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  1. TheWeremuscleForest

    Muscle Buddies Chapter 1.2: Keeping A Secret

    Check out Parts 1 & 1.1 first to keep track: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/2085-muscle-buddies-chapters-1-15/ After making the playoffs at the end of the football season, Jeff wants to come out to the rest of the guys on the team, but Dustin keeps telling him that it isn’t going to help him if he does. After celebrating their last home game with the team, Jeff spends a little bit of time in the locker room having a ‘conversation’ with Dustin. The two studly teens laugh as they horse around near the lockers rolling on the floor and playfully punching each other. Without realizing it, they can hear a deep voice rumbling above them like they are trying to clear their throat. The two young men stop moving and look up at them. The man has a look on his face that makes them wonder if he is mad or not as they stand there with their arms in a dominant stance. The rest of the team has already showered and is leaving the dressing area to go home to prepare for the next game at this point. Dustin jumps to his feet and starts to move away from Jeff but not before the man grabs him by the arm. The man turns to look at him and points to the nearby bench. Dustin goes to sit down immediately afterwards. It turns out that the man is the coach that saw the two teenagers having sex before the football season began. He is also the assistant coach of the football team. The man is incredibly muscled, much larger than he was back when he caught them together. He turns back around and reaches down to pull Jeff up to his feet. The stunned teen is shirtless since he hasn’t yet showered from the game. The coach walks up to him and looks him straight in the eyes before pressing his immense body up against Jeff’s. He knows that the teen has tried to avoid him for weeks because of what happened that night. He grabs Jeff’s hands and puts them on his huge ass which is hugging his tight jeans. Dustin watches intently and even lets out a few moans. The coach grunts a few times before wrapping his arms around Jeff and picking him up. He starts using the muscled teen like a dumbbell curling him and lifting him up and down above his head and directly in front of his face. The man’s groomed beard brushes up against Jeff’s crotch each time to make him react. The coach eventually stops lifting him to watch the young man’s crotch pulse inside his football pants. He leans in to smell Jeff’s musk before running his tongue along the crotch. Dustin knows he should do something, but he finds the whole situation too hot. Jeff isn’t exactly trying to stop the man either since he has had his eye on the coach for as long as the season has gone on. Feeling his own cock stirring in his pants, Dustin gets up to go over and join the other two. He puts his hands around the front of the coach’s chest and pulls on the polo shirt he is wearing, ripping it open down the front which immediately makes the man drop Jeff onto the ground. He turns and yells at Dustin making his huge hairy chest flex as his pecs and abs swell. The force behind the pump makes the sleeves on his shirt shred as his bicep peaks appear through the fabric. Dustin doesn’t get far before he is tackled on the ground by the man. The man tells him to punch him in the chest which Dustin does without a second thought. He laughs and tells him to do it again as it pleases him greatly. He rips the rest of his shirt off and grins as he flexes his upper body again. He forces Dustin to rub his muscles and orders him to say how much he wants his body. Jeff is now scooting behind the coach and rubbing his crotch up against the older man’s ass. The man turns and orders him to take his pants off so he can see how much of a man he is becoming. Without much coaxing, Jeff pulls his pants and jock off to show his engorged cock which has been leaking precum for quite some time. The coach moans as he leans down to swallow the thick pole down his throat. Jeff yells in delight feeling his cock tickling the man’s throat. Dustin reaches underneath and up to unzip the man’s pants to pull them down. The coach’s huge bubble butt stares him in the face as the man’s nine-inch pole dangles towards Dustin’s legs. He pulls the coach down on to his face and shoves his tongue inside the man’s hole making the hugely muscled daddy moan as he continues to work Jeff’s cock over. Knowing that the muscled teen can’t hold out too long, he starts jerking Jeff rapidly as he pulls his cock out and looks up at the teen’s face smiling the whole time. He commands Dustin to keep rimming him as he playfully punches Jeff’s powerful chest with his free hand. Feeling the teen’s balls swelling to twice their size, he runs his tongue along Jeff’s slit hoping to summon the giant load from inside. Jeff can sense the flood moving into his cock and shoves his rod down the coach’s throat which surprises the huge man. He grips the huge teen as Jeff unloads down his throat making the coach moan deeply feeling it fill his insides. Dustin runs his hands along the man’s balls and cock feeling it tense like it is about to explode itself. He stops rimming the coach and slides his body down in time to feel a giant river of cum hitting his face and head. The coach flexes his massive legs and lowers his huge rod down onto Dustin’s mouth trying to get him to open it. He pulls Jeff’s cock out to tell him to do it or he will force him to take it up his ass. After resisting a few seconds, he gulps the hairy muscleman’s cock down and swallows what is left flowing from it. The coach grunts in satisfaction after finally doing what he has fantasized about all this time. He pulls his cock out of Dustin’s mouth and gets up. He pulls up the jeans he was wearing and grabs his shredded shirt before going into the shower area. The two muscled teens stare at each other and wonder what the hell just happened. They both smile before getting up from the locker room floor. Jeff walks over and sits beside Dustin. He leans in to lick the coach’s cum off the teen’s face and moans tasting the spunk before kissing his lover’s lips and holding him in his arms. They both think that their secret is safe with the coach, but they may have to do this again to make sure he keeps it hidden. If you enjoyed this, then read the next two chapters as well: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/2102-muscle-buddies-chapters-2-3/
  2. CrisKane

    A Few Minor Adjustments

    Hello. My name is Ryan and I am a geek. Honestly, I've tried to make myself look cooler with pierced ears, tattoos, and bling, but I'm afraid all of that only emphasizes how desperately I'm trying not to look like the short, skinny white boy I am. In high school, I did have a few girls who liked me and told me I was cute, but it's not like they were ever gonna date me. No, they wanted to date the jocks, then call me on the phone afterwards and dish, weeping about what a jerk the jock had been. To them, I was the "gay best friend" that every romantic comedy and sitcom told them they needed as an accessory. Never mind that I wasn't actually gay. I suppose I couldn't blame them for making the assumption. It's not like I was doing anything that would prove them wrong. Like, say, having sex with a girl. I'm only five-seven and I've always had, like, zero muscle-mass. My folks knew how much it bugged me to be so puny, so Dad bought me a set of weights, but sweating and straining just to curl a fifteen-pound dumbbell was not my idea of a fun time. Besides, all that exertion never seemed to add an ounce to my lanky-ass body. The weights sat in a corner of my bedroom, growing cobwebbier by the day. I started college with the naive hope that it would be a less superficial environment than goddamn high school and people would put more value on intelligence than appearance. As my parents were wishing me goodbye, Mom couldn't stop crying and calling me "my baby", right there in my dorm room, right in front of my dick of a roommate, who was barely stifling his laughter. I just knew he would be mocking me and calling me "Baby" from then on. Fortunately, Dad didn't cause that kind of embarrassing scene, but he did slip me a parting gift as we walked back to the car. It was a new digital camera that they were working on at the tech company where he works. "It's a prototype, kid, so be extremely careful with it. Don't leave it lying around and, for god's sake, don't let anybody else use it." I assured him I wouldn't, and he smiled back, "I know you won't, son. Hey, snap a selfie once in a while and send it to me, so your sad old parents can see how you're adjusting to your new life." I got a lump in the pit of my gut. I thought I would be happy to finally be off on my own, but I think it was just as hard for me to watch my folks drive away as it was for them to leave me behind. Dad rolled down the window as he drove past and said, seemingly as an afterthought, "There's some pretty sweet software on that camera. You should fiddle around with it." Then he winked. My dad was a brilliant scientist, but he could be kind of a doofus. (Like father, like son, right?) I had never seen him fuckin' wink in my life. Glad my roommate wasn't around to see that. As the car disappeared in the distance, I heard my roommate yelling at me. "Hey, Baby, we're gonna go eat at the commons. You wanna come with us, Baby?" I looked over and saw him give me an exaggerated wink. He was surrounded by a group of similar bros, all testosterone and stupidity in their muscle shirts and backwards baseball caps. The other dudes followed my roommate's lead, cracking up and calling me "Baby" without even knowing why. What a barrel full of douchebags. I already hated college. The actual school part was fine, but all the social skills I never learned in high school might have come in handy here. By the first Saturday night, while everyone else in the dorm was out getting shit-faced, laid or both, I was sitting in my room, alone and depressed. On my desk, I noticed the camera Dad had given me and decided I ought to let the 'rents see how their son was coping...or wasn't. I stood in front of the mirror in my small-size t-shirt and my skinny jeans and attempted to smile, but a smile would have been false advertising. Better to show how I was actually feeling. With a frown on my lips and sadness in my eyes, I snapped the shutter and the photo filled the digital screen on the back of the camera. Christ, I looked about twelve. No wonder I didn't fit in here. I touched the screen with my thumb, intending to delete this grim photo, when a menu of options popped onto the screen. Great, just what I needed, fuckin' Instagram. The only thing that could make me look more pathetic would be looking pathetic in sepia tones. But I noticed that the options extended beyond the usual filters, color, brightness, contrast and cropping. Like, for interest, "BACKGROUND". I could edit the background? When I clicked on that, a circle popped up onscreen with the word "DORM" at the top. Damn, photo recognition software is getting advanced if it can tell just from the picture that I'm in a dorm. I figured it must use GPS or something to figure that out. I grazed my thumb over the circle and, like the click-wheel on my dad's ancient iPod, it allowed me to cycle through other options. The first one I stopped on was "CHURCH". Amazingly, the software immediately replaced the postered walls behind me in the photo with a massive stained-glass window. I had never seen any design software that could so swiftly and seamlessly alter an element of a photo like that. It would have taken me ten minutes of clipping and erasing in Photoshop to accomplish what the camera had done in an instant. As I scrolled through other options, there was my sorry ass standing in a restaurant, on a beach, on a boat, in front of the Eiffel Tower. When I landed on "LOCKER ROOM" -- just a blue-green wall and some kind of door -- I must have accidentally clicked the "ACCEPT" button in the middle of the circle, because an hourglass appeared and animated sand fell through it as the background rendered in high resolution. From out of nowhere, I started to feel very claustrophobic. The air around me seemed to be thickening, like an invisible layer of warm Jell-O wrapping itself around my body. I couldn't move as this sensation enveloped me. And then, BOOM, it was over. It felt like I had passed through a gooey membrane and come out clean on the other side. I dropped to my knees, gasping for air, happy to still be alive. A voice echoed from above me, "You okay, little dude?" I looked up and discovered I was no longer in my dorm room but in a locker room. I was sprawled on the hard tile floor, and a massively pumped weightlifter was looming over me. "I didn't even see you come in," he said, extending a hand, which I gratefully accepted. He practically dislocated my arm as he yanked me to my feet. I thanked him and he patted me on the back with his beefy palm, knocking the wind out of me again. As he walked out, I could hear the heavy clanging of weights in the next room. I stared in the mirror and saw the same old me with a new background. The turquoise walls perfectly matched the photo. I looked back at the camera, still clutched in my palm, and wondered what other astonishing alterations it could make. "CLOTHING" was the next option. The first click-wheel offered general categories ("SHIRT", "PANTS", etc.), which opened into sub-categories once you clicked them. When I chose "SHIRT", the display correctly identified that I was wearing a "T-SHIRT" in the photo. I then scrolled through the menu as my purple tee morphed onscreen into everything from an "ANGORA SWEATER" to a "ZEBRA-SKIN VEST". On the more revealing selections, the camera accurately recreated parts of my body, like my bony shoulders and my sunken chest, which you couldn't even see in the original photo. This whole experience was simultaneously creeping me out and making me hard. When I selected "TANK TOP", it allowed me to choose from a huge array of colors, patterns, and logos. A Gold's Gym shirt seemed the most incongruous on my weakling's body, so I went the ironic route and hit "ACCEPT". I braced myself for the Jell-O feeling again, but it didn't strangulate my whole body this time, just my torso. My chest and arms felt shrink-wrapped as my purple shirt shifted through the color spectrum through blue and green before stopping at yellow, and the arm and neck holes grew wider and wider until an authentic Gold's Gym tank was draped limply over my gaunt frame. Like a kid on Christmas morning, I searched frantically for what other unexpected gifts might be waiting inside the camera. "BODY TYPE" seemed too good to be true. As before, the dial had automatically set the baseline to correspond to my current state: in this case, "ECTOMORPH". One click to the left landed me on "ENDOMORPH" and I watched on the screen as my body ballooned to a level of obesity that looked comically implausible and dangerous for my health. I spun the dial in the other direction, which showed how I would look as a "MESOMORPH". I'll be honest, I nearly came in my pants when I saw my head on the body of a well-built jock, with solid pecs that seemed ready to burst the straps of my tank top and bulging shoulders and biceps that looked ready to burst through my skin. I could have happily chosen "ACCEPT" immediately, but was curious what other options were available. "BEAST" amped the muscle enlargement further to that of a competition weightlifter, while "BEHEMOTH" pushed the limits of plausibility past the biggest steroid abuser alive into the realm of comic-book superheroes. I knew I would be more than satisfied as a simple toned mesomorph, but I bumped myself just slightly into don't-fuckin'-fuck-with-me "BEAST" mode. My thumb pressed "ACCEPT" and I waited for the constricting feeling again, but this change went the opposite direction, as if my body was exploding from the inside. The cells under my skin were churning, multiplying, creating lumps of muscle on my weak arms and narrow chest, veins surging and surfacing with each heartbeat, inflating me into a slab of prime beef. My bones were aching, stretching, thickening, turning my fragile limbs into sturdy weapons. By the time the evolution stopped, I was closing in on six feet and over two hundred pounds. Adding some final touches, I swapped out my ripped Levi's for shiny workout pants and chose a simple baseball cap from the "HEADWEAR" menu. I couldn't resist turning it backwards. Since I already looked like such a bro now, I might as well commit all the fuckin' way. When in Bro-land, do as the Bro-men do. Satisfied with my makeover, I hit "SAVE" and slid the camera into the pocket of my shorts. I stepped out of the locker room and discovered I was in the weight facility used by the college's varsity athletes. I couldn't imagine a more alien environment, but as I checked my reflection against the other jocks around me, I now fit in perfectly. I walked straight toward the free weights to see just how much this body could do. I grabbed two sixty-pound dumbbells off the rack, lifting them as if they were nothing. The massive guy who had found me on the locker-room floor walked over to give me friendly tips on my form, giving no indication that he recognized me as the "little dude" from our earlier meeting. I wondered how long he had worked to become so ripped. I bet it was longer than the ten minutes it had taken me. I couldn't believe how cool it felt to be accepted by my fellow lifters, guys who would have looked at me with pity an hour ago. They didn't seem to get my geeky jokes, but I found that was easily fixed. I just opened up the camera, selected "IQ" and slid the dial down about twenty points. I immediately felt a whole lot more relaxed and shit. I figure when exam time comes, I'll just take another selfie and boost the old IQ back up again. Sure hope I remember to do that. I also couldn't stop staring at the other guys' rock-solid arms and wide backs and firm asses. I hoped no one noticed that I was getting a major chubby that was tenting my workout pants. I clicked open the camera to see what options it offered for "ORIENTATION" and discovered that the dial had already set itself to indicate that I was "BISEXUAL". Well, shit. Maybe those chicks back in high school were half-right after all. I'm always the last to know anything. Returning to my dorm room, I stripped off my shirt and admired my bitchin' new body in the mirror, exploring the crevices of my six pack with my fingertips. I was sure of at least one thing: my lame-ass roomie wouldn't be calling me "Baby" any more. Not unless he wanted to get his ass kicked. Or unless I wanted him to suck my dick. I decided to text the photo to Dad, who would undoubtedly be curious to see what his gizmo had accomplished. I messaged him: "Played around with the camera tonight. Thought you'd be impressed with how quickly I've adjusted. I think you're gonna sell a lot of these cameras. Thanx, Dad!!!" I followed up with an afterthought: "Please send money for new clothes. xo" After I texted my dad the photo showing how much his camera had changed me, I zonked out pretty fast. Growing six inches and eighty pounds in one night will do that to a guy. Not sure whether it was the sound or the smell of the fart that woke me up, but the combination of the two was lethal. I rubbed my eyes and held my breath as I heard the low chuckling of my dumbshit roommate Cole. The fucker was plastered, and his idea of subtle humor was to wake up his roommate at 3am and fart in his face. "Hey, baby, can I borrow a diaper from you?", he said in a demented whisper, hardly able to contain his laughter. Even his dimwit buddies hanging in the doorway were telling him he was being immature and should leave me alone. I just reached up and gripped his wrist, then twisted his arm around his back, amazed by my strength. He sure wasn't expecting that from his wimpy roommate. "Ow, ow ow!," he yelped. He whispered to his pals by the door, "Fuck, I'm in the wrong room!" His loyal friends freaked out and ran away. "No, you're in the right place," I whispered. "You just fucked with the wrong guy." I climbed out of bed while maintaining hold of his arm. I flipped on the light over my bed and could see clearly on his face just how much pain he was in, so I let go. His arm fell slack at his side. He rubbed his shoulder and turned around. I got a real kick out of watching his eyes as they caught their first glimpse of my broad chest and my giant arms, then moved up and up until he saw me grinning down at him. I now had a good couple inches on him and, except for the part covered by my exercise pants, all of my new muscle was on prominent display. He stared stupefied at my face, which basically hadn't changed but looked a shitload more bad-ass on this body. If he hadn't been so drunk, his brain probably would have exploded at seeing the stud his "baby" roommate had become. Instead, he was just really, really confused. He poked his index finger into my firm pecs, like he was trying to make sure they were real. "Didn't you used to be a little pussy?", he asked. "Yeah, but the campus food plan is awesome. Lotsa protein," I said, continuing to mess with him. "This is only after one week. By next week, I won't fit through the door." Cole stood dazed in the middle of the room, his eyes glazed over like he had passed out standing up. Just like he had been doing to me, I touched his chest with a finger. He toppled right over and was snoring on the floor within a minute. I couldn't leave the idiot just lying there, so I lifted him up and carried him to his bed. He felt surprisingly light in my bulging arms. I scooted a trash can next to his bed, just in case he needed to hurl during the night. On my way back to bed, I noticed I had gotten some texts while I was asleep. Dad had written back after seeing the photo of my new body: "WHOA, buddy. I guess the camera DID work. You might want to scale it back and take things more gradually. Massive changes like that can be hard to adjust to." That was followed by: "Oh, and you won't need to buy new clothes. Just use the camera to adjust your old ones into whatever you like. Have fun, son, but don't go overboard. Call me if you need advice." Despite what Dad thought, I felt like I was handling the changes pretty well, especially since he gave me the thing with no instructions. He always liked to do that, bring home some project from work and ask his geeky little kid if he could figure out what it did. It was a fun father-son bonding type of thing. I'm pretty slick with computers and shit, so it was never much of a challenge, but he'd never given me anything nearly as amazing as this before. I carried the camera back to bed and stared at the picture of the new me. I didn't even realize at first that I was stroking my cock, queering off to my own picture. When I looked at my dick, it seemed really small in the grip of my new sinewy hand. Seemed like I ought to be able to do something to change that. I aimed the lens at my semi-hard cock and focused. I'd never taken a dick pic in my life. No one ever wanted to see my dick in the flesh, so who would want a picture of it? I clicked and the rear screen displayed my little friend. I brought up the menu and had to scroll pretty deep through the options before I reached the controls for "GENITALS". The options were "MALE", "FEMALE", "BOTH", "NEITHER" and "NON-HUMAN". Guess those scientists at Dad's company didn't want to leave out any potential customers. I stuck with "MALE" and discovered the options for "LENGTH - SOFT" and "LENGTH - HARD". I only bumped up the soft length a little, figuring I didn't want fitting my dick into a pair of underwear to become more of a challenge than solving a Rubik's Cube. I can solve a Rubik's Cube in under a minute, by the way. Not bragging, just the truth -- although these big new hands and this lowered intelligence might slow down my speed a little. Then again, considering how long I was making my "LENGTH - HARD", I didn't figure I'd be having too many more Saturday nights sitting alone with nothing to do but fondle my Rubik's Cube. I clicked "ACCEPT", then "SAVE", and flipped off the light. I was amazed how far my hand had to travel up and down the shaft of my cock as it grew to its new full length, and my fingertips didn't even meet my thumb on the other side when I gripped the fucker. Once I finally fired, I coated my chest and abs with more cum than I thought I had in me. Guess everything about me was bigger now. * * * In the morning, I woke up full of energy for the first time in my goddamn life. I actually felt like going for a run. On purpose. Not even because it would be good for my body, because obviously I could adjust this body however I wanted without a lick of exercise. No, I just wanted to go for a run because I thought it would be fun. I pulled on my clothes from the night before, then snapped a selfie in the full length mirror on the back of our door. I musta spent half an hour going through the menus to decide what shirt and shorts and sneakers I wanted the camera to give me. I knew I could get sucked into a video game so deep that ten hours would pass and I wouldn't even get up to take a leak, but I never thought I could be just as addicted to picking out clothes. Once I chose a white tank top and some red running shorts that looked snug around my package, I checked myself out in the mirror and decided I would look even hotter with curly blond hair. So there went another ten minutes, as I figured out the exact shade and length I wanted. I settled on a nice rich honey color and adjusted my cap so it would fit (backwards, naturally) over my new halo of curls. I looked righteous. I clicked "SAVE" and the changes were locked in. Cole snorted loudly, still lying on top of his rumpled bedspread, tongue hanging flaccid from his mouth and basically looking like shit. One hand was lazily scratching his belly underneath his beer-stained sleeveless tee and the other was stuffed down his cargo shorts. A naughty thought passed through my head. I snapped a quick photo of him, then tucked the camera in a pocket of my shorts and headed out for a nice long run. The campus was beautiful that morning, with just a taste of fall chill sneaking into the morning sunshine. I'd never noticed how many people exercised in the morning, maybe because I was usually still in bed at this time. When I looked down, my arms and legs were swinging so fast and powerfully that my shadow was basically just a dark smudge speeding across the sidewalk. As my big feet pounded the pavement in my new Air Jordans, I smiled at all the chicks and guys who were running or walking or riding bikes or doing yoga, and nearly everybody smiled back. And why wouldn't they? They weren't looking at geeky Ryan Bradford any more, with his pencil-thin arms and legs. They were checking out Ryan Bradford, campus stud, whose muscles barely fit in normal clothing. I didn't even feel like the same person any more. A dude like me oughta have a nickname. What would my drinking buddies call me, if I had drinking buddies? Or any buddies? How about Ry? "Hey, I'm Ry," I muttered to myself as I ran. I liked the sound of it. "Yo, this is Ry." I chuckled my deep new chuckle. It was a thrill to see how many girls were staring at me, but the looks I was getting from guys were kinda freaking me out. Before last night, I found it hard to believe that any girl would be charitable enough to go to bed with me, but I never even considered that a guy might want to do it. I just wrote off all my fantasies about big hunky jocks as envy, not lust. Now, I felt like I could walk into any room on campus and seduce anyone in it. Male, female, both, neither or non-human. (Just kidding about the non-human thing. Gross.) By the time I reached the lakeside pier, I must have run ten miles but I still wasn't breathing hard. My shirt was soaked with sweat, so I pulled it off, the sunlight glistening on my wet torso. I stretched out my legs on a bench. They seemed to go on forever, like they were longer than my whole body used to be. The lake and the trees looked so scenic, I pulled out my camera and snapped a picture. I checked the editing options, but wasn't given anything unusual. Guess Dad's company hadn't figured out how to make the camera turn a sunrise into a sunset, or a tree into a polar bear. Yet. I deleted the scenic photo, and the last photo I had taken showed up onscreen: Cole, sprawled in bed. I amused myself thinking about what modifications I would make to the jerk if I could. What was I thinking "if"? I could! Too bad the options wouldn't let me change him from a prick into a decent guy. I could turn him into a GQ model and he'd still think it was hilarious to fart in my face. Then again, if I changed his body enough, maybe it'd change his behavior too. I was definitely acting differently as Ry than I had as Ryan. Maybe Cole could stand to be a little less like Ry and a little more like Ryan. I brought up the "BODY TYPE" menu, where Cole was a obviously categorized as a "MESOMORPH". I nudged the wheel toward "ECTOMORPH" and watched his muscles wither away until he was practically skeletal, even worse than I had been. Not sure even Cole deserved that big a punishment. I slid the wheel back toward "MESOMORPH" and got so aroused as his muscles grew back that my boner started to strain my shorts. My finger wavered on the dial until I hit a sweet spot where he was just muscly enough to turn me on but still puny enough to have an inferiority complex. His clothes now looked baggy on him, and he looked a couple inches shorter. I clicked "ACCEPT" and chuckled, wondering what must be going through Cole's mind at that moment as the changes took place. "What's so funny?" It was a chick's voice. I looked around and saw a girl on the bench across the pier, looking right at me. She was just the kind of girl who always wanted to be my friend in high school. They weren't total space cadets, because they appreciated my less obvious qualities enough to hang out with me, but they were definitely more interested in the football team than the chess club. This one had her red hair pulled back in a ponytail and wore glasses that screamed "I listen to NPR", but her legs were tanned and toned enough that you knew she hadn't spent the entire summer in her attic writing poetry. She was trying not to look like it, but I could tell she was scoping me out. "Oh, just a picture of my roommate," I said, still surprised every time I heard my new voice. I knew I had knocked down my IQ last night, but I sounded dumber than I felt. "Dumbass passed out drunk last night, so I..." I realized I shouldn't explain any more. "Just did something funny to him is all." "Ah," she said, smiling mildly and going back to her reading, not interested in hearing some sophomoric "dude" story. I hated that I was still so terrible at conversation, no matter how I looked. I noticed that she was reading a book I had also read over the summer. I could've struck up a conversation about that, but I suddenly realized I couldn't remember what the book was about any more. I didn't want to look too vain in front of her, so I decided to wait until I got back to my room to take another selfie and bump my IQ back up. I stood up slowly, making sure the chick could get a real eyeful of my body as I stretched. I had no idea if I was stretching right, and based on the way she was smirking, I probably wasn't. I walked over and extended my sweaty hand. "Name's Ry. Hope to see you around." She declined the handshake, smiled back mildly and said, "Kay," which I assumed was her name but could've been her just saying "'kay" to get rid of me. Still, I'd made first contact. I jogged back to the dorm, feeling even more energized than before. I felt incredibly horned up from changing Cole's picture and talking to Kay and just the general friction of my shorts against my hard-on. I was ready to take a good long shower and a have a good long wank session when I got back, but when I got to the room, Cole was curled up in his bed, looking ready to shit his pants. His thin but still muscly arms were wrapped around his thin but still muscly legs, and his face had gotten skinnier too. He looked more like a sophomore in high school than a sophomore in college. With a shaky voice that sounded like it had barely escaped puberty, he said, "I think I caught the same thing that you did, only backwards. Look how little I am!" I played dumb, even dumber than I was feeling. "Holy shit!" I sat down on the bed beside him and furrowed my brow. "I wonder what's causing this." "I never heard of nothing like this. I tried looking it up on the Internet, but I didn't even know where to start looking. Maybe it's God's revenge for me having so much sex." I looked down at my body. "So is this my reward for never having any?" Cole actually laughed, and not in a mean way. I didn't know he could do anything that wasn't in a mean way. He looked so scared and vulnerable. "I wanna go see a doctor." "I'm sure there's no need for that," I said reassuringly. "I bet you'll be back to normal by tomorrow." He looked back at me, doubtful. "My buddy Trent dropped by, but all he did was laugh at how I looked and my squeaky-ass voice. You'll help me, won't you?" His big eyes were pleading. "Sure thing, Cole." He leaned over and wrapped his lithe arms around me. When I hugged back, I could feel my erection lengthening. If Cole held me any closer, he was sure to feel it too. "There, there," I said, trying to pull away from him, but he was clinging to me desperately, making my cock grow even longer. As I squirmed to avoid intimate contact, I noticed the camera sliding out of my pocket and landing on the bedspread, with the adjusted photo of Cole still lit up on the screen. If he saw that, I'd be fucked, and not in the good way. I snatched up the camera and held it behind his back. I rested my chin on his shoulder and patted his back. I could feel his teardrops mixing with the sweat from my run. Let me say up front that I'm not proud of what I did next. I could blame it on the massive changes my body had gone through, which Dad had said took time to get used to. I could blame it on not having as much brain power as usual. I could blame it on having more testosterone in my system than Lance Armstrong on a bender, reliving old times. I could blame it on feeling Cole's tight little body pressed so close against me. But the truth was, I just desperately needed to get off. So I looked at the photo of Cole and quickly found the menu for "ORIENTATION". Cole's initial setting was, not surprisingly, rock-solid "HETEROSEXUAL" Since my giant cock needed a blow job right fuckin' now, he had to be into it one-hundred percent, so I swung him all the way to "HOMOSEXUAL". I wasn't dicking around. I clicked "ACCEPT", promising to myself that I would switch him back to "HETERO" as soon as I was done. The change in Cole's behavior was subtle, definitely not as dramatic as if I had made the switch right in the middle of him farting in my face last night. He was already hugging me, but feeling Cole's soft lips kissing my neck was strange. Fantastic, but something I could never have imagined would happen in a million years. He leaned back, his eyes looking a bit mystified, as if they weren't yet as fully with the program as the rest of his body. Then he pushed me back on the bed and climbed out of his oversized shirt, revealing that he still had decent muscle tone and the hints of a six-pack. Instead of the burly bruiser he had been this morning, he now looked like a scrappy high-school wrestler, and he was looking down at me with pure lust. He yanked down on my shorts and we were both amazed to watch my cock rise to a rigid ninety-degree angle. I didn't have a ruler handy, but we were probably looking at ten inches. I had set my max for twelve, so amazingly I still had some room to grow. Cole looked at it hungrily and bent down, burying his head in my pubic hair, which must have been pretty rank after my long run. "Mmm," he moaned. "Oh, yeah, baby." For the first time, I didn't mind him calling me "baby". Cole licked his way up my shaft before working the head and as much of the shaft as possible between his lips. Maybe the camera had implanted some techniques, but he sure seemed to know what he was doing down there. He stuck one hand into his loose cargos and started to stroke himself. He worked my balls and shaft with his other palm while tending to my head orally. I grabbed the foot of his bed with my hands and braced my feet against the headboard as his attack became more intense. I was getting so big down there that I worried he couldn't handle it, but between his teeth, his lips and his tongue, he kept working me into a frenzy. I tried to keep my moaning down, but the guys in the rooms next to us must have heard the banging of the bed. They'd probably assume it was just Cole and some chick. A chick with a really deep moan. My arms and legs tightened as I braced myself for an orgasm that could be measured on the Richter Scale. Jizz blasted into Cole's mouth and down his throat until the little guy had to pull away or else he would choke to death. He leaned against his headboard as my cock continued to blast his face and chest with hot cream. The pumping gradually slowed until my limp-ish cock flopped onto my abs and we both sagged lifelessly on the bed. Cole looked shell-shocked. "Sorry, man. Something just came over me." "Yeah, that was me." I smiled, looking at the glistening puddles on his skin. He laughed, pushing me playfully with his bare foot, then wriggled out of his shorts, giving me a good look at his erect cock. It was damn impressive, especially on his compact new body. Proportionately, it was probably bigger than mine. He seemed perfectly happy stroking it himself, but I figured I owed the guy now, so I crawled my way toward him. I knew basically what I was supposed to do, although I'm sure my technique was amateurish even for a first-timer. Fortunately, Cole was gentle and helpful. He ran his hands through my curly hair and told me how hot it looked. Then he guided my head onto his cock and talked me through what he wanted each step of the way. He gushed sooner than I expected, sending most of his cum onto my chin and chest, but he looked very satisfied. As I lay down with my head beside his, I felt something hard beneath me and heard the faint click of the camera. Cole curled up next to me and traced his finger along the contours of my muscles and into my belly button. "That was so 'not me', man. But I dunno, for some reason, it felt so right. Did you like it? Were you satisfied?" "Yeah, Cole, I had a great time." It was downright cute how vulnerable and considerate Cole had become. "I know people 'experiment' with sex in college, but I never thought I would," he said. "Maybe you're right. Maybe it's just temporary. Maybe it'll blow over by tomorrow." "I'm sure that's it," I told him. With any luck, when I made him straight again, he'd retain some of this kinder attitude and wouldn't be such a giant ass any more. "So," he said in a sing-song voice, grinning at me, "you wanna fuck my ass?" He seemed very eager, but my conscience was weighing on me already for turning him temporarily gay. I didn't want to take any more advantage of him than I already had. It was almost like I'd slipped him a technological roofie. I told Cole I was going to take a shower. Between the cum and the sweat, I had never reeked so badly in my life. My running clothes stank nearly as bad. Once I was cleaned up, I knew I would have to conjure up some fresh clothes with the camera. I stood up, carefully palming the camera in my hand so Cole wouldn't see it, then slipping it into my underwear drawer. I took a long hot shower, kneading the shampoo into my plentiful curls and realizing I had no idea how to care for a hairdo like this. Then again, maybe once I altered the photo, my hair would just stay like that until I took another photo and changed it again. Sure would've helped if Dad had given me some helpful hints. I wasn't just tinkering with some ordinary product from his company like a virtual-reality system or a 3D printer. Well, actually, in a weird way, this was sort of the ultimate 3D printer. And I definitely felt like I was in a different reality. With a towel wrapped around my waist, and envious glances directed my way from my neighbors, I strutted back down the hall to my room. When I got there, Cole was gone. I hadn't seen him in the shower room or the bathroom. His oversized clothes were still lying on the bed and the floor where they had landed during our fuck session. Hard to imagine he was running around naked. As I looked in my own closet for something that even approximately fit me, I noticed that a few items were missing. Nothing special, just a small black tee, some skinny black jeans and purple high-tops, but they all would have easily fit Cole at his new size. Still in my towel, I ran back into the hall and looked for him. I asked around whether anyone had seen Cole. Nobody had. Nobody seemed to have any clue who I was either. I ran back into our room and looked out the window, to see whether Cole was wandering around outside the dorm, but I couldn't spot him. Fortunately, we had exchanged phone numbers on the first day, before I realized what a tool he was, so I grabbed my cell phone and called him. After the first ring, I noticed Cole's cargos inching slightly across the floor. Another ring, they moved again. I reached down and pulled his phone from the pocket of his discarded shorts. I figured I'd better undo the camera's effects before he got into a situation he didn't expect. I opened my underwear drawer and was relieved to still find the camera there. If he had discovered it and taken it with him, who knows what could have happened? I sat down on my bed naked and opened the revised photo of Cole. The word "SAVED" appeared at the bottom. I hadn't remembered saving the image...unless that was the click when I accidentally sat on the camera. I tried to re-open the photo and make further adjustments, but none of the menus would open. Come to think of it, I had never gone back to make additional changes after hitting "SAVE". Finally, a new message came on the display: "TAKE NEW PHOTO TO MAKE MORE CHANGES". Shit. So I would have to take another picture of Cole before I could change him back? That meant his horny little gay ass was wandering around out there, and it was all my fault. I tried to fit into some of my old clothes, but everything was far too tight. So, since Cole had borrowed some of my stuff, I figured I could wear some of his. God, he had terrible taste, though. The nicest shirts he had were either football jerseys or camouflage jackets. It took me a minute to remember that it really didn't matter what the clothes looked like to begin with. I could just change them to whatever I wanted. With that, I pulled on a sweatshirt, orange hunting pants, and muddy cowboy boots and took a picture of myself reflected in the mirror. I didn't have time to dawdle getting my wardrobe perfect, so I quickly converted my outfit into a short-sleeved blue button-down, gray wool trousers and black penny loafers. Instead of drying my long curly hair, I just shrank it into a blond buzz cut. And I had the presence of mind to bump my IQ back up. While I was at it, I even gave myself an extra twenty points. I was going to need all the brain power I could get my hands on. I clicked "SAVE". Now, I asked myself, where would Cole go if he were gay? I had no inkling where to start my search for my roommate Cole, having selfishly turned him from an abusive nincompoop into a frisky cocksucker just to satisfy my own sexual needs. Despite having boosted my intelligence substantially with the astonishing camera which my father had given me, I had little clue where my transformed roommate might have gone. Cole's cell phone, which I had retrieved from the pocket of the cargo shorts he left behind, began to vibrate. The screen displayed the name "SHILOH" with an accompanying photo of one of Cole's posse extending his middle finger. Those gentlemen were all class. I answered the call, stating, "Cole's phone." The person at the other end laughed. "Uh, yeah, hi, Cole's phone. Is Cole there?" "No. You're Shiloh, I take it?" "Yeah, this is Shy. Who the fuck are you, and why the fuck do you have Cole's phone?" With irritation, I replied, "I the fuck am...a friend of Cole's, and I the fuck have Cole's telephone because he left it behind." "Where'd he go? Trent said Cole looked mad sick and would probably be in bed all day. I was just checking to see if he's okay." "He's far from okay. Do you have any ideas about where he might have gone?" "Shit, I dunno. Let me call the other guys and see if any of them have heard from him. I'll give you a call back." "Thank you. I'll await your call." I hung up, wondering why I sounded so uptight. Was it because I had raised my IQ that that I was talking like I had a stick lodged up my rectum? "Rectum"? What was with my vocabulary suddenly? For the first time in my life I looked cool and sexy, yet I sounded like an insufferable pedant. It was time for another readjustment. I raised the miraculous camera to take another photo of myself in the full-length mirror. I was becoming ever more proficient at operating the variety of menus and submenus, which I used to nudge my IQ back down to its usual level. Fortunately, my standard level of intelligence was still well above average, just not obnoxiously so. I somewhat reluctantly bade farewell to my heightened intellect with a simple tap of my finger... ...and a rush of relief spread through my body. Being smarter had literally made my brain ache. It felt unnatural. I was glad to feel normal again. Well, at least as normal as I could in my new studly body. I took a seat, drumming my fingertips on my desktop and waiting for Shiloh to call back. I studied the camera, wondering how it operated. It looked like an ordinary digital camera, but its power to edit not just the photograph but the person in the photograph was phenomenal. It could definitely be misused in the wrong hands, and I wondered if "the wrong hands" included my own, seeing what I had done to Cole. Maybe that was why Dad had given me the camera without any instructions. Maybe he wanted to see what errors in judgment might be made even by someone who he trusted. If I couldn't handle the responsibility of using the camera, imagine the havoc that would be caused by someone with less impulse control, like Cole. The phone rang, displaying Shiloh's name again. I picked it up. "Shiloh. Any luck?" It was a relief to let words just fall from my lips again without my brain obsessing over proper sentence structure. "None of the guys have heard from him since Trent dropped by this morning. But I wouldn't worry too much about it. I'm sure he's fine." "I'm not so sure about that." "Why not? I mean, who are you anyway?" "I'm...just a worried friend. Just like you. Can you help me search for him?" "Sure, I guess, if you're that concerned." "Where should we meet?" Shiloh thought for a second. "How 'bout the pier? He might be there, doggin' on chicks." Given how he was behaving before he left, I doubted that Cole would be "doggin' on chicks", but it was as good a place as any to start. We described what we were wearing so we would recognize each other at the pier. Shiloh said he was wearing a white "wife-beater", blue jeans and a purple baseball cap. Turned backwards, undoubtedly. It was like Cole and his buddies had been issued a bro uniform when they enrolled. I hurried to the pier as fast as I could, although it had been much easier running there in athletic shoes that morning than in the penny loafers I was wearing now. It was late afternoon and the place was crawling with minimally-dressed students, soaking in what might be the last warm day before autumn took hold. I felt way overdressed and considered sneaking off somewhere to zap myself into something more comfortable, but the truth was I thought I looked damn good. Just because I now had massive guns didn't mean I had to be flashing them constantly. I saw plenty of guys in white tanks and jeans hanging around, but only one in a purple cap...backwards, as expected. I dimly recognized Shiloh as one of Cole's crew, but he was clearly the runt of the litter. Although he was obviously trying to fit in with his fellow dudes, his efforts were almost too blatant -- not unlike the ways I had tried to make my weedy little body look cooler with tattoos and jewelry. It was hardly surprising that I had almost totally overlooked Shiloh, compared to Cole and his bulkier, hulkier comrades. Shiloh was short and skinny with pale skin, sloping shoulders and wispy chest hair poking out above his tank top. He had a pugnacious but fairly average face, with caterpillar eyebrows, dark eyes, a broad nose, thin lips and a rounded chin covered with scruff. I walked over with a friendly smile and said, "Shiloh, right?" "Uh, yeah. The guys call me Shy," he said, sizing me up. Clearly my bulky body was not what he pictured from our phone conversation. "I'm...uh, my friends call me Ry." Yes, all of my vast circle of non-existent friends. I extended my hand and shook his, realizing too late how hard I was squeezing his thin fingers. "You spotted Cole yet?" "Nah, I just got here," he said. "Trent said Cole looked really skinny this morning." "That's right. He might look shorter than usual too." Shiloh stared at me skeptically. "What the fuck? How does a guy get shorter overnight?" I just shrugged, playing dumb. As we prowled the pier, I hung a few steps behind Shiloh and couldn't help but fixate on how tightly his jeans fit, with no wallet in his back pockets to interrupt the smooth curve of his butt. I wondered if Dad had known that his camera would make me so sex-obsessed. Was that part of what the beta test was designed to explore? It was starting to feel more like an alpha test. My attention shifted from Shiloh's ass to a familiar pair of tan legs on a familiar bench. Kay, the girl from that morning, was lying on the same bench, only barefoot now, still reading the new Malcolm Gladwell with his latest theories on how everything works. Shit, I could finally remember the book and what it was about! She and I could have had a genuine conversation about it, if only I weren't in the middle of searching for Cole. "Hey, it's Kay, right?", I said, looming over her. She peered up, shielding her eyes and slightly confused. "I'm Ry. We talked this morning." It wasn't much of a conversation, but we HAD talked. "Oh, right," she said as the light of recognition went on. "I see you're wearing clothes now. You got a haircut too!" "That's right. I did." I brushed my palm across the bristles of my buzz cut. "You like it?" "I kinda liked the curls," she said with an inscrutable smirk. I felt like I had disappointed her. "I can always grow them back." I had zeroed in on Kay so much, I'd almost forgotten Shiloh was beside me, but Shiloh seemed used to being overlooked. "Oh, this is Shiloh. We're looking for a friend of ours we thought might have come to the pier. Since you've been here all day, maybe you noticed him. About yea tall," I said, raising my hand up to my chin level. "Dark wavy hair. Black t-shirt. Black jeans. Purple sneakers." Kay shook her head. "Sorry, I've been reading. You're probably the only person I noticed all day. Your friend sounds cute, though. Hope you find him." She raised her eyebrows and smiled. I grinned back and thanked her. I could swear she was flirting, but then everyone I saw today seemed to be turning me on. I might have to go into the camera settings and pick either totally straight or totally gay, just so my libido could ignore half of the world. As Shiloh and I walked away, I realized I didn't know exactly what to talk about with one of Cole's buddies. Wasn't their conversation mostly about sports and chicks? "That chick was pretty cute, don't you think?", I offered. Shiloh didn't seem all that impressed. "I suppose. If you're into that type." We swung by the campus clinic to see if Cole had come by to get checked out, but the receptionist didn't remember anyone of his description. We didn't find Cole in any of his other usual hangouts either, and it seemed increasingly unlikely that we would simply run into him by wandering the sprawling campus randomly. My big-ass body was starving, so we stopped in a Mexican restaurant and strategized. As I watched Shiloh stuffing a burrito into his mouth, for some reason it reminded me of Cole giving me a blowjob this morning. I realized I had to level with Shiloh about how much his buddy had changed. "I think you should know. What happened to Cole, I don't think it just changed him physically." "What do you mean?", Shiloh asked, chomping down another bite. "I think he's behaving differently too. Last time I saw him, he was acting...pretty damn gay." Shiloh burst into a laugh that sprayed rice and beans into my face. He looked embarrassed, reaching over with a napkin to wipe me clean. "Sorry about that. I just find it hard to believe that Cole would be gay." "Maybe he's been in denial." Or maybe a magical camera turned him gay. Nah, too crazy. "Is there, like, a gay part of town where he might have gone?" "Over on Sixteenth Street. Some people call it Sixty-Nine Street." He added, "So I hear." "Maybe we should head over there and look around." Shiloh looked dubious. "You and me walking Sixty-Nine? People will think we're a couple." Would that be so terrible, even if he was a bit puny for my tastes? Funny how I'd suddenly developed standards and thought I could afford to be choosy. "Cole might not come with me," I said, "but he might listen to you. You're his friend." "Aren't you his friend too?" Let's see. Cole had abused me from the moment we became roommates. Then this morning I turned him into a little gay boy without his permission. "I'd say we're more like acquaintances." Shiloh was skeptical of my theory but agreed to continue the search. Judging from the rainbow flags and other obvious signs, it appeared that the core of 69 Street was barely a block long. Shiloh seemed nervous to be around the neighborhood, but I was enjoying the sensation of guys ogling me with no hesitation. I unbuttoned a couple extra buttons on my shirt to display my pumped pecs. Despite the aura of cool I was hoping to project, I was pretty embarrassed when we went into one sex-toy shop, and Cole was blushing so hard, his skin almost matched the purple of his cap. The place still had those coin-operated porno viewing booths that I had heard about -- I guess for the last remaining pervs on earth without internet access. I wasn't about to knock on the doors to find out if Cole was using one of them. On the off chance that he was, I decided I wouldn't be asking for my purple sneakers back. Not seeing Cole prowling the aisles, we got out of there fast. As we stepped outside, Shiloh literally collided with a pedestrian, sending them both reeling in opposite directions across the sidewalk. "Watch your step, honey," the pedestrian said with annoyance. I instantly recognized the voice from this morning. Shiloh stared with fascination at the other guy. "Cole? Is that really you?" Shiloh's confusion was justifiable. With its turned-up nose and pillowy lips, Cole's face had already been changed by the transformation, but Cole had been a busy boy refining his look since then. He was still wearing my purple shoes but at some point he had ditched my black tee and jeans and was now wearing a white fishnet tee that exposed his abs and low-slung lime-green shorts. He had obviously spent some time in a salon too, as his nails were now black and his hair sported a magenta streak that matched his eye shadow. I may have turned Cole gay, but I took no responsibility for his fashion sense. Cole rushed over and hugged Shiloh. "Shy, baby! I'm so happy to see you!" Shiloh patted Cole's back, his eyes registering amazement, while Cole showed now hesitation as he groped Shiloh's cute butt. When they parted, Cole's attention shifted to me. His eyes roved my body and a smirk crossed his lips. "Oooh, and I remember you, big boy." He slinked over to me and pressed his lips on mine. I couldn't resist kissing back, and the intensity of Cole's passion was possibly even greater than it had been earlier in the day. Our public display of affection was so public that I could hear guys on the street whistling or clapping or yelling "Get a room." When we parted, I noticed Shiloh's dumbstruck stare. I looked back, doing my best non-verbal "I told you so." "What are you boys doing in this neighborhood?", Cole asked. "We came to take you home," Shiloh said. "Why would I go home? I'm having a blast, honey. I've never felt so happy." "But this isn't you!", Shiloh insisted. "I know. It's better, baby. You should try it sometime." Cole winked at me before his eyes drifted to a large hairy biker dude in leather pants walking past. Cole's head pivoted to keep an eye on the big guy and, as he set off in pursuit, he called back, "See you later, boys." Shiloh watched as Cole chased after the brutish guy and struck up a conversation. Shiloh turned to me and said, "I think you better tell me what's really going on here...baby." I froze, knowing that I'd been found out. "You are Cole's little roommate Ryan, right, Ry? The one he teased so much and called 'Baby'?" I nodded. Shiloh studied me. "Unbelievable. You look...totally different. So whatever changed Cole is probably the same thing that changed you, right? What is it you're not telling me?" I was pretty sure I was going to need Shiloh on my side to wrangle Cole if I had any chance of converting him back, so I pulled Shiloh in between two buildings where we wouldn't be overheard. "What I'm gonna tell you will sound nuts, but it's true. Can I trust you to keep a secret?" Shiloh nodded. As I looked in his eyes, he seemed to have an inherent honesty and integrity, which made me wonder again why he ever hung out with Cole and his buds. Still, I felt I could trust him. Without divulging any more details than were absolutely necessary, I showed him the camera and described how it could be used to essentially Photoshop someone so that their body changed in real life. "How does it work?", he asked. "I have no fucking clue," I said with complete honesty. I figured a demonstration would be the best proof I could offer, so I pulled up the last photo I had taken of myself and showed him the various menus. Since I had never saved the photo, it was still editable, so I decided to alter my clothing, looking around to make sure no one was watching. I quickly chose a wardrobe that might be more appropriate for this neighborhood. Shiloh watched in amazement as, one by one, I "tried on" new clothes on the camera screen which then appeared on my actual body with a simple click of the "ACCEPT" button. Within a minute, I went from my conservative outfit to an orange sleeveless tee, a pair of ripped-knee jeans and rhinestone-studded All-Stars. While I was at it, I decided to give myself a new tattoo, opting for a Maori design for my chest and upper arm. I felt a concentrated barrage of needle pricks as the pattern emerged across my skin. I even selected "JEWELRY" and added seven silver hoops to the upper edge of my right ear, gritting my teeth as the pain of seven piercings was condensed simultaneously into the space of five seconds, then quickly fading away. When the transformation was complete, I extended my arms to my sides and said, "Ta-da!" Shiloh gaped in awe. "Satisfied? Now let's go get Cole and turn him back." As I turned back toward the sidewalk, I heard Shiloh behind me. "Do me." I looked back, knowing that I should resist, knowing that I didn't need this situation to get any more complicated than it already was. "Do me. Please?" I could see a familiar longing in his eyes, the same desperation to be noticed that I'd carried within me for so long. Silently apologizing to my dad, I walked back between the buildings and asked Cole to pose against the wall. I snapped a shot. I studied his photo, my mind racing at the possibilities. "So what do you want me to change?" "Anything. Everything. Just make me look cool. Like you." The idea of me being the epitome of cool was absurd, but I dove eagerly into the task of reshaping wanna-be bro Shiloh into a hottie. "This first one's gonna hurt, but you'll thank me." I slid him from "ECTOMORPH" to "MESOMORPH" to put some meat on his scrawny bones. As I hit "ACCEPT", the changes began. He seemed remarkably unperturbed by the pain I knew he must be experiencing, but he seemed utterly distracted by the awesome sight of his muscles and skeletal system growing at lightning speed. I frantically bumped up the size of his clothes before his muscles had a chance to burst through them. Since he had left the aesthetic choices to me, I tanned his pale skin and whisked away the thatch of hair on his chest. Shiloh would be a metrosexual if I had anything to do with it, and I actually had everything to do with it. Flexing his reshaped right arm while rubbing his left hand across his newly smooth pecs, Shiloh looked over at me and smiled, our eyes now at the same height. "More" was all he said. His eyes looked dark and impenetrable, so I adjusted them to a lighter shade, giving them a seductive sparkle. I knew the next thing that had to go was that stupid baseball cap, but rather than simply asking him to remove it, I chose "HEADGEAR", then "NONE". The best way to de-bro him was to take away his options. I clicked "ACCEPT" and the cap vanished from Shiloh's head, dematerializing until it revealed Shiloh's greasy mop of stringy brown hair. I decided he would look much better as a blond with highlighted streaks. "Ow, it's vibrating," Shiloh said, clutching at his hair as a month of growth was crammed into under a minute and his dark locks lightened as if he had spent all summer at the beach. My options seemed endless. I thinned his eyebrows and streamlined his nose. I pumped up his lips and gave him a more pointed, manly chin. Unlike Cole, who I had modified with revenge in mind, I realized I was reworking Shiloh with the secret goal of turning him into the hottest eye candy I could imagine. Now, as the final pieces shifted into place, the growing feeling in my heart -- and my jeans -- told me that I had succeeded. I had created my ideal man. Too bad he was straight. But, wait, how did I know he was? He acted straight, but... While Shiloh was occupied checking out his new body, pulling up his white tank to examine his new abs, I surreptitiously pulled up the "ORIENTATION" menu. Just as it had told me I was bisexual and Cole was initially straight, the camera had determined that Shiloh was most definitely "HOMOSEXUAL". How the hell could a machine figure that out, just by taking a picture, when I couldn't tell from spending time with the guy? It was one of about eight-million questions I would be asking my dad once this whole adventure was over. At the moment, I was just psyched to realize that I had a chance with this golden hottie. It'd be my cosmic bad luck if I had the power to whip up my dream man only to discover that he had no interest in me. "What do you think?" I gestured to his new body. "It's a miracle," he said, grasping at his throat when he heard the resonance his voice had gained in the transformation. "Just so you know, I didn't do anything to cause this, but the camera indicates that...you're gay?" He hesitated before nodding. "Do Cole and the other guys know?" He shook his head. "Those guys? You can imagine how they'd have reacted." "Then why did you hang out with them?" "I dunno. It was better than being alone. Maybe I hoped a little of their macho would rub off on me. Plus...I think I had a little crush on Cole." My jaw fell. "Do you still?" Shiloh smiled. "Not so much after what you did to him. I like my guys..." He looked me up and down. "...big." He smiled and walked back to the sidewalk. We entered a clothing store so Shiloh could inspect himself thoroughly in a mirror. "Oh my god," he said with a hushed voice. "That's really me?" As if still in disbelief, he raised his arm to flex his biceps and was amazed to see his reflection doing the same. He smiled into the mirror, revealing a set of perfect teeth that made me swoon. He turned to me with moist eyes, then wrapped me in his powerful arms and kissed me. Mmm, the camera had done a great job on his lips. God, I loved technology. Shiloh walked out of the store with supreme confidence, his arm wrapped around my waist. We looked up and down the street for Cole until Shiloh finally spotted him. "Cole just went into the Manhole!" "He fell down a manhole?" "No, the Manhole. The club over there. He was still with the big hairy guy." Shiloh pointed down the street. "Great. We'll wait outside until they throw him out and then grab him." "Why would they throw him out?" "Because he's not 21. In fact, right now he looks about fourteen." "The Manhole is eighteen-plus most nights. If you want to drink, you have to wear a wristband." "You sure seem to know a lot about this place," I said teasingly. Embarrassed, Shiloh said, "I thought about going there a lot last year, but I always chickened out before I got to the door." "You think you're ready now?" He grinned back, cocky as shit, and said, "The question is, is it ready for me?" As he marched down the street, I held myself back a few steps, pleased with how breathtakingly his new ass filled out his bigger jeans. I could follow that butt anywhere. When we reached the bouncer at the Manhole, I showed my ID, relieved that I hadn't changed my face much. He must have wondered how I grew so much from the height and weight listed on the driver's license, if he bothered to check that at all, but he waved me along. Shiloh, who now looked nothing like he had ten minutes ago, just said that he'd forgotten his ID. Before the bouncer could deny him entry, a firm voice emerged from inside the front door, saying, "You are NOT turning away a boy who looks that fine." The bouncer stepped aside and let Shiloh enter. The owner of that mystery voice was a slim young guy with either a very wide mohawk or a very severe sidewall. He asked for ten dollars each. "I guess that's the Manhole cover," I joked. From his expression, I was not the first person ever to make that joke. The muffled booms of bass speakers vibrated the walls as we headed to the dance floor. It was tremendously loud inside the club. Amid the swirling, colored lights were probably two hundred guys, some coupled up, others playing the field. I followed Shiloh, noticing how many guys were leering at him or copping casual feels and wondering if I had done too good a job. If I wanted to keep him for myself, I might have to go back in and ugly him up a little. Shiloh looked exhilarated and overwhelmed to be in the middle of the crowd. I no longer needed a high-tech gizmo to determine this boy's orientation. I could tell from the delighted expression on his face. I ran my palms across Shiloh's sturdy shoulder muscles and down his arms, my thumbs following the lines of his biceps veins and over his forearms. We began to move in sync with the music, and I was pleased to see him devoting his full attention to me, despite the massive attention he was getting from others. As I pressed myself against him, I could tell from the lump in his jeans that I wouldn't be needing to make any alterations down there. Our eyes met and the next move was obvious. I took his hand and led him into the men's room where we found an empty stall. We must have looked absurd, two total studs who were utterly clueless about what to do next. All I knew was I needed him and he looked like he wanted me. I unbuttoned my 501s and pulled out my foot-long cock, which Shiloh studied with amazement. He knelt down, ready to latch his lips around it, but I needed more than a blowjob this time. I spun him around and positioned his hands against the tile wall, then reached around to slide his skintight pants down his legs. Man, did he have a magnificent ass. As I gently probed my way inside, Shiloh started to moan. I rested my chin on his shoulder as my hips gyrated, pushing further into him while my left hand stroked his growing cock. Even in here, the din of the club nearly drowned out our voices, although I doubt anyone would complain if they heard what we were doing. I went faster and faster, pressing my face against his back, my nose buried between his shoulder blades as his tank became soaked with his sweat. He reached his sinewy arms behind his shoulders and pulled off the tank top. I licked his salty skin and felt euphoric as my cock spurted inside his tight ass. Shiloh pounded his mighty fist against the wall while screaming with pleasure as his cock surged in my hand. He joined in the stroking until he began to spurt onto the wall. When we had both settled down, Shiloh turned to kiss me and I got my first clear look at his sculpted chest and abs. I must say, we looked pretty damn good for a couple of wimps. Someone knocked urgently on the door of the stall. "How long you gonna be in there?" Not wanting to hold up someone in desperate need, we quickly pulled up our pants and opened the door. The guy rushed in, followed momentarily by a friend. Shiloh stuffed his tank into the back pocket of his jeans, returning to the dance floor topless. I took his hand and we resumed dancing. Somehow, amid the mob of faces and gyrating bodies, obscured by dry-ice fog and epilepsy-triggering strobes, I finally spotted Cole on the balcony, going into overtime playing tonsil-hockey with the big hairy guy. Shiloh and I squeezed through the crowd and worked our way up to the balcony. Shiloh tapped on the hairy man's shoulder. "I need to talk to my friend." The hairy guy must have had a hundred pounds on Shiloh. "Fuck off," he demanded, pushing a finger firmly into Shiloh's sculpted chest, but Shiloh stood firm. Shiloh turned to Cole and asked, "Cole, is this guy bothering you?" Cole was staring at Shiloh, puzzled. "Do I know you?" "It's me, Shiloh." Cole's eyes widened. "Shy?" He literally drooled at the sight of his buddy's new body. "That's right," Shiloh said. "And this time, we're not asking, we're telling. We're taking you home." Cole looked conflicted, but the large man blocked the path between Shiloh and Cole. "I think you're wrong, pal. I'M taking him home." Shiloh tried to push the big guy aside to grab Cole, but the hairy guy punched Shiloh hard in the face. Shiloh fell to the floor, clutching his nose. When I stepped forward, the hairy guy turned his attention to me. "You gonna be as stupid as your friend there?" Big as I was, I couldn't envision winning a fight with this guy, so I backed off. The hairy guy wrapped his huge mitt around Cole's fragile wrist and started dragging Cole toward the exit. Cole looked back at us with fear in his eyes. I knelt down to check on Shiloh. "You okay?" He pulled his hand away and discovered his palm covered with blood from his nose. But he was undeterred. "Can that camera make us big enough to beat that motherfucker?" We ran into the bathroom, the only place in the club well lit enough to take a decent photo of the two of us. Then we ran out the front door, catching a glimpse of Cole being dragged around the corner by his new "friend". Shiloh and I ran down the sidewalk as fast as we could, while I simultaneously attempted to navigate the menus on the camera and change us before we lost track of Cole. With each pounding step on the pavement, the camera was jostled in my hand. I knew we were going to need bulk if we had any shot at wresting Cole away from his captor, so I chose the "BODY TYPE" menu and slid the dial way past "MESOMORPH" into "BEAST" and then "BEHEMOTH" mode. Feeling it would give us our best chance, I chose "BEHEMOTH", then "ACCEPT". An incredible rush of power swept through my body. My muscles grew two, maybe three times their already impressive size. My powerful legs slammed so heavily against the sidewalk, I could swear the cement was cracking under my weight. I looked ahead of me and realized Shiloh was undergoing the same transformation. It hadn't occurred to me, when taking one photo that included both of us, that any changes I made to the photo would affect Shiloh and me identically. I quickly changed our pants to black bicycle shorts, so they would stretch as our bodies enlarged. With a massive change like this, the rest of our clothes were goners, shredding on the fly and leaving a trail of tattered fabric behind us. I lagged behind Shiloh and could see his back and shoulders widening to inhuman size and his blond hair streaming like a mane behind him. Up ahead, the hairy guy had heard and undoubtedly felt our approaching footsteps. He now had Cole slung over his shoulder and was running toward a battered pickup truck. He flung Cole hard into the bed of the truck, seemingly unconcerned for the safety of his prey but determined to keep him away from us. He climbed into the driver's seat and revved his engine. Shiloh reached the truck before I did, grabbed the driver's side door and tore it completely off its hinges. Shiloh yanked the big guy out of the truck and tossed him into the street. Shiloh was reaching for Cole's hand when I noticed something that had escaped Shiloh's attention. "He's got a gun!" The driver had dragged a shotgun out of the cab of the truck with him, which he was loading quickly. Shiloh turned back to him with fury, chasing him down the street. He took the hairy guy's shoulder in one mighty paw while snatching away the shotgun with the other. Shiloh smashed the gun over his enormous knee and flung the remains over a nearby chain-link fence. The skinny kid I had only met hours before was now an unstoppable fighting machine. Even with similar size, I was nowhere near as fearless as Shiloh. Shiloh held the squirming man in his grip, then raised his humongous fist overhead, prepared to strike. I feared that a single blow from Shiloh could kill the man, so I screamed, "Stop!" I ran up and instructed Shiloh to make the big hairy guy stand in the glare of the headlights so I could take his photo. Shiloh smiled, seeing what I was up to, and tossed the hairy guy into the road where the lights illuminated him. Within moments, I had reduced our opponent to a five-foot-three ectomorph with a smooth hairless body. He stared with panic at the whittled-down specimen he had suddenly become. "I'll get you motherfuckers," he squeaked, running to the passenger side of his truck, leaping his skinny body through the open window and climbing into the driver's seat. He squealed down the road, with Cole hanging on desperately as he was flung around the truck bed. Shiloh chased after the truck on foot, until the truck spun a U-turn mid-block and came racing directly toward him. I ran onto the sidewalk and braced myself, but the truck remained in pursuit of Shiloh, who narrowly escaped by ducking between two parked cars. The truck smashed into the cars, shattering its windshield. I could see Cole attempting to jump free but he fell back into the truck bed as the driver shifted into reverse and sped off. Shiloh gingerly lowered his bulk to the sidewalk beside me, his long blond hair falling in a sweat-drenched curtain past his eyes. We were both exhausted. In the middle of everything, we barely had a moment to appreciate just how radically our bodies had changed. We must be hovering near seven feet now and well over 400 pounds, most of it muscle. "When I said I liked guys who were big, I never meant this big," said Shiloh in a voice so deep, I could hear it rattling nearby windows. "Sorry, man," I said, my voice even deeper than his. "I didn't have time for subtlety." "What do you say we change back and let the police handle it from here?", Shiloh asked. "Sounds like a plan," I said. I pushed myself to my feet, then extended my brawny arm to help my fellow hulk stand. The commotion had naturally drawn crowds out of the clubs of 69 Street to see what was happening, and our huge musclebound bodies were naturally attracting a lot of attention. I suddenly had the realization that I was no longer holding the camera in my hand. "Shit, I don't have the camera!" "Did you drop it somewhere?", Shiloh asked. I shrugged my massive shoulders and stepped as gingerly as possible into the street. Shiloh joined me in my quest. "I sure hope that asshole didn't run over it with his truck," Shiloh said. "I would not want to be stuck like..." I heard a crunch and closed my eyes. When I opened them, Shiloh was looking scared. He lifted up a gigantic foot, revealing the crushed remains of the miracle camera embedded in the asphalt. In unison, we said, "Oh, fuck." Shiloh and I stood in the dimly lit street, our astounding bodies each seven feet tall and bursting with more muscle than I'd ever seen on a human being -- if that's even what we were any more. Our shoulders and biceps were bigger than beach balls and solid as steel. Our lats flared out so dramatically that neither of us could lower our arms fully to our sides. A street light behind us showed off our musculature in sharp relief and cast long brutish shadows along the pavement. I was glad I'd had the presence of mind to switch us into stretch pants when our bodies became so gargantuan, so at least we weren't naked. Guys had run outside the Manhole and the other gay establishments of 69 Street once people heard the sounds of our frenetic battle with the guy who had taken Cole away with him. Everyone was keeping their distance from the two silhouetted giants in the middle of the road, but every-goddamn-body had a camera on their cell phone and was taking pictures and videos of us like two sasquatches who had just landed in the gay-borhood. Ironically, Shiloh and I were the only ones who didn't have a camera, and we were the ones who really could have used one, since it was my magical camera that had gotten us into this mess. Too bad Shiloh had accidentally stepped on it, his enormous weight grinding it into irreparable bits. I was surprised that I had maintained my composure and most of my wits. Shiloh was more riled up, having been in the heat of the battle with Cole's abductor, smashing the guy's shotgun and tearing the driver's side door off his pick-up truck. Shiloh was still wired with adrenaline and ran angrily toward the crowd with a menacing roar that echoed off the buildings. Everyone scurried back in fear, and I clamped one of my meaty paws on Shiloh's traps, dragging him back toward me. I spoke as softly as I could, even though it felt like everything I said in this new body was being bellowed through a megaphone. "Chill, Hulk. You don't have to 'smash'." Shiloh, still glaring furiously at the mob armed with their smartphones, asked, "Well, what do you suggest we do?" "We maybe got a minute before the cops show. I say we run as fast as these big-ass legs will carry us." "Where to?" "Someplace we won't be noticed." "Oh, that oughta be easy to find", Shiloh snorted sarcastically and it came out like a lion's roar. That gave me an idea. "Follow me." I spun on my heel and began to run away from the crowd. I could hear from the pounding at my heels that Shiloh was right behind me and that some of the crowd were attempting to keep up. Fat chance of that. Despite my bulk, I felt just as agile as I had earlier in the day when I weighed half as much. I'd never felt so exhilarated as I bounded at ten feet per stride, my muscles like coiled springs. I tried to keep us in dimly lit areas, under railroad bridges, in industrial areas where no one was working at this time of night, but I'm sure that the pounding of our feet alone made our presence obvious to anyone within several blocks. Maybe one sprinting muscle beast could slip by unnoticed, but two would definitely catch your attention. One unlucky driver must have gotten the scare of his life as he turned down the street toward us. He slammed on his brakes as fast as he could, and I miraculously hurdled his car. Shiloh leapt over the car too, but his heel clipped the rear bumper, knocking it clean off. Shiloh paused to look back, but I yelled for him to keep going. The sooner we vanished, the less likely the driver was to know what hit him. I did take one short cut over a parked car where I left a giant foot-shaped dent in the hood of the trunk. If you parked anywhere in the neighborhood of Sixteenth Street that night, I sincerely apologize. When we finally reached our destination, we had to scale a fifteen-foot concrete wall with barbed wire at the top. Leaping to the top was simple with our new muscles, and the barbed wire left little more than surface scratches on our thick hides. After being such a little dweeb all my life, it was extraordinary to experience life as an almost purely physical being. I felt practically indestructible. We slid down the other side of the wall and landed in a scummy, stagnant water pool. We had become so animalistic in our behavior by that point that we felt refreshed, splashing ourselves and each other playfully, joyfully. We even cupped water in our hands to slurp it up and rehydrate after our marathon run. At that point, we both came to our senses and spat out the putrid stuff. Shiloh looked around. "What is this, a zoo?" I grunted affirmatively. "So we're in a cage with wild animals?" He scanned his surroundings with fear, moonlight catching in his eyeballs. "There are no animals. It closed down a couple years ago. My folks used to bring me here when I was little. Never thought I'd be on this side of the cage." I lay down on the cement where apes used to prowl, feeling my gigantic ribcage expanding and contracting as I caught my breath. Shiloh prowled our new habitat, on alert for anyone or anything approaching. He began to swing swiftly on a rusted old set of bars that had been installed for the apes to play on. Part of me was already making plans for what Shiloh and I could do with bodies like these. Obviously, we would be the center of attention wherever we went. We could probably go into football, pro wrestling, acting, modeling. I didn't think they'd let us into bodybuilding with the head start Dad's camera had provided. Then again, once Dad's camera went on the market, body building the old way would probably become obsolete. As would dieting. And plastic surgery. And shopping for clothes. And visiting the barber. This one little gadget might drive half the companies in America out of business. Dad and his colleagues were in line to become the richest people on earth, or the most hated, or most likely both. As I rested a hand on my thigh, I noticed something tiny and hard caught in my skintight pants. My cell phone! Even when I transformed our pants into running shorts, eliminating pockets, the phone in my front pocket had survived the change and was pressed firmly against my flesh. I gently pulled down the shorts and carefully extracted the phone, which now felt so tiny in my oversized palm that I was afraid I would crush it. If I'd had to dial individual digits with the bratwursts my fingers had become, I'd have been shit out of luck, but fortunately the person I needed was on speed dial. As the phone began to ring, I raised it to my ear. "Hey, big guy, what's shaking?" came the comforting voice of my dad on the other end of the line. "Why, what have you heard?" was my response, coming out in my laughably low new voice. "Holy cow, Ryan, is that you?" "Yeah, Dad. I need your help." Sternly, Dad asked, "Have you been using the camera some more?" "A little." I could probably lift a semi with my bare hands right then, but Dad's disappointed tone instantly transformed me mentally into an eight-year-old afraid to admit that he had knocked a baseball through the neighbor's window. "I warned you to take it easy with that thing. But don't worry, if you've pushed yourself too far, there's a quick fix that'll reset you right back to normal. You got the camera with you?" "Ummm...that's part of the problem. The camera got kinda...crushed." A long pause from Dad's end. "How 'kinda' crushed?" "Like oblivion crushed." Dad let out a world-record sigh. I waited for him to say something, anything. "You still there, Dad?" "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just trying to get a fix on your coordinates. Looks like you're at the old zoo, right?" "Right. How'd you know that?" "When the camera transformed you, it put radioactive tracers in your body. I'm seeing another big blip. Is someone else with you?" "Yeah, my friend, Shiloh." My delight at being able to tell my dad that I had made a friend at college was tempered by the knowledge of what I had turned that friend into. He was currently atop the monkey bars, pounding his chest like Tarzan and yowling at the moon. I shushed him, not wanting to draw any attention to our hideout. "Okay, hang on, buddy. I'll be right there," Dad said. "Thanks, Dad. Hurry." I could hear distant sirens and couldn't imagine that Dad could drive here before we'd be discovered by the cops. I was walking toward Shiloh to give him the good news that Dad was on his way when I saw a weird glow over the water pool. The air above the ground seemed to be thickening and pulsating, reminding me of my initial transformation when the camera sucked me through space to another location via some gelatinous portal. Sure enough, I saw the outlines of Dad's shape emerging inside the glow. As he stepped his way through the ethereal goo, he became aware that he had beamed in at ground level, while the ground beneath him was actually several feet lower. He plunged into the stagnant water of the apes' drinking hole. I rushed over to grab him as he scrambled out of the water, carefully holding his camera aloft so it would not get wet. I reached out and wrapped my fingers completely around his forearm. He seemed unprepared for just how monumental I had become. "Oh my, Ryan. What have you done to yourself?" "I just wanted to put on some muscle. Things got out of hand." "Nice understatement, son. I know how sensitive you are about your size. I thought you'd use the camera to give yourself a few minor adjustments so you'd fit in better with the other college kids. But this, son, this is not fitting in." "I know I screwed up, Dad, jeez. Why do you think I called you?" I must have been the whiniest gigantic muscleman in the history of gigantic musclemen. Dad dropped the lecturing tone. "I'm sorry, kiddo. I'm glad you called me." He noticed Shiloh, who was hanging on the monkey bars. "And you must be Shiloh. I'm Ryan's dad. Nice to meet you." Shiloh dropped down and ran toward us, slumping forward and practically running on all fours. Dad looked around the spooky old zoo. "Well, one thing in our favor. At least you came to a nice isolated place to experiment where no one could see you." The silence from Shiloh and me must have been pretty obvious, as were the sirens in the distance which were growing louder. Dad looked up at me wearily. "People saw you, didn't they?" Shiloh and I nodded like bad little boys. I had to tell Dad, "We're probably on YouTube by now." "Fuck!", Dad yelled. I think I'd only heard him drop the F-bomb twice before in my life and never with such well-deserved ferocity. "If my company learns that I gave my son an untested prototype and that he turned himself and his buddy into monsters..." "We are not monsters!", Shiloh shouted, his words bouncing off the concrete walls as he shook a cinder-block-sized fist at Dad. I ran behind Shiloh and grabbed his arms to keep him from attacking Dad. "Well, you won't be in a minute," Dad said, raising his camera. It looked slightly different from the one I'd been given, bulkier with extra modifications, like a newer model that had been jerry-rigged in the lab. Dad quickly took a flash photo of Shiloh and me and started to manipulate the menus. I hovered over his shoulder -- high above his shoulder -- and watched how masterfully he worked the controls. I thought I had been getting the hang of it, but Dad had clearly been fiddling with this device for months or maybe even years. "If you have a picture of two people, the command affects both of them," I told Dad, offering one of my hard-learned lessons as if he might not already been aware of it, even though he was probably the person who had designed it to work that way. "That's right, son, but there's an easy override for that. What I'm trying to do is trickier. I want to set you both back to the way you started, which would be MUCH easier if I was working from the camera that made the changes in the first place." Nice way to rub it in, Dad. I already apologized for that. "Do you have to change us back?", Shiloh asked. "I feel kinda awesome like this." He flexed an arm and admired his massive biceps pump. "You're caught up in the endorphin rush, but it'll fade soon. You've expanded your body parts to inhuman proportions, way beyond the size at which they were designed to function. Your heart, your lungs, your brain, they're all straining to support what you've become. If you stay like this, you'll be dead in two days." "Okay, you can change us back," Shiloh said, all menace and bravado immediately gone from his voice. "Ah, there it is!", Dad screamed. "I connected back to the lab. All your settings were stored back there every time you used the camera, so I can revert you to your original states. You better brace yourselves. It's going to be quite a shock to be yourselves again." Shiloh and I walked over to the monkey bars and gripped them tightly. Dad gave us no warning that the process was already in motion. It felt like I was being crushed by a black hole, becoming smaller and denser at such a speed that I worried it might keep going until I was reduced to nothingness. The metal bar in my hand seemed to be getting bigger when it was really my hands growing smaller around it. It was a relief when my extreme hyper-inflated muscles were gone, but I genuinely felt comfortable when I had reached the size of the miniature weightlifter of my initial transformation. I felt like yelling to Dad to stop the shrinkage right there, but I was going all the way back to my frail "baby" weight. I felt so distanced from that version of me after all that had occurred, it was hard to believe that I had only been Big Ry for the past twenty-four hours. When I could feel the process coming to an end, my hands slipped from the metal bars, my knees buckled and I fell to the concrete, whacking my head and discovering that pain was once again a factor in my life. I looked blearily across the way and saw Shiloh coming to grips with being ordinary again too. All the "improvements" which I had made to him were gone. Shiloh was no longer the blond sex god of my dreams. He was just a regular guy trying to look tougher than he was. We were each wearing the jeans that had worn before our first transformations, but the rest of our clothes were missing, since whatever they had been changed into by the camera was shredded when we grew to behemoths. Interestingly, Shiloh's backwards baseball cap had returned from the oblivion where I sent it, having been stored in memory back at the lab. My ears had been ringing throughout the shrinking process, but I could now distinctly hear the sirens closing in. In another minute, we would be discovered trespassing at the zoo and we'd have a lot of fast talking to do. Dad hustled over and gathered Shiloh and me close together, holding out his arm to snap a selfie of the three of us. As soon as the flash went off, we could hear voices outside the wall as cops noticed the burst of light. "I've never transported three people at once, but it SHOULD work," Dad informed us. "We would have overwhelmed the system's capacity if you were still the size of human tanks, but we shouldn't have much trouble with you kids." Shit, I was back to being a kid. I can't speak for Shiloh, but my heart was racing with fear that we were going to get caught. Dad seemed unworried and unhurried. He pulled up the "BACKGROUND" menu -- something I'd forgotten about since last night -- and input very specific latitude, longitude and elevation coordinates, an option that hadn't been included on the model Dad had given me. The screen previewed the three of us against a plain white wall instead of the murky background of the zoo. Dad pressed "ACCEPT" and wrapped his arms around Shiloh and me. I realized too late that I'd better warn Shiloh what he was in for. "Shiloh, it's gonna feel like..." By the time I could say, "...squeezing through Jell-O," we had already made the freaky transit through space and were standing in an all-white room that I recognized as one of the labs at Dad's company. Shiloh was reeling. He braced himself against a counter top to keep from falling and turned to Dad, wide-eyed. Of all the shit he had seen and experienced today, this teleportation had blown his mind the most. "How did you do that?" "Simple. The hydrogen componolizer interacted with the dichlorium atoms in your duodenum, generating a paradoxical flux which reverberated against the polonium-synchronized geographical wave spectro-analyzer and creating a temporal parahelion dispersion of point-two-seven." Shiloh stared at Dad, in awe. I laughed and said, "That was just a bunch of nonsense, Dad." Dad smiled. "Yeah, but if I'd said, 'It's magic,' you wouldn't have believed me." And with that, he walked purposefully toward a computer work station, where several other working models of the camera were charging. Shiloh and I stared at each other. In the course of one day, we had been hunks together and hulks together, but now we were face to face as our real selves. Two skinny guys, same height, same weight, with more in common than we would have assumed that morning. "Almost forgot what you looked like," Shiloh said. "I dunno why Cole made so much fun of you. You're a cute guy." Even in the dim light of the lab, I'm sure it was obvious that I was blushing. The way Shiloh was examining my emaciated frame, I got goosebumps. "I thought you liked your guys big." "I do." Shiloh's slim lips curled up. "But size isn't everything." Across the room, Dad cleared his throat loudly and started humming some unrecognizable tune, which is what he always did when he heard something he felt uncomfortable hearing. Shiloh and I walked over behind him to see what he was checking on his computer. He was cycling through all of our vital statistics which the camera had recorded. "Looks like you two guys are safely back to normal, so that's a relief. I can survive any shit I'm going to get from the company, but if I had done anything to harm you..." "I know, Dad," I said, wrapping my skinny arm around his shoulders. I could feel his body tense up, and he leaned forward to look at something on his computer. "What is it?" "I'm seeing two more blips," pointing to two bright spots on a map of the city, not far from Sixteenth Street. Dad turned to me, looking like he might be willing to harm me after all. "Care to enlighten me?" Shiloh scooted his body between Dad's and mine, trying to explain. "I did them!" Dad glanced at Shiloh, then angrily back at me. "You let someone else use the camera?" I was in the middle of shaking my head when Shiloh blurted out, "Ry didn't know. I snuck it away from him and did it totally on my own. Please, it's not his fault." Dad glared at Shiloh. "So are you telling me there are two more monsters on the loose out there?" "No! I made them both skinny! Skinnier than we are now! That shouldn't be dangerous, right? I mean, not as dangerous as super-sizing at least." Dad thought it over, still unhappy. "Well, no, in our tests, we've found that making the body smaller and leaner is actually healthier, within reason." Dad sat down, his temper cooling. His eyes darted between Shiloh and me as he decided whether or not to believe Shiloh's story. "Can you keep tabs on these other two? And if you notice ANY adverse changes in them, you'll bring them to me immediately for testing?" Shiloh and I said, "Yes" at the same time. I added "Dad". Shiloh added "Sir". Dad took blood samples from both of us and ran tests on them. While we waited for results, I checked YouTube on Dad's computer. Sure enough, a dozen or more grainy videos had already been posted of two mysterious figures prowling the streets of the city. Fortunately, nobody got a good shot of our faces -- not that either of us resembled those two gorillas any more. The company had a TV in the break room and we watched the late news with Dad. The monster rampage was naturally the lead story on all the channels, but the police seemed baffled. They thought they had the beasts cornered at the old zoo, but a thorough search turned up nothing. They did say that police were seeking a man who drove off in a pickup truck at a high rate of speed and they showed his mug shot from a previous arrest. Shiloh and I immediately recognized him as the big hairy guy who had taken off with Cole. He looked even scarier in the mug shot than he had in real life, with scowling features and steroidal muscles. "That's one of the guys, sir," Shiloh told Dad. Dad studied the screen. "And you say he's smaller than you boys now? I think you did the world a favor." Dad smiled and went to check on the blood tests. Left alone together in the lab, Shiloh and I stared at each other nervously. "So, what are we gonna do now?" "Life will go back to normal, I guess. I'll be my old wimpy self and you'll hang out with the rest of Cole's posse of douchebags." "I don't think I can, after this." "I know what you mean." "And what about...us?", Shiloh asked warily. "I dunno. I mean, I really loved what we did together, but I still like girls too." I looked down at my once-again anemic body. "But they probably won't like me. Story of my life." "Any girl, or guy, would be lucky to have you," Shiloh said, walking over and kissing me on the mouth. His lips weren't as luscious as the ones I'd specifically chosen for him, but they had the benefit of authenticity. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation. Anyone would be lucky to be kissed by Shiloh. I heard Dad clear his throat and begin to hum again in the hallway. Shiloh and I parted quickly as Dad reentered the room, pointedly looking down at a computer printout. "Good news, guys. I'm not seeing anything scary in the blood tests. You probably weren't at enormous size long enough to cause any permanent damage to your organs, but you let me know if you notice anything unusual in the next few days. Fatigue, migraines, shortness of breath, pain in your joints, pain in your...loins." Shiloh and I nodded. Dad got out his cell phone and called two cabs to pick us up. "I assume you two don't mind going back to campus the old fashioned way?" "Fine, Dad," I said. "I think I've been sucked through Jell-O enough for one lifetime." "Absolutely," said Shiloh. "You positive we didn't screw up anything for you?" "I'm sure I'll be asked a few stern questions in the morning," Dad said. "But your little unauthorized field test gave us tons of data to study. And quite a few more ethical questions to debate." When the cabs arrived, Dad shook Shiloh's hand, then gave me a warm hug. I heard him whisper in my ear, "Have fun at college, son. Make me proud." I was happy that, after all of this, it was obvious that he still loved me. I got in the cab and, as we drove away, I felt something hard in the back pocket of my skinny jeans. I wriggled in my seat and extracted it. Shiloh and I were amazed to discover that Dad had slipped another camera in my pocket, with a Post-It attached. In the passing street lights, I was able to read the note: "Ryan, This camera's options are limited. Yours are not. Love, Dad" "What do you think that means?", Shiloh asked. "I dunno." When we reached my dorm, I invited Shiloh to come up so we could check out the camera. Dad had deactivated most of the menus, but I discovered two presets, one with my name and one with Shiloh's. I snapped my picture in the full-length mirror, then applied my preset. My image on the screen now looked exactly like the musclebound stud I had first changed myself into the previous night. I clicked "ACCEPT" and braced for the standard painful contortions, although they felt like nothing compared to being enlarged to "BEHEMOTH" size. As the metamorphosis occurred, I realized that my mind hadn't dulled. Dad must not have lowered my IQ the way I had during my original transformation. I couldn't blame him. He wasn't spending good money to send a dope to college. Shiloh watched enviously as I evolved back into Ry before his eyes. As I grinned down at him, I could have predicted his next words. "Do me." He stood against the wall, still in his dumbass baseball cap. I eagerly applied the preset "SHILOH" modifications and pressed "ACCEPT". Shiloh was wracked with pain as his slim body was once again wrapped in lean muscle and sun-kissed skin, and his face regained the features I had given him, the sleek nose, the powerful cleft chin, the ultra-kissable lips. His purple hat evaporated and his hair turned from brown to golden. I reached both hands toward him and lifted him to his feet. We stood in the middle of my room, thick arms wrapped around each other's torsos, studying each other closely. If he had any imperfections, I couldn't see them, but I hoped to inspect him very, very closely, very, very frequently. We stripped off our clothes and tumbled onto my bed, our combined weight testing the limits of the springs. Since I had taken the lead back at the Manhole, I let Shiloh assume control now. Our powerful bodies slid across each other, working up a quick sweat. Long strands of Shiloh's blond hair dangled into my eyes as he explored my mouth with his tongue. My hands slid down along his ribs until I reached up and squeezed his ass cheeks. I felt his cock pressing against my abs and starting to ooze precum, so I wriggled underneath him until I was face down. He slid his erection gently but firmly inside of me and I yowled with a mix of pleasure and pain, clawing at my pillow and tensing my legs. Shiloh's strong hands were pressed against my back for support as the pace of his humping accelerated. When Shiloh came inside me, it may have been the best feeling I'd had all day, and after a day like this, that was saying something. But my cock was still rigid, so I flipped over and wrapped my hands around Shiloh's neck, pulling him down toward my erection. As he lovingly applied his tongue and lips to my shaft, slowly and lovingly bringing me to orgasm, the "best feeling of the day" competition had a new winner. Shiloh lay beside me, brushing his bristly chin against my cheek and rubbing his hand up and down my chest. He whispered in my ear, "Thank your dad for me." I laughed. I probably wouldn't mention this specifically to Dad, but I was glad he had been so cool about everything. I'm sure I had changed many of his perceptions of me that day. Shiloh slept over with me. Cole never did come back to the room that night, and in the morning we decided it was more important to track him down than to go to our classes. We knew basically where the blips had shown up on Dad's computer screen and hoped that Cole might still be near there. Sixty-Nine Street wasn't as active in the daytime, and city crews were still busy cleaning up the damage from last night's fracas. Shiloh and I attracted our share of attention as we walked down the sidewalk, but we had no fear that anyone would imagine that two studly gentlemen like ourselves were in any way connected with the massive creatures who had terrorized the town the night before. As we walked further down the street, I noticed something and grabbed Shiloh by the elbow, pulling him backwards. We had just walked past a pickup truck. One that was missing its driver's side door. Jackpot! Now all we had to do was figure out where... "Hey, boys!" We turned and were amazed to see Cole -- at least the slender twinky version of Cole I had created -- leaning against a wall. "Cole!", Shiloh shouted, looking relieved that his former crush was still alive and seemingly unharmed. Cole was wearing a sheer black tank that was way too big for him and a black Speedo that seemed to fit just fine. He still had on my purple sneakers. Even in this part of town, it was an unconventional look for street clothes in broad daylight, but he was pulling it off. It was a bit annoying that I had made my tormentor look so fucking cute. "Thank god, you escaped from that lunatic!", Shiloh said. "What lunatic? You mean Jerry? Oh, he's such a sweetheart. I'm waiting for him so we can go get matching tats." Shiloh and I couldn't believe what we were hearing. "You're still hanging out with the guy?", I asked. "Uh-huh. He's inside buying some new clothes right now. He woke up this morning and couldn't find a thing that fit. Fortunately his ex had left behind some clothes that were just right for me. You like?" "It's definitely a different look for you" was as much as Shiloh would commit. "So when you coming back to school?", I asked. Cole shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno if I will. Jerry wants me to go to a motorcycle rally in Reno with him. He's got a Harley and I can ride on the seat behind him!" The prospect seemed to excite him, if you could judge by his Speedo. Not that I really wanted old Cole back in the world, but my conscience was killing me. "Are you really sure about this? I found out there's a way to cure what you've got so you'll like chicks again." I had checked overnight, and the camera still would allow me to alter a person's sexual orientation. "Chicks? No thank you!" He flapped his hands dismissively. "No chick ever appreciated me the way Jerry does. Oh, and here comes my baby now." Even though I knew I had reduced him to an ectomorph in the middle of last night's craziness, Shiloh and I were unprepared for the shock of seeing the new Jerry. He was walking down the sidewalk toward us, zipping up his new leather jacket, his skinny legs encased in tight leather pants. Unlike the thuggish lout who had nearly run over Shiloh with his truck last night, he now looked like a boy-band dreamboat trying to look like a tough guy, with a slightly shaggy pile of light brown hair over a baby face that had never felt the touch of a razor. "Mmm, check out my sexy little boy-toy," Cole said. "Doesn't he look fantastic? Jerry, these are my dear friends Shiloh and Ryan." "Uh, yeah, we met last night," I said cautiously. I had been worried about running into last night's hothead again, but I felt pretty sure Shiloh and I could handle Jerry now. Jerry peered his bright blue eyes through the fringe of his bangs. "Oh, hey, how you guys doing today?" If he was still mad at us, it sure didn't show. He was positively meek as he wrapped a leather-clad arm around Cole's body, palming an ass cheek. Cole kissed Jerry on the forehead. Cole may be a shadow of his former self, but the camera had made Jerry even tinier, several inches shorter than Cole. "Awesome outfit, Jerry," Shiloh said. "Cole says you guys might be going to Reno?" "Yeah, if he'll let me buy his sweet ass some leathers. Somewhere around the Continental Divide, he'll realize he needs more than a tank top and Speedos." "We've got time, baby. Lots and lots of time." Cole gave Jerry a long French kiss, then smiled back at us. "So good to see you boys again." He blew us kisses, then they got into Jerry's truck and drove off. Shiloh and I watched the truck disappear around the corner. We were shell-shocked. "Holy shit," I said. "I guess your posse really is breaking up." "Good riddance. So...does that mean you have an opening for a new roommate, Ry?", Shiloh asked with a sly grin. I smiled back and teased, "Only if he looks as good in leather as Jerry." Shiloh's eyebrows leapt at the idea. He practically raced into the leather shop. As Shiloh began trying on jackets, I pulled out my camera and reopened my photo from last night. I hadn't pressed "SAVE", so it was still editable. I pulled up the "ORIENTATION" menu. My finger hovered over the screen as I thought about Kay from the pier and all of the girls in high school who had been content to be my friend but nothing more. And I thought about what Cole had said about Jerry. No "chick" had ever appreciated me the way Shiloh did. I slid the dial from "BISEXUAL" to "HOMOSEXUAL". I clicked "ACCEPT". I didn't feel much change, actually. Only a sense of calm and clarity as I watched Shiloh sliding his bare brawny arms through the holes of a leather vest. Goddamn, he looked hot. I might need to buy one of those too. I clicked "SAVE".
  3. Guest

    The muscle frat (2)

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

    The muscle frat (1)

    One "Come on. One more, buddy!" Brad grunted from the effort, his face beet red as he curled the 100 pound barbell up. "10", he groaned between his teeth as he completed his rep. "Nice job, man", Brock said as he helped his buddy lower the barbell back down and place it on the floor. Both aged 21, the two had been friends ever since their first day in kindergarten and had always been in the same class up until university. Even then, they had both chosen Orchid University. After setting their first steps in the gym at age 15, they had continued working out together on a daily base and joined their high school's football team. Now they we're both among the star players of the university football team. Brad controlled his fast breathing and looked down at his former roommate grabbing the 120 pound bar from the rack. "Come on, final set!", he said to his buddy as he sat down on a bench, exhausted from their workout and took a sip from his shake. "Fuck yeah!", Brock growled as he began curling the barbell with perfect control. "Grow", he said to his arms, his big biceps swelling with every rep as more blood flowed into them. "8, agh, 9, agh, ten…", he groaned, "gimme a spot, man!". Brad got up from the bench and stood in front of his roommate. He placed his fingers underneath the middle of the barbell and assisted the movement. "Come on, one more!", he said to encourage Brock. "Eleuhven…", Brock grunted. His body trembled as he lowered the barbell back down. "Tweuhlve". Brad's eyes widened as his roommate went on to complete twenty reps before he helped him put the barbell down. While Brock grabbed his towel from the nearby bench, Brad looked at his own reflection in the mirror. He grinned and raised his right arm in a flex. The pumped bicep hardened atop his meaty arm, blue veins snaking along the muscle. "How big are those guns?", Brock asked as he emptied his shake and looked up at his buddy. "Just under 18 inches pumped", Brad replied and hardened his flex some more. Brock moved next to his friend and raised his right arm to copy his pose. His bicep, pumped and red from the workout, mounded upward as he brought in his lower arm. The peak pushed against his skin and a web of blue, thick veins fed the steely orb. "Nice man", Brad said while he stared at the obviously bigger arm. "22,5 inches all pumped", Brock stated with pride. "Let's hit the shower, man", he said as he relaxed his arm and strutted toward the exit. "Yeah", Brad answered. "So, any other news?", he asked as he caught up with his buddy. "I told ya a million times, man: I'm not the president of the frat. Just be patient", Brock said and patted his buddy on the back. "I've been waiting for an invite ever since we've got here three years ago. You got in during the second semester of our freshman year. This year is my last shot", Brad went on. Ever since Brock had been allowed into the Dexameni-frat, the most exclusive frat on campus that housed most of the top athletes, he'd been jealous. He'd been checking his locker for an invite every day since his best buddy had gotten in. Brock turned to face Brad, grabbed his shoulders and made him look in his eyes. "Your chance will come, buddy. Be patient!", he said in a loud tone to cut off Brad. He released his friend and continued his way to the locker room. Brad sighed, knowing his friend was right and followed him inside. The locker room was completely deserted. They took off their sweaty workout gear in silence. Brad was down to his boxers and reached for his locker when he noticed the little black envelope. "No way", he mumbled and took it. His hands trembled as he ripped it open and read the piece of paper inside. You've proven worthy to join the ranks of the Dexameni-frat. Report to the frat house this Friday at 1900h "Good news?", Brock asked, keeping his back to Brad as he stripped completely. "I'm in!", Brad blurted out. "Told ya to be patient, buddy. I'm glad for ya", Brock replied and strutted toward the shower zone. He turned on the shower and let the hot water cascade down on his muscular body. He looked aside to Brad standing under the shower to his right. "Did ya bulk up during summer?", he asked, "Ya look bigger than last year". "Yeah", Brad answered, "I'm up to 182. I'm catching up, buddy". Brock smiled at the reaction. Even though Brad was a tad taller, 5'9 to his own 5'8, their bodies looked different. Brad had the muscular physique of a ripped fitness model, while he had the heavily muscled look of a bulky amateur bodybuilder. "Still some work ahead, buddy. I've gained some mass too: up to 229,3 pounds." Brad turned to his side and faced his buddy. Every muscle on Brock's body looked fuller than his defined ones. "Ready to burst through the 230 mark, he big guy. We'd better change your nickname from B-rock to B-wall", he said. "My abs look better though." He caressed the grooves of his ripped six-pack. A smug grin appeared on Brock's face when his friend used his nickname. He'd always liked being called b-rock; it made him feel even bigger than he was. "Ya know what they say", he said playfully, "abs on a skinny guy don't count". He flexed his abs in response, making his somewhat protruding muscle gut harden. "You're lucky we're friends. I should have kicked your ass for that remark", Brad stated with a smile. They always fooled around but he knew his buddy always had his back. "Kick my ass? You and what army?", Brock answered in an amused tone. He turned to his right and faced his friend. Brad's defined muscles gave him an athletic look. His own muscles were clearly fuller and rounder, his shoulder's half again as wide than his buddy's. "Think ya could challenge the b-rock?", he asked as he threw a most muscular. Brad stared at his 229 pound friend flexing right in front of him. The bulky muscles hardened all over his broad frame: his thick arms digging into the rack of pecs atop his muscle gut, his meaty quads pushing against each other. "At least, I'm taller", he said with a smirk and stood tall to stretch out his 5'9 frame. "Ya have to have something to attract some female attention", Brock replied playfully, " otherwise no one would notice ya next to me." He relaxed his pose and gently punched his friend in the shoulder. "Na. You're lucky to have your big muscles. Your ugly face scares off anyone", Brad answered. "Thanks for helping me get in the frat. I really appreciate it, man", he said and thankfully patted his buddy's broad back. "I'm happy I could help. See ya on Friday for the initiation", Brock said as he turned off the shower and strutted away from the shower zone, water sliding along the crevices of his bulky muscles. Two days later, Brad made his way over to the Dexameni-frat house. His legs quivered slightly with every step he took and his stomach clenched together: it felt like his first day of school again. He looked up at the façade of the mansion he'd passed nearly daily since he's been on campus. Two flexed, muscular arms were painted on the wide door and the name of the frat of his dreams sat atop it: DEXAMENI. Brad inhaled deeply to calm his nerves and stepped up toward the entrance. He knocked three times and waited. What seemed like an eternity passed before the heavy wooden doors opened squeakingly. A muscular, bare-chested figure appeared in the dark corridor. "Come in!", a deep baritone boomed. Brad sighed, he had recognized Brock's deep voice and eagerly entered the frat house. "I'm glad it's you, Brock", he said, "I'm…". "Silence!", Brock rumbled, "you only speak when spoken too! Follow me!". Brad jumped up as the heavy doors closed behind him and by the harsh tone of his best friend. He nodded and followed the big guy through the long, dark corridor. Brock opened a door on his right and entered, his smaller buddy following right behind. "Strip down to your boxers", he said and folded his meaty arms in front of his protruding pecs. Brad obeyed and stripped off his clothes until he was standing in his American flag boxers in front of his friend. "So what's next?", he asked. "SILENCE!", Brock roared. Brad shivered, his friend's deep baritone rumbling inside his stomach. Brock led his friend into another room and made him wait by the door while he stepped up to the center of the room. He stopped at the base of a wooden staircase that led to an altar with a throne behind it. "O great leader", he said as he looked up to the figure in the throne, "I bring you a new recruit that wishes to join the ranks of our noble frat." "Bring him before me", the leader replied. Brock walked back to the door where Brad was standing and brought him to the center of the room. Brad's heart pounded nervously but the feeling of his buddy standing behind him, comforted him. "Step forward, brothers", he figure on the throne said. The other frat members appeared from the shadows and formed a circle around Brad and Brock. All of them were bare-chested like Brock and looked at Brad. Brad looked around and recognized Orchid University's star athletes. Their muscular torsos glistened as if they had been oiled up. He saw two of his teammates from the football team, the three top wrestlers and some other athlete's he didn't know which sport they played. He looked up at the figure on the throne and recognized him as the captain of the swim team. He wondered why the clearly smallest guy in the room was the leader of the frat. Keith, the frat leader, stepped from his throne and looked down at Brad. "Everyone that wishes to join the noble DEXAMENI-frat needs the advocacy of a senior member. Step forward he that backs this recruits acceptance!". Brad looked around nervously, but none of the frat members moved an inch. He felt his heartbeat going up, seeing his long awaited dream shattering before his eyes. "I support his candidacy!" Brad inhaled in relief as he heard Brock's voice and felt his buddy's paw atop his shoulder. "Very well", Keith said, "You have the support you need, recruit. Now let's see if you're truly worthy of joining the noble DEXAMENI-frat!". Before Brad could react, his boxers were yanked down and he stood fully exposed amidst his fellow athletes. He felt the blood race to his face and his cheeks started reddening. He moved his hands to cover his cock but two frat members moved in and tightly held his arms at his sides. He felt Brock's left paw grab his side and steady him. He inhaled deeply as his best friend's right paw grabbed his soft cock and began stroking it. He felt his cock harden and swell inside the strong paw that clenched around his inflating shaft. Within seconds he was rock hard. He looked down and saw that his fully hard 8 incher was completely engulfed by Brock's meaty paw. He noticed the tension on the corded muscles atop his friend's lower arm as the paw kept clutching his cock. His breathing fastened more and more as he felt on the verge of orgasm. "UGHN", he groaned as Brock gave his rock hard 8 incher a final, very hard squeeze and his balls spewed out their load. Six heavy blasts shot from his cock in an arch through the air before splattering down several feet further. He felt his muscles relax but the strong grasp of the two frat members that were holding his arms, kept him upright. He sighed in relief as Brock released his softening cock and grabbed his sides with both hands to steady him. "Seven feet and nine inches far", Keith said, "He's worthy of joining our noble DEXAMENI-frat!". The other frat members cheered as their leader grabbed the chalice from the altar and moved in front of Brad. He nodded at Brock. Brad felt his buddy release his right flank and grab his half-hard cock again. "Ughn", he grunted as his cock was stroked back to hardness. His drained balls stabbed in protest as a second orgasm was milked out of them only minutes after the first. His entire body went rigid as the warm, meaty paw grabbed his balls and clenched them together. Three watery loads leaked from his nearly fully hard cock into the chalice Keith held at its end. He would have collapsed as Brock hadn't grabbed his left armpit so secure him. He looked down and saw his buddy pull up his boxers before the warm right paw grabbed his other armpit. A feeling of relief went through his exhausted body. Keith shook the chalice, held it above his head for all the frat members to see it and placed it back on the altar. He turned around and looked back at Brad. "Welcome to our ranks, Brad!", he said, "now, let's party!". The frat members howled loudly and left the chamber. Bard followed them, not caring he was in his boxers. The feeling of finally being part of the frat filled him with joy.
  5. "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
  6. Part1 Part2 Part3 Part4 Part5 Part6 Part7 Part8 Part9 Part10 I'm only a little late haha. Enjoy guys! This is a long one. Check out the previous chapters if you haven't already! Comment and like too. I love your input. Wednesday: You Mirin’, Brah? Part 11 I awake to the sound of my alarm. It’s the beginning of April. School ends in May and this means I need to put my plan into action. I want to see if Ethan enjoys worship as much as I do. Being able to flex for each other and admire one another’s gains would honestly make my day. I know he won’t be like Troy. He won’t corner me in the shower or be comfortable being around me stark naked, but I don’t want that from him. For some reason I feel like that would complicate our friendship and be awkward for us. Ethan does not behave like Troy and that’s okay. I do want us to be closer friends though and I want him to know about some of the things that went down with Troy. I need his advice and I have definitely come up with a way of testing him… in my own weird way. I roll out of bed. As usual, I slept naked and with my phone in hand I make my way into the bathroom outside my bedroom door. Living in a frat house is pretty chill; none of my other bros give a damn if they see my ass as I walk the short distance down the hall into the bathroom. It has actually been a while since I’ve showered in my house, because I usually shower in the gym locker room. I walk into the bathroom and hear the water running. I also here someone singing. “—Look at my body. Look at my body. Look at my body. Don’t I look sexy?! sings the voice in the bathroom. “Jason! Is that you dude?” The voice stops singing. “That you Von?” “Yea, man.” “Asuh dude!” “Asuh!” There are three shower stalls in the bathroom. Jason is in the middle so I walk into the one on the right. I look down and check my phone. I see a message from Angelica and read it as Jason continues to sing. Angelica: Hey! Lakeside Restaurant and swimming today at 12:00. I’ll pick you and Jason up from your house. Don’t forget to bring your appetite. See ya I set my phone on the floor, close the shower curtain, and turn on the water. “Yo, Jason, you ready to chow down later?” “Yeah man!” he says. “I haven’t had real food since I moved to this campus.” We both laugh at this because our campus’ dining hall serves food about as horrible as food can get. I quickly soap up and I am done in 5 minutes. I don’t usually take long showers. I step out and look around for my towel as Jason is getting out of his shower. “Agh!” he says in surprise. “There you go flashing that sweet ass of yours again haha.” He lets out of chuckle. Like I said before, my brothers are used to it. “I forgot to bring a towel, so technically this sweet ass exposure is an accident.” I say with a wink. I look Jason up and down. He joined the fraternity a few months ago but we never got the chance to hang out because of how “occupied” I was. This boy has really grown into a man since we last wrestled, which was way before he joined the frat. He’s 18 years old, around 5 ft 10, and is much bigger than the 140 pound boy I remember. He must be 170 pounds at least by now. His thick legs are wrapped in a blue towel but it struggles to hide the big black anaconda behind it. My eyes trail up his washboard abs and to his bulbous, thick pecs. Fuck! They look to be a couple pounds each! “Dude!” I say “When did you get so damn huge?” “The weight lifting class has really helped, man. I haven’t seen you there in a while? Matter of fact, I haven’t seen Troy in a while either…” “I started working out outside of class. I needed that class time for… homework.” The truth was that the class just felt empty without Troy, but I won’t tell him that. “Well guess you have some catching up to do,” he says with a wink and walks around me to the bathroom door. “See you in a couple of hours!” I walk back to my room, still naked and wet. I find a towel, quickly dry of, and put on a pair of tight, blue, athletic briefs. I look over at the mirror on my closet door and flex my quads in the mirror. I fucking love the way they show off my thick bulge and ass. Smiling, I make my way back to my bed and I lay back to stare at the ceiling. I decided to skip my 9 am class so I have nothing to do until we go eat. I’m not feeling hungry so I just decide to stay in bed and think. My conversation with Jason made me realize how much I let my friendship drift with him. I definitely need to learn how to handle having multiple friends better. I think back on the interactions I’ve had with Jason in the past. I remember how close we were before I met Troy. Freshman and sophomore year were great. We were both little shrimps back then. I barely weighed 120 pounds. I guess we have both become big strong men. I close my eyes and let my mind drift. I start to think of crabs, fish, and clams… Oh no. I’m gonna starve to death. Damn it! I open my eyes and look across the room at my jug of Whey protein and blender bottle. My body definitely needs some fuel for growth. I jump up and grab the bottle, scoop some protein in and grab a bottle of water out of the fridge. I mix the water into the bottle and begin to shake it furiously. I start gulping the protein down and I look at the time again. It’s 10 am. I really need something to occupy myself with…But what? I sit down on my bed and look across the room into my mirror again. I look over every inch of my body. My thick meaty chest hovers over my 6 pack. Each rock hard mountain of abs protrude from the valleys of my gut. I look over at my biceps, now measuring about 16 inches and my eyes make their way down to my powerful biceps. “Look at you,” I say to myself into the mirror. “You’re a thick, strong, alpha male now. Don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise.” My cock twitches at what I say. I stand up and walk to the mirror. I watch my powerful legs move beneath me and my quads rippling beneath my skin. I love my body, more than I am able to describe. My right hand naturally makes its way up to my left pec and I squeeze it hard, rubbing the nipples with my fingers. “This body deserves a little worshipping,” I say quietly. I have been really horny lately. It’s a bit insatiable honestly. I quickly walk to my door and close it. As soon as the door is shut, I strip off my briefs and look at myself in the mirror. My hardening dick slowly rises up, pointing straight into the air. I flex both biceps in front of the mirror and my dick involuntarily twitches again. It begins to leak precum onto the floor. I can tell that I am already there. I flex my pecs and watch them bounce in the mirror. That alone is enough to send me over the edge. I grab my cock and slowly begin to stroke. The heavy meat throbs in my hand. I look and see the veins bulging from every inch of my manhood. A few more strokes and I’ll blow all over this mirror. I stroke once, then twice, then a third time, and I already feel my body melting as a jet of cum blast out of my cock onto the mirror. 3 more jets shoot out onto the mirror and then down onto the floor. I let out a huge gasp of air and I feel so relieved. “Boy I needed that.” I clean myself and the mirror and before I know it, it’s 12 and I’m in the back seat of Angelica’s Purple Jeep Wrangler. I am in the back with Jason who is sitting behind Zeus. The radio is blaring some random pop hit and we’re all having a wonderful time. The sun is shining just perfectly and there is not one cloud in the sky. “Me so hungry!!” Zeus screams. For those of you that may have forgotten, Zeus is a 250 pound gorilla man and food should not be denied to him. “Don’t worry Z, we’re almost there,” Angelica says as she makes a left turn. We had been driving in the city for about 10 minutes and are now nearing the edge. Soon we will be in a little section of the city the residents call Heaven. No joke. Heaven includes a few nice restaurants, the lake, and a couple docks for fishing and swimming. The reason it is called Heaven is because of the seclusion. The entire area is surrounded by trees. The little area covers a few dozen miles and is like a peninsula to the outside world. It’s almost impossible to make your way in or out without taking the one road that leads in and out of it; it’s the road we happened to be on. We drive deeper into the green of the forest and the light inside and around the car begins to glow in a beautiful shade of lime. Angelica turns off the radio and we all go silent as we soak in the quietness of the forest. All that can be heard is the engine of the jeep. “I freakin love this place,” Jason says. “I bet they call it Heaven because of how peaceful it is.” “Or the heavenly sex that goes on by the lake,” Zeus says. “Not that YOU would know about that,” Angelica retorts. “Dayum!”I say, bursting into laughter and this leads the rest of the car into hysterical laughter. Even Zeus can’t help from laughing. We finally reach our destination after a few minutes. The Lakeside Restaurant is a small but welcoming place, with the best seafood in our area. From the outside it looks like your typical diner with a few tables out front, but we know better. We all hop out of the car and quickly make our way inside. A beautiful blonde hostess is standing by the front door. She smiles graciously at us and Zeus turns a little red. I smirk at him. “Would you like to dine inside or outside?” says the hostess. “Outside please!” we all say at once. “Have a seat anywhere you want and someone will be there to treat you soon.” We go outside and have a seat at a homely picnic table. The sun shines it’s beautifully canopied green glow onto the table. It’s perfect! I sit beside Angelica across from Zeus and Jason. “Any appetizer ideas?” I say as I pick up a menu from the table. “Dude, sriracha shrimp or nothing!” Jason says with wide hungry eyes. “Anything for you big guy,” I say with a laugh. “Hey, that’s Mr. Big Guy to you.” My phone vibrates and I peak at it. It’s Ethan. He wants to go for a quick run today. I hastily text back and say that I’m with friends, but I’d happily join him later. "Who ya talking to?" Angelica says nosily. “You remember Ethan?” I say. She looks baffled. Jason's eyes flicker to mine. He knows Ethan from back when we wrestled. "Our high schools wrestled each other way back when and then we suddenly ended up at the same college together." “Oh yeah yeah yeah! I don’t talk to him much, but he was pretty hot—cool… Uh hotly cool…" she responds blushing. “What's he saying?" she asks curiously. "He’s just seeing what's up with me. We’re pretty close. He wants to go running later." “Is he your new best friend?" Zeus says. “Ehh, I don't really like to use that expression," I say. “So many people go around calling others their best friends. It has no meaning anymore. I look over Zeus’ head and see a waiter walking towards the table and holy fucking shit… It’s Troy. What are the fucking odds!! I try to maintain my posture and keep my eyes from bulging out of my head from the shock of seeing him here. Zeus looks at my face and chuckles. "What's up with your face, man?” “Oh nothing I’m just—“ “Vonny!” Troy says. My heart pauses for a second. Breath, just fucking breath you fool! “Hey man, what’s up?” I say with a weak smile. He’s wearing a tight black polo that shows off his still thick biceps and I am still amazed at how much size he has maintained. “Working. I’ve had a lot of free time so I got a job. As you probably already know, I will be the waiter for you all today,” he says this and gives us all a sweet smile. “Can I start you guys off with a drink and an appetizer?” Troy says. “Yes! Sriracha shrimp please!!!” Jason yells. “And water for all of us broke college students.” Everyone one of us, even Troy, laughs at this. We all know the struggle. Troy quickly takes our order and leaves. I feel the life quickly drain back into me. “So what is Ethan up to these days?" Jason says. “Well he’s double majoring shit and trying to get a nursing degree and a bachelors in 3D modeling/animation,” I say. “Other than that he enjoys working out, basketball and wrestling. Wrestling was actually the first thing we did when we started hanging out” Jason smiles at this because he was at our wrestling reunion. “You guys haven't seen each other in ages and the first thing you wanted to do was wrestle!?" Angelica says. "That sounds sweaty and disgusting." I laugh at this. Typical of a girl to be disgusted of something so awesome. If they only knew the rush US men got from taking each other on. I look over her shoulder to see if Troy is returning yet. I’m starving. I don’t see him but I catch a glimpse of the slow flowing lake. I can’t wait to get in the water. I wish Troy could chill and enjoy his time here like me, with me. I'll admit that. But being here with my friends is good enough for me and one day we'll rekindle our bond. I look down at my phone again and I got another message. Ethan: Where you eating brah? Me: Lakeside restaurant. Going swimming after. Ethan: Cool, let me come through! Me: Sounds good to me! “So Ethan is coming,” I say. I've never hung out with Ethan outside of the gym or wrestle mats except for eating in the dining hall. This day was getting more exciting. After a workout we usually go our separate ways. I wonder why he wants to come today. It could be that he loves the food, or that he's tight with Jason. I believe it is safe to assume that they hang out sometimes. Either way, I was curious as to what is going to happen. “Ah there he is!” Zeus exclaims as he sees Troy walking back with our water and shrimp. I keep it together this time. “Thank you, Troy,” I say. “No prob, bro. You guys ready to order? “Hell yeah we are!” Angelica screams. An hour and a half later we are all finished eating and in our bathing suits by the lake. We had our fill of crab legs and shrimp and we felt amazing. Sadly, Ethan never showed up. Jason and I race each other to the water, swimming laps around Zeus and Angelica. The evening goes by in a flash and after a while we are all out of the lake and lying in the grass nearby. “Sorry Von, it’s time to go and Ethan still isn’t here,” Angelica says. This does suck, but she’s right. “Ok, let’s go,” I say. I get up from the grass and begin looking for my clothes when a silver car pulls up into the small gravel parking lot behind us and beeps its horn. The door flies open and Ethan steps out. “Dude! Where have you been!?” I say as I walk towards him. “Sorry man! Traffic!” he says. “You guys aren’t leaving are you?” “As a matter of fact, we were,” Angelica says. “Sorry bub.” Bub? “I’m willing to stay with you for an hour, “I say. “Jason, Zeus, what about you two?” “We both have a test to study for,” Zeus says. “Hey I don’t need to study,” Jason says, “Yeah you kind of do,” Zeus says with a roll of his eyes. “Definitely next time, Von. “Okay” I say. It sucks that they all have to leave but… actually this is perfect. I can set my plan into action! They quickly put their clothes on and are driving off within 5 minutes. Ethan and I are alone then. “Got your trunks, bro?” I say. “Trunks!? You mean my speedo,” Ethan says with a smirk. I gotta show of these legs brah!” He takes off his shirt, shoes, and pants to reveal a tight blue speedo. I try to avoid gazing at his huge bulge. That is not a part of the plan. We are both standing in the grass by the lake. I’m still a little wet and in my black swimming trunks. Seeing Ethan in a speedo kind of reminds me of bodybuilding posers and with this though I put my plan into action. “You like showing off right?” I say carefully. “Depends. What do you mean?” he says. “Well, you’re basically wearing a poser. You might as well flex a bit, bro? Show off what you’ve worked so hard for.” I look at his face as I talk to him and I can see the thoughts going through his mind. “Ok,” he says suddenly. “What should do? A back flex?” He turns around and every muscle in is back fills with blood as he flexes both biceps. I see each lump of muscle along his thick traps and it only gets better when he lowers his arms and flexes his lats. The lats spread beneath him like wings and my mind is blown. “I didn’t know your back was that big man!” I say. “That ain’t all that’s big,” he says and turns around. He flexes his pecs at me. The thick balloons bounce and I can see the vascular tubes pushing fresh blood into his working muscles. “Damn!” I say. I know that if he is this comfortable showing off, he will have no problem with me opening up to him about Troy. He then flexes his right bicep and the rock of muscle is engorged. How lucky am I to have such a jacked buddy?! I look over his shoulder and I see someone looking at us. I panic a little and then I panic a lot. It’s Troy and he does not look happy! I stare deep into his eyes. He stands behind the cars in the mini parking lot and all I see is jealousy and rage out of him. But worst of all, he looks like he has been betrayed. I can basically feel it from the lake and he is 40 feet away. He suddenly turns around and leaves. “Vonny?” Ethan says. “Ready to go for a swim?”
  7. 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.
  8. Yeah, I know. Two chapters in one week. What the what!?!? Hahah. I had fun writing this one. Have fun guys! Jealousy and Rage: Part 13 “Troy! Get off of me!” I scream into his face. He looks directly into my eyes with hatred as he crushes me with his weight. He’s so strong. I feel weak. I hate feeling weak. This makes me angry and from this anger I draw strength. With grunt I manage to raise my arms that are trapped beneath his. The force behind me lifting pushes him off balance and I flip him onto his back and wrap my arms around his back. We’re pressed, my bare chest to his clothed one, on the ground and he shakes and groans beneath me. “Get the fuck off of me!” he says. I can smell the alcohol on his breath. “Have you been drinking?” I say. “What do you fucking think!?” he says and head butts me. I yelp in pain and the impact causes me to go blind for a second as I roll over onto my back. I grab my forehead and feel around for damage. None. Thank god. I quickly roll over onto all fours, feeling the damp grass beneath my fingers, and try to get up, but I immediately feel his weight on my back. “Where do you think you’re going, ass hole?” he says, wrapping his arms around my stomach and arms and putting me in a full body lock. “Me!? You’re an asshole! Why are you doing this?” I can’t move. He is still wrapped on top of me. My face is in the grass and I can barely breath because he is holding on so tightly. “I can’t believe you! I hate you so much! How could you do this to me!?” “Do what!?” I scream into the ground. “Ethan! That stuff with Ethan! I saw you two. The way you look at each other. The way he shows off for you… That’s… That’s…” “That’s what!?” “Shut the fuck up!” he says, squeezing me harder and making breathing almost impossible. It was at this point that I started to fear for my life. I need to find a way out of this before he kills me. “Troy please. Stop. Don’t hurt me anymore,” I say. My voice is cracking and I want to punch myself for being such a bitch. “I’ve barely hurt you,” he breathlessly says into my ear. “What are you going to do to me?” I say, the words barely escaping my mouth as I try to breath. He stops at the question. I don’t know what he came here to do. Maybe beat the shit out of me for betraying him or hurt me in another way… No, he wouldn’t do that. Would he? His being drunk could take away some of his humanity and the result could leave me emotionally scarred for life. “I… I came here to talk to you…” he says, his grip on me loosening. I suck in a hard gasp of air and immediately start coughing. He let me go and I roll onto my back, grasping onto my stomach as I cough and suck in air. There are tears in my eyes and I tightly close them. I’m so embarrassed. I should be angry, but I’m not. I feel like a pussy. I feel his hand lightly touch my shoulder and I flinch immediately. I quickly open my eyes and look at him. He’s siting in the grass hovering above me. I see the stars shining above his head and I wonder if I’m hallucinating from the lack of air. I decide to break the silence “You want to talk?” I say. “Yes… Please,” he replies. “I really need to talk to you. “Let’s go inside.” He stands up and reaches out a hand to me. I slowly reach up to him and my body stiffens as he lifts me off of the ground. I’m still shirtless and there’s grass all over my stomach and back. He takes both of his hands and begins to brush the grass off my pecs. He slowly wipes the sweat and grime off and he is taking his time. He doesn’t look me in the eye but I watch him as he looks deeply into my pecs. I feel him stick his finger between the crack of my thick chest. His finger trails down to my abs and he trickles his fingers down them. Once he’s done with my front he walks around me and does the same to my back. I feel relaxed now. I’m not scared anymore. “Thanks,” I say quietly. “I’m sorry,” he says. I nod at him and turn to go into my house. He follows me and I type in the code to unlock the door. Once open I see no one is inside. No brother could save me if he gets aggressive again. Hopefully I won’t need saving. “Let’s go to my room,” I say as we walk up the stairs. We make our way into my room and as I sit on my bed he closes the door behind him. I immediately stiffen up and he notices. “Don’t worry, man. I just want to talk about something private.” He stands still by the door. “Ok, well talk,” I say. The sooner that door is open, the better my odds of escape are. “I don’t exactly understand it, but I’ll try. It’s a lot though,” he says. I don’t know where to start.” “Start with what you said outside. Start with Ethan.” I see a flash of anger as soon as I mention Ethan’s name. “Ok. Well I saw you guys swimming earlier today. I saw him flexing for you and the look in your eyes…” he says. His fists are clenched. “The way you looked at him… I just… I got so fucking mad, man. I’ve never been that angry before. I don’t know what happened! I just ran away and I was back on campus halfway done with a bottle of tequila. It didn’t even make me feel better, but I needed something to fight what I was feeling…” “What were you feeling?” “I felt… jealous. I felt so jealous. We used to have that, you know? Now it’s gone!” he says walking close to me. I keep my ground and sit still on my bed. “You have a girlfriend Troy!” “I know, but we had something! Now it’s gone! The things we used to do! The different ways we would worship each other! It’s all fucking gone and I miss it! I… I need it!” He stumbles over to the bed and I lean back. Suddenly he is cradling me. His ass is on my crotch and each arm on either side of my head. “Drunk on a Wednesday,” he says as he looks down on me. “How pathetic am I?” I don’t answer. “I miss being your bud. I miss flexing for you. Watching you flex. I miss feeling your body.” He slowly reaches down and drags his fingers over my chest and abs. His hands begin to move lower and he eventually dips his fingers into my shorts. “Troy—“ “No… I want this… and I know you do too.” He continues and pulls down my shorts. My flaccid dick flops out and he immediately grabs hold of it. “I missed this so much,” he says as he jerks me off. My dick grows in his hand and I begin to moan. “I love feeling your gains. I love your chocolate muscles so much.” He bends down and starts sucking my nipples. I gasp. I can’t believe how good I feel. “I’m getting – ugh.” He begins to stroke harder and lick his way down my abs. I’m gonna come soon. I can feel it. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he says and then he wraps his pinks lips around my cock. He sucks on my dick like he was starved. Honestly, he probably is starved… starved of dick. He lifts his head and says “You’re so fucking salty!” Then continues to suck. My body is starting to buck and I can feel my climax coming soon. “Fuck Troy! I can’t hold it anymore!” I say. As soon as I do, my dick explodes into his mouth. He swallows every drop and he seems to love every moment of it. He continues to suck even after I’m done coming, but I have to push his hungry mouth away. “Please, no more,” I say. “But I want more” he says, his eyes blinking a little more slowly. I can tell that he is tired. He slowly crawls his way up to me and lies beside me on the bed. I turn on my side and look at him. “Thank you,” he says. “For?” “My first time having a guy inside me.” “I wasn’t really inside you ya know.” “I know,” he says with a yawn. “This was something new to me though. Something good.” He closes his eyes and within seconds he is snoring. I find it amazing how quickly drunk people fall asleep. I don’t know if I should wake him and tell him to go home, but I know I don’t want to, so I don’t wake him. I feel myself getting tired and I get to turn off the light. I walk over to the light switch and look over at my bed. I watch him breath slowly in his sleep. How lucky am I to have this beautiful, alpha hunk in my bed. Even if it is only for one night. I will always remember it. I flick off the light…
  9. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Hiya! I'm back. I just finished writing this so I will add the links to the previous chapters later. I need to get in bed so I can go to the gym in the morning haha. I hope you guys enjoy it. I will be posting again this week. I need to get this ball rolling!! Please feel free to comment, question, or anything else you could do. Thanks! Wednesday: Revelations Part 12 “Vonny?” Ethan says. “Ready to go for a swim?” I turn around and look at Ethan. The water flows smoothly behind him as we stand in the grass. I want to go swimming but I cannot clear my mind of what just happened with Troy. The look of betrayal on his face stains my mind. I’ve never seen that look on him before and definitely not directed at me. The look is his eyes was like wine on a white dress. Something that was once beautiful and now completely soiled. I’ve seen him angry and depressed, but not hurt, and he’s hurt because of me. This doesn’t feel real. “Bro. You ok?” Ethan says. I had been thinking in silence for a while. My eyes stared blankly into Ethan, but I didn’t see him. I only saw Troy. “We need to talk,” I say. “Ok, about what?” He smiles kindly at me. I have high hopes for his understanding, but a little bit of hesitations also. I just can’t keep this to myself anymore. “It’s about Troy?” “Yeah.” “I don’t really know how to say it all really. I just… I’ll start from the beginning I guess.” “You seem nervous, man. Just relax and tell me.” “It’s a little weird…Like sexually weird… Not exactly hetero if you know what I mean.” “Oh… Ok, I’m fine with that,” he says with a smile. I release a long held breath and my body relaxes. “Alright, let’s swim while we talk.” “Awesome!” We both make our way into the water and I begin my story. I tell Ethan about how my friendship with Troy grew over the weightlifting class and how Troy seemed to be sexually charged towards me although he had a girlfriend. I told him about how we jerked off in the shower and how Troy was so eager for physical contact or nudity but somehow made it seem normal. Well not normal, but right. It felt so right. He listened eagerly and he didn’t say a word. He looked at me understandingly the entire time and I could feel tons of weight lifting off my chest. I finish the story by telling him what he already knows. He knows Troy’s girlfriend doesn’t want Troy to lift and now that he knows about our “encounters” he can help me. By the time I am finished, an hour has passed and we are out of the water and sitting in the grass. “Wow! So this is what has been bothering you all of this time. I mean I suspected something, but this was totally unexpected!” “Yeah, it’s kind of crazy, man,” I say. “So what should I do?” “Well…It seems like Troy may be in denial. I’m sure from what you told me that he’s possibly bisexual and hasn’t experienced much with another bro before.” “I’ve figured that much, but what can I do about it?” “Well I don’t want to say confront him, because he could flip shit and deny everything. I think you should wait everything out,” Ethan says. Do you like him?” “Uh…I… I don’t know,” I say. “It’s like he’s powerful and I enjoy how he pushes me.” “Don’t I do the same for you?” “Yeah, but I don’t get surges of sexual energy when I see you.” “Well if you aren’t crushing on him, I’m assuming you both have a very strong mutual appreciation of each other’s gains or some type of muscle fetish. It’s not strictly you liking him. It’s more of a bro thing I guess. You two were just a lot closer than I imagined.” “That’s a decent way to explain it. I still feel terrible though. I feel like hanging out with you is hurting him. He saw you flexing for me and I know he’s upset. I saw it.” “But dude, I’m not like him. We’re bros and yeah we may show off for one another, but I am not trying to get in his way.” “But what does he want exactly?” “I don’t know. We need to wait for him to figure that mess out, bro. But for now let’s just do what we do. Workout. Eat. Flex. Grow. Repeat.” I smile at this. I love the idea of just eating, lifting , and growing. I’d love a life where I’d only have to focus on my bod without the trouble of life’s problems. “Sounds good to me,” I say. “You still down for that run later?” “Yeah man. I’m still down!” I look down at my phone. Wednesday April 27th 4:30 pm. School ends May 20th. That gives Troy a little over 20 days to figure himself out and hopefully come to me…with a solution that is. “Let’s get back to campus.” We get up and head over to his car. It’s funny how after all of this we still have exercise on our minds. We quickly get back to campus and head over to the gym locker room. We are both extremely chill right now. I feel like Ethan is a lot closer of a friend and I know he feels it too. The burden of secrets has been lifted. We both walk into the locker room, go into our lockers and pull out our running shorts. It’s hot outside so there’s no need for shirts and honestly what fun would wearing those be? I suddenly feel a lot more comfortable around Ethan and get the balls to pull off all of my clothes in front of him. I stand in front of my locker with my dick, balls and ass hanging out. I look over at Ethan and he does the same. I’ve never seen his cock before but fuck was I surprised. Ethan was gifted with a thick veiny cock that hung flaccid at about 7 inches. Damn! If it’s that long soft I can’t even imagine it hard. I take a hard look at his round ass and the tight hamstrings leading up to it. I know him being nude in front of me is rare so I take in as much as I can. How lucky am I to have such a hunk for a friend? I pull up my shorts and put on my running shoes and he does the same. “Let’s go, man!” Ethan says. We head outside and I immediately break into a sprint. “Whoa, man! Wait for me!” The fresh air breathes life to my already sweaty skin. The sun beams down on me with intensity and I feel the skin on my back burning. I notice Ethan’s masculine figure catching up to me in the corner of my eye. Eventually we are keeping the same pace and we continue to run on the sidewalk past the freshman dorms. My thick, meaty pecs dancing as I run. Makes me wonder if they make bras for dudes with muscled tits. I look over at Ethan and see his pecs jump with each move of his body. “You’re fast!” Ethan says. “Oh, I know,” I say cockily and with a blast of energy I push myself faster. We run past the dining hall and the smell of food fills the air. Dinner should be ready soon. We pass a couple of cheerleaders on their way out of the dining hall door and they all squeal when they see us. I love it when people react to my body. Girl or not, it is amazing being admired. After about 40 minutes we have ran a little over 3 miles and we are beat. I check my watch and it’s getting close to 6 o’clock. “Wanna get dinner?” Ethan says. “Yeah. Let’s go to The Grill.” The grill is a fast food joint on our campus. It’s located inside our campus center and they have everything from hotdogs to chicken quesadillas. “When do you want to meet up?” “Meet up? I was gonna go now.” “Now! We don’t have shirts!” “Not gonna stop me.” I say. “Oh boy. Alright. Let us sweaty, sticky men go to a public space haha,” he says. “Perfect!” I reply. We walk over to the grill. It’s an old building. It was built in the 60’s and was still pretty decent looking. The red bricks have faded and there were a few dents here and there, but we weren’t here to look at the architecture. We push our way through the revolving doors and walk inside. There’s a food counter, similar to what you see in any fast food establishment, with tv screens above it displaying all of the food choices to the left. To the right there are about 20 black round tables with 4 chairs. Each seat at each table is filled with a person and every eye is on us. “Oh fuck,” Ethan mutters. “Stay calm” I whisper as we walk over to the food counter. There is a slim, Hispanic boy working the register. He’s wearing a bright red shirt and a red hat with our mascot, Buff the Bulldog on it. He visibly swallows when he sees me and begins to fidget his fingers on the screen of his register. He looks extremely young and is most likely a freshman. He’s pretty cute too. I’d probably destroy him in bed if I hadn’t had my heart somewhere else. Did I really just think that? “How…” he swallows. “How may I help you?” he says to my pecs. He is extremely nervous and his eyes are deeply focused on my chest. He even licked his lips a little and I can’t help but smile at this. I look behind him and there’s a thick black girl in the same outfit standing behind him. Her hand is over her mouth and her eyes are wide. She is obviously enamored. I decide to have a little fun. “I’d like…” I say, flexing my pecs with every word and earning a gasp from the girl behind him. “I’d like 2 chicken wraps” flex “a small” flex “fry,” flex “and a chocolate” flex “milkshake.” He stalls. His mouth is hanging open and he doesn’t respond. The girl behind him moves forward, her eyes never leaving my body, and speaks. “I am so sorry about him,” she says as she moves him out of the way and types my order into the register. The Hispanic kid continues to stare at my chest and I chuckle. “What will your friend be having?” I turn around and look at Ethan. His face is red and I understand why. I take a peek behind him and see loads of people still looking at us. “Ethan?” I say. “Uh, I’ll have the same,” he replies his face ever reddening. “Right away!” says the Hispanic kid. His mind finally working and he and the girl rush through a door to the back to prepare the food. I turn around and look at Ethan. “You cool?” I say. “Uh… Not exactly. I feel all of the eyes on me…” “That’s good, man. They’re just ‘mirin you.” “Yeah, I haven’t been looked at like this before though,” he says softly. “I mean I have, but only by you and a couple other guys. Never 50 people.” “Well there’s 100 eyes on you and they are loving every inch of your body. Own that shit man.” Ethan smiles at this and is about to speak when the girl comes back with our food. “Here you go guys,” she says with a huge smile as she hands us white paper bags filled with food. “Thanks for coming!” I feel that she actually meant that. It’s rare that cashier actually care. I thank her with a wink and she basically falls back onto the door. We both walk out and I hear her whisper “OHMAHGAWD!” as we leave. “That was pretty amazing,” Ethan says as we finish up our food. We had been sitting outside for about 2 hours. Talking about life, the future, and how amazing it was being admired by so many people at once. “My heart beats faster just thinking about it,” he continues. “I want to do it again!” “What’s stopping us?” I say. “Nothing I guess,” he says with a laugh. We get up and throw our bags of leftover trash away. It’s a little past 8 o’clock. “See you later, bro.” I raise my fist to his and we bump them together. I’m so glad he’s my bro. I slowly make my way over to my frat house and stop when I see a dark figure standing outside the door. Could it be a brother? It can’t be. A brother would know the code to the house. Each frat has a keypad and each brother knows the code. The figure knocks on the door repeatedly and I begin to realize this person could be threatening. Its body is sagging and drooping against the door. I slowly make my way to the door through my lawn, hoping it is just Jason or anyone else who could have forgotten the code. Sadly I was wrong. As soon as my feet touch the first step the figure turns around and lunges at me, I am suddenly on my back and the weight of the figure is crushing me. My arms and legs are pinned and I look it in the eyes. “Troy?” I say, startled.
  10. Guest

    The Flexorcist (26)

    Twenty-six All eyes turned toward the entrance as the deep voice rumbled through the wrestle hall. Connor looked up and he kept pumping out pushups. He grinned as he recognized Alex. Alex slowly walked to the center of the hall. He looked around at the staring wrestlers and bellowed: “Leave! The big men are gonna play now!”. All the wrestlers raced to the door and abandoned the wrestle hall, not wanting to get trampled during a fight between those beast. “You stay here, boy. You’ll be the ref”, Connor said to the diminished coach. He got up, leaving the defeated Aaron in the left corner of the hall and stepped up to face Alex. His smile got bigger as he savored in how he now outsized the football player. Alex stared at the clearly bigger wrestler and noticed the new size of his huge muscles. Surprise flickered in his eyes as he now had to look up at the one foot taller behemoth. Connor saw the look in his opponent’s eyes and said: “Ready to get your ass kicked? Or do you wanna forfeit? I’m 40 pounds bigger than yesterday. Makes me outsize ya by 100 pounds of muscle!”. He threw a most muscular to illustrate his words: his gigantic muscles hardened under his skintight singlet, making veins and striations visible through the overstretched fabric. “I took you down twice yesterday, boy”, Alex replied matter-of-factly, “Those extra pounds won’t help ya. All wrestlers are weak pussies”. “I’m gonna enjoy beating the shit out of ya. I’ll trash ya good and then fuck the living daylights out of ya as I rape your ass”, Connor shot back angrily. “You talk the talk but can you walk the walk, boy? Yesterday your words were also stronger than your weak muscles”, Alex answered tauntingly. “Let’s do this!”, Connor yelled and moved in on his opponent. Tomas grinned in triumph as he finished the translation of the book. He now knew every detail for the upcoming dark ritual. The role of his muscular pet was now totally clear to him; it wasn’t like he had expected. He had less than 48 hours left to make the final arrangements. He would first get some sleep and then study the plans of Orchid university to determine the precise location for the ritual. “Matt may leave the hospital today”, Logan said as he put down his phone, “I’ve told the nurse we’ll come to pick him up tonight.” “We’d planned to hit the gym tonight when it’s deserted”, Paul stated, “Mike and I have to be at our prime for those tests. We haven’t hit the gym in two days. Just doing pushups and sit-ups here won’t get us ready. If we don’t pass those tests…”. “You’re right”, Sean said, “we can’t risk you guys failing ‘cause we all depend on your careers. The three of us will go pick up Matt from the hospital and you guys can hit the gym. But we’ll have to make sure you’re in there alone and don’t run into Anton, Connor or Alex.” “Alex shouldn’t be a problem”, Mike interrupted, “the football team has a big game on Saturday. They leave this afternoon to get there in time. He’ll be off campus tonight”. “If we get Connor and Anton to follow us and lose them around the building, we can get to the hospital in peace”, Sean added, “I suggest we take a hotel room in town then to avoid Tomas and his gang”. “You’re gonna leave us here?”, Mike asked incredulously. The door suddenly swung open and Keith rushed in with a smile. “Great news, guys.” The others looked at him quizzically. “I’ve just met some wrestlers when I was out to get our food”, he said, “they’ve told me Connor’s gotten even bigger.” “And that’s good news?”, Logan answered instantly. “Let me finish. Apparently he’s in a fight with Alex. The wrestlers told me that Alex stormed in during their training, challenged Connor and told them to leave. Seems like they’re fighting to be the dominant muscle freak”, Keith stated. “That’s excellent news”, Sean replied, “If they’re busy fighting each other we’ll only have to avoid Anton. No need to live off campus till we leave for those tests then.” “Let’s eat and get some rest for tonight”, Paul said as he rubbed his growling stomach. Alex avoided the bigger behemoth’s first attack and circled him slowly, keeping his eyes locked onto him. Connor followed the football player’s movements and calculated his next move. He rushed in with a load roar. Alex put out his arms in front of his 500 pound body and they locked in with his opponent’s. His right paw reached Connor’s neck at the same time Connor’s right paw grabbed his neck; their left hands interlocked as they struggled. He could instantly feel the power in the 600 pound wrestler’s muscles. He tapped onto the strength in his own 500 pound body to withstand the attack. Connor saw his opponent’s face turning red from the effort and a smug grin formed on his face. He felt the energy coursing through him and applied more force. Alex’ mighty legs shook as they tried to resist the increasing pressure. He could feel himself being pushed down inch by inch. His knees buckled as his thick quads were losing the struggle against his opponent. Connor pushed even harder, making the football player collapse down on the mat. “We’re just getting started”, he rumbled and ripped off his opponent’s shirt and pants, leaving him in just his boxers. Alex felt the cool air brush against his titanic muscles as his clothes were ripped off his 500 pound frame. “You are stronger than yesterday, boy”, he said as he got back up. “BOY???”, Connor yelled angrily. He let his opponent get up and smacked his fist into his abs. Alex saw Connor’s fist and instinctively clenched his 12-pack. The cobblestone-sized abs turned into a protective, steely armor and absorbed the hard blow. Before he could react, the wrestler’s strong 50-inch arms wrapped around him and he was body slammed hard onto the mat. He grunted in pain as his broad back collided with the mats. “YEAH!”, Connor boomed as he stared down at his opponent. Power and energy rushed through him as he now dominated the beast that took him down a day ago. “Thirsty for more?”, he asked as he circled around the football player. “That all you got, boy?”, Alex replied as he sprang up to his feet. Connor jumped aside, facing his opponent’s muscular back and moved in swiftly. He locked his huge paws behind the football player’s neck and took him in a full nelson. Alex squirmed and flexed his muscles to escape but the strong hold didn’t break. No matter what he tried, he couldn’t break his opponent’s grip. For the very first time since he’d gotten huge, fear crept into his mind. “What’s the matter? Not strong enough to get free?”, Connor asked mockingly as he withstood the 500 pound athlete’s struggles. “Never start a fight you can’t finish”, he said and rocked his opponent back and forth in his grip. He felt all-powerful dominating Alex and reclaiming his top spot. His plump cock started to harden in his singlet. Alex heard the remark but focused all his energy on getting free. His 500 pound body moved back and forth as his opponent shook him. He could feel the wrestler’s cock hardening against his lower back through the fabric of his singlet. “Let’s end it”, Connor said and jumped up while maintaining his grip on the football player. He stretched his torso upward and threw his opponent down as he released his grip. “Augh” Alex grunted in pain as his thickly muscled back crashed hard onto the mat. Connor slowly lowered himself atop the fallen beast, pressing his protruding chest into his opponent’s thick pecs and waited for the coach the end the match while staring the football player in the eye. He looked up and scanned the wrestle hall as nothing happened: the frail coach was nowhere to be seen. “That runt must have sneaked out”, Connor rumbled, “Might as well count ya out myself”. “1… 2…” Just before Connor would say ‘3’, Alex placed his big paws against the side of Connor’s wide pecs and lifted him up. He cranked out a few reps as if he was doing bench presses and shoved the wrestler aside. Connor couldn’t believe his opponent had escaped his hold but wasn’t going to let him get away. He got up quickly, placed his paws under the behemoth’s armpits and threw him to the left corner of the wrestle hall. Alex flew several feet before crashing down on the mat. He blinked in pain. He looked aside as he heard a whisper in his ear. He stared at a well muscled wrestler slowly sitting up next to him. “Hit his abs”, Aaron whispered. Alex didn’t have time to react. He was lifted up and put to his feet. A strong fist instantly slammed into his stomach as he stood up. His fingers clawed up as he bent over in pain. They hooked into the fabric of the wrestler’s singlet and ripped it as he sank to his knees. Connor felt his singlet shred and did a most muscular. The bulging masses of hard meat flexed and ripped through the elastic, overstretched fabric, exposing his intimidating torso as the tattered singlet fell down until reaching the bottom row of his hard 12-pack, there it was still tightly stretched around his steely muscles. “You miring?”, he said as he looked down on his opponent. Alex gulped as he looked up at the flexed rack of muscle that jutted from the 600 pound behemoth’s chest. He marveled at the incredible sight of veins and striations that crisscrossed the wide surface atop the deeply grooved 12-pack. Connor saw the look of admiration in his opponent’s eyes. He relaxed his muscles and extended his arm toward his opponent. “Good fight, man. Now get up and let’s have some fun in the showers”, he said as he offered his hand to the other behemoth. Alex blinked at the remark. He knew he was at the wrestler’s mercy: Connor’s superior strength had clearly overpowered him. He grabbed the paw and pulled himself up to his feet. Suddenly, his other paw turned into a fist and smacked against the wrestler’s exposed 12-pack. Connor grunted in pain at the sudden attack. The jackhammer-like fist slammed unbelievably hard into his stomach. The relaxed, still not completely recovered abs protested in pain. He looked in surprise into the other behemoth’s eyes and saw the fist coming at his face. He turned his head to avoid the attack but the fist still hit his left cheek. He lost his balance and fell backwards to the mat. Alex moved in for his next assault. Connor reacted quickly, though. His 600 pound frame wouldn’t go down that easily. He jumped back to his feet, grabbed the football player’s throat and tossed him backward in the air. Alex didn’t crash down. Like a cat, he landed on his feet and squatted down to absorb the impact. He used the energy to catapult himself forward and shot rapidly toward the wrestler. Connor didn’t know what happened. One moment he saw Alex crashing down, the next his round, hard delt collided with his own aching 12-pack. Another jolt of stabbing pain rolled through his 600 pound body as the cannonball-sized delt dented his abs and knocked the wind out of him. He placed his paws against his opponent’s flanks to force him back. Alex anticipated the wrestler’s move. He grabbed the back of his thick legs and moved his own 500 pound body up to make his opponent’s feet leave the ground. He moved forward to knock his opponent over. Connor felt his feet dangling in the air and fell back. The air was forced out of his lungs again as his broad, thick back crashed hard into the mats. His wrestle instincts made him pull down the other behemoth as well. Alex rolled free from the wrestler’s grip and swiftly got up. He inhaled deeply to control his breathing and stormed at his opponent. Connor got up and saw the other behemoth rushing at him. He held his mighty arms in front of him to protect his aching body. He moved his hands to the right as he saw the football player moving slightly in that direction. Alex diverged to the right but quickly jumped to the left. He knew Connor had taken the bate when he saw his hands follow his move and easily evaded the wrestler’s intimidating arms. He used the momentum of his rush to knock his right fist with full force into his opponent’s stomach. “AUGH” A loud, painful groan escaped Connor’s mouth as his opponent’s fist sank deeply into his relaxed 12-pack and busted through his defenses. The force of the blow made him stumble backward. His broad back made contact with the wall as he fell. He didn’t slump down, though. Alex had jumped to the wrestler and grabbed his left armpit, preventing him to slid down against the wall to the floor. He held the 600 pound behemoth against the wall and smacked his right fist hard into the ever softening abs. Connor groaned in pain as the jackhammer-like fist kept raining down on his battered stomach. Again. And again. And again. He tried raising his free right arm but all his remaining energy was being sent to flex his abs to protect him. The relentless attacks were draining his energy and his flexed, armor-like stomach was on the verge of collapsing completely. He squirmed to free himself from the smaller behemoth’s grasp. Panic filled his eyes as he saw Alex slowly retracting his right paw and menacingly clenching it into a steely fist. “Even 100 pounds aren’t enough to beat me, boy”, Alex said as he noticed the fear in the wrestler’s eyes. He pulled back his right fist, tapped onto the full force of his 55 inch arm and roared deeply as he smacked it into the 600 pound behemoth’s stomach. Lightning bolts of pain exploded through Connor’s beastly body as Alex’ fist destroyed his abs. The steely hard, flexed 12-pack turned to pulp as the wrecking ball-like fist sank deep into his stomach. Connor fell forward against the other behemoth. Alex felt the wrestler slumping forward against him and locked his arms around him in a bone crushing bear hug. He used the momentum of his opponent’s fall to turn around and slammed him down on the mat. Connor smacked down on the mat on his back, closing his eyes and grunting as pain overwhelmed him. He slowly reopened his eyes and saw the football player looming over him. Connor raised his hands to indicate he’d had enough. Alex didn’t give his 600 pound opponent time to raise his hands completely, though. He grabbed him under his armpits and lifted him up, his pumped 55 inch arms swelling into round bowling ball-sized orbs as they hoisted up the weight. He smacked the wrestler hard against his own protruding chest, wrapped his titanic arms around his extremely muscled torso and flexed them in an almighty bear hug. Connor’s hulking body shook in pain as the smaller behemoth’s arms overpowered its battered, yet bigger muscles. It felt like steely girders wrapped around and compressing his concrete-like hard muscles. His head shot back as more and more excruciating pain rolled over his body. He tried to summon every last ounce of power left in him to break free. Alex saw the determination on Connor’s face and felt the wrestler squirming in his grasp. He roared deeply and tapped onto the last reserve of power left in his own 500 pound body. He grunted from the effort as his rock-hard 55 inch arm flexed harder and sank some more into the 600 pound wrestler’s collapsing muscles. Connor moaned in deep pain, his eyes closed as the impossibly hard peaks of his opponent’s massive biceps dug into his now jelly-like obliques. He was on the verge of passing out. Alex bent slightly through his legs, his quads bulging with mass and power, and stretched upward quickly. He turned around, opened his hold and slammed the wrestler down on the mat with full force. Another weak grunt of pain escaped Connor’s mouth as his back smacked hard onto the mats. He reopened his eyes and saw the football player moving in. He didn’t have time to react as the other behemoth sat down on his quads, preventing him from moving. Alex installed himself atop the wrestler’s gigantic quads and began throwing punches into his dark red, battered 12-pack. Connor’s wrestle instincts summoned him to react and he scraped together the last ounces of energy left in his 600 pound body. He raised his hands, his huge arms shaking from the effort and shoved the football player’s protruding chest to knock him aside. Alex didn’t budge as the wrestler pushed against his chest: his opponent hadn’t enough power left to knock him over. He quickly flexed his 12-pack to steady his 500 pound body and kept ravaging the now soft abs below him. His thick fist sank deeply into the wrestler’s stomach. “What did you say about starting a fight, boy?”, he asked mockingly in between punches. Connor’s arms fell back onto the mat. His huge, 600 pound, muscle filled frame lay like a crucifix on the mat. His mind tried to process what had happened: although he outsized Alex by 100 pounds of pure muscle, the guy had taken him down a third time in two days! Tomas would have to make him even bigger to crush the formerly skinny water boy. “You had me in the ropes but let me recover”, Alex said as he ripped off his own boxers to reveal his throbbing 20 incher, “that’s why you’ll never beat me, boy. You don’t have the guts to finish things. Deep inside you’re still the weak, little runt you were before you grew. I have always been aggressive even when I was a skinny loser”. He positioned the head of his cock against the wrestler’s ass and rammed it into it, ripping through the fabric of the singlet. Connor grunted in pain and pleasure as the slightly curved cock invaded his ass. “YEAUGH!”, Alex boomed in his deep baritone voice. He had just taken down the biggest guy he’d ever seen and was now claiming his prize. He thrust his hips back and forth, shoving his 20 incher in and out of the tight, muscular ass and flexed his arms in absolute triumph atop his fallen opponent. Connor stared in awe at the monstrous, 55 inch arms flexing into perfection. His half-hard 25 incher blew a load, creaming into his tattered singlet as the other behemoth’s arms turned into vein-covered, striated, bowling ball-sized orbs of hard meat. Alex noticed the swelling dark patch on what was left of the wrestler’s singlet and hardened his flex some more. The feeling of having once more dominated this muscular beast sent him over the edge. Load after load of sticky cum blasted from his balls through the throbbing shaft of his 20 inch cock and jolted into the spasming ass he was pounding. He relaxed his arms and grabbed the impossibly huge, protruding rack of pecs atop the wrestler’s chest as he kept pumping cum into his ass. Connor groaned as the 20 inch cock throbbed inside him and its hot liquid filled his intestines. He felt his opponent’s paws on his pecs and flexed the huge muscles. His 600 pound body hadn’t enough energy left to obey his command and Alex easily overpowered the hard surface. “Too weak to flex, boy? Or no match for a real man’s grasp?”, Alex asked tauntingly and dug his fingers deep into the masses of muscle. He blew a tenth and final load into the muscular ass and withdrew his slowly deflating cock from it. He stood up, towering over the battered behemoth on the mat, his deflating cock leaking some cum onto the worn out wrestler. He turned around and strutted over to the right corner of the wrestle hall. Aaron had watched the fight in awe and gulped as he saw the nude behemoth coming over to him, his plump cock smacking against his thick quads as he moved. He raised his hands in a protective reflex, knowing full well that a beast that had just defeated his 600 pound teammate could easily break his own 180 pound body. “Thanks for the help, man”, Alex said as he reached Aaron, “You’ve shown me his weak spot so I could take him down.” Aaron blinked incredulously and slowly lowered his hands. He stared up at the smiling, massive football player and nodded. Alex turned around and looked at his beaten opponent. “I’ll have to hide him somewhere Tomas can’t find him. If he gets any bigger, I’ll be unable to take him down again”, he said out loud. Aaron heard the beast’s remark and answered: “You could hide him in my room”. “On campus, Tomas can always locate him”, Alex replied automatically, “It has to be someplace far away from here. And not to crowded not to draw attention with our huge bodies”. “How about back south?”, Aaron asked. Alex turned back toward the athletic wrestler with a quizzical look in his eye. “My parents are loaded. I’ve saved a bunch of money from what they give me and my scholarship. If you throw in your savings, we could buy a place over in Florida. Or even in Mexico Somewhere miles away from the nearest town. We could make tons of money if you did cam shows, flexing your huge body”, Aaron said and cautiously placed his hand atop the behemoth’s right bicep, “You could even wrestle Connor live on cam. Make money from the bets”. “I could live that life”, Alex said and flexed his bicep under the wrestler’s touch, “Making money by showing off. How would we get there unnoticed?”. “I own a van. Toss Connor in the back and we’re off”, Aaron answered, his cock squirting cum in his singlet as the 55 inch bicep turned into rock under his grasp. “Let’s go for it”, Alex stated, “We, well I’ll toss Connor in your van and then we’re off. But first I’ve got to make sure I’m able to take on Connor next time we fight”. Aaron looked up inquiringly at the 500 pound football player and nodded as the behemoth explained what he would do. “I’ll take a quick shower first and pack my things. We’ll meet in the parking lot”, Aaron said eagerly.
  11. liftme

    Jeff the college roommate Part 4

    I know its been a while but just been busy with life. Let me know what you think. If you missed the first three here they are... Part 1 & 2 - https://muscle-growth.org/topic/9162-jeff-the-college-roommate/?do=findComment&comment=96313 Part 3 - https://muscle-growth.org/topic/9409-jeff-part-3/?do=findComment&comment=100640 JEFF THE COLLEGE ROOMATE PART 4 “Billy what is your opinion of homosexuals?” Jeff asked half timid; half afraid of the question and my answer. “Jeff, if you don’t know already, I’m gay and I don’t think there should be any special treatment either way.” As I continue to massage his traps and delts. Each group I squeeze seems tighter than the muscle before, but over time he is not so tense. “I thought so by the way you kept touching me during our first encounter. But I didn’t want to say anything to upset you. I don’t really care either way as I have gone to school with gay students that are an absolute blast to be around. But with you it’s so much better cause you don’t mind me lifting you and playing with you. Billy, don’t mean to shock you but I’m gay too. As for working out all my muscles, in one week I ensure that all my muscle get some kind of work out. I work out my grip and feet and everything. Why do you ask, Billy?” “Well, it’s just, um, do you mind if I feel or massage everywhere? I mean, Jeff, can I worship your muscles?” Jeff laughs and peels off his shirt and shorts so that he is only wearing a pair of old stretched boxers, “Sure little buddy feel away.” I laugh with him at his answer and slide off the bed and come around and straddle his thighs. I start feeling his pecs and try to put my hands around his neck, squeezing the best I can but not having much success on inflicting any kind of serious grip. I move down to his abs and start pressing them, then start light punching them. I look up at his face and he’s just smiling as I play. “Jeff, let’s test your legs?” As I slide down his right leg so that my crotch is snuggled against the top of his foot. “Leg lift, big guy. Let’s see those thighs in action.” Jeff smiles seeing how much fun I’m having and lifts his right leg high in the air and as always I go along for the incredible ride. As Jeff lifts his leg for reps, I feel his thigh. SO hard. So massive. No strain for my whopping buck 20. After about 50 reps, Jeff sets his leg down and I climb to his left leg and Jeff repeats the process. During the last set I notice Jeff’s cock has worked its way out of the briefs and is just lying there and I look at Jeff’s face. Huge grin as he watches my every move, enjoying my reaction as his cock becomes unwrapped from its bondage. I watch his cock slowly come alive and as it starts to rise, I grab a hold with both hands. Even flaccid it is about 8” long and a good 6” around. I look between Jeff’s face which has a huge grin and the cock as it grows and starts to lengthen and slowly becomes erect. The great thing that I notice, as I hold on for deer-life, is that my body is slowly being pulled up Jeff’s leg moving closer to his crotch. His cock is sliding me and Jeff just smiles bigger and bigger. Finally, it is sticking straight up and down and it has pulled me a good three feet. We just look at each other not breaking eye contact and both of us smiling then start laughing. Jeff reaches down and grabs me under the pits and slowly slides me up and plants a big kiss on me and we stay there for what seemed like heavenly forever. As we were lip locked he slid me a little higher up his abs and then slowly slid me back down. When we broke the kiss, he slowly maneuvered his legs to stand and he rose up to full height. This is when I went into full fantasy overload. Jeff let go of me and his arms where at his side; his body was at full height; and me? Well my feet where almost two feet off the ground and I turned my head to see that I was being held in the air only by the power of his cock. I was wedged very snug between his abs and his cock and not moving at all. Jeff started laughing as he saw me come to realization that his cock was strong enough to hold me with ease. “Oh my goodness; no way; it’s not possible! Is it?” I stammered. “Not tight enough for you?” Jeff asked. I felt his cock tighten and push me tighter against his body. I put my hands on his abs and tried to push back but I didn’t move. “Jeff you lifted me with just your cock. Are you telling me that your cock muscles are that strong too?” Jeff nods his head and laughs at the same time as he lets me sit there to come to grips of his power. I push one more time just to tests its strength and I don’t move. “How about I show you some more of my tricks?” Jeff asks smiling “What? I suppose you’re going to tell me or show me that it can actually do reps too?” I laugh not believing what I was saying. Jeff pulls me up out of my perch and sets me down on the floor. He kneels down and wedges the head of his cock under the waist strap. He smiles and winks, “You ready for a true Hercules feat of strength?” Without even waiting for me to hold on or get ready, he stands up and I am swaying back and forth on the head of his cock. It is pointing straight out from his body. I grab his waist to steady myself. Then I feel my body going up, I check his arms and see his hands on his hips in a superman stance. His cock is lifting me, “no way!” I mutter as his cock lifts me to its full erectness. Jeff just laughing at my reaction. Then I feel my body going back down, then back up, down and up, rep after rep by his monster muscle cock. I hear Jeff counting of the reps, 5…10…15…20 and I stop at the top of the last rep. “How’s that for a feat of strength?” Jeff grabs me under the arms again and pulls me off his head and sets me down in front of him. I just stare at his cock not really believing what just happened. His cock is still erect in the up position. I grab it and try to pull it down, but it doesn’t move. I pull with all I have and it’s not moving. I am trying to arm wrestle this monster cock not having any success with moving it at all. “Jeff, I know what you just did with me but I just can’t believe how strong your cock is. Hell there is nothing on you that I can overpower at all. This is blowing my mind. You are a muscle god and you’re my roommate.” He continues to stand there, hands on hips, chest jutting out and naked as a new born baby. At this point, I figure it’s best if I follow his actions, so I remove my harness, shirt, and pants, so that I am naked as he is and we just look at each other with huge grins. “Would you care for another ride? Have you ever had anything this big in you before?” He asks. “Not that big but what the hell let’s try.” I say scared of how it may tear me up but thrilled to try. Jeff sits on the bed and I straddle his thighs again. He starts off with strong kissing using his tongue to invade my mouth and overpower my tongue. He kisses my neck and pulls me up so he’s not bending over. We continue to kiss and fondle each other. “Let me loosen you up a little.” Jeff lifts me up sliding my cock over his abs and then he nestles it between his pecs and starts to flex them, not too hard, but hard enough to let me know I’m not in control. He relaxes and slides me up to his mouth. He takes my tool in his mouth in one swallow and start sucking like I’m a lollipop. His tongue playing or should I say wrestling with my cock and making me so freaking hard. With a popping sound he pulls me out and lift me even higher then slowly lets my hole down onto his face and his tongues invades me and plays with hole like an expert loosening me up. After about 3 minutes of his tongue play, he lifts me up and slides me down the front of him. As I get closer to his lap I feel the head of his cock at my opening. His head enters with some pain but I just grab his forearms and squeeze knowing I won’t hurt him. Deeper and deeper he goes. Five inches in and he stops letting me come to grip with the pain. He bounces me up and down a few times sliding his head almost out but then back down. On the last rep he pulls me farther down the shaft. Jeff whispers, “Almost half way in, how ya doing?” “Fine” I grunt Inch by inch he enters me, being very careful not to hurt me too bad. Before I know it, he says, “there all in, how that feel?” “Full” I say exhausted just from him entering me. His cock feels like a steel pole deep inside me. “Ok now let me show you something else.” Jeff calmly says. “What you going all the way in wasn’t what you wanted to show me?” I say slowly able to catch my breathe. So there I am, parallel with Jeff, his hands back on his hips, my feet a good two feet off the ground, my body just hanging on his cock, my hands and legs just dangling from my body. Jeff smiles and I feel my body going away from his, down, down, down I go until I am horizontal to the floor and I stop moving. I can’t believe this; I am just dumbfounded. Up, up, and up I go back to facing his pecs. “One” he says. “Oh shit” I say as the motion starts all over again. 2, 3, 4, 5, 10, 12, 15, 18, and 20 reps with a buck 20. His strength is phenomenal but mine isn’t; as he reaches the 20th rep I blow all over his abs. “My turn,” he says as he grabs me with just his right hand at my waist and starts sliding me up his cock then back down. “What do you think I am your flesh light?” I ask as the motion continues and intensifies. But that is exactly what I am to this mountain of pure power. Up and down over and over, I feel his cock getting harder if that’s even possible. Then I slow down but the pumps are fiercer and impactful. Jeff throws his head back like a wild animal and roars as I feel his hot jizz filling my insides. Jet after jet pounds inside of me like a spurting fire hose. Everything goes into slow motion as his spurts subside. Jeff flops down on his bed and lays down with me still secure on his cock. Both of us breathing hard after our wonderful session. I awake and am still impaled but his cock is soft. I slide up trying not to wake the gentle giant and his cock pops out, sounding like a suction hose. I slide down off of Jeff and run to the bathroom.
  12. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Hi there. It's Wednesday again! As promised, after posting early last week, here is the next chapter. This one is a little short. It has to be because there is a lot to come in the following chapters and this is the beginning of it all. Like and comment anything you may be feeling or any questions you may have. I'm open to conversation. As usual the links to the previous parts are above and enjoy. Tuesday: Meaningful Distractions "I wish Clarence didn't go away for the summer... I really miss him and his jokes,” Angelica said, although oblivious to me. My mind is elsewhere. We are in the auditorium listening to a lecture for our Biology class. We both despise the class but the school requires its students to take two science courses before they graduate and we have no choice. The professor, a slender blond woman with class, drones on about cellular respiration and I haven’t listened to one single word. Angelica was talking about all the fun times we had last semester. Clarence was a friend that transferred to a new school. This college was getting too expensive for him. “Von?" Angelica says. “Yeah…he was…hilarious in Bio,” I say. As cool as Angelica is, I am struggling to find what to say to her. It was hard for me focus on her without thinking about Troy and his girlfriend. I wish Ethan were here. He seems very insightful about these things. I mean… we can’t really talk about any of the private things Troy and I did in the locker room and shower, but he definitely understands that I may be losing my friend. "Is something on your mind? You look kinda down." "What? Oh no. It’s just after the spring session, it looks like so many of us are going our separate ways. And I like what we all had. And I don't even know how I could possibly stay in touch with everyone..." In a way I had just told her my feelings towards my friendship with Troy, but she didn’t know that. It’s April and school will be ending in May. Soon school will be over and we will have the entire summer to lose touch. His internship will be in the Fall so that means I will have an entire semester without him if I don’t also get accepted into the program. An entire summer is 3 months and then the fall semester lasts 4 months. He will return for spring classes, but that’s still 7 months to lose touch and then we will be graduating. Sucks to suck right? “Hey! Don’t worry!” Angelica says. “Jason, Zeus and I will always be your friends. But remember, a relationship is two sided and you have to put forth an effort to see us too. I haven’t seen you outside of class in weeks and it sucks.” “I’ve been a little preoccupied.” “Well get unoccupied and come see us! We miss you.” Now I feel bad. I had been neglecting my friends…people I have known since freshman year for Troy, a guy I had met in gym class. Even Ethan and I were a little distanced before Troy was out of the picture and I had known Ethan since high school. There's no way I can tell Angelica all of this. She'll think I have feelings for Troy or that I want to fuck him, but it’s much more complicated than that. I honestly don’t know what I want yet and if rumors spread because of her, everything will be ruined. “What could I do to keep our friendship alive?” I say. “I’m glad you asked. I’m going to The Lakeside Restaurant tomorrow evening with Zeus and Jason. We’re going swimming afterwards. Please come!” She flutters her pretty blue eyes at me and it’s not like I was going to say no so I just give into it. “Only if you give me a ride.” I say. “Deal! Ok, let’s try to listen to the last hour of this damn lecture.” Now that she stopped talking I had my thoughts to myself again. I have been thinking about telling Ethan the secret stuff that went down between Troy and I. It would definitely help with expressing how I feel and I am sure he would be smart enough to help me figure things out. The problem is that he’s not exactly homoerotic with me nor does he seem bisexual. The only hint at him being sexually deviant in anyway is that he gets boners while wrestling but that could be blamed on the rush of testosterone from exertion. I hope he would understand and not freak out on me. I know Ethan hasn’t shown as much interest in muscles as Troy has. He is nowhere near that level. Then again, I haven't even thought about flexing with or for Ethan. I mean I have but I have never thought of doing it for real. Maybe if I push Ethan's limits and find out if he has any homoerotic elements, then I can open up to him about Troy! Hmm… I think I have a plan.
  13. 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.
  14. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Guess what day it is?? Wednesday! and that means another chapter! I'll try to keep it up and post every Wednesday. It has been very convenient with my Summer schedule. I am estimating about 7ish more chapters in the future and then a possible spin off. Please enjoy and as usual, read the first parts if you haven't. A College Weight Room Story: The Path to Gains Sunday: Recreational Sports Part 8 It’s 3:30 when Ethan messages me to meet him at the gym. I quickly change into a pair of basketball shorts and a tank top. It’s always nice to show off your bicep gains, especially after arm day. I walk from my house to the gym. The sun coats me in a blanket of heat. I immediately start to sweat and I can’t wait to make it to the gym. I see the building in front of me and I notice a head of black hair and a thick muscular back walking in the same direction towards it. “Yo Ethan!” I yell. “Wait up bro.” He stops in his tracks and quickly turns on his heels. A smile is already on his face. “Sup dude,” he says. “Ready for some b-ball?” I quickly catch up to him now that he has stopped walking. “Yup. I’m ready to kick your ass,” I say and laugh. “How was the Spring Festival?” “Hot as Hell and don’t think I have forgotten about your “ass kicking” comment. The festival was interesting. Plenty of great food. I ran into an old friend of yours too.” “Who?” I knew the answer before I had even asked. “Troy, and boy what a conversation we had!” “What? Tell me, man!” We made our way into the gym and are approaching the basketball court. “Okay, okay!” he says. We sit by the wall near the basketball court and he begins his story. “So, I was at this food stand that sold strawberries when I noticed he was standing beside me. He saw me too so he approached me…” Suddenly Ethan stopped talking and just stared at my face. “Dude, what happened?” “Haha, I’m just seeing if you are paying attention.” “Yes, I’m paying attention! Fuck!” “Okay ok lol,” he says this with a smile. I’ll add “love of torture” to his list of redeemable character traits. “So he says to me, ‘Oh you’re Vonny’s friend that wrestles right?’ and I can tell that he is checking me out as we talk, dude. I swear his eyes were rubbing me down.” “That does sound like Troy,” I say smiling. I miss the way his eyes used to admire me. If only he could see me after all these weeks. “I decided to be a bit nosy and prod so I asked him if he still trains with you.” “What!? You already know that his girlfriend banned him from working out!” “I know, but I wanted to see what his opinion on his situation was and if he would tell me anything at all.” Smart. When the hell did Ethan get so smart? “So what did he say?” “He told me he didn’t work out with you anymore because he was so busy with the last few weeks of school.” “That’s a huge lie,” I say. “I know,” Ethan says. “It really sucks that he feels that he needs to lie about it.” “He probably lied because he’s embarrassed. I would be.” “After that he asked me about what I had been up to since he last saw me wrestle you. So I told him I had been to the gym with you and man his eyes lit up so much!” “Really?” “Yeah, it was like a mix between excitement and jealously. Like maybe he didn’t really know what he was feeling.” “That’s also typical of Troy.” “So I go on prodding and I ask him if he wanted to play basketball or wrestle at the least.” “What did he say?” “He said yes. Sports technically don’t count as bodybuilding so he wants to give it a go, but under one condition.” “And that is?” I say. “He wants you to be there,” Ethan replies. “So that means—” “You get to hang out with your buddy again and while you won’t be getting pumped at the gym, you still haven’t lost your friend!” “Shit, Ethan, you’re amazing!” “Yeah I am. Now let’s play some basketball, man!” He jumps up to grab a basketball off of a rack and tosses it to me. I quickly catch the ball and he starts to strip off his shirt. Ethan’s thick pecs hover like a shelf above his eight pack abs. My eyes make my way down his muscled obliques and to his v line. He’s ripped and vascular opposed to my thick and stocky look. I haven’t stopped staring at him since he took off his shirt and he notices. He slowly walks towards me and we are standing a few inches apart. “Like what you see?” he says. I remember when Troy asked me that once. “Huh? Oh… Uh I’m just wondering how much you weight. You’re ripped, dude,” I say. I hope I saved myself. I don’t exactly know where Ethan stands sexually and I don’t want to ruin our friendship over something as dumb as me admiring his body. “I weigh 145 pounds, bro. What about you?” “I’m 155.” “What!? You don’t look like it!” I would say 140 at the least!” “You haven’t seen me bare all of my muscle,” I say. "So how would you know?” “True, true. Take off your shirt and show me then.” I freeze up. That was a bit unexpected. I just stand there and look at him. “Go ahead then,” he says. “Aright then.” I try to speak nonchalantly, but honestly I am a little excited to see what he thinks of my progress. I slowly begin to peel off my shirt as he watches. Once it is off I remember that I am standing in the middle of an indoor basketball court and I am immediately conscious of 2 other students playing basketball on the court parallel to ours. I nervously watch them as they play. “Damn, dude!” Ethan says. “You’re thicker than I thought!” He then reaches up and softly connects his fist with one of my pecs. His eyes widen as the firmness of it. I’m not gonna lie, I was flexing a bit. Probably because of the cold. I continue to watch the two students playing basketball. One of them, a thin Asian girl, has noticed that we both have our shirts off and stops playing. She points for her friend to look at us and I am even more self-conscious now. Ethan sees where I am looking and turns around. The two girls immediately look away embarrassed. “Looks like you have some admirers, bro.” He says this while he continues to stare at my body. “Nah, I think they are looking at the both of us,” I say nervously. “Oh I don’t know. They were looking at us until your shirt came off. I mean look at you. A thick, juicy piece of smooth alpha male chocolate. I bet they want a bite.” He says this and winks and me and I am beyond surprised. I don’t even know how to react, but I acknowledge that he described me as smooth chocolate. No one has ever described my skin that way before and it makes me laugh. “Smooth chocolate?” I say. “Really?” I can’t help myself from laughing. “Hey man! I’m just describing how good your muscles look in contrast to your skin.” “I know, I know. Thanks. I don’t really see myself as huge, but at the same time I want to be more lean. It’s confusing.” “Trust me I can see that you are huge. You are stocky and beefy looking. That’s hot, man. Now let’s play some ball!” Hot huh??? We start playing basketball and luckily we took off our shirts because we are already sweaty after 15 minutes playing. Ethan is really good at basketball. Well, at least he is so much better than I am that he seems really good. As we play Ethan begins to speak again. “Oh right so I just remembered something else Troy said.” He dribbles around me and goes for a shot. It bounces off the rim and I catch it. He immediately rushes in front of me in an attempt to block my shot. “What’s that?” I say. “He said he was preparing for an internship to Superset City. Bro, I was so confused when he told me this. If he can’t workout, why is he going to torture himself in the biggest fitness capital in the world?” I go for the shot. I make it and Ethan catches the ball. “I know about that internship. He asked me to sign up and see if I could be his roommate.” “Did you?” Yes, but they haven’t responded yet.” “Well if they respond,” he says as tries to rush past me. His sweaty chest bumps up against mine, the two slabs of thick meat make a wet smacking noise as they make contact and he slips around me. “What will you do?” “I know I will go and I guess we will be roommates.” Ethan makes the shot and catches the ball. “It would suck to not be able to lift every day with him though. I don’t understand why he is still going, but I don’t know if Troy wants to be my roommate anymore.” “Well, the best thing you could do is ask,” Ethan says. I guess so… but why Troy would go to a city that revolves around working out. Does his girlfriend know? Is he unwilling to give up such a great opportunity? I have so many questions. What exactly is going on with Troy?
  15. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Guess what? I'm back and I have plenty of twist and turns coming! Sorry for taking so long. I had to plan and I was pretty busy. Technically I still am but I will be posting once a week on Wednesdays. Have fun. A College Weight Room Story: The Path to Gains Saturday: The Void Part 7 It has been over two weeks since Troy and I last spoke of him quitting working out. We never hung out outside of fitness related activities to begin with, so I found myself with a huge problem. Working out alone has been lame and I wanted him to be in the gym with me. Something he does not. I still want to be his friend too. He is my bro, but how do we maintain our relationship if the one thing we bonded over isn’t allowed anymore? How can I even speak to Troy if it isn’t about gains, protein, or a gym pump? How do I be his friend while trying to ignore the one thing we bonded over? “Von, are you listening?” Ethan says. “Sorry man. I’m just a little distracted,” I say. It’s 5:30 and we are in the dining hall getting out fill of baked chicken and pasta. You can never have enough protein and carbs. “You work out today?” “No.” I would go to the gym today eventually. I just had no motivation to go just yet. Going alone sucks and now I usually wait to go at night when the usual lonely people go. “Then maybe you should go and blow off some steam.” “That probably won’t work,” I say. “Well how about a little wrestling to take your mind off of things? He says this with a huge smile. Wrestling is his favorite past time. “That actually doesn’t sound too bad, but I still need to workout.” “Well you will be at the gym. Just workout afterwards, dude!” “What about you bro? Don’t you workout? I know you didn’t just wake up swelling like a beast!” “Of course I workout man!” he says and laughs. “I wouldn’t have much time to workout though. I have a night class.” “How about this? We figure out a time to wrestle and lift. I’m in a desperate need of a workout partner.” “And you want it to be me?” he says, eyes widening. “Dude, we could destroy the gym together,” I say laughing. “Alright then. Let’s do it, bro! My night class ends at 9pm every night.” “Let’s go then. You’ll need a pick me up afterwards I bet.” “Right!” he says this with his eyes flashing with joy. “This is great man. I always go to the gym alone but now I won’t have to. Don’t you go with someone already? What’s the kids name? Tony… Trae…” “Troy,” I say silently. My elated mood drops a bit and Ethan notices. “What’s up? Why are you down suddenly?” I’m surprised that he asked. Ethan and I usually don’t talk about feelings. Our conversations usually involve who is going to get beat down first on the wrestling mat. I look him straight in the eye and I see that he genuinely cares. No, bull shit either. Should I tell him? “Uhh… Troy is taking an extended break from the gym,” I say. “Extended as in…” “Extended as in his girlfriend has banned him from working out for the rest of his life and I lost one of my best bros.” Ethan pauses. I can see his mind calculating what he wants to say. His eye flicker in his head and eventually his eyebrows arch into two pointed angled. He is angry. “Well fuck that!” he says. “What jerk of a girlfriend takes something so great away. Working out is an amazing experience that everyone should enjoy!” “I know…” “Like… Damn it… Troy is huge as fuck. That dude is gifted and to throw it all away just so he could keep boning. That’s horrible!” “I know. Now I usually work out alone” “Don’t you take a gym class?” “Yes, but it’s only twice a week and honestly those guys will never be as swole as Troy. He was a bit special.” “Sounds like you had a bit of a crush on him.” “Naw man! It wasn’t that! It’s just. I really admired him.” I say. I’m fighting to find words. “I wanted to be like him and it sucks that he’s giving up.” “You really think I can replace such a beast?” “You are a beast, man!” “I don’t see it.” “Trust me man. You got what it takes.” He motions to open his mouth but stops. I can tell he is thinking. “Alright, let’s do this, bro.” he says and reaches across the table to give me a fist bump. I reach up, my fist connecting with his. “And so starts a new path to gains.” I say with a smile. “What are you up to tonight, bro?” “Nothing. I could actually go for a good workout tonight. Want to go at 6:30?” “That sounds like a good plan. I’ll head back to my frat house and change and I’ll see you there.” “Cool.” The clock soon strikes 6:30 and I find myself in the gym with Ethan. We decide to work biceps and shoulders and it is amazing. We start with preacher curls and I am mesmerized by the sheer size of Ethan’s biceps. He is wearing a tight blue compression shirt and his biceps bulge through the sleeves like boulders. I can see each dip and curve in his thick arms before he even begins doing curls and once he starts his biceps immediately begin to swell with the rush of blood. “Damn man!” I say. “Your arms are so fucking jacked.” He looks at me and turns a little red. He continues to curl the 70 pound bar with ease and I just watch in admiration. “Dude, your chest is the equivalent of my biceps. I wish I had those thick pecs, but you already know that man haha.” After we finish preacher curls we move on to hammer curls. I grab two 35 pound dumbbells and he grabs two 45s. “You going in strong man?” I ask. “Nope, this is just where I start.” Fuck. “Man, I need to be where you are.” “Give it a few weeks and you will be just as big as me.” We work our way through and everything moves so smoothly and naturally. It was a whole new and completely awesome experience. Ethan is just as strong as Troy and while he does not have the competitiveness within him that Troy had, he has his own thing going on. He’s a cool dude and I’m glad he decided to give this a shot. After we finish working shoulders we are sweaty and in desperate need of showers. We walk side by side out of the gym and I look at the locker room door. So many memories flash through my head. Memories of Troy walking around nude without a care in the world. Memories of me hearing him cum in the shower. Memories of him grabbing my cock. That’s definitely a complicated one… “Von!” “Huh. What’s going on?” “You zoned out there man.” “Sorry dude. I was thinking about some stuff.” We continue our walk out of the gym. Guess we won’t be having the locker room fun Troy and I had. It’s fine though. I did not expect it from him. “You want to meet tomorrow to wrestle or play basketball, bro?” “I’m down for that. What time?” “Tomorrow is the Spring festival so sometime after 3.” “Alright, I’ll see you then man.” We are outside now and I’m about turn to walk away when Ethan reaches up and grabs my bicep. He gives my right arm a nice hard squeeze and smiles. “I can already fell those stones growing, man. You may be able to dominate me physically one day.” “You mean how I already do in wrestling!” I say laughing. “Hey, you know I’m stronger than you when we wrestle!” “Yeah, but I’m faster.” “For now. I’ll make sure to thicken you up a bit,” he says this with a cocky smile on his face, turns away, and walks off to him room. Maybe he isn’t so different from Troy.
  16. Florida20

    Blood Brothers

    I was asked to post some of my older stories recently and am obliging by providing the ones I (a) still have on file and (b) were specifically requested. This was the original Blood Brothers story (Books 1 and 2) I posted many years ago on the old site. There is the beginnings of a Book 3 but I was gearing it up to be a Dark Tower of sorts by drawing together all of my other stories. For those who have patiently read the 100,000+ words I have posted in this genre over the years, you'd notice they all take place in the same universe, often referencing each other in some form. That became much too large an undertaking for the tastes of this site (as I started spending time on character development and plot vice muscle growth). Anyway, I haven't edited the story below since originally posting it so my apologies if it comes across as amateur...I was, after all, in my early twenties when I first jotted it down... CHAPTER 1 The first thing I saw was Casey’s hat fly into his own lunch. Then I heard laughter; not the friendly kind. Casey’s head was completely bald. He didn’t even have eyebrows. Apparently that was funny to the two fifth graders standing behind us in the cafeteria. There was no confrontation; the two abusers just went along their way. When I turned back to Casey, his normally pale face was a deep red and I could see the swelling purple veins at his temple. He said nothing, simply swallowed what he was already chewing before he took his soggy and corn-covered baseball cap out off his tray and began a mostly vain effort to clean if off with a napkin. I didn’t know what went on in his head and years later I would still think back to that moment, wondering why I did nothing about it. There were other moments I saw him tormented, I’m sure, but they have since faded into the glass haze of the past. Those few seconds, however, were somehow chosen by my brain to represent all the bullying and indifference a child went through when he was dying of leukemia. “He’s very sick” my mother told me months earlier when I complained that Casey wasn’t playing mini-mite football with me that season. I put the pads on my shoulder and fastened them while my mom held the practice jersey. “When will he get better,” I had asked. My mother looked at me with an expression I would later register as both adoring and sad. I didn’t know then how close Casey came to dying that fall. I knew what leukemia was but only in those partial truths which populated the world of a nine year old boy. It made you tired, it made you pale, and it made you lose your hair. But, like any cold or flu, I assumed you woke up one morning feeling better. “Hopefully soon,” she said in reply then put my jersey on the bed next to me and walked away. Casey and I had been friends since birth, a result of a close friendship our respective mothers had shared since they were in college. We were both active kids and my memory is speckled with bike rides through clay gorges and romps through tangled woods that our mothers would condemn and our fathers would applaud. I was always a little faster, a little taller. We were always on the same teams when we got old enough to start the annual round-robin of sports a kid is encouraged to play. Flag (then tackle) football in the fall; baseball in the spring; soccer in the summer. Juvenile athletics seemed specifically geared to ensure a snotty-nosed brat was exhausted by nightfall. The fact that their parents had the rare chance to communicate with an adult other than their spouse seemed to be a nice touch as well. Nine year olds base their reality on a limited and narrow history, and that history told me that Casey should be carpooling to practice today. It wasn’t until his hair began to fall out and he started feeling tired all the time that the seriousness of the situation began to register. Another sharp memory from that time put Casey and I in the backyard while our mothers sat on the back porch. I remember Jeannine, Casey’s mom, starting to cry and was quickly mimicked by my mother. Very few things affect a child stronger than seeing their mother cry. It diminishes their invincibility. A flash of anger swept through my body as I tried to listen to why my friend’s mom was making mine upset. “Casey,” I said sternly as I caught a word in their conversation. “What does terminal mean?” Casey stopped what he was doing and looked up at me from beneath a bare brow and scalp. There was a sly twinkle in his eye that later made me wonder what he knew of his future. “It means I’m getting on a train,” he said with a smile. I took it at face value. On the way home my mother told me they were taking Casey to a special clinic in Jacksonville. It didn’t go over well. I don’t remember much about the weeks leading up to his move but I remember him saying “see ya later” as he walked into his parents’ house on the way home from school. There was no cliché wave through the window from the back of the minivan as I chased his car down the street. Just a “see ya later” we weren’t sure was true. I lost contact with Casey but my mom would give me periodic updates she garnered from his mom. He was going through some very experimental chemotherapy on his blood. Neither of us knew much of what that entailed or meant but it didn’t sound like Casey and his family knew either. “But what’s important is that he’s alive,” she said cheerfully a few months after he left, which was the summer after fourth grade. A few months later my mom came in with a huge smile on her face. “He’s cured,” she said excitedly. I felt profound relief but could only ask when he was coming home. Her face dropped slightly before saying, “They’re going to keep him at Mayo for some tests. He didn’t respond to the tests exactly as expected.” “What does that mean?” I asked. She never answered. I’m pretty sure she didn’t know. My life moved on. Fifth grade started and ended. I went through middle school and grew into a young adult. At some point I realized I was athletic and got really into sports. At another point I realized I was good looking and got really into girls. It was the summer before ninth grade that I started lifting weights and was excited how well my body took to them. After a few months of using my dad’s basement equipment I developed a nice little six pack and had a nice bounce to my pecs. Little did I know then that it took more than pushups, and sit-ups, and some curls to go through a full body workout. But when your body comes from nothing, it responds to everything. By the time I started ninth grade, I was a mid-level stud. Nothing too special but I had a good enough mix of looks, athletics, and social stamina to made me popular enough. I played freshman football and learned what real weight training was like. The defensive coordinator, Coach Rodriguez (or Coach Rod) saw my interest in weights and took me under his wing. The team called him Coach Roid behind his back in part because of his sporadic tendency to go ballistic on a player doing something he considered brainless and also because he was 250 pounds of iron-hard muscle. “Just wait until football season is over, boy,” he said with a mischievous grin. “That’s when the real training begins.” I was excited and I looked forward to the beginning of the spring semester like it was Christmas. That didn’t mean I was stagnant through the first half of my freshman year. That first semester of high school I went from 140 to 150 and kept that six pack I was so proud of. One afternoon in mid-December, I came home after school and opened the door to find my mom sitting with Jeanette at the kitchen table. The two of them stopped their conversation and both turned to me. “Oh my, how you’ve grown,” Jeanette said with a wide smile. She got up and went over to hug me; I returned the favor. “Why you’re as tall as me now and it looks like you’ve been getting some exercise in too.” I was suddenly very conscious of the too tight shirt I was wearing. I liked the stares it got in high school hallways but it was kind of embarrassing when family and other adults noticed. “Casey will be going to school with you next semester. You think you could show him around? It’s been so long since he’s been here.” A flood of questions wanted to erupt from my mouth but seemed to be jammed in my throat. “Sure” was all that could escape. “Great,” she said and I suddenly noticed touch of sadness entering her eyes, and something else. The woman was exhausted. “He’ll be so glad to hear that. Maybe he could come by tomorrow?” I nodded, unsure why I was having trouble speaking. She nodded back and looked to my mom. “Well, Debra, we’ll have plenty of time to catch up later. It’s so good to see you again.” My mom said something similar and led her out. Once the two of them were alone, she came to the living room where I was sitting on the couch flipping channels. “Kind of a lot to take in, huh?” she said at my back. I shrugged in the way which infuriates adults trying to get information from their children. “I guess so,” I said back, not turning around. Mom sighed, forever patient, and sat next to me, then took the remote from my hand and turned off the TV. “We need to talk about Casey, sweetheart.” I turned, eyebrows raised. She took it as acquiescence. “He’s still very weak,” she said sadly. “Whatever they did to him cured his cancer but has severely limited his strength and endurance. It sounds like he really needs a friend right now. I’m hoping you could be that friend.” I thought of the hat being knocked off Casey’s head and into his lunch; how I had done nothing while my friend’s emotions boiled. Something inside of me resisted getting to know Casey again; I had a life and was really enjoying it. Did I want a sickly former friend fallowing me around? The shock that cold final thought sent through me forced the words out of my mouth. “Of course.” Our parents wasted no time: the doorbell rang the following afternoon. I was working out in the basement, dressed in a ribbed tank top and gym shorts. Standing on the other side of the door as I opened it was Casey. I recognized his face immediately but that was pretty much it. Although I knew Casey for eight years before he got sick, I remembered him only the way he looked those last six months. His dark blond hair had returned and he wore it like a mop on his head. What I remembered as grey eyes were now blue. He was also tall, taller than me I was surprised to find out. He’d always been the shorter between us, if not by much. He was slim but not sickly as I’d imagined. He actually looked healthy. “Hey, man,” he said with a forced half grin. His voice was deep. I for some reason expected the same nine year old voice.. “Hey,” I said back. We both stood there for a moment, shuffling feet. Then Casey said something that probably set the rest of their lives on the path it did. “Nothing like having our moms set us up like we were going on a date, huh?” I laughed genuinely and suddenly felt like everything was back to a normal too long ago to remember clearly. “I know. My mom acted like she was asking me to take the ugly girl to the prom.” The other side of Casey’s mouth finally completed the smile. “Awe, at least she’d put out,” he said, neither one of them really knowing exactly what that meant. “Come in,” I said, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders that I didn’t even know was there. “You working out?” he asked, his eyes shining. I looked down, realizing the colder air of the first floor had covered me in sweat. “Yeah,” I said. “Football season just ended and I’m trying to pack on some weight for next year.” “Still play football?” he asked, genuinely interested. I nodded as he followed me down the stairs to the basement. “Yeah, they want to send me to varsity next year so Coach Rod says I need to be at least 170 when the season starts.” We made it to my dungeon of a basement. My dad’s “gym” consisted of a weight bench, a bowflex, and an EZ curl bar with some plates…none of which my dad used. My mom was just happy to see the “rusty metal get some dusting.” I started putting some weights away, suddenly very conscious of what my mom told me yesterday. I looked at him standing tall and lanky surrounded by a room full of iron. Sometimes boyish impertinence overcomes social expectations: “You don’t look sick,” I said bluntly. “I don’t feel sick,” he replied just as bluntly. A pause. “I’m not sick.” “Mom says you can’t do any activity,” I retorted. He shrugged. “Not supposed to. My body can’t take it.” “What did they do to you?” I asked softly. He sat down on the bench, brushing hair from his eyes with his hand, eyes looking inward. “I don’t know much,” he said finally. “I remember what they said they were going to do but I don’t remember when they actually did it. They put me in a cold coma and circulated blood from my body into some sort of machine that introduced an enzyme which was supposed to kill the cancerous cells.” “I guess it worked,” I said simply. He looked at me patiently. “They said I had days left to live. That the cancer had metastasized to my organs and bones. There was no hope,” he said calmly. “I was prepared to die.” Not a fan of dark moods, I said what came naturally. “Sorry the docs let you down, buddy,” I chuckled and quickly changed the direction of the conversation. “But why were you gone for so long?” Casey sighed. “I was cured within six months but apparently I was reacting to the treatment strangely. That’s the part I don’t remember very well. I thought I handled all those stress tests fine; I felt better than ever. I was gaining weight back and everything. But the doctors told me that I failed them and that I had to minimize any activity.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a baggie with some pills. “I have to take these three times a day and avoid any physical exertion.” He smiled. “They taste like death.” “What do they do?” I asked. “They supposedly keep my body from falling apart. Exercise in a bottle my doctor said.” I was intrigued. “Do they work?” I asked and Casey surprised me by taking off his shirt, revealing the body of a healthy teenager. He was by no means as built as I was. Although couple of inches taller than my 5’7” I probably still outweighed him by a few pounds. But for someone who apparently never exercised, he looked pretty good. “You been cheating, Casey?” I asked with a grin. My friend shook his head. “No. I haven’t had a chance to. I’ve been on ‘round the clock surveillance for years. In fact, this is the first time I can remember being away from doctors and parents at the same time.” I looked at the pills in his hand. “Um, Casey,” I began nervously. “What would those pills do to someone like me? Someone who works out?” My friend shrugged nervously and looked at the baggy. “I don’t know,” he said simply. “They never told me what they are.” He paused and looked at me seriously. “Not sure if I like where this is going.” Damn, I thought. “Dude, just one. You take them three times a day, every day. What would one do? It’s not like it’ll kill me. I’ll take one, you can help me finish my workout, and we’ll do something else.” Casey looked back at the pills and then proved many parents right when it comes to estimating the decision-making skills of their young teen. “All right,” he said and threw me one from his bag. My heart was fluttering in my chest. If this did what I wanted it to, I thought, Casey might have to tell his mom he lost his bottle. Casey helped me rack my weights and we began what was supposed to be the final thirty minutes of today’s workout. CHAPTER 2 “Dude,” I said breathlessly. “I have to sit down.” We were about a five minute walk from my house, Casey’s suggestion. He wanted to get a feel for the old neighborhood. My old friend acquiesced and sat with me on the concrete drainage ledge on the side of the typical suburban street. “That workout really tapped you, didn’t it,” he said to me as I sat down next to him. I barked a grumpy laugh as I got comfortable. “It was the worst workout of my life,” I said in spite of my intension to merely think it. Casey shifted. “Looked like you started off really into it.” I thought for a moment and realized he was right. I was doing great initially; every rep felt like it was making my muscles larger. But within minutes, the inspiration wore off and a few minutes after that every lift was a chore. He didn’t feel sick, he didn’t even feel weak. It was like his body was depressed in spite of his mind. “My burps taste like a dog’s ass,” I said as a particularly raunchy one erupted up my throat. My friend chuckled. “If I didn’t know what you were talking about, I’d ask how you could be so sure.” “Those pills suck,” I said mirthlessly. Casey blushed. “What did you expect?” he asked, slightly offended. “To blow up like a beast?” “Well,” I began, “yeah.” Then I laughed. We both did. “Sorry to disappoint,” Casey said with a chuckle. “Guess these have a different effect on you.” I was disappointed, but I thought of the personal instruction Coach Rod was going to give me after school next semester and I brightened up. Besides, I was in a better situation than Casey. “You ever think about doubling your dose? You know, to see what happens?” Casey chuckled under his breath. “Yeah, made me feel like shit.” His face grew serious. “Dude, I feel like I’ve been a shadow walking through life these last few years. I don’t even remember what it’s like to just be a normal kid. I’m ready to start over.” “What do you mean?” I asked. Casey looked over at me. “Everything I read about leukemia says that I had something different all those years ago. Nothing adds up and for years I’ve felt the pawn in a scientific game. I can’t even trust my parents anymore.” “You can trust them,” I said confidently. “They did everything they could to make you better. Even moved to another state.” Casey nodded as if he knew that very well. “Well, now that I’m out from under that doctor’s and everyone else’s microscope, I can start being a kid again. Apparently the more experimental a procedure is, the more they own you afterwards.” He took the baggie of pills from his pocket. Tears were streaming down his face. “Fuck that doctor and fuck these pills.” He threw the baggie into my lap. “They are yours for all I care.” Ten minutes later, when Casey’s sobs had softened into short breaths, we got up and started walking to his old house where his parents were still moving in. He actually spit out a sad laugh as he wiped his eyes. “You would have probably had a less emotional day if your mom had forced you to take the ugly girl to the prom.” I laughed as well. “Yeah, well I got you to take your shirt off well before she would have.” I paused. “It’s good to have you back.” And it was. We made it back to Casey’s house. I still felt out of breath and lethargic, as if I’d spent a week straight sitting on a couch. Casey went up to the back of the moving truck and went to pick up a box. “What are you thinking?” a shrill voice moaned from the house. I turned and saw Casey’s mom rush from the house. “You know you’re not able to do that.” Casey let out an exasperated sigh and he put the box back on the truck bed. “Just thought I’d give you a taste of my life’s been like,” he whispered to me under his breath. He walked back into the house. I turned to follow after him, but I didn’t miss the sad and desperate look on Jeanette’s face. “I’m sorry,” I said and ran into the house. “Don’t be,” he heard her say quietly at his back. Three days later, winter break began and it was a countdown to spring and my new workout regimen. I got supplements for Christmas, and lots of it. “That’s all you’ve been talking about for four months,” my mom said. “We didn’t know what else to get you.” She looked nervously at my hoard. “That stuff is safe, right?” Casey and I continued to grow closer and before long we felt like the friends we used to be. On the Saturday before school started, on one particularly chilly day, the two of us were racing our bikes through the paths we did as young children. Casey’s mom didn’t approve but her son was breaking her down little-by-little. Besides, he felt great he said, and he wasn’t even taking the pills anymore. Not that his mother knew that last part, and she thought we were just casually riding through the paved streets of the neighborhood and not these arduous semi-trails in the rolling woods which lay at its border. Deep in the woods behind Casey’s house, we were pushing our bikes to the limit jumping over fallen trees and powering our way up hills. After a particularly daunting hill, he pulled to a stop. We were both out of breath but relishing the exhaustion the way only the young are able. “What’s wrong?” I asked, suddenly worried about Casey’s frail health. I turned towards him. His face was flushed and healthy, and that made me relax a bit. “Nothing,” he said as he stepped off his bike. He looked down at his legs and kicked them around at the knee, testing them. “Nothing,” he said again. Then he looked at me, his eyes sparkling. “You know, I’ve felt better and better ever since I stopped taking those pills.” I’d heard this before from him over the last couple days but was still confused by it. I hadn’t taken one after that first day so had nothing to compare it against. “Why do you think that is?” I asked, unzipping my jacket to let some cold air in. Casey seemed more interested in his legs than answering my question but eventually spoke. “You know my clothes aren’t fitting like they used to.” “Well, stop eating so much food,” I said sarcastically. The guy seemed to be eating whenever we weren’t stealing away from the steady gaze of his mother do to something she didn’t approve of. Casey’s eyebrows shot up and he smiled a knowing smile. “Let me show you something,” he said and started taking off his jacket. “What are you doing,” I asked him but barely finished the sentence before he pulled off his sweater and undershirt. The sight choked any other words from escaping. I couldn’t believe it. My friend was a stud. The overhead sun cast shadows under his pecs and detailed every soft line of his abdominal muscles all the way to the hem of his pants. Although not as striated as they were a few weeks ago, his pecs were easily denser and he bounced them a few times for good measure. Then he flexed his arms and a small bulge bloomed from each. A shadow was easily noticeable between his flexed biceps and relaxed triceps. He was easily as big as me now, and taller. “Holy shit,” I whispered. “That’s nothing,” he said and his smile grew wider as he bent over and unzipped his jeans. Dropping his pants revealed a set of quads that belonged on a track star. They swelled from his knee caps and were covered in deep set lines which only grew deeper when he flexed them. Turning revealed a ripped set of hamstrings and a set of striated glutes that bulged through his boxers. Compared to these oaks, his upper body looked like a sapling. “What the fuck?” I blurted out, unable to comprehend what my friend had become. “Sick, right?” Casey said. “Every day we ride our bikes through here, they start swelling like this. They tingle all day, like a mini-orgasm that lasts for hours. The shrink down after a few hours but, when I wake up the next morning, they’re definitely bigger than the day before.” I was at a loss. “How…what…dude!” Casey laughed as he pulled up his jeans, which for some reason disappointed me a bit. How have I missed it? It wasn’t hard to notice the size of his lower half even through the denim. The pieces were starting to come together in my head. I suddenly asked the right question. “What did they do to you in Jacksonville?” Casey’s smile dropped and his eyes lost their mirth. “I don’t know,” he said seriously, still shirtless in the cold. “But I’m not going to be their guinea pig anymore.” “What do you mean?” I asked, a little fearful of his tone. He smiled again and his eyes flashed with excitement. “I have a favor to ask,” he said. CHAPTER 3 Coach Rodriguez, or Coach Roid as his players called him when he wasn’t looking, looked at the two of us with a stern look. His heavily veined arms were crossed in front of his steel gut, making his forearms look like the size of pig shanks. “Now I know you,” he said to me. “And I know your dedication. I see something in you. But who’s this other kid you think I ought to waste my time to train?” Casey didn’t flinch but he let me answer. “I think you’ll like his work ethic every bit as much as mine.” It was the afternoon of the first day of spring semester. The day I’d been waiting for. And I was here with my best friend. Coach scanned Casey with his eyes. “You bring gym clothes?” he asked casually. Without hesitation, Casey took off his shirt and jeans. While he was wearing a pair of gym shorts beneath the jeans, apparently “gym clothes” meant bare above the waste. At 6’3” and an easy 250, Coach Rod made the two of us look like bean poles but he was surprised to see the definition on Casey. “Where you been all season?” he asked my friend. I was about to answer but Casey appropriately cut me off. “I’m new here, sir,” was all he said. “You play football?” “Used to,” he replied. Even though “used to” meant five years ago, Coach Rod apparently thought that was enough to assume Casey would be in pads next season. “I’ll tell you what, squirt; you give me one hundred pushups right here, right now, I’ll train your ass.” Casey immediately got on the floor and started doing pushups at a quick pace. “Real pushups, squirt,” he screamed loud enough to get a blood filled cable to rise from his neck. “Not those girly shits, elbows at ninety. There you go. That’s one.” About five real pushups later, Casey began to slow. Muscled or not, I wasn’t sure he’d done a push up since PE in third grade. I was suddenly hoping Casey could do twenty, let alone a hundred. Casey got to ten before his arms started to shake. Coach rolled his head and stared dramatically at the ceiling. “Oh, Jesus Christ, what the hell is it with these pussies? All this aesthetics bullshit and they can’t even throw their own weight around.” “Fifteen,” Casey said through gritted teeth. Coach looked back down at my still shaking friend. He kept his arms straight for a moment to catch his breath then dipped back down with shaky arms. “Six…teen,” he gasped as he slowly made his way back up. “Ok, kid,” Coach said. “I’m not sure you’re going to—“ “I’M NOT FINISHED,” Casey roared as the dropped down and pushed another rep. Coach’s eyebrows dropped and his face grew red in anger. He opened his mouth to verbally assault the disrespectful sod but was cutoff again by Casey yelling “Seventeen!” Only now each pushup seemed to be getting easier. By twenty he was only struggling and by thirty he was performing each rep in a clean, fluid motion. Fifty, sixty. The muscle on his back began to flush red and roll beneath the skin. “Well I’ll be damned,” Coach said under his breath. I could only smile. Seventy, eighty. Casey’s breath was now steady and strong. The horseshoes of his triceps, once only vaguely visible, now flared angrily from beneath his skin. Ninety. Then Casey did something I still can’t get over: he took one hand off the ground and started doing one armed pushups. One hundred… one-oh-one, one-oh-two. I started laughing. Coach got serious behind his own sardonic grin. “Get up, you arrogant ass,” he said. “I get it. You’re in. But can it with the sarcasm. You wasted a lot of my time acting like you would collapse at twenty.” Casey stood up, his face red with the effort and his pecs bulging like a pair of watermelons. Coach gasped and had his hand on my friend’s pec before he even knew what he was doing. Casey smiled and flexed them, making each into a striated ball that pushed against Coach’s touch. They were now so out of proportion with Casey’s body, the almost looked like breasts. “Um, ok,” Coach said as he dropped his hand and wiped it on his hip as if cleaning what he’d just done out of history. “This could be interesting.” Casey didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were semi-closed as if stoned. He flexed his pecs a few more times, squeezing them together as if noticing them for the first time. Then coach screamed an inch from his ear, “Wake up Goldilocks!” That did the trick. Five minutes later, the two of us were marching to Coach’s relentless drum. He pushed me a dozen reps past what I used to consider my max effort. He had me falling on the ground before he let up. I puked twice but he was quick to throw me a pre-made protein smoothie or something similar each time. “Nothing worse than working out on an empty stomach,” Coach said with a wry grin. It was the hardest day of my life, without question, but I could say that knowing that well over half the coach’s attention was on Corey. Coach seemed to finally understand that Corey somehow gained strength on each set, so he would start Corey off with light weight and incrementally increase it after five or so reps until he reached some sort of max. “You’re making me break every rule in the book, son,” the man told my friend after a particularly intense set under the bench press. Corey had just finished forty reps, the final ones being at 245 pounds. His entire body now matched the size of his swollen pectorals. It was like he was gaining mass out of nowhere, although coach was handing him every food item he had at hand throughout the workout. Although I knew he was 155 when we started this workout, he now looked over 180 and cut like a mountain. By the end of the hour, Casey had the sum of Coach’s attention. And I was ok with that. Casey lifted like an insane superhero and his body bulged more with every rep. Finally, Coach called it quits. As the energy in the room died down, Coach Rod’s game-time fury dissolved into something akin to confusion. “Young man, I don’t know what is going on with you, but I’ll be goddamned if I’ve ever seen anything like it.” He looked at Corey’s naked torso, now looking like an avid teen bodybuilder’s. “What are you taking, boy?” Corey smiled up at the behemoth man. “Nothing, I swear.” And it was the truth. Coach didn’t seem convinced but let it go. “I’ll see the two of you here at 4 pm on Wednesday. Eat at least four thousand calories a day from here on out.” He looked at Corey’s gorged body again and reached out to squeeze his arm, as it proving he was seeing reality. Corey lifted his arm and flexed what must have been a 16” arm. Not huge, but definitely bigger than the 13” one he walked in here with. Coach mumbled under his breath and continued doing so after he turned to leave. I only caught a few, “freak” was one of them. CHAPTER 4 “One hundred eighty three pounds!” Corey exclaimed through a mouthful of food as he stepped off the scale. That was a gain of over thirty pounds…in three hours. It shouldn’t be possible. It wasn’t possible. I mimicked Coach Rod and put my hand on my friend’s body, if only to make sure it was real. His skin was burning hot and there was a vibration coming from the muscle underneath, so faint that it may have been my imagination. And his body was hard. Too hard. It was like touching a brick wall covered in skin. He was in only his boxers, which now looked more like briefs on his gorged body. He had the vascularrity of a bodybuilder; there was muscle everywhere. I kept expecting the insane pump he attained during the workout to go away but if anything he was bigger than before, and more defined. A pump usually makes you look bigger but not more defined. That ballooned look was now gone, replaced by striated and cut muscle that was every bit as big. “How big do you think I am?” Corey asked while he entertained me checking out his deep cut abs. I pulled my hand away. “Guess we can find out,” I said simply. Five minutes later, I had found a tape measure and had measured every part of him that wasn’t covered in fabric. Neck 15.2”, Arms 16.1”, Forearms 12.6”, Waist 31”, Hips 34.7”, thighs 26”, calves 16”, chest 46.8.” “How is this possible?” I asked, meaning for it to be rhetorical. Casey’s eyes flashed and his mouth narrowed. “Isn’t it obvious? They’ve spent the last three years doing everything they could to keep this from happening. Well, I’m not under their vulturous stare anymore. I own my body,” he said as he threw up a double bicep flex that would be the envy of anyone at the school. “And I’ll fucking do what I want with it.” My brain had enough; it was exhausted. I looked at my watch. “Dude, it’s eleven at night. You staying here tonight or you want my mom to take you home?” Casey was snapped out of his cloud and looked up. “Staying here. If my mom sees this, I don’t know what she’d do. She’s obviously tried to keep it from happening.” I couldn’t exactly disagree with him so I threw him a pillow and blanket and told him to sleep on the floor. Two hours later I was still awake, eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling. Casey, as energetic and excited as he was, had surprised me by falling asleep immediately. The causes of my insomnia were a mix of a racing mind and the frequent moans of my friend as he perpetually shifted under his blanket. I was more than a little jealous of my buddy’s sudden…superpower, but I was happy for him. A week earlier I thought my life was perfect. I figured by sophomore year I’d be 180 or more; after that, who knows? If anything, having my friend back should make my life better, right? I smiled at the ceiling as Casey shifted again under his sheets. As a sense of peace settled over my mind, I finally closed my eyes and fell asleep. Strange sounds fluttered into my dreams throughout the night. However, as often happens when one falls asleep to unwanted background noise, my sleep remained firm if light. I don’t know how long the sounds continued but it wasn’t until the grey light of predawn filtered through my window that I finally opened my eyes. The first thing I saw was the black silhouette rummaging through my closet. The second thing was the mess on my floor. Empty bottles were everywhere and after a few seconds I recognized them to be most of the supplements I got for Christmas…empty. I could feel anger bubbling through the sleepy fog blanketing my mind, but it was soon cooled by a sense of curiosity tinged with fear. “Casey?” I asked the lumbering shape in my room. He didn’t respond and the fear pushed up a couple notches. Although the logical part of my brain said of course its Casey, the rest of it knew that couldn’t be true. The shape was too…different. I got out of bed, quickly losing any groggy remnants of sleep, and made my way to the door. Although I tripped over a few empty jugs of protein on my way to the light switch, the shape didn’t seem to register it. It seemed completely absorbed in eating my damn supplements. I flipped on the switch, my eyes squinted at the harsh new light but quickly registered the site before me none-the-less, and I almost passed out at the site of it. CHAPTER 5 Although the beast in front of me had Casey’s hair, the similarity ended there. He was facing away from me, his back muscles bulging and writhing as large hands sifted through what used to be my supplement store. Traps rose up and disappeared behind the shaggy mane atop his head. They ended at shoulders the size of cantaloupes. The rest of his back was wide a mountain of muscle that tapered into a waste more tight and taught than I thought possible. His boxers were glued to his skin and every striated detail of his glutes showed through the fabric. His oak tree legs were now redwoods and tapered down to calves that could carve granite. “Casey?” I asked again, my voice horse and barely above a whisper as I drew closer. He was obviously taller, perhaps 6’1 and that made him look even wider. I walked around him and glanced at his face from the side. His eyes were only partly open as if in a trance and his mouth hung gaping open whenever he wasn’t chewing on something. “CASEY!” I said louder. Still nothing. I reached up and grabbed his rock of a shoulder, trying to shake him. It wasn’t as effective as I’d hoped, he barely even moved even when I tried moving him with both hands. I ended up bulldozing into him with all my weight behind me before he took a balancing step and snapped out of it. “What?” he asked curiously, as if I’d simply woken him up from a good night’s sleep. He squinted at the light just as I had a moment earlier and wiped sleep from his eyes with his hands. Finally somewhat conscious, he looked at the mess on the floor around him. “What did you do to your room, man?” he asked innocently. I was more than at a loss for words. As Casey turned to me he revealed a body that could grace the cover of any fitness magazine. His pecs bulged from his ribs and looked like they were straining to cover the distance from sternum to shoulder. Eight dense and ripped abdominal muscles were carved between oblique walls that, themselves, bulged as if his ribs themselves were growing. His biceps were veined globes of muscle that looked made of steel even while relaxed at his side. My silence seemed to give Casey pause to figure things out for himself and it didn’t take long for him to notice how much taller he was than me now. Less than an inch over my 5’7 yesterday, he was now at least 4 inches taller…maybe more. He looked down at his hands, his eyebrows rising. Then he saw his body and a quiver went through his ripped form. “Look at me,” he whispered, mostly to himself. He put his hands on his stomach as if testing its reality. He smiled and his eyes lit up like a child on Christmas morning. “Look at me!” he said louder. “I am, I am,” I whispered harshly. “And quiet down, will ya? Last thing I want to explain to my parents is why there’s a big, naked bodybuilder in my bedroom at…5 am.” Casey strolled up, heavy footed and obviously not used to his added weight. “Wanna make me?” he asked with a mocking grin. I gulped. I was roughly eye level with his chin, making his powerful chest very visible in my field of view. Each pec looked as big as my head. He caught me staring and gave one a bounce just for good measure. It popped up like there was an animal trying to get out of it. “Go ahead,” he said. “Touch it.” I did. Maybe any overly muscled person felt like my friend Casey did that day but it was a far cry from the body I called my own. His skin was smooth yet barely contained muscle as hard as bone. When, flexed it was a whole different story. It was like touching a block of steel. It’s not like his size was inhuman but I’d never seen a body like this except in pictures and it was a completely different world when there in the flesh so to speak. He was just...so much bigger than me. “It’s incredible,” I said as I moved my hand to his bicep, first poking it goofily with my index finger, then grabbing it with my hand. His skin was still on fire and there was still that faint vibration. It was like the rumble of the earth when a freight train is passing nearby. He curled his arm at the elbow and I felt a powerful bulge rise up and push my hand back. “You should feel it the way I feel it,” he said breathlessly. “It’s like the only thing keeping me from being twice this size is my skin.” I couldn’t necessarily disagree with the idea; his skin felt as tight as a balloon ready to pop. After a few awkward moments of silence where I could only feel a body I had only dreamed of seeing let alone have, we finally got down to business. “I guess your supplements work,” Casey said finally. “I’m sorry about that, man. Would you believe I didn’t know what I was doing?” I nodded, and did. I could hear the sound of movement from elsewhere in the house meaning my parents were up and about. They could not see Casey like this. Luckily, I had some clothes and a jacket to hide his width but not much would hide his height. “You shower up and find some clothes. I’ll go get some breakfast.” Casey nodded and walked to the bathroom, feet pounding like a gorilla’s. “Quietly,” I whispered. “I don’t want them to even know you’re here and that won’t happen if you’re stomping all over the place.” “Sorry, man,” Casey said as he adjusted his stride to tiptoes, forcing his vein-covered calves to flare out like diamonds. “You try being stealthy with a body like this.” He flexed his back for good measure…I didn’t even know you could even do that. I rolled my eyes and went downstairs, only to find the kitchen a small disaster zone. Slight panic welled up in my gut when I realized Casey had not only eaten my supplements but had devoured everything in the kitchen. I pictured him sleepwalking in only his boxers, rummaging through the kitchen, body expanding with every bite of food. Considering the situation, I considered myself lucky it was only as messy as it was. He was surprisingly thorough, leaving only empty cans and boxes scattered everywhere. I spent the next ten minutes gathering the tuna cans, peanut butter jars, egg cartons, milk jugs, deli meat bags, Wheat Thins, cereal boxes, you name it. By the time I was done, the pantry and fridge looked like they belonged to a poor college student…without the ramen noodles. Even after collapsing everything to as compact a pile as possible, it still filled up the garbage can in the garage. With no breakfast save a handful of goldfish crackers he had missed, I went back up to my room, still hearing the rushing water from my shower. Looking at the clock, I saw it was already 5:45, fifteen minutes before my parents ventured downstairs. I started to panic a little but kept my cool. I barged into the bathroom and drew the curtain on my friend, who seemed to be lathering his body for the tenth time. “You fucking ate my kitchen bare,” I said. He looked at me, looking half annoyed I wouldn’t let him enjoy his new body and half amused at the situation. “Oops,” he said. He flexed his arm. “Does a body good. These puppies are over eighteen inches around.” They looked every bit that big. I looked on the counter and saw my tape measure in a pool of water, as if he used it in the shower. The scale was also sitting in a pool of water. He must have thought of that particular stat after he got in. “Two twenty one,” he said smugly, following my eyes. My jaw dropped but I wasn’t all that surprised. It’s not like that body was full of air. It took every shred of effort not to touch his body again. “Look, you gotta dry up and get dressed, Casey,” I said, practically begging him to cooperate. :We got fifteen minutes before my parent notice we were invaded by a mob of hungry drifters.” That seemed to get his attention because he immediately turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. His glutes formed ruggedly carved boulders each time they bounced with each step. He grabbed a towel and dried off, seemingly enjoying the experience as much as he did the shower. Meanwhile, I held up the clothes he wore yesterday to my own body and quickly ruled out his ability to wear them. I rummaged through my closet for the biggest clothes I could find, meaning invading the stash of gifts from my grandmother, who seemingly thought I looked like adult-large material. “You’ll grow into it,” she had said confidently. “Yeah, in five years,” I said to myself. Five minutes later, we were both dressed, sort of. The shirt looked almost painted on his torso and the pants, although only slightly snug at the legs and butt, rose a good inch above the ankle standing up. “Well, I wouldn’t worry about people making fun of your capris,” I said after he made a comment about them. “Who would dare?” he said cockily. His feet were too big for his shoes now, so I gave him a pair of flip flops. The fact his toes and heels extended past the soles was nothing compared to the ridiculous ensemble he was already wearing. I completed it with my oversized ski jacket. If anything it made him look bigger, but at least that size might be blamed on the clothes and not the man underneath. We both crept down the stairs. Well, I crept. He stomped like a one-man marching band. “I can’t help it,” he said, still grinning. “Honey, is that you?” my mom said from her room. “Yeah,” I yelled back, my face red with frustration. “Heading to school early. Have a meeting.” It was the most ridiculous explanation I could have offered but it seemed to suffice to a woman who didn’t know there was anything to worry about. “There’s leftovers in the fridge for lunch,” she said in reply. Casey failed at any attempt to hold back a laugh, most of it escaping through his nose in a sort of snort. In spite of myself, I laughed too. What can I say? It was funny. “Thanks mom,” I said, voice filled with humor. Ten seconds later we were out the door. “Well, its six am,” I said matter-of-factly. “School doesn’t start for another hour-and-a-half.” I looked over and saw Casey thumbing through his wallet. “I’m sure we could fill that time up.” Believe it or not, we did. School was about a half mile from my house, as was a local convenience store. After raiding it of any nutritional value and one extra large “No Fear” t-shirt that I didn’t know people even sold anymore, we found ourselves back in the gym at school. “I wanna test these babies out,” Casey had said, popping a double bicep flex while walking down the road. The jacket stood attention as it rose with his bulging arms. I relaxed somewhat. That jacket was plenty big enough even if the shirt underneath was not. Fourteen hours and sixty pounds after his first gym experience, my friend Casey, cancer survivor, was benching 405 lbs for reps. My body was in tatters from the night before, feeling like it would hurt for days. I wasn’t looking forward to tomorrow’s workout with coach. But Casey’s body was apparently begging to be used. His chest swelled with each rep, his lats flaring like wings as he pushed his arms up. He was beginning to look like a pro-bodybuilder, except his muscles were still long and hard, not puffy and bloated like I’d seen on the cover of magazines. Not for the first time I wondered what the limit of his growth would be. Between each set, Casey would pose in the mirror, and each time a new body would pose back, a little bigger, a little leaner, a little stronger. It was something neither of us got tired of. However, at 7 am, I finally touched his boulder of a shoulder and told him it was time to stop. People might be showing up soon. “So what,” he said, the left side of his mouth curling up in a smile as arrogant as a drunken fratboy. “Let ‘em come. He flexed his biceps and Olympian arms exploded from their cocoon, both heads of each biceps stretching their constraining skin.” I still remember the feeling I had right then, inches away from the herculean body of what must have been the most developed fifteen year old in the world. Little did I know then how many Casey’s there were out there. I finally convinced him to put his clothes back on and walk to the front of school, and it involved letting him know that more people could see him there than here. The jeans were a little tighter and the polo shirt was a joke. It stretched across his torso like a rubber band, every ravine in his back visible and every bulge threatening to tear it apart. He smiled knowingly and lifted his arm. “Corey, no,” I said pleadingly but he had already flexed his bicep and the sleeve ripped lean across the seam and his arm exploded out of it like water bursting from a dam. It was criss-crossed in veins and the striations writhed beneath. “Dude,” I said, internally wincing at how winey I sounded. “That was a nice shirt.” “Was,” he said matter-of-factly as he ripped the rest off as if it were paper. After a pause, he looked up guiltily, “Sorry, bro, got carried away.” I couldn’t feign anger I didn’t feel. Everything that had happened since he awoke that morning was too incredible to focus on the negatives. Looks like it was a No Fear day, which was somewhat appropriate. It fit well, his vascular arms and 60” chest still had some breathing room. Ten minutes later we were both milling around in front of the school with the rest of the early arriving students. Although at school the day before, I never really had the chance to introduce Casey to any of my friends. He made up for that today. People I only rarely spoke to now came up for no reason to introduce themselves. One in ten looked like the name sparked a memory from years back but none said anything. Most had never known Casey anyway. His face was the only thing that made him look the age he said he was. The jacket was somewhat successful hiding the bodybuilder figure he was sporting but the jeans, ridiculously baggy on me and only barely tight on him an hour ago, now showed off his powerful legs that took every inch of its circumference. He was a hit to say the least. We split up for home room but shared first period. At no point did I see him without food in his mouth, most gotten from the convenience store, the rest from the “healthy” vending machines in the hallways. He stood out when we walked from class-to-class, easily mistaken for a senior athlete. In a class laden with other freshman, he looked downright foreign. He did well and kept his jacket on, although he looked increasingly uncomfortable and shifted around in a way that garnered some unwanted (or wanted) attention from the rest of the class. Our schedules split us up until lunchtime, and the couple of hours in between allowed me to hear all the rumors flying around about the “hot new stud” at school. I even heard one of the teachers whispering about him to her aid. “We’re training together,” I often said to any person curious how I knew him. More than once, I garnered the reaction I secretly wanted: the look that pictured me being just as big as him one day. The bell for lunch finally arrived and I finally saw Casey again. He was hard to miss. I still couldn’t get over how big he was and suddenly realized that I was at eye level with his upper chest now. My heart both sank and fluttered at the same time. He was still getting bigger. He had to be 6’5” now. The hem of his pants was well up his calf now and his quads and glutes now pressed violently against the denim and stretched it across his girth. The thick jacket now only served to enhance his frame. Although it still did a good job taking away his definition, his biceps now stretched it when his arms were bent and you could begin to see the outline of his chest under the inches of padding and cotton insulation. He was eating beef jerky out of a Warehouse sized bag and carried a gallon jug of water with his pinky as if it were an empty teacup. “Where did you get that shit?” I asked harshly, knowing quite well how unintimidating I was. I had to very obviously look up to make eye contact with him. “The varsity football players have a food horde in the locker room. They hooked me up,” he said, seemingly unaware or uncaring of my tone. “You have to stop eating like that,” I said, somewhat desperately. He stopped chewing for a moment and raised his eyebrows. “Would you in my situation?” he said as he put another piece of jerky in his mouth and washed it down with a third of the jug, the muscles in his jaw flares with every bite. God, he had muscles everywhere. Ultimately, I couldn’t say I would act any differently so we went to lunch like nothing was wrong. While in line, Casey received second glances from everyone who passed by. He didn’t even act like he noticed, but I saw his eyes briefly make contact with some of the onlookers. He knew, and was loving every minute of it. We sat down at what would be called the “cool kids” table if this were 1987. Casey and all his size sat in the place of honor in the middle. His tray looked like my plate did on Thanksgiving: so loaded up with food that you couldn’t even see the porcelain underneath. Apparently the lunch ladies knew he was a hungry boy and were delighted to help quench his stomach. He was flanked by my friends Jeremy and Amelia while I sat on the opposite site of the table from him. Both friends were making seemingly accidental contact with him too often for it to be as it appeared, and both didn’t seem to fathom what they were touching. Then Casey really set the table off: halfway through lunch, he took off his jacket and lay in on his lap. “Can’t hardly breathe,” he told me when my eyes grew wide. “Jesus Christ,” Chandler Roberts exclaimed with alarm from the end of the table. And that was the least of the comments which erupted from the table, not to mention from other people in the cafeteria. Carla, the girl sitting to my right, reacted by actually spitting her iced tea all over Jeremy’s face. To say Casey was bigger than this morning was an understatement. The No Fear shirt was an errant flex away from tearing apart. How big did one have to be to stretch an XL shirt by that much? His lats bulged and his shoulders looked like pumpkins, ridges and all. His chest was pressing against the shirt comically and bounced involuntarily with every movement of his arm. The veins and striations in his arms bulged through the t-shirt as if the fabric were merely paind. His back must have been equally impressive, for it garnered as much attention from the crowd seated behind him as his front received from us. “How on earth did you get all those muscles?” Colton, a friend of mine sitting next to me, also a bit of a gym rat, asked. “Hard work,” he said simply as he chugged his third carton of milk. His unflexed, but boulder-looking arm looked to be at least 20” around. Carla, who was still emotionally recovering from giving Jeremy’s face a bath, gawked openly. The rest of the lunch period, of course, revolved around Casey. And to be honest, I loved it. A couple of minutes after Jeremy finished drying his face, a particularly huge senior walked by and ducked his head next to Casey’s ear. “I don’t know who you are, or why you’re sitting with the freshman, but I would kill to train with you, bro.” Casey grinned and at that precise moment, the fabric over his right shoulder split down the seam and ran itself all the way up to his neck, allowing the fabric on either side to fall back and reveal a smooth and gargantuan trap. I swear I didn’t see him flex or anything, but the timing was too perfect to not speculate intent. The big senior’s head snapped back and he dropped his lunch tray to the ground while his mouth hung open like a fish out of water. Casey turned around and I heard another stitch pop somewhere but didn’t know where. “I don’t know if you could handle my routine,” he said before turning back around. The senior walked away, leaving his trey on the ground and his gaze on Casey’s bare shoulder. The rest of the table was silent. By the time we were getting up from lunch, Casey sounded like an old ship at sea, every stitch of clothing creaked as they were pulled tighter and tighter or snapping all-together. Each bulge of his abs were clearly visible and protruded from below his shirt like a super-hero from a comic book. His quads bounced and boiled enough to show off their deep cuts even through the thick denim of his jeans. He seemed to realize that it would be a good idea to put the jacket back on but even it was looking comically tight by this point. “I don’t know what to say,” I whispered to him. And it was true. “Say it’s awesome,” he said with a laugh. I turned towards him, not surprised to see that I was eye level with the lower part of his chest now. Looking down, the bottom of his shredded calves could now be seen below the bottom cuff of his…my…jeans. I guessed he was 6’6, and maybe 260 lbs. Hell, maybe 300. Maybe more. It was hard to tell at this point. The lines of his biceps and triceps bulged through the polymer fabric of the jacket. It camouflaged nothing now. He might as well be walking around shirtless. My jeans groaned with each step he took. “I think you should stop eating until we get you out of here,” I said on our way to English, which we happened to both share. As if to answer, he pulled out yet another bag of beef jerky and started eating it one shredded leaf at a time. I sighed, but my stomach was fluttering. He was right. This was awesome. There were two more periods that day and I was counting down every second until that final bell. English was a lesson in patience. Casey sat next to me, concentrating only on what he was putting in his mouth. It seemed like every bite of food Casey swallowed resulted in the sound of another stitch popping somewhere on his body. The jacket now looked painted on him and, by the end of the period, I knew that the popping stitches were now coming from the jacket. The shirt underneath was probably just rags at this point. We split up for the final class and as I watched him go, standing head-and-shoulders above anyone else in the hallway and half again as wide. A trail opened up for him and not an eye was drawn to him as he passed by. I could only guess what he would look like by the final bell; a mere hour away. CHAPTER 6 I was standing in front of school after the final bell, allowing the milling masses of students to walk around me as I waited for Casey to meet me for our walk home. My last period was rife with whispered rumors about what happened with my swelling friend during our lunch period and the claims grew wilder as the minutes rolled by. “He picked Rick Barnes up by the neck and threw him across the lunch room,” I heard one guy say. I supposed Rick Barnes was the football player who asked to work out with him. The general consensus had Casey at well over seven feet tall and having to duck and turn sideways to get through a doorway. I chuckled internally at the exaggeration stated as fact yet had to question how far from the truth it actually was. As I eavesdropped on the conversations in the hallway and outside in the causeway, I realized the rumors were intensifying even further. “Some muscle guy burst clean out of his shirt and pants,” a girl said. “Guess they don’t make clothes big enough for a stud like that.” “They had to usher him out of the class,” I heard another person say. “Apparently he had to hold his backpack in front of his dick because his underwear came off too.” “I saw him in the hallway while I was heading to the bathroom, dude,” I heard from another. “Mr. Robertson was escorting him and had to reach up just to hold on to his arm. Fuck man, his hand didn’t even make it a third way around his bicep. The guy must have weighed…” His voice faded into the din of the passing crowd. No one who heard these tales believed them entirely yet passed them on as truth nonetheless. I didn’t believe completely either until a girl I actually knew hit too close to reality with her rendition. “He was eating like a starving animal and drinking his jug one water as if addicted,” Amber Reynolds said to a friend of hers as she walked by. “It was like he didn’t even hear the stitches on his clothes popping like fireworks.” I grabbed her arm before she could walk by and she pitched an annoyed look before she realized it was me. “Where you actually there?” I asked quickly. “What happened?” Amber’s dreamy smile returned. “I was there,” she said almost breathlessly. “It was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.” I thought of Casey’s overstuffed backpack and jug of water. He refilled that gallon jug three times during lunch alone and who knows how much food was in that pack. If muscle is 85% water, then Casey had an infinite supply of growth readily available. “Go on,” I said impatiently. “It was the craziest thing,” Amber Reynolds said, her eyes wide with excitement. “He just kept eating and drinking, eating and drinking until those little pops turned into the sound of paper ripping. I looked back and saw that his jeans had ripped along the thigh and was growing down his leg and up to his waste. His legs just erupted from the tear like they couldn’t wait to escape and…” she swallowed and took a breath. “I can’t tell you what they looked like. It was like…like a tree trunk covered in skin. They were so huge.” She held her slightly curved hands in front of her about two feet apart, as if mimicking how big his thighs actually were. “Then it went really crazy,” she continued. “He just…flinched. Or shrugged, or something.” She paused, her eyes glassy and somewhat…lustful. “And his clothes just fell away.” “Fell away?” I repeated, confused. “Fell away,” she said again. “Like he was shrugging off a blanket. Suddenly he was naked save for the clothes he was sitting on and a few tattered rags sitting on his bare legs. Oh god, what a sight.” “What happened to him, Amber?” I asked loud enough to break her from her stupor. She still looked at me a moment before answering. “I guess they took him to the principal’s office,” she said. Then she turned to the friend she had originally been speaking to. “I’d say I was sorry to see him go but at least I had the chance to see those gigantic legs move. Oh, and Sandy,” she said, returning her attention back to her friend. “His ASS. It was like two pumpkins trying to eat each other.” I raised my eyebrow at her strange description but let it and the two of them go as I raced back into the school to the principal. Making my way down the hall, I bolted right past the “Students must be escorted to enter” sign and into the faculty area. “Hold it right there, young man,” a woman said to my back as I raced by her and into Mr. Stone’s office. The principal, himself, was on the phone when I barged in and he immediately looked none too pleased to see me. “Hold on one moment, ma’am,” he said to the phone under a furrowed brow. “What do you think you are doing?” he asked me with a mix of anger and surprise as he pressed the mute button on the console. “Sorry, sir,” I said truthfully. “My friend Casey apparently had an…incident today.” The principal’s stone gaze softened and was replaced by a sort of dreamy terror. “Casey Valencort?” “Yes,” I said simply. The principal looked like he’d just flashed back to a memory he’d successfully tried to forget. He even started mumbling to himself as his eyes shot to a corner of the room behind me. I followed his eyes and saw the ruined remains of a wooden chair which must have originally rested where I now stood. God, I thought with surprise. How much weight would it take to crush it like that? I looked back at the principal, who was still blank faced and incoherent. “What happened?” I demanded angrily, shaking him out of his own mind. The fact he wasn’t upset with my tone was testament enough to his shock. “Coach Rodriguez took custody of him, took him to find some clothes,” he said blandly. I nodded and started to leave the office. “Wait,” the principal said, the gusto in his voice returning. I turned back, waiting for the rest. His fortitude was short-lived as his eyes had already glazed over a bit and the strength in his voice was gone. “What’s wrong with you kids these days?” I didn’t even answer. I was out the door and racing towards the gym. A minute later I burst through the doors to the school gym. Normally full of jocks pumping iron at this point (Monday was an exception as it was technically closed during the first day of the semester), it now held only two people: Coach Rod and the biggest human I’d ever seen in my life. Coach, all 250 pounds of him, was obviously dwarfed by my friend. Casey was shirtless and I’m not sure a shirt of any standard size would have fit him. However, Coach had found what looked to be XXXL shorts for him and it was so baggy at the waste that it rested on the stone shelf of his glutes yet still looked glued to what must have been 40” thighs. Casey himself was doing barbell curls, with four plates on either side. The kid was curling over four hundred pounds. And easily. His arms were crisscrossed with veins were pumped to nearly thirty inches around. Each different muscle in his arm stood out in bold relief. Coach Rod was sitting there, looking like a dwarf, eyes glistening in amazement. Based on the size difference, I’d put Casey at nearly seven feet tall and easily over 300 pounds, probably closer to 350. Both stopped what they were doing when I ran in. Casey was a site to behold, and for the first time today he didn’t have food in his mouth. His backpack was open and empty. He still had the jug with him, and took gulps often. Even at this size, his muscles were long and lacked that bloated look of a normal person who attained such mass. The entirety of his body was growing (if to a smaller extent than the muscle) and that included his bones, probably his organs, and (thank God) his skin. He was becoming a giant in every sense of the word. A giant made of corrugated steel covered in skin. He was also still growing, I assume, because he was continuously stretching and shifting as if to make room for new mass. I wondered how much “muscle reserves” he still had left in his stomach. He lifted his arms over his head in a just-out-of-bed stretch that made him look like a titan breaking out of a mountain. His lats flared like wings the size of a whole ham and pulled his iron mid-section of deeply etched ab blocks the size of mason bricks tight. He smiled at me between upper arms that dwarfed my head. Even after such an eventful day, I saw no fear in his eyes. There was only determination and an obvious enjoyment. “What up buddy?” he asked. Had his voice always been that deep? “I guess I should ask you that,” I said as I reach the two of them. As always, being this close magnified everything. Coach Rod’s own huge size somewhat compensated for Casey’s unnatural proportions at a distance but up close, there was no denying how big my buddy had become. He was as tall sitting as I was standing. There wasn’t a soft spot on his body, each muscle stood out boldly as if flexed. I could put both my outstretched hands, side-by-side, and not cross a single pec. Each shoulder was as big as my head. In short, he could break me like a twig with no effort if he had such a motive and there was nothing I could do about it. “Your friend has had quite a day,” Coach Rod said surprisingly casually. “An amazing day.” “Yeah,” I replied brilliantly. “He won’t tell me what’s going on but I suppose that’s his business anyway,” Coach continued. “What’s my business is making sure you two boys are okay.” “I’ve never been better,” Casey said as if for the tenth time. Coach Rod nodded impatiently, as if he’d heard it for the tenth time. “Just promise me you won’t end up giving half the high school a peep show again, young man.” Casey responded by bouncing his pecs, forcing those two fifty pound heaps flesh to jump like rabbits. “But it’s so much fun,” he said, every bit the fifteen year old he was. I saw a fistful of fury cross Coach’s eyes but was quickly replaced with a sparkle. To my surprise, he smiled. “How did it feel walking through those halls with a bookbag barely covering your junk for all to see?” “I ruled the world,” Casey said with a grin. “Hah!” Coach barked and slapped Casey on the arm, hard. The boy didn’t even move. Shit, his arm didn’t even dent. “I bet it did.” “CASEY!” a voice called from the door I just entered through. The three of us turned our head to see Casey’s mom standing in the doorway. Her face was a mask of worry and mascara stained streaks ran down her eyes. “Mom,” he said as he got up and walking by me. I was wrong, we was over seven feet. And over 350 pounds. He thundered over to his mom and bent over to embrace her, almost making her disappear in his arms. “Are you okay?” she asked, doing her best to take in the giant in front of her. The top of her head barely reached the bottom of his chest and he was easily twice her width. “Never better,” he said yet again. “But-“ She reached up and covered his mouth with her finger. “Shh. We have a lot to talk about, I know. On the way home.” And it was as simple as that. With a gracious nod to both Coach and me, she ushered the giant out of the room. Both of us exhaled breaths we didn’t know were being held. After an awkward silence, I smiled and did what I do. “Think you can make me that big?” I asked. Coach laughed a nervous laugh. “Can’t say it’s not possible,” he said and looked at the now vacant doorway. “Apparently nothing is these days.” “See you tomorrow afternoon?” I asked. He looked at me and nodded. I got up and left, leaving Coach on the bench staring at the wall. I could only guess what was going through his mind. I ignored the half believed rumors of a giant walking to a Camry and having to bundle himself into a ball to get in. Apparently he’d been so heavy that the passenger side of the car nearly dragged on the asphalt as it drove away. I walked home, expecting a call from my friend that never came. I let him be. My parents must have known something was up; they never asked about the suddenly empty kitchen. I went to bed early, dreaming about what it must be like to be any size you wanted. Casey wasn’t at school the next day but the rumors continued. He went back to the military lab he’d come from. He was playing football for a college team. One guy swore he was in the porn industry now. No one seemed to remember that I was the one who brought him here, and I was ok with that. I pounded another grueling workout with Coach Rod and tried to call Casey on the way home. No answer. After he didn’t show up the next day, I dropped by his house. His mother answered the door. “Hey there,” she said, her smile only semi-believable. “I was just wondering if Casey was home,” I said, sounding like a ten year old. “I’m sorry, hun, Casey won’t be back,” she said, sending a knife through my heart. “But I can tell you it’s for the best. He said so. It was wrong of me to keep him in a bottle I suppose.” She looked like she was only half convinced. “Will I see him again?” I asked. She smiled again, her eyes distant. “I don’t know. But you two have something special I suppose. That may bring you together.” I nodded but my heart was sinking. “Well, thanks,” I said and turned away. “Wait,” I heard at my back. “I almost forgot.” I turned back towards the door and saw her walking down the foyer and into the adjoining living room that was still serving as a receptacle for what remained unpacked from their move. She pulled a taped up box about twice the size of a standard shoe box and came back to the door. “He said you might want this,” she said as she handed the box over. “Said it’s some stuff from when you were kids.” I was somewhat taken aback, wondering if I should feel hurt and if he was closing himself out of my life after reintroducing himself into it so briefly. It tested it in my hands, ready to be gone. I bid her goodbye again, still perplexed by her strange mixture of sadness and…relief? The walk home was short and the box couldn’t have weighed more than ten pounds. It was slightly damp on the bottom and quietly rattled with each step, as if filled with beans. Ten minutes later it was on the desk in my room and I was cutting along the taped seam with my house key. Opening it revealed a sealed envelope sitting on top of some packing peanuts. My name was written on it, the letters large and somewhat unwieldy. It made me wonder how big Casey was when he penned it. How big do you need to be before using standard pens becomes a delicate chore? The letter inside was written in the same oversized and clumsy script. I heard somewhere that Vikings used to slice open their palms and shake hands with their closest friends, forming a bond that enemies could never break. As Blood Brothers, they gained each other’s strength and would meet each other in the afterlife if slain. I’m not sure what’s going to happen to me; maybe an afterlife in its own rite. There’s a lot more to this story than I ever knew and am still digesting it. I could use a Blood Brother along the way. The choice is yours, of course. Your friend, Casey I put down the letter and brushed aside the packing peanuts. Inside was a bunch of those pills he was taking before he came back. I was confused, and pretty sure we determined those to be poison. I took a few of the bottles out and noticed another, smaller box resting underneath. It was sitting on two ice packs that had melted back to mush. The smaller box was metal and looked pretty official. I opened it and my heart skipped a beat. Inside was a sealed hypodermic needle and next to it was a small vial filled with a thick red liquid so dark it was nearly blue. The words in the letter came crashing home, and what Casey wanted me to do. Blood brothers indeed. Blood Brothers 2 (Chapter 7) I rolled the vial of Casey’s blood in my palm, my mind trying to sort out a dozen different scenarios at the same time. From the din which crowded my senses came only one question, travelling only at a whisper yet as powerful as a typhoon. Would it make me like him? I didn’t know how to use a syringe; I’d never done any drug other than smoking a cigarette in eighth grade. And I’d hated it. I mean, it’s not like Casey had AIDS. What’s the worst that could happen? Before I could consider an answer, I involuntarily started focusing the BEST that could happen and doing so made my mind wander as if in a dream. I mentally felt my body, one that had felt so top of its class a few days earlier. I had a six pack, sure, but it was mostly due to me being lean. It’s not like it could take a punch. I told my meathead buddies that I had 14” arms but that required a full pump and a pretty solid rounding up. I suddenly felt like a man dying of thirst staring at a river of water, fresh and clean…and would keep him from ever being thirsty again. I took off my shirt and stared at the mirror on my wall. A weak voice in my head told me I was no slouch and an even quieter one said it was silly to compare my development at fifteen to a model on a magazine cover, a bodybuilder football coach, or a freak teenage boy. A louder one mentioned the dozens of same age guys at my school with better bodies than me. Why couldn’t I be the genetic freak? “Who listens to the quiet voice anyway?” I whispered to myself as I emptied the vial into the syringe and drained it in my butt cheek. It hurt like hell. Deed done, I dropped the empty syringe and looked back at the mirror. I looked the same, of course, only now my mind saw the reflected image as a cocoon from which a specimen rarely seen on this earth would soon break free. Looking back, that was probably the most powerful I’d ever felt. What had the current great muscle gurus of the world seen in the mirror when they were fifteen? Did they know what they would become? I thought I did, and couldn’t wait. On impulse, I dropped down and did as many pushups as I could before my chest gave out, which wasn’t many considering the intense regimen Coach Rod put me through earlier that afternoon. Standing, I was disappointed to see only a moderate pump, if one I’d be otherwise proud of. For the first time I felt doubt that this would work. My mind flashed to a couple days before, when I’d taken the pills, so sure they’d make me buff. I’d felt the same then as I did now; would the pending disappointment feel the same too? Life went on after that night. I ate dinner with my parents, kitchen fully restocked. My parents talked to me about the complete devouring of a family’s foodstuffs; I said Casey and I were on a heavy calorie diet and we feasted that night. They didn’t comment much. For all I knew they heard the truth about Casey already. Parents can be so…willfully blind at times. Regardless, I ate like a horse, hoping it would affect me the same as it did Casey. It didn’t. I went to bed that night stuffed to the point of pain. I woke up the next morning, which happened to be Friday, and ran to the mirror. Same body. I walked to the bathroom, weighing myself and was surprised that I saw 154 on the scale. I normally weighed 150. Then I realized I had to use the restroom. To spare the details, five minutes later I wasn’t 154 anymore…I was 151. The disappointment was the same, it turned out. I went to school as if everything was normal. Any, quite honestly, it was. Casey’s fifteen minutes of fame were still whispered about in corners among the meatheads and muscle-lovers, but that was about it. Although not depressed, I still wandered through the day lethargically. That lasted right up until my appointment with Coach Rod… “What the fuck is wrong with you, boy?” Coach screamed in my ear, the veins in his sweaty neck standing out like electric cabling. I had just finished benching 155 five times. I’d done eight reps four days earlier; not good. We were not alone. The high school gym was filled with perhaps a dozen or so lettered athletes, most juniors and seniors and every one of them bigger than me. They all stared at the two of us but with a gaze that said most had been yelled at by the behemoth coach on many occasions as well. “Give me those ever-effeminate hands of your,” he ordered as he forcefully took them and pulled me to the pull-up bar that stood in front of full-wall mirror. After forcing the person already using the contraption away with a glare, he somehow made a tube of duct tape appear out of nowhere and ordered me to grab the bar. I jumped up and hung from it, watching my tiny lats flair like flattened footballs. My curiosity was replaced with a morbid realization when Coach wrapped my hands in duct tape until they were nothing but grey balls connecting my wrists to the bar. I couldn’t move my fingers a hair’s width. “Now you’re going to hang there until I get one hundred decent pull-ups from you,” Coach said simply, then sat down and stared. I got to work but only got to eight before I gave up. “Fuck you, squint,” he said to my reflection in the mirror. I pulled again, arms, shoulders, and back burning. After hanging for a few seconds, I was able to do another. “Ten,” he said, not even looking. He looked like he was losing his patience. Over the next few minutes, I did five more before calling uncle. “I can’t,” I moaned, hanging from the balls of tape with my toes six inches off the ground. Suddenly Coach’s evil eyes were an inch from mine. The bulges of his traps and thickness of his neck absorbed the periphery of my vision. “If I hear ‘can’t’ one more time from you, ever, I will never train you again. You understand me?” I could only nod and did another rep. “Good,” he said, eyes still on fire. Then Coach surprised me by taking his shirt off and leaping next to me on the bar as if to perform pull-ups himself. I looked at our reflections in the mirror before up. Me, the puny fifteen year old, and my new mentor, all 250 pounds of shredded muscle, hanging next to me with his lats flaring like wings beneath his bulging arms. “You want to look like me one day?” he asked as he performed a perfect pullup. “You gotta work like me.” Then he did another and another. Then he looked at me and said something which changed everything. “You…are…not…Casey.” Something snapped in my brain. I had been looking for the easy way out. I was looking for a body in a day, like Casey. But that didn’t happen except in two-day-long dreams. This was how you built muscle. I performed another pull-up; Coach did the same. His arms and lats were flushed with blood and bulged as they pulled his weight. I want that, I thought. I did another pull-up; he did too. I don’t know how long it took me to get to one hundred but that time was filled with more screams and pain than I knew myself capable of bearing. Coach performed every pull-up with me, and did it with much less strain and noise. Exhausted, sweating, and ragged. I hung nearly lifeless from the bar, head down and body on fire. I felt a solid pat and squeeze on my lats. “Nice pump, boy,” Coach said as he put a foot stool beneath my feet and began unwrapping my hands. I looked at the mirror and was happy to see that my lats actually looked big, as did my arms…even if both felt as useless as a wet sponge. I also noticed that the rest of the eyes on the gym were on me. Coach did too. “If you assholes have nothing to do but gawk, get the fuck out of my gym,” he screamed, all the more intimidating without a shirt on. Some actually did; the rest turned away and didn’t make eye contact the rest of the hour. Coach turned to me, looking as scary as ever but speaking softly. “Ninety-nine percent of everyone who touches a weight will never reach their potential because they let their body tell them when to stop. The second you do that, you fail.” His face was a few inches from my own, and his angry eyes and gorged body filled my vision. He tapped my forehead with his index finger. “This tells you when to stop.” Coach grabbed his shirt from the floor. “Never in your life will you have a body more malleable than the 15 year old sack of skin you now wear. You feel like wasting that time by doing a few pushups then playing video games the rest of the day, you do it on your own time.” He paused, looked at my body hanging in front of him, then a gleam entered his eyes and his lips curled into a smile so small I almost believed it wasn’t there. “See you Monday.” Then he walked out of the room. I got the hint; I spent the next hour working my ass off in that gym. Well, that is, after one of the other guys in the room was kind enough to remove the tape from my hands. When I finally left, I felt completely destroyed but my heart raced with excitement and my mind was on fire. I felt amazing; I practically skipped home. That night, after eating three meals in four hours, I hit the bed at eight that night and barely took a breath before I was out cold. The next morning I weighed myself. 152. Whatever, Rome wasn’t built in a day. The semester progressed and consisted of eating, lifting, school, sleep and an occasional bit of life. I decided not to play baseball that year and focused on Coach Rod’s training. Each session was brutal but seemed easier as the weeks went by. Each day I woke up feeling a little bigger, a little heavier. The feeling was verified by the tape measure and scale. By the end of the second week I was 155. By February, I could claim 14” arms without any guilt. I became more defined, my pretty boy abs grew deeper and harder and my chest started to bulge as my bench presses reach the 200’s. By mid-February, I started to notice lines in my quads and could actually see the muscle moving under the skin. I was at 160 at that point and had forgotten all about my failed experiment with Casey’s blood. I also felt I wouldn’t have a problem making 180 by next football season. People started noticing that my shirts were getting tighter and as the winter chill began to fade, so did the amount of clothes I wore. My abs were becoming famous and being asked to show them became almost a daily event. By March I told Coach Rod something I never thought would come out of my mouth. “You think the workouts are too easy?” he asked, his voice rising by an octave. The rest of the people in the gym came to a screeching halt. That freshman punk said what? was written all over their faces. “I was wondering if we could do this five days a week,” I said sheepishly. “I’m just not hurting the next day anymore.” A devilish smirk grew into an evil grin. “If you’re still saying that by tomorrow, you little prick,” he said coldly, “you’ll get your five days a week.” There was nothing hiding his belief that would not be happening. I puked twice, nearly passed out once, but that next afternoon I stood in front of his office and said I was ready for more. He was shocked. But the sparkle I saw in his eyes said he was also proud. By March, I “tipped” the scales at 165. I’d gained fifteen pounds in eight weeks! My arms were now a solid 15”, my six pack had become and eight pack, I was getting close to 5’9”, and my legs were beginning to look like a sprinter’s. Although the lightest guy in the gym other than me had to be 180, I looked bigger, and I was easily stronger. I was benching 225 for reps and could curl fifty pound dumbbells. By mid-March, I was 170 and had pretty much put any shirt with sleeves into cold storage. Although big for a freshman, 170 isn’t much to brag about in high school. One look at my hard and vascular arms would show just how much muscle 170 could hold. Spring break means nothing more than pools and days off for a freshman but I found a way to lose my virginity to a sophomore named Jenna Staples. That was when life took a little bump… The week after spring break, in the hallway between periods I was suddenly slammed against a locker and before I knew what was happening there was gigantic forearm pressed beneath my chin and pressing my neck against the metal behind me. “You fucked my girlfriend,” a pair of angry eyes said down at me. They belonged to Jesse Strand, a linebacker on the football team and one of the best wrestlers our school had ever seen. He was a junior and was probably the strongest person in the school. He was 6’1, over 210 pounds and, from what I heard, was one of those genetically gifted individuals who was far stronger than their size would imply…and his size was substantial. He wasn’t as ripped as me but at times like these that didn’t matter. “I didn’t…know,” I said with difficulty. I could see the bulbous shoulders and traps bulging under his shirt. His neck was as big around as some people’s thigh. “She didn’t…tell me.” He responded by pressing me harder against the locker. “Don’t speak, pretty boy, just listen. I… reminded Jenna why she chose me and we’re just fine now. You and I?” he said menacingly. “You and I got a problem.” He looked down at my sleeveless arms and sneered. “Those things you have may sway the ladies but these,” he said as he flexed his free 18 inch arm an inch from my face, “are for kicking ass.” A grunt from behind this overgrown asshole diverted both of our attentions from each other and to Mr. Reynolds, a science teacher, standing with a stern face over a pair of crossed arms. A moment later, Jesse turned to me again and whispered “this isn’t close to being over” before releasing me. I collapsed to my knees as he walked away. The whole episode probably took less than ten seconds but I still felt everyone’s eyes on me as they walked by. Although I my mind pooled with legitimate fear, rage and obsession covered it in an oily sheen. The feeling lasted until just after the final bell rang when I walked towards the gym at the back end of the school. I was in the covered walkway among a small trickle of students on their way to various after school activities when I suddenly found myself staring up at the aluminum overhead from the ground. Stars danced before my eyes. A second later, as I was forcefully pulled up by my neck, pain ballooned across the right side of my face and I felt blood pour from my nose. Jesse, now in a white sleeveless shirt that showed just how big his arms were, filled my view. I could hear the hoots and laughter of his friends behind him. “Let’s just say that love pat was the least you deserved.” Then he did something I had no idea would be as humiliating as it was: he spit in my face. My mind boiled in rage and before I could even think about it, I shot a bloody wad of spit right in his eye. My stomach dropped and panic took over while the spittle was still in the air. Blinking the return fire away, Jesse’s face turned a menacing scarlet and a dark vein started to pulse on his forehead. His friends stopped laughing, suddenly afraid of what might happen. He squeezed my neck, causing the tendons in his arm to bulge. My arms flailed in a vain effort to push him away. He grabbed them both by my wrists with his free hand. His grip was like a vice and the combined strength of both my arms couldn’t budge him an inch. Jesse looked around and I took the opening to do the same. Although no one was in our immediate vicinity other than his two lackeys, there were a couple lingerers in distant eye shot. Looking back at me, his bicep and deltoid bulged with power as he actually lifted me off the ground onto my tip toes to get my face right up to his. “That’s your second mistake.” He paused. “And you last. It’s going to take me a long time to do what I’m going to do to you,” he whispered in my ear. “Unfortunately, you look like a screamer. And we can’t be interrupted now can we?” He lowered me to my feet. “If I find you alone, you’re dead.” Dropping me, he walked away and didn’t look back as his buddies congratulated him for kicking the ass of a kid two years his junior. I wiped the blood from my nose, anger and fury boiling whatever fear and embarrassment I should have felt into nothing. I stormed into the gym, threw my backpack across the room, tore my shirt off, and practically demanded that Coach make this a day to remember. He did his best to comply, but within a few minutes couldn’t help but wonder if something was up. “What the hell’s wrong with you boy?” he asked sincerely as I wiped tears from my eyes after a particularly daunting set with the huge tire. I wasn’t crying, I told myself. The tears just came out with the strain of the last set. “Nothing,” I said mechanically. “What’s next?” That night, terrified and exhausted, I came home to find a letter on my bed. It was addressed to me with postage paid but there was no return address. Opening it, I pulled out a large folded sheet of paper that was about the size of a newspaper page when completely opened. On it was a colossal ink handprint, so big that my outstretched hand didn’t even cover the print’s palm. Below the print was a message, written in those familiar, clumsy letters. The message was simple and left me perplexed: Get ready. CHAPTER 8 I read the simple message a dozen times and my eyes kept wandering to that giant handprint. I remembered back to when my parents took me to a sports themed restaurant a couple years earlier. In front were about a dozen iron stands each with a ceramic basketball on its top. The balls each had a recessed imprint in it that replicated exactly the handprint of an NBA star. I remembered putting my hand in Shaquille O’Neal’s impression, amazed that a human could have that large a paw. All I could think at that moment was that this hand could engulf Shaq’s. I put the page down and looked at my reflection in the mirror. It was mid-March and I was now 173…and it was ALL muscle. My arms were over 16” and I was getting closer to 5’10” each day. I’d gained 20 pounds and two inches in height in only one semester. At this rate I’d be 210 and 6” by the beginning of sophomore year! Puberty was easily my favorite thing in the world…besides the feel of lifting heavy iron of course. I had actual pecs, not just bumps above my abs, and could bounce them like a real jock could. My abs were deep and veins were starting to show as they faded into my waist. They were also starting to appear on my arms and shoulders. I wasn’t huge, but I’d seen pictures of famous bodybuilders when they were my age and I could have held my own with any of them…well, most of them. Some of them. Anyway, I was easily the most built freshman in the school even if not the biggest. But there was a shadow over that celebration: Jesse was still bigger, and stronger, and was waiting for my guard to drop. Suddenly glum, I put the giant handprint away and grabbed my shirt to put it on. There were still a couple hours until dinner but I didn’t care. I was hungry. Good to hear from you, Casey, I thought as I shut the door behind me. * * * “Son, for god’s sake, slow down and leave some food for the rest of us.” That was my dad. He didn’t seem to like that I’d taken four steaks from the plate we were passing around. “Sorry,” I said, putting one back on the serving platter. My mom signed, but not in a negative way. “Guess we need to start cooking even more for you,” she said. My parents had grown accustomed to me eating three times what they ate in a given meal and prepared accordingly. My dad wasn’t as nonchalant about it as my mom. “I swear,” he said as he put the steak I just forfeited on his plate. “I remember eating a lot in high school but not this much.” “Oh come on Daryl,” my mom told him with a grin. “He’s exercising a lot. You didn’t touch a weight until college, and even then didn’t take it too seriously. We have a growing boy, so let him grow.” My dad just shrugged and started eating. I allowed myself to smile a little, relishing at how my upper arm was pushing against my sleeves. It was nice being the only child; I got their full attention and they didn’t like trekking into uncomfortable conversations. It wasn’t that I was starving, I just wanted food. Before dinner was over, I was able to convince each of my parents to give me half of their steak. 178, the scale said after dinner. I knew five pounds of that was in my digestive track but it was fun to imagine that I actually gained it in muscle. I took of my clothes, gave myself a quick pose in the mirror (laughing at the gut dinner had given me), then went to bed. It was only eight, but I was tired and there wasn’t anything left to eat. * * * I woke up to my alarm the next morning at 630, feeling as if I’d only slept an hour instead of the more than ten I’d actually clocked. I guess too much sleep isn’t such a good thing. I rolled out of bed and groggily made my way to the shower. I yawned at the mirror instead of giving it a good pose as I was accustomed to doing and turned the water on. The hot stream did a good job waking me up and by the time I started lathering I felt somewhat normal again. The cow I’d eaten the night before had apparently made its way from my stomach, for my abs were flat and hard again. I smiled at how weak they were a mere ten weeks earlier. These bulging discs could have stopped a truck. I toweled off and finished my morning routine which always concluded with a date on the scale. My jaw dropped. 177. Naked, emptied, and hungry, I was 177. Four pounds more than before dinner the night before! My heart thumped in my chest and my stomach jumped. I looked in the mirror, wondering if I’d had the biggest case of water retention in history. But I was just as ripped as always, if not a little more so. A quick measurement proved I was just a little bigger all over. My waist was still 29,” but my arms were now a little over my usual 16” and my chest was now over 41” where it was normally just below that mark. I threw the tape measure down and barked a laugh. What’s normal anyway? I thought. My “normal” hadn’t lasted more than a week lately with the way I’d been growing. Why question a good thing? I put on my standard sleeveless shirt and a pair of shorts that just showed the bulge of my quads before disappearing under the hem. As I did every morning, I cracked six eggs in a skillet and put as many slices of bread in the toaster. Coming back to the eggs, I shrugged and threw the remaining six in as well. “We need more eggs!” I shouted to my parents upstairs, their response unintelligible but probably having something to do with saying they just bought some. While eating my morning feast, I began making lunch…sort of. Instead of my usual two sandwiches, I just threw the two pounds of bagged deli meat right into my cooler along with a few other random treats from the fridge. To my backpack I added an entire half loaf of bread, the whole box of protein bars instead of two, five bananas instead of one, and a pack of MuscleMilk I usually reserved for midnight hunger strikes. “Mom, we’re out of lunch food,” I said, throwing away the milk carton I’d just emptied. “Can I take a few dollars from your purse for lunch?” That wasn’t exactly the truth as I hadn’t really eaten anything yet, but it got the response I needed. After a distant approval from upstairs, I took a ten from my mom’s wallet and headed off to school, already eating one of the protein bars. That day had a familiar feel to it, although I couldn’t quite place why. It started off pretty normally with me joining my friends in front of the school. It wasn’t unusual to get one or two comments about my growing body and today was no different. “Fuck man,” my buddy Graham said as I approached while eating my forth protein bar and washed it down with the last swallow of water from the gallon jug I always walked around with. “You have GOT to get me into those training sessions Coach Roid is giving you.” He paused. “He’s not sharing his stash with you, is he?” he whispered. I was a little confused. Graham was a year older than me and was, if anything, the bigger of the two of us. I made a quick and, hopefully, subtle comparison of both our exposed arms and was pleasantly surprised to find out that mine was actually bigger. I grinned when I realized he’d noticed me looking and was flexing his hanging arm in a vain attempt to win this impromptu contest. I went ahead a flexed mine too, shooting my triceps up into a striated horseshow and making the veins on by bicep bulge. “Fuck,” he said under his breath. “He’s kept me clean,” I said as I walked by. “Maybe we can get you involved in the fall. I’ll be right back, I need to fill up my water bottle.” The day started without much to talk about, other than being scolded by Mrs. Krebs in first period for eating during class. I sighed and put my half eaten back of turkey away. Although I wasn’t necessarily hungry, I craved food. The other teachers, thankfully, weren’t as strict about eating in the class and before long I realized I really would need the ten dollars my mom had given me. As first period became second, I was starting to get a little curious at the increased level of attention I was getting. It was all passive, no one actually talking to me, and I went to the bathroom a couple times to make sure my hair wasn’t stuck up and face was free of food. As second period moved into third, I strangely felt like I’d just finished the most insane workout of my life; my muscles were so pumped. Raising food to my mouth made my forearms squeeze against my biceps in a way they hadn’t before. By lunch, the feeling was even more intense. “Wow, I can actually see your abs through your shirt,” Carla said as she sat down with her tray. I looked down, wondering what she was talking about. She was right, my stomach pressed against my shirt tightly enough to show the ridges of my abdominal muscles. I’d been eating a lot that day so it didn’t really surprise me. What surprised me was that my chest was pressing against the fabric enough to make my cotton shirt look like form-fitting Under Armor. The shirt was hardly oversized to begin with, being a medium, but I knew it took some serious bulk to stretch it like that. All I could do was shrug. “Guess I’m getting a little fat,” I said as I took a bite of the burger I just purchased. Carla snorted, as did the rest of my friends. It was a strangely quiet and awkward lunch. I didn’t think much of it at first, absorbed as I was in eating. However, as I finished my meal, I realized everyone was looking at me. “What?” I asked innocently. They all looked at each other uncomfortably, none speaking until Jeremy Durst finally broke the silence. “Dude, you’re fucking huge,” he said simply. Everyone else rushed to confirm his comment and began asking questions. “So how big are your arms now?” Amanda asked. “About sixteen inches,” I said as I flexed it for the group. Most at the table wouldn’t know a 16 inch arm from a 6, but the few who’d spent any time in the weight room were quick to correct. “If those are sixteen inches, then mind can’t be over twelve,” Chandler said. I looked at my flexed arm, legitimately surprised as I took it in. It looked like a bodybuilder’s arm. A real bodybuilder. It was covered in veins and striations as it bulged from my arm like a softball. Chandler was right; they looked more like 17 inchers, or even 18. I smiled, finally letting the little voice I liked to ignore speak. It happened like this last time, sitting at this very lunch table. My stomach leaped into my chest as a rush of energy cascaded across my body. This is what happened to Casey. My heart fluttered and I suddenly felt invincible. Finally concentrating on something other than food and how to get more, I looked down at myself. It was like I was looking at someone else’s body. I gathered the rest of my burgers and threw them in my backpack before getting up. “I gotta go,” I said simply and left the table. I raced down the walkway, relishing at the feeling of my strong legs pulsing against the ground. I was easily over 180 now. What must I weight now? 185? 190? I laughed as I entered the school gym, rushed past the empty weight room, and went into the locker room. I stared at the scale as if it were a trophy and imagined it wreathed in a golden aura with angels singing. It was absurd but I was in that kind of mood. I stepped on and began sliding the manual adjustors, the course adjust to 150, and the fine adjust past 177…this morning’s weight. I kept sliding the marker past 180 and the bar didn’t move. My stomach leaped again as I pushed it past 190 and still the bar didn’t budge. “Oh shit,” I said, suddenly a little worried. I’m over 190 pounds! I screamed to myself, heart pounding. The bar finally broke to the neutral position at 196 pounds. Shocked, I turned and looked at the mirror. The man staring back at me could have won a collegiate bodybuilding contest. Striated shoulders bulged from my sleeveless shirt like melons, falling into triangles as they morphed into a ripped set of biceps and triceps. My traps pressed against my now humorously tight shirt and my neck looked like an oak trunk, well over 18” around. I tore off my shirt, revealing a pair of gorged pecs and the best set of abs I’d ever seen…on anybody. Ever. They looked carved from granite even though they weren’t flexed. I turned and looked over my shoulder towards the mirror, shocked at the rippling back I now called my own. It was a dream come true. I heard a creak from the door I used to enter and turned towards it. My heart sank. There was Jesse Strand, always reliably there to squash my best moods. That little voice started talking again, though, just as Jesse himself started to speak. “Look like we’re finally alone, fucker,” he said as he closed the door and locked it. “Looks like we can finally settle the score,” he began as he turned to look at me. His eyes widened in shock. “WHAT THE FUCK?” I was on him in an instant. He had put on a little mass this semester and was maybe at 215. I was “only” 196 but there wasn’t an ounce of fat on me. I knew I was a long shot from winning a fight with a star wrestler and had to settle this fast. If he had a moment to think, he’d have me. I punched him in the sternum, taking his breath away, then slammed the back of his head against a locker. He crumpled, gasping for air. I bent over as I grabbed hair on the back of his head and got right in front of his red face and hate-filled eyes. “Don’t you ever even look at me again,” I said before standing back up. I grabbed my shirt and started putting it on as I left locker room. I didn’t worry about him getting back at me; by the time he had a chance for revenge, I would be big enough to fold him into a pretzel. CHAPTER 9 The rest of the day was a blur. I couldn’t wait to show up in front of Coach Rodriguez looking like a teen titan. I barely noticed the stares and compliments from my classmates. My teachers could have gotten on their desk and danced the robot and I wouldn’t have noticed. Now that I knew I was growing, my body was all I could focus on. I felt strong and hard but the real rush came from knowing that I had complete control. I could be as big as I wanted; whenever I wanted. If I so desired, I could be 300 pounds in a few weeks! Who could say that? Who had such power? Even though I stopped my constant eating binge, I continued to swell until my lunch finally digested. The difference in my size between lunch and the end of school that day was visually negligible, but I could feel my skin slowly tightening across my body. It was like the best pump I’d ever had times ten. Hidden under my internal joy, however, was a slowly growing concern. They took Casey away because of this. Of course, at the time he’d been about 7’ and 450 lbs at that point with no signs of slowing down. That hand print alone proved he was bigger now. What would happen to me? I shook my head to clear it. Truth was, I wasn’t 450 pounds, I was will under 200. There were other freshmen as big as me walking around...although a little voice chimed in that most 200 pound fifteen year olds were probably a bit on the chunky side and not a chiseled slab of marble. I smiled at that thought but my thoughts quickly turned again. What would my parents say? I had begun to suspect they knew the events surrounding Casey’s situation in better detail than I did. What would they do when they found out their son grew almost twenty pounds in a day? Twenty pounds. Damn it felt good to know that. I was living in perpetual excitement, like a kid on Christmas morning continuously discovering there were more and more presents under the tree to open. My spirit lifted. If things got out of control, I could take some of the pills Casey left behind. It was obvious to me now those pills were used to reign in his growth, not help it. The doctors didn’t want a muscle mutant running loose but apparently neglected to take into account the habits of a teenager. I put my hand under my shirt on my way to the gym, feeling my new body and amazed at how hard the human form could be. The thought of taking those pills instantly vaporized. I would be giving any of this up, I would just have to keep it slow. Too late for that, squirt, I heard Coach Rod’s voice say. I groaned a little bit. If anyone would question my new size, it would be him. And he would know. I had to think of something. Fast. * * * “Well congratulations, boy,” Coach Rod said as he looked down at me from over the bar. “You just broke your personal best.” He might as well have told me I had brown hair. There was no excitement in his voice. I’d just benched 265 pounds eight times. A day earlier I couldn’t have bench 250 more than once. We’d been working out for 15 minutes and I was breaking personal records left and right even while holding back. I thought Coach would be thrilled, yet he had no energy. In fact, he sounded disappointed. I was at a loss as to why. It couldn’t have been my unusual workout outfit could it? I’d shown up to the session dressed in an extra large PE shirt and basketball shorts. That was my master plan to keep my size gains secret. That, and hiding the full extent of my newfound strength. Normally I wore a more flimsy pair of gym shorts and, like the rest of the guys in the room, was topless more often than not. He had had commented on the fashion choice when we first started but there wasn’t this resentment in his voice when he did. “Pullups,” Coach said, eyes dark under his furrowed brow. No, he mustn’t be feeling well. I smiled. I’ll give him something to feel good about. I jumped up to the bar and started cranking out pull-ups. Although he’d kicked my ass on this bar numerous times over the last couple months, nothing compared to that first day he made me do one hundred of them in one set. Well, I’d show him how easy it was for me now. I finished a hundred pull-ups in less than five minutes before jumping back down. My lats and biceps were on fire and felt ready to burst from my skin. It felt amazing. That said, I was barely winded and felt like I could do a hundred more if pressed. I smiled at him, waiting for praise or at least a scathing remark or two. He only stared at me with those cold bombardier eyes. I couldn’t take it any longer. “What’s wrong, Coach?” I asked, almost whiningly. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “What’s wrong?!” He threw his hands up as if begging the heavens for some lightning bolts to sling. “Where’s the fucking energy? Where’s the drive? You’re treating this session like a walk in the park.” He looked at me, eyes angry. “You’re not even fucking sweating. You…you’re wasting my fucking time.” My jaw dropped. This was not what I expected. Everyone’s eyes were on the two of us, his face red with anger, mine with confusion and shame. He was right, I had intentionally held back so he wouldn’t suspect something was up. It didn’t occur to me my results didn’t matter to him, only my effort. I felt my stomach sink. “Coach, I—“ I began before being cut off. “No excuses,” Coach said. “You come here to be worked and that’s final.” He put his hand on my shoulder in a rare moment of tenderness. “I mean I—“ he cut off sharply as he looked at the hand he just put on me. He squeezed it a moment, moved his hand to my arm, then squeezed that too. His eyebrows shot up and a cascade of wrinkles sprouted up his forehead and halfway around his shaved scalp. He looked around to the other gymrats in the room. “Alright ladies,” he bellowed loud enough to get everyone’s attention. “Gym’s closed for the day. Get out.” The crowd wasn’t happy about that but didn’t dally as they left. All the while coach held my arm tightly, erasing any idea that he meant for me to leave too. Once the door shut behind the last student, coach exhaled and let go of my arm as he turned to me. “Alright, take the fucking shirt off,” he said as he crossed his arms. Although part of me was frightened of the ramifications, a bigger part just wanted to show off. I pulled the oversized tee off and gave the coach an eye full. To call the coach a one-dimensional man would be a crass understatement. The man had two emotions: in-your-face angry and asleep…and I’d never seen him sleep. Apparently he had another state in his repertoire. I think it was shock but I couldn’t be sure. I looked at the mirror to see what Coach Rod saw. The reflection staring back at me was hardly inhuman, but to find my proportions on a fifteen year old was unheard of. “Oh shit,” Coach said. “You too?” I turned to him, trying to think of an excuse that would subdue his horror. However, when I looked at him, horror wasn’t even on the menu. Behind the surprise still so evident on his face was what could only be called excitement. His eyes literally twinkled with it. Any doubt the twinkle was something else was crushed when he smiled and said, “So how big are you going to get?” I was at a loss for words. All I could do was stutter. “Calm down, son,” Coach said as he backed away to get a better look at me. “I mean, hell, I thought you were bigger when you walked in the room. And taller for that matter. I’m just glad I’m not crazy. Your friends little…episode…a couple of months ago shook me up a little.” He turned me towards the mirror and we looked at our side-by-side reflections. Standing next to a 6’2 250 pound man didn’t make me look all that big by comparison but, with the overhead lighting setting a dark shadow over each crevice of my body, I was about as defined as a person could be. “Come on,” he said, genuinely excited. “Let’s see what your new body can really do. No holding back this time.” He walked over to the bench. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “Afterwards, you can tell me what badass supplement you’re using to get that big.” Coach and I learned exactly what my new body could do. I ended up benching 420 pounds and squatted 500. As could be imagined, every lift resulted in a new personal best. “Fuck yeah!” I roared as I dropped the bar to the floor after a 400 pound deadlift. I threw my arms over my head, relishing the pump that covered my body. My skin was pulled taught over every inch of my body. It was always a shock catching glimpses of myself in the mirror, that body surely belonged to someone else. “Fifteen years old,” coach said, mostly to himself. He shook his head. “I have to check something,” I said, wiping sweat from my forehead with the back of my arm. Something he said earlier had me curious. I started for the locker room, wondering at how the cool breeze of the fan felt on my bulging body. I walked over to the scale, removed my shoes, and took the height caliper up from the base. It was time to see how tall I really was. “5’11,” Coach said over my shoulder. He’d apparently found a measuring tape and didn’t give me a choice as he started measuring my body. My waist was an incredibly taught 31” and my swollen arms had ballooned up to 18”…albeit with the pump of a recent workout included. My chest came in at 45.” “How’d ya do it, boy?” Coach asked, eyes burning. I pushed down the panic. Truth was, I had no idea how I did it. The blood experiment had obviously failed. I searched my mind furiously for an answer. He saw something in my eyes and raised both his hands in a surrendering gesture. “All right, all right. It’s none of my business,” he said. I exhaled a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I wasn’t going to be sent to a hospital or something. Still, there was something else in coach’s eyes that wasn’t anger or disappointment. I couldn’t quite place it. “Listen,” he said, giving my shirt back to me. “I haven’t been fifteen since before your parents probably were, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten what it’s like. I know what’s going on in your head right now.” He looked at my reflection in the mirror. “I’m not made for long lectures, which is why I teach here instead of a classroom, but you be smart now, ya hear? I don’t want to have to escort another giant on a one way trip to some government hamster cage.” I put the shirt back on, trying to figure out what the coach was saying. Then my eyes widened. “You know where Casey is?” I said more than asked. Coach looked at me from the corner of his eye. “We both have our secrets, kid,” he said simply before turning away. “See you on Monday.” I took the long way home in part to avoid an incensed Jesse but also to get my thoughts straight. Why now? It had been eight weeks since I used Casey’s blood. Was this sudden growth because of something else? My mind wondered and was hit by a truck when it considered the night before. The handprint, I thought to myself. Casey laced the letter with something. The message even alluded to it. “Get Ready,” it had said. I started growing that very night. I smiled and closed my eyes with my face up towards the warm spring sun. Thank you, Casey, I thought. A second later, I had my shirt off and in hand as I walked the rest of the way home. The rays set off my body with shadow and light, showing off my form in extreme detail. This body was completely and wonderfully alien to the one I had less than 24 hour earlier. My arms were pushed out by and constantly brushed upon lats that swelled from my back. There was a noticeable weight to my chest, as if gravity were paying special attention to my pecs. I didn’t even need to touch my abs to know how hard they were; they felt like a sheet of armor even from the inside. They were tight and hard even while relaxed. Every movement of my body made a muscle squeeze, some I didn’t even know I’d had. It felt amazing. A car horn broke my concentration and the sound of screeching tires made me turn towards the street I was walking next to. A few seconds of investigation revealed that someone was trying to get a longer look at me and slowed down. The person behind him wanted to do the same…without slowing down. I smiled even wider. I was quite a distraction. I got home a couple hours before my parents as usual, and tried my best to find clothes that hid my size. It was hard to do, since every glance in the mirror resulted in me stripping down to take a look at myself. All the while I was trying to make a plan. I couldn’t keep eating my way to becoming a giant like Casey… although my mind wasn’t as adamant about that rule as I would have liked. The thought of growing huge exhilarated me but my rational mind said I had a whole life to see how big I could get. I didn’t need to grow all at once…right? One thing all the voices in my head agreed to was that I needed to be a match for Jesse Strand. I couldn’t count on a surprise attack every time he wanted to take me down. If I could put on another fifteen or twenty pounds, I wouldn’t be such easy prey. Truth be told, I thought as I looked as my reflection with clothes on, I’m really not that big. Oh, I was jacked all right. But muscle is denser than fat and I looked perfectly normal with a nice baggy shirt and shorts on. Well, normal if you ignored the fact that my neck looked like it belonged on a horse…and my forearms bulged like a seasoned bodybuilder’s…and my calves looked carved from granite. Other than that, though, perfectly normal. I considered the whole package Casey left me back in January. Aside from the blood, he left his entire supply of what I referred to as Wuss Pills. Putting a few of those in Jesse’s meals on a daily basis would solve my problem: a few weeks of that and he’d probably have lost 30 pounds. I immediately discarded that idea. For one, it’s not like I had access to his food or water on a regular basis. And two…I wanted a fucking reason to put on more size. So it was settled, I would shoot for 215 pounds in six weeks. That was about a half pound a day. If I overshot, I’d take a pill. Simple as that…although the mere thought of one of those pills made me want to gag. My first step was maintaining a normal rapport with my parents through the whole thing. This proved easier than I thought and I finally began to understand how parents of psychos could end up saying “I had no idea he was capable of that.” Both commented about how big I was getting but neither cared to entertain that something might be wrong with their baby boy. My dad looked a little suspicious at times but I didn’t ever give him a reason to say anything. Besides, what father didn’t want their son to become a stud? So my plan worked perfectly…for a while. It turns out I actually didn’t have to eat much to gain weight. It was like my body became a high efficiency engine. 3000 calories a day was enough to gain my half pound. I actually had to consume less than I was used to. It was the best few weeks of my life: every day my clothes were a little tighter, my body a little harder. It was too small for anyone to see day-to-day but I found out people had longer memory spans than the previous 24 hours. “What are those things measuring now?” Chandler said in front of school one day. “A little over eighteen,” I said shooting him a bicep flex that stretched the seam of my shirt. He snickered, jealousy flashing behind the eyes of a friend who once outweighed me by five pounds or so. “Weren’t they a little under eighteen only a week ago?” “What can I say?” I asked with a smile. “I’m a growing boy.” Those admittedly frustrating responses had the desired effect of redirecting their focus to admiration instead of questioning. My workouts with Coach Rodrigues continued as always, only now every day consisted of a personal best in one lift or another. The man acted as if everything was normal, but he still had that distant look in his eyes I couldn’t quite make sense of. Three weeks into “Project Mass” and I was 207 pounds of granite and steel. Life was bliss…then came a Friday morning in late May, almost six weeks after my initial run-in with Jesse strand. The morning started off like usual with me walking up the schools front lawn to hang out with my friends before first bell. I made sure I ignored the stares I got as I learned making eye contact with my fan base only made them uncomfortable. A couple minutes before class started, I noticed my friends suddenly stare worriedly over my shoulder right as a hand violently grabbed my neck from behind and threw me to the ground. I gasped at the jarring pain from my back as my backpack broke my fall. I didn’t have time to gather my bearings before two solid hands grabbed me by the collar and yanked me to my feet. Two familiar eyes burned a few inches from my face. “We meet again, you little fuck,” Jesse said to me, his voice surprisingly baritone. He had avoided me since I sucker punched him in the locker room. I’d only seen glimpses of him since between periods which was ok by me. Now up close, I gasped. Dressed in a skin tight wifebeater, the man in front of me was not the buff but meaty junior he was three weeks earlier. Apparently, he’d been hard at work during that month long hiatus. Jesse has always been big and no one would have ever called him fat. But there had been a beefiness to him common to teens focused on mass. It isn’t common for a high school kid to be both shredded and massive. That kind of combo usually wasn’t possible until college…unless you were me. Jesse apparently found a recipe. Although still about 220, his meaty arms were now ripped boulders covered with flaring veins crawling that exploded from his strained shirt sleeves. His neck was as vascular as mine, only more bulbous and with mountainous traps rising up to the base of his skull. His pecs and abs bulged from beneath the tight cotton shirt. I was no slouch being only fifteen or so pounds lighter, but Jesse was a fighter and had the edge in both size and skill. He pulled me close, as he seemed so keen on doing every time we had these little chit-chats. “We’re doing this old school,” he said with an evil grin loud enough for everyone to hear. “You and me, after the final bell, under the overpass. We’re settling this.” Then he dropped me. That I remained on my feet was only a slight victory. Jesse barely seemed to notice as he sneered before walking away. The lawn was as quiet as a graveyard as I straightened my ruffled shirt. “I’ll be there,” I said to his back. That sent all the mouths in the area ablaze with whispers. I’m sure everyone thought I was terrified, which I most certainly was. Jesse’s absence from my life these last weeks were a gift I didn’t question. I’d just assumed my locker room sucker punch convinced him I shouldn’t be messed with. Now I new better; guys like him didn’t cower, they hunkered down. He’d apparently spent the last weeks completely dedicated to bulking up. Who knows what kind of steroids that kid has to use to look like that? I allowed a smile to stretch my lips as the first bell rang and all the students and their gossip-riddled voices walked into the school. I stayed put for a moment, letting everyone disappear, then immediately walked off campus. * * * A few hours later I stood looking like a fool in a newly bought XXL long sleeve shirt and sweat pants at the door of a Chinese buffet, feeling somewhat guilty about the financial ruin I was about to submit on the proprietor. Eleven am hit, the door was unlocked, and I sauntered inside looking like a nursing home pimp. I was relieved that no one questioned why a kid my age was at a restaurant instead of school. That probably said something about American values but I didn’t dwell on it. I was there for one thing and two minutes later I was at my table with two plates piled high with food. I mentally felt my body, currently dwarfed in my tent of an outfit. A few weeks ago I would have considered myself visual perfect. Anyone of any age would have killed for the body I had. Yet I wanted more. I looked at the food and dove in; beginning what I figured would be the longest lunch of my life. I went through plate after plate after plate. After my second helping, my body started to feel flushed and an anxious feeling started to flow through me. It was as if I were drinking liquid excitement. The feeling intensified and I soon felt as if I could run a marathon in ten minutes. I almost tried; it was hard to contain myself. My energy levels soared and it took an effort not to jump out of my seat. I wanted to laugh in delight. Soon after, my body started to feel funny. It was as if my muscles were tight from sitting still too long. As I continued to eat, I did things like shrug my shoulders and stretch my calf by raising the front of my foot. It seemed to help so I kept at it, ignoring the looks I was getting from the other customers. They must have thought I was on something. In a way, I guess I was. I tensed my abs and arched my back, then pumped my chest and arms. Soon the excited feeling in my body began to feel strangely similar to an orgasm, only prolonged as if continuously on the verge. I flexed my calves; worked my leg up and down to cycle my thighs; twitched my arms and pecs; shrugged my shoulders again. Every time I flexed, it felt like my muscles relax a little before slowly tightening up again. That feeling of excitement didn’t go away though; neither did my desire to eat. I never got full. I got another helping. As I got up to collect my forth helping, I almost stumbled for no apparent reason. It was if I had to rebalance myself. I exaggerated my step, squeezing my glutes and flexing my quads and calves. It felt amazing. I felt something else too. The fabric of my sweats didn’t feel as baggy anymore. Bending my arm as I held my plate seemed to pull at the fabric on my back. I also felt my arm bulge against my inner arm in a way I hadn’t before. I smiled. There was no doubt about it, I was growing. CHAPTER 10 I sat calmly on a natural outcrop of stone under the overpass, waiting for my eventual showdown with Jesse. School was still technically in session but a trickle of students was already making its way from down the road. If I was lucky, this would all be over in time to train with Coach Rod. He might find my new developments…interesting. Although a hundred cars sped across the interstate overhead, the span beneath it was isolated, known only to the homeless, the addicted, and the kids from the local high school…not a place any of our parents would approve of. Everyone congregating at the base of my castle did their best to leave me alone as I sat stoically in my long sleeve hoodie and sweatpants. A dead man didn’t like to be disturbed. I smiled at this but remained at a distance; no need to ruin the surprise. I was still taking it in myself. The me of eight hours ago would have worshiped the person I’d become. I felt heavy; I felt powerful. I half believed I could rip the ten foot high granite mound I was sitting on out of the ground with my bare hands. My new muscles yearned to be used and it was a demand I found extremely hard not to obey. This must be what a tiger felt like waiting to pounce on his prey…only my prey wasn’t here yet. I was accompanied only by my thoughts, which were scattering across my mind like swarming ants. I found myself wondering if this was a dream. I flexed my arm, watching it fill my baggy sleeve like a balloon. I could see every crevice and striation through the fabric, even the cable-like vein which ran down the face of my bicep. But it wasn’t the sight that thrilled me, it was the feel. The feeling of that bulging ball of muscle squeezing against itself was like having sex; it was impossible to describe the chemical rush that it created. This couldn’t be real. But it was. And it was amazing. But those ants that raced through my mind were calling out in terrified little voices. They’d started to scream their warnings while I was at the restaurant and hadn’t died down. Something wasn’t right. I shook my head, what could be wrong? I had to outweigh Jesse by 40 pounds now and I was strangely positive that I was even stronger than I looked. I worked my hand, balling them into fists then opening them and spreading my fingers wide. They wanted to hit something so bad. I’d give them their wish by allowing them to break Jesse like a twig…again. But that worry remained, unfocused yet intensifying. Meanwhile, a small crowd had assembled at the base of the stone, forming an impromptu circle in the middle. Situations like this were probably among the most primitive displays of humanity, right up there with public executions and anyone who’s last name was Kardashian. But just as with those latter examples, people flocked like lemmings to witness this happen. I noticed my friend Chandler walking up the crag towards me, his face lined with worry. He wore a tight green t-shirt, showing off what most would have considered a nice body for a sophomore. It was lean and ripped in the style so popular these days. I could curl him with one arm, I thought with a smile. “Dude,” Chandler said as he reached me and turned to look at the crowd. “Everyone noticed you weren’t at school today. There were rumors you were going to puss out.” I chuckled and remained seated with my arms resting on my kneecaps and hands dangling between them. My friend was barely six feet away; would he notice I was bigger? “I don’t know why you’re laughing,” Chandler said as he looked back at me. “I’d have shit my pants twice already. Anyway, Jesse wasn’t at school today either. He left soon after first period. Maybe he was looking for you to make sure you didn’t try to run away.” I shrugged but something in what he’d said sent mind boiling all the more. What made you grow? my brain suddenly asked me. I began to reply that the letter with the handprint had been laced with something but, suddenly, I wasn’t so sure. Chandler apparently took my silence as a request to keep talking, which he did. “You may have bulked up enough to convince the freshman class you’re some kind of god but but Jesse’s easily the strongest guy in school and that was before he started looking like Arnold Schwarzenegger.” He coughed in his hand and wiped whatever came out of his mouth on his pant leg. “Fuck me, I’ve been fighting this cold for weeks now.” I raised my head, heart racing. “What did you say?” I asked, slightly shocked at the new baritone of my voice. I wasn’t the only one caught off guard; Chandler was looking at me like I had two heads. “You all right?” Chandler asked. “You sound like you have a cold too.” I started to say something I hoped would put my friend at ease but the competing and overlapping little voices suddenly found a unified message and the floodgates opened. I did catch a cold, I thought feverishly. It just took a while to show all the symptoms. That’s how colds work. They gestate, then attack. I grunted in frustration and again flexed my arm, allowing it to swell and pull my sleeves tight. How had it not crossed my mind earlier? There was no chemical laced hand print. The mere thought of that seeming logical was absurd. “Holy fuck,” I heard Chandler say but ignored him. I wasn’t doing a good job hiding my size at the moment and didn’t care. It wasn’t the handprint; it was Casey’s blood after all. It just took a few weeks to take effect. Puzzle pieces I’d subconsciously kept separated until now finally locked into place. Casey had a disease and they fixed it with another disease. Now I had that disease…so the disease was contagious. “We gotta go,” Chandler said, his voice shaking. “You have to GO!” I stayed put but looked up. The crowd at the base of the hill was looking up at me and slowly backing up, their faces a sea of surprise. Did they suddenly notice how much bigger I’d gotten too? You have a contagious disease! my mind screamed, pulling my concentration inward again. I had a disease that took weeks to show all of its symptoms. I put my hands on my head, trying to force my brain to just spit it out. So what? I thought. No one injected my blood into their ass cheek. Suddenly a terrible thought came to mind that made my whole body tense. I heard a tearing sound, barely noticing that my bicep had ripped through the sleeve. I looked up at Chandler, who I realized had raced down the hill to join the others in their retreat. Why were they running? It didn’t matter; nothing mattered now. The terrible thought had turned into a terrible memory… Jesse, now in a white sleeveless shirt that showed just how big his arms were, filled my view. I could hear the hoots and laughter of his friends behind him. “Let’s just say that love pat was the least you deserved.” Then he did something I had no idea would be as humiliating as it was: he spit in my face. My mind churned with rage and before I could even think about it, I shot a bloody wad of spit right in his eye. …By body ran cold and I felt myself shake. He didn’t need to inject himself; I’d given it to him for free all those weeks ago. I knew the transfer of some strange disease through a bloody wad of spit was highly unlikely, but in my heart I knew it had happened. It explained how he’d turned into such a jacked teen in only a few weeks. More puzzle pieces fell into place. He knew what he was suddenly capable of, I thought. That’s why he wanted to do this after school. He needed time. Time to do the same thing I had done. Only he took everything to the extreme. I have to get out of here, I thought frantically. Now! I looked up at the crowd, all of whom were either running away or still looking up and slowly backing away. It had only been a couple seconds since Chandler’s innocent cough triggered this rush of enlightenment but many in the crowd were already gone. “What the—“ I started to say out loud before the second dreaded realization slammed home. The dispersing crowd wasn’t looking up at me. Their eyes were too high. They were looking behind me. I stood up cursing, stumbling as I tried to turn at the same time. The effort resulted in me falling back against the rock. I looked up and finally saw what had forced Chandler and everyone else to scatter. Jesse, clad in nothing but skin, had made his way up the back of the stone heap, and he made my last image of Casey look like a wimp. I didn’t know what the giant in front of me weighed? How much does a bus weigh? The new Jesse had to be a head above seven feet tall. His face was void of any youth he once had, the baby fat now replaced by hard muscular lines. His neck, as big around as some people’s waist, was a bundle of writhing snakes of muscle and sat upon traps that started at the base of his skull and bulged like watermelons to striated shoulders the size of pumpkins. His arms, which looked over 30” around, flared to the side to make room for a set of traps that could double as wings. Pecs as thick as my head bulged from his body and sat atop a cascade of abdominals that could have been mistaken for masonry bricks. A dick the size of my forearm swung between a set of thighs I wasn’t sure I could wrap my arms around. They tensed and relaxed as Jesse took his final menacing steps up the crag, each one capable of kicking a hole in a brick wall. “Miss me?” he asked, his deep voice booming across the under pass. He reached down before I could react and grabbed me by the neck. His shoulders and arms bulged with all the more power as he lifted me effortlessly up to his eye level. Just like Casey’s before, Jesse’s body wasn’t grossly asymmetric or bubbly like you’d expect from someone so massive. Instead, he was a giant with normal proportions. Whatever this disease was didn’t discriminate by growing only major muscles. The small muscles people couldn’t isolate in weightlifting grew too. He looked like a superhero. Jesse’s eyes inspected me and he barked a laugh as he tore my shirt off with his free hand, revealing my own Olympian body. “Looks like you tried to come prepared,” he snarled as he flexed an arm that was bigger than my head. “But I always beat the other guy when it comes to conditioning.” He drew me close. “I suppose I should thank you for sleeping with my ex-girlfriend. I seemed to have picked up whatever you got…and took it to a place you could only dream of.” If my windpipe weren’t gasping for air, I would have groaned in frustration for forgetting such an obvious form of infection. Was Jenna, the girl in question, also a muscle goddess now? Now was probably not the time to ask that question. Jesse made sure of it. The two of us were alone, the other students scattered now to the wind, Chandler included. I couldn’t blame him. Jesse radiated with power that could crush me without thought. What would such a mentally unstable person do to a much smaller innocent bystander? I found myself wondering how he’s gained so much mass in only eight hours. I’d eaten pretty much non-stop for four before the owners of the Chinese restaurant ushered me out. It didn’t matter. The only question that matters was whether I’d live through the afternoon. I did what any cornered animal does, I kicked and screamed and punched without thought. Every time I made contact with Jesse’s body, I winced in pain. It was like punching a brick wall covered in skin. Jesse grunted in slight discomfort but that wasn’t much of a victory. He responded by squeezing my neck, choking off what little air I had. He laughed as my vision began to blur and head throb. “I can’t have you catching up to me anytime soon,” he said as he took my arm with his free hand and started to bend it awkwardly as if to break it. Pain flared from my elbow and shoulder but seemed distant and diluted as I slowly lost my grip on consciousness. I distantly wondered if his laugh would be the last thing I heard when a series of alien sounds came pouring from the surroundings. I heard Jesse curse and suddenly I was on the ground, performing a strange combo of deep gulps and throaty coughs. My senses were still dull as the world exploded around me. I could make out people coming from random directions, some monsters themselves. I saw Jesse run naked down the same side of the crag he’d just ascended. Apparently these newcomers were big enough or numerous enough to scare him. I got to my knees, still without a full idea of what was happening around me. My head pounded as I ran in the opposite direction from Jesse, not caring if anyone followed as long as I could get away from the monster that nearly killed me. But I must not have been important enough. The sounds slowly faded behind me but I didn’t look back to make sure I was alone until a couple of miles later, when I fell to the ground gasping for breath. “What the fuck?” I said aloud as I got to my knees. Fear still clouded my thoughts but at least I had control of my senses again. My vision had only just recently returned to normal. I had absolutely no idea what just happened and was still scared out of my mind. I wanted to go home. I wanted to see my parents. I didn’t care that I knew I was acting like a kid. I was a fucking kid. I turned and made my way home; ignoring the stares and honks I received from passersby. Who were those other people? I didn’t get a good look at them but they may have been as big as Jesse, certainly bigger than me. I looked down at my body, surprised something so amazing could still seem small to me. But it was. I was bigger than Coach Rod now, but that seemed like nothing. I stewed the afternoon’s events as I made my way home, growing gradually calmer but no closer to finding answers. Half an hour later, I was walking up my driveway, only slightly surprised to see my parents’ cars in the driveway. It was only a quarter to five. I didn’t care. There was no hiding what I was now. They’d have to see me sooner or later. I opened the door and walked in, still dressed only in shoes and sweatpants. I instantly saw my mom, sitting on the couch and eyes rimmed with red. She’d been crying. She looked up at me, eyes dull and uncaring at first but growing wide as they dawned with recognition. She moaned. “Mom, I—“ I started but suddenly noticed movement in the room. A man in a tie and slacks stood up from where he was seated next to my mom. Another dressed in a plain black suit and tie with white dress shirt stood in the far corner of the room, seemingly trying to take in the whole room with one look. I stepped back, heart suddenly slamming against my ribcage. What was this? “Jordan Baer?” the man getting up from the couch asked sternly as he started to pull something from his pocket. I nodded, confirming my identity. He nodded back. “I’m Dr. Thornton.” I remembered the name from a conversation with Casey; he was one of the doctors responsible for his miracle cure. “Please sit,” the doctor said calmly as he sat next to my blank faced mother. “We have much to discuss.” THE END
  17. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Hey guys, things are getting intense in this story. There are a couple ways it could go next and if you have any routes you would like it to take in particular, leave a comment! A College Weight Room Story: The Path to Gains Thursday Night: Wrestling. Part 6 I’m lying on my back in my bedroom with my eyes closed. Many thoughts run through my mind as I lie there. “Troy broke up with his girlfriend,” I whisper to myself. “No,” I respond. “She broke up with him…” I honestly have no clue. Who did the breaking up and why? My bed begins to vibrate and I am jolted out of my thoughts. It’s my phone. I pick it up and read the message. Just another text from Joy. “Shit.” It is 6:30 and I planned to meet with Troy an hour after dinner. I ate dinner at 5:30 and I remember seeing him there. So technically we should be meeting now. “Maybe he’s just waiting for his food to digest,” I say to myself. “Or maybe he’s too upset to wrestle after his break up.” I hope that he wasn’t too upset. I really hoped we could wrestle today. I felt like he was finally...VRRRTT! VRRRTT! My phone vibrated again. It was a message from Troy! Troy: Hey man, I’m ready to wrestle! Meet me at 6:50. I quickly change into my singlet and in 5 minutes I am walking into the gym. I make it my biggest priority not to mention his break up. He is already in front of me, sitting on the mat, looking at the ceiling with blank eyes. Yeah, I definitely should not bring it up. I walk over to the mat and hearing my footsteps, he opens his eyes and smiles. “Hey, bro,” he says quietly. He lacks his usual energy and that bothers me a little. I try not to let it show. He is wearing an extremely tight black compression shirt and a pair of tight, blue running shorts. This makes me a little happy. He’s still wearing clothes that show off his bod. Good. “You ready for this man?” I say. He laughs. “Ready for what exactly?” “To get your ass kicked,” I say smiling. His eyes widen at what I say. “I will fight as strongly as I can, but I’ll be honest. I don’t mind being dominated by you at all.” I hesitate to speak. I was not expecting that. “Game on,” I say. We get on the mat and move into our positons in front of each other. I size him up and look into his eyes. They have this deeply serious look. Like a threatened animal he looks at me with so much intensity that I begin to feel afraid. We continue to look into each other’s eyes. There’s tension in the air and he is beginning to breathe heavily. His chest and shoulders begin to raise up and down. Then suddenly he lunges at me. He pins me to the floor, his chest directly on mine, and I immediately flip him on to his back. “You’re faster than me,” he says. “But I’m stronger.” “We’ll see” I say. He rolls onto his knees and lunges at me again. I quickly dodge him and I’m on his back in an instant. I pin him down and all he can do is grunt and whine beneath me. He tries his best to get out of my grip but it is no use and he eventually taps out. I let him go and in a flash he turns around and is on top on me with both hands clamped over my wrists. “Whoa!” I say. “This is cheating!” “Well I gotta do something to beat someone so experienced.” The word experienced slips off of his tongue as if it had some sort form of double meaning. I wonder what he meant. I can’t move and he continues to look into my eyes as he pins me down. My dick twitches a little from the position I am in. I need to move. “Fine,” I say. “You can cheat a little you big baby.” “Prepare to get owned” He lets me go and we go at it again. This time no rules. Troy plays dirty. On two occasion his hand made harsh contact with my cock and balls causing me intense pain and giving him an advantage. I knew he was doing it on purpose, but I didn’t want to seem like a bitch so I fought through it. He pins me down about three times before I begin to notice that he is a one trick pony. Each time he pinned me he had a handful of my cock and used it to his advantage, but now I was ready. I saw his hand coming down and dodging it, I grabbed for his arm and spun him onto his back. Then I did something risky. With one hand pinning down his left hand I used my other and put pressure onto his own dick, giving him a taste of his own medicine. “Oh fuck!” he says. His eyes close shut and his head tilts back in agony. I jump on his stomach and pin him down. He gives up easily. That was the beginning of the end. I pinned him 4 more times after that within seconds and he begins to get angry. “You’re going down, man!” he yells at me. Anger is in his eyes. We are both sweating. But Troy is soaked from how much effort he is putting into fighting me. He rips off his shirt, his hard pecks and abs in full view now and I’m caught off guard that I have no time to prepare myself when he tackles me. His sweaty pecs touch my face and I can feel the dense, hard muscle push against my teeth. My cock springs to life and I’m fucking embarrassed. Shit. “Look how the tables have turned,” he says. “Not so fast!” I say. I wiggle beneath him and be begins to laugh. Luckily I wiggle just enough to free my leg and I bend my right knee right into his crotch connected with his rock hard cock. “Ugh!” he yelps and rolls onto his side with both hands over his dick. He lays there for a second and suddenly he springs back to life and comes at me again. I have time to react and duck. He tumbles over my back, grabbing my spandex as he falls, and pulls me onto him. He lies on the floor on his back holding me in his arms, my back to him. I struggle but eventually break free and try to stand. He grabs at my legs and I fall back onto him. My face lands directly between his legs and I basically lose my shit. His shorts are so thin that I can feel his dick pressed against my cheek. I can smell the musk from his dick and I get harder than I was before. The awkward part is that my dick is also in Troy’s face and he doesn’t seem to give a fuck. I feel like this moment is frozen and I don’t move and suddenly I am flipped on to my back and I see Troy with hatred in his eyes. He jumps at me but I dodge him quickly and make I am quickly on top of him with both of his arms pins. “Shit!” he yells. He struggles beneath me like a wild animal. He seems crazy. Withering like a mental patient wearing a straitjacket. His breathing is heavy and his eyes and face are red. Then suddenly he calms down. His breathing slows and his eyes begin to glisten. Tears drip down his face, adding to the sweat on his face and he looks so pitiful that I let his arms go. I stand up and put my hand out to him. He slowly raises his hand and I help him up. “How are you doing, Troy?” I say. “Are you ok?” “No… but I think I will be.” “What’s going on?” “My girlfriend…She left because I didn’t want to give up bodybuilding, but I’ve been thinking a little. Maybe I should stop.” “But she was wrong for wanting to ruin your dreams of being bigger and stronger.” Troy turns away from me and continues to speak. “I don’t think I should let her go.” I get angry at this. There is no way I’m losing him to some bitch who can’t see something amazing in front of her. I grab his shoulder and turn him around to face me. “You are strong! Look at these arms, these legs, and those abs.” I lightly punch each body part as I describe it. I notice his cock violently twitching through his shorts as I do this and his hand quickly clamps down on it. “Don’t give up on gains, man. You can find someone else, maybe someone as into body building as you. Someone just as strong.” “Who then?” he says. “Uh… I don’t know man.” “Exactly.” Troy stands, picking up his shirt and putting it back on so he can leave. “What are you going to do, Troy?” “I think…I think I’m done with lifting. I quit bodybuilding!” His fists are clenched and are turning red. “I’m doing it for her…” he says and walks away, leaving me in the gym alone.
  18. Hey dudes, here is part 4 of the story. If you haven't read the previous chapter, here is the link. Have fun. A College Weight Room Story: The Path to Gains Wednesday Leg day: Part 4 I walk into the gym with Troy, both of us with our pre-workout bottles in hand. I can tell that Troy is pumped. He shaking a little and I can’t tell if it’s from the pre-workout or the idea of working out again. “I fucking love leg day, bro,” he says. Yeah, definitely pumped about working out. I love this go get em attitude. “Let’s do this man!” I say. We walk past the front desk and into the weight room. Zeus and Kris are missing so I won’t have any partners today. This day is already starting to suck. Damn. “Von!” Russ yells from across the room. “Kris and Zeus are sick so I’m partnering you with Troy today.” “Sweet!” Troy exclaims as he begins to softly punch me in the abs. I smile and shrug him off. “Alright bro, let’s go!” Russ tells us that our first exercise will be back squats, so we walk over to the bar. “You should go first. I have a feeling I’ll need to add more to what you’ll put on,” Troy says. I laugh. “You cocky bastard!” “Hey man,” he shrugs his shoulders and puts up his hands in surrender. “I’m just being honest.” I agree and load the 45 pound bar with a 45 pound plate on each side. Troy stands behind me in case I’ll need help and I begin my reps. After 10 reps I stop squatting and put the bar back. My ass is already feeling the burn, but it’s a good burn. “Alright bro, let me show you how it’s done” Troy says. He makes his way over to the plates and adds an extra 35 pounds to each side. That’s 205 pounds on his first set! That’s way more than my bitch weight of 135 pounds. “Fuck man!” I say. “Are you serious?” “Watch and see.” He begins his squats and I am in awe. He slides up in down with ease and each time he comes up a power burst of air blows from his mouth. All I can stare at from behind is his ass; it looks so powerful. Each jacked globe poking through his tight joggers. The grey joggers strain as his ass grows beneath them. If only he didn’t have them on. That way I could see the full power of those muscles and view them with pleasure. He finishes his set and sets the weight back down. “Your turn.” I walk to the bar. I’m intimidated by him now. I want to try the weight he just did, but I don’t know if I have it in me. I don’t want to take any weight off the bar because I’d feel like a little bitch. I can feel his eyes burning into my back as I make my hard decision. “I think I’ll try 8 reps with this weight,” I say. “Oh really now?” he says. “Guess my heavy set got your competitive juices going, huh bro?” He claps me on the back. Oh yeah. Game on. “Something like that,” “Alright, show me what you got. I’ll stand close to be sure you don’t fall.” I immediately put the bar on my shoulders and start the set. The weight is heavy and I can already feel it hurting my back. “Shit,” I mutter. “Don’t worry bro, I got you.” Troy comes up behind me and puts both hands on my waist as support. I feel jolts of electricity shooting through where his fingers are making contact. Must be the pre-workout. I squat down and the weight is insane. My legs tremble but I keep pushing. He’s still there for me and supports me through it all. By the 8th rep I am beat, but I feel accomplished. When I put the bar back Troy looks at me with impressed eyes. “Way to go man!” he says. He goes for another ab punch. I let him get me once and then I block his next punch. He’s such a bro. “Alright,” I say. “Your next set.” We blast through our workout. After squats we go to leg presses, leg curls and leg extensions. I try my best to keep up with troy, but the man is a beast. He powers through it all like a train and by then end of it all I am beat. Class is over and I check my phone; it’s 3:40 and my wrestling buddy Ethan has texted me. Ethan: You, me, Jason. On the mats. Today. 4:00. Bring your singlet. Good? It seems that Ethan wants to practice a little today. Back in high school I wrestled a little, but I never joined the team. It wasn’t until I came to college that I found myself liking more and more wrestling. Ethan, Jason and I all joined the team our freshman year, but college gets busy and we never had time for matches so we would just put singlets on once a week and beat each other down when we could. I reply that it sounds like a good plan and walk with Troy to the locker room. Once inside he immediately begins to strip down and is once again standing naked in front of me. Thankfully I am used to it after our last jerk off session. His cock flops between his muscled thighs still swollen from the workout, and I try to avoid looking at his thick meat. “Ready to shower bro?” he asks. “Nah man, I can’t today. I gotta get changed into my singlet for a little wrestling.” I walk to my locker and pull out a blue singlet and begin to change my clothes. I feel him watching me as I pull off my shirt. “Wrestling?” he says as he begins to scratch his twitching cock. “I didn’t know you wrestled.” “Yeah man, actually, I wanted to ask if you were interested in a little wrestling yourself.” My shirt is off and I pull down my pants and boxers, now completely nude. I can still feel him watching me and decide to toy with him. “Like what you see?” I say. His eyes widen and he is completely taken off guard. I stand there nude, dick out and he still doesn’t look away. “I’m just seeing that you are getting stronger. That’s all, bro,” he says and laughs. “Thanks for noticing.” His dick is starting to get hard and his hand is doing a terrible job at covering it. I decide to put the singlet on before he blows. At least I think I’m the reason he is getting hard? With Troy, I actually don’t know. “I’m gonna go shower man. Maybe I’ll wrestle another day.” I’m a little disappointed…Ok I am very disappointed. Guess I’ll have to figure out another way to get to him. “Alright man, I’ll see ya.” I now have my blue singlet on and he continues to stare. My bulge is clearly seen and each outline of my defined abs poke through the shirt. My pecs stand out like shelves. I look great and I know it and so does Troy. After a few moments of staring he quickly turns around and runs to the shower, hand on cock. I have a good idea of what he is about to do. In fact, I think I already hear moaning. Hahaha. I walk out of the locker room and make my way to the mats with a smile on my face. I kind of wish I took Troy up on his offer, but I can’t leave Ethan and Jason waiting. It’s 3:50 now and they are already out there waiting for me. “Sup bro!” Ethan exclaims. He daps me up and throws me into a strong bro hug. After he lets go Jason comes by and fist bumps me. “You ready bro?” Jason asks. “Hell yeah man. Who am I gonna destroy first?” I say. “You mean who are YOU going to be destroyed by!” Ethan says. “That will be me!” Ethan is about an inch taller than me. He has pale white skin, long black hair around his ears and has a similar physique to me. The only difference would be our biceps and our chests. His bicep are jacked as fuck. I’ve measured my biceps and they are barely 13 inches un-flexed and I know just by looking at Ethan that his chiseled arms are at least 16 or 17 inches around. My chest, however, is thicker than his and although he beats me in curls I am a stronger bencher. Jason is dark-skinned like me, but a little lighter than I am. He is a little smaller than me. He weighs about 140 pounds compared to my 150 bulk and I can honestly say I am going to love dominating him. They are both wearing black singlets and are ready to get the fight for power started. Ethan and I get in our positions on the mat and so it begins. Ethan’s arms are powerful so I am at a little bit at a disadvantage, but I somehow manage to take him down by ducking under his arms and grabbing him around his waist. I slam him to the floor and he lets out a puff of air. “Fuck man, you’ve gotten stronger. I flip over and pin him down with all of my strength. We are both sweating now and I’m pumped as hell. I can feel a twitch in my cock. I’ve needed this for a while. I’ve needed to dominate. Ethan looks vascular as fuck. The veins covering his arms and stretching to his pecs pop out of his skin. He is tired and decides to give up so I move on to Jason. As Ethan walks off the mat I noticed that his dick is standing tall, poking through his tight singlet. “Having fun there?” I say. He looks down at his dick and turns a little red. “Don’t worry about it,” he says and laughs. I take on Jason easily. I am fully hard now and I don’t care. If Ethan can be aroused, I won’t be ashamed. I flip Jason over and end up on his back. My dick is in his crack and he grunts and struggles beneath me. This just makes me feel even more powerful. I’m so turned on that I could burst at any moment. I also have this strange feeling that I am being watched, but I ignore it. We continue to wrestle for the next 30 minutes. I’m on my last match with Ethan and I still have this nagging feeling that I am being watched, but I continue to dominate my two contestants. When we are finished wrestling, it is agreed that I am stronger, but next time Ethan knows he can beat me. Afterwards, Ethan, Jason and I are all sitting on the mats dripping sweat. My dick is still hard as a rock and I look down and see than Ethan’s dick is still proud as ever. All three of us are pumped. “Looks like someone needs a good cum,” Jason says. He swings his hand down and smacks my clearly visible dick. “Shut up,” I reply and I begin to laugh. “Ethan’s dick is just as hard as mine.” “Probably harder,” Ethan says and winks at me. We all break out into laughter at this comment. I look up and I see Troy, watching with his eyes wide open in a mix of admiration and shock. I knew that nagging feeling wasn’t just in my head. I wish I had known he was watching us earlier. I’m still hard and I have a little pre-cum showing through my singlet which I really don’t want him to see. I’m freaking out so I pretend I didn’t notice him. “We should get changed and head to class,” I say. “Right!” they both agree. They grab their gym bags and we rush back to the locker room to change out of our singlets. I follow closely behind them and I almost make it to the door when Troy is suddenly standing in front of me. They go in without me and I’m startled as fuck. I thought he would have left by now. "Hey, dude!” I say. “Did you just get here?" “Yeah dude. I just finished showering and saw you on your way into the locker room.” Strange….he lied to me. I know he was watching me wrestle. Why wouldn’t he admit he saw me? Then again, why did I pretend I just saw him? He is wearing jeans and a polo while I stand here baring all in my singlet. All I can think about is what he thinks of my body. He seems confused. I can tell by the look in his eyes that he doesn’t quite know what to say. "So it looks like you guys were wrestling?” he says as he lets out a small chuckle. He smiles humorously pointing at our singlets. "Yea!" I say and laugh. "How did that go?" Troy responds. "Oh, we were just sparring and getting a decent workout at the same time." Troy nods his head in dull agreement. It looks like there is so much more he wants to say, but it seems that he doesn’t know how to express himself. "So who won?" he asks. I feel like being super modest so I won’t come off as a douche. I know he saw that I wiped the floor with my bros, but I lie anyway. "I mean, we just kinda wrestled each other and tried different moves to pin each other and see if we could escape the moves or reverse them. It wasn't really an official match, haha." Holy shit. Why am I rambling? "Cool," he says with a hint of underlying excitement. This entire time I’ve been standing with both hands covering my still bulging crotch. I’m still sweaty and a bit exhausted and just about ready to change. "We were heading back to change now,” I say. "No one really wants to walk around in these suits. It’s a bit embarrassing." I don’t want to feel like I’m rushing the conversation, but standing here is making me insane so I slowly start walking towards the locker room door to hint to him that I need to change. Surprisingly, he starts to follow me. "Nah man, don’t be embarrassed,” he says behind me. “You look like a beast in that!” “You don’t say?” I reply in the cockiest voice possible. “It shows off your pecs better than anything!” He gives a full happy smile but turns his face sideways to avoid eye contact. "Thanks man," I say smiling. "It’s always cool when you encourage me. I…I like being your friend." Troy takes a deep breath in as he searches for what to say next, but his face goes into a trance so I speak again. "Well lemme go change. I smell horrible.. I'll see you in Western Civ later, dude." “Yeah, no doubt.” I make my way into the locker room and as the door closes behind me I think to myself. What the fuck was that?!?!? My phone starts to buzz and I check and see that it’s a text from Troy. Troy: Hey man! We should definitely go running tomorrow morning and work on our back and biceps after. I’ve been thinking and I want to take you up on your wrestling offer. Let spar tomorrow after dinner! Take it easy on me bro. You’re a tough dude. Flex at ya later
  19. Jaypat

    Troy's Maggot - 9

    Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 TROY Phew, Maggot, I’m glad it’s you who answered your door. I didn’t know what I was going to say to your parents. Oh, they’re at work… and Joey’s at school. So, you’re home alone. Yeah, I brought them. When I got your text, “I need weights. I need to lift,” I knew exactly how you felt. So, I grabbed everything I could But I gotta say, you don’t look so good. Well, you’re all red in the face and sweaty, and your eyes are open wide like saucers… and why are you all covered up in a blanket are you sick or something? Come in and close the door? Sure. Why? You’re dropping your blanket…. Whoa… Jeeeeeeeeesuuuus! Look at you! You’re a fucking tank! Look at your fucking arms! There as big as mine! Your shoulders…. Fuck! They’re huge! And you’ve got fucking monster pecs on you. You can see every freaky striation! And you abs… they’re a freaking brick wall! Your quads are massive! …and all cut up! You can see each and every muscle division! You’re not standing up straight are you? Whoa… you’re as tall as me now! Damn! All this from that blue shit? And it’s still happening? You’re still fucking growing? No fucking way! Yeah, I got some weights in the car. Come on out and help me bring them in. What? You’re afraid someone will see you? You don’t want anyone to see you until you’re done growing? Fuck that! I’m not bringing in all that shit by myself. Throw on a shirt and come out and help me. No one will probably even realize it’s you; you’re so much fucking bigger now! They took your Troy’s Maggot shirts and now you don’t have a shirt that fits? Fuck! I’ve got a spare shirt in the car. You can use that. Hang on, I’ll get it. There. Damn. It fits you like a glove. Holy fuck! I never thought I’d see the day. Did you, Maggot? Did you think you’d see the day when your pecs would be pushing out the front of one of my shirts, when your rock-hard, veiny biceps would be filling my fucking sleeves? It wasn’t so long ago you were just a shriveled up stick! Haha. Fuck, I can’t wait til Hunter and Jack get a load of the muscles on you! What? The weights? Oh yeah. Well, come help me Maggot. What are you doing just standing there? Where are we taking this shit? Oh, you got a spot cleared out in the basement? No one ever goes down there, hunh? Ok sounds like a good spot to set up. Wait a minute, Maggot, don’t take all those fucking plates by yourself… Damn, look at you! Look at you lifting all that goddamn weight by yourself! Holy fuck, you’re getting strong! Can I lift as much? Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to, Maggot? Watch this! There…! Even one plate more than you took! It’ll be a cold day in hell before you out muscle me, Maggot! Brian’s Journal – Day 67 A cold day in hell before I out muscle him? Ha! All I can say is I hope the devil has a scarf because he’s going to need it before the sun sets today! I’m fucking growing. I’ve been fucking growing non-stop since yesterday, and I’m going to continue fucking growing. I can fucking feel it! I kept waking up all last night. And every time I did, I went to the mirror and I was fucking bigger. I’d go back to bed, wake up again in an hour or so, and I’d be even bigger. Fuck, it felt awesome, looking at those bulging biceps, that big chest, my wide back, and knowing next time I woke up, they’d all be fucking bigger, thicker, and wider with powerful, heaving muscle! Fuck yeah! My parents poked their heads into my room before they left for the day. I lay in my bed, all covered up. Little did my dad know I had grown two huge, veiny, muscled-out arms, just one of which could fucking break him in two. Haha. But I kept all that bulging, rippling muscle covered up under blankets and just grunted when they told me to be good. I’d be fucking good, all right! Fuck, even my grunt was deeper. It wasn’t long after I got out of bed that I began to feel a kind of burn in my heaving muscular body. I needed to lift. Fuck, did I need to lift! My parents didn’t own a weight set do I did the only thing I could, I texted Troy. I texted Troy and he came. Even more important, he brought weights! And my body was fucking burning for them! We set them up in our basement and I was loading the bar almost before we finished putting the bench together. Troy couldn’t believe how big I’d gotten. He knew I was as big as him. Haha. He was in for a fucking surprise. I could feel I was on the express train to massiveness. And the way I was growing, I knew it wouldn’t be long before I was bigger than him, way bigger. Fuck, I was going to be bigger than Troy. I felt myself getting hard at the thought. Bring it on! I hopped on the bench, but all notions about how much I could lift went out the window. I’d been benching about 275 prior to today, but I didn’t waste my time with that. I went right to 6 plates, 315. That was Troy’s bench. I thought it would satisfy my body’s hunger for a lift, but it didn’t, not even close. I pounded out a set of 10 with ease. It was way too easy. I needed more of a challenge. I needed more weight, a lot more weight! I hoped off the bench and almost without thinking about it added another two plates to each side. I slid onto the bench and under the barbell. “Maggot,” said Troy. “That’s a 495 pound bench. That’s crazy. You’re gonna hurt yourself.” “Fuck that,” I said. I was in a kind of growth craze. Growing, getting bigger, that’s all that mattered. I was blindly obeying the demands of my body. “Lift this for me,” it seemed to be saying. “Lift this and we’ll get fucking massive!” “I’m going to fucking bench this,” I said to Troy. “Either fucking help me or get out of the way!” “Ok,” Troy said, shaking his head, “I’ll try and spot you, but at 495, I don’t know how much good I’m going to do.” “Spot me?” I laughed. “Just fucking stand back!” I grabbed the bar with fierce determination, and lifted. At first, it wouldn’t budge. I tried harder, as hard as I could. I could feel that this was what my body wanted, what it hungered for. I continued to give it everything I had. I felt the blood rushing to my head, my face turning red, the veins popping out of my neck. And finally I managed to get it off the support. Fuck, I felt my arms exploding with muscle and as I lifted the bar, I could feel big triceps swell out and form deep, thick horseshoes. Fuck, I could actually feel the hard muscles swelling up on my arms… like they were going to blast right out of my skin, like an incredibly intense instant pump! “What the fuck, Maggot,” gasped Troy. “What the fuck is going on?” Troy was in the spotter’s position. I looked up at him with his eyes wide open and his mouth agape. I just looked up at him and smirked. “What do you think’s going on, Troy Boy?” And then, my arms shaking under the weight, I slowly lowered it down to my chest. It was excruciating and exhilarating, all at the same time. I could feel my pecs, two solid mounds of shredded muscle strained to their limit. And Troy’s t-shirt, the way it wrapped around me so tightly, I could feel every hard, bulging muscle on my torso… and they were growing! My fucking shoulders; they were like expanding rocks, I could feel them swelling with size. I could feel my abs, six blocks of steel-like muscle pushing out from my stomach. And my arms, damn, I could feel they were passing big and were heading for huge. I wasn’t exactly sure what was happening to me, but I found it so fucking hot I was really getting stiff. But now I needed to lift the bar back up. I could feel my body demanding it. My face was so pumped with blood, that if any more blood rushed up there, I felt it would explode. And then it started happening; unbelievably, my pumped up arms began to respond to my will and I started pushing the barbell back up. “FUCK!” I yelled while my whole body started shaking. Oh my God! My muscles… the were growing… more and more… so fucking intense! I began hearing popping threads and tearing seams as my iron body started erupting with size and ripping its way out of Troy’s shirt. Jesus, I could feel my entire frame was getting wider, longer, thicker and heavier. “HOLY FUCK, MAGGOT!” shouted Troy. “ARRRRRRRGH!” I yelled as I felt the sleeves around my powerful delts explode, destroyed by shoulders were blossoming into massive, ripped and segmented boulders. And my arms, fuck, I turned my head and watched my arms blast into massiveness right in front of my eyes. I could see the sinew weaving together making those fucking horseshoes thicker, and those biceps bulkier. “Whatever you’re doing Maggot, you gotta stop. You gotta stop right now!” bellowed Troy. “Fuck that, Troy!” I yelled as I felt the shirt get tighter and tighter. “This is your fucking shirt, Troy! Watch what my fucking body is going to do your fucking shirt!” There was more tearing around my torso and a second later, my mammoth pecs just erupted out of Troy’s shirt. They were huge ripped mountains of muscle, sandwiched between my giant arms and engorged with blood as I strained with all my might to push that weight up. RIIIIP, SNAP, SNAP, SNAP, POP! My expanding iron-like lats, bulging traps and thickening neck, burst out of the remaining pieces of Troy’s shirt, completely reducing it to shredded rags. And then BAM it was up. It was all the way up! I had benched 495 pounds. Damn. “Oh yeah!” I shouted, as I felt a shit eating grin burst out across my face. “Fuck yeah! Let’s see you bench fucking 495, Troy boy!” Then I did another rep only this time it felt easy. “Nice,” I said, laughing. Then I quickly pounded out another five reps before I racked the weight. I leapt up off the bench check myself out in the mirror we’d set up. Holy fuck, I was gigantic! About 6’ 5” and ridiculously wide and bulging! I tore off the shredded remains of Troy’s t-shirt and hoooooly fuck, I was a monster, a fucking muscle monster! I weighed at least 400 lbs. and I was all muscle, every freaking, bulging, vein covered inch of me. My pecs were like round hard melons, my shoulders and back were as wide as doors. My upper arms were at least the size of my head, with thick angry veins leading up to bowling ball delts. My workout shorts had fit okay when Troy arrived, but now my mammoth quads and hams were squeezed so snugly into the legs I was sure the slightest flex would destroy them completely. Of course my shorts were completely safe from my monstrous diamond-hard calves. And my package… I could see the front of my shorts pushed out as far as it could go in a giant bulge, and practically breaking under the strain. “How do you like your maggot now, Troy?” I said, strutting over to him and looking down at his wide-eyed, open mouthed expression. Fuck, look how much bigger I was than him! I was bigger than Troy! I was way fucking bigger than Troy! I was truly enormous, a fucking god! Each and every one of my muscles, from my telephone pole neck to my monster calves, were hard, gigantic, veiny masses! And Troy’s… Troy’s were just big. “Look at me!” I said flexing my massive arms and leering down at him. “I’m pretty fucking big now, aren’t I?” I loved understatement. I was fucking colossal! I hit a double bi, admiring the huge, twin granite peaks as they erupted from my arms. “Think we’ll win the bet now?” But Troy just stood there, apparently unable to speak. And me, I was getting distracted by my shorts. They were so fucking tight, they were really starting to hurt. And there was a recently enlarged caged beast down there that seriously wanted out. I reached down to pull off my shorts. But it didn’t quite work that way. I started to try to peel my shorts off of my enormous muscle encased legs, but I was having serious trouble. So, I slipped my meaty hands under the waist band and, with a heart stopping RIIIIIP, just tore the shorts right off my body, underwear and all. Fuck. I stood there, completely naked, staring at myself in the mirror. And I have to say I was stunned by what I saw. Damn, I was masculine perfection. Besides my killer upper body, I had the legs of a total beast. Each of my huge thighs was every bit as big around as my waist and carved with rolling, rippling sinew. My balls were like two tangerines and my cock hung over them almost to my knees, thick and heavy as a fire hose. “This is too fucking freaky,” said Troy, and then he turned and ran. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going Troy Boy!” I hollered and raced after him. “Don’t run away like a little bitch!” Troy tore out of the house, jumped into his car, and started the engine. No way was Troy going anywhere. He helped me do this! Fuck, he practically made me in to this muscle beast! No way was he leaving now. I fucking wanted him here. That’s right he wasn’t leaving because I fucking wanted him here! But could I stop a car? Fuck yeah, I could! I ran up behind his car, squatted down, dug my legs in and grabbed it below the chassis. Troy put the car in gear and started to pull away. But I pulled back! But could I stop it? I heaved and heaved. I felt every huge, powerful muscle strain in my huge, powerful body. Fuck, it felt like I might burst something. And then I felt it. I was growing again! My arms were bulging out bigger. My monster legs were getting even thicker! And then I was doing it! I was holding back his car! He gunned the accelerator. I could hear the wheels spinning. But he wasn’t going anywhere! Suddenly it sunk in! Holy fuck, I had a hold of Troy’s car and was keeping it back, using nothing but pure muscle! And I could feel it. All that physical power made manifest in pound after pound of steel-like, vein ridden beef exploding out of every inch of my body! FUUUUCCCCK YEAHHHH! “Come back here, Troy,” I bellowed. “Stop being a little bitch!” But Troy hit the accelerator and just kept pouring gas into the engine. I heard it rev up loud and strong. “Okay, fine!” I shouted. “If that’s the way you want to play it, go ahead! See what happens!” I looked down at my huge pecs and started grinning, I felt them getting bigger. The striations were getting thicker, the huge muscle globes were pushing out further, bulging up fuller. And fuck I was rising up, as if I was on some kind of a lift. Holy fuck! I was getting bigger and taller. Just like with the weights, straining my muscles on Troy’s car was helping me get even more colossal. “FUCK! YEAH!” Troy must have guessed what was happening because he killed the engine, jumped out of the car and hid around the other side. “Now you’re hiding? You are such a fucking pussy!” I yelled! Then I got an idea, A FUCKING FANTASTIC IDEA! I grabbed the car again only this time I lifted. Groaning and grunting, I felt every massive muscle in my body bulge and throb. And slowly, I began to make it move. I looked down as my feet, as they shuffled back and forth adjusting for the weight. Holy crap, look at my feet! They were huge and they seemed to be growing even bigger, becoming more solid with heavier bones, throbbing veins, and widening toes! Oh fuck yeah, bigger, I want to get bigger! As I continued to lift as I felt my two calves become rock hard with the pump and rapidly blow up to the size of soccer balls, flaring out larger and flexing behind my giant thickening shin bones. And my knees almost appeared to be shrinking as they were being completely overwhelmed by my massive expanding thighs. Oh my God, my upper legs were evolving into huge undulating, tightly woven masses of powerful sinew, throbbing under my skin, each one trying to bulge bigger than it’s humongous, shredded brother. And as massively wide as they got, they also seemed to be stretching longer, making my already impossibly colossal body even taller. And my balls… They were the size of two large oranges hanging below my monster cock which was about 15 inches long, as thick as a beer can, and only semi-hard. As I lifted the impossible weight of the car higher, I could feel my abs clench. Fuck, they were thrusting out of my stomach, growing, widening into eight deeply carved, solid bricks of muscle that violently heaved in and out with every monster breath I took. Fuck, I checked out my arms, as they gripped the chassis. My forearms were evolving into enormous bulging and swelling masses of ripped cords and tendons just popping with power. My biceps were massive globes of vein covered sinew with peaks alone that put Troy’s entire bicep to shame. My pecs erupted to the size of boulders, huge and ribbed with thick muscle fibers and I could feel my gargantuan lats spread out behind me, like a kind of thick muscle cape. Slowly my ridiculously gigantic arms straightened as I completed a military press with Troy’s car. Oh man, the fucking size of me… I was so fucking massive. So much fucking muscle over every bulging inch of me, now I had become an unstoppable giant, made solely of massive, heaving muscles. Troy looked terrified. I bet he never saw this coming! His maggot was now a seven and a half foot tall muscle giant, more than five feet wide at the shoulders, with huge thick mountainous traps dwarfing his barrel neck. I had grown gigantic, satiated wrecking ball delts supporting enormous, veined wrapped upper arms that resembled giant muscle globes bulging out impossibly huge and hard. My forearms had evolved into a huge conglomeration of thick woven cords, big around as Troy’s torso. My chest had blossomed into two massive orbs of sinew, hard, solid and ripped. My abs had become eight concrete slabs of muscle leading down to my fire hose cock and my grapefruit balls. And my legs… Crap, my thighs had grown so big around, they made the nearby tree trunks look skinny, and I could feel each and every gigantic, powerful leg muscle bulge and ripple under my skin as I shifted my weight from foot to foot. “How ‘bout now, Troy?” I boomed, while still holding his car above my head. “How do you like your maggot now?” He couldn’t say anything, not a thing. “I feel amazing,” I cried, “so fucking strong. I bet I could… Is your car fully insured?” Troy nodded rapidly. I got this giant grin on my face and suddenly I began to squeeze Troy’s car. I began to hear creaking metal followed by a loud pop from the car and then another. A bolt dropped out of it and bounced off the ground. “FUCK YEAH!” I cried as the car frame started to warp. Jesus, I was crushing the car! With my massive bare hands, I was crushing Troy’s car. Then bolts and rivets and engine parts started cascading down in a metallic rain as laughing, I continued to destroy the car with just the raw power in my megalithic arms. “Look at me, Troy boy!” I called. “Look at what your maggot can do!” I threw down Troy’s car with a tremendous crash of metal. Troy turned and ran. “Don’t run from me, Tiny Troy!” I called taking off after him. “Don’t run from your maggot!” I was amazed at how fast my long, hugely powerful legs caught up with him. I grabbed him with one massive, meaty hand, and effortlessly picked him up with my impossibly gigantic muscled-up arms and held him dangling in the air. “Don’t do this to me,” he said. “Please, not out here where everyone can see!” Just what exactly did he think I was going to do to him? “Remember Tiny Troy?” I said. “Remember when we first started and you did this to me…?” Then I noticed it. His reaction was exactly the same as mine had been. He was supporting a gigantic boner. Damn. That’s what he didn’t want out in the open where everyone could see. Tucking him under my muscle pylon of an arm, I hurried him inside and back down to the basement. I set him down and got my first good look at my ridiculously massive body in the mirror. My pecs were two gigantic globes of flesh, sticking out about two feet in front of me overshadowing a range of eight massive muscle plateaus rising out of my stomach and rippling in and out with every breath I took. My back spread out behind me wider than a barn door and about five times as thick. And my legs were two monstrous pillars, as thick around as an oil drum, with all the massive muscle groups visibly writhing and twisting with the slightest move. And every vein, every striation of every muscle group was clearly defined beneath my bronzed skin. My impossibly thick neck was now bent slightly over because I was too tall for the basement’s low ceiling and I was so wide with heaving, bulging, massive muscles, I almost filled all the available space. And as I stood staring open-mouthed at this vision, I felt my giant cock start to lengthen and grow stiff. Bigger and thicker it got, as I stared at my massively muscled, flawlessly proportioned, gigantic, heaving, marble-like muscle body in the mirror. Bigger, thicker and harder it got, as waves of mind searing pleasure began to emanate from it. I flexed and watched the muscle mountains explode out of my arms, then I felt the hardness of my giant pecs and ran my hand over the stone-like ridges of my abs. My new giant cock grew as hard as steel! Oh fuck, I’d never felt anything thing like this before. I mean, I’d been hard before, gotten off before, lots of times, but this… My entire hugely powerful body was practically shaking with the sensation. I felt like I was about to blow! And all this from just staring at myself. And then Troy was there, taking me into his mouth, sucking, licking. I never took him for a cock sucker, but then I guess there’d never been a cock quite like mine, attached to a gigantically muscled, heaving frame like mine. My hands found the top of his head and I started messaging his short, spikey haired scalp while he worked on my impossibly huge and engorged member. I was in that state where you desperately want to release, but you know as soon as you do it will be over, so you hold back. I kept staring in the mirror at my gigantic body, periodically flexing my massively muscled arms, my bowling ball pecs, and running my hands over Troy’s wide rippling back, all while feeling my member throb and pulse with impossibly intense waves of pleasure, building and building and building until I just couldn’t hold back any longer. “AAAAARRRRGGGGHHHH FUCK!” I shouted as I came with the force of a freight train, knocking Troy to the floor, and overloading my own pleasure centers nearly to the point of losing consciousness. I don’t know how long I stood there, lingering in the throbbing, pulsing, post orgasmic sensation, before it faded to the point where coherent thought became possible. Troy was picking himself up, and wiping himself off with the towel we’d brought down for the workout. “Please don’t tell anyone about that,” he said looking up at me, nervously. “Tell them about what?” I said, winking at him. “Thanks,” he said. “I’m starving,” I said. “How about you?” “I could eat,” he said, and the two of us thundered up the stairs to the kitchen. Troy stayed with me most of the day, but he left before my parents got home. He figured I’d have enough to explain without him being there and he was right. Did they freak? You betcha! But in the end they accepted me. What else could they do? They took me to see a doctor who looked over my chart as he looked me over and over and over. At one point the nurse brought in a step ladder so he could look in my ears. When he was done he said in a sagely tone, “I see from the school nurse you’ve been on steroids. You should stay away from them. They’re not good for you.” Then he prescribed post cycle therapy. And that was that. When I returned to school the next week, there was something of a commotion as you might guess. But, I figured they’d get used to me in time. The best part was Ralphie. I was 2 feet taller than him now and weighed 6 or 7 times as much, all of it raging, bulging, rippling muscle. Ha! My fucking right arm was bigger than his entire body. My gigantic, veiny bicep was bigger around than his puny torso! “So Ralphie,” I boomed, grinning evilly. “Want to talk about whose bigger now?” Guess what? He didn’t. Graduation came and Troy won his bet. Of course he did, I was way bigger than Ralphie, Simon and all three jocks put together! One dollar. That’s right, this whole thing had been about one dollar. Fuck. I saw a lot of Troy that summer. We did a lot of… experimenting. In between, he taught me a thing or two about wresting. Troy really seemed impressed with my size and power. I couldn’t understand why he didn’t get some of the blue shit for himself. But since I kind of liked being the gigantic one, I never really suggested it to him. And in the autumn, we went our separate ways to separate schools at separate ends of the country. I fully expected to never see him again. Thanks to his training and my ridiculous size, I got on the collage wresting team. But they had trouble matching me with opponents. Finally they lined up a match for me. I couldn’t wait to meet this other behemoth. I showed up at the gym was looking around when suddenly I felt this huge hand on my massive shoulder. I turned around and there stood a man every bit as gigantic and bulging with massive muscles as I was. That monstrous body was a stranger to me, but not the face that sat on top of it. “How ya doin’, Maggot,” said Troy. “I hope you brought your A game.” THE END
  20. Hey Guy! Here is part 2 of College Locker room heat! Here is part 1 if you have not read it A College Weight Room Story: The Path to Gains Gym Class. Monday Afternoon: Chest day Part 2 We walked into the weight room. Troy, still behind me, comments on how stoked he is that the gym is almost completely empty. He is walking beside me now and I can see that he is pumped. As we walk into the weight room I notice that his fists are clenched and the veins in his arms are pronounced from his tight grip. His biceps and forearms are swelling from the force of his grip and I admire the power in his arms. “Like what you see, man?” he asks. I’m startled. I did not expect him to acknowledge I was checking out his gains, but of course he did. He’s Troy. He would want me to look at his chiseled body. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m 150 pounds of thick pulsating muscle. My pecs press through my shirt like balloons and my legs are thick enough to crush trash cans between them, but I still stare in awe at my gym buddy’s body. “Your arms are vascular as fuck,” I say. This makes him smile in the cockiest way. “I’ve been working on my biceps a lot too,” he says. “They’ve gotten to the point where they constantly looked full when they aren’t even being flexed. Touch them and see.” I reach for his bicep and I am not disappointed. He was right. They felt like rocks and he wasn’t even flexing. I can feel his veins pumping the blood through his rock hard biceps. Each pulse making my heart beat faster. I look up at his face and he has this smug look. Such a cocky alpha. I need to be as strong as him. His 170 pounds made me feel weak in comparison. We continue into the class and make our way to the racks and benches. Our class consists of 8 students and our instructor, Russ. When one usually thinks of a gym teacher, they may imagine a lazy, averaged height, fat, balding man who sits and watches his class put in work. Russ is not this kind of teacher. He is 6ft tall with biceps as thick as his thighs, sick ass traps, and a barrel chest that would make (and probably does make) any man his age jealous. His forearms are amazing and look almost as big as his arms themselves. He is about 60 years old and his age can be seen by his thinning hair that reveals the lightly tanned skinned beneath, but he has not let his age slow him down. “Alright class,” Russ says. “You already know what today is so let’s split up into groups.” Troy and I are split into different groups. I with my 2 fraternity brothers, Zeus and Kris, and he with his two buddies. Zeus and Kris are both heavy dudes. Zeus about 250 pounds and Kris about 200 pounds. Both have body fat percentages about 25% or higher but they are both strong. Zeus could easily out lift me any day with his gorilla chest and tree trunk thighs. Kris has also slowly been getting stronger. His strength nearing my own. Each group is assigned a station. Mine is assigned decline bench press and Troy’s is assigned dumbbell bench press. Zeus begins his set by loading 45 pound plates to each side of the bar. Kris decides to spot him so I am left standing and looking around the room. I look over to Troy’s group. Fuck! The first thing Troy does is grab 2 of the 75 pound dumbbells to chest press. I am in complete awe. He is so fucking strong. I can see his pecs protruding through his white sleeveless shirt. Each muscle is his arms begin to shift as he pushed harder and harder. His face turns red and sweat begins to glisten on it. He pumps out 10 reps and throws the weight to the floor in a fit of power. I can see his juicy fucking pecs twitching beneath his shirt, fuller from being pumped. He stands up and starts stretching his chest out, his triceps flexing out with full force. I’m starting to lose it. “Vonny?” I turn around. Kris is looking at me and I’m embarrassed. “It’s your turn,” he says. I look down at the declined bench and immediately add 20 more pounds to the bar, making the weight total 155 pound. I know I have this. I lay down and start pushing, it’s heavy, but so damn satisfying in my hands. There’s no better feeling than the pump you get from pushing yourself. It’s like having a near death experience. The fucking thrill from it blows your mind and completely electrifies your body. I pump out 6 reps easy and notice that Russ is standing aside watching me. Being viewed by the instructor pushes me to go harder and I pump out 4 more reps. With every rep comes a satisfying grunt from my throat and I can feel the sweat building up between the peaks of my pecs. I finish and when I get up from the bench Russ immediately pats me on the back. “Damn Von!” Russ says. “You used to be so small and now you are so damn strong!” Everyone in the class is looking at me with congratulating eyes. I see troy too, but his facial expression is strange. It’s a mix between two things, admiration and a hint of jealousy. He walks over to the rack and grabs two 85 pound dumbbells. Holy fuck! With a loud grunt he lies on his back and forces the weights above his head, pumping hard and fast. He reaches 6 reps and begins to make animalistic snarls through his teeth. He pumps out another 4 reps and tosses the weights to the ground. His buddies are ecstatic. The skinner of the two, Marv, is especially excited by what he just saw. He can barely get 45 pounds over his head and Troy is a beast to him. He’s a beast to me. Troy stretches out his chest and tell Marv to give it a good punch. I watch as Marv’s fist connects with Troy’s meaty chest repeatedly. Troy has no reaction to the punches, a smile still on his face. So powerful. “Time to move on the barbell bench press,” says Zeus. Class moves by in a rush and I eventually make my way back to the locker room. Troy in already there. He is shirtless and his back is turned towards me. I can see every ripple and bend of his powerful lats and bulging traps. He shifts to grab his shirt from the bench and I see the muscles beneath his skin move. They shift like pebbles beneath a slow moving stream. Smooth… but hard and firm. He hears the door open as I come in and he stops and turns around. His pecs are completely swollen! There are red spots between the peaks and a little bit of hot sweat dripping down the swollen meaty cavern towards his abs. “I don’t know about you, but I got a good pump today!” he says. “Hell yeah man. I feel strong as fuck,” I say. “You look strong,” he says. “Thanks bro.” “Can you grab stuff with your pecs?” he asks. “Huh?” I have no clue what he means. I walk farther into the room towards the bench. “Give me your hand, man,” I hold out my hand. He grabs it and places it between his pecs and with flexes them. “Holy fucking shit!” I say. I can’t help the response. His pecs clamp down on my hands and I can feel the hard muscled grip. I’ve never felt pecs as powerful as these before. He looks at me with the cocky smile he always gives and then asks me to try doing the same to him. I rip off my shirt quickly and let him place his hands between my pecs. I grip his fingers but it isn’t as strong. “You are getting there bro,” he says. He removes his hand and walks back to his clothes. I’m a little disappointed by his response. I want him to see me as I see him. An aesthetic god. “So dude, we are for sure going running tomorrow morning. I need to get my cardio in. 9 am sharp?” “Yeah, how about we meet at my frat house?” I reply. “Good plan man. Good plan” He and I get dressed and leave the locker room. I can’t wait for tomorrow! Cardio day with Troy is going to rock!
  21. Hey guys, I accidentally posted this is the wrong place, but I 'm leaving it here now. So I got a decent amount of good responses from my last real life muscle experience called College Locker Room Heat. Here’s the link to it if you haven’t read it. https://muscle-growth.org/topic/8409-college-locker-room-heat/#comment-85672 A few little things have happened since then, but since things have died down (not many muscle interactions lately), I will begin to dip into fantasy and create a few stories involving more interactions with myself and my gym buddy. Who knows, maybe they will come true one day. Here’s the first new story. Btw I didn’t put my gym buddies name but let’s call him Troy. Also, just so you know; Troy is White about 5 ft 8, brown hair, weights about 170. The narrator is Black 5 ft 5 and 150 pds. More Growth is to come. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Gym Class. Monday Afternoon: Chest day Part 1 I walk into the gym after 2 and a half hours of classes. I’m pumped! I downed 2 shots of pre-workout on the walk over and I’m already feeling it. My hands and arms are already tingling as I make my way past the basketball court. I turn left and go into the locker room. As soon as I walk in my heart skips a beat. Troy, he’s here again. He immediately sees me as I walk in. “Hey bud,” he says. He looks at me with wide eyes and a warm smile. “Hey man,” I say. He’s fully clothed but his shorts and gym shirts are sitting in a pile on the bench in front of him. I walk up to the bench and take off my backpack, setting it down on the floor by the bench. “So when are we going for that run, man?” he says this as I reach into my bag. I take out a tank and a pair of joggers. “Oh yeah,” I say. I hadn’t forgotten, but I didn’t think he was being serious when he asked the first time. “How about tomorrow–morning?” He begins to take off his shirt and my breath catches a little as it slips up. His abs are a little more pronounced than before. His shirt slips completely off revealing his pecs and massive traps. He’s gotten a little bigger since our last gym sesh. “That sounds good, man. I’ll definitely text you and remind you around 9 tomorrow.” “Sounds good to me,” I say. He starts to take of his pants and I strip my shirt to change into my tank. His eyes flicker to my pecs and I notice. A sense of pride swells up inside me and I have to stop myself from smiling. I had gotten a lot stronger this month. My bench had gone up from 145 pounds to 155 in the past month and I knew he noticed. I doubted he would say anything though. “Man! You’re looking huge. Your chest is really growing.” He walks a little closer to check me out and my pride swells even more. He’s still shirtless and in his boxers. His pecs and thick shoulder muscles look even better up close. I look down at his massive pecs. There are little hairs around his nips and I imagine what the stocky muscle underneath feels like. I can’t believe he’s mirin me when he looks so huge. “Dude!” I say. “You are way bigger than I am. I know you weigh like 170 and I just hit 150 pounds!” “Nah man, you are catching up. I mean look at these arms!” he says this and grabs my bicep. “Flex for me bro.” What the hell is happening? I think this but I decide to flex anyway. I can’t believe he is touching me. I flex my arm and my relaxed biceps turn into hard rocks. He gives them a good squeeze and says, “Yeah man, that’s strength right there. Your arms are almost as huge as mine and I need to bulk up before you’re as strong as me.” Troy’s unsubtle hint at a competition got me way more pumped. The pre-workout was flowing through my veins now. I’m ready to workout and get this chest pumped! He looks down at my watch and sees the time. “2 o’clock. Shit, it’s time for class, bro.” He lets go of my arm and gives my traps one last slap. “Damn. Man! Getting big!” he says. He walks back over to his clothes and slip them on. I finish getting dressed and we make our way to the locker room door. He slaps me on the back. “Nice back gains, bro.” I smile. He’s mirin me so hard. I can’t wait until we start lifting. He’s gonna love my pump… To be continued.
  22. Jaypat

    Troy's Maggot - 8

    Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Troy Morning Maggot. Yeah, I know I look a little down. Actually, I’m a lot down. What’s the matter? You know how sometimes everything is going great and all of a sudden it all falls apart? You do? Well, that’s how I am this morning. I almost want to skip our morning run. That’s how bad this is. What happened? Well, for starters, Cindy and I broke up last night. You know, she never got the whole maggot thing. She just never got me. Oh she thought she did. She thought she had me all figured out. She thought I was like some little kid and the muscle building thing was some stupid pointless kid’s game, like a bunch of 8-year-olds playing King of the Mountain, or something. And who knows, maybe that’s how it begins. But it’s way bigger than just a game. The desire for muscle and strength is a part of us, of all dudes, weather we know it or not. It’s part of who we are right down to our chromosomes. I mean think about where humans were thousands of years ago. It was all about survival then. The bigger and stronger you were, the better chance you had to survive. Humans were like that for tens of thousands of years. And you know what? Genetically, were still the same species we were then - I saw a National Geographic special on it. Our need to be bigger and stronger—it’s still hard wired into us. It’s part of being a man on its most basic level. It’s built into our bodies, our psyche, into our fucking souls! And it’s also a big part of what attracts the bitches to us. I mean, Cindy’s the hottest girl in school. Do you think she would have been dating me if I didn’t have guns like these? Boom. Boom. Yup, lefty and righty, bigger, harder and veinier than ever! 18 ¼ now. I want them to be 19 by the time I’m 19, and I’ll fucking do it, too! But she couldn’t understand that. But you do, Maggot, you understand. You get me because, since I got hold of you, you’ve woken up. You’ve felt it too. You’ve seen how muscle adds to you, like an important piece you never knew was missing. And then it becomes such a part of who you are and what you are, you can’t imagine life without it. You’ve felt that, haven’t you? You know what I’m talking about. I see you nodding. It’s beyond fucking liking it, you fucking need it, like you need food, like you need to fuck! That’s why it took me so long to figure it out. Figure what out? Why you started skipping meals to slow your growth and why you started giving your gear to Ralphie. Good, I’m glad you’re not denying it. When I first figured it out, I felt betrayed, betrayed by my own maggot! I was fucking pissed. I mean for weeks I had to look at Hunter smirking at me as his maggot just got bigger and bigger and bigger! Huge veiny biceps stretching out his sleeves. His shirt pulling tight around bulging, striated pecs and his ever widening slab-like lats. Legs blossoming into fucking pillars. “What the fuck was he on?” I found myself thinking. I knew all Hunter could get is that street shit. And then it hit me: the only place he could be getting that kind of gear is from you. Then it all started falling into place. Why didn’t I just come right over here and pound the shit out of you? Because I figured out why you were doing it. Yeah, that’s right. Here’s that blue bottle you’re always asking me about. You want this so fucking bad, don’t you? Of course you do. It’s built into your DNA. I get it. I get you. And that’s why I’m going to give you the shot. So, now you’re gonna eat like a fucking horse and you’re gonna stop giving Hunter’s Maggot your gear. Am I clear? Good. Brian’s Journal – Day 66 I don’t know if today was the best day of my life, or the worst. I almost freaked when Troy figured out I’d been juicing Ralphie. I never thought he’d understand, but he did and he gave me the shot. Fuck, it felt like liquid fire running into my body and all throughout my veins. The feeling faded a little but it never went away. It didn’t feel anything like the gear. And there was only the one shot. Troy said it was all there was and it’d be all I’d need. I wonder what it’s doing. I wonder when I’ll notice. When we got back from our run, I had to ask Troy a favor for my mother. Today they were taking our class photo for the yearbook and she didn’t want me wearing the Troy’s Maggot shirt in it. She wanted me to wear one of my button downs. Troy looked at me and cracked a smile like I’d just told him a funny joke. I thought he was going to say no, but instead he just chuckled and said, “Sure, Maggot, go ahead. Show me the one.” I went to my closet and pulled out a light blue button down. To my surprise it looked like there might be a little dust on the shoulders. Had it really been that long? “Nice shirt,” said Troy, obviously trying to stifle a laugh. “Go ahead; put it on.” I sincerely didn’t get what was so funny until I stuck my big, muscled-up arm into the sleeve. It was like stuffing a sausage. I had to really squeeze it in there and once I did, the sleeve was hugging my arm so tight, you could clearly see every hard bulge of every muscle on it. Fuck. I looked huge in this shirt! Not necessarily a bad thing… I could see taking a class picture with my muscles literally bulging out under my shirt. “Go ahead,” said Troy, finally releasing the laugh that had been pent up inside him “Try the other arm. I tried to reach my arm around my back to pull the other sleeve on. But fuck, I could feel my steel-like back getting in the way. It was way wider than it used to be. And my biceps and forearms were too thick with muscle to bend as much as they once did. It was a struggle, but finally I got my other arm in the sleeve and shoved it through. I could feel the stone like muscles rebelling against the tight cloth covering. Fuck, it was like wearing two tourniquets on my arms. I think the blood flow had been shut off. And I could feel the thing stretching ridiculously tight across my hard, broad lats. Troy was really laughing now. “Go ahead, Maggot, button it up. Hahahah!” So, I tried, but I couldn’t pull the thing closed around my bulging pecs. Fuck. I had to get it closed. I couldn’t take a photo like this. I pulled and pulled and RIIIIIP! A huge tear opened up right down the center of my thick, muscular back. Fuck! I took a look at myself in the mirror. Big arm muscles were bulging up under the sleeves, and the front was hanging open showcasing my large, hard, striated pecs and my washboard stomach. Hit with a sudden urge I pulled a most muscular pose. Instantly, my big iron biceps and forearms tore their way right out of the sleeves. I suddenly looked like the fucking hulk. Fuck yeah! But… All my button down shirts were pretty much the same size. “What am I going to wear now?” Troy just about completely lost it, laughing. “What did you think would happen, Maggot?” he said. “Since you last wore that shirt you’ve put on 50 pounds of muscle and grown at least 2 inches taller. You’ve almost reached beasthood; how did you think that bulging muscular man’s physique would treat the shirt of a pathetic stick boy? It would utterly destroy it, of course! Hahahaha! Go ahead and wear your Troy’s Maggot shirt, the tank top. It’ll be a much better way to remember your senior year anyway.” And so I did. I didn’t really have any other choice. As the day went on, I felt the burning in my veins become more and more prominent. It was starting to make me feel irritable and hot. I broke out sweating a couple of times for no reason. When I came down to lunch that day, Troy called me over to the jock’s table. When I got there he gestured me to lean in closely, then he said in a soft voice, “Maggot, you’re getting pretty big, now, but your attitude needs adjustment.” “What?” I said. “You’re body says, “Beast,” but the way you carry yourself still pretty much says, “Dork.” “I don’t understand,” I said. “Ok, let me show you,” said Troy. “Look over there on the right. You see Suarez sitting at that table with his girlfriend?” “Yeah,” I said. “He used to fuck with you, right?” asked Troy. “When he was bigger than you?” “Used to” was right. They guy hadn’t come near me in months. “Ok, you’re bigger than him, now,” said Troy. “Fuck with him. Go take his table.” “I can’t take the man’s table,” I said. “See, this is where your attitude needs adjustment,” said Troy. “It’s not his table. It’s your table. In fact, every table in here is your table. The only reason anyone is sitting at one of your tables is because you let them. Are you following me?” “I think so,” I said. “You don’t like Suarez, do you?” asked Troy. “No,” I said. “He’s a douche.” “Then why are you letting him sit at one of your tables?” asked Troy. “Good question,” I thought. Then I turned to take care of the problem, but I felt Troy’s hand on my shoulder. “Oh, and tell his girlfriend she can stay,” he said. “Because sometimes they do,” he grinned. So, I sauntered over swinging my thick, muscular arms and looked down over my bulging chest at Edgar Suarez, and said, “Hey, Suarez, you’re sitting at my table.” Suarez looked up at me. His eyes went wide and I’d swear he got a shade paler. “It’s… ah… not…not your table,” he said. “Yeah, it is,” I answered, “and I don’t like you sitting at it, so get the fuck up!” I leaned over, letting my larger, more powerful, muscular body dwarf his smaller, flabby one. For a second, he looked panicked, like a dear caught in headlights. Then he picked up his trey and started to move to another table. I had to struggle not to look surprised. I didn’t know he’d cave that easily. I sat down at the table and crossed my big, bare arms as his girlfriend rose from the table. “Not you,” I said. “You can stay… if you want.” Smiling shyly, she sat back down. I looked over at the jock table and saw money changing hands. Another bet; I should have guessed. Her name was Maria, and we had a very chill lunch talking video games. My appetite was enormous, though. I mean I usually have a big appetite these days, but today it was way over the top. I ate the food mom packed for me and still went up to the lunch line three times. As the day progressed the burning in my body increased, making it hard to concentrate on anything. By the time my workout with Troy came at the end of the day, it had progressed into a constant hot throbbing. I wasn’t sure if I was running a fever. I thought I might be. Didn’t seem to affect my lifts, though. If anything, they were better than ever. After the workout, I ran into Ralphie in the locker room. He was just coming in for his workout with Hunter. I had to admit, Raphie was looking pretty swole. His pecs were looking round and full in front of him. His abs had deep crevices separating them. His shoulders had gotten broader. Traps had started to rise out of his back behind his thickening neck. And his arms, even in their relaxed state were looking thick with muscle. And believe it or not, I also saw Ross, the guy we used to eat lunch with every day until this whole maggot thing started. He was there after school because of a make-up gym class. Fuck, I couldn’t believe how small he looked. Holy crap, he was just skin and bones, and so very short. He didn’t have arms, he had thin tubes with joints about half way down. He had the shadow of a chest and no sign at all of the V our backs had developed. His t-shirt hung loose on his frame, baggy and wrinkled, almost as if there wasn’t anything beneath it to give it shape. Damn, his legs were tube-like too. It looked like a stiff breeze would blow him over and half way across the room. How could he stand to be like that? And Fuck, I used to be just like him. “Hey Ross,” I said. “Hey Maggot,” he replied. That was the first time anyone but Troy had called me Maggot and I wasn’t sure I liked it. “Hey look, it’s little Ross,” cried Ralphie, striding over. Ralphie was having a bit more fun with his new size than I was. “Ross,” said Ralphie, “Maybe you could settle a little bet between Brian and me.” I was confused for a second. We didn’t have any bet. “Who do you think has the biggest arms?” asked Ralphie, and he flexed his big, veiny nearly 16 inch bicep for Ross. This was actually a little thing he’d been doing lately. Ralphie had blown-the-fuck-up since I started juicing him about 3 weeks ago. And since I’d been skipping meals, he was starting to catch up. Of course, this had been my plan, but I didn’t count on Ralphie’s attitude. He kept insisting his arms were as big as mine when they so definitely weren’t. My arms were 16 ½ inches easily the last time I measured them and by now were well on their way to 17. Tapes don’t lie, but he kept insisting they were the same, or else his were a little bigger. I don’t know why this annoyed the crap out of me so much, but it did. Just as annoyed as I could be, I flexed my big guy right next to Ralphie’s. Mine was bigger, way bigger. You’d have to be blind not to see it. And it was starting to develop a nice little peak. But nevertheless, I anxiously awaited Ross’ verdict. “Are you serious?” said Ross. “I know,” I said. “I’m way bigger, right?” “No,” said Ross. “That’s not what I mean. Do you remember when you guys used to be freaking normal? You used to watch TV and play video games and scope out the ladies… When was the last time you looked at a fucking girl? Don’t you see what’s happening to you?” I looked over at Ralphie and he looked just as confused as I was. “What the fuck are you talking about, Ross?” I asked. “Yeah,” said Ralphie. “Come on, now, who’s bigger?” “I give up,” said Ross, and he threw up his hands and walked away. “That settles it; I’m bigger,” said Ralphie. “What?” I said. “How the fuck did you get that? He didn’t say one way or the other!” “Sure he did,” said Ralphie. “You asked him if you were bigger and he said, “No.”” “That’s not what he was saying,” I said. “Sure it was,” said Ralphie. “You just don’t like it ’cause now I’m bigger than you.” “You are not fucking bigger than me!” “Yeah, I am. And I don’t know why you’re being such a pussy about it. It’s all because of you giving me the good shit.” “Oh yeah, about that,” I said. “That’s gonna have to stop. Troy found out so now I can’t give you any more.” Suddenly Ralphie turned red, and red just kept getting darker and darker. “THAT’S BULLSHIT,” he bellowed. “You’re just pussying out because I got bigger than you!” “You are not FUCKING BIGGER THAN ME!” Then Ralphie jumped on me, trying to knock me to the floor. I threw him off and he went slamming into a bank of lockers denting it pretty badly. He picked himself up and came at me swinging. But neither of us were boxers. In fact I don’t think either of us had ever been in a fight before. I was able to block his punches pretty easily and he blocked mine. Finally he just grabbed me again and tried to grapple with me. He slammed me into a locker bank and then I slammed him into another one. The lockers were getting pretty banged up and dented as our muscular bodies collided with them. I slammed Ralphie into one locker bank that just toppled over causing a domino effect on the locker banks behind it. BAM! BAM! BAM, they all went down. And then we were grappling on the floor. Rolling over and over. Both of us trying to wrap our hands around the other’s hard muscular body. I was so pissed and balls out trying to damage Ralphie, that I barely noticed when a couple of the gym teachers were pulling us apart. Then suddenly we were in the office and we both knew we were in deep, deep shit. Our parents were called. Someone suggested the possibility of steroids to them. The fridge in my bedroom was searched, and then all hell broke loose. They called in Troy. I told them it was all me, and that Troy had nothing to do with it. Troy let me take the fall for him. I don’t blame him. I wanted him to. I was fucked no matter what. But he’s a nationally ranked athlete. If he got caught with steroids, that’s be the end of his athletic career. They couldn’t really trace the shit to him because he’d pulled all the labels off just in case something like this should happen. They’re giving him a blood test, but it won’t show anything because Troy never juiced. He should pull through this free and clear. Me, on the other hand… Ralphie told them I supplied him with his gear. That’s ok, I didn’t mind. It helped me look like the bad guy, so they wouldn’t look too closely at Troy. Criminal charges were discussed, but they decided not to go that route and Ralphie and I just wound up with a week-long suspension for fighting. Maggot shirts were banned and my parents forbid me to have anything to do with Troy. But that’s ok; I didn’t mind any of it. You see all during this bullshit, I was sitting in my chair feeling that hot pulsing racing through my system. I felt my chest gradually swelling up bigger and harder and I felt my back slowly expanding, stretching out the Troy’s Maggot tank top. In my pants I could feel my legs thickening with iron-like flesh. I couldn't understand how on one else had noticed. When I stood up, I noticed my pant cuffs were up above my ankles. And mere moments after I got home, my sneakers split apart releasing my growing feet from their suddenly undersized prisons. So, ban Troy, take away all my gear and send me to my room for a week. None of it mattered. That blue bottle was doing its stuff. I could feel it welling up inside me. Pretty soon I was going to explode into a fucking monster! And, hahaha, there was nothing any of them could do about it. Next Part
  23. Parts 1-3 Parts 4-6 Parts 7-9 One month saw Dan a transformed man. Puberty had struck, hard. Dan’s last growth spurt had left him five inches taller, but thin and gangly. This time, spurred by his superhuman levels of testosterone and fuckton calorie intake, he had just exploded. He was 5’9”, 135 lbs to start. He was now 6’1” and 220 lbs, up eighty-five pounds and bigger than Gordon. His hair had grown back a little, rough and bristly but still short, tapering to a point on his forehead and bleached light brown by the summer sun. His face had squared out, losing some baby fat and his jawline had been reinforced with heavy stubble which now extended the line of his sideburns down his cheeks, jaw and chin and connected with a light moustache upon his lip. He was trying to grow a beard like his father’s, who he idolized in every way. Every day he took his measurements, comparing them to Bruce’s and desperately praying that he’d catch up. Even in this past month, Bruce had continued his progress and his stats dwarfed Dan’s: twenty-four inch arms to nineteen, 300 pounds even to 220. When Bruce had reached 300 pounds he had cut himself loose, talking up every woman in the street who dared turned her head, seducing them and one by one fucking their brains out until they were shivering, squealing heaps on the ground. Still unsatisfied and restless, he had knocked on Mr. Connor’s door and they had spent hours wrestling, pressing the vast surfaces of their muscles together and providing each other the exertion that no one else in town could properly offer them. Naked in front of the mirror, Dan inspected the changes to his body, his previous life as Samuel a distant dream overrun by the constant rush of aggression that eternally infused every cell in his brain. He had a proud chest, the upper and lower pectorals split by a strict line of definition, protruding enough that he derived pleasure from rubbing them against surfaces without any of the rest of his body touching. His neck, traps and shoulders had filled out the massive gaps that had been there before, which along with his squaring jaw gave a sense of intimidating denseness to his silhouette. He was twice as broad as he was a month ago, his rounded shoulders and bulging arms pushed out by the spread of his corded lateral muscles. His wrists spoke of massive bone growth, having grown to a thick eight inches from six before. He ran his hand down his washboard abs, feeling his fingers patter along the mounds until they were stopped by his erect cock. He drummed his fingers down his member, as if casting a spell that would cause it to grow further than it already had. Seven inches wasn’t big enough for him, but he was confident that the growth hadn’t ended. After all, his feet had dramatically expanded, from size 10 to size 16, and he knew the saying about big in the shoes. There was a knock at the door. Dan put on some pants and opened. Outside, blocking nearly the entirety of the frame of the door, was Mr. Connors. Mr. Connors ran his rough hands down Dan’s sides, his thumbs tracing the bottom of his pecs. He took a hand and pressed on Dan’s shoulder, feeling the padding, and then slid down, feeling the rock hard muscles of his arms. He huffed in approval . “Time to learn some football?” “Yes, sir.” Dan followed him out the door and just behind him, was Gordon. A rush of memories came back momentarily, but Dan’s confidence in his new body was unshakeable. He held his head up and strode out proudly. “Who’s this, dad?” Gordon asked, “He ain’t from around here.” “A new teammate, now no more questions, boy.” Dan walked right up close to Gordon and they sized each other up, face to face. Dan realized that Gordon had been doing some growing of his own. In the past month, Gordon had grown two inches, which Dan noted with satisfaction meant that he was now two inches taller. But the jock had grown laterally into his frame, looking less now like the proportionate hunk he was before but rather starting to look more juiced up and massive like his father. He had put on perhaps fifteen pounds, mostly in his upper body, making him thicker than before, and with all that extra weight spread on a shorter frame, he looked hulking in comparison to Dan. Dan had thought he had surpassed his once-tormentor, but now he realized furiously that he was still smaller and he was filled with a bitter, driving dissatisfaction. He felt the craving rising up within him, the hunger for more, the drive to be bigger, better. “Alright, Dan, time to learn how to tackle.” Dan had known that Gordon was the star quarterback on the team, but what he hadn’t realized before was that Gordon was known particularly for his unstoppable rushing. His throwing arm was real good, but using his big frame and power, Gordon would smash through the enemy’s defense and it would take several guys to take him down. This is the man Dan would have to practice tackling. For hours they drilled on end, with Gordon, ball in arm, charging straight forward and Dan trying to block him, Mr. Connors shouting advice from the side and sometimes demonstrated what to do, but Gordon was unstoppable. Dan knew what the problem was. He wasn’t big enough. Even just ten pounds lighter, he felt puny compared to Gordon, and he wouldn’t be able to stop him until he was the one dwarfing him. He tensed his arms, as he lowered into the partial squat ready position, feeling what power he had. It wasn’t enough. He would get better at tackling and running along with his progress on the iron. Seeing the fiery ambition in the eyes of his new recruit, Mr. Connors smiled in satisfaction. He had a new linebacker. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Late August arrived, along with football tryouts. A fierce pleasure erupted in Dan as he realized that he was the biggest guy there. He had outpaced Gordon in every way since they had started working out together, growing three inches taller and packing on forty pounds of muscle onto his frame to Gordon’s one inch and ten extra pounds. They were buddies now, a friendship forged by rivalry, by ramming into one another over and over like bulls. Dan though, was emerging as the clear winner. He could now stop Gordon, easily. Dan had become overwhelming strong, fueled by the determination to beat each and every one of Gordon’s personal records. Bench press: 405 lbs (to Gordon’s 385) Rows: 375 lbs (to 335) Overhead press: 245 lbs (to 215) Squat: 535 lbs (to 405) Deadlift: 705 lbs (to 465) Pull-ups: 15 (3 plates added) As Dan stepped on the field, he heard whispers all around him, rumours of where the monstrous Dan Davidson had come from. Some said he was a twenty-two year old undercover cop. Some said he was the pinnacle result of seventy years of secret Soviet eugenics. Dan paid them no attention. He was here to dominate each and every one of them on the field. He finished tryouts leaving several of the football team’s seniors lying flat on the ground wondering what had happened. He went over to Gordon, who was standing next to a similar pile. No one save Dan had come close to stopping a rush from Gordon, and Dan could hold three guys on the line by himself, laughing mad at his strength all the while. By the end of the week Dan had earned the nickname “The Great Wall,” cementing his spot as the starting linebacker on the team. The team worshipped the ground he walked on, and his power and size had become the goal of every guy on the team. Those who hadn’t been juicing had taken it up eagerly, already seeing some results and loving it. To everyone, every day was now gym day. For junior year, Dan and Gordon had unleashed an unprecedentedly large and aggressive jock population upon their high school. When school started, Dan roamed the hallways like a lion. He took what he wanted, fucking girls, guys, teachers, even the principal, who soon divorced her pathetic beta of a husband and dedicated herself as a slave to Dan’s every whim. As a result, his will in school was law, and he was judge, jury and enforcer. He would grab puny little geeks by the collar and whisper into their ear, “You like the feeling of power?” He would then rub them over his muscles, wrapping their whole bodies around his bulging, monstrous pecs and feeling for their dicks to inevitably rise. Then he’d roar in a thunderous bass, “Little fuckin’ faggot! This is fuckin’ power! Get a little bigger and maybe I’ll let you suck my cock,” and then slam them whimpering on the ground. A surprising number of them could later be found in the weight room, obsessively trying to push what little weight they could. Four months later, with Dan and Mr. Connors in charge, everything about the school had changed. With Gordon obliterating all defenses, Dan destroying any semblance of offense, and growing, hungry monsters filling every other position, the football team was now unmatched and crushed school after school. The team was central to the whole school and every single boy, desperate to join, worked out and juiced in the school’s gym, which now covered a third of the school grounds. Male students were now required to attend school shirtless, a policy eagerly taken to by all. Surrounded by something resembling peers, Dan thrived, growing bigger than ever. 6’5” and 305 pounds, his twenty-four inch arms pulsed with power, threatening to throttle anyone who dared challenge him. Bruce had grown extraordinarily rich, The Naked Butcher now serving as a front for the biggest steroids supplier in the United States, protected by hundreds of enormous, young, aggressive gang members willing to kill to secure their supply. A young thug sauntered into the shop, declaring he had news for Bruce. Bruce listened, dismissed him, and left, barking out instructions to scores of lackeys to cover for his absence. He then took off in his Hummer, heading over to the hospital. The desk clerk bowed to him in deference, before taking him to the ward where Lisa lay. Mr. Connors was already there. He held a baby boy, fourteen pounds, with a keen expression in his face. “This kid’ll grow up with no fuckin’ weakling bullshit. No prissy beta men tellin’ him he oughta be nice and serve others and be a general fuckin’ pussy. None of that holdin’ him back. We raise this kid as a man.” The baby reached out, grasped Bruce’s beard, and pulled with all its strength. A strange light filled Bruce’s eyes. He thought of the dozens, hundreds of women he and his son had filled with their potent seed. An army whose sole purpose was to grow strong and to acquire power. He felt the last vestige of the Bruce he once was, the gentle, kind, respectful soul, finally fade away to black. Power is Everything. “Fuck yeah.”
  24. TannerBradley

    Father's Descent Parts 1-3

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

    Troy's Maggot - 7

    Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 TROY One more curl, Maggot, just one more rep! Beautiful… Oh? You wanna do another? Then fucking do it, Maggot, do it! That’s it Maggot. You’re turning bright red there. I can see the fucking strain in your face. Your fucking neck is a mass of straining tendons! Damn, look at those rock-hard biceps of yours bulge! Look at those fucking veins pop out! It didn’t take long for those beasts to grow in, did it?! Don’t give up, Maggot, do it! That’s right, yell, fucking yell all you want! I love hearing you roar like a fucking maniac! And… BAM! Fuck, Maggot, that was awesome! You are a fucking beast today! That’s right, pause and take a good fucking look at the body in the mirror. Remember the first time I made you take off your shirt in the weight room. I thought you were gonnna die of shame. But now you like working out shirtless, casue you’re looking all swole, my Maggot, with that six pack and those bulging pecs of yours. I know you’d like to go around like that all the time but the school don’t allow it. Found out the hard way. Haha. But I’ve got a surprise for you, Maggot. Tomorrow is going to be a life changing day for you. Before now, you’ve been walking around in that loose shirt – which is getting a helluva lot less loose these days. Haha. But you’ve made such awesome progress, I went out and got you this. Yeah, it’s another blue Troy’s Maggot shirt, but look at it closely. That’s right. It’s a fucking tank top. It’s getting warmer and tomorrow you’re gonna wear that and give the whole school a fucking gun show! And dude, it will change your life forever. I guarantee it. And there are certain people we definitely want to show how fucking big you’re getting… Like Jack and Hunter! Haha! Ok, you can leave it off while we take your height and weight. 170! Damn, Maggot. We put 30 fucking pounds on you since you started on your…ah hem… supplements. And you can see it all throughout your core. It’s bigger, thicker, harder, with a musculature that’s way more defined and developed, with that ripped six pack, those pecs and those broad, bulging shoulders. Haha! And look at this! You’re 5’ fucking 9”! You’re an inch taller. That’ll be the GH at work. Why do you keep going on about that blue bottle? I told you to forget it. That was the lab dude’s pet project or something. Like I told you, the military took it away from him for human testing and he never heard any more about it. He just wants you to be his Guinea Pig. Anyway, look at that fucking rippling back of yours! The shit you’re on is getting you plenty big enough. Jack’s Maggot may be turning into a little tank – the thickness on that little dude is getting pretty freaky, but the way you’re growing, the best he could hope for is to be your mini-me. Haha. And Hunter’s Maggot may be putting on a little beef, but it’s nothing compared to the gains you’re making. Why mess with that experimental blue bottle shit when we’re going to win the bet without it? Why take the risk? Yeah, I still got the blue bottle. I’m keeping it locked away safe. So, just forget it, and think about tomorrow when you show up at school in that tank top. It’s gonna be a day you’ll never forget. I promise you. Brain’s Journal – Day 44 I feel like a fucking beast! Juicing is fucking legit! I’ve felt different almost from the day I started, more aggressive, more confident… and I’m a fucking animal in the gym! I’m so much stronger! I’ve just about doubled all my lifts! And my fucking muscles… It was only a few days before abs showed up on my flat stomach, like ripples on a fucking pond. I couldn’t fucking believe it! I had abs! Like those model guys on TV! And all the rest of my muscles… They’re growing all the fucking time! They’re popping up all over me, ALL FUCKING OVER ME! Every morning when I wake up, I’m fucking bigger! My arms are thicker, my chest is larger, and my shoulders are wider. FUCKIN AWESOME! And I can feel all that hard muscle moving around on my body under my shirt. FUCK, it feels good! I can’t believe what I was before, a worm, a fucking worm! And as big as I get, I know I’m still getting even bigger. And that thought just gets me fucking hard! The stack I’m on is legit, but I keep wondering what that little blue bottle would do. How big would that make me? Why does Troy keep it locked away? What is Troy really afraid of…? Maybe that I’ll get as big as him? That would be legit! Fuck, I’d love to be that big! And I’ll get there eventually, but I bet that blue bottle is the express route! But Troy’s not about to give that up. But he did give me that tank top, and holy crap, was he ever right about that! I had the strangest fucking day! First of all everyone was fucking staring at me all the time, especially the girls. One of them even stopped and asked me to flex so she could feel it. When I did she kind of grabbed at my rock-hard bi a little and then ran away giggling. Fuck, that made me hard. A lot was making me hard these days, but apparently, that was the stack. A couple of dudes even stopped me and asked how they could become maggots. No, wait, how did they put it? They wanted to know how to get into the Maggot Program – like there was a fucking program! I almost laughed my ass off. Then I told them you had to be chosen by one of the jocks. There was really no way to apply… Apply! hahahaha! I nearly lost my shit saying that! Then I saw Susie Nickerson, my crush, and I walk up to her all kinda suave like and I say, “Hi Susie,” giving the biceps an slight flex- not doin’ a pose or anything, just… you know… making ’em bulge a little while they’re hanging at my sides. As I say it, she looks up at me like she’s never seen me before and says, “Hi Brian, how’re you?” I say, “I’m fine,” and then ask her if she wants to grab a burger after school. She says, “Yes, but change your shirt first.” And I’m like, “Change my shirt? I can’t change my shirt. I’m Troy’s Maggot.” By this time the whole school knew about the bet. And she’s like “Troy’s Maggot? This jock is, like, laying claim to you, like he owns you. Don’t you find that degrading?” And I answer, “I guess I did when it first started, but now I’m proud of it. It’s kind of like a badge of honor. You know, I had two guys today ask me how they could become Maggots.” “Humph,” she said, “boys are pathetic. You know there’s more to being a man than having big muscles.” And I said, “Whoa, you must watch a lot of Family Channel, ‘’cause that shit’s straight off of there.” “Well, it’s true,” she said. “A couple of TV movies and suddenly you know all about what it’s like to be a dude. It may take more than big muscles to make a man, but having big muscles sure doesn’t disqualify you. In fact, from personal experience, I’d say you never really know what it is to be a man until you feel some real muscle on your frame, feel some power in your arms. It wakes up something inside you, something most dudes let sleep. But that’s something I don’t think a girl could ever understand.” “Then I guess you’re just another Neanderthal,” she said. “I guess I am. And one of these days, you’re gonna wanna try a little Neanderthal. And when you do, hit me up.” And then I just smiled at her, and she got real angry and stomped off. That didn’t go quite like I expected, but I was ok with how things turned out. It was lunch time and I made my way to the cafeteria. I still sat with Raphie, but I didn’t know how much longer that would last. Ralphie was buffing up, but I was noticeably bigger than him, noticeably bigger. And I could tell Ralphie didn’t like that. He was starting to get the muscle bug, just like me. Ross stopped eating with us after I called him puny. Well, next to Raphie and me he was staring to look kind of puny. I told him he otta start working out. He got mad, called us a couple of muscle heads and left. It was then I realized I was getting to the point where “muscle head” didn’t feel like an insult anymore. I kept seeing Simon around. He was wearing a tank top, too, these days. He was putting a lot of muscle on those arms of his. Problems is, because they were so short, they were starting to look a little stubby. He wasn't going to win the bet looking stubby. haha Guys had started calling him Little Tank, and it fit. Dude was almost half as wide as he was tall now. But he hated being called little in any context. He was always getting into fights. Been suspended twice for it already. I sometimes get fucking furious, but Troy is always there to talk me down. I guess he’s done it before for some of his jock buddies who have juiced. He’s pretty good at it. He always ends by telling me to save the anger for the gym, not to waste it on petty shit. And I do use it in the gym; it has helped me grow, get bigger, stronger. I know it has. Troy knows about growing. Troy sauntered over to our table, grinning. He gave Ralphie a sideways glance and then leaned over to me and said, “I tried to get another little bet going on an arm wrestling match between you and Ralphie-boy, here, but no one would bet against you, not even Hunter! We have so got this thing won!” Then he sauntered back to the jock’s table. I watched him go. Damn, those guys were big, way bigger than me. I wanted to be that big. Maybe that blue bottle could get me there, but Troy wasn’t going to use it. I know. I must have asked him 100 times. The only thing that might make Troy give it to me was if he thought he might lose the bet. I looked over at Ralphie. I knew Hunter was juicing him and he definitely was growing some big, veiny biceps and I could see his larger pecs starting to stretch his Hunter’s Maggot shirt. His back and shoulders were looking fuller and wider, too. But I think I must have grown twice as much as he has. And my tank top left no doubt I had way bigger arms than him. I was just on better stuff. Wait a minute… There was plenty of gear in the fridge in my room. And Troy never paid that much attention to how much was in there. If it looked like we might be running out, he just got some more. I could put Ralphie on the same shit I was on, maybe even a little more… And if it looked like Ralphie might be catching up to me, Troy would have no choice but to break out the blue bottle! “Ralphie,” I said. “Yeah?” he replied, “What are you doing after school today?” Next Part
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