged to himself, shuddering with a little giddy fear. He’d weather two black eyes and a broken jaw – and his jaw wired shut and no cocksucking for months - for a chance to get his lips wrapped around that monster, even if only for a moment. Well, for maybe more than just a moment. Maybe longer. An hour? And Casey had stared back at him. Suddenly Sam understood it. My God, thought Sam. No one has had him yet. This boy’s cherry. He couldn’t believe it, but it must be true. And what’s more, he believed that Casey had figured out in his dim brain just what Sam knew. That look had been too telltale. Casey massive organ had never yet been sucked, nor found a home in a delightfully yielding butt. And a good man’s mouth and warm, enveloping butthole were just what this musclepup needed. Sam, of course, was just the ticket. If he was no longer choosy about whose cock he sucked, and where, or when – he had sucked off a whole motorcycle gang in a dank bar just last month, and walked out calmly when they started to fight over who was next – he was very particular about the cock that entered his butthole. He was no cherry himself, to be sure, but in his 22 years he’d only allowed five men to fuck him. No, six. Seven? Nine? Fourteen? Okay, so he couldn’t remember. Years back he’d lost count of how many cocks he’d sucked. 700? 1,523? Probably more. Sam just couldn’t get enough of a good thing. But if he’d give it up for life for that one stupendously big cock. Casey Rockland. Man. What a god this kid was. And – 20? He walked over to the urinal, unzipped, and pulled out his own dick. He pissed thick ropes, inspecting his own golden machine. Not huge. Just big. Only about 8 inches at full attention. True, bigger than most. But – beautiful? Beautiful was not even the word. Sam’s dick was perfect. It was a work of art. And he was choosy here, too, about who got to suck his gorgeous tool. So far he’d only allowed six men the privilege. Fourteen? Okay, maybe more. He shook the last dribbles of piss from his magnificent cock and tucked it back into his pants. He zipped up. It bloomed nicely in the fly and folded alluringly in the folds of his slacks. Hmmm. Eight inches? Not tonight. More like nine and a half. He turned and walked to the door, and in his pants, his bulge swaying confidently in his trousers in happy anticipation. He was a man on a mission. What’s more, he was even under orders. Sweet. It was all so sweet. He pushed the door open and returned to the corridor. Casey was standing outside, just 10 feet away. Clearly, he was waiting for the Ensign. He shuffled his feet, looked uncertain. The two men stared at each other. A moment passed. “Um. Hi,” Casey said shyly. "Hello," said Sam, completely confident. This was going to be fun. "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 20 - Pose and Approve: Further Encounters, Part 2

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

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

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

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Hey, how ya doing. My name is Jeff, I'm from New Jersey, and I am a 23-year-old Professional Bodybuilder. Let me give you some information about me. I am a white male, black hair and blue eyes. I stand about 6'4 and weigh around 278 lbs. My dad started me in the sport of bodybuilding, he always wanted to get into bodybuilding but he was too poor to join a gym and buy all the stuff that is needed when he was a teenager. But now, my dad is a very successful plastic surgeon and has placed his dream of bodybuilding upon me. It was and still is frustrating at times since I never really got to choose this sport and to be this big. He started me in this sport at the age of 11. I agree with you, that's too young. I was the only Junior in High school, well to be exact, the only teenager my age that had competed in a total of 28 contests at my age. All my friends were into sports like football and soccer, but I was too big and too slow to even try-out, but I was the only teenage bodybuilder that had two personal trainers and a choreographer for my posing routines. While everyone else was getting a car from their dad, I was getting enormous calf implants from mine. My dad started juicing me when I was only 15, and he knows that's not healthy, but he's a doctor so I had medical supervision. I was featured in many magazine, esp. since I was the only 18 year-old that competed at a body weight of 235. By my senior year I had 21 inch arm and 31 inch thighs. I was always considered a freak in high school and wasn't too popular. I was sort of shy in school, it didn't help either that teachers would always call attention to my size in class and always have to have a special desk for me so I could fit (if you ever weigh 235 and try and fit in a school desk, you will not succeed) Well, I am in my senior year of college right now majoring in Electrical engineering (I guess that ruins your stereotype of a bodybuilder haha). And I just got my pro card at the NPC Junior USA, where I competed as a super heavy. The good thing is that when you get your pro-card, you can get endorsements, get hired for photo shoots, do seminars, or guest pose at contest. This is where my story begins. This past summer I had the weirdest experience I will ever have. You see, I was just getting off the high of becoming pro and this guy called me and asked me to guest pose for his contest in a small town in the south. I quickly agreed to do it, I was thinking I had hit it big time, no one ever had asked me to do such a thing, and I wasn't about to turn that down. And to think if I did, I wouldn't hear the end of it from my dad. Well I gave the guy some info and he did the same for me. He mentioned that he wanted me to do a posing session for the beginning of the contest and during the end before the placements. I said sure that sounds great, esp. after he told me how much he was gonna pay. Before we hung up, he said he would send me some info about the contest and what they needed from me. After I got off the phone, I quickly called my dad to tell him of the news, he was very excited which I knew he would. He said he would make arrangements to get my choreographer working on a routine and the trainers to get me started. He even said he would make an appointment with a designer to get special posing trunks. You see in Bodybuilding, you try to cover up your dick and balls with as little material as possible, you want to be as naked as you can so you can show off ever muscle. Well, three weeks went by and a week before I was to leave for the contest I got a packet from the guy. I was asking stuff like the food I wanted for the weekend, the music I was gonna use, and then it asked for a complete list of my measurements. There was a drawing of a bodybuilder with arrows pointing to certain areas of the body. I had to have my roommate measure me for that info, I though it was strange to ask but, hey, I have never done a thing like this. However, I was eager to please. My roommate measured my wrists, ankles, neck, arms, chest, and so on. As I wrapped up my last week, I was soon on the plane heading for the contest. As I arrived, there was the guy holding up a sign that said 'Jeff'. I quickly waddled to him: you really can't walk when you have 34 inch thighs and weigh 278. His name was Tom, and was the owner of the gym that was putting on the contest. He quickly drove me to his small town, the ride took about 45 minutes. It was sort of strange, he asked me to take of my shirt and pants. I was sort of uncomfortable with this, but he said he was just wanting to see what he had purchased and with the money he was offering, I wasn't gonna say 'no'. We arrived just in time for the weigh in Friday night. We pulled up to the auditorium and before I had a chance to put on my clothes, Tom quickly said, 'just come on in, in your briefs, I want the guys to see a real bodybuilder." Okay, that made feel uncomfortable, but as I said, he's the boss. When I entered the room all the bodybuilders looked at me, I was easily the biggest guy there. They all gathered around me asking questions, telling me to pose, and wanting a picture. After all that, Tom took me to the hotel. After sleeping late and watching TV all day, it was time to head to the contest. Tom had arranged a ride for me there. As I arrived backstage, I was quickly stripped, covered in tan solution and oiled up by three huge guys, all bodybuilders. It was sort of strange, they didn't speak to me at all and were sort of rough. All of this got me heated, my dick throbbing from all the attention, the rubbing, the oil, and the idea of being nearly naked in front of a few hundred people. I started getting a erect, which was a problem, because in posing trunks, you can't hide your sword. After they had finished with me, they led me behind the curtain, I heard the MC announce me and before I knew it, it was time to pose. The music was loud and kicking. I had chosen my favorite Limp Bizkit song. During the routine, I jumped off-stage and went into the crowd. Walking around in front of everyone, hands grabbing me to touch my muscles, people taking pictures, got me so hard that I couldn't hide my excitement. Then the nightmare happened. Before I knew it, the crowd mobbed me and held me down. Before I knew it, my posing trunks were ripped off and I was tied up so tight, I could even move a finger. Some of the audience picked me up and carried me back to the stage. My heart was racing beneath my huge overdeveloped pecs, that you could actually see my big brown silver dollar nipples jumping up and down. Here I was being lifted up on stage naked and scared. After they got me on stage, a few of the others guys brought out this big metal box. As the rolled it to the center of the stage, the crowded yelled and screamed. To my fear, it came true, as the opened the box, I saw tons of cuffs and fasteners and straps, which I knew were specifically measured to my body. I could run or even scream due to the gag in my mouth. About six men place me in the box, securing my ankles, strapping in my thighs and waist, placing my wrist in the cuffs and even locking my neck in place my this huge metal stock. I must have taken at least 10 minutes to strap me in. However the audience did not tire, all I could see was a sea of clapping hands and flashbulbs going off. After they had strapped and locked me in, they closed the doors of this case I was in, then I felt it, a hand grabbing my dick and balls and pulling them out of the box. Here I was, in this metal case, all that was sticking out was my head and dick, next came the nightmare. As I was there all strapped in, the MC came over the loudspeaker and introduced Dr. Gary Wagner. This guy came up on stage next to me and shared with the audience that he was about to show the latest in bodybuilding supplements. I can't say I really listened due to the humiliation I was suffering, you see, I may be extremely huge and handsome, but you can't cover up a small dick. Before I knew it, the doctor had stuck a needle in my dick and neck. He announced to the audience to just sit back am be amazed. After the injection, that is when it went weird, I started feeling hot and short of breath. After a minute or so, I could feel the straps and cuffs getting tighter. I looked down as best as I could to see my pecs growing before my eyes, and then my dick. I could feel it getting harder and harder, to where the skin felt like it was going to split. As I was growing the doctor and some of the men started undoing the cuffs and straps, soon I was removed from the box. I could now see I was growing huge. My legs started moving further and further apart, my lats and chest grew so big, that my arms were sticking straight out due to the muscle of my lats pushing them out. The crowd screamed and hollered. I became scared, yet so excited, of my new size that my dick couldn't hold the excitement, I exploded. It was so powerful, that I sprayed the first two rows. People went crazy. Then the doctor brought out a scale. He then had some men place me on it...by this time, I was so huge, I couldn't move. The doctor then announced that I had just gone from 278lbs to 450lbs. The crowd cheered some more. Then Tom came out on stage, I could barely move my head due to my trap muscles locking my head in place. He announced I would be on display at the end of the contest. As I was moved to the lobby, I was shackled and tied up in chains, straps, and rope. The crowd came by, groping me, jacking me off, and squeezing me. I went on for all night. Every time someone would reach for my dick, I would try and beg them not too, but the gag held me back from pleading with them. Over and over again, my dick would be lubed up and jacked off. I had been jacked off so many times, that I felt like a dairy cow getting milked. Picture upon picture was taken of me. Measurements were taken, my arms now were a whopping 29 inches, my thighs were 42 inches, calves were 30 inches, and my dick was 14 inches and thicker than a baseball bat. There I stayed tied up so tight I could barely breath. Around 7a.m everyone had left. The doctor and Tom came up to me and thanked me for my services, I tried to cuss them, but again the gag held me from that luxury. The doctor injected me again with a purple looking fluid. Before long, my body started going back to the original form, I had never been so glad to see myself get smaller. Then, my head started feeling light and the light became dimmer. As I awoke, I found myself awake in the airplane. I looked around, no one else was in the plane, how strange I thought. As I arrived back to my dorm room, I found a check amounting to $25,000 in my suit case and a letter that read, "Jeff: Awesome show...let's do that again." It all felt like a dream to me, until I took of my clothes to take a shower. There, hanging to my knees, was the biggest dick I had ever seen. Apparently not all the side affects went away.

Quite a few people have been in touch regarding a follow up, so here it is. It took ages, but I orgasmed twice writing it, so if you enjoyed the first instalment, this may do something for you! Link to previous instalment: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/6200-memoirs-of-young-muscle-1/ --- Four months had passed since Alexander, who had made quite clear that he would go only by Alex, had first begun his training programme, funded by his wealthy, horny patron, under the auspices of some of the world's leading bodybuilding and strength training experts. The training had yielded some amazing results already, in spite of the fact that Alex had been so reluctant to give up on the diet he adored so much. It turned out that Mr. Richards, Alex's billionaire sponsor, did not mind this in the slightest. He was perfectly happy to watch the increasingly thickly muscled Alex eat huge quanities of pizza, steaks and fast food. It had proven a major turn on for Mr. Richards, who it seemed had unknowingly been long harbouring a fetish for big men overeating, expanding hard stomach walls and general slovenly behaviour from giant muscle men. So, there had been so reduction in his body fat levels. However nobody was complaining, as his muscular development was exemplary. He awoke one December morning in the lavishly decorated bedroom of Mr. Richards' Holland Park penthouse. The property magnate had been willing to spend some time in the US in order to find his subject, a young man so motivated by a desire to build muscle and sculpt himself into a god that he was willing for this aim to completely take over his life. However, having found Alex, he was very much in a rush to return to London, where he found his life to be somewhat more comfortable and familiar. Alex of course had no objections to the mountains of money and resources that he was set to receive and had spent these four months living a life of unimaginable luxury, alongside his regimental exercise schedule and frequent visits into Mr. Richards' bedroom. He was not out of shape himself and in spite of his overwhelming commitments to his various investments he managed to find time to make regular trips to the gym. He had a swimmer's build, a tiny waist ribbed with muscle that bulged and twisted as he moved. His abdominal muscles were perfect if slight and covered in soft and gently haired skin. His pecs were not large but well defined and formed a sexy self at the top of his relatively small frame. As Alex entered the gym, Mr. Richard's was just finished a set of pull ups. He performed these excercises in just his boxers, and as Alex crept up behind him silently he effortlessly lifted Mr. Richard's into the air and then off of the bar as he removed his hands from it. Holding his like a baby he then moved in and gave him a long and powerful kiss, Alex's beefy chest inflating and he drew in air from Mr. Richards' mouth. 'Oh boy, you're getting so strong, I felt light-headed when you took that breath out of me!' Alex carried his patron out of the gym and down the corridor to his bedroom. He was originally planning to go in and do some squats, but he momentariyl weighed up his options, looking down at his heaving massive muscular quads and juicy ass and deceided that fucking Mr. Richards may well be a better use of his time right now. After his comments regarding Alex's increased strength, the impressive 23 year old's dick had begun to rise to its full glory. By this point a meaty semi-erection occupied his skin tight boxer briefs. Generally the two of them fucked in silence, even though over these months they had become friends and enjoyed spending time together. Mr. Richards' morbid fascination with Alex's gigantic muscles and the intense pleasure that Alex felt when slipping his big manly fingers into his tight pink little asshole meant that both parties were fully occupied by the thoughts in thei head throughout. He dropped Mr. Richards onto the bed and immediately lifted his legs into the air. With his teeth he pulled off Mr. Richards' underpants and then began to run his tongue around the anus, gently to begin with and then rougher. He then moved to deepthroating the beautiful soft and fleshy penis, which gradually grew longer and harder. Once both men had reached a state of full erection, Alex lay on his back and let Mr. Richards worship his entire body as was their routine. Mr. Richards slight body was very mobile and he moved all over Alex with ease. Alex's toes it had been discovered, were erogenous zones, and when Mr. Richards sucked both of his big toes at the same time, Alex's whole enormous body would shudder with pleasure. Then, his with nipples hard and meaty, Mr. Richards would travel up to the bulky chest, holding the two slabs of pec meat in his hands, before leaning in and nibbling on those sensitive nipples. Alex rocked his head back and howled, making the walls of the room shake and his abdominals tighten. 'Okay Mr. Richards, you've got me going now, I can't wait anymore, give it me to me!' Mr. Richards obeyed and turned around, presenting his ass the Alex, who slipped an index finger in, causing Mr. Richards to moan like a bitch, shut his eyes and grit his teeth. It turned Alex on hugely, hearing his patron squeal with pleasure, just from a single finger! He imagined how shrill and intense hisscreams would become as he pounded his thick rod in and out of the soft ass. With two fingers now inside the anus, he leaned forward and was able to put his tongue further in. Mr. Richards, who had been dutifully sucking the dick that was about to be jammed in his hole, rolled his eyes back in his head. The salty joy that was Alex's pre-cum was dripping down his face and forming a puddle on the bed and it seemed that neither of them could resist any longer. Alex reached down and covered his hands in the pre-cum that was so liberally being spilled on the bed and used it to prepare Mr. Richards now significantly wider asshole for the trauma it was about to endure. He then lifted the man up as though he weighed nothing and slid him onto the waiting 12 incher. He entered so slowly, because he loved to see Mr Richards' face as his insides became filled with the massive cock. Instead of thrusting his hips, Alex preferred to show off his strength by lifting Mr Richards under his armpits, and then placing his hands on his shoulders and pushing him back down. Precum continued leaking out of his ass, and Mr Richards was aware of the warm fluid entering his body. Alex grew tired of this quickly, and lifted Mr Richards off his dick slowly, then laying him on his back and sticking his rod back inside so he could begin fucking more quickly and powerfully. The tension built and reached an unbearable level. As Alex felt he was about to come he moved into give Mr Richards a gentle kiss, and having shown his soft side for a moment he stood up straight and roared 'HURGHHHHHHHHHHHH' before unleashing his load in the spent billionaire's hole. He hit a front double biceps pose, kissing each bulging sphere of muscle once before exhaling deeply and pulling his cock out, following by a stream of thick, hot cum. Mr Richards had a smile on his face like the Mona Lisa as he stood up and got out of bed. 'Another stellar performance Alex. This arrangement is still working well. I'll leave you for the rest of today to get to the gym, I think Franco said he was going to really work your legs today. They're looking great, but we need them bigger! And stronger! I can't wait until the next time I get to wear those big manly thighs like a necklace.' As he walked out of the bedroom on his way to the office he slapped Alex on the butt cheekily. The young bodybuilder grinned. This was everything he had ever wanted, an opportunity to build his muscle, live a life of unlimited material pleasures and fuck whenever he felt like it. More confusingly, he was starting to develop feelings for the man who was making all this possible.

Finally had some time off to devote to writing a story. Here is a new addition for anyone who still remembers Part I. Initially I had wanted to end the story here because of how slowly things are going, but I have a lot more ideas that I would like to get to…eventually. Anyways, comments and suggestions are appreciated as always. A link to Part I Part II -- Ecdysis Around here, people whisper of strange things in the forest. Bizarre things, forgotten things. My childhood buzzed with furtive tales of beasts and doors into other worlds, stories woven in hushed tones with a folly that belied their gravity. I think we are one of the few places left that truly believes in those sorts of things. And I did, wholeheartedly. On summer nights, stars were just the backdrop for greater phantasms, each more outlandish than the last. But time passed and I grew older, as people are wont to do. Without any wild stories of my own, my belief in things unseen faded. Mostly jackrabbits and coyotes flattered by shadows, as far as I could tell. But how could I fail to believe them now? I awoke from a dream I couldn’t remember to find my cock throbbing to an almost painful morning wood. It slapped in between the crevices in my thickening abdominal muscles as I freed it from its prison of sheets, a grin sneaking across my face as the aching subsided into pleasure. I lifted my hand to my chest, flexing it just a little. It felt good, powerful each time I felt the mound of my chest rising to meet my hand. I still had trouble believing how much I had changed and my dick stirred at knowing how much bigger I would become. My fingers ran over my newly sensitive nipples, and my cock jolted. Taking that as a cue, I ran my hand down my abs. The pitter patter of my fingers reverberated like a drum roll, building the anticipation until my hand finally reached my dick. Pleasure abounded as I tried to stroke up and down slowly. Without warning I came almost clumsily into my sheets, my orgasm distracting me from shooting my load in an appropriate direction. Despite last night, it felt as though I hadn’t cum in weeks and my body shook long after I had spurted the last drop. I laid there for a few minutes, resting in my own cum soaked sheets as the sunrise lofted morning rays through the window. I could hear the birds starting their morning incantations, fading in and out with their summer songs. My hands continued to wander all across my body, muscles tense beneath my skin. The clock, that grim disciplinarian, interrupted my self-congratulatory rubbing, and I dragged my tight body to the bathroom. I couldn’t help but flex a little when I caught my reflection in the mirror, and my dick started stirring again. Even if I didn’t quite have the size, the shape was phenomenal. What they don’t tell you in the iron bug manual is how long it takes to adjust to your reflection mirroring your own wet dream. As I reached for the sink, I noticed that my waist met the counter just a little higher than it used to. The difference was small, but I could feel that everything was just a little further beneath me. I resisted the urge to cum again. The bite had its limits and my dick still wasn’t fully recovered from the volume of requests it had been receiving lately. My limit was about three times a day, but with the intensity of each orgasm there was nothing to complain about. I dug through my closet to find the largest shirt I had and slipped it over my broadening shoulders. It was my dad’s old shirt, about two sizes larger than my others and made of thick fabric. It barely hid the changes, but it was all I had. I went back to the mirror and lifted my arms, my peaks raising the loose sleeves. Eventually I would get tired of this. Surely. I donned a pair of baggy pants, threw a pair of workout clothes into my backpack, and headed out for my last day of work. I wasn’t running in the mornings anymore, so I had the time to take the long way. I wasn’t afraid of the bug, either. I felt unstoppable. By the time I had made it into work the sun had just started to peel back the last layer of morning fog. The shop was quiet before the customers came in. The sound of my coworker sweeping up yesterday’s dust mingled with the sounds of birds coming from outside, interrupted by the occasional vehicle carrying someone on their way to work. Light started to filter through the windows, illuminating hairdryers and the metal of chairs. It felt good on my skin, both the warmth and the sight of my taut forearms peering out through my sleeves. I was conscious of every movement I made, how little resistance I felt and how I must look to other people. I was starting to get accustomed to the restlessness, too. I could ignore it if I concentrated on other things, and it would wait in the back of my mind until I got to the gym. Everyone that came in that day said their goodbyes. Hugs were exchanged, kind words given. Towards closing hour there was a cake and a small party. I noticed their stares and subsequent averted gazes, and I almost welcomed them. I began to enjoy the feeling of them looking at me and being unable to comprehend what was going on. I started to imagine they felt intimidated, inferior. Maybe this was how Charlie felt. I stopped those thoughts abruptly. Being proud of my new body was one thing, but getting off on other people admiring me seemed too much. Meanwhile night came, as it does, and everyone began to head home. My boss finally locked the door and said goodbye for the last time, the streetlights flickering on in the twilight. Delilah and I wandered back to her place between the telephone poles and sun-stained clouds. The air was cool and crisp, and we filled it with words of future adventures and past travels. The itch to lift was almost absent. When we finally came to the old, rustic house Delilah was renting, we paused at her opened door. She said, “Kenny, can I show you something? It’s a secret.” A smile slid surreptitiously across her face. I agreed, confused. She was giddy, almost, in contrast to the calm and serene lady that I usually knew. Without hesitation she led me down the porch and around the house to the basement. The entrance was one of those old wooden basement double doors that leads ominously down into a dark, cavernous pit. The steps creaked forlornly while we worked our way down through the blackness, and when Delilah tugged at the hanging lamp string the bulb flickered to life as though we had entered a scene in an old horror movie. There was a sound like a small chainsaw whirring through the otherwise silent room that clinched the horror movie atmosphere. My eyes adjusted to a typical basement, cement-lined and framed with wood. It was littered with books that looked like field guides and various devices that seemed like animal traps, some fairly standard and others more obscure. On the center table against the back wall something shiny was darting around furiously in some sort of plastic or Plexiglas container. My heart sank as I realized what it was. Delilah was absolutely delighted and urged me closer despite my hesitation. And once I got closer it was confirmed. There it was, staring back at me with what I could not help but interpret as malice. Really, it probably did not even recognize me. Especially since there were two, buzzing about in there, seemingly preoccupied with one another when they were not frantically trying to escape, banging their metallic parts against the glass. I peered at Delilah’s face, which was lost in a sense of wonder. “What is it?” I asked dumbly, hoping she wouldn’t discern my insincere tone. “That’s a great question – I really have no idea! That’s what I plan to find out.” She said, excitement beaming from her face. “Where did you find them?” I said, continuing my litany of inane questions as the questions I actually wanted to ask buzzed about in my head. “That’s kind of why I’m here. This place Kenny, it’s full of things that you don’t find other places. The rules are a little…bendy here. Like a compass near a magnetic rock…only that’s not quite right because we have a really good understanding of how all that works. That’s why they sent me and other people from the university here, to figure out what the heck is going on or to make sense of these ‘paranormal’, uh, phenomena. This is probably just one of the apparently inexplicable things wandering round these parts…” She trailed off, staring into the glass at the iron bugs. “But to answer your question, I found them...uh, going at it while I was out looking for my proverbial magnetic rock. That’s the only reason I was able to catch them, probably, the poor things.” I didn’t know what to say. My curiosity was drowned out by apprehension and fear. “We should go, they get agitated when we’re around.” She said, turning away. “What are you going to do with them?” “Hopefully let them make babies first. Or eggs, I guess. Then send them back to the university, study their behavior, biology. Let the entomologists have a crack at them. I don’t really have the tools to do it here. But to be honest, they’re not really the end goal. They’ll probably get some ridiculous volume of papers written about them that won’t be published until we know more about what’s going on here. That’s presuming they even survive the journey, which is not very likely considering I have no idea what they even eat.” I noticed an array of potential food items littered about the cage, which ranged from rusty metal bolts to small crickets. I didn’t dare suggest that they would drink blood. I wasn’t sure what to do. Countless scenarios ran through my head, the most dramatic involving armies of government-issued supermen pillaging entire cities with their iron fists. In reality the bugs would probably not even live long enough to bite anybody, but that didn’t stop my imagination from generating countless apocalyptic scenarios. I froze in my panic and elected not to say anything as Delilah led me out of the basement, clearly lost in her reverie. When we got to the door, it was still unlocked. Delilah didn’t seem to mind much. We sat down on her couch and sank into the old and collapsing cushions. The entire house was this way, filled with furniture that didn’t match from tenants who hadn’t wanted them over the years. Each piece of her dilapidated home was a reminder that her stay here was temporary. Delilah and I talked the night away as we sank ever further into the cushions, and as time went on my paranoia was outweighed by my faith that she would handle everything. By the time the candles we had lit were running low, my fears of Robocop police states were long gone. Around midnight I headed home, and everything was asleep. Even the crickets had stopped their perpetual stirring, and the moon had long since left the stars reign over the night sky. We take the witching hour pretty seriously around these parts, and you’re unlikely to find anyone wandering about during the somnolent hours. Which is why I was caught off guard when I ran into Charlie, running with a hoodie on. I don’t think he even noticed it was me, because he just grunted and continued on his way. I looked back at him and watched him for a while as he ran. He faded in and out of sight as he passed under each street lamp and then back into the darkness of the night. The motion of his body, the effortless way he moved across the pavement was magnetic. Despite his unbearable arrogant attitude, he was still… My face burned with that special sort of cherry red that plagues the faces of those of us with auburn strands. Maybe the thing that bothered me the most was how easily he had pushed me aside. Even with all the progress I had made I was still little compared to him. The itch came back, fervently. My entire body ached with the urge to lift, to be bigger, stronger. But our gym was closed. I scrambled to pull out my phone and look up the nearest 24 hour gym. 45 minutes away. I ran all the way home to my car, my lungs burning from the cold midnight air. The bland headlights pierced the darkness, obscuring my night vision for the sake of this singular focus. I hardly even noticed the time pass by as my foot pushed down impatiently on the gas pedal. I paid whatever nominal fee they asked of me and impatiently worked my way towards the weight room. The walls were taken up by windows that blurrily reflected the incandescent lights. Unlike the gym at home, all of the machines here were new, clean, functional. There were only two other people there. Even though it meant I could lift as much as I pleased, I almost wanted more people there to watch me. I hardly even felt the pain. I kept adding more weight between every set, pushing myself harder and harder. I was killing it. A fucking monster. I was losing myself to the itch. I started to come back to reality at the last set of cable flyes. My arms had stopped moving and my chest was on fire with that euphoric sort of pain, joining every other muscle group I had already worked. The weights made a huge crash as the fell back towards the ground, and I took a full breath, expanding my chest out to its new full posture. I was drenched in sweat and pumped like I had never been. I noticed my reflection in the window, but I shied from making a show for the two other gym goers. My dad’s old shirt had no chance to hide my frame, my proud posture filling up the neck and sleeves. I couldn’t help but lift my arm just once, and the messy reflection told me I had made a lot of progress even though I hadn’t started the growing phase yet. In the shower I took off my shirt slowly, feeling it tug at various body parts. My lats, shoulders, and arms all resisted the fabric as it slowly slid up off my frame. When I looked down I saw my chest heaving up and down with each breath, filling most of my visual field. Trying to avoid cumming in a public locker room and apparently unable to see below my pecs, I decided to feel the changes instead. I stripped off my shorts (noticing how firm my ass was in the process) and started to lather up in the shower. Every part of me was swollen, hard. I could feel the definition that was now accentuated by my size, and I explored every new crevice and valley that my body made. I found that I liked just to hold a double bi pose even though no one was watching, my dick standing at full attention as I was enraptured by the power in my own arms. The hunger interrupted like an old forgotten friend who, once arrived, engrosses you with their presence. I dragged my body out of the shower and put on the gym clothes I had forgotten to change into, proceeding to guide myself via cell phone to the nearest fast food joint once I found my way back to my car. Ignoring the grouchy attitude of the cashier, I unapologetically ordered enough food at the drive through for a bowling team (like every small town, bowling s one of our few pastimes). Nirvana in every bite. I could feel my body filling up the space in my seat as I grew, my belly full but emptying with each passing minute. As the soreness faded, I began another self-worship session. My dick started to engorge as I flexed each muscle, and just the feel of the fabric on my skin anticipated another orgasm. But I stopped just short of another poorly planned ejaculation. I got out my phone and haphazardly snapped a shot of myself in the seat, arm flexed and shoulders visible through the muscle tee. Had to be at least sixteen inches, probably more. My forearms were starting to take on that classic full shape that speaks of strength, and the peaks on my biceps rose higher with each flexion. It wasn’t two minutes before I found a guy, and I was off. The stars were my only company on the way to his place, which was out in the middle of nowhere between my home town and the city I just left. It took all of my mental effort not to cum in the seat before arriving, my body still growing and constricting my muscles and my dick in an involuntary autoerotic episode. I finally parked my car and stepped out to what was essentially a cabin in the woods, realizing that I had forgotten a jacket. The cool air gave me goosebumps, the dark outlines of trees the only audience to my frigid condition. My muscles started to shiver, reminding me of how much they had grown and were still growing. When he opened the door he smiled and I reciprocated with one of those cocky smirks that I had seen all the jocks do. I stepped in without waiting for him to invite me, warmth flooding my body as he stepped backwards to make room for me. I noticed that I was looking down at him, his erection visible through his pajamas. He started to speak, but I was impatient. I grabbed behind his head with one hand and at his crotch with the other, bending over and kissing him gently in the process. He started, but after he relaxed he moved his hands towards my arms. I lifted up one, just like in the picture, and brought it into position. It was still pulsing, growing. I wondered if he could feel it. “Just came from the gym”, I said, attempting to explain. I don’t think he cared. He was lost in the sensation of it. I moved my rough, firm hands down towards his waist, getting a feel for his weight. Confidence rising with my recent growth, I lifted him up from his ass. It was easier than I thought, and I brought our faces even while our mouths never parted. “Bed”, I grunted between kisses, and he guided me like a ship through the dimly lit passages of his house. Carpet rubbed up against my feet and I bumped into the wooden paneling on the walls a few times from our uncoordinated expedition. His bedroom was dark, the only light coming from out in the hallway. I threw him down on the bed and pulled out the condom I brought, also reaching for the lube on his nightstand. Laying on top of him, I held him around the neck with the entirety of my solid arm, gently enough to keep his airway free but firm enough for him to know he was in my control. My abs pressed on his back, and I held just enough of my weight so that he would be pinned down without being uncomfortable. I kept having to loosen my grip as my stomach emptied and my body and arms grew. Even though we had barely started it felt like I had been waiting for ages, and I slipped inside him without much effort. Clearly he had been practicing. Our feet locked and I began to thrust slowly, my cock already having been primed for orgasm for the last half hour. It didn’t last for very long. I kissed his neck as I came into him, my body convulsing with the pleasure of release. For a minute I rested on top of him, our breaths the only sound in the dark. When I finally pulled out, I flipped him over to find he was still hard and hadn’t cum. That wouldn’t do. I grabbed his cock and it jolted, precum leaking from his slit. I grabbed his other hand and put it over my abs, guiding it up towards my powerful chest as I flexed each in turn. I let go, and he took freedom moving his hands over my body as I displayed my power for him. He was reverent, his touch gentle against my hard flesh. He worked his way up to my thick traps, passing over my now rounded shoulders to my solid biceps. He spent a long time there, admiring every crevice and trying to fit his hands around my peaks only to find his hands inadequate for the job. Finally he made his way back down to my chest, playing with my erect nipples. Everywhere his hands touched me I made a display, hardening each muscle individually. I found it erotic, the newfound control I had over each part of my body, feeling his cock throb each time he found a new part of me that was just as thick and powerful as the last. I was hard again. By the time he moved his hands over my widening lats, fingers pausing at the V taper, it was over. His cum leaked all over my hand as I continued to run it up and down with a smooth motion. I licked some of his semen off of my fingers. As I swallowed it, my dick started once more. The thought of him getting off just by touching me was too much. Upon first touch I came again, cum splattering all the way up to his chin. He licked it off, reciprocating the gesture. Coyotes were moving about outside in the starlight. The trees were silent in the windless night. I held him as we slept together, my chest firm against his back and my dick still hard between his legs. Part III

Here are all the parts up to this chapter, just in case you haven't read them in order. Blue Pill Part 1 Blue Pill Part 2 Blue Pill Part 3 Blue Pill Part 4 Blue Pill Part 5 Blue PIll Part 6 Blue Pill Part 7 ~Blue Pill Part 8~ Derek stood in front of Riley with his arms outstretched flexing both of his mammoth arms. Each peak reaching almost 18 inches. Riley rubbed his hands over the peaks feeling the mounds of flesh harden underneath his fingers. He traced the veins that ran along the surface of each peak as it pumped more blood through his engorged veins. While Riley was worshipping Derek’s arms, another appendage began to stir and swell. Derek had always been the alpha male of the swim team. Not only because of his captain America good looks, but his body was magnificent compared to the rest of the team. This was due to the amount of time Derek put in at the gym each day. However it wasn’t his looks or his muscles that people envied most, it was Derek’s massive log between his legs that made him noteworthy among the schools populace. Before Derek’s growth, he was a hefty 8.5 inches long and 6 inches around. Although that sounds impressive, Derek could tell just by how his speedo was beginning to stretch away from his body that it was bigger than he previously remembered. While Derek was flexing his arms for his muscle admirer, he looked down to enjoy the new size of his bulge. It was then that he noticed the white striped pill sitting in the pouch of his speedo at the base of his dick. Derek reached into his speedo and pinched the pill between two fingers. “You ready to help me grow some more Riley?” Derek asked without ever waiting for a response. Next thing Riley knew, he had a hand covering his mouth as he felt something small inserted between his lips. “Now swallow or I will pound you into a pulp!” Derek said as he leered into Riley’s eyes with a strong burning desire to grow. Riley didn’t have much of a choice as he could begin to feel the pill dissolve in his mouth, he swallowed. It was a labored swallow as it stuck a few times on the way down, making Riley gasp and gag behind Derek’s hand. “That’s a good bitch, now let’s see how big we can make those tits of yours.” Riley looked at Derek with a confused look on his face as Riley was picked up by the behemoth and carried over to the Bench Press. Derek sat him down on the bench and loaded the bar with two 45 pound plates on each side. “Now lift.” Riley knew it wasn’t a question and more of a command. So Riley positioned himself under the bar and raised the bar up to begin his first rep. Riley slowly performed ten perfect reps as his pecs began to swell with blood from his pump. Just as he set the bar down, Derek had put another 45 pound plate on each side. “Lift” Derek grunted. So Riley lifted the bar once again, this time straining to get his ten reps in. Riley’s tank was now beginning to strain from his pump. His pecs felt full and tight. Riley re-racked the weight and reached up with both of his hands feeling his pec pump. He was brought back to the reality of things when he heard a loud rip. Riley looked to his right to find the source of the sound. The speedo that was holding back Derek’s mammoth dick had snapped from the immense strain from the erection that was now throbbing in front of him. “Holy shit Derek, that thing has to be at least 10 inches long!” Derek grinned at the excitement that showed on Riley’s face. Derek turned and put another 45 pound plate on each side of the barbell. “Lift” Derek grunted. “I can’t lift that, its twenty pounds more than my one rep max.” Riley exclaimed as he looked at the bar and back at Derek. “Did I stutter, I said LIFT!” Derek’s baritone voice echoed through the gym as Riley laid back under the bar and prepared for failure. What happened next surprised and scared Riley more than anything else. Derek reached forward and grabbed onto the waist of Riley’s shorts. “Lift your ass up.” Derek ordered. I dare not disobey, clearly I do not want to anger this behemoth. Riley slowly lifted his ass off the bench, holding the barbell racked with weight to pull himself up. Derek yanked his shorts down in one swift motion. Derek then lifted my legs straight up, sitting at the end of the bench and resting my legs on his shoulders. Riley’s eyes grew wide with fear at what was going to happen next. Derek stuck his thumb in his mouth and pulled it out with a pop. He then lowered his hand to Riley’s ass as he lifted him off the bench and slowly inserted his thumb into Riley’s ass. Riley’s eyes rolled back into his head as he could feel Derek’s thumb rub against his prostate. Riley was then surprised by a tingling feeling in his chest. Riley stared at his own nipples as he slowly saw them disappearing from his field of vision. “Oh my god, is my chest growing?!?” Fear and panic had formed on Riley’s face as Derrick got an evil grin on his. “Now lift” Derek commanded. Riley positioned himself under the bar again, Derek’s finger shoved firmly in his ass. Riley pushed the weight off the supports and lowered it to his chest. As Riley pushed the weight back up he noticed his pecs swell a little more and then stop once he reached the top of the lift. Riley lowered the weight again and began to push the weight back up expecting to see the same thing, only to be disappointed when nothing happened. Derek slid his finger out of Riley’s ass as Riley re-racked the weight. Derek stretched and was able to put another 45 pound plate on each side without leaving the bench. “There is no way I’m going to lift that, its 450 pounds!” Riley exclaimed, contemplating how he was going to lift the bar. Riley watched as Derek began massaging his dick. The pre-cum that continuously flowed from the tip was smeared all over his mammoth dick making it shine with lube. Riley began to panic as he knew what was coming next. Derek positioned his cock head at Riley’s sphincter and began to push. Riley fought with all of his might to stop this monster from penetrating his hole, but the harder he resisted the harder Derek pushed. Derek, getting fed up with Riley putting up a fight, grabbed Riley’s shoulders and pushed him down on his dick. Derek watched as his thick dick quickly disappeared into Riley’s ass. “NNNNGHHHHHHH FUCKKKKKKKK!” Riley yelled out as his eyes rolled back into his head as pain and pleasure seeped through every nerve of his body. Derek sat still as Riley slowly came to his senses, regaining his surroundings. Riley began to feel again as he noticed that tingling feeling was now a burning sensation in his pecs. He looked down to see his pecs swelling right before his eyes. “Now lift!” Derek ordered as Riley grasped the bar again and lifted the bar from the supports. Riley lowered the weight down to his inflated chest, knowing there was no way he was going to lift it up. As Riley struggled to push the bar back up and began shaking, Derek began sliding his dick back out. This caused Riley’s prostate to be massaged by Derek’s massive cock head. A sudden surge of growth filled Riley’s pecs as the weight easily hefted back up towards the supports. Amazed, Riley began lowering the weight again, at the same time Derek began to push his fat dick back into Riley’s hole, hitting his prostate and causing Riley’s pecs to swell once again. This went on rep after rep. Each of Riley’s reps timed perfectly with the rhythm of Derek’s fucking. The weight became much lighter as Riley’s pecs swelled to massive proportions. Riley’s vision became filled with nothing but rippling engorged pec meat. As the weight became lighter Riley kept cranking out reps faster, causing Derek to fuck him faster. Riley re-racked the weight after about 100 reps, only to find that his pecs had stopped growing long ago. Derek continued to fuck Riley’s tight ass as he reached both hands up and felt his bulbous pecs. Derek pinched each of Riley’s perky nips to find them leaking with the milk of his desire. Derek leaned forward, stopping the fucking and left his dick buried to the hilt in Riley’s ass. Derek latched onto Riley’s left nipple with his teeth and began to suck hard, tasting the sweet delicious nectar flowing into his mouth. Riley began moaning and writhing on the bench as Derek continued to suck from his left nipple. Riley watched in ecstasy as his left pec quickly deflated to half its size. Derek noticed the milk was slowing down to a dribble so he moved over to the right nip, clamping down with his teeth, eliciting a sound of pleasure from Riley through his gritted teeth. Derek began to feel full as he could feel his gut beginning to swell against Riley as he sucked the last drops of milk form Riley’s right nip. Once finished, Derek squeezed each nipple to make sure he hadn’t gotten every last drop of Riley’s sweet nectar. Satisfied that there was nothing left, Derek leaned back up to his full height again. This time Riley could see what looked like a roid gut, solid yet so full of fluid that it pushed Derek’s abs out making him look as if he were pregnant. Derek rubbed his hands up and down his gut relishing in the thoughts of growth that were soon to ensue. Riley began moaning as Derek began moving his dick in and out of Riley’s ass. Riley watched in amazement as Derek became coated in sweat, causing his freshly grown chest hair to matte to his skin. Riley saw the veins on Derek’s arms getting thicker as he pistoned in and out of his ass. His shoulders and pecs swelling larger as well. Derek reached around Riley’s legs that were still positioned on his growing shoulders and grabbed onto his own nipples making himself give off a deep guttural moan. “FUUUUUCCCCKKKKK I’M GONNA CUM!” The first thing Riley noticed was an increased pressure in his ass as the torrent of cum began to flood his insides. Then he felt even more pressure as Derek pushed further and further into him. That’s when Riley was shocked to see that Derek was no longer moving. So that meant that his dick was growing inside of him. Riley looked down to see his lower abs on his right side being pushed up higher and higher as the mammoth cock inside him grew even larger. As if it was a renewal to the ecstasy Derek was feeling he began to cum even harder. “HOLY FUCK I’M CUMMING AGAIN” Derek yelled out in pleasure as he began ramming his dick back into Riley. Riley’s stomach began expanding at an alarming rate as he was filled with gallons of Derek’s cum. Just when Riley thought he couldn’t take anymore, Derek pulled out of Riley’s ass, making a loud sloshing sound as cum poured out of his ass. Derek was still shooting cum onto Riley’s ass as he stroked his newly enlarged 13 inch dick. Riley looked on in awe, not at the massive appendage between Derek’s legs, but his quads which had easily doubled in size since he started to fuck Riley. Derek was ripped to shreds showcasing veins that snaked all over his muscles fueling his body with the supply of nutrients it needed. Derek threw his arms up into a double bicep pose as each peak rose higher and higher, his lats fight for space with his massive triceps. Riley couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Derek had to weigh at least 250 pounds. “You must be bigger than Chris by now!” Riley said in amazement. “I’m not done yet little runt. I plan on getting much, much bigger!” Derek said as an evil smirk stretched across his face from ear to ear. Luke led Eric back into his home gym in the basement. “I can’t wait for you to see me get even bigger!” Luke reached into the pocket of the sweats and pulled out the pills he had grabbed from his duffel. He fished out two plain blue pills and threw them into his mouth and quickly swallowed. Luke turned to Eric with a look of excitement on his face, “Ready to see me grow?” To be continued...

Here is Blue Pill Part 6 in case you haven't had a chance to read it yet Blue Pill Part 7 I couldn’t believe how massive I had gotten as I walked back from the school to my house. My massive thighs made me waddle as they fought for space as I walked. As I got closer to my house I noticed that my mother was sitting out on the front porch, I thought it would be better if she didn’t see me in this state. I quickly turned down the alley next to the house which was hidden by a low row of bushes. I ducked down as best as I could, hoping that my hulking frame would stay out of view above the bushes. As I made my way around to the back door, I bent over to grab the spare key from under the matt and I heard the seam in the ass of the sweat pants rip. The neighbor’s dog began barking and in fear of getting caught by my mother, I quickly redoubled my efforts in finding the key in the dark. I grabbed onto the key just as I heard someone coming around the house on the porch. I quickly put the key in the lock and turned. I fell into the kitchen right as the back light came on. “Phew, close call. Now to make it upstairs before my mom comes inside.” I ran for the stairs and flew up them three at a time, surprised at the amount of power in my legs as it propelled me up the stairs. I reached the landing and dove into my room as I heard the kitchen door opening. I landed with a loud thud on my bedroom floor. “Jake sweetie, is that you upstairs.” my mom called up the stairs. I could tell she was standing right at the bottom of the stairs and she would come up if I didn’t answer. “Yeah…hack…hack…yeah” My voice was much lower than I had remembered it being before. “Honey are you feeling ok? It sounds like you’re coming down with something.” “Yeah mom, I’m fine. Just a little tired is all.” I could hear my mom heading back down the stairs, “ok sweetheart, if you need anything I will be out on the porch. Dinner is in the fridge. I made meatloaf.” “Thanks mom.” I heard the front door close again as my mom had gone back outside. I quickly flew to the phone in the hall and dialed my friend Eric. Now that I have the growth hormones, I can show Eric how I grew… __________________________________________________ ________ Meanwhile back at the high school, Derek began coming to on the bench by the pool… “HOLY SHIT”, Derek yelled as he saw his massive gut distending over his dick and balls. He slowly stood up off the bench and gained his balance as he felt the true weight of his over-extended stomach. Derek began feeling his new solid gut with his hands as he thought of how he was going to explain his new gut to coach. “I’ve gotta figure out a way to get rid of this gut before tomorrow’s big swim meet or coach will kill me.” As Derek began to turn towards the locker room, his toe hit something next to the bench. He looked down and noticed a small blue and white stripe pill rolling along the tile floor. He quickly bent over and picked it up, having a flashback remembering that it was the pill that Luke had made him take. “I’m going to get that mother fucker for turning me into this.” Just then Derek noticed a small piece of paper on top of the duffel bag at his feet. In scribbled handwriting it said that you would benefit from a workout. What a great piece of advice, Derek thought sarcastically. Derek crumpled up the piece of paper and headed into the locker room, he needed to find something in his duffel bag to wear so he could go down the school gym and workout. “Dammit!” Derek had found that someone had been in his duffel bag and his clothes were gone. He couldn’t use the clothes in the other duffel bag by the bench because they were ripped to shreds and covered in Luke’s cum. Instead Derek grabbed the last piece of clothing that he had in the bag and put it on. He looked ridiculous in his speedo with his distended gut hanging over the pouch. With the pill still in his hand he tucked it into the speedo thinking that maybe he would run into some unsuspecting victim and get some muscle like Luke did. Derek waddled his way into the weight room, relieved that there was nobody to see him in his current state of physicality. He headed over to the stair master to begin his workout. “What better than to start with a little cardio to work off this massive gut.” Derek stepped up onto the machine and started it at its lowest setting. After a couple of minutes he noticed it was beginning to get easier, so he increased the speed. This went on for about 15 minutes, Derek constantly increased the speed due to the level of ease he was feeling. Before he knew it the machine was beeping at him because he was at the max setting. “Impossible, I’ve never made it to the max setting even in my best swimmers shape. Derek finally looked down to see that his gut had slimmed down to about half of its previous size. He stepped off of the machine and noticed his legs were pumped, but not just pumped, engorged with new vein throbbing mass. He couldn’t believe his eyes. His legs had become massive and vein covered. “No way.” Derek quickly headed over to the wall of mirrors with the dumbbells in front of them to check out his new physique. “Oh my god”, Derek said in amazement as he checked out the striations and size of his new legs. He began shaking them out and flexing them as he had seen bodybuilders do before on YouTube. “What should I grow next?” Derek said out loud as he began getting excited over his new growth. “I’ve always wanted a bigger back.” So Derek headed over to the T-bar row and loaded it up with four 45 pound plates (his previous max). Derek stood over the bar and lifted it, feeling the strain in his back muscles as he pulled the bar to his chest. He lowered the weight back down and pulled the bar back up noticing how much easier it was to bring to his chest this time. Derek sat the bar down and grabbed two more 45 pound plates and loaded them on the bar. He stood over the bar and lifted it again, this time noticing a pump beginning to form in his arms as veins snaked their way over his biceps each time he brought the weight up. The veins got thicker and thicker with each rep until he finally lowered the weight back to the ground after about 30 reps with that weight. As Derek stood up he could instantly feel the difference in his muscles as his arms were now pushed out from his sides by his lat muscles. He turned and looked in the mirror. What looked back at him seemed like a fantasy from a fitness magazine. His lats flared out like a cobra head, so packed full of muscle that it pushed his arms out to a 45 degree angle. He turned and flexed his back, watching in the mirror as muscle exploded along his spine creating a set of wings that continued to spread wider the harder he flexed. Derek couldn’t believe the amount of muscle he had packed on in the short amount of time he was in the gym. Derek also noticed that he could once again see the faint outline of his eight pack abs. “Just a little bit of a gut left, what to use it on?” Just then a gasp was heard from behind. Derek quickly turned around to find Riley, the swim team’s co-captain, standing in the gym doorway. His jaw was on the floor along with his gym bag. “Like what you see?” Derek said with a devilish grin on his face. Riley was speechless as Derek stepped towards the awe struck jock. As Derek walked towards Riley he began popping his pecs in an arrogant display of muscle. Derek noticed a bulge starting to form in Riley’s shorts. Derek brought up his beefy right arm flexing it hard. He turned his head and began to lick it right in front of Riley. This sent a shudder through Riley as he spontaneously came in his shorts from the muscular display in front of him. The wet spot forming in Riley’s shorts brought Derek’s attention to his own bulge which had begun growing in his speedo. “You like my muscle Riley?” Derek asked as one hand slid down and began to man handle his own bulge through the speedo. Riley just shook his head still not knowing what to say. “How did…but you…” Riley stumbled for words as Derek put a finger up to his lips to silence his attempt at speaking. “How would you like to help me get even bigger Riley?” This question sent another shutter through Riley as his dick shot out another load in his shorts. “That’s what I thought.” Derek said with an evil grin forming on his face. __________________________________________________ ________ Eric finally answered his phone. “What?” “Eric you have to come over to my house. I can finally prove to you how I grew” Luke said in a rushed voice. “How am I sure this isn’t going to be a repeat of earlier in your basement? You don’t have Chris chained to a squat rack in your gym do you?” Remembering what I had said earlier about getting more of Chris’s cum I realized how crazy that must have sounded. “I promise you Eric, I’m being serious this time. If I can’t prove it to you this time, then you never have to speak to me again.” “Well we both know that will never happen” I could hear the smile in Eric’s voice. “I’ll be right over.” “Alright, see you soon.” As I got off the phone with Eric, I headed over to my full body mirror in the corner of my bedroom. I began admiring my muscles. Flexing my massive biceps and feeling the striations and the peaks in each one. I then moved onto my slabs of pec meat that now hung over my abs. I tensed the muscles, watching my pecs jump in the mirror. I reached over to my left pec and tweaked the nipple, sending a swift shudder of pleasure through my body. I grabbed onto my right nipple as well and tweaked it as my dick began to stiffen in the sweats I was wearing. TAP, TAP, TAP… I turned and looked towards the window as I saw Eric staring in wide eyed and slack jawed. I hurried over to the window and threw it open, slamming it a little harder than I expected. Eric quickly jumped into my room, not taking his eyes off my newly massive frame. “DUDE, WHAT THE FU….” I quickly stopped Eric in mid exclamation as I stood in front of him with a hand covering his mouth. He quickly grabbed my hand trying to pull it away, but unsuccessfully moving my hand even in the slightest bit. I then put a finger to my mouth signaling to be quiet. He got the hint and I took my hand off of his mouth. “Sweetie is everything alright? I heard a loud thud from the porch.” My mom had begun her ascent up the stairs towards my bedroom door. I quickly stepped over to my bedroom door and locked it. The knob turned as she tried opening the door. “Sweetheart is everything ok?” “Everything is fine mom, I just slipped when getting out of the shower is all.” “Alright well, be more careful next time. You definitely get your clumsiness form me.” My mom began snickering at the thought of me being just as clumsy as her. I then heard the stairs creak as she headed back down into the kitchen. The whole time I was talking to my mom through my bedroom door, I felt a small pair of hands groping my back and arms. I turned just to have my pecs groped by those same hands. “What do you think your do...” my eyes rolled back in my head as Eric pinched my nipples. I let out a slight moan as a huge grin came across his face. I went to move Eric’s hands away, but he insisted on keeping them there, tugging harder on my nipples. My dick began to respond from the sensation in my nips as it surged down the leg of the sweat pants, leaving a wet streak of pre-cum the entire way down. “You keep that up and we will have a mess on our hands.” Just then Eric pulled his hands back realizing the effect his groping had on me. He looked down and he then realized what I was talking about. “That thing is massive. How did that grow as well? I’ve seen you in the showers after gym class and you’ve never been that big, explain yourself.” Eric said all of this in a hushed voice. So I told Eric everything as we sat on my bedroom floor. Eric not once taking his eyes of my massive from. He would stare at the veins on my arms and trace their outlines with his fingers, and then he would move onto my pecs hefting each one in his hand and feeling their weight as they fell back into place. I told Eric about the blue pill and how it makes whoever takes it bigger through sexual stimulation. Then I explained that whoever takes the white stripe begins producing a muscle building milk that when drank makes the drinker grow. I also told him that the cum of the person who takes the blue pill makes you bigger as well, but only through physical exertion. By the time I was finished Eric was sitting in my lap and playing with my massive quads, watching as I flexed them in his hands. “I still don’t believe you. I would probably believe it if I could see it in action.” Just as he said that a smile spread across my face. “I can show you Eric” with that he turned and looked right up into my eyes. “How would you like to grow little buddy?” Continued in Blue Pill Part 8

Most recent chapter: Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped Chapter 15: Casey’s First Interview with Sergeant Moster In the main building, Gunst, dressed in regulation baggies and sweatshirt, was waiting for Casey and Moster with a set of keys. As directed. “Good morning, private,” said Moster. “Good morning, sir.” “Hey,” Gunst said to Casey, a little cool. “Hi,” said Casey. Right away he was intimidated by Gunst’s size. “Got everything?” Gunst asked him. “Wha-….yeah. I got everything.” “Take him to his quarters,” said Moster. “Casey, come to my office after you’ve moved in. 3:30. I want a few minutes with you before you meet the men this afternoon. My office is over there. Red door. I’ll see you then. And don’t be late.” He strode away, without waiting for an answer. “Yes, sir,” said Casey meekly, watching him go. Gunst gave him a hard smile. “Let’s go, then. To your new home.” He turned and walked to the end of the main hall. Casey stared, hypnotized by his thick traps, his broad batwing lat spread as he strode away, and then coming back to himself, hurried to catch up. Gunst led Casey down several long corridors. They turned right, turned left, passed about 10 doors, turned right again. Casey began to worry that he was going to get lost in this huge place. Then Gunst stopped. He unlocked a door. “Welcome. Your quarters. Enter and sign in.” He held the door open for Casey, who hesitated. “No, after you.” “Okay.” Gunst went in, and Casey followed him, his heart beating wildly. His new room was a single. Though it was not the first time in his life he’d had a room to himself, this one was big, and it was all his. The ceilings must have been 12'. All the ceilings in the Home were that high. But this was different. He was speechless. There was a main living room with two deep comfortable sofas, a wall of full-length mirrors, a large posing dais with lights, a big dinner table, a desk and four deep, cushy chairs. There was an entirely serviceable open kitchen, a broad glass door to an outside enclosed private terrace, a sizeable bedroom, and big bathroom with an extra-large shower with about 100 different nozzles and spigots, and what looked like an second, somewhat squat toilet. That, he couldn’t quite figure out. “What’s that?” he asked Gunst, pointing to it. “Your bidet.” “My wha-?.....” “Cleans your butt. You’ll need it.” “I keep clean.” Casey was offended. Did they think he was an animal? “Trust me.” The bed was a super king, broad and deep, with a mirrored ceiling so he could see his muscles as he woke up in the morning. The bright terrace continued outside the bedroom with a second entrance, and was open to the sky. The rooms were filled with light, but there was no view. No one would have been able to see in. Casey was a little disappointed. He’d hoped he could see down the mountain, and maybe even the Pacific roiling in the distance. In the corner opposite the terrace door stood the 6 8’-0” 3-paneled mirrors, in front of the dais. Overhead, spotlights were aimed at the dais. In front was a brand new video camera on a tripod. Casey regarded it a moment. “Wow. A camera.” “Yeah. We all get em. Record your progress. Tape your posing.” “This is no bullshit,” Casey breathed, stunned. “No, no bullshit. They’re serious. It’s all about muscle and getting bigger. Hop on, sport,” said Gunst., indicating the dais. He switched on the overhead lights. Cool spots of filtered white-rendered LED light shone from above. Casey stepped onto the dais and gazed at himself in the center pane of the mirror. In his reflection, his t shirt clung sweatily, his superhuman muscles rippling powerfully. He was transfixed at his reflection. “Wow,” he said, whistling. “Ain’t you seen yourself before?” “Not like this.” “Well, you’re big, dude. Real big. Big and hard. Zaftig and Moster got special plans for you.” He paused a moment while Rockland raised his arms and slowly flexed a front double biceps into the mirror. Shit, thought Gunst. His arms look bigger n’ mine. Fuck. His eyes drifted down to Casey’s perfect bubble butt, covered by his grey baggies. A deep butt crack pulled the loose fabric tightly into the shadows of his ass. “Awesome glutes.” “Thanks, man.” Casey now at work, working his way through his mandatories. He glided from pose to pose with ease. Gunst half-smiled, and took a step towards the door. He’s just a kid, he thought. A superhuman huge kid made of muscle, yeah, but just a kid. “You know how to work the camera?” “No,” said Casey, admitting it, humiliated as he always was at being so dumb. Gosh, I’m dumb, he thought. “It’s easy. Come down here.” Casey stepped off the platform and moved close to Gunst. As always he was intimidated, standing next to muscle bigger than his, but he said nothing. Gunst felt the heat wafting off the kid but studiously ignored it. He showed Casey the video cam. “Switch on here. Battery will always be charged. They’ll do that for you. Open the LED screen like this.” Gunst pushed a button and the screen flipped open, a little blue wall with menu items printed. “Then push this.” He pushed another button and the red blinking light and the REC menu appeared in the window. “Awesome.” “You following this?” “Yeah.” Actually, he was. After all, this was how he was going to record his own muscle. Of course he was following. “It’s aimed and focused to the dais and set for the proper lights. Switch off the room lights when you use it for best res.” “Okay.” “Got it?” “Yeah.” Gunst doubted it. “Okay, man, I’m gonna split now. You settle in. Be in the gym and ready to work at 1600 hours.” “Okay.” Casey studied the camera and then thoughtfully stepped back on the dais without switching it on. “That’s 4 PM.” “Okay.” “It’s noon. You got four hours before training and three and a half before you meet Sergeant Moster for debriefing in his office. Remember where his office is?" "Yeah." He didn't. Gunst smirked a little. "Go out the door, turn left, head to the main corridor, turn left again. Walk to the bulletin board past the cafeteria entrance. Turn right. Red door." "Okay." Casey was looking at himself in the mirrors. He wanted to pose some more. He thoughtfully flexed a powerful forearm, inspecting cables of veins. Gunst gave up. After all, it was his ass. "Eat and get some rest. Check out your refrigerator. They prepared some meals for you. Have a couple of steaks and a few chickens.” “Okay,” said Casey, already dreamily posing for himself. He hit another double bi. He was headed back to his distant mountain on his private planet. Gunst watched Casey as he hypnotically posed. Damn, the kid looked good. Casey slipped out of his shirt and threw it on the floor and hit a crab shot. Gunst, impressed in spite of himself, shook his head, and headed for the door. “Don’t wear yourself out, dude. Four hours. Three and a half, really.” “Okay.” "Take a shower. You stink." "Okay." Gunst started out. “Can I ask you a question?” Casey asked shyly, stopping his posing a moment. “What?” “How much you weigh?” Gunst smiled, hard faced. “375,” he said. “Shit, man.” “Yeah. You?” “310.” “So I’m bigger.” “Yeah,” said Casey. Gunst turned to go. “For now,” Casey added. Gunst looked back at him and grunted noncommittally. He left the room, closing the door, leaving Casey alone to ponder the wonders of his own physique. “Damn,” he breathed quietly to himself. That dude is huge. But then again, Casey hadn’t entirely realized that he looked this good. Good, yes. But not THIS good. As Gunst walked back up the corridor to his own room he felt a sudden impulse to run off to the gym again and spend the next hour doing punishing curls. For now?? The little asswipe actually had the balls to say this to him? But he knew it was true. It was just for now. This kid could surpass everyone. Including Moster. P21 may have been a miracle drug, but muscle recovery was still necessary, and as it was Gunst had spent a good hour just the night before curling hundreds of pounds. But damn. That kid’s biceps were sick. Sick. Unreal. He had to get his bigger. Bigger, harder, more vascular. He had to dwarf the kid’s arms when, on some inevitable future date when Moster lined them up next to each other barked out FRONT DOUBLE BICEPS to both of them, Gunst could raise his arms to the almighty skies and curl up a walloping huge double bi’s that would force the musclepuppy Casey into a shameful corner. But he knew that wouldn’t happen. Casey was just too big, too hard, too perfect – and only 18. Shit. Damn. Fuck. Gunst went to his room and stretched out on his bed, suddenly depressed. A few minutes later he got up and ate six chicken breasts. And then lay down again, resting, willing his arms to recover, to get bigger. Shit. Damn. Fuck. After about 10 minutes of posing, Casey, innocent of the turmoil he was already causing in the quad, felt both hungry and thirsty. He stepped off the platform, gave a last look at himself in the mirror, and did a side chest. Pop. Pow. Yeah. He wandered into his kitchenette. A surprisingly good-sized, double door industrial grade refrigerator (stainless steel, reflecting, naturally, so he could see himself) was center in the wall. He opened it up and was surprised to see three 5-gallon water bottles, shelves of Tupperware containers filled with cooked, cold bloody rare steaks and cooked chicken breasts, some prepared salads and tuna salad. He grabbed a whole steak and gobbled it in three bites, then drank a full quart of water. He opened the vegetable drawer. Unlike other young bodybuilders - stupid assholes - who turned their noses up at vegetables, at anything 'green', Casey craved fresh veggies. The drawer was full, he happily noted. He fished around and found some tomatoes and fresh celery stalks. He popped four whole tomatoes - "Vitamin C!" as Miles would have said - and began gnawing on a stalk. He closed the door and gazed thoughtfully at his reflection in the stainless steel. Miles. He really missed him. He hadn't seen him now for - what? - a year? More? Miles would be so proud of him. Maybe he could get out some time, go to Raw Weight, see Miles, and maybe pose a little with him? He sure hoped so. And....maybe something more, too. He belched softly and headed back into the main room to start unpacking. He raised an arm, sniffed at an armpit. Yeah, he did stink. A shower would come next. A knock came at the door. He answered it, the gallon water bottle still in his hand. It was Private Lang. He was dressed in an-all black skin-tight bicycling suit and was carrying a helmet. He dripped with sweat. “Hey,” said Casey, eyeing Lang evenly. He too was handsome, and he too had a heavy sagging cock bulge in front. Casey guessed they all wore clothing to show themselves off to their best advantage. But why did they all look like male models? Even Gunst, big and broad and homely, looked like he belonged in a magazine. Or on the movie screen. Or on TV. “Hey. Welcome. Listen, haven’t got much time. Moster will be here in a second. Want to warn you about something.” Casey was annoyed and awed for a moment by Lang’s two-day scruff and perfect hair. Damn. Fucking good looking dude. Shit, now what? What did he just say? Something else he had to worry about? “Come on in.” The heavily muscled Lang gazed briefly up and down at the shirtless Casey, lingered his gaze a moment on his bulging crotch, considered a moment, but then said, “No, thanks. Another time. Believe me.” “Sergeant Moster’s not coming. Come on in.” “No. Another time.” “Okay. So what’s up?” “You gotta watch out for Tiffany.” “Don’t I know it.” Lang fumbled in his fanny pack and pulled out a small pill bottle. He handed Casey a white capsule. “Something else, too. Take this before the workout.” Casey played dumb. “What is it? Drugs?” “Naw. Well, yeah. I guess. We all take ‘em. They’re not toxic and they’re not hallucinogens, but it’ll make you feel stronger and more confident, and they free up your…..well, natural inhibitions.” “Haven’t got any.” “Bullshit. You’re scared as hell, even Hension can see it. Hell, if I can see it, then, dude, you’re scared.” “I’m not fucking scared.” “Anxious, then. Nervous. Anyway, you should be.” “Why should I take this? What is this, anyway? You guys all trying to punk me?” “No! Trust me, dude. Take it. By the time the workout is under way you’ll be ready for anything. What do you normally single-arm curl?” “170 pounds.” “Take one and you’ll curl 220. Single arm.” Fuck! Casey grabbed for it, popped it down his mouth, and took a chug of water. Then he grinned. “Thanks! Sure you don’t want to come in a moment? We could pose together.” “Yeah…..I would…..but later. Gotta go.” He looked nervously down the corridor and scooted away. Casey closed the door. He unpacked some muscle magazines, his new jockstraps and do-rag, his iPod and laptop, and started to set up his new video camera on a tripod. He liked to record his posing practices, and with the dais and the mirrors and the new lighting he was already excited. He dropped to the floor and reeled off a fast150 push-ups. He needed to jerk off soon, but was interrupted by another knock at the door. This time it was Waring. He looked like he had just gotten out of the shower, his hair slicked back, his clothes tight and plastered against big muscles. “Whassup, dude?” he asked. “Welcome.” He extended a calloused hand. Casey leaned against the door and crossed giant arms. Another handsome dude. He didn’t shake. He blew out air, looked at him levelly, and just waited. Shit. After all, all these dudes had shot their cum all over him just 12 hours ago. Didn’t they remember? It was kinda weird they all seemed to have either forgotten, or just didn’t care. Or maybe they did it all the time to each other? Whatever. He was here to get big. There was a long pause. “Okay, I guess you’re just settling in and not ready to receive guests. I got something for you anyway. House-warming gift.” He held out a fist, opened it, revealing a capsule. Casey looked it and gazed at him, not taking the bait. “Don’t you want to know what it’s for?” “Lemme guess. My inhibitions? Give me a boost? I can curl 3,000 pounds? Protect me from Tiffany? Make me millions?” “Okay, who was here before me?” “I don’t remember his name. Good-looking guy with black hair. You’re ALL good-looking guys with black hair.” “Some are blond, some ginger, some bald. How old?” “Old. I don’t know. 27?” “Mustache?” “No.” “Bicycle clothes?” “Yeah.” “Lang.” Waring looked around. “Did he give you one already? Did you take it?” “Yes, and yes.” “Good.” He held out the capsule. “Keep it. Take it anyway. I took two once,” he added, and smiled to remember a particularly hot ‘Pose and Approve’ session with both Alvarez and Lang, after which, unfortunately, he was not invited to return. Not yet, anyway. “Sure you don’t want to come in?” Casey gestured ironically, but he wouldn’t have minded. A little double-posing practice would be a good workout. But once again, all he got was the once-over. Waring paused a little and grinned, his face turning pink, but shook his head. “No, I gotta run. Bye.” And he loped off down the corridor. Casey closed the door. Whatever. All these dudes were weird, muscle or no. He took the second White Caps, flexed a few more minutes in front of the mirror, waited for something to happen. Nothing. Suddenly he was tired, so he decided to grab a nap. He went to his room, kicked off his boots, tore off his sweatpants and jock, and sprawled naked onto the huge bed. He was instantly asleep, dreaming vaguely of his muscle planet. When he woke up, the light in the room had changed, but he didn’t notice it. All he could think of was his dick, hugely and almost painfully hard. He was ready to go, now. The caps? Maybe. He masturbated on his bed, formally initiating himself to his room. He watched his reflection in the ceiling mirror as he pumped his big shaft. Within 30 seconds he came, his cum spurting high and splashing the glass of the mirrored ceiling and plopping down onto the sheets, staining them deeply with pools of cum. “Shit,” he said. He got up went into the bathroom and closed the door. He shat heavily and pissed about 2 gallons with heavy ropes of piss splashing into the toilet. He stared suspiciously at the bidet, and then at the shower. There were the seemingly dozens of jets and spigots and controls, but after a few minutes of carefully testing, he got it to work. He showered for about 10 minutes, washing himself off carefully, loving the jets of steaming hot water that hit every angle of his physique. He stepped out and grabbed a huge towel off the rack. It was warm to the touch, as if it had just been taken out of the drier. Damn, it felt good. He draped it around himself and went back into his room. His sheets had been changed. The ceiling mirror was clean. Fuck. Who the hell had been in here while he was in the shower??? And his workout clothes were laid out on the bed. Oh well. Guess he had invisible maids, too. He changed, and went to the kitchenette to get a bite of chicken and another jug of water. On the counter there was a note: I let myself in. Hope u don’t mind. Take this pill. It will help. C U later in the gym. --- Hension Next to the note was another capsule. What the hell? He took it. He looked at his watch. 3:40 PM. “Shit! Shit!” he shouted. Late again! He tumbled into his sweatshirt, and ran off to meet Moster in his office. ******** 15 minutes later, Casey stood at attention in front of Sergeant Moster’s desk. “Well, Cadet,” said Moster. “Late again. Very late. At ease. Let’s talk awhile. Have a seat.” He gestured to a flat bench used for bench presses. Casey dutifully lowered his bulk onto the bench and leaned forward anxiously, resting his elbows on his thighs. Sweat rolled down his torso. He wiped his eyes and stared ahead of him. He wasn’t going to get punished for being so late? He had run all the way from his quarters to the office and got lost six times. He finally had to ask some Puerto Rican kitchen kid – oh, yeah, the kid who was there last night, sucking all the musclemen’s cocks while he wrestled Abdul – where the hell Moster’s office was. The kid had stared at him hungrily but Casey wasn’t about to get into it. “Down there,” he’d pointed, and Casey ran off. This time he found it. He saw none of the other men. Moster came out from around the desk and approached, looking him over. “Rockland – I mean Casey … - I’m going to get right to it. You show great potential. Big muscles, lots of strength, good flexibility, tall, young, still growing.” “And I got good bones. You and Dr….” He paused. He couldn’t recall the dude’s name. “Dr. Zaftig.” “Yeah, Dr. Zaftig, you both said so last night.” Didn’t Moster remember last night either? Fer crissakes. “Yes, and good bones, yes.” He stood in front of Casey. “Do you have questions?” Casey looked up at the Sergeant plaintively. About a million of them, actually. But he said nothing, and shook his head. His eyes roamed up and down his CO’s massive physique. Moster’s shiny black biceps exploded out of his white t-shirt, with veins thick as snakes, lining the peaks and networks of pumping blood vessels criss-crossing his forearms. His hands, resting lightly on his hips, were enormous, with thick fingers, white, trimmed fingernails and long, powerful thumbs. His neck was impossibly huge, and his traps sloped powerfully into massive deltoids. His lats flared out almost horizontally. Casey had never seen so much muscle. And in his pants, his package drooped casually from his fly down along his right thigh in his uniform trousers. The massive bulge extended nearly to his knee. Casey gulped and licked his lips a little. He could see the mountain of cockhead corona and make out the deep piss slit, even through the thick fabric. Moster’s gaze never left his eyes. “Well, Casey?” “Sergeant Moster, what is this place really about? Why are we here?” “You’ve been on campus two years. You should know. We’re Valhalla Labs.” “Yeah, I know that. But what is it? Really is it?” “Valhalla Labs is a unique training facility. Here we build and train the finest specimens of men on earth.” “But just bodybuilders.” Moster looked down into Casey’s eyes, slightly startled. “Yes, just bodybuilders,” he confirmed. “There are other kinds of men who get built. Gymnasts. Swimmers. Football players.” “Yes.” “So why just bodybuilders?” Moster paused a moment. “Son,” he said, pacing, “don’t you want to be here?” Casey fell all over himself replying. “Oh, yes, sir, I do want to be here, sir, and nowhere else!” “So….is there a problem?” “No, sir, no problem AT ALL. But….why are we here?” And he still didn’t ask, pointedly, about the wrestling and the cum job and all the craziness from the night before. Moster paused again, and spoke in a measured tone. “The Nineteen – and now, with you, The Twenty – are potentially the finest specimens of male musculature on the planet. Most bodybuilders, power lifters, weight lifters, look mighty impressive, but, you know, they have all sorts of internal problems. Bad hearts. Very bad livers and kidneys. Bad skin. Small testicles. High cholesterol. Bad blood pressure. Boils, scars. They smell bad. No endurance. And…..too often….they have very tiny cocks.” Casey had to admit it was true. “But not here. Here we build men who will last. When you, son, reach your 50th birthday, you’ll look much the way you do now. When you reach 70, God willing, you’ll look like a man of 40. Do you know how old I am?” Casey paused a moment. “28?” he ventured. “I’m 48. 49 next month.” “No shit.” “No shit. Let’s see your biceps, son. Remove your sweatshirt.” Casey complied and meekly flexed his guns. He smiled hopefully. “Are they okay?” he asked nervously, flexing, looking from arm to arm, glancing hopefully at the dancing triple peaks of each biceps. “You know they’re better than just ‘okay’. Or you should know. Good God, you’re still reticent?” “Re- ti – what?” “Still shy? Don’t you feel strong, son? Don’t you feel huge and powerful?” “Not next to you, sir.” Moster was touched in spite of himself. “Stand up, son,” he directed, peeling off his shirt and heading over to a broad expanse of mirror. “Come over here and join me.” He bent and began to unlace his boots. Casey got up and trotted over to join Moster at the mirror. Instinct told him it might not be a good idea to tell him just at present that he had recently taken three white caps. So far he hadn’t felt anything unusual. But then, he’d had a long nap, too. Maybe you weren’t supposed to take white caps and then immediately go to sleep. “Kick off those shorts. Your jock, too. Strip down.” Casey did as he was told, pulling his jock down shyly. Moster unbuckled his belt, peeled down his trousers, kicked off his boots and rose, ripping off his t-shirt. His massive muscles bloomed with gigantic power. He was wearing a powerfully knit bright red posing suit underneath his trousers that magnificently displayed his bulging tool. “All our posing suits are privately made. Otherwise, they won’t fit. See?” First he grabbed the side straps and pulled up. The pouch loomed magnificently, full of Moster’s massive penis and balls. He moved from side to side, showing the strength of the suit. “Actually there’s some steel mesh in there. You get used to it.” Then he pulled down the poser from the side straps and, one foot at a time, stepped out of it. His cannon firehose flopped out and down heavily and loudly slapped his quads. “Face the mirror, Cadet,” said Moster. Casey obeyed and turned, and together the two musclemen stood naked in front of the mirror. Wow. Casey knew he had never seen – no, nor imagined – bigger muscles, nor a bigger engine like the one Sergeant Rod Moster was sporting between the walls of each diamond-shaped quad. He stared at it, slack jawed, his mouth dangling open, amazed. From the beautiful muscle jewel-setting that was Moster’s lower rectus abdominus to the ridge of shrink-wrapped muscle from which plunged the massive, thick shaft, Moster’s massive, huge, perfect monster penis was a thing of beauty. A few moments passed, and Casey finally spoke. “You have a very big dick, sir. Begging your pardon.” “Yes, quite the tool, isn’t it?” Moster said expansively, waggling it from side to side. “It might even be the biggest in the world. Anyway, no recorded penis has been found to be bigger.” He looked down appraisingly at Casey’s organ, “Yours appears to be almost as big, I see.” “No, not, really, sir.” “Oh, yes, I think it is. Close, anyway. Let’s see you wave it back and forth. Like this.” He began to whip his penis noisily from side to side. It slapped loudly on his quads. “Go ahead. I know you can do it. I saw you do it for the boys in your room this morning.” Casey was mortified, remembering. “Try it, cadet.” “Okay.” He waved it back and forth timidly. “No, throw some energy into it. Be a man!” Moster continued to slap his cock against his quads. Casey gulped and began to whip his engine a little faster, a little harder…..and suddenly he was surprised to hear slaps as loud as Moster’s coming from his own extremities as his ample cock made contact with his muscular quads. Moster reached down and grabbed Casey’s member in a powerful fist and began to squeeze. Casey was stunned. “Sir!” “Relax, Private. I know you’re a grower. I want a demonstration.” He began to powerfully stroke the penis, and in his grip Casey immediately became erect. “Very nice indeed. 12 inches? More?” “I’m not sure….” “Zaftig sure knows how to find them.” Casey was getting dizzy. A heavy glob of precum appeared from the piss slit, ran over Moster’s fist and dripped onto the floor. “Nice,” said Moster. “Good boy. Have you masturbated yet today?” Casey was mortified. He took a step back and his thick penis popped from Moster’s enveloping fist. Moster let it go. “Yes…..” “How many times?” “Just once.” “Right.” He walked back to his desk, his penis waggling mightily as he walked, and hit a key on his laptop, which dinged. He read a message, looked up and smiled. He returned. “Yes, I see that you did, about 25 minutes ago.” “Wha-a-a-a-a- t?!!?” “The cleaning report came in.” Cleaning report?? Christ, the sheets. They file this stuff? “Are you guys spying on me?” “We’re going to monitor your activity, yes. We do this for all the men.” “Do they know?” “Yes, of course they know. Many of them relish it. The men like to be on cam. Is this going to be a problem for you?” Casey decided to change the subject. “Sir, it embarrasses me. I have to jerk off about 5 or 6 times a day.” “Seems that you’re off schedule then, if you have only masturbated once so far.” “Well, it’s been a weird day.” “Don’t let me stop you.” “I’m not gonna do it now!!!” Casey was getting more and more mortified. What was all this, anyway?? “No, of course not. You still have the societal blockers in place that prevent that. So do the men, actually, in my presence. They wouldn’t do it either while in this office. Of course, at meal times, in the gym, on the track outside, wherever or whenever they feel they have to, they whip out their dicks and go for it. You saw that last night, actually.” Finally. “Last night was really, really weird,” said Casey. “You’ll get used to it.” “I will?” “Yes, and with talent like yours, the men will be very eager for you to start joining them in priapic exercises.” Hunh? “You’ll find out. In time. Meanwhile, you should be very proud. Your penis is one of the finest specimens I have ever seen. And I have seen thousands of the best of the best. Yours is….well…..it rivals mine.” Shit, thought Casey. Really? Sudden he got a little coy. “Gee, and I have always been ashamed of my big dick.” “Really. Why?” “I can’t….hide -… it….” Casey colored deep red and looked down at himself. There it was, looming out from his body, huge and solid. “And why would you want to hide it?” “You hide yours!” Casey blurted. “Or you try to.” “That’s different. I’m in command. And the men all know now about my superior tool. If I showed it all the time, it would lead to all kinds of problems.” Moster bent and pulled up his posers and trousers, carefully wrapping his giant engine securely in the folds of pants fabric. He squatted slightly, reached into the waistband of his slacks, and positioned the shaft so that it lay, lazy and secure, against his right quad. Then he went back to his desk. “Get dressed now. But hang on.” He reached into a drawer and pulled out a small vial, then walked back to him and leaned in quietly. He spoke low into Casey’s ear, and raised his palm surreptitiously. In his hand was a single white capsule. “Take it,” he said. Not again. He was already feeling – well, not high, exactly, but close. He was dubious – after all, he had already taken three – but what the hell. He pretended innocence, and he made his face appear anxious. “What is it? Drugs? I’ve never done drugs.” “This is pure P21. The drug of choice. Take it.” “Will I be okay?” he asked, wanting to trust him. I hope so, Casey thought. I took three of those little suckers. “You’ll be fine,” assured Moster, and he meant it. “Frankly, yes. It is a drug. It will not hurt you - but it will do something to your perception of yourself. Take it. Now.” “Okay.” Casey nodded dumbly and bolted it down. Inside he was elated, excited, wondering if this new mystery supplement was a new kind of steroid, able to produce great surges of strength and growth. Then he looked up hopefully at Moster, now sitting back at his desk, easy in his chair, his legs wide before him, open to the world. “Meet us in the rec room after your shower for post workout eval.” “Yes, sir,” said Casey. Inadvertently his gaze lowered to the Sergeant’s lap. He stared at the bulge. Wow, he thought again. Damn. “Good. Now get to the gym and get started. Some of the men will be there. You have some serious lifting to do. I’ll join you presently.” He pushed an intercom button. “Dr. Irving?” “Yes?” came the voice on the squawk box. “Get the camera ready and head to the big gym. You'll find everything you need in the locker room. Dr. Irving is there ahead of you. He'll set you up. Get moving now.” “Yes, Sergeant Moster.” "And don't dawdle." He checked his watch. "You're already 20 minutes late. The men were expecting you at 16:00 hours. They don't like to be kept waiting." "Are they all there?" "By now, yes." "They gonna jerk off all over me again?" Moster smiled. "No, not tonight. Frankly, you have them all a little too worried about themselves to pull anything like that again so soon. Besides...." Casey waited for it. "Besides what?" Moster smiled. "Nothing. We talk again after your workout tonight. Then dinner and then bed for you. Get going now." Click click click. Moster was typing. Casey stood still, uncertain. Moster looked up. “I said get going, Casey.” Casey nodded, dumbly wordless. Gee, he types fast, he thought. He pulled on his sweatshirt and scampered out the door. After a moment he was back. “Sergeant Moster?” he asked, shy and frightened. “Yes, Cadet Rockland?” “…um..….which way IS the gym….?” Moster had to smile in spite of himself. He pushed back from the desk and rose. “Okay. We'll go together.” He approached Casey, looked him over with brief approbation, and nodded to himself. This kid was something else. Just what he had been waiting for. Just right for his plans. Just right for the big picture. The picture Zaftig wasn't aware of. Yes, everything was going smoothly. He headed on down the corridor. Casey followed him, submissively scampering a few steps behind. It was going to be his first workout as one of The Twenty. He felt both scared and powerful. And just a little pissed off, as the White Cap began to work on him. Those dudes weren't gonna jerk off on him again, any time soon. He'd see to that. He knew what he had to do. Okay. Time to go train. ********** Want to reread "The Twenty" from the beginning? Click here for "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Precis, Introduction, and Chapters 1 & 2

Part 1 HERE Part 2 HERE Part 3 HERE Part 4 HERE Part 5 HERE Part 6 HERE Part 7 HERE Part 8 HERE Part 9 & 10 HERE Part 11 HERE Part 12 HERE 13 I woke up the sounds of what sounded like tearing flesh. I shook my head and my vision slowly came back. Across the room, Matt was hunched over a table full of food. With his bare hands, he was stuffing large pieces of meat into his mouth. He grabbed a carton of milk and started to chug it. Milk ran down his chin and puddled on the floor. He dumped numerous scoops of protein powder into a open jug of water and started to drink that too. Before he swallowed his other hand grabbed more meat. I watched in awe for minutes as he devoured massive amounts of food. When I was finally able to break my gaze I realized I was tied to a metal post, unable to move. “Be with you in a moment” Matt said with a mouth full of food. He never looked up, he just kept eating. After another 10 minutes he finally pushed the table back and stood up. Food and liquid covered his swollen chest. He wiped his face with his vein engorged forearm and patted his distended stomach. He was only wearing tight underwear and the sight of his body made me stifle a gag. He looked MASSIVE. Whether it was the battle we had just had or the copious about of food he just ingested; he looked twice as big as he had in the alley. He let out a loud burp and ran his hand over his bloated stomach. “Fuck that was good. I needed to replenish my calories after kicking your muscled ass” “Untie me you little fuck!” I screamed. Matt just laughed and stepped closer. He leaned down and slowly hit a most muscular pose. His extreme conditioning and deep striations reached new levels as his entire body inflated before my eyes. “We aren’t done yet Dave. So you better get conformable. You aren’t going anywhere.” Matt said and slowly waddled across the room. I repositioned myself and suddenly realized I was tied to a pole in what looked like an old warehouse. One side was a crudely constructed apartment while the other side was a massive gym. Stacks of weights and massive machines covered every inch. At the far end of the room a large garage door opened. The sun was coming up so all I could see was the silhouette of a person walking inside. As my eyes focused on the shape my eyes widened. Slowly moving towards me was the largest man I had even seen. Wearing only a pair of tight boxer briefs he approached. His legs were so immense that he didn’t even waddle. Each quad had to swing around the other causing him to sway back and forth. He wasn’t flexing his chest but each overinflated pec pressed against his thick, square chin. Even with such massive pecs his lats were still visible from the front. They protruded an additional two feet from his sides like two outrageously muscled wings and pressed his inhumanly massive arms and shoulders to rest at nearly 90 degrees from his body. Even in my wildest imagination I never imagined such a massive beast of a man could exist. “I see our guest is awake” Clint said as he approached. “Wh-who the f-fuck are you?” I stammered. Clint stopped a few feet from me and started to inflate his enormous body. He easily dwarfed every professional bodybuilder I had even seen. His body expanded into a mind-boggling network of the thickest, most striated network of overly developed muscle I had even laid eyes on. Matt stood next to Clint and for the first time; looked small and weak. “He’s 52 years old and at 5’7” he weighs 395lbs.” Matt said, caressing Clint’s flexed body. “400lb as of this morning kid” Clint said with a wide grin. “FUCK YEAH!” yelled Matt. “That’s not possible! How…?” I said in disbelief. Clint took a step closer and hit a most muscular pose. His already inflated body contorted and increased in size. My brain couldn’t comprehend the sight. I ejaculated in my shorts and fainted. I woke minutes later to the sounds of metal clanking. I opened my eyes and saw Clint and Matt at the squat rack. Matt had just racked a sizeable weight and stumbled out of the cage. His massive quads were purple with pump and looked absolutely huge. He leaned against the wall and started to pound his dense quads muscles with his fists. “Not big enough! Need to grow these babies.” He repeated. Clint smiled and positioned himself under the heavy weight. With seemly no effort; he lifted the weight and started to squat. I looked on in awe. Clint’s enormous quads powered the weight up and down with mechanical precession. His massive legs were overshadowed however by his immense glutes. Each ass cheek resembled a overinflated beach ball. After well over 20 reps he racked the weight and stepped out of the cage and walked towards me. “Good, you’re up. Give him a good show Matt” He said and added two more plates to either side of the bar. Matt slapped his face hard and positioned himself under the bar. When he lifted it off the supports, it sagged in the middle. Matt then proceeded to preform textbook prefect squats with the huge weight. With each rep, his granite hard ass came inches above the ground before powering the bar back up. At eight reps his rhythm started to slow down. “Don’t stop Matt! Think about how you beat the shit out of this huge freak!” Clint yelled. Matt let out a savage scream and quickened his pace. He managed 17 reps before racking the weight and collapsing on the floor. “This kid is fucking animal.” Clint said with pride. He walked over to me and untied the ropes holding my hands. I immediately got to my feet. “Don’t even think about trying to go anywhere.” Clint said and picked up a 45lb plate. He swung his huge body and launched the weight at the wall. The plate hit the cement wall so hard it embedded itself a foot deep. “Besides, I know you want to tear this kid apart for what he did to you but I think you’d rather just stay here and get the best pump of your life.” I stood in shock. Clint was right; I had been hurt and humiliated by Matt. I should have wanted to pound him to a bloody pulp but another emotion was taking over. I don’t know if was the intoxicating level of testosterone in this room or just the shear size of Clint and Matt but I didn’t want to leave; I couldn’t leave. Clint smiled; slapped my shoulder and guided me towards the squat rack. I looked down at Matt, who was still on the ground. He looked up with a smile and slowly made his way to his feet. The two massive men stood behind me and I watched their reflections in the mirror as the heavy weight started to press into my broad shoulders and huge traps. With a grunt I hoisted the weight and started to squat. As blood filled my legs, my anger dissolved. The craving to feel even muscle fibre in my body beg for relief took over and I powered the bar up and down. I don’t know how many reps I did but when I re-racked the weights I stumbled back and almost fell over. I looked down at my quads and I couldn’t see my feet due to the swollen leg muscles. I looked at Matt and he was slowly stroking his hard cock. “Let’s lift” I said as the two huge men hurried to add more weight. ———————————————————————————————————————— I had had countless intense workout with Tyler but they now paled in compassion to the workout I had with Clint and Matt. Brutal squats led to torturous leg press and devastating calf raises. An hour later we could no longer move. I was laying on the floor and Matt was propped against the wall as Clint handed us each a massive protein shake. We were all sweating profusely and breathing heavy. I glanced towards Matt. He was rubbing his cock and staring at my blood engorged quads and calves. If I could have measured them I’m sure they were at their all time biggest. Clint noticed Matt’s gaze and said “He’s a fucking mutant isn’t he Matt?” “He sure is Clint. Next to you he’s the biggest freak I’ve ever seen.” Clint walked over to me and extended his wet, huge hand. I reached up and with a grunt, he lifted me to my feet. I stumbled a few steps but gained my balance. “Let’s compare beast to beast for the kid” Clint said. “Fuck yeah!” I replied. Clint planted his feet and twisted his 400lb body. He grabbed his wrist and hit a side chest pose. He flexed every muscle and exploded with mind boggling mass. He looked to be as wide and thick as he was tall. Not to be outdone I quickly mimicked his pose. I could feel my incredibly pumped quads pressing against each other. My hamstrings and calves were so pumped they almost touched. Matt sat of the floor looking up at our massive bodies and let out a low whimper. I stepped closer and positioned my forearms behind my head. It was a battle just to place them behind my thick, swollen neck. Once secure, I flared my lats and tightened my abs. I positioned my feet and flexed my legs; showing the kid a horrifyingly huge ab/thigh pose. I grunted and flexed harder. My entire body shook from the strain. Clint stepped in front of me and started to caress my cobblestone-hard ab muscles. He wiped my sweat up my stomach and onto my dense, vein-covered lats. He took a step away and balled his fists. With laboured movement, he placed his hands behind his waist and stared to flare his lats. I stopped posing as his body started to expand. When I thought he had reached his maximum width he just smiled and flexed harder. His inhumanly wide body continued to grow. Before my eyes, Clint mutated into a beast that was no longer human. He grew into a seething mass of muscle and vein. “WORSHIP ME!” he screamed through gritted teeth and spit. As I stepped closer I felt; for the first time in many years, small. My hands trembled as I touched his granite hard pecs. I could feel the individual muscles and tendons quiver. My hands ran down his keg-sized forearms. I had never felt muscle so huge and hard. Matt made his way to his feet and stood beside me. He started to lick the sweat off Clint’s flexed biceps. His head looked minuscule next to Clint’s 28” bicep. Clint pivoted on his feet so we could worship his back. When he turned I let out a low whimper at the site. He was clearly wider than he was tall. Deep, striated mounds of back muscles covered every flexed inch. His bloated traps rose inches above his ears. Each lat muscle was so huge, I could barely see his forearms and elbows. As Matt and I ran our hands over his sweaty skin, Clint dropped his arms. As we both stared in awe of his now un-flexed back, Clint bent his arms and drove them back. Instantly his back solidified again. Deep striations erupted. Fine lines sliced across his lower back and up each compacted lat. Not wasting any time, Clint raised his hands up and flexed his grotesquely pumped arms. He then adjusted his left leg and flexed his glutes, hamstrings and calves. I dropped to the ground and grabbed hold of his flexed calve. My hand barely covered the back of the dense muscle. I could feel the fibres twitch. Matt grabbed hold of Clint’s underwear and ripped it off his body. I look up as he traced the deep striations on Clint’s glutes. Clint relaxed the pose again and turned to face us. “Stand up” he commanded. We complied. Clint reached out and grabbed both of our underwear a tore them off simultaneously. “Time to cum all over this freakishly huge body.” Clint said and proceeded to hit a most muscular pose. His massive body once again contorted and expanded before our eyes. “Look at ME! Look at all this power and mass! I’m the biggest, most muscular, roid-filled FREAK on the planet!” He bellowed. To even compare Clint to another mire bodybuilder would have been an injustice to the term. He continued to grow and flex his impossibly big body. The strain of the flex was evident on his face but he refused to stop. After holding the pose for 20 seconds he let out a loud growl and said “CUM! NOW!” Matt and I didn’t even have to touch our cocks before thick ropes of cum started to cover Clint’s body. Gallons of cum soaked his entire upper body. It dripped onto his pumped quads and started to puddle on the floor. Clint stopped the pose and held his arms out, relishing the affect he was having on both of his huge worshippers. When we had spent our last drop Clint threw Matt over his shoulder and wrapped his free arm around my waist hoisted me off the ground. With a grunt he rammed his rock hard cock up my ass. In an astounding display of raw power, Clint adjusted his hold on Matt so he could start sucking his still-hard cock. There in the middle of the gym; Clint power fucked me in mid-air while manhandling Matt with ease. I glanced in the mirror and came again at the sight. Clint let out a savage bellow and came all over my chest and abs. Clint dropped both of us and stepped away. He continued to jerk his massive cock and sprayed both myself and Matt with a massive load of cum. He was so pumped he looked downright terrifying. He stepped towards the mirror and started to worship his own freaky mass. He smeared cum and sweat all over his skin as he flexed. I was too spent to move. I just watched the humungous beast pose and flex. My muscle trance was broken by the sound of my cell phone ringing across the room. I managed to get to my feet and when I looked at my phone screen I saw a number of text messages; all from Tyler. The last one read - WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!

"The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After NG "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - Inside Zaftig's Lab: The Musclemen Revealed Precis: Valhalla Labs is a remote mountaintop Northern California military facility, overseen by genius muscle growth scientist Dr. Ira Zaftig and CO Staff Sergeant Rod Moster, a 7'-0" ripped and hung 395-pound black muscle giant. There, 18 extraordinary bodybuilder-soldiers live, train, and play together, overseen by Moster's strict rules and brutal regimen for muscular perfection. Known as Project Herculaneum, the men serve as Dr. Zaftig's lab rats, receiving regular injections of P-21, a specially developed enzyme that facilitates muscle and strength growth in the very few bodybuilders whose systems can withstand it. The goal: to create an army of supermen, whose strength, size, and combat skills are unparalleled in the modern military. Unfortunately for the Project, the soldiers' enhanced strength and dramatically increased muscular size is accompanied by a corresponding increase in priapic size as well, along with a rapidly diminishing sense of social restraint and inhibitions. And along the way, the men's extraordinary physiques prompt their own extreme muscle fantasies into a daily acting-out sexual reality. Into the mix comes young Casey Rockland, a lonely, handsome, super-hung 18-year old bodybuilding giant. Inducted by Dr. Zaftig into the top-secret government muscle strength and growth project, Casey comes to learn the ropes amongst the muscle giants, whose hunger for hardcore training is matched only by their sexual appetites and growing fantasies, including their insatiable need to receive muscle worship. Casey's innocence, simplicity, and his growing need to receive both love and muscle worship threaten the very core of the decade-long Project, itself only now approaching its full potential. To start back at the beginning with Chapter One, click on the link below: "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped October 22nd, 2017 After the bout between Casey and Abdul, the musclemen retired to their separate corners of the compound. The vanquished Abdul, rivulets of dried cum caked to his physique, dragged Pedro along with him back to quarters. “Service me,” he growled. He threw open the door to his room and tossed Pedro onto the floor. Five minutes later, after a satisfying dump and a quick infusion of P21, Abdul was in the center of his room, working out on a speed punching bag hanging from the ceiling. His red, raw fists pummeled the stained leather furiously while Pedro gingerly danced around him, carefully washing the cum off his physique with a wet towel. Occasionally he leaned in and gingerly pressed a warm tongue against the muscle giant’s body, licking the cum-covered muscles respectfully, hoping not to get swatted away. It didn’t happen. Emboldened, he finished cleaning off his god. He took a deep breath, and grabbed ahold of Abdul's musclebutt. "Permission to worship?" he asked hopefully. Abdul grunted, and nodded slightly. Pedro deeply buried his face in the muscleman’s rock hard pillow glutes, feeling the heaviness of iron-like musclebutt cheeks violently knocking his head right and left as Abdul rhythmically punched the bag. This was what his god wanted. He knew this. Abdul said nothing, but slightly arched his back, to better extend his ass and receive the comfort of Pedro’s tongue up his butthole. They lasted like this long into the night, Abdul punching the bag with fury, Pedro probing his tongue deeply into his gyrating asshole, until Abdul reached back, grabbed Pedro by the back of the head, brought him violently around, threw him into the air and forced his massive penis into the teen’s small, hard butt. He fucked the boy mercilessly for about ten minutes, Pedro screaming happily with insane delight, his cries echoing down the corridor, as the giant member pleasurably pounded his butthole into raw meat. When he was near to climax, he pulled out and came about a quart all over Pedro’s writhing, grateful little bottom, grunting deeply as he shot, a bear in the woods. UNGH UNGH UGNH YEAH A moment later he push-kicked Pedro’s butt away. Pedro went sprawling, his hard little bottom covered with cum. “Get out of here,” he snarled, but with something like warmth, or so Pedro thought. “Yes, sir!” Pedro squeaked, and ran for the door. Abdul was asleep in 2 minutes. He dreamed only of revenge. Pedro scampered back to his room, where he masturbated gleefully for the next hour, envisioning a world of musclemen as he worked his pretty little cock into repeated starbursts of cum frenzy. He finally drifted into a woozy, muscle-filled sleep about 3 AM, knowing he’d have to be up by 6 to start breakfast with the compound chefs for the 19 musclemen. It was heaven. He was living in heaven. Lang and Alvarez drifted back to Alvarez’s room, where they posed-and-approved for about 45 minutes before falling asleep on the dais, Alvarez’s cock languidly filling Lang’s mouth, their ripped posers discarded and on the floor. Schumacher, Jin, Washington, Obatu and LeFevre carried the knocked-out Blankenship to his room. Fortunately, P-21 strengthened bones, too, and Blankenship’s black and blue jaw was okay – otherwise, it might well have been shattered by the force of Abdul’s powerful punch. They retired separately to their rooms and reflected on what they’d seen tonight. This Rockland kid was a threat. In their separate quarters all five men jerked off, and thought. And thought. And jerked off. Hearing Pedro’s echoing, ecstatic cries as he was being masterfully buttfucked by Adbul, each man shot muscle cum up and out into the dark, splashing onto their abs, the floor, the ceiling, everywhere. Blankenship, of course, was out for the night. Deep in his knocked cold sleep, he dreamt vaguely of doing endless sets of curls. And squats. Especially squats. He smiled in his sleep, two teeth missing. Tiffany, smug and satisfied and unaware his life was about to drastically change, drifted off. He remembered Casey from the world outside, but it was clear the big dumb muscleboy didn’t remember him. Yet. Eli Meyer, quietly determined to get off on real muscle, and not just fantasy, followed Hension back to his room. He knocked on the door, and Hension, startled, opened up. Meyer smiled. He went in. For the next hour the two men took turns with some heavy butt fucking. In turns, each muscleboy’s big dick met the other’s hard glutes and sweetly receiving butthole as they fucked each other silently in the dark. Finally Hension spoke, even as Meyer ploughed him. “Stinkface me,” he said, emphasizing the words, turning his head back and to the side so that the deaf Meyer could read his lips. It was all he said. It was all he had to say. Meyer nodded agreement, pulled his thick cock out of Hension’s butthole, got up and squatted down onto Hension’s handsome face, burying him in striated, iron glutes. He rotated and jerked his big dick. A few minutes later both men came, cum splashing sloppily onto Hension’s ripped abs, pooling in the deep valleys of muscle. And five minutes after that, both were curled up and asleep on the floor, wrapped deeply into each other’s muscles. In their separate quarters, McIntyre and Duncan, ever quiet and reflective, sat up awhile and listened to the compound’s nocturnal moans and gasps, punctuated by the sounds of the speed bag, and then the butt fucking drifting down the corridors. Finally each man reached into his pouch and jerked off again before hitting the hay. Gunst headed right to the gym. He tooled himself through a punishing biceps workout, doing curls long into the night, then flexing and inspecting. Gotta get these guns bigger, he grumbled to himself. Eventually he crawled off to quarters and to bed, and without jerking off. The others – Chad, Bogarde, and Waring – stood in a darkened corner of the hallway leading from the wrestling room, hungrily sucking one another’s cocks and taking turns butt fucking for an hour or so, before turning in for the night. And in the backs of the minds of all the men on campus were visions of the perhaps-perfect newest member of the club, the young bodybuilder whose gigantic, ripped and raw physique they had gotten their first taste of this evening. Moster, in his quarters, was satisfied. He slept without dreaming. He had to pick up Casey in the cadet dorms mid morning, and bring him back up the hill to his new muscle life. Unaware of the muscle sex going on in the compound behind him, and unaware of how his muscles started it all, a shuttle bus took sole passenger Casey back down the hill the two miles to the cadet dorm near the front gates, where he had been living and training the last two years. ************* Early the next morning, after his usual early morning workout and a breakfast of two steaks, 6 eggs, unbuttered toast, a quart of yogurt and 3 cups of black coffee, Casey went back to his room and packed his few possessions in preparation for his move up the hill to the main compound. His black eye still stung from the night before, but it also looked – well – incredibly hot. Or so Casey thought, inspecting it closely in his mirror. There were six other cadets in the dorm. Five of them gathered to quietly watch him pack up his few belongings, giving him congratulations and good luck and a sad little goodbye party. It was just a few protein bars, a colorful do-rag, a new gym bag (which they all chipped in on) and five slightly torn oversized XXXL-sized jockstraps. Casey knew they went to some trouble to get everything together. He was deeply grateful. But he didn’t know what to say. In truth, Casey hadn’t really gotten to know any of his fellow cadets in the two years he had been in residence in the cadet dorm. It was not from any snobbery, but from shyness and his natural reticence against intimacy in dormitory settings. All the same, apart from Miles Donovan and Ramon Ramon, Casey counted them as among his few friends in the world. “I’m gonna miss you guys,” he said. He sniffed a little. These guys were like him. Lonely, nice boys who had nowhere to go except the gym, and nothing to do but pound their bodies every day, growing big muscles. Over 1450 pounds of burgeoning, testosterone-fueled teen muscle gathered in 10 x 16 square foot room. And there was a lot of emotion in the air. Casey was their hero, and at 310 pounds, and at just 18 years of age, he was already far and away the biggest of all of them. Something had to happen. “You been ready a long time for those dudes,” said Cadet Tommy Rowenstein, a tousled blond middleweight Jewish Tom Sawyer of muscleboy who liked to work on his pecs. “Surprised they didn’t ask you long ago.” “Guess they know best when I’m ready.” “That how you got the shiner, Case?” “Shut up, dick wad.” “Can we come up the hill visit you?” asked Alan Owenbee, a sweet-faced young cadet with a friendly face and a slightly sub par physique that all knew would never develop much further. “Naw, we can’t go up there,” said Cadet Brent Ogden. “You know the rules. Plebes only by invitation. And they never invite us.” He sounded forlorn. “Sure,” said Casey. “You can come. I’ll ask. I’ll get permission. You can all come. We can all train together up there in the big gym.” “Gee, you think? Really??” “Shit, thanks, Case!” “Yeah, thanks!” The boys couldn’t believe the possible good news, and were now almost bouncing with excitement. “I’m gonna work on my guns with ya!” shouted Ogden. The others glanced at Ogden and grinned. An angel-faced kid with red hair, he had nice big muscles for a 15-year old, and surprisingly ripped abs, already weighing in at 185 pounds. He also had a complete inability to filter his speech. They all suspected he was a little slow. “At last, someone even dumber than me, “ Casey thought. No one knew whether or not he had any family; like Casey, Ogden was a foundling. Casey tousled his hair affectionately and zipped up his duffel. “I’ll always work on my guns with you, Brent.” Ogden grinned from ear to ear, his life made. He grew beet red with embarrassment and pleasure and spent the next few minutes inspecting his own biceps, flexing and unflexing them thoughtfully. Another cadet with more promise, and lot more self confidence, Brian Banks, a handsome black-haired extra lean 1950s greaser type turned bodybuilder, watched Casey from the corner, perched on the window seat, his deep-lidded dark eyes half closed. “So, Case, what happened last night?” “I’m not sure yet.” He turned and looked helplessly at all of them. They were waiting for some kind of an answer. “Yeah, Case, what happened?” He knew all the cadets admired and respected him. Overall, they were a pretty good bunch of guys, even if for the most part they had no muscle future. But he could use some friends, if last night’s wrestling match had been any indication of where this was all headed. And he was still thinking about last night. Those bodybuilders up the hill were a wild and crazy bunch. Huge, every one of them, the biggest musclemen Casey had ever seen, or even imagined. And even the younger guys, like that pretty-faced dude Hension, the mute Eli Meyer, and the wide-eyed Lang, seemed to have agenda of their own. And then there was that big mean bull, the Turkish guy, Karim Abdul. And Schumacher, who had growled at him and threatened him. Scary dudes. But hot. The wrestling was fun, though, when he thought about it. Casey had surprised at himself, at how skilled he was, how strong and fast. But then he had learned a lot from Ramon Ramon at Miles Donovan’s, and though Ramon was 3 times his age and far smaller, Ramon could always beat him. So he learned from the best. And – true – a few times when Casey shot his load on the wrestling mat after a bout, Ramon Ramon had joined him. There was something fun, something special about the tough, grizzled old daddy Latin wrestler happily pounding his hairy big meat, lying there next to Casey on a slick, sweat-drenched, stinky wrestling mat. And Casey knew Ramon was straight. No sissy, he. Straight straight straight, with a hot, mean, pretty little wife he fucked hard every night, or so he said. Casey had no reason to doubt him. I wonder how Abdul would do wrestling with Ramon? Casey wondered. And then, after all, all the bodybuilders had shot their loads all over the two of them last night at the end of the wrestling match, all over him and Abdul. He hadn’t expected that. Was it an insult? Or an honor? Casey was still having trouble taking it all in. And what about that punch that Abdul threw at Blankenship? It was awesome. Abdul’s fist shot out like a cannon, catching the handsome, smirking bodybuilder Blankenship right on the point of the chin. Probably broke his jaw. The guy’s feet never touched the ground. He just flew into the air and landed about 20 feet away. And then there was afterwards, with Moster closely inspecting his dick and that little ginger muscledude Tiffany sucking it just to find out how big it really was. Measuring dick size by mouth. It was all pretty weird. And he never even did get to do even a basic posing routine. He wanted to show these guys how much he liked to pose. Maybe he could pose for them later today? Casey really liked to pose. He did it for hours, alone in his room, peering into his crummy full-length mirror, looking for any improvements, and weaknesses, any new veins, any new striations, any sign of lingering babyfat. He wasn’t used to an audience. Casey had never known many people, and he certainly had never competed onstage, even though Miles Donovan had encouraged him to consider it. And now that he had trained hard, lived for training and diet and posing for so many years, now with the Home behind him and all the bullies, he was ready for others to see how big his muscles were. He was ready to pose for admirers. For a crowd. He hadn’t done that yet. So maybe these guys would accept him more if he posed for them? The babyfat was long gone, after all. And he was sure he could learn a few things, too. Maybe get some pointers from that dude Alvarez. He heard that Alvarez and Lang were always practicing their posing. But in any event, Casey now knew, after last night, that just having big muscle wasn’t enough. A big cock was pretty important, too. For the first time he was beginning to feel relieved, even joyful about his huge member. He had always been so embarrassed about it, he could never hide it, it was always prominent in his jeans, in whatever he wore. People could always see it flopping around in his pants, pushing out his fly in an obscene bulge. And he hadn’t found posing trunks that he really fit in yet. Not trunks, at least, that he wasn’t always popping out of, or worse, ripping the fabrics to shreds with his first big hardon. And posing usually gave him a hardon, which he’d have to stop and take care of. He'd shoot pints of milky thick cum against his mirror, and then he'd have to stop and get a roll of paper towels to clean it al up before he could start again. Or else he wouldn't have been able to see his reflection. And the sight of his muscles was what made him cum so ferociously. It would certainly be a challenge onstage, if he ever decided to compete. He had bought a few posers from online, trying them out, checking for the right colors. But so far, everything he had bought was just so….well….ridiculously inadequate. He hadn’t even begun to think about colors. Even if he managed to get the posers up his treetrunk quads, there was no way the simple kiddie-type pouches were able to cover his hefty manfruit. To say nothing of containing his coconut-sized balls. Still. Even so. “Good thing I got this big meat after all. I guess.” He muttered to himself as he walked, bowlegged as always with his bodybuilder waddle, over to the mirror. The cadets watched him as he walked across the small dorm room. “Hunh?” “What’s that, Casey? About your meat?” Ogden looked up, still inspecting his biceps, but suddenly alert to what was going on in the room. Casey looked back at them and pointed down to the sagging bulge that loomed out of the front of his baggies. “I said, it’s a good thing I got this super big meat. All the guys up there are hung huge. It’s important to them. Sergeant Moster showed me.” He thought for a moment. Maybe those dudes knew where to get posers that actually fit? Or maybe they had them made privately? Probably they did. They had to. And certainly from the layout of the place and the size of the gym and the wrestling room, they could afford a few extra yards of reinforced spandex to hold in a few giant cocks. Banks was studiedly casual. He inspected Casey’s black eye a little more closely and nodded, as if a question was answered. “Unh hunh. Bet he did. I heard about Sergeant Rod Moster. Seems he was there too. He give you that black eye?” “Yeah, he’s the dude in charge. He was there. And no, he didn’t give this to me.” Casey turned back and gazed at his package in the mirror. He repeated. “I had to fight one of them.” “Who?” asked Owenbee, breathless and getting hard now. “Abdul. Karim Abdul.” He paused. “You should see him this morning.” “He got a big package, too?” Casey colored, embarrassed. “Yeah, he does. I mean, I didn’t see it. Well, I didn’t see it well. I mean, I didn’t see it close up….” He stopped, confused. The guys were looking at him. “Well, one thing, these are the biggest goddam dudes I ever saw in my life.” “Lookin’ good?” “Fucking awesome. All of them. Moster’s like 7’ tall. No bodyfat. Biceps the size of my head. And…” “Big package?” “Yeah. He has the biggest dick. They say it’s the biggest dick on earth.” Casey turned back and began to flex for himself feverishly in the mirror. He had to get bigger. Banks liked Casey well enough and would miss him in the dorms. Even if the young muscle giant was a little dopey and innocent. Okay, Casey was stupid. Everyone knew it. Dumb as a bag of hammers. But a sweet guy, if you didn’t get on his wrong side. And besides, he’d also long had eyes for Casey’s astonishingly rounded, rock hard glutes, never mind the cock, and now knew he probably wasn’t gonna dip his stick inside the promised land of Casey’s musclebutt for a long time to come. If ever. Or even suck his dick. Maybe some day. Oh, well. Still, he wished Casey well. He was a good dude. He’d stand up for him any time. Now he stood behind him, watching his superwide batwing lats as he posed in the mirror, watching his perfect big round rolling glutes quivering a little in the seat of his stretched-tight pants. “I hear there’s a lot of sex in the main compound,” he said slyly. “Yeah, I guess there is.” Casey slowed down posing, caught Banks’ eye in the mirror, was a little circumspect. Not that he knew what the word meant, but that is what he was at that moment. “No chicks, though?” “No, I guess there ain’t. I didn’t see any last night.” Casey blew out a blast of air, followed by a honk of laughter. The tension eased. He grabbed his duffel and turned around towards the boys. “No chicks!” “Good!” said Ogden, still inspecting his biceps. “Guess I’m big enough. Thanks for the party, guys,” he added. “And the, um….” He gestured to his duffel bag. “….the extra jockstraps…..I can always use them.” “Actually, two of them were already yours. We just re-retrieved them from….somebody…” said Rowenstein. Owenbee turned crimson with shame and embarrassment. “Hey. Thanks. Alan, you were always a good friend. Here. Wait a moment.” Casey put his duffel down, lifted his heavy sweatshirt and kicked out of his baggies, stepping out of them fast and surprisingly easily over his big feet. “I have to get these off fast sometimes, so I cut out the, you know, drawstrings around the pants legs, to make it easier to fit over my shoes. Sometimes I don’t have a lot of time before…..” His voice trailed off. “You know.” Banks nodded, feigning seriousness. “We know.” All the cadets knew that sometimes during workouts Casey suddenly had to shoot a load, and to avoid coating his baggies with splotches of his unusually heavy, copious cumspurts, he ripped off his sweatpants and shot into a bucket that he kept on the side of the gym floor. By the end of the workout, the bucket was often half full. A few of the boys would often sneak away with it afterwards, loving the scent, loving the taste, drinking it all down, hoping it would make them grow into a muscle monster like Casey. “Yeah. We all know,” said Ogden. Owenbee and Rowenstein both nodded seriously. “Yeah, you got a problem, dude.” Rowenstein couldn’t help chuckling a little. “Big problem.” Then they both grinned, their smooth boyish faces lighting up. “I know.” Casey smiled. “So why is it, by the way, all this time I been here, that so many of my jocks go missing?” Shuffling of feet. Heads down. “Aw, Case…..” said Ogden. He stood before them in his sagging, bulging jock. “This one is new, I just got it.” All knew he had to order his jocks and posers online. Standard sizes just didn’t fit, and then the posers just didn’t last. “Here.” He curled his thumbs around the reinforced jock straps on his loins and tugged. His cock popped out and hung free, 10 solid inches of soft thick swaying girth. “Jesus,” breathed Owenbee. Banks was impressed. Ogden just panted. He pulled his new jockstrap down over his massive quads and stepped out of it carefully, lifting each big, smooth foot slowly, and then handing it to Owenbee. “You always been a good friend to me.” Casey teared up a little, but wasn’t so sentimental that he didn’t playfully waggle his penis’ full 10 inch soft, flaccid weight, then whipping it heavily from side to side. Smack! Smack! For a moment he slapped it heavily from quad to quad, and then looked up at Owenbee and Ogden and smiled sweetly. “It’s too big for most jocks,” he explained. “Yes, we’ve noticed,” said Banks, very serious. Owenbee took the jock gratefully, raised it to his nose and took a deep whiff. In his jeans his young teen cock throbbed to life. “Gee, thanks, Casey!” “Don’t mention it.” Casey pulled his baggies back up, covering his cock. “Going commando, Case?” asked Banks. Casey looked at him blankly. “I don’t know what that means.” “You will.” Casey shrugged, and sat down to lace his shoes. “Guess I better be going. Say goodbye to Danny Taylor. Where’s he this morning?” “His mama called. She wanted him back in Santa Barbara. He’ll be back tonight. He said to say goodbye.” He eyed the heavy sagging bulge in Casey’s lap. His cock was aching to get back out again, taste the air, straining the crotch of his sweatpants, pointing downward but twitching, threatening to rise, bulging in the fabric every which way. Banks sniffed a little, seemingly unconcerned, but Casey knew Banks probably missed his buddy Danny, the only cadet in the squad who actually came from a family and a good home. A blond surfer-dude turned bodybuilder, Danny and Brian were always pumping together and then going out looking for girls and to get laid. And unlike The Nineteen up the hill, the young cadets, still not indoctrinated into the squad, could come and go as they pleased. Not that these young muscleboys had anywhere to go….other than the gym and the bars in nearby San Jose, or maybe further up the coast to San Francisco. “Well…..goodbye then. Come and see me.” “Hey, dude. Before you go….give us one last flex?” asked Ogden shyly. “Yeah, dude. Pose for us one more time,” said Owenbee. “Like you used to do before you got so serious.” “Yeah, Case. Go ahead. Let’s see what you got.” That from Banks. Casey looked closely at Banks. “Sure, guys. Yeah. Be glad to.” He stepped back into the room and ripped off his sweatshirt. The muscle cadets crowded around him eagerly. He stood shirtless, his huge muscles gleaming in the morning light. “Here goes. Pow,” said Casey. He flexed a huge right arm bicep and moved his left hand back to the back of his head, ‘doin’ hair’ like the young Tom Platz from 40 years ago. “Wow!” “Jeez, Case, yer bigger than ever!” “Fuckin huge, man!” “That’s “doin’ hair,” dudes. Platz. ‘Doin’ hair,’ ” he repeated. “Can I feel it?” ‘My hair?” “No, dude….” “He wants to feel your muscles, Casey,” Banks explained, with exaggerated patience. “Oh. Sure.” Casey thought a moment. “Yeah! Sure! Come on!” Owenbee stepped forward eagerly and grabbed Casey’s biceps. His fingers ran over the vascular triple-heads. “Sure is nice!” he yelled. “How big?” He tapped the hardness of the peaks with his fingers, which bounced back. Impenetrably hard. “I don’t know. 25 inches? 27? I don’t know. Here come some big pecs.” He gave them a side chest, popping his pecs, his pouty brown nipples pointing down to the carpet. “Boom,” said Casey. “Wow! Frigging huge!” “You’re swole, man!” “Yeah, I got big pecs,” said Casey modestly, turning his head back, inspecting his two huge pectoral globes in the mirror. He bounced them up and down thoughtfully. “May I lick your nipples, Casey?” squealed Ogden. Casey was confused a moment. He stopped and turned and looked quizzically at Ogden. For a moment the two muscleboys were afraid, afraid that Casey would start handing out a roomful of black eyes and broken noses, powerful punches that were sure and methodical and swift and punishing. But Banks wasn’t afraid. “You like this, dontcha Case?” It didn’t happen. “Sure, I guess. Yeah. I like it. Come on up and lick ‘em. I never got licked and touched when I posed before. Let alone watched.” He thought some more. “Guess I do like it! Can you reach? Here’s another. Bam,” he said, swinging into a front lats pose. “Bam and double bam.” Ogden scampered up, reached wide, grabbed Casey by both lats and began eagely to lick his nipples. “You got awesome pecs, dude!” “You’re strong, too,” said Banks calmly. “Those dudes up there on the hill as strong as you?” “Yeah, I think they are.” Casey was inspecting his front lats pose in the mirror. “You’re in my way,” he said to Ogden. “I can’t see.” “Sorry, Case!” “Just move to the side a little so I can check myself out.” Ogden quickly stepped aside and leaned in, licking one nipple. “Okay, that’s enough. Reach around if you have too.” “How thick is your neck, Case?” “About 25 inches I think.” “How about your quads?” “Sure.” Casey pumped and rotated his thighs, still covered up in the baggies. “Oh, I forgot. Guess you can’t see.” He rolled them down to his ankles and stood in the center of the room, his pants down, flexing for his buddies. His penis loomed heavily over mountains of muscle and veins as he pensively rotated his quads for all the muscleboys to see. The muscleboys licked their lips. “No, I mean, how big are they?” “I dunno. 33 inches? Never measured.” He rotated a huge quad slowly, staring intently at it. “Got some new veins popping in here. Look at that diamond shape. Hard.” He slapped his quads, both of them. “They’re hard, man! See how hard I am? You guys see it?” Banks eased his nicely rounded butt off the window seat, where he’d been perched, watching the proceedings. He strolled over to Casey, thumbs hooked in his tight jeans, his black spandex t-shirt rippling with extra lean, hairy muscle. His own appreciable bulge flopped lazily from side to side in his fly as he walked slowly towards Casey. “Dude, I think you like to get worshipped.” “Hunh?” Casey turned to him and whipped up a pair of double bi’s. “Check out these gunsssss……” “I see ‘em.” Banks patted them firmly. Yeah. Solid. Cannonballs. Triple-headers. Laced with thick veins. He kneaded solid muscle between calloused thumb and finger. He pulled. Paper-thin skin. “These are biceps…. “ said Casey, breathing heavy, loving every second of it. “Nice. They are. Big biceps. Very nice indeed. But my tastes run to….something……darker……” He knew all about Moster. That was the dude he wanted. Banks turned to Ogden, absorbed in licking Casey’s big brown nipples. “Whyn’t you lick his biceps too, dude? He said he likes to get licked.” He turned to Casey. “Dontcha, Case?” “I’m gonna pop you right in the eye,” Casey said, but he smiled. He flexed mightily. “C’mon, lick ‘em.” His steely fists strained red. Suddenly he longed to punch Banks in the eye. Give him a big black eye. No, two black eyes. He wasn’t mad. He just wanted to punch him. “Yeah, lick his biceps, dude. And kiss ‘em for us, Case.” “Hunh??” “Kiss your biceps, bro! G’wan, kiss ‘em!” “Why do I want to do that?” “Try it and see. See how it feels.” Casey shrugged. His traps bounced up a little and bumped Owenbee’s head, who was trying to lean in to get a closer feel on Casey’s bi’s. “Oh. Sorry.” Meanwhile Ogden was now licking his right biceps, so Casey turned to the left and, leaning in while raising an elbow, began to softly lick and kiss his bulging cannonball bi’s. Casey forgot all about wanting to punch Banks and continued flexing. Hmmm. The licking felt good. “This feels good,” he announced. He kissed himself again, and turned, grinning cockily to Banks. “Guess I won’t bust you in the eye right now.” Banks smiled. He understood. “It’s okay, Casey. I’m your friend. You can trust me. And the boys.” “But I still wanna slug you.” “You just want to slug somebody. Not me.” “Guess you’re right. But sometime soon I’m gonna start some slugging.” He flexed. “Look at these big gunnnnssss….” he repeated. By now the other four cadets were grouped around Casey, touching, feeling, pawing, stroking, kissing and licking every muscle they could reach, climbing over him, feeling him, all while remaining respectfully distant from the heavily looming cock. Owenbee got on his knees and knelt before Casey’s massive, exposed rear, began caressing the twin globes of Casey’s monster round, hard butt, feeling where the gluteus muscles rolled in, where they bulged out, where they lead down to mammoth obtruding hamstrings and up to the small of his back. He wanted to bury his young, smooth face into the deep buttcrack, but knew he’d better not. He wanted to lick it, too. But he knew that might not be a good idea, either. Not yet, anyway. So he contented himself just to do deep tissue massage on the two giant round butt orbs before him, following their rolling movements as Casey posed above him. It was like kneading iron. But he loved it. “How do you feel, Case?” Banks was stroking Casey’s broad upper pec shelf with a connoisseur’s appreciation. “Good. I feel very good. I like flexing for you guys.” “Good. And we like when you flex for us. Nice pecs.” Banks flicked one of Casey’s nipples with a thumb and forefinger. Casey responded, immediately ballooning his pecs hugely, digging his fists into solid rippled obliques and expanding chest muscles high to the skies, so it seemed, to the ceiling and beyond. “This is called worship, by the way,” Banks added. “The way the guys are touching you now. The way I am touching you.” He ran a smooth hand across his pecs and looked him deeply in the eyes. “Admiring you. Admiring your muscles. Getting off on your muscles. That’s worship.” “You’re huge, Case,” said Ogden. “Big fucking muscleman,” said Owenbee. “Awesome muscles, dude,” said Rowenstein. “Tell us what you’re thinking, Case,” said Banks. Casey didn’t know what he was thinking. Was he even thinking? He was just flexing. No, he was thinking. He was seeing….something. Something distant. Pure and good. He breathed out, let out a massive block of air, crunched up, sucked in, intake, breath, blew it out, then more blooming muscle. Expanding everywhere, blowing up, hard and solid and good. He was… …..where was he?.... “Tell us, Case,” repeated Banks softly. “Where are you?” “On the moon, I guess.” He sucked in, expanded his pecs again, turned, inadvertently pushing the boys to the floor, looked in the mirror. The room was quiet. The muscle cadets scrambled away a little, but still touching, still feeling muscle. Tension increased in the room. It was silent except for the sounds of heavy breathing. Casey began to move. He swung from pose to pose. His cock swayed heavily as he moved, slapping his quads. Front biceps. Side chest, front lat spread. Most muscular, the famous crab shot, his veins exploding everywhere, his enormous fists clenched, held steadily before him. “Hold that one,” said Banks. “I think we all want to see this one.” Casey held still. His face grew red, then redder, then beet-red. The veins on his thick neck popped out like huge pylons. And even his massive cock began to retreat a little up into his loins as his blood was needed elsewhere. “Guys? Let’s check out these veins. Okay, Case?” “…yeah…..okay…” “You can breathe, though.” “Okay, thanks.” He breathed in and out. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, searching for flaws, admiring rivers of vascularity, popping iron muscles. “Just don’t relax. Keep flexing. Keep that pose. Keep crunching.” “Can I take your picture, Case?” asked Rowenstein, begging a little. “My picture….?” Casey blew out air. He could barely think. He was just dreaming now. It was a wall, a planet, a universe of his muscle. “Keep crunching. Keep it swole,” said Banks quietly. He touched an iron biceps. “Yeah, okay.” Casey seemed befuddled, but it was because of the most muscular pose, and ….well…because he was still dreaming, now on that distant planet somewhere, where it was all about……muscle. His muscle, to be specific. Where he was posing high on a mountain, still visible to all, to thousands below, thousands of admiring men in the valley beneath him, all calling his name, all playing with their giant tools, their cum spurting and flying, the sun behind him, sweat in his eyes - “A picture. My cellphone? For, um, ….later?” “Later?” Casey barely heard him. “Yeah, later. To admire you later…..whenever I want to…..” The dream was broken for a moment and there was Rowenstein, shrugging and smiling, red-faced, embarrassed. Crab shots were his thing. He loved the solid billboard of muscle and veins. Exploding muscle and veins. “Oh, yeah. Yeah. Sure.” Casey saw Rowenstein’s cock was now poling forward in his khakis. “Made you hard, man?” “Yeah, you did. You do.” Rowenstein grinned toothily and admitted it happily. He pulled out his mobile and began snapping. Relieved, the muscle cadets groped in their pants pockets, next to their now-bulging flies, pulled out cellphones, and, never relaxing, never letting up even a finger on Casey’s massive musculature, began taking pictures. Casey went back to his mountain on his planet. He flexed. He was a god. He knew it. He wanted the universe to see him, to touch him, to admire him, to kneel before him, to reach up to him, to admire his strength, to touch his muscles, to stroke his chest, lick his nipples….. ….to worship him….. ….to suck his dick. Yes, that is what he wanted. He wanted the world to suck his cock. He nodded. That’s what he wanted. Like that hot mean little muscle dude Tiffany did last night. No one had done that before. Now he knew. Yes, and now he knew. Was this why he did it? Why he lifted? Why he had built his physique into the huge muscle sculpture it was now? No, of course not. Not entirely. He wanted to be the biggest and strongest man in the world. That’s what he wanted. But getting his dick sucked at the same time would be a nice perk. Again, he blew up his pecs to their fullest. Twin globes of pure muscle. Boom! Boom! He felt his buddies’ hands all over him. He was dizzy with lust and young muscle. He wanted to flex for everyone, his dick to throb and spurt and explode inside vanquished mouth after vanquished mouth, his long thick shaft gliding between adoring lips, plunging down dozens of supplicant throats, gagging them all with his cock girth and his cum, gagging the world with his giant man meat as he flexed mountainous biceps. He wanted to cover the faces of hundreds of men with his cum. Coating them all. Then fucking butt. Fucking hundreds of butts while he flexed. This was his planet. That is what he wanted. He never realized it before. But he did now. The muscle cadets were all over him, stroking him, rubbing him, feeling his muscles, inspecting his veins. Check out these striations, he heard one of them say. Yeah, these veins are thick as pencils. No, thicker. His skin is so thin. Check out these abs, they’re like cinder blocks. No, harder. This okay, Casey? Yeah, it’s okay. Feel me. Touch me. Check out my muscles. Suck my dick. He started to say it. The cadets seemed to anticipate it. The breathing in the room grew heavier. And heavier. And suddenly one of the muscleboys moaned. Ayyyy Ugnnnhhhh…. And then another. Casey closed his eyes and flexed…. Oh Yeah LOOK AT MY MUSCLES DUDES And then another low cry Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! And then he felt it himself. He felt the liquid start…..it was happening… YEAH YEAH YEAH No, it wasn’t. It wasn’t happening. The room was suddenly sharply quiet. He opened his eyes. It had all stopped. The boys had stepped back. No one was touching him. The worship had stopped. “You ready to go, Casey?” Casey was shocked out of his dream. He turned and stood, staring. His massive cock brushed the mirror as he turned. Rod Moster was at the open door, smiling. He wore his sweats, but even they didn’t conceal his 7’- 0” frame, his nearly 400 pounds of super wide muscle. His veiny relaxed biceps rolled out of his sleeves with nearly 25 inches of unflexed power, 30 when flexed. His quad veins were so thick the boys could see them through his sweatpants. And that wasn’t all they could see. The outline of his flaccid cock bulged lazily down his right leg, extending almost to his knees. The boys stared. “Who is that??” “He’s like a fucking god,” said Owenbee. Banks stepped forward, his eyes now half closed, a small smile on his face. “Sergeant Moster,” said Banks politely. “Greetings.” He saluted crisply, smiled. The muscle cadets stared at the giant, handsome black bodybuilder. “Shit,” said Ogden, “no one is that big.” “He is,” said Rowenstein. “Thank you, Cadet. You’re Banks?” “Yes, sir. Aye, aye, sir.” “Am I interrupting something?” “We’re just saying goodbye, sir,” said Banks, relaxed, crisp and smooth and confident. Casey smiled weakly. “Yeah.” “Put some clothes on, Casey.” Silence in the room. Casey looked down and realized he was naked and that his huge member was poling straight out and up what seemed to be 2 feet or more, as if ready to shoot. Precum was dribbling down the long, thick shaft and onto the floor. And he looked around his room, and saw all the tented, bulging flies of all the teen muscle cadets, their pants increasing with stain, their cocks now receding. Every one of them. Except Banks. His cock still poled out straight ahead in his pants, but his fly was dry, bulging with unleashed power. He'd been able to control himself. And Banks was not embarrassed. Moster took note silently. Hmmm. “Bye, Casey. Maybe we’ll see you at the compound? If Sergeant Moster will allow us in?” Owenbee was hopeful. Moster frowned. “We’ll see,” he said, non-committal. “Um. Yeah. Okay. Bye, guys.” Casey bent and grabbed his clothes, beet red, mortified. Was this the way to show himself on the most important morning of his life? Naked and flexing and about to shoot and filled with fantasies and dreams? And, it might be added – late??? Late for a military CO? He wasn’t even IN the military, and he felt completely humiliated. He struggled for his baggies, reached for his shoes, looked around in vain for at least one of his oversized jocks. And he hadn’t even packed up his laptop or his prized personal collection of vintage muscle magazines yet. “I’m really sorry, sir,” he blurted, moving clumsily around the room as the teens scrambled to step clear of the confused young bull. “I guess I’m not ready to go.” “You do want to move up the mountain to the main compound?” “Oh, yes, sir!” “Well, then, get yourself ready to go. I won’t wait for you long. I’ll be downstairs in the van. Take a few minutes, and get yourself together. I'll wait five minutes. After that, if you want to move up the mountain, you're going to have to walk.” He smiled, suddenly surprisingly kind. He looked around the room of awestruck boys, and smiled. “And if all you cadets keep training hard, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you all up at the compound sometime soon.” He looked pointedly at Banks. “Especially you.” “Turn around.” Banks complied, turning around. Moster gazed, eyes half-lidded, at Banks’ impressively shaped glutes, nicely packed inside tight pants. “Yes. Keep doing those squats, boy. Good flanks.” His fingers twitched a little. There would be a nice session of spanking this smart-mouthed handsome muscle boy’s hard little muscle bottom sometime in the very near future. He'd wake him up. Banks’ eyes twinkled. He knew what Moster was thinking about. It was okay with him. "I'll look forward to meeting you again, sir." They shared a quick look of understanding. Moster smiled slightly, an eyebrow cocked. Then he nodded briefly to the others. “At ease, men.” And then he was gone. The boys were still a moment, listening to Moster’s steps retreating down the corridor. The distant outer door opened and closed. A moment of awed silence. Then the boys scrambled back to life. “Jesus!” “He’s HUGE.” “Guys! I gotta bounce!” Boytown muscle chaos as the cadets dove around the room, gathering Casey’s bags and toiletries and clothes and laptop, throwing everything in a heap. “Get my muscle magazines!” “Where are they?” Rowenstein asked, looking a little frantic. “The closet. There’s a box. Four boxes. I need them!” The boys scoured the room, gathering their hero’s possessions. “We got your back, Case,” said Banks, smiling. Casey stopped a moment and looked into Banks’ eyes. Then he smiled. “I know you do, dude. I know.” ****** NEXT CHAPTER: "The Twenty" Chapter 15 - Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster

Part 1 HERE Part 2 HERE Part 3 HERE Part 4 HERE Part 5 HERE Part 6 HERE Part 7 HERE Part 8 HERE Part 9 & 10 HERE Part 11 HERE 12 I racked the mammoth weight I had just benched for countless reps and laid back on the bench. Pain ripped though my blood-engorged pecs and sweat formed a puddle around me. Slowly I stood up and looked at my reflection in the mirror. My pecs were pumped to their full 67” girth. I flexed them and relished the feeling of the dense muscle pushing up my chin. I stared at my mutated body and started to get hard at the site. I weighted myself at 365lbs this morning. I closed my eyes and recalled of the horrified reactions I received on my way to the gym. Comments like “gross”, “too much” and “that’s sick” only made me harder. I loved being a massive abomination of what people think is normal and right. Their disgust only made me want more. I added more weight and preformed 12 perfect reps before reaching the rack. I glanced across the room to see a competitive bodybuilder squatting the same amount of weight. I chuckled and added two more plates for a total of 585lbs. I was feeling unstoppable today. As I waddled towards the locker room I heard a commotion from the gym owners office. A guy wearing a hoodie came out of the room, head down, walking fast. He clearly wasn't paying attention because he slammed into my shoulder and to my surprise; almost knocked me over. “HEY; watch where you’re going!” I yelled but he was already halfway down the hall. I poked my head into the owner’s office “Everything ok Grant?” “Yeah Dave. It’s my son Matt.” Matt? I thought. Wasn’t he that skinny kid Tyler and I caught watching us that day… “He’s pissed I won’t give him more cash. Little ungrateful asshole” Grant continued. I quickly left the office and headed down the hallway in the direction Matt was heading. I saw the back door of the gym was open and stepped into the alley. It was getting late so it was a little hard to see. To my left I heard what sounded like a grunting noise and then a loud crash. I moved towards the sound and stopped dead in my tracks. There, a guy was unleashing lightning fast combinations onto the side of a huge metal dumpster. Deep dents had already formed in a few places. I must has let out a gasp because the guy stopped and turned towards me. “Matt?” He pulled down his hood and squared his shoulders. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Even with his bulky clothes I could see that this was not the same 200lb kid we busted a while back. “What the fuck do you want?” “What the fuck do I want? I want to know what the hell you are doing out here destroying that dumpster.” I said and stepped closer to the kid. “Mind your fucking business.” Matt replied and turned back to the dumpster and slammed his fist into it hard. I reached to grab hold of his shoulder but he spun around quickly before of could touch him. “What did I just say?!” He screamed in my face. “Kid; you need to calm down before you piss me off.” I said. Matt’s eyes scanned my pumped, sweaty body. He took a step back and licked his lips. “You are so fucking massive. I mean, you were huge the first time I saw you but you look like you've gained over 20lbs since then.” “Try 30.” I said. “It looks like you’ve put on some weight yourself.” Matt smiled and slowly peeled his sweatshirt off to reveal his upper body. I had to take a step back at the site. “Some weight? Try 55lbs in less then three months” Matt said. “Bu-but-but…” “255lbs and 3% bodyfat” Matt said. He tucked his balled up fists behind his back and flared his staggeringly wide lats. “Damn kid” was all I could muster. Even though he was considerably smaller then me, I could not get over his proportions. He had incredible round delts, thick powerful arms and a minuscule waist. His skin was very pale but it could not hide the mind boggling network of veins and striations that covered every inch. “You know; I should thank you. That day you and Tyler found me watching you in the gym was the worse day of life. You two were so cruel to me I seriously considered never stepping into a gym again. I always hated being small and weak and seeing you two just made it all the more clear that I was a fucking twink. But the more I thought abut the more angry I got. Then I met Clint and everything changed. I’ve done nothing but lift weights since that day. Did you know I was in the audience the day Tyler annihilated the competition at the bodybuilding show? I was a lot smaller then but I wanted to run on stage and tear him apart. Fortunately Clint calmed me down. That day only made me focus even harder. You probably think you are a demon in the gym; but that’s nothing compared to me.” To make his point; Matt raised his arms in Sergio Oliva’s famous “Victory Pose”. His thick, vascular forearms exploded with mass. The veins travelled down his dense, gigantic biceps. Even with his arms spread apart to accommodate his huge shoulders, there was little space between the two arms. He then slowly lowered his arms and hit a perfect double bicep pose. His whole body shook from the effort. “They just reached 20 inches flexed. It makes me sick that they are so small.” “There is nothing small about those Kid” I said and raised my own 26” arms and flexed. “I like your determination in the gym but you have a LONG way to go to reach this level.” Matt’s eyes widened as he stared at my mind-boggling size but I saw a flash of rage when I said that. He moved towards the battered dumpster and gripped the thick metal side. His arms, back and shoulders ignited and the container started to move. He dug his legs into the ground and started to push; hard. Before I could react the dumpster came barrelling towards me. I placed my hands on it but his momentum was too great. I slammed into the brick wall of the gym as the dumpster crashed into my chest. “What the FUC-“ Matt continued to push the heavy dumpster; pinning me against the wall. He was growling like a rabid animal. “I’ve wanted to test my strength against you for a long time. I want this to hurt as much as you and Tyler hurt me that day.” Matt’s entire upper body was nothing but flexed, granite hard, vascular muscle. He adjusted his legs and pressed harder. The heavy metal dumpster pressed against my chest. My arms were pressed tight to my sides, preventing me from getting a good grip. I flexed my chest. I felt the dumpster move slightly but Matt was well anchored to the ground. His quads were shaking and his once baggy sweats were skin tight. “I’m going to fucking kill you!” I screamed. I managed to place one foot on the wall behind me and started to push. Matt moved back a small bit but held his ground. Sweat was pouring from his body. He raised his head, closed his eyes and started to press harder. To my amazement, his body started to expand. The once hulking kid now looked absolutely massive. His extreme vascularity looked downright grotesque. His veins looked like thick ropes criss-crossing his pale, shiny skin. I planted my foot on the wall and pressed hard. I was able to move the heavy dumpster just enough to move my hands into a better position. I started to press. Blood filled my already pumped chest. I felt my massive body swell with power. Matt had a look of fear in his eyes as the dumpster started to move. After 30 seconds I was able to step to the side. The dumpster slammed into the side of the building, sending chucks of brick into the air. Matt was pressing so hard he fell to his knees. I wasted no time. I stepped towards the kid and landed a brutal kick to his side. I don’t know if he was ready for me or not but my foot connected with his flexed obliques. There was a loud thud and pain shot up my leg. It felt like I just kicked a concrete wall. Matt smiled and stood up and faced me. His body was as pumped as any I had ever seen. He looked like he was carved from stone. His traps and shoulders betrayed the proportions of a normal human. The effect was amplified by his thick, striated chest and minuscule waist. “Try that again” he said and flared his lats and flexed his abs. I almost had to stifle a gag as his already defined abs transformed into a solid column of muscle. I spin around and swung my inhumanly massive leg as hard as could. I connected with his hard etched obliques again. The impact was so powerful Matt was pushed two feet to his left but he remained standing. The fact that Matt was able to withstand that kick threw me into a rage. This jacked up kid was nothing compared to my massive 365lb body. I moved with lightning speed. I slammed my shoulder into Matt’s chest. He stumbled back. I wrapped my thick arms around his ripped upper body and started to apply pressure. His muscles tightened; they felt like metal plates shifting. With my mouth pressed against his sweaty neck I whispered “You feel that kid? That’s what real power feels like. I could crush you like a grape if I wanted”. “Try” Matt said with a grunt. I smiled and applied more pressure. I could feel his whole body shake: trying to break my bearhug. “Harder!” Matt screamed. My dick hardened hearing the kid ask for more torture. He was stronger than he looked. I grunted and applied my full strength. I must have been caught up in the moment and didn’t realize how close we were to the wall. Matt was able to place his feet against the brick and like a leg press, started to push. Suddenly, I heard a tearing sound. I looked down and saw Matt’s sweats disintegrate. He let out a loud scream and pushed with all his might. I stumbled back and released him from my grip. Matt turned to face me. He grabbed hold of the remaining pant material and tore it off, revealing his incredible quads and calves. If it was possible; they were more vascular than his upper body. A disgusting network of views covered every inch of their pale skin. Deep cuts and striations erupted as they moved. Each massive quad was clearly bigger then his waist. His calves were something else altogether. If his mammoth quads were 30” his calves had to be close to 20”. Their exaggerated proportions were enhanced only by their extreme conditioning. Clearly seeing my reaction Matt slowly flexed his legs. His hands caressed each quad as they increased in size and hardness. “Clint can barely look at these legs without cumming” Matt said with a smirk. “Just wait until they are twice as big as yours and even more ripped”. I couldn’t help but get turned on by Matt’s pump engorged body. I adjusted my hardening cock causing him to crack a smile. “I thought you only had eyes for Tyler?” he asked. “I do but I can’t deny that your body is turning me on.” “Likewise. Show me your massive body” Matt said, licking his lips. I peeled off my sweat soaked tank top and revealed my 365lb body. I pulled my shorts up as high as they would go. I planted my feet and started to hit pose as pose. Matt’s eyes widened as my humungous body grew larger. “Feel me get freaky huge kid” I commanded. Matt stopped close and started to touch my hot, sweaty skin. He traced the deep muscle separation between my arms and shoulders. His strong hands squeezed each striation as I flexed harder. He moaned as his hand cupped my thick pec. When it flexed into granite hard muscle he squeezed it harder. I was grunting and holding each flex long enough for him to inspect every inch. “Fucking Massive” was all he could say, repeatedly. To send him over the edge, I started to recite my inhuman stats. “Arms 26”, forearms 21”, neck 20”, chest 67”, waist 36”, quads 34”, calves 22”” Matt’s body tensed and shuddered as I spoke each number. He looked ready to climax and he had yet to touch himself, he just continued to feel my huge body. I raised my arms into a brutal double bicep flex. Matt ran his hands down my thick triceps and flared lats. When his hands reached my etched abs he took a step back. With incredible speed he rammed his left leg into my stomach. I was caught off guard by the ferocious impact and stumbled backwards. Matt moved towards me again, grabbed my around the waist and with a savage grunt, lifted me off the ground. He pumped his huge legs a few times and slammed me into the brick wall. The impact knocked the air out of my lungs. I feel to my knees. “You might be huge but you are still an fucking asshole” Matt screamed. He then swung his leg around and connected with my chin. Pain ran through my head and neck and I collapsed on the ground. I was still conscious when I saw him approach me. I felt his strong hands dig into my meaty traps. Intense pain coursed through my neck as he lifted me to my feet. I couldn’t comprehend how powerful he was. Before I knew what was happening Matt repositioned his arms and lifted me clear off the ground. He had one hand around my neck and the other between my legs. With a growl, he lifted me higher and slammed my body across his leg. Unbearable pain shot through my abs and lower back. He pushed my off his leg onto the ground. Unable to move I watched Matt stand up and stand over me. He had a savage look on his face and was breathing hard. He took a few laboured steps away, his extremely pumped quads were clearly making walking difficult. “STAND UP!” he yelled. I slowly regained some motor skills and was able to move into a kneeing position. I stood up but had to steady myself against the wall. I shook my head; trying to comprehend what was happening. How was this kid so strong? As if reading my mind Matt said “You’ve never thought I had this much power in this small body did you? Well asshole, I’m not done yet.” With another exhibition of his incredible quickness, Matt ran towards me and slammed his shoulder into my exposed abdomen. He then wrapped his arms around me, positioned his legs and hoisted me across his shoulders. With a grunt he stood straight up. “Your big 365lb body feels lighter than I expected” he said with a chuckle and started to perform squats. “Fuck, these quads are so PUMPED!” I tried to move but he clamped down harder and stood up straight. “You’re not going anywhere.” Matt said and started to walk towards the busted dumpster. With another savage grunt he repositioned his hands and to my utter horror started to press my body over his head. His arms were shaking but they continued to lift me higher. With my full body weight suspended above his head Matt’s let out a ear piercing scream and launched me into the side of the dumpster. My body slammed hard against the metal container and I crumpled in a heap on the ground. Matt grabbed one of my feet and dragged my alone the ground for a few feet. He then pulled me up so I was in a slumped sitting position in the dark alley. “I’m having a great fucking time tearing you apart but I’m hungry as hell. I need to add some fuel to this growing body.” he said and took a few steps back. “I guess we’ll have to finish this later” He said and started to move towards me. I didn’t have time to react. The last thing I remember was seeing Matt’s thick quad moving with lightning speed towards my face.