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  1. VRGoh

    Muscle Island

    This story idea is a variation of my Random Acts of Muscle thread from the old forum with a "Fantasy Island" twist. The premise is simple: random one-shot stories of --you guessed it-- massive mega-masculine muscles. The catch with this one is that a main and/or secondary character from any previous installment should be used in the one you write. Enjoy and happy writing! --------------------------------------- Alan stepped off of the plane, ready to begin his two-week vacation on the island of Adonis's Cay (Cay is pronounced as 'key.') He won the all-expenses paid vacation from a raffle offered by philanthropist and business executive Jason Talbot. Alan did some research on the corporate magnate and found out that the CEO of Talbot Industries, a multi-national conglomerate, has a foothold in nearly every major industry in the world. One would expect that making more money on his day off than most people will ever see in 10 years would mean that he was a greedy venture capitalist who would steal from the poor to line his own already-full pockets. However, the multiple charitable donations and funds for the needy set up in his name proves the exact opposite. Alan also found out that Talbot is rarely seen at business meetings, leaving his financial affairs in the capable hands of a cadre of business executives, accountants, bankers, and assorted financiers. Many see Talbot as eccentric for staying on his private island in the tropical waters of the Atlantic just north of the equator; only a few know why, as Alan and the other guests to the island would learn. As Alan and his fellow guests made their way off of the plane, they were greeted by a rather imposing sight. Approaching them was a man in his forties dressed in a white guayabera (Also known as a Mexican wedding shirt, a guayabera is a short-sleeved, button-down shirt with four pockets in two rows of two, two at the chest and two at the abdomen) and khakis. A white hat sat atop his head like the crown of a king in his summer palace, while a pair of shades protected his eyes from the sun's harsh glare. Alan saw the air of authority in this man and concluded that this would be their illustrious host. To either side of the gentleman stood two identical mountains of muscle. Each standing roughly 6'6" tall, the twins looked to weigh 300 pounds or more with nary a shred of body fat on them. Both were dressed in knee-length shorts and sandals, displaying the wealth of muscle on their shirtless torsos for all to see. The stern faces on the twins meant that they must be his personal security detail. "Greetings, one and all," said the older gentleman. "I am Mr. Talbot, your host. Welcome to Adonis's Cay. Many of you were the winners of the raffle I created for the Trevor Project, while some are my personal guests. I'll leave you to figure out which is which." Alan had briefly reflected on his own life, and how he was kicked out of his parents' house simply for telling them that he was gay. His father, who had spent a lot of money sending his only son to private school to become a "good Christian boy," was disappointed that Alan would "choose a lifestyle that was an abomination to [his] Lord and Savior." He had managed to squirrel away some money from his job at the coffee shop to help get an apartment, but it was dwindling fast. With the stress of finding a better job and getting into college, he needed a vacation; however, he would not be able to afford it. He lucked out when he entered the raffle on a goof and was notified the following week that he won. After the initial orientation on the services offered on the island, the guests were shown to their rooms. When he arrived at his room, he was greeted by another massive mountain of muscle exiting the room across the way. This one looked for all the world like a six-foot-tall California surfer who took up bodybuilding in his spare time. A wealth of golden tresses cascaded down past his shoulders, while his skin was a sun-kissed bronze. A pair of blue and white shorts and a pair of sandals were the only clothes he wore. A smile crept across his face as their eyes met, Alan's brown eyes to the blond god's blue eyes. "Looks like we'll be neighbors for two weeks," the god said in a distinctly California accent. "I'm Matt." He held out a meaty paw, callused from what Alan assumed to be many hours in the gym. "Alan," he said, shaking hands with his new temporary neighbor. "So," Matt said, striking up a conversation, "what brings you to Muscle Island?" "To what now?" "Muscle Island. That's the nickname everyone gives this place. I'm pretty sure Talbot knows about it." "Oh, the Trevor Project raffle." "Lemme guess: parents kicked you out for being gay?" "Yeah. Dad wanted me to have a 'good Christian education,' so he sent me to a religious school. When I came out, he practically blew a blood vessel. I think he would have if I told him that four years of reading the Bible made me an atheist, along with just about everyone I knew at that school." Matt laughed at the irony. "Say, need any help getting settled?" Matt offered. "Besides, you look like a guy that appreciates guys with big muscles." "Sure," Alan said, and the two entered his room. "Is it that obvious that I like muscular guys?" "It was when you were talking to my pecs," Matt answered with a bounce of his thickly-muscled chest. "Go ahead and feel them; I can tell that you want to." Putting his suitcases down on the bed, Alan approached Matt and explored the larger man's ample pecs. "It's like groping velvet-wrapped boulders," he commented. "You must live at the gym." "Well, I am a regular at the Muscle Beach pit," he admitted. "Let me see what you've got under that shirt." Without another word, Matt slipped Alan's T-shirt off and took stock of the smaller man's casually muscular physique. "Not bad," he said. "A bit on the skinny side, but you have potential. Ever thought of lifting?" "Me, lift weights?" Alan said, completely lost in the sheer superiority of Matt's body in comparison to his own. "I, uh, I never thought of starting." "It could help with your obvious self-esteem issues," Matt said. "Plus you'd look good with some muscle." "Really?" Alan said, his eyes glazed over. Matt turned the smaller man around to face the dresser mirror, showing the two of them together. Matt stood behind him, looming over the slim Alan and wrapping one massive arm around his chest. "Imagine having arms like this," he said, flexing the arm draped around Alan, "that could burst the sleeves of shirts like they were rice paper." Alan immediately started kissing and licking the head-sized ball of sinew in front of him as Matt spoke, his libido getting stroked by every word and motion. "How about huge shoulders that can barely fit many doors, a massive chest like mine that's bigger around than some people are tall? Picture yourself with a set of abs that could be used to grate cheese and legs that belong in a redwood forest." "God, it must be hot to be that huge,"Alan managed to say, his hands barely able to keep from stroking his cock. "Fuckin' white-hot being this fuckin' massive," Matt said, standing to his full height. "My arms are the size of legs, my legs the size of the average guy's waist, and I never strike out with muscle worshipers. I used to be as skinny as you and just as shy; but all of that changed when I hit the gym. Now, my confidence is through the roof as are my gains. You want all of this, little Alan? You want to be this fuckin' huge?" "God, yes," Alan blurted out. "Good," Matt said with a lust-filled smile, "but first, let's fuck. I wanted to pound your ass since I saw you."
  2. ABSQRST

    Scrubs Part One

    An old story I've cleaned up for you pleasure... “Alex, we got a new patient” Doctor Peters called Alex quickly moved from the nurses station and joined the doctor on his way to the room. Alex was new, he’d only been on the ward for a couple weeks. But he was getting used to the way things worked in the hospital. Alex had seen most of the nurses get hit on and harassed, but Alex was a guy, a hot guy, but still a guy. He’d been a gymnast in high school, and it showed. He was lean but toned and was always turning heads with his tight bubble butt showcased to perfection in his nursing scrubs. “18 year old male, came in with multiple broken bones, multiple lacerations and widespread bruising,” Peters explained. “Car accident?” Alex asked. “No, he’s not saying anything. Police found him in the park. They think he was beaten,” Peters answered grimly. “He’s in 19.” ———————————————————————————————————— Room 19 was the usual private hospital room: a bed, a couch, the same plain grey walls and a tv up in the corner. There were two people in the room with the patient when Alex and Doctor Peters walked in. Two short fat blonde men in their late twenties huddled around the bed. The two were dressed in well worn suits and both looked very tired and very worried. Alex could also easily tell that they were identical twins. Resting in the bed was a small skinny kid. Even though Alex knew he was 18, kid was the only word for him. He might of been a cute guy, if it wasn't for the massively swollen black eye and stitched up blood splattered cheek. Even his golden blonde hair was still matted with dry blood. His right arm was in a sling, and the left wrist was bandaged. A mass of bandages were wrapped tightly around his waist, no doubt to help some broken ribs heal. Both his legs looked to be in casts, but they were covered by blankets. Peters introduced himself. “Hello, I’m Doctor Peters, I’ll be handling your brothers case.” The twins nodded and shook the doctor’s hand. “Sven and Axel Storberg,” one of the blond men said. “We’re Thor’s legal guardians.” Alex looked at the tiny teenager. Thor was a very unfortunate name for him. He could never live up to that image. Peters continued. “Ok, this is Alex, he’s the nurse for this section of the floor, so he’ll be your brother’s nurse.” The twins looked to Alex as he checked on of the monitors that kept an eye on Thor’s vitals. “Will he be ok?” one of the twins asked. Alex couldn’t tell which one. “He’s stable, so he’ll be fine,” Peters explained. “Just a few weeks of rest.” “You should go, you have work,” a weak voice called from the bed. The twins nodded reluctantly and Peter’s gestured for the door. “We just have a couple things to talk about,” Peters said to the kid as they left. ————————————————————————————————————————— Thor was the only patient on Alex’s section, so between checking the kid and spinning in his chair at the nursing station, he had nothing to do. The kid had been in and out of sleep, and it was coming up to the end of Alex’s shift. The hospital was never very busy, but Alex wanted to keep an eye on the kid. He had a feeling about something. The kid was awake when Alex went to check on him before leaving for the night. “Hi,” Thor greeted, smiling weakly. “Hey, just checking on you before I leave. I’ll be back in the morning,” Alex explained, bending to check the monitors next to the bed. “Another nurse will check in the night, but you should be sleeping then.” “Ok,” Thor wheezed. Alex stood up and looked at the boy for a moment, his eyes were so blue. Ice blue, they almost looked unnatural. Alex picked up the chart at the end of the bed and clicked through it. It had the boy’s entire history. “So your brothers are raising you?” Alex asked. “Yea, parents died when I was eight. Sven and Axel had just turned 18,” Thor explained. “They gave up going to college to look after me and now they are working themselves to death to get me into a college.” “They sound like good people,” Alex said. “So why didn’t you tell them you were beaten?” Thor squirmed a little in his bed. “Did it happen because you’re gay?” Alex asked. Thor went still. “How did you know?” he asked quietly. “Even bruised and broken you still craned your neck to check out my ass when I was bent over a minute ago.” Alex smiled as the kid blushed. “You won’t tell anyone will you?” He asked. “No, but you really should. If no one else, you should tell your brothers and the police,” Alex offered. “I can’t,” Thor sighed. “I don’t remember who did it.” Alex flicked through the chart. The MRI scan taken when the kid first came in showed signs of massive brain activity. “Is you head hurting? Any headaches?” Alex asked. With the bruise and cuts on his head, he appeared to have a concussion at least. “No, my head’s the only thing not hurting.” Thor smiled. “Its feels amazing actually, like clear and focused.” “But you can’t remember who beat you?” Alex asked. Thor suddenly looked like he’d been caught. “Yea, odd isn't it,” Thor smiled, but Alex thought it almost looked like a smirk. Alex laughed. “See you in the morning. Think about talking, it’s for the best!” —————————————————————————————————————————— Alex switched into his scrubs before heading out onto the ward the next morning. He lifted the scrub bottoms up to his face, they seemed shorter then usual. “They seem to get shorter every day,” a voice joked. Alex turned to see an almost model like guy pull on his own scrubs, tiny tight shorts and an even tighter top that revealed the bottom row of his abs. “Yea,” Alex replied then quickly added, “Are you new?” The nurse shook his curling blond head. “No, been here longer then you.” “Really?” Alex asked shocked. He was sure he’d have noticed a guy like this walking the halls. “Yep, no worries though,” the nurse smiled. “This hospital is weird, only hunky guys seem to be nurses here. Its cool, but a major distraction.” The nurse vanished from the locker room and Alex followed. He tried to pull his shirt lower as the air fluttered over his abs. As he headed to Thor’s room, he noticed the absence of female nurses. There wasn’t any at all. There were female doctors and patients, but only guys in the revealing nurse scrubs and they were all major eye candy. Alex picked up Thor’s chart from the nurse’s station as a ginger nurse with amazing biceps quickly explained that Thor was awake and had been fed his breakfast. Alex was really confused by the sudden change in staff as he entered Thor’s room, but that all changed the second he saw Thor. The kid was fine, perfectly healthy. No bruises, no broken bones and no nasty cuts. He was sitting up on the bed and clicking through the channels on the TV. “Hey Alex,” Thor said, his painfully blue eyes staring. “You ok?” Alex pointed at the kid as the door swung shut behind him “You were hurt. I mean massively, like bloody corpse hurt,” he shouted. “You really want to shout corpse any louder?” Thor asked, definitely smirking this time. Alex hushed himself. “But you were….” “What?” Thor asked again, just staring. A pain shot through Alex’s head, but it was gone as quick as it came. But the confusion got even worse. “Nothing,” Alex answered, checking the chart. “I’m sure I talked to a kid like you…. he’d been beaten for being gay.” “Oh….” Thor nodded knowingly, his eyes though looking deep into Alex’s “I was… I mean am being bullied for being gay, you must have just forgot.” “Yea, must of,” Alex agreed, scolding himself for sounding so stupid. “So you hear for another session? The last nurse really worked it hard, gave his arms a real big pump,” Thor asked, tossing a grey cylinder to Alex. Alex caught it, but the chart fell onto the bed. He examined the tube, it was plastic with a fleshy opening in the shape of a mouth. It was a FleshJack. “Why do I have this?” Alex asked. Thor laughed. “Did you not sleep or something? It’s for my condition.” Alex stared at the kid, noticing the blue eyes seemed even bluer then a second ago. They cut into Alex and the confusion started to vanish. “Its for your HLS,” Alex stated, the memories returning. “Hyper Libido Syndrome.” Thor sniggered as he pulled off his pants. “Get jacking!” he ordered. Alex smiled. It was his job, after all. It wasn’t like someone made up the condition, he remembered studying it. It was very rare, but the men who suffered from it needed to ejaculate regularly. And from what Alex remembered, Thor had one of the worst cases the doctors had ever seen. After lubing up the FleshJack, Alex quickly examined Thor’s cock. It was average in every way, 6 by 4. He remembered yesterday when Peters made him Thor’s nurse. He’d expected HLS to be present only in men with massive fat cocks, not the little thing that Thor had. But Thor was a sufferer and needed his condition to be treated, so Alex started jacking. —————————————————————————————————————————— “Here’s the latest sample,” Alex explained as he handed the full FleshJack to the ginger nurse. “Wow, I only finished him off like ten minutes before you got here,” the nurse smirked. “Guy’s a cum factory.” Alex thought for a moment. He’d seen Thor as a kid, but he was a guy, a man. Alex had just jacked Thor off and he certainly wasn’t a kid. Especially with how much he’d cum. Alex watched the nurse leave with the FleshJack, his bubble butt bouncing in the tiny scrub shorts as he walked. Another nurse, one with olive toned skin and black hair, passed pushing a patient in a wheel chair. He winked at Alex and bounced his chiseled chest. It seemed normal to him now. How could he have forgotten about this? All of the hot nurses were the reason he’d applied for this hospital. ——————————————————————————————————————————— It was nearing the end of Alex’s shift and he hadn’t returned to Thor’s room. He’d gotten another nurse to provide Thor with release and the ginger nurse had jumped at the chance. But when a massive tray of food arrived for Thor’s dinner, Alex was too curious to pass the delivery job off to someone else. Why would Thor need so much food? He was tiny, barely 5 and a half feet tall and so skinny. Alex almost struggled to carry the over laden tray of chicken, potatoes and vegetable to room 19, but thankfully he was able to pop the door open and was quick to get the tray down onto the table next to the bed. “Dinner,” Alex announced to an empty bed. Alex looked around the room, no little blond kid sitting on the couch, looking out the window. Thor was nowhere to be seen. But there was a very large man doing crunches on floor next to the bed. Alex just watched for a little while as the man pulled himself up and in a deep voice counted out each rep of the exercise. “412, 413, 414,” he listed out between reps. Alex was in awe of the man’s vast back, only each deeply cut and sculpted muscle. His shoulders were rounded and bulky, his traps and neck thick with muscle. As Alex watched, the man moved his folded arms out from in front of him as they aided his crunches and moved them inline with his shoulders, which only enhanced the v-shape of his torso. Alex marveled at the size of his biceps, the thickness of his forearms and the size of his monstrous hands. A mane of long golden blond hair ran down his back. “Shit, sorry wrong room,” Alex spluttered after he broke out of his trance. The man jumped to his feet with a thud and Alex was sure the room shook. He was very tall, much taller then Alex’s 5ft10. His feet took up entire tiles of flooring, and his hospital pants were pulled tight around his bulky calves and boulder like ass. He turned and Alex felt his heart race. The man was a god, his entire body built to perfection with huge chiseled muscle. His chest was wide and heavy with overdeveloped pectorals, each one covered in a pelt of golden hair. The hair continued down his cinderblock eight pac and down into the waist band of his pants. His waist was tight and slim, but decorated with a deeply cut apollo’s belt. The beginning of his tree trunk thighs were on show by the long hanging waistband, the pants being pulled low on his front by the swollen burden that ran over a foot down his pants leg. His face were overtly manly. He had a strong jaw with thick golden stubble and a broad brow. But Alex was focused on the painfully blue eyes that stared back at him. “You’re in the right room, Alex,” Thor smirked.
  3. Varg

    The Power Beach Club

    Leland was a confident and fearless young man. His disheveled hair a lighter shade of auburn, his eyes royal blue. He was 5'9", weighing in at 170 pounds of intensely lean muscle. His skin may have been fair but that sure wouldn't stop him from going to the sunny and exclusive Power Beach. Despite the name it was a club first and a beach second. It was a club sandwiched between short cliff walls with its own beach. He remembered slowly and awkwardly riding his bike by there on his way to and from school, gawking at the musclemen walking in or out. He didn't know what they did inside, though he assumed it was the embodiment of all his wildest dreams. But he could only see so much from the sidewalk. He didn't want to be there to just look at those bodybuilders, fitness models, and power lifters. He wanted to be one of them. He parked his car outside and sighed as he slowly shut the door. For once in his life he didn't feel so hot. Leland wore a tight muscle shirt and a pair of shorts that showed off his "assets." It was his go to look for when he needed to feel powerfully sexy without looking like he's trying. He bent down to tighten his shoe laces, trying to stall long enough to regain his composure. He eventually got into the rhythm and entered the building. Leland may not have been large but he certainly had the swagger of a hulking masculine man. The receptionist was a large man, but he was hilariously dressed like a somewhat nerdy accountant or librarian. The receptionist adjusted his glasses as Leland approached the desk. "Uh hey. I was wondering if I could join-" "Hold on." The receptionist cut Leland off in an unexpected baritone voice. He came out from behind his desk, revealing a behemoth like upper body with gargantuan tree-trunk legs to match. Jake was obviously over 240 pounds and stood at 5'11". He looked Leland up and down before shaking his head. "I want to say no, but we could use more red heads in our club." "Huh?" Leland was taken aback. It made it seem like the club was a business looking to hire someone. Leland always thought it was an exclusive gym/spa/beach kind of club. "You'll just have to be worked on extra hard to fit in here, I suppose." The receptionist removed his glasses and cleaned them. He used the bottom portion of his shirt, revealing his powerful abdomen. Leland wanted to see more, but the receptionist was all business at the moment."I just need to see some ID and we can get started with the registration." "Ok!" Leland dug into his pocket and removed his ID from his wallet. The receptionist took it and skimmed over it. While the receptionist was busy, Leland scoped the desk's nameplate to find out the receptionist's name was Jake. "Leland O'Byrne, 5'9", 160 pounds, blue eyes, red hair." Jake smiled. "You even have an Irish name to boot. We don't have a Leland either. This works out nicely." "Just a quick question, this is a fitness club or something, right?" Leland was confused by the way Jake was talking. "We're an exclusive club that takes care of powerful men and gives them a private place to gather. All the men here compete and are known by name in magazines, films, shows, sports, or venues. We only look for men with potential and having a tinge of uniqueness helps them stand out too. Though finding men with potential isn't simple because it's not something that can be easily worked on. Not many pale men join since they assume we're a beach club... As dumb as that sounds... So that makes you a rarity among us. You have a good name. Your potential is astounding based on your current stature, even if you are only a fraction of the way there." Leland smiled. He was always confident in himself, but hearing Jake say your potential is astounding inflated his ego big time. "So I'm in? Do I need to do any paperwork?" "Oh we'll get to that. First I want you to sign this contract. Don't worry, it's nothing serious. This form just states that a portion of any money you make goes to us. You could say the owners of the club become your agents and your well being is in their hands. We also get to decide your look so we can make best use of your potential and assets. The club can't have a supposed hunk look like a generic muscleman, now can we?" "That makes sense I guess." Leland bent over the desk and signed the papers without even looking while Jake copied his ID. Jake held on to the ID, yet the stats and picture were now blank after the scan. Just like that it was done. Leland was too excited to even care about what he signed. It was a foolish thing to do, but not in this case. "Ok. It's done." Jake pushed a button and two equally large men emerged from double doors. The men grabbed Leland and escorted him down some stairs, making Leland feel uneasy. Butterflies of fear and excitement fluttered around in his stomach. The receptionist followed behind, holding a tablet. Leland began sweating the moment he seen two steel doors. It felt like he was in a sci-fi movie and he was about to be ripped apart. "What's go-" "Don't worry." One of the behemoths said as he covered Leland's mouth. The doors opened, revealing a metallic chair on top of a very blocky machine. Leland tried to resist, but it was too late. The behemoths placed him in the chair and made sure he couldn't escape. Despite Leland's struggles the behemoths used their strength to easily slip restraints on Leland. "Let me go! What is this?!" Leland panicked as he struggled against the restraints. The behemoths paid Leland no mind as they removed all of his clothing by just ripping them off. "You signed the paper. We get to decide what look works with your natural looks." Jake placed the tablet on a nearby table and went behind Leland. He started massaging the frantic young man's shoulders. Occasionally skimming over Leland's pecs and traps to keep the young man relaxed and submissive. "You need to be relaxed though, Leland. We're not going to hurt you. The process is a bit painful, but I can assure you, it is pleasurable." Leland melted as Jake's large hands roamed over his upper body. "Alright..." Jake eyed Leland's rising member and rolled his eyes. He was clearly still all about business. "We just need you to answer some personal questions. We can only do this once, so we need something that works with your attributes and personality." "I'll answer them." Leland was in a daze. "First question, what is your sexuality?" "Homosexual." "Second question, are you naturally lean?" "Yes." "Third question, how do you feel about body hair?" "I'm like a piece of white paper so I think it'd look gross. I'm glad I'm naturally smooth." "Fourth question, have you ever used anabolic steroids?" "No, but I wanted to..." "Fifth question, do you have any relatives? If you do, where do they live?" "I'm an only child and my parents are jerks so I don't bother with them much. They live all the way across the country though." "Final question, if you could pick any profession that requires muscles, what would it be?" "Bodybuilding! I love lifting weights and want to get huge. All eyes on me as I work my stuff and make the judge's jaws drop... Ehehe... I'll get there." "I'm sure you will. Ok, that's all. We just needed to know these things before we change you. If you were unhappy with what we picked, then you wouldn't be able to access the maximum potential your body has. That would be a very undesirable result." Jake continued massaging Leland's shoulders, deciding to throw the poor aroused dope a bone. "I do prefer shredded smaller men such as yourself. But I think we can still become very good friends after the change." Leland didn't bother replying as he smiled at the thought of him and Jake having a little fun. Though given Jake's size, saying big fun would be more appropriate. Whatever was going to happen, Leland was ready. Meanwhile Jake had let go of Leland's shoulders so he could make a call. There was plenty of mhms and yeses while Jake tapped on the tablet before Jake hung up the phone. He then placed the tablet behind the chair where Leland was sitting and without warning electricity surged forth from the chair. It enveloped Leland quickly but he wasn't scared. In fact he was gaining some amount of odd pleasure from the electricity. It made sense seeing as how the electricity was surfing along every nerve to make his muscles have a post-pumped feeling. He could feel his blood rushing and his mind going hazy, which was a side effect of his chemistry being rewritten. Leland couldn't help but groan. He couldn't tell if it was from the pain of growing bigger or the pleasurable rush of growing. Leland's muscles pulsed along with the rhythm of his heart. The pulse was leaving his muscles just a tad bit bigger, starting with his upper torso. His pectoral muscles and upper back muscles were the first muscles to receive the gift of growth. His pecs grew outward until Leland could no longer see half of his stomach. They were slabs of pure beef without any room between them. His delts, traps, and lats joined in. It was causing half his neck to become buried in muscle, while his shoulders broadened and widened along with his chest. He couldn't see his abdomen, but the onlookers got a very nice view. His beautifully sculpted 6-pack turned into something fearsome and defined, almost like bricks sticking out from his stomach. His obliques toned and contorted, trying to make his abdomen have just the right curve from his widely massive pecs down to his narrow waist. Leland's arms weren't slacking either. His biceps pushed against the restraints as veins became more pronounced on his quickly growing arms. His biceps and triceps had immense hills and crevices along them, trying their best to contain all the mass that they had to now support. If he were to flex, his arm would easily be bigger than his head. His forearms were wide and powerful, leading down to thick wrists with newly grown hands. They were now made for lifting anything, big or small, with ease. The section below his waist was next to receive the gift of growth but the momentum didn't fade. His quads shot out in all four directions, making it impossible for the forming muscleman to sit with his legs together ever again. His calves strengthened, becoming beautifully sharpened to contrast well with his pillar-like thighs. His glutes also got a slight overhaul, becoming striated and all muscle. Leland wouldn't really need to accommodate anyone else comfort wise, after all. Last was his face, losing any form of delicate prettiness in exchange for a look that would match his body. Leland's features were becoming brutish and sharp. His brow was thicker and his chin had perfectly angled sides, squaring off for the most part. His face gained some character, showing signs of stress on the side of his eyes and a slight scowl line. Lifting to become that big would've taken immense effort, and his face now shown it with properly placed small lines. It was a handsome face nevertheless. With piercing blue eyes and vibrant hair, people would pay attention to the portion above his neck despite his enormous and entrancing muscles. The face he'd make when lifting would be picture worthy, showing every ounce of his alpha-brand intensity. Everything Jake and the owners planned seemed to be going along nicely. Leland wasn't just their only red head; he was now the biggest bodybuilder in the world. He needed to exude intensity and masculinity at all times. He had to seem unapproachable as if he were a muscle god. All in all it's safe to say that goal has been reached. Well, almost... "Phase one is complete. Now phase two." Jake smirked as he pushed another button on the tablet. Leland's reaction to the electricity caused his back to arch and his pelvis to rise briefly. His testes grew in size, prepping to become the testosterone factories that Leland's body needed. His cock lengthened and thickened, becoming quite the monster that would make men green with envy... Or perhaps flushed with lust. His mind was wheeling as the hormones surged throughout his system. Some new driving force attached itself to his already huge confidence and swagger fueled ego. Implanting truths in Leland's subconscious. No human can compare to him, because he was made to be stronger than any living human. He. Was. THE. Alpha. He felt like he was a god among men. Surely nobody would argue with him on that. Leland shook his head back and forth, ridding himself of the remaining daze from his transformation. He stood up as he naturally found a stance that worked well for him. He walked over to Jake and picked up the muscleman with ease. Leland laughed as he felt no strain on his part, giving Jake a bear hug until he felt Jake punch him a few times. It didn't harm Leland at all. If anything it felt great having his muscles acting as a shield. Although Jake wasn't hurt, he was disheveled. He adjusted his glasses as he tried to ignore Leland's... Well, Leland's everything. "Leland O'Bryne, 6'2", 480 pounds even. You are now officially the world's strongest man, but not the tallest or heaviest. Your height will allow you to enter most establishments without ducking, because let's face it; you'll already have a hard enough time getting through doors due to your width. You will participate in next month's main bodybuilding events, and of course, take on Mr. Universe as soon as you gain enough exposure. It shouldn't take that long, given your size." Jake handed Leland his ID, showing the previously mentioned changes. "Other important pictures and paper work will reflect your new stats. We don't need others finding out about our new technology. Speaking of which, you were our first subject. Congratulations on not dying." "Ok..." Leland winced as he shifted his weight from side to side. He should've been bothered by Jake's words but he was more focused on how his enormous body felt. He noticed something slapping between his thiighs as he shifted his weight. He looked down, dismayed to see nothing but pecs, although he was aroused by it all the same. He shrugged and just continued on with the conversation. "So what's with the big dick then? Wouldn't that get in the way?" Leland smirked, not really concerned at all about the size of his package getting in the way of things. "Well we are also aware that a man of your stature would attract a lot of attention. To keep your ego perfectly intact, we decided you would need a large... Sexual instrument. Not being able to sexually satisfy partners would lead to lower morale. That wouldn't do. Albeit, a smaller sexual instrument would most certainly let your muscles stand out even if you were naked. Sadly it can't be changed even if the club or you wanted to. So you'll have to deal with it." Leland laughed. "Sexual instrument?" "Yes. The club owner's words. Not mine." Jake smiled. "Your home wardrobe is being updated as we speak, and you will be given a new phone with your new schedule. You will be a man who is in demand. I assume you know how to flex, but if you'd like, we could have someone teach you what poses will show off your assets. As you can tell by your downward pointing nipples, your pecs are extremely large. We thought it'd be interesting and would make you more imposing if your shoulders and chest were a bit bigger in proportion with the rest of your body. It gives you more of an oddly attractive barbaric look and It obviously does make you more imposing." Leland nodded in agreement as he put his fist under his chin. It was a sarcastic over-animated gesture that signified he was pretending to deeply listen to every word. "Sure. OK. Gotcha. The person teaching me these poses will be you, right?" "No." "That's a shame. I was hoping to kill two birds with one stone. Get some poses down and get a chance to become 'great friends' with you." Leland winked as he put his hand on Jake's shoulder. Even though Jake was trained to be very stoic, he couldn't help but blush a little. "I mean yes. Yes I will teach you proper posing techniques." "Cool. Let's get it on." Leland pushed Jake towards the main doors despite Jake's heels dragging a few times. Jake didn't mean right now, but Leland clearly wanted them to start as soon as possible. Seeing as how he was the world's epitome of muscular masculinity, Jake had no choice but to go with the flow. Of course, he didn't mind it one bit.
  4. LeSeigneur

    Beach Slumming

    Beach Slumming by Gideon Kalve Jarvis A Commission for the Seigneur de M. http://www.furaffinity.net/user/lechevalier/ *** Disclaimer: This is a furry story featuring anthromorphic characters. Vic the rat is one of my most favorite characters, a gruff, roughed and heavily muscled rat who is - in my eyes - best depicted by the characters of Oscar Martinez (Solo). He seems to be a wanderer, as he appears in many settings, and has no sexual preferences except being dominant. I hope you will like him as I do, and you dont might fantasy characters. *** She should be happy, Margot realized. Her life was one that others would kill to obtain, and yet it was one that she had been almost handed on a silver platter, with a silver spoon for her mouth. A gorgeous husband, a fabulous body, and money on both sides of their marriage. More than enough for them to spend their lives in carefree idleness, savoring the sweetness that life has to offer. And yet, something was missing. Something raw and real that Margot knew she had never before experienced, and if things continued as they were, never would. The sleek-muscled, peach-furred feline rolled onto her stomach on the beach blanket, resting her chin on her folded arms, her eyes covered by large dark glasses, her head by a sun hat, her body more-or-less covered by a thong bikini. It wasn‟t much use for keeping sand out of the crease between her firm buns, but it certainly made the males gawk. Lounging there on the beach in the hot Florida sun, Margot felt an itch start to steadily grow between her legs, thinking of the males she‟d seduced in the past, wearing outfits similar to this one, or sometimes even more scandalous. She and Andre, her husband, were hardly closed in their relationship. Of course they felt it only polite to let each other know when they were going to bring in somebody else to satisfy one of their many wealthy whims, but so long as they each abode by that single rule, Andre and Margot were free to take lovers as they wished, of either sex. It served to keep the fire in their relationship, preserving the two felines from settling into a boredom that would surely have spelled the beginning of the end for their relationship. This day, however, Margot‟s eyes moved casually over the beach, sighing in disappointment. The men, the women, they were all beautiful, sculpted, their bodies like those of the gods of Olympus. All her life she and Andre had been among such people, the privileged ones, the ones that were beautiful because it was their right to be so, born of the best genes and the greatest fortune, their lives often planned out long before their births. What she wanted was a taste of reality, raw and harsh. It was as these dark, forbidden thoughts that were filling Margot‟s mind as her eyes fell on the Rat. She had half-risen from her repose at a sound from somewhere behind her, lowering her dark glasses from her bright blue eyes, giving her long blonde hair a toss to get stray locks from her eyes, before she spotted the source of the disturbance. At the gates to the walled-off beach, the exclusive resort of the Hotel Marseilles at Miami Beach, arguing loudly with the guard stationed there, was a creature from a world as far removed from Margot‟s as Heaven was from Hell. He was shorter than her husband by a good head and shoulders, shorter than her by a full head, but his shoulders and chest were a great deal broader. In truth, his entire body was massive in ways that Margot had never thought were possible, an obscene mass of muscle bulging beneath the tight red-and-white-striped shirt and blue jeans he was wearing. She could see everything about him, could imagine what she couldn‟t see. At the sight of this ugly creature, this devil among the angels, this slum-dwelling rodent with his prize-fighter‟s hardened face, Margot felt her mouth grow suddenly dry. Almost against her will, she rose from where she‟d been lying and walked towards the gate. “You talk to Trey,” the Rat said in a harsh, deep voice that spoke of his French birth, though the accent was almost lost in what must have been long years spent in the midst of a rich global polyglot. “He cleared me to go in there. Besides, what‟s it matter? I just want to use the gym. Not gonna bother any of these high rollers on the beach.” That voice! It was everything that her husband‟s was not: rough, uncouth, a savage snarl like broken glass on asphalt. Margot felt her legs wobble, growing weak, the wetness between her legs increasing exponentially. This beast was an untamed remnant of more primitive times, and his raw savagery spoke to her darkest, most primal desires, parts of her that she‟d never even known existed in her perfect life. She couldn‟t speak, could hardly even more closer, but couldn‟t stop herself from continuing her walk forward despite all of her common sense screaming out that it was a mistake. “Look, Vic, we don‟t allow anybody who‟s not staying at the hotel in here,” said the guard, shaking his head as he stood to bar entry, the German Shepherd‟s expression firm, dutiful. “Even if Mister Trey did vouch for you, he certainly didn‟t clear it with me. If I let you in here, I could get in a whole lot of trouble.” “That dirty so-and-so!” snapped the Rat, Margot‟s mind mentally editing out the word he actually used with automatic precision. “Look, it‟s just a workout, mister. Can‟t we figure out some sort of an arrangement…?” “It‟s all right, Mark,” said Margot before she could stop herself, stepping forward to lightly brush her fingers over the shoulder of the tall canine. “This man, Vic, is with me.” The way she‟d said his name, „Vic,‟ had been a gentle rolling of the word over her tongue, as though tasting its flavor. And if a name could have a flavor, this one would be bitter, the same sort of bitter from the lime and salt of a margarita, a bite with a kick that went straight to your head. Mark, the guard, tipped his hat to the sleek peach-furred feline with raised eyebrows. “Um, well,” he looked back to the obscenely-muscled black rat, and then back to Margot. “I guess that‟ll be all right, Miss Margot,” he said finally, shrugging. “But he‟ll need to stay with you, all right?” “Of course, Mark,” said Margot, offering her hand to the hugely-muscled rat, feeling tiny in comparison to him despite her greater height. “We‟ll be just fine.” Vic hesitated for a moment, looking first at Mark suspiciously, as though expecting a trap. Seeing no deception from the stalwart, trustworthy guard, those same suspicious eyes fell on Margot. His hard brown-eyed gaze met her flashing green eyes with confusion as he seemed to be trying to puzzle her out, to discern her true motives behind such sudden and unexpected charity. This wasn‟t a person who was used to being given free help. This was somebody who was used to being used. The thought just made Margot smile a little wider: he would be used, all right. Just not in any way he might be afraid of. “Yeah,” the Rat said finally, his huge hand dwarfing the cat‟s as he closed it around her fingers in a grip that Margot sensed instantly could have crushed her like eggshells, but stopped at a commanding firmness instead, enough so that she couldn‟t have pulled away if she‟d wanted to. “Just fine.” Margot let the rat lead the way. It was obvious he‟d been into the private gym of the Hotel Marseilles, that hallowed shrine of the gods of beauty, wealth and leisure, many times before. She never went into the free weights room, of course, but that was exactly where the massive beast of a rat went, gripping her hand tightly enough that she couldn‟t get away easily, but not so much that he hurt her. This was a male that knew his own strength, knew his own body with the deepest intimacy. As they entered through the frosted glass doors of the gym, Margot glanced around, smiling as she saw how deserted it was at that time. Andre had carefully timed their visit to Miami so that they would hit good weather while avoiding the majority of the tourist crowd. He was always so skilled in his planning, the same skills that would have made him a good hunter in a more primitive time, and made him such a captain of business now. Such a good businessman was the handsome leopard, unfortunately, that he often left his poor, needy wife alone for far too long a time. Margot had deep desires and strong passions, and if they were not so open in their relationship their marriage would surely have shattered under the strain of her desperate needs… “You look like you‟re more used to aerobics and swimming than weights,” said Vic, interrupting Margot‟s thoughts as he walked towards a rack of weights and pulled several of the more massive circles of hard steel from their places. “You just like watching guys get hot and sweaty?” “Mmm,” replied Margot, biting her littlest finger as she broke contact with the obscenely muscled rat, and then walking forward, stroking her soft fingers over his powerful arm as he locked his choice of weights into place on a nearby suspended barbell. “I much prefer to get my exercise in more exciting ways. But having a strong male get hot and sweaty for me,” she licked her lips with lusty eagerness, “yes, that pleases me quite a bit.” “Hope I can help you there,” the rat answered with a smirk, before he hefted the metal bar onto his shoulders, a long row of heavy metal cylinders on each side, so many that the bar began to bend a little under their weight. Margot watched, dry mouthed, as Vic lowered himself almost to the floor with his first squat, and then rose back up. As the muscular male slid into the zone of working out, his eyes starting to grow fiery, tense, seeing things outside of what was right before him, the peach-furred feline slowly circled Vic, her eyes playing over his body, savoring the look of every curve, every angle, every hard bump and lump and part of this gorgeous grotesquerie. On his sixth squat, Margot couldn‟t contain herself as the scent of musky male his her nostrils, tickling the more primitive parts of her brain, and she stepped up behind Vic, her hands stroking around his chest, teasing the hard nipples beneath his tightly-stretched shirt, feeling them hard in the light chill of the aid-conditioned weight room. “So hard,” she murmured in his ear as Vic slowly bent for his seventh squat, the weight wavering slightly as his focus began to slip. “Mmm, and here as well.” Those hands teased over the front of Vic‟s pants, and he gave a deep grunt of surprise and exertion combined as he used that moment of energy to thrust himself straight up, and racked the weights with a clang. “Blood is what makes muscles grow strong, Margot,” he said as he turned, one massive hand gripping the slim cat‟s waist, pulling her against him as he grinned up at her. “But you are making my blood flow into other places.” Margot‟s mouth was dry, her eyes wide, as Vic pressed forward, pulling her against his body like a gorilla hefting a baby. She couldn‟t help but whimper softly as her almost naked back was pressed against the cool surface of the wall-width mirror weight lifters used to check their form, her legs splayed on either side of the aggressive, brutish male‟s hips as he forced himself against her, the heavy weight of his manhood rubbing against the clearly-visible cameltoe at the front of her achingly moist bikini thong. His huge hands slid down, gripping her firm buns, and her toes and back arched with her moan of desperate, needy pleasure. Was she in heat? She couldn‟t tell any more, and didn‟t care. She was so horny right then she felt like she was about to burst into flames at any moment. No time for foreplay, no desire for it. Margot needed this male. Needed him now! Her hands slipped into the little purse that she‟d carried over one shoulder, her only article of clothing aside from her now-discarded hat and shades, and still worn swimsuit. A condom! She needed to get a condom on this male before… “Merde,” she exclaimed as her hands peeled open the front of Vic‟s tented trousers, the rat helping her with one hand, easily holding her up with the other. He wasn‟t that long, really – not nearly as long as her husband‟s perfect penis. But he was thick, his shaft as heavily-muscled, it seemed, as the rest of the brutish body. This was the sort of club Margot could imagine being used by cavemen to subdue their brides. It was an ugly thing, hideous, covered in veins, grotesquely swollen. It would surely split her in half. She had to have it! Her hands were trembling so badly, Margot could barely managed to roll the condom down Vic‟s shaft. It fit, of course: it was one of her husband‟s, his greater length allowing for their differences in thickness. Or so Margot hoped, at least; the condom was badly stretched, looking like an overstuffed sausage casing around that obscene piece of male flesh. As she guided the monstrous head to her quivering, soaked little cunny, knowing she was far too small and tight for such a penis, she watched, wide-eyed, as the filmy sheath of latex bulged a bit more as the rat grew even more aroused, his musky, masculine scent intoxicating her, overwhelming her reason, even with the risk of pregnancy should that flimsy condom of her husband‟s not be able to take the pressure. Vic didn‟t wait any more, didn‟t give Margot another chance for second thoughts. He rested one hand on the mirror to support himself, gripping her hip firmly with the other, supporting her entire weight as he stood there in the midst of the heavy metal all around them, before his hips lunged forward, his meaty length skewering the tight-pussied feline as she barely had time to brush her bikini bottoms aside. Otherwise he would surely have ripped right through the fabric in his eagerness! Yowling like a banshee, Margot‟s claws raked Vic‟s back, shredding his shirt and leaving thin lines of blood on the naked fur beneath. Her legs thrashed on either side of the rat‟s hips as he began to pound her without mercy, heavy thumps filling the room as he rutted her savagely, like the brutish animal he was. The snap of the condom bursting inside of her was a mere footnote to Margot‟s pleasures, the knowledge that she was now taking this male bareback in an adulterous tryst only adding additional spice to the sensations that had blasted all her sanity, the latex ring at its base serving to add additional stimulation as Vic made sure to give her his full shaft on each long thrust. She felt his balls, so swollen, so huge, slap against her well-groomed rumpfur with each heavy jerk of his hips, and reached around, stroking and fondling their deliciously full weight in her hands. They felt so bloated, probably stuffed to the brim with the sperm that would make her cheating on her husband complete. Sealed with half-breed kittens. “Slutty pussycat,” Vic growled in his deep, dominant voice, his thick neck‟s veins standing out as he hunched himself against the squirming peach-furred feline, now holding her with both hands to ensure that all her squirming and thrashing wouldn‟t make her pop off his cock by accident. “Say it,” he commanded her, burying himself to the hilt in her once more, looking into her pleasure-dazed eyes, the pupils dilated as though she were high on drugs instead of sex. “Admit you‟re a slut.” “I‟m a slut,” Margot got out, shuddering with mighty spasms of her entire body. How long had she been cumming? She‟d lost track. Perhaps ever since Vic had first speared her on that magnificent cock of his… “I‟m a filthy, dirty, needy slut, and I need your cock so badly, Vic! Please, fill me with your cum!” She would have gone on, but Vic‟s lips pressed against her own, muffling the high-pitched wail that escaped her throat as his hips started to truly pound away, moving like a piston, like the rattling of a machine gun. He was like a machine, and engine of raw, primal lust! Margot couldn‟t resist him, didn‟t even try, as he claimed her, ravished her, used her up like she was nothing but his personal whore. And she loved every moment. And when the cat in heat felt the gush of Vic‟s cum spurting straight up into her unprotected pussy, her own pleasures peaked out beyond her endurance, her eyes rolling back into her head as she blacked out. Vaguely, Margot was aware of Vic carrying her, asking her for her hotel cardkey, taking it from her purse. She felt him drying them both off with a huge towel from the locker room, doing little to take off his musky scent, which covered both of them like a blanket of unabashed animal lust. She squirmed, whimpering with need as he wedged a thick finger into the cameltoe on the front of her bikini bottoms (now back in place, though only just barely), grinding it against her aching clitoris as he carried her to an elevator, and rode it all the way up. The pleasure-dazed feline was just coming back to herself as Vic nudged the door to her huge suite open with his knee, stepping inside and dropping her on the bed. It was the feeling of bouncing on the bed after being dropped that finally revived Margot to full consciousness, and with her awakening came a full rush of realizations. She‟d cheated on her husband, violating the one rule for all such illicit, extramarital encounters that they‟d set for each other: to let the other partner of the marriage know first. She‟d allowed this male to cum inside of her without even a condom to block the full gush of his virile sperm. And what a male she‟d chosen! Her eyes watched as the burly rodent took a swig of the champagne bottle she and Andre hadn‟t finished the night before, drinking it straight from the bottle. He was an uncouth lout, a brute, a thing of the lowest, most degraded orders! And yet, as he wiped his muzzle and looked at her with eyes that looked straight into her darkest, most hidden yearnings, she knew that she didn‟t regret what she‟d done, not really. And when he peeled off his claw-tattered shirt, then shoved his jeans unceremoniously to the floor, kicking then aside before striding towards the bed, his penis jutting forward like the prow of a battleship, Margot knew that she would let him do it again, as many times as he wanted. She was his slut now, just like she‟d said, nothing but a plaything to this primal beast, an instrument for his pleasure. He grabbed her just as Margot had started to sit up on the edge of the bed, and easily tore off her bikini top, making Margot squeal in surprise at this sudden brutality. Her side-tied bikini bottoms soon followed, and she squirmed as he grabbed one of her ankles, hoisting her leg into the air before his hips lanced forward, cock spearing her once more. This time she didn‟t even bother with the illusion of a condom; her womb was his to claim as he pleased, just like all of her body. How many times had he taken her? How many times could this rat cum? It had been hours at least, maybe days for all that Margot could tell. She still had the taste of his cum and her own juices on her lips after he‟d taken her muzzle, moaning in deep, masculine pleasure as he‟d rutted her mouth, watching her beautiful eyes looking up at him in adoration. The feline goddess was the slave of the rodent demon, and she served him willingly. And now she was clutching one of the pillows to her chest, screaming in a rough mixture of agony and ecstasy, her bottom hiked into the air as Vic shafted her too-tight tailhole, the tiny pink rosette of her rear passage now so widely stretched, Margot was certain she‟d burst at any moment. It was obscene, perverse, twisted…magnificent! She yowled again, even louder this time, as Vic‟s bloated balls slapped her gushing quim with each passionate thrust, the orgasm that claimed her then making her feel dirty, used, and yet craving still more of it. This brute was an addiction, and Margot was utterly hooked. So powerful was her passion and pleasure, in fact, that she didn‟t notice her husband standing there in the doorway of the bathroom, his towel and jaw dropped to the floor as he watched his wife being claimed so wickedly by another man. Beauty and the beast. That was the first thought that had come into Andre‟s mind as he watched his wife greedily take as much of that bloated length of cum-slick ratcock into her delicate muzzle. He‟d been taking a shower to wash off the worst of the smell of his own tryst earlier in the day, being sure that Margot knew where he‟d be, and for how long like the dutiful husband that he tried to be, despite their odd and open relationship. Its openness, in truth, was mostly for her benefit, for barring this vacation, Andre found himself far from living the life of the idle rich. He was gone too often, and his wife was in need of far more attentions than he could provide under such circumstances. His only rule was that he be informed of any liaisons that his wife might have, and he extended her the same courtesy. She had bedded many of his business partners, and several of the more handsome servants around their house, while he in turn had been free to enjoy the company of secretaries and coworkers, some of them other males, just as Margot occasionally indulged herself in the company of other females. But always, up until this point, they had remained true to that one rule, and kept each other informed, if only by a quick text message or simple call left on an answering machine. Now, however, Margot was cheating on Andre for the very first time, in full view of him as he‟d stepped out of the bathroom. He‟d watched her head bobbing on the obscenely bloated length of male flesh this brutish male sported, fury at first clouding everything into a haze of red. This passed quickly, however, after a single step into the room, as the full, obscene size of the black-furred monstrosity pummeling his wife‟s chin with his weighty balls came over Andre, sending a bolt of chill fear that sank into his guts, knowing that this creature, this rat, could likely break him over one knee without pausing in his thrusting motions. But then he‟d controlled his breathing, the tall, handsome leopard never one to lose control of his emotions. His self-control was why he had succeeded so well in business, and he pushed himself away from the murder that had flashed in his mind with an effort of will. However Andre hadn‟t counted on the danger that arose as he pushed fury away: lust could so easily take its place. That is exactly what happened, as Andre continued to stand there, watching the seemingly oblivious pair, letting his towel fall, forgotten to the plush carpet as the well-endowed rat‟s cock began to gush in his wife‟s muzzle, while she desperately tried to gulp it all down, her cheeks flushed, whiskers fanned wide in the height of her desperate lust. Andre felt his shaft rising to full attention, taking an involuntary step forward as Margot gave a short squeal as the rat seized her like a rag doll around her shoulders, and easily tossed her onto the bed. He was shorter than her, Andre realized, and quite a bit shorter than himself, and yet the obscenely-sized male had to be at least twice of Andre‟s leanly-muscled, sleek mass. Then, as Andre saw the brutish male pause only long enough to pour a dollop of suntan lotion onto his wife‟s rump and his hard shaft before plowing into her, claiming her anally with more vigor and primal savagery than Andre had ever felt in his life, the tall leopard felt himself forgiving his wife. This primal creature in their room, buried to the hilt in his wife, was like Hephaestus to Aphrodite, the grotesque god of the forge bound by passion to the incomparable goddess of love. She couldn‟t have resisted the lure of opposites, of raw, primal realism, any more than those gods of yore. “How is he?” Andre asked, walking to the side of the bed to get a better view, his pink tongue flicking out as he wetted his lips, his eyes wide as he observed the savage tryst taking place. “Andre!” exclaimed Margot, starting to rise up, her eyes wide in panic…only to be roughly shoved back into place by one of the rat‟s huge hands. “Vic, please…it‟s my husband,” she pleaded with the rat. But Vic only ignored her, giving a grunt to acknowledge her words, before his hips started to speed up, his nostrils flaring as he started to climb the final peak of his orgasm. The sleek leopard stepped up onto the bed behind his thrashing wife, her shock at realizing she was being watched by the very person she was cuckolding having unloosed her ability to stave off her passions any longer, leaving her writhing and yowling on the bed like a feral feline from the alleys. She was a raw, passionate creature herself now, stripped of all her veils of seduction and romance and beauty. Now she was composed of sex at its most basic, elemental form. All else was beyond her comprehension. Kneeling behind Vic, Andre rested his chin on the rat‟s shoulder, his hands reaching around, stroking over the broad, bare chest of the brutish creature. He was solidly formed, and Andre couldn‟t help but wet his lips again as his fingertips closed on the rat‟s hard, masculine nipples, squeezing them firmly. This was the last straw, and Vic cried out, his voice deep, powerful like the bellow of a bull as he began to gush even more cum into Margot‟s quivering body, his seed spurting out as it overflowed her anal depths, dripping down her rump and legs as she slumped forward, whimpering softly at the lovely ache left behind in her rump and well-stretched cunny. It was impossible for him to help himself! As Vic pulled back, his heavy, meaty length popping free of Margot with a gush of his cum, Andre ran his tongue over the neck of the other male, tasting his full-bodied, musky essence. The leopard wanted this male, and wanted him now. “It‟s only fair,” Andre said softly in Vic‟s ear, seductively, the same tone he used on that fresh-faced gazelle intern the week before he‟d gone on vacation with his wife, his hard shaft grinding against the hip of the rat, its long, beautiful pink shaft stroking through the bristly fur there. “You‟ve had my wife, after all. Now I should have you.” “Fair enough,” Vic answered, turning as he grinned right in Andre‟s face. “Hope you enjoy what you get.” Andre was just starting to grin, the toothy, triumphant grin of a predator that is about to finish off his prey, before, suddenly, Vic‟s huge arm lifted, wrapping around Andre‟s upper body, pulling him forward. His face was squeezed up against the musclebound side of the rat, his senses reeling at the thick, heady male musk. “S-stop,” the sleek-furred leopard gasped out, his eyes growing heavy-lidded. “Please, this isn‟t…” “You want this,” said Vic in response, his other hand guiding Andre‟s for a short while, before, in a daze, Andre began to stroke the rat‟s body, exploring every ridge and curve with his fingertips. “That‟s right. Touch me everywhere. No shame in admiring what I‟ve got to show. I‟ve worked hard on it so people can enjoy it.” Margot was just starting to crawl forward then, gradually coming around. She rose up, her eyes fluttering open just as she saw her husband rasping his pink tongue along the underside of the rat‟s armpit, his expression one of pure, sultry bliss, before his attentions slowly moved down the rat‟s arm, to his bicep. The peach-furred feline couldn‟t resist a smile at this display of submission, and crept forward on all-fours towards the two, reaching out her delicate hands to wrap them around the hard shafts of the two males kneeling on the bed near her, beginning to stroke them at a steady pace. Andre‟s familiar, beautiful penis was a weight she knew well, and enjoyed still, even after the feeling of Vic‟s bludgeon inside of her. The fingers of the hand stroking Vic, however, couldn‟t reach all the way around that meaty shaft. It was just too thick! She leaned forward, and kissed Vic‟s pectoral, flicking her tongue over his hard male nipple, visible through his dark fur as a point of smooth blackness, making the rat jerk slightly in mounting pleasure. Andre‟s tongue moved to follow suit, and soon Vic was leaning back on the bed, his hips thrust out as he panted, his eyes wide as he watched the two felines stroke and lick and nibble their way down his body, until their lips finally met at the tip of his full, throbbing cock, kissing each other with his plum-shaped glans right between their lips. This tongues flicked out, French kissing with passionate, desperate need, all the while lashing and lathering his cock with their affection for each other. His heavy hands reached down, gripping the firm, tight bottoms of the two felines, his fingers teasing against wet female slit and tightly-clenched male anal ring, squeezing firmly as he bucked his hips, giving a short, barbaric cry as he came once more, with those eager mouths, husband and wife, servicing his needy shaft. Andre had certainly fellated several males in his time. He‟d also enjoyed anal sex on several occasions. But only as the one on top, never as the one receiving. But at this moment, even with a thick finger penetrating his clenching, virginal tailhole, he hardly noticed, he was so caught up in the moment of shared, shivering pleasure as Vic climaxed, his seed jetting over the faces of Margot and Andre like the spray of a fountain. Then, suddenly, Andre came to himself, and started to rise, giving his head a startled shake, trying to pull away from Vic‟s invading fingers, especially as he was trying to add a second! But the rat simply reached out, his cock still hard even after his recent orgasms, and grabbed both of Andre‟s wrists in one mighty hand as the sleek leopard tried to get away. “You‟ll love this too,” Vic said with a laugh, before he twisted Andre around, pinning him to the bed with his firm, spotty rump thrust into the air – an easy target! “No…” Andre almost whimpered, struggling feebly in the grip of the more powerful male, knowing already that it was a hopeless struggle. “Please, I‟ve never…ah!” Vic had then reached over with his other hand, and pressed Margot‟s head down, her muzzle up against Andre‟s tailhole. She knew what was wanted, her pink tongue extending, teasing over her husband‟s tailhole, making the handsome leopard squirm and moan in pleasure as he was rimmed with such expert skill. His wife had never done this for him before, and yet she did so with the experience of someone who had practiced the art. It was another facet of his wife that Andre had never before suspected, and one that he felt now that he would have to explore further when the opportunity presented itself. As Margot‟s tongue moved down, rasping over Andre‟s white-furred balls, the leopardman suddenly tensed up as he felt the huge, swollen tip of that massive ratcock squeezed firmly against his virgin pucker. Despite himself, despite knowing that there was nothing he could do to stop this, and that he was probably going to love it, whether he wanted to or not, Andre couldn‟t suppress that whimper of fear. The rat was so huge, Andre was almost certain that it would kill him, splitting him open as it went in. “Your wife took it, and she‟s half your size back there,” sneered Vic, nudging his hips forward, the pressure steadily increasing against Andre‟s snug tailhole, slowly spreading him open. “Take it like a man.” The leopard started to open his mouth, so say something – anything! – to the bad black rat, but all that came out was a kittenish mewl as, suddenly, his tailhole gave way in its resistance, and Vic‟s massive cockhead popped inside. This soon turned into a slow, long, drawn-out yowl that began almost as a whisper, and gradually increased in volume until it was a banshee‟s wail as Vic‟s cock bumped past Andre‟s prostate, making the leopard‟s whole world start to spin in raw, naked pleasure. He‟d just been deflowered by this vile beast, his last virginity robbed from him by this untamed lump of gutter trash…and it felt good. It felt wonderful! Andre‟s shaft was rock-hard, great drops of precum forming at the tip to drop onto the soft sheets beneath him, and he hadn‟t even touched it. “That‟s it, slut,” Vic growled in Andre‟s ear. “But don‟t worry: it‟s only gay if our balls tou-whups.” He chuckled deeply as his hips pressed against Andre‟s spotty rump, his massive testicles clapping gently against those of the other male. Vic began to move his hips then, starting slowly at first, but soon starting to build up his pace. With his hands pinned behind his back, Vic using them as a handle to aid in his thrusting, Andre was completely at the mercy of the brutish caveman-like rat that was now starting to nail his pristine backside with full gusto. Each hard thrust slapped against Andre‟s rump lustily, making the leopard‟s cock bounce to smack against his taut belly, and the leopard knew he couldn‟t last long like this. An eager female moan caught Andre‟s ears, and he turned his head as Vic was starting to thrust in short, jabbing motions, his tempo speeding up a lot. The leopard gasped as he saw his wife riding the arm of the rat, who held it outstretched, flexing his oversized bicep up right into Margot‟s trembling, gushing cunny like a living, hot-blooded Sybian. She was grinding against the rat‟s muscular arm, pinching her nipples, twisting them in her fingers as she neared yet another orgasm, or perhaps was already in the midst of one, Andre couldn‟t tell anymore. Too much. It was too much! Screaming like a jungle cat, Andre gave in at last to the raw, savage feeling of the rat‟s pounding hips, his thrusting cock, that sense of being overwhelmed, dominated. He couldn‟t resist it any more, couldn‟t fight off the pleasure. His head slumping to the bed, cheek grinding against the sheets, Andre started to come, his cock pulsing over and over again as Vic began to pound almost straight down into the leopard‟s orgasm-clenching tailhole, his tail wrapped around the rat‟s waist like the belt of a victorious gladiator. He was vaguely aware of his wife collapsing, face first, onto the bed by his side, only just barely able to see her sated, smiling face as she drifted off into a deeply pleasured slumber. He wasn‟t far behind her. * Margot and Andre came to themselves eventually, finding their naked bodies pressed together on the tangled sheets of the huge hotel bed. There was a sizable indentation between them, one that was still warm, indicating where a massive rodent‟s body had just been, dispelling the impression that what might have happened could just have been a dream. Both felines turned as they realized that the shower was running, and then looked back at each other, before they leaned closer together and kissed, their lips meeting with a passion that they had both almost forgotten they had for each other. When Vic stepped out of the bathroom a short time later, he was treated to the sight of two shapely feline rumps presented towards him, Andre and Margot both crouched on all-fours on the bed, presenting themselves, wiggling their long tails and lovely hineys with eager arousal. The sweet spice of horny cat hit the black rat‟s nose, making his whiskers vibrate, and he stepped forward eagerly, one massive hand gripping each of the pair of presented bottoms. “I think you two are gonna enjoy the rest of your vacation,” Vic chuckled.
  5. LeSeigneur

    Hugh the Young Knight

    Hugh the Young Knight written by Ceep for the Seigneur de M. Hugh felt uncomfortable in his own skin, but that was the only pitiful facet of his life. The fact that he acheived knighthood at the legendary round table at such a young age was truly remarkable and enviable, yet all he knew was unease for it. It was not the affections and admirations of the people that left him feeling sheepish and shy, though; no, it was the very reason that he sat among knights who, in his eyes, were twice the man he was, yet the opposite was true. A specimen of masculinity rarely unseen, a contrast to the freshness of his face, his young body rippled with muscle tone and power; even through the stuffy clothing and the chainmail he was obliged to wear as a knight, the lines of his musculature were unmistakable, lending him to be unintentionally intimidating to those around him, yet the gentle, freckled features of his face and his supple, pale flesh lent themselves to a more friendly, youthful appearance which rendered him approachable. Indeed, Hugh had a gentle, if not quiet disposition, yet a fierce loyalty to that which he believed in - and what he put most of his faith into was his coat of arms and the honor of his kingdom. Though the youth had not yet been tempered by the fires of bloody combat, nor had he taken a life, those he stood beside thought of him as an intelligent and capable knight in spite of his age. In celebration of Hugh's knighthood, the captain of the knights saw fit to propose a banquet - and the queen, an intelligent beauty who was thoughtfully involved with the knights of the roundtable, allowed this feast without opposition. Amongst the queen and the entirety of his greatest peers, Hugh felt absolutely tiny, a truly ironic sensation, considering his musculature over even the most fit individual there. There was conversation, a great meal, and drinks to be enjoyed, yet Hugh was ever the wallflower, eating quietly and talking politely, avoiding any and all eye contact with the queen out of a sense of bashfulness - and that was quite difficult, for she frequently looked his way. Hugh was certain he could see ulterior motives in her gaze, and had he been a little bit more mature, he would have easily seen her lust. Yet, all he knew for certain was that the queen was giving him queer looks and flirtatious glances - what could he do but tolerate it? Very soon, a toast was held in Hugh's honor, one he found difficult, to say the least; bearing a contrived, cheeky smile brought on by overwhelming embarassment, he took the praises of his queen and his fellow knights with modesty, yet the lovely royal lady blindsided the youthful knight with a command that shook him and rendered him speechless. "Brave young Hugh," she said with a tone not unlike a sultry purr, silencing the entirety of the dining hall, "rise for your queen. Let me gaze upon your youthful body, a fine model of the male form!" All heads turned from her majesty, Guinivere, to lowly Hugh, so young that he should not have been any more than a lowly squire. "I, ah... I beg your pardon, your majesty?" he said, his voice a tiny squeak. "Hugh," she said slowly, "you heard me well." Then, letting a seductive smile grace her features, the queen relaxed in the comfort of her decorated seat, awaiting young Hugh's show. It was so unlike Hugh to be any kind of an exhibitionist, but there it was - a direct order from his queen. For many long seconds, he simply thought of rejecting the command and forfeiting his knighthood, but that would have cost him everything. Resigning himself to the queen's will, he rose from his chair, standing above the heads of all his fellow knights. All eyes were on him; in deathly silence, they awaited his next move. Please give me the strength, Hugh silently prayed with momentarily closed eyes. He felt no divine will enter him, but he made up for its' absence with willpower of his own. Emitting a long sigh, he began to curl his mighty arms inwards, at the same time subtly hunching himself over. With blushing cheeks and a subtly grimacing expression, he flexed his arms for all they were worth, and Guinivere looked on with obviously hungry eyes - had anyone been watching her and not Hugh, they would've seen the very unladylike way she licked her lips. Hugh felt all their gazes on him, criticizing him, scrutinizing his every move, and it unconsciously spurred him to do the best that he could. Straightening his back, he smoothly lifted his arms above his head, and he exerted every ounce of his strength; his muscles bulked heavily, stretching the tight mall to its limits. It would have been appropriate to see him holding an anvil in his bare hands, or maybe even the entirety of the castle's tower, but all he lifted was the air itself. As he ran every cluster of youthful muscle in his arms through their paces, they trembled, as if such power was too much for them. He balled his supple hands into white-knuckled fists, and he shuddered. He soon reached the height of his spectacular double-bicep pose, and at much the same time, a noise of wheezing, protesting metal came forth, growing more and more intense as the youth worked his muscles. With a grunt of exertion, the chainmail he was dressed in split in a dozen places, ripping like fabric, just as easily as the shirt over said mail. There he stood, still blushing, his unlikely arms and his defined chest clutched loosely by ruined garments, his face still alight with blush, by then more than ever before. "Very good," Guinivere said quietly, belying the true lust she felt for that handsome youth, "you may take your seat again, young Hugh..." Well past the banquet that evening, Hugh found himself amongst his fellow knights, still quite bashful from the outcome of the feast. He had been issued a new set of chainmail and a fresh tunic - bothh with some extra slack in them, to help prevent another such incident from occurring - but the youth chose to remain in the nude following his bath. As he finished up and dried himself off, he heard escalating words from Lancelot, arguably the most respected and beloved of all the knights of the roundtable; ordinarily, a scrap between even such noble knights was not unheard of, but the things passing Lancelot's lips were stunning to all - Hugh included. "I can hardly believe the behavior of our queen! I saw the lust in her eyes as clear as day!" Though Lancelot's plight was, on the surface, one of morality and disgust, the truth was that he felt jealous - Guinivere was a woman of impeccable beauty, not to mention exclusivity for her royal blood. It certainly flustered Lancelot to know that a youth nearly half his own age had her favor and her sexual admiration, yet to admit his own lust for the queen was not at all acceptable; the bitter irony was that speaking derisively of her was accepted more than admitting his own wantings for her body. Whether he picked up on this or not, Hugh correctly assumed that Lancelot's anger was his fault; being a good, noble knight, however, Hugh simply would not stand for such words about his queen. The youth abolished any and all shyness; all that mattered to him was the honor of the queen. He emerged from the baths with his expression set in stone, his inexperienced eyes glowing with intensity. Lancelot turned his gaze on the nude form of Hugh; momentarily, he was staggered by the sight of his body, though it wasn't the first or even second time he'd laid eyes on the young knight. "You shall not speak of the queen in such a way, Lancelot!" he warned, finding himself unafraid as he stood toe-to-toe with Lancelot. For a moment, Lancelot - dressed in merely a loose-fitting undergarment - looked as though he were sizing up the youth as an opponent, but ultimately, he shook his head. "Forgive me, Hugh, I should not have spoken ill of our fine queen," he conceded, his tone one of benevolence, but not submission. More and more, he found himself admiring the pale-skinned youth before him in more intent ways, and in the slack confines of his undergarment, he felt his shaft swelling with blood. It was just obscene that a teenager, nearly a mere child, hat such an enormously powerful body. Hugh, pacified but still not accepting of Lancelot's behavior, stood proud and tall, his muscles flexing and twitching even at an idle, his heavy, uncut shaft hanging freely between the carved flesh of his thighs. "Your body," Lancelot said absently, having stepped back to better view Hugh's form, "such a form, it's like your mother and father carved you out of marble, Hugh." The comment brought Hugh pause, and it interrupted his unconscious intimidation, replacing his stern expression with a blushing, somewhat dull look. "Ah, thank you, Lancelot," he bleated, suddenly well aware of his handsome fellow knight's roaming eyes - in some way, he felt comfortable with Lancelot ogling him. "Please, Hugh, satisfy my curiosities," Lancelot said with a hint of arousal in his voice, taking a few steps away from the youth. There, in the training hall - just off of the knights' quarters, where they slept and bathed - was a rack with hundreds of pounds of armor and weaponry upon it. It would've taken a horse and a carriage to move it with so much gear upon it - but, almost instinctively, Lancelot knew Hugh could move it with ease. "You want me to lift that?" Hugh asked, tightening his jaw in unease and disbelief. Wearing a small, coy smile, Lancelot nodded and chuckled. "Try it. You might be surprised." Feeling just as shy and uncertain as his forced show in the banquet hall, Hugh momentarily sized up the rack; at least ten feet tall, it was covered in mail, plate armor, swords, axes, and shields - easily several tons worth of steel, not to mention the fact that the rack itself was built out of sturdy, ancient wood. "Lancelot," he said uneasily, looking back at the handsome knight - Lancelot nodded reassuringly, folding his arms across the toned form of his chest. "Try, Hugh, please. Satisfy my curiosities." Hugh sighed, and though the noise reeked of impatience and disgust, it was actually a sound of exasperation - why did everybody wish to ogle his body like so? To somebody so sexually inexperienced, it was very unusual to Hugh, but he would oblige Lancelot. Squatting down, clutching the cumbersome rack by its' base from the side, Hugh grunted, the sound not youthful, but rather one of a grown man pushing his body to the limit. Before Lancelot's eyes, the pale, freckled example of pristine, male beauty before him began to rise that loaded rack - clutching with his arms, lifting with his legs, Hugh rose inch by inch. His carved biceps balooned, the mighty pecs flexed tight and in deep striations, every single muscle strained and bulged, stretching the velvet boyskin. Hugh’s body became carved and edgy, a superior, unreal musclebeast as he showed off his true power. His breathing, once steady and calm, had since degraded into animalistic and unintentionally lewd huffing. Lancelot was staggered, and had his jaw not been clenched, his lip not bit in a display of admiration and arousal, his mouth would have hung open. To see a form so youthful and perfect as Hugh's lifting that rack so high that it crested over his head, revealing his animal-like, bushy armpits, his body glistening with sweat, his herculean chest heaving with the labored breathing of a wild animal, Lancelot was shocked, amazed, and incredibly aroused - in the snug-fitting undergarment around his hips, he sported a mighty erection, and all he knew for certain was that he had to feel that youth's body. Hugh set the rack down a mighty thud!, followed shortly by the rattling of mail and armor. A few armaments fell to the floor in noisy, harmless clanks and clatters, but Lancelot could hear none of this - all he wanted to hear was the gruff panting, the near snarling of Hugh's breathing. He smelled the youth's undeveloped scent, that which would one day be a potent musk of unspeakable attraction and heartbreaking sexuality, and he availed himself for the youth. As he approached, Hugh turned, his freckled face alight with blush, his skin damp with sweat; before he could speak a word, Lancelot kissed him, slipping his tongue into the warmth of young Hugh's maw, teasing over the youth's palate and teeth in an enormously sexual gesture. Before Hugh could even register the kiss, Lancelot ended it, and he pressed his cheek to Hugh's own, savoring the feel of soft, pubescent flesh on the shaven stubble of his own - which, inversely, was a sensation Hugh enjoyed. "L-Lancelot," the youngest knight stammered, finding himself silenced with another kiss, this one shallow and brief. Lancelot had no words, and he drove on with instinct alone. He nibbled and kissed down the impossibly mighty youth's jawline and neck with brisk speed, but he dabbled on Hugh's chest. There, he licked, he kissed, he gnawed; no crease of muscle, no swatch of smooth, freckled flesh was safe; Hugh shuddered and moaned, and involuntarily, he flexed hard for Lancelot, pouting out his chest, presenting like a peacock to the handsome knight. Hugh unknowingly fed off of Lancelot's worship, and his shaft, once casually flaccid, had already begun to swell with arousal, engorging its' length with blood. As it reached its' peak and it came around to a respectable length but an unbelievable girth Hugh shuddered, and Lancelot was further stricken by the youth's form. Even as compelling as the ambivalently tender and hard flesh of the youngest knight's chest and arms was to his kissing lips and licking tongue, Lancelot could not resist that which dwelt between Hugh's chiseled thighs. Dropping to his knees, unabashed in his homoeroticism, the handsome Lancelot clutched Hugh's meat in a strong, tough hand, a contrast to the virgin flesh of that penis. Squeezing it firm in his grip, he pulled down upon the uncut foreskin of the youth's length, exposing the tip, its' shade a muted pink, one unaccustomed to light or the chilly air of the outside world; indeed, to have the tender glans of his shaft so ruthlessly exposed sent a shiver up Hugh's spine and made him moan, yet the moisture and warmth it naturally knew was replaced with another - Lancelot's mouth. The handsome knight struggled to engulf Hugh's colossal manhood, and as he descended, he removed his groping, tugging hand, placing it, along with the other, on one of the youth's thighs. Hugh's cheeks lit with a vibrant and youthful blush, making his cute freckles all the more apparent, and though he quaked and moaned with pleasures yet unheard of to his sexually inexperienced body, he found himself embracing an almost feral dominance; setting one of his smooth hands on the back of Lancelot's head, he encouraged the handsome knight to work his swollen shaft harder, doing so with wary pushes and squeezes on the back of his skull - Hugh was not entirely sure what he was doing, but whatever it was, he somehow knew it was right. Distantly, Hugh wondered if this was a common occurance for Lancelot, or if it was similarly his first time with another man - but at the forefront of his thoughts, all he really acknowledged was how wonderful that mouth felt around his length. Huffing with nearly the same intensity and urgency as when he'd so effortlessly hefted the armor rack, Hugh held firmly onto Lancelot's head with both of his supple hands. Everything about the moment was unspeakably fine; Lancelot, whether by practice or dumb luck, sucked and bobbed upon the youth's turgid member with incredible ferocity and skill, and his manly, rough hands alternately fondled the hairless, wrinkled, tender hide of Hugh's scrotum, or the carved-in-stone curve of his rear-end. Hugh soon felt himself nearing the bliss of a climax; he had masturbated, but it was a rare occasion, for he found his time spent better practicing with the sword or maintaining his fitness, and so Lancelot's ministrations were helped along by a pent-up, pubescent libido that rarely knew the casual release of a loving hand. "Oh, ah, nngh!" Hugh grunted, screwing the charming, youthful features of his face into a toothy grimace, clenching his naive eyes shut. Sweat dripped from his body; once but a sheen not unlike a morning's dew, it freely poured from his form, and his member, nestled safely in the hot and humid confines of Lancelot's gulping, sucking maw, oozed incessantly with bitter-salty pre, stinging the knight's tongue, but not in a manner unpleasant. With his huffing and near-snarling reaching a crescendo, Hugh pulled Lancelot's head flush to his pelvis, and he stood up on his tip-toes in the sweet, sudden agony of his climax. Every cluster of muscle and iron-hard sinew tensed to a density not unlike chainmail, and he blew a colossal, pent-up load down Lancelot's hungry throat. The older knight wasted not a drop of the young, yet virile and thick seed that Hugh saw fit to feed him, and the youth's orgasm and dominance brought him such scintillating pleasure that, without the use of his hands, he sullied the insides of his undergarment with a sloppy, manly mess of his own. When Hugh at last returned to his normal posture, and he appeared to be his timid, usual self, he awkwardly unhanded Lancelot's skull and apologized down to the handsome knight - Lancelot stood, and without a word, he silenced the young knight mid-sentence with another kiss. The feel of such supple, pink lips on his own was blissful, accessable pleasure - but they were finished for the night. "You, young Hugh, need not apologize for anything," Lancelot said enigmatically, walking off to the baths. Hugh watched him go, and then he made his way to bed for that night, where he slept very soundly. The next day, Hugh's attempts to reconcile all that had happened the night before were cut short; a mysterious command from the queen herself, delivered by her handmaiden - he was to come directly to the queen's bedchambers and speak to no one along the way. Hugh felt an odd chill down his spine, a tingling of worry, even though he assured himself he had done nothing wrong - it was simply an immature reaction to being summoned by the highest of authority like so. Stepping through the threshold of her bedroom door, dressed in his new chainmail and more slack, forgiving tunic, Hugh looked adorably uncomfortable, and more out-of-place than ever before. "You summoned me, your majesty?" said the handsome young man, moving before the bed, for upon its' edge sat queen Guinivere, as lovely as ever, if not in the regal setting of her throne room. Hugh made to kneel, but the queen stopped him with a hand upon his chest. "There is no need for formalities or anxiety, young Hugh," she cooed with gentle reassurance, her tone not unlike that of a caring mother, but her eyes exhibited anything but such innocence. "Regarding your display at last night's banquet," she began, at once summoning a mighty blush to Hugh's smooth, freckled cheeks, "I wish to see more of the same, without the prying eyes of your peers - only mine." Sitting back, she looked unusually casual for a queen, but her eyes were ever lewd, burning with sexual intensity and desire. Despite his endearing shyness, Hugh obliged - but this time, he disrobed, shedding the tunic, the mail beneath, and his undergarments, exposing the naked, supple flesh of his chiseled body to the chilled air of the castle and the hungry eyes of the queen. His manhood, though flaccid and unaroused, hung heavily between his thighs, promising to be the most handsome penis the queen had ever laid eyes upon - and indeed, she couldn't help but glance at it, even as it was. Her eyes studied not just the youth's genitalia, however, for she examined every crease of muscle and every bulging strand of sinew, taking in his appearance with a subtle, nearly animalistic lick of her lips. It slowly dawned on Hugh that the way his fellow knights treated him was not derision, but jealousy - he was so reluctant and bashful to acknowledge it, but he was built like no other man he'd ever seen, his body chiseled out of what seemed like stone. With this realization, he began to flex almost involuntarily, well before the queen's mark, but she didn't seem to mind it at all; biting his lip in concentration, he pouted out the mountainous bulk of his chest, presenting that smooth flesh, and at the same time, he raised his swelling arms high above his head, his supple hands clenched into white-knuckle fists. Lifting his arms like so exposed the wiry, fluffy bushes of his armpits - the pits themselves exuded an acquired taste of a scent; though Hugh did not yet possess a true musk of his own, having not matured enough, the smell of his body and his sweat was unmistakable, and it aroused Guinivere in incredible ways. With her behavior growing increasingly unladylike, Guinivere stood from the bed, looming before the bulging, yet charmingly youthful form of Hugh. With another subtle lick of her lips, she leaned in close, and she partook of a sniff of an armpit, a tentative one; the smell of his sweaty masculinity made her shudder, and beneath the regal dress she wore, she was growing quite wet. With lust unchained, she pushed her delicate nose into the bush of his armpit hair, and she sniffed deep, taking the youth's undeveloped musk deep into her lungs. Just as bold as her nose was her hands; delicate and soft, covered in pale flesh nearly as supple as Hugh's own, she clutched the youth's half-erect penis and plump, dangling scrotum in one, and with a distinct, royal thoughtfulness, she gently bounced and groped the tender flesh, coaxing a deeply aroused, wavering groan from the handsome young knight. Such a careful, yet intent touch saw his penis swell with arousal, its' shaft engorging with blood, reaching its' full length in record time. With a smile most coy, Guinivere wrapped her slender digits around that penis, and she gave it a few long, soothing pumps, coaxing mighty wads of pre from the tip in heavy spurts, each one accompanied by a full-body shudder and a deep moan from the youth. It was not Guinivere's intention to get Hugh to a climax yet; his pleasure would come, but only as a consequence of her own. "Hugh, sweet, handsome, valiant Hugh," cooed the queen, shedding her dress and the stifling undergarments beneath, exposing the striking female beauty of her form to the chilly air and to Hugh's hungry eyes. Her hips - delicately curved, so very womanly, but not overtly pronounced. Her breasts - swollen and full, pale and supple, the nipples stiffened and hard with arousal and the cool temperature. Behind her, a fine ass, but Hugh's was arguably finer. With the queen so close to his colossal form, Hugh was unable to partake of the view of her long legs, but what he saw was enough to leave him nearly drooling. "Your majesty," he whispered, his tone laced with lust and reverence, both vying for control of his quaking voice, "your body, it's so beautiful, I would give anything to have you." She pressed her lips to his in a brief kiss, and then she trailed a delicate digit down the range of his hairless chest, savoring the contrast of his body; though supremely muscular, he was so pale, so soft, his flesh sprinkled with charming, youthful freckles - this would be a night to remember for both the queen and her loyal knight. "Come, Hugh," she said tenderly, backpedaling, moving to kneel upon her bed. Hugh did just the same; beneath his bulk, the bed creaked in protest and unease, though it held up. With the youthful, hulking knight so close, Guinivere let her fingers run wild over the creases and crevasses of his chest, though they came to dwell upon the pink, tender nubs of his nipples. Once soft and inoffensive, they had since stiffened with arousal, not unlike his member. Though nowhere near as tender as that particular flesh, Guinivere's touch brought him tingles and shivers of pleasure, impulses that shook noises not unlike whimpers from him. "Oh, your majesty, Lancelot's touch was not half as pleasing as yours," he cooed, blushing only after the fact; in consideration, Guinivere paused, then twisted her beautiful lips into a coy smile. "So Lancelot couldn't resist you? I see... It seems I am not the only one so afflicted with your form," she chuckled, punctuating her words with a soft kiss upon his cheek. Hugh could only shake his head slowly; the poor youth was so embarassed by what he had blurted out that he couldn't even answer with words. Guinivere acknowledged his bashful nature; indeed, it was one of the things that made him so adorable, and it was a fine contrast to the masculinity of his male form. Furthermore, she had precisely the cure for such a lack of confidence; lying back, shying away from the youth's bulk, the queen slowly spread her legs, exposing the slender lips of her cunt. Hugh had never seen such a thing before, but instinctively, he wanted it. As she spread those folds with her digits and he was allowed to gaze upon the moist, inviting pink of his queen, he bit his lip, erasing the pale, pink color from it for a moment. "Have at your queen, young Hugh," she said, her voice a sultry purr, her eyes exuding raw sexual desire. "As hard as you wish it - my body is yours this night!" Hugh needed to hear no more words; he pounced with animalistic lust. Just on instinct, he knew what to do; he prodded the swollen, blunt tip of his penis to the inviting, deep pink of her cunt, and he sank it in to the hilt. Precum and vaginal juices were his lubricants, and they were beyond sufficient; he entered her without pain, only pleasure. The handsome youth quaked and shuddered with overwhelming pleasure, finding his first time with a lady to be an erotic dream; Guinivere was not so noisy, but still, she moaned and stroked fondly over the ripped arms of the youth, which were planted on either side of her. "Mmm, yes, Hugh, have me!" she shuddered, rolling her eyes before closing them; with all the ferocity of a beast, Hugh started to pound his shapely hips, bobbing his deliciously taut behind up and down in an endless, mindless groove that matched no music, and served only to please himself and his queen. Hugh panted and grunted in gruff, overwhelming desire; not unlike the way he had snarled and rumbled like a bull when he performed his feats of strength for Lancelot, he became similarly noisy for the queen. Consciously, he told himself it was all for the queen, but deep in his subconscious, he knew it was all about him; there was his ego that she was nurturing, whether he realized it or not. He knew that his own pleasure was what mattered most, and that Guinivere's beautiful body was a means to an end. It was a thought no self-respecting knight would ever admit - but Hugh hadn't even realized it himself. Indeed, he was straying off into more animalistic territory; he heard her moans and smelled her scent, but those impulses came to him like visions. He watched her plump, pleasing bosom bounce and jiggle enticingly, doing all it could to lure him in for a lick or a suck, but he was set in his ways; he would fuck his queen for all she was worth. "Oh, Hugh, H-Hugh!" she cried out to him, losing any and all composure as the handsome youth went on, his rhythm degrading into chaotic bucks and grinds - soon, he would climax, and that was apparent in his grunting and snarling as much as it was in his actions. Hugh knew nothing in the way of prolonging sex; so inexperienced and full of the hormones of puberty, all he knew was how to get off, and that was precisely what he did. Pounding his mighty cock in to the hilt, smacking his balls into the queen's thighs, Hugh erupted with an outspoken noise of pleasure, and he shot an incredibly virile load deep into the queen's womb. Her cry suggested a climax of her own - whether or not she had actually gotten off, Hugh didn't know, and in an uncommon moment of callous thought brought on by self-serving fucking, he didn't care. But, in his afterglow, he cuddled close to his queen, and he partook of her compliments and her kisses - and in time, he drifted off to sleep in her arms, so used to the exhaustion of sex.
  6. Hope U R all having and are going 2 have a very Merry Christmas..? Heres the last 3 chapters of my festive mg story.. Part 3 Jacob awoke groggily to find himself hanging upside down. For a moment he was too dazed to know what had happened. Then, as his faculties cleared, he was sharply brought back to reality.. He had been in a car accident. The car had landed on its roof and Jacob was upside down in the car and still buckled into his seatbelt,which had almost certainly had saved him from being catapulted out of the the car through the shattered and now missing windscreen. He turned to look at the driver, the guy who had given in to giving him a lift. Daniel was also still hung in his seatbelt upside down, but he seemed unconscious.. Blood trickled from a deep cut on his head closest to his door and the roof on his side had caved in considerably,squashing the door,blocking access. Jacobs first instinct was to unlock his seatbelt to try to attend to Daniels potentially life-threatening wounds. When he managed to free himself he slumped with a thud onto his upper neck and shoulders and suddenly cried out in agony as a sharp pain ran through his right shoulder. Jacob tentatively propped himself up the right way,wincing as he felt more sharp pain through what could have been a dislocated shoulder or even a fracture to his collar bone. This was'nt the place to diagnose injuries just yet. The ice cold wind was blowing the snow stingingly through the broken windows as Jacob focused himself into extracating Daniel from his seat and getting help.. He fumbled to release Daniels seatbelt and eased the older guy from the drivers seat as best as he could.Daniel groaned and stirred slightly as it seemed evident he was drifting in and out of consciousness.Jacob gritted his teeth,trying to use a quick burst of strength to cut out his own pain as he hauled Dan from his seat and through the smashed passenger window.''Don't worry buddy.. Gonna get you some help. You''ll be good in no time''. Now outside of the vehicle for the first time Jacob tried to get his bearings in his winter cloaked surroundings.The car had come to rest on its roof down a sharp slope against a tree, having turned over several times down the steep incline. Jacob could hardly see too far,such was the aggressiveness of the wind blowing the falling snow into a near horizontal sheets of icicles that stung at Jacobs face. This weather was beginning to turn into a blizzard. Jacob swung his hood over his face and then hauled out his bag and used it as a pillow to prop up Daniels head,and covering his face with his own scarf,trying to use the car as much as possible as shelter from the howling white-out.With a bit more digging,Jacob had found in the trunk,Daniels packed bags and pulled out another coat and another scarf. He covered Daniel and used the scarf as best as he could to tend to the nasty cut on Daniels temple. It seemed as if Daniels head had hit the side of his drivers door as it caved in during the cars roll down the slope and Jacob could'nt tell just how bad Dans head injury was.. He needed medical help immediately. Jacob tried his phone but there was no signal. Cursing,he nearly threw it in anger into the nearby snow but thought better of it and shoved it back into his coat pocket.Looking up through the near blinding snow, he thought about clambering up onto the road to call for help from a passing motorist.. ''Hey buddy..be right back.. You just hang in there..'' Jacob snapped off a thick bare branch from part of the tree that had fallen of in the impact of the car against it, and using it as a prop,he tried to scramble up through the deepening snow to the edge of the road.Tired and aching from the pain in his shoulder,he reached the top and stumbled into the road.For as much minutes as he dared spare leaving Dan, he stamped up and down the road calling for help and waiting anxiously for a car to come by.Finally frustrated, he slid back down to the car and to Daniel and lightly tapped him on his cheek.''Hey buddy.. You still with me..?''Daniel groaned and moved his head slightly,and muttered. ''Jeff..?''In Dans semi-conscious state,he could see Jeff looking down and smiling at him.. Jacob was at least this bit relieved that Dan was still holding on,but he still needed help.. He shouted at the top of his lungs for help..And for a few minutes all he could hear was the howling of the wind and the crwaking of the trees. He gritted his teeth in anger.''Not like this.. Not fucking like this..''He did'nt want to end up frozen to death in the wilderness,..like Jack Nicholson freezing in the Maze at the end of The Shining..! Suddenly,the wind seemed to die down just that slightly for Jacob to hear what sounded faitnly like bells jingling.This first sign that someone,..anyone, could be out in this white-out could potentially mean survival. Spurred on,he jumped to his feet and tried to focus his ears and eyes on the sound..Then,..through the snowfall he could see a misty image that gradually became clearer as it drew nearer.''Hey..over here...Help..Help.!'' A shape of a sleigh drawing through the snow greeted Jacob.. It was drawn by a single reindeer,harnessed in leather that was adorned with the bells Jacob thought he had heard.On the back and guiding the sleigh was a figure wrapped in a thick tawny brown fur or fur-like coat..a hood lined with grey-white fur or wool drawn over his head and hiding his face, and his trousers of similar tawn colour and fur. Even his boots seemed thick and woolen..Like this fella was used to the outdoors life in harsh wilderness. The sleigh pulled up close to the crashed car. ''Whoah there Blitzen..Good boy'' the stranger said apparently to his reindeer as if it was a pet. Jacob for a moment was rightfully overjoyed that help had arrived.''Hey mister, my friend needs help.. We crashed and now i think hes badly hurt.. We need to get him to a hospital fast..!'' The hooded stranger stepped off the sleigh,..itself covered in furs and a deep red woolen cover, and trudged through the snow over to where Daniel lay prone. He bent down and slipped his hand out of the thick brown gloves he wore and gently touched at Daniels wounds.The,turning to look up at Jacob, he slipped off the hood he was wearing to reveal the face of an old man who looked wizened with age.He had a thick white beard and wispy white eyebrows and a weathered and slightly reddened face that overall, to Jacob he seemed to look so calming and warm.''My boy,I'm afraid that this snowstorm has downed communications and getting him any help up here might take some time. The weather will close in as soon it will be nightfall...'' ''But you gotta do something..He could die for Christs sake..!'' Jacobs moment of glee faded somewhat. ''My cabin is nearby.. It has a welcoming fireplace,some needed warmth..and i have a gift at helping those in need.. Don't worry my boy.I will take care of him..Of both of you till the morning breaks..'' Why was it for some reason that Jacob felt at ease with this guy..? ''Come boy, lets help your friend onto my sleigh..'' Jacob helped the stranger load Daniel onto the sleigh and wrapped him in the furs and the red cover. ''On Blitzen..'' And with that command the sleigh set off through the snow. Part 4 The snow was falling heavily by the the time the old Outdoorsmans sleigh, carrying Daniels prone body, had reached his cabin deep in the pine forest.''Come help me take your friend inside'' prompted the old man to Jacob who for a moment stood dithering.. Together they propped up the board Daniel lay on and carried him into the cabin..''We'll put him on the couch by the fireplace to keep him warm as he recovers..'' said the old man as he nudged the wooden door open and nodded in the direction of a wood framed low couch cushioned with soft woolen pillows and earthen coloured woolen blankets that was placed in front a large stone set fireplace with a high mantlepiece and several thick logs already burning welcomingly in the wide fireplace. The old outdoorsman and Jacob carefully lay Daniel down on the couch and covered him with the woolen blankets..''Do you have a phone in the cabin so we can at least try and call for some rescue.. Daniel might have some kind of bad head injury.?'' saidJacob as he scanned the large interior of the cabin looking for any sign for a link to communications to the nearest town. He could not readily seen any.The kindly old man spoke up ''I'm afraid with this blizzard howling,it may not be till morning until we can seek help for your friend here..". He stood up after making Daniel as comfortable as possible. He could see the worry in Jacobs handsome face.''Don't be worried. I'm certain that he will pull through with my help. I have, lets say, a certain magic about me that may aid my tending of his wounds that i know are not as grave as you fear..'' Jacob fidgeted uncomfortably over Daniel. ''How can you be so sure..?'' ''Oh don't worry..I have a had plenty of time on this earth to gather some good enough medicinal knowledge.....a few centuries at least..!'' said Nick as he headed away through an adjoining door to another room,but hesitated before passing through to glance back at the boy "Oh,my name is Nicholas by the way.." Jacob did'nt click to Nicholas' last few words.he just shuffled slightly,answering his and Daniels name clearly distracted with worry,to pay attention fully to what Nicholas had just said. Finally relaxing a little,his eyes had wandered off Dan for once as he looked around the cabin,noticing boughs of evergreen holly spotted with ruby red berries,and trails of cut Ivy and Fir branches hanging along the inner eaves or hooked onto the pine log walls. The cabin itself felt welcoming with its natural light wood furnishings and plaid red and green textiles and curtains,a plush fur-like rug positioned between the caramel upholstered three-piece suite placed around a low oak trunk coffee table...In all, a traditional family cabin in the forest.. Dan stirred and groaned,drawing back Jacobs attention, just as Nick returned from the kitchen with a red cloth draped over his shoulder,carrying a tray with a clay bowl full of steaming liquid and what looked to be a clay mortar and pestle to which he set down on a small stool next to Daniel. ''Whats that..?'' queried Jacob, as Nick dampened the cloth in the warm water,the steam wafting up to Jacob and the smell reminded him of spices.. ''Oh, its a remedy that will fix any injuries he might have taken to his head..'' Nick dabbed the cloth over Daniels forehead,then folded it it and lay it like a cold cure remedy across his forehead,propping Dans head up on a pillow.. Dan responded with a groan in his semi-conscious state. ''You think that some kind of homeopathic medicines like this can cure him of a brain injury, just like that..?'' said Jacob finding Nicks simple home medicinal deeds a little incredulous.. 'Nick just smiled ''Have faith my friend''. Jacob watched with uncertainty as Nick pulled out a small cloth bag tied with string from his inside pocket,unfastened the string and gently poured the powdery contents into the 'pestle'..cup and then poured a little of the bowls liquid into it,grinding and stirring it up with the mortar.. For a moment,Jacob thought he could see the powder glitter like stardust but shook his head. Nick gently lifted Daniels head and eased the cup to his lips,trying to stir him enough into a moment of consciousness for him to drink the contents.''Come on buddy, drink up...come on,...this will make you feel better'' Daniel weakly opened his mouth and took several slow sips of the water before Nick rested his head back. Jacob glanced out of the window hoping the snow had lessened. It had'nt one bit.. But through the blizzard,towards the shelter where Nick had placed his Reindeer,he could see another one nuzzling against Blitzen,and for a brief moment he thought he could see a faint red glow near its nose. 'Fuck,...i must be tripping.!' he thought, rubbing his eyes before looking out and now just seeing two ordinary Reindeer in the shelter. When he turned around,Jacob nearly jumped out of his skin.. Nick was standing right next to him,smiling..''I have given your friend a something to help him heal,not just his physical wounds but the wounds to his emotions as well..A little sleep will help him out'' He followed Jacobs gaze out the window across to the the deer shelter.''Oh thats just Rudy,..he helps me find my way on certain foggy nights.'' Jacob suddenly remembered Nicks comments about 'centuries of experience..!' ,and a thought came across his mind.'No, thats just rediculous..'' he said as he shook the thought out of his head.Nick just smiled at him as he let Jacob realise just who he was..''No..no, this is just too stupid.. You can't be...'' Jacob was placing the small things together.. A jolly,white bearded old fellow called Nick,in a sleigh drawn by a Reindeer called Blitzen,..and another called Rudy...RUDOLPH..!'' Then as the realisation dawned on just who he was speaking to, Jacob stumbled back,almost tripping over the armrest of the couch Dan now lay asleep.. ''You can't be him..!'' he said,wide-eyed. Nicks face seemed suddenly radiant and his eyes all twinkly in the light of the roaring fire. ''Who would you call me..?'' ''Santa Claus..!'' said Jacob,mouth agape like a catfish. ''Santa,Father Christmas,Pere Noel,Kris Kringle...St,Nicholas..whatevers suited best..!'' said Nick.. ''What are you doing way out here in the forest..?'' said Jacob,trying to find some kind of rational answer for this amazing situation. ''Christmas Eve is not for a few days. Even i'm entitled to a little R&R..!'' ''But if you are such a magical being,then why can't you just make this storm stop and whisk us on your flying sleigh off to the nearest town..?''Jacob said,sobering up to this strange reality. ''Its not as simple as that..I do'nt really control the weather..Why'd you think i'd ask a Reindeer with his 'nose so bright' to guide my sleigh on foggy nights..?'' They both glanced out of the window across to the deer shelter where Rudys nose was now shining brightly red..affirming the unbelievable situation Jacob was now in.. ''I'm just as stuck here til morning as you,my young friend.'' And,reading Jacobs face he added before the boy said anything. ''..And though i can heal people of most wounds, i cannot heal them just like that..'' Nick emphasised the last word by clicking his fingers..''Healing someone takes a lot of my energy..'' Jacob started pacing up and down. ''This is just too freaky..!'' Nicholas moved to stop Jacobs pacing by gently holding onto his arm. ''..But there is something i can do for you both..'' Jacob glanced down at Daniel then at Nicholas. ''What..?'' '' I know your heart is heavy with the lack of love and companionship. You have felt betrayed by those you thought loved you dearly. But if he finds it in his own heart to love again,you will find him a dear and committed partner..'' Nicholas glanced down at Daniel and Jacob knew.. ''But we have only just met.. And this guy is dealing with the grief of losing someone he loved.. What am i to him..?'' ''You can be the one to make him feel love again,to heal that sorrow.'' Feeling a little awkward, Jacob spoke what was on his mind..''But he is not really my type of guy..'' ''Oh,but once he finds his way,he will become 'your type'.. But love is not all based upon looks..Its whats in the heart.'' Jacob smiled. ''I stopped believing in you a long time ago. In my childhood i did not havethe greatest of times at Christmas..'' ''I know Jacob. When you stopped believing,there was no room for me..And for my part i was foolish to neglect you.. If there is a gift i could bestow upon you i will gladly offer it..?'' ''Well, theres one thing i've wanted.. What i've been training to become..''Jacob said furtively. Nicholas smiled knowingly..''You are training to become a top class bodybuilder. Bigger muscles...hmmm, not a gift i've often if ever granted, but,lets give it a try....'' On A Cold Winters Night : A Christmas Tale. Part 5 Daniel eyes were closed but yet he could see bright light through his lids..With a stretch of his body and a yawn he stirred into consciousness,slowly opening his eyes,and at first unaccustomed to such bright sunlight which greeted him.. Although his hearing was the first sense that kicked in... to the sounds of birds chirupping somewhere close by.When his sight finally cleared he took in his surroundings.He was laying on green grass beneath a huge old English Oak tree,feeling a gentle warm breeze blow across his exposed chest,..which soon sharpened his senses when he realised he was lying almost naked except for a pair of sky blue boxers. As he sat up he became aware of someone else sitting just behind him.Looking around at first he could not see the person,such was the brightness of the sun behind him,but as he let his eyes focus,when he saw just who was beside him his face went ashen white and his jaw fell agape.. ''Ah, Danny-boy, enjoy your little siesta..'' There,looking back at him with a radiant smile was Jeff,shirtless and revealing a smooth slender gym-toned torso.. With the bright sun haloed directly behind his head he looked like an Angel..! Daniels heart lept into his mouth and he felt like a dam was gonna burst full of tears. ''Jeff,but but...'' Daniel began to stutter,reeling with mixed feelings and emotions,hoping what he was seeing was'nt just a figment of his imagination.. Jeff quietly shushed him with a finger against Daniels lips,one hand holding a glass of champagne from a picnic laid out before them. ''Come now Daniel, my love...'' but Jeff could'nt finish... Daniel threw his arms around Jeff and drew him into an unbearably tight hug,causing Jeff to spill the champagne. ''Jeff, i've missed you so much it hurts..'' Daniel was unabashedly crying now,sobbing against Jeff bare muscled shoulder.. ''Everything will be alright now Daniel'' Jeff replied,placing the glass down and reciprocating the hug. ''You died.. Is it this heaven...Did i die..?'' Daniel,full of emotions just sputtered out questions ramdomly and rushedly to Jeff. Jeff hushed him. And they released each other from their embrace..Dans eyes never left Jeff,scanning him from his handsome face to his alluring bare torso.. ''Whats ahppened to you, you look so irresistably sexy and more toned than i could ever remember you..?'' Jeff just smiled,passed Daniel a glass of champagne and peered out from the Oak tree on the crest of a hill where they sat,taking in the wide open richly beautiful countryside around them..birds singing in the air and in the trees,butterflies fluttering across patches of flowers around them..the smell of pollen wafting in the air,...a church bell gently ringing from a spire that stood high above the red roofed cotswold stone cottages of a village in the near distance,nestled by a winding river glinting under the sunlight. ''You remember this place Daniel. Much Markham,England.We came here the summer..'' Jeff paused,smiling back at a beaming Daniel, who took a sip of the champagne,..before continuing.''...the summer before i died.'' He could see the smile fade on Daniels face.''Then are we dead... This IS heaven..Am i finally with you.?'' Jeff cupped Daniels face with his hand and then gently stroked the side of his face lovingly.. ''You are not dead.. I brought you here to this one place from your memory that held so much happiness and romance to you..'' Jeff paused again,noticing Daniels eyes begin to well up.. ''You were in an car accident during a harsh winters blizzard. There was a young man with you in your car but he is alright. A man of kind heart and warmth had found you both near the wreck and he took you to his cabin to tend to the wounds you have..'' Dans face showed signs of disappointment that his time with Jeff was not to be, and tears rolled down his cheeks.'' ''It is imperative that you find the will to carry on and fight to survive..'' Jeff said with such passion. 'But i want to be with you. Fuck my life.. My life is with you..'' Dans arm reached up and swept around and drew in the surroundings. ''Here is where i want to be with you..!'' Jeff smiled softly and he leaned in and gave Dan a short but loving kiss. ''Its not your time..'' Daniel broke in. ''No,..it IS my time.. What have i got to live for,without you..?'' ''You have everything to live for.'' Jeff replied sternly,cupping Dans head gently with both hands,framing his saddened face.. 'Listen to me...Its not your time...I will ALWAYS be with you..'' Jeffs hand reached down and he touched Daniel on his chest,above his heart.''..in here..!'' Daniel could see the sincerity and the truth inside Jeff emerald green eyes, as Jeff continued.. ''You remember that boy in the car with you,don't you....Jacob,the hitchhiker..?'' Jeff said knowingly. Dan nodded slightly in acknowledgement. ''You will find happiness with him,i know.. You will find the strength to carry on and to enjoy life again.. He himself has needed to find that kindred spirit,that endearing love to share, someone to make his own life better and worthwhile after the traumas of the short life he has had so far..'' Jeff could see the spark of doubt in Dans sorrowful eyes ''Believe me,this young man is more like me than you know.. He reminds me,...of me, when i was his age...Young,virile,...up for anything...Fit and healthy with a body that yearned of dedication and commitment from gym work-outs that i was too lazy to keep up..'' Dans spirit was picked up by this memory of their past,with the period when they both went through the ''gym bunny'' phase but could'nt keep up with sweat and toil of keeping their bodies in absolute perfection.. not that either of them were out of shape by their mid forties..! ''I remember,..but i'm 'getting on a bit now for all that muscle mary stuff.'' ''You're fifty,..not ninety..!'' replied Jeff,gently swatting Dan across the top of his head.. ''But i can help you with that.. Just promise me you will live,..that you will move on..?''. Daniels mind reeled. His heart was torn by the thought of never seeing jeff again,..of forgetting even what he looked like as time progressed. Jeff leaned in and gave Dan another short kiss.''I will always be with you in some form or another, in that big heart of yours,...in Jacobs eyes..'' Dan finally smiled again..''You said you can help me with my physique..?'' as he pulled Jeff in for a warm embrace and a more passionate kiss,his hands roaming across Jeffs tight six pack abs and smooth hairless chest. ''Oh yes,...just let your love flow..'' Jeff said between their increasingly erotic touching and petting. ''Stealing lines from the Bellamy Brothers..?'' Dan replied with a slight humourous grin, before both became pre-ccupied with lust. .... Up there, on that hill, a piece of Jeff flowed into Daniel,filling his heart with love, and filling his body with new found vigour...and youth. As they made love,the last vestiges of clothes discarded in passion..with each thrust of Jeffs cock into Daniel,Dan grew younger,more stronger.. His greying hair darkening into black like ink was being dyed into it.. The winkles of age and worry smoothening out and as the years ebbed backwards away,his face took on a beautiful male model look. Deep ice blue eyes framed with thin broad lightly arching eyebrows and a narrower slight upturned nose that gave him a cute elfin appeal. His rough lips becoming soft and moist and fuller,a potential for Dan to become a great kisser and great at something else he could wrap those luscious lips around..! With a slightest of pucker of those lush lips he could exude sexual sultriness that could make anyone who desired him,swoon weakly. A few days shadow of stubble on his chin just made him all the more sexier.. And the change did'nt end there.. As Jeffs angelic body pressed against his lover. As his tending hands took to every curve and course of Dans naked torso and arms, Daniel seemed to be invigorated with new found strength which then flowed increasing size into his smooth muscles. A tease of Jeffs fingers across Daniels once slight pecs of his lean chest,brought out their curves and rounding shapes. The flick of the fingers on Dans nipples hardened them and made Daniel groan with lust,adding more of Jeffs magic touch into Dans pecs that grew out thicker and fuller,becoming lightly dusted with soft dark curly hairs around his nipples,across the mounds and down into the deepening crevasse of his sternum between the growing muscles that grew from hillocks to heaving mountains. As one of Jeffs hands,now full of solid pec muscle,cupped it and tweaked at his nipples,Jeffs other hand flowed over Dans shoulders that rose into full broad slopes that framed a thicker lightly bullish neck,ever up till they nudged at his ear-lobes. The hand cupping Dans pecs,left to wander across the lean stomach that repsonded by ripping and tensing,and then his abs showing though,tightening,hardening into a solid six pack that rose like a tray of rolls in an oven.. Lines cut through sharply and defined the sensuous v shape towards his groin,like small rivulets eroding away at a bed of rocks that themsleves hardened even more and crunched together as Dan gently twisted and moved in the throes of passion..Two more hard blocks of abs arose,crunching together with the six,undulating like sand0dunes to finally reveal a shockingly cut 8-pack..Job done on those abs just awaiting someones tongue to lap way at the sweat that funneled down the cuts between each block like tiny streams to the present that would soon await at his groin.. With both hands now,Jeff ran them up the side of Dans bigger,heavier,mightier,manlier torso,up to his arm-pits,and making way for his lats to swell,to flare out of near non-existance,into huge wide-spreading slabs that pushed him up higher off the grass and stretching and broadening his back shockingly wide,like the hood of a cobra and arising the thought of 'barn door lats' to amazing reality. And those wide wide lats tapered down in a sexy v shape into an awesomely tight and narrow waistline. Out went the hands, over the shoulders,across delts filling out big round hard delts that could rugby tackle Trajans Column and knock it down to dust..Those magic hands of an angel passed down to the 'guns' that soon would be the hot top ticket to any 'gun show'.!Once lean sizeable but small biceps suddenly jumped alive as veins pulsed thickenly across the surface of the curves like water running through a firehose.. These veins plugged themselves into Dans bicpes and triceps and started to inflate them, to swell them rapidly from grapefruits to cantaloupe melons, swollen and engorged even fuller to cannonballs streaked with vascular pulsating electrodeds of veins. Biceps that soon reached 25 inches,and tri's that hung thick and hard,...to forearms so ripped and burgeoning like he could rip up a sequoia. Jeff pushed his cock into Dans tight hole as he felt up along Dans legs draped up over his shoulders.. Thighs that seemed to flex,and grow then swell with each flex until they were full of muscle and framing Jeffs head and seemed to give added weight in them as they grew tree trunk thick full of muscle.. Calves that bulged and bloated and tighly ripped.. Thick sinewy bulging leg muscles powerful enough Dan would look like he could dead-lift a bull Elephant..! With each thrust of Jeffs thick cock,he could feel Dan ass respond by clenching tighter against the sodomising intrusion, clamping at the cock as it slid in and out as the growth flowed into his glutes,raising them up,filling them out and gradually endowing Dan with a sexy curvaceous bubble butt. The final gift to Dan, was the growth in his genitals. In the throes of lust,Dans cock had arose into its solid,rigid erection of 7 inches,but now,that erection throbbed even harder,and with each throb,engorged even thicker and fuller,and longer.. It was growing like Daniels own Trajans column without the motifs.. The few veins streaking up along the hard shaft like old thick dry jungle roots creeping over ancient Cambodian ruins to cap a big flaring pinkish-purple glans oozing pre-ucm out of the slit like a tree oozing sap. And his balls too had grown low and heavy in their sac.. Full bloated with cum,lolling weightily like soft medicine balls between his upstretched legs.. .................................................. ............................................... In the cabin, if Jacob was not with St.Nick in a nearby room,for once risking a chance away from Daniel laying under the woolen blankets on the couch, he would have seen the wounds gradually healing themselves. He would have seen Daniel sleeping soundly,covered in a light sheen of sweat,not from the heat of the fire..He would have seen Daniels face looking calm and serene.. ...He would have seen Daniel growing under that warm welcoming blanket,obscuring the gentle swelling of his muscles....the invigoration of youth flooding back into his face,his body,his hands..The arousal of his cock as Daniel dreamt his life-changing dream. ....But Jacob would'nt be left out.. Not for long.. After all, Nick,...Santa Claus had promised him his Christmas gift.. ....But thats for the last part, the healing of wounds,the finding of love. ==================================================================
  7. roboprobo

    TLM6: Gingerbread Muscle Men

    Tales of a Lust Mage #6 'Gingerbread Muscle Men' SUBTAGS: Unaware Growth, Muscle Worship, Alchemy, Holiday (Christmas), Characters (Liam, Andres, N. Claus) Author note: Hey everyone, went on hiatus with my writing. Back to give you guys a little holiday cheer! I want to dedicate this story to farresh, a real good friend who appreciates my stories. Happy Holidays to all of you!!! ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ It was Christmas Eve. Nothing was making noise in the house, yes, not even mice that was almost true, except the kitchen, which was actually very loud. “What are you doing?!” Yelled Andres, rolling around on the plush carpeting next to the fire place and the Christmas tree. He had taken a nap and had just woken up. Liam had been sleeping. “You can’t come into the kitchen!” responded Liam, whom had been in the kitchens for a few hours. Throughout the day he’d been closing the kitchen off to bake pastries and foods for the Christmas parties both young men had to go to. Now that they’d come home and it was beyond late and no more parties to go to, Andres still wondered why Liam was making snacks. Then it hit him. “Hey, you doing some wizard magic stuff in there? Like, with a cauldron and stuff? Don’t you take a break on Christmas?” Andres asked. He needed a protein shake, and he wanted to sneak into the room. “I told you, I’m not a wizard. I’m an alchemist.” Liam responded, poking his head out of the kitchen. “And yes, I’m working on your Christmas gift.” “What, I thought you got me one? Rule is we can open a gift at midnight, and the rest in the morning.” Andres said, standing up and stretching his back. He’d just had shoulder day and his whole upper body was sore. Sitting there, waiting for Liam to finish whatever strange concoction he was making to sell in the shadow-market. Liam tended to be vague about his work, and mostly everything, but Andres picked up on a few key points about the magic-world. “Trust me, THIS gift is the one you’ll want tonight. Besides, it’s only appropriate to bake fresh cookies for Santa.” Liam said, smiling wide. Liam’s thick brown hair had been tied back and he wore a red holiday hat, to keep it from contaminating whatever it was he was making in the kitchen. Andres looked into his phone and smiled, somewhat bored. He flipped through photographs online of the two, grinning at the funniest and best memories. Andres flipped and saw the first picture of them at the gym, back in sophomore year. It was two years of half-done working out and running around the gym awkwardly. Even so, Liam and Andres went into college slowly progressing, and the difference was noticeable. Andres had started out a chubby short dude, and Liam had always been a tall lanky kid. Now Liam was a dense, well-formed tall man. Andres himself was thicker, wider man. He looked over to the Christmas tree and looked at the small present he had for Liam. “Wait, what? Santa? You mean he’s real? Like unicorns and Big Foot?” Andres asked. Before making a snarky remark, he received a text message from his mother. “Si, Mama, estoy bien.” He texted her back. She’d just moved back to Mexico, so he didn’t see her this year. Liam was Andres’ only family since she moved back, and that was only because they’d grown up together. “Next year we should go to Morelia, and see your mum. And Big Foot is actually a creature by a different name, country bumpkins simply gave it that terrible moniker. I read an article on it written by a mage who mentioned it might be the same effect of black-marketed exotic animals that are released into the wild.” Liam said, coming into the room with a box of unguents and other alchemical items. Andres had kept the secret that Liam was an ‘alchemist’ since high school, when Liam accidentally had turned his hands scaly (it was a strange experience). Of course, that was only one of the experiences the two shared. Andres shuddered a little, knowing how creepy Liam’s magic could be. “Oh god, remember when you first tried out for the football team?! How your mum made enchiladas when you got home to forget how sad you were to not be put on the team?!” Liam laughed, placing things by the fireplace. “Yes, Liam. I was small before I hit puberty senior year, and I’m Mexican-American. Thanks for sending that point home. Now what the hell are you doing, and should I be afraid and/or contact your magical friends?” Andres grumbled. He looked over at the red and green mirror decoration Liam brought with him to the cabin. He looked at himself for a bit, instinctively fixing his hair before moving onto his original goal. Needed to really work those shoulders next workout. Andres then returned to creeping behind Liam to see all the commotion. “I’m making an offering.” Liam said. Andres observed the chalice, silver probably, full of milk. A gold-leaf dish displayed many perfectly made cookies, gingerbread. They had been baked at the right time Liam chose for this special ritual. They smelled wonderful, spiced with lots of cinnamon. Candles of pine were lit and a stick of frankincense flickered with its pungent odor. “Wait, to Santa?” Andres asked, his mouth pursing long in suspicion. “Yes, to Santa. It’s almost midnight, so I best hurry.” Liam said, grabbing water and splashing it over the fire. Steam overflowed, outward as Andres jumped back, in a start. The clock reached the witching hour, and Liam smiled. “THE HELL, LIAM!?” Andres yelped, trying to see through the thick steam. The pine candles didn’t go out, and the incense didn’t dampen. The room became dark without artificial light and the fireplace dead. Liam’s chalk slid slowly on the wood flooring, drawing a snowflake-like sigil. “THIS IS NOT A CHRISTMAS I LIKE, LIAM!!! THIS IS A SCARY CHRISTMAS, LIAM!” Andres yelped. He weighed a good 175 lbs. of muscle and bone, but he still felt more uncomfortable about things than his lighter friend. Liam only whispered things in an ancient wording, before moving onto English. His English accent made the poetry of the ritual even more mystic. “Oh, Paladin of Hope and Retribution, Rider on the winds of the dead winter, Elder father still stronger than the young, Hunter of Strength even in the cold, I give you offering, of all the four elements, So you may feel comfortable whilst you stay in our abode.” An icy wind blasted through the fireplace, covering the entire hearth in glassy frost. Andres instinctively lifted up his hand, the terrible cold threatening to knock him down from where he was standing. He coughed, looking around as the scent of mint and cinnamon permeated the room heavily. “Liam?” Andres asked, wafting the fog with his hand. “Andres, meet a good friend of mine,” Liam said, the silhouette of a massive man standing in front of both of them. “Nicolas, this is Andres. Andres, let me introduce Nicolas Claus.” Andres stared at the giant man, standing nine feet tall over the two. The man was wider than the sleigh one would assume he rode. His shoulders hunched over, a massively flared back creeping up in the muscular meat of his trapezoids, wanting to swallow his head. His body was decorated with a sprinkling of white body hair. He wore a large red coat, so long it seemed to be like a duster that dragged as the massive man walked around. Andres was already impressed (and sexually attracted…) with the massive mythical man, but his monstrous arms topped of the masterpiece of a man as they poked out of coat’s sleeveless form. “Pleasure to meet you, boy.” Claus’s mouth said behind his thick beard, his obelisk legs waddling as he walked over to Andres. Andres stared. Santa’s arms looked like they couldn’t even match a normal man’s anatomy. Andres’s mouth held open, simply astounded by what was going on in the room. “I-I-I’m Andres,” Andres stuttered. “I know that.” Claus responded, shaking Andres’s limp hand. “H-How even?! You’re! And you’re here! Liam?!” Andres stuttered, in a panic. Liam and Santa laughed, the young man still thoroughly confused. He was surprised to see that Santa wore an eye-patch. Obviously that wasn’t the ONLY thing that had Andres confounded. “I actually was not very good at summoning back while I learned what I do nowadays. But there was ONE gentleman I could summon. Sadly it was a fluke because I’d been lucky enough to catch him when I was a child.” Liam said. “Liam was a very nice young man but I assumed he was non-magical in nature, so I did not whisk myself away through the house. He caught me in the middle of putting his presents down one year.” Claus said. Andres noticed he had a very subtle accent. Russian, maybe? “S-so what are you here for?” Andres asked, as if he had never heard a Christmas carol. The massive man loomed over him. His eyebrows were so thick they seemed to cover his face in the dimness of the room. He patted Andres’s head and laughed- the big hardy laugh mentioned in all the stories. “I am here for the cookies of Liam’s making. They are one of my favorite. We always celebrate and exchange gifts this way!” laughed Claus. “SO WHY THE CREEPY MAGIC STUFF, LIAM!?” Andres yelled, still very confused. He held his head as the fire went alit in blue flame. It flickered, not melting the ice in the tiny cabin the two young men had rented out. “Well, because we’re making a trade. I give Santa the best cookies most alchemists can make, and he gives me more than the usual goodies he brings good boys and girls.” Liam said, sitting down on the couch. Claus simply folded his legs, actually about as tall as Andres sitting on the couch. “What do you want it be this year, Liam?” Claus asked, sifting through a small red sack. This must have been the one with all the toys, right? “I wrote you the letter, as usual.” Liam said, showing him the cookies. “These aren’t decorated.” Claus said, squinting. You couldn’t tell, he was so furry-faced, but his strong brow furled a bit. “Oh, that’s because you’re supposed to gimme what I wanted!” Liam joked. Andres sat there, still trying to process everything. Santa was in the living room with them. And Liam was making some weird trade with him. Santa chortled again, finally pulling out a large vial of frosting. Liam’s face became bright as he looked at it, tied in a big red ribbon. “Yes! THAT!” Liam said, giddy. The happy giant handed him the vial and looked at the cookies, excited. Liam quickly took off the bow and decorated the cookies with the frosting. He then ran to the kitchen to grab more cookies. He brought out the plate chock-full of other cookies and placed them in front of Andres. “You really like gingerbread, Mr. Santa?” Andres asked. “Please, call me Claus. CLAH-OS.” Santa said, chuckling as he reached out for the tiny glass of milk and a small gingerbread man. “Damn, all these are for you?” Andres asked. “I suppose it makes sense, you’re pretty big for a guy who only plans to eat a few cookies.” “No, no, these are for us two, Santa only eats seven cookies at each stop, if that much. There’s more than enough going around.” Liam said. “For us?” Andres asked. Claus munched and savored the perfect cookies. “Yeah, you’re going to love them, trust me. Just need to make sure to let them cool.” Liam responded, decorating all the trees and gingerbread men. “Do you plan on leaving, then, Santa?” “Yes, my reindeer are… Restless… I’m sure you’ll hear about it if I don’t get them moving again in a bit. Too bad these cookies don’t do what could before to me. But you two enjoy… And don’t eat too many…” Santa said, getting up in a slow, rumbling lift. He grabbed a few more cookies and placed them into a small box, labeled to someone else. He shook Liam’s hand and turned into a frost that went back through the chimney. As quickly as he’d appeared, he disappeared. The room went back to normal, no longer frosted by magic. “For all the weird shit you’ve had happen, this really,” “Puts the frosting on the cake?” Liam interrupted Andres, the cookies’ frosting becoming stiff, ready to eat. He laughed a little, picking one up and handing it to his friend. “So you just want me to eat a cookie?” “No, I want you to do more, but we’ll see how much more.” Liam responded. Andres stared at him, the corners of his mouth pursed back, suspicious. Liam nodded, prompting his friend to take a bite. Andres closed his eyes, nervously putting the cookie in his mouth. He breathed in before quickly biting down. The cookie tasted amazing. It wasn’t very sweet itself, more mild and a bass for the sweetness that was in the frosting. He chewed, almost moaning from how good the cookies were. Liam was a pretty good cook and baker, but this tasted amazing. He found himself without the cookie, having finished it before thoroughly examining its flavor. “Holy shit. The hell is in these?” Andres asked, reaching for another. He hesitated after picking a glossy white snowflake cookie, still a bit cautious. “Just eat, man. They’re good for you, I made them with a ‘protein-gingerbread’ recipe. Santa worries about his protein intake as much as you do.” Liam responded. He too grabbed a cookie and munched. He savored the flavor too, proud of his alchemical handiwork. “Fine, okay.” Andres said, before stuffing his face with the cookie. He was almost embarrassed, but they were so god-damn good. Andres hadn’t even noticed his hand reaching for another as he asked, “Extra protein? Really?” “Yeah, extra protein and the frosting is Santa’s recipe, made from only the finest ingredients, not a lot of fat. So don’t worry about breaking diet. Eat as many as you like.” Liam said, eating his second. He stared at Andres’s chest, excited to see the results of his work. Andres meanwhile ate the cookie and munched, thoroughly enamored with the snack. He didn’t even notice how tight his pants felt as he chewed his fifth cookie. “So, you used all your ‘Christmas goodness’ on frosting? I mean, these cookies are fucking amazing, but couldn’t you ask for dragon scales or something you usually want to put in potions and stuff?” Andres asked. Man, the fireplace was getting really hot, Andres felt a sweat coming on. “You underestimate the power of a good cookie. Santa agreed to fulfill both our Christmas wishes. In fact, all of them.” Liam said, trying not to groan as his own shirt tightened at the hems and collar. His biceps already felt like they were filling out. He tried not to smile too hard, but he was so excited to see Andres swell. “Man… These are…” Andres said, feeling a bit hazy as he picked up his seventh cookie. “These are really fucking delicious, Liam. I can’t even stop eating them!” He joked, not aware of how true the words were. He felt something different in his back. He almost stopped eating, staring at the fire to try and sense what was wrong. Andres brushed off the feeling, Liam knowing well that his back was thickening, pushing outward. “All our Christmas wishes?” Andres asked, finishing the seventh cookie. He winced a bit, noticing the pain in his groin. Fuck, he had just jacked off a few hours ago. He bit his tongue as he looked over at Liam, his balls denser than the time he hadn’t jacked off for two weeks on a dare (he kept his word, and wished he hadn’t that time…). Andres’s eyes went wide, however, looking upon his alchemist friend. Liam smiled, his mouth nibbling on a tree-shaped cookie. Liam looked like he had grown! But that wasn’t possible right? Andres’s brow furled up a bit the moment he looked down at Liam’s thick, rock-hard chest. It peeked out of the sweater, tempting Andres as it always did. Liam looked thicker tonight, too. Liam was a fairly long guy, even with working out as hard as he did. Maybe he was really starting to pack on mass now… “Oh yeah, crud, this feels good. Oh, sorry, what’d you ask, Andy? Yeah, you’ve been a real nice guy this year, so you get all your gifts. Santa knows when you’ve been good.” Liam responded, before flexing his arm behind his head. Andres gasped through his nose as he heard the sweater strain its thick weaving on Liam’s spreading lats. “What the hell?!” Andres said, dropping the cookie he was working on. Eighth or ninth- Andres was losing count. He spoke in an amazed voice, “You’re- you’re growing, Liam! You already look huge now!” “Speak for yourself, Andy. I only ate about three cookies. How many have you eaten now?” Andres stared, still confused. Then he processed what Andy was insinuating. He looked over to the mirror- his eyes shooting wide. Andres was a fairly muscular man already, but now… He had grown to become even more. He stared at the thick neck that held his head, like a pedestal. His traps pushed around his waffle-knit shirt. He could see the texture, once perfect, now stretched in all manner of places as it strained to contain its owner. Andres gulped as he looked at the wide frame he’d swollen; his shoulders were pushing away from him. “F-fucking- what happened!?” Andres asked, his chest beginning to heave. Holy shit, it was big too. Andres’s lips pursed again as he felt his cock twitch; he was becoming aroused. How could he not have noticed this happening?! “What, don’t like it?” Liam asked, grabbing another cookie. He could have used some tea, maybe with milk. “N-no, I do, I just, what is this?” Andres asked, standing up and almost falling as his thick, striated left thigh shoved over his right. He looked at his legs in the small reflection and stared, his heart beating fast and hot. His warm leisure pants stretched over his huge hamstrings, poking the fabric like frames behind the cloth. Andres finally groaned as his cock roared awake, pushing the soft fabric perfectly to its swollen contour. Embarrassed, he tried to place his hands over swelling erection. He felt his face become even reader when the threads of his sleeves popped. They’d give way soon if he didn’t stop growing. Even so, his mind quickly pondered the idea of seeing his clothes tear. His eyes glanced over to the cookie that lay on the couch, still half-eaten. “Go ahead, man. Let’s just eat as many as you want.” Liam said, biting into another cookie. Andres followed the advice and walked over, sitting much closer to Liam this time. Liam had never been this flirtatious, if he’d ever been flirtatious to begin with… But he didn’t seem bothered to sit so close to him, so Andres only smiled and bit into the cookie, nervously. “Ah, I think... I can feel it…” Andres said, swallowing the cookie and moving onto another. “That’s because you’ll feel it the more you grow.” Liam said, huffing as he felt his own erection swelling in his jeans. These pants were far more constricting than Andres’s, so Liam decided to fix the situation. “Hey, I bet I can eat more than you.” Liam said, poking Andres. Andres groaned, feeling the pump of his heart sending growth through him, each beat. Each pump of blood, thumping as it swelled him up like a balloon. “What, no, I’ve always been bigger. You got magic and now want to beat me?” Andres groaned, seeing his stomach stick out a bit under his tightening shirt. He could see the perfect abdomen of muscle begin to crunch under his skin, growing as he bit into the eleventh cookie. “Fine, but you better start eating faster,” Liam said, grabbing two cookies and biting into both of them. Andres chewed and tried swallowing without thinking about enjoying the flavor; Liam chuckled as his sweater began to tear. Andres angrily grabbed two cookies. He felt a little embarrassed as he breathed in and stuffed one in his mouth, but the flavor was so sweet and good he found himself chewing faster just to stuff the next one inside. “Yeah, eat up, Andy, I want to see you blow up.” Liam said, chewing. Andres felt his glutes push him upward, the couch creaking as he thickened even more. He felt the pants constricting his blood, fighting to stay intact. He growled, stuffing his mouth with another baked gingerbread man. Muffled with sweets, he tried to say something. “Fuck, it feels good, man. I’m growing so big!” He growled, fumbling through words as the sweet frosting stuck to the roof of his mouth. He grabbed a handful of cookies and finally gave up on eating with composure, stuffing his mouth chockfull of sweet gingerbread. He groaned, holding onto his stomach as his arms croaked with mass. The sound of cloth tearing aroused him as well, even if the growth felt a little uncomfortable. Liam breathed heavily, trying not to moan as his jeans tore with newly growing muscle. He looked over at the erection that finally popped out of Andres’s pants and smiled, straddling the cock in his right hand as he grabbed another frosted cookie. “Fuck, man, I’m still not as big as you, but…” Liam managed to compliment, before moaning as Andres reached over and gagged him with a gingerbread man. Andres was horny as hell and wanted to see Liam massive to, so he began feeding the both of them. Liam couldn’t keep up with the feeding, but held his mouth at the ready. Andres roared, his shirt finally tearing open as his pectorals swelled outward. His lats spread like wings as he flexed in a perfect double bicep pose- he was sweating in ecstasy. “Mmfuck yeah, man…” Liam muffled, following suit and flexing his own giant biceps in the same pose. Andres heaved, finally finishing the last cookies as the shreds of cloth wrapped around his swollen, rock-hard contour. He looked over at Liam and smiled, still trying to catch his breath. Liam’s smile still looked soft even though he could very well weigh 300 lbs. in muscle alone. “Fuck, Liam. This is- it’s amazing!” “I know. I think you deserve it. And your other Christmas wish, too.” Liam said, hulking his upper body to touch Andres. “What do you mean?” Andres asked. Liam laughed and finally pressed his body against Andres. He opened the small box meant for Christmas morning, revealing a chain Andres had bought him. “You wanted to ask me out, and I think it’s exactly what you’re going to get.” Liam said, slowly reaching with his massive arm around the larger Andres. Andres simply stood there, huge and hot. They kissed. Liam reached and squeezed Andres’s thick arms, pressing as hard as he could (which was a lot, considering the swollen bowling-ball arms he had). As they tore off the last shreds of clothes, Liam knelt down and lifted his arms, squeezing Andres’s throbbing erection in the crevice of his bicep and forearm. “Fuck yeah, Liam, you’re fucking huge!” In a single breath, Liam squeezed as hard as possible, spreading the thick pre that dribbled out of Andres around into the perfect lube. Liam let his tongue slide around Andres’s stomach as he jutted back-and-forth through the muscular crease. Andres couldn’t hold it any longer and grabbed Liam’s head, forcing his cock into his mouth. They moaned in unison, their hands rubbing each other’s swollen, solid bodies. “Liam, oh man, it feels so good! It feels so good to be this strong! I love feeling you even more than I ever thought it would!” Andres moaned. He flexed his arms up and licked his body, tasting the paper-thin skin. Andres moaned, Liam’s hands running up to caress his thick chest. He kept jutting forward to fill Liam’s small mouth, enjoying the sensation of wet tongue and tight throat. The hands moved to pinch his sensitive muscle-man nips then down again to move around the grooves of his newly formed giant abdomen. “Yeah, Andy, come on, bounce that muscle-cock!” Liam ordered, his voice deeper than it had been a few hours ago. Andres was too worked up to notice his own voice was a deep bass as well. Liam pulled himself off and licked Andres’s heavy, swollen nuts. Andres then whined, ready to explode at any moment. Liam stood up and forced his mouth onto Andres, tasting the sweetness left behind by the cookies that originally grew them huge. They began to frot, Liam’s saliva and Andres’s precome thoroughly lubing them as they pressed their thick muscles against each other. Their nips slid against each other as Andres noticed he’d gotten a little taller- enough to match his masculine mate. Andres quickly wrapped his thick arms around Liam and squeezed; so much he would’ve broken a normal man in two. Liam simply flexed his abs and spread his back open. Their massive quads did a wonderful job milking each other and soon the two were roaring, still squeezing and flexing. “I’m gonna blow!” Andres roared his arms going high up in the air as Liam’s hands pushed them up. Liam enjoyed feeling the lats under Andres’s arms. “Yeah, blow with me!” roared back Liam, breathing as close as he could to Andres’s neck (they were so wide and thick, it was hard to get close at this point). Andres gasped in unison with Liam, their cocks sliding upward as they exploded in a shower of thick, white cream. “Aww fuck! SO FUCKING POWERFUL!” Andres bellowed, Liam simply roaring in ecstasy. Ropes and ropes of thick cream splattered all over the place and Andres closed his eyes, holding Liam’s face as come actually landed on his own. He let his lips open so he could taste the juice that had been formed by two grown muscle-gods. It tasted surprisingly sweet, and very familiar. After they awoke Christmas morning (they went on and experienced many other sexual acts on Christmas Eve, capable of orgasm with full virility), they laughed and cooked breakfast. Eating to keep up this new weight would be hard, but Liam said they’d manage. “So is there cum in the cookies?” Andres asked. He didn’t feel so embarrassed to do so. “Well, technically. But it’s been distilled and altered through ‘natural’ alchemy. Only Santa knows how to make it, and he only leaves it for the nicest men who really want to grow. I made a deal to create cookies that would match. The frosting itself grows you, but you quickly shrink back if you don’t work your muscles hard and eat right. The cookies lengthen that time. I’m sure there’s someone having a GREAT Christmas morning right now, eating the cookies I let him have…” Liam said, frosting a new batch of cookies himself. “Lucky guy, then. Well, not so lucky. He doesn’t have you. Oh, are we going to eat those too? I don't think I need to be bigger, but damn, we'd both look amazing if we grew some more.” Andres said, feeling more confident than ever. Liam simply laughed. “No, some of these are to sell; nobody can recreate them so Santa won't be mad at me. If you want to eat some, we can have a little fun I guess. As to the person who got lucky enough to get them today it's only if he’s been REALLY good this year. Santa’s sure to let him have a cookie or two.” The two massive muscle-men kissed and laughed, excited to play with some more growing cookies. As Liam said, Santa DID give some cookies to a lucky guy, but whoever knows who it was? Maybe it'll be you this year, if you've been REALLY good. END TALE
  8. Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad October 21st, 2022 2200 Hours Twenty minutes later, Casey stood in the center of the main Valhalla laboratory, stripped down to a tight shiny black micro posing suit, bulging dangerously in the pouch, and threatening to burst. His muscles glowed. He was huge, enormous, the biggest he had been yet in his young life. Lightly oiled, his youthful brown skin gleamed in the clear white LED light. Dr. Zaftig stood at his side, beaming with calm inner pride. But Casey was nervous. There he was, stripped down to bulging posers that barely covered his manhood, and ready for review. For the first time. And as always, in some place deep inside him, he was embarrassed by his hugely oversized penis. It was just too big. One by one, the 18 bodybuilders filed in silently from their post-White Cap-workout showers in the next wing, looking over the gigantic new recruit with studied casualness. For almost two years they’d grimly listened to Dr. Irving’s deliberately passive-aggressive progress reports. Casey was this, Casey had that, Casey lifted this much, Casey was however-big, Casey was the hope of the future. Etc. They were weary of it. They were angered by it. And some were threatened by it. And perhaps, just a little fearful? No: not fearful. Challenged. And in the case of Hension, Blankenship, Lang, Meyer and Waring, more inspired than anything else. “If he’s that big, I wanna be bigger,” said Hension one afternoon at lunch, to no one in particular. Chad smacked him on the back of his head, and with a short grunt, Hension came a little in his jock. “Sorry. I forgot you liked that.” “I’d like it more if you were a girl.” Hension had long since given up hiding his particular fetish. He took a big mouthful of beef and chewed, ruminating. “You wanna fuck pussy? Abdul can arrange.” From across the table, Abdul grunted and shook his head. “He don’t want pussy.” “Naw. He’s right. I don’t. Hot pussy don’t dig muscles like mine. I just wanna chick who knows how to slap my face right. Good and hard each time. Back and forth. Pow, pow. Leave hand prints. Then I wanna fuck boybutt pussy. And suck some big dick.” Hension looked at Abdul. “Yours, maybe.” Abdul nodded slightly. “Sure, you suck dick good. Any time.” He sipped his coffee. All chuckled a little, but everyone was still thinking about Casey. Over the last few weeks, a few had gone so far as to belly up secretly to the cadet gym two-way windows late at night to watch and study Casey’s lonely training late night training sessions. There the giant teen was, alone night after night in the vast half lit gym, fully clothed, muscles bulging in the yards of a completely enveloping, dripping cotton sweatsuit, insanely going through punishing reps, hurling buckets of sweat, drawing blood, banging out steaming iron reps with teeth-clenching screaming pain, grimly determined, all the while screaming and moaning to himself: Gotta get bigger Gotta get bigger Gotta get bigger….. And on it went. Night after night. The boy was insatiable, indefatigable. As if nothing could ever stop him. And now, the time had finally come. Casey watched them file into the lab. Outfitted in crisp, clean tan khakis and wearing skin tight Army regulation green t-shirts, hair still wet from their post-workout showers, they were an intimidating herd of hardcore beefmeisters. Huge, cut, and vascular to a man, their massive physiques almost aching with heavy, rippling muscle. Casey had been watching them for months, grabbing glimpses of them on campus, running, bicycling, practicing their posing, whenever he could, just as he knew they had been watching him as well in the corridors and working out in the cadet gym. He even knew a few of them by name. Private Lang and Corporal Alvarez, who were always together, Private Gunst, Private Waring, Private Jin. He had never spoken to any of them, out of shyness and awe. And he even recognized Corporal Obatu from Raw Weight Gym. He nodded bashfully to him. Obatu grinned hugely and waved with his huge paw of a hand. “Hello, Casey,” he said in his best Isaac Hayes. “Hi!” Casey said eagerly, but caught the glance from Zaftig. He resumed his blank expression, readjusted, and gazed ahead, eyes high. He squared his shoulders and stood with his pecs pointed high in full 'bodybuilder rest' pose. Of course Casey knew nothing of the cum-blasting shower orgy from which the men had just emerged. And to a man, rather feeling drained, all were primed and ready....for whatever came next. A few had their hopes, but discipline would prevail. Tonight was presentation. Only. Or so they thought. The men looked him over. “Hmmmm,” muttered Schumacher. “Damn he’s got big nipples!” someone whispered. There was the sound of that someone being smacked. In the second row of bodybuilders, an astonishingly handsome young bodybuilder stumbled and grabbed the back of the head. “Hey!” said Hension, indignant. “Shut up,” said Chad. Casey was excited. These men were seriously huge, each and every one far even bigger than Miles Donovan. Though he was almost sure he was prepared for them, even so – man alive! This was a lotta muscle. He gulped with nervousness. Sergeant Moster entered last. Casey stared, suddenly stricken. He’d never seen Moster before. Even in his clean white loose-fit baggies, he was the biggest muscleman Casey had ever seen in his life. It seemed to him he towered over the others, though truth to tell, if he’d been calmer he’d have noticed that at least 3 of the men were close to him in size and muscularity. Close. But not the equal. Not yet. “This is Staff Sergeant Rod Moster,” said Dr. Zaftig. Behind Moster, Dr. Irving scurried into the room, struggling noisily with his omnipresent video camera, lights, and clipboards. “Sergeant Moster will be supervising your training in the future.” “Yes, sir!” Casey had never been prouder. He stood straight and tall. Moster strolled over to Casey. “So this is Cadet Rockland,” he said slowly, appraising him up and down. He seemed to take over from Zaftig, who stepped back, offering no protest. Here, Moster was in charge. Moster circled Casey. He looked impressed, in spite of himself. Finally he had to give in. He turned to Zaftig. A moment passed. “He’s got great bones,” he said quietly. “Yes, great bones,” said Zaftig. “Bones like that come along once every three generations.” “He could go the limit.” “Maybe. Can’t tell yet.” What’s all this about bones? Casey wondered. He gathered it was something good, though, even great, so he stood erect, proud and tall. He fixed his clear blue eyes on the wall straight ahead and stood at attention. To a man, the 18 glanced down at the boy’s pendulously swaying posing suit pouch. The soft, thick bulge lay slack than halfway down against his right quad. Lang licked his lips. Next to him, Blankenship dug his elbow into Lang's abs, nodded, smiled, and winked. He pointed to his own mouth and with his fist simulated taking in a big organ. Moster barked out a few terse questions. “How old are you, Casey?” “18.” “What was that?” “18.” He corrected himself, and barked, “I’m 18, sir!” “That’s much better.” Moster smiled, amused. “And how much do you weigh, cadet?” “310 pounds, sir.” “Hmm. Really. Good. Good for you, son.” Casey readjusted and stood a little taller when he heard the huge black man say "son." Now the 18 were murmuring and looking him over with critical sharpness. Looking for weaknesses, looking for a lack of symmetry, looking for a spot of subcutaneous fat. And no weaknesses were to be found. One short young ginger muscleman whose name he didn’t know was smiling at him sardonically. He was uncommonly good-looking, as were they all, but something about him looked mean. He whispered to a grizzled older bodybuilder next to him, who was bigger and even meaner looking than he was. The older guy scowled. He was perhaps 40, bald, with rough deeply tanned skin, a day old beard, and a chest coating of iron-grey hair. Casey couldn’t help but notice the heavily looming bulges in the crotches of their khakis. As he tried not to stare, the pretty one who had gotten his head smacked reached down the front of his pants for some adjustment. Moster followed his gaze and smiled a little. Zaftig, as always, was clueless. "Tell him to turn around." "Casey, let the men see your back." Casey turned full around, facing the rear of the lab. He readjusted. He couldn't see the men's faces. But he could hear them. A few moaned quietly. "Jesu Christe, check out dem glutes..." Two round, rock hard butt cheek globes, glinting with light filled the room. No one could look elsewhere. Meyer, the deaf mute, stared, his mouth slightly open. He turned and nodded vigorously to Abdul, toweing over him, pulling at his belt. "Yeah, I see them," said Abdul, careful to face Meyer so he could read his lips. "Them. Er. Him. I see him." "For the record," said Zaftig airily, "Dr. Irving and I think Casey's traps and rear delts may be his best bodyparts." "Yeah, they'll do," said Alvarez. His hand went down to the front of his pants absently. His bulge was beginning to get a little bigger. "Now that's a bubble butt," said Obatu. "Sweet, sweet cupcakes. Cupcakes for a man to enjoy...." Casey was coloring deeply, glad the men couldn't see his face. "Lat spread, Casey," said Zaftig. Casey complied. Bat wings spread wide, fists plunged into his sides. His spread his legs slightly for the full effect. "And now, rear double biceps." Cannonballs shot to the ceiling. The glutes hardened slightly, veins popping, striations shining like rivers of platinum. "All right, then, turn back. Sergeant?" "Yes." Moster walked to a lab table and picked up a thick 4-foot iron bar. He tossed it at Casey, who caught it handily with one hand. It weighed about 75 pounds. “See what you can do with that, son.” Casey paused. “Sir?” “I’m not going to say it twice.” Casey nodded. He imagined the sergeant wanted him to bend the bar. He wanted to impress him, so he raised the bar high over his head, and easily bent it into a U shape. He brought the bar down and inspected it a moment, and then walked respectfully over to Sergeant Moster and handed it to him eagerly. Moster took it. “Okay, fair, fair,” he said, nodding and showing the bent bar to the group. Some of the men began to nod and chuckle. Casey returned to his spot and resumed his muscle-ready stance. Moster took the bar in his powerful hands, and bent it back to something like its original shape. He grinned, his big white teeth shining. Then he threw the bar into the air, caught it, and with a single movement powerfully snapped it in two. Casey’s jaw dropped. “Damn,” he said. “Dr. Irving, let’s hear the man’s measurements.” “We haven’t taken his measurements for a month, Sergeant.” Moster glanced down over Zaftig, his deep voice resonating. “You present a new cadet to the team, and you don’t have his recent measurements? Zaftig, you’re getting sloppy.” “I thought perhaps you might want to record the cadet’s measurements for yourself, Sergeant,” Zaftig said slyly. He wasn’t intimidated. Moster looked at Zaftig expressionlessly, then called back over his shoulder. “Private Tiffany, step forward and take the man’s measurements.” The short ginger bodybuilder stepped forward cockily. He looked younger than Casey, though Casey guessed he was really just his age. His wavy red-black hair fell in a forelock over his forehead. He had freckles. His skin was butterscotch tan, his eyes a deep, rich blue. And, like the others, he was hugely muscular, packing well over 220 pounds on his 5’6” frame. Casey noted the perfect round shape of his strong young baseball biceps, rife with rivulets of veins, and the piston-thick forearms. His heavy shoulders bulged with packed muscle. He could have moved pianos with one hand. He was bow-legged, his quads swaying gently outward as he walked. In his fly, his package appeared to be nearly as big as Casey knew his own to be, but on such a short guy it appeared twice as big. He looked as if he had to walk around his dick with each step he took. And he looked vaguely familiar. “This is Private 1st Class Joe Tiffany. I see you’re wondering about his age. Private Tiffany, get the tape measure and the clipboard from Dr. Irving. Tiffany here is 19 years old. He started with The Protocol when he was 15. I’m sure you two will be great buddies.” Casey didn’t know what to make of this. He decided that even with the kid’s big muscles, thick package and all, he didn’t want to be buddies with him. “Okay,” he said. “Hello.” Tiffany stepped forward, extending a hand as if to shake and, as Casey leaned in, walked past him, instead taking the tape measure and clipboard from Dr. Irving. Turning back, he graciously handed just the clipboard to Moster, and strolled confidently over to Casey. He looked up slyly at the baffled, tall young musclemen towering over him. “Hi, Casey,” he introduced himself breezily. “I’m Joe Tiffany. You’re very lookin’ good, man. Like the buzz cut.” Casey gazed down at Tiffany, perplexed, who grinned back at him serenely, displaying two rows of perfect white teeth. He was smart and smooth, and he grinned easily. He made Casey nervous, all the more so when, for a flash of an instant, he detected a wicked twinkle deep in Joe’s eyes. Joe winked at him. Then he wiped his face clean and looked back at Moster, all innocence. “Sir, I need some help, sir.” Moster snorted impatiently. “Corporal Schumacher, get Tiffany something he can stand on.” From the line the older guy Tiffany had been whispering to strode to the desk area and returned with a metal stool. He tossed it in the air to Tiffany, who caught it easily. While never very bright, Casey was all the same possessed of unquestionably fine animal instincts. He knew trouble when he saw it. He glanced up and down the older man Moster had addressed as Schumacher. His muscle density was impressive. His arms were thick, ripped and veiny. Two iron cross tattoos graced each forearm. His skin was calloused and rough, and his hands were huge, with bruised, knotty knuckles. He was now leaning in to Tiffany, so close to him his heavy pecs were almost touching his face. Casey could see the outlines of two heavy brown nipples in his tight Army regulation green t-shirt. Schumacher shot a dirty look up at him, and pushed his pecs into Tiffany’s’ face. “I told you before I want to see you my room. Later.” He spoke in a low tone. The muscleboy stepped back indifferently and spoke with offhand innocence. “Hey, it’s late, dude. I don’t think so tonight.” He pulled out the tape and turned to Casey. Schumacher glanced briefly up at the muscleman towering over them both and sneered a little, but Casey could spot the dash of respect in his eyes. He turned back to Tiffany. “I mean it, punk. In my room. Later.” “Leave me alone, old man. I have work to do with the young dude.” He stepped on the stool without looking again at Schumacher and stood before Casey, holding the tape measure and smiling sweetly. His words stung. Schumacher looked up at Casey and silently mouthed the words H-A-N-D-S O-F-F Casey returned the look dumbly. “Later,” Corporal Schumacher snarled to Tiffany. Moster looked up. “You have a problem, Corporal?” Schumacher turned and strode away. In the corner of the lab, Dr. Irving was recording every moment on his ever-present video cam. Standing on the stool, Joe was now a little taller than Casey. He squatted down just a little, stuck his butt out behind him for support, and brought his eyes even to Casey. He looked him up and down and whispered in his ear. “Let’s see how big you really are, buddy,” he murmured. He brought his hand down and flicked his own crotch gently with his thumb, turning his broad back for cover. Only Casey could see him do it. He looked at him out of the side of his eyes, suddenly nervous about this big little bodybuilder, who clearly had more than his share of cojones, and his dangerous muscle daddy friend, who clearly had issues. “Whenever you’re ready, Private.” “I’m ready, sir.” “Good. Get to it. Right biceps.” Casey snapped his right arm to attention and flexed the biceps full. Tiffany let out a low whistle. “Bring it on home, baby. Nice peaks. Cannonballs, even. Swole. Nice.” “Yeah, yeah,” muttered Casey, flexing both biceps now, trying to be casual. “Get to it, Private,” repeated Moster. “Okay, measuring. Sir! I’m guessing 23 inches, sir!” Casey glanced contemptuously at him with one eyebrow cocked high. “Try that again,” he said levelly. Tiffany charmingly fumbled with the tape measure and double-checked. “I’m sorry, sir,” he reported. “26 inches, sir.” “That’s better.” Casey looked forward and tried to make his face serene. He was already getting pissed. What did this young asshole know? Moster made a note on his clipboard. Behind him, Schumacher was fuming. Casey imagined he could see smoke coming out of his ears. “Left arm.” Casey lowered his right and brought his left forward. Pow - Ka-boom.. .. Tiffany brushed the rocky peak with his fingertips. “No touching the goods,” Casey hissed. “26 inches, sir.” Tiffany was all smiles. “Chest.” “Let’s see, Superman, just how we’re going to do this. Turn to one side?” he inquired sweetly. Casey just looked at Tiffany. “Damn it, cadet, turn! Do as he asks.” Moster was getting impatient. Casey turned. “And expand your chest.” Casey’s giant pecs roiled and blew to their fullest size. Tiffany gently reached around Casey, and by tossing one end of the tape from one hand to the other, he coyly avoiding touching him with all but the tape and his lightly pinching fingers. “68 inches.” “Hmmm. There’s room for growth. Waistline.” Tiffany climbed down from the stool and brought the tape around Casey’s taut abs. Again he managed not to touch him. Even so, Casey felt a slight stirring from his crotch. “32 inches.” “32?? Dammit, Zaftig, what have you been feeding this boy? Chocolate cake? Twinkies?” I’m no boy, thought Casey. And I don’t eat Twinkies. His crotch twitched again. He glanced around the room and saw other crotches twitching as well. 6 or 7 of the men seemed to be sporting half erections, bulging in their khakis. No one said anything. All expressions were deadly serious. It was as if no one noticed, minded or cared that more than a half dozen of these musclemen were now sporting serious wood. “I’m sorry, Sergeant,” said Zaftig. “I haven’t felt it was the time, before tonight, to put Casey under your advanced care and guidance. He wasn’t quite ready, I felt.” “Assuredly. Casey, things are going to be a little different for you after tonight. Quads.” “33 inches, sir.” “Dayumn….” muttered Hension. Then the sound of the back of his head being smacked again. “Ouch!” In back, Karim Abdul watched stonily, not reacting. He, Moster, and Dr. Zaftig were the only men in the room whose flies remained unexpanded. Even Dr. Irving was by now showing a little bulge. “Room for improvement everywhere,” said Moster. He made a note on the clipboard. “Calves?” “28 inches.” “That’s good, anyway. Feet?” “I wear 18 DD shoes,” Casey answered. “Speak when spoken to, Cadet Casey. But thank you. Inseam.” Inseam? “For the uniform.” Oh. Tiffany crouched down and placed the tape just at Casey’s ankle, and brought it up. He paused. “With or without testicles, sir?” he asked. “Without.” Moster was impatient. Tiffany was getting on his nerves, but he wasn’t about to show it. “Sorry, big boy, but you got a couple of low-hangers there. Pardon my fingers?” In a swift move that startled Casey, Tiffany, ignoring Casey’s growing tumescence, gently cupped Casey’s balls in his hand, lifted them and delicately moved them out of the way. “Shucks, dude, they’re pretty heavy,” he smirked. Casey was thoroughly humiliated. He felt like knocking this punk's block off, realizing that if he did he’d probably kill him if he even tried. He said nothing. “42 inches.” “Good. Now Zaftig, leave us alone with Casey. We all want to get to know him better.” Zaftig glanced over at Dr. Irving, who had withdrawn to the far corner of the room to be as far away from Moster as possible. He nodded towards the door. Irving cleared his throat and buttoned his lab coat. Zaftig leaned in and whispered harshly to Moster. “No touching. Leave him be.” Moster nodded. "Sure, of course. We'll be nice." Zaftig and Irving left the lab together. In the corner, the video camera whirred, its red light blinking, unheeded. As soon as they were gone the other 16 men came forward. Slowly they circled Casey, Joe Tiffany, and Sergeant Moster. “That’s all, Private Tiffany. Get back in line.” Moster turned to Casey, paused, and began to speak with great deliberation. “I’m the man in charge here. Going forward, you’ll do what I say. These men have all been through it. It’s your turn now.” The bodybuilders gazed evenly at Casey, who stared back, his head slightly bowed. He had neither seen nor imagined such a landscape of muscle in his life. He was beginning to get intimidated. “The motherfucker’s huge,” murmured Private Lang appreciatively. “Yes, sir.” Casey forced a smile, and he saluted. Moster smiled back, a grim humorless smile. “It would seem that you want to please me. Is that the case, Casey?” “Yes, sir, I do, sir!” “Glad to hear it, son. You have a few more years of hardcore training ahead of you. You have great potential, boy, but you haven’t realized it all yet. Has he, men?” Mutters. We’ll get you down to the gym tomorrow and we’ll all shake it out together. Men, you’re done here tonight. Dismissed. Go to bed. Good night.” Moans of general disappointment. Schumacher and Karim Abdul remained silent. “That’s all men.” A pause. “You too, Tiffany.” “Not just yet,” said Abdul. Moster looked at him, his eyebrow raised. “Corporal?” Abdul turned full to Moster. “Not just yet. I want to see if he can take it.” Moster knew full well what he meant. “Take what, Corporal?” “Get him a singlet,” said Abdul to Lang, who eagerly turned and scampered out of the lab. “You know where to meet us,” he called after him, perhaps unnecessarily. The men could hear Lang’s running footsteps as he hightailed it gleefully down the long hall to the locker room. Moster sighed. “Do we have to go through this? Again?” He remembered that when Alvarez was admitted to the program, Abdul had demanded to meet him in the wrestling ring right off the bat. He looked around. All the men were smiling in anticipation. Casey was baffled. “A singlet? We gonna wrestle?” “Yes, son, we’re going to wrestle,” answered Abdul. “You wrestled before?” Casey remembered his brutal ring training with Ramon Ramon, who never failed to pin him, even though he was only half Casey’s size and weight. “Yes, sir.” “Good.” Abdul turned to go, slipping out of his t-shirt. Casey could see he was wearing a singlet underneath, and was surprised he’d missed it before, considering how tight the t-shirts were. Karim was walking away, going for his belt, when he turned back. “You comin’?” Casey gulped a little. “Yes, sir.” The man who stood before him was fearsome indeed, a dark, mature Arab with blackened, hairy, super dry, super vascular, magnificent superheavyweight muscles. The thick black hair of his chest was like a matted carpet, tinged with grey and curling around the heavy, downward pointing nipples. His python-thick cock unfurled heavily in the singlet crotch, heavy, soft, half-visible behind thin, quivering spandex, pulsing, veined, thrust forward between powerful hips. His waist was impossibly narrow, his abs like 8 anvils, his pecs and biceps bulging with muscle and ridic veins. He spread his legs wide. “Hey, look,” breathed Blankenship, staring. Casey looked down, a little panicky, and saw his own massive cock was now tent-poling his posers. Reinforced or no, the 5 square inches of cloth that still managed to cover his big penis head were straining, the fabric ready to tear to shreds. His veiny blond shaft was completely exposed, pointing straight up and out. Curling thick tendrils of his young blond pubic sprouted generously from the juncture of his penis and his vascular, rocky pubis mound. He colored deeply, squatted slightly, tried in vain to readjust himself, his fingers digging deeply into the side straps, trying to control the pouch, which was nowhere near equal to covering Casey's looming erection. Suddenly Casey's penis head ripped through the black cloth, an alien bursting out of a stomach. Casey looked up, utterly distressed. “Don’t worry about it, Casey,” said Moster quietly. The men turned and looked back, and for the first time, got a glimpse of Casey’s humongous penis, half exposed, throbbing behind his expanding posers, which was tearing slightly, ballooning away from his hips. Blond, thick-skinned, massive, covered with luscious veins. “I’d call that a suckable fuck machine of the 1st order,” said Blankenship. He licked his lips a little. Casey looked humiliated. “I asked you a question,” said Abdul. “Are you coming?” And Casey came. “He seems to be,” said Alvarez drily. Just a little precum, appearing at the tip of the piss slit, dribbling down the corona onto his erect shaft. But it was enough. His face turned beet red. He looked up, his eyes hopeful. "Okay?" he finally asked. The men nodded in satisfaction. Abdul ignored it. “Then let’s go, asswipe.” He turned and walked out of the room, headed for the wrestling ring in the next wing. The musclemen followed, each one turning slowly and massively, heading for the door. “Let’s go, Casey,” said Moster wearily. He threw him a towel. “Here, cover up if you’re embarrassed.” “Thank you, sir,” said Casey meekly. “Though with a machine like that you should be proud, not embarrassed. Tiffany!” Moster called out. “Get Dr. Irving back in here and tell him to move that camera down to the wrestling ring.” He smiled grimly. “I have a feeling Abdul may be a little surprised.” __________________________________________ Want to read "The Twenty" from the start? Links to chapters of "The Twenty": "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland  "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - The Musclemen Revealed: Inside Zaftig's Lab "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 19 - Further Encounters, Part 1 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 20 - Pose and Approve: Further Encounters, Part 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 21 - Sam and Casey "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 22 - Field Trips for Worship, Part 1 "The Twenty" - Chapter 23 - Field Trips, Part 2 – Casey Rediscovers Muscle Worship, and Makes a New Friend "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 24 - Further Encounters 5: Sam and Casey Again, and Moster and the Cadets
  9. CardiMuscleman

    The Power of the Titan : Part Three

    After what seemed like hours, Porthos’s body was racked with pain. His arms and legs were on fire, his chest was heaving and he was breathing hard. His heart was pounding and he was sweating like a pig but still he was denying the Cardinal his triumph. Another bolt of pain produced another scream and Porthos could feel his arms and legs burning in pain. He knew that he could never give up and yet in the back of his mind he wondered if he should die, but realised that would give the Cardinal his ultimate triumph. Another bolt of pain woke him up to the fact that he had to escape. However as he was planning on his escape, the Cardinal entered. “So” he said, “do you have anything to say?” Porthos closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. “I defy you!” he grunted and with that he pulled on his restraints. Slowly but surely, the wheel at the top of the device started to turn and despite the torturer’s best efforts, the pain in Porthos’s arms and legs started to recede and as it did, Porthos’s strength increased. The Cardinal realised that unless he did something and quickly, the giant would be free and so took a flaming torch from one of the walls and held it aloft. “You will die!” he said, and with that lit a rope. Porthos watched the rope caught fire and followed it to the end and gasped as he saw the ceiling was full f spears all attached to a frame so that when the rope burnt through it would pierce anyone on the rack. Porthos knew it was a race against time and redoubled his strength. As he pulled against the restraints, a bulge developed in his loincloth. The bigger the bulge got, the more intense Porthos’s breathing got, the more intense the breathing got, the harder Porthos pulled. After a few moments, the loincloth gave up it’s struggle and ripped to reveal Porthos’s own spear which was already tipped with a dribble of liquid. The sight disgusted the Cardinal and he left the room, but the torturer was intrigued and gingerly touched the spear. Porthos moaned and his pull relaxed. He had never experienced these feelings before. He felt powerful, weak, strong, timid and aroused all at the same time. The torturer grabbed the spear and started to rub hard. Porthos's mind whirled with images of Hercules breaking free of chains, Samson bringing down the temple and even his own incredible feats of strength. The faster the torturer rubbed, the harder his spear got and the harder his spear got the stronger he got. Porthos suddenly roared and pulled the restraints so hard that the rack broke under the strain and Porthos was free. He jumped off the rack and wrestled the torturer to the ground just as the rope snapped and the spears crashed to the ground. Porthos rolled onto his back to find that he had crushed the torturer who was lying on the ground, clearly in agony. As Porthos was about to leave, the torturer gasped, “Hail Porthos, the strongest man to live!”. *** Porthos reported his tale to Captain Treville who noted his report with concern. Whilst he was pleased that Porthos had escaped and not revealed any information, the fact that the Cardinal was now willing to use torture was a frightening development. Porthos replied with a smile saying “Whilst I am a Musketeer, no one will be able to beat us!” with that he thumped his chest, saluted and walked out of the Captain office looking for D'Artangan, the newest recruit to the King's Musketeers and a man almost as much in awe of Porthos's strength as Porthos. As he did, he felt his spear start to bulge and hoped that the new recruit would not be frightened of his request which he repeated in his mind over and over again. "Punish me, D'Artangan. Punish me and reveal my strength!" The End???
  10. The walk that the lady led the Titan on was almost like a dance. As she took decisive steps forward, the Titan, now slobbering like a dog, followed with stumbling steps, almost constant burbling and inane smirking. Porthos had no idea who this lady was, but he was falling head over heels in love with her. As she opened the door to a house and gestured the Titan in, it was clear to all that he had one thing on his mind as there was a noticeable bulge in his breeches. Ma maison est ta maison, ma rose est ta rose, mon amour est ton amour!" For the first time in many a year, Porthos felt weak at the knees. The personwho he had found out was a Countess, has showered Porthos with gifts, food and was now lying in his lap with her eyes closed and her mouth pursed as if expecting a kiss. "Madame" said Porthos, gently moving the Countess, "I regret that I am already married to the nation. You honour me with your confessions of love and yet, I must refuse!" "I understand" she said, and stood up, "but please, allow me to witness the power that a living Titan has in his body!" Porthos chuckled as he stood up. Everyone wanted to feel his strength, men, women and there was that occasion when a small boy squeezed his arm and said "Bigger than my father's!" so Porthos consented and bent his arms causing the shirt he was wearing to tear along the seam. The Countess gasped in admiration and instantly followed the tear with her finger, prodding the muscle that had created it. "And how strong is that?" she asked "Stronger than any man on earth!" Porthos smiled "Please, my lord" she said, "please, show me the strength that makes you a Titan!" Porthos looked around the room and found a very large oak cabinet, filled with various wine glasses and plates. He stepped over to it, squatted down, placed his hands underneath it and grunted. He slowly stood up, taking the cabinet with him and then removed a hand. "The power of a titan!" he grunted as he lifted the cabinet with one hand. The Countess moaned at this display of power and after Porthos lowered it back to the ground, she pounced on him and grabbed hold of his shirt. She ripped it open and pounded his chest. Porthos was suprised by this, but had to admit that he was enjoying all this attention and so flexed his chest. This caused the Countess to moan even more and so he breathed deeper causing the chest to heave and as it did, a stain started to appear on his breeches. He was just about to kiss the Countess when she shouted "NOW!" and jumped down. Porthos turned round and registered another man bringing a cannonball down on his head before blacking out. *** "I AM A TITAN!" roared Porthos as he broke the chains holding him to the steps of a temple dedicated to the Greek gods. As he collapsed to his knees, breathing hard, Hercules clapped his hands. "So, the Frenchman thinks he's better than me, does he?" and so saying launched himself at Porthos and two were involved in an epic Greco Roman wrestling match that if any man had witnessed it would have had them loosing their trousers within seconds. After nearly thirty minutes of man handling and feats of strength that would have left men, women and even children speechless, Porthos lifted the now limp Hercules over his head and roared "THE TITAN IS DEFEATED. LONG LIVE THE TITAN!" and threw him down the stairs and flexed every muscle in his body to prove his power *** Porthos groaned as he came to from the cannonball impact. As he opened his eyes, he could see the Countess in front of him who started to chuckle and then laugh. "So the titan thinks he is a god, eh?" she said and turned her back on him. "My lady, I..." started Porthos and then suddenly realised that something was wrong. He couldn't move his arms or feet. He opened his eyes wide and gasped. He was strapped, naked save for a loincloth, to the one thing he feared the most, a rack. The only thing that could make this situation worse was... "Ah, Monsieur Porthos, glad to see you back in the world of the living!" "Cardinal!" sneered Porthos as the French First Minister and advisor to the King entered the room. "Good, I am glad to see that you haven't lost your memory. Shame though, all that strength would be useful for my Guards. I assume you know Milady de Winter!". The countess bowed and when she stood up removed her disguise causing the giant to tug at his restraints. "Now then" said the Cardinal, "just tell us what we want to know and we'll let you go!" "I will never betray the confidences I have in me!" Porthos grunted. The Cardinal nodded and a bolt of pain shot down Porthos's spine causing him to scream in agony. "Now" he said, as Porthos started to puff and pant, "I wonder how many of those the famed titan can take before he begs to tell us everything? Milady?" and with that he left the room as another bolt shot down the spine of the giant causing his screams to resonate throughout the chamber.
  11. CardiMuscleman

    The Power of the Titan : Part One

    “Gentlemen, what you are about to witness is the ultimate test of strength” For days, rumours had been whirling around Musketeer Headquarters as to why Captain Treville had asked all active Musketeers to gather in the main courtyard at midday on the longest day of the year. Some people thought that it was to select the newest cadets to join the corps, some people thought that the King was coming to confer some great honour, some even thought that D’Artangan was going to announce his engagement to the Queen’s maid, so the start of the Captain’s speech was a little strange “For years” he continued, “you have all marvelled at the strength of Porthos. A man who has ripped oak trees out of the ground, a man who has wrestled the largest bull in Christendom to the ground and a man who would willingly give his life for the King and this country! Today, though, he will perform a test of strength that no man has ever performed before” and with that he nodded and Aramis raised a curtain revealing a cannon “This, gentlemen, is Big Bessie, the largest and heaviest cannon ever to be built in this nation. The cannonballs it fires require two men just to load it” and with that he clicked his fingers and Athos and D’Artangan struggled out of the main building carrying a cannonball that was as big as their heads. After several moments they managed to load it into the cannon and mopped their brows. “Note” continued the captain, “that is it sitting on a board that is twelve feet long and six feet wide” and with that he nodded again and Aramis, Athos, D’Artangan and several other Musketeers pulled on any number of pulleys and raised the cannon into the air. Just then, an almighty roar came from inside the main building and Porthos stomped out, his face redder than the apples and his chest heaving and naked. He stomped down the steps and grunting, lay down under the board. “DROP!” came the command and the men holding the cannon let it drop but before it reached Porthos’s chest, the titan shot two arms into the air and caught it. Huffing and puffing, he roared at the top of his voice and lifted the board and the cannon as far as his arms would allow him and started to count. “ONE” he roared, “TWO” he grunted, “THREE” he shouted and then swore at the top of his voice. “COME ON PORTHOS” shouted a Musketeer in the crowd, “SHOW THAT CANNON WHO THE STRONGEST MAN IN THE WORLD IS!” That encouragement fuelled the fire in Porthos’s belly and he continued to lift. “FOUR” His chest was heaving, sweat was pouring off his face and his breathing was getting harder “F…FIVE!” “ONE MORE” screamed the crowd as one Porthos lowered the cannon to his chest and taking a massive breath, gritted his teeth and yelled “MERDE!” as he lifted the cannon for a sixth time. The Musketeers charged with holding the cannon quickly rushed to the giant and connected it back to the pulleys and took the strain as Porthos stood up and roared his power. To describe Porthos as a titan was unworthy to the Titans of ancient Greece. This was a man, yes, but a man who just exuded physical strength. And a man who was being worshipped by everyone present. Except one man. He had watched the scene with an increasing sense of concern. For he was a spy from the Cardinal’s Guards and he had one very simple mission. Dispose of Porthos once and for all. “He is not a man” he thought to himself as Porthos flexed his mammoth chest, “he is a true titan. He cannot be defeated!” and with that he slipped away to report his findings to his superiors, the roaring of Porthos celebrating his triumph over metal ringing in his ears. *** Cardinal Richelieu listened to his spy’s report and nodded. The spy bowed and left the Cardinal to muse on the findings. He stood up and went to the balcony that overlooked the city of Paris. He’d known for years that Porthos was the lynchpin of the Musketeers and every attempt to kill him had failed. The Cardinal was about to thump his hand onto the balustrades when he suddenly had a thought. Porthos was the lynchpin of the Musketeers and therefore would be privy to information that no one else would be. As he thought more, a wicked smile crossed his face. No, killing Porthos was not the way, capturing Porthos alive was the key to bringing the Musketeers down. As he went back to his desk, he was reminded of one of the things his spy had said. “Your Eminence, that man is not human!” The wicked smile now turned into a grin. “Any man is human” he thought to himself, “and as such has human desires!” He wrote a note to his premier spy and attached it to the foot of a raven that he set fly across the Paris skyline. As he watched it fly, the grin turned into a chuckle. “Let’s see the inhuman Musketeer work his way out of that!” and with that ordered his carriage to be made ready. *** “Aye” said Porthos, downing his fifth mug of mead that day, “but don’t let the Captain hear what she said!” The Musketeers all laughed loudly as Porthos told another tale of another woman, so in awe of his strength that she called him “husband” in front of her husband. Porthos liked being with both men and women, but liked it best when whoever he was with was having a good time. He was just about to order another round, when a man burst into the inn. Looking around, he spied the Musketeers and grabbed Porthos by the collar “My lord” he said, panicked, “my child’s life is in danger!” Instantly, all the Musketeers stood up and followed the man outside and instantly sprang into action as they saw what had happened. There was a house on fire in a nearby street and although the man and his wife had escaped, their child was trapped on the top floor with no means of escape. “Gentlemen” said Porthos, taking charge, “Alert the guards that a fire is in need of attention. Athos, Aramis, organise a water chain, D’Artangan, go to headquarters and bring reinforcements, this fire cannot be allowed to spread!” The Musketeers saluted and set about their tasks as Porthos looked up and saw the child being engulfed by smoke. “WHAT’S YOUR NAME?” he shouted “Pierre” coughed the child “PIERRE” shouted Porthos, “I WANT YOU TO CLIMB OUT OF THAT ROOM AND JUMP. I PROMISE AS A KING’S MUSKETEER TO CATCH YOU!” As Pierre clambered up to the window frame, the man’s wife fainted. “I promise you, sir!” Porthos said, as he positioned himself below the window, “your child will come to no harm!” Suddenly, there was a gasp as Pierre lost his footing and fell. Porthos dived towards the house, rolled over and gritted his teeth as Pierre landed squarely on his stomach. He bounced up a few inches and Porthos caught him in his arms on the way down. Just as he was about to comfort the child, he saw an overhanging piece of wood, well alight, break off and fall to the ground. Placing Pierre on the ground, he covered the child and took the force of the impact which would have killed a normal man. Porthos, still covering Pierre, crawled away from the house just as a group of guards arrived and started to tackle the blaze, closely followed by Athos and Aramis and a collection of people all holding buckets waiting to be directed. As Porthos staggered to his feet, Pierre crawled out from under him and ran to his father. “Thank you, sir!” said the father, as he hugged his child, “You are truly a living Titan” “Indeed you are, sir” said a voice, and Porthos turned around to find a finely dressed woman holding a rose in her hand. Porthos was instantly smitten and as the lady turned round, waving the rose as if it were a lure, Porthos stumbled along, muttering.
  12. elysiumfields

    On A Cold Winters Night: A Christmas Tale

    Heres a little festive tale i wrote some while back that some of u may have read. Please be kind.. and be patient. On A Cold Winters Night : A Christmas Tale. Parts 1 & 2 PART ONE: Daniel Crown had been reclusive since the sudden tragic death of his beloved husband Jeff.. Ever since the state passed a legislature allowing gay marriage,both men,who had loved each other for close to twenty five years,and had the potential to grow old together,bonded in a lavish civil partnership ceremony. But fate dealt a cruel hand, and Jeff,now 50, was left to grow old alone.The pain was too much to bear for Daniel to move on,it had only been a year since Jeffs death from a sudden heart attack,and the loss was all too fresh..Jeffs death hit Daniel hard.. He shut himself off from much of the world and shied away from the fun social life he had had with Jeff.. Places,people...brought reminders of his beloved back to him. Even though Daniel missed Jeff dearly,the reminders only caused him to sink lower into depression at the loss and emptiness....and to alcohol.He hated life lately... Anything to seek an end to it and be with Jeff,but he was even too cowardly at that as he thought... Now, as winter blew the first snows into the suburbs of the city whereDan and Jeff had lived, Daniel felt this was a sign of change. He did not want to spend a second Christmas alone in this place...the first had been a heartbreakDaniels grandfather had left him a cabin up in the pine hills away from the city where as a child and teenager Dan had spent many a summer with his gramps fishing on the lake and hiking through the woods. Sometimes Daniel had brought Jeff to this romantic retreat and its the one place that Dan felt happy with the memories of both his lover and his grandfather,who had passed shortly after he had 'come out'. 17.And when his father neglected him for his homosexuality, his grandfather,one person who had been brought up in a time that had conservative and deeply homophobic values,surprised Daniel with his liberal compassion and sheer love.. love that he would still feel for his only grandson no matter who or what he was.. That golden time was gone. Daniel was all alone now as he packed up his VW Beetle convert and wrapped himself in his coat before glancing back one last time at the apartment before he got in, sputtering the engine into life and then drawing out of the driveway for the long drive to the cabin, in hopes of reaching it before the weather closed in.. And the weather would be notorious that high in the Pine forests. ======== 17 year Jacob Quill sat in the diner overlooking the misty freeway that would take him to the next small town in search of some kind of solace and freedom from the harsh life he had with his worthless parents. A father that had often slapped him around and finally showing open disgust at his sons homosexuality.. A mother who had done little to openly support Jacob and largely shrank into the background of her husbands dominance. Confused,alone with himself, Jacob had enough and packed and left his sorry existence in hopes of finding someone,..anyone with kindred spirit to share his life and love with.. Now he sat staring outside the diner window,stirring his murky cup of coffee and staring out at the passing traffic trundling along,hindered by the encroaching snows and mist rolling down off the forests. He had managed to hitch a lift with a truck driver this far but now needed to try and get another lift to go further.. ...And he saw one potential lift now.. A rather smart red VW Beetle convertible rolling onto the gas station close by.... PART TWO: On his way up to the cabin, Daniels gas tank beeped that it was near empty.. He cursed lightly under his breath that he not remembered to fill the car up before he left the city. Fortunately for him,he found a Gas station rather soon and pulled in to fill up enough to more than last him the journey there. After paying up in the convenience store,grabbing some mint sweets on the way, Daniel wrapped himself in his thick coat and trudged back through the slushy snow towards his car, as the wind whipped it around his head and howled over the tops of the Douglas fir trees that lined the edge of the freeway. Just as he got to his car,he heard someone trying to gain his attention."Hey mister...mister..!'' Dan looked around to see some guy wrapped tightly in a snug grey duffle coat with its wool lined hood pulled up over the guys head and a black scarf that pretty much effectively hid much of his face from the elements,and carrying a heavy looking green duffelbag.The guy drew level with Daniel and tugged down the scarf to reveal to Dan a young and strikingly handsome face that for a breif moment made something stir inside him. ''Hey Mister,....um,..are you heading towards Evendale at all..?'' said the young man,who by Dans standards looked barely into his twenties.Dan grumbled for a few moments as he fumbled for his keys as the youth next to him hopped lightly from one foot to the other from the cold.''I dunno kid,. I might not be going directly INTO Evendale,but..''Dan had to pass through the outer suburbs of the town to get to his cabin but was'nt too comfortable with the fact of picking up a hitchhiker,who could turn out like the urban legend and be a crazy axe-weiling nutter,but as his eyes met with the kids stunning turquiose blue eyes,he again felt that tiny spark of attraction. ''Aw please mister.. I'll give you a couple of bucks.. I just wanna get that far at least.. Please.. I been waitin' here ages for a ride but everyones been too reluctant..'' pleaded the kid. ''Ok,..but i'll take you as far as i can, thats it.'' replied Daniel as he got into the car.''Aw geez,..thanks mister.. Thought i was gonna freeze to death waitin' here''Daniel started the engine just as the kid got into the passenger seat,placing his bag into the back and throwing down the hood to reveal his surfer blonde short cropped hair.''Names Jacob..'' he said enthusiastically,pulling off a glove to shake Daniels hand.''Daniel'' he replied. Dan set off along the freeway towards the Ridge road that would take him up over the pass towards Evandale and on to his cabin.. ''So what takes you out this way..?'' Dan asked Jacob. ''Oh, just wanna get away from some shit homelife and start afresh. Parents give me hassle and now i got the chance to cut free and live my own life'' Dan said, unbuttoning the coats top buttoms and warming his bare hands on the cars heater.''And you..You live out this way..?'' ''Oh,..i got a cabin up in the hills just past Evandale i'm gonna spend Christmas in..'' said Dan,his eyes on the road. ''Sounds real romantic.. A cabin in the woods all covered in snow,with a roaring fireplace..'' ''I wish it was... I just got over the loss of..'' Dan hesitated.. ''Of someone i loved''. ''Sorry buddy,..i did'nt mean to be ....''Daniel interrupted him with a gentle wave of his hand.. ''Don't worry,..its fine'' He watched out of the corner of his eye as Jacob pulled out a small leaflet of some kind out of his inside coat pocket. Jacob noticed. It was a Fitness and Bodybuilding leaflet advertising a some protein shakes and other muscle building products.. ''You into Bodybuilding..?'' Dan asked Jacob. ''I'd like to be.. I wanna try and get big..massive. My pops kept tellin' me i was a scrawny and weak little..'' he paused, to find a different word..''lowlife, who would'nt amount to much.. So it gave me the motivation to take up weight-training and now i'm starting to see some results'' Daniel could not see much of Jacobs body under his coat but he did have quite a thick neck,..and he had the face of an Abercrombie and Fitch model..'' ''You go to the gym..?'' Jacob replied,eying up the rainbow triangle pendant hanging from the rear view mirror.. Could'nt be a gay symbol could it..? he thought. ''Only now and again. I pretty much stopped going when my partner died'' ''Hope you don't mind me asking.How long..?'' asked Jacob, tentatively. ''Just over a year now..'' 'Fuck it' Dan thought.. 'Nothing to live for..Just come out with it..!' ''My boyfriend died of a heart attack last September''. Daniel swallowed hard and waited for the boys reaction But after all, he had the car, so he could dump the kid somewhere safe if he acted up'' ''You arer gay.?'' said Jacob, physically sitting up straight in the seat with the guys revelation.. ''Yes i am.. Any problems with that and i can just dump you off.!'' ''No...no,sorry mister.. Its just that...'' Jacob squirmed to find the right words. 'So am i.. I just try and keep it private because my pops was an asshole about it.'' Daniel relaxed and even smiled a little, reassuringly.''Then your pops just does'nt understand..I hate bigots like that'' They sat quietly for a while as the snow blew into a blizzard and whipped around the car, visibility decreasing as the road passed throug a scenery of ddeper snow,blowing in drifts across the tarmac and howling around the trees that closed in.. ''So, just how old are you Jacob..?'' Dan said,casting a quick glance to his young passenger. ''17'' ''You are a brave man to f...'' Dan did'nt get to finish his sentance before Jacob shouted out ''Look out''. A heavy tree branch that could no longer take the strain of the snow compacting onto it,snapped off and fell with a crash into the road ahead.. Too little too late for Dan to fully avoid.. His car clipped the branch as it cracked the windscreen and shoved the car to the opposite side of the road. Daniel tried to regain control but the car swerved maniacally across to the right side and then back onto the opposing lane,skidded on some ice and then hit a snowbank,throwing the car into a roll down a slope till it crash landed upside down against a Redwood tree that showered it with a heavy shower of snow from its branches.. TO BE CONTINUED....
  13. TheWeremuscleForest

    The Other Side of the Species

    ‘Wow Pedro that was one hell of a workout we just had baby.’ Victor rolls over to his side to face his beefy Puerto Rican boyfriend and puts his arms around him. They lean in and kiss each other passionately as they mesh their bodies together. The two men smile as they feel the warm Miami breeze against their bare skin and hear the tides in the ocean moving a few feet from where they are laying. ‘Aye papi, I love you so much. I am so grateful that we met last year because you saved me from a life of regret. I was miserable being fat. You helped me to understand though that it isn’t necessarily about the physical aspects, but rather what is inside too.’ Victor rubs Pedro’s buzzed hair on his head and leans his furry face against his. ‘You actually saved me Pedro. My relationship with Michael was not great and in fact one of my close friends hinted that he was cheating on me.’ Pedro squeezes Victor’s body tightly. ‘I suppose you are talking about that British man that you know really well right papi? I would like to meet him someday if he is the reason that you found me. He seems to have helped you cope with your demons.’ The two men lie nude on the beach for several more minutes to take in the fading sun before getting up to shake the sand off before they walk back up the stairs and into the beach house they are staying at. They kiss each other longingly again before taking turns showering. Pedro tells Victor that he needs to get some sleep so he isn’t a zombie at work the next day. He hugs the sexy black-bearded man goodnight and disappears into their bedroom. Victor goes to retrieve their mail for the day and finds a small package tucked between the bills. He takes it out from the pile and sits at their dining room table to examine it. He smiles and notices the Royal Mail sticker on it and immediately knows who it is from. He peels the strip back on the edge of the envelope and peers inside. He notices a small box from within and pulls it out. He briefly looks it over and opens it. ‘Hmmm…..what have you sent me Achilles? A temporary tattoo? *looks it over with a puzzled face* Very strange…..well it does look really cool…..i will have to decide where to put it.’ The tattoo is of a very muscular bull with a likeness of Victor as its face. He stares at it intently and wonders if perhaps Achilles sent this to him as a possible inspiration piece. He gets up from the table and goes back into the bathroom again to stare into the mirror at his incredibly beefy muscular body. His tight shorts hug his huge quads and steel ass as he turns from side to side to take in his hugeness. He has a snake tattoo that stretches from his left trap all the way down to his right pec and there are tats on both shoulders and arms. Since he has a playing card pattern on his left leg, he thinks that the bull tat should go on his right leg. He doesn’t really want to put it on yet, at least not until he gets up to workout again the next day so he can show it off at the gym. He puts it on the counter for now until he wakes up the next morning. After looking himself over and using the bathroom, he climbs into bed with Pedro and puts his arms around his lover so he can get comfortable before he falls asleep. The Puerto Rican hottie reaches down and slides Victor’s shorts off so he can massage the thick stud’s huge quads. ‘I thought you were sleeping baby. Surely you aren’t in the mood again are you?’ ‘Papi, you know I go crazy for your quads. They are so powerful and feel so good against my body.’ Pedro turns Victor to his side and flips his own body around so that his ass rubs against the beefy stud’s legs. His hairy cock now presses against the latino stud’s butt. Victor flexes his quads making the huge diamond-shaped muscles twitch and bounce as his cock slowly grows. He moans lightly as he pulls Pedro up against him. ‘MMMMM papi, put it inside me and it will help me relax like you always do. I love you.’ Victor growls and pushes his cock all the way in as Pedro maneuvers himself in bed as his tattooed lover slowly grinds him. They both moan deeply as the beefy stud picks up speed after sliding his entire cock inside his latino partner. Knowing he can’t hold out much longer, Victor stops to lean in and kiss his Puerto Rican lover’s neck to make the sensation last longer. He edges a few times to make his balls swell up until they are ready to burst. Pedro grips Victor’s thick quads and grunts feeling his big lover trying not to let go. He turns his head and gives him a very lustful look. ‘Do it papi, I want to feel you fill my guts with your hot lava like you always do. I love you so much.’ Within just seconds, Victor unleashes his little boys into Pedro. They both yell in delight as they kiss each other deeply and relax their bodies. The sweat pours off both men saturating the sheets to the point that they both laugh. The beefy big man pulls out of his partner and gets up to grab another set from the nearby cabinet. Pedro jumps to his feet and pulls them off before throwing them over to the side. He walks over to Victor and puts his arm on his shoulder and turns his head to speak. ‘Papi…..wait, we need to clean up before we put another set on. Should we take separate showers?’ Victor smiles and puts the sheets down on the floor before picking Pedro up and taking him to the bathroom. He sits him down in the shower on the bench and turns the water on. The Puerto Rican squeals feeling the cold water hitting him which gets Victor’s attention immediately as he turns the hot water on. After getting the temperature just right, he hops in with his lover and starts lathering up his body with the bottle of Axe body wash that they both love so much. The smell makes Pedro horny again as his cock grows and pulses behind Victor’s soapy back. He stands up and puts his arms around the big guy and kisses his huge delts. ‘Hehe, is it my turn now papi? I don’t normally feel so inclined to be the top, but this scent always makes me get so sexed up.’ He pushes his cock inside Victor’s pulsing hole and slowly fucks him which makes the big guy growl lightly as he grips the sides of the shower. Pedro’s steady rhythm eventually makes the beefy stud lose himself in the moment as he leans back against his sexy furry lover. The latino puts his hands down the front of Victor’s chest and runs his fingers up and down the thick mounds of muscle sitting on the beefy stud’s chest. He finds his nipples and pinches them making Victor growl as a result. They kiss longingly as the water cascades down their bodies. Pedro moans feeling his balls swelling as he continues to thrust in and out of his big hunky partner. He wraps his arms around Victor and whispers in his ear that he is going to return the favor as he pumps him full of thick cum. They both grunt as they stand there letting the cum flow from one man to another. Victor closes his eyes and smiles as Pedro peers around to see him doing this. He makes a funny gesture which the big stud doesn’t see since his eyes are closed. ‘What are you thinking about papi? Why don’t you let me in on your naughty thoughts.’ Victor opens his eyes and looks Pedro straight into his before he says something. ‘Mmmmm…..well I am just imagining what could happen if maybe we let our minds take over our bodies baby.’ The stunned Puerto Rican seems to know what his lover is talking about in a way as he pulls out of Victor, cleans his crotch, and steps out of the shower to towel off. Victor turns the water off and follows him out to grab another towel. They dry off and walk through the beach house nude. Pedro decides to walk out on the balcony to just watch the waves for a few minutes while Victor goes off to do some things around the house since they are not tired anymore. After about twenty minutes, the big man meets up with his latino lover on the balcony with a big surprise. ‘Look baby what Achilles sent me. *shows Pedro the tattoo* Want to help me put it on my right leg?’ Pedro takes it from Victor’s hand and looks it over. He smiles and thinks that maybe this isn’t an ordinary tattoo. He motions for the beefy stud to go sit in one of their beach chairs while he goes to moisten it. Victor grins and turns to run over to a chair as his muscles twitch and flex and his ballsac bounces. Pedro returns a couple of minutes later in a hurry himself trying to make sure that the tattoo doesn’t dry out in the beach air. ‘Put your leg out papi, I don’t have much time for this.’ The Puerto Rican gets down on his knees and positions the tattoo on Victor’s right leg and rubs it on quickly making sure it has no ripples in it. The big man shivers feeling sensations running up and down his body which makes his cock twitch a couple of times as a little bit of precum dribbles down on to the sand. Pedro makes a couple of low sounds noticing how this is affecting his partner. The tattoo may have even winked at Pedro at least he thinks he saw it wink. He looks up at Victor’s eyes and sees a spark in them he hasn’t seen before. The big stud stands up and stretches for about a minute before walking down to the ocean. ‘WAIT! PAPI! It winked at me, I swear. How are you feeling? Are you okay Victor?’ Victor turns around and motions for his lover to come join him down along the coastline. A few people walk by and stare at them, even a couple of them stop to look at the nude couple. Pedro smiles at him and charges before jumping into his arms and laughing as they fall on to the wet sand below them. They are approached by one of the bystanders who seem to be interested in joining them on the ground, but Victor gives him a warning by snarling which makes Pedro a bit confused. The man gets the point and turns to walk away quickly. ‘You just snarled like a…..bull papi. Is it possible that this tattoo will somehow change who you are?’ Victor looks up at his confused lover and has a noticeable change in his eye color as a reddish tint seems to be mixing in with his brown eyes. Strangely, Pedro is not that worried about it and leans down to kiss him on the lips. The beefy stud grunts loudly feeling something happening from inside his body which makes his latino lover start to anticipate some kind of physical change in him. ‘What is going to happen to you Victor? I hope you are still able to maintain your identity after all of this is done.’ Victor strains feeling his toes cracking and melding themselves together on both of his feet. He groans as they stretch and widen to form what appear to be giant bull hooves. Pedro’s eyes widen seeing this happen and can feel his lover’s legs starting to change as well. A large patch of hair begins growing on top of each hoof as the veins in his arms and legs start to protrude and grow thicker underneath the skin. The Puerto Rican doesn’t hesitate to feel Victor’s muscles as they expand in along his fingers. His legs widen as the muscles blow up into engorged mounds stretching the skin to its limits. Pedro moans as he watches his mate transforming into something unlike himself. Victor does not appear to be in any kind of pain either as it moves into his crotch and midsection. His cock and balls inflate to twice their size mesmerizing his latino lover as he sees the ballsac growing trying to contain the two huge bull testicles. He leans in to lick and taste Victor’s growing pole as it swells turning to a much deeper purple color. He catches some of the salty juices flowing from its slit as it gapes open. He rubs his mate’s newly grown bull legs feeling their raging power and marveling at his incredible size. He looks up at Victor and watches his head as it starts to change its shape slightly as his nose stretches parting his nostrils as they double in size. His mouth stretches further up his face as two horns protrude from the sides of his head. The brownish red hair he saw grow out from other parts of his lover’s body are now thickening up on Victor’s head above his newly sheathed horns. Pedro knows now that he is changing into a bull like creature which makes his own cock leak precum. He leans up against Victor’s chest feeling his abs protruding as they stretch and pull themselves to the sides of his torso. The emerging musclebull rears his head back as his pecs flare out and swell bigger and fuller than ever before. His back and lats pop multiple times accommodating the extra size as they too swell and grow. Pedro wastes no time running his hands over the massive muscles on his lover’s new torso and moves his mouth up to start chewing and sucking on Victor’s powerful new pecs and nipples. The forest of hair sitting on top of them drives the Puerto Rican wild as he pets it with his hands. The huge bull wraps his incredible arms around his latino lover’s back and holds him against his body as his biceps and triceps continue to thicken up, pressing the engorged volleyball sized bulbs against Pedro. The hispanic stud moans deeply as his cock finally shoots cum down Victor’s abs and his right bull leg. He snarls and reaches for Pedro’s face to make him look up at him. The musclebull’s face is done transforming as his reddish-brown eyes and fur glean in the nighttime. The Puerto Rican moves up to plunge his tongue down the manimal’s throat which meets up with Victor’s new thick tongue. Subsequently, the bigger tongue finds itself moving down inside the eager human’s throat. The musclebeast grips his lover tightly pressing him up against his thick tool and grunts teasing his hole with it. Pedro’s desire for this new creature is overtaking his senses as he relaxes his body to allow Bull Victor to enter him. The bull’s hulking hands are surprisingly smooth and provide a calming effect for the latino man. The huge creature finally penetrates him spreading his ass wider and making the Puerto Rican wince with every inch that enters him. Despite the noticeable pain, Pedro feels waves of pleasure rushing through him. His lust for the musclebeast is obvious now as well as Victor’s complete acceptance of his dramatic transformation. The huge beast’s eyes glisten staring into his human lover’s own as he fucks him slowly and methodically trying to conjure up the gallon of bull semen sitting in his engorged sac. Pedro can smell the incredible aroma emanating from Victor’s crotch as feels his beastly lover starting to strain making his powerful muscles drip with perspiration against Pedro’s more insignificant ones. The small human knows his time is coming soon to join his animalistic lover. He stops kissing Victor to look at him again in his loving eyes. ‘MMMMM papi…..I want to hear you say something to me. Can you talk? I am dying to know what you sound like in this insanely powerful body.’ Bull Victor smiles and shows off his new thick teeth that have grown in before he tries to speak. ‘I……*deep rumbling tone*……can talk baby……*his voice sends shivers up and down Pedro’s body which makes the human grind his cock more*…….*Victor grunts as he does so*……mmmmmm I always had this feeling about you baby……we share a common bond for muscle and power……and….. a slight touch of beastiality it seems. *winks* I can’t wait to see your beautiful animal side Pedro, I hope you can handle it baby.’ Victor places his huge hands on Pedro’s sides and grips him as he starts to snarl feeling his balls contracting and pushing cum into his bullcock. The flood starts to fill the small human’s insides which is making Pedro gasp as he squeezes the musclebull’s powerful 28” biceps. The huge manimal sees a look of fear in the human’s eyes but wants him to just keep focusing on his face. ‘Baby…..*still pumping cum inside Pedro*…..just relax your body and let it do what it needs to do. You will be beautiful to me no matter what happens now. *smiles at him and flips his big muscly tail that is attached above his giant muscle butt* I bet you never thought you would like a tail on me did you?’ *smiles at him* Victor finally stops fucking Pedro as a small river of cum flows down his cock. He can see that Pedro is now in considerable pain as his transformation begins almost immediately. The musclebull moves his human lover down against his immense torso to make him more comfortable as he pulls his cock out of his Puerto Rican lover’s hole and starts rubbing Pedro’s back and ass caressing him waiting for his lover’s body to start its inevitable metamorphosis into another stage of evolution. For other stories in this series, check out the one with the mirror: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/3467-the-other-side-of-the-mirror/ and the one with the otherworldly man: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/3764-the-other-side-of-our-minds/
  14. Here is the first part, The Extreme Makeover: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/2699-the-extreme-makeovermy-best-friends-party/ Groaning as he feels the liquids flowing through him, the big brute continues to push all of his weight down on the defenseless man trying to conjure up the growth from within him to commence. His breathing gets shallower as he gets closer to losing consciousness. Deveraux can sense it starting as he pulls his cock out of the motionless man’s mouth and grunts a few times before speaking again. ‘Yeah come on man! I want to feel it come out of you. FUCKING GROW MAN! Make me fucking cum without touching myself, I love watching and feeling hot muscle as it expands. You can’t stop it, it has to happen now or you won’t survive.’ Loud crunching sounds start coming from beneath Deveraux’s ass as Joe’s broken legs begin to forge together from their carnage. He cries out in agony as his body starts to repair itself before igniting an incredible growth process. More popping sounds emanate from the bones in his broken arms. Deveraux reaches down to grip them holding him in place. His cock throbs as it lightly dribbles precum onto him again. He looks Joe in the eyes and tries to keep him from panicking. ‘Look at me runt…..just focus your attention on my incredible body and let yourself go. You can’t stop it now because it is already changing who you are. *can feel Joe’s body trying to expand but is noticing some kind of interference* Stop resisting…..you are prolonging it if you try to fight. Let that motherfucking beast out of that puny body. I can feel it trying to get out. *Joe’s legs shake violently* LET GO MAN! Your legs are desperately trying to free themselves from this prison.’ ‘NOOOO, OH GAWD……*stretch*……PLEASE…..*legs are reacting as it moves into his crotch* NO! NO! NO! *balls bounce and begin inflating* ACK!’ Joe can feel his ballsac stretching to its limits trying to contain his growing testicles. He moans longingly feeling them filling with cum by his overactive prostate. The giant sitting on top of him can sense a difference finally coming over the helpless man. He lightly rubs his dripping cock on Joe’s chin and slowly grinds on his crotch with his huge glutes. The sensation from this makes the small man’s cock start growing and arches directly at Deveraux’s hole. The giant feels the man’s pants tenting as the growing penis continues swelling and lengthening. ‘OHH YEAH! You want to fuck me little man? Give me all you got then.’ Joe’s quads, hams, and calves start to widen outwards making Deveraux growl waiting for them to explode through the fabric of his pants. He can feel the little man’s growing pole ripping the fabric in his underwear and pants before it goes sailing up inside him making him roar in delight as he tenses his muscles and glutes feeling it rubbing his insides. Joe moans deeply watching the giant’s chest and arms flex and strain as the veins pulse and drip with perspiration. ‘FUCK ME MAN! Become the gawd you were always meant to be. *can feel Joe’s stomach inflating* YES! FUCKING GROW FOR ME! *sees the buttons straining to hold on* RIP THAT MOTHERFUCKER OPEN! *three buttons go flying as his growing stomach emerges* OHH FUCKING YEAH!’ Joe thrusts unconsciously inside the giant unable to really feel anything in his legs anymore. Deveraux can feel the growing man’s legs getting ready to burst through as the seams begin slowly ripping. He howls in laughter seeing the sheer power starting to take over Joe’s body. Joe’s feet are tearing their way out of his shoes as his thickening calves and ankles destroy his socks. His chest heaves up and down as his pecs start inflating which catches the eye of his eager partner. ‘OH MY GAWD MAN! You are really going to set me off…..destroy that fucking shirt and I will shower your muscles with tons of muscle building protein.’ ‘I……can’t……breathe……uhhh……*feels his pecs stretching and pulling on his undershirt underneath his jacket* ahhh…..*his nipples are now visible through the fabric*……so…..much……pressure.’ Deveraux squirts a stream of precum on top of Joe’s jacket and under his chin and neck. He moans loudly feeling Joe’s legs finally emerge through his pants as well as his throbbing horse cock which quickly destroys his underwear and exposes his tennis ball-sized testicles. The man’s round stomach is now forming a huge set of misshapen abdominals which are now rubbing against the behemoth’s ballsac massaging them over and over again and setting the goliath on fire as he reaches down and feels their incredible power against his fingers. The growing man’s undershirt rips finally as loud shredding noises echo throughout the elevator shaft. Joe’s shoulders, traps, and arms begin ripping their way through the fabric as Deveraux grunts loudly feeling the cum start to race into his cock. He sprays both emerging pectorals with his jizz as he looks Joseph directly in the eyes and can see the change in his demeanor. Instead of fear now, he is embracing the growth whole-heartedly as he opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out to swallow the jets of cum as they go down his throat. The load accelerates his growth as his clothing is no match for the bloated muscles now taking him over. He grunts feeling his back and lats busting numerous seams as they quickly break free. His pecs swell so fast that they make loud stretching noises. He moans loudly as his nipples double in size and tighten as the air hits them. His shoulders and traps continue growing as his arms begin looking like giant tree trunks. The roadmap of veins covers both arms and sit on top of what could be described as two cantaloupes. Deveraux barely finishes cumming before he realizes that he is going to be dwarfed by the giant growing beneath him. His asshole is being stretched much wider by the python growing inside him which prompts him to try to get off of it. ‘OH FUCK! *trying to pull the giant pole out* PLEASE MAN……*feels the huge cock spilling inside him*……WHAT THE……*feels himself growing again*……OHHH FUCKKK YEAHHHH! *voice deepens as he grows with Joe*’ The weight of the two behemoths is becoming unbearable for the elevator as it creaks under them. They both start laughing hysterically as they continue fucking. At nearly a half-ton, the two men can’t seem to stop having sex as they change positions and fuck each other interchangeably growing bigger than they were before. Once they get to 1500 pounds combined, the elevator falls and hits the ground sending the two engorged giants into the steel floor. Their sheer size does little damage to themselves as they lay there still interlocked and continue to laugh in their deep manly voices. After a few minutes longer, they stop fucking and look at each other. Deveraux makes a proposition to Joseph. ‘HEY! YOU KNOW WHAT WE SHOULD DO? WE SHOULD KNOCK THIS BUILDING DOWN JUST TO SEE IF WE CAN BIG FUCKER!’ Noticing that they have already caused cracks in the foundation of the building, Deveraux manages to crawl over to the side of the shaft and get up onto his feet again. However when he puts his arm on the the wall, it starts to buckle and causes debris to fall from the ceiling which of course makes Joseph laugh as it hits his enormous buddy in the head. Joe picks himself up by placing his arms over the sides of the crater they created from the fall and lifts himself up on to his feet. The ground nearly swallows him up as he does so. He then turns to stare down his equally imposing partner and starts charging at him which barely gives Deveraux time to counter. Joe jumps in the air as the two behemoths go flying through the wall and out a pair of glass windows. They land in the nearby parking lot and destroy a large chunk of the concrete as another crater forms. The aftershocks from this are rolling up the building which prompts several windows to crack and shatter. The two hulks can see that their bulk is causing this kind of destruction which immediately gets a rise out of Deveraux whose cock is now standing completely up now. He moans watching shards of glass cascade from the multiple-storied skyscraper on to the ground in front of him. He turns to Joe and slaps his cock on his side which makes the other giant grab it and stroke it roughly. The sensation sends him into a fury which naturally leads to more jizz flying out of his cockhead. The white flood covers Joe’s chest and drips down into the asphalt. Deveraux points his massive fingers in the direction of the structure. ‘OHH FUCK YEAH MAN, WHY DON’T YOU GO BACK OVER THERE AND FINISH WHAT WE STARTED. THEN YOU WILL REALLY OPEN THE FLOODGATES IN MY COCK!’ Joe smiles and starts bouncing around trying to get enough momentum to go barreling through the front entrance of the sports company; the shockwaves cause more cracks to form on the sides of the building. Deveraux’s deep gravelly voice rumbles as he pinches his nipples and rubs his chest anticipating the destruction that is about to happen. He can hear the giant muscle gawd inside knocking down beams as sections of the building start to crumble. The sight of this sends the massive stud into a wave of ecstasy as he shoots several more ropes of cum into the air. He watches another part of the building collapse before Joe comes rushing out the front entrance again waddling from side to side. Once he clears it, the rest of the building collapses leaving nothing behind but a giant mountain of steel, concrete, and wood. Joe returns to where Deveraux is standing with his immense tool and quickly latches his mouth around it pumping and sucking it with all of his might. This of course prompts another wave of cum to go flying all over Joe’s immense frame and inside him. The huge man surges in size once again surpassing a half-ton himself and rising quickly. He grabs Deveraux by the arm and immediately places the massive hulk’s mouth on his own immense pole. He looks down at him and smiles before saying, ‘let’s never stop growing man!’
  15. TheWeremuscleForest

    The Other Side of Our Minds

    ‘Will you stop trying to molest me Justin, I wish I never told you about that story now.’ The curious 20-year-old college student has been hitting on his older 22-year-old roommate for several months. Braxton mentioned to Justin one night while the two guys were in their bedroom after having a few drinks that he was visited by an older man the night he turned 18. He was a freshman in college and didn’t really know anyone that went there. The man was dressed incredibly well in a nicely tailored suit from top to bottom. At the time, Braxton’s roommate was visiting family so he wasn’t around which left the young student all alone. The man showed up at the front steps of the dormitory that Braxton was staying in. It so happened that the teenager was outside standing and talking on his phone. When he finished his phone call, he turned to go back inside but not before this man stops him. ‘Hello there Braxton mind if I have a few words with you.’ With a puzzled look on his face, the 18-year-old stares at the man and wonders how the hell he would know his name. ‘Uhhh, I don’t know who you are and I don’t want to buy what you are trying to sell to me so…..*stops to think*…..how did you know my name?’ The man smiles and proceeds to walk towards him up the stairs into the front lobby. Braxton starts to move backwards inside before he is about to scream. The man grabs his arm and holds him in place. The scared teenager freezes as the man puts his arms around Braxton’s back. ‘Shhh, I’m not here to hurt you buddy, you are ready to graduate to the next chapter in your life. You obviously don’t remember anything about me since you are so surprised to see me. Unfortunately, restraining you right now is the only thing I can do to get your attention.’ Braxton tries to scream but nothing comes from his voicebox. He grabs it with both hands and looks around to see if anyone notices. There isn’t a soul there probably because it is after midnight now. The man takes him over to one of the chairs sitting on the balcony beside the entrance to the dorm and tells him to sit down. The man pulls up another chair and sits in front of Braxton. He takes a few deep breaths and looks the young man in the eyes. ‘Okay…..when you were 12 Braxton, you were in an accident. As you lay dying in that hospital bed, your mind and soul took a journey to a place not many have ever been to before. That plane of existence is where I reside. You were not sure why you had the feelings you did back then since you were on the verge of becoming a teenager. Your soul latched on to me Braxton and wanted to learn what to do next which I was obliged to do. You were unaware that your body was healing with my assistance.’ ‘That wasn’t the only thing I was helping you with either. *clasps his hands in Braxton’s* Your cock and balls for the first time that day started to function in a more mature fashion. You had your first orgasm in that hospital bed and it was amazing.’ Braxton rips his hands away from the man and jumps up. He rushes towards the front lobby doors and turns around. ‘I don’t fucking know what you are talking about man, I don’t ever want to remember that day ever again…..’ The man stops him midway through his thought. ‘Braxton…..you know who I am because you made me look the way you always wanted your fantasy man to look like. You always wanted to be with an older man around your dad’s age because you have talked about it every night before you go to bed. Even now at this school, you mention me and dream about me.’ The teenager goes inside and down the hall before he stops by one of the night auditors. ‘Is everything alright Braxton? You seem flustered and a bit…..sweaty.’ He turns and notices that the man is right behind him, but the auditor doesn’t see him. Braxton thinks for a moment and speaks. ‘I just went on a run, I’m alright.’ ‘Okay, remember that you must be in before midnight though during the week.’ The auditor turns and walks back to the front desk. Braxton gets into the nearby elevator as the man follows him inside. ‘He doesn’t see you. Who are you?’ *reaches to feel the man’s thick muscular chest which strains against his satin dress shirt* The man reaches over to push the stop button on the elevator and pulls Braxton in to him. He grabs the teen’s hands and rubs them up and down his chest as he stares into his eyes. The teen is in awe of the man’s incredible muscles that he feels underneath the fabric. The man’s groomed black fur on his face and neck is exactly what he envisioned in the dreams he has had since he was 12. ‘You know who I am Braxton. I’m your Matt that you have formed in your mind, well at least physically. I can also sense something else going on in your mind.’ Matt lets out a few growls as Braxton hears a few rips coming from the man’s body. His body appears to be growing a little bit as his shirt splits down the middle of his back along with his suit jacket. His thick hairy pecs shred the front of the shirt slightly as they are now visible. The teenager lets out a few moans. He reaches in to feel the hairy swollen muscles that feel soft to the touch. ‘Hold on there buddy, look down. GRRR!’ *winks* Matt’s quads swell up to the point that his suit pants look painted on. The seams rip enough to where the thick hairy slabs jut out the sides. The surprised teen leans down to run his hands along each bump and curve. He lightly moans feeling the thick forest of hair sitting on top of both tree trunks. While he is down there, Braxton feels a lot of heat radiating from the center of Matt’s pants. The big man grunts as his crotch grows thicker and longer. The young teen can’t seem to take his eyes off of it hearing noises coming from within. ‘Go ahead buddy, put your hand up to it, you are compelling me to grow.’ Braxton runs his hands along the crease of Matt’s shaft. The huge pole pulses against his hand as he finally gives in to it a little to lay his head against it. The big man reaches down to pet the teen’s head and hair before telling him to look up. ‘You are the reason I am like this Braxton. My body is what your mind created and is creating as we are in here right now. I know my muscles are turning you on greatly as I sense it in you. There is a part of you that was longing for this day to come. Now that I am here, it is time for you to take the next step and enter into the next stage of your life Braxton.’ The dazed teen slowly moves Matt’s cock around before he unzips his pants and swallows the huge pole down his throat. He sucks on it lovingly making the big man groan deeply. Braxton looks up and smiles as he starts to feel the need for Matt to grow again. More popping comes from the big man’s body as his pants completely shred and fall down to the ground. His immense chest finishes off the rest of his dress shirt as he yanks it off and throws it to the other side of the elevator. He growls and does a most muscular for Braxton as his jacket nearly disintegrates under the incredible mass forming on his body. This makes the young man moan even louder as he tastes a river of precum flowing down into his belly. ‘RAWR! Yeah buddy, you are making me want to rage Braxton. If you continue on this path, I won’t be able to hold back. I enjoy it because you enjoy it of course.’ The young student grabs Matt’s immense ass and snaps the waistband off freeing up the last remaining fabric from his body. His socks and dress shoes explode under the pressure of his growing feet. Braxton moans as he continues to gulp at the big man’s powerful rod as it lengthens and slides further down inside the teen’s throat. Matt reaches his incredibly massive arms out to brace himself against the elevator walls which are now creaking. ‘Mmmmm buddy…..this is about to get really dangerous though Braxton. Stay close to me.’ Matt’s huge frame is now as wide as the elevator now as his head starts to go through the ceiling. Debris begins falling down as the growing man laughs destroying the walls and lights which explode against his hairy stone skin. Braxton sucks even harder and faster tasting the ooze draining inside him as Matt roars in delight. He raises his massive left arm up to grab the cables above his head while gripping Braxton in his right arm. He lifts the young man up with him who still has his mouth locked on to the huge pole residing in his throat. ‘It feels absolutely incredible Braxton. Keep sucking buddy while I get both of us to safety up at the top of this dorm.’ The giant continues climbing up the cables with one arm as he feels his cock and balls getting closer to the edge. They are now swelling to the point that they are turning a purplish-red color. Matt stops moving up the cable to compose himself for a few seconds making Braxton come up for air as the giant’s huge cock bounces furiously spraying several jets of precum down inside the elevator car below them. The huge stud flexes his entire body enhancing the feeling from within while growling in delight. ‘Make me cum Braxton you really do have quite a wild streak from within your mind. It will be the biggest load you have ever seen in your life.’ Holding on to Matt’s waist as much as possible, the student strokes the giant’s cock in a strong even fashion knowing that the volcano will erupt at any time. The monster’s massive legs and quads move with the rhythm as they thrust faster with each stroke. Matt starts to climb upwards again feeling the tension from inside his balls building up again as his testicles cannot grow anymore otherwise they will rip through the sack. ‘SHIT! OHHHH FUCK BRAXTON, look out. I am going to coat this whole place.’ Braxton moves his head as Matt’s piss slit stretches to its limits before launching a giant wave of cum fifty feet into the air before it lands onto the nearby tunnel wall. The giant continues swiveling his lower body still able to hold on to the cable as his body pours sweat down on to the lower elevator car. Yet another giant stream of cum goes flying from Matt’s huge cock and finds its way down at the bottom of the tunnel. Braxton now moves back into the huge pole’s path and awaits the third jet as he opens his mouth. Matt roars in laughter still thrusting his quads in the eager young man’s face. ‘You want this kind of power too don’t you buddy…..yeah I know you do…..I have always known that you wanted this. Well you will get your wish Braxton, open wide little man!’ The student sticks his tongue out as another huge jet of cum hits him in the face and coats his shirt and pants. He locks his mouth on top of the huge pole and chokes as the cum continues to shoot out of the giant’s cock and down Braxton’s chest and lower body. Matt smiles at him and can feel the young man gulping down tons of cum craving what he has always dreamed about. The big man waits until all of the cum has left his body before he starts to climb again. Braxton moans caressing his lover’s immense ass and licks the sides of Matt’s cock getting every drop he might have missed. The student’s stomach is so swollen that it pushes his shirt all the way up above it. He literally looks pregnant. Matt laughs again as he feels the round protrusion up against his legs. ‘I think you have had enough to drink Braxton. Let’s get out of here before something else happens.’ After a couple more minutes, they finally reach the top. Matt busts through the top by putting his fist through the steel and concrete. He finds the roof and looks down at Braxton. ‘You trust me right Braxton?’ He then lifts them both up onto the roof and falls over to rest. Braxton lets go of his waist and does the same thing. After calming down, the giant gets up and goes to stand over his young lover. The student’s stomach remains bloated from the massive amount of cum he consumed. Matt helps him up so he can talk to him. ‘Well, what are you waiting for Braxton? *waves his arms* You consumed enough muscle building protein to probably take this building down.’ Braxton wonders what he is supposed to do. Matt looks him straight in the eyes and says to just concentrate his energy on him. The student’s breathing increases as his body begins to react. His stomach slowly empties as his legs and feet start growing. His jeans split immediately as his shoes explode under the sheer mass that is being added. His muscles make quick work of his shirt as his back cracks several times trying to accommodate the incredible amount of muscle that keeps piling on top of their selves. The young teenager that was there just a minute before is completely gone now as Braxton matures right in front of Matt’s eyes. The big young stud roars in ecstasy as he feels completely reborn. He flexes his massively round muscles trying to show off in front of Matt who just laughs. He flexes his muscles back at Braxton as they both grunt at each other. The roof creaks under their feet as they take a few huge steps around. Matt eventually gets behind his young lover and wraps his arms around him. He then throws Braxton to the ground and starts wrestling him. They grunt and groan rubbing their slick hairy muscled bodies together until they eventually just decide to stop. After a few minutes, Matt moves down to his partner’s lower body and starts to toy with Braxton’s thick meaty cock. ‘You worked me over really well Braxton, now it is my turn buddy.’ After being edged by Matt several times the young behemoth finally launches his cum volcano into the air as it floats over the side of the building and coats several of the dorm student’s cars. Braxton quickly moves himself to the edge of the building and shoots several more jets of cum hitting nearby streets and sidewalks. They both laugh hysterically until Braxton finishes cumming. Matt puts his arm around his young lover and kisses his lips. They embrace each other and moan as they calm down. ‘Well that’s it buddy. I’ve done all I can do for you at this point, but I will be back soon don’t you worry.’ Matt vanishes a few seconds later. _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ ‘Are you fucking serious Braxton? I mean…..I knew that you nearly died and all but this Matt guy just sounds like some kind of fantasy.’ ‘And I would agree with that assessment Justin, but he is very real. He helped me learn how to control it after that night. It wasn’t the only time we were together either.’ Justin tries to rub his roommate’s crotch again which makes Braxton quite irritable. ‘DAMNIT JUSTIN! I am not going to grow for you. I am not Bruce Banner it doesn’t work that way.’ ‘So what triggers it then?’ Braxton knows what he is trying to do and doesn’t go for it. ‘HA! nice try there genius, but no clues.’ Justin finally gets up from Braxton’s bed and moves over to the bathroom to strip naked. His 10” cock is wet with precum which prompts the college student to rub it up and down his shaft to make it shiny. Braxton stares intently at it and is dumbfounded as to why he never saw Justin’s huge cock before. ‘Uhh Justin, I had no idea that you were so…..wow endowed.’ He can start to feel himself heating up quickly too. Before he can even try to control himself, his body starts to react. Justin can see the discomfort he is in and walks back over to him. He grins at Braxton and bounces his cock at him. ‘So you want this do you man? This is going to be fucking awesome.’ Once he stands directly in front of Braxton’s face, he slaps his cock on his roommate’s face and chest and watches in amazement as his gifted older roommate’s growing muscles rip, shred, and tear their way through his clothes and continue growing to unimaginable heights. Never in his wildest dreams did Justin think that this improbable story was true, but now he knows that Braxton’s near-death experience brought with it a powerful gift. In case you want to read another installment in the series: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/3467-the-other-side-of-the-mirror/
  16. Part 1-The Sexual Chemistry is here: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/2716-the-construction-projectthe-sexual-chemistrywhos-worshipping-who/ The Construction Project sequel: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/4583-constructing-more-projects-and-building-bigger-men-muscle-genie/?hl=%2Bconstructing+%2Bmore+%2Bprojects Who's Worshipping Who? sequel: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/4503-to-worship-or-not-to-worship-another-admirer-enters-muscle-genie/?hl=worship The gloriously hairy Iraqi stud’s massive muscles are eventually too much for his white costar’s own as he makes Dallas submit to him after several minutes of rolling around on the ransacked set. They continue to ignore everything their director Francesco says as he just sits there with a bewildered look on his face. He doesn’t seem all that interested in seeing the two muscle studs doing wrestling moves or trying to overpower each other in any way. ‘Guys…..come on. It was hot at first, but you both are now way too large to market for our audience. I was hoping that putting you two together, my two biggest stars, could result in the biggest selling video ever, but now I realize that you could both model for COLT and not for my company.’ The two huge studs stop what they are doing and sit up to look straight at him. Dallas decides to get up and waddles over to the director to stand in front of him breathing heavily and dripping with sweat. He has a big smile on his face and as he bounces his pecs. ‘And what is wrong with making a hot growth video with some amazing sex thrown in Fran? I think you have always had a thing for both of us otherwise you wouldn’t have waited until now to put us in the same scene together. Besides, you could become a star yourself Mr. director. That pooch of yours could look really hot with some big thick slabs of beef attached to it don’t you think?’ *reaches in to rub Francesco’s belly lightly making the director lean back a little* The director seems a bit embarrassed but also a tad bit aroused at the same time. He pushes Dallas’s big burly hand away and tries to get up, but the white porn star won’t let him. Abdul stands up from where he is sitting and rubs down his incredibly thick hairy muscled body for a few seconds before walking over beside Francesco to rub his huge throbbing cock against the director’s face. The stunned man falls back in his chair and lands on the ground as it breaks. The two big studs follow him down and start rubbing him in the crotch and chest making him moan very lightly. Dallas then jumps back up to turn the camera around and hits the record button on it. He returns down with the other two men and rubs his cock up against Francesco’s face and slaps Abdul’s cock as well. The director can’t resist any longer as he grabs both rods and starts licking them both tasting the sweet precum oozing out both cockheads. The two behemoths growl and start making out with each other while Francesco shoves his tongue down inside the arab’s foreskin, chewing it slowly and moaning deeply. Abdul’s incredibly thick furry body is something the director always loved, but never acted on it before because he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the way the man acted around him. Feeling like he is being neglected, Dallas shoves his cock in the side of Francesco’s mouth and starts humping it, gliding it in and out with a slow and steady rhythm. The director gags as Abdul follows suit by shoving his thick hairy pole down inside Francesco’s mouth as they both fuck his throat at the same time making him have to drool huge strings of spit. The juices drip down both cocks making them both grunt loudly. Francesco rubs it up and down both shafts at the same time to get them nice and lubed since he knows that both men don’t want him to stop sucking as they hump his mouth. He watches intently as both ballsacs begin swelling up in front of his face and changing to a blue color. He moans loudly knowing that he will get a cum bath within a short amount of time. He pulls both rods out to run his tongue along their slits and can taste some of their pre starting to change over to cum. He stops sucking them interchangeably long enough for them both to groan as their poles start pumping their seed all over Francesco’s face and head. The thick gooey wads paint his face in white as he gasps for air feeling the seed river trying to seep its way inside him. The huge studs shove their cocks back inside his mouth and continue dumping their loads down his throat until they are completely depleted. When they finally pull out of him, he chokes several times losing some of it on the floor before trying to get up from the ground to catch his breath. He is finding it very difficult to do so however as Abdul reaches down to pick him up and carry him over to the ravaged set. Dallas spins the camera around still recording so he can join them. Abdul puts him down to grab some sheets that are lying to the side still in decent condition even after the two studs destroyed the bed. He finds an empty area and lays them on the ground so he can get down on the floor. ‘Dallas, go make sure the camera is positioned on us. *gets down on the sheet and looks up at Francesco* Come down here Fran and worship me man so I can fucking watch you transform into one of us. You won’t have to be sitting in a chair anymore after this film, I guarantee it.’ Dallas rushes over and points the camera at them before going back to join the other two. He starts to take Francesco’s shoes off, but Abdul motions for him to stop. The director immediately starts to bury his head into Abdul’s chest and moans deeply as he loses himself in the hot arab’s musk and masculinity. The hairy stallion looks over at Dallas and smiles. The white stud isn’t quite sure why he isn’t allowed to take anything off Francesco, but is willing to just let it be since there must be a reason. It isn’t long before the two behemoths can hear the director wincing. His body starts sweating profusely underneath his clothes which prompts the two men to growl knowing it is close to happening. Francesco stops licking Abdul’s body to look up at him in anguish. The big man grins. ‘RAWR FRAN! Fucking blow up for us man! You have double the power inside you so you should absolutely explode.’ The director is unable to utter a word as he feels himself starting to grow. His body starts flexing immediately putting a lot of stress on his clothes. His shirt shreds down his back getting the attention of both behemoths as they can see the muscles doubling up on each other. Within seconds, his entire outfit is being obliterated by mounds of sheer steel stretching and pulling his body bigger and wider than ever before. Francesco is getting noticeably more dominant with each additional inch of muscle being added. He goes into gawd mode roaring with excitement feeling himself changing into a new man. *still growing* ‘MORE! MORE! FUCKKK!’ *passes 400 pounds* Both Abdul and Dallas grab a hold of his new 16” dong and starts drinking the honey that is pouring out of it. The giant though scurries backwards away from them to stop them from trying to swallow any more of it. He manages to get up onto his feet before they both try to tackle him back down. He manages to push them away from him as he finishes his growth cycle. He is now trying to escape from them to prevent the possibility of them outgrowing him. ‘NOOO! *voice is noticeably deeper* You are both trying to get the upper-hand on me like before. Stay the fuck away from me! I swear I will hurt both of you and I don’t want to do that because…..you are right Abdul, I like you a lot, but this fucking body *rubs his chest as he continues to move backwards*, I have to stay bigger than you.’ He continues to leak his precum all over the ground as he finds a wall in behind the rubble from the set. Abdul tries to grab a hold of his legs and pull him down but gets kicked in the process. Dallas tries to follow in behind and shoves a hand up inside the hole of the hulking brute. Francesco agonizes as he starts punching the wall and cracking it until pieces start falling all around him. Dallas tries to get underneath his cock to catch the honey flowing, but gets a warning. ‘AHHHH please don’t Dallas…..I will pound you if you keep trying to make me cum.’ Francesco’s rage grows deeper as he pounds the wall in until it finally gives way and hits the white giant on the back as it starts crashing to the ground. Dallas accidentally pulls his hand out of the director’s anus and watches in disgust as the behemoth starts to waddle away from him through the wall opening. He can’t seem to get up from where he is now sitting and leans up against a pile of rubble. Abdul though runs past him and jumps through the opening to chase after the hulk. He starts yelling at him to get his attention. ‘HEY FRAN! I’M COMING TO GET YOU BIG STUD! YOU MIGHT BE BIGGER, BUT I CAN DEFINITELY OUTRUN YOU!’ The thick arab picks up speed as he closes the gap on the director down a nearby alley in the middle of the city. He can see Francesco stop to catch his breath and makes his move placing all of his power into his immense legs. Before the giant hulk can start running again, Abdul grabs him around the waist and pulls him down to the ground. Both men are sweating buckets practically as they lay there exhausted. Abdul gets on top of him and laughs as he punches the hulk’s chest in a dominant manner . ‘I told you…..*pants*……I would catch you……*pants*……now fuck me like you have always wanted to Fran. No resistance…..*pants*……no qualms…..*pants*…..I know you want to fill me up badly. You say you don’t want me to grow again…..*pants*……but I fucking know otherwise. *winks*’ He grabs the director’s massive dick and slowly slides it inside his hole. He hops on it a few times as it gets it further inside before he begins humping the hulk and punching him in the chest again like he was doing. With their insatiable desire not dissipating anytime soon, the process could continue indefinitely.
  17. For continuity purposes, you may want to reread The Separations of An Unfortunate Man first: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/2378-the-separations-of-an-unfortunate-man-dales-perspective/ ‘Hold on for a minute…..I have to get dressed. *whispers under his breath* Who in the hell would come to the door at six am? I sweat to gawd if it is Arlo I will…..’ Glenn Kapers slides his shorts on quickly after completing one of his cardio sessions. He wonders if he should put a shirt on or not since he isn’t sure who it could be so early at his front door. He takes his time getting to there and notices an older man with his back to him sort of standing in a fairly cocky stance. The man has a decent sized back tucked away inside a grey t-shirt. His legs are also nicely built hugging a tight pair of blue jeans. When he opens the door, the man turns around and smiles at him. The man’s greyish beard shines in the sun as his pearly whites look nearly perfect. It turns out to be his ex’s father Keith Holton. He looks down at Glenn’s sweaty chest as droplets cascade down his hairy pecs and abs. ‘Hello there Glenn just thought I would stop by and have a nice chat with you if you don’t mind.’ Glenn seems surprised by this and makes a strange face at him. ‘Uhhh okay…..I suppose you are needing to talk to me about Dale then? We are not dating anymore if that is what this is about.’ ‘No no…..well…..I know you two are still pretty close though so I thought I would come by and find out what he has been saying to you about our relationship.’ Once again Glenn looks at the older man and seems a bit confused as to what he means. ‘Mr. Holton, me and Dale do have a strong friendship, but I’m not sure what he has been telling me has anything to do with your relationship with him.’ Keith continues to smile at him occasionally making glances at the younger man’s bare chest and arms. Glenn sighs a little before putting one of his hands on the door frame. His sweaty arm glistens with sweat making Keith stare at it intently as the veins jump. ‘Can I come in for a little bit Glenn? You know me well enough that I’m not going to attack you right?’ The shirtless young man thinks for a few seconds before moving out of Keith’s way to allow him to come inside. The older man enters and walks into Glenn’s tv area before turning around to see if he is following. He sees him put a tank top on and makes a few unfavorable noises. Glenn hears him do this and stares him down. Keith cocks his mouth to the side of his face and shakes his head no. ‘Why are you really here Mr. Holton? You have been staring me down since you got here. I think your intentions are not exactly what you implied. Ohh and Dale has actually mentioned a few times lately how much you have been harassing him for no apparent reason.’ The older man starts walking towards him which prompts Glenn to start moving backwards himself towards the nearby wall. ‘I guess you are right Glenn, maybe my intentions are not exactly what they seem, at least on the surface.’ The mature man stops walking and stands about three feet from where Glenn is. He lets out a few moans and starts sweating from his head and neck. The young hairy stud turns to find a path away from Keith so that he doesn’t get cornered. The sweating increases on the older man as it dribbles down his chest and begins to soak the front and sides of his shirt. Glenn tries to find his cell phone on the nearby table to call Dale, but ends up dropping it on the ground. Keith hears it fall and looks at it. He chuckles a little as he turns his attention back up to Glenn again. He makes a few stretching motions as it appears that he is getting some kind of pump. The young stud goes into a defensive stance now in case he has to do something drastic. ‘Mr. Holton…..I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you but it appears that you are in some kind of distress. I think maybe you should go to the hospital or something before you get any worse.’ A few stretching sounds are starting to come from Keith’s body. Glenn hears them and can’t figure out why this is happening. He notices that Keith’s jeans look a lot tighter than they did before. Both legs sound like they are in vises as the denim is compressed to its limits. Keith looks down at them and grunts feeling the pressure building waiting for them to make their entrance. ‘Uhh…..maybe I should help you to your car…..’ Keith stops him mid-sentence and growls. ‘MMMMMM…..no Glenn…..*a few seams rip in both legs*…….ahhh…..I just want to show you…..*more seams rip as his emerging hairy quads start to reveal themselves* who I can become. The feeling is so fucking intoxicating. *the rest of the seam rips as his quads and hams break free still growing*’ Glenn is dumbfounded as to why this is even happening to Keith. He can feel his cock jumping though in his shorts which surprises him. The mature man can sense it too as he smiles and sees a little glimmer in Glenn’s eyes. ‘It is just starting sexy boy. *feels it moving down into his calves and feet* AHHH shit…..*his calves start growing and pressing against the rest of his pant legs* mmmmm fuck Glenn…..it shouldn’t feel this good…..*feels his feet growing and stretching the leather in his shoes until they start splitting*’ Glenn’s cock begins tenting in his pants which he quickly adjusts to make it sit off to the left side. It throbs incessantly as his balls begin to swell up with cum. He realizes that he has always had this thing for older men and muscles. He wishes though that it didn’t pertain to his ex’s dad, but he can’t hide it. Keith’s feet finally bust out of their confines and continue to thicken. His calves rip through the remaining seams along the sides of his jeans as his huge hairy lower half glistens. The young admirer cannot help but to see the huge bulge starting to swell in Keith’s crotch. The growing man moans loudly feeling the rush moving into his ass and balls. ‘OH FUCK! It never ceases to amaze me how fucking hung I get. *feels the seams in his ass and crotch starting to give way* MMMMMM BABY! You want to see what a real man’s cock looks like sexy, wait till you see mine.’ Keith’s crotch rips open revealing his soaked jock which is struggling to stay on his thickening frame. The seams in his ass rip open making him look behind to watch his glutes swelling and destroying the denim. The growth makes his waist thicken as the rest of his jeans rip completely off exposing his entire lower half except for his jock which is barely containing the enormous rod swelling from within the pouch. He sighs for a few moments as he turns his head back around and looks into Glenn’s eyes again. The young stud is mesmerized now as he stares down at Keith’s massive tree trunks. He can’t speak either as he scans the big man’s entire lower body. Keith gets a little bit of his composure back long enough to motion for Glenn to come to him. ‘Come here sexy boy. You don’t have to stand over there. You are getting to see the real me Glenn, well…..sort of. *tries to hold it back for a few more seconds* MMMMMM…..I can control it…..*feels it moving into his chest* to a point……ahhhh…..*feels his cock aching as it fills his jock with pre* gawd…..i love it when it gets to my chest…..*his abs start to widen and stretch*…..fuck yeah!’ Glenn grimaces feeling his cock welling up like it is about to burst. He doesn’t touch it but yet it feels like it is being stroked over and over again. He can see Keith’s stomach reshaping itself as his abs thicken up and stretch wider turning into huge tiles. The fur on them is now turning from salt and peppery to brown and black. The big man’s back is starting to pop now too as Glenn can see him gradually getting taller. His grey shirt begins rising up from his waist and stops once it gets to the top of his immense eight-pack. The young man is having trouble keeping his composure now as well as he spills a pile of precum on to the floor beneath his shorts. Keith is beginning to feel his mind wander now as he labors his breathing. ‘Uhhhh fuck yeah Glenn! I can’t hold back much longer…..*pecs begin expanding as his upper back and lats begin ripping his shirt* AHHH! *looks down and sees the puddle forming below Glenn’s shorts* Yeah sexy, get off on me. Dale can’t please you like daddy Keith…..*pinches his nipples as they start to emerge from his shirt* or…..*shirt shreds as his massive hairy pecs bust out* rather…..my younger half.’ He grunts feeling his shirt rip open in the front and back as his pecs and delts keep growing. He clenches his fists and feels them swelling as he watches the veins pumping bigger and wider. Glenn moans as he dumps several jets of cum into the floor. Seeing Keith’s forearms growing sets him off. The older man is now in sheer ecstasy straining as his arms grow thicker tearing their way through his shirt sleeves. He gasps feeling the muscles in his biceps and triceps stretching as well as the bloated veins. Glenn can’t take his eyes off of them watching the bulbs triple in size. ‘AHHH FUCKING YEAH! MMMMMM……*his shoulders and traps blow up in size destroying the remainder of his shirt* Glenn…..*feels his neck stretching as the veins and muscles grow wider* it is time for you to meet Kliff…..*his eyes go back into his head as his greyish facial hair changes to brownish black and the hair on his head does the same*’ Glenn continues to shoot cum on the ground and can’t seem to move. He doesn’t know what Keith meant when he said what he said and gets nervous. The huge muscleman in front of him continues to grunt as he opens his eyes. The young stud seems to remember that Keith’s eyes were brown, but now they are a deep green. He looks into them and feels like he is being put into a trance. He tries to resist the temptation to go over to him, but it is getting harder to fight. The man grins and reaches up to run his huge hands down his furry chest. Glenn moans and feels a bit lightheaded. The man sees this and rushes over to catch him before he falls. ‘I got you baby. *wraps his 23” cannons around Glenn’s back* Look at me hot stuff! *Glenn immediately looks up at him* I know you like your men hairy and huge, why don’t you go ahead and service this one. Dale won’t ever have to know. *winks before two loud snapping noises come from his huge hamstrings* Whoops! It looks like he will have to be given some attention too.’ The snapping that Glenn heard were the straps barely clinging to the big man’s hamstrings from his jock. As they give way, his huge cock falls out of his jock and dumps a huge stream of precum into the floor. He reaches down and gives it a few strokes getting it all wet and shiny. Glenn’s eyes grow wide staring at the huge hairy rod as it pulses. The huge man directs his attention back to his face again. ‘Hehe, unlike Keith I am a little more nurturing. I’m not just going to plow you and leave like he would. I have wanted to get to know you for a while baby. Keith just wanted to fuck with you because of Dale, but I wouldn’t let him. Now that I have control, I will do what I want.’ He leans down to slowly kiss Glenn on the lips. This immediately leads to the young stud leaning against his huge chest and massaging it with his hands. The man flexes his abs and bounces his pecs for him as he runs his fingers up and down the hairy forest. This lasts for several minutes before Glenn stops to ask him a question. ‘Who are you? I mean…..*seems confused* how is this happening?’ The huge man smiles at him and hugs him burying Glenn’s face into his hairy pecs. The young stud quickly finds his nipples and nurses them. They both moan deeply before the hairy behemoth pulls Glenn’s shorts off and rubs his cock up against his hole. The young admirer licks the hair between the man’s abs and kisses each one individually before running his tongue between both pecs and kissing his shelf which prompts the huge behemoth to squeeze him before speaking again. ‘I’m Kliff Templeton. Keith tries to keep me hidden because he thinks he can somehow keep me under control. Of course the problem with that is, once he lets me take over his body, the desire for growth overrides him so I just come at him full force and he can’t stop me. I still haven’t figured out how to hold him back though so he generally wins after just a few hours.’ Glenn looks up at Kliff’s face with lust in his eyes. The big man sees this and starts pushing his cock inside the eager bottom. He starts fucking Glenn with a lot of intensity as he pushes the young stud’s head into his heaving chest again. This goes on for several minutes before Kliff stops to kiss him again. Glenn is unable to resist any kind of advance the big man makes. The big hairy goliath pumps his arms making them bulge so that the young man will worship them. He grunts each time Glenn runs his tongue along the massive bulbs. He starts fucking him again and stops before his balls unload into his cock. He looks at Glenn again. ‘I know that Dale never told you about me and that was probably the right thing to do. The thing is though he also has a secret of his own. You see…..he has the same gift baby. Keith just has me, but Dale was imbued with two other souls. I know this because I can sense them when he is with his dad.’ Glenn is shocked by this and wonders how Dale was able to keep them from ever coming out. ‘Good question Glenn. Dale has more restraint I think. I’m sure though there have been times that he wanted to let them out with you. I know being with you right now that you deep down crave feeling muscle in and out of you. *bounces his pecs and flexes his biceps* Ohh and of course something else too.’ Kliff thrusts inside Glenn several more times before finally pumping the young stud full of cum. The sheer force makes him grip the massive man’s back. He laughs a little before leaning down to kiss Glenn deeply. This lasts for a few minutes. When Kliff finally finishes cumming, he pulls out and tells the young man to move up so he can slap his cock on his pecs. ‘I know you love these mountains Glenn, why don’t you dump some snow on them.’ *smiles* The young man moans and knows exactly what he means. He starts to stroke quickly but Kliff stops him after a few seconds. He redirects Glenn’s hands to his own biceps and tells him to feel them flexing and straining as he works his cock. The big man slowly works the young stud’s cock with both hands making Glenn agonize over the incredible sensation. After a few strokes in, Kliff runs his tongue over the piss slit lapping up the precum and moaning before going back to stroke it again. ‘You taste incredible baby, now feed my body. My pecs are hungry and want you to coat them.’ The big man works his lover’s cock with more authority as he feels it getting ready to burst. Glenn yells in delight as he sprays Kliff’s face and chest with several jets of cum. The hairy behemoth licks the cum off his beard with his tongue as he bounces his pecs which are now drenched in jizz. He stops stroking Glenn and pulls him in to kiss him and shove his tongue down the young stud’s throat. They embrace and lay on the floor together. After a few minutes of Kliff massaging Glenn’s body, the young man drifts off to sleep in his arms. The big stud gets up with Glenn in his pythons and places him in a chair in the tv area. Once he can see that the young man is in place, he kisses him again and turns to go out the front door. The exhausted young stud awakens minutes later and sees that Kliff is gone. He wonders if it was all just a dream or maybe just maybe it really happened. The next time he sees Dale, he will have to question him just to see if it is indeed true. When he gets up from the chair, his eyes immediately go straight to the tattered clothes and puddles of pre on the floor. Could it be? For additional perspectives, don't forget to read about Jeremiah: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/2394-the-secrets-of-an-unfortunate-stud-jeremiahs-perspective/
  18. Chapters 7, 8 Precis so far: Valhalla Labs is a remote mountaintop Northern California military facility, overseen by genius muscle growth scientist Dr. Ira Zaftig and CO Staff Sergeant Rod Moster, a 7'-0" ripped and hung 395-pound black muscle giant. There, 18 extraordinary bodybuilder-soldiers live, train, and play together, overseen by Moster's strict rules and brutal regimen for muscular perfection. Known as Project Herculaneum, the men serve as Dr. Zaftig's lab rats, receiving regular injections of P-21, a specially developed enzyme that facilitates muscle and strength growth in the very few bodybuilders whose systems can withstand it. The goal: to create an army of supermen, whose strength, size, and combat skills are unparalleled in the modern military. Unfortunately for the Project, the soldiers' enhanced strength and dramatically increased muscular size is accompanied by a corresponding increase in priapic size as well, along with a rapidly diminishing sense of social restraint and inhibitions. And along the way, the men's extraordinary physiques prompt their own extreme muscle fantasies into a daily acting-out sexual reality. Into the mix comes young Casey Rockland, a lonely, handsome, super-hung 18-year old bodybuilding giant. Inducted by Dr. Zaftig into the top-secret government muscle strength and growth project, Casey comes to learn the ropes amongst the muscle giants, whose hunger for hardcore training is matched only by their sexual appetites and growing fantasies, including their insatiable need to receive muscle worship. Casey's innocence, simplicity, and his growing need to receive both love and muscle worship threaten the very core of the decade-long Project, itself only now approaching its full potential. Chapter 7: Training Night 1: Good for Morale October 20th, 2021 1900 Hours The gym floor was buzzing with activity. Each man had a 5-gallon aluminum jug of water from which he regularly took enormous gulps, occasionally pausing to drench both himself and his training partners as needed to stave off the effects of the heat. All wore specially designed army green jockstraps. Regulation jocks were hardly adequate for their needs, and all 19 men (and especially Sergeant Moster) required XXX-large custom-fit pouches. Pendulously bulging, sweat, cum, and piss-stained, even these firm-gripping supersized mesh pouches could barely contain the musclemen’s super-sized genitalia. Gently curving cock shafts plunged from heavily veined, thin-skinned pelvic girdles on each man, leading to jaw-breaking cockheads. The jocks hugged the men’s cocks tightly, providing only barely adequate covering. Moster’s policy was that shorts and sweatpants were unnecessarily encumbering. All around the room, as the men moved from weight to weight, their mountainous packages swayed freely back and forth. On most of the men, the top 5 to 6 inches of their veiny cocks were visible, plunging into their over-burdened pouches. The men’s powerful, deeply striated glutes were fully exposed in back. Colorful do-rags, thick cable socks and black army boots completed their attire. On the floor, workout buddies Private Dan Gunst and Private Steve Waring were spotting each other through a sixth set of murderous curls. 24, 6'-10", 375 pounds, blond, huge, sporting a severe crew cut, and with a big nose and oversized hands, Gunst was a decidedly homely muscle giant, packed with imposing hardcore brawn. His bullish traps sloped massively from his 24” neck. The man’s 27-3/4 inch biceps were second only in girth and mass to Sgt. Moster’s, though he hadn’t yet attained the shapely cannonball peaks of Corporals Schumacher, Obatu, Blankenship and Alvarez. At 3.8% bodyfat he tended towards a thin coat of luminous bloat in his 375-pound physique; he was all the same, super-humanly powerful, and during his training sessions the bloat seemed to melt into a latticework of shrink-wrapped vascularity. His partner, the 26-year old Steve Waring, was uncommonly good-looking, if, at a mere 276 pounds of raw muscle, not nearly as big as Gunst. He was, however the far more ripped bodybuilder, having been in the program 2 years longer. His vascularity was astonishing, a complex map of thick, dizzying, zig-zag veins that criss-crossed his magnificent physique. Square-jawed, dimpled and brown-eyed, he always had a neatly groomed 2-day beard. As expected for a leaner man, Waring’s particular beauty lay in his batwing lat spread and chiseled abs, which tapered radically into a mere 29” waist. Cobbled, veiny abs lead down to his fearsome bulge. Now Waring was up. He tied on a pair of dirty wristbands and cinched them tightly, licked his lips, approached the 160-pound weight, and looked up at Gunst with a half smile. “What’re you waitin’ for? C’mon, get moving,” said Gunst impatiently. “It’s my third set.” “I know. C’mon, man, you’re stalling.” “You know what I want.” Waring winked and grinned, and his dimples broadened deeply. Gunst rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Jesus. You and your third set mantras.” He leaned into Waring, cupped his palm, and roughly took the jock pouch bearing his partner’s heavy balls into his calloused hand. He flicked Waring’s leathery testicles with his thick thumb and with strong fingers stroked the curling cock shaft tucked into the jock. Waring closed his eyes and exploded breath. Gunst fondled the cock, feeling where the 11” flaccid shaft coiled into a sagging downward-pointing firehose U-shape. His own cock began to stiffen as the pouch bearing Waring’s junk began to expand under his touch. He gave a last thumb flick and stepped back. “Yeah!” shouted Waring, and he squatted, grabbed the weight, stood, and reeled off 15 perfectly executed curls. The veins in his biceps expanded and contracted powerfully, eddying currents of blood in a river of muscle. 40 feet away at the incline bench press, Privates Aja Jin, Reed Bogarde and Derek Washington were taking turns doing dumbbell flyes with 125 pound weights. Ginger-haired Bogarde was up, while black muscle giant Private Washington spotted him, and the Asian Private Jin muttered hyper-masculine, mono-syllabic bon mots of encouragement. "C'mon. Get big. Get huge. C'mon man. Push. We're right here." The three heavyweights were generally together. If they weren’t closely supervised, they’d spend more time than absolutely necessary on pec workouts. A year before they had petitioned Moster to be allowed to wear their prized brass chained nipple clamps during their training. Moster had refused at first, but after they appealed to Dr. Zaftig, he finally relented. “The pain inspires them,” Zaftig told him. Moster had to agree that this one time, he had been wrong to withhold his approval. And once again, it was good for morale. The chain to Bogarde’s clamps was draped over the t-shirt and lay across his mammoth, boyishly freckled pecs. He’d completed 11 reps seamlessly, but was now pausing, his arms open wide, the dumbbells held aloft. “Do, it, man,” he growled, and as Moster watched, Private Jin reached over and with gentle, adroit firmness, tugged slightly on the chain. Bogarde’s face contorted with pain. "Push, asswipe!" screamed Jin. Bogarde completed the set. “Thanks, buddy,” he breathed, as he slammed the weights to the floor and sat up. “Privates!” Moster called out. “Remember I want to see you remove those clamps every 10 minutes for an exact period of 20 more minutes!” “Yes, sir,” said Washington, about to take his seat on the bench for his set. “By my watch, it has been more than 11 minutes. Those clamps come off. Now.” “Shit,” muttered Washington, but he duly turned to Private Jin. “Take care of this for me, and I’ll do for you.” “Okay,” said Jin. He lifted Washington’s t-shirt, and gently unscrewed the clamp on the left nipple. Instantly Washington’s face contorted with pain. Jin leaned in and tenderly licked the swelling brown nipple with his tongue for a few moments. Washington nodded, and Jin repeated it for the right nipple. “I’m good,” he said. Jin lifted his shirt and Washington returned the favor, caressing Jin’s nipples with his tongue as he removed each biting clamp. “Hey, what about me?” Bogarde grinned, slipping off his t-shirt. His large nipples pointed heavily downward, with lusciously round, perfect aureoles. He pumped his 58” ripped chest fully, fists at his side, and stood smiling expectantly as his two muscle buddies moved into his side, their heads to Bogarde’s chest, each manning a clamped nipple. For Private Bogarde, the only good thing about the unclamping was the minute of stimulation he received from his buddies to keep the excruciating pain he so adored from making him instantly cum into his overstuffed jockstrap. Once he came, his partners knew the chest workout would be effectively derailed for a good 15 minutes, and so to prevent such time wasting, both men were inclined to be extra attentive. Over time, they developed a routine. Together the two bodybuilders carefully unscrewed the clamps, and swiftly leaned in to kiss, lick, bite, stroke, and caress Bogarde’s freed, erect nipples. Bogarde moaned, his eyes rolling to the ceiling, his cock now swelling threateningly in his jockstrap. “Shit,” he moaned, and his buddies glanced down at the straining pouch. His mushroom-round penis head poked heavily over the top and began to climb up his abs. Jin and Washington knew that he might shoot his load at any moment. The two double-timed their nipple licks. After a minute, their tender administrations allowed him to regain control. He nodded – he was okay – and they backed away. Satisfied, Bogarde pumped his pecs to their fullest size and inspected them both closely, nodding with serious, unsmiling self-approval. Wet with spit, his stiffened nipples bloomed. “Freaky,” he breathed. His buddies nodded. “Awesome pecs,” said Jin. “Awesome.” Bogarde stuffed his receding cock back into his jock, and winked at Moster. Moster watched. When it was clear Private Bogarde was past danger, he called out again. “Back to your work. You have twenty more minutes before you can put those damn clamps on again.” The men nodded dutifully. Washington sat, grabbed a dumbbell in each hand, hoisted them to his knees, leaned back, and effortlessly pushed them both to the ceiling. His chest expanded mightily. Bogarde shouted the count. “1! 2! 3!” Jin spotted, his powerful hands lightly meeting Washington’s elbows with each rep. For a moment, Bogarde fondled his smarting nipples tenderly. He caught Moster’s stern eye and, still counting Washington’s reps, nodded sheepishly and slipped back into his sopping t-shirt. Corporals Rene LeFevre, Tony Chad and Private Chris Hension were supersetting between bent-over single-arm rows and military presses. The massively muscled corporals, both in their mid-30’s, were the compound practical jokers. Their perfect foil was the slightly dopey 22-year old, 260-pound superheavyweight Private Hension, a square-jawed, curly-haired, dreamily handsome inductee who had only been admitted into the ranks of The Nineteen from the cadet squad six months before. Hension's face was so unusually beautiful that he was catnip for all who gazed upon him. With his deep blue eyes, perfectly square jaw, high cheekbones, imposing Roman nose, thick eyebrows, short curly black hair, powerful young physique and endearing, gap-toothed smile, he looked like a hyper muscular refugee from some crazy TigerBeat boy band. Teen muscles personified, and unusually huge, though he was 3 years past his teens already. His hazing was not quite over. Tonight he was burning from the red-hot chili powder LeFevre and Chad had worked into the folds of his jockstrap. Early in the workout he had waddled with his bodybuilder’s muscle-laden stride over to the 50-gallon water cooler, pulled down his jock, and poured a quart of refreshingly cold water onto his stinging red shaft. Every ten minutes he had to return to the cooler as his P-21 enhanced, ever-growing penis began burning anew. He couldn’t figure it out and was embarrassed. The fabric of his jock was now transparent with wetness, and the crimson outlines of his snake-coiled penis could be seen glowing painfully. LeFevre and Chad hid their grins innocently as a baffled Hension trudged back towards them, his fingers gently probing and rearranging his drooping big package for maximum comfort. “Something the matter, Private?” asked LeFevre. Hension nodded. “My junk hurts,” he said. He still wasn’t entirely used to the newly achieved girth of his organ. “And it itches.” “You keepin’ it clean?” “Sure.” He stuck his hand in his jock. “It’s getting too big. It don’t fit in these jocks.” “How big?” LeFevre winked at Chad. “I ain’t measured.” “Really?” “You lie.” “Okay, it’s past 10 inches now.” “About the medium point, then.” “You’re probably jerkin’ off too much.” “All that new size. Kinda hot, right?” “Gotta wipe all that jism off after you shoot, son.” “I keep it clean,” Hension protested. “Okay,” said Chad. “We can take of that later for you.” “Thanks,” said Hension, and then he noted the wicked gleam in Chad’s eyes. “Oh, you assholes,” he whined. “What did you do?” His buddies began to roar. Furious, Hension grabbed a 200-pound dumbbell and flew through a set of punishing one arm bent-over rows. His wide back roiled with shifting mountains of muscle, and as he jerked and lifted, his damp wife-beater gradually crept up to reveal his hardened, vulnerable butt, pumping up and down, undulating with each rep. A red handprint from a private discipline session with Sergeant Moster the night before still glowed on the right buttcheek. And the men laughed even harder. “You got it coming and going!” said LeFevre. Hension slammed the weight into the mat, turned abruptly and placed his big hands protectively against his ass. Then he grinned. “Yeah, yeah, it’s funny, so go laugh!” Inside his jock, his stinging member twitched. Private Hension liked humiliation. In fact, there was nothing he liked better, and both Chad and LeFevre were onto it. As far as they were concerned, the handsome Private’s hazing would continue indefinitely. Just two weeks before, Corporal Chad had hacked into Hension’s private PC and found links to dominatrix S&M websites on Hension’s private PC, with cum-stained downloaded jpegs and pngs of leather-clad, spike-heeled mistresses, face-slapping hapless, undersized men. Mixed in with the images were pictures of a huge muscleman tied up with ropes and chains, a rubber ball in his mouth and an enormous butt plug shoved up his anus. Hension’s private fantasy – and he was a little embarrassed about it, which was only good manners – was to get his face slapped, viciously and unrelentingly, by beautiful, affronted, enraged women. He dreamed of being caught sucking Alvarez’s massive cock, and being interrupted, and hauled to his feet by a beautiful blonde mistress of discipline, who would slap his handsome face repeatedly, leaving welting, bright red, stinging handprints on his clean-shaven cheeks. His head would whip from left to right, from right to left, under her powerful bitch slaps. Happy tears would roll down his face onto his stinging cheeks. “Aw, baby…” he’d cry, pretending to be in pain. “Don’t slap me!” And his mighty cock would also whip from side to side. “You deserve to get your face slapped, you filthy muscle slut!” SLAP. And meanwhile, Alvarez would drop to his knees and lovingly administer skillful oral to his massive cock. This dream of slapping punishment from angry mistresses filled his nightly jerk off fantasies. Chad printed up a few and privately slipped them to LeFevre, who laughed devilishly. “Someone’s been in my room playing with my computer,” Hension complained that night at dinner. The two feigned innocence. “Why, how can you tell?” asked Chad innocently. “Because the asswipe left it on.” “That might have been you.” “Nope. The asswipe left it on at a website I like. I would never do that.” The men roared. Hension pouted. “Don’t worry, baby face. Maybe some day soon on a field trip, we can set up a surprise for you, now that we know what you like.” Hension brightened. “Really?” he asked hopefully. “We’ll see if you’re a good boy. Why don’t you come by for some posing practice tonight?” “O—okay,” he said, shooting a furtive look at Corporal Alvarez and Private Lang, quietly sharing a table on the other side of the dining room. Chad caught it and for an instant was jealous. He knew Hension longed to be a part of Alvarez and Lang’s notorious “Pose and Approve” nightly sessions. Private Robert Lang was a younger version face and body look-alike for his buddy, Corporal Julio Alvarez. The same exact height, the two bodybuilders kept their bodies shaved, and might easily have been mistaken for one another at a distance, if it weren’t for Alvarez’s neatly trimmed mustache. Alvarez also boasted the same brutal muscles, the same sweep to his triceps, the same broad back, and the same peerless baseball biceps. Older, wiser, and a touch serene about his muscles, he and Lang were like brothers. Brothers, however, they weren’t, and they exhibited no instinctive physical filial reticence with one another. Lang, standing 5’ – 10” and weighing in at 285 pounds, was dark, serious, extraordinarily handsome, and brutally built. Secretly unsure of himself, he sought approval whenever he could, a little mortified by the beauty of his face. He had pronounced horseshoe triceps of uncommonly full sweep, an impressively broad back, and, as Alvarez noted, a beautifully rounded muscle bubblebutt graced with an almost horizontal butt shelf. To help bolster Lang’s flagging self-confidence, Alvarez – without question the alpha dog of this pairing, even as he was the slightly bigger muscleman - developed a ritual he called “Pose and Approve.” At first, it developed quite naturally. Over time, it had evolved into mutual muscle worship. Alvarez’s judgment and approval of Lang’s muscles were his drug of choice, next to P21, that is, and his own brutally punishing workouts. They started out privately in Alvarez’s room. From the first night, he was ready. An 8’-0” x 10’-0” lit posing dais dominated the back bedroom in his quarters. “Built it myself,” he said quietly as Lang stared at the polished wood surface. When did he find the time, Lang wondered. Alvarez carefully adjusted the cool LED lights. Lang watched eagerly, stripping down to tight posers straining under the weight of his throbbing, veiny penis. Alvarez took his sweet time setting lights and atmosphere. Lang watched, shoving his hand into his sagging pouch and absently manipulating his big tool to half erection. When he judged all was ready, he’d step back. “Okay. Get to work,” he said. Eagerly Lang jumped onstage and hit a front double biceps. Alvarez nodded his approval of his buddy’s muscles. “Nice. Big old cannonballs. Show me more.” Another pose. This time a side chest. Lang’s pecs pounded and seemed to reach the ceiling. His heavy nipples were already taut. “How do I look?” Lang asked nervously. “Looking all right,” Alvarez said casually. “Lights need adjusting.” He half turned away as if to check the wiring. This prompted Lang into frenzy, and he began whipping out pose after pose. “The lights are fucking fine! I’m smokin’!” he cried. “Look at me, Alvarez! Check out my muscles! I’m fucking huge!!!!” Alvarez smiled. “Okay, big man,” he said. “I see. I see what you need.” And casually bending in, he took Lang’s by-now rock hard penis into his mouth and lolled it about gently. Inside, his tongue stroked the long, thick shaft, working its way up and down the veins. “It’s your reward for your perfectly developed muscles.” Lang was in heaven. Then they switched. Alvarez stepped up and surpassed his buddy’s posing performance. As he flexed, Lang sank gratefully to his knees to admire his musclegod buddy. Alvarez hit a pose - wham! - and Lang would greedily slurp on his gigantic rod. "Boom," purred Alvarez. "Big biceps, baby." "Twenty fiiiii---vvve inches...." "Bullshit." "Twenty-five baby. Feel 'em. Suck my cock." "You got it. Sucking now, man." They went back and forth for hours. Flexing biceps, smacking roiling quads, pec dancing, sucking each other's cocks. After a few sessions, Lang developed a surprisingly insatiable taste for Alvarez's stunningly perfect glutes, and sometimes lost himself rimming the man's rosebud butthole while Alvarez posed, legs spread wide, gazing at himself thoughtfully in the wall-length mirror across the room from the dais. Whenever Lang's face was buried deeply in the bigger man's butt, Alvarez found his creative posing juices to be inspired, and he was able to flex for hours without getting tired. Over time, they worked out new routines this way. Of course, Alvarez and Lang had long since taken “Pose and Approve” into more stratospheric, not to mention more public, levels of performance during the last year. The men liked to watch, and occasionally were invited to join in. For more than a year now, the men all knew that Lang slipped whenever he could into Alvarez’s room late at night for an hour of nearly silent shared posing routines and powerful rounds of cocksucking. At the end of their private sessions, each man could be heard roaring in the compound’s corridors as he spurted a mighty ejaculation inside his buddy’s mouth, onto his abs, or inside his yielding bubble butt. Just a week before, when a confidence-challenged Lang was standing in front of the corner mirrors after general workout, trying vainly to figure out a new routine, coach Alvarez decided to take it public. After all, all the men knew. And were curious. And were watching. Eagerly. Even Karim bothered to look up from his own fascination with his flexing biceps. Alvarez directed Lang from pose to pose, nodding. He ran his fingers smoothly over his body. Then he dropped quickly to his knees, stripped off his jockstrap, took his cock into his mouth, and continued to direct him from there. “Bring your right arm up a little. Now tilt your head. Look up. Pretend you see something,” garbled Alvarez, his mouth full of Lang’s cock. “What am I looking at?” asked Lang, a little anxious. “Clouds. You see clouds. Good. More clouds. Right. Here’s your reward.” Alvarez licked his cock hard for a minute. “It’s like he’s licking an ice cream cone,” said Hension. “An ice cream cone with veins,” said Blankenship. Washington stared, grinning. Lang colored slightly. In his jock, his heavy penis head began to expand and push against the thick fabric. “Yo, bodybuilders deserve to get their cocks sucked while they’re posing,” Lang said dreamily, flexing. “I’m down with it,” said Washington. “You can suck mine next.” And Lang did. Alvarez sucked Lang’s dick approvingly, licking the thick shaft lovingly. Then he pulled back to allow Lang to pivot to the next pose. Lang crunched into a most muscular, Alvarez nodded again with serious respect, and sucked him as his reward, as his buddy held a crab shot for 60 full seconds. They moved as one: pivot, flex, a nod of approval, a minute of cocksucking, withdrawal, pivot, flex, another nod, another minute of cocksucking. Absorbed by their mutual passion of posing together, the two silently went into matching, impromptu routines, flexing their powerful guns in unison as if choreographed, slapping their quads, turning to flair their lats, all the while staring appreciatively, each transfixed by the other. And the men stared, too. Soon all they all joined in. The workout was effectively over. Cocks filled mouths for the next hour. Rough, calloused hands appreciatively patted and stroked flexed biceps. Pecs danced. Tongues licked sand dollar sized, downward pointing nipples. Moster was not pleased. Nevertheless, he waited until the last groans had finished, and the last drops of the quarts of ejaculated bodybuilder cum had burst from throbbing cocks down eager throats. "Are we finished?" he asked quietly. The men lined up, sheepish, all with dripping cocks and cum flecks on their lips. Hension's face, inevitably, was covered. "It got into my eyes," he complained. Smack! "Owwwww!" he yelled. Moster waited, and then spoke quietly. “There’s a time and a place for everything,” he barked, all sheepish and spent, wiping the cum from their lips and bodies. After that, Moster determined to keep Lang and Alvarez separated on the floor as much as possible, for the two men were so – was ‘inspired’ the word? – attuned to one another’s powerful physiques that the Sergeant had determined it would be more efficient for all if they trained apart. It always led to “Pose and Approve,” behavior that Moster determined was more efficiently left to the locker room and showers. “Pose and Approve” was all very well for private time, but on the gym floor the men had been known in the past to become hypnotized by one another’s muscles. On rest days, of course, Moster kept them completely separated. That was an order. These days, the two grudgingly but unquestioningly yielded to their CO’s command. Once, Moster had caught them together outside on a bike path on a prescribed rest day, both naked, erect, and posing feverishly. He watched silently for a few moments, waiting for the inevitable moment when Lang sank to his knees and greedily gathered Alvarez’s cock in his mouth. “Gentlemen!” he boomed, striding forward onto the path. “Today is a rest day!” He swung mightily, he clipped the surprised Alvarez right on the jaw. The punch felled the muscleman immediately. Even the usually arrogant Alvarez was a mere beta puppy before the 7’-0” Moster. “In my quarters! Now!” Ten minutes later a cowed Alvarez was stretched over Moster’s powerful knee, receiving a serious butt paddling. Lang stood by nervously, knowing he was next. “You’re like two bad boys,” he said gruffly as he spanked Alvarez’s perfectly rounded buttocks. Neither man protested, each watching the other meekly as he received punishment from the implacable giant Moster. The loud spanks were heard echoing down the hall for 40 minutes. The men sat in the mess and listened to the spanks and howls. “No one crosses Moster,” Schumacher said airily, to no one in particular. The distant sound of spanks bounced off the walls. Perfect musclebutts were receiving perfect punishment. “Gee, what did they do?” asked a fearful Hension. “Someday you’ll find out,” said LeFevre darkly. He winked at Chad. Later, they emerged sheepishly from Moster’s quarters, red-faced and gingerly rubbing their painfully reddened glutes. The two were barred from contact of any kind for three weeks. Moreover, the enforced temporary change in the training schedule upset all of the men, who privately handled the transgression in their own manner. There was a strict code of punishments the men had privately devised and agreed upon over the years, and when training violations occurred, the offender was subject to the discipline of the group, most often provided by a steely-eyed Corporate Karim Abdul. The night after their ordeal with Moster, Abdul and Gunst visited the men in their quarters. The men each stood meekly, as Karim punched their faces with cool precision. Then he spanked them both, followed by Gunst’s stern force-feeding of his cock. Then, for good measure, both men thoroughly fucked their butts. The next morning at chow, each man sported two black eyes. Their flanks ached, and closer inspection revealed that sitting was painful for more reasons than were immediately apparent. “Dudes, what happened to you?” shouted Chad across the mess hall. “Shut the fuck up,” grumbled Alvarez. “Report to the infirmary,” said Moster. “Sergeant, begging your pardon, we’re fine.” “As you prefer, Privates.” “Abdul stretched the shit out of my asshole last night,” Lang complained quietly to Alvarez. “Me too,” Alvarez asked. Silence. Then they both laughed quietly. “Was it worth it?” asked Alavrez. “Fuck yeah,” said Lang. Nevertheless, the men grudgingly acknowledged privately it was their due desserts. After that, Lang and Alvarez obeyed orders, and it didn’t happen again. Their eyes healed quickly and though they remained separated at night, soon they were back on the gym floor the same day Moster suspended their sentence. “No sense in losing perfectly good training time for those two. They’ve learned their lesson,” Moster said to Zaftig, who was always puzzled by the developing social rules within his own lab rats. Three weeks passed, and the night they were finally reunited, Moster smiled privately to himself in his quarters as the excited groans of the two reunited men echoed down the corridors long after hours. The next morning, far from being tired, they appeared at 0700 hours breakfast as if entirely rejuvenated. The other men looked a little weary, having been kept awake all night, but all were in grudging good humor now that the two muscle buddies were together again. Backs were slapped and good-natured jibes taken with grinning good grace. “Have fun last night, Lang?” teased Obatu. “Yep,” said Lang, his mouth full of eggs. “Alvarez get any bigger in the last three weeks?” “He sure did,” Lang nodded seriously, chewing and swallowing. The men guffawed, and Alvarez smacked Lang playfully on the back of the head with a giant paw. “What’d I say?” asked Lang, perplexed, and the men laughed harder. Across the table, Karim never looked up. Faggots, he thought. Still, his cock twitched in his jock. He had liked punching the handsome faces of both Alvarez and Lang, though he didn’t want to admit it, and the crisply delivered black eyes he had administered had made it all even more exciting. And the fucking was fun, too. Moster was satisfied. All in all, it was good for the team. Good for morale. Chapter 8: Tiffany’s Talent Karim was in the corner, working out on the punching bag. His buddies, if the taciturn Lebanese from Michigan could have said to have “buddies”, Privates Duncan and McIntyre, were alternating between bench wrist curls and neck-strengthening dumbbell lifts. The rhythmic volley of Karim’s rapid punches filled the air. Abdul Karim was, at his most social, on the taciturn side. At 6’-3”, 275 pounds, and less than 2% bodyfat, Karim had a beard and mustache that he kept meticulously groomed at all times. He had the Arab’s big nose, dark skin, and, except for his back and shoulders, a full body armor of tight, black curly hair. His muscular chest was black with fur, with two deep red-brown nipples poking through. His quads were oak trees. His bullish biceps, covered with bright tattoos, were stacked and wired for maximum damage. His fists were huge and calloused. Karim was an extreme fighter of the first order; calm, methodical, practiced, powerful, relentless and merciless. Zaftig had plucked him from the State Penitentiary of Washington about four years earlier. He was in for manslaughter, having beaten to death a suspected serial rapist in Seattle; the trial transcripts stated that he had simply held the dude aloft by his collar and repeatedly punched the guy in the face until he grew bored. Inside, it was said, he had beaten to bloody pulps 5 inmates who had jumped him one night in the shower with sharpened shivs and the intent to kill. How Zaftig got him out was still a mystery to Moster, but, as his CO was bigger and possibly even a hair stronger, Karim silently respected him without grudge or attitude, and there was no real breach of discipline. Still, it was tough to pair him off in extreme fighting matches in the compound, although Corporal Schumacher was a close match. Annoyingly, if understandably, both Chad and LeFevre were careful to keep the beautiful young Private Hension away from Karim. Secretly protective of their young initiate, they didn’t take any chance that the longingly masochistic Hension might approach Karim, and get a lot more than he bargained for. Karim, for his part, wasn’t particularly interested in Hension. For him, a hole was a hole was a hole, and as for getting his cock sucked, he preferred women to do the job, as long as they shut up about it. Oddly, he didn’t seem to mind if effeminate boys took care of his meat, if no pussy was available. A bitch was a bitch was a bitch, though he took care to show basic respect for being serviced (even if, of course, it was his due). He did, however, like piss. Karim liked to be pissed upon, and he liked to piss on others. He marked his territory. He especially liked it when big boy Gunst pissed on him. After all, he respected the man. He didn’t consider it a sexual fantasy. To Karim, piss was just the right expression of muscle and power. Late at night, he sometimes came to the workout room alone and worked on the heavy bag. On those nights, he made sure that the kitchen boy, Pedro, was standing by. A slender 16-year old kid, barely 130 pounds, and a sweet-natured homey if ever there was one, Pedro would wait patiently in a darkened corner until Karim summoned him to approach, get on his knees, and suck his unusually hairy cock while he worked the light bag. The boy loved hair and muscles, and Karim’s big veiny tool got an appreciative coating between his lips. Karim would grunt, shoot, coat the boy’s face with globs of semen, pat him affectionately on the butt, and head off to bed without washing off. The boy scampered into the kitchen to start breakfast for the men, happy to have been of service. Good-natured Privates Bill McIntyre and David Duncan were often buffer zones for the brooding Corporal Karim. Calm and circumspect, like Karim they too were hairy big boys who preferred the ladies, albeit always in groups with the Lebanese. Moster occasionally arranged for private liaisons for the three bodybuilders with three high-priced, Amazonian professional girls flown in from Las Vegas. The men fucked their women vigorously, always with their eyes on one another. After they finished up and the ladies had departed, Karim often polished off the night fucking his buddies’ shapely muscle butts, alternating between them. It took a lot to satisfy Karim, who could fuck all night, and sometimes Moster was hastily summoned to make sure the session ended. He often brought Gunst with him to break up the party, for Karim liked nothing better than to finally cum while Gunst pissed in his face. “Feels good,” he would grunt as Gunst’s firehose cock shot streams of piss on his muscles, while McIntyre and Duncan stood by smiling, gently fingering their reddened, aching buttholes. Karim would work his cock fiercely with his powerful fist, quickly spurting buckets of semen onto his hairy abs, and, as always, trudge off silently to bed without washing or saying good night. Gunst would then get the privilege of sucking Moster’s giant cock while McIntyre and Duncan watched respectfully, stroking their own cocks. Sessions would end with each bodybuilder shooting his cum into Gunst’s mouth. Gunst could swallow volumes of cum. “Makes me bigger,” he’d say. The big boy preferred monster penis, and liked it best with other musclemen standing by watching. So it worked for everyone. Beyond them, Corporals Schumacher, Obatu, and Blankenship were besting each other in sets of deep squat deadlifts. A 42-year old muscle veteran with tattoos, steel-wool skin, acne scars, an explosively powerful physique dense with vascularity, and all honed by nearly 30 years of raw, intense training, Herman Schumacher was the current king of this group, with his wide-oval, pronouncedly roiling, round hamstrings of pure power protruding far behind him. His broad, solid, rounded manbutt rolled above his hams, meeting into a firm, deep butt crack. His calves were split into two deep and distinct diamond-like heads. Schumacher had no-nonsense iron-grey hair and was generally scowling. He knew all who saw him wanted to fuck his mighty butt. Secretly, he was happiest when either fucking – or being fucked. His formidable, muscular, hairy glutes demanded attention. He was loath, however, to acknowledge his fantasy top. Rarely fucked by the other men, and always only after extreme begging and some act of subservience, Herman Schumacher had some private fantasies of his own, involving heavy rope and buttplugs, that one day he hoped he’d have the courage to investigate. For now, the opinions of the other men were still too gravely important to him. He wasn’t ready to betray himself. Not yet. In the mean time, it was generally understood that Schumacher’s powerful tool was always at the ready to plow a tasty ass. Just out of his hearing, the other men all agreed - and even Karim - they craved his particular kind of butt fucking. It seemed he could always find the g-spot, and he quietly provided hours of late night pleasure for those men who had just finished a grueling squat workout, and whose eager buttholes needed relief. Obatu chose to shave his head bald, had shiny black skin, and like Schumacher and Karim, nearly always had a fearsome scowl on his face. His glory were his bull-like traps and his mammoth pecs, which at 66”circumference approached Moster’s own in size, shredded cuts, and separations. His fearsomely large genitalia had a habit of rolling out of his jockstrap during training, and he’d absent-mindedly scoop his balls and cock back into place, often pausing unconsciously for a quick couple of strokes on the extra-long, heavy shaft and a quick flick of his thick thumb on the bell-shaped cockhead. Then he’d lift and adjust the heavy pouch and resume his powerful lifts. On white cap nights, however, he often didn’t bother to repouch. Blankenship, younger than both and only recently having attained the rank of Corporal, didn’t have the ripped density of Schumacher nor the sheer mass of Obatu, boasting instead superb genetics and beautifully honed symmetry. Good-humored and outgoing, the roman-nosed young Blankenship favored classical Greek poses in his routines, and he often showed off his alluring lines with his muscular arms held overhead. He was a statue come to life – and he knew it. Shouting encouragement and taunts at one another, Schumacher completed another grueling set of 25 reps with 400 pounds. On the last rep, he strained to replace the weight on the floor with disciplined quiet, in control of the weight to the very last. Then he blew out a mouthful of spit, shook his head violently so that his sweat flew everywhere, and straightened up. Blankenship planted a solid smack on his naked butt. “Nice!” he yelled. Schumacher smiled wearily and nodded. Then he turned and glanced across the room to see if Private Joe Tiffany had been watching his set. Tiffany was working triceps and delts with Private Robert Lang. Alvarez was at the squat rack, training legs with Private Eli Meyer. The good-looking All-American Jewish Meyer was the shortest man in the squad, standing only 5’- 3”, and sadly, a mute. He was a highly developed, talented gymnast, double-jointed nearly everywhere and was astonishingly supple for a little muscleman. He easily contorted his 210-pound body into positions the other men could only dream of. He favored the relatively simple – for him – pose of planting his rippling arms on the floor and swinging his legs sky-high behind them, tilting his pelvis forward past his elbows and holding steady for long periods of time. The pose was catnip for the squad, who, after hours in the compound rec room, loved to more closely inspect Meyer’s proudly displayed hairless, supple pink butthole, which he playfully puckered in and out for them at will. Meyer would smile hugely and nod encouragement, his eyes sparkling with mischief, as the excited men scrambled to their knees and took turns playfully licking and probing his asshole. Alvarez enjoyed a lick as much as the other men, but he always noted Lang’s slightly hurt gaze and promptly retreat with his buddy for some private posing. For his part, however, Alvarez had no issue when Lang, occasionally overcome himself, dipped his handsome face into Meyer’s butt for a taste of honey. Afterwards, Alvarez noted, he would pose harder than ever. For Tiffany was trouble. Alvarez noted that Tiffany was studiously ignoring Corporal Schumacher’s impressive set of deadlifts. Lang, almost as dim as Hension, hadn’t seemed to notice. But then, Lang hadn’t learned yet that he shouldn’t trust Joe Tiffany. Joe Tiffany was 19. He was gap-toothed, dark-haired, freckled, had slightly big ears, and looked a little goofy. He was bow-legged, weighed 235 pounds, and had almost no bodyfat at all – and what little there was lay sweetly atop what Herman Schumacher imagined was probably the most beautiful butt on the planet. On the day of his arrival into the Project facility just a little less than a year ago, Obatu had nicknamed him ‘Huck Finn’. The name stuck, and over time morphed into ‘Fuck Him.’ No one had, though, as of yet. Not privately, anyway. Tiffany was smart. He looked dumb and played the innocent, but he was canny, shrewd, and manipulative. He also had an unusual talent, which he had privately shared with the curious Sergeant Moster not long after his arrival. It was not unlike perfect pitch: Tiffany could take astonishingly accurate size measurements – orally. Moreover, he had no gag reflex. It appeared that he could take anything. Any cock. To its full length. Even Moster’s. Moster had found out quite by accident – or so he thought. In the showers alone one night, the black muscle giant was lathering up his armpits when he turned and discovered the Private staring at him from the doorway into the locker room. “You’re here late, Private.” “I forgot my jockstrap.” “Better get it and head to bed. Training tomorrow at 0700 hours.” Tiffany held his jock up silently. He waited. Moster stopped lathering and returned his look. “Is there something I can do for you, Private?” he demanded. Tiffany said nothing but gazed straight at Moster’s gargantuan, swaying dick. “Private?” Moster stepped forward. Tiffany didn’t move. “Sir?” He gazed unblinkingly at the cock. Moster glared. “Well?” Tiffany looked up and came to attention. “Sir, I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “But that is the biggest dick I have ever seen in my life, sir.” “It is unlikely you have seen a bigger one.” “I’m guessing no one has, sir.” “No, probably not. Just how big do you think it is?” “Sir, if you will forgive the indulgence, sir, but I believe I could tell you, sir, and quite accurately, too.” Moster had already heard about Tiffany’s after-hours mess hall boasts. Now was the chance to see if the boy had the stuff. “On your knees, then, Private.” “Yes, sir.” Tiffany stepped forward in the shower, got to his knees and opened his mouth. He held still. Water poured from the spigot and in an instant, Tiffany’s t-shirt was wringing wet and bulging with his tight teen muscles. He looked up expectantly at Moster. He was calm. “Doesn’t look like anything I can’t handle, sir.” Annoyed at the Tiffany’s arrogance for a flashing moment, Moster slapped his swaying, dripping cock fiercely three or four times. It blew into an engorged 20-inch-plus vein-pulsing snake inside of 5 seconds. Water from the shower splashed onto it and ricocheted off the walls. “All right then. You’ll have to open up much wider than that.” “Yes, sir.” Tiffany opened his mouth as wide as he could. Moster strode forward, grabbed the back of the young Private’s head, and forced his face onto his cock. Amazingly, Tiffany’s lips easily enveloped the enormous head, then the shaft, and slid down until Tiffany’s nose was pressed against Moster’s body. Somewhere inside, Moster’s giant shaft had disappeared deeply down Tiffany’s throat and into his upper body. Yet the muscleboy didn’t gag. Instead, he looked up and smiled, his mouth full of black bodybuilder cock. He held still a full minute, as Moster’s cock throbbed inside him. Then he slowly pulled his head back. “18 and 5/8s inches, sir. 8 pounds, three ounces. You weigh 396 pounds tonight, sir, your body temperature is 97 degrees, and your blood pressure is 120/85.” He smiled serenely. Damn, thought Moster. He’s right on target. There was just no telling where P21 protocols could lead, and what talents it might unearth. He nodded, satisfied, and then plunged his cock deeply back in and out of Tiffany’s mouth. In spite of its huge girth, Tiffany bowed and obediently went to work. As Moster pumped his hips rhythmically and Tiffany sucked mammoth cock, the sergeant’s mind drifted towards the men. Hmmmm, he thought. He was deeply in thought, automatically flexing his muscles and yet barely paying any attention to the efficient, powerful, machine-like sucks of Private Tiffany. Finally he began to shoot rivers of cum into the teen’s mouth. After a minute or two of shooting, he withdrew his cock and coated Tiffany’s face evenly with the last blasts of semen. Tiffany licked and took in as much as his tongue could reach, and then he stood, at attention once again. His cute face was covered with clouds of thick cum, which dripped down in thick globs onto his body under the spray of the shower. He saluted again, and wiped his mouth so he could speak clearly. “I hope that was satisfactory, sir?” “It was.” He didn’t appear to be injured in any way, at which Moster privately marveled. He turned away and began soaping the blobs of cum off his cock shaft. “You’re aware that sucking your CO’s cock is a privilege awarded rarely to men of your rank.” “Yes, sir. I know, sir.” “You will report to my private exam room tomorrow about an hour into the evening session. I’ll let you know when.” “Thank you, sir. It was a pleasure, sir.” He started out of the shower room, and turned, adding, “By the way, sir, your cum tastes a little like banana. I love banana.” He saluted again, and was gone. “Fresh punk,” thought Moster, but he was pleased. Starting the next evening, Moster began to require that the priapic dimensions of each muscleman be included in his records, the information to be obtained in privately conducted sessions he personally oversaw with Private Tiffany on hand to take the strictest of measurements. As always, the sergeant immediately designed a standard ritual of procedure. Ordered one by one into the examination room off the gym floor, each bodybuilder entered singly, wearing a tight posing strap, and walked silently into the center of the room. Private Gunst was first. “Stand under the light,” Moster ordered quietly. The bodybuilder stepped onto a posing dais, and poised himself under a single focused spotlight shining from the ceiling. He awaited orders, hands at his sides. He wondered why Tiffany was present. Moster stood in half-light, fully covered in clean white sweats, as always. The silent Dr. Irving sat in a pin light in the distant corner, armed with a video camera and scribbling in a small pad. Tiffany, wearing the white regulation tight t-shirt and khakis, stepped forward from the shadows. “Let’s see what you got, man,” murmured Moster, and Gunst swung into a posing routine. The first pose was a side biceps pose with the muscleman leaving forward and rotating his back towards the sergeant, so that he might better appreciate the three distinct cannonball deltoids, the broad lat sweep, the baseball separations of the biceps head, the powerful shape of his obliques, the shapely, hard glutes, and the roiling hamstrings. It was a landscape of muscle, and the men all knew it was Moster’s preferred pose. Then Gunst straightened, reached toward the single spotlight, and slowly brought his arms down into his most powerful, sustained front double biceps pose. “26 inches, sir!” he shouted. He held it for about 30 seconds. “Looking good,” said Moster, slightly bored. A three-minute posing routine followed. There was no sound in the room apart from the rapid tapping of Dr. Irving’s pen, the hum from the spotlight, and the waves of air being sucked in and out of Gunst’s mouth as he glided smoothly from pose to pose. Front lats, pivot, side left chest, side left triceps, pivot, rear lat spread, rear double biceps, pivot, side right chest, side right triceps, pivot, left quad, shake, slap, flex, right quad, shake, slap, flex, overhead ab crunch, and finally a most muscular, crunching viciously into a vein-exploding crab shot. Then the bodybuilder stood still, waiting. Thick rivulets of sweat poured down his physique. “Okay. Front double biceps again, please.” Gunst flexed his mountainous peaks. “And hold it.” Gunst smiled and strained, eager to please his C.O. “All right, Tiffany,” Moster said quietly, “get to it.” “Yes, sir,” said Tiffany. He strode forward, and as Gunst stood steadily flexing the classic front double biceps, the shorter Tiffany gracefully reached forward, took hold of the elastic side straps of his thin mesh poser, pulled the pouch forward and down, and unveiled the muscleman’s flaccid, long, thick, imperial penis. Moster cracked a quick smile, noting that Gunst first looked startled….then curious…. and then aroused. The giant gazed down as the business-like Tiffany got to his knees, gently fixed his pretty lips on the man’s junk, closed his eyes a moment, plunged deeply, holding the instantaneously stiffening penis deeply in his throat for about 60 seconds. “Wow”….breathed Gunst. He continued to flex his biceps, but tears appeared in his suddenly glistening eyes, and his cheeks flushed deep crimson. Below, Tiffany held firm and steady, his moist lips gently enfolding the thickening penis, widening his jaw to allow the throbbing member to enlarge to its true, pounding, blood-filled girth, standing gradually as the man’s cock began to climb towards the ceiling. He appeared to be making some internal calculations. He allowed 30 seconds more to pass; then he lolled his tongue around the muscleman’s cockshaft, pulled back, dipped again to twice lick the bulbous cockhead, paused again, and then gently parted his lips and pulled back, smacking his lips happily. He wiped his mouth. Gunst stared at him. "Huge cock, man. Nice." Tiffany turned to Moster. That was all it took. Gunst promptly began to spurt ropes of milky cum into the air, which Tiffany deftly dodged. He announced his findings. “12 and three-quarters inches, sir, tip to base,” Tiffany announced with obvious pride. “As you see, he is uncircumcised. Foreskin is clean and about six inches around. Penis weight, five and one half pounds. Shaft circumference, eight inches. Head size, three and three quarters, sir. Two pronounced lateral veins.” Tiffany paused. “He weighs 325 pounds, sir, and at the moment, his blood pressure is 140/80.” He grinned. “It’s quite a penis. You should be proud, sir.” “Yeah, thanks.” Gunst was still shooting. Ropes of cum hit the walls. “Sorry, sir.” “That’s all, Private,” said Moster. “Dismissed.” Gunst, his dick still shooting volleys of cum, stepped off the platform, glanced with confusion at Tiffany, and walked slowly out of the room, his posers barely covering his throbbing cock, leaving a trail of cum as he went. “Tell Corporal Abdul to come in next,” Moster called after him. Gunst turned. “May I watch, sir?” Moster considered. “All right.” At the outset of the tests, Moster was immediately on hand with a tape measure and a blood pressure cuff to verify what he could. After awhile, he didn’t bother. Tiffany was always right. By the next morning, Moster had realized that Tiffany had deftly strategized the whole routine. He’d been punked, and by a newbie. It was as if Tiffany had foreseen Moster’s every move, and now, in record time, every man in Project Herculaneum was aware that Private Tiffany’s blowjobs were a vehicle to provide new particularized personal information being added to their charts. Moster was secretly amused at the teen’s cojones, but knew that he’d have to regain the upper hand again, and soon. Still, it wasn’t for him to break Tiffany personally. That would have made his displeasure too apparent. He began to look for opportunities for the cocky Tiffany to be bested by one of the men. A face punching by Karim would be too brutal. He considered other ways. Maybe in the wrestling ring. Yes. ******* Links to other chapters: "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - Inside Zaftig's Lab: The Musclemen Revealed
  19. TheWeremuscleForest

    Introducing the Muscle Doctor Part 2 of 2

    He grabs Bloodstone’s scrubs and tears them off including his underwear. He then turns the doctor around and starts slapping his leaky pole on his ass. The doctor tries to get away but Davis holds him down with his free hand. ‘I just want to see if this protein can be transferred to another man. Remember you told me that if I came, I would shrink so…..if I pump it into you…..would you fucking grow from it? My mind absolutely loves the thought of that doctor because I have this craving that won’t go away.’ ‘DAVE! NO! Don’t do this! Your curiosity got the best of you. Why should I have to bear the brunt of your decision?’ The big man secures Bloodstone and picks him up to carry him over to a table. He puts him down and tells him to get on his knees. The doctor tries to resist him, but is not strong enough to really make any kind of move. ‘You wanna play doctor? HUH? *slaps Bloodstone’s chest and back* Get on your knees…..you and I both know that you can’t stop me from pumping you full of this stuff.’ He lifts the doctor up off the table and arranges his legs so that he is on all fours as Bloodstone’s hairy ass glistens with sweat. Davis moans as he looks at it and moves down to run his tongue along the doctor’s hole. He slaps his ass a few times which makes Bloodstone submit a little. Davis’s strong hands travel up and down the doctor’s back making him relax. Bloodstone’s hairy cock starts to harden making Davis laugh as he slowly parts the doctor’s ass lips with his tongue. He stops after a few minutes to reach his free hand between the nervous man’s legs to massage his hairy ballsac and pet the 9x6” rod that the doctor is sporting. He is very impressed with how equipped Bloodstone is. ‘See…..this isn’t so bad is it Ross. In fact, I am hungry for some of that beautiful meat to go along with the peanut butter you made me. You told me to relax before remember? I think you should relax now.’ Davis pulls the doctor’s cock and balls underneath his legs so he can get a taste of them. The big man licks his big ballsac and lightly sucks on it tasting some of the fear emanating from Bloodstone’s body. He moans as he runs his tongue up and down the thick cock and plays with the head on it flicking his tongue a few times. The doctor trembles feeling sensations rushing up and down his body. At this point, Davis knows that he has Bloodstone willing to give in to his advances. He swallows the huge pole and gulps each time it hits his throat. The doctor moans long and hard feeling it rub the big man’s insides. Davis gets a rhythm going that makes Bloodstone hump his mouth. The big man lets out several ‘mmmmm’’s knowing that he is winning the doctor over. He takes his other hand that was holding the doctor in place and slowly pushes a few fingers inside Bloodstone’s hole. ‘STOP IT PLEASE DAVE! Uhhhh……*winces*. I can’t do this…..why subject me to such torture?’ *Davis stops sucking for a few moments* ‘You are not fighting me anymore doctor otherwise I wouldn’t be working your cock over so easily. I am really hungry for some of your spunk by the way. Is this part of your secret formula?’ *laughs* The big man goes back to working the doctor’s cock again with his mouth as he continues to rub the inside of Bloodstone’s hole. He can sense an urgency developing now and picks up his speed. He moans with each round tasting the doctor’s thick juicy precum as it coats his throat. He pulls on his own cock to get himself ready for the true test. He pulls the doctor’s cock out of his mouth to watch it spill its honey on his tongue. He smiles and kisses it a few times. ‘Okay doctor, it’s time for you to show me how much of a stud you are. Feed me Ross, I want it in my body.’ Davis starts stroking it rapidly making Bloodstone yell in ecstasy. He can’t hold back much longer and the big man knows it. He gives the doctor’s cock a few much rounds of sucking and feels his balls twitching wildly. He stops sucking right when the flood goes barreling down his throat. He slaps the doctor’s leg with his free hand and moans deeply gulping down each jet. Just when the unfortunate scientist thinks he is satisfied, the big man starts sucking again. The doctor agonizes and wants him to stop, but Davis will have none of it. ‘Ross…..you taste incredible. I want more…..I know there is more in you your balls are big and beautiful. *moves down to suck on them individually for a few minutes before going back to the doctor’s cock again* MMMMMM, makes those balls work for me Ross.’ He sucks in a steady rhythm making the doctor gasp as he feels another load starting to flow into his cock. Davis drains another load out of him swallowing every drop and letting it relax in his throat. He sighs and pulls his fingers out of the doctor’s ass and away from him. After a minute or so, he pulls Bloodstone’s cock out of his mouth and steps back. The doctor collapses on the table and moans from exhaustion. ‘It’s okay doctor, I will do all of the hard work now.’ Davis’s big cock drools in anticipation of entering Bloodstone. The big man rubs it on the doctor’s hole which seems primed for entry. His cock slowly pushes its way inside as the eager top picks the scientist up against him and holds him in place. He thrusts methodically in and out while Bloodstone just mumbles jibberish. ‘I won’t torture you very long I promise. Besides my balls are so bloated I couldn’t hold back much longer anyway.’ Davis’s voice cracks as he feels his ballsac contracting and pushing the cum directly into his cock. With a few hard thrusts, he sprays the inside of the doctor’s intestines with his thick spunk. Bloodstone groans feeling it rush inside him. There isn’t anything he can do at this point. Davis pulls out of him and lays him back on the table. A stream of cum flows on the floor from the doctor’s anus as the big man falls to the floor and rubs his cock and balls. He looks at his arms and flexes them a few times to just admire their beauty. He looks up at the scientist and wonders if anything will happen to him now. ‘Well, looks like the waiting game now Ross. Maybe I need to try and coax it to wake up inside you.’ The doctor scoots his way to the edge of the table and falls off landing on his side. He yells in pain as he continues to move away from Davis. The big man seems uninterested in following him since he isn’t moving very fast. Bloodstone leaves the supply room and heads for the chemical shower located on the other side of the panic room. He doesn’t hear the big man following him so he tries to crawl a little faster. He gets to the shower and pulls himself up slowly to pull the lever to turn the shower on. Davis now decides to get up and enters the room. ‘HA, what are you doing doctor? I don’t think washing yourself off is going to matter all that much.’ Davis goes and picks up the jar of peanut butter and makes a motion like he is going to stick his hand inside it. He hears the doctor groaning and sees him fall to the ground grasping his stomach. A huge smile appears on the bodybuilder’s face as he realizes that this may very well work. He walks over to Bloodstone and gets down on his knees to look at him. The doctor is now hurting so badly that he can’t even look up. ‘Hurts doesn’t it Ross…..when it first started in me I thought I was dying, but once it reached my balls, I was in heaven.’ The doctor’s lean frame begins to make a few popping sounds as his abs jut out a bit. The big man watches them intently as he rubs each eight individual tiles. Bloodstone looks terrified as he feels it moving through him. His lower body’s muscles stretch and pull outward forming into small vascular tree trunks stretching all the way down to his ankles and feet. Davis massages them slowly as they finish growing. ‘You are not going to be quite as large as me it seems, but I have to say I still like what I am seeing.’ Bloodstone’s flat pecs fill out next as he strains to breathe. His arms are growing entirely new veins inside them as they branch all the way up and down his hands and shoulders. His back and ass pop several times growing slightly larger and wider than before. High-pitched stretching noises radiate from the sides of his back as lats seem to come out from nowhere. Once it finally gets to his balls and cock, the doctor looks like he is completely spent and passes out. Strange stretching sounds are now coming from his crotch as the big man notices the doctor’s ballsac growing larger as his testicles blow up in size. His cock grows even thicker than before which immediately gets the attention of Davis. ‘MMMMM doctor, I think you are going to need this taken care of again.’ He leans down and licks the swollen cockhead with his tongue and figures out that he can shove it inside the piss slit. The doctor lies motionless not reacting to any of this stimulation. The big man slurps the river of honey that is now flowing freely from inside and moans deeply. Within a few seconds though, he starts to feel a bit weird and stops drinking the fluid. He falls backwards onto the floor and starts to rub his face and head. Bloodstone wakes up and looks over to stare straight at him. He quickly crawls over to Davis and throws the big man’s legs over his shoulders. He gets up on his knees to return the favor on the big man. He shoves his massive cock inside the bodybuilder and starts fucking him relentlessly. Davis agonizes feeling the doctor filling him up with that fluid. His muscles begin to shrink slightly as his cock immediately erupts. Bloodstone grabs his legs and moves both of them over to the jar before angling Davis’s huge cock inside it as it cums steadily. The big man looks absolutely horrified seeing the cum starting to mesh with the peanut butter inside. He continues to shrink and starts crying uncontrollably as he nearly returns back to his original size. The doctor slows his fucking down and squeezes Davis’s balls trying to get every last drop out of the shrinking man. Davis can no longer speak because he is so exhausted. The doctor pulls his huge cock out and gets up off the ground with the jar in tow. He takes it over to one of the media stations and returns to the supply room to retrieve his potions and scrubs before coming back. He pours one of them inside with the peanut butter where it merges with the cum and starts glowing. The doctor smiles and documents it on his tablet that was sitting in his pants. He flexes his new muscles and turns back around to look at the shocked man lying on the ground. ‘I just wanted to tell you Dave that the experiment was a rousing success. In fact, I would really like to thank you for imbuing me with muscles I haven’t had in ages. I actually needed someone like you to consume this protein just to see if it was the right combination and fortunately it was. Your brain chemistry improved as a result and you became very articulate which was a surprise. Although I wasn’t expecting you to rape me, I was not going to resist you.’ Davis looks at him in confusion and doesn’t really know where he is going with this. ‘You see Dave, I am part of something bigger, something…..very important. There are others like me that are trying to find ways to turn regular humans into muscle monsters. I think I might be the first one though to successfully keep the human mind from disappearing after transformation. Now, if you will excuse me I need to find a new set of clothes for this great new body of mine. I will send someone in to help clean you up so you can be sent into the recovery ward.’ The doctor grabs the jar, his tablet, and the remaining potions and leaves the area. Davis lays his head back down on the ground and starts sobbing again. With the experiment over, the doctor sets out for his next agenda.
  20. "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. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - The Musclemen Revealed: Inside Zaftig's Lab "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 19 - Further Encounters, Part 1 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 20 - Pose and Approve: Further Encounters, Part 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 21 - Sam and Casey Chapter 6: Casey Is Discovered The day that Casey Rockland first set foot inside a gym, he was a shy, tongue-tied, lonely, oversized 12-year old. He stood, frightened and abashed, at the front desk of Raw Weight. He had walked around the block for an hour before he found the courage to walk through the dark-glass swinging doors. Miles stood behind the desk. “Yes, son?” he asked after a moment. God, this kid has potential, he thought. Gosh, he’s handsome, Casey thought. He gawked at the huge, veiny arms that poured from the short sleeves of Miles’ sports shirt. The hugely rolling biceps made his dick twitch a little. From the moment Casey first laid eyes on Miles Donovan, he thought he was the handsomest, smartest, most masculine, most muscular man he had ever met in his life. Just the sight of Miles’ hardcore physique, casually displayed in loose-fitting slacks and a navy blue sports shirt boasting the Raw Weight logo, made Casey’s well-hidden, oversized teenage member leap to attention. It was love at first sight. Which was not lost on Miles. “C-can I join?” Casey finally stammered out. “You want to train here?” “Yes, sir.” “How old are you, son?” “Twelve,” answered Casey honestly. Miles paused, and then asked kindly, “Where do you live?” “San Jose Boys’ Home.” Aha, thought Miles. His heart went out to the beautiful, over-sized, sad-faced kid. “Of course you can join. Ever trained before?” Casey’s heart leapt. “No, sir!” “How much can you pay?” “I can work for you, sir! I can clean the locker rooms, and the toilets, and take out the garbage, and paint the walls, and – “ If Miles had allowed it, a tear would have come into his eye. Besides, this kid had overwhelming genetic promise. He held up a hand. “No need for all that. Of course you can train here. We’ll discuss money some other time. Let’s get you started. Do you have workout clothes?” “N-no, sir.” “Well, let’s get you fitted out. Come on along with me. Sid, take the desk,” Miles shot to the flirting young muscleboy trainer who was chatting up one of the wide-eyed fitness babes who trolled the workout floor, looking for available young muscle studs. “And try to keep your mind on your work.” Back to Casey. “What’s your name, son?” “Casey Rockland.” “Well, Casey Rockland, I think you might have found your new home. Let’s see what you got.” He moved out from behind the desk and approached Casey. Casey’s heart was still leaping. Miles Donovan was an astonishing man. Casey had never dreamed that such a huge, handsome, masculine, muscular man would ever take notice of him. Like an eager puppy, he fell into step behind Miles, who was leading him out onto the workout floor. There, dozens of men and women of various sizes, states, dress, and degrees of sweat were toiling away at nameless, complicated activities involving weights, machines, benches, bars, cables, racks, mats, balls, rings, and rope. One or two looked up curiously at Miles and the gawky big kid trotting behind him. William Obatu was one of those who looked up. Already in enrolled in Project Herculaneum, the handsome black African muscle monster Obatu was allowed to steal away from the compound to his home front of Raw Weight (with occasional forays to the 3rd floor, where he regularly held personal worship sessions). Obatu takes a selfie.... “Who’s that big kid?” he asked Miles one evening a few weeks later on the 3rd floor. He was working arms, doing slow concentration curls, generally ignoring the rich twinky boy on his knees before him, begging to worship the bulging cannonball biceps. “What kid?” asked Miles innocently, walking by. Obatu continued doing curls and feigned the same indifference that Miles was displaying. “You know. The big kid. Downstairs. He ever come up here to 3?” “Naw. Too young.” “Pleeeeeaazzze…..” begged the handsome kneeling twink on his knees, reaching up in hopes to get a quick fingertip brush of iron muscles. Obatu glanced down, a little impatiently, and reracked the weight. “Whtchu want?” he demanded, and slapped the kid’s face. Some ‘a’ this?” He flexed his biceps. The kid moaned gratefully. “Shut up, worm,” he commanded. Flexxxxxx… “Boom,” he said. “25 inches. Feel ‘em.” Back to Miles. “Saving him for yourself?” “Nope. Saving him for your boss. And your commanding officer. Is Tyrone any good?” Obatu was perplexed. “Who’s Tyrone?” He continued flexing, gazing admiringly at his peaks. Miles pointed down at the kid who now was both reaching in vain to touch the iron biceps while feverishly licking the heavy downward-pointing bulge in Obatu’s regulation tiny posers. Obatu shuddered with pleasure but covered. “These posers are too damn small.” “You must be used to it by now.” “You never get used to it.” “I repeat, is Tyrone any good?” “What do you care, I’m paying $5,000 a month to be up here,” mumbled Tyrone, his mouth now scooping up the thick black muscle cock that tumbled from Obatu’s straining posers. Obatu glanced up. “Trust fund kid,” Miles explained. “Oh.” He looked back down again and flexed his biceps again, a little more respectfully. “Hope you’re enjoying yourself.” Tyrone moaned passionately and sucked vigorously. After a moment, Miles spoke. “Looks like fun. Mind if I join you?” “Oh, if you’re gonna make a party of it, be my guest,” said Obatu, stepping aside. Miles, still dressed, stepped in and unzipped his pants. His big cock poured out. In an instant Tyrone had both bodybuilders’ cocks in his mouth. “Flex for him. He likes it,” said Obatu. Miles flexed his powerful silver daddy 23-inch biceps. A slight tearing sound was heard. “Damn. Another shirt.” He decided to take it out on Tyrone. He plucked the cock from his mouth and slapped his handsome smooth young cheeks vigorously with the now hard-as-steel shaft. “Nice move,” said Obatu. “Let me try that. Hey, asswipe. Over here.” And he smacked Tyrone’s face with his black cock. Soon Tyrone’s head was whipping from side to side, his face buffeted by heavy cock blows. "Take us both, boy. One after the other," ordered Miles. Tyrone went into a frenzy, sucking Obatu's cock, then twisting his head and sucking Miles' cock, back and forth. "Yeah, good boy," said Miles. A few minutes later the musclemen both shot, coating Tyrone's face with heavy layers of thick, creamy cum. Tyrone moaned as thick spurt after thick spurt emerged from each man's pisshole, painting his face, covering him with cum. “That was fun,” said Obatu. “Yeah, let’s do it again some time,” said Miles, walking away. "Clean that up, boy," he ordered as he strode away, squatting slightly as a zipped up, putting his heavy cock away. Obatu resumed his workout, Miles went back to his office. Tyrone lay on a bench, ecstatically spent. Casey took to lifting weights immediately. He had a genius for developing his own start-up training program, and he poured over the muscle magazines he could find. During computer hours he browed the net for muscle information, training routines, and reading all about the muscle stars. He was going to be one, one day, himself. He was determined. Then they’d see. But, gosh, it was hard work. Lifting hurt. It was painful. It was slow. It took time. He was stunned at the beginning at just how much work it was. One afternoon after he'd been lifting only a few weeks, he was sitting dejected in the locker room. Alone. Miles, coming through with towels, saw him. He understood. He put the towels away, and came over and sat with him on the bench awhile. They were silent together a few minutes. "It hurts." Casey finally said. "Yes, it does." "And it's hard." "Yes, it is. Not everyone can do it." "I didn't know it would be this hard." Miles smiled, and put a paternal arm around Casey's shoulders, patting him with a giant paw. "If it were easy, everyone would be big. It is not magic. You can't take a pill and get bigger. People who think so are crazy and wrong. There's no growth serum. I repeat Casey, there's no magic. It doesn't exist. You can't eat a magic cookie, and just get huge. And people who think so are fools. And dreamers." "But I'm a dreamer....." Casey said sadly. "Yes, you are a dreamer, too, but you're not foolish. You know what work is. Hard work. It's growth with effort. Growth without effort doesn't exist. It's an empty dream, a useless fantasy. There are no super heroes, Casey. There's only hard work. Years and years and years of it. But I'll tell you a secret......" he leaned in. Casey looked up. "If you keep doing it? every day, you'll get a little closer to your dream." A light began to shine in Casey's eyes. A tear formed. He looked up at Donovan, now standing over him. "You mean that?" "I do. And Casey? You'll achieve your dream. If you keep working." He paused and stepped back, hitching his thumbs in his belt. "You had a good workout today. You're pushing the limits. But now you need to rest. G'wan back to the home and eat some chicken. Rest tomorrow. No, rest two days. Don't want to see you back here until Saturday." He smiled. "But on Saturday? I'll train with you. And we're gonna fucking murder those weights." Casey's face shone like the sun. He nodded, eagerly, unable to speak a moment. "Sure, Miles! I'll go back and eat chicken and sleep and see you Saturday!!" He got up and began packing his bag. "Work on those abs. You can do crunches tomorrow as long as you don't use weight," he said as he left the locker room. ****** As Casey trained at Raw Weight it was soon apparent that as he gained strength and grew, he needed more than three times as much food. Sister Anne in the kitchen, sympathetic to the big, sweet, dumb, exceptionally handsome kid, supplied him with the extra portions of meat whenever she could get away with it, unaware that the Home’s director, Sister Marietta, had deliberately turned a blind eye. She was even guilty of making sure there were plenty of steaks and chicken breasts on hand. Four years passed. Casey trained like a maniac. He would have been there every day, all day, but Miles forbad it, making him aware of the need for rest days. "Your body won't grow muscles unless you rest. You want to get big?" "Yes, sir! I want to be huge!" "Then you stay away 3 days a week. Eat a lot of protein. Do your ab exercises every night. But no weights. You wanna grow and get big you gotta give your body a rest." Casey, deeply in love, filled with awe, was all the same a little frightened of Miles, and shied away from him for a long time. Miles, understanding the nature of hero worship, gave the handsome kid a wide berth, encouraging him in a business-like way as he made muscle gains. Sensing even more talent, after Casey had been at Raw Weights about 2 years, he introduced him one afternoon to Ramon Ramon, a stern, grizzled, totally ripped, if slightly punch drunk old Puerto Rican extreme cage fighter who always seemed to be at Miles’ gym, as if he didn’t have anywhere else to go. Soon Casey was taking boxing and kickboxing lessons from Ramon Ramon. He began running, jumping rope, lifting the huge truck tires in the corner of the 1st floor, and working out with a punching bag. Ramon was also into wrestling. He bought Casey his first singlet. For hours after Casey's workouts they grappled on Raw Weight’s stained old wrestling mats, bathed in sweat. Ramon was old and grey but had solidly ripped, strong muscles, and Casey loved the feel of the old iron warrior’s abs against his abs as rolled around together on the floor. When Ramon locked his legs around young Casey’s neck and squeezed, Casey always got what the boys in the home called ‘a boner.’ Big and hard, it poled up in the singlet and would have embarrassed him had Ramon not been so cool about it. “Big tool. Get you a bigger singlet next time. You need a scoche more room in the crotch.” Ramon’s legs were clamped onto 16-year old Casey’s 22-inch neck. He howled. He had never been happier. His erection pointed high to the ceiling. “Go ahead and take care of it,” said Ramon. “Be good for ya. Young guys gotta cum.” He let go of Casey’s left arm. Casey shouted and stroked with his freed hand and his cum shot to the ceiling and plopped onto his abs and the wrestling mat. He was never embarrassed around Ramon. “Think you got the biggest cock I ever did see,” said the old wrestler, his iron vice grip holding Casey in a headlock now. The cum continued to shoot. “It’s healthy. Like to see it.” And Casey groaned happily with pain as Ramon squeezed harder. They wrestled in a pool of cum, soon made even greater as Ramon shot all over his steely abs. “Thought I’d join you,” he said. "Be sure to clean that up before you hit the showers." "Yes, sir!" said Casey, happily spent. For two more years Casey followed a strict regimen of quiet hard-core muscle building. He grew and grew. Miles was taking notice. By the time he was 17, it was clear that he had extraordinary bodybuilding gifts. His dedication to lifting was unquestioned, his genetics nothing less than astonishing. One afternoon at the gym during one of his workouts, Miles Donovan glanced out of office window at the big, muscular young teen in the middle of the workout floor. Casey stood alone on the workout floor, his red t-shirt dripping with sweat. He was insanely propelling himself through a 5th set of unduly punishing biceps curls, curling 125 pounds. His face was crimson, his eyes bulged, his teeth were gritted like a madman, thick cords of veins pounded in his neck. His meaty young biceps were being punished into new growth levels. Miles watched the 16-year old boy through the window closely. “Guess it’s time,” he said to himself. He speed-dialed Dr. Anton Zaftig at Valhalla Labs on his mobile. It was time. He hardly knew nor cared what who Zaftig was, or what this “research” was about. All Donovan knew is that he was supposed to be on the lookout for ‘special’ muscle - from the young men who showed unusual potential, to the older, more weather-beaten gym rats who were so far past feeling any pain that all they could do was pack on more and more beef – as long as they were able to keep a balance with their abs, that is. And – as long as they had other talents as well, including square jaws, clean skin, clear eyes, and redoubtable priapic gifts. Zaftig had been quietly paying Donovan for years to spot potential talent. And the size and regularity of Zaftig’s checks were profoundly motivating. “Zaftig?” A mumbled affirmative. “There’s a kid who’s been training here a few years who I think you might want to check out….. No, he’s only 17, but he’s huge. Yes. Really huge. Yes, he’s good, very good, and I think he could be great. I’ve been watching him quite awhile now. Hmmm? Two years. No, three. Regularly. Yeah.” Donovan paced a little and glanced out his window to the gym floor. Casey was putting himself through his 6th set of curls. 15 reps per set. Now at 160 lbs. “Weight? He’s 220. At age 17. Yes, really. 220. Height? Get this: he’s 6’4”. And I don’t think he’s done growing. Yes, superb symmetry. What?" He sighed at Zaftig's question. "Yeah, he's hung, too. Biggest goddam tool I ever saw." Another mumbled question. "What? Okay. I’ll call you back. Ten minutes.” He hung up. He got up from his chair and walked out onto the floor up to the muscleboy. “Awesome. Awesome young muscle. Congratulations,” he said breezily. Casey was in heaven. “Gee thanks, Mr. Donovan!” he said. Casey was always excited when the handsome muscleman praised him. “Let’s see those guns,” said Miles. Casey was only too happy to comply, eagerly flexing his powerful young biceps. Miles stroked them appreciatively, and then casually flexed his own right arm. Casey stared. “Wow,” he breathed. He reached forward to touch it. “Go ahead,” said Miles. “Stroke it.” As Casey approached respectfully and softly ran his fingers over Miles’ thick biceps, the older man glanced down. And was startled. The bulge in Casey’s gym shorts was poled out about a foot from his hips. He didn’t seem to notice, transfixed as he was stroking Miles’ biceps. Miles flexed a few more times for him, and with great self-control, walked away. He called Zaftig back. “Yeah, he gets hard when he touches muscles. Okay. No, I don’t think he does drink. Or smoke. One thing, though. I don’t think he’s the brightest light in the billboard. Does it matter? No? Okay. Yes. I will. I’ll keep you posted.” It was that afternoon that Donovan smilingly informed Casey that his membership to Raw Weight would be free of charge for the foreseeable future. He clapped him breezily on his powerful young shoulders, and was slightly astonished at the hardness of the muscle beneath his palm. For his part, Casey was overjoyed. He didn’t stop to examine why such good fortune might have his way, and what might be expected of him in exchange in the future. He continued to pump enthusiastically, and pack on the muscle. The kid’s not bad, thought Donovan, watching Casey joyfully burn through a grueling set of 20 reps of 400-pound deadlifts. ******* Just a few days later that Casey Rockland finally decided to do something about the gang who had been pummeling him in the dorm shower room for years. Already it was taking more and more of the boys in the gang to hold him down during his beatings, which were growing far less frequent as he got bigger and bigger. One day they stopped completely, but the boy’s hostility still festered in the air. Casey was getting ready for payback. Ramon had showed him how, too. “You got a fearsome punch, kid,” he said one afternoon, flat on his back in the ring where Casey had just knocked him, his eye blackened. “Lead with the left. You got it.” One night after lights out, a few of the boys circled his bed. He looked up at them, bleary-eyed and half asleep. “What?” he asked. “Pull his shorts down!“ “You do it! It’s gay!” “I wanna see!” came a pipsqueak voice. Casey felt a dozen hands pin him down in the half-light, and his shorts were yanked to his knees. His adolescent penis, tumescent in the steamy night, was exposed. He was humiliated. And mad. “Goddamn!” one boy yelled. “It’s huge!” “It’s like a monster!” “Hey, Banana Man!” “See, I told ya!” “He’s a freak!” “Casey the Freak!” the boys chanted, and began to pummel him. Casey curled into a ball on his mattress, gritted his teeth, and took it tearfully. “Next time,” he said himself as the boys rained his body with their weak punches. "Next time, they get it." On what turned out to be his last day in the San Jose Boys’ Home, a gang of 18 biggest boys circled him during morning showers, laughing and pointing at his monster penis for the last time. "Okay," he said. "You turds have laughed at me for the last time. He swung a fist, very deliberately, and caught the ringleader square on the jaw. A tooth flew out and the boy hit the wall of the shower. Methodically Casey began to punch his way through the crowd of now-terrified boys. He was surprised at how easy it was. When the steam cleared, all 18 lay on the ground with an array of blackened eyes, broken noses, fractured jaws, and missing teeth. Casey sported a huge shiner himself. It was worth it. That afternoon 5 ambulances pulled up to the front gates and took the boys away for bandaging in the San Juan ER. Four boys were required to stay overnight for observation. Sister Marietta called him into her office to reprimand him. As she always did with the bad boys, she bent him over her lap and spanked his firm young butt with a ruler. She broke three of them before she finally gave up, perplexed at how hard the young man’s behind had become. Afterwards, rubbing his stinging bottom, Casey ran back to his room and cried. No one loves me, he cried. That night he ran away forever from the San Jose Boy’s Home. He went to the gym, and still sniffling, emptied out his locker. Donovan watched him from the window in his office as Casey, in tears tucked his favorite do-rag in his back jeans pocket and slumped out into the night. Casey figured he had to leave town, although he had no idea where exactly he was going to go. Miles picked up his mobile phone. He figured the time had come. A hour later, Dr. Zaftig found Casey sitting alone and dejectedly in the San Jose bus station. Dr. Zoloft was in transit from the city to the lab facility in the countryside outside town when Donovan had called him hurriedly. He did a fast detour in his minivan, walked swiftly into the bus station, and took a good look at the huge kid bursting out of his t-shirt, sitting alone on a bench in the corner. He knew right away he had another promising specimen for Project Herculaneum. Miles Donovan was never wrong. Zaftig walked unhesitatingly up to Casey and introduced himself. He talked about a bright, golden future for the young bodybuilder. Innocent Casey stared at him uncomprehendingly for a few minutes. Then he smiled through his tears. In the end, he went with the doctor with the funny name. He never questioned anything. He was just grateful. Casey moved into the cadet facility at the base of the mountain leading up to the main compound that night. The next morning, Dr. Irving appeared in Sister Marietta’s office and signed for his release. He flashed some government identification for her, muttered some Federal mumbo jumbo, announced that Valhalla Labs had invested in Casey’s training for four years, and petitioned the court for the right to take Casey into custody. Sister Marietta held up her hand to cut him off, offering no objections. “Take him. He’s too big for us now. We can’t afford to feed him anymore, and the other boys are now terrified of him. Besides, four of his classmates are still in the hospital. It would be best for all if he left.” As she signed the papers offered by Dr. Irving, she added, “But please take good care of him. Casey is a sweet and simple young man. He needs love.” No other paperwork seemed necessary, and though it was far from being anything like a formal adoption, it was enough for the Good Sister. She was relieved to see the boy go – he now always seemed to be hungry, and she had been forced to replace Sister Anne in the kitchen because the boy’s appetite was breaking the food budget. She was glad he could go somewhere where, hopefully, he would get his required 6 square meals a day. Beyond that, she wouldn’t worry. Casey had always been a good boy – well, until the day before. She knew he’d make the right decisions for himself. Or not. Once in the program, Zaftig fast-tracked Casey’s growth. Under Zaftig’s watchful eye and the encouragement of the cadet trainers, he worked harder than anyone he had yet encountered. And the food? He couldn’t believe it – six full meals a day! Two days a week he was required to remain near his quarters and relax. The other five days of the week were taken up with schooling, enhanced nutrition, supervised meditation, running drills, bicycling, swimming, gymnastics practice, small arms training, and nightly injections of Protein 21b, Zaftig’s laboratory serum developed under the most rigorous of testing. Within two months, he was a full cadet in the program, and in less than 2 years he was approaching the threshold of muscular perfection. Most of the time for those years, he was alone with Zaftig, Dr. Irving, his trainers, and some of the Project cadets. He had been restrained from meeting the other 19 men, who trained and socialized on their own in the main building of the facility. He didn’t notice it just at first, but during the next two years he couldn’t help but wonder at the increasing volume of his emissions. He had no inkling that Protein 21b might be causing his sperm production to gradually increase exponentially. Still, during the two years he came to understand that there might be some link between the clear liquid in the daily injections and the increasingly generous volume of semen that spurted out of his cock nightly. He was also amazed that his cock itself appeared to be getting even bigger. He had always been hugely hung, but – this was crazy. At first it required little more than a washrag to clean up after himself, but in time, larger and larger bath towels were required to mop up the flow after cumming. His sheets were badly always badly stained in the morning, and – strangely – every night he found they had been replaced by crisp, new sheets. He never knew who might be doing this for him, and over time his initial embarrassment about his sticky sheets faded away into the generally dark, accumulating volume of unanswered questions. After he passed his high school graduation equivalency exams, Zaftig decided he was ready to take it to the next level. It was time to formally present the boy to the 19. Casey was 18 years old and in the best condition of his young life to date. Still, he was lonely. At night he lay alone in his little room, gazed out the window at the moon and the stars, and beat his humongous meat off fiercely. He dreamed of being the biggest, strongest man in the world. Everyone would love him. And he would protect everyone. It was the sweetest dream in the world, and it was always enough to charge him to a satisfying climax. Then he’d roll over and fall into a deep sleep, hopeful for better days.
  21. TheWeremuscleForest

    Introducing the Muscle Doctor Part 1 of 2

    Davis rushes his way into the lab’s bathroom and locks the door behind him. He feels very strange and wonders if he might have done something earlier in the day to cause such discomfort. After about a minute of walking around the toilet and urinal, he turns to look at himself in the mirror above the sink. His green eyes stare back at him as he makes a few goofy gestures. He rubs his black hair making the brown highlights shine in the lights. He then proceeds to rub his smooth lightly tanned face and takes a few breaths. There are a few knocks on the bathroom door. ‘Dave? What did you do? The tests we have been running seem to be going well, is there something you need to tell me?’ The doctor in charge of Davis’s tests is Ross Bloodstone, a researcher trying to come up with a way to create a stronger protein without any horrible side effects in the food supply. He suspects that Davis may have eaten something he wasn’t supposed to and is possibly about to go through some kind of drastic change. He wants to document what will happen next, but he hopes that Davis can keep himself in check as he goes through with it. ‘Okay Dave. Listen to me carefully. Did you eat some of the honey peanut butter on my desk?’ Davis’s eyes dilate a bit as he listens to the doctor’s questions. He tries not to panic, but it is getting harder to not think about what he has done. ‘Oh shit, oh shit! Damnit Dr. Bloodstone, I could smell it and it sort of summoned me towards it. I grabbed some of the wheat bread on the lunch counter and took it over to the peanut butter. The taste was incredible, I had two sandwiches. Oh fuck, I am going to get really sick now?’ The doctor smiles a bit and pulls up a chair close to where he is standing and sits in it in front of the door. He pulls his tablet out from his lab coat and boots it up to start documenting the whole scenario. ‘Just listen to me okay. You may be experiencing some pain coming from within your body in a little bit, I want you to relax your body for me and keep calm. The peanut butter contains an experimental protein that hasn’t been tested fully on humans yet. We discussed this before remember? I just never told you that it was injected into the peanut butter.’ Davis remembers the conversation and goes to sit over in a corner away from everything. Dr. Bloodstone leans down and peeks under the door to see where the man is sitting and gets back up to sit in his chair. He can hear Davis muttering to himself in a mean tone. ‘Do you feel anything unusual happening to you Dave?’ ‘No doctor, should I come out so you can take a look at me?’ ‘NO DAVE! You stay put this has to be contained in a secure area. Where you are at is perfectly fine.’ Davis starts sweating from his head as it starts to trickle down his face and neck. His grey dress shirt is beginning to look damp from the perspiration forming under his pits. He loosens his blue necktie so he can breathe a little better. He looks down to see if he is sweating from his legs since he is wearing a really nice pair of black trousers and notices a couple of wet spots coming from his quads. He jumps up and starts pacing again. He lets out a few sounds that makes Dr. Bloodstone wonder if he is starting to have trouble keeping it together. ‘Dave? Tell me the truth. Are you feeling a bit strange now? I need to know so I can document the effects.’ Davis stops in his tracks and immediately feels his stomach tighten up on the inside. He wonders if he will start to go through some kind of physical change. He had heard about this through a mutual friend who stated that Bloodstone Labs was into some kind of new biological research. He had volunteered because he needed the cash since his job was only part-time. The odd feeling is starting to move up into his lungs now making him breathe a little deeper and slower. ‘Uhh doctor…..*breathes heavy*…..it is getting harder…..for me to…..breathe. I am…..so fucking scared right now.’ ‘It will be alright Dave, just relax, breathe slowly and let it make its way through you. It will be a slow and methodical process, but it can’t be stopped. You will probably have a sense of panic come over you shortly because it will get to your brain. Just tell me what is happening.’ Davis winces as he feels his abdominal area pop a few times. He thinks that the muscles around his midsection are trying to grow or something and reaches down to rub them from the outside of his shirt. A few small ridges form against his fingers which makes him jump back a bit. His shirt starts to stick to them as they glue themselves to the wet fabric. Several more pops radiate from his pecs as he rushes over to look at his chest in the bathroom mirrors. ‘Ahh……uhhhh damnit…..doctor my chest is popping and I…..think it is trying to swell or something.’ He can see them trying to jump a few times before they start to slowly grow. The space between his pecs and his dress shirt is shrinking as they touch the fabric on his shirt. His nipples protrude and are entirely visible as he stares at them intensely. The sensation of them brushing against his shirt sends tremors down to his crotch as he feels his balls trying to swell. ‘Ohh gawd doctor…..I am feeling so much…..uhhhh sensation……*his legs start swelling*…..oh shit oh shit…..*feels his cock jumping in his boxers*……yep I am panicking doctor…..please make it stop.’ ‘I can’t make it stop Dave, you have to just relax and let it flow through you. Your body is just fulfilling its needs. Don’t worry I am still documenting all of this.’ Davis feels his quads and hamstrings stretching and pulling the fabric in his trousers tighter than before as his cock starts to lengthen and push itself down his right leg. He turns to the side to look at the back of his shirt as he feels his delts and shoulders popping before they start to push his dress shirt up towards his head. His feet have now completely filled his shoes as he hears them starting to rip through the front of the leather. His breathing is now greatly compromised as his entire body is being crushed inside his clothes. His ass is now close to bursting through the back of his trousers as his glutes flex. *heavy breathing* ‘Uhhhh……I can’t speak…..fuck…..i just want out of these clothes…..’ The last parts of Davis to start growing are his arms which sound like air mattresses filling up. The stretching makes the man yell out as the muscles in his forearms swell to the point that his shirt just rips down the seams of his sleeves. Several thick veins are visible over top of the huge baseball-sized muscles that he is staring at in the mirror. He watches intently at his growing biceps and triceps which make quick work of his sleeves. His arms pulse with incredible power as he studies their vascularity. He raises his arms up which makes his lats bust through the sides of his shirt. The huge wings flare out and rip the armpits completely open. The massive hairy pits reek of testosterone which immediately reaches Davis’s nose. He can feel his mind starting to change as his quads and ass destroy his boxers and trousers. The dense leg muscles spill out of the open seams as his calves continue to grow. His shoes disintegrate under the pressure of his growing feet. ‘RRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAWWWWRRRRR!’ The man flexes his chest as every shirt button goes flying in the air. His immense pecs destroy the front of his shirt as he watches himself expand in the mirror. He tears the rest of the shirt off to admire his upper body. The veins in his neck have doubled in size as his face and head thicken. His cock drools precum on the ground as it dangles off to the side. His calves break free from their confines which cause his trousers to just blow in the wind. He grunts and yanks the rest of the fabric off his lower body and stares at himself in the mirror. *still grunting* ‘FUCK YEAH! GAWD I HAVE NEVER FELT SO FUCKING FREE! *flexes his 20” pythons* MMMMM I AM SO FUCKING HORNY! *does a most muscular* FUUUCCCKKKK! RAWR! Doctor, you have given me the greatest gift ever. I want more! Will I get even bigger than this?’ Dr. Bloodstone keeps silent to try and step away from the door. He then rushes into a nearby room that is insulated to prevent anything from getting in. He shuts the door behind him and moves over to a station full of monitors. He turns on the one that overlooks the bathroom and activates a speaker. He can see the 275 pound hulk standing in front of the bathroom mirrors completely soaked from head to toe stroking his 11” tool and grunting. ‘Dave, listen to me. You are letting your inhibitions get the best of you, I want you to try and not get carried away with this. The protein is probably building up in your testicles now so do me a favor and cum for me so we can finish this.’ Davis looks up at the camera and laughs in his new deep voice. He walks over to it and makes his cock swing back and forth slapping his quads. He growls and does a double bicep pose. ‘Come on doctor, why don’t you come in here and play with me. I won’t hurt you too badly I promise. So you are telling me that if I cum, then this will cause me to shrink back to where I was?’ Bloodstone pauses for a few moments and speaks. ‘Well Davis, I really have no idea. All I know is, you consumed enough of the protein to cause a 100 pound growth cycle to occur and it released your mind from its restraints. You’re cognizant which is good, but I don’t trust you.’ Davis makes motions with his huge hands like he is summoning the doctor down. ‘Doctor?…..Ross?…..come play with me…..I will just get upset if you don’t come back and destroy that puny door that is supposed to keep me in here. You know I will just try and find the rest of that peanut butter because I want to fucking grow out of this building. FUCK! That makes me so damn horny just thinking about it.’ Bloodstone realizes that he has left the key components of his formula out on the lab floor and opens the door to run after them. At the same time, he hears Davis bashing in the bathroom door. After three punches, the huge bodybuilder’s veiny forearm goes through the wood and reaches down to rip the door handle completely out. The frantic doctor quickly shuffles through his vials and grabs potions and liquids before racing back into the panic room. Davis breaks down the door and races down the hall towards the doctor. He is not fast enough to get there as Bloodstone manages to lock it down. Davis pounds relentlessly on it and yells in disgust. After a few seconds he stops pounding and just stands there. He laughs and wonders if Bloodstone can see him in the hallway. ‘So……can you see me doctor? What are you trying to keep from me? I just want to play. I won’t hurt you because I know you can fucking grow me into a gawd. *can smell the peanut butter* *starts laughing* You didn’t take it? Are you kidding me?’ Davis walks over to it on the lunch table and picks it up. He finds a camera above his head and waves the jar at it. He opens the lid up and scoops some of it out. He smiles and rubs it on his huge sweaty cock. He strokes it a few times and moans before laughing again. ‘Does it absorb doctor? I fucking love the fact that you left this out. What are you up to? You want me to fucking hulkout don’t you? *looks down at his cock and sees it spilling precum all over the floor* Oh fucking yeah, my body is so hungry for this. Say goodbye to your lab doctor because I am getting ready to tear this place apart.’ Before he licks his fingers he stops and looks up at the camera again in the lunch area. He gets one of the chairs from a nearby table and pushes it up to the wall where the camera is. He stands up on it and looks directly into the camera. His deep green eyes sparkle as he cocks his head to the side and smirks. He flexes one of his huge guns and leans over to kiss it before running his tongue all around it. He moans each time he does this. Then he turns back around and looks into the camera again. ‘Why would you let me do this doctor? I think you are getting your rocks off on this myself…..or……you are wanting me to rampage out in the middle of the city and fucking hurt people. Yeah…..I think that is it. I’m on to you, Doctor Bloodstone.’ He grabs the camera and rips it completely off the mount on the wall. Bloodstone tries to flip a few buttons to find another nearby camera but Davis is nowhere to be seen. The doctor goes on to the loudspeaker to reach the entire complex to get Davis’s attention. ‘Dave, listen to me. Just calm down and I will be out in a little bit. We can figure something out on how to resolve your issue I promise.’ Before he can get another word in, he hears a huge crash come from the other side of the room and realizes that Davis has found another way in. The bodybuilder is heard moving his way through one of the vents in the ceiling which makes the doctor try to go out the front entrance. The door doesn’t budge though which makes him really nervous. After a few seconds, the doctor grabs his potions and runs into the supply closet located nearby. Davis falls through the ceiling and lands on his feet. He roars in delight as debris sticks to his body. He tosses the jar of peanut butter over to the side to where he can get to it again. ‘I know for a fact doctor that you are in here because I bent the door frame to this room so that you couldn’t get out. Now come out from where you are so we can have a discussion.’ There is no response from the doctor which aggravates Davis. He rips up one of the monitor stations and growls flexing his huge muscles. ‘FUCK! I think I may have to eat some more of that peanut butter. My body really wants to fucking destroy this room. You are forcing me to make a dangerous decision Bloodstone. Get the fuck out here right now!’ The supply room door opens and Bloodstone walks out. Davis gets an evil grin on his face and starts to walk over to him. The doctor sweats profusely before walking backwards into the supply room again. ‘DOCTOR BLOODSTONE, stop moving right now. You are going to feel me up whether you want to or not.’ The doctor is face to face with the huge man and reaches out to feel the huge pulsing veins in his arms. Davis flexes them making the muscles swell. Bloodstone calmly runs his hands up and down them which makes Davis moan deeply. The big man takes the doctor’s hands and puts them on his heaving pecs which are continuously dripping sweat. He bounces them making the doctor grin a little. ‘You look amazing Dave and I think you can be happy looking like this. I just don’t understand why you didn’t already consume the peanut butter. What changed in you to make you have to think about it?’ Davis picks him up and looks him directly in the eyes. ‘Ohh I am definitely going to eat it doctor, I just want to try out an experiment of my own too.’ To be continued…..
  22. The first two chapters of my muscle novel-in-progress, The Twenty. Links to chapters of "The Twenty": "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - The Musclemen Revealed: Inside Zaftig's Lab "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 19 - Further Encounters, Part 1 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 20 - Pose and Approve: Further Encounters, Part 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 21 - Sam and Casey "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 22 - Field Trips for Worship, Part 1 "The Twenty" - Chapter 23 - Field Trips, Part 2 – Casey Rediscovers Muscle Worship, and Makes a New Friend "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 24 - Further Encounters 5: Sam and Casey Again, and Moster and the Cadets 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 the twentieth muscle god, young Casey Rockland, a lonely, handsome, super-hung 19-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 decades-long Project, itself only now beginning to suggest its full potential. Introduction The 3-story steel, glass, and concrete compound was snugly nestled in the misty rural hills that rolled gently inland from the ocean, where the Santa Ana winds met the hot air rising from the distant desert to the east. Poised at the edge of the highest peak of the Santa Cruz Mountains, the 4,000-acre gated complex was just barely visible from the discreet entrance on Pacific Coast Highway below. A single sign stood at the locked automatic entrance gate, reading - Private No Outlet The private drive wound up the mountain, snaking through dark woods of redwood and pine, finally arriving at the labyrinth of vine-covered high concrete walls, topped with barbed wire, which surrounded the entire complex. Closed circuit cameras marked every turn of the road. Manicured lawns and open fields could be occasionally glimpsed through thick veils of leaves, branches and red rock. 350 miles south was Los Angeles. San Jose was the closest city, 30 miles away. Local residents drove past the gate on Pacific Coast Highway, wondering about the mysterious multi-million dollar complex. The place had seemed to spring up overnight, seemingly from nothing, more than 10 years before. The traffic in and out was largely limited to food delivery and supply vans. Unseen generators hummed through the night. The people who worked there appeared to be in residence. Was it an athletic training facility? Low planes flying overhead clearly identified a likely indoor Olympic-sized swimming pool, bicycle trails, playing fields, and more. There were also a few outer buildings that appeared to be well-appointed dormitories, with small lawns and private drives. A building attached to the central core might possibly be a central hall, with sizable private, enclosed terraces open to the sky. Convoys of SUVs, all bearing the logo VALHALLA LABS were parked in a half-empty parking lot in front of the main building. Occasionally local delivery men, bringing whole sides of raw beef, fresh vegetables, lab equipment, chemicals, electrical supplies, and – this was the most perplexing part – hundreds of tons of expensive exercise equipment would spot one or two dozen young men on bicycles, pedaling furiously through the high hills, always followed at a discreet distance by an unmarked black car and by the one of the SUVs. From a distance the men on the bicycles appeared to be unusually large. In any event, the local deliverymen weren’t talking. Most would just shrug and say they didn’t know. Besides, they’d signed a confidentiality agreement barring their conversation about what they might happen to observe within. And since no one appeared unduly nervous about the place, over the years the matter dropped. Still, the rural locals who hung out at the motorcycle bars and music clubs nestled deep in the hills continued to buzz. Most assumed that it was some kind of military base and laboratory. Others noted the apparent residence buildings from the air, and thought it was either a private Olympic training compound, or some kind of crazy health nut cult commune. Certainly it was neither a prison nor a university. But no one really knew what it was. And over the years, little by little, the mysteriously well-tended commune was enveloped in the mists of revered local mystery, a legend the hill people of the coast, who were mostly Northern California biker clubs, surfers, horsemen, and artichoke farmers, relished and loved, without knowing anything about it. Remote, mysterious, un-Google-able, not listed on any map, no one really knew what the place was, and even less was understood. However, since it was apparent that no nuclear waste was being discharged, no one worried. No one appeared on either San Jose or San Francisco streets with appeals to join some far-out religion. No shots were fired in the night. And because, in fact, the whole compound was refreshingly green, paid its local bills on time, and was mysteriously quiet at night, for years no one really worried about the place. If only they had known it was the wellspring of the Fountain of Eternal Youth. Or, as it came to be called years later, after all the fuss and scandal and stories had finally faded into the misty aura of legend – the Lourdes of Bodybuilding. ********* This is the story about the day that it all changed forever. THE TWENTY A Government Issue Adult Cartoon -XXX- Muscle Fantasy By Joey Silverado This book is dedicated to Tiny Yokum – and to all his fans, past, present, and future. From Dr. Warren Irving’s Notes List sorted according to date of entry into program. Click tables to see details. Chapter 1: Project Herculaneum October 20th, 2021 1855 Hours In Valhalla Labs’ 15,000 square foot soundproofed gym, 18 of the longtime test subjects of Project Herculaneum were approaching the second hour of their balls-to-the-wall workout. On the west wall, one-way visibility windows framed the magnificent mountaintop panoramas in the growing twilight. As the sun disappeared, the glass increasingly glowed with the golden reflections of a roomful of massive male musculature. The workout floor crackled with the sounds of iron clangs, grunts, groans, and ecstatic roars of pain, shouts and taunts. The air was thick with hot sweat, crotch and armpit smell. Low ranking solders in the US Army, and ranging in age from 20 to 45, the 18 were, to use the argot of the world of male bodybuilding, freaks. Huge muscle freaks. Animals. Swole. Jacked to the balls. ‘Roided to the tits. Except that they weren’t ‘roided at all. Every man on the squad was clean and clear of the usual bodybuilding drugs required to build massively muscled specimens of uncommon size and strength. And they weren’t just conventionally “huge” either. All of the soldiers of Project Herculaneum were fired by one supplement only. P21. And Project Herculaneum, now approaching the end of its first decade, was finally yielding the astonishing results promised from the beginning back in 2007. The Project Director and Genius Factotum, Dr. Ira Zaftig, had long dubbed his lab creation enzyme P21, “The Fountain of Youth.” The wellspring of eternal energy, strength, youth, beauty, and sexual power. Perhaps the secret of life itself. The Men of Project Herculaneum thought of P21 differently, though. “It’s the straightest line between two mostly unreachable points: freaky muscle, and ba-boom!” Or so said Private 1st Class Dan Gunst, a 6’-10”, 375-pound mountain of ripped muscle whose growth on the enzyme had surprised even project founder Zaftig. Off to one side, the 19th man on the squad squatted on a bench and closely surveyed the men's training with half-lidded eyes. By far the largest man in the room, CO Staff Sergeant Rod Moster’s muscular perfection was unparalled, even in this room of freakishly huge men. Squared-jawed and blindingly handsome, 44-year old Rod Moster was 7’- 0” tall, weighing in at 395 ripped and shredded pounds, a black mountain of solidly ridged muscle: deeply separated, profoundly striated sheer muscle mass, boasting a body fat index of 1.2%. Dr. Zaftig was the heart and genius creator of Project Herculaneum. The squad and their CO were the ongoing subjects of his personally supervised “Top Secret” project. For years, the men had been receiving regular lab-controlled injections of Zaftig’s carefully developed muscle growth enzyme, P21. Sergeant Moster, on the enzyme for more than a decade, was the project’s powerful senior officer and unopposed trainer. Yet in spite of Moster's formidable size and strength, he was soon to be equaled by two of the soldiers in his direct command, Corporal Karim Abdul and Private Gunst. He knew it, too. The workout room met Moster’s strict standards. Room temperature was always set exactly at 90o. Moster would not allow air-conditioning on the workout floor. After all, sweat lubricates muscles and encourages growth. No one disputed Moster's rules. On a sprung workout floor measuring 10,000 square feet, there were two dozen squat racks, 42 benches, 8 rows with hundreds of dumbbells ranging from 5 to 300 pounds, and hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of gleaming machines, standing bicycles, elliptical tracks, cable racks, ropes, belts, grips, and stacks of weights. Hundreds and hundreds of tons of weights. In the distant corners of the gym, a few normal-sized Valhalla lab assistants scurried silently in the shadows with video equipment, towels, heavy water jugs, and cleaning equipment. The men on the floor never paid any attention to the pipsqueak lab rats, as they called them. Occasionally, one of the pipsqueaks meekly approached Sgt. Moster with questions or a need for direction. Moster was always gracious, brief and business-like with lab underlings. They were Zaftig’s people, after all, and he appreciated that it just might be difficult to recruit them. More importantly, the lab rats were not, after all, muscle worshippers. Geeky science majors somehow matriculated from Berkeley and Stanford, their applications for their employment were most thoroughly scanned to determine both their dedication to science, and their lack of sexual interest in the project subjects. Past circumstances had indicated that the men of Project Herculaneum were unusually vulnerable when it came to the possibilities implied by muscle worshippers. The less of that from outsiders, the better. For now, anyway. Besides, there was real money to be made with the advent of worship. That would come later. Above all, Moster didn’t want to water down the future possibilities. Some day, when all this was over, there was a lot of money to be made. Moster was counting on it. Under his leadership, the goals of his 18 musclemen were never ending, their focus never dulled by the daily routine of their sequestered lives inside the Valhalla Compound. And for Moster, it was all about building muscle. Solid, rock-hard, healthy, powerful muscle. Muscle supported by bones and internal organ strength. Whereas Dr. Zaftig was compelled to his daily grind of endless lab research and observation of the men by his quest for eternal youth, Moster was not distracted by such vague, high-minded creationist illusions. All Moster cared about was that his men develop huge, serious, ripped, dominant, clean, overpowering muscle, muscle like the world had never seen before. Moster relished the fact that his extraordinary development was still a constant inspiration to his men. He generally preferred to remain completely covered, rarely choosing to display his magnificent physique. His custom-built oversized sweatsuits were carefully tailored to camouflage his physique while not hindering movement. They were heavily reinforced at the seams to avoid tears and bursting, and were neutral in construction and color. The sweat pants were gathered into tight stretch bands at Moster’s ankles. He generally wore combat boots and a white do-rag. But even the careful design of more than 25 yards of a blend of durable synthetics and heavy cotton couldn’t disguise Moster’s 60-inch wide shoulder girth, 7'-6" reach, 70-inch chest, 36-inch quadriceps and 25-inch calves. An observer might only be able to guess at the Sergeants’ biceps, triceps, and brachialis size. Moster chose to wear his sweatshirt loose, masking a slender, powerfully shaped 32-inch waistline. He never tucked it in, always making certain he was successfully covering his crotch. He had his reasons for this, which were well known by his men. Whenever Moster appeared in uniform, or civilian clothing, his appearance was all but terrifying – and, at the same time, insanely alluring. Rod Moster's boxing, wrestling, and extreme fighting skills were superior to all but Corporal Karim. Moreover, by now in this stage of team development, Moster found he had to work harder than his men in order to maintain the very slight edge he still held. Zaftig knew this, much to Moster’s subtle discomfort. He knew could be unseated by the right man at any time. Project Herculaneum was that far along. He remained proud of his team, knowing as he did that some day soon they might surpass him. When it became apparent to all that his long-held edge over the others was narrowing, a few of the men privately anticipated the day that he might finally be bested by one of the 18. The bets were on Karim Abdul, though Abdul had no particular vendetta against Moster; all the same, it would be a day of reckoning for the alpha CO, to atone for some of the more painful and humiliating extra-curricular disciplines he had long enforced. Hey, as long as that day doesn’t come too soon, he would joke in the mess hall. And all would laugh, even as they exchanged meaningful glances. Moster’s dedication to Project Herculaneum was total, even if it did lead him to occasionally lock horns with the dreamy, physically underdeveloped senior genius Dr. Zaftig. The 67-year old Zaftig was both crafty and kind-hearted. Though he held a basic unshakable respect for all, he was not above manipulating the men’s fragile psyches to get what he wanted out of them, and he made it a priority to know and understand all of them for their personal strengths and weaknesses. Over the years, it had been hard work finding and inducting these particularly gifted men into the program, and, once introduced, each man represented years of painstaking research, investment, time and testing. It was only right that he would pay close attention to what made each man tick. On the other hand, Moster preferred to accent his authority with an occasional dash of cruelty. He felt it was good for the team. After all, life was cruel, wasn’t it? And so together, Zaftig and Moster had forged a decade-long alliance of good cop/bad cop, each man sharing in his own personal way a common goal. Both cared only for the success of Project Herculaneum. At base, however, they held profoundly different motives. Zaftig hoped to find the perfect candidate for P21. As magnificent as the 19 men were, the final, perfect genetic recipient of the miraculous compound had yet to be discovered. Sergeant Moster, meanwhile, had other plans. All those worship sessions loomed ahead on a promising horizon of money, power, travel, and new opportunities. After all, Moster wasn’t a fool. Zaftig might be, but he certainly wasn’t. Chapter 2: P21 1987-2021 Ira Zaftig’s 2007 successful lab synthesis of Protein P21 promised nothing less than a physical revolution for all mankind. For more than 30 years, the eccentric, obsessed, and touched with genius, Harvard Med educated Dr. Ira Zaftig had parlayed a vast inherited private fortune and the proceeds of his own lucrative San Francisco medical practice into ongoing lab research and experiments. At first, he sought to develop nothing less than an injectable synthetic that would, of course, cure cancer. The usual dream of every young medical researcher, the youthful and wealthy Zaftig, heir to a lumber empire long sold to a larger conglomerate for a lifetime profit that elevated him into the 1%-ers, had the means to set up a private lab to do it. Over the years, that cure for cancer evolved into something else. As he aged, Zaftig grew more interested in creating a formula permanently extending youth, while enhancing physical strength and systemic health. The years passed with no result. Zaftig grew more obsessed, and eventually discarded his practice. He never married and avoided personal relationships, building an impressive private lab in the Santa Rosa Mountains outside San Jose. And he became a hermit whose life routine was only about continual research, testing, developing, synthesizing, note-taking, and video review. He amassed a team, whose job it was to test protocol after protocol on lab rats, guinea pigs, and rhesus monkeys. None of the animals, he was satisfied to note, were ever harmed by his injections, but none ever exhibited any permanent signs of renewed vigor, either. It was as if they were injected by harmless placebos. Over time, lab teams noted some temporary strength and health benefits in some, not all, of the lab animals. The effects were temporary, at best, and it was difficult to determine which animal might feel the effects, and which ones would not. Zaftig assumed sympathetic systems were required for any effects at all to take place. By 1998, Zaftig had engaged as his permanent first assistant the all but silent, studious, equally hermetic Dr. Warren Irving, whose natural reticence disguised fervor equal to Zaftig’s. By then, Zaftig’s ever-growing lab employed small army of coming-and-going lab workers, security personnel and personal administrators, whose silence and trust was purchased with time-stamped temporary employment terms, astonishing starting salaries and carefully drafted legal confidentiality contracts, were on hand in the continually refurbished lab facility, now enlarged into a complex of some size. Since Zaftig was seeking the creation of a God, he appropriately named his ever-growing facility Valhalla Labs. At first, in the specialized world of pure research outside the lab, ‘Zaftig’s Folly’, as came to be referred to, was an unending in-joke on the perils of vanity research. However, it was equally observed that any man or woman who had served in Zaftig’s lab emerged silent, circumspect, and deeply respectful about what went on within. Over the years, the jokes stopped, and by the late 1990s, ambitious young researchers hoped to spend a few seasons at the secluded lab, if for only to slake curiosity – and to make a lot of money. Still, the lab had produced nothing. No patents had been applied for. On it went, year after year. Then, after 30 years of steady non-production, in 2003 the 53-year old Zaftig had a breakthrough. A crop of lab male lab animals appeared dramatically invigorated by a trial run of newly developed formula. Careful notations of animal behavior indicated that the rejuvenation of the lab animals was deeply organic in nature. Most importantly, after protocols were ceased, the effects remained. And the animals grew surprisingly. They did not become monsters, but measured, in some cases, a quarter larger in size and weight than they were at the outset. They were somewhat more aggressive, too, but, as all were relieved to note, did not become, maddened, dangerous or even slightly mean. In fact, personal handlers reported that the animals appeared “cheerful” and “playful.” They also, when allowed, copulated with the other males, and sometimes the females, almost continuously. This was noted by Zaftig, who duly recorded it. Dr. Irving felt Zaftig somewhat ignored the sinister implications. After a year of continually successful lab animal results in select males, it was finally time for the first human trial. Zaftig, ever the Henry Jekyll tried P21on himself. The results were disastrous: violent vomiting, nosebleeds and headaches forced Zaftig into a week of bed rest. “Wrong genetics,” he had to admit to himself. He assumed the formula was a failure for humans, and lived in despair for weeks. Once recovered, he volunteered for trial his chief lab assistant, the meek, complicit, and nearly silent Dr. Irving. The injection nearly killed him. In sympathetic systems, it was as if evolution was sped up 10,000 years. P21 was capable of creating nothing less than jaw-dropping gigantism, coupled with glowing organic health, visually stunning physical perfection, astonishing strength, grace, speed, coordination, and renewed sexual energy. It only worked on X-Y heterogametic chromosome pairings – that is to say, on human males. Moreover, at this point in its development, it was successfully observed in very few subjects. Because of the necessary secrecy of the project, Zaftig lacked proper comparative controls, but by his estimation, he calculated P21 to be beneficial for only 1 out of every 1,000 men. However, for that one recipient, the sky was the limit. Zaftig finally saw the light on a subject for whom the formula might work when he met Rod Moster. That was in 2006. Moster was facing prison then, charged with manslaughter. Zaftig had heard all about the man’s prodigious muscularity, and got him the best defense money could buy. Moster served 1 year, and was released. Zaftig awaited him at the prison gates, ready to whisk him away to the Santa Rosa Mountains, to another kind of a prison, and yet one that Moster would soon relish. And so, in 2007, Rod Moster (soon to be Sergeant, USAC, hurriedly and secretly enlisted) became Project Herculaneum’s first official entrant. The already competition-trained superheavyweight bodybuilder Moster took to P21 like a duck to water – or, rather, like gasoline to fire. And Moster beat even Zaftig’s greatest expectations. Muscles bloomed on muscle. Strength quadrupled. Now that he had a perfectly responsive candidate, Zaftig was eager to find another. Later in 2007, another superheavyweight bodybuilder, the near-silent Turkish giant Abdul Karim, was discovered at Raw Weight, the hardcore San Jose gym owned by 50-year old retired pro bodybuilder legend Miles Donovan. Immediately whisked into the program, Moster and Karim trained like madmen in the Valhalla Labs compound, where a new gym was put into construction just for the two of them. They didn’t much like one another, but that led to heightened competition, tension, anger, and, inevitably, greater muscle growth. And now Zaftig could make some truly accurate notes on the success of P21 in sympathetic systems. Zaftig observed in his lab notes that it was as if the full assimilation of P21 triggered alterations in deep genetic timestamp coding. It was exactly as if the body suddenly redefined its male development to date as late ‘childhood’, and began to take itself into something like a new ‘adolescence’, blooming into a new definition of ‘adulthood’. Consequently, accompanied by proper training and consistent regulation of nutrition and rest cycles, muscular growth was not just enhanced; it was prompted into a supersonic explosion unlike anything Zaftig had anticipated. As intended in trial development, P21 was, in effect, nothing less than a miracle formula, successful beyond Zaftig’s wildest imaginings. He was still tinkering with it in the lab, however, in hopes that somehow he might find the key to more universal acceptance, including female development. The injected enzyme boosted performance, it seemed, only in those recipients whose natural dopamine and endorphin levels had already reached a certain high capacity, following either years of regular workouts, or a monitored high-intensity training in very young, genetically predisposed teens. Moreover, once on the enzyme and going forward, steroids, regular insulin injections, pain blockers, and growth hormone proved not only unnecessary, but also potentially dangerous. A protocol of P21 worked best on a naïve system, or, at the very least, a metabolism cleaned over time from the longtime effects of other injectables. Mental acuity was not diminished, but then again, it wasn’t improved, either. At first, Zaftig had been disappointed P21 didn’t produce intellectual giants as well, but in time he accepted it. After all, as long as subjects weren’t rendered newly stupid by the protocol, and followed orders, he accepted that it wasn’t really an issue. It was about muscles and strength, not smarts. More subjects were introduced into the program. By 2011, the men in the program included competitive bodybuilders Rene Lefevre, Herman Schumacher, Anthony Chad, Derek Washington, and William Obatu. Muscle monsters all at the outset, and mostly discovered by Miles Donovan, as each man moved into the compound and began the training and the protocols, their size and strength increased with rapid gains measureable almost daily. Most astonishingly, perhaps, was the measurable growth in each man’s height. Over time, all recipients grew anywhere from 2 to 5 inches taller. The skeletal structure itself was affected by regular injections of P21, and bones lengthened and thickened throughout each man’s body. The principal area of bone growth appeared to be in the legs, but even the arm bones slightly lengthened. A 6’-0” man with a finger-to-finger reach of 6’-3” before injections was gradually able to reach a length of 5 inches in addition to his newly gained height. The lengthened arms, of course, gave the men a slightly ape-like appearance, with the tips of their fingers now brushing the patella of each kneecap. However, the men did not become ungainly as a result, seemed to grow at the same time in natural grace and motor coordination. Muscular density almost doubled, strength nearly quadrupled, subcutaneous fat tissue was nearly eliminated. Muscular separations, ripples, cuts, and deep tissue striations appeared where before, even on a beautifully developed physique, there had been nothing but smoothness. Muscles roiled and bloomed with magnificent grace. Even symmetry improved; it was as if the muscular system had developed an over-all critical eye as to the proper balance and sweep necessary for each man to remain at optimum performance levels. Even so, with the loss of subcutaneous fat, waist size was stunningly diminished. Within six months of starting injections, a formerly 200 pound muscular man with a standard 34” waistline would find himself sporting a mere 30” at his midsection, with his rectus abdominus muscles and lower obliques newly reknit into interlocking, striated layers of shapely support musculature, easily able to carry the newly burgeoning upper body mass. His bodyweight would shoot up at least 20 pounds, all of it lean muscle mass. Fast-twitch and slow-twitch muscles were affected alike: a man on P21 was not only able to lift almost impossibly heavy weights, but run like the wind. Motor-nerve coordination profoundly improved. Endurance was beyond imagining. Although the subjects’ diets were kept clean, this appeared to have little effect one way or the other. As long as the men were regularly fed full meals six times a day, and drank a quotidian 3 gallons of water, then diet itself was moot. However, to maintain the psychological fiction that diet was still “important”, food selections were limited to lean meats, arrays of vegetables and proper complex carbs. The men held the “no veggies” diets of standard, “middle earth” bodybuilders in profound contempt. “If it’s green, it’s good,” was the mantra. With the six meals a day and the explosion of muscle growth, human waste products predictably doubled. The men seemed to require 30 minutes daily for proper excretion. Each man found himself pissing rivers of bright, clean urine. Happily, their digestion systems were as efficient as could be hoped for, and pleasure-filled howls filled the residence halls periodically as the men eagerly shat their meals. “A good shit is like great sex,” Obatu observed. Pissing was as pleasurable, for as powerful as their kidneys were, each man produced ropes of healthy white piss, like clockwork, 5 times a day. Their glowing prostate health allowed them to empty their bladders thoroughly with each resoundingly copious piss. A man on P21 would also exhibit astonishing skin health. Blemishes and scars faded to nothingness. The men’s complexions glowed as if powered by an inner laser. Hair health flourished, and though some of the men on the protocol preferred to shave their heads, it was not for a lack of healthy follicles. Even the bald Sergeant Schumacher, hairless as a wombat when he entered the program, was delighted to see his full head of hair restored within six months. Later, however, in response to other psychological effects, he chose to shave it off daily. Normal pain thresholds decreased proportionately. Sleep cycles were not affected. Over time, any already-accomplished athlete’s natural talents were likely to be exponentially sharpened. Newly recorded performance benchmarks surpassed any previous personal best. In short, the benefits were astounding - provided the recipient was initially genetically gifted to begin with, and had already achieved a certain performance level. Once P21 had been introduced into the system, after 3 years of weekly injections, Zaftig had discovered the protocol must be carefully monitored, and in some cases, stopped for periods of time. Not everyone developed at the same rate. Once the protocol was stopped, the successful manifesting effects enjoyed by the recipient to date would not be lost, but any continuing development would slow and finally stall. However, to avoid trauma, the project’s subjects weren’t informed of this, and several of the older men had been receiving intermittent placebos for years, in order to avoid a state of psychological withdrawal. More seriously, and although Zaftig was not yet certain of the veracity of his latest finding, he was keen to observe with a continued injection schedule, that the men’s aging processes seemed to stop entirely. This is the most sensitive of all the information he gathered, and the top-secret introduction of placebos disguised the anti-aging effects for the older men in the project. It was critical that this be kept a closely guarded secret. Was part of P21’s astonishing potential the end of natural aging? Zaftig was at war with himself on this point. As a scientist, he was elated. As a sympathetic human being, he was appalled. No one but he and the deeply trusted Dr. Irving were aware of indications that P21 was The Fountain of Youth. And just as P21 seemed to promise unending anti-aging, not all of the other developmental effects could be anticipated. Nor were they, in fact, terribly convenient. Its extraordinary properties included some rather startling, not to say unexpected, priapic side effects, which had first manifested themselves in the first guinea pig lab rat Sergeant Moster, nearly 15 years before. Since then, as new men successfully entered the project, different results were recorded for different recipients. All the same, universally P21 provided something like miraculous growth and enhancement for all who responded to it. Even now, in 2021, Zaftig could only guess how it might manifest itself in different subjects. Zaftig didn’t really want to deal with the complexity of the multiple sexual side effects. For there were surprising sexual benefits as well. After all, a physically evolving male always experiences a coinciding change in sexual stats and activity. What he had not anticipated was the dramatic extent of these changes. Zaftig discovered it not long after he first tried it out on Moster in 2007. The most observable immediate change was the startling increase in genital size. At the outset of his induction into the program, Rod Moster’s penis was already unusually large, looming forth when erect at a majestic 8 inches. While impressive on most men, all the same for a muscleman of Moster’s size and development, in appearance, it came off as merely average. All that changed once Moster entered the program. Six months after beginning the P21 protocol, even when flaccid, Moster’s penis measured just over 10 inches. When erect, it approached 16 inches. Midnight black, cobra-thick, and lightly laced with a cross section of interlocking capillaries shooting off from two pulsing central shaft veins, it had become a dangerous, dazzlingly beautiful machine. In fact, Moster’s penis had become a weapon. While he was delighted with his newly gargantuan cock, it presented him no end of trouble. For one thing, there was simply no hiding it in his clothing. His dress slacks uniform trousers had been custom-fitted to accommodate his massive quads, glutes, hamstrings and calves. Now, unless he wore specially designed rubber mesh briefs under his slacks that firmly restrained him, his slack member lay lazily on his quads, with muffled slapping against his thighs as he walked. The flies of all his clothing had to be forged from blue steel, and even so, were doubly reinforced to prevent bursting from the strain. Standard bodybuilding posing trunks were all but impossible if he wanted to remain covered; his cock and balls simply didn’t fit in any pouch. Most of the time, Moster chose to wear ultra-baggy sweats, with the sweatshirt hanging down to his thighs to cover the always-looming member. Otherwise, it was all just too distracting. Over time, Dr. Zaftig discovered that for all enrollees into the program, the size of the subject’s genitalia similarly grew to outlandishly large proportions. A man with average endowment was soon delighted to note that his organ, when flaccid, enlarged half again in length, girth, and stamina. A man considered ‘well hung’ at the outset would enjoy even greater growth. But that wasn’t all. Moster quickly realized a greater sexual appetite to match his newly achieved girth. Soon after injections began, normal societal behavioral blockers that prevent many men from acting on their fantasies all but vanished. Deeply buried sexual fantasies began to seem not merely attainable, but regularly actionable. Over time, the sexual activity of the subject became an all-pervasive cycle of, at first, increasing need, accompanied by a single-minded determination to fulfill the fantasy. Moreover, it was apparent that the recipients of P21 responded with particularly heightened sexual energy and passion to other recipients of the enzyme. So-called heterosexuality was no longer an issue: choice was abandoned. The men needed close supervision to keep their sexual activity confined to the proper hours, settings, and duration. And it took some doing to keep the men in line. Of course, any partner was possible for the men. As long as their muscles were the source of longing, they were eager to spread their copious seed in any number of ways, among any number of partners. Fortunately, a psychological fail-safe was built into the men’s newly ripening sexual psyches. The men were at their most vulnerable when presenting their muscularity to outsiders. Always able to leap into swift action, whether fighting, flexing, posing, Zaftig discovered after some carefully administered lab control tests that if the men were confronted with levels of apparent sexual unresponsiveness from observers, their sexual impulses were notably dampened. While their overall athletic, training, and bodybuilding prowess was never diminished, the translation of muscle energy into unfettered sexual energy did not occur unless observers explicitly expressed longing. In other words, the men needed to be sexually worshipped, gawked at, touched, stroked, admired and longed for in order to become aroused. They needed to flex their powerful biceps and rotate their mountainous quads for the stunned and appreciative. It was slightly ironic, therefore, that these astonishing physical specimens of undeniable Alpha males were, actually, subservient to the atmosphere of admiration. Indifference seemed to cow the men into silence and confusion – all except Sergeant Moster, of course, whose internal sexual battery was always on full charge levels. Fortunately, for the orderly continuation of Project Herculaneum, Sergeant Moster was aware of what he called “the Kryptonite effect” on his men. He could douse their sexual energy easily with a disparaging glance or an offhand comment. The small army of resident support staff, facilities associates, cafeteria and maintenance personnel, and office and lab workers were duly advised not to show any sexual interest in the men on any level. Zaftig himself was never troubled by the issue. Proud of his men, he nevertheless seemed to regard them as his “boys”, growing adolescent sons, in whom he had nothing but the purest parental love, devoid of any sexuality. Moster was more than well qualified to handle that job. Zaftig took a step back, promising himself that “some day” he’d approve a comprehensive study on P21 and sex. Over time, the psychological benefits had proved addictive. In other words, P21 was crack cocaine for bodybuilders. Any man receiving regular injections of P21 had to be handled with extreme care and caution, which necessitated a largely cloistered lifestyle. They were simply not ready for general public release. Nor was the public ready for them. To be continued.....
  23. roboprobo

    Tales of a Lust Mage #4

    Tales of a Lust Mage #4 'Halloween, Fiends, and Super Heroes' SUB TAGS; Superhero, Magic, Solo, Forced Growth (some), Hyper (some), Height, Angel, Demon, Characters (Hector, Jenna, Amber, Usiu, Bucardo, Dagger Jaw ), Halloween, Costume Author Note: Thanks for tuning in again, guys. I originally wanted to go with a different direction for my 'Halloween' story, but as you can see, that didn't work out as perfectly as anticipated. I also wanted to shout out to a friend of mine, they know who they are, because I've been wanting to do a superhero story for a while. I bet they didn't think it'd happen! You know the drill, comment your thoughts, even if you didn't like it! Part I – The Costume Shop I’m not exactly sure how to retell this. It was all really strange and happened the spookiest night of the year, Halloween. I thought I was going to just have the usual, boring Halloween I always do. You know, the one where you go to bars and no guys check you out because you wore a banana costume (what was I thinking that year…?) or your friends all ditch you because you don’t like to get ball-to-the-wall drunk. My high school sweetheart, Jenna (joking, I’m gay: we figured it out a few weeks in the relationship), forced me to go to a really exclusive party this year. She handed me the ticket- the only ‘entry’ to this ritzy money bags party. “Wait, don’t they get like, models, and even strippers and stuff for those kinds of parties?” I asked, twiddling my thumbs around the fancy embossed ticket. Jenna was on the phone. “Relax, look, don’t get a normal costume. If you want to fit in or look decent, go to the address I messaged you. It’s an amazing costume shop, a lot of custom made stuff. I already left a tab with them, I told the owner that you’d show them my text message and could get whatever you thought looked good.” Jenna said, on the phone. I grunted, “What?! You can’t keep paying for my junk, you know! Especially frivolous stuff like this.” “Oh stop it, when you get back on your feet you can pay me back.” Jenna giggled. We’d both gone to the same college, too. Now she was a full-fledged lawyer and I was an accountant without work. She offered to get me set up at the firm she worked, but she’d just been hired herself. Her last position let her go with a great severance package a few months ago, so I guess she didn’t mind changing jobs. I walked through the streets, seeing lots of old stores and buildings, all like in a tourist picture for 'old towns'. They didn’t belong in the city. My feet splashed into a puddle, scuffing my shoes. I frowned, knowing I’d become lost. I sat down on a bench and looked at my phone, wondering why I had lost signal. Then my eyes looked upward. I swear I would’ve noticed the tailor/costume shop, I’d passed right by it. Somehow, there it was, two stories high and older than dirt. I walked inside and was greeted by an older woman. I think she was an older woman, she wore lots of older women’s clothes. Her hair was very unkempt; maybe it was the style, big and puffy. She had long nails and waved at me from the counter. I smiled and saw the tons of costumes and normal clothing, all either vintage or extremely well-made, if not both. “How can I help you, young man?” She asked. Her small name tag said ‘Bhain’. I didn’t know how to pronounce that. She had an Irish accent, I think. “Well, I don’t really know. I’m here to get a costume for a party. My friend, Jenna, she,” “Oh yes! Jenna! Oh I love her. Such a nice young lady. You must be her friend, ah, what was your name?” “Hector. Hector Roberts.” “Oh yes, Hector! Well, what are you looking to be this haunted night?” She asked. She spoke with her hands a lot. Before I could answer, customers began swarming her. Each had questions or needed to buy something. I smiled and gave her the okay sign so she knew I’d be patient. I walked around and saw that most of the costumes weren’t silly, but regal. Some were scantly, so I didn’t even dare look at those. “Excuse me, would you like some assistance?” Someone asked from behind me. I turned to see a much shorter young woman looking up at me. She seemed extremely young, but looked related to Bhain. “Oh, well, I’m just looking. I don’t think any of these costumes would fit me correctly, or flatter.” I said. “Well, my mom sent me to help you, she said you were a friend of Jenna’s. Jenna told me to help you however I could last week when she bought a costume. I hope I don’t bother you…” the young girl said, nervously. I smiled, feeling a fellow spaz talking to me. “Well, okay. You can help. Did she have in mind what I should look at? You know, like a costume she might think I look good in? What’s your name, by the way?” I asked. “Amber. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She said, stiffly putting her hand out to shake. We looked for costumes, maybe for an hour. All of them didn’t seem to fit me right. Amber told me her mom could stitch them up appropriately for my size, but I just didn’t find them likeable. I started feeling frustrated at the sight of no costume looking good. I finally told Amber that she’d been very helpful, but I just didn’t think anything was made for me. “Oh…” Amber said, somewhat sad. I was tempted to ask about her age. She seemed really built like a woman, just short and soft-faced. Her overtly-kind demeanor confused me. “Well, I think I need to go get my mom, maybe she could help you better. I promise we can find you a good costume!” She said, walking off. I didn’t argue, she was too fast. I sighed as my hands moved around the racks when I finally noticed the perfect costume. It looked somewhat like a uniform- with a beautiful trench coat, white and blue. I didn’t think it was a costume until I examined its details; buckles, belts, and lots of layers of different fabrics. It looked to be my size, if not a bit form fitting. The costume had feather lining in certain places, which I thought was strange. I saw that it carried a very regal mask- white and carved out of what may have been faux ivory. My curiosity got the best of me as I grabbed the mask and felt its beautiful craftsmanship in my fingers. I finally gave up and put the mask on. Immediately running to the mirror, I saw how cool I looked. The mask covered most of my face, but it had a strong jawline, unlike mine. I still didn’t know what the costume was of and yet I was excited to try it on. “Mr. Hector, everyone’s gone, so we can both help you pick out a cost-” Amber said before stopping right in her tracks. Her mother stood behind her, juice bottle in hand. She didn’t look as concerned. “Too late now, he tried it on, dear.” Bhain said. “Hmm? What’s wrong with it?” I asked. I felt confident in the mask, hidden and somehow accentuated by its design. “Nothing, dear. Would you like to try on the costume? I know it’s not a conventional super hero costume, but we can add a cape and insignia.” Bhain added. “Definitely! I want to try it on!” I managed to say, excitedly. I tried it on and beamed. I looked like a model in a fashion magazine. The outfit looked like a high-class trendy outfit, covered in sharp shapes. Amber placed the trench coat on top. She showed me all the zippers that altered the outfit to shorts if so wished- or small jacket. I couldn’t help but pose. Amber smiled and told me it looked wonderful on me. “How much is it?” I suddenly said, knowing the outfit was probably too expensive to rent or buy, being in its own display. “Take it as a gift.” Bhain said. I suppose my normal ego brought me back to reality when I said, “Oh I couldn’t do that. It’s beautiful, and I don’t even know how to use it on a normal basis. Wouldn’t it get dirty? I’m afraid to even wear it out.” Bhain opened her juice bottle and poured the contents onto the outfit. I almost screamed, but saw that the juice literally dripped off of it. I was surprised! “No, it’s been altered to be defiant of most liquids and other matter. Now take it, before I call Jenna and tell her you’re being stubborn.” Bhain teased. She directed Amber to get me a box and directions on how to keep the suit pristine for the party. I tried to argue about paying for it, or at least paying for some of it with my own money. It didn’t work out. As Bhain looked through some cases she talked about the costume with her daughter. I guess it was small talk, but I tried not to eavesdrop. “Did she leave it here? Did you put it out?” Bhain asked. She always seemed calm, if not happy. He hands pulled out a white cape. It was gorgeous, but I felt the need to wear the outfit alone. It was so cool… “No, Mom. I didn’t even know it was out on the floor. I swear.” Amber said, making the insignia. She later told me it would just stick onto the fabric and could be pulled off for actual wear. Bhain handed me the box and smiled at me once more before I left. She simply whispered to me, “Well, maybe it’s just your destiny to look this good, Hector.” Part II: I Am the One Hiding Under Your Bed I walked into the halls of the great mansion, letting my trench coat sway in the cold wind of Halloween night. I kept my head up high as I passed a few guests. I didn’t know if they were looking at me, but I was hoping they were (for some reason). Jenna stood in a long, gossamer dress. She smoke to a few gentlemen as she played with her martini glass. She bid most of them goodbye as she looked over at me. She gasped and laughed, picking up her dress to come in my direction. “My! A super hero, or are you an anti-hero? What are you, the white vigilante?” She surmised. “Well, Amber gave me a symbol to wear on my belt and chest, but I don’t see any letters, so I think I’m the Super Bird…” I said. I'm not very good at names. “You look great! Does it come with padding? Your shoulders look so wide. You look taller in it too.” Jenna giggled. I laughed, somewhat blushing. I wasn’t attracted to Jenna, but she was definitely someone I wanted approval of. “Oh, I wanted you to meet an old colleague. His name is Bucardo. Bucardo, this is Hector.” Jenna said, introducing us. Bucardo seemed like an extremely serious man. He had a costume of some sort of scaled creature and wore two masks on his shoulders, like shoulder plates. One was a wolf and the other, a bird. “Pleasure.” He said, shaking my hand and smiling. His costume was strange, but seemed so well-made. “Oh gosh, I really don’t want to talk to Gary. He’s such a flake.” Jenna whispered. “You know me, I’m here for the wine.” Bucardo said. “Who’s Gary?” I asked. “Why, the owner of the mansion and host of the party, Gary Codington. I’ve done some accounting for him, among other business. Now he sits with another crowd, however.” Bucardo said, checking his wrist watch. “Oh, you’re an accountant?” I asked, being friendly. My trench coat started feeling heavy. I hadn’t even had a drink yet. “Yes, I forgot to really tell you who Bucardo is. He was in finances back for the last firm I worked for. He managed some of the investments the company did on the side. You remember?” Jenna asked. She hiccupped. “Yeah, I remember, Rourke Law & Consulting. How goes it for them, by the way?” “Well, they’re having a slow start in their new location. It was privately owned by a single person, but Bune over here still works with him through an assistant.” Jenna laughed. She was tipsy. She mispronounced Bucardo’s name and almost lisped all her other words. “I must really be going. I honestly did come for the drinks. I’d suggest you two get home before things get… ugly.” Bucardo said, staring up at the balcony where the lights were turned off. People stood up there, in the shadows. Suddenly, a gray-haired man walked up to us. I didn’t even notice him as he startled Jenna. He touched her shoulders, putting his head close to her he neck. “Why, Jenna Yang, you look marvelous tonight.” He said, rubbing her shoulders. She looked awfully uncomfortable. I would have said something, but he seemed bigger than me… I know. I suck. “Hello, Gary. How have you been?” Jenna said, flattening her tone. She looked like she was ready to puke, but not from the martinis. “What are you this year, Gary? A zombie curtain?” Bucardo said, playing with his wine glass. “Funny, Buck. So funny.” Gary said, stepping back and standing up straight. “I am a vampire, can’t you see from my Victorian outfit?” “You got the undead part right, Gary. I love how sunken-in your eyes look.” Bucardo said. The tension was rising. “Jenna, would you have a dance with me?” Gary asked, ignoring Bucardo. “Oh, I can’t, I’m already drunk, and I might vomit on you. Besides, my date tonight is Hector. Hector, this is Gary.” Jenna responded. I could see the glint in her eye that yelled an S.O.S. at me. I almost laughed. “I see. What is your costume tonight, I can’t tell it matches his?” Gary seemed to joke. I wasn’t sure. “I’m a damsel in distress, Gary. Hector’s my super hero!” Jenna giggled. “Oh, I see. Well, pleasure to meet you, Hector. I’ll see you all around, please enjoy the festivities. And try the food; it’s to die for.” Gary said, leaving before I could respond to his introduction. “See, you are a super hero, Hector. You save me from total creeper-doom.” Jenna whispered. We joked and laughed for a few minutes after Bucardo left. I felt sick to my stomach and didn’t drink. Jenna stopped drinking after a few cocktails, three. I told her I’d be right back and headed to the bathroom. I got lost, of course. I found myself in the library. I had no trouble seeing, although it was extremely dark in the corridors of the mansion. I noticed that there was dust settling on mostly everything- as if the home got little service or use. My landed face to the ground when I heard someone speaking in amongst the shelves. “We should just get it over with now, stupid.” “No, there are few who have to stay alive, or Gary will be pissed.” “I don’t give a shit about what Gary says. He’s about dead, anyway. I can sense the staff missing from his study. I’m starving, man. I need to feed.” “Silence, all of you.” a deep voice growled. I hid myself as I slid upward, trying to glance at the voices’ source. There stood three normal sized men, wearing masks. I was astounded by how realistic the masks were. Their eyes looked like hollow orbs of unsettling glow, and their mouths looked torn open, always smiling wide with giant fangs. Even when they spoke, their monster mouths opened and moved naturally. Amongst them stood a larger man, almost too tall to be human. These rich blokes went all out- The tallest one had vibrant red eyes, and his fangs looked like daggers, jutting out everywhere. “There’s someone here.” The large one boomed. I swallowed my breath and stood, back stuck to the shelf. I held my mouth, hoping to silence any fear-made sounds. “Sounds like we have someone in here, we better kill them now.” “Oh yeah! Fuck yeah! Let’s eat!” one answered as they all ran in different directions. The largest one stepped around, grinding his teeth with the noise that only steel makes against itself. “They’re not costumes, young man.” Said a voice, booming like the monster, yet vibrant. Who was that? I thought to myself. I tried to find the exit quietly. “Me, the guise you wear. I’m not simple fabric, boy.” the voice responded. “What?!” I rasped loudly. The monster grunted, laughing a bit as he knew where I was now. “I said, ‘I’m not simple fabric’, BOY!” the voice yelled. My head throbbed. “Oh, a celestial. My favorite flavor.” The monster said, standing behind me. “Oh fuck.” I managed to squeak out, looking back at the monster. I heard the creature smack its mouth, preparing to eat me, possibly whole. I closed my eyes the moment he lifted his giant arm above his head, ready to smash me to an easy digestible mush. I heard a massive crunch. I whimpered, as the little wimp that I am. But I felt little pain. I opened my eyes and saw my forearms pressed up against the creature’s fist. My mouth went agape as I was holding his force up with my puny arms. “Defend us, boy!” the vibrant voice yelled, angrily. “Mmmmmnope, I think I’m going to run!” I said out loud, running off into the corridor. I fell to my face again, but quickly jumped up and went on my way. The adrenaline really helped, I guess. The monster growled and began pacing after me. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m so dead!” I yelped, looking for a place to hide. I heard the music of the actual party coming from the west, the direction I was running in. Once again, a surge of weight pulled me down. I couldn’t breathe well and ran into what seemed to be a bathroom. Fool as I am, I locked the door in hopes to deter the monsters. I ran to the sink and slipped, hitting my head on the hard marble sink’s side. I fell to the ground. It’s almost funny, I thought I was going to die from the head wound and not the monster’s mouths. “Stupid boy. I can’t believe you’re the only celestial blood around.” The voice said. I passed out as I looked at my hands. Something was different with them. They looked veiny, pulsing even. I felt my consciousness leave me as I felt them cramp up. Part III: A Hero, Born I awoke, dizzy. I coughed and dragged myself to the toilet. I felt a lack of balance as I did so, even on the ground. “What the heck happened...?” I asked myself, out loud. “Do people no longer know about the beasts that roam the night, afoul bastards whom create turmoil to the poor souls of Earth?” the voice boomed, annoyed. “Okay, I’m going to need you to show yourself, if you’re going to keep talking to me.” I said, noticing my sleeves were gone. My arms looked weird in the darkness. “I am Iusiu, boy. I am an angel, as you might call it. I have no form but the garb on your skin.” He said. “Oh great, so the monsters back there were probably a hallucination, just like you, then. All’s well, I just need psychiatric help.” I said, looking for a light. I was able to walk, following the wall as my crutch. Walking was different, too. The dizziness made it worse, as I felt like my stance was widened. “Fool, I am no mental illusion. Look in the mirror, the light is right there.” Usiu said. I flipped the light on. The mirror stood across the room. I saw a figure, muscular and wide. He wasn’t massive, or super-built, but definitely defined. I almost jumped for the door, assuming it was someone else. Then I saw its movements follow mine. I slowly walked to the mirror and finally understood. I was about five feet tall at the beginning. I couldn’t believe it, I’d hit at least a foot in growth. I passed my hand through my hair and noticed my chiseled lats and abs. My hair had grown a bit out of control, down to my neck. I’d just gotten preppy crew cut a few days ago. Not much of my face changed, but it looked thicker, manlier. My neck fitted it well, curving into rock-hard shoulders. I noticed my costume wasn’t the same. “I changed my form so those beasts do not recognize us. Sadly, they can change their form too. It is a shame they already ate a poor mortal a few hours ago. The fool who unleashed them will lose control of them soon and they will feed on everyone if we do not hurry.” Usiu said. I looked at my clothes and coughed. My mask lay on my neck. It was more of a helm now. My trench coat had been changed to great shoulder pads, like silver (I still don’t understand very well how I knew what pieces turned into what). My shirt had become a simple harness, hiding inside the buckles and straps. They had grown two intricately made faux wings, like an angel’s. The pants had changed to a skimpy pair of shorts, perfectly accentuating my apparently grown junk. I was so confused and looked at the bulge that stuck round and out from my shorts. They looked more like briefs, tight to my skin. I lost my shoes, only wearing blue boots. “H-holy… What happened to me?!” I yelled. “I had to make some changes, but it has cost me a lot of energy. I didn’t have much to begin with, and there’s no sun to obtain energy from right now, so we must make haste.” Usiu said. “No, no! We are not making any hastes! You need to make another costume, or some shit, because this is too revealing!” I yelped. “I will not. I only looked through your communicative technology to see what people wear on haunted nights.” He said. “What?! You mean my phone? No wait, I had some pretty bad pictures on there! God damn it, you only checked the first picture, for that gay underwear Halloween catalogue! Change into something else!” “No. I will not. We need the energy to fight that Codington man and his attached fiends.” Usiu said, flatly. I wanted to cry. “Excuse me, are you in there, Hector? I thought I heard you. Are you okay? You’ve been gone for forty-five minutes, I’m really worried.” Jenna said, knocking on the door. By impulse I ran to the door and slowly opened it. I managed to squeak out a nervous, “Yeah, I’m totally fine, Jenny.” “You didn’t drink at all, you sure you’re okay?” She said. I opened the door slowly. She gasped and stared at me. I felt my face turn bright red, extremely exposed and semi-naked. “Wow, Hector! I can’t- holy shit, you’ve been working out!” She laughed, “And you’re not afraid to show it, I see! Did you get both outfits free?! I don’t actually mind, they both fit you very well… You belong in a Victor’s Secret catalogue!” How funny. I wanted to hide behind my mask. I clumsily fumbled around as I put on the mask, trying to fix my hair. “You even got another insignia, on your chest? Wow, it looks like a real tattoo, even.” She said, poking my pectorals. They were so defined now. I kept forgetting to breathe. I looked down and saw it. I felt my mind unlocking knowledge from somewhere, I have no idea where. It was Usiu’s name, in a symbol. “W-well, I like to go… All out, you know me!” I chirped, like a robot. We heard a scream. I instinctively grabbed Jenna and pushed her into the bathroom. I said, “Stay in there, something bad is going down. If I don’t come back in five minutes, get out.” Before running off. I felt somehow brave, ready to take on anything. I ran to the ballroom to see a man gnawing into another. People were running away, screaming. The man chewing on flesh quickly dropped his disguise, showing off his ugly true form. There was blood. I hated blood so much. I wanted to run away like the little bitch I am, but I couldn’t. Usiu forced courage into my chest. “Stop at once, demons! You are all under my power!” Gary yelled. I assumed it was him. “Shut up, Gary.” One of the demons said, biting into his neck. After chewing on his meat, he spit it out and kicked Gary around, letting him bleed to death. “Your meat is gross.” The giant demon-monster crashed into the ground, breaking the tiles underneath him. He laughed, already finishing a poor rich-guy’s corpse in his mouth. I wanted to puke. “Let me enter.” Usiu said. “What?” “Let me enter your soul. Don’t be afraid, I will protect you if you protect me. If we don’t do something, more people will die.” Usiu responded. I shivered and closed my eyes. “Fine. Let’s do whatever it is you want me to do. Enter my soul, or whatever.” Immediately I felt a surge of electricity run through me. I twisted as the energy ran through me. I forced my hands into the wall, cracking it as my arms began to grow. I felt my stance widen once more, pushing my legs with more musculature. My clothes did not tear, simply unaccommodating my size. I saw my biceps swell like bowling balls as my chest jutted outward. I blushed as the growth pushed my cock upward, almost ready to burst out of my tiny shorts. They somehow stretched as my ass pushed up, perfectly round. I didn’t know how to deal with all the sensations, but I had no time to react anyway. “Who are you?” The giant demon said, finishing his meal. He was massive too. I heaved my giant chest up and down, trying to breathe. Crap, what should I call myself? I can’t use my name or Usiu’s, I thought to myself. I noticed some dumbass trying to film the spectacle on his phone for the internet. The ‘Super Angel’ was a terrible name. Usiu whispered all the aliases he could think of. I picked one that I thought fit well. I somehow could think as one with Usiu. I knew he’d speak as one with him. “I am the Seraph, defender of the weak, destroyer of evil, paladin of retribution.” I said, much deeper than my actual voice. I sounded incredibly manly and eloquent. I still thought what I said was terribly stupid. God I wish I’d not said that. The idiot filming on his phone even spelled it wrong when he posted it, with an f. How do rich people stay so stupid? The demon laughed. He didn’t even move, he just stayed crouched at the top of the giant stairs. “I also know of you. You lost your name, and you wish to get it back. You were tricked worse than how you trick mortals, and now have the bodies you wanted. You can no longer do much in the other realms, and have even become a laughingstock to other fiends.” I said, somehow knowledgeable. He growled heavily. “I have a name, and you shall remember it well for it is the way I killed you. I am Dagger Jaw. I’m going to rend your pretty little head into a nice butter for my toast.” He quickly jumped at me, using the full force of his giant legs. I heard the resonating sound of the floor cracking as he jumped and attacked me. His mouth opened wide, literally splitting apart just to fit as much as he could inside. I reacted by stepping back and smashing his face into the ground. Before he could get up the four demons jumped at me. They were much smaller than me now, but very quick. One bit into my neck as I grasped two in well-made catches. My hands had become far bigger to accommodate my thick forearms. It wasn’t the strength alone that killed them, but the lightning I shot through them. Their hollow eyes lit up in a shocking blue, leaving burnt husks. I quickly threw the last demon across the ballroom before Dagger Jaw reached out and punched me in the gut. I wasn’t fast enough to squeeze my brick abdomen- but I was able to take the shock well enough to be thrown back. The first small demon to attack me gnawed on my neck as he tore at my back with his claws. I had hit the wall and smashed myself against it, letting the demon fall off like a burnt leech. “Okay, okay. I can use electricity, but can I fly or anything?!” I yelled at Usiu. I guess he responded by letting arcane symbols grow out of my back. I expected wings, but this was good enough. I flapped them and slowly lifted off. I’d never flown before, even in a plane, so it was very weird. Dagger Jaw grabbed a table and threw it at me. I tried dodging but decided to simply knock it out of the way. I lost some altitude. He squatted down to prepare a massive jump. I had no time to pay attention to the other two demons. Dagger Jaw quickly flew up at me and slashed at me with his great claws. I was lucky enough to drop my wings so I could fall out of the way. “I’m running out of energy, use your powers wisely, boy.” Usiu whispered inside me. The two smaller demons quickly spun around my feet with black rope. I really hope it didn’t come from somewhere weird, it felt slimy. I lost my balance and fell backward. Before they could get away I grabbed one and put him in front of me, sensing Dagger Jaw coming down at me. He didn’t care as his claws went right through his lackey, actually ripping into me. I screamed. I dropped my hands down, feeling the incredible pain inside my stomach. Dagger jaw salivated above me, dripping disgusting drool on my face. “You’re mine now, ‘paladin’.” He rasped. His giant mouth quickly snapped around my arm in one last hope of defense I put up. He coughed a laugh, knowing he’d won. “I wouldn’t laugh.” I said, grabbing his head with my other free, non-bloody hand. Dagger Jaw tried to move his mouth, but my arms grew in size, too big for even him to chew on. I remember watching the video and saw my eyes glow a bright blue, right before shocking the shit out of Dagger Jaw. Dagger Jaw pulled away but couldn’t move far, my massive right hand holding onto his forehead. I grabbed him in both arms and began squeezing. It felt so good to be this size. It felt amazing to feel this strong, crushing a giant monster’s head between my hands. “P-please… have mercy o-on…” Dagger Jaw muffled. I was about to say something clever, I think. “Sorry, I can’t hear you, the reception is tightening too quiet.” Wait. No. Okay, I’m not very good at the puns and catchphrases, yet. But I didn’t fuck up my moment because I heard the sound of sirens before I could say anything. I turned back to hear them and Dagger Jaw slashed at me once more. He didn’t keep attacking and ran off, heavy enough to leave shattered footprints in the ground. He even broke through the walls, rather than finding an exit. I held my wounds and noticed they started healing. It was slow, but Usiu put the mass back together. “That’s amazing…” I huffed, falling backward. “No time to rest, boy. I have something to tell you, which may be of importance. The soldiers are coming in. You need to escape. Also, although I can heal you, right now I don’t have the power to stop the growth.” Usiu said. I looked down and saw my arms pushing upward. I was growing again. “Wait, what?! You said you were out of power! You’re telling me you need power to STOP me from growing?!?” I yelled at him. I knew we were alone, I could feel it in the air. “No, boy. The problem lies in my lack of practice. I’ve been dormant for about a few centuries, now…” “Are you fucking kidding me?” “Do not foul your tongue in my presence.” “Are you serious?!?! Now is not the time!” I yelled, getting up slowly. I couldn’t even stand correctly, my legs were becoming too wide. “Run, escape to the woods. You’ll either explode in a bolt of lightning or…” I didn’t bother to ask more questions. I ran and broke my own escape through the mansion. My arms were like giant hammers at this point, smashing through walls like a gingerbread house. It still felt bad on my skin, but I was more worried about exploding. I didn’t want to explode. I finally found myself in the woods, far from the scene. I could see helicopters flying around, looking for suspects, etc. They somehow missed me. “Boy, there is one way you will not die from the explosion…” Usiu said. I fell backwards, no longer able to balance my body. I felt my groin swell massively, finally popping out my genitals out of the shorts. Usiu pulled back the clothing, letting the growth become slightly more comfortable (if that could have been possible). I moaned as I saw my giant cock swell. I could barely lift my arms. “You must release your energy.” Usiu whispered. I didn’t bother to fight and began rubbing the massive erection up and down. I can’t explain very well what it felt like. I could feel the pulse run through my blood, its own separate sensation of electricity pushing through every bit of flesh I have. Every time my heart pulsed, I could feel it force every bit of me stimulate. I moaned as my hands tried wrapping around my giant member. I couldn’t see much of anything, my pecs were trying to eat my face. I finally started feeling my climax and roared my heavy, manly voice. With a flash, I ejaculated. Thunder literally filled the sky, dropping down a bolt of blue lightning. I felt the energy shoot upward- the way science tends to explain lightning. I somehow reached the sky with my force. It was quick, so fast I couldn’t really examine all the sensations. It didn’t matter anyway, because I was ejaculating copious amounts of seed all over myself. With every gush, I shrunk. I roared and roared with every spurt of cum. It felt amazing, like a release that didn’t stop running through me. I crawled for a bit before standing up. I grabbed onto a tree and heard the rain come down, cloaking the night in even more darkness. Usiu pushed my now overtly-sore body in flight. I somehow found my apartment. “You can make rain too…?” I rasped, so tired speaking was difficult. “No, that must have been a stroke of luck, or someone decided to help us.” Usiu whispered as I landed on my bed. I felt paralyzed from the pain. “I suppose you are paladin material after all.” Usiu said, letting me finally sleep. I couldn’t stay awake long enough to tell him he was awful and I wanted him to go away. Somehow, I didn’t want him to. I wanted to be a hero, and maybe that’s why I found him hidden in a chain around my neck. I had a lot to learn, I figured out quickly. I didn’t ask him to leave that morning after, even with the strange ejaculation. Maybe I liked it all. I found my phone mostly unscathed as my memory jumped towards Jenna. I freaked and looked through, hoping for her safety. I was so afraid. She left me a message that said, “I don’t know what happened last night! I think I was so drunk, but thank goodness I got home before things got crazy. The taxi driver said you were with me? Gosh, I’m sorry for all of this. That was a terrible costume party. I really hope you’re okay.” I was relieved. Holding the phone up to my face was very tiring on its own. Usiu said I’d accustom to our powers soon enough, so I simply rested until I could at least get up. I didn’t bother to ask questions, my mouth costing too much energy to move. I simply held my hand on the insignia on my chest. I fell asleep. _______________________________________________________________________________________ “F-fuck… I’m… No… I…” Gary said, holding his wound. He just needed to heal his wound. The cops hadn’t found him, or the secret studies. He crawled around, looking for things to cover the bite with. He then stopped, trembling. Too afraid to turn, he fell to his knees. The light of the doorway outlined a demon’s shape. Gary had no power to subdue even him, and he knew his fate belonged to the demon’s claws. The demon fell to the ground, black blood gushing from its mouth. A large, glowing white hole went right through his gut, burning slowly before fizzling out. Someone stood behind the creature. “Gary. You’re a terrible excuse for a conjurer. I’ve met children who are better conjurers than you. You should have stayed with necromancy, you were at least half decent at that.” Said the woman in the beautiful red mask. She pulled up her dress so she wouldn’t step in the demon’s blood. “Y-you! This was you?! You took my staff! That’s why I lost control of them, you fucking bitch!” Gary spat out before blood gushed from his mouth. “It wasn’t just her,” Bucardo added, flipping on the lights. He pulled of the masks on his shoulders and let the snake-skin shed off. His skin had a perfect, fair tone. He snapped his fingers, letting a black suit fit around him, pinstriped. He fixed his tie and ram broach. Gary cursed at him while he fiddled with his diamond cufflinks. “Well, you see, Gary. You should have stayed small business. You’ve done a great job, honestly, doing terrible things here in New York. But the fact is, you rose up too fast. I’ve had bigger fish to fry, but I decided I needed to stop you before you became too much of a problem.” The woman said. “But- but you’re an angel-worker! You can’t do these things!” Gary said, coughing up more blood. “On the contrary,” Jenna said, pulling off the mask, “I’m an angel-worker by nature. I decided Bune here would be much more powerful in helping me ruin you. Did you notice how bad your stocks fell in the last two months? That was him. He can do that, you know. From time to time I have to use sub-lunar spirits.” She held his face as she slowly kneeled down to look at him. She kissed his forehead and trembled her lip. Jenna didn’t seem happy for a short second. “Do you want me to go find ‘Dagger Jaw’?” Bune asked. He stood straight. “No, our pact is complete. Thank you for your help, oh powerful spirit. I release you.” Jenna said, pulling out a knife of pure obsidian. “Jenna, please… I deserve a trial, by the council, remember? Those are the rules…” Gary rasped. “Dearest Gary, The council has no effect on my mental state, if physical. My methods may be unorthodox…” Jenna said, holding the knife at his neck, “but they exterminate more disgusting bastards like you than someone else’s.” The knife slit through, releasing a fountain of red, like her dress. End
  24. TheWeremuscleForest

    The Other Side of the Mirror

    WARNING: This story could make one part of your body very uncomfortable so reader discretion is definitely advised. Campbell is waking up from a deep sleep and can feel a heavy breeze brushing up against his legs. As he lies there, he looks over at his floor mirror and notices a black swirl forming in the middle of it. He jumps to his feet and quickly slides some shorts over top of his bare ass and cock. The cloud starts to cover the entire area of the mirror until it finally reveals what appears to be some walkway that leads to a bench. The surprised young man walks up to the mirror but tries to keep his distance. It isn’t long though before the wind starts to kick up louder and heavier than before. This time though, Campbell can feel himself being drawn in towards the mirror. He quickly grabs on to the end of his bed and holds on for dear life. He yells in fright as things from around his bedroom go flying inside. He turns to see a huge dark figure walking towards him from inside the mirror and sticks its massively muscled arm through to grab him by his legs. He screams, ‘NOOOOO!’ as the bed gets dragged along with him through the mirror. He loses consciousness as he is pulled in and lands directly in front of the bench he saw from within his room. The mirror disappears behind him as he lies there motionless. The figure picks him up and lays him on the bench. As he comes to, the figure starts to form a humanoid shape before Campbell is fully aware of his surroundings. Once the groggy young man sits up, the figure is done forming. It goes to sit beside him and puts its newly made left arm around his left shoulder. Campbell turns to look at him and nearly jumps off the bench once he sees who he thinks is a ghost. ‘WHAT?! Noooo, it can’t be! *tears well up in his eyes* Nooo noooo! I remember when you died. This can’t be…..why Josiah? Why?’ Campbell falls into the man’s arms and continues to cry. Josiah rubs his back and pulls him up against him. He rubs his scruffy beard against the sad man’s face and lets out a small groan. Campbell stops crying to push himself back a little bit to look into the man’s brown eyes. He is in awe of who he is looking at. ‘How is this possible? I am looking into your eyes and it is as if you never left.’ Josiah grabs both of the man’s hands and grasps them before putting them around the back of his neck. Campbell runs his hands along the man’s shoulders before placing them on the man’s exposed forearms. The man is wearing the jumpsuit from when he was murdered nearly four years before. The green and white stripes run up and down the jacket and sweatpants. His olive colored skin is covered with a forest of brown hair on his arms and legs. He is also wearing the tennis shoes from then too. The man smiles at Campbell and pulls him in close before leaning down to kiss him on the lips. The surprised young man moans feeling the man plunge his tongue down his throat. The kiss is long and very satisfying as Campbell lets out a few moans. Josiah holds him tightly in his arms as his partner rubs his dark buzzed hair. They stop kissing as the man looks him in the eyes again and appears to be trying to speak. ‘Can you talk Josiah? Please say something to me I want to remember what you sound like.’ The Lebanese-American man makes a few sounds, but seems unable to push out any kind of word or sentence. Campbell hugs him tightly as he maneuvers to sit on top of the sexy man’s lap and feels Josiah’s cock pressing up against him. He reaches down inside the man’s pants to feel its warm uncut sheath against his fingers. He sighs a bit before leaning up to kiss Josiah again. ‘I will never forget how incredibly sexy your cock is Josiah.’ The smiling arab man reaches down to feel Campbell’s rod in his shorts and pulls it out to slap it against his jacket. A little bit of precum gets slung and stains the man’s jacket. After a few minutes of making out, the smaller man moves down off his lap and pulls Josiah’s cock out to gently kiss it and lick the edges. The arab lets out a few moans as Campbell works him over slowly and methodically. The taste of Josiah’s honey makes the eager sucker work harder as it starts to flow freely. After a few more gulps, Campbell looks up at his lover and sees him get a strange look on his face. ‘OH NO? What is it Josey? You look like you are in some kind of discomfort.’ The concerned lover can feel the bigger man’s cock vibrating against his face as it starts to swell. The veins thicken as the growth progresses down to his ballsac which is swelling itself. Campbell hears a few noises coming from the arab’s mouth as his legs begin filling up every square inch of his pants. The seams tear slowly as his quads and hamstrings spill out the openings. Campbell moans as he licks his lover’s engorged pole as it leaks more of its thick honey. The growth moves up into Josiah’s chest as his stomach reacts violently. The arab shakes as his stomach balloons until it stretches his jacket to its limits. His mouth gapes open before he feels the growth get sucked back in and rush into his pecs which quickly blow up. Their massive size forces his jacket to split along the sides as his thick furry pecs peek out the edges. Campbell stops licking Josiah’s cock to reach up and feel both huge mounds. The arab continues to breath heavy as he stretches his arms out to his sides. An immense amount of pressure starts building up in both of them as each muscle fiber in his forearms and biceps begin stretching and thickening wider than before. Josiah has a crazy look on his face again as he stares intently at them both. The sleeves strain as the growing bulbs of muscle continue to expand along what appears to be giant hose-sized veins. The big man starts to moan as his eyes go back into his head. His back splits his jacket in half as his gargantuan delts appear. His hairy traps and shoulders rip through his jacket as it starts to fall down his thick sweaty waist. The briefs Josiah is wearing buckle under the weight of his huge hairy ballsac and cock. Campbell holds them in his hands as he moves his mouth and tongue up to lick and kiss his arab lover’s massively muscled torso. Once he gets to the big man’s huge pecs, Josiah grabs hold of Campbell’s shorts and rips them off. He then lifts the surprised man up flexing his 22” guns and shredding the fabric and disintegrating it at the same time. He swallows Campbell’s cock and sucks it vigorously making the smaller man moan deeply and humps his lover’s mouth. Josiah looks up at his face and smiles before pulling Campbell’s cock out to massage the head a few times with his long tongue. ‘Mmmm Josey, I always dreamt about you looking like this baby. You are so huge and furry and……*rubs the big man’s thick furry beard* beautiful.’ The heavily muscled arab slowly parts Campbell’s cock head and slides his tongue down inside while gripping his lover tightly around his waist. His own cock bounces furiously against his thick hairy slabs. Campbell moans in ecstasy not realizing that Josiah is pushing his tongue further down inside. It reshapes itself to slide all the way down to the base of his cock before searching for his prostate. The small man is unable to move as he yells in delight rather than pain as the big arab’s cock rises and arches itself towards Campbell’s pulsing hole. He gasps as he grips Josiah’s shoulders feeling some kind of river starting to rush into him from the muscled stud’s mouth and tongue. After a few seconds, the arab slowly slides his tongue out as a thick river of honey flows from inside Campbell’s cock and on to Josiah’s chest. ‘Ahh Ahh AHH! OH GAWD Josey, I have never felt such a rush like this before.’ The arab leans down to give Campbell’s bulging cock a few nice long sucks to swallow some of the precum it is drooling. His own cock rages trying desperately to find its way into Campbell’s other passion canal. The small man feels himself being lowered now onto Josiah’s immense 13” cock slowly and methodically. He grips his hairy lover’s mammoth biceps squeezing them making the big man growl as he stretches Campbell. ‘YES BABY, OH GAWD. Fuck me please. I’m all yours.’ The small man gives Josiah complete control of him as his anus conforms to the giant horse cock now entering it. Campbell feels his legs and ass shake as it pushes further inside searching for that magical place. He is surprised at how easy it is for the arab stud to fuck him but lets it all occur since the feeling is too much to prevent. After nearly sliding all the way in, Josiah’s cock finds his prostate and starts to massage it. ‘YES! YES! YES! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me Josey!’ *shakes violently* Josiah rubs his legs and back to make him calm down and straightens up to kiss Campbell’s chest while holding him in place. He slowly starts to thrust inside the horny bottom working a nice steady rhythm as he lovingly licks the smaller man’s neck and face. He grunts deeply as he manages to mate with Campbell’s prostate as the two organs merge. Within seconds, the big arab starts unloading huge jets of cum directly into it thrusting over and over again. Campbell yells in delight feeling his insides filling up with thick white jizz. Before he can look into Josiah’s eyes again though, he starts to drift away. After a few seconds, he jumps up in his bed and yells. He looks around and wonders if this was perhaps just a dream. He turns and looks at his alarm clock and realizes that he is late for a meeting with one of his close friends. He starts to put his pants on when he feels something really strange going on in his crotch. He tries to stand up but can’t seem to get up from the bed. Campbell can feel strange sensations coming from his prostate which worries him. He notices his cock starting to wake up as it gets harder. He pulls his pants back off around the time he shoots a clear stream of precum into his boxer shorts. He takes them off and sees his cock arching up in the air. The pressure from within his prostate starts to build up as if he is about to shoot a massive load, but nothing happens. He stares intently at his cock as the piss slit begins to stretch. He yells in fright feeling his prostate growing as it starts to bulge outward from inside his body. His cock begins to grow bigger too as his balls thicken and swell. The feeling scares him so much but he is unable to move as his cock and balls triple in size. His legs move out to the sides to accommodate the large appendage that is now growing. It is stretching the lower part of his stomach as well. It finally stops growing after about five minutes. He stares in awe at the giant balloon now sitting where his pelvis was and wonders if this might have been a result of that dream that he just had a little while before. His cock continues to grow even after his prostate and stomach stop expanding. It finally forces him to move to the floor. The gargantuan pole eventually stops pooling precum. He can feel whatever it is inside him starting to move forward now as his cock grows even larger. The thing is pushing itself through his massive cock as the piss slit stretches even wider. Campbell can no longer feel anything in that part of his body including his legs and feet. The intruder stops moving halfway down the canal before its shocked host feels his prostate starting to react. The blood in his body all rushes into his immense cock’s veins and arteries to finally launch the intruder out of the cockhead. Campbell passes out from the carnage as the thing from inside him is birthed as it is followed by an ocean of cum. The sheer power behind the release launches the new lifeform into the wall in front of him cracking it and landing the creature down onto the ground. Still passed out and cumming, Campbell is unaware that he has given birth to someone he knows from his past. The lifeform stretches out from its fetal position and begins to come to. Millions of cracks and pops radiate from the floorboards and walls as it starts to grow bigger and wider. Literally hundreds of muscles swell and balloon all over the new human’s body. Within just minutes, it triples in size from a small skeletal man into a huge hulking beast. It tries to stand up several times but falls over causing quite a few loud noises in the room. This awakens Campbell from his coma and he sits up really quickly. He immediately looks down and sees that his cock has returned back to normal. The huge river of cum he is lying in makes him jump to his feet. He notices the giant crack in the wall across the room and seems terrified as to what could cause that. He hears heavy breathing coming from the same area and gets really nervous. He goes back over to his bed to turn a light on and can see a huge hairy man shaking violently as he leans against the wall. The man’s huge hairy muscular torso glistens with sweat and is dripping cum everywhere. ‘WHO ARE YOU!? DID YOU…..COME OUT OF ME!?’ The man turns to look at him and looks extremely stressed. His brown eyes and thick beard immediately resemble someone. Campbell is holding the lamp he had turned on to throw it at the man but instead slowly puts it back down. He can hear the man muttering to himself. ‘I…..I don’t know what is going on with me. I just remember…..*man starts to think* disappearing from here. *Looks into Campbell’s eyes* OMG CAM! I thought I would never see you again.’ The shocked smaller man wades his way over to the hairy stud and holds him tightly. The man picks him up and kisses him on the lips. They both sob a little as Campbell rubs the big arab’s huge muscles and moans. The man looks down and realizes that he doesn’t have the same physique as before and starts bouncing his pecs and biceps. The smaller man rubs and squeezes them each time they bounce and then kisses them. This goes on for a few minutes before they move into the nearby hallway and into the kitchen. Josiah sits Campbell down on the counter and opens the refrigerator. ‘I have to eat Cam…..for some reason I am hungrier than I have ever been in my life. *Looks down at his body again and then turns to look at Campbell* Did you always want me to look like this Cam? If I would have known that, I would have spent way more time in the gym.’ Campbell smiles at him and shrugs his shoulders. ‘Uhhhh well…..I did fantasize quite a bit about you hulking out and growing into a beastly Lebanese gawd.’ Josiah laughs in his deep voice and turns back around to grab all of the meat he sees sitting in the refrigerator. He closes it and takes it over beside Campbell. There are chicken breasts and a few cooked beef patties. He takes them all out of their packages and just wolfs them down. Campbell seems alarmed by this, but figures that this will be a new requirement. ‘Cam, I think I am going to need more than this. I’m sorry if any of that was your dinner.’ *winks* ‘Josey, I don’t care if you eat all of the food in the fridge. I am so happy you are back, I just want to hold you forever.’ Campbell reaches over and rubs Josiah’s thickly muscled chest. The forest of brown fur soothes the small man as he leans up against the huge arab. Josiah picks him back up and squeezes him tightly before burying Campbell into his enormous pec shelf and veiny neck. ‘I love you more than you will ever know Cam and I won’t leave you again. Your big Lebanese beast is here with you now and forever.’ They start to kiss again as Josiah props his lover up on the wall and wraps Campbell’s legs around his back before he slowly slides his huge Arabian cock inside his lover and starts to fuck him. Every mammoth muscle in his back and legs flex and strain as he makes love to Campbell. Meanwhile…..the mirror in Campbell’s room is beginning to cloud up again just like it did in the beginning.
  25. roboprobo

    Tales of a Lust Mage #3

    TALES OF A LUST MAGE #3 by roboprobo SUB TAGS; Magic, Subtle Growth, Hyper (some), Height, Characters (Bradley, Xaekus, Hunter, Maker, Bahketh), Genies (Efreeti), Demons, Archers The following work of fiction portrays fictional characters in sexual situations. Please do not read if you interested in stories written for erotic purposes, if you are not of legal age, or if it illegal for you to read sexually explicit material in this format/medium. Author Note: I apologize sincerely for the length if it is a bother. I really wanted to set up the universe and then move onto more sexual themes. I still plan to keep expanding, growing, if you know what I mean, but for now I really wanted to get some muscle to grow in the actual text. Part I – Bronc, Imps, and Fire “All right, I officially end your punishment, Xaekus.” Bradley said, tearing a small strip of paper in two. Its arcane symbols seemed to burn the paper into ash. “YES!” Xaekus exclaimed, forming a human guise he accustomed to. He didn’t have enough energy to create a tall guise to match his beautiful master. Right now he couldn’t care less about how annoyed he was at Him, he just wanted to feel His skin’s energy. “No, no stop. Please, you’re going to choke me with your foulness.” Bradley muttered, looking through his files as Xaekus flew up and embraced his master’s arm. “What are you doing, master?” asked Xaekus, floating as his lower body fizzled into smoke. He hadn’t gathered enough energy to maintain full guise. Looking at his master’s full, striated pecs, He decided to size himself down to land right in the cleavage. Bradley looked down at the small, muscular, doll-sized man between his pectorals. He wished he had more than his white tank on. “Do you remember Barry Yates?” Bradley mumbled, walking into a storage room. “Barry Owen Yates?! They call him ‘Bronc’ nowadays! Yes, you helped him get as big as he is now, didn’t you?” Asked Xaekus, excited. He looked over and saw some file cabinets opened and fluffed into a mess. His urge to clean won over. The imp flew off to clean as Bradley responded. “I helped him before. He didn’t want to take steroids because he wanted to stay lean and clean. I can respect that. At the time I had just set up the business. He called me recently, said he’d saved up enough money to get himself massive with my help, to inhuman proportion. I’d told him I could give him a consultation, but no sex. I have to use magic to keep his cock from breaking me in two.” Bradley said. “Oh, I can transform him, sir! And I can do the other part too…” Xaekus trailed off as he finished cleaning the files. “No, I’d rather you didn’t. You still prove unruly and his general libido would easily let you possess him. I’m not stupid,” responded Bradley, finally finding the big bronze chest he’d tied up in blue chains. Xaekus managed to bite, “Sir, you never let me have any fun anymore!” before seeing the chest. He became silent. His glamour faded and turned him into a simple puff of blue smoke. “You don’t mean to use him, do you?” Xaekus muttered. “I do. I can control him easier because he’s been locked away from this world for centuries. I plan on syphoning a pact if the consultation with Bronc leads there. Now let’s see, what artifacts do I have that belong to him?” Xaekus peeked from behind his master and fiddled with his glasses as he tried to make some guise. He was nervous. Bradley unfolded a handkerchief and pulled out a small idol from the brass chest. The crude clay statuette was of a four armed figure with horns. Its red paint had chipped away long ago, leaving only a few marks that Bradley had tried keeping intact. Maybe he’d use a spell or two to fix the thing, but he didn’t want the subject to anchor any more into the normal world. “How old is that thing…?” Xaekus managed to ask before looking over to the beginning of the storage room’s dark side. Xaekus himself was no hero, but he certainly didn’t do the things a lot of the artifacts Bradley had there did. The familiar grumbled and decided maybe he’d go to his bottle or clean the house. Bradley’s left hand drew an arcane symbol that acted as a small flashlight. The darkness seemed to try eating the simple light as Bradley’s eyes examined the ancient idol. “Hmm. How old indeed.” Part II – Four Branches Lit Aflame The winter was terrible, at least by what Papa had said. Pa was a great man. He took me in when my mother had died. He said we were once a great tribe. The war with the Yellow clan had ruined us, even if we had won. Both clans had died out when the winter came after. We’d traveled a long time afterward going South- the lands where people did not move through the land. Fairly close to our territories in the south people had come and built a small village down in the valley. We didn’t travel anymore but chose to live farther up in the mountainous region, away from the village. Papa had taught me to do many things. He taught me how to forage, hunt, and fish. He told me all the great legends of our tribe. The saddest was the last one, that our Great Spirit guardian had sacrificed itself in the war. I asked him if that was why we had become so alone; he never answered. The winters were never cruel to us as they had been in the years before my birth. We hunted a large amount of game and ate as much as needed. Eventually we settled fairly low on the mountain, away from the village. Even both of us could not always eat all the food we caught. I was proud of my Pa. I was now eighteen years of age. I was very worried about my papa. He’s changed so much since that cold night. It was a few nights after I’d just hit my seventeenth year. I was afraid. I was not very good at hunting or fishing. I had become very adept at planting and creating things with wood. The Wise Woman of the village taught me to plant things like squash and carrots, so we started to plant things at our home. Her husband had taught me to build things after we traded many furs with them, so our small house is very sturdy. Papa was not very good at these things because he was stuck in the old ways of our people. That is what the Wise Woman had said. “We’ll follow the tracks in a bit, boy. We should rest up a bit. These muddy trails make it easy to spot them, but aye, my boots look terrible.” Papa laughed, putting his bow down. I saw the prints in the snow leading uphill too. Pa smiled. I was worried because he was ill. His lungs heaved with phlegm as he sneezed. We sat down and began snacking. “Should we really be hunting, still? I think you need rest, Pa.” I told him. “Nonsense. I’m fine. You just keep scouting for me until you can hunt as well as I. Then you can worry about me getting rest, boy.” Pa said, chewing on dry meat. “Yes, sir. I wish you’d let the Wise Woman give you medicine. You’ve been sick since the last frost.” I said, drawing in the mud with a stick. I was going to plant seeds whenever we got home from hunt. The dirt was starting to dry the perfect consistency for new seed. Pa began coughing hard and looked up at me as he spit up foulness. He asked me to look away. People died often because of illness, so I began to worry more. I think he could see it. “Calm down, lad. I will be fine,” He huffed, “And you need to be less like your mother and other father.” I didn’t think about it much, so I asked, “Pa, what were my parents like?” I chewed on some salted meat. We would dry all our meat this way to carry around. It’d make me very thirsty, but the stream was on our trip after this deer hunt. Maybe I could convince Papa to get medicine then. “Your mother was a wonderful, smart woman. She was very pretty and your father went through some trouble before the war to marry her. And your father, well, he was smaller than me, like you are. That’s certain.” He said, poking my arm. I laughed a bit. “He was a much smarter man than I ever was. I really wish he’d been around to see you grow up. He’d do a much better job than me. Both he and your mother.” He added, seeming sad. I didn’t ask these kinds of things much. “He was smart enough to name you for what you’d be really good at. Maker.” He said, packing up his ration of food and preparing to seek the deer. His name was always Papa to me, but in the village they called him simply Hunter. We went up the trail, seeing the prints go off. This was no problem, as the mud of the beginning spring left the prints terribly obvious. We’d never gone into this part of the forest for as long as we’d lived in the area, from what I could scout. The woods were extremely thick and many of the plants had gone green with moss- there seemed to have been a fire in the area. Pa had mentioned that the ‘Hidden Woods’ were cursed but as long as two people went in together and wore amulets, they’d be fine. So we cut through the woods quickly and reached the entrance to the mountain’s side. I’d never seen a cave like this. It looked like the mouth of a beast; jagged stone coming from the ceiling and ground of the cave. Mossy logs and brush lay all over the ground outside, like Pa’s feet moved quietly, pointing into the cave. It’d be too dark to see if we went in too deep, so we had to decide what to do. “Maybe I could go in and scare him out? I doubt there’s a bear in there or anything. If there is, it’ll get the deer before it gets me.” Pa said. “No, I’ll go.” I told him. “I’m not as strong or have great aim, Pa, but I can probably move faster than you.” “Ah, fine. I’ll admit you that.” Pa said, looking for a place to hide from the deer. I looked back and saw his pale skin under his clothes and cap. I’d hurry so we could get to the valley. My feet were very quiet and I tipped through, finding the best footing to sneak. My eyes adjusted to the darkness as I went deeper into the cave. Then I saw it. I wish I hadn’t. An altar sat alone in the spokes of the cave’s cold floor. I didn’t know what it was back then, but now I do. Atop the broken altar sat a small figurine. It was beautiful, looked like a real person, but smaller. I didn’t have time to see everything as the deer stood in front of it. I hadn’t made any great kills before and by instinct I shot the young buck quickly. The arrow pierced the buck’s neck all the way through. I was amazed and set another arrow in case it wasn’t enough. The deer lay its head atop the stone surface. It then fell to the ground. Without much thought I went to the deer and pulled out my knife. I was a fool for being in such a hurry. Maybe the evil one whispered to me without me knowing. I was just trying to get ahold of the buck’s neck to drain it. And that’s what I did. I pulled the buck’s head to the altar’s surface and slit its throat. I was stupid as I whispered out loud how great it was I’d found it. Then I heard the whispers, almost immediately. He whispered behind me as the blood dripped over the altar slowly. It pooled. I quickly turned and held my knife ready to attack whatever was in the cave. Nothing there. My other hand went looking for my amulet, failing to find it. It had fallen off, or maybe I had never put it on. I was doomed from the start. “Light… Fire… The room…” I thought I heard. Although I certainly didn’t want to follow the command, whatever it was saying, but I could definitely see better if I had. I quickly pulled out a small torchlight I carried for these situations (not that they happened often) and struck it against my belt many times. I tried to stay calm, but I shivered in fear of whatever was in the cave with me. “The room… Light… the room…” My small torchlight burst into a flame! I threw it at the altar, no longer worried about the buck. I grabbed the knife with both hands to defend myself and finally saw it. The flame landed right in the altar’s small brazier. The figurine finally showed its detail in full as the fire glowed. “Ah… It’s so good… to be back.” It muttered. His voice was somewhat like a puff of smoke, always blowing up from the flame. I fell backward in cowardice. The flame danced about chaotically at first, somewhat shaping itself. Eventually it did shape itself above the brazier, like a lantern, midair. I held my breath. “What a helpful young… Man. I’ve been gone for so long… What an offering!” the lantern blurted out before laughing hysterically. I clenched my teeth, trying to think of when to run away. “Oh, this is not the proper way for me to look like,” He said, sounding much clearer than before. He flickered around and stopped in different places of the area, observing the objects of the altar. “My, I remember this gift. What an artisan, he was. He was one of my favorites…” He said, covering the figurine in its flame body. The figurine didn’t burn. The flame seemed to disappear into the statuette, making it glow a strong red. “I’m glad someone called me back. I wonder where everyone’s been! I’ve got a bone to pick with them if they come back. They’re probably dead… fools, all of them.” The figurine said. I could feel his sight upon me. It felt burning hot, but inside, skipping my skin. I trembled and closed my eyes, not knowing what to do. I was so afraid of this thing. I didn’t know why. “Do you plan on sitting there or coming to meet your new friend?” He said, cackling a laugh at the end. I opened my eyes and saw the figurine sitting at the southern end of the altar. Pieces of cracked stone had blown off and the buck lay at the edge, its blood smeared. I tried getting up, feeling incredibly sweaty. “Well, aren’t you a handsome lad…” He said, vibrating the figurine. I could see it clearly; a great man like an ox. It had great big arms for its size and horns like the animal. I stood away from the altar for a bit before it boomed, “Come closer, weakling! I only wish to give thanks!” I couldn’t help but inch closer in fear as the brazier blew a bigger flame. “Who are you?” He asked. “I am called Maker. I make things from wood and can make plants grow strong.” I whispered, coughing from the heat my lungs felt. I can’t explain why, but my body felt as if I was soaking in sweat quickly. “What an interesting name. Maker. You’re an interesting boy, too. Heheh… Do you know who I am?” He said, seeming to whisper to me again. “No. Who are you?” “I am Bahketh, Prince of Fire and Strength…” He whispered. I felt his voice in my right ear, as if his mouth was there, whispering to me closely. I was so nervous and sweaty. “O-oh…” I stuttered. “And I would like to thank you for helping me. I will grant you…” He trailed off. As he did, I saw the blood on the altar disappear, leaving the stone clean. “I will grant you one wish.” He said. I stepped back. I looked around to see if my eyes would find him. “What do you mean? Where did you come from? I don’t want anything, you can have the deer, just please leave me alone.” “My dear lad, it’s only fair for me to repay you. Your tongue is too crude, but some have called me a djinn. We’re masters at granting wishes, you know. We’re even better at it when we’re given a gift… All I wanted was the blood. Now take my humble thanks or I will get angry.” He said, fire changing scarlet red. “W-well, I’ve never wanted anything. I don’t need anything. It is the way of my people. We only take what we need.” I stuttered. “Foolish boy, all men have wants. I have many powers… I can grant almost anything… Is there nothing you want? Do you want to be strong? I can make you the strongest man alive…” He said. I could feel my arms tighten as his magic fire filled my chest. “Or is there something else? Do you want the power over fire? I can make you bring down great storms of flame upon your enemies! I can make you wake the salamanders that slumber under the mountains, boy!” He said, his brazier lighting up bright yellow. It released sparkles that shaped into snakes of smoke. “No? Do you… covet someone? I’m especially good at that, boy… Is there a girl you desperately desire? A boy? You can tell me…” He said, making me feel awfully warm all over… “No, I don’t need anything. I have plenty of food, and a good home, and my health,” I said before stopping my breath. “What about my health? Could you do something for that?” “And so much more, my boy. You look awfully healthy to me!” Bahketh laughed. The bastard knew I was a fool. “No, I mean… Could you help the health of my papa?” I asked him. “Oh yes, boy. I can make him very healthy…” __________________________________________________________________________________________ Bahketh taught me to draw his name. I didn’t know how to write, but I certainly knew that words weren’t made that way. Even so, he made me repeat it again and again, in the mud of the cave on the walls. He told me to take a small cup left behind by his ‘stupid caretakers’ from before. It had a small lid and he stuffed it with ashes from his brazier. He told me to light them after my father went to bed. The flame bastard told me that although it’d sound painful to my papa, but it was him burning away the illness. I believed him. I hurried out as I recalled that I’d been in the cave for a while. I carried the buck on my back, feeling stronger than ever. Pa came running out of the bushes as he saw the buck in my arms. “Amazing, boy! I am sorry for not having so much faith in you, bucks are hard enough to catch in the dark on their own. You are definitely a man now!” Pa laughed, examining the buck closely. I felt proud as he patted my back. He coughed and we decided to head down into the Valley after cleaning the deer. Papa refused medicine again and went to sleep early that night. I light the fireplace so the house would be warm. I wasn’t as skilled with stone as much as wood, but the Stone Worker had taken a large fur as payment a while before. Father slept on the upper level of the house. He slept like a corpse. I began drawing Bahketh’s name with some of the coal he’d given me. It was soft and left stain all over the parchment I had at home. My hands trembled as I lit the small container’s ashes with some of the fireplace’s flame. I whispered again and again for Bahketh to come. And he did. Like smoke in the night, his shadow crept through the cracks of our home. The shadow quickly found home in the fireplace. He seemed more shaped this time, almost a man out of fire, flickering out of the shapes the large flame held. The dying winter felt like nothing with his presence around. I didn’t understand the whispers Bahketh made in the shadows of the house. Before I knew it, I found myself covered in sweat again. I saw Papa get up and walk towards the fire. At first I was afraid he didn’t know what was going on, but he seemed asleep. His feet moved clumsily as he reached the fire. Bahketh’s name began to burn into the parchment- red embers popped out in bits as I made a small slit in my finger with a knife. I let the blood drip onto the parchment only a bit to see it wrinkle up in flame. Bahketh laughed and covered my father in a blue fire. My eyes switched around, trying to see everything that was happening as Bahketh ‘cleansed’ my papa. The fire of the hearth blew out and ate at the walls. I tried to scream but found no breath in my lungs, just smoldering ash. I couldn’t breathe and fell to my side. I sought the strength to pull myself up as Papa screamed out words I knew he never learned from our people. I wanted to move, but I was a coward then too. Papa moaned and then began to scream as the flame ate through his sleeping garb. He fell to his knees and twitched as the flame diminished. He seemed to move back and forth, screaming in agony. Bahketh’s tongue was no longer my own. It said a great many words I did not understand. I got up and decided this wasn’t the course of action I wanted to take- Papa was certainly in pain. I ran over to him but only remember Bahketh’s burning arms slam me away. I landed across the house, hitting my head on the door. I blacked out._____________________________________________________________________ That was that. I woke up lying on the ground. I saw nothing out of the ordinary in the house. No fire had taken our home, no parchment or old container. Everything seemed fine. I raised my hand up to see a simple scar on the left arm. I looked burnt there, but it didn’t hurt. I then noticed my arms looked extremely striated, as if I’d not eaten the fats of animals ever. I’d say it looked sickly, but the arms looked fairly healthy and my skin looked fine (aside from the black scar). “Papa? Are you here?” I asked, nervously. From where I was standing, the stairs blocked the view of our home’s second level. I heard a grumble and then some shifting of our beds’ fabric. “What? Oh. Lad, how long have I slept??” asked Papa, from where I could not see. I held my head. It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would; I’d felt worse on mornings after drinking with Pa. “I don’t really know, Pa. I fell asleep down here.” I said, sheepishly. I heard his footsteps as he walked down. They sounded different. Finally Pa came down and I saw him, naked. “Pa! Your clothes!” I yelped. “Oh! I’m sorry, boy. I didn’t… I don’t remember taking them off!” He said, embarrassed. I noticed how much better he looked today. His skin wasn’t pale and he looked to have eaten much better. His thick facial hair had grown in quickly in sleep. The shadow it cast on his face had become a tuft of mess. His hands looked thicker and less callused than before as they quickly grabbed things to hide himself with. That’s when I saw Bahketh’s name on his back. Sometimes people scarred themselves with fire. These are tattoos. It seemed to be Bahketh’s name, tattooed on my father’s lower back, above his buttocks. I swallowed my tongue as I saw that it seemed perfected and even more complex than what Bahketh had shown me. In all honesty, it looked beautiful, but I couldn’t help but be afraid once more of Bahketh’s presence in our home. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary though, and things went on much the same. “Well, I will tell you what, I feel amazing! I told you I didn’t need some Wise Woman’s medicine!” Pa said, lifting his arms in a stretch. They looked full of energy- powerful. “Just fine on my own.” We got dressed and did our duties for the day. It turned out little sun was left and we didn’t get much done, but we still had deer to eat for a while anyway. I made broth as Papa finished up around the house. He seemed unable to sit down, even when we’d worked hard all afternoon. “Pa, are you going to eat?” I said, tasting the deer broth. It tasted wonderful. My eyes watched the fire carefully, ready to put it out if necessary. “Aye, but gimme a bit! I’m just trying to,” He huffed, lifting and rearranging things in the house, “move some things around!” I looked over and saw Pa sweating a river. He had moved almost everything in the house so quickly- alone. He looked over and showed me his usual big, funny grin. “Now that you mention it, though, I’m really hungry. And thirsty! I suppose you already caught on though, as you made both food and drink!” He said, running over to the fireplace as I began to make our servings. Pa quickly ate his helping and went for three more. I got two helpings in (what I usually eat, anyway) before we ran out. He laughed and said he could’ve eaten more; I was astounded. Even he could usually only eat about three servings of broth, especially when I stuffed it with things from the forest. He held his distended belly and complimented my cooking. “Maybe we should learn to make bread, it sure fills you up better than broth.” Pa said. I liked the idea, considering I always wanted to learn to make things to eat aside from soups and cooked meats. “Well, if you keep eating like this. I think so, Pa.” I said, smiling back._________________________________________________________________________ Things changed. I didn’t know what to do and even ignored what seemed subtly suspicious. I became afraid. At first, everything seemed great. I never went back into the forest and even told Pa we shouldn’t. He obliged. He told me he had a great idea about how we could train to hunt better, one he’d gotten in a dream. I gave little mind to it and made the tools he asked for. We cut up tree logs in a way that we could hold stumps with our hands easily; handles. They weighed different amounts. I couldn’t lift as much as my Pa, but I still tried to do it with him. Then we began to eat much more. At first we were fine, hunting the usual amount. We seemed to keep up with our need for food by hunting almost twice, if not three times as more food as before. We didn’t need all the furs so we traded for even more tools and different resources. Pa ate a lot more but he pushed me to eat as much as possible. Sometimes he’d even get angry when I didn’t eat ‘enough’. I always wanted to make Pa proud, so I usually ate as much as he made me. My eighteenth year came. He said it was exactly on the full moon. Almost a year had passed by since the incident with Bahketh. I ignored most of the signs that his influence lingered. As long as Pa was healthy, I didn’t really care. One day, however, I asked Pa something he didn’t like at all. “Pa, doesn’t everyone from our clan marry young? I’m eighteen, and you have never told me to seek a woman.” I said. Pa looked over and quickly became serious as he responded flatly, “You don’t need anyone.” I was confused. I looked at him. He’d changed so much in the past year. His arms looked thicker than ever, the rivers of his veins popping out of his skin all over. I’d traded some clothing for Pa to wear but he seemed to only like the fur vests we would mend out of animals in the woods. They always seemed small around his barrel chest. Although he ate well, the only thing I could see on his body was lean. His abdomen seemed pulled in, tight like river stones collected neatly. I looked down at my own body. I’d changed too, but not nearly as much as he. My face scrunched up in confusion as to what Pa said. “Pa, are you sure? There’s no real way to keep our clan alive if I don’t marry, or if you don’t marry. You’re still young, I think you could. I wouldn’t get jealous of siblings, I’m a grown man anyway.” I said, trying to be positive. “You don’t need me, is that it?” Pa asked. “What? That’s now what I’m saying, Pa. Don’t you want to have more children?” I asked him. Pa lifted the handled stumps and huffed. He was drenched in sweat as usual. His hair had gotten very thick this spring, shiny with sweat. Often his skin would look red as he breathed in heavily to lift. “Pa?” I insisted. “What, Maker?! You don’t want me around, right?!” He yelled, throwing the stumps far. “Just do what you want! You’re obviously not my boy, you don’t need me anymore, that’s what you’re saying, yes?!” I was almost afraid. Not because I couldn’t defend myself, but because Pa had never been this angry. His great chest bounced up and down as he huffed. He seemed angry, but not just that. He seemed anguished. “Pa, you know I can’t do anything as good as you. You’re a better hunter. I’ll never find someone I can count on like you.” I said, almost shaking and not thinking about what I was saying. It was true, though. That was how I felt about my Pa. I remembered trying to figure out how old Pa was when the winter took our clan. He’d have been about sixteen when I went under his wing. My father was much older, I’d say. Pa always looked up to my real father- at least by the way he spoke of him. I figured it was an age difference. I tried to understand how lonely Pa must have been. “I’m sorry, Pa.” I said, wondering what he would do. I couldn’t see his face anymore as he’d went to pick up the weights. I almost trembled thinking he would become violent. He came back. I couldn’t see if it was sweat or tears covering his face, especially as he kept his head down. We didn’t talk much that night. Then I started to hear the noises at night. I’d made a few additions to the house now, so Pa and I could have some privacy. I started hearing noises coming from Pa’s room. I couldn’t tell what it was he was doing. I became afraid because I heard grunts and strange moans. Was Pa sick again?Pa started becoming really big. He made sure I ate as well, but his hunger for food was astonishing, if not amazing. He ate and ate until he practically fainted one night. I tried to help him up, but he just held me. There was a sadness in him that I did not know how to help. He also pushed me. I would feel very sore in the mornings after a night of freedom where we could lift for as long as we wanted. Not everything made sense of what he said about ‘lifting’, but he knew so much. Pa and I started a tradition of seeing our progress ‘growing’. I didn’t understand it, but it looked to be enjoyable to Pa. I thought it was fun too especially when I could show off my strength. Pa would show me how big he’d gotten in the week and then I’d do the same for him. We seemed to make great progress. I did something one night. I didn’t understand my body and felt pain in my groin. I thought of asking my Pa what to do even though it was very late in the night. The pain was keeping me awake. I went to his room and found nobody there. Quickly, I dressed myself and grabbed my bow. I’d become very fast since we’d started training ourselves for hunting. Even though I weight quite a bit more, I was sure I could find Pa quickly. I went by the river, close to the mouth. I became worried as the full moon shed its bright light upon the trees and mountain stone. My feet stepped quickly, noticing a smell that I somehow recognized as Pa’s. I’d learned to make soft –but durable- boots from fur and cloth and slipped into a shadow as I heard the rushing waters of the river grow. There Pa was. He kept complaining about the heat. It was now summer but the heat of the night was still nice and calm, so I didn’t understand. Pa splashed himself in the water and drank. He coughed as he drank. He was probably drinking so fast. He washed himself and relaxed, naked on the water’s edge. I’d never tried to pay attention to the body. Pa said it was a private affair for only a wife to see, once. I couldn’t help it as something in my chest pounded. Pa’s body seemed perfect. It seemed sculpted, massive, like stone. It seemed powerful, like the fires Bahketh had fed him. I felt the pain in my groin again. Pa stepped out and looked at small pool of water at the river’s side. I assume he was staring at his reflection. He lifted his arms and forced his muscle to push out, like a large rock pressed to escape his thin skin. He laughed and posed again, showing off his pectorals more than anything else. I guess by instinct I dropped my bow. My hands rubbed my own groin, as if I needed some release from there too. “So big.” Pa said. “I’m so fucking big.” I knew not what that word meant. I’d never heard it myself. Pa posed again and again. I saw something happen to his appendage. The leg appendage you call a phallus. It seemed to swell as he posed. I felt my heart race. “Look at how big you are. No normal man is this strong.” He moaned, rubbing his body. Every movement forced certain muscles awake. I know now what they are called. He grabbed the nubs men can’t use on his chest. I swallowed my breath, feeling aroused. Pa moaned loudly, his phallus bouncing. It looked like a large, red rod. His hands eventually moved around and grabbed onto his phallus. They wrapped around it like a large knife handle. His member was much larger than mine. I pulled mine out. I wanted to feel what Pa was feeling. His hands went up and down. I saw his big balls swinging around. I looked at mine and felt them. They felt tender, swollen. “I want more. I want to grow more!” Pa yelled, groaning as his hands moved up and down his rod. I copied, feeling a sensation I’d never felt before. I would say I had felt it before, but I’d never done such things to myself in those situations. I then could see something strange as my Pa turned sideways. He must’ve wanted to see his side but couldn’t see his wide back. Bahketh’s name shimmered in a way I assume was enough for someone to see from afar, but not without direct line of sight. Pa moaned as my chest’s beat pounded. I couldn’t take it anymore and spurt out seed. Almost right after, Pa moaned and pounded his rod. He exclaimed once more, “I want to be huge!” Pa didn’t take much longer and spurted seed too. He fell backward as his white liquid gushed out like a small torrent. It splattered everywhere. On the ground, his chest, his face even. I looked down and saw a large sum of seed on the ground as well. I didn’t have nearly enough to match Pa, but I thought there was so much, considering it was like a small puddle two feet away from me. I couldn’t stop from moaning as I felt pleasure in my body. My phallus didn’t feel painfully hard anymore and set down to rest. As I did this, Pa grabbed his bow. “Who goes there?” He said. I quickly recovered myself and went on my way. Pa was skilled, but he’d never track me. That night I got to the house and cleaned myself as best as I could. I was too tired to worry if I had done right, watching my own father do such things. Part III: BAHKETH Another year passed and the fall season came. Pa had gotten massive. He couldn’t walk normal as his legs seemed to get in each other’s way. I’d heard someone in the village say he was an ogre. Pa looked very rugged but maintained clean. I obtained a blade to shave with regularly and I did it for both of us. Pa asked me to shave his body too, even though it was very difficult. I followed suit because he once said muscles looked bigger that way. At least this way people wouldn’t say mean things like that. And Pa wouldn’t fight them… I didn’t seek a wife. I met a nice girl in the village once, but Pa quickly scared her away. I wasn’t very interested, but I was determined to keep our clan’s bloodline alive. One night Pa’s bed broke. It was one of the first pieces of furniture I made. He only laughed and said we should just share a bed. I disagreed as we both were far too big for a single bed. If one of us didn’t fall off, it’d surely meet the same doom his bed had met. I’d gotten very skilled using tools and made a better bed for Pa. I found mine broken (with obvious assumption as to how when Pa told me he might have taken a nap on it) but made no argument. It was just proof that I was a skilled craftsman if the bed didn’t break, right? I didn’t get much bigger since the year before, but Pa said I did great. I smiled often when he measured my growth. I was starting to wish to be as big as him. He would sometimes show off in the village. He picked up men in each arm and would curl them like he did our weights (Which, by the way, I had to replace with bigger ones…) and would pull great animal-sized carts with ease. Things took a turn for the worst at night. I started planting more things and did very well. I grew lots of cucumbers and started harvesting. I found one missing and eventually learned what Pa had done with it. On his usual ‘cooling’ nights when he’d get his terrible fevers, he played with the cucumber. He would push it inside of himself, moaning and making many noises that bothered me. I found myself spilling my seed as my needs asked for something I shouldn’t have wanted. I started wondering if that was what Pa wanted, and started experimenting myself. I went down to the village one day and made friends. They seemed to make fun of me for not understanding sex as well as them, but I think they feared me. I was very strong and known as Hunter Son. Maker Hunterson. They didn’t laugh at me in front of me. One of them brought a harlot along and had her spend time with me. I learned that I didn’t like what she had to offer. Pa became more verbal that fall. “Do you like my size, boy?” He said, very seriously once. “Yes, Pa. You know I do.” I said, laughing. We sat on the ground, cleaning beans. “I don’t think I can get any bigger. I want to be bigger. I want to always take care of you, lad.” He said, tossing my hair in his hand, as if I was a boy still. I felt like a boy, always smaller than him. “I doubt I will, though. I can only get older from here on.” I pondered a while on what he said. I found myself later walking through the cursed woods, holding my bow ready. I was stronger now, and I knew I didn’t have to be afraid. The Wise Woman taught me how to make holy items. I wasn’t good at it, unusually, but she said that the items would drive away evil spirits no matter what. I never told her what I was doing anything for, but I’m sure she knew something was going on long before I had. I stepped through the thick brush- thicker than I remembered. Pa would go hunting by himself. Said he wanted to find himself a bear. I felt sorry for the bear. I pushed back the thick green and saw the cave again. It’d been two years, maybe more. I stood in front of the cave. It had changed since I was there last. It looked cleaner, as if it were more of a temple. I slowly walked in and looked around. There was much lighter than before. The heat was heavier too, I could feel my chest breathe in humid air. The altar was much more well-kept now than ever in my memory. The statuette sat there, waiting for me. “Well, well, well…” huffed the spirit. “Hello, Bahketh. I greet you with respect.” I said. I wasn’t nervous. “I hope you do, but I really hope you greet me with more…” He whispered, rubbing my body with his unseen warmth. “I seek nothing, Bahketh. At least nothing for myself.” I said, pulling out a small bag. “What is that, young man? My, you’ve gotten so much bigger on your own, without my help. Well, direct help. Do you like that power?” He fizzled. I opened the bag and let out the contents. I had obtained a box of incense. It was very rare, I’d received it as a gift for helping the counsel of the village stop a pack of bandits with my father, from a prominent family’s daughter. Jewels dropped out, all from different mountains from afar. “There is something I want,” I managed to say before Bahketh interrupted. “I know what you want. Your father is a very strong man. But he wants more, yes?” Bahketh asked. “Yes, oh great one.” “Maker? Boy?” I heard from outside the cave. I turned around. Pa was there. He looked over at the altar and back at me. “What’s going on here?” He asked. “Where are we? I followed you because I was worried. Should I be worried?” “Pa! How did you follow me?” I asked, nervously. “I followed your smell –I mean- tracks.” He said. “Come, my acolyte.” Bahketh whispered. Pa walked slowly, without hesitation. “Your boy wants to make you bigger. Stronger. You want that, yes?” Bahketh asked. Pa stared at the statue before processing all the information. “Yes! That’s what I want! Wait- is this- is this how I’ve gotten so strong?! I’ve never felt this way in my entire life! It’s amazing! I feel so powerful!” Pa said. Bahketh laughed. “Your boy is no normal man. He is a Maker, just as his name states. He has the power to focus magic. You should thank him as much as you should thank me.” Pa looked over at me. I noticed the erection he was growing. He was practically glowing. “Your boy and I are also alike in other forms. He is benevolent, like me. He wants to make you even stronger.” Bahketh whispered. “Is that true, son? You can make me stronger? I want to be stronger, boy! I want to be the strongest!” Pa said, grabbing my arm. He then pulled me in and embraced me. I’d never felt the way he made me feel when he embraced me. “Well- Bahketh granted the wish. What do you want, oh Great Spirit?” I said, nervously. “I want your Pa to give me his name. But he can’t do it by himself, you need to give it to me.” Bahketh said. “I don’t understand.” I said. “Why don’t you ask your father?” Bahketh said with a grimace. I could see his smile in the fire of the altar. Pa looked nervous. I looked over to him and asked, “What does he mean?” It took him some time before responding. He seemed to think about it a bit before Bahketh complained loudly. He made the room burning hot. Pa finally answered. “Our clan gives up our names to the person we love the most. It’s a tradition we hold in the spring. I did it a few years ago for you. It’s usually something for marriage… But I have nobody, lad. I always have only had you.” He said. “And that means that he doesn’t own his own name. You do. The binds of your clan’s tradition make it so he can’t do anything. I will grant you this wish, if you want me to, but you have to give me his name.” “I-I don’t think I should be doing that!” I yelled. I still understood very little. I looked back and forth at both of them, skin red hot with embarrassment. “Boy, please! I want to be the strongest!” Pa said. He held me close, almost crushing me. He posed his arms and smiled before embracing me again. I desperately remember his embrace. “But Pa, I don’t want to make this decision for you! Why don’t you just take back your name?” I said, trying to pull out of his grasp. I didn’t want to, really. “I can’t do that, boy…” Pa said. He looked sad at me. I knew what he meant. He didn’t have to say it. “And that’s all, right? You’ll make him the strongest as long as you have his name?” I asked the flame spirit. “He’ll be as big and strong as he wants. All I need is his name.” Bahketh said. “Just say ‘I give thy true name away, Hunter, to the great spirit BAHKETH.” I breathed in heavily and held it in. “I give thy true name away, Hunter, to the great spirit BAHKETH.” I smiled at Pa and held his hand. I’d never held his hand, at least not to my memory as boy or man. I laid mine inside his one last time. Pa smiled back at me, with his big smile. “YES! FINALLY!” Bahketh screamed. The statuette fell to the side and cracked. Out came the flame and grabbed onto my papa’s face. A shockwave sent me flying. Bahketh’s cackle filled echoed on and on. The flamed disappeared as it went into my pa’s mouth. “Pa?” I grumbled, rubbing my neck. “I don’t feel much different,” Pa said, looking back at me. He then screamed and held his stomach. “Oh… Oh! It burns! Gah! It burns!” Pa screamed. He trembled as his skin went red hot. He fell to his knees as he screamed again. His hands grabbed his head as he howled. Pa’s forehead quickly pushed out two small horns, little points that poked under his long hair. The mark on his back began to spread its ink, like a black flower. It covered his chest and upper legs, like vines around to his neck. Pa then began to moan. He seemed to stay alive and well even if the flames came alive on him. At first I saw his arms shake. His shoulders widened and found more space close to Pa’s neck. He growled as his arms weighed heavy with swelling muscle- it looked like a pumpkin was stuffed under his skin on both sides. His hands, however big they were, seemed very small as his arms trembled. I tried to come closer and even shot an arrow at the altar in hopes of distracting (and maybe stopping) Bahketh. The arrow evaporated in flame quickly before reaching the altar and I felt the singe of the fires myself a few steps in. I could not get close as my pa’s arms moved up from the pushing of his enlarging back. He looked like an hourglass as the sides of his midsection popped out like small wings. “Bigger! I want to be bigger! It feels so good!” I pulled out my crude amulets in hopes to use them against the foul spirit. Bahketh cackled the moment I pulled them out. They crumbled in my hands. My eyes let out tears as I saw father’s stance widen. His legs had become thicker than many young trees of the forest. They looked denser too. His abdomen cracked as the bricks on his abdomen pushed outward. I started feeling the warmth in my groin again, in shame. Pa’s close tore as his chest exploded outward along with his legs. “So good! So fucking strong!” Pa said, flexing his body as he grew. His rod pushed out from the burning clothes, swelling up in a size I could never imagine fitting a normal human. It looked thicker than my forearm. Somehow it lifted upward even with the massive weights that were under it, both sized like many fruits from the garden. It simply bobbed up and down and trickled seed onto the ground. Pa thoroughly enjoyed what was happening, even though his head seemed to be being swallowed by his massive body. Bahketh laughed and let the fires die down as my father started fondling himself. Pa’s chest had stretched out his nipples like coins, yet grown them outward to large nubs that he moaned when played with. I breathed heavily as I tried to remain capable of clear thought. Bahketh whispered terrible things in my ears, caressing my body in a softer heat. He tempted me. Pa stroked himself as his height increased to accommodate his growth. I’d say he was about eight feet tall at the end of the ordeal, but I couldn’t keep track of such things. He moaned and yelled out in a thick, deep voice. It was deeper than before, like the growl of a beast in the woods. My pa could no longer contain himself and spewed outward, shooting far into the air and away from where he stood. It came like a river of white, splashing and somehow not evaporating from the embers that had dwindled with the ending growth. I felt myself wet inside my gear, but not from fear and piss, but longing. I longed for my pa’s massive body to touch me. “Foolish boy! Do you know who I am?!” Bahketh finally exclaimed. His voice seemed to cover my pa’s. Pa’s eyes themselves had gone white. “I am BAHKETH! Efreeti of Lust, Fire, and Strength! Genie of Smolder and Ecstasy! The pinnacle of all flames! None are stronger than I! I fell from grace, but now I will return to the material world I was once barred from, so full of delicious pleasures! All thanks to you, my boy! Or should I say, my son?” I felt my heart sink deeper than I will ever remember. I understood what Bahketh had done. The statuette lifted into the air and cracked, letting out a small tear in time-and-space open. Now I know what had happened. I saw Bahketh’s truest form. It barely peered into our world as he commanded Pa to walk over to me. I stood there, afraid and aroused. Pa walked up to me. He was not Pa anymore, but not Bahketh. He grabbed me and squeezed me in his palms. I thought he would kill me but he simply tore off my clothes. The possessed man pushed me onto his skin, letting me feel the mass. I felt Pa’s massive chest, rock solid and burning hot. He forced my mouth open to taste Pa’s stone-like abdomen. I felt a shameful delight as my phallus hardened in its own rock-like density. The possessed Pa licked my own body, tasting different parts and biting where he saw fit. My neck, my buttocks, my sides. He bit hard enough to hurt, but not enough to pierce through. I closed my eyes in hopes of living, in hopes of forgiveness should my pa come to his senses. “Tell me you like my mass, boy.” Pa said, deep and slow. “N-no, Pa… Please… Stop this… We can get away…” “Feel these arms. Feel how strong and powerful they are.” I couldn’t hold on and finally whispered, “…It’s amazing, Pa.” "Do you want to be crushed between these great legs?" He said, forcing my hands onto them. I felt their density on my fingers. My chest couldn't contain the energy I received from the arousal. "You're gigantic, Pa..." I said, moving my hands around on the striations. Pa’s mouth landed on mine. I couldn’t stop myself and tasted the inside. It was somehow sweet, like fresh fruit cooked in a warm fire, yet different. His tongue played around with mine, long enough to touch the insides of my throat. I thought I’d choke but I only moaned. Pa held me in the air with ease as he did this, finally letting me feel his massive rod touch me. His tongue licked mine. I whimpered at the amazing sensation. He fit mine in his mouth and suckled as he lifted my legs over his shoulders. I moaned and felt the ecstasy wisp me away. Pa pulled me out of his mouth and then licked elsewhere. I feel great shame for he licked me in an awful place. It felt so pleasurable, it bothers me today. His tongue pierced through and played around inside me. I finally understood why Pa liked to do this to himself. Pa finally pulled me down to his own throbbing member and pushed my mouth on it. It was literally too big to fit inside, but he was gentle. He simply growled, “Lick it, boy. Satisfy your papa.” And I followed suit. He moaned quickly and played with my body as well as his own. He pushed his hands over mine so I could feel his massive legs while I licked. I was lost. I had no congruent thought. “I curse you, Maker Hunterson. I curse you to lust as badly as your father did, every night thinking of giving your own name to me…” Bahketh whispered under my pa’s voice. I looked up and saw the black tear that dripped from Pa’s eye. He smiled still as the tear dripped away and evaporated on the burning ground. Pa came again. He drenched me in seed, cooked like milk in the winter morning. I opened my mouth and swallowed what I could. It tasted like honey. I moaned and came as well, whimpering as the sensation squeezed my groin tighter than ever. It hurt as it tightened out every last drop inside me. I heard the voice in the window cackle. A colossal arm -both muscular and bigger than even Pa’s- smashed through. The voice growled loudly in its own beastly form as another arm stretched the doorway out. I could see Bahketh’s smoldering orange eyes. His name burned on my arm, unfinished but obviously his. I screamed in pain as it burned to the bone. Bahketh laughed and petted my papa. “My acolyte. You shall walk the earth, spreading my name in the shadows. When the time has come I shall become a glorious god as I so deserve.” Bahketh said, voice booming. It was certainly not a whisper anymore. Pa turned as the seed forced me to change slowly. I fell to the ground as my body became led. Pa walked towards the door and bowed. “Yes, master.” He said. “But now, you shall enjoy true paradise. Come to me, my acolyte. Enter the plane of Lust, where my flaming abode hides. Our enemies have been winning for so long, and we must plan… We must rejoice your coming home. I shall soon take even the planes of the Abyss and Heaven as my own.” The portal stretched even more so. Bahketh’s face smiled with teeth like a monster’s. His red skin burned with embers and eldritch-orange symbols. He caressed my pa as he walked into the burning doorway. I could only whisper my Pa’s name before I began sensing the loss of it in my existence. I felt my bones push and break as my body grew when Pa looked back at me once more. I still think the pain was worse in my heart than it was in my body. I would have screamed as the door closed, leaving the cave steaming and alone. I lay, growing slowly and painfully. I could feel everything; the bones cracking, the muscle tearing. All of it, before the growth rebuilt me. It felt pleasurable underneath the pain. To this day I want more, in secret shame. I felt my arms swell and my neck become thick. My legs felt like pillars in a temple, heavy as well. My eyes opened as I saw the thunder rolled in the night sky. I got up very slowly, trying to move with the new size. I looked at my body, remembering what my Pa’s looked like. I would certainly be a weaker scout now, but that was fine. I needed to become a warrior. I needed to find a way to defeat the foul genie, Bahketh. I stumbled around, learning how to use the self-obtrusive legs I had just obtained. My groin felt heavy already with seed as I looked down at a massive member that swung from side to side. I didn’t get far before having to release. I met the Wise Woman in the dark. She said my voice had become even deeper. The rain helped conceal me. I begged her for advice. The Wise Woman told me this was certainly beyond her power. I cried in agony. She gave me a pendant that had been passed down to her. It carried the symbol of an ancient people. She said that the mountains hid a strange prison whose lock was now broken beyond repair. I asked for her forgiveness. The Wise Woman said nothing. I learned later I had been fated to release the burning djinn long before. Her people had dwindled (ironically like mine) and hid amongst the village. They were prepared to end their bloodline. I prepared to end mine. The pendant was to help me find someone who could battle the bastard, but that was the only help the Wise Woman gave me. I returned to the house and packed what I could. I packed extra to head to the village and trade. Nobody recognized me in the darkness of the rain and night. I quickly obtained a sword and things a traveler could use. I gave up my tools. I was no longer a maker. I was no longer anyone. I write in this journal, hoping that if I should fail, someone finds it. I can feel Bahketh’s whispers at night. I can feel his hands toying with me. I know the knowledge to give him my being is hidden in the dark depths of my mind. Every day is a struggle. I want that power and strength. I beg the spirits of the land –the only few benevolent left- that they guide me to death before my mind finds destruction. But who knows, deep down, I want Bahketh to grow me as much as he can. End? Author End Note: I thank you very much for reading my work. Please suggest themes that you think would be interesting, or tell me what you thought could use work through a comment! I sincerely hope you liked it.
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