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The angry and menacing look on Big Boss’ face is enough to show his displeasure at a worker’s fuck up at the job. Big Boss called him for a stern warning “one more fuck up and you’re out!” And that’s just what happened The employee fucked up again and so the big boss crushed the life outta him right on the loading dock for all other workers to see. Trapping him up against the wall the angry boss held him in place with no escape as the worker pleaded for another chance. “Too late you been warned” was the response. And with a sudden and rapid inhale Boss’ belly expanded enormously pushing all the air out of the worker till he was crushed and dead. OSHA got word of yet another work place accident so this time they sent in an observer to snoop around for a week. Big boss resented having such an intrusion on his facility. He was furious, his big chest and belly heaving with rage. His longtime shop foreman tried to calm the big boss fearing that the plant would be shut down for good if anything happened. “Big boss please don’t hurt this guy we all need our jobs” rubbing and kissing his belly trying to appease the mammoth man. With one arm big boss shoved him aside slamming him into the wall. “if that pencil neck bureaucrat shows his face around here today snooping around my plant it will not go well for him”. Sure enough the gvt inspector came once again asking questions of the workers and observing operations. But once big boss got word of him on site he exploded. His business shirt could no longer contain his bulk as he was heaving and tensing so heavily. The sound of ripped fabric and popped buttons could be heard as he stormed out his office to find the bureaucrat. And there he was inside the loading dock. Big boss angrily grabbed the nearest thing to him, a forklift with driver seated inside and with little effort he lifted it clear over head and hurled across the warehouse smashing a work table and crushing two workers. “What are you crazy!!” Screamed the inspector. “I warned you you little punk I own this factory and no one intrudes upon my way of doing business not even OSHA” And with surprising speed big boss was upon the poor man and had him within his clenches. Effortlessly he held the man in a one arm bearhug. Raising his fist with the other arm and flexing his massive bicep. Big boss put on an incredible show of power his employees stood awe struck and fearful. Big boss heaved his massive belly once more thereby crushing the inspector’s ribs and with a final bearhug squeeze the man was limp and lifeless. Big boss let the inspector’s dead body lie on the shop floor for several hours to bring home the message of his abilities to anyone who dare defy him. Afterwards he called a meeting of his employees and instructed them to secretly dispose of the bodies, the inspector as well as the two employees crushed under the forklift. He instructed them when questioned by authorities to say that the inspector never showed up that day to conduct his investigation. Likewise the two employees never reported for work. Big boss inhaled deeply and his belly once again expanded to ridiculous proportions. “Do I make myself clear!” he boomed. The employees were shaken with fear knowing what pain and mortal peril their boss could inflict upon anyone of them who failed to tow the line. “Yes Sir” they all exclaimed. And with that he ordered them all back to work. The employees had trouble retrieving the dead corpses under the forklift as it became wedged so forcefully into the concrete floor. Despite all the male workers attempts they could not budge it. The foreman informed big boss who later arrived and rolled up his sleeves. His forearms were like muscular ham hocks writhing with sinew under a thick coat of hair. Again he heaved deeply and grabbed the strongest ends of the forklift and with a mighty heave hoe he broke the machinery free where he set it aside to be dismantled later. Lifting heavy machinery like this and crushing people always made big boss horny and he began to eye his foreman who knew exactly what his boss wanted. The two headed back to Boss’ office alone for a closed door “meeting”.

Hey everyone, sorry again for the delay, but work is crazy. Anyway, enjoy! Parts 1+2+3: https://muscle-growt...stop-parts-1-3/ Parts 4+5: https://muscle-growt...-stop-parts-45/ Parts 6+7: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/7460-dont-stop-parts-67/ PART 8: The next morning began as the previous few mornings had for Andrew. He woke up, noticed he had a huge raging erection, and went to the bathroom to take care of it. This morning, he was happily surprised to once again find that he had changed dramatically since the day before. He had a really full beard now. It was luscious, thick and was already about a quarter inch long in most places. He looked like he was well on his way to becoming a lumberjack in just a day or two. However, even under the layers of facial hair he could tell that his face was more angular and cut than before. Continuing down his body, he could see tufts of chest hair poking out of the top of his shirt. Quickly tearing off his shirt he found a veritable forest of chest hair leading to a dense covering of hair on his new eight pack abs. He could tell that his legs were much hairier too now. “I must be the hairiest Asian on campus now,” Andrew though proudly. By the increased hair wasn’t the only change Andrew found. It appeared to him that his workout had paid off handsomely because he was not only ripped, he was enormous. He was at least six feet tall now with huge tree trunks for legs. He could see massive calf muscles pushing out from his lower leg in a perfect diamond cut formation. Above them were huge quads and hamstrings that had gotten so big there was no longer a gap between his legs. His muscles were so big that they made his legs touch each other while standing up normally. Another effect of his massive quads was that his dick and balls were pushed a little bit out from his body making them look even larger than they already were. His cock had to be at least eight or nine inches long (confirmed to be 8.75 inches by Andrew’s handy ruler) and was as hard as steel. His balls meanwhile were each as large as a tangerine and churning with huge loads of semen. He needed to ejaculate soon or else they would swell so much it would start being painful. As much as he wanted to get off on his new physique, there were still areas of his body that he had not explored yet. His abs were like a cobblestone path carved into his stomach, and flexing them and unflexing them made Andrew realize that he could easily stop a gut punch with his abs of iron easily. His pecs looked absolutely swollen with new muscle. The massive fleshy pillows were so big now that his nipples hung straight down. He looked like he could bench press 400lbs easily now. However, despite all of his other fantastic muscles, the greatest was yet to come. His arms looked like they were at least 20 inches around now. Crazy veins snaked their way lazily across the top of his massive peaked biceps while his triceps hung pendulously from the back of his upper arms. His forearms were huge too (probably from jerking off so much). All in all, Andrew looked like a professional bodybuilder, and right then and there he vowed to enter a competition as soon as possible. However, Andrew was becoming a little nervous now. His body was really fucking amazing, but he was worried he was losing sight of what had truly mattered to him. He hadn’t gone to class at all the previous day and instead had spent his time furiously masturbating, working out, and having a marathon of sex with Nicole. The more he thought about his situation though, the more he realized that he liked what he had become, what he was becoming, and what he was about to become. His muscles were so sexy and powerful he felt like he could do whatever he wanted. So, he went back to the bedroom, erection swinging straight out from his body, gently woke Nicole up, and started having the best sex of his life. After his third orgasm in as many minutes, Andrew rolled off of Nicole and noticed that her chap stick had fallen out of her bag. “Hmm, I don’t recognize this brand,” Andrew thought as he put on some of the chap stick on his lips. He noticed a weird tingly feeling on his lips after the application, but he chalked it up to it being an intense mint flavor. He absentmindedly pocketed the chap stick before heading out to class. PART 9: Andrew found that his mouth was getting really dry during class all day. He couldn’t stop staring at all of the hot girls who would have been way far out of his league the previous week, but now were well within reach. He felt tormented by these adulterous thoughts, but the girls were hooked on his new physique. They would blow him little kisses and wink seductively at him, and in response to his rapidly drying mouth he would put on chapstick at least twice every hour. None of this was helping get rid of the erection he had maintained all day since having tantric sex with Nicole that morning. He felt the urge to sneak off the bathroom between every class to masturbate, and even struggled to limit himself to one orgasm. Finally he was done with classes for the day, so he ran to the gym as fast as he could. He could feel his thighs chaffing against each other a little bit as his legs swelled with blood, getting pumped and swollen from just a few short minutes of cardio. As soon as he was done changing in the locker room (where all of the guys were amazed by Andrew’s flaccid dick which was longer than almost all of their dicks hard), he hit the weights. Something immediately felt different to Andrew. As soon as he began his first bench press he could feel an intensity in his entire body that filled him with euphoria. His now 9.5 inch cock instantly hardened and lengthened a bit more filling the front of his gym shorts with an obscene bulge. Every lift he did filled him with euphoria and made him feel like he was about to burst through his own skin. He could feel his muscle growing with each curl, each squat, each press. He didn’t know what he was doing anymore except that it felt fucking incredible and that he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. A sizeable crowd had gathered around him including several of the girls and guys who had been eying his physique all day long. They couldn’t take their eyes off of his bulge and bulging muscles, and a few were becoming noticeably aroused right there in the middle of the weight room. Eventually one of them, a cute black girl sauntered up to Andrew and sat on his lap as he was bench pressing. His dick instantly went into overdrive as he shot load after load into his gym pants. He never stopped lifting during his orgasm, and the crowd gasped as they notices his pecs and arms swell larger and larger with each rep and cum shot. Just as he was about to stop shooting his tank top ripped right off his chest as his confined pecs burst through the fabric. Andrew was an animal. He knew that he loved Nicole, but his sex drive was amped up way too high to ignore all of his waiting admirers. He picked the black girl off of his lap and carried her on his shoulders to the private shower stalls where he fucked her brains out. Andrew was becoming more and more aware of the fact that something weird was happening to his body, but so far all he had surmised was that each time he came he would get bigger, and not just his muscles. He could feel his dick expanding with each orgasm. It wasn’t much each time, but with the way he had been cumming the past few days, he was on his way to having the biggest dick of all time. He didn’t want this growth to ever stop.

Part 1: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/1556-my-dad-is-a-big-boy-re-post/ Part 2: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/1560-my-dads-boy-is-a-big-boy/ Part 3: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/1569-my-dads-boy-is-a-man/ Part 4: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/1595-my-dad-is-a-secret-holder/ Part 6: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/1606-my-dad-is-a-room-wrecker/ Part 5 My eyes were fixated on the scene before me, moving across the long sheets of a massive bed holding two giants who I couldn't help but recognize. I could feel my cock smack my stomach again and again as I watched my brother and dad close in on each other like intoxicated animals. Some part of me wanted to run back to my room and pretend like none of it had ever happened but, where my mind said run, my body had other ideas. I was beginning to breath deeply and my shirt was soaked in my sweat. My body was overheated from such a vision as I fought with it for control. I felt my pants only get wetter as I could tell my cock was leaking like a runny faucet within my boxer shorts. The muscles underneath the cloth were tight to a T as if the hottest sex of my life were just around the corner. Still, the tension of my muscles was nothing compared to the flurry of muscles lying on the bed in the room my eyes peeked into. The two forms inside moved quickly and precisely as if the entire thing had been rehearsed and created by a dancing organization addicted to erotic moves. From time to time, I could see the form of Jeff and dad in the moonlight, their legs stretching in opposite directions as the smaller one sat on the other and their chests and lips were pressed firmly. Sometimes it would be more than that as one would lay atop the other and it seemed as if their bodies had attempted to become one. Once or twice, I caught the image of a third massive body reaching up from the two and I would hold back a moan and groan as I realized it was nothing other than my dad's pillar of a cock. Even in the dark, it was easily to tell that Jeff and Dad's cock were in some kind of contest to see who was closer to him. Suddenly, the glistening, sweaty forms twisted and, as the moonlight seemed to raise a bit from the window's perspective and reflected on several nearby mirrors, their individual forms became clearer and more erotic. Now, pressed on the bed as though his limbs were nailed down, Jeff lay below dad defenseless. Dad himself had stood up on the bed and stood extremely high on it. His balls had been put into view and I could see how large they truly were, hanging at his knees. Both titanic boulders appeared to be stuffed between two legs that showed the vascularity and leanness of a fitness model but owned the thickness and size of a bodybuilder multiplied 10 times over. The height of such a figure added onto the height of the bed was something beyond godly to me. His upper torso was so large that, even though the light had bounced around the room, it still appeared as if mountains had been placed on top of the enormous body. I could hear the bed creak as he stood with such mass. I could tell by its groans it was trying its best to hold so much mass. If only I'd known it wouldn't hold for much longer. Below, I could see Jeff's big glutes, tight and bulging with muscle that was waiting to be fucked. "You better open wide, champ!" Dad roared with a strangely deeper voice than usual. " If you don't keep loose, I'm going to leave you having trouble walking for a good while!" Without sitting down dad moved his humongous arms moved in front of him, most likely grabbing a hold of his big cock, and began to push it down with force. Though I couldn't tell, he was having a hard time pushing it as it showed to be harder and stronger than he ever thought possible. Eventually, the fat head of his cock was pressed firmly against Jeff's ass, preparing for a deep plunge. Like clock work, dad began to slowly press the enormous tool into the twin balls of muscle, pushing them apart easily. With every push, I could see dad bend a bit lower and Jeff's muscles tighten a little bit more. Foot after foot of cock went into the man's hole, the enormous mass appearing to be giving Jeff a good fight. Jeff began to make pained grunts as it became harder and harder for him to hold his ass together with such a giant entering him. From my angle and the increased light, I could see everything as I watched ever inch enter my brother's ass. The veined pole looked to thicken with every push and Jeff's balls would appear to tighten with every press, sending chills to my ass I could almost feel his pain of having something so large injected into his ass. It was like watching a train try to enter a mouse whole. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, dad's very large ball sack finally smacked against Jeff's. Nothing moved for a moment as though time had completely stopped in the room alone. Then, I saw something change that I thought was something of my imagination. If I hadn't known better I could have sworn I saw dad's frame swell. I looked close, my body refusing to move until my suspicion had confirmed. Just when I that I had let my imagination run loose and I was beginning to see dilutions, I trained my eyes on muscle in my dad's back and was greeted with a swelling of that muscle and its many neighbors. I wasn't sure I could take much more of the unbelievable as I had come to the realization that my dad was actually growing right before my eyes. It became more noticeable as dad began to pound Jeff's ass slowly but pick up speed. The bed and the ground began to shake with each pounding. I grabbed my cock as I felt the shaking increase and grow stronger with each pounding. Boom.....Boom...boom..boom..boom boom boom. It was like, somewhere nearby, construction was increasing in speed as my giant dad pounded faster and faster, his balls bouncing and shaking tremendously with each quake. I began to jack off in time with the moving floor, my now revealed cock glistening with pre and continuing to leak it like a faucet not completely turned off. The scene inside became more intense as my dad's legs seemed to stretch from the bed. "Fuck it huuuuuuuurts" he groaned he began to pound faster and harder with his increasing mass. The bed groaned as more weight began to pushed it's springs down harder and harder. Dad's knees surpassed the bad and his arms, which were pressed against the bed on each side of Jeff, were swelling and being pushed higher and higher. It began to feel more and more like tremors as dad continued to press into Jeff. I could see it as his cock would enter Jeff's ass and come out slightly bigger, a single angry vein standing out on the bottom of the tree trunk cock. That's when things got wild. Suddenly, I thought I could see the Jeff's feet swell as well as the shaking grew stronger. Like a good bottom, Jeff began to press upward against his Dad's growing cock, matching move for move. BOOM....BOOM.. BOOM BOOM.. BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM. Suddenly, everything around me was shaking as the quaking grew stronger. Pictures on the wall fell, vases on top of tables fell and broke, doors fell open and it the ground. It was as if an actual earthquake were happening right in front of me. It was more than I could take as I felt my cock tighten in preparation of an orgasm. Just when I thought my sore cock couldn't take any more, I saw dad stand, his own growing form, holding my giant brother like a growing fruit on a tree. Just like that, he was then sitting down and fucking Jeff in my direction. I watched as Jeff's cock spurted big wads of press that came closer and closer to the door as the rod stretched longer and grew stronger. " HERE IT COMES" I heard my enlarged dad grunted as his fucking moved into top speed. It sounded like a giant jack hammer was punching into the floor as he continued to fuck Jeff with abandon. His growing seemed to increase a bit more as his pecs looked to have grown wider than Jeff. Hair could be seen sprouting all over his chest and face as he came close to orgasm. Suddenly, Jeff's enormous cock bulged thicker and, with amazing force, shot up and out like a fire hose. A sort of smacking sound could be heard as his cock fired what must have been gallons of cum against the high ceiling way up above. It was amazing to watch and I couldn't help but marvel at such a beautiful sight. I could somewhat see his handsome face make a hot expression as his mouth gaped open and his eyes closed. It was like having a flashback to last night as I watched him fire with more and more power. I was almost one hundred percent sure that even a natural geyser couldn't create so much force. Still, it was nothing compared to what dad had in store as his huge body stood and he spread his legs wide, his stance so wide his legs touched the ground on both sides and his much bigger balls were now spread onto the bed. He roared with a loud and powerful AAAAAAAAAAAH as his cock suddenly released a fast blast of cum into Jeff's ass, filling him very quickly before launching the giant man off dad's dick and fly high up to the ceiling. I remembered a trip we'd had to see a famous whale at a nearby aquarium when we were younger as cum was sent flying in each direction. As Jeff's thick spray of cum was fired at the walls and painting them a brighter shade of white, dad's dick was firing more than enough cum to keep Jeff suspended on the ceiling and still create a waterfall that could have been stronger than the Niagra Falls. The room quickly filled with cum as dad's hose like cum cannon became stronger and stronger, the enormous head seeming to never tire out. It was more cum than one would expect to fill a pool as the cum fell and created something of a white tide that spread out of the room. I began to release also, firing my biggest cum load yet but still not coming close to the amount surrounding me and filling the hallway. Even after my few spurts of cum left me, it was quickly washed away by the growing sea of cum leaving the room. I moaned the entire time as I was aroused by the sight in front me. Still, they fired for what seemed forever but could only have been a good 5 minutes. Jeff had finally stopped but dad was still going, the room they were in now a bath of cum and only increasing. Just when I thought it looked like dad and his endless orgasm couldn't go any longer. His massive hands grabbed his lengthened cock and tried to control it as the cum stream began to fire everywhere. First the walls were re-whitened. Then the window was him, shattering with a crash from so much force and finally the door that I was hiding behind was broken down. Flying outward and hitting me hard, knocking me nearly unconscious. The thud was enough for Dad to hear as his cum stream stopped and he thumped towards me like the giant he was. As I felt myself sinking into the pool of cum now 4 feet high, I could see dad looking down at me with a horrified face. "Squirt!!" I heard as I blacked out, feeling two enormous hands wrap around my waist and pull me out as I lost all consciousness.

* FINALLY FINISHED * This Chapter is the very first one with NONE of the JP story in it at all, but I will fill a gap in Chapter 21: between JP and Matt's workout at JP's house and heading to the park to meet Andrew and his friends. Once JP and Matt were done playing football with Andrew, Mike and Carrie, they decided to get changed before having supper at JP's house with his parents and Matt's mom. "Matt and I brought a change of clothes with us," JP said, as he and Matt held up their backpacks. "But I'm guessing that you three left your good clothes back at your hotel." "Yes we did JP," Andrew said, "But I brought a Washington Area map with me so that we could find our way here from our hotel." He unfolded the map on his truck hood and pointed to the pink line that went along the roads from the Comfort Inn Pentagon City to Burke Lake Park. He handed JP a pink highlighter and added, "All you have to do now JP is trace the route from here to your house on the map." "Why did you choose a pink highlighter to mark the map with Andrew?" JP asked him with a slight frown. "It's the only colour that wasn't already on the map, so it will stand out," Andrew replied. "I didn't pick that colour to make a crack at you and Matt, if that's what you're thinking." "Actually I was for an instant Andrew," JP conceded, lowering his eyes to the map to hide his embarrassment at being wrong. Then he looked back up at Andrew and added, "I'm sorry about that man." "Don't you know me better than that JP?" Andrew asked him with a hurt look on his face. "I'd never make fun of someone else's choice of partners! I'm not your brother Ryan you know!" "Yeah I do know that Andrew, but I'm just really nervous about anyone else finding out about me and Matt," JP revealed in a very soft voice. Andrew leaned closer to make sure he could hear everything JP was about to say. As he continued tracing the route to his house and filled in the address, he added, "With all the people who have found out today: Matt's mom, you and Carrie, I don't know how much longer we can keep the secret from getting out." "Well don't worry JP, I won't tell anyone: certainly not your parents at dinner tonight," Andrew promised him. "You can trust me like a brother; I hope you know that." "I do Andrew," JP assured him, breathing a big sigh of relief. He set down the highlighter after he finished tracing the route to his house: which was in the subdivision north of the park. "Now, onto a different subject Andrew." His big friend nodded in agreement and stood up to his full height. "As you can see from the map Andrew, my house is in the triangle formed by Burke Lake Road, the Fairfax County Parkway and Ox Road." "I have eyes JP!" Andrew teased him. JP looked up from the map and grinned as he saw Andrew smiling at him. "You know Andrew, even with the map highlighted, you might have a hard time finding my house without my help. Why don't Matt and I follow you guys back to your hotel in his car. Then all you'll have to do is follow me back to my house." "Good idea man," Andrew agreed, looking at his watch. "It's 3 pm now; what time are your parents expecting us for supper?" "5:30," JP replied. "Let's go back to your hotel where we can all get changed. Then Matt and I can show you three around the Springfield Mall and our other favourite hangouts before we head back to my house for supper." "Good ideas JP," Andrew said. "Let's go," he added, folding up the map and opening the driver's door of his truck. Carrie got into the passenger seat and Mike got into the back seat. Everyone closed their doors and wound down their windows. JP stood beside Andrew's window and said, "You lead the way to your hotel Andrew; I'll be right behind you." Andrew smirked at his choice of words. "I didn't mean it that way Andrew!" JP chuckled, feeling his face turn red with embarrassment. "But I'll expect you to be right behind me when we leave your hotel!" "Funny man JP, but I'm a giver, not a taker!" Andrew laughed, hoping to ease JP's embarrassment. His ploy worked as he saw the redness fade from JP's face. "Let's see if you can keep up with me," Andrew bragged, proving that JP wasn't the only one who could use double meanings. JP laughed as he headed to his car and Andrew started his engine. Once JP and Matt got into his car, Andrew pulled out of the parking lot and onto Ox Road. He turned right onto Burke Lake Road and headed northeast towards the intersection with Braddock Road. JP stayed right behind him as they headed northeast, passing a few houses on their left side. "I just thought of something Andrew," Carrie said suddenly. Andrew looked over at her briefly and saw her looking very thoughtful. He waited for a few seconds for her to speak and then prompted her, "Well don't keep it to yourself Carrie, unless it's something I shouldn't know." "It is something you should know, but JP forgot to tell us," Carrie said. "What's that?" Andrew asked her. "JP never told us if his parents know we're coming for supper or how much they know about us," Carrie replied. "I'm sure he asked them if we could come over for supper, but you're right: we don't know what he told them about us," Andrew realized. "I wonder if JP let them know that he thinks of me as his honorary big brother." "I don't know Andrew, but we should ask him when we get back to our hotel," Carrie decided. After about ten minutes, Andrew turned right onto Braddock Road and headed east towards the Capitol Beltway: specifically Interstate 495. "Hey JP, Andrew's taking Braddock Road towards the Beltway: a route we know very well," Matt said. "Yeah and he seems to know where he's going, probably because he highlighted the route from his hotel to the park," JP informed him. "He's probably back-tracking." He noticed Matt looking confused, so he elaborated, "He's retracing his route back to his hotel." Matt nodded in understanding as JP mentally kicked himself for forgetting that his boyfriend wasn't a genius like him. After another couple of minutes, the ramps of the Capitol Beltway came into view and Andrew took the southbound ramp of Exit 54B onto I-495. "Now we head south to Exit 57, which we will take onto Interstate 395 northbound," Carrie informed him, looking down at the map in her lap. "Thanks Carrie," Andrew said, keeping his eyes on the interstate traffic as he carefully merged with it. "This traffic is really heavy; it's worse than driving on the 401 in Toronto!" "Don't tell me that you're nervous Andrew!" Carrie teased him, trying to put him at ease. "You can flatten linebackers effortlessly in football games! Is my huge muscular man scared of a few little cars that he could probably overturn with no effort at all?" "Ok Carrie, I know what you're doing, and it's working," Andrew laughed. "Thank you for helping me relax; I'll have to reward you for that later." "How about we shower together back at the hotel and you can show me how grateful you are," Carrie suggested with a sexy smile. "Okay Carrie, but don't distract me too much with sex talk on this busy highway," Andrew ordered her. He smirked as he noticed her staring at his crotch and then swiftly caught her hand as she reached for the waistband of his gym shorts. "Don't even think about giving me Road Head Carrie; it would be too dangerous in this traffic!" Mike burst out laughing from the backseat and Andrew glared at him in the rear view mirror. "Shut up man; you're not helping!" "It's your fault for speaking your thoughts Andrew, when you should have kept them inside your head!" Mike chuckled. Carrie burst out laughing at his choice of words and Andrew finally cracked a smile: realizing that they had teamed up to make him relax. "Okay guys, it worked: I'm relaxed now," Andrew assured them. "Are you happy now?" "I'll only be happy when I can feel the soft touch of my big man in the shower," Carrie informed him. "You won't have long to wait for that Carrie, as long as you keep your eyes on the road so that we don't miss our exit," Andrew reminded her. Carrie smiled as she looked back at the road and imagined all the fun she and Andrew would have in their hotel shower later. Once JP's car and Andrew's truck got to the intersection of I-495 and I-395, they turned onto I-395 and took it northeast towards Alexandria, passing the Landmark Mall and skirting the northern Edge of the city. They finally reached Andrew's hotel at the Glebe Road exit and pulled into the parking lot. "There now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Andrew asked as he got out of his truck. "Whatever you say 'Mr Scott,'" JP laughed, recognizing Andrew's quote from Relics: a Star Trek Next Generation Episode. "So, now that we're here which rooms should Matt and I shower and get changed in?" "Mike's room," Andrew replied. "Carrie and I are going to have fun together alone in our hotel room." He glanced over at Carrie with a suggestive smirk, and she returned it with one of her own. Then Andrew turned back to JP and said, "Let's go upstairs now and we'll meet in the lobby in half an hour." JP nodded in agreement as he and Matt followed Andrew into the lobby and up the stairs to his room. "Were you afraid that our combined weight would be too much for the elevator Andrew?" JP asked him with a joking grin. "No JP!" Andrew laughed. "I just figured that star athletes like us don't take the elevator. That's something lazy people would do!" JP laughed as Mike opened the door and waved to Andrew as he and Matt followed Mike inside. "Alone at last Carrie," Andrew said, picking Carrie up effortlessly and taking her into his room. He closed the door with his free hand and began kissing Carrie softly as they headed into the bathroom. "I hope you're going to do more than kiss me Big Man," Carrie teased him with a sexy smile. "I'll hug you as well Carrie," Andrew promised her. "I want you to fondle me," Carrie ordered him. "Maybe later Carrie; I don't want to risk hurting you and the shower is going to be awfully slippery once it's all wet," Andrew reminded her, turning it on. "And so will you Andrew; I'll make sure of that!" Carrie chuckled. "Well then, you'd better start right now Carrie," Andrew decided, making sure the bathroom door was closed. He smirked as Carrie struggled to take off his skintight t-shirt. "What's the matter Carrie: is my t-shirt too tight for you to get off?" "Yes it is Andrew, so I'll let you do it," Carrie chuckled, as Andrew peeled off his t-shirt. "I'll have to figure out some other way to make you happy." "I certainly will be if you keep doing what you're doing Carrie," Andrew assured her, as she began fondling his massive pecs and eight-pack abs. "You mean if I keep doing you," Carrie suggested with a sexy smirk as her soft hands continued to explore his massive muscles. "I don't think that would be a good idea Carrie, at least not until we're both legally consenting adults," Andrew said seriously. Carrie nodded in agreement, not knowing the real reason Andrew was reluctant to have sex with her: he was afraid he would hurt her with his great size and strength. "I'll just keep massaging your massive muscles Big Man." "Yeah Carrie, you've waited since this morning to worship my massive muscles, haven't you?" Andrew asked her with a cocky smirk. "Yeah I have Big Man," Carrie replied, closing her eyes in pleasure as Andrew gently massaged her face and neck. She quivered in anticipation as Andrew bent down and gently kissed her. As his massive arms came gently around her slender frame, Carrie felt tears running down her face. "I love you so much Andrew, and it only grows deeper the more intimate we become!" "Well don't worry Carrie, I'll make sure it gets better each time," Andrew promised her, gently wiping her tears of happiness off her face. "I look forward to it Andrew, and it will be great when we go all the way: hopefully before Christmas," Carrie hoped. Andrew smiled and nodded: feeling nervous about having sex with Carrie for the first time, but only because he was afraid that he would accidentally hurt her with his great strength. Knowing how irresistible his massive muscles were for her, Andrew no longer had any doubts about performing up to and beyond Carrie's expectations. For the next 20 minutes, Andrew and Carrie fondled, hugged and kissed as they had their shower. Then they got changed into their clothes for dinner. They made sure they had their ID and US money and then stepped out into the hallway, locking the door behind them. "Oh, no one to meet us," Andrew said, as he noticed that the other three were not out of their hotel room yet. "Good, that means they aren't ready yet, so we were still able to beat them even though we had fun with each other in the shower," Carrie said. "Yeah, but they had to take their showers one at a time," Andrew realized. "That means it took twice as long." "Don't you mean three times as long Andrew?" Carrie corrected him. Andrew shook his head with a slight smile and Carrie nodded in sudden understanding, realizing that JP and Matt had probably taken their shower together. "Sorry about my mistake Andrew." "No problem Carrie," Andrew assured her. "Now I'm going to see if they're ready." But he didn't get the chance; as soon as he stepped up to the room next door, the door opened and JP stepped out. "Hey Andrew, I see you and Carrie are all ready for dinner," he said. "Yes we are JP; are you and Matt ready to lead us to the Springfield Mall?" Andrew asked him. "Yes Andrew, but I was hoping I could ride alone with you," JP requested. "I'd like to prepare you for the reception you'll face at my parents house. Matt can follow us with Carrie and Mike in my car." "That's fine with me JP," Andrew agreed, after Carrie nodded in approval. "Let's go." As they walked down the hall to the elevator, Carrie smiled at Andrew, very happy that she had such a great boyfriend. JP led them to the elevator, and the doors opened as they approached. A crowd of people got off the elevator and then the five teenagers stepped inside. Andrew pressed the lobby button and the elevator doors closed. After the doors closed and the elevator began to descend, Mike said to JP, "My older brother's name is Matt." "That's good Mike; what does he do?" JP asked him. "He's in the Infantry in the Canadian Army," Mike replied proudly. "He's one of Andrew's instructors during his reserve weekends." JP nodded as the elevator stopped and the doors opened to reveal the hotel lobby. As he led the way across the lobby to the front doors, he said, "We'll make the Springfield Mall our first stop," he added, looking down at Andrew's map. "Will we see any of your friends there JP?" Andrew asked. "No I don't think so Andrew," JP replied. "I never see much of them during the summer." He pushed open the front door and led everyone outside. "See you at my house Matt and be careful driving my car." "I will JP," Matt promised him, waving goodbye. "Since you commented on my car when I arrived at the park earlier, you won't have any trouble finding it in the parking lot JP," Andrew said. JP nodded and tried to figure out how to tell Andrew what he had noticed without making his huge friend mad. Once they got to Andrew's truck, JP took a deep breath and said, "I have something to tell you Andrew, but I don't know how you'll react." "Then you'd better tell me now, before we get in the truck JP," Andrew warned him. "That way, you won't be trapped in a confined space with me if you make me mad." "OK Andrew: here goes," JP said, screwing up his courage. "Basically, when you were bragging about the fun you were going to have with Carrie in your hotel room, you were acting just like Ryan does." "Again with your brother JP," Andrew sighed in exasperation. He opened his truck door and added, "I really hope I get to meet him, considering how obsessed with him you are. From what you've told me, he sounds a lot like some teammates of mine who are arrogant jocks." "Ryan used to be on the wrestling team with me before he focused only on football," JP said as Andrew started the truck. "Now he has a full ride to Virginia Tech." "Are you proud of him for that?" Andrew asked him as they pulled out of the parking lot. "I would be if he wasn't such an arrogant prick about it!" JP snapped. "He took off a summer road trip without even telling our parents where he was going! They just hope that he makes it to Tech in time for the first football practice." "You know, since he's an incoming Freshman, he'll probably be Red-shirted," Andrew informed him. He noticed JP grinning and added, "That should knock his ego down a notch or two." JP's grin widened as he realized that Andrew had once again found a way to make him feel better. Then he suddenly realized something else. "Hey Andrew, does that mean that you won't get any playing time in your freshman college season either?" "I will get some playing time if we win the Provincial Championship this fall JP," Andrew predicted with a cocky smirk. "However, we'll have to wait to see how much playing time the football coaches at Ohio State offer me." He noticed JP's grin turn into an excited smile at the mention of the school he wanted to go to for college wrestling. "Consider my recruiting visits this summer practice for yours next summer JP," Andrew advised him. "By bringing you along with me, you'll be on the radar of the college wrestling coaches and maybe they'll come see some of your matches this fall. Make sure you wear your varsity wrestling jacket on my recruiting visits and bring your District Finalist medal as well." "I will Andrew," JP promised his big friend, really happy that Andrew was preparing him early for his college career. "After supper, I'll get my jacket and medal out of my room for the road trip that starts tomorrow. Did you bring your football jacket with you Andrew?" "Yeah man, it's in the back of the truck in my gym bag," Andrew replied with a smug grin. "I'll probably wear it at the mall; it should be cool enough in there." "Good, then we can see how close in colour scheme they are," JP said, suddenly remembering that Andrew's school colours were blue and white just like his. As they approached the Capitol Beltway, Andrew said, "There's a question I've been meaning to ask you JP." "You want to know how much my parents know about you," JP guessed. When Andrew nodded, JP added, "You also want to know if I got their permission to go on your recruiting visits with you." "And what is the answer to those two questions JP?" Andrew asked him with a big grin. "I'll tell you right now Andrew," JP replied. "We should be at the Springfield Mall by the time I'm done." Andrew nodded at him to go ahead and JP began speaking. ================================================================================================================================================= A few hours before, JP and Matt had gone over to JP's house for their daily morning workout in JP's basement gym. Then they went upstairs to shower and change for lunch with JP's parents. They came downstairs to find JP's parents finishing the lunch preparations in the kitchen. "Good morning JP," his mom Maureen greeted him. "Did you and Matt have fun last night at the National Mall?" "Yes we did Mom, though there was one unpleasant incident that had a positive outcome." "What happened son?" his dad Paul asked him, as his wife ushered them into the dining room for lunch. "A big college guy and his friend were sexual harassing Chrissy so I intervened," JP replied as he sat down at the dining room table. He noticed his dad's face clouding with rage so he hurried on with the story. "One of the big guys wanted to fight me, so when he went to punch me I twisted his arm behind his back, put him in a choke hold and threw him to the ground. Chrissy thanked me after they ran away and then we suddenly noticed two huge guys approaching us. I was about to fight them too, but Chrissy told me that they had been approaching to help her out before I got there. I thanked the huge guys for being ready to help Chrissy out and then Matt and I introduced ourselves to them. We got to know them better throughout the evening and they watched the fireworks with us later, after introducing us to their friend Carrie of course." "And what are the names of these two huge heroes?" JP's dad asked him with a big grin. "Andrew Pearson and Mike Stevenson," JP replied with a proud grin. "Andrew Pearson: the YouTube High School Football Star from Orillia, Ontario, Canada?" JP's mom asked in astonishment. "That's what I asked and Andrew confirmed it," JP replied. He turned to his dad and added, "He's a really great guy Dad and I got to know him quite well in the half hour before the fireworks started." After telling his parents everything he and Andrew had talked about, he showed them the pictures and videos he had taken of Andrew the night before. Then he concluded the story by saying, "I told Andrew that I'd ask you two if he could come over for dinner tonight with his friends to meet you and Matt's mom." "Well considering all that you've told us about him, that sounds like a great idea son," Maureen said, as they continued eating lunch. She looked over at Paul, who nodded in agreement, and added, "He sounds like a great role model for you and I'm glad that his success hasn't gone to his head." "It sounds to me like Andrew could teach your brother Ryan a thing or two about what being a big brother is all about," Paul said with pride in his eyes. "We'd be honored to have a famous Canadian high school football star eat dinner with us tonight." JP grinned, knowing that those words were high praise indeed coming from his dad. "Did you say that Andrew and his friends are going on recruiting visits throughout the Mid-West this week?" "Yeah Dad, but I guess I forgot to tell you what Andrew offered to do for me and Matt," JP realized. "Did Andrew offer to take you two on his recruiting visits with him?" Paul guessed with a glowing grin of pride. JP nodded and Paul shouted, "I knew it! Andrew is indeed the role model you need right now and he's thought of everything to help you secure your college wrestling career!" "You sound more excited about it than I am Dad!" JP teased him. "I am excited JP; Andrew's going to help your college wrestling dreams come true," Paul predicted. "He's really filling the role of the big brother very well so far. We'll have to talk to him over supper of course, but I can't think of anyone I'd rather have looking after you than Andrew Pearson." "I don't need anyone to look after me Dad, not after I took down that punk who was bugging Chrissy last night!" JP informed his dad with a glare. He flexed his biceps and snarled, "I can take care of myself and anyone who cares to test that theory is going to regret it!" "I should have chosen my words more carefully son, but so should you," Paul warned him with a frown. "I hope you don't try to start anything with Andrew; judging by his size, he could crush you like a paper cup!" "And Ryan too!" JP predicted with a cocky smirk. "Stop it son!" Maureen shouted angrily. "Ryan may have been acting like a jerk for the last few years but he's still your brother. He might need you one day, so don't turn your back on him now." Mrs. Maloney had no idea how prophetic those words were, but in a couple of years they would all find out. "Okay Mom, I understand," JP said, mostly to placate her because he couldn't imagine a future where he and Ryan would ever be close again. "I'll think about what you said and try to think of Ryan as my brother and not my rival." "Good for you son," Paul commended him. "But speaking of rivals, both you and Andrew lost your respective championships last season, didn't you?" "Yeah Dad, but why are you bringing that up now?" JP asked. "Maybe during your road trip this week, you and Andrew can mentor each other on how to win your respective championships this season," Paul replied. "I could also give you two some tips during supper tonight." "Good idea Dad," JP said sheepishly, looking down at his plate as he finished his lunch. "I'll tell your ideas to Andrew when I see him at Burke Lake Park this afternoon." "Good for you son: you're including him in your workouts," Paul said approvingly. "After supper you should show Andrew your basement weight room and the wrestling room at school." "More good ideas Dad," JP agreed, as he and Matt stood up from the table. "Can Matt and I head over to the park now to meet Andrew and his friends?" "As soon as you call your mother Matt," Maureen replied, standing up to collect the lunch dishes. "Invite her over for supper and you can tell her all about meeting Andrew and his friends last night." Matt nodded and went into the living room to make the call. His mom agreed to come over to JP's house for supper that night and told him, rather hesitantly, to have fun with JP and his new friends in the park that afternoon. Then Matt and JP said goodbye to JP's parents and headed over to Burke Lake Park to go running with Andrew and his friends. ============================================================================================================================================= "Good story JP," Andrew commended him, as they pulled into the Springfield Mall parking lot. "Well, here we are at the Springfield Mall." The 2006 sign below is only one year after my story takes place: July 2005. "I have eyes Andrew!" JP teased him, throwing Andrew's earlier line back in his face and pointing to the mall sign. Andrew grinned at him and then noticed JP's car pull up beside them with Matt, Carrie and Mike inside. "Hey Matt, I see you made it okay." "Yes I did JP; so what will we do in the mall for the next hour or so?" Matt asked him. "We'll just walk around and stretch from our workout this morning and our jogging this afternoon," JP replied. Then he got out of Andrew's truck and turned around to see Andrew putting on his blue and white ODCVI Varsity football jacket. "And now I know what Andrew's going to do: show off his jock status to all the people on the mall." "Yeah JP, I have to give into the jock image sometime so it might as well be right now," Andrew informed him with a cocky smirk. He locked his truck and added, "I'm ready if you are JP." "Yeah I am Andrew," JP said, following Andrew to the nearest mall entrance. Andrew led the way into the mall and headed for the food court, once he checked the directory to find out where it was. "Supper's not for a couple of hours Andrew." "Yeah I know, but I haven't eaten since lunch so I'm starving man," Andrew informed him. "These huge muscles need constant fuel to stay well maintained." "I can understand that man, but no one could miss how well maintained your huge muscles are. There should be a Five Guys in the food court." Once they got to the food court they realized that there was no Five Guys there. "It looks like you made a mistake JP: there's no Five Guys here," Mike said. "Thank you Captain Obvious," JP snapped. "I don't suppose you can tell me where the nearest Five Guys is?" "You're the one who lives in this area JP; you tell us," Mike dared him, not letting JP know that he knew the answer. "Right across the Interstate on Old Keene Mill Road," JP suddenly remembered. "Let's go: I'll show you guys my favourite restaurant." "And then I can return the favour if you ever come up to Orillia," Andrew offered. Everyone nodded in agreement and then retraced their steps back to their cars. As they walked, JP realized that there was something different about Andrew, but he couldn't put his finger on it. His huge friend seemed taller than he had been before their visit to he hotel, and there was a nagging sound that JP had constantly heard since they had entered the mall. JP slowed, lost in thought, and then looked ahead at Andrew. He finally noticed the source of the nagging sound he had heard. "You're wearing cowboy boots Andrew: that's why you're suddenly taller," JP realized. "Am I?" Andrew asked, looking down. "Oh yeah I am. But then I've always worn cowboy boots since Grade Five, so I didn't even notice. I only wear shoes when I have to dress up, work out or play sports. And the reason that I'm noticeably taller is because the heels on my boots are three inches, not the normal inch and a half. So I stand 6 foot 10 with my boots on: making me the same height as the Undertaker. So I may have to duck my head to get into your house." "Don't worry about it Andrew; you look really cool and tough," JP commended him. "It's no wonder everyone we've passed has stared at you in awe and fear!" "Don't forget about yourself JP; you attract a lot of attention as well," Andrew reminded him. "Yeah I noticed that yesterday at the National Mall and on the train," JP said, suddenly looking embarrassed. "Don't feel embarrassed JP; it comes with the territory of being a top athlete," Andrew informed him. "Just wait until the interviews start!" "You've had interviews Andrew?" JP asked him in astonishment. "Yeah man, I was Athlete of the Week on VR News at the end of the last football season," Andrew replied with a smug grin. "Then the college recruiting visits started a few months ago." "Which schools did you visit this spring Andrew?" JP asked him, as they reached Andrew's truck. "Penn State, West Virginia, Clemson, Georgia Tech, Alabama, Florida and Miami," Andrew replied, his smug grin morphing into a cocky smile. "But those were Junior Day visits, held during March Break. I was one of only 50 high school junior athletes at those events." They got into Andrew's truck and he started it. "The first visits to the schools just for me start tomorrow when we visit Ohio State." "You mean The Ohio State," JP corrected him as they pulled out of the parking lot. Andrew smiled and nodded; realizing that of course JP would know the proper name of the school he wanted to wrestle at during his college years. "What other schools are we visiting this week Andrew?" "Notre Dame and the University of Michigan," Andrew replied, pleased that he would be able to visit three US Football schools that week. "I would have visited Michigan State as well, but they don't offer tours of their football stadium. An Unofficial Visit isn't much good without being able to tour the stadium where I might play college football one day." As they drove across the bridge over the Interstate, JP asked, "Will we spend one night at each school Andrew?" "That's the plan JP, but I'll have to check Mapquest to be sure," Andrew replied. "From what I remember though, the first leg of the trip takes us to Ohio State in six and a half hours. We'll pass halfway between Pittsburgh and Morgantown on Interstate 70 westbound." "And I'm guessing that the schedule is more flexible since we're driving," JP guessed, as they stopped at the red light at the west end of the bridge. Andrew nodded in agreement as the light turned green and they were able to turn left before the oncoming traffic started moving. Andrew parked his truck in front of the Five Guys restaurant and waited for Matt to pull up beside him in JP's dark green Geo Prism. Then everyone went into the restaurant and lined up behind an older couple until it was time to order their food. The guys at the counter soon took their order, staring at JP in awe and Andrew in fear. Andrew felt exasperated that he got the same reaction everywhere he went but he was also relieved that JP was diverting some of the attention off of him. As they waited to pick up their order, Andrew sent Mike to pick a table for them with Matt and Carrie. Then he turned back to JP and noticed him glancing warily around the restaurant. "What is it JP; what has you so nervous?" Andrew asked, though he could guess. "I'm making sure no one from school is in here," JP replied. "I'm really popular there, even more so now than my brother, and since we have a supper timing to meet, I don't want there to be any more delays." He smirked as Andrew grinned at his use of a military phrase. "Just a phrase I picked up from my dad Andrew." Andrew nodded with a smile and hen turned back to the counter to pick up their order. JP breathed a sigh of relief: pleased that Andrew hadn't figured out that JP didn't want anyone from school telling Ryan about his new friend Andrew. But his hopes were dashed as he turned towards their table and noticed a huge familiar figure coming through the front door. "Oh no," JP groaned in dismay; not pleased at all to see his brother's former teammate on the football team. "Let's get to our table Andrew, before he sees us." "Who are you talking about JP?" Anew asked, as they reached their table. "It's Tyler Backton: Ryan's teammate on the football team," JP replied, putting a hand to his forehead in dismay as they sat down. "Of all the people I didn't want to see today, he's the one who could tell Ryan all about you!" "Maybe if he tells Ryan that I took over his role as your big brother, it will shame Ryan into reclaiming it," Andrew suggested hopefully. "Don't worry JP; I'll stand up and hopefully my size will scare Ryan once he hears about it." He stood up, revealing himself and drawing Tyler's attention. Tyler's eyes widened in astonishment at Andrew's size and he carefully approached JP's table. "Hey JP, who's your big friend?" Tyler asked hesitantly once he has stopped beside JP's table. "It's huge friend actually, and his name is Andrew Pearson," JP replied, standing up from the table. Andrew stepped forward to shake Tyler's hand, towering over him even though Tyler stood 6 foot 3 and weighed 275 pounds. Tyler had to conceal a wince at the strength in Andrew's grip, guessing that JP's huge friend could bench a lot more than 400 pounds. "Good to meet you Tyler," Andrew said. "You used to play high school football with JP's older brother Ryan, didn't you?" "Yeah this is my senior year coming up so it's my last chance to impress Penn State enough to get a full football scholarship." "Then we have something in common: we both want to earn a full ride from the NCAA," Anew informed him. "I hope to get into Miami but depending on how the recruiting visits go, I could be persuaded to stay closer to home: like Ohio State perhaps." Andrew glanced significantly at JP as he finished speaking, who took it as a cue to say goodbye to Tyler. "It was good seeing you Tyler but we have a dinner timing to meet. I'll say hi to Ryan for you when I see him again and I'll see you at the wrestling camp in six weeks." "Sure JP; see you later," Tyler said agreeably. He nodded at Andrew and added, "Nice meeting you man." "You too Tyler," Andrew said, giving him a big grin. "See you later." Tyler nodded and headed out of the restaurant with his take-out order. Once he was gone, Andrew turned to JP and said, "There now, that wasn't much of a delay, was it JP?" JP shook his head and grinned: pleased that Andrew had once again found a way to make him feel better. Half an hour later, as they were driving to JP's house, JP said, "I have a very important question to ask you Andrew." "What is it Big Guy?" Andrew asked him, glancing over at him with a small grin. "What's it like to be you?" JP asked, looking over at Andrew with great respect in his eyes. "What do you mean JP?" Andrew asked, even though he had an idea. "You're admired and respected by everyone, even my friends, you're a god on the football field and lots of NCAA schools want you to join their football teams. How have you stayed so humble even though you've been a super jock for years?" "Super jock: that's a good one JP," Andrew said with a smirk. He noticed his smaller friend looking at him seriously, waiting earnestly for an answer. "It hasn't been easy not to let all the attention go to my head for the past seven years. But once I took care of the bully in Grade Five, everyone admired and respected me for being their hero. I couldn't bear to disappoint them, so I had to play the role of the humble big guy." "So you're just pretending to be humble Andrew?" JP asked, looking disappointed. "At first I was, but then it became my natural state," Andrew informed him. "I had a rough time when my Grandpa died almost a year ago and I gave into the cocky jock role to cover it up. But when I got suspended from the team and then we lost the Provincial Championship, it put things in perspective and I returned to my humble and gentle nature. Also, everyone wanted to learn how I got so big and strong so I gradually became a mentor for the small guys: training them to become football players like me in high school." JP grinned: pleased that his image of Andrew as a gentle giant had not been tarnished. "It sounds like you've made nothing but good decisions in your life man." "I know it seems that way now, but 2004 was quite frankly a 'Year of Hell' for me," Andrew informed him with a frown. "That was the title of a two-part Voyager episode in November 1997," JP suddenly realized. "Yeah, but unlike the crew of Voyager, the events were not erased by a magic reset button so I have to live with those memories for the rest of my life," Andrew said seriously. "I was allowed to play the final two games of last season and I didn't let my emotions get the better of me even when we lost the Provincial Championship. Coach Everson noticed my newfound maturity and helped me get invites to Junior Days here in the States a few months ago. And now I'm going on my first Unofficial Visits to schools in the Midwest." "Are you bringing Mike along, just like me, to help him get exposure to the college coaches?" JP asked him, astonished at Andrew's story of maturity discovery. "Yeah man, he was my first protege: I taught him everything he knows," Andrew replied proudly. "I want to help him realize his college football dreams. Unless the college coaches ban me from bringing anyone else along on my recruiting visits, I'll make sure the limelight shines on all my proteges." JP nodded, pleased with Andrew's explanation, and then just glanced occasionally at his huge friend in awe during the rest of the drive to his house. Andrew noticed and smiled quietly to himself: pleased that he inspired such admiration from a famous athlete like JP Maloney. Once they arrived at JP's house, Andrew got out of his truck and took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves. "It's okay Andrew, I told my parents nothing but good things about you," JP assured him, as Matt pulled up in JP's car. "You lead the way into your house with Matt JP," Andrew ordered him. "I'll follow with Carrie and Mike." JP nodded and led the way to the front porch. As he climbed the front steps, the front door opened and JP's parents stepped out. "Hello son, how are you?" JP's dad asked him. "I'm fine Dad: I had a great day with my friends," JP replied. He motioned behind him and added, "I'd like you to meet my new friend Andrew Pearson." Mr. Maloney, who rarely had an emotional reaction to anything, widened his eyes in astonishment at how huge and muscular Andrew was. JP, on the other hand, grinned at how much bigger and more muscular Andrew was than his big brother Ryan. "I'm very pleased to meet you Andrew," Mr. Maloney said, revealing his admiration for Andrew by using his first name right away. He stepped forward and shook Andrew's hand eagerly, who remembered to be gentle so that he wouldn't crush Mr. Maloney's hand. "JP has told me and my wife all about you." "All good things I hope, but I guess we'll find out once you invite me inside," Andrew said. "Yes you will, come on in Andrew," JP's mom said, ushering everyone into the house. She shook his hand once they were inside and added, "Welcome to the Maloney house Andrew." "Thank you Mrs. Maloney," Andrew said, taking off his boots. "You're welcome Andrew, but please call me Maureen," Mrs. Maloney ordered him. "And call me Paul," Mr. Maloney added. As everyone took off their shoes, Matt's mom stepped out from the living room. "This is Mrs. Anderson: Matt's mom," Maureen said, as Andrew and his friends stepped forward to shake her hand. "I'm very pleased to meet all of you," Mrs. Anderson said as they all stepped into the living room across from the kitchen. "So Andrew, JP tells me that you can bench-press more than 500 pounds," Paul said once they were all sitting down. "More like 700 pounds actually, but who's counting?" Andrew asked with a smug grin. His grin faded as he noticed everyone staring at him with a mix of awe and fear. "If you have enough weight plates in your basement gym, I'd be glad to demonstrate," he offered. "We should have enough plates downstairs," Paul assured him. "After all, JP here benches over 300 pounds," he added, smiling proudly at his son. "Let's go downstairs and find out." Andrew and his friends followed the Maloney's downstairs to the basement weight room: where Ryan and then JP had turned themselves into the gods of Central High School. While Mike and Carrie stared at all the machines and weights with astonishment, Andrew didn't seem surprised. "You don't seem surprised like your two friends to see an entire gym down here Andrew," Paul said. "I have one in my basement at home Sir and it looks a lot like this," Andrew informed him. "Call me Paul Andrew," Mr. Maloney advised him. "Because it's time for a rhyme Paul?" Andrew asked him with a smug grin. "Very funny Andrew!" Paul laughed, as JP added extra weight plates to the bench-press to bring it up to 700 pounds. "Twice as much as I bench but I'll get there one day," JP predicted. "First you have to win the State Championship JP," Paul reminded him with a frown. "Yes Dad, I will," JP assured him, putting the locking pins in place. "But before any of that happens, we have to see if Andrew can truly bench 700 pounds or if he was exaggerating." "Hey JP, don't talk about me like I'm not in the gym!" Andrew ordered him. He flexed his massive biceps with a cocky smirk and added, "Last time I checked, I was in the gym!" "There's no way anyone could miss you, considering how big and muscular you are!" JP assured him. "Let's see how effective these huge muscles are in the gym!" Andrew shouted in excitement, laying down on the bench. "Get your cameras ready everyone!" Andrew grabbed the loaded bar as JP lowered it into his hands. Then he lowered it to his chest and pushed it up fairly easily, causing his friends to look amazed at his awesome strength. Since JP was serving as his spotter, though he really didn't need one, Mike was free to capture Andrew's massive strength using the video mode on his digital camera. Mike, like everyone else, watched with amazement as Andrew benched 700 pounds easily, making it look almost effortless. Andrew raised the bar for the tenth and final rep, letting JP put it back on the brackets. "Good job Andrew," JP congratulated him. "How do you feel?" "It felt easier than it did last week," Andrew replied with a big grin. "I didn't even break a sweat this time. Do you have any more weight plates so that I can try again for my maximum of 800 pounds?" "No I don't Andrew," JP replied, his eyes wide with fear and amazement at Andrew's awesome strength. "Too bad JP," Andrew said, sitting up from the weight bench. "I guess I'll have to see if the gym at Ohio State has enough weight plates to challenge me." "Yes, when you take JP and Matt there," Paul said. He looked at his watch and added, "It's time we got dinner started, so we'll go upstairs now. Mike, you come upstairs with us so that you can email that video to the colleges you and Andrew will visit this week." "I'd like to stay down here with Andrew until dinner's ready," JP said. "I have something to show him that I think he'd like to see." Matt glanced over at JP as he headed upstairs and JP nodded, confirming that he was going to show Andrew The Wall. "See you upstairs later for dinner Andrew," Carrie said, standing on her toes to give him a kiss. Andrew bent down to meet her soft lips, kissing her softly. He folded his massive arms around her gently as he breathed in the fruity aroma of her perfume. "See you soon Carrie," he said, stroking her face softly as he drew back from her soft lips. JP grinned as he saw the gentle smile on Andrew's face as Carrie walked upstairs. "You really love her, don't you Andrew?" JP asked his huge friend. "Yeah man, in fact, I hope we get married before we go to college," Andrew replied. He turned to JP, saw him smiling, and realized that he was probably thinking of Matt. "Now JP, enough about me; what did you want to show me?" "What I call 'The Wall' Andrew," JP replied, leading him to a door in the far left corner of the basement. "I've only shown this to Matt, so I hope you realize how much I trust you that I'm letting you see it too." "I understand JP," Andrew assured him. "Let's see what this 'Wall' looks like," he added, as they stopped in front of the door. JP grinned and opened the door, turning on the light so that Andrew could see the contents of the room for himself. As Andrew looked around the back room, his eyes widened as he saw the pictures of JP's progress from a skinny kid to a muscular jock. "You look surprised Andrew," JP said with a smug grin. "Don't you have pictures of your progress at home?" "Just in a photo album, not all over two walls JP," Andrew said with a slight frown of disapproval. JP seemed to twitch at the words 'Photo Album' and Andrew noticed. "What is it Big Guy?" he asked softly. "I have something else to show you Andrew," JP replied. "Again, this is something I've shown only one other person: Matt." Andrew watched as JP walked over to a cabinet in the far corner of the back room. He opened a drawer and pulled out a photo album: the same one he had shown Matt after their visit with Matt's dad. "Are those more pictures of you JP?" Andrew asked with a big grin. "No Andrew, these are pictures of my brother," JP replied seriously. He opened the album and showed Andrew the pictures of his big brother Ryan: from when he was a fat kid in Grade Five to when he became a high school jock. "When Ryan was a fat kid he was always nice to me and I idolized him: following him around everywhere. He was the perfect big brother back then." "So what happened JP?" Andrew asked him gently, as they looked through more pages of the album. "As he got leaner and more muscular, he began to pull away from me, especially once high school started and he made the football team," JP replied. "Once he became a jock, he no longer had time for me." "Then who taught you how to work out when you got to high school?" Andrew asked with a confused look on his face. "Actually Ryan did, but only because I begged him to," JP replied sadly. "He didn't offer to do it; I had to bug him until he gave in. Then he told me that if I worked out a bit, perhaps even joined the wrestling team he was on, I wouldn't get picked on at school. You might not believe this Andrew, but I was barely 100 pounds two years ago." "I know, I can see the pictures JP," Andrew reminded him, pointing to the left side of the first wall. "Yeah that's true," JP realized. "Anyway, Ryan became my personal trainer and workout partner almost two years ago and he helped me become what I am today." "So what happened JP?" Andrew asked, figuring that they would soon get to the heart of the matter. "What happened between the two of you that turned you from workout partners into rivals?" "I really don't know Andrew," JP replied, looking down at his feet. "Are you sure JP?" Andrew asked him seriously, handing back the photo album. "You never gloated when you began to catch up to his size and strength? You never made fun of him when he got stuck on a weight-lifting plateau or put on a few pounds of fat?" JP's jaw dropped in astonishment at Andrew's insight but then his face fell as the full impact of his big friend's words hit him. "Oh no," he whispered, sitting down on the bench with his chin in his hands. "It's all my fault Andrew: I pushed Ryan away by doing everything you described during my last workout with him three months ago! Instead of encouraging him when he got stuck at 325 on the bench-press for three months, I gloated that I was only a few dozen pounds behind him. I rubbed my success in his face instead of thanking him for helping me get to where I am today!" "I'm afraid so JP, but you're not the only one to make those mistakes," Andrew assured him. "I did the same thing with Steve almost seven years ago, even though he never trained me. I certainly didn't think about our friendship when I gloated about suddenly being bigger and stronger than he was when we started Grade Five!" "You were only ten years old Andrew; you probably didn't know any better," JP assured him. "But I on the other hand was already 16 years old three months ago and I still made fun of Ryan!" "Don't feel too bad JP; at least you still spent time with him all these years," Andrew reminded him. JP's face brightened with a small smile as he realized that Andrew was right. "I, on the other hand, completely neglected Steve the summer before Grade Five, even though we had been best friends since Nursery School! And then to make matters worse, once I got bigger than he was, I just gloated about it instead of helping him get as big and strong as I was! I also spent more time with my new protege Mike instead of Steve and then our friendship ended in a big shouting match that Christmas." "And how did you regain your friendship with Steve?" JP asked, hoping that he could get an idea on how to repair his relationship with Ryan. But his hopes were dashed when Andrew replied, "I never did repair my friendship with Steve JP or he would be here with us right now. Instead, I've spent the last seven years being his rival on the football field, even though we're on the Offensive Line together!" He noticed the look of defeat in JP's eyes and suddenly thought of something that could cheer him up. "But you have a couple things going for you that I never had JP." "What's that Andrew?" JP asked, a glimmer of hope returning to his eyes. "You and Ryan are brothers," Andrew replied, as JP put the album back in the cabinet drawer and closed it. "And as you said, you last worked out together only three months ago, which means that you continued spending time with Ryan even when he didn't want to." "That's three things Andrew," JP teased him, ushering him out of the back room. As he closed the door, he gave Andrew a cocky smirk and added, "I thought a smart guy like you would know how to count!" "Very funny JP!" Andrew laughed, as he followed his smaller friend across the gym to the bench-press. "The point I'm trying to make is: you didn't give up on your relationship with Ryan like I did with Steve. I know Ryan's away right now on his pre-college road trip, but when he gets back, you should try to fix your relationship with him before it's too late." "It's already too late Andrew!" JP snapped in exasperation. "Ryan ran off on his road trip without saying goodbye to me or our dad! We don't even know if he'll be back for Thanksgiving, which is four and a half months away here in America! He'll probably have forgotten about me by then! And if you haven't fixed your friendship with Steve, what makes you think I can fix my relationship with Ryan?" "It's only been there months since you last spent time together, not seven years like it has been with me and Steve," Andrew reminded him, trying to keep his smaller friend calm. "Also, don't forget that he's your brother JP. Family ties don't usually get broken; they just get frayed. I have confidence in you JP; you're not the quitting type. You know, the next time Ryan is home for a while, perhaps during Christmas Break, I should come down here so that I can see both of you. Maybe if Ryan sees our brotherly relationship, it will inspire him to regain what he's lost by turning away from you." "Or he'll figure that he's been replaced and resent me even more," JP huffed, feeling worse not better. "I guess I'm not the best example on this matter JP; I can't even follow my own advice!" Andrew finally realized. JP nodded in agreement, wondering when his big friend would stop talking about Ryan. "After all, I've never had a brother and I haven't shown any willingness over the past seven years to patch things up with Steve. I just replaced him with my first protege Mike Stevenson: the guy for whom I originally neglected him! I think when I get home this summer, I'll try, somehow, to make up with Steve. After all, we'll only have one last year of high school together and then we may never see each other again! I can only hope that you try to repair your relationship with Ryan when you see him again. I would hate for you to have to live with the regret of a failed relationship for seven years like I've had to do." "Sure Andrew, whatever you say," JP said dismissively, getting really tired of being lectured by his huge friend. "And maybe Hell will freeze over while I wait for Ryan to become my Big Brother again!" "You'll have to make it happen JP; you can't wait for it," Andrew advised him, trying not to get mad at JP's impatience. "Once you're as big as he is, he won't be able to ignore you anymore! He'll have to talk to you then and maybe he'll be proud of you for a change instead of jealous!" "You're right Andrew," JP realized, relieved that his huge muscular friend wasn't mad at him. "I'll try to fix our relationship the next time I see him, if he gives me the chance that is!" "That's all I can ask JP, but remember: you don't have to do all the work," Andrew suddenly realized. "Ryan has to want to be your Big Brother again or you'll never regain your relationship with him. I only hope it doesn't take something happening to one of you for the other to realize just how important you are to each other." Andrew had no idea how prophetic that statement was, but he did realize that he was scaring JP when he saw a glimmer of tears in his eyes. "Sorry for scaring you like that JP; I guess I'm not doing a very good job of cheering you up, am I?" "No you're not Andrew," JP replied: both truthfully and bravely considering how huge and muscular his big friend truly was. Andrew glared at him and JP hastily added, "But I guess you can't be good at everything, can you Big Guy?" Before Andrew could reply, the basement door opened and JP's dad started down the basement steps. "Dinner's ready you two," he said. "Come upstairs and get washed up." As Andrew and JP followed him up the basement steps, he asked, "What were you two talking about down here? It sounded rather heated." "We were talking about Ryan," JP replied through gritted teeth as he clenched his fists in fury. "I can't believe that he didn't even say goodbye to us before he left!" "Neither can your mother and I," Paul agreed. Then he added, "But I guess we shouldn't be surprised; he's barely acknowledged us during the last four years!" "I'm here Mr. Maloney," Andrew said quickly, hoping to head off another rant about Ryan. "I'd be glad to fill the 'big brother' role for JP." "Thank you Andrew," Paul said gratefully. "That's exactly why we're trusting you to take good care of JP during your upcoming Mid-West Recruiting Visits." He noticed JP glaring at him and hastily added, "Not that JP needs to be taken care of; he proved that last night when he took care of that jerk who was bugging Chrissy!" JP grinned proudly and then his father's previous sentence penetrated his consciousness. He turned from the sink, where he was washing his hands, and asked his dad excitedly, "Did you say that Andrew will be taking care of me during the recruiting visits?" His dad nodded with a small grin. "You mean I can go with my new friend Andrew on his road trip?" "Yes JP, but first clean up the water you splashed on the floor in your excitement," Paul ordered him with a chuckle. JP's face turned red with embarrassment as he grinned sheepishly and grabbed some paper towels. Paul turned back to Andrew and said, "I'm placing a lot of trust in you Andrew: to keep JP safe during this road trip. Can you do that for me?" "For us Paul," Maureen corrected him with a frown. "JP's our son, not just yours." "Of course dear," Paul said hastily. "I didn't mean to forget about you: I just misspoke." "Okay Paul," Maureen said. She handed him some plates and added, "You can make it up to me by setting the table." "I'll help him Mom," JP offered, anxious to spend some time with Matt. "Good idea son, that will give me a chance to talk privately with Andrew for a couple of minutes," Maureen decided. Andrew looked surprised, but he stayed quiet while JP and his dad left the kitchen with the plates and cutlery. Then he turned to JP's mom and asked her, "What did you want to talk about Mrs Maloney?" "Call me Maureen Andrew," Mrs Maloney said. Andrew nodded and Mrs Maloney continued by saying, "I just want you to know how much Paul and I appreciate you being there for JP." "Especially since Ryan hasn't been," Andrew interjected. "JP told me all about that downstairs while you guys were cooking dinner." "Yes Andrew, Ryan hasn't been there for his brother like you have, both last night and today. JP told me at lunch all that you talked about last night and how similar you two are, considering all that you've both gone through over the last few years." "Yes I was surprised myself at how similar we are," Andrew agreed. "But I'm glad to help JP get a head start on his college wrestling hopes by taking him with me to Ohio State." "I have complete confidence in your ability to look after JP on these upcoming Unofficial Recruiting Visits of yours," Maureen informed him proudly. "Thank you very much Mrs Maloney," Andrew said gratefully. "I'll make sure to justify your faith in me by keeping JP safe. But from what I saw last night, JP doesn't need protection from anyone!" "Yes, being a District Finalist in wrestling does have its advantages when dealing with college guys on the prowl," Maureen agreed. "Have you ever had to use force to scare people away from Carrie?" "Only the force of my voice," Andrew replied with a smug grin. "One of the advantages of being huge and insanely strong is that anyone who wants to start trouble is scared away with just a look!" "Good for you Andrew; now that you are in the middle of college football recruiting, any fighting you're involved in could derail that entire train ride!" "Thanks for that insight Mrs Maloney," Andrew said, as the oven timer went off. As she took the food out of the oven, he added, "I find it very gratifying to be a big brother for JP, just like I did in previous years for my football proteges, who are now my teammates." "That's good to hear Andrew," Maureen said, setting the food on the large breadboard. "I'm glad you've had a lot of practice being a mentor. Now let's go into the dining room for dinner; everyone's waiting for us." Andrew nodded and helped her bring the food into the dining room. Then they sat down at the table, where everyone else was already seated. They said grace and began eating. "So Andrew, have you and your friends mapped out a travel plan for your NCAA Road Trip?" Mr Maloney asked. "Yes Sir," Andrew replied. "I have the map book in my truck; I can show it to you after supper." "Good idea Andrew, because if you're taking the route I'm thinking of, I have another idea." "I can remember the route Sir," Andrew said. "It will take us to Ohio State, Notre Dame, and Michigan." "That confirms that my idea will work, but I'll tell you what it is after supper when we look at your map book," Mr Maloney decided. Andrew nodded in agreement and Paul added, "So Andrew, do you realize what an amazing coincidence it was that you and JP were in the National Mall at the same time last night?" "Yes Sir I do," Andrew agreed. "But I also realize that this was the only summer I could do it. Last summer I was Basic Reserves Training and next summer I will be preparing for my freshman season of college football. But I must say, when I saw JP on the train, I knew that I recognized him from somewhere. Then once my friends and I got back from our tour of the National Mall, we used his bright blue tank top as a reference point to find our spot on the lawn again. Then I remembered where I had seen him before: on the front page of the sports section of the Washington Post." He noticed JP's friends and family smiling with pride at the memory of the day JP had been interviewed. "I was trying to figure out how to introduce myself to your son when those two big college guys started bugging Chrissy. I was about to intervene to protect her, but JP got there first and helped her out. Then I was able to introduce myself to him, once he noticed me of course." "You're impossible to miss Andrew," Paul said proudly, referencing Andrew's huge muscles. Andrew smiled quietly as Paul added, "JP told me all about how you were ready to help Chrissy before he got there." He thought for a moment and then said, "I might as well tell you my idea now, while you get yourself a second helping." "What do you mean Sir?" Andrew asked innocently, after he swallowed his last mouthful of food. "You cleaned your plate Andrew and so did Mike," Paul replied with a big grin. "Raise your hand if you want seconds." "How about I flex my arm instead," Andrew decided. He flexed his massive arm with a cocky smirk and added, "Both my huge arms need lots of fuel to get even bigger!" Everyone around the table laughed at Andrew's cocky attitude, which reminded them that he was a jock, not just an athlete. "I think your ego is just as big as your arms Andrew," JP teased his huge friend. Andrew grinned at his smaller friend and then realized he'd better get the conversation back on track. "What was your idea Mr Maloney?" he asked, as he got himself a second helping. "Call me Paul Andrew; I told you that when you first got here," Paul said. He waited for Andrew to nod in agreement and then added, "Ann Arbor is a lot closer to Orillia than it is to Washington DC." "Yes it is Paul," Andrew agreed, grinning as he guessed where JP's dad was going with this. "Good, then since we've hosted you tonight, how about you and your family return the favour once your Unofficial Visits are complete?" "Are you serious Dad?" JP shouted in excitement before Andrew could reply. "I get to meet Andrew's family and friends and perhaps see where he has achieved glory on the gridiron?" "If Andrew and his parents agree," Paul reminded him. He looked over at Andrew, who nodded in agreement. "Good, then all we need to do is get your parents on Skype after dinner and ask them." He looked over at Andrew and asked, "Are they home?" "Yes Paul; they're making plans for me to visit some Canadian football schools," Andrew replied. "Good, then it's all settled," Paul decided. "Let's finish our dinner and then we can Skype your parents and see if they're on board with my idea." Everyone nodded in agreement and followed his suggestion. Then, after dinner, Andrew used his laptop to get his dad on Skype so that he could introduce his parents to his new friend JP Maloney and his family. "Hey Dad," Andrew said once Chad's face appeared on the screen. "Hello son," Chad said, grinning at his son. "How is your Washington trip going?" "It's going quite well Dad," Andrew replied. "In fact, I met some new friends and their parents." He took a few minutes to tell his dad about the events of the previous evening and that afternoon. "What do you think Dad?" "I think you've made a great new friend," Chad said with a proud smile on his face. "But you forgot to tell me his name." "I didn't forget, I held back his name deliberately," Andrew informed him with a smug grin. He motioned JP to step into view of the laptop screen and added, "I think you'll recognize him." JP stepped in front of the laptop screen as Andrew stepped back. Chad's smile widened as he said, "You're JP Maloney!" "Yes I am Sir," JP said, surprised that Andrew's dad recognized him. "How did you recognize me?" "I took a business trip down there last week and I noticed your article in the sports section of the Washington Post," Chad replied. "It was the part about you starting a middle school wrestling camp that caught my eye actually." "Why was that Sir?" JP asked, not noticing Andrew stepping into the living room to speak with JP's parents. "Andrew has been a mentor himself: his first mentor was Mike actually," Chad informed him. "Then he mentored Mike's older brother Mark. The next year, he mentored the current Starting Quarterback and Wide Receiver on the OD Varsity Football Team. You stick with Andrew and he'll show you how to be a good mentor for your future protege Nick." "I will Sir," JP promised him. "You don't have to call me Sir, JP," Chad informed him. "Okay Mr Pearson," JP said agreeably. "That will do for now," Chad said. "Now, did Andrew call me on Skype just to introduce you to me or did he have another reason?" "There is another reason, but I should let Andrew tell you what it is, after you meet my parents of course." JP motioned his mom and dad over to Andrew's laptop and they introduced themselves to Andrew's dad and mom. "My parents had an idea Mr Pearson," JP said. "I'll just get Andrew so that he can hear it too." JP went into the living room to get Andrew while Paul and Maureen talked for a bit with Chad. "Your son is a really great young man Chad," Maureen said. "He has really taken JP under his wing in the absence of JP's older brother Ryan." "Yes I know that very well and he has been a great young man for many years," Chad agreed proudly. "Did Andrew tell you how he has mentored a few of his friends over the years and helped them become football players?" "Yes I believe he mentioned that," Paul said. He looked up and noticed Andrew and JP coming back into the den. "Explain your idea to your dad Andrew." "Actually it was your idea Sir," Andrew reminded him with a smug grin. "You're right, it was Andrew," Paul realized. "Okay Mr Pearson, here's my idea: since Andrew's last recruiting visit is near Detroit, he could go right to Orillia from there with JP." "So that we can host you and your family in return for you hosting our son right now," Chad realized. He turned to his wife Susan and asked, "What do you think dear?" "That sounds like a good idea," Susan agreed. "We have lots of room if you count the guest room and the pullout couches." "Good then it's all settled," Paul decided. "We'll keep in touch so that you can let us know when Andrew leaves Ann Arbor. Then my wife and I will start the journey to Orillia, which we will be able to reach in one day from here. Then we can all meet at your house." "That sounds good to me," Chad said. "See you all in a few days. Be sure to call me once you've crossed the border Andrew." "I will Dad," Andrew promised, waving goodbye to Chad. "See you later." "Goodbye son: enjoy your recruiting visits," Chad said. Once the Skype connection had been broken, Paul turned to Andrew and said, "There now, it's all settled Andrew: once you and JP cross the border into Canada, he can call us so that we can start our journey to meet you in Orillia the next day." "Would a text message be more convenient Sir?" Andrew asked. "That way, JP won't get any international calling charges on his phone bill and neither will you." "That's a very good idea Andrew," Paul commended him. "Thank you for suggesting it." He turned to JP and said, "Now how about you and Matt take Andrew and his friends over to the high school so that he can see the football field and the wrestling room." "Good idea Dad," JP agreed. "But how will we get into the wrestling room? I don't have a key." "But Coach Graves does and he'll be expecting you," Paul informed him. "Once you told us about Andrew during lunch, I knew that it would be a good idea to show him where you have achieved glory on the wrestling mat. So I called Coach Graves and told him my idea. Since he had some work to do for August's Wrestling Camp, he said that he would bring it to his office in the high school after supper. I told him you would meet him there at 7:30." "Okay Dad, I'll go get ready now," JP said, heading for the stairs. "Good idea JP," Paul agreed. "Your mom and I will stay down here to entertain your guests." "Thanks Dad, since I can't do that all the time!" JP joked, heading upstairs. "Don't forget your wrestling jacket JP!" Andrew shouted. JP grinned and nodded, pleased that Andrew had thought of everything. As JP turned the corner out of sight, Maureen turned to Andrew and asked, "Why did you tell JP to bring his jacket? It's really hot outside." "It was my idea to help raise his profile for the recruiting visits," Andrew replied. "It makes sense for him to make sure it still fits. He's pretty muscular you know." "That's an understatement Andrew, especially when referring to you," Mrs Anderson said with raised eyebrows. "Thank you Mrs Anderson," Andrew said. "But I think I should get my jacket out of my truck to make sure it fits. I'll be right back." Andrew headed outside to his car and JP's parents took that opportunity to get their digital camera. Once Andrew came back inside with his football jacket on, he found his friends and their parents waiting for him in the living room. "What's going on here?" Andrew asked with a smile. "Just a group shot before you go, now that both you and JP have your jackets on," Paul replied, holding up his digital camera. "You mean all three of us," Andrew said with a cocky grin, as he held up Mike's football jacket. Paul grinned at Andrew's cocky attitude as Mike put on his football jacket. Then Paul set the timer on the camera, placed it on the mantle, and stepped back so that he would be in the picture with everyone else. Everyone grinned as the camera flashed and then stepped up to the mantle to see what the photo looked like on the screen. Once everyone had voiced their approval of the group picture, JP said, "We'd better get going Dad, so Matt and I can show Andrew and his friends the high school wrestling room." "Actually JP, you and Andrew go ahead," Matt said. JP turned to look at him in surprise and Matt added, "I want to stay here with Mike and Carrie." Andrew turned around to see Mike and Carrie nodding in agreement. Mike saw his look of astonishment and said, "Don't look so shocked Andrew: you must realize that the dynamics of this friendship were set last night when you spent half an hour alone with JP." Andrew nodded in sudden understanding and Paul said, "Besides Andrew, while you and JP are talking with Coach Graves, I can show your friends JP's wrestling videos." JP looked suddenly embarrassed, hoping that his dad wouldn't show the footage of the District Final match that JP had lost four months before. Paul noticed his son's sad look and decided to cheer him up. "If you lend me your digital camera son, I can upload the video you took last night of Andrew to YouTube." JP handed over his camera and grinned at the thought of helping raise Andrew's profile for the NCAA. He watched as Andrew slapped Mike on the back and hugged Carrie goodbye. "I'm ready to go now JP," Andrew said as JP opened the front door. "Good, so am I Andrew, so let's go," JP said, heading outside. Andrew waved goodbye to JP's parents and Matt's mom, before following his friend outside to the driveway. "Should we take your car or my truck?" Andrew asked once he reached the driveway where JP was waiting. "We should take your truck Andrew, it looks cooler," JP replied. "Especially when I turn on the under lights," Andrew said with a cocky smirk. "You must be a fan of the Fast and Furious movies," JP realized. "Especially 2Fast 2Furious," Andrew said with a big grin as they got into his truck. "Because it takes place in Miami right?" JP guessed. "Gee, someone's a genius, as far as stating the obvious!" Andrew laughed as they backed out of the driveway. "Shut up man!" JP laughed as they drove down the street. "Just try and make me JP, if you've got the guts that is!" Andrew dared him with a cocky smirk. Andrew and JP continued laughing and joking as they drove to Central High School, enjoying the freedom to act like jocks without worrying what their friends thought. Meanwhile, back at JP's house, Andrew's friends and JP's parents said goodbye to Matt's mom, who was heading home. Matt promised her that he would stop by to say goodbye the next morning, since JP's parents had granted permission for him to stay over. "After all Matt, Andrew only knows the way to this house, not your house," JP's mom reminded him. "That's why your mom brought an overnight bag for you when she came over for dinner." Matt's mom didn't reveal the real reason she was letting Matt stay over at JP's house that night: she needed some space from her son after the bombshell he had dropped on her that morning. Andrew and JP soon reached the high school and parked by the gate in the fence surrounding the football field. The school below in Fairfax County is probably what the author of the JP stories based Central High School on. And of course the team name in the JP Story is the Spartans, not the Wildcats. "Are you ready to go inside Andrew?"JP asked as he got out of the truck. "As soon as I get something," Andrew replied. He got out and opened up his truck's tailgate. Then he reached into his gym bag and pulled out his old Miami Hurricanes football. Then he closed the tailgate. "See JP, just a little accessory to complete my jock image." "You mean your Super Jock image Andrew," JP corrected him with a smug grin. "Your words JP and I agree with them," Andrew said with a big grin. "Let's go into the school and meet your wrestling coach. Then you can show me the wrestling room where you have achieved athletic glory on the wrestling mat." JP grinned back at his huge friend and led the way into the school for the chat with Coach Graves. As Andrew followed him down the hall to the wrestling room, JP smiled to himself as he realized that he would be mentoring a dozen kids there in wrestling in about six weeks time. "What do you think Andrew?" JP asked as they stepped into the wrestling room. "Most impressive JP," Andrew replied, looking around at all the pictures and newspaper articles on the wall. His eyes widened as he realized that most of the pictures and articles were of JP. "Someone's certainly popular in this school," he remarked, making the understatement of the year. "He should be, he's the first District Finalist we've had in over a decade," a deep voice said from behind them. Andrew and JP turned around to see a burly man in his 40s walking towards them. "I'm Coach Graves: the Head Coach of the District Finalist Central High Spartans Varsity Wrestling Team." "Pleased to meet you Coach," Andrew said, holding out his right hand. Coach Graves shook it firmly, only wincing a little bit from the strength of Andrew's iron grip. "I'm Andrew Pearson: Starting Center for the District Champion ODCVI Blues Varsity Football Team." "District Champion sounds a lot more impressive than District Finalist," Coach Graves realized, causing JP to look down at his feet in shame. Graves noticed and quickly apologized to his Star Wrestler. "Sorry about that JP, but it's true. You're good, but obviously not as good as Andrew here." "I'll do better this season Coach," JP promised with a scary look of determination on his face. "This time I won't just win the District Title but I'll be the State Champion as well!" "I'm sure you will JP," Graves agreed, pleased at how determined his Star Wrestler was to succeed. His cell phone suddenly rang from his shirt pocket. "Sorry guys, but I have to take this call: I've been expecting it." He took out his flip phone opened it up, pressed the green phone button to accept the call and listened intently. "Okay, I'll send him right out." He ended the call and turned to Andrew. "There's someone important waiting for you on the 50 yard line of the football field Andrew." "Okay Coach, I'll head out there now and then I'll meet you and JP back in here," Andrew decided. "We'll meet you out there Andrew," Graves said. "JP and I have a few things to work on for the Lincoln Middle School Wrestling Camp in six weeks." Andrew nodded in agreement and waved to JP as he headed out of the wrestling room. As he walked down the hall towards the stairs, he wondered who could be waiting for him in the middle of the football field: which he could see from the second floor window. Once Andrew exited the building and skirted the stands, he saw a big man in his 40s standing in the middle of the field. As he got closer, he noticed that the big guy was wearing a Central High Spartans Football t-shirt. "Hello Andrew, I'm Coach Palmer: the Head Coach of the Central High Spartans Varsity Football Team." "Pleased to meet you Coach," Andrew said excitedly, shaking his hand firmly. He noticed Coach Palmer massaging his sore hand and smirked as he added, "As you already know, I'm Andrew Pearson: Starting Center for the Orillia District Varsity Football Team." "I'm very pleased to meet you Andrew and there's someone else who would like to meet you: over the phone anyway." He picked up his cell phone and sent a quick text message that consisted of only two words: 'He's here.' "Who did you just send that text message to Coach?" Andrew asked curiously. "You'll find out in about 30 seconds Andrew," Coach Palmer promised him. Sure enough, within 30 seconds, his cell phone rang. "Hello, is that you?" he asked. He listened closely to the answer and nodded his head in satisfaction. "Good, thanks for calling back so quickly." He listened a bit more and added, "Sure I'll let you speak to him, since that is the reason I wanted you to call me in the first place. Just a second." He handed his cell phone to Andrew and said, "It's for you." "Thanks Coach," Andrew said, taking the cell phone and holding it up to his ear. "Hello?" "Are you Andrew Pearson?" a deep and confident voice asked from the other end of the line. "Yes I am," Andrew replied, feeling a little uneasy that the mystery caller knew his name. "Who is this?" "This is Ryan Maloney," the caller replied. ********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************* And that, after two months, is the end of Andrew's Recruiting Summer Chapter 4. Please let me know what you thought of my first attempt at a cliffhanger ending. ********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************* Coming soon: - Andrew finds out why JP's older brother called him - Andrew takes JP and Matt on his Ohio State Recruiting Visit.

This story came about from an idea I had a month ago, after re-reading my favourite story on this forum, which was archived from the old forum. The conversation I had with the author, where he gave me permission to use parts of his story in mine, can be found here: https://muscle-growth.org/index.php?app=members&module=messaging&section=view&do=showConversation&topicID=23174&st=0#msg108559 I separated my parts of the story from the author's parts with a line of equal signs: ================== ANDREW'S RECRUITING SUMMER CHAPTER 1: ANDREW MAKES A NEW FRIEND IN WASHINGTON, D.C. Andrew, Carrie and Mike, after spending Canada Day 2005 in Orillia with their parents, headed down to Washington, DC to spend Independence Day at the National Mall. They took Highway 11 south from Orillia to Barrie, where they took Highway 400 down to Toronto. Then they took the 427 to the QEW and headed around the western edge of Lake Ontario to Fort Erie. There, they crossed the border into Buffalo, New York and took US Highway 219 south to Dubois, Pennsylvania. They then turned east onto Interstate 80 and took it to US Hwy 15. They took that highway south to Harrisburg, the State Capitol of Pennsylvania, at the junction of Interstates 81 and 83. They spent the night at a hotel in that city. On July 3rd, Andrew and his friends took a scenic route into Washington DC, taking I-81 down to Hagerstown, Maryland, where they stopped at Borders Bookstore. Then they took I-81 southwest from Hagerstown Maryland into West Virginia, where they stopped at the State Welcome Center and had lunch at the BBQ that was going on. After lunch, they took I-81 further south into Virginia, and turned east onto US Hwy 50 just south of Winchester. They took that highway right into Fairfax, where they stopped at the Fairfax Towne Center and had supper at Five Guys Burgers and Fries. Then they proceeded to their hotel: the Comfort Inn Pentagon City in Arlington, Virginia. Once they had checked in, Andrew, Mike and Carrie jogged to the National Mall in Washington DC, to plot out their route for the morning of July 4th. Late the next morning, on Independence Day, Andrew, Carrie and Mike woke up in their hotel rooms, ready for their 90 minute walk to the National Mall. "I'm glad we scouted out the route last night while jogging," Mike said to Andrew, as they had a late breakfast after showering and getting dressed. "Yeah man," Andrew agreed. "It only took us about half an hour to jog there, but today we'll walk, since there will be so many people heading there." "Good thing we're leaving your truck at the hotel," Carrie said. "The traffic in the National Mall today (July 4th) would be at a standstill for hours. Not to mention that we would never be able to find a parking space." "That's why I picked this hotel Carrie," Andrew reminded her with a smug grin. "It's within walking distance of the National Mall." "Well that was fine for last night Andrew, but maybe we should take the train today," Carrie suggested. "Good idea Carrie," Andrew agreed. "I scouted out a few Metro Stations during our run last night and I believe the Pentagon City Station should serve our needs nicely." http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/d/dc/DC_Metro_Map_2013.svg/2000px-DC_Metro_Map_2013.svg.png "You're right Andrew," Mike agreed, looking at the Metro Map and the street map side by side. "We can walk northeast on Army-Navy Drive until we get to the Pentagon Row Shopping Center and the Metro Station is right there." https://www.google.ca/maps/place/Comfort+Inn+Pentagon+City/@38.8576678,-77.0593496,14z/data=!4m2!3m1!1s0x89b7b14a8fdfabd5:0x30a73c112191b664 So after breakfast the three teens began walking towards the National Mall, making sure to take a picture of the Air Force Memorial along the way. ==================================================================================================================================================== “Will we have to switch to the yellow line at the Pentagon station to get to L’Enfant Plaza?” I asked as we pulled into the parking garage of the Franconia-Springfield Metro Station. “I don’t think so,” JP answered from the driver’s seat, turning toward Chrissy who was sitting next to him. “Chrissy, didn’t they change the lines around to direct crowds better?” She didn’t answer, staring at JP’s body, totally enraptured by his newest brawn. “Chrissy?” “Huh, what?” she said, suddenly coming out of the daze. “Oh, yeah, you’re right.” He smiled warmly, causing her face to turn a crimson red. It was the Fourth of July and we were headed into DC to see the fireworks on the National Mall. Chrissy had nearly wet her pants at the sight of JP when we arrived to pick her up. At 174 pounds – probably 175 by now – of pure muscle, he was starting to look like a god. His light blue tank-top beautifully accentuated his chiseled shoulders and arms, the color brought out the bright blue in his eyes. He looked…well, perfect. We walked across the bridge into the station, bought our tickets and hopped aboard the train. Immediately, JP began attracting stares from other passengers, their eyes filled with awe. They couldn’t quite believe that a kid his age could be so phenomenally built. They marveled at how his strong, wide neck supported his flawless face, how the straps of the tank-top draped over his gracefully curved traps, how his thick shoulders and arms bulged with muscle upon muscle and were covered with writhing veins, how his lats flared out making the difference between his broad shoulders and tiny waist that much more impressive. And his butt…man, JP’s ass was beyond gorgeous, its perfect bubble shape provocatively filling the seat of his shorts. I, myself, couldn’t keep from watching my boyfriend’s muscular arms jump and flex efficiently while holding onto the pole of the Metro car, his shoulders and lats shifting silently underneath his thin skin as we hurtled smoothly through the suburbs. ===================================================================================================================================================== Within half an hour, Andrew, Carrie and Mike had arrived at the Pentagon City Metro Station. They bought their tickets and stepped aboard the train, which would take them to the L’Enfant Plaza Station just south of the National Mall. ===================================================================================================================================================== "Oh my god," JP said softly, so that only I could hear him. "What is it?" I asked him, following his startled gaze over to the open train doors. My eyes widened as the two biggest guys I had ever seen in my life stepped onto the train. "Those guys are so big they make your brother look like a midget," I whispered in fear. JP glared at me, which reminded me that he was still smaller than his brother. "Sorry JP, I didn't mean it like it sounded." "That's okay Matt," JP assured me, the anger fading from his eyes. A look of fear, which I had rarely seen before, showed up in his eyes. "I never thought I would be scared of any guy now that I'm such a good wrestler, but even I wouldn't be able to take on those muscular brutes," he whispered so that Chrissy couldn't hear. The slightly bigger guy, who had red hair and must have been six and a half feet tall, seemed to hear JP and looked towards him. The huge guy smiled and nodded at JP and after a few seconds of hesitation JP nodded back bravely. "Good job JP," I whispered. "I would've been too scared to make eye contact with such a big guy." JP smiled and I was relieved to see that the fear in his eyes had been replaced with his usual confidence. ===================================================================================================================================================== "Good job Andrew," Carrie commended him. "You scared that guy in the light blue tank top at first, but once you nodded at him, it seemed to put him at ease." "That was my intent Carrie," Andrew informed her. "I know a fellow athlete when I see one and even though he's a lot smaller than I am, I think I want to get to know him better. He looks familiar; once I remember where I've seen him before, I'll introduce myself." "I'm sure you'll get the chance once we're at the National Mall Andrew," Carrie assured him. "I think that everyone on this train is going to get off at the L’Enfant Plaza Station." ====================================================================================================================================================== The three of us heedlessly joked around the whole time and before we knew it, we were coming up the escalator to ground level. As soon as we had picked our spot smack dab in the middle of the National Mall – between the Hirshhorn Museum and the National Archives – JP opened up his backpack and pulled out his beloved Navy Frisbee. “We should get a little game in before it gets too crowded,” he suggested, beginning to pull off his tank-top. Chrissy let out an audible gasp as she saw his bare torso. My heart did a flip, like it always did when he would strip off his shirt. “God, you’re getting to be such a hunk,” she gushed, eyeing his massive chest, “you’re gonna be turning straight guys gay soon.” I burst out laughing, practically choking on my own spit. Chrissy quickly looked over at me. “What?” I couldn’t answer her, I was in such hysterics. JP smiled enchantedly and peered over at me. A chill went down my back. “You should see Matt’s body now, Chrissy,” he commented. “He’s getting bigger, too. Take off your shirt, Matt!” Chrissy looked in my direction with aroused eyes. I bit my lip and acquiesced to my boyfriend’s bidding – how could I not? I not-so-expertly wrestled my T-shirt over my head and threw it on top of JP’s backpack. “Wow!” Chrissy exclaimed. “You look amazing!” She sighed, passing her eyes between JP and me. I could tell that she was in heaven, being sandwiched between the two of us. “I can’t believe I’m hanging out with the two most gorgeous guys in the world,” she said, coming toward me and gently laying her hands on my abs. She raised her head and gazed into my eyes. “Matt,” Chrissy whispered, “I never realized until now how hot you are.” Her hands slid up to my chest, brushing against my nipples. Was she coming on to me? “I’ve been working out a bit,” I admitted, shrugging. Although I was still nothing compared to JP’s body, I had managed some modest gains myself. At 155 pounds – a full 10 pounds heavier than I was during crew season – I was in the best shape of my life. My body fat had dropped to just below 10%, so I knew that all of that new weight was muscle. My chest was developing pecs, my arms were gradually growing thicker and my six-pack – my most prized possession – was getting well-defined. “You gonna play Frisbee with us, Chrissy, or are you just gonna stare at Matt?” JP taunted, smiling brightly. Chrissy blushed and took off her own T-shirt, revealing a white tube-top underneath that clung tightly to her firm breasts. The girl was incredibly hot herself and I know that if I had been straight, I would’ve been completely boned right at that moment. She had an incredibly fit body – curves in all the right places – so you could imagine the looks we got from people, girls and guys. Of course, one look at JP and none of the other guys dared approach Chrissy, assuming that he was her boyfriend and that they would have to go through him first. Little did they know how lucky they might have been if they had tried. ====================================================================================================================================================== Once Andrew and his friends arrived in the middle of the National Mall, between the Hirshhorn Museum and the National Archives, Andrew opened up his backpack and took out his Miami Hurricanes football. "Are you ready for some football Mike?" he asked his teammate. "Yeah Andrew; I'm always ready," Mike assured him. "But do you think it would be a good idea to get a few pictures of the US Capitol Building and the White House before it gets dark in a couple of hours?" "Let's throw the football around for a while first," Andrew decided. "Then we can see those two buildings and get back to our spot on the lawn here by dusk." So for the next hour, Andrew and Mike threw the Miami football back and forth, making sure to take off their t-shirts to show off their massive muscles. As crowds of people began to fill the National Mall in preparation for the fireworks that evening, Andrew and Mike began to draw stares of awe and fear from the people around them. Andrew also noticed the brown haired guy from the train staring at him with a mixture of awe and envy. Andrew grinned at the guy, who bravely nodded back, before he had to dive to catch the Navy Frisbee his smaller friend threw him. ====================================================================================================================================================== For the next couple of hours, we tossed the Frisbee around in fun – no one bothered keeping score. Chrissy and I both admired JP’s athleticism, despite his dense musculature. No matter how far or in what direction I threw the Frisbee, he never failed to catch it, often making spectacular dives to do so. He was just so fast and agile. He was so strong and beautiful. He was a superjock. ===================================================================================================================================================== An hour after they had started throwing the football around, Andrew said to Mike, "I think we've thrown the football around long enough. It's time to go get our pictures of the Capitol Building and the White House before it gets dark. Then we'll get back to our spot here by sunset, about half an hour before the fireworks start." "How will we find our spot once this area is completely filled with people Andrew?" Carrie asked, as Mike put the football in the bag. "We'll look for the guy on our left who's been throwing the Navy Frisbee around with his friend; he's impossible to miss," Andrew informed her. "Especially since he's had his tank-top off for the past hour," Carrie reminded him with a sexy grin. "Careful Carrie; you only have one boyfriend and that's me!" Andrew shouted, flexing his massive biceps. "Whatever you say Andrew," Carrie chuckled as Mike stood up wearing Andrew's backpack. "It looks like we're ready to go." "Yes we are Carrie," Andrew said, looking over to his left and smirking. Carrie followed his gaze and saw the well-muscled guy holding the Navy Frisbee staring at Andrew. Then the guy turned away, embarrassed to be caught staring, and threw the frisbee to his friend. "Has that guy been staring at us for the past hour Andrew?" "Yeah, ever since Mike and I took our shirts off Carrie," Andrew replied, as they started walking towards the Capitol Building. "You've enjoyed shocking him with your huge muscles over the past hour, haven't you Andrew?" Carrie suddenly realized. "Yeah I have Carrie," Andrew replied. "I have been impressed, however, with how quickly he's regained his composure and bravely nodded back at me every time I've nodded at him. Hopefully, by the time we get back to our spot, I'll have remembered where I've seen his picture. Then I can introduce myself to him." "I'm going to take a picture looking back towards our spot on the lawn so that we can find our way back," Mike said. "Good idea Mike," Andrew agreed, as they crossed the street. The three friends turned around to look back towards the Washington Monument. "Make sure you get the guy from the train in the center of the picture. That way, we'll be sure to find our spot when we get back." Mike took the picture and then they continued on their way towards the Capitol Building. Andrew and his two friends continued walking closer to the Capitol Building, and then Andrew suddenly noticed a group of US Army guys up ahead in black t-shirts standing near their trucks. "I'm going to ask them if we can get a picture with them," Andrew decided, quickly putting his t-shirt back on. "I'll signal you two to join me if they say yes." Andrew bravely walked up to the Army guys, all of whom looked glad that they were on the other side of the fence from such a huge muscular guy. It's the same reaction I get from guys at the Reserves, Andrew said to himself with a silent sigh. I really wish people would stop being afraid of how big and strong I am, but I guess that's impossible! The Army guys were glad to have their picture taken with Andrew and his friends, especially after Andrew showed them his Military ID. They even pointed Andrew and his two friends in the direction of the Capitol Reflecting Pool, where other Army guys would be preparing mini-artillery guns for firing later in the evening. Andrew and his friends continued walking and soon saw a good view of the Capitol Building above the treetops: the "CNN view" as some called it. "Good job Mike; you're getting lots of good pictures of our first trip to Washington DC," Andrew commended his big friend. "Thanks Andrew, I get the feeling that we'll always remember this day," Mike said. "Yes we will Mike: because I just remembered where I've seen that guy with the Navy Frisbee before," Andrew said. "Well don't keep it to yourself Andrew!" Carrie admonished him, once she realized he wasn't going to say anything more. "All in good time Carrie; we're approaching those mini-Artillery guns the Army guys told us about," Andrew informed her. Just like the Army guys at the trucks, the guys manning the guns gladly posed for pictures with Andrew and his friends. After the pictures were taken, Andrew made sure to thank the soldiers for their service. The soldiers promptly thanked Andrew for his support, making Andrew feel very humbled and proud that he served his country like they did theirs. Then Andrew and his friends moved on, making their way around the northern edge of the Capitol Building until they reached the large plaza on the east side. "I have an idea for your next profile picture on MySpace Andrew," Mike said suddenly. "What is it Mike?" Andrew asked, as Carrie continued taking pictures. "Stand under the dome and raise your arms as if you're holding it up," Mike suggested. "We'll call it 'Capitol Muscle' or something." "I think 'Capitol Dome Military Press' has a better ring to it," Andrew said, positioning himself properly for the picture. He grinned as Mike took the picture and then asked, "There now Mike: are you happy now?" "Yes I am Andrew; let's head to the White House now," Mike suggested. "Before we go, take a picture towards the Washington Monument in the distance," Carrie suggested. "It's starting to get dark and it will make a great picture." Mike took the picture and then they made their way down Pennsylvania Avenue to the White House. Once they got there, they found lots of people taking pictures and after a couple of blurry attempts, they decided to cross the street so that they could get a better close-up view. "Good job Carrie; I think you're a better photographer than Mike," Andrew said proudly. "That's because I'm the Yearbook Photographer Andrew," Carrie reminded him with a smug grin as Mike frowned. "Are we finished taking pictures now?" Mike asked impatiently. "Can we get back to the lawn before the crowds leave us no place to sit to watch the fireworks?" "Good point Mike; it's almost sunset," Andrew realized. "And it looks like it's going to rain," he added, as the first drops began to fall. "You'd better use the umbrella in the backpack Carrie," Andrew suggested. "You don't want to get all wet." "What about you and Mike Andrew?" Carrie asked, as she took the fold-up umbrella out of the backpack. "Mike and I will drink in the water of life and it will cleanse us from our exertions over the last two hours," Andrew replied cryptically. "You mean the rain will wash off the sweat you worked up from playing football in the hot sun," Carrie laughed, amused at Andrew's attempt to sound wise and mysterious. "Those were pretty good metaphors you just used Andrew." "Thanks Carrie; sometimes I try to sound wise so that people don't forget that I have brains and not just brawn," Andrew informed her. "I don't think anyone who has seen you today with your shirt off will forget that you have brawn," Carrie assured him, making the understatement of the year. Andrew grinned at her in agreement as they made their way back to their spot near the Hirshhorn Museum, by way of the Washington Monument. ====================================================================================================================================================== Soon after JP and I finished throwing his Navy Frisbee around, the skies began to cloud up and it started to pour. We didn’t bother running for cover, instead letting the warm rain soak our skin, though Chrissy quickly realized she would have a problem. “Shit,” she cried, “I’m wearing a white shirt.” JP and I laughed as I loaned her my dark blue shirt so she could cover up her tits. She gave me a peck on the cheek and said, “Thanks, Matty.” I blushed, nervously looking over at my boyfriend who was sniggering. The sudden downpour didn’t last too long, however, and the sun quickly came out again just before it dipped behind the Washington skyline. JP and I decided to run to a nearby concession stand and get something to eat. As we stood in line, my boyfriend leaned over and whispered in my ear. “I think Chrissy’s starting to have a crush on you now,” he said. I looked at him like he was crazy. “Seriously,” he continued. “She knows I’m not interested in her anymore, so she’s moving on.” JP was always quick at picking these things up – or at least quicker than I. “But, I’m already taken,” I rebutted, looking fondly into his angelic eyes. “What am I going to do?” He grinned. “Welcome to my world,” he said, patting me firmly on the back. ======================================================================================================================================================= Andrew, Carrie and Mike got back to their spot on the lawn and marvelled at the view of the National Mall at dusk. "We should make this an annual event Carrie," Andrew informed his girlfriend. He looked towards the Washington Monument with the dusky sky behind it and added, "It's very relaxing here in DC, even on July 4th." "I agree Andrew," Carrie said, snuggling up against the massive chest of her boyfriend. "Plenty of eye candy too." "What do you mean?" Andrew asked her. "Did you see the guy to our left making spectacular dives to catch the Navy Frisbee his friend threw him a couple of hours ago?" "Yeah I did, before we got our pictures of the Capitol Building and the White House, " Andrew replied, smiling at the memory. "He's really athletic and muscular, and he's the same guy we saw on the train. I'm trying to figure out how to introduce myself to him, but I can't think of a good way to do it." He looked over to their left and realized something. "I don't see him now, or his brother, just his girlfriend lone on the blanket to our left." Then his eyes narrowed as he saw something that demanded his immediate attention. He stood up with his fists clenched and glared over to his left. "What is it Andrew?" Carrie asked him, standing up beside him. "Trouble," Andrew replied through gritted teeth. "Stay here Carrie; we'll be right back. Come on Mike." Carrie knew better than to argue with that tone of voice and she stayed behind as Andrew and Mike headed over to stop the troubling scene about to unfold. But as they soon found out, their intervention would prove unnecessary. ====================================================================================================================================================== It was almost dark by the time we headed back to our spot on the lawn. As we approached, JP grabbed my elbow, stopping me in my tracks. I looked at him puzzled, but he was staring grimly in Chrissy’s direction. She was lying on the blanket as two brawny college-aged jocks stalked toward her unseen, eyeing her schemingly. They were about to hit on her…and it was obvious that these guys were the type that would not take no for an answer. The bigger one must have outweighed me by at least 60 or 70 pounds – though a lot of it probably was fat – and the smaller one wasn’t much smaller. Their broad chests filled their wife-beaters to a near-ripping state, their arms thick with bulk. Cautiously, we snuck closer to within earshot. “Hey, baby,” the larger of the two nagged, startling Chrissy. “You alone tonight?” She craned her head up indignantly. “No,” she snapped firmly but calmly, “I’m with two guys who could knock you both out without a fight.” I gulped. Please tell me she’s bluffing, I thought. This only seemed to amuse them. “Really?” the other one retorted. “Well, I don’t see them around right now. You need someone to cuddle with?” “Don’t you even think about it!” I heard a deep voice bellow from behind me. It was JP, an intense fire bolting from his eyes, his muscles twitching with fury. The remaining twilight reflected off his body and buzzed head so magnificently, he was downright intimidating. The smaller guy’s mouth dropped open slightly when he sighted the kid, but the other guy remained unfazed. “This pretty boy is your boyfriend,” he smirked, peering at him assertively. “No,” JP returned without missing a beat, “but I am your worst nightmare.” It was the way he said those words that sent a chill down my spine. The older jock scoffed. “You wanna fight me? Us two against you two?” My heart was pounding and my knees were wobbling. What was JP doing? He couldn’t possibly be enticing the guys to fight us. Though I knew my boyfriend could take this guy, I was certain I’d be dead against the other. I froze. Arrogantly, the bigger dude sauntered up to JP who stood his ground, not moving a muscle. The two jocks were standing eyeball to eyeball, their beefy chests almost touching each other. The jerk slowly raised his fist, an egotistical sneer spreading across his face. That’s when JP struck. In the blink of an eye, JP pounced and expertly twisted his opponent’s arm behind his back, making him yelp in pain. Before he even had a chance to respond, the jerk’s head was forced back over his shoulder by JP’s other arm so that he looked him straight through the eyes. The guy had no choice but to look back as JP shot him his debilitating look of death. “You sure you wanna mess with me?” my boyfriend hissed. His challenger merely gagged in reply, JP’s powerful forearm practically crushing his windpipe. He realized he didn’t have a prayer with the champion wrestler who could, with one quick snap of his neck, take away his life. JP gave him one more squeeze and, as quickly as he had put his opponent in the position, he threw him out of it, leaving him coughing and sputtering on the ground. I stood there stunned. Other than during a wrestling match, never before had I seen him attack someone. It simply wasn’t a contest. The other guy may have weighed more, but he couldn’t match JP’s amazing strength and quickness. His friend helped him off the ground and the two hurried away, afraid to even look at the younger kid again. Immediately, Chrissy ran up and threw her arms around JP. “Oh my God, JP,” she exclaimed, her fingers barely able to fully grasp his huge shoulders, “that was so brave of you! Thanks!” Then, she gave him a big kiss on the cheek. JP merely shrugged and blushed a deep red. “Wait ‘till my brother hears about this.” JP looked back at her, smiling, happy to change the subject. “Nick’s coming to the wrestling camp this summer, right?” Chrissy nodded. “Are you kidding?” she answered. Her little brother Nick was 12 years old and was going to be in seventh grade the next school year. And like many boys in our area, he idolized JP. According to Chrissy, her brother had clipped out every newspaper article about his hero during wrestling season and had been bugging her to take him to a match. As soon as he heard that JP, along with the help of his coaches, was organizing a one-week summer wrestling camp for middle school kids, he instantly jumped at the chance and persuaded his parents to sign him up. Now, he was counting down the days until it started. “He wants to be just like you when he grows up,” Chrissy gushed. “Well, the great JP Maloney makes one helluva role model,” I added, patting my boyfriend on his wide back. "He certainly does," a very deep voice agreed from their right. JP and I looked over to where the voice came from and our jaws dropped. ======================================================================================================================================================= Andrew smirked slightly at the look of shock on both guys' faces. Then the bigger guy in the light blue tank top narrowed his eyes at Andrew, and asked him, "You want to try to mess with me too?" "No man," Andrew assured him, slightly intimidated by the guy's intensity, even though he outweighed him by about 100 pounds. "I just wanted to congratulate you on how well you took care of those two jerks. If someone tried anything like that with my girlfriend, I would have reacted the same way. I was about to intervene to help your girlfriend out but you got there first." "He's right JP," the girl said. "He was coming over to help me before you showed up; that's why I felt brave enough to tell those two jerks to go away." "Thanks man," JP said gratefully, calming down now that he knew the huge red-haired guy wasn't going to cause any trouble. "It's good to know that there are still some good guys left, instead of just jerks." He walked over to Andrew and held out his hand. "I'm JP Maloney of Central High School." "I thought you looked familiar," Andrew said, shaking JP's hand. "I've seen your picture in the Washington papers. I'm Andrew Pearson from Orillia District High School." "Andrew Pearson: the YouTube Football Star?" JP asked him with raised eyebrows. "You've heard of me?" Andrew asked him in surprise. "Yeah man; you're famous, at least online," JP informed him. "You must be really smart, using a new video-sharing website to get the attention of the NCAA Recruiters that way." "Yeah man," Andrew agreed, unconsciously mimicking his new friend's speech patterns. "But to prove it, I'd better remember to introduce my friends to you. The big guy with brown hair beside me is Mike and the girl beside him is my girlfriend Carrie." "Pleased to meet you Carrie," JP said, shaking her hand gently. He turned to Mike and shook his hand firmly. "What's up man?" "My height and weight relative to yours," Mike replied, realizing that he outweighed JP by more than 100 pounds of solid muscle. "You're right about that man," JP agreed. "But I'll get big like you one day." "I'm sure you will JP," his friend agreed. He stepped forward with his hand outstretched. "I'm Matt Anderson: JP's best friend." And more than that, JP thought, as Mike and Andrew shook Matt's hand. Then Carrie and Chrissy shook hands and introduced themselves. "Since all introductions have been made, would you and your friends like to watch the fireworks with us?" JP asked Andrew. "It's the least I can do since you were ready to help Chrissy before I got there." "Thanks man; we'd love to," Andrew replied, after Mike and Carrie nodded in agreement. "Mike: go bring our blanket and bag over here." "Yes sir!" Mike shouted jokingly, saluting Andrew as he ran to their spot on the lawn to the right of JP's group. "Mike did that salute pretty well; is he in the military?" JP asked Andrew. "No, but his older brother is and so am I," Andrew replied quietly. "Thank you for your service Andrew," JP said gratefully, clapping Andrew on the shoulder. "Thank you for your support JP," Andrew said gratefully. "You're welcome man," JP said. "Now, since you're military, I bet you can guess what my initials stand for." "I can guess John Paul, but that's it," Andrew informed him. "Were you named after someone famous?" "Yes: John Paul Jones: the U.S. Naval Hero," JP replied proudly. "And you are a hero as well man," Andrew assured him proudly. "What you did to that guy who was bugging Chrissy proved that conclusively." "Thanks man," JP said gratefully. His face turned angry as he added, "But it wasn't just heroics that made me do that." "What do you mean man?" Andrew asked him quietly, leading JP away from their friends. "Or would you prefer I don't ask?" "No, it's okay Andrew; even though we just met, I know I can trust you to keep this quiet," JP assured him. He waited for Andrew's nod of agreement before he continued. "I saw my older brother's face in my mind as I had my arm around the throat of that guy." "I see; you have some transference issues with a former mentor who turned against you," Andrew said with a sudden look of understanding. "How did you figure that out?" JP asked in astonishment; amazed that Andrew could read his mind so exactly. "My former best friend Steve used to be my mentor as I started working out," Andrew revealed. "But when I exceeded him in size and strength, his jealously revealed itself as he started bashing my proteges: like Mike there." "I can't imagine why anyone would bash someone as big as Mike," JP said with a faint look of fear on his face. "He's as big as you and you must be at least 6 foot 6 and 300 pounds of solid muscle!" "6 foot 7 and 305 pounds actually," Andrew said. "Mike and I are the exact same height and weight; pretty amazing considering he was just 5 feet tall and 80 pounds when I started training him in the fall of 1998." He noticed JP's look of astonishment and decided to switch topics. "But enough about me: let's throw my Miami football around for a few minutes and you can tell me all about your older brother." "Good idea man," JP agreed, as Andrew signalled Mike to throw him the football. He smiled as Mike threw the ball with a perfect spiral and Andrew caught it effortlessly with one hand. "You and Mike make a good team Andrew." "I should hope so; we got our team to the Provincial Championship last season," Andrew remembered. "Unfortunately our team lost, but this year we'll win!" "I'm sure you will Andrew," JP agreed, smiling at his new friend with pride in his eyes. "Have you found that your success has cost you personally like mine has?" "Yeah man," Andrew replied sadly, as he turned away to look towards the Washington Monument. "My best friend of five years turned against me after I beat up the class bully, and we've barely spoken since. It sucked man, and it still hurts almost seven years later." "I know exactly how you feel man," JP said, stepping forward to lay a hand on Andrew's massive shoulder. He was amazed that he and Andrew had encountered such similar problems as they had achieved great athletic success. "My older brother Ryan turned against me once I got close to his size and strength, which is very ironic since he was the one who taught me how to work out in the first place." "That's too bad man," Andrew said, turning around and patting JP's shoulder gently. He looked back at their group and noticed Matt smiling proudly. "But it looks like you've found a new older brother in your best friend Matt." "Yeah, Matt's been great to me over the last couple of years," JP agreed. "He's really filled the void in my life that Ryan created when he walked away." He left out the part about Matt being his boyfriend; not sure that Andrew would understand. "Anyway, enough talk Andrew; time for some football." "Good idea man," Andrew agreed, lifting up his football. "Go long man; let's see how much you've learned." More than you know man, JP thought smugly, remembering fondly how Ryan had played football with him when he was younger. He jogged further down the lawn; closer to the Capitol Building. He stopped in a part of the lawn clear of people but then noticed everyone around him staring at his ripped muscles in awe. JP smirked and thought, Just wait until you see the size of the guy who throws me the football! JP held up his hands to let Andrew know that he was ready to catch the football, but then he had to dive back to catch it because Andrew threw it too far. Man, he's scary strong; I wouldn't want to get on his bad side! JP thought in astonishment and a little fear. I'm just glad that he wasn't the one bugging Chrissy; I wouldn't have been able to scare him away! "Wow, you're really strong Andrew!" JP shouted to his new friend. "What are your stats anyway?" "Six foot seven, 305 lbs, 25 inch biceps and a one-rep max bench of 880 pounds," Andrew replied smugly, crossing his huge arms over his massive chest. Everyone around him, friends and strangers alike, turned to stare at him in awe. Andrew grinned and waved at his new fans; then he flexed his massive biceps and laughed. "Yeah, it's all true everyone, as you can see on MySpace. Just look up Andrew the Tank and you'll find all my pictures!" JP's jaw had dropped along with all the onlookers, but he managed to close his mouth as Andrew turned back to look at him with a cocky smirk. "Are you going to hold that football until it gets completely dark JP?" Andrew teased him. JP shook his head with a sheepish grin and tossed the football back to Andrew in a perfect spiral. "Those stats are really impressive man," he congratulated his big friend, grinning as Andrew caught his catch with just one hand. "You must be a god on the football field." "Yeah I am man," Andrew agreed with a smug grin. "Want to see me catch my own thrown football?" "Yeah man and I'll catch it all on video to show my friends later," JP said, getting out his digital camera. He looked at the screen, after turning it on, and added, "Just stay in the light of the street lamps Andrew and I'll be able to catch everything." "Hey, who do you think you are, giving me orders Little Man?" Andrew sneered with an arrogant grin. He chuckled at JP's sudden look of fear and added, "I was just kidding man; don't get scared." "I wasn't scared Andrew," JP bluffed, hoping that no one besides Andrew had seen the look of fear on his face. "I just thought you were serious, that's all." "I understand," Andrew assured him, meaning that he knew how important maintaining the image of a fearless jock was when one was big and strong. "Are you ready JP?" "I'm ready Andrew," JP replied, turning the knob to video and pressing the record button. "Show me what you've got Big Brother," he blurted out without thinking, wishing Andrew was Ryan. "Okay Little Brother; get ready to be amazed!" Andrew shouted, realizing that he regarded JP as a protege just like he did Mike. Andrew coked his arm back and threw his football high above the treetops. He then ran down the mall towards the Capitol Building and turned to see his football curving down over the treetops. Andrew adjusted his course laterally to intercept it and caught it neatly in his arms. "Yeah!" Andrew shouted in excitement, spiking the ball and flexing his massive biceps. "Now that's how it's done!" Everyone around Andrew who had witnessed his amazing feat clapped and cheered for him, causing Andrew's face to turn red with embarrassment. JP grinned as he approached the crowd gathering around his new 'big brother', pleased that Andrew was acting humble instead of cocky. Wait until I show this video to my friends, JP thought to himself. If Andrew agrees, I may even post it on that new video-sharing site called YouTube! Then his great football skills could reach even more college recruiters! As JP reached the edges of the crowd, his admiration for Andrew grew as he saw his big friend patiently signing autographs, posing for pictures and giving some smaller guys workout tips. If only Ryan was like that instead of being a cocky jerk! JP thought angrily. Then he would be worthy of the Big Brother title like Andrew is! Andrew looked up from signing autographs and noticed JP suddenly looking very sad. He whistled to catch JP's attention and when JP looked up, he said, "Join me in the center of the crowd man." Everyone turned to see who Andrew was motioning at, and their jaws dropped as they saw JP's incredible musculature. JP suddenly became very embarrassed as everyone started asking him for pictures, autographs and workout tips. "Did you tell everyone about my success last year in wrestling?" JP asked Andrew once the crowd of fans had finally dispersed. "I didn't have to man; once I mentioned your name, everyone knew who you were already," Andrew replied. He looked down at JP with a brotherly grin as he added, "You're famous man." "Well, perhaps in this town anyway," JP muttered, suddenly embarrassed. "But you're famous all over this continent man; thanks to your YouTube videos! With your permission, I'd like to post that video of you catching your own thrown football for the US college football coaches to see. Then you'll be recruited even more than you have been! As a Canadian, you're going to need that kind of cutting-edge digital exposure to be noticed enough by the NCAA to be offered a full football scholarship!" "Ok JP, you've made your point, with lots of big words no less," Andrew teased him. As they began walking back to their friends in the center of the National Mall, he asked, "How high is your IQ man?" "Just shy of genius level, so about 150," JP admitted. "Mine's the same as yours man," Andrew realized. "Maybe that's why we're able to carry on an intelligent conversation instead of just carrying a football." "But right now, you're carrying a football Andrew, so what does that say about your intelligence?" JP teased him. "It says that I'm a smart jock, not a dumb one, because I'm actually able to speak entire sentences JP," Andrew reminded him with a smirk. "But if you really want me to act like a dumb jock, I'm sure I could learn." "That's not necessary Andrew; there's already one dumb jock in my life; I don't need another," JP said bitterly, clenching his fists as he thought about what a big jerk Ryan had turned into over the past couple of years. "I'm not going to turn out like my brother; I'm aiming higher in life than just college sports." "Well you have good aim so far JP," Andrew commended him as they made their way down the path shaded by the tall trees. As they skirted their way around the Washington Monument fence, he added, "You'd be great at football man, but from what I saw earlier, wrestling is your first love." Matt is my first love, JP thought, smiling at the thought of the wonderful summer he was going to have with his boyfriend. "Wrestling was my first love Andrew, but once I found Matt, I found someone I could really love," JP said without thinking. "Yeah, I understand what it's like to love someone like a brother," Andrew said, completely missing JP's slip. "I can see that you look at Matt as a substitute for your brother Ryan." "As I do with you now Andrew, " JP blurted out, feeling like he'd known Andrew for years. Andrew's jaw dropped in astonishment and JP hurriedly explained: "It's been really hard not having a mentor for the past couple of years man; I guess I just admire you a lot for not acting like a cocky jerk just because you're great at football." "No problem JP," Andrew assured him, once he realized what JP was trying to say. "I don't mind being your 'Honorary Big Brother' as you prepare for your college career. I'm only a phone call or email away and my hometown of Orillia is only a day's drive from here." "Thanks for being my 'Honorary Big Brother' Andrew," JP said gratefully. "I'm hoping to get a wrestling scholarship to Ohio State so that I can stay with Matt. Of course, since he's one year older than me, like you are, this is the last year we'll have together." "I know what that's like man; my friend Mark Stevenson gets a full football scholarship to Miami this fall," Andrew said. "I'll really miss him man, just as I'm sure you'll miss Matt when he goes to college in a year." He noticed what looked like a hint of tears in JP's eyes and suddenly realized that Matt and JP were more than just brothers to each other. But instead of sharing his sudden insight with his new friend, Andrew asked, "Has Ohio State recruited you yet JP?" "No man, but since I'm just going into my Junior Year, it won't be long until they do," JP predicted with a cocky smirk. "Have you visited the campus yet?" Andrew asked. "No man; why do you ask?" JP asked curiously. "I'm going to Ohio State in a few days for a recruiting visit," Andrew replied. "I know we just met, and we should ask your parents first, but would you and Matt like to come with me?" JP's jaw dropped in astonishment, amazed that Andrew (a stranger one hour ago) was proposing a road trip. But then he saw Andrew's serious look and realized that he had found a new mentor to replace his big brother Ryan. Andrew is the big brother I wish Ryan still was, JP realized. I see now that guys don't have to be related to be brothers. "That would be great Andrew," JP said, once he could speak again. He stepped closer to his new friend and motioned him to bend down. Andrew did so and JP whispered in his ear, "You're really filling the void that Ryan left when he walked away from me Andrew. I never told Matt this, but it sucked having to work out by myself without a mentor around. And even though he has been emotionally absent for the past year, this fall Ryan will be physically absent as well, since he's going off to Virginia Tech. So I have no one left to look up to. But now I can look up to you as a big brother, just like I once did with Ryan." "I'm only an email or phone call away JP," Andrew reminded him, pulling out his flip phone so that he could give JP his cell number. "And since I'm physically present, not absent, you can look up to me right now." JP chuckled as Andrew straightened up to his full height and crossed his huge arms over his massive chest. Andrew grinned at him smugly and added, "I love mentoring the little guys like-" "Little?!" JP interrupted, his cockiness suddenly returning. He flexed his 16 inch bicep and sneered, "Does this look little to you Andrew?" "Yes it does, compared to mine JP," Andrew informed him sternly, flexing his massive 25 inch bicep. JP's cocky smirk vanished quickly and Andrew nodded in satisfaction. "Remember JP, you may be the big man at your school, but then there's college and the real world to consider." JP nodded in sudden understanding, realizing that his new friend Andrew was only one of many men out there who were bigger and stronger than he was. "I'm going to tell you how my dad's cockiness prematurely ended his NFL career JP; then you'll understand why you should be more modest and humble in public." JP nodded soberly and Andrew began telling him the story about how his dad had given in to all the hype and started drinking and driving fast during his NFL career. That carefree attitude led to the car accident that shattered Chad's kneecap, tore his ACL and ended his NFL days forever. Then Chad had to crawl back to Orillia and start from the bottom of his boss's company as a Management Intern. JP's eyes widened in understanding as Andrew told him the story and he realized that his big brother could be headed for a rude awakening as well. But I'll be the one that causes it, JP thought to himself. His fists clenched as he remembered his first reason for working out: to beat up his brother one day. JP had no idea how prophetic that goal would become and how it would change both his and Ryan's lives forever. It was just about completely dark by the time Andrew and JP got back to their friends sitting on the lawn, where they had an unobstructed view of the Washington Monument. It's about time you got back here Andrew; Mike had to fill in for you," Carrie teased him. "I hope not Carrie; you only have one boyfriend and that's me," Andrew growled, glaring at Mike. JP felt as nervous as Mike looked and Carrie had to assure Andrew that she and Mike were just friends. Matt and Chrissy looked really nervous too, and JP suddenly realized that they had looked just like that as he had held that guy in a wrestling hold barely half an hour earlier. JP scratched the back of his shaved head, embarrassed that he had allowed his bad feelings about Ryan to make him lash out like that. I've got to let Matt know later why I did that, JP realized. I hope he understands like Andrew did. He breathed a sigh of relief along with everyone else when Andrew's angry look faded into a sheepish grin. "Sorry about that guys," Andrew apologized. "I guess I was just afraid that some guys would try to cause trouble with you like they did with Chrissy earlier." "What JP did to those guys is nothing compared to what you could do Andrew," Carrie reminded him. "You could have snapped their necks like twigs!" "You'd better tell everyone your idea Andrew, before the fireworks start," JP said suddenly, anxious to change the subject. "Oh yeah, thanks for reminding me man," Andrew said gratefully, slapping his new friend on the shoulder. JP concealed a wince as Andrew quickly told Carrie and Mike his idea about Matt and JP coming along on their Ohio State Recruiting Visit. "What do you think Carrie?" "It sounds great, especially since Mike and I got a chance to know Matt and Chrissy while you and JP were playing football," Carrie replied. "Good, then it's all settled except for the timing," Andrew realized. He turned to JP and said, "We're staying in the Washington area for another day before leaving on the 6th. Is that good for you and Matt?" "Yes Andrew; that should give you guys enough time to meet my parents and Matt's mom to get their permission," JP replied. Andrew looked embarrassed that he hadn't thought of that. "Don't feel bad that you forgot about that step Andrew; I think my dad will approve of you. He's really upset that Ryan took off this summer on a road trip instead of being around to mentor me; he'll be glad I've found a new mentor." "Anything I can do to help man," Andrew said quietly, feeling sobered by the fact that JP held him in such high esteem. But then he realized that JP would never have told him so much while they were alone if he didn't trust him implicitly. "I'll be there for you as much as I can JP, even when I'm away at college. As I've told you twice before now, I'm only a phone call or email away." JP grinned at his big friend, but he also felt sad that it wasn't Ryan saying those things. Where did I go wrong with Ryan? JP asked himself. Have I lost my brother forever? He should be here, sharing one last Independence Day at home with me instead of Andrew having to fill his role as my big brother! JP was distracted from his sad thoughts by the first fireworks going off and he let his cares drift away as he enjoyed the view with his friends and new 'Big Brother.' "The second one looked just like a side profile of Abraham Lincoln!" Carrie shouted in astonishment. "Do you think it was deliberately launched that way?" "I don't know Carrie, but if Mike's been taking pictures, we can find out later," Andrew replied, looking over at his big friend. Mike held up the digital camera to let Andrew know that he wasn't missing anything. "For now Carrie, let's be quiet and enjoy the show." Carrie nodded in agreement and leaned back into Andrew's massive chest. She smiled as Andrew's muscular arms folded around her gently and she realized that there was nowhere she's rather be than in the arms of her boyfriend. ===================================================================================================================================================== The rest of that night was amazing. I couldn’t stop myself from looking over at JP as the fireworks illuminated his flawless face, the different colors reflecting in his dazzling eyes. Every now and then, he would glance over at me and smile. A tear rolled down my cheek. I was so overwhelmed by his beauty and his love for me. How the hell did I get so lucky? Chrissy’s head was leaning on my lap, but I found myself wishing it were JP’s instead. I wanted him near me every minute of the day. ====================================================================================================================================================== Once the fireworks were over around 10 pm, the crowds began clearing out of the National Mall. "I'm not ready to go home yet; what about you guys?" JP asked his new friends. "I'd like to see the Lincoln Memorial," Andrew replied. When his friends nodded in agreement, he asked JP, "Would you and your friends like to join us?" "We'd be glad to Andrew," JP replied, as Matt and Chrissy nodded in agreement. "If you look beyond the Washington Monument, you can see the Lincoln Memorial from here." Andrew and his friends looked to the west and saw that JP was right. Mike took a picture as everyone admired the view. "There, now that we've seen the Lincoln Memorial, we can go home," Matt said impatiently, eager to be alone with JP. "I think Andrew meant to see it up close, as well as inside Matt," JP reminded his boyfriend with a frown. Andrew nodded in agreement and JP smirked at his boyfriend. "See, I told you Matt!" "Okay JP, I give up: we'll see Lincoln up close," Matt sighed. "Then can we go home?" "Yeah we can Matt," JP agreed, realizing that Matt was eager to be alone with him. He led his friends across the street to the path that led to the western end of the National Mall. Everyone admired the view as they walked down the path on the north side of the Tidal Basin. Andrew made sure to take a picture of the Korean War Memorial, since his deceased grandfather had fought in that war as well as World War II. The six friends finally reached the Lincoln Memorial and saw lots of people climbing the stairs, even though it was after 10:30 pm. "Quite a crowd JP," Andrew commented. "I never expected to see so many people at this monument at this time of night." "Abraham Lincoln was arguably the most famous president in our nation's history Andrew," JP reminded his big friend. "And this memorial has been the sight of many famous events since it was constructed. That's why it draws such big crowds at all times: about six million people per year." "I understand JP," Andrew said soberly, realizing the great pride JP felt for his country. "Can we go inside now?" "Sure Andrew," JP agreed, feeling sheepish that he had soured the good mood they had been enjoying most of the evening. "Follow me man; I'll get us through the crowds." Andrew and his friends followed JP up the stairs into the Lincoln Memorial and made their way through the crowds until they could get a good shot of Abraham Lincoln sitting on his chair. "That was a very good picture Mike; especially since you caught the words about Lincoln's memory being enshrined forever," Andrew commended his friend. "Thanks Andrew; I thought you'd appreciate that, considering the events of seven months ago," Mike replied. Andrew glared at Mike at first, remembering that his grandfather had died a year before a few weeks before Christmas, but then he realized that Mike had been trying in his own way to honour Bert Pearson's memory. "Thanks man; I do appreciate it," Andrew assured him, his glare fading into a sad smile as he put a gentle hand on Mike's shoulder. JP asked him what was wrong as they headed back towards the Washington Monument and Andrew told him about his war veteran grandfather: who had served in World War II and Korea during his 20 years of service in the Canadian Forces. After Andrew finished the story, JP realized that he shared a deeper kinship with his new friend than he had first thought: considering that both their grandfathers had served in the military. The group of six friends had reached the Washington Monument by then, and they got a good close-up shot. "Well, it's been great getting to know you JP, but we should get back to our hotel now," Andrew said, checking his watch. "It's almost 11:30." "If you came with us on the Metro, we can drop you off at the Pentagon City Station and then you'll have a much shorter walk back to your hotel," JP offered. "I have an idea of what we can do tomorrow." Andrew looked over at Carrie and Mike, who nodded in agreement. He looked back at JP and said, "Good idea man; thanks for thinking of that." "I'm a little surprised that you didn't Andrew," JP teased him, as they began walking to the L'Enfant Plaza Metro Station. "It's not because I'm not smart like you JP; it's because I'm from out of town," Andrew reminded him with a mock glare. When he saw JP trying not to look scared, Andrew laughed and assured him, "I'm just kidding man; we never would have had such a great Fourth of July if we hadn't met you and your friends!" Mike and Carrie grinned and nodded in agreement and JP breathed a sigh of relief. When he thought back to the one bad incident of the evening, he realized that if those two college jocks hadn't harassed Chrissy, he would never have met Andrew: his new mentor and substitute Big Brother. I wouldn't have traded this evening for anything, JP thought to himself, very pleased that he had once again found someone he could look up to. He hoped that with Andrew's help, he could one day repair his relationship with his older brother, though he suspected it would get worse before it would get better. About half an hour later, Andrew and his friends said goodbye to JP and his friends, agreeing to meet them the next afternoon at Burke Lake Park: a large park near JP's house. "Thanks for a wonderful day at the National Mall JP," Andrew said, as he stepped off the train at Pentagon City Station. "See you at Burke Lake Park tomorrow. Call me when you're ready to meet." "No problem man," JP said, holding the doors open as Mike and Carrie stepped off to stand beside Andrew on the platform. "Thanks for the wonderful opportunity to see Ohio State in a few days with you and your friends. Have a good night Andrew." "You're welcome man," Andrew said, as the doors began to close. "See you tomorrow 'Little Brother'." The doors closed before JP could reply and he quickly raised his hand to wave goodbye to Andrew. As the train pulled away from the platform, JP wished more than anything that he was waving to his true big brother Ryan. Please let me know what you think and if I did justice to the JP Character and his innermost thoughts, a point of view that I can't remember being shown before in either the JP or Nick stories. Note: I will gradually transfer the illustrated version of the story onto my website: http://seanspictures.webs.com. All the pictures will come from my trip to Washington DC on July 3rd, 2011.

Hello gents, I hope you enjoy the last chapter of this story. I have included links to the first two parts for your convenience. Some suggested that this was easier than posting all parts in one long piece. See. I listen. Once more, I would love our comments. Enjoy the ride. SeaMusc ==================================================================================== Part I: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/5028-the-impossible-discovery/ Part II: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/5099-the-impossible-discovery-part-ii/ ==================================================================================== Part III The car pulled away from the parking lot. They were both grateful for the Jeep Wrangler they had purchased last year. It at least allowed for the top to be taken off providing Will’s mass to fit uncomfortably inside. Even with the passenger seat pushed all the way back, with Will’s new height and added mass his knees were bunched up almost touching the bottoms of the huge bags that were his pecs. His shoulder jutted out of the side window although he wasn’t leaning. The fantastical lats that had developed seemed to just naturally jut out of his torso at the right height and flowed out of the window where they smashed into the rippling globe of his tri-headed delt. A kiss of veins, as detailed as fine Maltese lace spread webs of intricate patterns over the surface of Will’s body. Skye thought it amazing that someone so unfathomably strong and powerful had such beautiful detail. Looking at him from at distance, you would only see an impossibly muscular and tall behemoth, but if you looked from arms length, the true artistry of Will’s body could be seen in its refinement. Skye looked at Will’s arm pressing up against Skye’s body from the lack of room in the Jeep—his shoulder and triceps were pushing directly into Skye and it felt warm. He was also shocked at the hardness of what he was feeling. It was not human flesh, or at least not the flesh that he knew as human. It was something more. Something forged of a different substance. More like warm movable ironwood. He looked down at Will’s giant hand resting on his own muscular thigh and couldn’t believe the feelings coursing through his body. He wanted Will without any consideration or hesitation, like two attracting sides of magnets. It was sexual. It was sensual. It was beyond those things though. It was a marriage of companionship and partnership. Will had forced himself into the seat of the Jeep and realized that it wouldn’t allow for much more growth, but that was not a concern. When he got too big, he would find other ways to travel--like in a personal bus or something bigger. For now, he loved how the confined space smashed him up against his demi-god fiancé. Although he had the size and strength, Skye had the beauty of something otherworldly. That along with his incomparable mind, Skye matched Will’s strength in different ways. There had never been a more devastating example of brains and brawn and Will knew it. Together they were unstoppable. They didn’t look at each other at all after getting in the vehicle. Will’s hand on Skye’s knee and Skye’s head nudging against Will’s shoulder was enough. Nothing was said. They just felt each other’s space, breathed in each other’s air, completely content. Walking up the stairs to their apartment home, Will followed Skye up. His face firmly planted in Skye’s backside, smelling the scent of his manhood. Smelling his musk and the singular scent of a well cleaned hole, earthy and delicious. He wanted to take up residence there; to have his face fighting for real estate on Skye’s beautiful ass. He followed that scent up the three flights of stairs lead only by his nose. It was too powerful to open his eyes. He would lose control. They both knew that once inside, they would both take off the brakes and be thrust upon a sea of overwhelming passion that would not be contained easily. Skye unlocked the solid wooden door and walked in, carrying the small bag of Will’s belongings. Will, for his part, had to turn slightly sideways to walk through the door frame. He was too wide and thick to make it through straight on. He shut the door behind him and just stood there, watching Skye. Neither of them knew what to do. The first move was up in the air, and as much as they loved each other, there was a certain awkwardness about the next step. They were both so different now. Skye was more independent, more in control, more beautiful, and more ripped. Will was more outwardly alpha, more subservient to Skye, and a fucking massive giant. Underneath it all, they were the same men, and they knew it. But there would need to be a moment of adjustment, as if they were also meeting for the first time. The sentiment of their affection was there, more powerful than ever, but the situation had changed. It took a few seconds of sizing each other up before Skye walked a few steps toward the tower of masculinity that was Will. He walked right up to the beast and his face was only an inch away from the deep ravine of Will’s bloated pecs. He stared up those few inches and whispered, “I missed you.” He spread out his own broad arms and embraced Will gently. His arms barely were wide enough to start to feel Will’s lats because of the massiveness of his chest. For his part, Will just nodded and as Skye hugged him, he simply raised his arm and wrapped it around the shoulder of his best friend and lover. The felt each other’s warmth for a few moments and then Skye took Will’s hand and lead him to the bedroom. They sat down for a brief moment on their bed. Will took Skye’s hand, extended one of his inhumanly sized fingers, and placed it on Skye’s twine ring. “Remember when you proposed, Will? Remember that night? I thought I could never be more in love with you. I thought that it couldn’t get better. But somehow, some way, I feel you as a part of me even more than that night. I didn’t think it was possible to feel someone more. Will, something happened to us while we were apart. Something glorious and incredible. I can’t hear your heartbeat, but I can “feel” it. I can’t read your mind, but I know what you are thinking. I feel that somehow, you are a part of me…a part of my body and mind. I don’t know how to explain it. I have tried to explain it to myself. It’s like trying to explain to someone why they feel that they need to breath: it just is.” He paused a moment. “I am so proud of you, Will. You kept your composure and you owned that place from the beginning. You became something more than you were previously. You became the master of your domain. You have no masters now.” “Except for you.” Will looked up with huge eyes at Skye’s face. “You are more than a master. You are a creator. Now I know how those religious zealots feel. Enraptured with their god to the point of insanity. That is how I feel about you.” Sitting on the edge of the bed together holding hands and Will’s arm around Skye, the titan simply bent his head to the side and rested it on his partner’s shoulder and silence settled into the room. Inside, fireworks were exploding, his skin felt waves of orgasmic energy, his enormous bull balls churned and buzzed with activity. His mind was on fire. His heart rate was increasing. His breaths were becoming steadily deeper and steadily faster. He was giving himself to Skye mentally and physically. Because of his brain’s remodeling, there was little difference between the two for him. His body was reacting because his brain was reacting. Touching Skye was enough to cause tsunami’s of lust and longing to be released into Will’s mind, which in turn forced a physical response. He could feel veins wriggling to the surface and muscles gorging themselves on nutrients and oxygen to fuel their immense need for energy. Will had learned to control the outward expression of these sensations, but he knew that Skye’s words and touch were moments away from unleashing a more improved, more massive Will. His cock snaked across the top of his jock, spitting sweet precum as a lubricant for its ever-lengthening march across his skin. Skye understood implicitly how Will’s body was about to undergo another spurt of growth. He was willing it, sending out powerful emotive waves to Will through his soft caresses and naughty thoughts. “Will, you are holding back. You don’t have to hide here. You know that. Let yourself go. You will never be too big for me. Remove that thought from your mind. Let your body do what it needs to and don’t fight it anymore. You are MINE, kind sir. Always. Forever.” Will pulled his head up from Skye’s well-muscled shoulder and looked directly into his eyes from only a couple of inches away. Their hot breath was all over each other: warm, wet, full of hunger. “I am ready, Skye. I want to grow for you.” “Then let go, Big Man. There are no judgments here. And when you are done with this spurt, I am ready to give you more than you though possible.” Will laid his head back down on Skye’s shoulder and his breath rate picked up. He was almost panting within the span of just a couple of minutes. Skye reached his arm up and placed his hand on the back of Will’s head, giving him comfort. He was beginning to moan, long, deep, and steady. A low rumble full of power and masculinity was streaming out of his thick throat. “Will, does it hurt?” “No. It feels incredible. Just hold me. I can feel it coming.” He struggled for breath and Skye noticed large beads of sweat beginning for form on his brow. The smaller man continued to hold his hand on Will’s head, stroking him gently as a mother would do to a newborn to calm him down. A moan emerged from the giant. He picked his head up and looked Skye straight in the eyes, only inches away from each other. “Put your hands on me. I want you to feel this. Wait…hold on.” Will stood up quickly and tore his tight white t-shirt off in one easy rip. Skye’s mouth fell to the floor. He hadn’t seen Will without a shirt since he had been taken. He was in complete awe of the creature in front of him, trembling, moaning. To say that he looked like a buff anime character come to life would not be exaggerating. Lumps of flesh extended themselves away from Will’s body with violent knobs and ravines of hardness jostling for limited space. It looked as if the mass of meat underneath his skin was attempting to escape; yet somehow, he knew that this was Will’s new relaxed state. He had become so muscular; Skye was having trouble distinguishing typical anatomical landmarks. Joints and bone that are usually exposed, even in the most massive bodybuilders were buried under layers and layers of animated musculature. Fuck, he was ripped and huge beyond description. And he was ready to grow again. The beast extended his meaty paw to his jeans and tore them off in one easy stroke. If Will’s upper body had been jaw-dropping, his legs and ass would cause a full on seizure to any admirer of muscle. Enormous muscular feet supported calves that appeared to be related to two large Easter hams, but much more angular and sharp. Even the muscle running in front of his shin bone appeared to have been injected with some terribly successful muscle fertilizer. His quads had long thick muscles extending from the waist to the knee, all of them as thick and heavy as a normal man’s arm. The thick beef on his legs pulsed and danced at Will’s slightest movement. The veins that typically are seen on very ripped, lean, dedicated competition-class men would seem childish compared to the vasculature on Will’s lower half. Garden hose sized vessels rode atop the living stone they fed. Skye could see the rhythmic beat of blood coursing through those veins as they quivered ever second, at the behest of Will’s heart. Will, happy with his state of undress turned to sit back on the bed. Skye shot him a devious look. “No, Will. Take it all off.” Will returned the evil smile and popped the waistband to his jock off without even slight resistance. His semi-erect manhood throbbed, partially dangling, but beginning to fight gravity—and there was a lot of gravity to fight with a fuck-stick that massive. Skye licked his lips. “Now, get over here.” Skye motioned Will back to the bed. He sat down on the edge again next to Skye. “Put your hands on me. I want you to feel this. I am holding it back…” “You can control it? Damn, Will. I didn’t expect that.” “It’s hard and it takes concentration, but my mind is strong. I can hold back the growth when I wish to. I had to learn that in jail.” Skye was salivating and raging hard. His own large cock fought desperately against the fabric of his shorts. He moved his left arm across his body and placed it on Will’s bicep. He lifted his right arm and extended it out across Will’s mountainous back. He could only reach about half way. The heavy back-steaks comprising the monster’s lats and traps were deep and powerful and imposing, even without exerting effort. He could see the dual ridges of the spinal erectors running along either side of Will’s spine, coursing from his neck all the way down where they dove below the surface and erupted into the huge hard meat cakes of Will’s preposterous butt. He was so difficult to contemplate the size and strength of that fine ass. He would be living in that glorious ass in a few minutes. Fuck. Skye places his right hand on Will’s enormous forearm and the other on his shoulder. They both wanted, no…they both NEEDED skin on skin contact. Will started to groan again and tremble. Skye could feel micro-quakes under Will’s skin. If the muscles could become harder, they did. The lace-like web of veins danced on his skin. And then Will looked in Skye’s eyes. Skye could feel an explosion of volume press out across his hands. He could feel Will’s temperature rise. Will emitted a bellowing groan from the deepest pit of his being. He sounded like an animal. It was the sound of gods fucking, angels masturbating, thousands of warriors jacking each other off. Those things combined sounded like Will’s growth moan. It was SEX and STRENGTH. It was POWER translated into a sound. He never took his eyes off of Skye. Baring his teeth, he growled again and pushed his lips into his lover’s. They kissed, eyes open, as Will’s body expanded and shifted. Skye’s hands never left his fiancée’s He wanted Will to know he was there, with him, comforting him, and mandating him to grow bigger. Before this moment, he thought he would want to watch Will from a safe distance, able to see his entire body change and grow…but being this close, he could smell the hormones pouring out of Will’s skin, on his breath, and in his kiss. He wouldn’t have it any other way. He drank Will in. Kissing him, tasting him, feeling his strength and power expand. And then it stopped. They had been locking eyes since Will had sat back down on the bed. Now their faces were still just inches away from each other looking into each other’s pupils, not wavering, not blinking. Will stood up. “You did this Skye. I feel like a fucking GOD. And this is just the beginning.” The immensity of Will could not be overstated. His musculature was no longer within the confines of human scale. They were both entering a state of complete sensory overload. Gobs of precum leaked from their engorged cocks. Constantly leaking. Constantly. A steady stream of sweet nectar oozed out without ceasing. Will kissed Skye on the mouth again. “Fuck me Skye. FUCK ME and make me grow more. I am ready. I want it and YOU want it more. Together, we are unstoppable. Make me bigger for YOU. Make me stronger for YOU. Make me invincible for YOU!” “Bend over, you giant beast. Take my cock in your ass. Take my seed. It is ready. You are ready!” They were both in a complete state of bliss. Speaking, shouting, moaning without care of consequence. Will, much bigger than only minutes before, was about to be seeded with Skye’s engineered cum. Millions of viruses created specifically for Will and Skye would be released from Skye’s enormous balls and sent into a new environment where they would be able to replicate without hindrance. Every cell in Will’s body would have the myostatin gene cut out. Skye had made certain that other genetic codes would be inserted form increased skeletal growth and testosterone would pour out of both of their testicles in enormous quantities. Will crawled on top of the bed. Being so much larger than Skye, he wanted his fiancée to have easy access to his quivering hole. He wanted this part to be enjoyable for them both. He jutted his ass outward toward Skye who was now standing a few feet from the bed. Will lowered his shoulders, thrusting his muscle cakes outward and upward. “Your ass is so incredibly massive Will! It is the most beautiful thing I have seen, other than your handsome face.” Skye focused in on Will’s tight hole which was now staring at him. One immovable, unblinking eye…an entrance to the body of a god. The doorway to even more SIZE, STRENGTH, and POWER. Skye’s face moved toward the giant mounds of hard flesh that comprised Will’s exposed ass. He moved in closer. Closer. He spit onto Will’s impossibly tight hole and raised his hand to rub the spit into the area with his forefinger. He wanted to lube Will up. He was going to fuck him hard, without mercy, tearing him, liberating his seed into Will’s quivering hole. “Will, I love you. Before this happens, I want you to know that. There is nothing on the face of this planet that means more to me than your happiness.” “FUCK ME SKYE!” the enormous man rumbled. “We are ONE now.” Skye knew that this was true. Maybe it was Will’s newly expanded mind, maybe it was the natural part of becoming so close with a partner…maybe it was just their love for each other. They were ONE. This act forged them together like two bricks of iron in the hand of a skilled welder. Two pieces became one more massive and stronger piece. Skye places his hands around Will’s rippling waist, grabbing onto the immovable mass that presented itself willingly to him. His own cock was throbbing, pulsing, weeping drops of precum unceasingly. Skye’s cock was on a mission. His big monster dick knew what it needed to do and so it pumped massive amounts of lube to the surface. Skye rubbed the tip of his engorged huge cock against Will’s sealed hole. He rubbed pre-ejaculate all around the area. The precum kept pouring out, wanting to do its job in this most-important action. Skye’s cock head was infinitely sensitive to touching Will. When it came into contact with the hard surface, it vomited more precum, and more, and more. Finally, Skye put more pressure on his hands that surrounded Will’s tight hard waist and drove his now-huge cock through the sphincter of the muscle monster, laying ass-end-up on their bed. A low grumble escaped Will’s throat. “Fuck me, Skye. Fuck me, beautiful man. FUCK ME! HARD! HARDER!” Skye was pumping hard and fast. He could feel with his cock the mound of dense tissue that comprised Will’s prostate. He could feel his expanded cock raking across it with every push and pull. Will panted like a bitch in heat each time the head of Skye’s massive penis rubbed against the orange-sized prostate buried in his ass. It felt so good. It felt like every Fourth of July and New Year’s Eve firework show he had ever seen. Skye picked up the pace, thrusting, heaving harder and harder. He could smell the sweet musty masculine smell of sex, of precum, and of Will’s manly hard ass. That smell was driving him wild. He pushed harder. Harder into Will. His own abs, glutes, obliques, and arms were combining forces to drive further and further into Will with more and more force. Will’s hole was being wrecked and both of them wanted it. He was being destroyed from the assault of Skye’s force. He wanted it. He craved it. Harder. Harder. More and more. Skye could feel the pressure increasing in his balls. He could feel the buzz, the churning that signaled orgasm. He knew that he would be sending massive amounts of viral particles into Will’s primed body in a matter of a few seconds. Once that happened, he couldn’t take it back. And he didn’t want to. Will emitted another growl. Skye felt the internal sex pump begin to reach into his balls, pull the seed out by a powerful siphon force, and send the sweet juices out to his hulking partner. He felt powerful waves of cum course through his body, passing through the tight passageways of his manliness and eventually thrusting through his own massive cock and lodging in Will. Waves of cum. Pints of thick sticky-sweet, bitterness. Thick milk. Blasting out. Blasting into Will. Pushing its way into the beast. Making the BEAST more than he had been. Skye kept bucking--rutting Will’s ass. They were two bodies of exceptional power and hardness. Will’s ass did not want to let go of Skye’s massive cock. Skye did not want to leave the cavern that felt like a velvet covered fist wrapped around his tumescent prick. It was comfortable. They both had craved that feeling for so long. Will pulled out. His cock still leaked cum in a slow steady stream. He rubbed the head against Will’s ass again. He didn’t want to forget this moment and neither did Will. Raising his chest up, Will was still on bended knee on the bed. He rotated his gigantic upper body so that his legs and hips were facing forward and his arms could reach out to Skye, who was still behind him. He grabbed his lover under the arms and raised him easily, moving him around to Will’s front side. “Skye, that was amazing. That was the best it has ever been. I fucking LOVE you.” “Me too, Big Man. Me too.” They collapsed on the bed, warm, sweaty, and sticky. A few hours later, they were still pressed together on the bed. It was afternoon now. The cum had dried on their skin and where Will had become the big spoon, his chest and abs pressed up against Skye’s bulging back, the cum had dried into a sort of glue. It felt good. It felt right. “Skye. Are you awake?” “I have been for a while. I have just been lying here, feeling you. Feeling your hardness and feeling you breathing. I have never been happier Will. I have never ever been happier.” “Me neither.” Will reached over to the nightstand and looked for the papers in which he had placed the love letter that Skye had written him on their last night before he was incarcerated. Skye hadn’t moved Will’s papers, so it was easy to find. He pulled it out. And read it outloud… “Last night reminded me of why I love you so much, not that I need reminding. You make me feel like I own the world, and it is because you are mine. I will not take this ring off of my finger for a moment while you are away. My heart is already aching from your absence and my body is already demanding to be with you again. The hardest thing I have had to do in my life was getting out of that bed this morning but I have things to get done before the city wakes up. Know, with every piece of your body, mind, and soul that I love you. I love you far more than I love myself. It comforts me to know that you feel the same way. I can’t wait to build the rest of my life with you. It will be an adventure that is beyond our imagination. I lay awake last night thinking about your proposal and how it was the perfect time, place, and situation. God, you are romantic. I could never ask for a better companion and partner in life. As we embark on this new chapter, understand that everything I have done, am doing, and will do is for you and me.” His voice cracked. A big tear fell out of his beautiful eye and rolled down his cheek. Skye simply looked up at his amazingly massive man, extended his tongue and licked the tear off of his face. It tasted salty, but it tasted like pure affection. Will pulled Skye’s left hand up to his face and looked at the twine “ring” still there. It was ratty by now and starting to show signs of definite age—twine is not supposed to last forever. He kissed his beloved’s ring finger and smiled. “Skye, when will I start growing again? I want to be so big for you. I want to protect you. I want to be monstrous for you!” “I don’t know when your growth will occur, Will. You have the viruses in you now. I have made them powerful. Look what they have done to me! I didn’t know that I could be so ripped and big, but you have so much more potential.” Skye looked up to his future husband and planted a big kiss on his lips. “It will take some time, Will. Genetics take time to work. This isn’t quick. It will be a process. You know that.” They stayed stuck together by their cum glue for another couple of hours. Neither of them wanted to move. Eventually, the sun started setting and Will wanted to watch the sunset from the rooftop balcony. “Let’s get dressed and go upstairs. I would LOVE to watch the sunset with you.” Little did he know that his heartbeat and that of Skye’s were now throbbing together, at the same time and rhythm. They were indeed becoming biologically integrated. Even knowing this, neither Will, nor Skye, would have cared. In fact, they would welcome it. That night they stood on the rooftop. Will was naked, too large for his old clothing now. Skye stood facing west with only his boxers on—and they protested against his skin and growing cock. It was a photogenic sunset and the sky lit up with yellow, gold, red, orange, and violet. It was perfect. Will wrapped his mountainous arms around Skye and as soon as Skye leaned his head back into Will’s hard beefy chest, he heard that their heartbeats were in perfect synch. “Will, our hearts are beating with the same rhythm.” The corners of Skye’s mouth curled up in a warm smile. “I know.” He said simply and quietly. Will was grinning ear to ear. He couldn’t be happier. He was willing his heart to be in synch with Skye’s. They watched the sun set slowly on the horizon wrapped in each other’s warm embrace. ========================================================================================== The morning greeted Skye and Will with its warm orange glow. Their bed beside the window granted them visual access to the warming of the sky and the beginning of a new day. Once again, Will was spooning Skye. Their bodies cocooned against each other. Will heard it first. High pitched sirens coming toward them. He could tell because the sound achieved a higher pitch as the seconds wore on. The pitch became higher and higher. Skye could hear it now. “Ugh. That was an unpleasant wake up.” Skye stretched his muscular long limbs against the beef mountain pressing against him. “Skye…Something is wrong. The sirens are here.” “Well, they must be after someone on this block. Don’t worry, my beautiful boy. You are safe.” Will wasn’t so sure. He felt a knot rising in his throat. Something wasn’t right. He could sense it. A moment later they heard pounding at the door. “Police! Open the door!” The two lovers looked at each other in complete surprise. “OPEN UP!” came the voice again. Skye leapt up and ran toward the door and opened it. “Skye Collins?” “Um, yes.” “You are under arrest for falsification of evidence.” The officer grabbed Skye’s wrist and locked a cuff on it, grabbed the other wrist and put the other cuff on that side. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney…” The officer kept reading Skye his rights. Skye looked at Will, who was just beginning to rise from the bed. Everything had happened so fast. “Will. NO! Stay there. I will handle this.” Will’s body could feel Skye’s heartbeat increase. He was afraid, and Will knew it. Will walked toward the front door and toward his Love. He would not see his man treated this way. He could destroy these men easily and he knew it. A hot rage began to well up inside of him. “No Will. It will be OK. Stay there. Will! Stay there!” There was not question in Skye’s voice. Will stopped and stared helplessly as his beloved Skye was taken away. The only thing preventing the giant muscle beast from knocking he heads off of those men in one blow was the tone of Skye’s voice. It wasn’t a plea, it was command to stay back, to let Skye handle it. “I will call you, soon. Keep my phone on you. And call your attorney. Have him meet me at the police station.” Skye paused. “Officer, can I have you take this twine off of my finger. It is very important to me and I know that they will remove it, possibly trashing it, at the station.” The officer agreed. The policeman held out the twine ring to Will, depositing it in his massive paw. If there was one thing that Will knew, he understood that Skye had a plan and he would follow it. He could still feel Skye’s heartbeat forcing his own heartbeat to follow. He knew at that moment that he would be able to sense Skye’s condition. He would know if he was in danger. Something was beginning to swell inside of Will. He and Skye had started to become a single being over the course of the past 24 hours. He was experiencing a mix of emotions. Anger: for someone taking his heart away. Power: the feeling had been growing in him for weeks and was now becoming exponentially stronger. Love: He had no limit to the depth of responsibility that he felt for Skye. Worry: Neither of them had any idea how Skye had been found out. Who would have made the connections and how would they have done it? The demand that Skye made, to stay and remain at home, had been made for his own safety and the safety of those around him. He knew that, but his concern for his lover created a powerful and convincing reason to go against Skye’s order. He decided he would wait at least for a few hours. He could do that. The need to protect his fiancée, his heart, his purpose for being soon began to overwhelm him. He felt the surges of growth again beginning to course through him. Waves of orgasmic energy began to mount inside of his chest and radiate outward. He knew that once again, he would grow. He was only sad that Skye wouldn’t be able to see it. He already missed the touch of his angelic creator and protector. His powerful mind was telling him to grow to be able to protect his man. The concern and worry was being replaced by the beginning touches of rage and he was quickly discovering that intense emotions created a triggering environment. He could feel it coming in waves. But this time, somehow, it was different. It was as if he could manipulate the sensation. His mind could control the growth, yes, just as before. But now, he felt like he could sense the viral particles latching on to his cells. His immune system, as robust as the man himself, could approach and destroy the viruses at his command. This would give him exceptional control over how much he grew, where, and when. He was manipulating his growth potential. Somehow, he knew that Skye knew that this would happen. How could he not know? He was brilliant beyond measure. He sat on the bed with his head in his hands, breathing deeply, slowly, forcing his emotions to subside. He wanted nothing more than to embrace the power he could feel pulsing through his body. He wanted to open the gates and lose control, to grow, to become a fucking monster! But he would wait. If those men touched one hair on Skye’s head in a disrespectful way, they would be destroyed. He could feel Skye. The feeling was faint, but Will knew that he was ok. That was all he could tell and it was enough for the moment. However, he was on edge. “FUCK! He started pounding his fist into his open hand. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He decided to walk into the living room and lay on the couch. He often did that if he needed to think. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep his anger in check. Thick ropes of panic were rising again in his chest and his supercharged mind was struggling to keep his concern and worry from triggering an explosion of outrage. A few miles away, Skye was being taken out of the squad car and ushered into the police station. Paperwork was being filed and after a few short minutes, he was being ushered into another car and being taken to the jail…the same jail that Will had been in that very morning. The handcuffs were starting to wear into his wrists. He could feel Will’s angst. The man had barricaded his emotional outburst in order to prevent a tirade of anger and retribution. For the moment, Skye staying calm was all that prevented the beast from exploding in size, power, and strength. He knew innately that Will wanted more than anything to defend his fiancée and would react in extreme fashion if he sensed Skye was at risk. They both struggled to remain calm. Arriving at the jail, Skye knew that he would be immediately allowed a phone call. Since Will had hopefully alerted their attorney, he would of course call home. He needed to calm Will down, to attempt to diffuse any unforeseen problems and he knew for certain that Will was worried sick. After the intake process, Skye was escorted to a phone on the side of the wall in the hallway and given a code to call outside of the jail. He dialed the outside extension number, then his own mobile number. It began ringing. Will jumped up from the couch, the wood frame cracking underneath his enormous round ass. The couch was not built to handle several hundred pounds in the space of a couple of square feet. He moved quickly into the bedroom and picked up Skye’s phone. “Hello? Skye?” His voice was desperate and pressured. “I’m OK, Big Man. I’m OK. They brought me to the jail. I thought I had seen enough of this place, but I guess it will be at least an overnight stay. We can post my bail tomorrow morning. How are you?” “I’m fucking mad as hell, Skye. I can barely control it. I feel like a 2 liter soda bottle that has been shaken for 5 minutes. I am ready to blow. I want to GROW. I need to GROW, Skye. I can’t contain it much longer. It’s taking every ounce of concentration I have to keep myself under control. I’m going to fucking LOSE IT!” “You’re doing a great job, Big Man.” “They took you away. They took you away and fucked up our plans. Have they hurt you? They all better be on their best fucking behavior. If I even sense that you are upset, I will rip that fucking place DOWN in five minutes.” “No one has hurt me, Will.” “You tell them that you are with me. Everyone knows who I am in there and they will leave you alone. They KNOW what I will do to them if a single scratch is on your body tomorrow. They fucking KNOW!” Skye felt himself becoming strangely aroused. His well-endowed cock began hardening in his pants. There was a certain corrupting power that he felt, knowing that he could, with one sentence, send Will into a state of complete insanity and unleash a truly terrifying beast onto the world. Part of him wanted that. He wanted to see the full measure of Will’s transformation being unleashed. Knowing that Will would do whatever he asked was a huge fucking turn-on. He knew all he had to do was tell Will to embrace his mega-alpha status, embrace his rage, embrace his need to dominate. It would only take that much effort and Will would transform into a muscle god of domination, inciting fear and submission from every person he encountered. Skye was getting completely hard at the though. But he wanted to be a part of that transformation. He wanted to orchestrate it. “Will, my Big Man, I am not small anymore. I am a big muscleman myself at this point, remember. I will be alright.” “Well, you tell them anyway Skye, just so there is no question. Will you please tell them? OH…and watch out for a kid named Jesse—he is a squirrely looking young guy. He was obsessed with me and I embarrassed him. He’s dangerous. Just stay away from him.” “I’ve got to go, Will. I have some sleep medication in the cabinet in the bathroom. After dinner, take two pills. It will help you sleep and get some good rest. I will call in the morning and let you know what time to bring the Jeep.” Skye paused and started chuckling. “I don’t know how you are going to fit in it though after that last little spurt in the apartment. You are so fucking hot. I can’t wait to fuck you again. And next time, I want you to fuck me too.” “Damn right. We're gonna stay in bed for days.” There was silence on the line for a few seconds. They both knew that this was just a little snag in the plan and that tomorrow they would be back together after bail had been set and posted. “I love you, Skye.” Will breathed it quietly. “Same here, you big sexy gorilla.” He had a smile in his voice and knew that they could get past this and move on with their lives soon. The phone went dead and Skye was escorted down the hallway and into the main area of the jail. Most of the inmates were staring at him. They were not used to seeing such an attractive well-built man. Skye was tall and thick with powerful muscles. His eyes were bright as gemstones and his blonde hair and clear skin made him look more like an ancient statue of manliness than someone being put into jail. He walked with an air about him. Confident. Secure. One of the guards, the one that had walked him to his meeting with Will in the visitation room a couple of weeks prior, recognized him. “Sir? What are you doing here?” “I was arrested for falsifying evidence in Will’s arrest. It won’t stick. I’ll be out tomorrow. Good to see you.” “Good to see you too, sir. If there is anything you need, just let me know. I’ll be here for a few more hours today.” “Thank you. I won’t forget your offer to help.” Skye kept walking and ended up in a cell at the back corner of the pod. The door was open and no one was inside, although it was obvious that at least one other person was in that 4 bed cell. “Get your bearings and I will escort you outside to the yard. Most of the guys are out there playing ball or lifting…or just getting some sun,” the guard motioned at him with his head. “So you are Will’s fiancée? That guys is one big scary fucker. I’ve never seen anything like him. I know that the other guard mentioned that if you need anything, you could go to him. Same thing here. If you need something, let me know. I want to stay on your boyfriend’s good side.” “Thanks. I think I can take care of myself though. I’d prefer if the guys didn’t know I was Will’s boyfriend. It may cause too much attention. I’d like to just spend the night here and leave in the morning with no incident.” “Yes, sir. I understand.” They walked out to the yard. “There you go. Free time started just a few minutes ago, so you’ll have about an hour to get some exercise.” Skye walked over to the weight cage. Massive men, bigger than himself, thrust the weights around on heavy bars. Dumbbells were strewn about and were being used to pump up the muscular men. Skye knew that every single one of them must know Will. He had mentioned the weight cage and how nothing in there seemed heavy. Skye walked over to an open bench and began to load on 45s. He pulled off his shirt and his beautiful hard tanned muscles met the daylight. He was gorgeous and he knew it. “Hey Goldilocks. You new here?” A large man approached Skye with an angry look on his face. “You don’t lift unless we say you can lift. Doesn’t matter how big and pretty you are. Got it?” “I understand what you are saying, but I think I’m going to go ahead and have a good workout. Thanks for your concern.” Skye lay down on the bench, raised his calloused hands up to the bar. Another couple of the big men had walked over when they saw the newbie defy their brother. “Who the fuck do you think you are, pretty boy?” The first man was apoplectic. “Get off the fucking bench man. You’re gonna get your ass beat.” One of the others that had gathered around smirked. “I wouldn’t mind fucking up that face of yours before I fuck you in the ass. If I punch enough of your teeth out, you wont bite when you suck my cock.” Skye lifted the bar off of the rack. He wasn’t going to be intimidated. He pushed out one rep easily and smoothly as a warm up. He started lowering the bar back to his chest when one of the men wrapped his meaty hand around the bar and pushed it down toward Skye’s chest. “Are you fucking stupid? You’re gonna get yourself killed in here, you little bitch.” The man snarled. A few more men were gathering around the group. The tension in the yard was quickly escalating. Skye remained calm. Although he knew Will would rip the limbs off of every single one of these men for trying to intimidate him, he could handle himself. He was made of stronger stuff than he appeared. “I just want to get my lifting in, man. I don’t want any trouble.” “Well, trouble wants you, you fucking prick. Why don’t you stand up and say something smart to my face!” The man was angry--fists clenched and wild-eyed. The group of men was starting to whoop and holler. They could see an ass-kicking coming any moment and they were getting excited. Although Skye was at least as big as the hardened man, he was also much younger, and much less menacing. Skye’s body had been made in a gym. He was strong, but not street savvy and didn’t have the hard mean look of the other men who had gathered around. Skye knew he was about to get the shit knocked out of him, but he didn’t care. He wanted to feel that feeling. He wanted to know what it felt like to get pummeled. It was sick and sadistic, but he had never been in a fight and the way he was growing now—and with a titan of a boyfriend to keep others at bay—he didn’t know if he would ever get the chance again. It was almost like a rite of manhood…to be in a fight. This was as good of a place as any. Sitting up on the bench, he swung his leg around and stood up. Adrenalin was pumping through his veins. He was not going to back down. He appeared to remain calm. First, so that the man and his cronies would know that he wasn’t afraid. And second, so that Will wouldn’t feel his emotions changing too much. He wanted to do this on his own. “I would like to get a good workout in and I don’t think that is too much to ask. Do you?” The larger man put his face an inch away from Skye’s. Skye could feel his warm breath hitting him. He stared into Skye’s eyes and didn’t blink. Neither did Skye. A quizzical look passed over the brute’s countenance, like he didn’t understand why Skye was so calm. Then without warning, stepped back, drew back his arm and shoulder, clenched his fist, and connected with Skye’s face. A loud smack of two pieces of meat slamming into each other was heard by everyone within 20 feet. Blood started pouring from Skye’s nose and a smile crossed his face. God, it felt good to feel that pain. It was something new—a new experience. One of the guards, the guard from the hallway, walked over and yelled at the inmates to disperse. Fighting through the crowd, he saw who the big ruffian had punched. “Oh, shit.” He said under his breath. The huge inmate was breathing heavy and looked like he was about to send a gut punch into Skye’s well developed abs. “Hey, Matt. Matt!” The inmate looked at the guard with intensity. The guard stepped over to the man and whispered something in his ear, quickly. Matt looked as though the wind had been completely taken out of his sails. Blood drained from his face. Skye had his eyes closed, waiting for the next punch. He wanted to feel that exquisite pain again. He didn’t know how long it would be until a single man couldn’t physically hurt him. Muscle was growing thicker every day on his body. Already, the pain was blunted and he knew that. So he stood there, waiting, blood pouring from his nose and a distinct mark on his cheek. “Oh my god. I’m a dead man.” The massive brute whispered under his breath. He had fear in his eyes—the fear that comes from accepting a horrible fate. Will would kill him and he knew it. All the guard had whispered was, “The man you just hit is Will’s boyfriend. This is fucking SKYE, man!” Big Matt just stood there, deflated. “Hit me again, you fucking ape. Hit ME!” Matt just shook his head. Skye opened his eyes. The men who had gathered around began to whisper amongst themselves, staring at Skye like he was a zoo animal. “You’re Skye? Will is your man?” Big Matt asked carefully. Skye knew that the game was up. No one would touch him now. He was a little disappointed. “Yes.” “Let the man work out, boys. Clear out!” Matt bellowed at the other men. The others left the weight cage. Only Skye and Big Matt were left. Skye still had blood draining from his nose. The front of his jail jumpsuit was stained with large blotches of crimson. He still had a smile on his face. “I’m sorry for punching you, sir. I didn’t know who you were.” It was obvious that the man was afraid now. “I’m sorry.” Skye was impressed by the hold Will had developed over these men. He had instilled a fear into them that was unquestionable. “I’ll leave you to your workout.” “Hey, Matt. I wont tell Will it was you.” The man just shot a smile at Skye and walked away leaving him alone in the weight area. Skye began loading another couple of plates on the bar. Without warning, a thin blonde guy walked in with a demonic smile painted on his face. “Hey. You’re Skye?” “Yes. I am.” He had begun to lower the bar toward his chest. He looked back at the younger man. Shit. This must be Jesse. “Damn man. I can see why Will can’t get enough of you. You are fuckin hot. I didn’t get it before, but I do now. Look at that ass…and the rest of you ain’t bad either.” “Uhhhh…thanks.” Across town, Will had just eaten a huge dinner. Skye had stocked the fridge in preparation of Will’s homecoming. He was still feeling on edge, but knowing that Skye would be home tomorrow made it bearable. He just wanted to sleep and put an end to the day. It was early, only about 7PM, but if he fell asleep soon, he would wake up and it would be time to go get his man. That time couldn’t come quick enough. He walked to the medicine cupboard and found Skye’s sleeping meds…Skye had always struggled with insomnia. Will took two pills out and popped them in his mouth, swallowed, and jumped in the shower. He knew he would be knocked out in a half hour. Crawling into bed, he felt out to Skye and nothing had really changed. He was there, nervous, but OK. Minutes later, he fell soundly asleep. Skye had just ended his workout before dinnertime. He went into his cell to put on a new set of clothing. “Hey. I’m Skye.” The beautiful one extended his hand to his cellmate for the night. “I’m John. I know who you are.” John was a big fuckin piece of meat. Ugly as sin and built like a tank. “Will was my cellmate until this morning when they moved me down here.” “Well, nice to meet you John.” “You too man. You too. You going to get some dinner now?” Skye nodded and took his t-shirt off. It had become sweaty as he worked out and some of the blood had seeped into it from his earlier altercation. His nose had long stopped bleeding but his face needed to be cleaned up a bit. Dried blood caked his nostrils and there were dark smears where he had tried to rub the sticky red fluid from his face. “Let me get you a wet towel, Skye. Let’s clean that face up.” John turned toward the sink and grabbed a small hand towel, soaked it under the faucet, and returned to Skye. “Will was a crazy fuck. I though he was going to kill me a few times. But I learned to respect his boundaries.” He paused for a moment. “Do you know that he wouldn’t allow anyone to talk about you? He completely idolizes you. People knew your name. They knew that Will would fuck ‘em up real good if they said anything about you. I’ve never seen anyone like Will. He just kept growing and getting taller and more massive. Harder. Stronger.” John’s voice had a thread of lust in it. “Did you like his huge muscles, John?” Skye knew that this was a dangerous line of questioning, but was curious about John. He seemed like an alright guy—helping him get cleaned up and all. “I guess so. Will was just so unapologetically manly. No one would dare go against him. He just had this presence. Kind of like you do…but you are more refined. I can tell.” John held out the damp cloth. “I can clean this for you.” He was offering his services to Skye, but Skye didn’t know if it was because he was trying to stay on Will’s good side or if he was flirting. “You gay, John?” Neither said a word for what seemed like five minutes. It was likely only thirty seconds. John looked at the floor. Skye kept his eyes on him. “I don’t think so. I kinda like both. Women are beautiful and I love playing with their tits. But a big muscular guy like you…or Will…is just so hot. Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” “It’s OK man. Thanks for being honest.” He took the towel from John’s outstretched hand and began to clean his face. “Let’s go get some dinner.” “Sounds good. Hey, Skye—don’t tell anyone.” “It’s cool man. No worries.” “And, be careful of this guy named Jesse. He’s young, but his dad has some connections in town. I know he wants to fuck with Will since he had a crush on him and Will completely annihilated him in front of everyone in here a couple of days ago. He’s been planning something man. I don’t like it. You seem like a good guy, so I’m just sayin’ watch out.” All of a sudden, things made sense. Jesse was the reason he was in here. Jesse wanted him in jail with him, even for a few hours. His pulse started to race. What was this little fucking asshole up to? John and Skye walked down the hallway into the mess hall. The scent was clinical—like bleach and men. A strange combination. They took a place in line and Skye kept looking around. If Jesse wanted him in jail, he had to have known that it wouldn’t be for very long. Whatever he was going to do, he would do quickly. The question now was “when?” As soon as Skye got in line, the other inmates ushered him forward. John stood back where they had come in at the back, but when someone in front of Skye saw him (they all knew who he was now), they asked him if he would like to go ahead. “No. It’s alright. I can wait my turn.” But they were insistent. What kind of power did Will have over these men? Fuck. They were parting like the waters of the Red Sea. He saw Jesse sitting at a table about halfway across the room at a table by himself. He was just staring at Skye with dead eyes. Almost like he was looking past him--through him. Something in his mind made him think of a snake that was about to strike. He was calculating, thinking, manipulating. Skye went to an open table on the far side of the room. It was empty. Within minutes, other inmates who had been sitting at other tables started getting up with their food trays and walking over to Skye’s table. They placed some portion of their food next to Skye. Apples, little milk cartons, extra bread…a pile of food was being stacked around him. Some of the men, especially the huge tattooed behemoths sat at the table surrounding Skye. None of them spoke. They were just there, Skye thought to show their respect for Will. John finally joined his cellmate and sat in the seat directly across from Skye. “What is with the guys bringing me food, John?” “It is something that they did for Will. The tried to keep him calm, keep on his good side, by bringing him food. There isn’t much we can do in here to show our loyalties. Food is one of those things. They are trying to tell you that they are loyal to you.” “Fuck man. What did Will do in here to cause this kind of devotion?” “He did a lot of things…just naturally. He’s the biggest alpha I’ve ever seen. You see that doorway over there? Well, a huge solid steel door hung there only a few days ago. Jesse made some comment about you one day and Will went over there and ripped the thing off of its guide rail. He crumpled it up like it was tissue paper. When he first got here, he lifted an entire universal bar loaded with plates with one arm. He was not fucking around man. He never asked for respect or tribute, but these guys fell in line. Even the guards. They are showing you the same respect.” Skye looked at Jesse again. He was only a couple of tables away. Jesse was red in the face. He looked frustrated, angry, betrayed. Skye finished the food on his tray. He then started eating the items that the other inmates had given to him, not wanting to be rude. It was a gesture and he knew it. There was no way he could eat nearly as much as Will. After he was done, he stood up and walked toward his room. Every eye was on him. Entering his cell he lay down on the bed, hoping to relax and have his thoughts to himself for a while. He now knew that Jesse had somehow set him up. That was the most likely scenario. Fuck Jesse. John joined him after a few minutes. He climbed up to his top bunk and remained quiet. “Hey John, I think I am going to fall asleep a bit early tonight. Is that OK with you?” “You don’t have to ask permission of me for anything. You do what you want and I will adjust.” “Thanks.” A few minutes later, Skye had fallen asleep. It was still early evening. A strong hand shook his shoulder. “Excuse me, sir. But the sheriff would like to see you downstairs.” It was the guard from the hallway and from the yard. “OK.” He was groggy, not thinking clearly. Entering the sheriff’s office in the jail, the man shook his hand politely. “Skye, you have only been here a couple of hours, but it looks like you were mistakenly taken into custody. The evidence against you has been deemed prejudicial. You are free to go if you’d like or since it is late now, you can stay for the evening and go home in the morning.” “I’d like to call Will to come and pick me up, sir.” “Sounds good.” The sheriff pushed the desk phone toward Skye and he dialed the number. It rang and rang. Will was sound asleep in a drug-induced dreamland. The phone would not be waking him up. It rang and rang. “I guess he is asleep or busy. I don’t mind sleeping here until the morning, sir. I’ll call back then. Thank you for telling me though. I appreciate it.” Skye returned to his cell. John wasn’t there. “He must be out in the common area,” Skye thought. The men would not be told to go back into their cells for another hour or so. He crawled back onto the bed and fell asleep, knowing that he was a free man and would be reunited with his fiancée in just a few hours. A few cells down, Jesse was busy seducing John. He knew the guy was a fag too. “I wanna suck your cock, John. I’ll make you feel so fucking good man. I’ll make you shoot a gallon of your spunk…and I will swallow every last drop. Fuck my face man. Fuck it!” John was weak. He hadn’t had his cock sucked in weeks and the young thing, Jesse, was begging for his cock. He didn’t like Jesse much, but a warm mouth is better than a cold hand. When Jesse was done sucking him off, he pushed John onto the bed and wrapped his arms around him, soothing him, making him fall asleep—that wonderful post-orgasm sleep. As soon as he heard the snoring start, he carefully untangled himself and made his way to Skye’s cell. He didn’t have much time. The guards would soon be making their rounds telling the inmates to return to their cells for the evening. He had maybe twenty minutes…but you can do a lot of damage in twenty minutes. Just a moment later, he entered Skye’s cell. He was on the bed, sound asleep with a smile on his face. “Fuck this asshole and fuck Will,” he breathed quietly. “FUCK!” Skye felt a sharp pain searing into his shoulder. He tried to sit up in bed but something was tying him down around his neck. He couldn’t shout or cry for help. It felt as if he were being strangled. “You ruined my life, you fucking queer. Will wanted me, but you got in the way.” He could feel Jesse’s mouth talking angrily into his left ear. He couldn’t breath unless he lay still. The pain in his shoulder was beginning to burn and feel warm. He struggled to groan or make any noise at all. “You need to get out of my way. After you are gone, Will is mine! I hope this hurts, you fucking prick. You’ll never see your precious Will again. Sayonara, fucker.” Skye felt another shot of pain. This time in his right arm. He was being stabbed. He was being stabbed! Something was tied around his neck—a piece of cloth maybe. It prevented him from raising his head or yelling out. He was completely restrained, and he knew he was bleeding extensively. He felt the warmth of blood coating his skin. He reached out to Will. Forcing himself against that sensory perception that they shared now. He encountered a wall. Will must be asleep. He couldn’t feel anything from him. He was bleeding and couldn’t breathe. He would not die here at the hands of some entitled well-connected weasel. The thoughts started to come apart, less coherent, less focused. He was losing consciousness. “FUCK YOU, Skye. The last thing I want you to know is that I…I will be fucking your precious boyfriend all too soon. He will need some comfort after you are gone and I am getting out of here soon. I’m going to take your man and make him mine. So fuck you!” At that moment, John walked into the cell. “OH FUCK, Jesse. What did you do? Guards…GUARDS!!!” ============================================================================================ Will woke up with the sun. He had slept so well and felt that morning fog that settles in after taking sleeping pills. He extended his legs and arms. It took him a moment to realize that he was home, in their big bed. He reached over to grab the warmth of Skye and his eyes shot open. He remembered. Skye was in jail. He extended his mind to Skye. “No, no, no, no!” A feeling of panic settled into him. Skye was in great pain. He felt it. He reached out to the pain, stroking it, trying to calm it and take it away. He felt its sharpness and fear. Skye was afraid. He was in immense pain. The fog of the medication wearing off clouded him though. It blunted his reaction. Was he still dreaming? He took a moment and gathered his emotions. “Is this a dream?” Again, he extended his mind to touch Skye’s. Once again…pain, fear. He picked up Skye’s phone next to the bed. His heart was beginning to pound. He could feel something happening inside of him. Something dark and brooding, like a massive thunderstorm just on the horizon. He say that a couple of calls had come in. “Hey Will. I know you are probably asleep. I did tell you to take a couple of my sleeping meds. They are letting me out now, officially, but since I can’t ahold of you, I am going to stay here tonight. Call the jail when you get this and we can set something up. I love you and miss you. I hope you are feeling ok and haven’t hulked out on my already! See you tomorrow morning. Love you.” Next message. “This message is for Will. This is Bellingham General Hospital. We have your partner, Skye, in our emergency department. Please call us immediately.” Next message. “This message is for Will. This is Bellingham General Hospital. Please call us as soon as you are able.” Floods of adrenalin flooded Will’s system. He was on the brink of losing control of his mind and consequently, his body. His hands were trembling as he tried to return the call to the hospital. His fingers were too big and he was shaking to much to hit the right buttons on the screen. “FUCK!” he bellowed. He tried again. He couldn’t hit the button on the phone. He was shaking, trembling. Once more… “This is Bellingham General Hospital. How can I help you?” “I received messages this morning about my partner, Skye Collins. I need to speak with someone about him. NOW!” “Sir, I will connect you as soon as I can.” The voice on the other side of the line was annoyed. Probably some punk-ass new high school grad that had no idea what she was speaking with on the other end of the line. “This is nurses’ station, fifth floor.” “I am Skye Collins’ partner. I received two calls about him asking me to call. Is he OK?” There was complete heartbreak in Will’s voice. “Who is it that I am speaking with?” “My name is Will. I am Skye’s partner. PLEASE, I am begging you. Tell me how he is!” “Let me connect you with his nurse.” Will tried to interrupt and get at least basic information. “Hi, this is Julie.” “TELL ME HOW SKYE IS! WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM?” Will had enough. He was yelling into the phone. The voice on the other end of the line could sense that whomever she was speaking to was terrified and very upset. “Skye is doing well. We had to give him blood. He lost a lot of it last night, but he will be ok. He should be waking up soon. You should come. Are you Will?” “Yes.” Will was feeling the pains of growth shooting through his body. He didn’t have the willpower or internal controls to suppress them any more. He felt like a volcano ready to spew destruction on everything around him. He was the pressure cooker. He would bring down fire and brimstone. “He kept mumbling your name all through the night. It is obvious that you need to be here when he wakes up if you can.” “I’m coming. Thank you.” Will put on some clothes that Skye had bought in anticipation of his return. They were obscenely tight around every aspect of his body. He didn’t have a choice. He rushed to the jeep and tried to get in. The seat wouldn’t go back enough. “Shit! This just keeps getting better.” He wrapped his hands around the seat and ripped it out of the Jeep, tossing it on the sidewalk. He crawled in. His mass filled 80% of the space. Hard quivering muscles bloated by concern and fear pulsed with anger and worry. A few minutes later, he arrived at the hospital. Pulling into the Emergency Room bay, he jumped out, leaving the Jeep running. “Hey man, you can’t park here!” a hospital worker yelled. He picked up the front end of the Jeep and threw it 30 yards into the parking area. “That good enough for you, dumb fuck?” and ran into the open doors of the hospital. A few minutes later, he found Skye’s room. His presence running down the hallway startled anyone who saw him. Walking into the elevator, he looked at the weight limit posted above the floor buttons. He was close to maximum weight the elevator would lift, but still under by a bit. Enormous and massive, his muscular bulk made its way to the fifth floor. “Julie. I need to find Julie!” He found the nurses’ station. “I need JULIE!” Will’s voice was raised and anxious. He was towering over the small human at the desk. “I’m Julie.” The woman’s voice trembled. “I’m Will. Where the FUCK is Skye and what happened?” Julie, the poor thing, held her hands up, in an effort to calm Will down. “He is just waking up, Will. I can take you too him.” The little woman scampered down another hallway, paused and opened a door. The room was dark. “He’s in here, Will. Please be careful. We have him hooked up to some monitors so he has wires that need to stay in place.” Julie backed out of the room, closing the door behind her. “Skye, can you hear me, sweet man?” Skye’s eyes fluttered open. Will could see the break in his nose from Matt’s assault, he saw purple marks on his throat from the bedsheet that was strangling him. He saw gauze bandages on his shoulders. “I can.” Skye whispered softly, barely audible over the beeps and clicks of the monitors. “Skye, I am here.” The monster, a hulking mass of rippling power and size leaned his enormous bulk over the bed. Hundreds of pounds of upper body muscle balanced above Skye. Will was concentrating on Skye’s heartbeat again. “Skye, our hearts are beating together again. You are going to be OK. Who did this to you? What happened?” “Jesse. It was Jesse.” A white-hot bolt of anger flashed once again in Will. He felt a release of energy so powerful, he knew that he could not contain it and he didn’t want to try. “Jesse did this to you? JESSE?” He was breathing heavy. Skye sensed the change in him. He knew that Will was about to enter a grey area that exists between sanity and the insane. Will’s heart started beating more quickly and with more purpose. He felt Will’s body and mind begin to let go of the trivialities of modern conveniences of size and comfort. That concept was quickly losing value. “Who the fuck cares if I can’t fit into clothes anymore? If I am that fucking huge, no one will fuck with me anyways.” His fists started to flex again. Will could feel his body tensing and stretching, preparing to enter the next phase of his evolution. “Will. I can feel you ramping up. Before you leave and crush everything in your way… John, your old cell mate, he was kind to me. Matt, the giant muscle man of the weight yard—after he got to know me, he was kind to me. Most of the men gave me extra food at dinner last night out of respect for you. Will, know who your enemy is. The rest would follow you into the jaws of hell.” “Believe me, Skye…they would follow you too. I have to take care of this, sweet man. I have to do this.” “I know. I just wish that I could be there to see it. Will, you are indestructible, but don’t forget that deep down inside of this mega-alpha muscle beast, you are a sweet, kind man who I gave my heart to after a wonderful dinner the night you first talked to me at the university gym. You are still that person. Remember that.” Will smiled at his fiancée, the love of his life, the man he would move heaven and earth to please. He grabbed Skye’s hand into his, bent over and kissed him on the cheek. “I will be back soon.” Skye just looked up and smiled. He knew that Will would never be the same man after this. He knew that as soon as he left the hospital, he would embrace the titan he was destined to become. As he left Skye’s room, he saw Julie. “How stable is he? How much longer will he need to be here?” “He is actually very stable. We would like to watch him today, but he doesn’t really have too much damage other than blood loss. He’ll be good to go home later.” Will turned toward the exit and began to jog. He had some business to settle and he would be taking care of that, NOW! He jumped in the Jeep that he had crudely thrown into the parking area. He was holding on to that feeling of growth, pausing it, delaying it. He wanted to unveil himself at the right moment. Only a few minutes later, he found himself on the outside of the Whatcom county jail. He stared at the building and thought of Skye. Their heartbeats were still in synch. He felt it--knew it--wanted it. The dam finally broke. Skye had given his permission and Will reached out to him again, wanting to know if it was all right to tear down his barricades. He felt a reassuring “yes.” Instantly, he closed his eyes and concentrated, turning the growth switches on in his body. He opened up the floodgates of hormones and genes. He opened up emotional channels of anger and outrage. Jesse would pay now. He would pay dearly for doing what he did. Will walked toward the jail, clenched fists, sweating, moaning loudly like a moose in heat. Pulses of sharp lightning pounded through Will’s veins. His body became electrified. Waves of thick dark energy flowed out from his mind into every recess of his body. He opened himself up to receive the blessing of Skye’s brilliant plan. Uncontrollable twitches and jerks of began assaulting his muscles. He was steps away from the main entrance to the jail and he could barely control himself. He didn’t want to have to suppress it anymore, but he knew he wanted the men inside to see his change, especially Jesse. He wanted that little fuck to piss himself. Back at the hospital, Skye felt his heart begin to race. He began to sweat. The same syrupy darkness was beginning to flow through his veins. He could feel his body healing, repairing itself. The connection between the two men was complete, their bodies were in fact, integrated. Skye didn’t realize how much until that moment. He could feel Will’s rage and anger. Skye was angry too and reflected more of that feeling into Will. The feeling of being strangled, the fear of losing his life, the pain of being stabbed in the shoulders—he sent those feelings to Will. Will could feel Skye’s pain and anger building up as well. His pupils dilated and he growled. The sound was so deep and pregnant with masculinity; it sent vibrations into the ground. His guttural growl was more felt than heard. Skye sat up in bed, his eyes becoming wild. He could feel himself gearing up to grow. He didn’t know how, but Will’s eminent growth was affecting him in the same way. He had to get out of the hospital. He had to get to Will. He tore the IV lines and monitoring leads off of his arms and chest. His breaths were shallow and rapid. He had to get to the jail too. He wanted all of them to see him HUGE. He wanted Will to see him grow, and he wanted to face fuck Jesse until his eyes bugged out of his skull. Payback would be sweet. Will could feel Skye beginning to start the growth process and it slowed him down for a moment. He could feel the orgasmic feeling of Skye’s metamorphosis beginning. His cock started to swell, pulse, dance to their two tandem heartbeats. He knew Skye was coming to be with him and to take his pound of flesh from Jesse. This realization made his cock rip out of his already-too-small pants. The tower of manhood could not be contained. It wanted to fuck something and show its power to all of the peons inside…and most of all, his cock wanted to bury itself in Skye’s huge muscular ass. The thought made precum erupt from his gaping slit. Ounces of sweet slick man nectar gurgled up from somewhere in Will’s groin. Long strings of it were threading to the ground. Will’s eyes rolled back in complete ecstasy. The idea that his sweet, brilliant, angelic muscle-stud was about to become a destroyer pushed his enormous cantaloupe sized balls into overdrive. Through his lustful thoughts, he could feel massive quantities of cum swirling inside of his bull balls. Hundreds of whirlpools of thick sticky white juice churning, massaging the insides of his nuts. They were dropping lower, becoming heavier, as he thought of Skye tearing through the walls to do damage on the inside, right next to him. They had always been two sides of the same coin. Will had been lusty, dark, powerful, and an alpha. Skye, the intellectual, measured, sweetheart. In this moment, as Skye rushed toward the hospital, they both knew that together they would be completely unstoppable. It turned both of them on. They were united in one goal and they both demanded more size, power, and strength. They were pinging each other, the signal for growth increasing in its frequency and amplitude as Skye neared the jail. He was wearing XXXL hospital scrubs and looked like a massive surgeon racing down the sidewalk. It was almost comical, except for the determination on his face. Skye could feel his muscles tightening. They were aching for him to release them from their cage. They wanted to expand and bloom outward, assuring an even more massively beautiful and powerful man. He knew what Will had been feeling now. It was hard to contain his body’s desire to expand, to become more than a man. It was like the feeling of being edged…it felt so fucking good. He was edging his growth. Edging his power and strength. Groans of pleasure began oozing out of his mouth as he ran toward Will. He could see the jail up ahead on the edge of the forest. Almost there. Will had turned away from the building and was running at full speed toward Skye. His arms were beginning to lengthen and he looked much like a devastatingly handsome King Kong, long muscular arms reaching down his muscular thickly corded legs. His legs started lengthening as well as he saw Skye running across the field in front of the jail. Fuck, his cock was pumping precum in massive waves. He couldn’t think straight once he saw his man running toward him. He could feel the tsunami of sexual energy erupting from Skye when their eyes locked and he felt an unquenchable craving for his soon-to-be husband. He wanted to pound Skye’s ass, he wanted Skye to pound his. He wanted to suck the seed right out of Skye’s growing low-hanging balls feeding from the fountain of his POWER. Skye’s man juice tasted like salted honey, and he wanted to drink it until his muscle gut was ready to burst. He would suck Skye’s cock until he dried up and then start sucking harder. Fuck! Everything else seemed insignificant. When they reached each other, Will took Skye into his arms, picking him up off the ground. Both of them began groaning, moaning, deeply from the pit of their beings. Hard raging cocks oozed and both started humping the other’s body. “Holy shit, Will. I can hardly control myself.” “It’s my turn to tell you to let go. LET GO, SKYE! Become what you are destined to become!” Will lowered Skye down to the ground. Their cocks kept pumping, standing alert, and demanding to have release. Skye looked into Will’s crazed eyes and Will stared back. In that instant, Skye’s body started to swell. He didn’t gain much in height, but the tight scrubs he had been wearing popped like a balloon. The sound of every stitch of fabric splitting open at the same time was like a thunderclap in Will’s ears. He was salivating at what he saw happening right in front of him. Skye’s torso and legs lengthened and his shoulders grew outward. Immediately, every cut shredded muscle on his body exploded. In a matter of ten seconds, Skye was twice as massive. His head was surrounded by thick mountains of shredded beef. His pecs blew out in thousands of strands, bunching and rippling as he moved his arms. His abs subdivided; each of them becoming so ripped that they showed the same vertical striation pattern that his pecs did horizontally. Will had never seen anything like it. His forearms blew out until they looked as if they were on the verge of popping through the skin, dozens of sinewy bunches ballooned out as they approached his elbows. The guy was inhuman and Will loved it. Skye was emitting deep moans from his throat. Pure pleasure, pure bliss, pure sex, pure power. Deep, throbbing, heaves of sound reached Will’s ears. His own lust took over. He reached out to Skye’s massive cock, grabbed it with his enormous meaty hand, bent his hulking body over and started sucking. He took Skye’s thick tool down his throat in one gulp and Hoovered him, pulling the thick man-seed out of his balls directly. Skye’s growth was slowing down but his moans became louder, “Yes, Will! Suck my big fucking COCK!” He could feel his balls pull up closer to his body in preparation to launch his honey cream into Will’s waiting throat. Another wave of bliss washed over their bodies. They were completely in synch now, each feeling the god-like pure energy of the other. The intensity was earth shaking. Skye threw back his head and Will gave one more deep suck. The giant god-cock that had been gulped down began to pulse and Will prepared to receive yet more blessings from his creator. He was worshiping at the feet of his deity. Eruptions of cum coursed through Skye’s body. His prostate was pumping hard and furiously causing crashing tides of delirious euphoria to slam into both of their bodies. His cum dump went on for over a minute, a tide of manhood and fuck-seed. Will accepted every drop into his expanding gut. He felt warmth spreading out from his distended belly. Skye opened his eyes and looked down at the man at his knees. He felt heavier. He felt HUGE and he realized that he was about the same size as Will now. Fuck, he felt ALIVE. He felt like the mega-alpha that Will had recently become. It was intoxicating. Will was still greedily sucking on his massive cock, draining every last drop out of his balls. They had already started churning again so they could feed Will even more, next time in the hole between his double-mooned ass. He placed his catcher’s mitt sized hand on the back of Will’s head and stroked his hair. He didn’t know what love was until now. Neither of them did. This was something transcendent. At that moment, Skye looked down. Will was shaking—vibrating. He kept his hand on the back of Will’s head. He could feel something happening inside of Will, something planetary in magnitude and animalistic in sentiment. Will pulled his gaping mouth away from Skye’s still-hard dick and looked up at Skye, his pupils dilating even wider. Another groan burst from his throat in a constant stream becoming louder and more intense. The volume built until it sounded like a constant thunder. His eyes were still locked on Skye’s. Suddenly, the hand that Skye had placed on the top of Will’s head shot up. Will was stretching upward. On his knees he was now at eye level with Skye. The never took their eyes off of each other. Fuck, he was growing to huge proportions. Will’s body was blowing outward in great powerful tides. Dozens of pounds of hard meat packed onto his expanded frame by the second. His pecs became so huge, they were pushing him away from Skye by a couple of feet. His traps were creeping up the side of his thick, veiny neck, growing above his ears. The great slope of them descending until assaulting the beachball sized boulders that capped Will’s shoulders. Skye remembered this moment from a dream he had long before this moment. He remembered the two of them in the field and remembered Will growing to incomprehensible proportions. That dream had come true. It was just as he remembered it. Will stood up. He was now a true titan. Even at Skye’s considerable height of almost seven feet, his eyes only reached to Will’s nipples. But the mass was unbelievable. Will had become nearly as wide as he was tall. His lats spread out like a hang-glider’s wings. He was devastating. Skye reached up and placed his big meaty hand on Will’s pec—over his heart. “It’s about fucking time, Big Man!” Their hearts were still beating together. They didn’t even need to speak anymore. They both just knew what the other was thinking, feeling, wanting, without saying a word. “Let’s go take care of Jesse.” Will spoke and it sounded like thunder or a landslide. It was pure unadulterated masculinity. “Yes, let’s.” The two gigantic beasts moved toward the jail. They moved like a wolf pack of two, scanning the horizon, moving with skill and fluidity. Skye could feel the protective possessive nature of Will moving next to him and he realized that Will did indeed want to kill Jesse. “We can’t kill him Will. If we do, then we are murders and we will never be left alone. As big and powerful as we are, we will get chased and hounded forever.” “I want to rip his heart right out of his little weak body. I want to show it to him as he fades away from this earth! He fucked with the wrong guy when he attacked you.” “Let ME take care of Jesse. I want his punishment to come from me.” Will paused a moment. They were near the front of the building. Skye wanted to take care of Jesse, so he would of course stand back and let Skye handle his revenge. “That doesn’t mean that you can’t destroy everything in that building for your own sport. Just leave the little scrawny piece of shit to me,” Skye said. They walked ahead toward the front entrance, naked, erect, and with a frightening determination in their eyes. They walked right through the plate glass doors, not pausing to open them. Will’s width took the heavy metal frames with him as he walked forward. The sound of bricks and concrete being torn from the walls made a loud deep rumbling sound. The officer at the desk looked on the advancing monsters, his eyes popping open. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Fuck me!” he whispered to himself. Skye shot him a look that made him cower. “Maybe later,” he said with a smirk. “Hey, stop! STOP!” The officer unholstered his weapon and fired two shots, both hitting Will in the shoulder. He wheeled around. It felt like a mosquito bite to him. He looked down and saw the bullets on the floor. They had hit his skin and just fell away. The two moved down the main hallway, Skye in front of Will. Although Skye was massive, Will’s height and width were causing lights to be knocked off of the ceiling and moldings around doors to explode when coming into contact with his shoulders. They passed a door: SECURITY it read on the placard. Skye pushed the thick steel door open and walked inside. Panels of screens and recording devices lines the walls. “Will, you want to play in here for a few minutes? All this shit needs to be smashed.” Will looked at his man like he had just been awarded a prize. “Hell yes!” The brute tore the doorframe off walking in. He started crushing everything in the room easily. Skye just stood in the doorway, with a huge erection, smiling. “It should be free time about now. Let’s go out to the yard, shall we?” Skye looked back at Will. This was going to be fun. They walked through the common area. A few inmates were playing chess on one of the tables in the corner. They looked at the massive mountains walking through the area and both pissed themselves. The guards who Will and Skye both knew turned the corner and the muscled beasts locked eyes with them. “FUCK man. That is Will and Skye. What the fuck happened to them?” “Hey, Hey! What the fuck man?” The guards were yelling at the two titans. “We have a score to settle. Please don’t try to stop us,” Skye said flatly. Will saw the opening to the yard and lowered his shoulder, walking steadily ahead. This time he walked ahead of Skye. Pressing his mass into the wall. The entire concrete structure started to crumble as the ground shook. The men on the yard looked toward the sounds as Will pushed through the thick wall. He kept walking, never changing his pace. The inmates stared at the giants, one looking like a blond haired god, shredded and ripped beyond comprehension, and the other crazed with the mass of a long-haul truck. Several of them pissed themselves immediately and others unzipped their jumpers and took their cocks out to beat themselves off. The two giants looked like a perfect mix of sex and destruction. It was fucking HOT. Skye sauntered up to Big Matt, the man who had punched him in the nose. As he got closer, he looked down at the man cowering beneath him. “Where is Jesse, Matt?” Skye’s voice rumbled. Matt knew he was staring at a god, and he hoped god was feeling magnanimous. “There, in the weight cage.” His mouth dropped as he looked over and saw Will using his insane strength to rip the concrete pylons of the fences out of the ground. Skye knew that Will was feeling destructive—for destruction’s sake—and was still angry about his time in that jail. People were backing away from the two who were now on different sides of the yard. Will was walking around, destroying everything he saw. “Hey Will, I found our friend John over here. John wants to suck your big cock, Will.” Will came bounding over to Skye. John had a look of lust on his face. He was one of those who had pulled his mediocre cock out and started wanking at the site of the two inhuman creatures in their midst. He was salivating. “Now John, do you want to suck my dear Will’s cock? He makes gallons of cum. It’s so sweet. I told you I wouldn’t forget your kindness. I haven’t wanted anyone to suck Will’s cock since we have been together, but I feel like sharing today.” He looked to the fucking god next to him. “You want your cock sucked, honey?” The 9 foot tall mountain nodded his head like a little boy and a dangerous smile spread across his handsome face. John was quaking, but couldn’t believe that he was invited by these monstrosities to play with them. Will fell on his insanely muscular knees and offered his cock to John who then opened his mouth and started to work Will’s gaping cum slit with his tongue. “Now don’t get used to this, John. That is MY man and no one drinks from him twice, except for me.” Will moaned. Being Skye’s muscle whore was turning him on like he wouldn’t have believed. He’s do anything Skye asked, of course, and that he was pimping him out to a guy here was fucking unbelievably amazing. He wanted to be Skye’s monster slut, if only this once. John opened his mouth wide to take in Will’s enormous throbbing head. He put both hands around the thick long shaft. Will’s manhood was over two feet long, so he had a lot of room to play with. Thick viscous clear precum flooded John’s hands and he started lapping it off of Will’s tumescence. Skye just patted John on the head, like a little puppy who was pleasing its owner. “Be sure to make my man happy, John.” He smiled down at him and walked toward Jesse. Jesse had been watching the events playing out in the yard and knew that he couldn’t hide. “What the fuck are those things?” He was turned on and he was terrified. As they got closer, he realized that the larger creature was Will. It was WILL! And the most beautiful one was Skye. “OH, FUCK!” He started perspiring. He was dead now. He knew it with certainty. Will was being sucked off by that big gorilla, John. Pangs of jealousy sprouted up in his mind. That should be HIM sucking off Will. “Fuck that John guy. Fuck Skye.” “Jesse!” Skye roared as he got closer. “You tried to kill me last night you mother fucker. I am here to get payback! YOUR ASS IS MINE.” Skye was angry. He was rarely angry, but the ant in front of him had tried to kill him in bed the night before. He walked up to Jesse and bent down and grabbed him by the collar of his jumpsuit. “You wanna say anything before I get started?” “What are you going to do to me?” Jesse was trembling. He saw his life flash before him. “I’m going to make you mine! I am going to fuck you, Jesse. And then I am going to leave you. You want me to fuck you?” The thin man nodded, yes. He did want to be fucked by Skye. He was gorgeous. “You better open that hole up wide. I am going to wreck you for every other man in your life. You will always think of me… and what you did to me. Letting you live, your hole aching for my big fuck-tool will be more punishment than I can imagine. You will never see Will or myself again, but we will haunt your mind. You wont forget this moment, and it will make you crazy with lust for the rest of your life. You will suffer knowing that you had a god cock living inside of you for a moment and it will tear you apart knowing it will never happen again. You may think you are getting off easily here, but let me tell you Jesse, you will be tormented by this forever because you will NEVER have it again.” Jesse was staring wide-eyed at Skye’s cock. It was dripping lube onto the ground in long thick strings. He wanted to taste it and approached to touch Skye’s hard throbbing meat. “NO! You turn around and bend over you piece of shit. You still want this cock to destroy your insides, Jesse? Maybe having the CHANCE to get fucked by this and not taking it would be a better punishment. What do you say?” Jesse could hardly think straight. He was so overcome with lust, his mouth was salivating, and his hole was loosening in preparation to get fucked by the largest cock he had ever seen. “I want you to fuck me! FUCK ME!” He turned around and bent over the table. Skye took his leaking cockhead and rubbed it against Jesse’s tight hole and pushed in. No waiting, no loosening. Jesse yelled out in pain. Will’s eyes snapped open and looked over to see what was happening…he could only feel anger coming from Skye. He realized that Skye was going to fuck Jesse and he thought “Brilliant move Skye. Fuck that piece of dirt so hard, he never forgets what he did to you.” Jesse’s ass was being drilled. Skye was merciless. He knew he could probably kill the guy if he used more than a small part of his strength. He fucked Jesse harder. Muffled moans erupted every few seconds from Jesse’s mouth. It hurt. It felt amazing. He would never be satisfied like this again. His hole would always need more than any man could ever give him. It would be torture for the rest of his life and he now knew it. Skye felt Will about to cum. “Will, let me drink your cum!” Bellowed Skye from across the yard. John detached his mouth and hands from Will’s enormous appendage and Will ran toward his lover. Skye kept pounding little Jesse’s wrecked ass and bend slightly over so he could suck Will off to completion at the same time. He wanted to taste Will, and he had to be sure that John didn’t swallow any of the engineered virus. He clamped his thick soft lips around Will’s swollen cock and took him into his warm mouth cave. Will lasted all of five seconds. Volleys of cum rushed out of Will’s melon-sized balls and into Skye’s hungry mouth. The giant tossed back his head and yelled. It felt so fucking good. So FUCKING GOOD! Skye pumped a couple of more times into Jesse and felt that he was about to cum as well. Will’s orgasm had flipped Skye’s own switch, the waves of pleasure ripping through Will’s mind spread out to his partner. He pulled out of Jesse, leaving a gaping open hole, quivering, begging for more. The cool air of outside licked the insides of Jesse as it rushed in after Skye removed himself. Jesse had never felt so empty. “If I can’t feel that again, maybe I wish I were dead,” he thought to himself. Will cleaned off Skye’s fuck-stick with spit and his hand. He polished Skye’s knob and Skye shuttered. Kneeling again on his knees, Will took Skye once again into his mouth. He wanted that sweet caramel-y nectar to flood his stomach. “You ready to grow again Will? You ready to get bigger, my Big Man?” The orgasm once again exploded vast quantities of jism out of Skye and into Will’s waiting stomach. “Fuck, ya. Take it all in Will. You’re gonna keep growing until we tell your body to stop. Drink up.” Skye had planned that Will would continue to grow until they both were injected with an immunoglobulin that Skye had engineered to halt the viral infection that was causing their growth. With the viruses incapacitated, they could chose how big, strong, and powerful they would each become. That time would come, but it wouldn’t be now. There was still a lot of growing to do. They looked around the jail yard. It looked like dozens of men had been involved in a massive circle-jerk. Cum was everywhere. Men were still jerking off at the site of Will and Skye’s conquest of two inmates and the incredibly hot visual of Will sucking off Skye. The entire place smelled of fresh air, cum, and manhood. It was perfect. The two beasts walked toward the large opening that Will had made to get to the yard. They walked, hand in hand, down the corridor to get back outside, Skye walking ahead when the hallway narrowed. They reached the front entrance where the entire entryway had been destroyed. They could hear sirens in the distance, no doubt making their way to the jail. The guard that had offered to help Skye the day before rushed up behind them. “Hey Will, Skye. We lost our CCT feed so nothing you’ve done here was recorded. I don’t know how that happened." Skye smiled. “I wanted to give this to you. It’s my cousin's phone number. He and his boyfriend are, ummmm...different…like you two. Something happened to him not very long ago—kind of the same thing I guess. They are both fucking huge. Almost as big as you. He lives a few hours away on his family farm with his boyfriend. I think that they could help you or at least give you a place to stay while you figure things out.” The guard extended a sheet of paper out to them. Skye took it and looked down. Written in blue ink it simply said: Cliff and Shane: (509) 555-1212 =================================================================================================== * for those of you who have not read the my first story, the reference to Cliff and Shane will be missed, but believe me, it is an important reference for the future :-) I put a link here to that story below. https://muscle-growth.org/topic/4889-shane-complete-pts-1-3/

* FINALLY FINISHED * "Ah, so you're JP's big brother," Andrew realized, once he heard the caller's name. "It's good to meet you man: verbally at least." "It's good to meet you too Andrew," Ryan replied, fully aware that his former coach could hear them. He didn't give voice to his thoughts: I don't want to be known as JP's brother; I'm my own man! "Once Tyler told me all about you, I looked you up on that new YouTube site and saw all your videos. You're an awesome football player man, and you'll have no trouble getting a full ride to any school you want!" "Thanks man," Andrew said, pleased that Ryan had told him how he had found out all about him. "I'm glad to have one fan at least." "Much more than just one, considering all the views your videos got," Ryan assured him sincerely. "That's part of the reason my college coach wanted me to call Coach Palmer and arrange this phone call. My coach told me to tell you that he's going to arrange an Unofficial Recruiting Visit down here for you the next time you're in Virginia." "That's very flattering man; thank him for me," Andrew said. "I'll have to give you the contact information for my high school football coach back in Orillia. He can coordinate with your college football coach to arrange everything for the visit." "It wasn't just your online videos that put you on his radar Andrew," Ryan informed him. "He also took note of your impressive performance at the football camps you attended this spring." "Well I'm glad I wasn't easy to miss," Andrew said seriously. "After all, I was among dozens of other high school football players at those camps, and I think I was the only Canadian there." "You're impossible to miss Andrew," Ryan assured him . "My coach told me that when he saw you in March, you weighed 275 pounds and stood 6 foot 7 inches tall." "Those were my old stats," Andrew said with a cocky smirk. He noticed Coach Palmer edging away to give him some privacy and added, "I'm bigger now." "How much do you weigh now Andrew?" Ryan asked him, sounding a little nervous. "305 pounds of solid muscle," Andrew replied, having detected a hint of fear in Ryan's voice. "It was a great day when I reached the average weight of an NFL lineman." "That's awesome man; I'm really happy for you," Ryan said sincerely. "Coach Palmer's no longer in hearing range Ryan; tell me how you really feel," Andrew said, just to test him. "I have been man," Ryan said seriously, hearing the slight hint of menace in Andrew's voice. I'm going to have to watch myself with him, he thought to himself. He sounds like he's just as smart as my little brother! "My coach told me that your performance at the spring football camps led to you getting offers for Unofficial Recruiting Visits throughout the Midwest." "Starting with Ohio State tomorrow," Andrew said, deliberately dropping the name of JP's hopeful college. "When do I get to meet you in person Ryan?" "You'll have to wait until your Unofficial Recruiting Visit at Virginia Tech," Ryan replied. "My coach asked me if I would be willing to be your campus guide, and I'd be glad to do it." "Thanks man," Andrew said gratefully, getting the feeling that Ryan was a really great guy under his cocky jock exterior. "You know, I just thought of a way we can see each other face-to-face even if we're probably dozens of miles apart." "You're right man, I'm in Harrisonburg off I-81 right now," Ryan agreed. "How can we see each other face-to-face without being in the same room?" he asked. "On Skype man," Andrew replied. "I have it on my laptop. Do you have it on yours?" "Sure I do man," Ryan replied with a big grin, getting excited at the notion of seeing just how big and muscular Andrew truly was. "Do you want to talk later once you get back to your hotel room?" "That sounds like a great idea," Andrew replied, anxious to see what the famous Ryan Maloney looked like. "It's a much better way for two new friends to chat long distance than on Instant Messenger." He heard a long silence on the other end of the line and hastily added, "If you want to be friends, that is." "That's fine with me Andrew," Ryan agreed eagerly. "It would be great to get to know you better and find out how you got so big and strong. Coach told me that you can bench 700 pounds for reps!" "Yeah, that's only because I couldn't find enough weight plates in your home gym to get to my max of 800 pounds tonight," Andrew said cockily. "Hopefully the gym at Virginia Tech has enough weight plates to challenge me." "Wow!" Ryan shouted in astonishment after another long silence. "You're insanely strong man; I bet you can bust through any defensive line effortlessly!" "Yeah I can man, but I always help the other players up afterwards to be a good sport," Andrew said seriously. "No sense being a sore winner." "I've heard of sore losers, but what's a sore winner?" Ryan asked curiously. "A sore winner is someone who gloats about his victory, acting cocky and arrogant as he rubs his success in other people's faces," Andrew replied. He decided to be completely honest with Ryan about his younger brother and added, "Kind of like how JP was during his last workout with you this spring." "So he told you about that, did he?" Ryan asked angrily. "No, I kind of tricked it out of him," Andrew replied. "I'll tell you more when we chat on Skype tonight, but I'd better text you my contact information on Skype now." "Don't forget your cell phone number Andrew, and ask Coach Palmer for mine," Ryan reminded him. "Thanks man," Andrew said gratefully, pleased that he and Ryan could keep in touch. "You know, it might be hard for you to confirm you got the text while you're on the phone with me," he suddenly realized. "Do you have a notepad you can write on instead?" "Good idea man; yeah I do," Ryan replied. After a few seconds, he said, "Go ahead Big Guy, I'm ready." Andrew quickly gave him all the required information and then Ryan returned the favour, once Andrew pulled out his cell phone. "I've got all your contact information Ryan," Andrew said. "I'll text you when I get back to my hotel and then we can meet face-to-face on Skype." "I look forward to it Andrew," Ryan said sincerely. "Get Coach Palmer back on the phone. I want to thank him for arranging this cell phone call with you this evening." "That's a good idea Ryan," Andrew said, signalling Coach Palmer to come closer. Once Coach Palmer stepped up beside him, Andrew added, "It was great talking to you man; I'll see you on Skype later tonight." "Goodbye Andrew," Ryan said, before Andrew handed Coach Palmer's cell phone back to him. Andrew waited patiently while Ryan filled Coach Palmer in on all that he had discussed with Andrew. Once the call was over, Coach Palmer turned to Andrew and said, "Very good Andrew: now you have another Unofficial Recruiting Visit lined up for this summer, hosted by one of my best players no less! Ryan thinks a lot of you and he'll be very happy to host a big man like you on campus!" "Yeah, and I'll enjoy being hosted by the Big Man on Campus," Andrew said with a big grin. "Very funny Andrew, making a play on my words like that!" Coach Palmer chuckled. "Hey, I don't just have brawn, I actually have brains as well!" Andrew reminded him with a cocky smirk. "I know that now Andrew," Coach Palmer assured him with an indulgent smile. "But since we're standing on the football field, how about you show me just how skilled you are at using your brawn. I can see that you're already prepared, since you're holding your football." He noticed Andrew's cocky smirk morph into a confident grin and added, "I'll use my digital camera to capture your performance on the field and then I can send that video to Ryan's college coach." Andrew nodded in agreement and slowly took off his football jacket. "Would you mind putting my jacket on the fence behind you Coach? I don't want it to get dirty." "You just want to leave the back of your Varsity Jacket free for a Provincial Championship patch, don't you?" Coach Palmer realized with a big grin. When Andrew nodded, he added, "Then you'd better take off your t-shirt as well, then you won't get it dirty either." Andrew grinned with excitement at the prospect of showing off his huge muscles and slowly began to peel off his skin-tight t-shirt, disguising the effort to make it look like a show for the coach. Coach Palmer's eyes widened in astonishment and more than a little fear at Andrew's massive shoulders, huge pecs, enormous biceps and eight-pack abs. "Uhhh... that's great Andrew, now jog across the field to the other end zone so that I can throw you the ball," Coach Palmer stammered. "You can catch a hundred yard pass, can't you?" "If you can throw the ball that far Coach," Andrew teased him. "I certainly can Andrew; I just hope you can run that far," Palmer said, taking the Miami Football out of Andrew's hands. "Move it Mister: that's an order!" "Yes Sir!" Andrew shouted eagerly, running down the field with huge strong strides. Coach Palmer cocked his arm back, marshalled all his strength and threw the football as high and as far as he could. He followed the flight of the ball as it arced through the air and had to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun in the west. He finally saw Andrew catch the football at the opposite end zone and he realized at that moment that none of the videos he had seen of Andrew's performance on the football field had been exaggerated. ================================================================================================================================================= Meanwhile, in a hotel room in Harrisonburg, Virginia, off Interstate 81, a strikingly handsome jock with jet black hair and piercing green eyes stood up from the couch by the window and grinned. Perfect, Ryan Maloney thought to himself. I'll be able to learn from my new friend Andrew Pearson how to get really huge and strong. With any luck, he'll pick my school over Ohio State and then we can be right beside each other on the Offensive Line. Ryan frowned as he suddenly realized something. Once I get big enough that the coach lets me play, of course. But then he grinned again when he realized that he had found the perfect reason to give Andrew for why he wanted to get bigger and stronger. He'll never know that I just want to get big enough that my little dweeb brother can never get close to beating me in anything ever again! "Who were you talking to out here Ryan?" Luke asked, stepping out of the washroom after his shower. "One of my brother's friends man," Ryan replied, turning to face his smaller friend with a smug grin on his face. "Is he a dorky band geek like your brother?" Luke asked with a sneer. "No man, in fact he's big enough to make you look like a runt," Ryan replied with a slight glare. He maximized the YouTube Video he had been watching of Andrew before Coach Palmer had texted him. "See for yourself man; keep an eye on number 3: Andrew Pearson," he said, as he sat back down on the couch. Luke and Ryan watched the highlight video of the 2004 Provincial Championship game between Andrew's team, the ODCVI Blues from Orillia, and the Eastview Wildcats from Barrie. "Wow man!" Luke shouted in astonishment once the video had ended. "You've got to convince your coach at Tech to get Andrew down there for an Unofficial Recruiting Visit this summer." "Already done man, after Tyler told me all about him," Ryan said with a cocky smirk. "And guess who gets to host him for his visit!" "You mean, you're going to be the host?" Luke asked him in surprise. "Of course man, who else?" Ryan scoffed. "Who better to host an incoming freshman than a current freshman?" He left out the part where his Tech coach had reminded him that all Redshirt Freshmen had to act as student hosts for incoming freshman prospects. "Once I showed this video to Coach, he told me to call my high school coach and set up a phone call with Andrew. And thanks to Coach Palmer calling Coach Graves, who called my dad, JP ended up bringing Andrew over to Central High School this evening. Once he got Andrew alone, Coach Palmer texted me and I called him and got to speak to Andrew. He's a really great football player, as you could see from the highlight videos." "Hey maybe you and Andrew can become teammates on the Offensive Line next fall and win a college football championship," Luke suggested. "Yeah, and maybe Andrew can show me how to get as huge and ripped as he is!" Ryan shouted in excitement, flexing his massive biceps. "Then I can leave that little dweeb brother of mine in the dust once and for all!" "That would be awesome man!" Luke shouted in excitement. "Then when you go home for Christmas you can give that brother of yours the worst present he's ever had!" "Yeah, the present of my awesome presence!" Ryan shouted, proving that Andrew wasn't the only smart guy in the state. "How will you convince Andrew to help you get bigger without revealing the real reason?" Luke suddenly asked. "Easy, I'll just tell him the truth: my coach at Tech won't let me play until I'm a lot bigger and stronger," Ryan said smugly. "Andrew will never realize that I just want to get huge to dominate my little brother so completely that he'll shrivel up and rot just like a little raisin!" "Sounds like you've got it all figured out," Luke realized. "So, enough talk; you want to head out and see what kind of summer parties JMU has to offer?" "Sure man, and maybe I can find a hot chick who wants a piece of me," Ryan sneered with a suggestive smirk. "I'll keep my cell on vibrate so that when Andrew texts me, I can get back here and see him on Skype." "You want me to come back with you?" Luke asked, as they headed out the door. "Naw man, I want to see him alone," Ryan replied. "If he sees two of us, he might think something's up when I ask him if he'll help me get bigger like him." Luke nodded in agreement as they headed down the hall. Ryan breathed a silent sigh of relief, relieved that Luke hadn't figured out the true reason that Ryan wanted to speak to Andrew alone: so that no one could horn in on the new friendship that he was hoping to form with JP's new mentor. ================================================================================================================================================= Andrew had been showing off his football skills for ten minutes, so neither he nor Coach Palmer noticed JP coming out of the high school gym. Andrew threw his football from the far end of the field to Coach Palmer, but he threw it too far and it hit JP in the chest before he could catch it. "Are you okay JP?" Palmer asked as JP fell onto his back. But then he grinned as JP rolled through the fall and back to his feet. "I guess you are okay," he realized, noticing the cocky smirk on JP's face. "Sure I am Coach; it will take a lot more than a 120 yard pass to hurt me," JP assured him; relieved that his high pain tolerance had allowed him to withstand the impact of the football. "That's the furthest I've ever seen anyone throw a football though; even Clark Kent on Smallville last season restricted himself to 60 yard passes!" "Andrew outweighs Clark by at least 80 pounds of solid muscle," Palmer said, grinning at JP's huge friend as he jogged shirtless across the field towards them. His jaw dropped in astonishment as Andrew stopped in front of him and he could only stare in awe at the sweat glistening on the body of the hulking muscle god in front of him. "Uh, very good job Andrew: your football skills are very impressive," he managed to stammer out. He turned to JP, whose eyes were as wide as his own and asked, "What did you think of Andrew's performance on the field tonight?" "It was amazing Coach; I can see why you wanted to see him tonight," JP realized. He noticed the digital camera in Palmer's hands and added, "It looks like you got a lot of good footage of Andrew's football skills. Which school are you going to send it to?" Coach Palmer and Andrew looked at each other uncertainly, unsure how to answer JP's question without making him mad. "Are you going to tell him Coach, or should I?" Andrew finally asked Coach Palmer. "Tell me what?" JP snapped, guessing that there could only be one reason why they so reluctant to name the school. "It's Virginia Tech JP," Coach Palmer replied, gambling that his position as Head Football Coach would keep him safe from JP's wrath. He was right, because all JP did was narrow his eyes slightly in anger. "I'll let Andrew tell you all about it; I've got everything I need," he added, holding up his digital camera. "See you later JP and nice meeting you Andrew." With that, Coach Palmer beat a hasty retreat into the high school, leaving Andrew alone to face JP. Andrew looked over cautiously at JP, who was glaring at him with a look of fury on his face. "Go ahead JP; let me have it for talking to your brother and then I can explain how it happened," Andrew sighed. "I ought to punch you in the face for even talking to Ryan, knowing how much I hate him!" JP snapped. "Fine, do it if you think it 'll make you feel better!" Andrew snapped back. "It won't make any difference to me; I probably won't feel it anyway!" JP roared in fury and lunged at Andrew, his right fist leading the way. SMACK! JP punched Andrew in the face with all his strength. To make his smaller friend feel better, Andrew let his head snap around from the blow, even though he didn't feel a thing. Encouraged by thinking that he had actually hurt Andrew, JP kept punching Andrew in the face, making his big friend's head rock back and forth. Andrew didn't even stumble or flinch though, and eventually JP got tired. He stopped punching Andrew in the face and settled for kneeing him in the gut instead. Soon JP's hands began to ache from punching Andrew's tough jaw and his knees felt like they had impacted a concrete wall. JP ignored the pain for a couple more minutes and kept hitting Andrew in the abs until he finally tired out and he was no longer mad. "Feel better now JP?" Andrew asked, breathing a sigh of relief that JP had stopped attacking him. Hopefully he got some of the rage at his brother out of his system by attacking me! "You look tired." "Yeah I am Andrew," JP replied, smiling when he noticed Andrew rubbing his chin with one hand and his abs with the other. As he tried to catch his breath, he added, "I'm glad I was able to hurt you a bit; that means that I'll be able to wipe the floor with Ryan the next time I see him!" "Good JP, can we go now?" Andrew asked him impatiently. "Or did you want to throw my football around for a while on an actual football field?" "That would be great Andrew," JP said excitedly. "You always know what to say to make me feel better." "And apparently I know what to do as well, since letting you punch me several times calmed you down," Andrew realized with a gentle smile. "What do you mean by 'letting' me?" JP asked him in surprise. "I mean that I could have caught all your punches if I had wanted to," Andrew replied, crossing his massive arms with a smug grin. Then he noticed JP frowning, so he decided to cheer him up. "But I figured that it would make you feel better if I acted as your human punching bag. Anytime you want to let out your frustrations by doing it again, just let me know man. Or don't; it won't matter to me because I barely felt anything anyway." "Thanks a lot Andrew; now you've made me feel worse!" JP snapped at him. "Sorry about that man, but you punched me, not the other way around," Andrew reminded him with a cocky grin. "But you don't hear me complaining about it!" "That's because you just admitted that I barely hurt you!" JP snapped in fury. "That's because I'm almost twice your size JP," Andrew reminded him. When JP glared at him, Andrew sighed and added, "But if it makes you feel any better, you did hurt me a little bit." "Not enough Andrew!" JP yelled in fury. "How am I supposed to take Ryan down if I can't even make you wince when I punch you?" "I outweigh Ryan by almost a hundred pounds," Andrew reminded him, having to clench his fists to keep from snapping back at JP. JP grinned: suddenly feeling better and Andrew grinned back at him. "Now can I tell you how I ended up talking with Ryan over the phone?" "Yes Andrew," JP replied, suddenly realizing how lucky he was that he hadn't made his huge friend mad. Andrew told him the whole story and concluded by telling JP that he would show Ryan just how big he was on Skype later that night. Then he and JP finally got to throw the football around on the field for about an hour. Andrew showed JP some of the football drills he went through as an Offensive Lineman at ODCVI. JP smiled to himself, really happy that Andrew was playing football with him: something Ryan had never done. Once they were done, it was 10 pm and getting dark. The lights around the field came on and Andrew had an idea. He stood under the uprights near his car and said, "So this is what the Friday Night Lights look like." "It's Tuesday night Andrew," JP teased him with a smirk. "Funny man JP; it was a figure of speech and you know it!" Andrew laughed. "Speaking of figures, you certainly make an imposing one with the lights behind you," JP suddenly realized, a trace of fear showing up on his face. "Then take a picture of me with my game face on," Andrew ordered him, getting down into his three point stance with one hand holding his football. Andrew glared up at the camera as if he was about to take down his opponent and JP quickly took the picture, feeling very afraid of his huge friend at that moment. "Okay Andrew, how about we try one with you smiling?" JP suggested, trying unsuccessfully to keep the fear out of his voice. "Sorry about that JP; I didn't mean to scare you," Andrew apologized. He grinned up at JP, who took another picture, and then stood up to his full height of six feet and seven inches. "There now JP: we've played football, taken some pictures, met your wrestling coach and you've used me as a human punching bag. Are you ready to go home now?" "Yeah Andrew, and I'm really excited about tomorrow's recruiting visit to Ohio State," JP said with a big grin on his face. "The Ohio State JP," Andrew teased him, finally putting his t-shirt back on. He noticed JP mock-glaring at him and laughed. "Don't look at me like that man; you're the one who corrected me about that earlier today!" "You're right Andrew," JP realized, as they headed to Andrew's truck with their Varsity Jackets slung over their shoulders. As they reached Andrew's truck, he asked, "So what are you going to do when you get back to your hotel with Carrie and Mike?" "I'm going to call Ryan on-" Andrew began, before having to catch JP's fist in mid-punch. "Don't try that again JP: you've hit me enough for one night," Andrew growled in fury. He gave JP's fist a slight squeeze until JP winced in pain. "Do you get the point now man? I can catch your punches anytime I want to!" "Yes Andrew, I've got it!" JP gasped in pain. "Can you let me go now?" "Sure man; I've made my point," Andrew replied, releasing his iron grip on JP's fist. JP massaged his sore hand and Andrew said, "Why do you insist on asking questions that you don't want to hear the answer to?" "I don't know Andrew," JP replied, as they got into Andrew's truck. "I guess I'm just too curious for my own good." "Yeah, you seem to have forgotten that cautionary tale about the cat who was too curious," Andrew realized. "Don't even joke about that Andrew!" JP begged him. Andrew looked over and a look of concern came over his face when he saw how scared JP looked. "Aroused, your great physical strength could kill! And I only felt a tiny sample of it when you squeezed my fist!" "I'm sorry about that man, but you made me mad for a moment there," Andrew informed him. "I was in a really bad mood all last fall and the results weren't pretty." "Why was that Andrew?" JP asked, as Andrew started driving them back to JP's house. "My grandpa had a stroke last fall, just after I graduated Basic Reserves Training," Andrew replied. "I was really worried about him during football season, since he was confined to a wheelchair and could barely speak. Fortunately, my parents were able to bring him to every game, but then my nemesis David Harrington insulted him and I just lost it and punched him in the face, giving him a bloody nose. The next punch knocked him out. If Steve, Darrel and Mike hadn't pulled me away, I would have killed him with my bare hands!" JP just stared at Andrew in speechless terror as his big friend's face turned red with fury and his hands turned white on the steering wheel. Andrew looked over at JP, still furious from the bad memories, and saw the look of terror on his face. He started taking a few deep breaths to calm down and was relieved to see the normal look of confidence return to JP's face. JP wisely decided to wait until Andrew had calmed down completely before he asked, "What happened next Andrew?" "Coach Everson suspended me for two games and my parents chewed me out hard when we got back home," Andrew remembered, looking embarrassed. "I actually stayed in a hotel that weekend, not wanting to deal with anyone. Then when I got home from school on Monday evening, my dad informed me that my Grandpa (his dad, not my mom's) had suffered another massive stroke and was now confined to a hospital bed. I could see in his eyes that my dad blamed me for that, since Grandpa Pearson had attended the game where I took David out for insulting him. I felt really bad and I visited Grandpa every weekend after that, now that I had seen the damage my bad temper had caused." "It wasn't your fault Andrew," JP tried to assure his big friend. "It was probably just a coincidence that your grandpa had another stroke around the same time that you were punching David." "That's not true JP; he had the stroke at the game right after I attacked David!" Andrew shouted in frustration. "My rage stressed him out so badly that it caused his second stroke and put him in that hospital bed!" JP just stared at his big friend in sympathy, not having a clue what to say when he realized what an incredible burden of guilt Andrew had been carrying around for almost a year. Andrew sighed as a tear ran down his cheek and he and JP just drove in silence for a few minutes while he tried to compose himself. "What happened next Andrew?" JP asked his huge friend gently. "Coach Everson let me play in the Semi-Final and then the Provincial Championship Game," Andrew replied. "Unfortunately, the O-Line had learned some new plays under the back-up Center that I wasn't familiar with and we lost the Provincial Championship Game in the last second due to a missed field goal because David deflected it. I managed to control my temper about that but I broke down in my grandpa's hospital room as I told him a day later. He couldn't say a word, but he did reach over with his one good arm to grab my hand. I promised him that I would win the next Provincial Championship for him and he smiled. Then he fell asleep and I went home. We got the news the next morning that he had passed away during the night." "So you were the last person to see him and he went to heaven happy," JP guessed. "Yeah man," Andrew said with a gentle smile. "And now you know everything about last season and why I'm not really a cocky jock anymore." JP nodded in understanding. "You're the only one who knows everything I've told you, besides Carrie of course, and I want it to stay that way." JP nodded in understanding, realizing how much Andrew thought of him that he would reveal his innermost secrets. "Do you have anything else to tell me Andrew, or is that it?" JP asked. "That's it JP," Andrew replied, glancing over at his friend with a gentle smile. "I think we're even now, since you told me everything about you and Ryan earlier this evening." JP tried to keep the anger he felt at hearing the name of his big brother from showing on his face, because he remembered how easily Andrew had shut down his attempt to punch him earlier. I'd better be on my best behavior with Andrew; he could crush me with one hand tied behind his back! JP realized in sudden fear. Then he thought of something that made him smile. "Getting excited about the trip to the Ohio State tomorrow JP?" Andrew asked him. "Yeah Andrew," JP replied, not letting his huge friend know that he was actually thinking of how scared Ryan would be when he saw how big Andrew was. "I'm really grateful that you're taking me to see the school I hope to wrestle at in my college years." "No problem JP; Mark did it for me, so I'm returning the favour in a deflected manner," Andrew informed him. When JP looked at him with confusion, Andrew explained that his first protégé Mark Stevenson had invited Andrew along on his Official Recruiting Visits during the previous football season. "So in a way, Ohio State is already aware of me, because I went there with Mark on his Official Recruiting Visit almost one year ago," Andrew explained to JP. "Did you mentor him just so you could get early exposure to the NCAA?" JP teased him. Andrew glared over at him in mock fury, but a slight grin betrayed his true feelings. "Just joking Big Guy." "Hey, I told you before, you call me 'Huge Guy' JP!" Andrew roared, unable to keep a cocky grin from appearing on his face. JP laughed and the two of them continued joking around until they got back to JP's house. Once they got to JP's house, they parked in the driveway and Andrew turned to JP. "Thanks a lot for listening to everything I told you about last season without judgement JP," Andrew said gratefully. "You're a great friend." "Thanks Andrew; you are too," JP said, as his parents came out of the house. As he and Andrew got out of Andrew's truck, he said, "Coach Graves got in touch with all the wrestling coaches at each school we're going to, so I'll be having my own early Unofficial Recruiting Visits while you have yours." "Good job man; taking a page out of my book I see," Andrew said with a smug grin. He turned to his friends, who had come out of the house after JP's parents and asked them, "Did you guys have lots of fun with Matt and JP's parents while we were gone?" "Yeah man," Mike replied. "JP's parents were bragging about him while he was gone, showing us his wrestling photos, newspaper articles, trophies and his District Finalist Medal from last season." "I hope we can see a State Championship Medal from you next season JP," Mr. Maloney said with a frown. "You will Dad," JP assured him, trying to make his determination show on his face. "But in the meantime, I will have to show off my District Finalist Medal to the Ohio State Wrestling Coaches tomorrow." "Yeah, when I called Coach Graves and told him which schools Andrew was taking you to, he said that he would get in touch with the wrestling coaches at those schools," Mr. Maloney said proudly. "Yeah he showed me all the emails from them, in which they expressed their hope that I would talk to them while I'm on campus this week," JP said with a cocky smirk. "So I told Coach to say 'Yes, he'll be glad to meet you there' and he added my cell phone number to the email replies. Then the coaches can text me with the details." "And all this wouldn't have happened if Andrew hadn't offered to take you with him on his recruiting visits," Mrs. Maloney said, reaching up to put a hand on Andrew's massive shoulder. Andrew looked very embarrassed as JP's parents ushered Andrew inside to talk to him some more. "Where's your mom Matt?" JP asked, finally noticing that she was missing from the group. "She already went home, after leaving a packed suitcase here for me," Matt replied. "What did you and Andrew do at the high school?" JP ushered him into the house so that they could talk, leaving Mike and Carrie standing outside on the front walk. "Do you feel that we've been forgotten by Andrew over the last couple of days?" Mike asked Carrie. "No more than the past three years when Andrew spent a lot of time mentoring his current teammates," Carrie reminded him. "He didn't have to mentor you of course; your big brother Matt did a lot of that, as well as training Andrew for football before high school." "Yeah, Matt's mentoring of me and Andrew got us ready for high school football so that we played on the Varsity Team even during our Freshman Year," Mike remembered. "Of course, Coach Everson had Andrew be the back-up to Carl, the Centre, that year. Then Carl left for Miami and Andrew took over at Centre in Grade Ten." "Good thing too, because the college recruiting started just last year: Andrew's second season as Centre," Carrie reminded him. Mike grinned and nodded, and Carrie added, "I'm a little surprised that no college coaches have recruited me for Girl's Hockey yet." "Ask to meet the Girl's Hockey coaches at each school we visit and you'll find lots of recruiters visiting you this fall," Mike predicted. Carrie grinned at Mike: pleased that for all his big muscles, he hadn't lost any of the intelligence that had let him tutor Andrew and Phil in exchange for weight training years ago. Carrie and Mike chatted outside for a few more minutes and then went into the Maloney house, where they found almost everyone talking in the living room. As Carrie looked around, she noticed that Andrew and JP were not there. "Where are Andrew and JP?" she asked Mr. Maloney. "JP took Andrew up to his room to show off all his wrestling newspaper stories and trophies," Paul replied proudly. Carrie nodded in understanding: pleased that Andrew had found another protégé after not having one the previous year. Up in his bedroom, JP was proudly showing Andrew all the newspaper clippings and trophies from his high school wrestling career. "This is very impressive JP; you have really achieved great athletic success in only two years," Andrew congratulated him. "And you're a District Finalist as well." "Probably nothing compared to what you've achieved Andrew; you actually won the District Title." "Yeah, but this coming wrestling season, you'll win the State Title JP," Andrew predicted with an encouraging smile. JP smiled as Andrew had once again made him feel better. "What did you want to do now Andrew?" "Help you pack for the college road trip that starts next week, but perhaps I should see Ryan's room first." "What for Andrew?" JP asked with an angry look on his face. "I want an objective view of the kind of guy he is," Andrew replied. "A look in his room is the best glance I will get at his character since he probably decorated it himself." "Fine, let's get it over with so that we can plan our trip," JP agreed reluctantly. He led Andrew to Ryan's room and opened the door, revealing all the posters of scantily-clad women all over the walls. "Well, that certainly reveals Ryan's true character with one look," Andrew realized. "On my walls at home, I have football players banging heads on the field." "So now you see how different you and Ryan are, which explains why I think of you as my big brother instead of him," JP explained, closing Ryan's door again. Andrew nodded and followed JP back to his room to help him pack for the road trip. About an hour later, Andrew and his two friends said goodbye to JP and his family and headed back to their hotel. Once there, Andrew told Carrie that he wanted to talk to JP's brother on Skype. "Okay Andrew, I'll just go have a shower before bed," Carrie said. "Have fun talking to your new friend." Andrew had told her all about his talk with Ryan earlier that evening. "I will Carrie, and I'm going to wear my ODCVI football t-shirt so that he can see just how big and strong I am," Andrew said with a smirk. "Fine, have fun playing 'Who's the Alpha' with Ryan," Carrie laughed. "See you later Big Man," "That's 'Huge Man' to you 'Little Girl'," Andrew teased her with a mock glare. Carrie laughed and headed into the bathroom to have her shower. Andrew pulled out his Motorola Razor and texted Ryan. Then he activated Skype and waited. ================================================================================================================================================= Meanwhile, at a club in Harrisonburg, Virginia, Ryan's cell phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket with a frown. "Sorry babe, I've been expecting this text," he apologized to the hot girl he was in the middle of kissing. He read the text and grinned when he realized that Andrew was ready to start their Skype Chat. "I'm going to talk to my new friend, and he'll show me how to get even bigger and stronger for you next time," he promised her emptily. Ryan stepped back and quickly found Luke so that he could tell him where he was going. Then he headed out of the club, after promising to pick Luke up later, and drove back to their hotel to talk to Andrew. Perfect, Ryan thought to himself as he drove. Andrew will teach me how to become really big and strong so that I can give the girls more pleasure than they've ever dreamed of! And I'll be big enough to smash that dweeb brother of mine into pieces, as well as all opposing players in the games this season! Ryan was still grinning about his foolproof strategy to get Andrew's help when he pulled into the hotel parking lot. He stepped out of his car, put on his best arrogant jock face, and sauntered into the lobby, grinning like a cat at all the pretty girls he passed by. But this time, he didn't talk to any of them, he was too eager to see his new friend Andrew face-to-face. Once he got up to his hotel room, he went inside, opened up his laptop and activated Skype. As the image on the screen resolved into focus, Ryan's jaw dropped as he saw what was on the screen. ================================================================================================================================================ Andrew smirked as he saw the look of shock on the face of the black-haired, green-eyed jock on his laptop screen. "Ryan Maloney?" Andrew asked, just to make sure he was talking to the right person. The big guy on the screen nodded silently; still too shocked to speak. "I'm JP's new friend Andrew Pearson." He waited for almost a minute before Ryan got up his nerve to finally say something. "How are you man?" "Oh just fine; I had lots of fun on the Central High football field showing off my football skills for Coach Palmer," Andrew said with a cocky smirk. Part of him realized he probably shouldn't act so cocky, but then he realized that he had finally found someone who would approve of him acting like an arrogant jock. "I threw a pass that went the entire length of the field and knocked JP off his feet when he tried to catch it!" Ryan's look of shock intensified and then a fleeting look of concern appeared on his face. It was quickly erased by an arrogant smirk, however. "Did that little dweeb run home and cry to Mommy about it?" he sneered. "Be careful Ryan; that's my new protégé you're talking about," Andrew warned him, his protective instincts flaring up. "And he told me how he was once yours." "Yeah he was," Ryan said, remembering his last workout with JP less than fondly. "Sorry about that Andrew; my brother and I just don't get along anymore." "Did you want to talk about it Ryan?" Andrew asked. "It won't go any further than the two of us, since my girlfriend isn't in here with me." "Okay Andrew, and then we can talk about more exciting things: like your upcoming recruiting visit to Virginia Tech," Ryan agreed. "And I will email you the video that Coach Palmer emailed me of my exploits on the Central High School football field," Andrew offered. "Then you can forward it to your football coach at Tech." "Good thinking Andrew," Ryan agreed. He began telling Andrew about how his little brother JP had followed him around everywhere all his life and then started bugging him about working out when he got to high school. So Ryan began teaching him how to work out, but he never imagined JP would take to it so well and get close to surpassing him. So Ryan gradually removed himself from his brother's workouts, especially after the events of three months before, and their relationship was practically non-existent since then. "That sounds rough man," Andrew said sympathetically, realizing that JP felt the same way. "I went through something similar with one of my good friends about seven years ago." "Tell me about it Andrew; I can listen while I watch the video you sent me," Ryan said, opening up the email attachment. So Andrew told Ryan all about his failed friendship with Steve, basically repeating word-for-word the same things he had told JP the night before. Like JP before him, Ryan was amazed at how similar his experiences were to Andrew's. "So what do you think Ryan?" Andrew asked, once he had finished telling Ryan everything. "That's an amazing story Andrew, and I can see that we have a lot more in common than just being great football players," Ryan replied sincerely. All thoughts of acting like an arrogant jock in front of Andrew were gone, and he felt that he could finally be himself with his new friend, which was a great relief for him. "Your video is amazing as well, and my coach at Tech will be really excited to see it." "More excited than you are Ryan?" Andrew teased him, trying to lighten the mood. "Yeah man," Ryan replied with a big grin. "But I'm excited to meet you in person as well, and I'll talk to Coach and get an Unofficial Recruiting Visit set up for you at Tech later this summer." "Thanks man," Andrew said gratefully, sensing that their conversation was wrapping up. "Well, I look forward to it, but right now, I'm going to have a shower and go to bed. Do you want me to say hi to JP for you when I see him again tomorrow morning?" "No Andrew, I will when I see him again," Ryan replied seriously. "And do me a favour." "What's that Ryan?" Andrew asked him. "Don't talk about my brother anymore with me unless I ask you about him," Ryan said. "No problem Ryan," Andrew agreed. "Text me later if you want to have another Skype chat." "I will man; just email me your travel plans so I know where you'll be tomorrow night," Ryan said. "Sure thing man; talk to you later," Andrew said, preparing to sign off. "See you Andrew," Ryan said, just before he ended the conversation. Andrew sat back in his desk chair and stared at the blank screen for a moment: thinking hard. Hopefully one day I'll be there when Ryan and JP have fixed their relationship and then I won't have to choose which one to be friends with, he thought to himself. Then he heard Carrie calling him from the bathroom. "Andrew, I'm ready to have another shower: this time with you!" Andrew grinned, stood up, and headed into the bathroom, looking forward to having lots of fun with his girlfriend before they went to bed. * FINALLY FINISHED * COMING SOON: - The Road Trip to Ohio State - The Ohio State Recruiting Visit itself - JP gets a head start on his own college recruiting process thanks to Andrew My website page for this chapter: http://seanspictures.webs.com has a picture from Google of what I imagine Ryan would look like. Just click on the link for Chapter 5 and go halfway down to see it.

This story is Chapter 2 of Andrew Meets JP in Washington DC. It will be made up of the last part of JP Episode 20 and the first part of JP Episode 21. Before I had written Chapter 1 a couple of months ago, I secured his permission to use JP in my story: https://muscle-growth.org/index.php?app=members&module=messaging&section=view&do=showCoversation&topicID=23174 Remember, the JP Episodes are told from Matt's point of view and my story is told from Andrew and JP's point of view. Since copy and paste STILL won't work for me in this forum, this will be a chapter in progress. As before, the JP STORY sections will be separated from mine by a line of equal signs: =============================================== ANDREW'S RECRUITING SUMMER CHAPTER 2: REVELATIONS From: JP EPISODE 20: THE MORNING AFTER (July 5th, 2005): After briefly washing up in the bathroom, we headed downstairs and into the kitchen. There, my mom greeted us like she always did when JP slept over - with a glowing smile and a huge serving of breakfast. "Good morning, boys," she gleamed, rubbing JP's extremely short hair with her hand. "It's nice to see your hair beginning to grow back in. I practically died when you shaved it." JP bit his lip, avoiding my mom's smile. He had become like a second son to her, which only subjected him to her torturous criticisms. "Promise me never to cut that beautiful head of hair God gave you." My boyfriend laughed. "I promise, Mrs. Andersson." "I hope scrambled eggs are fine with you," she commented. We gestured that they were great, having already dove into our plates. I had never felt hungrier in my life. "I made a lot. I'm sure you two are starving from all that excitement last night." I almost choked on my food when she said that. JP looked over at me, grinning wildly. Luckily, my mom's back was to us, so she didn't pick up on it. I knew she was talking about the fireworks, but little did she know what else she could've been talking about. Once we had finished eating and cleared the table, JP and I sat back down. My mom, about to start washing the dishes, looked over at us. "What's up?" she asked, noticing that we didn't run off like we usually did. "There's, uh, something I want to talk to you about, Mom," I started nervously. My mom put down the dish towel and placidly - to my surprise - walked around the counter and slowly sat down across from JP and me. "What is it?" she questioned expectantly. She was being rather calm about all this, which only made me more nervous. My heart was pounding in my chest; my head was spinning frantically. What was I doing? I thought to myself. Am I really ready for this? JP, seemingly sensing my insecurity, moved his leg so that his knee touched mine, letting me know that he was next to me. "Mom," I stuttered, "I, um, I'm, uh..." I side-glanced over at JP. He was looking at me encouragingly. Finally, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and just let it out. "We're gay." ==================================================================================================================== Meanwhile, to the east, in the Comfort Inn Pentagon City, Andrew and Carrie woke up in their king-sized bed and smiled at each other. "Hey baby," Andrew crooned, hugging Carrie gently in his massive arms. "How did you sleep?" "I slept just fine Big Man, thanks to your massive muscles keeping me warm all night," Carrie replied with a sexy smile. She looked up at Andrew's massive shoulders and chest, sighing in satisfaction. "Last night was great: meeting JP and his friends Matt and Chrissy. "Do you think JP and Matt will be able to secure their parent's permission to come on the Ohio State recruiting visit with us?" "Since they both want to go to that school, the answer will be yes Carrie," Andrew reminded her, stepping out of bed with his girlfriend in his arms. "Of course, meeting their parents for supper tonight will go a long way." "Yeah, if their parents admire you even half as much as JP does, they'll have no problem trusting you with their sons' safety," Carrie assured him, smiling as Andrew gently carried her(pardon the pun) into the bathroom. And a whole lot more, Andrew thought to himself, as he turned on the shower. He had no idea what was going on at Matt's house that morning, but he would soon find out. ===================================================================================================================== FROM JP EPISODE 21: THE SMILE (July 5th, 2005): Have you ever had that time in your life when you were knowingly heading into the unknown, that place of uncertainty so terrifying that you were unsure of how it was going to turn out? It consumed every part of you, every thought, every feeling, that you were almost paralyzed, but you somehow ventured there nonetheless. That was how I felt about coming out to my mom that early July morning. Mind you, it wasn't like I didn't want to tell here the truth - I did - but it was really the fear of what she would say or do when I finally told her. Her father had been a strict Lutheran minister back in Minnesota, so I knew first-hand how conservative our family was. I mean, my grandfather had nearly flipped out when my mom had gotten engaged to my dad, a Catholic. What would she say about this? Would she accept my homosexuality and my love for JP? Would she be able to understand that I couldn't possibly imagine being with anyone else but him? Would this change her view of him as a person? That's why when I uttered those two small words that morning, my whole world came to a sudden and staggering halt, waiting for the response that would surely change my life. There was no way I could take back what I said - it was already out there. My mom looked at me calmly for a long agonizing moment. It was probably only a few seconds, but it seemed like an eternity. In her eyes, I swore I saw the look of pain a mother feels when her child disappoints her and my mind raced. Shit, I thought to myself, this is it. I braced myself for what was to come next. Every nightmare passed through my head - I was never going to be allowed to see JP again; I was going to be sent to some kind of boarding school or something. This was not going to be pretty. But then, something happened that I could never have predicted. She smiled. I let my mouth slip open in utter shock. What did this mean? None of my fears had ever included this reaction from her, which only made me more horrified. I glanced over at JP, who I could tell was doing his best to stay as stoic as usual, probably for my sake. "I was wondering when you were finally going to tell me," my mom said gently. "What?" I responded, more instinctively than consciously. She smiled again and looked at me with the most caring eyes I'm sure she could manage. I knew this was as hard for her as it was for me. "I've known for a long time," she continued. "I've known ever since that first night you brought JP home for dinner that you two were in love." "You have?" I asked, dazed by her revelation. My mom nodded. "It was the way you two looked at each other." I didn't notice JP suddenly flinch, and I had no way of knowing that he was suddenly remembering that Andrew also knew their secret, by the same set of signs. Then, my mom briefly looked away, as if embarrassed. "But it was only confirmed when I walked in on the two of you one morning-" she nervously cleared her throat "- cuddling in your bed." JP shifted uneasily in his seat. Oh fuck! I shut my eyes in humiliation. An extremely awkward pause followed, as I frantically tried to think of what to say next. "So...you're ok with it?" I finally asked hopefully. "No," she answered flatly, but with a tinge of regret in her voice. I felt my heart collapse. But then she raised her eyes to mine: the most sincere eyes I had ever seen coming from her. "But..." she started, "I don't know how to say this." Pressing her fingers against her forehead, she let out a sigh. There was nothing I could think of to help her, half expecting her to burst into tears out of disappointment in me. Instead, she looked up at JP with her strong eyes. His eyes however, were almost panicky, unsure of how to take in what he was seeing and hearing. "JP," she tried again, "you are the nicest, most mature and most caring young man I have ever had the privilege to meet. I can completely see why my son has fallen in love with you." She paused, slowly turning towards me. "And that's why I have no choice but to accept this." Oh my God, I thought to myself. She couldn't possibly be saying what I thought she was saying. I looked at her questioningly. "Matthew," she went on, "when you were born, your father and I had the greatest of expectations for you. We wanted you to grow up to be strong, healthy, successful and, most of all, happy. We both promised to try our hardest to raise you the best we could." Oh shit, here it comes, I thought. This is the part where she starts blaming herself. I closed my eyes again, not wanting to witness my mom falling apart. "Meeting JP was the best thing that has ever happened to you," she said softly. Huh? My eyes immediately darted back to her with surprise and relief. "You have become stronger and happier since you met him," she continued, "and that is the best thing that your dad and I could ever have hoped for. I don't necessarily agree with or understand your being gay, but I recognize the love you boys have for each other. And I do know that the worst thing I could ever do to you, Matthew, is to tear you apart from him and make you unhappy." My mouth dropped open and I felt like I was about to cry. I had never for a moment believed that my mom would have this reaction to me and JP coming out to her. I couldn't possibly have asked for better; I didn't know what to say. She leaned forward and lowered her voice to a near-whisper. "And I promise you that I will try my hardest to accept this," she said, a sudden waver entering her tone which up until then had been steady. "I love you, no matter what - you know that." A tear escaped her eye and began rolling down her cheek. She immediately raised a hand up to her face in a vain attempt to hide it. I also fought back a storm of tears that were welling up in my eyes. I opened my mouth to speak, but the lump in my throat kept any sound from getting out; my lower lip just quivered uncontrollably. "Thank you Mrs. Andersson," I heard JP say softly, knowing that I was temporarily frozen with emotion. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my boyfriend turn his head towards me, a deep look of concern on his face. Damn, I loved him so much! He was so good to me! "You're welcome JP," my mom responded, smiling slightly at him. She looked back at me, still silent, and reached out here hand to my arm. Her touch was warm and almost comforting. "Thanks," I croaked, barely able to get that one word out of my throat. I kept looking down at the table, avoiding my mom's eyes, afraid that I would lose it if I looked at her. "Well," she sighed, standing up, "why don't you two go upstairs and get dressed and I'll finish the dishes here." Knowing that I desperately needed time to think, it was the only thing she could have suggested at the moment. JP helped me out of my chair and guided me upstairs to my bedroom. ===================================================================================================================== Meanwhile, in their hotel, Andrew, Mike and Carrie had gotten dressed and gone down to the hotel dining room for breakfast. Andrew was pretty quiet as they ate breakfast: feeling uncomfortable with the secret knowledge he had about JP and Matt's relationship. "You look worried Andrew; what's bothering you?" Carrie asked him as they began eating, noticing the concerned look on his face. "I'd rather not discuss it right now Carrie; let's wait until we're alone," Andrew informed her. "It's a very delicate subject in this country, unlike ours, and that is the only hint I'm going to give you." Carrie furrowed her brow in confusion and then she suddenly remembered seeing Matt gazing longingly at JP the night before at the National Mall. A sudden look of understanding came over her face and she looked up at Andrew to see if her hunch was right. A slight nod of confirmation from him was Carrie's proof that she was right, and she suddenly felt butterflies in her stomach as she imagined what was going on between Matt and JP at that moment. ===================================================================================================================== Once my door was closed behind us, I burst into tears. JP immediately took me in his arms, offering me his shoulder to bury my face into. It felt so good to just let loose right there with my boyfriend protecting me. I couldn't have asked for anything more from him. "It's alright," he comforted me, rubbing my back with his strong hands. "Just let it out." I had the feeling that he was almost as overwhelmed as I was, but we both knew that he needed to stay strong for my sake.. and it was working. My quiet sobs began to subside and I looked up into JP's eyes, my face still wet from crying. "I am in such awe of you," he whispered to me, taking my head in his hands. "I can only imagine how much courage that took." "It's because of you," I sniffed, my voice cracking like mad. JP shook his head and grinned. "Matt, you did most of that yourself; we both know that," he assured me. "No," I said, shaking my head and sitting down on my bed, "my mom only reacted that way because she loves you like a second son." JP sighed as he sat down next to me but he didn't interrupt. "She thinks you're amazing. She wouldn't have said those things if you hadn't been there." I was almost to the point of tears again. "What I'm trying to say is... you're too perfect. I don't deserve you." JP bit his lip and kneeled down in front of me. "Matt, listen to me," he said firmly. "She said those things because she thinks that you are amazing." "JP," I groaned with frustration, rolling my head away from him. Surely he was just saying that to make me feel better. "No Matt, wait," he protested, directing my attention back down to his eyes again. "Your mom said it herself - she loves you, no matter what. Even if I wasn't here, she would still feel the same way." I looked at my boyfriend like I didn't believe him..,. and I didn't. I also remembered how my mom had mentioned how much happier and stronger I had become since meeting JP. Surely JP, with his near-genius mind, had not forgotten that part of the conversation! "Come on: look," he said, pulling me up and bringing me in front of the bedroom mirror. "Look in the mirror," he instructed me. "What do you see?" "Me, standing next to the most perfect body in the world," I answered stubbornly. JP rolled his eyes and sighed with exasperation. "Will you stop looking at me for once and look at yourself for a minute?" he asked impatiently. He put his hands on my shoulders and stood behind me. God, I looked like crap; my eyes were all puffy from crying. "You have a killer body, you're gorgeous and you have the most stunning eyes anyone could ask for." I blinked as his words penetrated my stubbornness and looked into the mirror more clearly this time. In a way, he was right. The reflection I saw staring back at me was one that I could only have dreamed of a year ago. I was in the best shape of my life: my muscles were well-defined and I looked like a top athlete. I may not have been the Adonis that my boyfriend was, but I still looked pretty good. JP wrapped his arms around my chest and placed his chin on my shoulder. "But best of all, you're a strong person on the inside as well," he assured me. "You have a huge heart and you are so caring to those around you. But that's something you've always had." His voice was almost down to a whisper now. "Why else do you think I fell in love with you?" Now I understood what he was trying to tell me. While my mom struggled with my homosexuality, she still loved me for who I was and always would. But there was something else: most importantly, she recognized my love for my boyfriend as one that was real. She was willing to put aside her own prejudices for our sake, knowing that we would be happier if she did. In a way, it was truly brave and mature of her, and I loved her even more for it. Somehow that morning, I was closer to my mom than I had been in a long time, and definitely since before the divorce. =============================================================================================================================== Meanwhile, Andrew and his friends had finished breakfast and were in their hotel room packing for the afternoon with JP and Matt at Burke Lake Park. "How exactly do we get to Burke Lake Park Andrew?" Carrie asked him. "Is it on the Washington area map?" "No it isn't Carrie, but let's check Windows Live Maps and see if we can find it," Andrew replied, stepping over to his laptop on the desk. As he sat down, he noticed Mike come out of his bedroom with the two backpacks. "Go downstairs and put the two bags in the car Mike; Carrie and I will be down with the map in a few minutes," he said, tossing his car keys to his big friend. "Are you trying to get me out of the way so that you can discuss something private with Carrie?" Mike guessed. "How did you figure that out Mike?" Andrew asked in astonishment, turning to face him. "I saw the looks you and Carrie were exchanging during breakfast," Mike replied. "You seem to forget that I'm just as smart as you are." "Probably even smarter, since I didn't think that you noticed Carrie and I exchanging our secret looks of understanding," Andrew said, looking nervous suddenly. But then he grinned and added, "But if you're half as smart as you think you are Mike, you'll know not to bring up the subject again until I'm ready to discuss it with you." He flexed his massive bicep to emphasize his last statement (pardon the pun), and glared at his big friend. "We both know what will happen if you make me mad Mike; we found out last football season when all those opposing players left the field on stretchers!" "Yeah Andrew, I remember," Mike assured him, looking scared for a split second before he regained his composure. "You're the only football player on the team who has a black belt in several martial arts and knows Infantry unarmed combat skills as well!" "Yeah man, if I wasn't in the Infantry Reserves, I'd probably have to register my hands and feet as lethal weapons," Andrew realized soberly. "I never realized until now just how many ways I could kill someone: with just a hand or a foot or even a strategically-placed finger." "Yes, as Kirk once famously said about Spock: 'Aroused, your great physical strength could kill,'" Mike suddenly realized, his look of fear returning. "Then don't make me mad Big Man; get downstairs now," Andrew growled without even a hint of a smile. When Mike just stared at him in fear, Andrew added, "I've got another quote for you, this time from Police Academy: 'Now Mister! Move it, move it, move it!" "Sure thing man; I'm gone," Mike stammered, heading quickly for the door. "See you downstairs Andrew," he added, as he stepped into the hallway. "Not if I see you first Mike," Andrew corrected him, grinning to let his big friend know that he wasn't really mad. Mike grinned as he walked down the hall and out of sight. Andrew turned to look at Carrie, who wasn't able to erase the look of terror from her face in time to keep Andrew from seeing it. "Hey Baby, don't worry, I was just kidding around: acting tough so that Mike doesn't forget that I'm the boss around here," Andrew assured her. "After all, he's just as big and strong as I am, and he may even exceed me in size and strength one day, considering how big his brother is!" "You may have been kidding around about being angry, but I've been to all your martial arts classes over the years," Carrie reminded him. "So I know all too well how lethal you could be in a fight, especially since you're so big and strong!" "Yeah Carrie, but I only use a tiny fraction of my great strength on you," Andrew assured her, lifting her up gently until she could look into his eyes. He adjusted his grip on her waist slightly and then lifted one massive hand to her face, stroking it softly with a feather light touch. As Carrie's eyes closed in bliss, Andrew grinned and leaned closer. "See Carrie, you have nothing to be scared of," he whispered in her ear. "I'd never hurt you with my great strength; it's a lot more fun to pleasure you with my gentle touch." "And perhaps one day when we get engaged, we could go all the way," Carrie whispered back, opening her eyes. Andrew hesitated and Carrie added, "I know you're really scared that you'd hurt me by accident if you got too excited during sex Andrew, but remember that I'm just as nervous as you are: just for a different reason." "Yeah Carrie; it will be the first time for both of us," Andrew realized, setting her down on her feet gently. "That means that our virginity will be the greatest gift we can give each other." "Maybe an early Christmas Present before we go off to college next fall?" Carrie asked hopefully. "Maybe Carrie, but first, I can now share with you my realization from last night," Andrew said, closing the door to the hallway. "Matt and JP are dating just like we are," Carrie said, saving him the trouble. "There's nothing wrong with that Andrew." "Not in our country no; since we've had gay marriage legalized for two years now," Andrew agreed. "But here in America, it's still not legal and they still have Don't Ask Don't Tell in the military." "Then we won't tell anyone what we've figured out unless JP and Matt decide to discuss it with us," Carrie decided. "I'm glad we agree Carrie," Andrew said, breathing a sigh of relief. He reached out his hand and Carrie took hold of it. He squeezed her fingers gently and opened the hall door. "Now, let's go downstairs and meet Mike at my car. Then we can figure out what to do for the rest of the morning before we meet JP and Matt at Burke Lake Park at 1 pm." Carrie smiled in anticipation as Andrew locked the hotel room door. Then they went downstairs, looking forward to having a fun day with their new friends. ***************************************** This is a good place to end Chapter 2; Chapter 3 will start with a bit more of JP Episode 21 : the only part left that takes place in early July 2005. The rest of Chapter 3 will start filling in the six week gap that exists in that JP Chapter before the JP and Nick Stories join up in mid-August 2005. It was just an amazing coincidence that Andrew met JP in the same Chapter (JP Episode 18) where we first hear about JP's future protégé Nick Agelakis. And now, I can remove the (IN PROGRESS) from the title of this Chapter, which will simply be called: REVELATIONS. Coming soon: -Andrew and JP share their revelations with each other. -Andrew and his friends meet Matt's Mom and JP's parents I hope you enjoy this chapter, and the next chapter will be the first one I write where I have no existing JP Episode to draw from. So I will be extrapolating the JP character the best I can; fortunately, I have the author's permission to do so, as you can see from the link at the beginning of this chapter.

Since it was the first week of college I, of course, found myself wandering the aisles of the campus bookstore hoping to find all of the items I needed for classes. It was strange being at a new place and not knowing a soul. I had traveled across the U.S. to attend this specific establishment of higher education and I was the only person from my hometown to ever be accepted. Certainly a boost to my self-esteem, but at the moment it just seemed lonely and depressing. I was having a bitch of a time finding the textbook for my philosophy class and was beginning to panic. A deep voice suddenly broke my concentration. “Need some help there, sport?” I turned toward the sound and froze immediately. I was gazing at the face of Stack Winston, the most popular guy on campus. He was the quarterback, linebacker, or some kind of back for the football team and had a body that made you immediately think of sword and sandal films, Greek statues, or a very young and huge Lou Ferrigno. The guy was leaning against the row of books to my left and looking me directly in the face. He was wearing his letterman’s jacket, but I could still see the distinct bulges of the huge muscles in his arms, shoulders, and chest underneath. My eyes dropped to the straining buttons of his shirt and would not move back up to his face – no matter how much I told myself it was bad manners to stare. I was too mesmerized by the way his jacket heaved up and down as the guy merely breathed. “My eyes are up here, man.” “Um . . . I’m sorry. It’s just that . . . well . . . I mean . . .” “Don’t worry about it dude. I get that a lot.” “I . . . uh . . . I guess . . . you would.” I was speaking without thinking – something I never did. I was usually a thoughtful introvert who only spoke after contemplating an answer. I was so caught off guard by the fact that the senior that graced all brochures and advertisements for the school was standing just a few feet from me. I had certainly taken a second look at the college mainly because of his beefy picture on the cover of the introduction packet the recruitment office had sent me. “What’s your name gorgeous?” For most of my life I had been called beautiful and handsome. I knew, on some level, that the compliments were true – I was about six foot tall and I had curly blonde hair that always seemed to fall perfectly. I also had an attractive swimmer’s build that seemed to cause lots of people to notice. But no comment up to that point in my life had ever had the impact of Stack’s words. The reality that he called me gorgeous made my face turn red and my cock begin to swell. I lowered the books in my arms to crotch level. “Um, I’m Michael. Michael Thomas.” “Nice name. Meeting you has just renewed my faith in the freshman class, Mr. Thomas. Here I thought there was no hope of anything worth writing home about and then I bump into all this deliciousness. Whatcha looking for?” “I . . . uh . . . need, um . . . a book for my . . . philosophy class.” “Philosophy? Wow, brains to go with all the beauty. I just got all tingly inside. I bet you have old Dr. Horan. He’s tough, but a damn good teacher. I think I still have that book from freshman year. How about I drop it by your place tomorrow?” “Well . . . um, that would be . . . you know . . . swell. I could buy it from you.” “Do people actually say ‘swell’ anymore? Don’t worry about money Mr. Thomas; it will be my gift to you. I like the fact that it will give me a reason to see you again. We might even find other ways for you to thank me.” “Um . . . no, Stack. I insist that I pay you.” “Hey, you know my name.” I didn’t realize he had not shared his name by that point. I was too busy focusing on the fact that the biggest and most studliest of guys at my school was planning to lend me a book. His attention was also a little too much for me to handle. I could feel my legs getting weak and I was becoming a little disoriented. I simply shook my head in affirmation. The big man smiled and lifted his hand to his face – using the big thumb and forefinger to caress the manly mustache this dark-haired angel had grown above his lip. It made him seem so much older than a senior in college. My head began to spin a little more as I stared at his beautiful features – enhanced by the manly handlebar shaped fur. “Where’s your room Michael?” “Um . . . Atlas Hall. Room 203.” “Nice digs for a freshman. Your family must know someone. Appropriate dorm name for a big guy like me to visit, don’t you think?” “Yes.” “See you tomorrow, Michael. Damn, you are one fine looking man.” With that comment, the big hulking muscleman backed up the aisle, never taking his eyes from mine. When he got to the end he winked at me, blew me a kiss and then disappeared. I stood there in shock – doubting any of this had just taken place. I reached up to grab hold of the shelf at my right – hoping it would help to give my body some much needed support. It was a good ten minutes before I was able to move from my place in the bookstore. I could sense people moving around me, but my mind was solely focused on the interaction that had just taken place. I also needed a few minutes to let my raging erection subside – it simply wasn’t used to being so close to so much muscle. My evening of studies the next night was interrupted by a sudden loud knock. My heart skipped a few beats as I stood and walked to the door of my dorm room. I glanced in the mirror attached to my closet as I passed by. I had spent half an hour trying to figure out what kind of outfit would please the man now standing out in the hallway. I had decided to go for a preppy look and now I second-guessed my choice. I took a deep breath and then exhaled. At the same time I opened the door. The behemoth of my dreams stood before me. “Hey bud, what’s happening?” “Um nothing, Stack. I mean . . . nothing. Um . . . what’s um . . . How are you?” I found it difficult to speak. Stack was wearing a gray t-shirt emblazoned with the name of our college and the material was stretching way beyond the expected limit – trying desperately to cover the big dude’s muscles. It was like the guy chose the shirt to intentionally make me come close to passing out when I beheld his body. My eyes could again not stay focused on his face. I quickly took in the expanse of his massive chest and bulging arms. I clearly saw small gaps appearing at the seams of the shirt – simply because the triple x shirt was not big enough to contain all of Stack’s hugeness. My breathing completely stop, I had no power over any part of my body. I was lost in a moment of lust. “You gonna invite me in, handsome?” I could see that his lips were moving and I heard his voice, but northing registered - it sounded like I was two feet under water and he was attempting to tell me something from above. I was finding it hard to move my gaze from the clear outline of his gigantic pectoral muscles bulging underneath the material of his shirt. I had never seen a chest so wide and pumped. Well, not this close and all personal – that’s for sure. I guess some of the guys online or in magazines were this big, but I was sure they were morphed in some way. What appeared before me was the real deal and it was causing me to have dry mouth and become speechless. I just stared at the guy as I moved to the side, giving him room to walk by – but the guy could only fit because he turned his body sideways. Stack purposefully chose to let his chest face me as he slid into the room. I took a deep breath and licked my lips as his hardened nipples – poking the shirt out like some kind of pornographic teepees – passed in front of my eyes. I fell against my door when I got a glimpse of his incredible back, which pulled the material of his shirt so much that it was thin as tissue paper. I knew instantly that if the guy chose to flare out his lats, even slightly, the flimsy cloth would surely completely rip down the middle. I quickly regained control of myself and followed the big man. “Nice room, Mr. Thomas.” “Um . . . thanks.” “What did you do to get in this dorm? Blow the president?” “No, I . . . um . . . I mean . . . my father kind of paid for the new gym.” “No shit! Wait a minute. The whole fucking place is called the Thomas Center, isn’t it? That’s for your dad, right?” “Um . . . yes.” “Cool. Aw, wait! The weight room is called Michael Hall. Is that for you?” “Yes.” “Damn! I spend half my life there. You mean to tell me that every time I throw around some heavy weights and grow bigger I’m standing in a place named for you.” “I guess so.” “That’s sweet. Your gym has certainly helped me to get huge, man. I owe you a lot.” “Well, not really. You don’t . . . um owe me anything. It was my dad . . . really.” “I’m sure your dad would feel that any thank you gift I give to you would be like giving one to him, don’t you think?” “Yes . . . I think he . . . um . . . would.” “And I think I’m gonna need to be thanking you for a long time – to make sure I show you how grateful I really am. After all, I’ve grown pretty big.” Stack was tensing his huge chest as he spoke – clearly teasing me. I watched as the heavy meat rose slowly on the right side and then on the left. It was clear the guy had total control over every possible muscle in his body – both pecs rippled beautifully to prove the point. My tormentor was staring at my face; as if he wanted to make sure his body entranced me before he moved the evening forward. This all registered in my subconscious and I smiled because I thought how impossible it would be that anyone would not be spellbound by the guy’s muscles. My gaze, however, stayed locked on the show being produced underneath his t-shirt. I was a huge sucker for mammoth slabs of beef and Stack was blessed with a chest beyond my wildest fantasies. His voice shook me from my intense gawking. “I brought the book.” He held up the exact text I was looking for and I nodded my head in silent thanks. He tossed the heavy volume on the bed and then grabbed my desk chair with one hand – easily lifting it to the middle of the room and sitting down to face me. He glanced around the room again and then turned his gaze back to me, clearly knowing that my eyes had stayed locked on his giant body the entire time. He let his own eyes move up and down my entire frame – meticulously, as if he were a doctor giving me a complete physical and I was totally nude. “I hope you don’t mind me making myself comfortable, man. I thought you and I could spend some time getting to know each other. So, I’ll start. I like hot men and you’re the hottest thing to step on this campus in a long time. I get the distinct feeling you like big guys and I’m sure I’m the biggest man you’ve ever met. That means we’re like a match made in heaven. I think you should come over here close to me and we’ll see where the evening takes us. You’re like the honey this huge bear has been hunting for all year long and I’m going to go crazy if I don’t get a taste of you soon. At the same time I think you might enjoy exploring all the muscled parts of me.” Stack’s words seemed to echo off the walls of my dorm room. I was trying desperately not to faint. I knew there had been a connection between us in the bookstore, but his honesty and forwardness still caught me off guard. The fact that he had nailed me as a lover of muscle was not a surprise – he clearly saw the lust in my eyes and the outline of my hardened cock at my crotch. I walked across the room and stood in front of the huge man. It was like he was a giant magnet and I was a small piece of metal – there was no way I could have denied the control he had over my body. We were staring into each other’s eyes and I got the feeling it was my time to speak. “I . . . um . . . see you’re the master of the direct approach.” “That doesn’t scare you, does it Michael?” “No, I find it flattering and refreshing.” “Is there anything else that might . . . refresh you?” I said nothing. I reached up and ran my forefinger across his thick mustache – marveling at how hard even short strands of hair could feel. It was simply amazing how power seemed to ooze out of such an ordinary part of a human being. But I was quickly learning there was nothing ordinary about this particular human, he was definitely beyond normal. My finger moved slowly and deliberately, allowing me to fully comprehend the intense masculinity that produced the beautiful love forest above his upper lip. The giant purred softly as my finger stroked his face. I sensed that both of us were fighting a profound urge to pounce on each other as if we were foxes let loose in a hen house. We were intent on making this moment last, fully intending to let the morning sun come up finding us fully awake and having lost count of our numerous orgasms. It was hard to imagine how I would be able to delay gratification being this close to so much muscle, but I knew instinctively it was the unspoken wish of the man beneath me. I continued to stare into his dark eyes, but my peripheral vision registered one of his huge hands moving to his crotch and adjusting what I knew was a growing substantial piece of meat. I smiled at the realization that caressing his facial hair could cause the big guy to shoot hard, but then I remembered that my own cock had turned to something similar to stone as soon as I felt the dense bristles. For the life of me I could not grasp why a little bit of stubble and upper lip fur coating made me so weak at the knees. Stack, of course, could sense how I had lost control of my entire body, just from sensations shooting through my one fingertip. This, in turn, sent the insides of his huge frame into a state of frenzy, as well. It was a vicious lust-filled cycle of exciting each other beyond our wildest dreams and we were quickly moving beyond the point of no return. “Hmmmm, feels good.” Even though Stack whispered, his voice seemed to fill the room like a fifty-piece orchestra playing a dramatic symphony. He could have simply read from the phone book at that moment and my cock would have still leaked pre-cum. My head got a little fuzzier as I began to fully grasp that I was exciting this huge beast in the same way he affected me. A sense of power began to well up inside of me – a feeling that was completely foreign. The thick legs parted before me and I slowly moved forward, never taking my finger from his face. “You like my ‘stache, don’t you?” I merely nodded my head. I was so focused on the feelings rocketing through my body that I could not speak. I felt his solid heavy thighs press into the sides of my legs. I knew he wasn’t applying much pressure, but it still felt like I was wedged between two mountains. Even through both of our jeans I could feel the heat his beefy body produced, causing my own internal temperature to shoot up about ten degrees. I felt beads of sweat instantly burst through my skin - down my back and at my temples. All of this caused my stroking to pause momentarily and Stack took advantage of the hesitation. He parted his lips and lifted his chin slightly, causing my finger to pop into his mouth. His teeth clamped lightly on my knuckle and his tongue began to teasingly circle around my tip. My own mouth fell open a little and a faint moan escaped. The big man’s eyes never left mine. I watched his already chiseled cheeks indent even more as a powerful suction pulled me deeper into his mouth, even though I used all of my strength to fight its force. Stack was showing me that even his throat had strength beyond comprehension. I briefly worried that my entire arm was going to be sucked into his warm mouth. The pressure suddenly released and I knew what to do. I pulled my finger back slowly, making sure to run the tip back and forth across his bottom lip after passing his teeth. “Just imagine all that suction on another part of your body.” Part Two The sensation of Stack’s warm mouth and its powerful suction still pulsed through the finger I rested on his bottom lip. He had encouraged me to imagine how that same feeling would affect my hard cock, but I couldn’t let my mind stay there very long. I was worried that my throbbing piece of meat would erupt merely from thinking about this huge man sucking me off. The entire evening was still so surreal. I was standing in front of the largest human being I had ever met and he kept reiterating how much he wanted me. Doubts and uncertainties were trying hard to pop into my brain, but something inside of me shoved them away. I knew in my core – at the most basic level of my being – that the mountain of muscle sitting in the middle of my room desired me in the same overwhelming way I craved him. This knowledge somehow empowered me and freed me in a way I had never realized was possible. To put it in plain English - it made me cocky. “And what makes you think you deserve another part of my body in that beautiful mouth, Mr. Stack?” My comment sent a wave of euphoria through the big guy’s body – I actually felt it rush across his bottom lip, where my finger rested. I also saw his entire huge frame shiver from the excitement. This caused me to swell even more with self-assurance and I could feel some kind of new life coursing through my body. It was like my blood had been infused with a dose of super testosterone. I had the urge to lift the back of a car or bend a metal bar. It crossed my mind that this is how Stack felt all the time, but the intense pleasure pulsating from beneath my skin made me want to continue to explore what was happening within me – instead of focusing on the big man. Without taking my eyes away from Stack’s, I moved my hand from his lip and dropped it to his mega-sized chest. It took mere seconds for my fingers to find his jutting right nipple. I pinched it hard between my thumb and forefinger – squeezing as if my life depended on it. My other hand quickly found the target on his other massive pec and it copied the previous action. “Ahhhhhh!!!” Stack cried out in pleasure and all of his enormous muscles tensed harder than concrete. I showed him no mercy. I immediately began to twist my hands back and forth like I was trying to find a radio station using his thick man-nubs. The giant sat straight up in the chair and closed his eyes. He was being shot into a land of utter ecstasy and this, of course, only fueled my desire to tease him more. As I twisted his big nipples I also pulled them toward me and jerked them up and down at the same time. I watched Stack’s jaw tighten and his lips quickly parted. He spoke through clenched teeth. “Aw fuck!” I then reversed the motion and pressed his nipples into his chest, realizing I had to press even harder than I imagined because his pec meat was so tight. I let my thumbs push his dense plugs far into the beefiness and Stack leaned forward to make the erotic pain even more intense. I moved my thumbs up and down and felt the muscle underneath start to undulate in the same rhythm. Again, I was beyond amazed at the control this guy had over his massive muscles. I latched on to the nipples even firmer than before and started to jerk the thick meat in different directions. This seemed to send Stack over some unseen edge. I’m not sure he had total control over what he was doing. “Come here, boy!” Stack’s giant hands suddenly shot around me and seized hold of my ass cheeks. He squeezed tightly and the thrill that pounded through my body caused me to pull on his pec meat even harder than I thought was possible. This action made the two big hands attached to my rear pull me quickly into Stack’s waiting crotch. My stiff cock slammed into his hardness and we both gasped loudly from the painful bliss that registered below our waists. We both froze completely – obviously worried that any further movement would make our dicks spew like soda bottles that have been shaken for hours. My fingers were still tightly secure on his nipples and his big paws were gripping my plump ass cheeks so tightly that I knew bruises would noticeable tomorrow. We stayed motionless for a good thirty to forty seconds. Neither of us was breathing and I could feel his hard beef stick through our jeans beating in rhythm with his heart. I was sure he felt the same from mine. We both finally exhaled at the same time and my hands dropped from his aching nipples. He moaned out loud as my fingers released their prisoners. Stack, however, continued to hold on to my ass, but he did, thankfully, lessen the pressure. He also began to knead my bubble butt with his fingers. The feeling was fucking amazing. “My nipples are going to hurt for days.” “Something for you to remember me by.” “Oh I don’t think I could ever forget you, gorgeous. And I certainly won’t forget how awesome your ass feels.” To emphasize his point he squeezed my cheeks harder and lifted his arms at the same time. My feet left the ground and the big man held my large body in the air as he shamelessly let his forefingers press my jeans further up into my crack. His massive thighs were still against my legs and this helped to keep my body balanced, but I had a feeling that his arms were strong enough to hold me in place all by themselves. I gasped out loud as he used little effort to raise my body upward. Even though I clearly understood I wasn’t going to fall over in any direction, I took advantage of the moment and reached out to grab his colossal shoulders, acting like I needed to balance myself. As soon as my fingers landed on his wide traps I got my first real understanding of how hard and big Stack actually was. My hands instantly looked like those of a two-year old because they were lying on top of this part of his monstrous body. My mouth flew open in awe when I saw that the expanse of my entire hand did not come close to reaching across his thickness. I was pretty sure two talented gymnast could use his shoulders simultaneously as pommel horses or for vaulting. I was reminded just how immense Stack Winston truly was and it was a little unnerving. My previous bravado dissipated as I let my hands move across his muscled traps – amazed that they seemed to go on forever. “My god, it’s like somebody attached two thick slabs of concrete to either side of your neck!” I balled up my fists and started to pound on his shoulders, to see if I might be able to dent them even a little, but it was like I was hitting heavy metal cylinders that were wide enough to rest saddles on. Stack’s big hands continued to squeeze my ass as he easily held me in the air. He also chuckled at my comment. “Easy there, tiger, you don’t want to hurt your hands.” I ceased my pounding and felt a slight pain in my hands. I went back to just resting my palms against his hard skin – easily felt even through the thinly stretched t-shirt. The big man lowered my body back to the ground and released my ass cheeks – but I knew I’d continue to feel his grip for at least an hour. He interlocked the fingers of his hands behind me and then pulled my body into his. Our hard cocks were throbbing against each other once again and my tight stomach was pressed against his bulging chest. He tilted his head back to look up at me – even though his forehead actually came up to my eyes and he was still sitting down. I gazed into his face for a few seconds – it was long enough for much of my previous self-assurance to return. I brought my lips down to his and pressed in hard. He gave his mouth completely to me. I turned my head slightly and pushed my tongue inward, exploring every part of his warmth. Neither of us closed our eyes. It was clear we wanted to savor every moment of our first kiss. We stayed lip-locked for a good five minutes, filling the room with just the sounds of our wet smacking and frequent moans of joy. I consider myself a great kisser, but there was something about kissing a man as muscled and handsome as Stack that caused me to even step it up a few more notches. I sensed immediately that he also rated my abilities off the chart, but he clearly understood that what he brought to the kiss also made it special. I finally pulled my face from his. He began smiling like a child that has just gotten the gift of his lifetime. He spoke in a falsetto, pretty humorous for a guy with a body like his. “He likes me, he really likes me.” “Of course I do. What’s not to like? You’re huge, beautiful, and nice.” “Some say I’m stuck on myself, I’m too big, and way too bossy.” “Really? Let’s see. If by stuck on yourself you mean you really like what’s on the inside and outside, then I’m all for that. I like a guy that’s not shy of flaunting what he’s got. And I think you’ve got a lot. As for too big – is there really such a thing? Sure you could easily cause me much pain, but that’s part of the attraction – I love a huge man that can be gentle, but there’s always the knowledge that he’s very powerful. What a turn on! Oh and then there’s the complaint of being too bossy. That kind of makes me laugh. I’ve realized tonight that we both have much power in this blossoming relationship. You can certainly get me to do many things – and your strength and size can certainly intimidate, but I have the distinct feeling that you want to please me in a big way. I can sense that one disparaging look from me will send you into a tailspin. Am I correct, Mr. Winston?” The big man looked into my eyes intently. I saw a clear look of adoration in his gaze. I had hit the nail on the head – but I knew that before I even spoke. There was an understanding between us that needed no words. I could see that Stack wanted me at the same intense level I wanted him. I didn’t try to figure out why he felt that way - there was no need. I just accepted it as fact. It was 2012 for god’s sake and two men – even two men that were physically very different – had the right and the opportunity to lust after each other in the way that we did. I could see that my words had somehow taken our relationship to a new level. Stack was definitely smitten on a level that could not be reversed. I loved the idea that a huge muscled god could be easily overpowered by something as simple as love – it was certainly something like an erotic David and Goliath story. “I want you as my boyfriend, Michael Thomas.” “Wow, Mr. Winston, there are so many men at this college – why should I pick you as my boyfriend?” I was toying with the big guy and he instantly recognized it. We both knew that this evening was cementing something beautiful and beyond words, but we also realized we were going to milk it for all it was worth. I was his and he was mine – plan and simple. We both understood that within the first two minutes of meeting each other at the bookstore. For some reason he seemed to like smaller fit handsome men and we both knew I lusted after heavily muscled men. Like he had said earlier – Stack and I were definitely a match made in heaven. “Well, first of all, if you choose anyone else I will crush them like a little grape. Second of all, you’re into muscle in a huge way and I’m definitely sure you’re not going to find anyone bigger than me. This body, I’m sure, is way beyond even your jerk-off fantasies. But more than any of that, I don’t think you’ll ever find a guy that wants you more than I do.” It was the final statement that stayed in my head. I knew, instinctively, that this guy could beat into a pulp any guy that challenged him. I also realized that he fully understood and accepted my lust for huge muscles. He clearly got the fact that I needed more than just a huge body – but also that, in my mind, it was a great starting point for any relationship. And yet, it was the fact that he desired me in such an intense way that really made me fall in love with him. I know the word love is pretty strong – especially after only two meetings, but it was the most obvious thing ever in my entire life. We loved each other. I was completely aware that Stack felt the same way. I moved away from teasing comments and suddenly went serious. “This is really intense, Stack. I’ve never felt this way. It’s a little overwhelming.” “I feel the same way, Michael. You kind of hit me like a shot out of the blue. I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend, but then I saw you in the bookstore and I was smitten.” “Does anyone really use the word smitten anymore?” We both smiled at each other. The sexual intensity that had existed just a few minutes ago was now gone. We had moved to something much deeper and more satisfying. I knew we both still had cocks as hard as telephone poles, but the need for immediate gratification was gone. It was clear to both of us that this relationship was for good and we knew that meant we could get our rocks off any time we wanted. It didn’t lessen our desire for each other – it only made us less desperate. I moved my hands up to his impressive chest, which immediately caused him to tense it so hard that I could only rest my palms against it – there was no way I was going to push the meat inward. “You’re a chest man, aren’t you, Michael?” “I’m a muscle man, Stack. Yes, a big chest is beautiful, but all huge muscles impress me. I think you’re an ass man, aren’t you?” “I like a firm butt, of course, but it’s not the only thing I get into. I like a beautiful face and a tight little body. You seem to fit that bill perfectly. Your fantastic ass is just icing on the cake.” “And do you like to lick the icing, Mr. Winston?” “Not only do I like to lick it, but I also like to plunge my hard cock into the icing, as well. Is that okay with you, Mr. Thomas?” “You know the answer without even asking the question, sir. You can dip into my icing any time you like.” “Shit, man. You’re getting me so hot and bothered I’m ready to rip a car apart with just my hands or bring a building down with a few punches. I’m not sure I can hold out much longer.” “Is that so? Well, I’d like to see what those arms can do with that flimsy t-shirt for a start, sir.” My request made the big man grin like a child that just won first prize in some contest. He grabbed me at my waist and easily lifted my body up in the air. He then moved me a little distance back. I had to remove my hand from his body and I immediately felt the loss. I was still close to the man, but we weren’t touching at any part of our bodies. He reached up and grabbed the collar of his t-shirt. I swear what came next was like a slow motion camera had caught all of his actions and I was watching it in replay. He pulled his hands apart methodically and teasingly. The room was filled with the sound of ripping material and I watched his massive chest plop out as he pulled his shirt apart. My mouth dropped open at the beginning and a big glob of saliva slid down my cheek as soon as the rip reached the bottom of his pecs and began to reveal the perfectly chiseled abs below. My eyes stayed glued to every inch of skin that was exposed as the shirt was easily pulled away. Stack’s chest was covered with the same kind of heavy fur that was found on his upper lip and that made my cock squirt pre-cum like a volcano teasing people before the final eruption. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.” “Spoken like a true student of philosophy, Mr. Thomas. I’m certainly glad you approve.” “Approve? What’s not to like? Your chest is the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen. Just look at how the mounds of muscle stick out like an erotic 3-D movie. I haven’t ever seen a pair of pecs so big and full of muscle. I already know what those babies can do – I’ve seen you ripple each part of them with control that’s unimaginable. The added bonus of abdominal muscles that look like they have been cut in marble only intensifies my reaction. Just look at that fucking eight-pack covered in a dusting of fur that makes me want to lick every inch of your stomach.” “I don’t think any other words have ever turned me on so much. You are a true muscle worshipper, my friend.” “You have not idea.” “Well, that’s why we’re so perfect for each other. You like muscle and I’ve got lots of it.” “So I see.” By this point the big man had completely ripped his shirt down the middle and was straining to pull the remnants from his massive arms and shoulders. When the material finally fell to the floor and his entire torso was revealed I immediately became silent – mainly because I had not prepared myself for what I would see. Stack’s upper body was more than a work of art – it was beyond description or reproduction. First of all, there was muscle everywhere. It was certainly in all the places you would expect, but then he had other muscles that seemed to be a surprise. He had muscles on top of muscles. His uncovered shoulders seemed to be an intricate pile of sinew and thickness placed on top of each other and then covered in skin. It was multiple mountains of muscle that rippled when he moved his body. Stack knew I was looking at his shoulders so he started to tense up his trapezius muscle and the big boulders on either side of his neck rose even higher. I moaned out loud as I gazed at all the power in just that one part of his body. “Shit, your traps flex up higher than your ears.” “Not quite, Michael, but it’s nice of you to say. And what do you think of the work I’ve done on my delts?” The big guy rolled his shoulders forward a little and then pushed them back, his chest pushed out so much further that I could have easily leaned forward and found total support form his monster pecs. My eyes, however, were locked on the giant solid mounds that had somehow been implanted underneath his skin at the top of both of his beefy arms. The man’s delts looked as big as basketballs. I knew immediately that my hand would not cover even a fraction of the freakish muscle he had built at this part of his body. It didn’t just look like the guy was wearing skin covered shoulder pads; the deltoid muscles were much bigger than that. No, it looked like someone had attached tractor tires above his biceps. My mouth was still wide open and I finally realized that I was gurgling like a little baby – that’s how unbelievable Stack’s delts were. “Look at this, man, I can even tense up my delts something hard.” Striations suddenly appeared up and down the mounds of muscle at the edge of both of his shoulders. I swear both bulging masses ballooned up a lot more than before. I easily saw that I could have placed a bunch of quarters all up and down the grooves in his hard meat and they would have stayed in place – hell, they probably would have been squeezed so hard they would have been unrecognizable. I reached out and slid my hand up and down his right deltoid muscle. It was like I was feeling the trunk of some petrified tree – ridges of muscle that seemed harder than anything humanly possible. “No fucking way.” “I can see that Mr. Michael is pleased. Are you ready for the gun show, sir?” “No, please don’t!” I yelled loudly and quickly – raising both hands up in the air. My heart was beating so fast and my cock was so pumped that I knew if he flexed his massive arms I would either have a heart attack or blow a giant hole through my underwear and jeans from just because of one look. Even relaxed the monster biceps were peaked like Mount Everest and looked thicker than a Hummer. Seeing those arms swell up even larger was going to need some building up to – I had to have a hell of a lot more stamina. The enormous tease of a man chuckled at my reaction, but I could tell he completely understood. It was clear he had caused this kind of reaction before in many other guys. I was glad he was sympathetic. He could have easily sent me beyond the point of control. Stack tensed his massive pecs and made them ripple as before. This time I was seeing muscle directly and not covered by a thin t-shirt. I marveled at the beautiful heavy dusting of fur across his colossal mounds of meat and it somehow seemed to enhance their size and beauty. Stack’s hairy chest was exactly what any artist or muscle pig could wish for. He was beyond huge, but everything was beautifully proportioned. His thick neck looked natural placed atop his giant torso. His chest and arms easily matched the enormity of his shoulders and his stomach looked like a perfectly plowed field of muscled abdominals. By this point I was beyond cohesive thinking or speaking. I was lost in Stack heaven. I could tell he loved my adoration, but there was something more. I sensed that he was looking at me in the same way – with the same level of lust. This turned me on even more. “How about you get naked for me, Michael.” Part Three It briefly puzzled me that Stack wanted to see me nude – mainly because, compared to him, I was a toothpick standing before a redwood. Normally, I would have become very self-conscious and found some reason to not take off my clothes, but today was different. It had dawned on me earlier that Stack found my body, not to mention my size, a big turn on. Now it hit me fully that the big man liked my body as intensely as I lusted after his. Instead of freaking out about that revelation, I simply accepted it as fact and relished in the power it created within me. I knew instinctively that I should prolong the gratification of him seeing my uncovered nicely proportioned build as long as I could. We were caught up in some mind-blowing type of foreplay dance that would probably last the rest of our lives. I reached up to my shirt and undid a couple of buttons, allowing my smooth hairless chest to be slightly revealed. “Yeah, buddy, that’s nice. You’re so less furry than me and look at that swimmer’s chest, nice and muscled. That fucking v-shape you got going on is messing with my cock something awful. Let me see your nips, I’m begging ya, Michael.” I reached down and slowly pulled the shirttail from my jeans. I then began to undue the rest of the buttons – never taking my eyes off of Stack’s face. He tried to return my gaze, but he was too distracted by my striptease act. When I pulled the sides of my shirt back to fully reveal my chiseled torso he became extremely silent and I swear his eyes got twice as big as before. The giant wasn’t breathing. He was moving his eyes quickly up and down, taking in my tight thin stomach, my nicely molded pectoral muscles, my broad shoulders, and then, what he really wanted to see, the wide dark skin that circled around my hardened erect nipples. All my life guys had been surprised by the expanse of my areolas and the thickness of my guy teats. I paused for a while and gave Stack some time to let this special treat sink in completely. He was biting his bottom lip without even thinking about it – obviously excited by what he knew would eventually be a mouthful of my sweet meat. “Damn, those things are beautiful and huge. What do you do to get them so big – dangle hundred pound weights attached by some kind of modified jumper cables? Those hefty plugs are bigger than mine. Shit, I can’t wait to suck on those things.” “I’m glad you like ‘em, Stack. They’re all yours. And I don’t need to do anything to get these nubs so large – they came this way. I guess I was just blessed.” “I’ll say, Michael. And I’ll make sure I treat them so nice you’ll feel blessed twice. Man, I’m salivating like a rabid dog dreaming of spending quality time on those nipples. Come here and let me taste ‘em.” “Not yet, Mr. Big. You wanted me naked and I’m not moving until I’m down to my birthday suit. I want to please my admirer like he’s never been pleased before.” “You already have, man, you already have.” I laughed out loud and then slid the open shirt off of my shoulders. I could tell I was standing taller than I ever had before – fully charged with confidence and proud of my body. I shook out my arms and then stood there, frozen like the statue of David. I watched Stack’s eyes roam around my entire upper torso. He had no idea where to let his gaze rest – but he always paused when he went past the thick nipples perfectly framed in dark circles on my pecs. After a few minutes he finally locked his eyes on mine and I could tell he was pleading with me to continue and to make it quick. I, however, had other plans. I undid my belt and pulled it from my jeans slowly. I was teasing him mercilessly and he knew it. “I think you want my body as much as I want yours, Mr. Winston.” “More.” “I doubt that is possible.” “You can think what you want, Michael, but I’ve never met a guy that turns my crank as hard as you do. It’s taking every ounce of strength to prevent myself from bursting from this chair, tackling you on the ground, and having my way with you.” “I have a feeling that’s a hell of a lot of power then – if it’s every ounce of strength in that big body of yours.” “You have no idea, sir. No idea.” By this point Stack was breathing hard and his massive chest was heaving up and down. He did, indeed, look like a raging animal about to charge. I fantasized for a few seconds about having a red cape and standing in a big stadium – a toreador about to fight the largest bull in the world. This led to the idea of wrestling my mammoth admirer and that thought made my cock twitch. Even though I knew the match would be heavily one sided, the thought of having his large body on top of me caused a jolt of electricity to shoot through my body. I think my nipples actually poked out further because of my daydreaming. “I think you’re having a little trouble controlling your own gorgeous body, aren’t you Mr. Thomas. I think those plugs just grew bigger.” “I’m just thinking about all the things I want to do to and with that big body of yours, superman.” “I like the sound of that. Copying a phrase you said a few minutes ago - all these big muscles and whatever they can do is now just for you.” “And I like the sound of that.” We had once again been carried away on a wave of lust and presently teetered precariously at the edge of some unknown orgasm cliff – desperately wanting to take that little step and be consumed by overpowering ejaculations, but our desire for more foreplay caused us to silently call a truce. We stood in silence, only staring at each other’s face because we had a feeling that one glance at the other’s naked torso would cause the impending tsunami presently dammed within our cocks. My own dick was throbbing so much that I could feel it had become a little raw from all the friction against my tight jeans through the underwear, but the pain felt so good. “I’m ready for you to continue, Mr. Thomas.” I needed no more encouragement. I undid the button of my jeans and pulled the two sides apart slowly, letting the sound of the opening zipper fill the room. Stack could not keep his eyes on mine with this kind of action going on. He quickly dropped his gaze down to my crotch and it was clear that the sudden view of my white briefs caused the kind of reaction in him that was usually saved for watching cum shots in porn videos. My underwear was turning the giant on in a way that made me chuckle. I pushed the jeans down over my hips, purposefully leaving my briefs untouched. The removal of the thicker material made me aware of the large damp spot at the front of my underwear and I remembered how much pre-cum had gushed from my cock so far. Stack must have noticed the same thing and his large tongue crept out and slid across his thick mustache. He looked like a huge lion preparing to eat some captured smaller prey. The heavy bristles above his lip glistened from his spittle and I began to fantasize what it would feel like to have that bushy facial hair prickling different parts of my body – my earlobes, my balls, and way up between my ass cheeks. My legs actually wobbled from the imagined pleasure. “I see something just made you happy, Michael. A penny for your thoughts.” “I’ll share anything with you, good sir, for free – no need to pay anything. I was just thinking about how that dense ‘stache is going to feel slammed way up in my ass crack.” “Whoa, slow down there tiger. If you throw out visuals like that without any warning I’m going to explode like an overheated nuclear plant. I may be a big man, but I can’t control my cock from spewing when I’m turned on more than I ever thought possible. Now I’ve got to calm down - I must put new images in my head before I shoot my load. Let’s see: dead puppies, my grandmother’s underwear, Martha Washington, wet noodles . . . there, much better. We’ll have no more talk of your tight bubble butt, agreed? Let’s just leave that as your secret weapon, to be revealed only when you finally want to bring this big man to his knees. Fair enough?” “And what will you hold off on in return – it’s only fair?” “I promise not to flex my massive guns until you tell me to. I think that’s a even trade, don’t you think.” The mere mention of his giant arms caused a little whimper to escape from my mouth. I held my gaze level with his face and used all of my will power not to behold the mountainous peaks that exploded insanely below his shoulders. I knew the same detonation he had alluded to for him earlier would have happened at my own crotch – from just one glance. Stack instantly recognized my struggle and the incredible fortitude I showed by not looking down. I saw that my inner strength impressed him. For now, me exposing my ass or him pumping up his arms was off limits. It was clear we both wished to show mercy. “We have a deal, sir.” “Thank you, Michael. A tight hole and flexed guns can be the final prize for both of us. That way we can prolong this newfound teasing as long as possible – maybe even all night. I don’t want this feeling of power and powerlessness to ever end.” “It doesn’t have to, Stack.” My comment made the colossal man smile. He understood I was inferring we could be together forever. He stood up, undid his jeans, and pushed them down over his own briefs – and I thought about how I could have fit my entire body through just one leg opening. This thought pleased me very much. We both kicked our pants away from our feet after slipping off our shoes. Without even discussing it, each of us chose to keep our socks on, somehow getting more excited by the decision. I could not hold out any longer and I let my gaze fall first to his legs. “Aw fuck!” My reaction was instant and impossible to hold back. When I got my first glance at Stack’s gargantuan thighs, I simply had to express my shock in the first way that came to my mind. Their size was unfathomable. I swear it looked like someone had taken two large kegs and covered them with skin. To say his thighs ballooned out was an understatement. I was surprised human skin could expand so much. I couldn’t begin to count the thick long veins that stretched in every direction across his bulging legs. They disappeared in deep crevices and pulsed with power everywhere. It was clear his legs were relaxed but they appeared more tensed than a nun in a whorehouse. I was sure that when he flexed his leg muscles I was going to hear noises like rubber stretching or metal scraping against metal. I didn’t have any fetishes that involved me being a child, but the idea of riding on one of those muscled stallions turned me on in a big way. I wanted to try and wrap my own legs around one of his monster thighs and hold on as he bounced my ass and balls up and down until I shot off so hard my cum hit the ceiling. I would certainly be more exciting that a real bucking bronco. “Those two legs come with saddles?” “No, but I guess I have gotten them pretty big, huh?” “Big? Hell, they aren’t big - they’re monstrous. I’m surprised this entire dorm doesn’t shake when you take a few steps. One of those trunks is wider than some pro bodybuilder’s backs. You usually need a special license just to move things that big from place to place.” “Well I’m certainly glad you’re not disappointed.” “Disappointed? Hell no. I want to wrap my arms and legs around one of those things and go for a ride across campus – but I’m damn sure I’m not big enough to reach around such thickness.” Just to tease me more, Stack tightened his leg muscles. The bulkiness below his waist flared out even wider than before and suddenly his legs blocked the view of half the room behind him. It was a true testament to what was possible in muscle growth. Stack had created the true definition of thighs of steel. I had a feeling that an arrow shot from a cross bow at close range would have simply bounced off his tensed thighs. On second look I figured a speeding car would probably bounce off, as well. The striations were not slight indentions – they were more like mini Grand Canyons. I had never seen muscles bulge so much. I found myself suddenly getting very dizzy. I moved my gaze back up to his face to prevent myself from passing out. I was amazed to find Stack staring at my body in the same lustful way, as I was his. “Your body is beautiful, Michael.” “Thank you.” I accepted the compliment and was amazed that I didn’t try to deflect it in any way – or turn the focus back to his enormous body. I was, again, empowered by his honest desire for me. I didn’t try to second-guess anything. This was such a new and liberating feeling. My blood seemed to pump more powerfully than ever before through my body and I began to view myself through the gaze of Stack. I found much pride in my tanned face and thick golden brown hair. I could feel the warmth of the room enveloping my tight body, my erect full man nubs, and especially my firm round ass. Knowing my body gave this superman so much pleasure brought me unending joy and a self-assurance that made me feel incredibly potent and alive. I could tell I was radiating a kind of confidence that was intoxicating to Stack. He moved toward me and I took the opportunity to watch his massive thighs battle each other for space as he walked – shoving the heavy meat on the opposite side back and forth as he came forward. He slid his big hands under my arms and I instantly realized his forefingers and thumbs probably met above my shoulder, but I didn’t have time to contemplate that thought for long. Stack’s massive arms lifted me off the ground like I was as light as a towel. As a matter of fact he slid my body against his own huge torso like he was trying to dry himself off or something. It quickly dawned on me he really just wanted to feel my hot skin against his – and I certainly wanted the same thing. When my face was even with his he pressed his lips against mine and this time his tongue ravaged my mouth like this was going to be the last kiss on earth. I could feel the rigid log in his briefs pressing against my semen-charged balls, while the tip of my cock – which had snuck past the elastic band of my underwear – was smashed into his marble-like furry abdominals. My dangling feet kicked slightly back and forth with scrunched up toes as Stack sucked on my tongue in the same expert way he had my finger earlier. I was lost in his kiss, but mainly I was focused on the way his bushy mustache tickled my upper lip. It was odd how something so easily grown by a testosterone-laden muscleman could cause such unbridled erotic joy in a lesser human. His mustache turned me on as much as his muscles. We kissed for an eternity and it never once entered my mind that I might ever become heavy to Stack – I knew instinctively it wasn’t possible. He finally pushed my easily held body from his and our mouths popped when pulled apart. “Michael, I’ve got to let loose some of this built up super energy or I’m going to self combust. This is all just too much for me to handle.” “Then drop and give me a hundred push-ups, but let me ride for a little added weight and a lot of added fun.” Stack moved so quickly that I almost didn’t know what was happening. He gently placed me on the ground and then he dropped forward catching himself on the carpeted floor with his big arms. He squeezed his immense back and I gasped when I saw it burst into unimaginable mounds of muscle. His ass also tensed up within his underwear and I clearly saw those giant bodybuilder butt dimples that came with being able to control your body in ways that seemed inhuman. The big guy was stock-still and I could tell he was waiting for me. There, of course, was room for a small army to sit on his substantial torso and I hesitated briefly, trying to decide how I would ride the huge stallion. “Lay on top of me, buddy, and play with my nips as I crank these reps out for you.” The giant man had turned his head to look up at me and he did not need to ask twice. I climbed on top of him, noting that it felt like I was getting into a queen-sized bed. I slid my body down his slightly, mainly because my arms could not have possibly reached around his wide back, thick lats, and huge pecs to latch onto his nipples, but also because I wanted to rest my hard cock between the two round globes of beef that was his ass. I was able to reach around and up to his hard plugs from this angle. My chin rested on the space between his two giant rhomboid muscles and both of my legs lay comfortably across one of his massive thighs. Touching his body in this way made my cock start to twitch noticeably and the big man squeezed his glutes, just to tease my aching rod. He was somehow able to tense his butt cheeks in a ripple effect, which, in turn, felt like heavy hands stroking my cock. I pulled down hard on his nipples and moaned out loud at the same time. He knew his ass manipulation was about to make my dick explode. “Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t help it. Your cock just feels so right stuffed into my crack. It’s a natural reaction for me to want to please you.” “The only way to please me right now, big man, is to show me what those arms and this chest can do. Let’s see a little less talk and a lot more action. Pump out those push-ups! Now!” Part IV Like I mentioned earlier, I’ve always been considered quite handsome. I even did a little modeling in high school. But true to human nature, I always dreamed of being something other than what I was. The grass is always greener on the other side, right? I wanted to be a huge muscleman, but I didn’t really have the right body or the drive to get big – I mean really big. I was a well-built guy that attracted the gaze of both girls and guys, so that seemed to help me accept myself on some level. There was, however, an ingrained lust for big musclemen and it dominated many of my dreams and fantasies. The moment I felt Stack lower his huge body toward the ground and then crank out his first push-up with me laid out flat on his massive back my whole world turned upside down. It really is wild to have one of your biggest desires in life come true in a matter of a few days. I was holding on to two monster pecs as my cock was squeezed teasingly between powerful ass cheeks – and all as we started moving up and down, slowly and methodically. The big man was now showing off, easily pumping out perfect reps with a decent sized guy on his back. Somewhere in the back of my mind I counted each push-up even as I pulled hard on his man-plugs and tried to knead his stone-like chest with my hands. “Like the ride, Michael.” My body purred in response. It was a mixture of moaning and speaking, but it seemed to come from deep in my chest, crotch, and even from the tips of my toes. I knew Stack could feel the vibration as my body shivered in pure delight. We had already hit thirty reps and the brute wasn’t showing any signs of strain or even slowing down. I could not – no matter how hard I tried – get my mind around how strong this beast must be. He started shooting one hand out to the side as he went down, just to make my cock grow even harder between his cheeks, merely from the knowledge that he could easily do one-arm push-ups with my entire body on top of him. “What number are we on, sport?” “Fifty-two.” I whispered my answer, mainly because I was too carried away by the feeling of his warm stone-hard back beneath my chest and the fact that my hands could no longer grab any meat off of his chest – it was simply too tight from the exercising. I realized immediately that we were going to be here for a while. Stack needed to work off some built-up sexual tension, caused – of course – by me. His nipples were still erect and hard as small anvils. I had a feeling his cock was the same, but the push-ups seemed to be helping a little. I could tell his heartbeat was moving back to normal – even though he was pumping out numerous reps in the fashion most people breathed, easy and calm. I squeezed his teats even harder when he hit eighty push-ups; his form still impeccable and he wasn’t sweating even a little. “I can tell by the super stiff rod pressing into my ass that Mr. Thomas is pleased with my work.” “My cock reacts to muscle the same way Superman reacts to the sun. The closer I am to it the stronger it gets. And the thing’s never been so hard - let me tell you. I think I could easily press through a wall of metal – that’s how stiff my pole feels right now.” “Now that would be fun to watch. You know just how to turn a big man on, Michael.” “Right back at you, Stack. Right back at you.” At this point we were way beyond a hundred repetitions. The man was still breathing calmly and now held an arm out to the side for five push-ups in a row and then did the same with the other arm. I was getting dizzy from the up and down motion, but mostly from his display of raw power. My cock throbbed noticeably within Stack’s muscled bubbled ass. He kept squeezing my stiffness – sometimes with so much strength that I would holler like some schoolboy being teased on the playground. The huge man had more might in just his cheeks than I did in my entire body. I was getting scared that my shaft was going to shoot a major load just from the workout his ass was giving to that part of me. “You got to quit teasing my cock, big guy. I am about to blast a wad and slather up your crack something good if you don’t watch it.” “Okay, I’ll show some mercy, but just for now. I can’t wait until I finally get the chance to make you empty your sweet juice all over me. I want to see what you taste like. I bet you’d like to see me covered in your cum, wouldn’t you?” “You are an evil man, Mr. Stack. By the way, we’ve gone beyond two hundred reps, maybe we should stop. I’m a little light headed. Has this . . . um . . . lessened the intensity of your impending combustion?” “No sir, it’s only made it worse. Feeling your hard dick in my ass crack has gotten me jacked up beyond belief. I could crank out about five hundred more of these things before I even began to feel some relief. How about some presses? Here, let me turn over.” Stack lowered his body down to the ground one more time and I rolled myself off of his huge frame. I immediately missed the warmth and hardness of him. I stood up beside him and watched him turn over. Seeing his muscles from above was breathtaking. I was kind of dancing around – like a puppy that needs to pee – because I knew what was coming. I was going to lie across his hands and he was going to push my entire body up and down with just his beefy arms. This was one of my deepest fantasies and I loved all the videos online that featured this act. I was slightly leaning over as he situated himself. He looked up at me and smiled at my excitement. “Well, are we a little happy about what’s to come or what, Mr. Michael?” “You have no idea.” “I think I’m getting a pretty good picture of what this is going to do for you, but I’ve got a surprise. Turn around and sit on my right palm.” My face immediately showed disappointment, but then the light went on in my head. I turned around and watched as Stack flattened his right hand and lowered his arm so I could easily fall back and sit squarely on his giant paw. My ass was just a little wider than his hand, but it was still quite comfortable. I kind of let out a squeal of glee when he tightened his fingers and thumb around my butt meat, enabling me to feel completely safe in his grasp. I didn’t need to hold on to anything. Without any warning my body was pushed into the air by just one of his giant arms. I could tell it was a simple act for him, like he was pushing a folded shirt up to a high shelf or something. I weighted nothing to him. Stack quickly got into a nice rhythm of pressing my body fully into the air and then lowering his arm until his elbow grazed the floor. I wrapped my legs around his thick forearm. Again, the man breathed and spoke normally, as he basically tossed my body around like it was some kind of small rubber ball. After fifty reps with one hand he merely moved my body over his wide chest and switched hands – like it was no big deal to transfer a full-grown dude so easily. “This is helping a lot, Michael. I can actually feel your weight a little when I use one hand. It’s still pretty simple, but, at least, I know you are there. It’s also the best win-win for both of us, because you love being lifted and I adore getting to feel your nice tight ass.” “Next time I can put some weights in my lap, if it will help.” “Yeah, that sounds good. Can you hold a few forty pound plates on your legs, man?” “Depends on how many.” “Let’s say three or four.” “Four would make the total weight over three hundred pounds!” “You’re right. What was I thinking? Can you hold six in your lap?” Stack started laughing and his arm shook a little. It didn’t matter to me, though, because the beefy hand was clamping my ass in a way that made it clear I wasn’t going anywhere, even if he stood up and turned his palm upside down. There are moments in your life when you feel completely satisfied and at peace – maybe it’s the first time you get embraced by someone you love, maybe it’s the first time you experience a night in a hot tub, maybe it’s the first time you feel the perfect warmth of expensive sheets and thick comforters on a cold night – well, being held by this big man in one hand was all of these feelings combined. It was almost indescribable. I could actually hear his biceps expand when he lowered my body and the sound of the enlarged muscle rubbing up against his giant forearm was sending me over the edge. By this point, the strong man had lifted my body up and down over a hundred times in each hand. This experience was better than any ride at any amusement park, but it was also the biggest turn on I had ever experienced in my entire life. My cock was pressing into my stomach hard, its almost purple mushroom head sticking way past the elastic band of my briefs. Stack actually started tossing my body into the air with one hand and then catching me easily in the palm of the other. That’s what finally made me lose control. I sputtered words quickly as I went over the orgasmic edge. “I’m sorry Stack, I just can’t hold out any longer, man. You’re just too much, man. I gotta cum! I’m going to explode.” I could tell my words caught the big man off guard. I think he was enjoying tossing my body around as much as I did. My warning, however, made him spring into action immediately. He brought his other hand up to my ass and rolled my body easily around in his big paws. The enormous man then lowered me toward his face and nudged his nose into my stomach and then in a flash pushed the band of my underwear down beyond my balls. Before my cock had even contracted inward in preparation of shooting harder than ever before, his warm mouth engulfed the head and then slid down my entire long shaft. I could tell Stack opened his throat completely to take my entire geyser-like offering to his body and strength. My cock plunged deeper into the opening at the back of his mouth from the force of my ejaculation and I screamed as if I were trying to pass something as big as a truck through my dick slit. My body was as straight as a board and Stack easily held me in place, with just his two hands. The giant beneath me moaned loudly as a mouthful jism shot into his throat. I could tell he was impressed with the size of my first wad explosion and then all hell broke loose. I started bucking in his strong grip and that forced my rod to thrust in and out of his deep throat, which, in turn, sent me into even deeper euphoria. The mixture of feelings from his strong hands, his warm mouth, and his tight throat around my fat dick head sent me into some other pleasure universe. “Aw fuck, yeah!” Stacks words were muffled because my cock was still emptying what seemed like the entire insides of my body deep into his throat. I could tell he was as stimulated by the experience as I was and that’s when I felt his giant arms begin to tremble beneath me. At first I had no idea what was happening, but then it became clear that his big body was bucking on the floor as hard as mine – maybe even more. He held on to me tightly and I continued to pound his throat hard, but Stack was shooting a powerful load of his juice at the same time. I had simply sent the big man beyond his control point, as well. He easily held my body in the air as his crotch pushed up off the floor from the force of his orgasm. Stack had to stop sucking for the duration of his ejaculation, but left my cock plunged in his throat as he cried out in ecstasy. I could tell by the way our bodies scooted a few feet across the floor that his cum explosion had registered higher on the Richter scale than a small earthquake. We were both experiencing lust that was much more intense than we thought was possible. As soon as my cock had pelted the last squirt of juice it had churned slowly over the last twenty-four hours from fantasies of Stack, my stiff body collapsed and my chest fell to the floor above his head while my legs fell on his muscled torso. The giant still held my body so my cock stayed nestled in his warm mouth. He had resumed sucking on my meat gently, obviously loving the taste of me. I was breathing so hard it seemed like I was having an asthma attack. The mixture of soothing sounds coming out of Stack’s mouth – slurping and moaning – helped to slow my heart rate down. Finally, the big man pulled my body downward, allowing my still-hard cock to pop out of his tight throat. He pulled my briefs back up with his teeth and then he licked my stomach and chest as it passed across his face. Stack latched his lips on to mine when they were finally even with each other. My smaller frame molded into his massive upper body and one of his huge arms wrapped around my back, securing me in what felt like a blanket of muscle. We stayed lip-locked for a few minutes, just enjoying the warm wet softness of each other’s mouth. The bristles of his mustache made my body ache for some unknown pleasure, but I knew, instinctively, it involved his face buried in my ass. Stack finally spoke, but he kept his lips on mine. “That was the sweetest tasting stuff I’ve ever swallowed. I think that’s the only dessert I’ll ever need for the rest of my life. There certainly was enough for a giant boy like me, too. Have you been saving yourself for big Stack, Mr. Michael?” “You know it, but the combination of your lifting me up in the air so easily and that powerful mouth of yours also made my body produce about a gallon of juice just in the last thirty minutes. I’m like a cum making machine and your body is the only switch that can get me going at some unimaginable super speed. It’s almost as if I know your body needs a hell of a lot more protein than normal people. My cock merely wants to please its muscle master.” “Damn, boy, you know just how to get me rock hard again – even after I’ve blasted off harder than ever in my life and my body is craving some much needed rest.” I could feel his throbbing piece of thick meat stiffening against my thigh. It actually felt like a normal guy’s arm was pressing into me. My own worn out cock started to stir again, confused because it desperately needed more time to recover, but it couldn’t be near all this hard muscle and not react. I started grinding my crotch into Stack’s lower abdominals, allowing my thigh to rub up and down Stack’s hardening rod. The man started to purr softly and shivers were sent through my body because I could feel the sound reverberating through his enormous chest. Within seconds we were both fully erect again. “Shit, I believe you are going to be the first person to ever wear me out, Thomas-man. It’s like you should win a gold medal for cock teasing or something.” “Maybe you don’t have an Achilles heel, Stack, but your cock is actually your weakness. It’s the way this little David can bring down the big Goliath. I’ll control you by your thick stick!” “I bet you don’t find my cock weak when it’s pounding your ass in a little while. There’s not a vulnerable part to this big body, Michael, but there is a defenseless spot in my heart when it comes to you. I haven’t ever felt something this powerful and this quick. I’m serious. It’s a little frightening, you know. I have this urge to squeeze you so hard that you become one with my body. It’s taking a lot of stamina not to bear-hug the life out of you.” “Well as nice as that sounds, I’m glad you’re controlling that impulse – seeing how you could probably manipulate my body easily like a tube of toothpaste and force all of my insides out with just a slight cuddle. Hell, it already felt like you sucked everything in me out of my cock earlier. I have a feeling I lost five pounds down your throat.” The big arm around my body crushed me teasingly as Stack laughed out loud. I loved saying things that made him chuckle – it was like I attained some goal or crested a mountaintop. I had never desired to please someone as much as I did this big man. The feelings were all so new, but they felt so right. “Let’s not go overboard there, mister. I’m big, but I’m not Superman or anything. Besides, I wouldn’t hurt you for anything in the world. I just want to do things that make you stay hard all the time. If I can make you cum again as hard as you did a few minutes ago, it will be the greatest gift I’ve ever received. Making you horny gets me going in a way that I’ve never experienced before. I don’t understand it, but I certainly like the way it makes me feel. It’s like I desperately need your affirmation and the best way to get it is by making your cock spew. Does that make sense at all?” I pressed my lips into his to give him his answer, but also to shut him up. My dick was ready to erupt again and I had a feeling any more of this conversation was going to make me explode without even touching myself. Stack’s body shook as he laughed at my actions. He knew exactly what I was doing and I got the feeling he was thankful, as well, since his body seemed poised for eruption, too. Part V There’s that old saying about kissing a lot of toads before you find your prince, well I had kissed a lot of princes in my life, but nothing could have prepared me for the intense toe curling lip lock with the muscle king who had just sucked me completely dry. The huge arm that was wrapped around my upper torso was pulling me so tight it was causing all of the air inside to be forced out of my mouth – I was stunned by how Stack even kind of controlled my half of our kiss. I was like his squeezebox and he could determine how much lungpower I could give to our intimate exchange. The guy’s tongue began to massage every nook and cranny in my warm mouth and a feeling of surrender shot through me just because of the guy’s natural dominating abilities. I still couldn’t get over how unbelievably massive and sexy this senior classman was – even though I had been with him for a while now. It also thrilled me beyond belief to realize he was turned on as much as me. Without any warming, Stack pulled his face from mine and let it fall back on the floor with a loud dramatic sigh. “Damn, man, we’ve got to take a break or I’m going to need to destroy something big just so I don’t ravage your body uncontrollably.” “Ravage away, sir.” “No, Michael, I mean it. I haven’t ever felt this way. What is it about you that drives me so fucking wild?” “My winning personality.” “Is that a code name for a tight ass and a fucking unbelievable face? Cause that’s what’s making me so out of control.” “I think I’d love to see you really out of control. I bet you can create some serious damage. Just thinking about it makes me bone up even more” I had begun to run my finger slowly over his mustache again, knowing with each caress his cock would harden that much more. He closed his eyes and let out a gurgling sound as he licked his lips, making sure to get a taste of my finger. It was like he was a huge lion and I had found a way to calm the beast by petting this part of his body. I brought my face closer to his, kissed him softly, and then caught some of the hair on his upper lip between my teeth and pulled on it. At the same time I reached up and latched my right hand onto his left nipple, twisting and pulling hard. Stack’s back came up off the floor as he arched with pleasure, a loud moan sounding through the room. My body rose, too – easily forced up by the man’s enormous frame beneath me. “You’re the devil, Mr. Thomas. Just when I get my heartbeat back to something close to normal you have to crank my body back into overdrive, don’t you!” The big man whispered through gritted teeth – mainly because he was again having trouble controlling his body and his breathing. I had easily found two ways to please the giant this early in our relationship – abusing the hard tough plugs on his chest and teasing his ‘stache. I was again seeing how perfectly matched we were – just as he had said earlier. He needed someone to fully appreciate all the hard work he had done – shaping his body, as well as the hair on his face. He wanted the unpretentious admiration of a man who really understood what muscle men liked and deserved. It was clear Stack had realized instantly I was the perfect man for the job. I’m pretty sure he understood my potential even while we stood in the university bookstore – at our first meeting. I’ve heard people talk about “gay-dar,” but I think this was more like “muscle appreciation-dar.” Stack craved me because I easily equaled his lust for muscle. He needed a partner to share in his desire and need to be huge – surely for inspiration, but also for loving affirmation as he reached new heights; surpassing what others thought was impossible. He also yearned to reward such a dedicated worshipper and I was beginning to understand it was part of the process – giving back to the guy that inspired the growth. I was happy to oblige the colossal man. I knew I had the ‘right stuff’ to help Stack reach even more massiveness than he could imagine. After the initial wave of uncontrollable lust for what I was doing to his nips and mustache, Stack’s body fell back down to the floor with a loud thud. It was like riding a bunking bronco in slow motion. “Your mustache tastes good, big boy - like what a man should taste like. Salty and sweet - it must be your sweat mixed in with your muscle body’s natural flavor. And by the growing mound I feel down below it looks like I’m not the only one that needs a break, dude.” “Shit, Michael, I’m so fucking crazy right now that I can’t think straight – I’m pretty sure all your taunting is causing me to go slowly insane. I’ve never been so completely under someone’s spell. It’s like you’re some kind of addictive drug and I can’t get enough – I’ll never get enough.” “Well, don’t plan on going to rehab Stack, I like you this way.” “Around you, I don’t think I could be any other way. Studies show that I’m at my prime right now – a college stud able to easily pack on pounds of muscle and churning out more of my thick cum than any other time in my life. I have a feeling you may be the impetus for both of those things going way beyond my wildest fantasies. Being around you, Mr. Thomas; makes me want to grow to some freakish size and blast copious amounts of my juice at the same time. I can’t stop fantasizing about you sitting on my hard cock as I lay across a bench and press enough weight to equal an SUV. I’m sure that as I unload a geyser into your ass I’ll be able to crank out enough reps to blow up my chest into the size of small mountains. You could then think of my pecs as a playground for your little body, buddy. Shit, it’s great to be a fucking horny college stud and have someone like you to motivate me! This kind of talk gets me as excited as when I lift something really heavy.” “Right now, I believe you’re so horned up that a slight breeze could cause you to explode.” “Please don’t say ‘horned up,’ it’s just too overpowering coming from your perfect sexy mouth.” “Horned . . . up. Horned . . . up. Horned . . . up.” “I think someone needs to be punished for disobeying orders.” “And does Mr. Stack think he’s big enough to do the punishing?” “This man is not only big enough, but right now he’s feeling powerful enough to punish an entire battalion of men without any problem. Care for me to give that beautiful ass of yours a pounding, Mr. Thomas?” “As incredible as that sounds, Stack, I’d really like to see you show off a little more. That is, if you don’t mind.” “If you kiss me again, handsome, I’ll bring this entire dorm down without any problem.” “Let’s not get into trouble with the law or draw too much attention just yet, big guy. I want you to myself right now. I’m not into sharing big things. There’s plenty of time to unleash your massiveness on the unsuspecting public later on.” “I see Mr. Thomas is a greedy little bastard, but he doesn’t have to worry – I only have eyes and muscles for you, man. Only for you.” Stack brought his big hand up behind my head, his thumb touching one ear and his pinkie touching the other – it was a feeling that made me suck in air. He then pulled my face into his; purposefully rubbing his mustache across my lips a few time to make me purr with delight. Again, his muscled tongue pried my lips and teeth apart and darted down my throat, making sure to caress all parts of my mouth in a manly and forceful way. I marveled at how powerful his tongue was and got shivers across my body when I realized his cock was going to be even stronger and much bigger. I was now lying fully on top of him and we were grinding our heated crotches into each other with a savagery that seemed almost inhuman. My hands went everywhere – one moment they were holding on to his chiseled cheeks, the next moment they were latching on to the guy’s protruding nipples, and then they made their way to his massive biceps, which he would flex to give my body an adrenaline rush that was almost too overwhelming. Stack’s hands, in between flexes, were groping my ass with enough strength that it caused some glorious, cock-stirring pain – but the feeling was somehow so enjoyable that I craved even more. Grunts and the sounds of heavy kissing filled the room so loudly that I was sure my neighbor in the next room thought I was watching porn with the volume turned all the way up. Not missing a beat in my adoration of his body or in our mutual face sucking, I started propelling us closer to eruption with some intentionally muscle related questions. I staggered them between kisses. “What’s . . . the heaviest . . . thing . . . you . . . uh . . . you ever . . . lifted?” “One handed or two?” “One.” “Back of a . . . Jeep Grand Cherokee . . . weighs . . . mmm . . . about 4,800 llbs.” “Aw fuck that’s . . . so hot. Best strength feat when you were younger?” “There were a few . . . mmm, even your tongue is getting harder from all this talk . . . in junior high I held three hardbound encyclopedias in my hands and ripped them in two. Made two of my friends so excited they shot for the first time. Shit, it’s hot now knowing I forced those guys into early puberty. My father was so fucking mad about the books, since I kind of used some of the thickest ones. Another time, in high school, I pressed a bench overhead a bunch of times while four of my friends sat on it. Got one lift out with six guys on it.” I pressed my lips into his with additional force, trying to connect our bodies even more, but also intending to stop the conversation I had initiated. Just thinking of Stack as a junior high kid ripping huge books apart and later lifting some of his buddies during gym class in high school was enough to make me have a heart attack, not to mention spew a heavy load of man milk from my throbbing cock. I could feel cum boiling so hot in my balls that I knew I had to cease all crotch thrusting to prevent a tsunami-sized release. I froze all motion of my body, but kept my lips planted on Stack’s mouth. It was clear he had no intention of stopping the conversation, although he did refrain from continuing to jack his lower body up against mine. Stack spoke from the corner of his mouth, so our lips could stay together and he continued to push his mustache into my upper lip. “In the ninth grade I grew larger than my father – about two inches taller and outweighing him by almost fifty pounds. I used to come up behind him, grab him at the waist, and lift him up into the air. He’d flail his legs wildly and yell at me, but I could tell he was actually really proud of my growth. I caught him boasting about me to his friends all the time – even encouraging some of them to see if they could beat me at arm wrestling. It was a wild feeling – to slowly force a grown man’s arm down to the table – when I was just in 9th grade – and watching the guys having to adjust their hardened cocks after I easily beat them. My parents wouldn’t let me play high school football because I was too big. Only in college could I join the team, since the guys were all much larger. I walked onto the field the first day of tryouts my freshman year here and the coach’s jaw fell open almost to the ground. When I told him I had never played before he warned me that probably there wouldn’t be a spot on the team for me – since he needed experienced players. But when I easily plowed through six other players to lead the quarterback into the end zone, the guy made me a starting linbacker on the spot. I’ve played every position possible, but it’s the ones where I get to shove my big body into other large men that makes me happiest.” I could actually feel the man’s nipples getting harder as he spoke. They pushed into my smaller frame and felt like someone was poking me with a big finger. All this talking about himself was obviously getting Stack turned on even more. I wasn’t sure how long my cock was going to be able to hold out, but I didn’t care. I wanted to urge this behemoth’s jog down memory lane on for his sake, as well as mine. I wanted to test a little theory that had popped into my head just minutes before – I now believed Stack had reached a point in his life where his size and strength were just taken for granted. He had been huge and powerful for so long that he was trying to figure out how to live out his own version of “happily ever after.” It was a wild concept to grasp – trying to imagine what big studs did after finally reaching their goal size and becoming as powerful as they had always dreamed. It made sense that two things naturally happened – they started setting the bar higher, deciding to crave more size and strength even though they had already met their fantasies and then they also looked for men who could equal their intense lust for all things that come with large muscles. This way, they could start seeing themselves with fresh eyes. Stack desired me so much not only because I was the kind of guy he desired physically, but I also helped him to see his body as I viewed it – I reminded him of how fucking huge and mighty he had become. He realized that I would never tire of his stories about strength, not to mention his actual displays of brawn, and that meant he could begin to re-live them again, as well. I helped to keep Stack’s desire to grow larger alive in his heart by my lust and my appreciation for his enormous body. In short, I fueled his desire to keep getting bigger. A flood of awareness of and deeper appreciation for the man was released into my body. I was going to be the flame that continued to ignite Stack’s fire for a long, long time. “More stories, big man. Make me cum just by sharing tales from your younger years.” “Aw fuck, Michael, that would be so incredibly hot to have you gush without touching yourself in any way.” “You’re almost there, dude, you’re almost there. Now finish me off.” “Okay, okay. Let me see . . . after freshman year in high school I invited five of my best friends to my house for a sleepover on my birthday. My best friend, David, decided the theme of the party was going to be ‘testing the limits of Stack’s strength.’ I knew David had a thing for me, but I also knew he would never admit it. My family had about seven acres and we were camping out on the back part of our land – far away from the house. It was summer, so I was wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off and some cut off blue jean shorts. The other guys were dressed similarly, but no one filled out their shirt and shorts like me. They were pretty big guys, all on the football team, but I was still bigger than any two of them put together and I was confident that I was stronger than all five guys at one time. It was late afternoon and I could see that David’s fat cock was already hard as hell as he announced the competitions would begin. It seemed that the five guys had gotten together and come up with a list of tasks for me to perform – they called them the ‘twelve labors of Stack’ in honor of Hercules. We had studied Greek Mythology that year. I was pretty embarrassed by all the attention, but my desire to show off overpowered my self-consciousness.” “You are making all of this up, aren’t you – just to excite me more.” “No, Michael, it’s all true. I promise. The tests started pretty tame. They had drug out an old weight set with them and they loaded it down with all the plates they had and made me lift it. I remember it being very light, but no one else was able to lift it overhead like I did. I think two of them were able to lift it in the air when they did it together, but I could press it up and down many times with not help. Next came arm wrestling, something I had come to love. I defeated every guy with both of my arms and then started taking them on at the same time – one guy challenging my right arm at the same time someone took on my left. I really got excited when I easily beat two of them challenging one of my arms as a team. It was hard, but they did finally defeat my left arm when three of them were allowed to take me on together. I can’t remember all of the tasks, but we did end up wrestling at one point – the five of them against me. The goal was for them to just knock me to the ground. At one point I had three of them hanging onto my upper body and the other two decided to run up and knock my legs out from under me. Right when the two guys dove at my calves, intending to send me flying to the ground I jumped into the air – yep, even with the three guys hanging onto me – and the two guys went sliding on the ground past me. I landed on my feet with a thud and the impact sent the three other dudes falling to the ground. There I was standing tall while all five of them lay on the ground. It was such a thrilling moment for me. I reached down and grabbed two of them by their belts and started lifting their bodies up and down, finally tossing them onto the other guys to create one big heap. That’s when I noticed a big wet stain at the crotch of David’s shorts and knowing my feats of strength had caused him to shoot what looked like a bucket full of cum made my body lose control. I started ejaculating uncontrollably. Seeing my pumped up body jacking wildly sent the other four guys into their own muscle induced orgasms. It was a turning point in the sleepover. Let’s just say that was the first time I learned about the thrill of muscle worship and the enjoyment I could give other guys. I had certainly felt my own muscles to give me much needed release, but feeling five guys run their hands all over my body and seeing the lust in their eyes was the greatest moment of my life up to that point. Later, as we all stood there in the woods totally nude and I flexed for them – causing them to come numerous more times – I fully accepted my destiny as a huge muscleman.” “Damn, I wish I could have been there, Stack.” “That would have been cool, Michael, but now you have the bigger and stronger version of that young man all to yourself. And we can think of some labors for this big Hercules any time you want – don’t you worry Anything to make you happy.” “I’m so close, Stack. All this talk is taking me so close to the edge.” “Then let’s finish you off, shall we, Mr. Thomas. I’ve been saving the best for this moment. My senior year in high school one of my best friends, Tanya, was dating an asshole named Dustin who didn’t treat her very well. Dustin was a big dude, but nowhere near my size – I had grown a lot more by this point. He also didn’t lift weights at all, so he had no body strength. One day, towards the end of final period, I found out that the jerk had punched Tanya in the face during a fight at lunch. I got myself excused from class, pretty easy since Senor Hawley, my dweeby Spanish teacher, was scared shitless of my size. I went and found Tanya to see what had happened, but the swelling around her right cheek was all I needed. I always remember that she didn’t try to stop me when she saw how angry I became before stomping away. I’m pretty sure she wanted me to do some serious damage to Justin. Anyway, I started tormenting the guy by first going to his locker and punching in the door with one quick thrust of my fist. It looked like someone had taken a sledgehammer to the thing. I hit it so hard that the bolt of the combination lock ripped apart and fell to the ground. It would have been cool to wait around and see the look on his face when he got there, but I had other plans. Someone told me later that Justin actually pissed on himself when he walked up to his locker. I can’t lie, causing that much fear in that particular asshole kind of turned me on. I don’t usually like to make anyone scared, but I felt he deserved it.” “A good thing for me to note.” Stack looked at my face and smiled. He had his huge hands behind his head and that caused his arms to be bent and his biceps were bulging. He made them bounce up and down just to taunt me. He then lifted his head forward and kissed me on the lips. I kissed him back and felt his cock twitching with excitement. I knew I could kiss the guy for hours and not get tired, but my desire to hear more of the story was much stronger at that moment. “I would never hurt you, Michael. Please know that. And now back to the story. Well, I moved from the locker to the parking lot outside. I knew Justin’s brown Camaro and decided it would be nice to have a little fun with it – everyone knew it was his pride and joy. Every day he parked the thing diagonally across two spaces, even though it was against school rules. I was alone in the parking lot and I knew I had about forty minutes before the final bell. I walked around the car trying to decide what I wanted to do. I finally landed on the idea that I could trade a bunch of punches – to his locker and his car – for the one and only punch he was ever going to give anyone at our school. I took off my letterman jacked and wrapped it around one of my fist. I went to the driver side and with a light punch I easily busted out the window. I went around to the passenger side and repeated the damage.” “Fuck me, Stack, I am so close and I’m not doing a damn thing to my cock.” “Hold out buddy, while I finish the story. Anyway, I became really jacked by how easy it had been to destroy part of his car that I kind of lost control. I reached down and unlocked the passenger door, opening it wide. I bent down and placed my big right palm up against the inside of the door and continued to push it open, until the thick curved bar holding the thing to the rest of the car basically snapped in two. The door flew into the front side of the car and then fell to the ground. I looked down and saw that my efforts had actually caused my right biceps to rip through the sleeve of my polo. My arm now looked so massive and it had felt like nothing to fuck up the door that way, I was so stoked that it barely registered I was using so much power. I went to the driver side door and decided to try something different this time. I brushed away broken glass and then grabbed the shut door with both hands. I looked at my bulging gun, now totally freed from my short sleeved shirt and again marveled at how huge it was – and then I jerked both hands toward my body at the same time and the locked door was ripped from its frame with one loud screech. My body was on fire with adrenaline. I lifted the easily demolished piece of metal over my head and then slammed it down into the top of the Camaro, causing the entire left side of the roof to cave in. I released the door and it stayed standing up, wedged into other dented piece of metal.” “I’m sorry Stack, I can’t take any more. Here comes the tidal wave!” “I’m right there with you, man!” As soon as I began to spew my giant load of cum, I could feel Stack’s cock twitching uncontrollably and his warm juice shot out, as well - mixing with mine. Both of our bodies were rigid from the intense explosions and we cried out like we were in pain, but it was, again, one of the most enjoyable orgasms I had ever experienced. As I ejaculated I suddenly realized that Stack’s storytelling had brought him to the point of no return just as it had me. It was clear we were destined for an intertwined life of mutual muscle lust forever. I allowed my semen to squirt all over the big man’s torso, even as I felt his warm liquid spurting up even higher between us – obviously because it had much more muscle power behind it. I let my body melt into the large man that carried all of that strength, knowing a bond that could never be broken now tied me to him. I could feel the excitement pulsing through his body as he realized the same thing. Part VI The post cum-eruption rest was just as blissful as the moments leading up to my synchronized orgasm with Stack. Hearing so many strength stories from the big man’s past and groping all of his hard muscles as he sucked me off was just too much for my body to take – as well as his. Stack’s huge arms were wrapped around me and our legs were intertwined – my little twigs among his redwoods. The heat radiating off his body was causing me to drift in and out of a sleepy haze. I could feel the college jock’s heart beating intensely – even through his massively thick chest, as he kept brushing the hard bristles of his mustache across the back of my neck and below my ear. I had just ejaculated what seemed like every drop of liquid in y body, but my cock stayed rock hard because of the giant stone-like muscles surrounding me and his expert ‘stache massage. “Did big Stack make you happy, Michael?” “Doesn’t the river of cum drying all over your beautiful huge chest answer that question, my big man?” “Yeah, but I like hearing you say it.” “I have never been happier on any day in my entire life and I doubt I’ll ever be this happy again.” “Oh, I think you will Michael. Just wait until you see all the things I have planned for you. I’m going to make so many of your muscle dreams come true that your dick will be perpetually raw from constantly beating off. Your gorgeous face and body turn my crank so hard that I won’t ever get tired of showing off for you. This big man is going to grow fucking huge because of all the adrenaline you cause to explode inside of him – and all this will happen just from being around you. Shit, I’m as hard as hell again. See, you make me churn out juice like a cum machine on turned up to overdrive.” “You’ve got to shut up, dude, or I’m going to have a heart attack when my dick starts trying to spew again and ending up only able to dry heave painfully. I’m like some raw nerve exposed to the elements and your chit-chat is going to set me off.” “My big muscles and muscle talk is like some kind of addictive drug for you, aren’t they, Mr. Thomas.” “Yes! Now shut up and kiss me, superman, before I have an overdose.” “I like the sound of that. You want me to be your superman, Michael. You just request it and it’s done. But the only kryptonite that’s going to make me weak will be discouraging words from you. There’s not anything that’s going to get through this superman to you unless you ask for it. You can count on that, man. I’d battle the world for you – and you know I’d win.” I plastered my mouth on to his to get him to be quiet. My dick had started jerking wildly in an attempt to cough up some more cum, but the big man had already caused me to unload everything I had. The best my cock could do was to twitch dryly like a robotic dancer. I needed him to shut up so my body would have a few minutes to recover and hopefully rejuvenate a little. Stack’s mouth was one of the most incredible feelings I had ever experienced – warm, wet, masterful, and the mustache only added to the pleasure. It was clear this man had developed his oral abilities as much as he had developed his body. As we kissed hard I found my hands wandering back down to his giant biceps, which he quickly started to pump just to give me a thrill. Stack knew perfectly what to do to excite me on multiple levels. His tongue probed my mouth like a pro, feeling his flexed arms made my body tingle all over and the big man grinded his hard cock into mine in a way that made it clear he was definitely ready to go to town again. I, however, still needed time to recover. I pulled my mouth from his. “Remember, Superman, your Jimmy Olsen isn’t a superhero like you. He needs a lot more time and rest before he can shoot off again like some kind of pornographic roman candle. You may be able to rip apart a tank and then go right into twenty-four hours of sex, but normal men aren’t built that way.” “Ummmm, fucking you for twenty-four hours sounds so good. Getting fucked by you for twenty-four hours straight sounds even better. What about it sailor, you want to plug my ass with that hard pole?” “Right now my pole just wants a little rest, admiral. You and your huge muscles have plum tuckered the thing out!” “Well then let’s get cleaned up and go out. I’d love to show you off!” “You, the massive college jock that looks like he was carved out of the most expensive marble ever created – the one that can lift the back of a Cherokee with one hand – and the one with more muscles than all the guys in my geeky classes put together – wants to show me off? Where’s the hidden camera, Stack, cause this must be the moment when someone comes out and says I’ve been punked.” “Nope, dude, you’re hotter than any other guy on campus and, besides that, you can throw down head to toe with me when it comes to muscle lust, so that makes you the best thing to happen to me since my arms blasted beyond twenty-five inches my junior year in high school. When I’m around you we might have to use some heavy-duty duct tape to fasten my big cock against my hard abs so I don’t poke holes in doors, people, or heavy machinery, since I’m probably going to be at full mast the entire time. Even the bristles of my ‘stache are shooting harder because you turn me on so much. Come on, Mr. Thomas, I’m going to make sure everyone on this campus and beyond knows that you are mine and mine alone. If anyone even bumps into you the wrong way they’re going to be twisted so tight by my bare hands it’s going to take a team of ten men to untie their limbs. Shit, just the visual of me wrapping some guy’s body into a knotted mess gets me hard, but doing it all just to show off for you makes me fucking harder than I’ve ever been before.” “But what if some of your friends don’t like me, Stack? What are you going to do – bend their body into a ball of jumbled limbs? I don’t think so.” “Everyone’s going to love you, Michael. I promise. You’re the most powerful man on campus now, because you’ll have the strongest guy in town standing right behind you. If someone doesn’t like you they’re not going to say a word because they know they’ll have to answer to me. And trust me, Mr. Thomas; no one has fucked with me since that doctor spanked me right after I was born. I punched back, by the way, and he went flying across the room. Let’s take a shower. I want to soap up that gorgeous body of yours so much that I’m about to shoot off again right here and now.” Stack’s cock was actually twitching and the slit was gaping open like a fish’s mouth out of water. A big gob of healthy pre-cum oozed out and the big man dipped his finger into it and then streaked the think juice across the hair above his upper lip. It looked like Stack now had a hairy milk-mustache – bristles poking through the whiteness of his powerful cum. “Looks like I need someone to clean my fur, boy. You up for the job?” “Very ready and very able, sir.” I leaned into the huge man and pressed my lips against his thick mustache, sucking in between my lips. Immediately my mouth was full of the sweet and salty taste of Stack’s man-milk. It felt like I tasted the actual nectar of life. I ran my tongue up and down his manly hard bristles and gathered every delectable molecule of the hot lava that had gurgled up from his throbbing cock. I then pressed my lips into his firmly and let my tongue share some of the saltiness that remained with his taste buds, causing the big man to purr loudly. I also reached up and pinched his protruding nipples with all of my strength – knowing that most people would certainly feel pain, but all Stack felt was pleasure. I could have chewed on those nubs with all my might using my sturdy molars and it would have done nothing but turned the college’s stud crank to an even higher level of delight. I could have played with the man’s body for a week non-stop and not even care about resting, but I also knew how much fun it would be to go out on the town with such a gorgeous man. I pushed my body away from Stack’s and looked into his eyes, which were full of desire. “Care to take a shower, Mr. Stack?” “Yes, but not with you, Mr. Thomas. I’m afraid that would lead to things we aren’t ready for at this moment. I’m going to head back to my place so I can get a new shirt – something seems to have happened to the one I wore over here.” “I don’t think I can manage not being wrapped up in your arms for more than a few minutes, sir.” “Ah, that’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me since the last nice thing you said a few minutes ago. You could definitely become a habit with me, Mr. Thomas. I’ll make sure I bring my toothbrush and my barbells with me when I return – so I can stay for a few days. I won’t need any clothes if you don’t mind going out to get food when I’m working out. That way we can stay wrapped up tightly for seventy-two hours straight. How does that sound?” “So heavenly that I’m not so sure I want to go out now.” “Well, you said your cock had to have some much-needed rest and I could use a few mugs off beer – the food of the muscle gods. I know a hot little bar in town – a place where we can get into trouble.” “Well, then go ahead and go, sir, but hurry back. I’ll miss you very much.” “How about I show off a little to give you something to keep you hard as you shower?” “That sounds like a good plan, Stack.” Without any warning, Stack jumped up off the floor and then grabbed my body and basically tossed me into the air. He carried me above his head and then stepped up on my bed. This made him tall enough to press my body against the ceiling of the dorm room. He took one hand away, but kept me shoved against the plaster above with one hand against my stomach. I looked down at his beautiful face and he flexed his other arm, making sure the biceps was right under my face. The tip of my growing cock pressed against his hand and this made the big man smile. Again, without any warning, Stack dropped his hand and jumped off the bed at the same time. My body fell the seven or eight feet to the mattress and bounced wildly. I turned my head and watched Stack put on his jacket, blow me a kiss, and then leave my room. I lay on the bed for a few minutes of rest and to daydream about my new huge boyfriend. I had a feeling Stack was having the same kind of thoughts about me as he ran to his own dorm. I knew he wanted to get back as quickly as I wanted him to return. And sure enough, by the time I was stepping out of the shower, a newly refreshed Stack was coming into my room – wearing a obscenely tight t-shirt. I quickly dressed, choosing an outfit that highlighted my eyes and my ass. Stack whistled in approval and then stood beside me. He gave me a deep, masculine kiss and then pulled away – obviously fearful of what our embrace might lead to. “Let’s go have some fun, Mr. Thomas.” “Lead the way, sir.” Soon, we were standing at the bar of one of Stack’s favorite watering holes drinking two beers. I could tell my boyfriend was starting to get a little tired of looking down at me. Stack lifted what to him was my almost weightless body and sat me on the edge of the bar’s smooth top. He then wedged his muscular but unbelievably thin waist between my legs, leaning into me with a ferociousness that was almost frightening. The big man needed a kiss and he needed it right then. I found my mouth invaded savagely by his tongue and felt his sturdy lips pressing into me hard. It was definitely the kiss of a big man and a powerful big man, at that. My toes curled up in my tennis shoes and I felt my cock pushing into his crotch with enough force that he could feel it even through both my pants and his. I knew that Stack’s own huge pole was equally as stiff and he pressed it up against the lip of the heavy oak bar – I actually heard the wood creaking in submission to his powerful thrusting. At the same time Stacks’ beefy, muscled arms enveloped my smaller frame tightly and it felt like a blanket of skin covered stone. I had tasted and felt many parts of the man by this point, but I was still shocked at how his warm, wet mouth made me giddy with excitement and at how the wall of muscle surrounding me caused me to shoot close to ejaculation so quickly. We stayed lip-locked for a while and then Stack suddenly pulled back and let out a loud rebel-like yell. “Shit, Mr. Thomas, there’s nothing in the world that feels better than a kiss from you. I feel like I could rip a massive chunk out of this bar just from the strength you cause to well up in me from just one kiss. My cock is also about to start splintering the front of this big wooden bar like it was made of toothpicks.” “Um, Stack, we have some visitors.” There was a group of five guys standing in a semi circle behind the big man. When I revealed the information about our little welcome party a devilish smile crept across my big boyfriend’s face. I realized instantly that Stack had chosen this bar on purpose and had purposely given me a deep throat kiss just to draw attention. The guy turned around slowly and draped his bulging arms over my legs, letting his back lean into my chest – so my head could rest on his shoulder. I sensed immediately that Stack was going to toy with these big gentlemen and found myself feeling sorry for each of them. I knew they had chosen the wrong guy to mess with – even though nothing had happened yet. “Howdy gentlemen. Did you come to play?” “Depends on what you mean by play . . . Stack-man!” Suddenly, my boyfriend and the group of big men started whooping and hollering like a bunch of sailors on leave for the weekend. It then hit me that these were Stack’s football buddies from school – not some group of guys looking to pick a fight. I had no idea what the group of men meant when they used the word play, but I had a feeling I was going to like the outcome. I had certainly reached a comfortable place with my new man and I was sure his friends were only going to only add to the pleasure. Stack looked back at me as he talked and I could see that he was proud to be introducing me to the guys. He pulled my face down into his and we kissed again. He made sure his mustached scraped against my face hard.

Continued from: Not really sure about what you're doing, you reach down and gently nudge the big dude on his huge, hard shoulder . His eyes fly open and before you can blink, he leaps up off the lounger and grabs you by your shoulder with an iron grip. Then, just as if you weighed nothing at all, he lifts you up off the ground by your shoulder and glares up at you. You struggle against him, but are completely powerless against, the incredible strength of that hugely muscled body. "Who the fuck do you think you're poking, little man!" he shouts. Then suddenly recognition breaks out on his face like the sun through a stormy sky. "Jared? Holy shit, dude! How the hell are you?" Suddenly, he pulls you into a bone crushing hug. You can feel his massive iron-hard arms digging into your back, while you're being slammed up against a torso that feels like it's made from rocks piled on top of each other. You're happy to see your friend, but at the same time confused about the changes in him. ...and there's a little pain involved, too. Finally, just when you think you ribs are going to start cracking, he sets you back down on the beach. What do you do now? Do you invite him back to your place to play video games and do your best not to mention that Mitch has somehow metamorphosed into a hugely muscled behemoth, and try to still have the summer you've been looking forward to? Do you suggest the two of you grab something to eat and then pump him for information on how he got so huge during the last 9 months? Or is this all too much for you. Do you need to go home for some alone time so you can process the startling change in your friend and figure out how you're going to deal with it?

So…here is my first story I have ever done. So please forgive me for any grammar or spelling errors I may make. I have been on this site for many years, with a lift and carry fetish, but never contributed a story until now. So here it goes. I met Tyler online in a chatroom for muscle guys and their admirers. I have been on this site before with not much luck. But that night was different. I started messaging him. He told me that he was a big guy, and he loved to show off for his admirers. Some guys find my fetish of being picked up and carried a turn off and end the conversation there. So…I was expecting another shutdown from Tyler once I told him my fantasy, but his response was quite different. He told me that he has lifted a lot of guys. In fact he does it quite often. I was instantly hard, and I knew I had to meet him. Just one more thing I had to know. You see, I am not a small guy. I am 6’1 230lbs, so most guys say that I am too heavy or too big to lift. When I told him my stats, he told me that he has lifted much bigger guys than me before. He said if we ever met, my feet would not touch the ground. That set me over the edge. I felt wet spot on my boxer briefs. . When you are online, you can be whoever you want to be, You could say you have blond hair and blues eyes and 6’4. When, in reality you have brown hair, and brown eyes, and no taller than 5’6. So Tyler and I decided to meet after several weeks of messages back an forth. I did not want to get my hopes up if he was not for real. We decided to meet up at a coffee house in town, and see where things went from there. He never told me his stats, but promised he was strong enough to make my dreams come true. I got to the coffee house a little bit early. I sat by a window overlooking the city street. I saw several people walking in and out while I was waiting. There was one guy that I saw I was sure was Tyler, but as I was about ready to say something, he smiled and then sat down next to a woman. I waited for 20 minutes, but there was no sign that Tyler was going to show. As I was about ready to leave, the door opens and in walks the biggest bodybuilder I have ever seen. My mouth dropped almost to the floor. This guy must have been 6’8 at least 300lbs, and not a single ounce of fat on him. When he saw my face, with my mouth wide open, he knew I was the one he was looking for. He smiled at me, and said “you must be Chip”. My parents gave me that name as they said I was a “chip” off the old block. “Tyler?” “The one and only” “Wow…” (Wow? You meet the man of your dreams, and all you can say is “WOW!!”) Tyler smiles again and looks down at me. He walks closer to me and I can feel the heat coming from his body. As he stands right in front me, he puts his hands under my armpits and just lifts me up so we are face to face. People are watching this giant man lifting another large man like he weighed nothing at all. I am still speachless. He wisperred in my ear “this is what you wanted isn’t it?” He continued to hold me in the air, my feet dangling off the ground. He this starts to lift me higher so I am about to touch the ceiling. I can’t believe this is happening to me. “Man…umm…umm… Tyler laughs because he know that he has me right where he wants me. “I told you that while you are with me, your feet would not touch the floor. Are you ok with that?” How could I not be? I am in the arms of my dream man, biggest man I have ever seen and manhandling me like a small child. “Are you ready to go?” “Go where?” I said “I got us a room at the hotel down the street.” We have the whole place to ourselves without a single person to bother us.” My feet are still off the ground at this point. He shifts me to one arm, pulls out his wallet with the other and orders a Caramel Latte to go. He doesn’t even care that people were watching, I was his little plaything. As we are waiting for his latte, he started talking to me. “I can’t wait to show you what I can do for you!” I was rock hard, and was poking into his side. He smiles, reaches down and flicks my cock and says “You think that you are hard now, wait until I get you to the room!” He adjusts me again and this time throws me over his shoulder so my face was in front and had a good view if his chest and abs. He grabs his coffee and walks out the door. As we are walking down the street, Tyler is trying to make small talk with me bent over his shoulder like this is a normal thing for him. He asked me how long I have had this fetish. I told him “as long as I can remember.” “Have you ever been manhandled like this?” “Um…only in my dreams. I am usually too big for most guys, but you lift me as I am only a child to you. Aren’t you tired yet Tyler?” “Are you kidding, you are so light, if we weren’t talking, I would forget you were up there! By the way, how does it feet to be almost 7 feet off the ground over a giant shoulder?” “Well to be honest, this walk is causing me to get nauteous being almost upside down.” “Oh man, I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable. How about I put you on my shoulders to ride the rest of the way. Without waiting for a response, I felt myself being pulled off of his shoulder and down his arm. He flexed his bicep and my body bouncing up and down until he moved his arm forward, grabbing my armpit with the other arm, I was dangling in the air as he held me up with one arm. The arm that I was riding on just moments before, clamped onto my right armpit. Without warning, up I went to sit on his shoulders. “How is that little guy?” “Much better sir” “please, you don’t have to call me sir, I am your friend Tyler.” For some reason I felt safe with Tyler. I never felt threatened. I felt like he was my protector. I wanted to be in his arms forever. Normally I would be self concious about people stairing at me, but I didn’t even think about it. All I could think about was Tyler manhandling me like a 100lb kid. As we got close to the entrance to the hotel, he reached up and grabbed me to lower me off of his shoulders. He held me to his side again as he did at the coffee house with one arm and me to the side, like a mother would carry a young child. That is what I was to him, a young child. We walked through the lobby towards the elevator. Tyler looked over at me and gave me a great big smile, kissed me on my lips ever so gently. “are you ready for the real fun to begin?” I looked at him with shock in my eyes. “The real fun?” He laughed. “This is only a glimps of what these arms are capable of. The good stuff is yet to come!” He swiped his card to the room and opened the door. He swung me around so he was now carrying me in cradle hold. “I want to make sure I carry you the proper was across the threshold. Your life will never be the same after tonight my son”. He carried me like a groom would carry his bride into the room, and for the first time, he placed me on the bed. As he stood up, he said to me “Now remember, your feet are not to touch the floor while I am with you, so stay where you are.” Then he walked away “don’t forget…:” and walked out of the room. To be continued…

Very slightly inspired by a recent news story...……………. For the second day in a row, the doctor noticed the white van parked across the street as he pulled out of his driveway, heading to his office. The cul-de-sac he lived on had only two houses, his, and his neighbors, who had left for Florida for the winter just last week. They had mentioned before they left that there might be a handyman around, fixing things at the house while they were gone. That must be his van, thought the doctor as he drove by it. That evening, as he arrived home, he saw a ladder leaning up against the neighbors’ house, and the handyman was just climbing down off of it. It was dusk, so it was a little hard to see, but the doctor could tell that the handyman was a big guy. And as he stepped off the ladder, he triggered a security light that was on the house, and the doc got a better look at the size of him. “Whoa,” said the doctor out loud, inside his car. The handyman was not young, but he was thick with muscle. He had on a black sleeveless Under Armour shirt that showed off the size of his big delts and beefy arms. As he turned to pull the ladder off the side of the house, the doctor could see the guy’s back muscles bulging around thru his tight shirt, and thru his sweatpants, he could see that he had the glutes of a prized champion bull. The doctor had slowed his car to a crawl to see as much as he could. Even as a kid, he had lusted for muscle, and now, at 35, that lust was stronger than ever. As he watched the beefy handyman lift the extension ladder like it weighed as much as a pillow, the front tire of his car scraped up against the curb. He stopped the car, but the noise of the scraping made the big handyman look over. As he carried the ladder toward his van with one arm, he waved at the doc’s car with his other. “Holy shit, the size of his arms,” thought the doctor to himself, as he waved back weakly and embarrassed, but highly titillated. He steered his car away from the curb and into his driveway. He pushed his garage door opener and then pulled into the garage. As the garage door shut, he stayed in his car, his head spinning, his thoughts racing. Good Lord, he thought, the guy’s arms have to be over 20 inches. And that ass! So thick and mounded, swelling the sweatpants into two perfect globes. God, I love muscleheads too much, he thought. And he was right, he did love muscle too much. At 5’10” tall and 200lbs, he kept in shape himself, but he was nowhere near the size of the beasts he admired. That’s why he belonged to several different hardcore gyms in town, so that he could go scope out all the musclebulls he could. He discovered early on that most of these alpha meatheads wouldn’t notice him or give him the time of day, until they found out he was a doctor. Then the whole dynamic changed. And the doc took advantage of that change. When the topic of PE drugs would come up, which it always would, he’d tell the biggest of the men at the gym to make an appointment with him. Pretty soon, a good sized group of powerlifting and bodybuilding cops, firemen, bouncers, construction workers, even lawyers, were coming to him for pharmaceutical grade gear. As the list grew, he started ordering supplies from eastern Europe, so he wouldn’t get in trouble when the state came in to go thru his records. He found that the stuff from Europe was vastly more effective than what he got from the states. His office began to get overrun with big musclemen looking to grow, so he opened a second office downtown just for them. Lately, though, he was getting a little nervous about how many guys were showing up. He started asking his ‘patients’ to stop sharing where they were getting their gear, and had his musclebound male nurse tell anyone who called that they weren’t taking anyone new for now. Unfortunately, some guys don’t like taking ‘no’ for an answer, and one night, right after the doctor got home, someone knocked on his front door. When he opened the door, there stood a guy from his gym. The doc knew from other people that this guy was an ex-con with a temper. His neck tattoo also added to the sense of menace coming off him. He muscled his way into the foyer, and told the doctor that he knew what he was up to, and that he wanted free gear and a lot of it, or he’d report the doc to the cops. The doc backed up in the foyer as he began to panic a little. This guy was wearing a tight tank top, and was bigger than doc remembered, probably around 220lbs of muscle that was tight and wiry. Doc was good at guessing ages, and figured the guy for about 30. And he looked fast. There was really nowhere for the doc to go to get away from him. Despite that, the doc looked behind the guy, thinking about trying to get around him and out the door. The big con just snorted a laugh and said “Try it”. But when the doc looked out, he saw the handyman walking up onto the porch. “You got a problem here, doc?” asked the handyman. He looked almost twice the size of the ex-con, who turned back, startled, and his whole body language changed as he soaked in the mass of the powerhouse standing before him. The handyman put his beefy hand on the guy’s shoulder and squeezed hard. The doc saw the skin on the ex-con’s delt turn white as the meaty fingers crushed the blood out of his shoulder. The guy’s legs buckled from the pain, and he sank to his knees. “Grab his wallet, Doc,” said the handyman, holding the guy down with ease even as he twisted and pulled trying to shake loose. The doctor grabbed the wallet out of the guy’s back pocket. “Now read his address to me,” said the powerhouse. The doc read him the address, and the handyman squeezed down harder with his thick fingers. Doc could almost hear the muscle fibers of the guy’s deltoid smushing to pulp. He was going to have purple deep tissue bruising for a month. The ex-con’s face blanched white from the pain. The big man leaned into his face and shook him as he said, “Listen to me, boy. You go on home now, and you leave the good doc alone, or I will hunt you down like the scumbag you are, and you will wish you were still in lockup. I’ll gouge your eyes out with my bare hands.” Then he released his grip. The guy gasped from the release of the pain, and almost crumpled to the floor, but caught himself and pushed himself to his feet. He slid along the wall, past the big man in front of him, and scurried out to his pickup. As they watched him peel out of the cul-de-sac, the doctor said thanked the hugely muscled handyman. The big man wiped his hand on his skin-tight black sleeveless UA shirt, as if to rub the grime of the ex-con onto his ridged roidgut. Even this casual motion made the heavily yoked up arm ripple and bulge. “You like what you see, Doc?” That wasn’t hard to figure out, since the doctor was swelling up inside his pants. “How’d you know I was a doctor?” The big man laughed. “I see things, Doc. Like your license plate that has MD on it.” He laughed again. “Plus, I’ve been to that gym of yours lately. I’d seen that guy there, and heard things. You were bound to run into trouble sooner or later.” He stepped in closer to the doc. “You wanna feel my muscle?” Then he flexed his left arm. “Holy shit,” whispered the doc. “How big is that?” “23.5, and growing. Go ahead and touch it, I know you want to.” The doc reached out and put his hand on the big peak. Then ran his hand up to the soccer ball sized deltoid. Then around into the deep armpit that was damp with hot sweat. The handyman lowered his arm and trapped the doc’s hand in his musclepit. “You’ve got the densest muscularity I’ve ever felt,” said Doc. “That’s from 40 years of heavy juicing, Doc.” This took the doctor by surprise because he thought the handyman looked to be about 40 years old. “ So, how old are you?” “I turn 57 next week.” “My god, that’s unbelievable. So you’ve been using since you were 17? “More like 15. Does it show?” Doc’s hand was still trapped in the big man’s pit. He was fully aroused now, and could see the handyman swelling up in his sweats too. “How much do you weigh?” Doc whispered into the big man’s ear. “340. You want me to fuck you with it?” he asked, as he pinned Doc to the wall. “God,” groaned Doc. “I tend to get a little wild once I get going, and I don’t want to bust up any of your nice furniture, Doc. Let’s go out to my van. It’s got reinforced shocks and a mattress in the back.” He curled the doc up the wall until his feet weren’t touching the floor. Then he tossed him over his left shoulder and fireman carried him out toward the van. As Doc bounced up and down on the broad shoulder, he had a great view of the big man’s glutes, and noticed that his sweatpants were pulled up over his huge calves. Doc had never seen calves so overdeveloped and veiny. He could spend a week just worshipping the massive gastrocnemius muscle on this monstrous man. When they got to the van, the handyman opened up the back and tossed Doc roughly onto the mattress inside. Then the big man peeled the skin-tight UA shirt off and tossed it inside too. As he climbed inside, the van creaked and moaned from his weight. Doc couldn’t believe his eyes. He’d seen pictures and videos of men this developed, like Big Ramy and Hadi Choopan, and just the visuals of them drove him wild. But in person…oh my god. And the smell inside the van. So thick with the man’s musk. As Doc looked around, he realized that the guy must be living in here. He was overwhelmed with lust, but also a little frightened. “Fuck me,” he said, not so much as a request, but as a statement of wondering what he’d gotten himself into. “Oh yeh, babe,” growled the big man, “I’m gonna fuck you alright. Fuck you till the sun comes up, you sweet piece of candy.” “Hey,” said Doc, as the huge handyman swelled up onto him like an incoming storm cloud. “What’s your name?” The big man pulled back a bit. “What’s it matter?” he said darkly, staring down at the doc as he began to pin him to the mattress with those powerful hands. “I just wanna see if you can make me scream it out as you fuck me,” said Doc, thinking quickly, and hoping he hadn’t hit a raw nerve. “Oh, you’ll be screaming it out alright. At least 4 or 5 times. You’ll be hoarse from screaming it out. Name’s Ruben.” “God, you’re so fucking big,” said Doc, as the massive muscle loomed over top of him. “Just wait, Doc.” “How big you wanna get?” “I’m gonna be the first 60 year old weighing a shredded 450.” Then Ruben started tearing Doc’s clothes off of him. From outside, anyone watching would have seen the van start to bounce and tip from side to side. They’d hear the muffled sounds of grunts and groans and an occasional thud as limbs hit the sides of the van, denting it outward. The windows quickly steamed over from the inside. As the night wore on, the thumpings got louder and harder, to the point that the van tires began to inch forward, leaving skid marks on the road. As the sun came up, the back doors of the van opened. Doc stumbled out as he pulled on his tattered clothes. He looked back inside as he closed the doors. Ruben was in a deep slumber, snoring like a hibernating bear. Doc limped toward his house. He felt like he’d been hit by a truck, and he sort of had been. His arms were bruised up and down. His wrists hand burn marks from where Ruben had tied his belt around them, then hung him from a bar at the top of the van. He didn’t think his ass would ever be the same. Whoever thought that steroids made a man’s dick shrink had never met Ruben Ruben took him six times overall, but also let him pec-fuck his 74” chest. Doc shuddered with pleasure at the thought of it, the biggest set of pec mounds he’d ever slid his dick into. As he climbed up the stairs to his porch, he had to use the railings. He was pretty sure he had a couple of broken ribs. He had to shower and get ready for work. It was going to be a long day. But as much pain as he was in, he knew all he was going to want to do was get back home so he could get back in the van and let Ruben demolish him all over again. He limped up to his bathroom and took his tattered clothes off. He saw in the mirror how bruised up he was. “Jesus,” he said, as he touched his ribs and winced. Then he saw the hickey on his neck. He remembered Ruben giving it to him, as he pinned him to the wall of the van. Doc almost came as the huge handyman sucked on him like a musclebound vampire. He almost came again as Ruben had him suck on his 24 inch neck. His skin was leathery and tasted salty as caviar. He started getting hard as he touched the big hickey and remembered the taste. Now, he was going to have to pull out an old turtleneck to wear to the office. He took the hottest shower he could stand, which helped him feel less battered up. Still, as he limped his was into work, his big Filipino male nurse said, “Damn, Doc, what happened to you?” “I had a rough night.” “It looks it. How’s the other guy look?” “Not so bad, actually.” They both laughed and got to work, but it made Doc think about the superheavyweight beast sleeping in his van, and it made his loins throb. He made it thru the day somehow, although he did leave a little early. His juiced up patients were less enticing to him than usual, as all his thoughts were back at his cul-de-sac. When he pulled up to his house, Ruben was in the neighbors’ yard, doing landscaping. He had pulled up a couple big trees and was tossing them to the curb. The trunks of the trees looked liked they’d been snapped rather than sawed. Ruben’s thick mounds of back muscles rolled as he tossed them. He was shirtless and caked in dirt and pine needles. He waved when he saw Doc, who put down his window. “Man, you’re a mess. You want to shower off?” Ruben sauntered over to the car, put his hands at the top of the open window, then pushed the car up onto two wheels. “Whoa,” said Doc, as he slid in his seat. Ruben looked in at him with a grin. He smelled of outdoors and freshly cut wood. Sweat ran down his chest, making little muddy rivers on his big heaving pecs. “Yeh, I could use a hosedown,” he said, as he lowered the car back to the road. His size and strength were making Doc throb all over. He pulled into his drive, and the two of them went into the house. Doc led the big man up to his master bedroom. “Nice place you got here, Doc,” said Ruben as he stripped out of his sweats. His big dick flopped out, then his big balls. Nothing on him had shrunk up from decades of roid use. In fact, he had the biggest set of balls the doc had ever seen, and his sac hung halfway to his knees. Ruben smirked as he noticed the doc checking out the goods. “And they just keep getting bigger. Every year, Doc.” Doc swallowed hard at the thought, then led Ruben into the bathroom. It had a big open shower that could fit six. Ruben made it look small. His big shoulders almost touched opposite walls. Doc turned on the water. When the water got hot, he lifted the hand wand and hosed down the big man’s traps and back. Ruben spread his lats out as the muddy water ran down them, and they jutted out like hams on each side. Doc could barely speak as he watched them swell outward, but he managed to ask, “Are you living in your van, Ruben?” He’d been wondering about it all day. “Yeah.” “Do you need some money to get your own place?” Doc asked as he hosed off the back of Ruben’s huge thighs. “Hell no, Doc. I like it. Gives me freedom to come and go. Besides, I’m flush with dough right now. Your neighbor paid me 10,000 dollars to watch me fuck his wife.” “He did?” Doc moved around in front of the big handyman, and pictured his big club inside his neighbor’s wife. Ruben chuckled. “Yep. Did her three times the first night. Then a couple times after that, before they left for Florida. She was having trouble walking, but I don’t think she’ll ever forget it.” “No, I doubt she will.” He looked the big man over as water ran down his enormous chest. “Man, where did you come from?” asked the Doc. The look on Ruben’s face darkened. He grabbed Doc around the throat with one big hand and shoved him against the wall hard, causing Doc to drop the wand. “You writing a book?” Ruben snarled. He squeezed Doc’s neck harder, making him choke. “I don’t like getting grilled, little man.” Doc didn’t think he’d been grilling and he was starting to panic a little. What had he gotten himself into? He was trying to pull back on Ruben’s wrist with his two hands, but there was no budging that grip. But just as fast as it had started, he saw Ruben’s face relax. He loosened his grip and leaned in and whispered, “Let me kiss it and make it better, baby doc.” He put his lips on Doc’s neck and started sucking on it. Doc’s eyes almost crossed from the pleasure of it. “Gonna give you a hickey necklace, hide the bruising.” Ruben took his big hand off Doc’s neck and sucked his way around, sucking hard yet tender. Ruben reach the other side of Doc’s neck, stopped sucking on it, and stepped back,. “Sorry about that, babe. My temper gets the best of me sometimes. Why don’t ya suck me off, calm me down.” Ruben forced Doc to his knees. Doc didn’t know rather to break free and make a run for it, or do as he was told. He wanted to do both. He was pretty sure his larynx had been damaged. He would be hoarse for a month. Despite his concern about his own safety, he grabbed a bottle of body oil and lubed the big man’s monster cock with it. The water wand was still spraying hot water all around the shower, steaming it up. Doc popped Ruben’s big mushroom cap into his mouth. The big man let out a deep groan, and shoved himself in. Doc wondered if some nerves in his neck had been damaged, because the big club slammed down his throat without him gagging once. “Oh, you way better than your neighbor lady, Doc,” grunted Ruben as he face-fucked him, grabbing his ears and working him up and down his oiled up shaft. Doc could feel the big man’s quad veins under his hands as he braced himself. He felt the heat of pre-cum start to ooze down his throat, and soon after, Ruben’s ejaculate exploding in ropes. Doc knew the average volume was around 5cc’s. Ruben’s just kept going up and up. Over 100. Maybe 200, thought the doc, as he swallowed and swallowed. He felt like he was milking a soft serve ice cream nozzle, only the custard was hot and thick. When he finished, Ruben pulled himself out of Doc’s mouth. Doc reached to turn off the water, but Ruben stopped him. “I’m not done yet,” he said. He picked up the bottle of body oil and pored it on his hand. He flipped Doc around, face first into the tiles. Then he shoved two big fingers into Doc’s ass. “Got to loosen you up, wouldn’t wanna hurt ya.” He rolled his fingers around and around inside him. Doc’s whole body twitched from the feel. The big man popped his fingers out and lubed his still-hard dick with the rest of the body oil. Doc heard the bottle slide across the shower floor. Ruben jammed himself inside Doc and began to rut. When he was fully inside, he lifted Doc up and began to air fuck him like a blowup doll. Doc arched himself as much as he could, pain and pleasure searing thru his body as he felt Ruben’s insane power and size in him, heating him up from inside. “Oh yeh, you way better than your neighbor, sugar,” said Ruben. Then he wrapped one big arm around Doc’s neck, still holding him in the air. Doc could feel his thick biceps peak pressing into his bruised Adam’s apple. “You like my sleeper hold, Doc?” Ruben tightened his hold and Doc started choking for breath. “Gonna put you out as I cum inside you, babe.” He rammed Doc harder and harder, yanking him back and forth in his choke hold. Doc couldn’t breath, and could feel himself losing consciousness. He felt ecstasy and agony at the same time. Was this going to be how it ended for him? He hated it and loved it. He wanted it to stop, but he wanted it to keep going. The supreme power of the brute behind him, using him, owning him like no one ever had. What a way to go, he thought, as he spiraled into darkness.

First time posting content on this forum... Thad this story floating around on other sites for a few years now. It’s still relatively short because I don’t often have the motivation to WRITE erotica, if you know what I mean CH. 1 "Graaarrr, I need to grow BIGGGEERR!" CLASH. Two 500 lbs dumbbells flew across the fully stocked basement gym, cracking the concrete walls. "Get in here NOW babe," bellows Meghan as she slowly raises her massive 750 lbs muscled bulk off a now busted bench. Her husband Nate rushes down the reinforced concrete and steel staircase, carrying a tray of hypodermic needles. Steroids. Lots and lots of steroids. No sooner did he reach his wife, when she flexed a massive most muscular pose, roaring like a lioness as her enormous upper body exploded, her mass swelling to three times it's 'relaxed' state. Meghan's outburst had its desired effect, as her husband's erection grew. "Hurry up and inject me Natey poo, your giga-huge muscle monster of a wife needs her juice if she wants to GROW even more MASSSIVVEEE!" Nate grins, and begins the injections, one in each muscle group. As the highest quality anabolic drugs flood his wife's blood stream, Nate asks, "Do you think you've gained any inches on your arms since earlier?" Turning to the full length mirror behind her, the former Sports Illustrated bikini model appraised her muscle bound physique. Smirking, she slowly lifts her muscle bound arms to vertical, her exercise ball shoulders crushing her ears. Even unflexed, her thick, meaty, golden tanned triceps dipped 2 whole feet below her elbow. Without bending her arms, Meghan clenches her dainty, feminine fists, causing her ripped, bulging masses of pure female muscle to rise into arms 85" around. Meghan purrs in sexual delight, warning Nate of the impending erotic explosion of flesh. Like a crane, she gradually cranks her arms up, every inch her fists move upwards causing a half doze inches of solid beefy bicep to rise. Her rugby sized forearms finally collide with her biceps at a 60 degree angle. Over 3 feet of brawny bicep, combined with her massive triceps make her majestic arms 6 feet tall, far above his 5'8" wife’s head. "Measure them now sweetie!" Nate rushes to get a step ladder and measuring tape, his erection ready to burst. Standing on the ladder, Nate can't help but feel tiny next to the beastly mass of Meg. Standing 6'1, at 275lbs, Nate is no small man. A bodybuilder himself, the former college lacrosse player, and current U.S Marine Colonel was used to being in control. Placing his large tough hands on his wife’s surprisingly smooth silky skin, and feeling the steel underneath sent his control out the window. Your arms are 230" baby girl! "That it she says?" Meg pouts her luscious lips, and shakes her head causing her long golden locks to become messy. "I can't look small for my man. Just look at my pathetic little chicken wings, I'm withering away for christ sake. Hold on, let me pump some." As the uber buff Meghan walks to her weight rack, her near half-ton weight cracks the floor, each step a mini-quake. Falling to the floor from the ladder, Nate looks up at the 7 ft wide back of his goddess wife. Unable to turn her head, Meg blows him a kiss in the mirror, flashing a sultry, movie star smile. "Want to watch me GROW?...." CH. 2 In 2013, Meghan Wakefield was a sophomore marine biology major at UNC Chapel Hill. A bright young woman, with devastating beauty, and a bombshell body, she was a true southern belle, at the top of the world. She was captain of the cheering team and Class President. Her long blonde hair, perky C breasts, big bright green eyes, and long athletic legs easily got her a modeling career with Sports Illustrated. She ended u meeting Nate over Spring break 2014, in Florida. Nate, a handsome country boy, and a Harvard law student, was in town for his lacrosse teams championship. Little did they know that they're lives would be forever changed. CH. 3 Laying on the floor of his custom built basement gym, Nate had the perfect view of his perfect woman. Not four feet from him was the most massively muscular, most insanely jacked female. Make that the most muscular HUMAN ever. Only two years ago, Meg had been a fit, long legged bikini model; what stood before him now was a monstrous musclebound goddess, of giga-proportions. At a mere 5'8" tall Meg was at least 11 feet wide from exercise ball sized shoulder to exercise ball sized shoulder. Her aircraft carrier back alone was 7 feet wide. "Honeybuuun, whatchya doin?" drawled Meghan. "Quit daydreaming and pay attention. Y'all don't want to miss the show do you?" Taking slow, deliberate and quaking steps, Meg went to the far end of her dumbbell rack, her oversized oil drum thighs forcing her to waddle. "Let's see, those light 500 lbs single arm bicep curls barely warmed me up. I got to go REALLY heavy to impress my big strong Marine." Picking up a 700 lbs dumbbell in each hand, Meg turns toward the mirror and starts repping out alternating hammer curls at a blistering pace. "Oh yeah baby, ohhh yeah! LOOK AT ME! Have you ever seen arms this fucking huge? Oh god am I hot, like I AM SOOO MASSIVE I FRIGGEN LOVE HOW THICK I AM!" Rarrrrrrg! With a ear spitting roar, Meg rips out 1 more curl and with massive power hurls the quarter ton weights at the wall, embedding the steel two feet into the concrete walls."I am THE MUSCLE GODDESS! Look at these biceps, they must weigh 150lbs each! Your muscle freak wifey gained 50lbs in the last 15 minutes alone!" With a coy grin, knowing it will rial his wife up, Nate says, "Babe your arms are pretty big, but your chest and legs look a little small..." With a smoldering look in her gorgeous green eyes, the 800 lbs female behemoth growled, "I'm just getting started." CH. 4-6 So swole. So thick, so wide, so meaty. So...fucking. Sexy. Meghan was staring vainly at herself in the mirror waiting for her husband to come back with her next round of steroids. God I love juice, thought Meghan, almost as much as I love muscles. Hearing the basement door, she quickly clenched her glutes, giving Nate a spectacular view of her ass. Each cheek was the size of medicine ball. "Bet you could bounce a quarter off this ass huh babe." "You could bounce a bowling ball off that butt Meg," smiled Nate, as he began injecting the steroids into his wife's glutes, hamstrings, and calves. As Nate bent down to inject her calves, Meg suddenly raised up on her dainty feet. Nate had always been a leg man. Meghan had legs alright. Flexing down hard, Meg's calf kept getting thicker and thicker, until it was easily bigger than a basket ball, bulging a foot and a half from the back of her leg, and so wide that even with her legs spread, her calves rubbed against each other. Knowing she had him now, Meg cooed, "Just wait until I actually do some lifting before you cum all over my beyond huge calve." " But let me pump up my sexy little quads first okay pumpkin?" The mere act of dropping back down to her feet caused a massive shudder to rattle the gym. Walking to the squat rack was more difficult than it should have been, given the insane mass of her planet shaking quads. "Ohhh wow does that feel good. I just love knowing my weight alone cracks reinforced concrete. Imagine what would happen if I actually tried, imagine the POWER I posses. Taking her place in the squat rack, Meg unracked the bar and raised it to her shoulders. She was so wide that Nate had to specially build the entire set up, and the bar was made of 4" diameter titanium. Every inch of the bar was filled with 200 lbs weights, bending the super strong bar. 20 plates total plus the 200 lbs bar meant Meg was about to squat 4200 lbs...Jeesh, thats as much as my truck Nate realized. "Hey stud, get a load of this." Meg was so built, she couldn't even reach proper form, her ultra huge hamstrings and ass slamming into her lower legs preventing her from going lower. "2 tons is sooo taxing on my tiny little legs Nate. Can you 'cum' spot me pleeasse." As he went behind her, Meg yelled, Never mind, just kidding! And proceeded to push the weight up over her head, holding it there, and with a massive grunt, heaved the entire 4200 pound bar up, sending it through the ceiling and into the next story of the house. "Dammit, there is no weight in this house capable of quenching my thirst for pump. There is no weight on EARTH that my genetically superior mega muscle won't lift. I am UNSTOPPABLE!" Nate was worried now, he'd never seen her this way. "Baby I am the strongest woman in the universe!" "Just think about my power, my strength. All I want is MORE MASS. MORE POWER. MORE MUSCLE! Measure my legs before I work my beastly chest!" Slightly unnerved at the dominating tone, Nate grabbed the tape.He literally couldn't fir his hand between Meg's thighs, there was just that much beef. Each redwood thigh was 5 feet wide and almost as thick as he was. " 270" quads must be a record hun!" "Hey babe. Measure my calves before I squish you like a pancake between these record breakers." "115" calves! Holy shit!" From his knees, Nate looked up to try and see his wife's expression, but could only see her chest. Meghan suddenly laughed, her entire body swelling with new found beef as she inhaled more and more air. "The power the strength, the mass! What a rush!" she screams as she plows a fist into wall. Nate falls on his back, now afraid. His wife just put a 3 foot deep crater into walls built to survive a nuclear explosion. Lifting her foot, Megan slams it down between Nate's legs, sending cement flying with a massive boom as her leg is buried to her knee. "Take a good look at this monster leg you skinny little runt. See the size difference? You are NOTHING compared to me! I could tear you to shreds!" Meg strides to the weight rack again, sinking deep into the floor with every step."This will blow your mind!" Bending over, she grabs the rack, and LIFTS THE ENTIRE THING UP TO HER WAIST. "See my power? Just think what 300" arms can do! No, watch what they can do!" With an orgasmic roar, Meg begins curling the 3 ton rack to her chest. Her now uber pumped biceps only manage 6" before they meet her now truck tire forearms. "You think this is heavy? You think this is as big as I can get? You think I'm fucking big now ?" " Well I'm going to school you in the personification of ENORMOUS!" Taking a deep breath that expands her mass by 50%, she violently throws the rack into the wall, causing massive destruction and shacking the entire foundation. Flexing a jaw dropping crab pose, Meg orders Nate to get the rest of her steroid supply."Got to get bigger bae, the only thing I want is pure mass. Pure muscle. I must weigh 1,000 lbs, but the body you see before you now is a 90 lbs weakling compared to whats next." Throwing her head back in ecstasy , Meg roars, "I WILL GROW EVEN BIGGER!" Shit, shit, shit, Nate mutters to himself as he sprints up the basement stairs at a break neck pace. Bursting into the kitchen, he races towards the double door fridge where Meghan's steroids are kept. Might as well grab it all, he says to himself, as he picks up 22 syringes of a secret, experimental steroid designed by the DOD. Nate cringes as he here's more concrete crack; knowing the bill to repair today's damage will put a decent dent in his savings. I guess that's the price to pay for having the worlds hottest wife. Turning to the door he looks down toward the end of the hall where the dust is still settling from a 4,200 lbs weight shooting through the floor. Nate almost falls down the stairs as the entire house rumbles and shakes. "Rarrgggg! HAH, puny steel! Feel the power of my super pumped muscles!" Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Nate sees Meghan flexing over what was previously the dumbbell rack, only now it looks like an accordion, shoved deep into the foundation. Dear lord, it took 6 of my men to to lug that down here last month... "Honey bunches! Oh look, more juice! Is that for me? Ohh, you shouldn't have!" "Look honey, look at that pathetic piece of crap you call steel. Weaker than butter if you ask me Get to the injections, I just love how I feel right now. Like, I'm literally 4 times the size of you! My strength is superhero shaming, but my size is the real turn on." Raising her arms out like the goddess she is, Meg whispered, "Make me grow my king." Nate's more than happy to oblige. Five minutes later, he takes a step back, stepping around the now empty syringes, kind of looks like a heroin addict lives here, he thinks. Almost like she could read his mind, Meg coos, "I'm a muscle obsessed, steroid junkie addicted to getting bigger, gaining more and more massive muscles is all I think about. I'm by far the largest bodybuilder history has ever known. My bicep alone is bigger than Jay Cutler's entire body. And just think babe, I'm not done. No. Not even close. In fact, look at this." Stepping on the heavy duty scale in the corner; that he'd bought from the local zoo (to weigh elephants, rhinos etc...), she sent the numbers on the screen reeling. 700lbs. 850lbs. 1000lbs. 1200lbs. Good lord, Nate mumbles. Finally, the readout stops at 2050 pounds."Just think Nate. Your mega massive muscle wifey weighs over a TON! And I just took even more roids! Grrrg! Roooaaar! More! Yeeeess, I can feel myself growing, I can feel myself getting heavier! Just flexing is adding serious mass. I AM POWER! LOOK AT ME NATEY POO, I JUST GAINED 100 LBS FROM FLEXING MY ARMS! You better run for your life, because this house is comin down y'all." CH. 7 It was approaching dawn when the entire gated community of Orchard Heights shook to its foundations. Raaaarrggg! Mother fucker get bigger!!!! Megan bellowed as she again slammed the mangled remains of Nate’s trucks together. She’d been repeating this motion for well over 4 hours now, trying to work her monstrosity of a chest. Meghan was getting angrier and angrier with ever “rep” as each 10 foot wide pectoral would swell immensely and crash into each other with enough force to create a sonic boom. Her chest stuck out 14 feet in front her so it was impossible to do a normal bench press. That and her biceps which were each pushing 6 feet WIDE and even thicker. Her bicep alone was almost 200” flexed. Her tricep was 2/3 bigger!!!! Her muscles were not ripped, or shredded, or any other word that could describe a human being. She’d long surpassed that species. The definition between muscle groups was insane. Sickening. Her shoulders were so jacked that when she raised them a mere 6 inches, her head was at risk of being sheared right off. She liked the pressure though. It wouldn’t be impossible to create diamonds if you placed a lump of coal between her striations. In her hands, she had taken two military hummers of Nate’s, grabbing the bumper of each one and swinging them in together to simulate the pec deck motion. Only she was single handled swinging a 7,700 lb armored vehicle by its bumper. (The US Army took some pride in that engineering marvel) Nate had once seen a strong man take one end of an Olympic barbell and raise it straight out in front of him. He held it horizontally with one hand for maybe minute before his arm shook and he dropped it. The exercise worked stabilizers and forearms etc.. Meghan was doing a similar movement. With 8 plus tons. Meg’s bright white and pink, size 6 Nike Shoxs and thick pink hooters slouch socks were planted firmly on the pavement, which itself was no longer very firm, considering a woman who weighed more than an African elephant was pressing down on it with immense strength and power. Her insanely tight white yoga pants that could cover a circus tent, despite barley serving on her, were stretched so tight that her deeply tanned skin shown through completely. The military had wanted to design a new material similar to Spandex, that would be bullet proof and tear resistant. When Nate had heard about it, he figured Meg would be the perfect test for the material. Her monster quads and hamstrings were slowly but surely bulging so massively that the thread was coming unstitched. So much for that, better luck next time DOD. Freakishly inhumanly thick traps throbbed far above her head, they peaked more than a yard above her hair. Her shoulders, pecs, and traps already enveloping her head, each rep smooshing her almost to point of strangulation and blocking her entire view. All she could see when her arms were raised was her own musculature... and as far as she was concerned, there simply wasn’t enough of it. With her arms straight out holding the trucks, her triceps dipped low. Hanging like a side of beef was incorrect...her triceps were bigger than the whole cow! Hanging so low they merged with her “wide as a barn door back. Once again, misleading because her back was bigger than a whole barn! Much bigger! Her back was pushing 30 feet wide at this point. That’s 360 inches. 914 cm. Bigger than an entire Mr. Olympia lineup combined. And then multiplied by two! With her biceps peaking over her head and her triceps dropping so low they hit her knees (they literally pressed down into her massively exaggerated wide hips and quads) she would take a deep breath and then tense her enormous chest muscles, bringing her arms as close together as possible and really squeezing her pecs. The sight was ridiculous. The noise was deafening. The air sizzled with the heat of her raw sexual, beastly power and mind warping size. Sweat glistened and dripped flowing down the huge cuts in the chest muscles, turning to steam in the brisk morning air of New England. Pure raw power. Pure sex. Pure MUSCLE. The quiet gated suburb of Orchard Heights was alive with the sound, sights and smells of Meghan Wakefield erotically pumping her massive muscles. Held in her deceptively dainty well manicured hands were two military humvees weighing 4 tons each. “Fucking look at me and tremble you scrawny bitches, look at this power this size! MY power! MY size! Im unstoppable!” I AM POWER! I AM MUSCLE! I’m the most insanely pumped up, super humanly strong, mega-ultra-super-heavy weight bodybuilder! I am the most muscular living thing to ever exist or ever will! Worship me as I obsessively pump myself even more massive!” Meghan roared, to nobody in particular, but yet for all the world to here. Of course, the neighborhood had been evacuated hours ago when the “earthquake” struck. Or at least that was what the news was calling it. Technically, there WAS an earthquake, or better yet, a “Megha-quake” if you will. After destroying the basement, Meghan’s roid- induced mania and wild, driven desire to bulk up went into overdrive. Against Nates adamant pleas to calm down, Meg had pulverized the entire basement and house when she tried to exit the basement. Walking up the stairs proved unsuccessful as her giga-weight was so heavy she completely crushed the heavily reinforced concrete and steel stairs when she stepped on them. The futility of the construction had enraged Meghan and she hulk smashed the stairs into crumbling bits. With hellfire in her eyes, Meghan had turned full on to Nate and flexed an ab and thigh pose so huge that her quads and chest actually knocked him over. Roaring with spit flying, she’d proceeded to crank her arms up and down over and over again, squeezing and flexing her monolithic traps and shoulders until they were bright red. Then she spied the old weight rack in the corner where Nate kept his weights. Giggling like a crazed school girl, Meg pounded her way to the rack and proceeded to upend it with one arm. Maneuvering her other arm into position, she hurled it across the room like a soccer player might do with a ball. A steal I-beam floor hoist was torn from the ceiling and sparked another idea. “Babe, I’ve always hated that you built this house with such roomy ceilings, it really makes me feel short. But I think I know how to even the score. Watch my fucking power babe! Meg ripped the I beam the rest of the way out of the ceiling and started swinging it over her head like a club, tearing through the floor and utterly demolishing the rest of the house. Nate cowered in the corner to avoid being hit by all of his nice things that were now falling hazardously around him from upstairs. To say he was scared shitless at this point was an understatement. Meg had gone completely off the rails and was a literal ton of roid-raging muscle and fury. (If not more). Who are we kidding, it was way, way WAY more. At some point Nate must have lost consciousness from fear/arousal because when he woke up, he was covered in concrete dust surrounded by remnants of what was once his beautiful home. Meghan was no where in sight but he could hear her animalistic, predatory grunts from the front yard. Nate quickly pulled out his phone to contact his security team at the Pentagon. Things were going bad fast. Worriedly wondering why Meg was grunting, he’d no sooner heard his office secretary answer when the quake hit. Knowing better, Nate wobbled over to the massive hole in the basement wall to see Meghan standing in the driveway with his Porsche flattened at her feet. She’d managed to jump (who knows how high) and came down like the hand of god on his prized 911. Still on the phone, his secretary was going crazy, “Oh my God, Sir, are you okay what’s going on omg!” “Wake up SecDef and alert Homeland and the President... not sure how this will end. And I want this area under an immediate mandatory evacuation order.” Now recovered from his shock, Nate was beginning to get royally pissed. His million dollar home was destroyed. His $150 super-charged Porsche was now a candy apple red pancake and he was pretty sure his insurance didn’t cover “acts of enraged muscle monster?” “Meghan Marie, calm down right now!” Nate bellowed her middle name in anger. (Maybe yelling at your girlfriend who weighs more than your HOUSE was a bad idea in hindsight.) Not bothering to turn around, Meghan’s voice effortlessly boomed, “you are an insignificant RUNT compared to my awesome godly power and I could literally rip you into pieces. I won’t because I love you obviously but it would be this easy.” She picked up the flattened Porsche and ripped it in half like paper, her biceps and forearms bulging and growing and thickening even further. “To make it up to your goddess you will worship at my feet and tell me how huge I am.” It had been around that time that Marines from Nate’s unit arrived and evacuated the street. The neighbors were being debriefed and fed the official story of “just an earthquake.” Of course, 2.0 earthquakes weren’t totally uncommon in New England but still.

Hello, all...here is the long-awaited Wrestling Chapter......to catch up where you were before, I highly recommend you look at the other chapters first..... 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 / A Brief History of Casey Rockland / Miles Donovan's Gym "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 6 - Casey is Discovered at Miles Donovan's Gym "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Pt. 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale, Continued / The Men Hit the Showers "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11 - Casey Meets the Muscle Squad Precis: Valhalla Labs is a remote mountaintop Northern California military facility, overseen by genius muscle growth scientist Dr. Ira Zaftig and CO Staff Sergeant Rod Moster, a 7'-0" ripped and hung 395-pound black muscle giant. There, 18 extraordinary bodybuilder-soldiers live, train, and play together, overseen by Moster's strict rules and brutal regimen for muscular perfection. Known as Project Herculaneum, the men serve as Dr. Zaftig's lab rats, receiving regular injections of P-21, a specially developed enzyme that facilitates muscle and strength growth in the very few bodybuilders whose systems can withstand it. The goal: to create an army of supermen, whose strength, size, and combat skills are unparalleled in the modern military. Unfortunately for the Project, the soldiers' enhanced strength and dramatically increased muscular size is accompanied by a corresponding increase in priapic size as well, along with a rapidly diminishing sense of social restraint and inhibitions. And along the way, the men's extraordinary physiques prompt their own extreme muscle fantasies into a daily acting-out sexual reality. Into the mix comes young Casey Rockland, a lonely, handsome, super-hung 18-year old bodybuilding giant. Inducted by Dr. Zaftig into the top-secret government muscle strength and growth project, Casey comes to learn the ropes amongst the muscle giants, whose hunger for hardcore training is matched only by their sexual appetites and growing fantasies, including their insatiable need to receive muscle worship. Casey's innocence, simplicity, and his growing need to receive both love and muscle worship threaten the very core of the decade-long Project, itself only now approaching its full potential. 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. Chapter 12: Part 1 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match Five minutes later, Karim Abdul was striding down the corridor, pecs bouncing, headed for the wrestling room. Still carrying his clothes from Casey’s presentation, he was now dressed only in his red Lycra wrestling singlet. His step was deliberate, his gait powerful. As he walked he grumbled to himself, ignoring the low clamor of the rest of muscle squad, who followed eagerly behind. His cock, loose in the singlet, swayed heavily from side to side as he walked, his balls pushed forward. “Asswipe kid.” The rest of his thoughts were a little too vague for words. Thoughtlessly he grabbed his cock and got it momentarily out of the way of his quads, pumping as he walked. Most of the squad was keeping a good 20 yards of distance between themselves and Karim Abdul. No one wanted to be on the receiving end of a wild Abdul punch at this moment. Even Schumacher, McIntyre, and Duncan, men who could well defend themselves and were used to Abdul’s occasional wild swings, were keeping themselves at a cautious distance. Karim knew he had to mark his territory. Now, tonight, and fast. No questions asked. Leaving nothing to second-guessing. After all, even he had to admit it - this kid was fucking unbelievable. He was huge, he was cut, he was raw, he was handsome, he was young, he was unbelievably hung. And at only 18 years of age, he was still growing. Karim wouldn’t rest until he’d smashed the kid’s handsome face into the mat. And maybe pissed in his mouth, too. Something. Something like that. Yeah. Show him who was in charge. But - it was all – well, a little unformed. Even to him. He passed the door leading to the back of the kitchen. He bashed the door open with his fist, smashing the frame and cracking the thick glass. Inside, Pedro, Abdul’s handsome little kitchen cocksucking buttboy, was sweeping up. “Your ass in the wrestling room. Bring that 10-pound canister of olive oil. MOVE!!! NOW!” commanded Abdul. Pedro jumped a mile. Then Abdul was gone, continuing on down the corridor. Pedro immediately put the broom away, washed his hands - his musclegod demanded clean fingernails - climbed up a little ladder to one of the shelf larders, and grabbed a 10 gallon jug of olive oil. Carrying it with some difficulty, he nevertheless darted out the door and ran excitedly after Abdul. "Wait for me!" the eager boy squeaked. He was about to get an awesome muscle show. Maybe suck some massive cock. Wow! Further ahead, Abdul was a man on a mission. And coming up behind him and running by was Private Tiffany. Abdul didn’t like that asswipe, either. Great glutes, though. Perfect glutes. Big, hard, striated boulders. Yeah. Fuckable. Most inviting. He’d fuck the little asswipe’s butt one day and then push his face in the toilet. Yeah. He continued on, paying little notice, though he did allow himself a quick, cool glance at the muscleboy’s rolling, muscular boybutt as he scampered by. From the corridor somewhere behind Abdul, Schumacher was shouting to Tiffany. “Where you going?” he demanded to know. “Getting Dr. Irving!” “Who?” Tiffany turned back, running backwards, explaining patiently as if to a child. “The dude with the camera. Ever notice him? Probably not…” He waved Schumacher off with easy, grinning contempt, turned back and scooted happily up the corridor towards Dr. Irving’s office. Schumacher swore to himself. He had to acknowledge he had no idea who Tiffany was talking about. He rarely noticed the lab workers or other doctors, barely paying attention to even Dr. Zaftig himself. He returned his gaze to Karim, striding purposefully up the hall ahead of him. Karim Abdul’s rocky man glutes rumbled darkly as he walked, and Schumacher gazed into the impenetrable deep butt crack outlined in the red Lycra. Excepting only the cloaked, anonymous butt fucking nights, no one other than powerfucker Schumacher had yet penetrated Karim’s magnificent asshole. Ever. “At least I have that much,” Schumacher muttered. By now he was passing the open office door. Tiffany, his back to the corridor, was hurriedly explaining to some geeky lab coat doctor who Schumacher had never noticed before, saying something about Get the camera out, asshole, and Come with me now…. Schumacher paused for a moment in the office doorway to admire Tiffany’s butt sweep in his tight regulation khakis. His full, hard, rounded glutes were a most enticing display in his slacks, the rear pockets rounded with the curvature of pure muscle, promising the pleasures that lay beneath. Joe Tiffany Now there was a butt to fuck. He grunted and continued down the corridor, following Karim. In truth he didn’t know why he was heading off with the others to the wrestling ring, and especially at this hour. He should be headed off to bed, a quick JO instant replay of the group shower suck / group butt lick he’d enjoyed just 40 minutes earlier, and then plenty of shuteye for another brutal workout tomorrow. That was the life. And another day to plan on getting into Tiffany’s butt. Another day to strategize some deep cock / muscleboybutt frottage sessions. Another day to – “Hey, Schumacher.” It was McIntyre. “Where you going? This way.” He’d walked right past the wrestling room door. “Oh.” He retraced his steps. As he came back, a little sheepishly, Alvarez and Lang were in the doorway. Lang’s tongue was practically lolling out of his head in anticipation, and even cool customer Alvarez had an excited gleam in his eye. “What do you assholes think is gonna happen?” snarled Schumacher as he strode by, pushing past them into the wrestling room. Alvarez put his hands up in mock defensiveness. “Oh, nothing, nothing. We just thought we might want to watch.” “Yeah, we wanna watch nothing happen,” smirked Lang. Both men mockingly bowed as Schumacher went by, Alvarez of course taking the lead, with puppydog Lang following suit. Schumacher glanced down at their packed flies bulging out of their khakis as he strode by. “You both sure got big enough hard-ons, just to watch nothing happen.” Lang looked defensive. Alvarez just laughed, and gently patted Lang’s growing bulge. “Yeah, guess we do.” He nodded and winked, and went inside the wrestling room. Lang followed, and even had the temerity to wink at Schumacher as he went by. Alvarez threw his arm around Lang and playfully squeezed his ass. Faggots, thought Schumacher. His own cock roared to life in his pants and was soon poling straight out and upward. He glanced back down the corridor. Moster and Casey were rounding the corner. Moster had changed out of his sweats, and was now in the regulation Valhalla Labs green t-shirt and tight khakis. Casey still had only his micro posing trunks on. Behind them scurried Dr. Irving, carrying Casey’s sweats and his video equipment. He was babbling on his cellphone. Probably talking to the insane dude who ran the place. Zaftig. Moster noted the ruined kitchen door and sighed. “Another door,” he grumbled. These dudes, when they got pissed off. It’s not like Valhalla Labs was a bottomless money source. Close, but not bottomless. He nodded at Schumacher and gestured briefly for him to go into the wrestling room ahead of them. Schumacher scowled, but did as he was directed. “Dr. Irving?” “Yes, Sergeant Moster?” Irving scurried to catch up to them. “Do you have a white cap on you?” “Why…yes….” Moster knew he would. The little doctor had long since learned that anything could happen when the men gathered, and he made it a point to carry extra medication with him at all times. And there was no sense in irritating Moster with a “Why, no.” He wouldn’t put it past the giant black muscle monster to deck him with one mighty punch in the nose if displeased, which would no doubt kill him. He scrambled and produced a small medication bottle. Moster turned to Casey, struggling a little to keep up, halfway between a walk and a run, his black shiny micro poser barely covering his steadily bobbing cock as he ran. “Here,” said Moster. “Take this.” “Hunh?” Casey stopped full. “Take it. Don’t ask questions.” “What—what is it?” “Extra confidence.” “Drugs?” Casey was momentarily stumped. He remembered that the boys in the Home were always experimenting. It made them silly and weak. He wanted no part of it. “I don’t do drugs.” Moster motioned to Irving. “Go on and set up, we’ll meet you there.” He turned to Casey. “It’s not a drug. Not like you think.” “I don’t do no steroids, neither.” “Not a ‘roid. There is no man in this facility on the juice. We have to do something about your grammar, by the way.” “Then how –“ “Shut up and take it. I will explain later. You will be fine.” Casey gulped, put his faith in Moster, and did as he was told. He popped the pill in his mouth, and smiled with weak subservience at Moster. “Okay, sir.” “What was that?” “I..I mean, Yes, Sir!” “That’s better.” Moster turned and continued down the corridor, Casey scampering after him. Good thing the men still do what I tell them to do, thought Moster. And how long is that gonna last with this boy? Once he finds his power? Moster tucked that thought away. “Let’s go watch you wrestle. You do wrestle, you said?” “Yeah, but I’m scared…” “No need to be.” “…no..…scared I’ll hurt him. I always do….” Except, of course, Ramon Ramon, the much smaller wrestler at Raw Weight Gym who never failed to thoroughly pin the muscleboy. But of course, that was a long time ago. Inside the wrestling room Karim had already snapped on the overhead lights and was doing deep knee bends in the middle of the 20 sq foot wrestling ring, which dominated the center of the room. The thick blue mat of the ring gleamed in the overhead lights, with the VALHALLA LABS logo in the center. Around the ring on two raised platforms were about 40 folding chairs, all affording perfect, elevated views of any wrestling action. Pedro stood eagerly on the side, now holding towels and a water bottle. “Getting limbered up to better meet the kid?” called out Blankenship. He had already grabbed his ringside seat, he too adjusting his crotch as he sat. “Shut the fuck up,” said Karim, squatting. To Pedro he shot out, “Where the fuck is the oil? Get the oil.” Pedro shot off into a storage room and returned with a 5-gallon jug of olive oil. “Goin’ for Turkish wrestling, hunh, Karim?” Chad was grabbing a seat ringside. He nudged Waring. “This is gonna be good.” No answer from Karim. “The kid’s got an iron grip, I’m told,” called out Waring, nudging Eli Meyer’s ribs as he took a seat next to him. Meyer’s mouth hung open in a perennial smile. He pointed to his mouth so Meyer could read his lips. “I said, Casey Rockland’s got an iron grip.” “I heard you.” Obatu was next, leaning against the ropes. “And those quads be killers. He gets you in a lock hold, you gonna be dead in the water. What’re ya gonna do about that, Mr. Abdul, sir?” Karim didn’t answer, regarding them all stonily. Obatu lazily returned his gaze, smiling, unintimidated. Blankenship had started this. But Blankenship had easily dodged the intended receiving end of a few near-miss wild roundhouse punches in the past. He was too fast and too alert to be caught unawares, and Karim Abdul had learned not to waste his energy on him. So Karim suffered the men’s ready comments stoically. “This kid got veins like this?” he asked, flexing his 25-inch biceps, showing off half-inch thick rivers of veins, pulsing with power. “Yeah, I think, actually, he does,” said Blankenship with a smile. “Here he is now. Let’s see. Kid, you got veins like his?” Moster and Casey had appeared at the opposite door, the darkened end of the wrestling room. Both giants approached, in black silhouette against the framed light from the corridor, getting larger as they quietly walked toward the ring. Casey looked up quizzically at the question. “Flex your biceps,” whispered Moster. “Hunh?” “Flex, man. Don’t ask stupid questions. Flex it up. Now.” “ ’kay.” Casey stopped and hammered out a front double bi. 25 inches of his own, in response to Abdul. As always, he felt compelled to go on, adding side chest, front lats, quads, and sent a hand probingly down rippled, hardrock abs. “That good?” “Good, good,” muttered Moster. “You catch on fast. You ever compete, kid?” “Uh…..no……should I? Other guys are so much bigger than me….” Moster smiled. They all think that, at the beginning. “Get over here, plebe,” Abdul called out from the center of the ring. Pedro was standing on a stool, pouring the olive oil over his massive physique, worshipfully slathering him up. Casey in Silhouette Casey stared. “What’s all that….?” he stammered. Moster noted that the white cap hadn’t taken effect yet, but then it had only been a few minutes. “Now, Karim,” said Moster patiently, coming into the light as they approached the ring. “You know Casey is not a plebe.” Abdul started to speak. “Nor is he a cadet. He is now one of you. He makes us The Twenty. You need to accept this,” he continued, walking and speaking easily now as he pulled up the ropes and stepped into the wrestling ring. He approached the angry giant muscle Arab. “And he isn’t threatening you. Casey isn’t going to pull your power away from you.” “That’s not what this is about.” “Bullshit,” one of the men yelled. The others laughed. Abdul glared at them and went on. “Whatever you say, Sergeant Moster, sir,” said Abdul. “I just want to make sure he’s going to be worth my time to train with.” He smiled easily. “That’s all.” The oil was dripping off him onto the mat. Moster said nothing. Casey was now visibly nervous. Still outside the ropes, he leaned in to Moster. “They gonna reject me?” he whispered loudly. “I mean, now?” “No one’s rejecting you,” said Moster loudly. He then turned to the waiting group of musclemen. “Are you, boys?” Something about that ‘boys’ rankled Abdul even further, though Alvarez and Gunst just smiled. The others looked perplexed. “Since when are we boys?” squealed Hension. “Shut up, Hension,” said Chad. “You ever wrestle, boy?” Abdul called out. “His name is Casey. Or Private Rockland.” “I asked you a question, boy. Ever wrestled? Get your butt into the ring.” “You really want all this oil?” sighed Moster. “We’re gonna wrestle Turkish style.” “It’s messy.” “I’ll clean it up, sir!” squeaked Pedro. “Bet your ass you will.” “Yeah, you don’t want a spanking, now, do you?” yelled Lang. He adjusted in his chair, his glutes still smarting from the paddling he’d received earlier that evening. Moster’s cock twitched a little at the suggestion of paddling handsome young Pedro’s hard, receiving little boybutt, a pleasure he had not yet allowed himself, although the teenage boy’s firm little butt cheeks had always been particularly inviting in his kitchen whites. He ignored it for now, however. Later, he thought. Casey shot a look at Moster. “What’s this about spankings?” he asked. Moster ignored the question. “Get in there.” “Yes, sir.” Casey climbed obediently into the ring. Moster watched him closely. The white cap should be taking effect in a moment…. “Oil him up,” commanded Abdul. Pedro ran over to him with the stool and the olive oil, climbed up, and began to pour it all over Casey’s massive physique. The sheer size and beauty of his muscles was overwhelming to the little Mexican, and his own powerful little cock began to bulge in his pants. After a moment, Casey was drenched in the shiny, thick liquid. The two musclemen stood face to face, Abdul in his tight singlet, fearsome muscles gleaming in the light, looming with threatening power. Casey was still in his micro, bulging posers, wet now with slick oil, the top 6 inches of his massive, meaty cockshaft fully exposed, blond tendrils of pubic hair curling with thick radiance. He was embarrassed, humiliated that his huge penis was twitching outwards in anticipation of what-was-coming-next. But then he noticed – Abdul’s oily, pylon-thick tool was also clearly coming to life in the thin singlet. “Good. Now, you got some mighty fancy muscles. But that doesn’t mean much here. We all got fancy muscles.” “You’re not being very polite, Corporal Abdul, “ said Moster, moving to the sidelines. “I think the men ought to introduce themselves before we get into any personal demonstrations of our manhood. Don’t you agree?” Even the ever-present log in lying against Moster’s pants leg was firmly outlined and appeared to be twitching a little, and the thin khaki fabric of his slacks covering it was now smooth and tight. Slowly the 17 others bodybuilders rose from their seats around the ring, one by one. 38 pairs of eyes stared at Casey intently. He glanced at the cocky little Joe Tiffany, and then over at Corporal Schumacher, who was now looking at him expectantly. “Okay, now, boy. This is Turkish wrestling. There are clear rules, but they’re different from American collegiate.” “Hang on,” said Moster. “We’ll get to the Turkish rules of wrestling in a moment. He stepped into the ring and approached Casey, now thick and dripping with oil. The men were now gathered on two sides of the ring, leaning on the ropes, leaning in to see what was coming next. For any other cadet introduced into the ranks, Sergeant Moster would have generally proceeded to paddle Casey’s hard young butt as the formal ritual of initiation. Last had been Private Tiffany receiving the red-hot butt cheek welcome, which he had borne stoically and proudly, displaying the twin globes of burnt-cherry perfection under the paddling. And after all, they had all gone through it, excepting Abdul, of course. Even Schumacher had known the firm, unrelenting hand of Moster on his butt. Hazing was hazing. But tonight, that didn’t seem to be happening. Abdul’s interesting wrestling challenge has precluded that. All were watchful. “Men, introduce yourselves. I was going to do this tomorrow, at Casey’s first workout, but now seems as good a time as any.” He turned to Casey and smiled. “Don’t worry, you won’t have to remember all their names just yet,” he added. “That’s good. I’m not very good with names.” “You’ll know them all, in time.” One by one, each man introduced himself. “My name is Private Leo Jin,” said the Asian man. “I’m 25 and from San Diego. I have been in the Project 8 years. My best bodypart is my forearms.” To prove it, the handsome Asian brought his beefy, fetchingly oversized forearms, walloping with solid muscle and veins, and squeezed the muscles hard. “I’m Private Dan Gunst, and until today, I had the biggest biceps here – except for Sergeant Moster’s.” Gunst flexed his mighty guns and then gave Casey a half-cocked smile. “Guess yours are bigger,” he proffered, respectfully. “I saw that this afternoon.” Moster glanced at him questioningly. “Oh, yeah,” he added. “I’m from Milwaukee, I’m 27, and I have been in the program 3 years. Hi, Casey. Welcome again.” “Hi, Dan!” Gunst sat back down. Moster eyed Casey carefully, wondering when the little capsule might take effect. Casey seemed cheerful and happy. Around the circle they went, each muscleman getting to his feet, politely introducing himself, offering basic information, and then showing him his best bodypart. “I’m Steve Waring, and my best bodypart is my traps.” Bulge. Flex. Steve Waring “I’m Rene LeFevre, and my best bodypart are my pecs.” Surge. Bloom. Bulge. “I’m David Duncan, and my best bodypart are my triceps.” Rip. Bulge. Bloom. Flex. “I’m Schumacher.” He said nothing else but grudgingly offered a front lat spread. Casey nodded without expression. This guy was not to be messed with. Eli Meyer signed with ASL. Casey nodded, showing some intelligence. Moster was pleased. Then Meyer turned around, bent over, grabbed his ankles, and showed off his hams, bulging through the khakis. He turned back and Casey gave him the OK and thumbs up sign. “I’m Chris Hension, and my best bodypart – “ “Is my FACE!” shouted Corporal LeFevre. “I’m a refugee from a lost episode of ’21 Jump Street’!” “Smack me around a little and I’ll follow you forever!” added Chad. “He’s our little boyband musclepup,” explained Blankenship. “Shut up,” yelled Hension, visibly embarrassed once again to be labeled the squad pretty boy. All the men were laughing now. “My best body part is my quads.” He started to rotate them. “And my baby blue eyes,” shouted LeFevre again. Hension was confused and humiliated but continued to show his quads, blooming in his tight khakis. “I think it’s his butt!” said Waring. “It’s okay, Chris,” said Casey. “Your quads are awesome.” Hension looked up, hopefully, and Casey felt compelled to go on. “And I think you’re very handsome indeed.” Hension smiled hugely at Casey, his heart beating a little faster. Gee, he thought. Wow. He gazed at Casey, who was now turning his attention to Private Waring. “I’m Private Ryan Waring, and my best bodypart are my delts.” He extended a powerful arm and began to rotate it. Suddenly Hension spoke up again. “I’m 22,” he blurted out, “and I’m from Toledo!” The men laughed again, and Hension hung his head a little and stuck out his lower lip. Next to him, Chad patted his thigh comfortingly. Casey saw him wink at Hension, who straightened up a little and smiled weakly. Casey’s head was spinning. He was inspired past all understanding by the mind-boggling panorama of muscle before him. And he was part of it. About then, he noticed that the room seemed to be getting a little brighter and a little hotter. He was staring again at Moster’s leg log. “Private Lang,” said Lang. “I’m 28, I’m from Lansing, Michigan, and….” He looked a little helplessly at Alvarez, sitting next to him. “My best body part is……um….” “Your back. Your lats are your best body part,” said Alvarez with quiet encouragement. “Yeah, I guess it’s my lats.” He turned and flared his lats wide. Alvarez clapped him approvingly on his butt. Lang smiled and sat, and Alvarez got up. “I’m Corporal Julio Alvarez, I’m 32, I’m from El Paso, and my best bodypart are my biceps.” He flexed. “Gunst’s are bigger but mine have sick peaks.” He popped them back and forth. “See?” Casey was indeed impressed. “Nice. Sick.” Gunst yelled in good-humored protest and flexed his own guns. Casey looked between Alvarez and Lang. Alvarez glanced over at Lang. “No, we’re not related,” he said. “They’re just joined at the wrist and ankles,” called out Gunst. “More like mouth and cock,” muttered Blankenship loudly, winking at Casey. It was Private Tiffany’s turn. “Casey and I will be meeting privately soon,” he boasted, and made a show of wiping the corner of his lips with his index finger. The men laughed knowingly – all but Corporal Schumacher, who looked down into his lap and seethed a little. Moster watched him intently. Something has to be done about Tiffany. But he didn’t worry. Though Tiffany didn’t know it yet, something was already happening. Casey felt a touch flushed, but his head was suddenly amazingly clear. Suddenly he spoke. “And what’s your best bodypart?” he asked. The stammer was gone, but only Moster noticed it. “What do you think?” Joe Tiffany turned around, bent over and grabbed his ankles. He pulled his gym shorts tight at the crack of his butt and proudly displayed his magnificent bodybuilder glutes. “Cupcakes!” said Gunst gleefully. The men howled. Schumacher made a show of laughing, but all he could do was glare. “Wow,” said Casey calmly. “Very pretty.” Tiffany's Butt after Squats Moster smiled inwardly. Good. He’s responded. And this boy responds well to White Caps, he thought. “No one’s had it yet,” said Tiffany confidingly as he straightened up and turned around, tucking his t-shirt back into his shorts. Then he winked. “Except in group.” “Group?” Casey was obviously perplexed. The men shouted with laughter, which died down sheepishly as, looking around the room, each man eventually shrugged and acknowledged it was probably true. None of them had had Tiffany yet. “I haven’t, anyway,” grumbled Schumacher, and the men laughed again. Tiffany sat back down and ignored Schumacher’s look. “Too bad,” said Casey. “Shame to waste such a pretty little behind.” The laughter died down and the men stared at Casey. No one knew what to say. “What’s ‘group’?” repeated Casey. Silence. On the sidelines, Alvarez raised his head a little. He exchanged looks with Moster. White cap? he mouthed. Moster looked away. Alvarez smiled and leaned in. He nudged Lang in the ribs. “Ow,” said Lang. “This is gonna be good,” said Alvarez in a low voice. “And I’m Karim Abdul. My best bodypart? My whole fucking physique is my best bodypart. As you are about to find out.” He flexed, whipping through pose after pose, his heavy cock bulge, dripping with oil, whipping left to right in his wrestling singlet. Snap. Snap. Snap. Casey could hear it slapping against his thighs through the man’s singlet. “All very impressive,” said Casey, looking pointedly at it. Moster smiled again. The cap had taken effect. “Okay. Turkish wrestling. Rules. One: there are few rules.” Abdul ticked off the rules on his fingers. “Submission: the “crush.” A fighter can get his opponent onto his stomach and then trap him by sprawling on top. If I can keep you down with your face, I can then turn you on a half-nelson for a pin.” “What if you can’t do it?” asked Casey bluntly. “If I can’t crush you, the referee has to begin us again from a standing position.” He ticked off another finger and looked Casey right in the eye. “I am not restricted from placing my hands inside my opponent’s kispet…” “Hunh?” “Your poser. I can also use the waistband to hold you in place. If I yank your poser so far below your hips that you are exposed, I win. Okay. If I can lift you entirely off the ground … “Fat fucking chance.” “Whoa,” breathed Hension. The temperature in the room seemed to raise 15º. Abdul paused, tense, and continued. “…and carry you five paces in any direction, that is a “carrying” pin. Got it?” “Yep.” “Okay.” Abdul looked at Casey. “You wanna go?” “What are we waiting for?” “Let’s wrestle,” said Abdul. He clapped his hands together and strode into the center of the ring. Ever since the mention of ‘group’, Abdul had been a touch shaky – or so Moster thought. Still can’t acknowledge how much he likes musclebutt. To say nothing of getting pissed on,” thought Moster. “Sure thing,” Casey answered, slick with oil and now quietly confident. Pedro scampered to the side of the ring and squatted eagerly to watch. Abdul began to bounce around, heel-toe, heel-toe, flexing his fingers, stretching his arms behind his head, limbering up. “Let’s go, man.” “You got it, man.” Casey hunkered down. “Center of the ring, gents,” said Moster. The men began to circle one another. “You wrestle till one of you gets a pin,” Moster instructed, now in the ring and getting between them. Casey flexed his biceps. “Big peaks, man. Like ‘em?” “Seen bigger,” said Abdul. He crunched forward, did a most muscular, his veins popping like railroad tracks. “How ‘bout you? Like what you see, faggot?” he asked. Casey just smiled, hunkered lower. Abdul palmed the crotch of his singlet. Casey smiled and refused to look down. He grabbed his own crotch, pendulously looming in his bulging posers. “Big handful, man.” “Watch it, boys,” said Moster. “This is a friendly get-to-know-you match.” “I already know him,” said Abdul. Moster snapped his fingers to Dr. Irving, now on the unpopulated side of the mat and with his ever-present video camera whirring. He dug in the pocket of his white lab jacket, wordlessly tossing him a whistle. Casey and Abdul met each other in the center of the mat and stared one another down. Their noses touched. Abdul grinned, ear to ear. Casey followed suit. Both began to gleam with anticipatory sweat. “Wow…..” breathed Hension. His hand shot down into his pants and he began massaging his stiffening tool. Moster pushed the two apart and blew his whistle to start the match. “And……wrestle!!” CLICK HERE FOR PART 2!

Here's a one-off that came to me when I was lying in bed before I fell asleep. Yeah...this would totally be me!!! Hope you enjoy as much as I did that night and while writing it!! How Do You Spell Masculinity?? Ian sprinkled the salt into an incomplete circle, stepped inside, and the closed it with the rest of the salt he had. Before him was a medium sized alter that he had built just as the book had described, and next to that were the items for the ceremony. Lighting first the five red candles, then the three black, and finally the white, (all easily purchased on Amazon Prime) he nervously waited for the time to be exactly two in the morning. This had all begun six days ago when he was on an eBook downloading site looking for the latest Stephen King novel. Glancing over the many different titles as he scrolled through the list, he came across a listing for “100 Books of Witchcraft and Sorcery.“ Thinking that this might be something interesting to look through, and always fascinated with the occult, he downloaded the zipped file. Unzipping and then Opening the downloaded folder, he found titles such as the Necronomicon, The Grimoire for the Apprentice Wizard, Libellus Migicus, and The Fifth Book of the Black Order. One book peaked his interest significantly: Physical Magic and Spell-Casting. Most of the spells in this “Grimoire” were focused on turning straight hair to curley or vice-versa, acquiring different coloured eyes, or helping the caster build larger muscles. Being fairly short with an average body, this spell caught his attention, but it was the one after it that peaked his interest. Total Body Modification in Regard to Masculinity or Femininity allowed the spell caster to summon a ‘helpful demon’ ( there were such things???) and request they give the ideal masculine/feminine body that they desired. Reading over the spell, it all seemed quite easy: Must be done on the first of the month. A circle and a pentagram must be drawn in salt The caster must be within the circle and never leave till the spell was complete Must be done at 2 am Must possess a silver knife and silver spoon Must have three specific coloured candles Must have three items that the caster perceived as masculine/feminine to be burnt in a copper pot Four tablespoons of raw wildflower honey. One persimmon for the demon to feast on. (Really??). If the demon finds you worthy to grant your request, he will feast on it to gather the energy to make your masculine/feminine body a reality. Once the items were ash and spread over the heart and chest of the caster, they needed to just speak out loud their desires. From this, the demon would choose to grant or deny the request. Being a person with a lot of interests and nothing to loose, and since it was January 25th, he thought, why not, and decided to do it. From Amazon, Ian was able to purchase the silver knife (who knew??!!), the copper pot, and the candles, and from the corner shop he was able to procure three large boxes of salt. The items that symbolized masculinity were a little harder. The first thing he cane up with was the few chest hairs that he had growing in the center of his chest. Ian was not a very hairy person, and he always associated facial and body hair with masculinity. So, with a dry razor he cut the fifteen chest hairs from his body and placed them in an envelope. A huge penis was definitely a symbol of masculinity, but how could you burn one? At work the next day at his desk, he decided the best way was to make a paper mache one. That night he got a long balloon, mixed flour and water to make a paste, put strips of newspaper in the mixture, and proceeded to cover the 15” balloon with it. To create the head, he just piled more and more paper until the balloon had a massive mushroom cap. The next night he popped the balloon, and painted the hardened cast to look as close to a penis as he could; veins and all. The final item alluded him. Ian wanted it to be a jock strap, but he couldn’t just buy one. That wouldn’t be masculine enough for him. It needed to have been owned and worn by someone who was the epitome of masculinity. Searching online, Ian found a website where he could “purchase” a man’s company for an hour or for a night. Looking through the pictures, he found a rugged muscular hunk who screamed masculinity to Ian. Emailing the escort, Ian asked how much it would cost to have him wear a jockstrap all day, work out in it, and then give it to him. That’s all. The escort respond back quickly asking for £350. Knowing this was the only way of getting what he wanted, Ian agreed to transfer half the money that day and then the rest on pick up. He agreed to meet the escort on the 31st at 3pm at a Starbucks on St. Martin’s Lane. Mario, who originated from Italy, actually ended up being a really nice guy. Ian bought latte’s for both of them and they had a 15 minute chat about Mario’s career goals, the law school he was attending, and whether or not he would return to Italy when he finished. When the drinks were finished, Mario stood up to leave, and handed over the jockstrap in a paper bag. No questions were asked, and he acted as if this was a totally natural request. Ian transferred the second half of the money to Mario, and they parted ways, each with what they wanted. Ian waited until he got home to open the bag, and right away from the musky smell he could tell the stud had definitely worn it all day and while he worked out. There were even some stray pubic hair in the red jock for added measure. The sitting room was the largest room in the house, so Ian proceeded to move all of the furniture to the sides of the room. Taking a pencil, he carefully sketched out a pentagram and circle on the floor, and the proceeded to follow the lines with the salt, leaving an entrance open for him to come and go with. He then proceeded to fashion an altar, as requested in the book, and placed that in the middle of the circle. As the time neared 12:30 am, Ian took a bath in rosewater as the book recommended. At around 1:45 am, he entered the circle with the necessary items, and closed it with salt behind him. Placing the persimmon on the right half of the altar for the demon, Ian composed himself and began the ceremony. Lighting the candles from left to right, he began to meditate on what the desired outcome would be from that night… what the word masculinity meant to him Several times his average penis started to get hard thinking of men with huge muscles hairy muscle and massive cocks, but he calmed himself down and continued to meditate. Finally, the alarm sounded. It was 2am. A little nervous, Ian read aloud the spell: - Oh god’s of darkness and Lucifer lord of the underworld, please grant me my wish. Masculinity is the greatest power in this universe, and I wish to accept it as my own. Receive these items as my sacrifice. Chest hair from my own body, that only grows from surges of testosterone. Ian took the chest hair and placed them in the copper bowl. ⁃ A large penis that only one of true masculinity would possess. The large phallus was next placed in the pot. ⁃ And finally, a jock strap owned by the most masculine of men, and worn while working out to improve his masculine body. Ian took the jock strap, longing to smell it, and placed it in the pot. ⁃ In flames I send you these symbols of my desire and my need. Taking a wooden match, Ian lit the paper mache penis. He watched this quickly burn, igniting both the jockstrap and the chest hair. Within ten minutes, they were all a mixture of ash. Taking the silver spoon, Ian scooped up the honey and dropped it into the pot. Mixing it and the ash together with the silver knife, he then proceeded to spread the thick solution on his chest, specifically over his heart. As he rubbed it in he said: - I wish to be the most powerful of all men. Please grant me my wish. Make me masculine. Make me as masculine a man as they come. I beg of you to grant me my desire and bestow me your blessings. What blessings you can bestow on me is as I require. Here Ian has to speak aloud what he wanted the demon to bestow on him. - I want to be muscular. I want a great body, to be tall, and have chest hair. Having seen many movies where a wish went wrong when no detail was given, Ian thought it best to explain himself. - Yeah. I wish to have a muscular body... maybe like a pro bodybuilder, be tall, around 6’4, and have thick hair on my face and chest. Realizing he had forgotten something important: - Oh... um... and a big cock. I’d love a huge cock, a really hairy body, and bulging muscles that every guy would be envious of. Just talking about it was starting to get him horny and hard. - Not just a big cock. A huge cock. Really long and thick. And I’ve always wanted to be tall. Have everyone look up at me when I enter the room. They have to look up because they have no choice. And really muscular, where it’s difficult to buy clothes for my body. Oh yeah... and so hairy that when I shave, it just grows back an hour later. It’s almost a waste of time to even bother shaving. Ian was so horny now just talking about his dream body that he started to stroke himself. - A body so huge with muscles that honestly you can’t even wear clothes I’m just so massive. Hundreds upon hundreds upon hundreds of pounds of thick pulsating muscles. I’m so tall that I have to bend to get through every door, and my cock!! Fuck!! My cock is massive... like 15” long and thick as my wrist, and my balls!! Two grapefruit’s!!! I’m such a fuckin Alpha stud that I can fuck anyone I want... and I do. I’m always constantly leaking pre cum and horny... and fuck I’m hairy!!! Some might think it’s too much... but I don’t care! Ian took some of the ashes mixed with honey and used it as lube to stroke himself even more. Caught up so much in body lust he spoke with such longing: - There I am... standing so tall... like several stories tall... and I’m thousands of pounds of muscle. My whole body is coated in thick dark hair, but nothing can cover how massive my muscles are. I’m a freak, but I love it. I get off on it!! My balls are so enormous... everyone wonders how they can be so big!! My voice is so deep, my beard so full, and my cock is so thick and long I could fuck a building with it!!! Just at the point if cunning, Ian cried out... - Do whatever you want, I just demand you make me into a fucking muscle monster!! My muscles are so huge it’s impossible to measure them but I know I weigh several hundred tons... and that may be a low estimate!!! My cock... fuck it’s so huge it’s too big to even fuck a blue whale with... and the head...it flares out so huge and so wide it’s bigger then my own head!!! And my balls... my balls are as big as cars... I’m as hairy as can be, covered in tattoos, pierced, and exude a smell that turns everyone on. People come from countries away to just worship me and jerk off at my feet. My voice... it’s so deep it’s just a rumble... like thunder!! I have the testosterone of 29,000 warriors, 150,0000 cave men... yeah... I’m so masculine I’ve fuckin de evolved!! The world around me is so small and my voice so deep I pretty much just grunt. My instincts are to just fuck and grow... The whole world worships me yet is terrified of me because I’m a fuckin muscle mutant, millions of tons of muscle, my cock defies description, so long... so thick... so veiny... thousands of highways of veins just to fill it... so freakish it would be disgusting if it wasn’t so hot... it’s constantly dripping gallons of precum, and I have to cum every ten minutes because my balls are constantly full!! I’m a lumbering mass of caveman testosterone, so fuckin hairy... fuck... so hairy I must be part gorilla... and damn... I’m so tall... so tall that my shadow covers all of London!! I have to be 300 feet... no 500 feet if I’m an inch and I just keep growing!!! I can’t stop!!! I won’t stop!!! I’m the worlds nightmare!!! Ian came repeatedly all over the alter, all over the pentagram, and all over the candles putting several of them out. It was one of the most intense orgasms he’d ever had, and he felt totally spent when it was over. Walking through the circle of salt to get some paper towels to clean up, Ian just laughed at all he had done. He was covered with cum, honey, and it would take days to simply vacuum up all of the salt. All of that mess had been worth it for such an incredible orgasm. It had been days since he had ejaculated, and obviously, he needed to after that massive load. Gathering the roll of paper towels from the kitchen and a trash bag, Ian began clearing the mess up. After cleaning the honey and cum from his chest, he then proceeded to clean up his sitting room. He put all of the candles, the copper pot, and the chalice that held the honey into the rubbish bag since none of it was worth keeping. Once that was deposited next to the bins in the kitchen, he vacuumed up all of the salt, which was actually easier then he thought it was going to be. He tossed all of the salt into the rubbish and moved the sofa back into position. No one ever would know that a demonic ritual had ever taken place there. He threw himself down into the couch in exhaustion, the furniture creaking under his weight, and closed his eyes. Damn that was fun... even if it had cost several hundred of pounds. If anything, it would be a funny story to write about on his blog. Suddenly famished, he flung himself off the sofa with the decision to grab some crisps from the kitchen. He was on his way out of the sitting room when he slammed his head on the door jam. Stopping to take stock of what had happened... he suddenly realized that he had actually hit his head on the door jam!!! Ian’s heart started beating faster as he comprehended that indeed he was now slightly taller then the door jam and getting taller by the second! How could he not have noticed this??!! No! There was no way that he could be getting taller!!! It wasn’t possible. He has to have fallen asleep when he sat down on the couch. A demon couldn’t actually... didn’t actually… He ran to the persimmon and with the silver knife cut it open. Inside it was empty. Not one seed… not one drop of juice. Nothing!!!! The demon had eaten the entire thing... No!! That wasn’t possible!! He had to be asleep. He couldn’t be getting taller!! He paced around the room but each second it seemed to get smaller and smaller as he shot further up. Trying to remember what he asked for, Ian played back the evening in his head. He had asked to be 6’4... but he was already taller then that. No... he had elaborated by saying everyone had to look up when he entered a room... that he... his stomach fell.. was several stories tall... Several stories tall! Several stories tall!!!! He had asked to be several stories tall and he was actually growing taller. This shouldn’t be possible! This only happened in... Fuck... I went further... I did!! I said my shadow covered London!! I said I was... Whether it was the reality of getting talker or the thought of how tall he was to become... Ian’s cock started to get hard. It looked so tiny next to his newly enormous hands, but when it was fully hard, it pulsed with a life of its own. Each second it pulsed in time with his heartbeat, and each second more and more blood was forced into it. The sensation was over whelming. New thick veins began to form and erupt all over Ian’s cock in order to supply more and more blood. Ian winced a little as his cock kept getting harder and harder... like it was in one of those vacuum pumps he had tried. This time though, he wasn’t just getting hard, he was getting thicker... much thicker. My cock is as thick as a beer can already... and so fucking veiny! Ian cried out as his cock got thicker still. He wrapped his hand around it and discovered even that couldn’t fully go around it. With more blood pumped in, his fingers pried apart further... and then further still. Feeling like he was receiving punch after punch to the groin, Ian kneeled on the floor. Like his cock, his balls had begun to swell. Within minutes, they were both the size of peaches and fighting for room in his tight sack. His tender balls were hot to the touch... practically burning as they proceeded to gain more mass. He could even hear and feel them churning, becoming supersized sperm factories. Ian was sweating as his world kept changing around him. He laughed a little when he thought of the situation he had gotten himself into... and got butterflies in his stomach when he thought about what he might become. He had demanded the demon turn him into a lumbering muscle monster! Surly the demon knew he was just horny as hell and role playing! Demons had to be reasonable... right?? His cock was so thick now that his growing hands only went halfway around it. It had started getting longer too, and had to be nearly 10” long. The head of his cock had never been much thicker then the shaft, but Ian could now see that it had started growing with the rest of his cock, and was now a huge mushroom sitting on top of his cock. Ian spread out is hand on it, and discovered the head was wider then his palm, and had to be at least 5” long. Fuck!! His head was bigger then some guys cocks!!! Wave after wave of testosterone was entering Ian’s system, and he found that his pubes were getting much longer and fuller. Doing his best to look at the rest of his body, he could see and feel hair shooting out of every pore. If he stayed very still, he could hear his body growing, his cock expanding, and hair sprouting everywhere. He itched his face and felt the starting of a thick beard growing in. He tried standing up to look in the bathroom mirror, but he was taller then the ceiling now. Kneeling quickly down again, he tried to crawl through the door, but his shoulders had begun to widen immensely, to pack on muscle, he guessed, and he simply couldn’t get through the door. I’m a prisoner of my own sitting room, he thought as he sat on the floor. Looking down, his chest was now completely covered in a thick pelt of brown hair. Running his fingers through it, it just felt so good... so masculine. He moved his hands to his face and felt the tremendous growth of beard that had occurred in the past few minutes. It felt long, curly, and dense. Sticking his finger into the beard, he could hardly feel skin beneath!! It was like there were 10 hairs growing out of each pore!! Hair was now coating his arms and legs, the back of his hands, and the tops of his feet. Lifting his arm, he saw long black hair had taken up resident in his pit, coming in as thick as the rest of the hair on his body. Within not time at all, Ian was as hairy as he had wished to be… and still… like everything else on his body, proceeded to flourish. The more the super strong testosterone flowed into his body, the more Ian was welcoming the changes that were occurring. His cock had to be at least 15” long and so thick. It was becoming a pure column of masculinity! His huge balls had stretched his sack further and further and just kept getting larger. Even his own body was on an unstoppable course growing taller and taller, his cock increasing longer and thicker, and everywhere possible, hairier. Ian knew deep down the demon had heard everything he had said, and by sunrise tomorrow he would be the creature he had envisioned as he came: taller the anything on earth, oozing testosterone from every pore, muscles erupting over his entire body, and a cock that was a force all its own. As if his acknowledgement further welcomed the changes, the testosterone of 29,000 warriors began to be released into his body and his muscles began to grow. His shoulders, which had already grown wider for this purpose, simply erupted in mass. Ian cried out in ecstasy as he felt this first surge of muscle. As each muscle in his shoulders proceeded to gain serious bulk, his deltoids were becoming rounder and more defined, adding more and more size to his already wide shoulders. His neck joined in with his delts, quickly becoming an enormous pillar of muscle. From his shoulders to his neck, traps began to emerge, thicken, and gain more girth. His already hard and growing cock was leaking a copious amount of precum as Ian fell into a trance of constant muscle growth. Pecs burst out of his hairy chest, becoming firm and round, inching out further and further until the sheer weight of these brand-new pecs began to force his nipples to point down. Fuck!!! Even his nipples were growing so huge… so firm. Just owning pecs like this was the most incredible feeling; he couldn’t imagine what an entire body of muscle felt like!! With one hand doing its best to stroke his massive cock, the other enjoyed feeling the sheer size and feel of such muscle and hair. Moving down, bricks of abs began to explode out of his lower torso. As each one burst out, Ian simply whimpered, not even able to vocalize what he was feeling. All he could do was drool and try and feel each blossoming muscle with his hands. His giant cock was shooting precum now like a geyser, hitting the wall with a slap. Each abdominal muscle fought for space, getting more dense by the minute. The crevices in between becoming deeper and deeper, that Ian could nearly stick half of his immense fingers in them. His Adonis belt enhanced as his waist tried its best to gain more size while remaining as tight as possible. What is happening to me, Ian thought as he urged on more and more growth. Even his pelvic floor muscles grew larger and thicker to support the 18” of cock he was now sporting. As more and more testosterone took over his system, Ian craved more and more growth. A beast was being released, and it never would be satisfied. Ian flexed and bounced his pecs, loving his new ability to do this. As he looked around the room, he quickly realized his body was taking over most of the space. How tall am I now, he wondered. Have I passed 12 feet in height?? What will it feel like to be hundreds of stories tall, his legs dwarfing buildings, and his head hidden in the clouds? I’m scared shitless right now, but it’s the best scary feeling I’ve ever felt. I can’t stop it… I don’t know if I want to stop it if I could! How will I live when I’m that big? Fuck!! Who cares!!! I’ll be a living mountain!!! No! Don’t think that way!! This has to stop soon!! He knew the demon must have enjoyed granting this wish, a blessing and a curse all wrapped in one. More veins erupted onto the surface of his cock to better supply more blood to the growing appendage. His cock didn’t look real anymore. It looked like one of those morphs you once saw on Tumblr. It was now becoming so thick that his pelvis was becoming larger just to accommodate its size. Ian tried to think what its thickness reminded him off, but he cane up short. It must be as thick as three wine bottles stuck together was the best he could come up with. His balls also forced his legs wider. They were so immense now that the sack sat comfortably on the floor filled with two watermelon sized testicles sending out wave after wave of insane growth. Ian screamed out as his upper arms blasted with sudden mass as his biceps and triceps quadrupled in size. His arms were already so long that the muscles had plenty of room to multiply into colossal mounds. Flexing his arms felt totally comfortable to the testosterone fuelled Ian. Each time he did it, the peak was higher and higher, thicker and denser. If only there were people here to witness his reality defying size. Trying to make more room for his increasing body, Ian swung his lower arm to push the sofa to the side, but instead succeeded in fully demolishing it with little more then a tap. Ian simply laughed when he saw this happen. I’m so fucking strong now!!! So strong!!!! He picked up a piece of the couch and squeezed it, watching it disintegrate between his fingers. Destroying the sofa gave Ian a little more space, but his entire body was beginning to take up the entire large room. He was already sitting in the floor, his back resting against one wall, his head inching up to the ceiling, his legs folded on the floor, and his feet taking up nearly half the opposite wall. As his upper arms bulked up in size, his firearms followed, becoming as thick as his leg, then surpassing that. His hands, nearly four feet long, also became stronger and more rugged as they morphed into the hands of a true weight lifter. Each digit swelled into fat sausage-like fingers, and the palms of his hands were hardened with the toughest calluses. He opened and closed his hands and fell in love with this appearance of pure dominance… pure masculinity. His hard cock surged up longer and hit the opposite wall, putting a indentation into it. Ian laughed as he flexed it, watching as it put further holes in the wall. I have a fucking wrecking ball for a cock!!! As Ian flexed his arms over and over again, enjoying the bloated feel of his muscles, his lats began to spread out wider and wider. How many inches around was his chest?? Had he hit the 150 inches mark?? He had surpassed that in seconds as his lats grew more and more freaky, forcing his own arms to bow out. His rib cage also had to have grown in the process since his chest was so insanely huge. Looking down at his torso the best he could, his lower half, though tapering in significantly, had to be at least 90” around. These were all guesses. Ian had no clue how huge he was... all that he knew was that his head was inching closer to the ceiling and soon he’d have no other option then to demolish the house around him. It sounded like a bomb went off the moment his quads began to grow. Quickly they began to take up more and more space, forcing his legs to straighten out more. Barely able to see his quads due to his pecs and position on the wall, he felt them with his hands and realized they had to be as big as redwood trees and still growing. Painfully, He could feel his pelvis shifting, altering, and adjusting itself to enable his quads more room to grow. He was sure that with these quads he would definitely find it difficult to walk unless it was in a bow legged fashion, or the traditional waddle of the bodybuilder. He was able to see his left calf grow until it was the size of his original quad, and then burst even larger. Like his hands before them, his feet got fatter and wider as muscle mass packed into them. Ian has never thought of feet as sexy before, but that wasn’t until he saw how beautifully muscular his hairy feet were becoming. With a thud, Ian’s huge head hit the ceiling. He tried to crouch down more, but only succeeded in knocking the wall down behind him. He fell backward into the rubble, and realized that at least lying down in the hallway gave him a few more feet of room to grow. This is a nightmare, he thought, as heard his entire body getting larger and larger. Fuck, it’s a dream!! I’m so fucking enormous! This house is like my cocoon and I’m going to burst out of it soon. Wait till you see me, world!! He felt his cock swell more and take down part of the ceiling with it. Laughing, Ian knocked down part of the wall that separated the hallway and the kitchen. I’m a one man wrecking team!!! Hundreds of pounds of muscle were being deposited on Ian’s body each minute, as he grew bigger and bigger. Very soon he had out grown the extra few feet in the hallway and was going to have no other option then to push his way out of his ever decreasing prison. His cock had already started the fight with the walls and the ceiling, and would no doubt serve as an excellent battering-ram!! Shifting his ever growing legs, he planned to simply push the back wall out and go from there. Once his legs were straight, he could sit up, taking the entire house down with him. Then the world could finally witness its new resident... its living monument to masculinity!! He was just about to set his plan in motion when all growth ceased, and a voice filled the entire house. - Ian Winter’s... working with magics beyond your realm of understanding can be a dangerous affair. You called me, made your request known, and to teach you a lesson, I have begun to grant your desires. But never let one say that I’m not merciful. I give you a choice: I can grant you what you wanted originally... the perfect human form of masculinity... or you can continue on your journey here... What will it be? Ian lay there in silence, his entire house ready to fall down around him. The demon was willing to give him a normal life with the body he had originally wanted... or he could forget normal and embrace what he was becoming. He shifted his body slightly, sensing the weight and feel of every muscle on his body. His titanic cock was leaning against the opposite wall... it was incredible but he would never fuck again. His body was so hairy, the smell emitting from it so intoxicating... but was this what he really wanted... or had it been a silly horny fantasy? No one really wanted what he was being given... or did they? To live a life beyond massive... to tower above the world... to be a beast of pure sex and pure muscle... - What will it be, Ian Winters? Remember you have only been given less then a quarter of what you asked for. Ian opened his mouth... was he really going to do it? Was he really going to throw away his life for muscle… masculinity? YES!!!!!!! Terrified and excited at the same time to say the words, his leaking cock told the demon his answer. - Do it!!!! Let’s continue this journey!!!!!! - So be it!!! It felt like twenty nuclear reactors exploded in Ian’s body as his growth went into full throttle. - Just as you requested... So tall that your shadow covers London. Ian finally felt free as he erupted from his house. Not having to worry about that anymore, he just reveled in the orgasmic feeling of growth. Taller and taller he got, taking up more and more room!! Soon his own foot was as big as a small car, then a medium sized one... then a Hummer. The whole world was getting smaller and smaller and he loved it. He was talker then the tallest tree!! He was several stories high... he constantly took up more and more space and the feeling was indescribable!!! He shifted his stance, and he took down several houses around him. For a second he felt sorry… but what could he do? With a body like this, there was bound to be destruction!!! Ian could hear screaming coming from below him and he just grinned… no longer caring. - My cock defies description... long, thick, thousands of highways of veins... so freakish it would be disgusting... and so large you couldn’t even fuck a blue whale Were those really his words the demon was throwing back at him?? As he grew taller, his cock proceeded to have a growth spurt of its own. It was now so thick that it rivalled his waist!! Precum flowed like a river as it continually got longer and thicker. Ian felt like he was constantly being edged and this feeling only intensified with each passing second. Hanging past his knees, more and veins appeared in and around his cock. The skin was so thin that it actually had a bluish hue as thousands of more veins pushed out and pulsated on the surface forcing it to grow even larger. The head... fuck... a human could easily walk into his piss slit it was so huge!! Stretching his arm out as best he could, Ian took his middle finger and began to stick it into his piss slit. FUCKK!!!!! That felt amazing!!! He stuck it in further and began to move it in and out. I’m fucking fingering my own cock and it is the best feeling ever!!!!! - My balls are the size of cars and I have the testosterone of 150,000 cavemen! Ian roared like the beast he was becoming as his balls emitted the largest wave of caveman testosterone into his system. As his balls enhanced, so enormous and dense, they pulled his sack down virtually to his knee, other changes were beginning to occur. The hair on his head began to get longer, pushing down past his shoulders. His beard developed impossibly thicker, bushier, and longer. His whole body was now covered in the thickest black hair, but it was his chest, cock, and armpits where it was its most dense. A musty smell was emitted from Ian’s body and carried on the air. - Look at me!!!! I am so fucking masculine!!!! His voice was now so loud it could be heard 20 miles away, and it was constantly getting deeper and deeper till it sounded exactly like the thunder rumbling as requested of the demon. I can’t believe this is me... he kept thinking!! I am becoming so beautiful, so impossible!!! Fuck!!! I can’t stop growing!!! - I’m so masculine I’m de-evolving. His own words spoken by the demon hit Ian like a ton of bricks. As soon as he heard them, his entire face began to change. His brow ridge became more pronounced, his eyebrows bushier, his eyes deeper set, and his lips thicker. His PhD studies were thrown out the window, as all he could do was think about his body, his cock, his muscles, cumming, and food. Ian was pure instinct now. - I’m as hairy as can be, covered in tattoos and piercings. Ian roared and roared again as he became even hairier. His nipples suddenly had two immense silver barbells in them, his cock head had the largest Prince Albert anyone had ever seen... and both arms, chest, and abs were covered in tribal tattoos. These were virtually impossible to see due to his chest hair... but they did exist. - I’m a fucking muscle mutant, millions of tons of muscles. The words echoed in Ian’s ears and he welcomed them. Yes!! Fill me up with size!! My arms are like skyscrapers, my legs like mountains, fuck... my chest is too big to even think about measuring!!! I’m so heavy, so bloated with muscle, so ripped, every muscle pulsates on its own like it’s alive... and I keep gaining more and more mass!!! This can’t be real... but it is!!! Fuck, My lats are such massive wings they block the air flow around me!!!! - I just keep growing!!! I can’t stop!! I won’t stop!!! I’m the worlds nightmare!!! My head is punching through the clouds. I feel so alive!!! I can barely see the world below me!! All I see is an army of ants!! Look at my cock. Even with two hands I can hardly jerk it off... but I’m so horny!!! I need to cum so bad. What have I done??!! I’ve gotten my greatest wish fulfilled and I love it!! Nothing is mightier then me!! Nothing is more powerful then me!!! I am masculinity!!! From now on, when those human describe masculinity they will point up to the sky at me!!! At me!!!!!! With a roar that broke ever window for one hundred miles, Ian proceeded to ejaculate, showering the worshipers below.

Daniel is a teenager getting ready to focus on his college plans. His grades are so good that he earned a scholarship to a great university. He has never really focused his energy on the way he looks, but his classmates have let him know has small he is quite often. At only 5'5 and 120 pounds, he looks slightly out of place among his senior class. The reason could be due to the fact that he never went through puberty. He has no facial hair and his body hair is practically invisible. His parents always tell him that it will happen when he least expects it. They want him to be careful when he is out in public. He finds this quite amusing, but he always felt they were partially right. He has female friends, but they don't see him as a suitable mate, rather just a guy they can talk to about their problems in their lives. He has never had a sexual preference for either sex, but wouldn't mind dating either sex. His male buddies kid him all the time about his boyish looks and how his muscles look like they belong on a 10-year old. He has two really close friends that could not be more different. One of them, Anderson, is small like him and has dated him occasionally. He actually likes Daniel a lot, but he doesn't see him as a match since he likes bigger men. His other buddy, Vance, is a tank that befriended him when he bailed him out of a fight in elementary school. They both have hung out quite a bit in the last few years and have even had sleepovers in his backyard. He is very open with Daniel and has let him put his arms around his body when Daniel sleeps. This never connected with him before, but it is possible that he really likes Daniel. He is biracial and understands what Daniel has been going through more than he realizes. He too was picked on because of his differences when he was younger before he bulked up and took a stand against his bullies. Daniel invites his two good friends to a campsite the weekend before you all graduate to just enjoy their last days together. As all three of them are setting up their tents, Daniel feels really dizzy and has to go sit down somewhere. Vance sees how he his feeling and picks him up in his arms to carry him over to the riverbank beside the campsite. He sees that Daniel is about to go through some kind of change, but he doesn't want to tell him. He watches him closely to see if he is going to pass out or not. Anderson watches both guys as he continues to put up the tents and yells at Vance every once in a while to know how Daniel is doing. He lays him down and unbuttons his shirt because he sees how much Daniel is sweating now. He reassures him that he is there for him no matter what happens. Daniel can feel excruciating pain running up his legs and into his chest. Vance hears something pop as he watches his buddy’s legs lengthen their way towards the river. His eyes grow huge when he sees this as he also feels Daniel’s thighs getting thicker and stretching the fabric in his jeans. He notices the denim starting to fray as body hair emerges through the gaps. He looks down and witnesses his feet tearing through his boots as he starts to thrash about. Vance is now mesmerized by his transformation. With Daniel’s shirt still open, he sees his waist thicken as cords of muscle begin appearing in his midsection. Vance places his hands on Daniel’s growing chest and feels the pecs blowing up into giant mounds as his abs begin popping out from within. More cracking is heard as his back starts to reshape making room for more growth. It hurts exponentially, but Vance is noticing that Daniel is beyond the pain now. He sees lats growing from behind his back and they are pulling the shirt away from his body. Daniel’s back is growing so much that Vance can feel him actually being lifted from the ground by it. Now his arms are starting to vibrate uncontrollably. His skinny arms he had inside his shirt are now exploding in size, getting huge and powerful. He sees Daniel’s forearms shred the shirt as his growing biceps blow through the sleeves. Now his shoulders are ripping through the top of the shirt and Daniel’s neck widens leading to his voice changing. He hears his moans change to deep groans and growls. While his face still looks the same, his body hair has dramatically thickened as a black forest begins to grow all over his body. He caresses Daniel’s body hair as he goes in to kiss him. As he approaches the newly mature Daniel’s face, he watches in delight as a nice coating of hair has appeared on his face. The growing teen is spent from the growth, but Vance's kiss ignites fireworks between the two of them. Anderson missed the whole sequence, but he will soon know how it resulted. The pants Daniel is wearing are so dangerously tight that they are cutting off the circulation to his legs. To relieve the pressure, he flexes his new quads as the pant seams explode. He easily rips them off and to show off his beautifully hairy legs. Vance smiles as he turns him on so much. He tries to pick Daniel up, but he is now over 6' tall and Vance is 6'2. He kisses him passionately again and wants to make love to him. The underwear he is wearing amazingly is still intact, but his cock has slightly grown too. He has to adjust it to where his cock sits on the side instead of in the upright position. Vance starts rubbing it with loving caresses and holds him with his other hand. He looks Daniel straight into his green eyes and admits that he was aware of him impending change and wanted to wait until the time was right to make his move. He pulls his engorged cock out of his underwear and leans down to kiss the huge cockhead. He licks it with his tongue and then spits a small amount of saliva onto it making it nice and wet. Daniel feels his mouth go down on the shaft and slowly starts moving up and down on it getting a nice rhythm going. He moans incessantly as Vance gets him close to the edge and keeps stopping over and over again. This makes him want to go deeper inside Vance’s mouth. This prompts Daniel to start growing again as his ass rips the seams of his underwear. The eager sucker grabs the hair thickening up on his ass and starts to finger his hole. He can feel something from within Daniel that may cause another growth spurt and decides to pull his cock out of his mouth. He starts jerking him to the point that he can't hold back any more and erupts. His thick white fountain splashes Vance in the face as he starts gripping the ground. He smiles as Daniel’s back begins to get longer again. His muscles are getting so big and thick that his body hair now looks thinner. He scoops up some of Daniel’s cum and starts to rub it into his body beginning with the pecs and arms. The growing teen moans as it appears to be working. The hair thickens back up again and coats all of his muscles more than before. Vance gulps down Daniel’s growing cock and swallows the jizz that is still flowing out of him. He rubs his buddies head and wants to kiss him again. Daniel pulls Vance away from his cock long enough to drizzle some of his cum onto his tongue to share a wet kiss. He swallows the tasty cum and watches as his abs thicken up and widen. Vance rubs his bigger muscles and wants him to grow even bigger. At 6'6, he is not sure how much more Daniel wants. The two studly teens can now hear Anderson yelling back as he can see what has happened. He races over and feels how powerful Daniel’s body has become. He hasn't always been as open about his feelings for Daniel as Vance has, but he obviously likes what he sees since he has his hand in his pants. He sits down beside the two big teens and watches the two of them start to go further. Vance is taking his clothes off now so he can sit on top of Daniel’s thick cock. He bounces up and down on him wanting to feel him erupt inside his body so he can possibly have his own growth spurt. He is now about four inches taller than Vance and about 50 pounds bigger too so he can move him around with ease now. As they get into the doggy style position, Daniel is able to get all the way in and go to town on him. He yells in pleasure as the now aggressive top is hitting his prostate and milking him. Anderson moves down to get underneath so he can catch Vance’s spunk into his mouth. Daniel can feel how close he is now so he doesn’t hold back anymore. He shoots massive jets of cum into his eager bottom’s belly and shutters at the extraordinary feeling. Vance yells in ecstasy as he explodes straight into Anderson’s waiting mouth. Without much effort, Anderson sprays his spunk all over Vance’s big feet. The three horny teens fall over on the riverbank completely spent from the sex capade that just occurred.

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

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

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

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.....

"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.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was originally meant to be a continuous growth story in the old forum, but apparently no one wanted to take up the offer of continuing it. I hereby rescue the first three parts with the intent of adding a few more chapters. Part 1 Zack eyed the open case before him. He leaned forward and took another drag off his cigarette, absentmindedly ashing it onto the carpet afterwards. With his free hand he reached out and grabbed one of the small prescription vials sitting neatly within the case. Holding it up to the light he examined the contents. The liquid inside was a pale opaque blue. It had an almost luminescent quality that reminded Zack of radioactive materials. However, on the outside of the container where a prescription label was usually affixed there appeared only a barcode and some letters and numbers. Zack assumed it stood for a designation of the contents and maybe some routing info. The contents. That’s what got Zack’s mind going. His dealer, a guy from the south end named Derrick, had clearly indicated that it was safe. Then again what drug was ever safe? Zack had tried everything that Derrick had ever given to him before. Columbian cocaine. California gold. Acid. Methamphetamines. Barbiturates. Every upper and downer known to man. Even heroin. Nothing had ever given him the perfect high he’d been looking for all his short life. That though brought him back to his parents. He had no idea where they were. Probably in Europe. Zack had breezed through college with honors and they hadn’t said a word. He’d been arrested and they hadn’t said a word. Nothing he did seemed to affect them. Being good, being bad, it didn’t matter. But they always kept his bank account topped off. Maybe that was their way of compensating for failing him as real humane parents. For failing him as human beings. Thinking about it and considering his progression of nannies, boarding schools and colleges, it was clear they didn’t care about him. And to Zack it no longer mattered if they did. He had long ago begun seeking out new thrills to compensate for his losses. Things to make life worth living, whether natural or drug induced. Even without his parents funding his lifestyle, Zack would still have had enough money in his own trust fund to live comfortably without them. Which he figured he’d been doing more or less since he was seven. Maybe that was why he’d handed over $50,000 to Derrick with no great reluctance when Derrick had told him he’d come across some of the best stuff ever invented. Derrick assured him that this shit would give him the kind of experience he wanted. Zack had never explained his motivations to Derrick, but the dealer seemed to know that nothing he’d provided before had ever been good enough. And nothing he’d provided had ever even hooked Zack for more than a few uses. He’d begun to get more creative over time. That’s where the mysterious blue liquid came in. This was the stuff that would do the trick, Derrick explained. This was a hard to obtain experimental synthetic. A drug that was manufactured for one purpose, but that they discovered was actually useful for another. Namely as a narcotic. Or so Derrick had explained anyway. Zack never really believed anything Derrick said. But then again he didn’t care either. He’d try anything once. He didn’t care how Derrick had come by it. And right now it was sitting on his kitchen table. Derrick was a smart dealer. He didn’t sample his own products, so they never held any power over him. Surely though Derrick had indeed witnessed someone else who’d taken the stuff? Maybe the person who’d obtained it for him even? Whatever the case Zack was ready to go. He rolled up his sleeve. Zack was a thin man. But he had a wiry muscularity that came from good genetics and from dedicated exercise. Exercise was part of his routine. A certain ability to cling to a routine was part of what kept him from falling into the void every day. That and searching out new experiences with a tenacious dedication. It gave him a sense of purpose. And if this stuff killed him? So be it. It would be one less day that he had to continue in this absent, mindless existence. He’d tied off the arm so that he’d get a nicely defined vein and filled the syringe. Zack had done this before of course. A prick of pain and then the fluid of the unknown serum began to flow directly into the bloodstream. He expected the rush to be like heroin or morphine. An instantaneous hit of pleasure that eventually died away. But he hated that the failure of the pleasure to last only made the normality seem worse to him. He was surprised when instead of the pleasure he felt something else entirely. A slow creeping feeling, not like euphoria, but more like vitality. It was flowing within him and growing. Becoming stronger with each passing minute. His head fell back and closed his eyes as he felt it work its way through his system. Oh, there was a euphoria too. But it was ancillary to this feeling of strength and power. That was it exactly, he thought, strength and power. He felt like he could do anything. Take on the world. Despite his every assumption that this too would be only a passing pleasure, Zack felt the feeling growing stronger instead. He felt a raw manliness – a primitive energy that commanded respect. Derrick had hit the jackpot this time. This stuff lived up to what he’d said and maybe more. The feeling of his own personal strength was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He stood up. He was stoked and he instinctively needed to test himself. Without thinking he brought his fist down with all his might against the granite countertop that he had paid so much money for. It cracked and shattered beneath the power of the impact. But with a quick glance at his hand, Zack realized that he’d felt no pain at all. He’d never felt so alive and he wanted to test himself against something or someone. After a moment’s reflection it occurred to him that the gym was the only possible place where he could find the challenge he so suddenly craved. He grabbed his sweats from the bedroom. Zack knew just the place too. Not the usual fitness center he frequented, but a real iron pit down on the south side. A place where the blue collar guys mixed in with the serious muscle heads. That would do. Once quick glance in the mirror though and Zack could see that his body still looked the same as ever. His wiry one hundred fifty pounds and handsome face grinned back at him. The same as they had this morning. No wait a minute, he thought, he hadn’t grinned like that in a long time. This was going to be a good time. It took a half hour for his car to make it across town. He supposed that not too many people were used to seeing a car that expensive in this neighborhood. But he didn’t care. An attendant sitting behind a desk stopped him as he walked in the door. “Hey,” he called when Zack was about to stride past him into the gym proper. Zack hadn’t even realized he was there. “What?” he asked. “You don’t have a membership.” “Oh,” said Zack, still grinning stupidly. The feeling of vitality had only gotten stronger with every second, even though Zack had expected it to have started receding by now. He reached into a wallet he had in the gym bag he’d brought with him and pulled out three hundred dollar bills. “Will that do?” he asked nonchalantly. The attendant looked at him like he was crazy. The power of cash was amazing. “Uh, yeah,” said the attendant stupidly, “Um…yeah…the rules are….” “No rules,” said Zack, “Just cash.” And then he laid another two Benjamins on the counter. “Whatever dude,” said the guy, “Do what you want. Locker room is that way.” Zack thanked him and took off through the door, found a locker and stowed his stuff inside. He was still clad from head to toe in sweatshirt and sweatpants. When he stepped from the locker room out onto the floor it couldn’t have been more obvious that he was completely out of place. The gym was filled with sweaty monsters. Most having little to almost nothing on, so that each could show off the hard work he’d put into building his body. Normally Zack would have been intimidated no matter how much money he had to buy people off. But in this case, he was still running with an amazing high. More than ever in fact. Ignoring the looks he was getting, being without a doubt the smallest man in the place. He stood about five feet, nine inches, but even the shortest of the guys there could make up two of Zack. He headed straight for the nearest bench. A guy had just finished and was toweling himself off. He hadn’t even had time to unrack the weight yet. No one was waiting and Zack thought that the bench press would do for his purposes. The guy was big. He seemed to Zack like an amateur bodybuilder who was interested solely in testing himself against the iron and not out in competition. “How much you benching?” he asked the guy. He appraised the guy’s thick arms as he asked. He had no idea what they must measure, but they looked as thick as the guys who featured prominently on the covers of muscle magazines Zack had seen before. Zack reassessed quickly. Maybe this guy really was one of those sorts of bodybuilders. He seemed big enough. Powerful chest. High rounded delts. Thick neck – with ropes of muscle melting into equally thick shoulders. His waist was small and tight. And his legs were like some kind of thick young tree trunks. He wasn’t the single biggest dude in the place, but he seemed to be the most ripped of the lot. “Bout three hundred,” the guy replied, taking in Zack at the same time. Aware of Zack’s having checked him out. The guy was used to that. “But I’m goin light today.” Zack just looked at him soberly. “Shoulder injury,” the big guy added, as if it needed to be explained. “Right,” said Zack in his most knowing tone, “So you mind givin me a spot then?” The guy looked at Zack calmly. Zack had the feeling the guy felt sorry for him somehow. Maybe he thought Zack was just a fish out of water here. Finally the guy said, “Okay, if you want to. Better make this a little lighter for you though little guy. Name’s Matt by the way.” “Thanks Matt,” said Zack a little miffed, “I’m Zack”. He didn’t like being called little guy and something within him sorta snapped. “But I think I’ll try it out at three though. Thanks anyway big guy.” He put a lot of emphasis on “big guy”. “Dude,” Matt said, “Seriously, this weight would flatten you.” “Humor me,” said Zack getting down on the bench. Experimentally he pushed up on the bar. At first he felt himself strain, but just as quickly he felt a surge of that strange power within him. The power was intoxicating. He lifted the bar and being used to benching with lesser weights, he pumped out twenty smooth reps – not even realizing that he’d gained the attention of a couple guys around him. He just listened to Matt count. Each time Matt’s voice seemed strained with surprise. When he was finished, he looked up at Matt. “That felt pretty light,” he said, “Was that really three hundred?” Matt just nodded. “Put another hundred on will ya?” Matt complied without thinking. When he’d done a set at the increased weight as well, he racked the bar and got up. He pulled off the sweatshirt off and looked at himself in the mirrors. While he had been lifting those weights, the muscles of his chest and arms had grown to accommodate the power. He wasn’t huge, but he was more defined than he’d ever been in his life. He flexed his right arm and brought it up to look at his gun. Where before there hadn’t really been anything, now there was a small ball of muscle. But his chest, now that was something. His slight pecs were full and rounded, like those of some guys who’d been pumping iron for a while. They looked about an inch thicker and actually stood out from his chest. The feeling of vitality stayed with him and for the first time he looked around at the other guys lifting. Some of them were watching him with dumb looks on their faces. A few a little awestuck. Some seemed not to care and had gone back to whatever they had been lifting. Matt came up next to him and flexed his gun behind Zack’s, framing him in the mirror. His powerful cannonball dwarfed Zack’s own, but the hard dick Zack felt pressed behind his ass told him everything he needed to know. “That was incredible little guy,” he said, “I had no idea you were that strong.” After a second seeing Zack look into his eyes, he added, “Do you want to go back to my place.” Zack smiled back at him. “Maybe later he said, first I want to finish my workout.” Part 2 The feeling hit him like a ton of bricks. He needed a hit. He needed it bad. Zack’s indomitable will had never been overwhelmed by any substance that he’d ever tried before in his life. But the blue serum just called to him. The day after the first hit, he’d awoken feeling refreshed and alive. The after effects still lingered inside him almost eight hours after the stuff had hit his bloodstream. It was amazing. Even more amazing was the physical change it produced in his body. From the first time it hit the blood, Zack’s strength increased immensely. He’d recognized that from the first. But over the past week, he’d noticed that with each hit that exceptional strength was growing exponentially. Maybe that had something to do with the other dramatic physical changes the blue serum was doing to him. That first night at the gym, Zack had moved enough iron to do a seasoned powerlifter credit. Made all the more remarkable by the fact that he weighed only one hundred fifty pounds the morning Derrick delivered the stuff to him. With that came the discovery that the blast of primal super strength lasted about three hours from when he took a hit. The pleasant side effect was that during that time and for some time afterwards his body responded to his exertions by building more muscle to compensate at an accelerated rate. When the flare of strength passed, his new muscles were still able to handle loads his pre-serum body wouldn’t have dreamt possible. The next day the scale said fifteen new pounds of muscle graced his frame. It was hypnotic. Not that Zack had ever wanted any of this of course. But he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stop it. He didn’t want to. He’d discovered that he liked it too much. Then the cravings had come. A day and a half after his first injection, he could feel that he was returning to normal. The emptiness of his life was still there waiting for him. He needed that feeling again badly. He recognized it for what it was, but he felt it was a small price to pay on balance. He had taken the stuff three times now. Each time going to the gym to test his mettle. As the juice left his system again each time the cravings eventually returned. Each time seeming to come faster than the time before. And with the third injection he found that he’d finally finished the first vial. There were only four vials remaining of the original case he’d purchased from Derrick. But the feeling had come on him again just now intensely. He couldn’t resist and so he had taken a fourth injection. The first from the second vial. As the wave of power crept over him, he sank back into the chair to revel in the ecstasy of his own masculine vitality. He thought about going to the gym again. He hadn’t gone back to the same one twice, lest one of the regulars members got suspicious. Then he remembered that this was Saturday. He remembered that one of the guys at the gym he went to the last time had told him about an arm wrestling contest. His name had been Joe something. “You’d be great,” Joe had sighed watching Zack curl the weight. “Look at your arms they’re amazing.” Zack had grunted. Joe was pretty amazing himself. Not as big as the bodybuilder Matt that Zack had met on the first night of this odyssey. Joe was shorter than Matt, but he had a denseness to his muscle that made him look stocky. His arms were ropes of muscle. When he curled those guns swelled into round balls of power. Nineteen or twenty inches around at least Zack suspected. Zack had no idea of the size of his own arms at the time. They were growing even as he curled the weight. But he figured they were catching up with Joe’s. Eventually maybe even with Matt’s titanic arms too. Unlike Matt though, Joe hadn’t asked Zack to bed. But his praise nevertheless turned Zack on. Later when he’d got home that night he’d measured himself. His arms were just shy of sixteen-inch balls. And they felt as hard as steel to him. His chest after three workouts had swollen to forty-five inches cold, and his thighs were at twenty even. Looking at himself that night standing naked in the mirror he saw a robust young jock staring back at him. He wouldn’t even have recognized himself if he hadn’t lived through the changes. Even his face was different, he thought. His handsome features now had a glow of happiness and health he’d never known before. He grinned back at himself stupidly unable to help himself. Even his cock was responsive to the serum. Before, like every other thing in his life, sex had been something he’d endured to try and find meaning and purpose. He’d tried women, he’d tried men and he’d tried masturbation. Nothing had held his interest before this serum. But standing looking at himself in the mirror he was getting off on his own body. His normal cock had grown by at least a couple inches. And that night he’d jerked himself off in the mirror until his cum sprayed all over the bathroom floor. But that was all in the past and this was now. The serum entered his system like it had three times before. The initial effects passed and once he was able to think clearly again, he dropped the empty syringe into the wastebasket. He hadn’t given that contest too much thought at the time, but it seemed better than just going to the gym again. A chance to test himself against other human beings. The contest was being held out in the valley past the hills. Not much out there in the way of civilization and maybe that was why it proved such a popular spot for gatherings of that nature. He stepped onto the scales and noticed that he now stood at about one hundred ninety-five pounds. He suspected also that he grown too; because his pants didn’t seem to fit right anymore either. They were too short. But that was fine by him. Shopping no longer seemed like such a mundane chore to him. Zack didn’t mind if people checked him out. It appealed to an ego stoked by the serum. So he grabbed some old shorts and a t-shirt. The t-shirt had once been too large for him. And it hung loosely over his chest even now. It was a gift sent from his parents after one of their many trips. At the time he’d been disgusted they didn’t know him well enough to even get close to the right size. Now it made him laugh. The shorts though went on with a little more effort. His thighs had been much smaller when he’d gotten them. Now they fit snug. The squats he’d done the other night had caused his ass to fill out. The muscles of his glutes had become higher and more rounded. He sighed with pleasure. This outfit would do. As an afterthought he’d made up another syringe too and put it in the glove compartment. It would take him an hour to drive to the valley – he might need a pick-me-up for later. Wow, he thought to himself, he’d never taken a hit two days in a row, much less on the same day. What would that do? He felt a pang of excitement as he decided it would be cool to find out. The drive was nice. The air was losing the summer heat as the calendar had moved into fall. Still it was going to be a warm day out there. When he got to the field where the contest was located he parked off to the one side. The place was filled with people of all descriptions. A pretty rough looking crowd all in all though. There were no smooth polished city folks in evidence. Zack looked at his car. It was a sports car, but it was the kind that lawyers drove. Maybe it was time to turn it in for something else. A little something more primitive maybe? He noticed a registration tent, so he walked over. “Weight?” the guy asked. “One ninety-five,” said Zack smoothly, putting down his money for the fee. “Okay,” he said, “You make it into class one then. Just barely. Those are the big guys.” He eyed Zack’s arms wearily. “Since you are right on the line I can put you in class two if you want.” “Nope,” said Zack feeling confident, “Class one is fine. What are the rules?” He filled out the registration form the guy handed to him. “Single elimination, strongest wins,” said the guy, “No other rules. We aren’t part of any federation here. These guys do this cause they like the competition. Whoever brings the other guy’s arm down first wins. Period. Got any problems with that?” “Nope,” said Zack. “All right then. Contestants in their class are matched together at random. Go to table five. Whoever wins will be instructed on what to do next. Good luck.” Zack nodded at him and left. His competitor was waiting for him at the aforementioned table. He was a big guy, just a little smaller than Joe. He had no shirt on, and while his body fat was high compared to most others there, he looked like he was packing some respectable muscle on his frame underneath it. His arms were big and thick like a guy who worked swinging a hammer against concrete all day long. But it didn’t necessarily look like he worked out. He looked at Zack and snorted. Then set his beer on the table. “You ready to go?” he asked Zack sneeringly, “Cause my next opponent’s waiting for me.” “Bring it on,” said Zack sitting down across from the other guy, “Don’t want to have to make anyone wait for me.” They immediately locked fists and braced themselves. Zack hadn’t arm wrestled in his life so he wasn’t sure what to expect. The guy across from him was anticipating an easy victory and he put his hammer down and used his power to muscle Zack’s arm toward the tabletop. Zack was caught completely off guard, partly by the guy’s vise-like grip. His arm got to three inches from the table before he realized he was about to be eliminated entirely on the first go round. “No fucking way,” he snarled at the bigger man. His arm stopped cold as a blast of strength ran through him. No overfed muscle wannabe was going to crush him so easily. At first he responded with all his power and nothing happened. His arm stayed where it was. Then he felt the real power take hold. Suddenly the guy’s arm seemed like nothing to him. Just dead weight. With ease he brought the other man’s arm up slowly. A small crowd had gathered to watch and a few began to cheer him on. Inch by inch the other man’s arm came up until they were even. The look of surprise on the fat man’s face turned into a look of fear when he realized Zack was going to take him down. It was inevitable. Zack’s muscle was as hard as bedrock. His forearms looked like steel cords. The bicep on his right arm had swelled noticeably against the shirtsleeve. Then it was over. When he stood up in victory he was aware that his shirt felt tighter. He moved through the next thirty competitors in his class, bringing them down just like he’d brought down the muscle wannabe at table five. He found he didn’t even have to move, they just kept bringing guys to him. He was careful to toy with them. The play was amusing. To first let each opponent think they were in control, and when they least expected it to turn on the muscle power and bring their dreams of the championship to an end. By the time he’d finished with the last guy he was informed that he was in the championship playoff for class one. The next two guys were much harder competition. Even with his super strength they were powerful. The last one actually gave him a real fight and for a moment he didn’t know if he was going to be able to summon the strength to bring him down. His arm felt tired. Then he realized glancing at a watch that four hours had past. His super strength had failed him over an hour ago. Wow! He’d brought down those last two guys all on his own ability. He looked at the next table where two men were still fighting to see who Zack’s final challenger would be. Both of the guys were big, but one was tougher and meaner looking than the other. Absentmindedly Zack pulled at the collar of his shirt. Unaware of how uncomfortably tight it had gotten. He thought fleetingly of the other syringe in his car, but there was no time to go and get it. This competition didn’t stop until there was a winner. A big crowd had gathered as the tough man blew past his competition. He was all that was standing between Zack and the trophy. And as Zack was informed, this guy had won for three years running. But Zack still felt powerful. Still confident. He looked the guy over again and decided he wasn’t near as big as he had looked earlier. After a minute he sat down at the champions table and locked his arm with the reigning man. The other guy tried to crush Zack’s hand in his grip immediately, but Zack gave him every bit as good as he got. Maybe that was a glimmer of pain he saw in the other guy’s eyes? Whatever it was it was gone in an instant. “Say when,” said the other guy. Zack responded with a confident “Go.” Zack gritted his teeth as they began to get on with it. He felt his arm swelling with size and power even as they began. The challenge of it made pure adrenaline run through his veins, which mixed with the remaining serum. It increased his sense of power unimaginably. He was going to smash this guy’s hand down into the table. The other guy didn’t look intimidated at all. Zack figured they were well matched and his lip curled in defiance. Their muscles tensed. Zack wanted to show him just what real strength meant. But soon he found himself pushing harder and harder just to keep him from pushing his hand down toward the desk. It wasn’t long before he was pushing with all his force. The other guy just smirked at him and didn't seem to be struggling at all. “What’s the matter?” he asked, “This muscle too much for you?” “Fuck you,” growled Zack. The steel grip of the other man got even tighter. Zack thought for a minute he might give in to the pain. He’d never felt pain like that before. But something inside him said no. He liked it. The pain made him feel even more alive. He focused on using the pain to tap into his own strength, and then he unbelievably squeezed the other man’s hand right back. This time there was a grimace on the face of the other man. They both leaned forward across the table – their noses almost touching. A trickle of sweat ran down the side of Zack’s face. But across from him the other guy had sweat beading up on his upper lip and forehead. Then they were both back at it, even harder than ever. Zack’s arm felt bloated and tight from the tension, but it had never felt so powerful even when in command of all that extra strength that a hit of the serum always gave him. Even though the other guy was matching him, he felt like he could take on the world – take on anything. They leaned into each other so closely that their shoulders were almost touching, Zack wanted to take everything this guy could throw at him. His face was now drenched with sweat, and it was dripping down onto the table. The other guy’s sweat still only beading on his upper lip and forehead, but a vein had popped out of his forehead near his temple. It looked to be throbbing. Each man had no idea how long they were locked together. And the crowd watched in amazed awe. Someone would later tell Zack that it had been over a half hour. The contest went back and forth, back and forth. Sometimes one man had the advantage and then it would switch as the other found a hidden reserve of strength. By now both men were drenched in sweat, their faces and arms colored violently with strain. Muscles pumped. The other guy’s arm had at first looked more muscular, as big as another man’s thigh. But Zack’s arm muscles were popping out like steel balls. Neither man would quit. They were nose to nose now. Each stared into the other’s eyes, trying to psych the other one out. Suddenly, with a burst of power the other man pushed down hard on Zack’s arm, and brought Zack’s hand to within a fraction of an inch off the desktop. But Zack was not that easy to pin. He let out a howl of anger and frustration. The crowd gasped aloud. Excited murmurs ran through the throng. “I will fuckin destroy you,” screamed Zack. Never had he been challenged like this in his whole life and he didn’t like it. He pushed against the other man with all his might. And then it happened. A surge of power ran through him. It roared up from somewhere deep inside. His strength increased just as if he’d taken a hit of the serum. Like before the pressure of the other guy’s arm felt like nothing to him. With ease he now held the other man’s arm. Then he smiled at him. The crowd watched in breathless anticipation. Then they heard the seam on Zack’s shirt give way. Each string of the cotton shirt popping as it ripped up the length of his arm. His powerful bicep appeared completely bare. It was a massive mound of corded steel, big and round and full. It seemed to have swelled from the pump until it was twice and again far bigger than the arm of the man sitting across from him. Zack took a deep breath and felt himself flex involuntarily. Shaking with power. He was hard. His muscles were pumped. His inflamed chest and back muscles suddenly filled his already too tight t-shirt. It looked like an explosion to the crowd. The shirt couldn’t take it. Pieces of cotton cloth flew everywhere around him. Even his shorts ripped a little up the seams as his thighs increased. Zack felt so strong that he could have taken on an army, let alone this lame man sitting across from him. He began to crush down on the other man’s hand with his thick fingers; just enough to make him visibly wince in front of the crowd. Zack was totally in charge now, and he knew it, and now the other man knew it too. He could sense the change and so the other man put his left hand over his right, and pushed against Zack desperate to bring Zack down. But Zack held his hand still an inch from the tabletop. He laughed deeply now. He was jacked. He became turned on by his new strength. Slowly he began to push up against the other man’s two arms. He was barely straining, and the other man’s arms moved upward, slowly and steadily, despite the fact that he was leaning his whole weight onto Zack’s hand now. The crowd roared as they knew a new champion was about to appear before them. “What do you think now?” asked Zack, and he pushed the other man’s arm up to the starting position, and then down toward the tabletop. The other man was totally dumbfounded as his remaining strength faltered. No man had ever pinned him in arm wrestling. But he had no time to ponder as Zack slammed his hands down onto the table with an audible thump. And he pinned them there too. Just hard enough to hurt. Then he lifted them up and slammed them again just to be sure. It was amazing. He let the man go so he could stand up and raise his huge arm into a victory flex. He squeezed the bicep of his winning arm tight, and it rose and rose, full and huge. Zack stared at his own arm, his eyes glazing over as he relished his new power. “Fuck yeah!” he cried out to the crowd, and they responded in kind. The other man was defeated. He slumped, astonished. The rush of the cheering was too much in Zack’s ears. Suddenly someone was giving him a trophy. Then there was a woman posing at his side while some other man took a picture of them. He was deaf to it all. Still dazed. Absorbed in his own power. He walked away from the crowd, trying to get some air. When he reached the edge where the tents were he heard a voice behind him. “Zack?” it asked him. He turned around and there was Matt from the other night. Only instead of looking up at him, Zack realized they were now looking at each other eye to eye. Matt looked him in the eye and said, “It is you Zack. I thought it was. But how…?” Zack smiled at him and said, “Hey there big guy. I’ve missed you….” Part 3 Matt ignored the lustful look of the other man and pointedly asked, “Dude, what are you on?” Immediately Zack became defensive, “What do you mean by that?” “Isn’t it obvious?” said Matt coming a step closer to the new muscle stud, “Look at you. No one puts on that much muscle in a week, no matter what kind of freaky shit they’re taking.” That’s when it clicked for Zack, just how miraculous his transformation had been. What had happened during the last couple hours? Zack was standing there bare chested and he swept his left arm up into a biceps pose. It was a beautiful thing to watch that big, round ball of muscle appear on his upper arm. Zack’s forearms too were thick with corded muscle, delts rounded and bunching at his shoulder. Zack felt over the muscular ridges of his stomach with his free hand, tracing the outline of his rippling, diamond cut abs. His fingers gently brushing over the tops of the eight defined ridges that were there. His chest was two slabs of thick hard meat. Shit, Zack was turning himself on just looking down. He looked up and smiled at Matt, “It’s hot isn’t it big man?” In spite of himself, Matt’s righteous indignation faded as he took in Zack’s new body for what it was. An object of his own lust. And Matt felt himself get hard as he watched the play of Zack’s muscle. Zack’s display of strength in the gym a couple days ago had turned him on to the point where Matt just had to fuck him. And Matt usually didn’t go for the small guys. He was one of the biggest men he knew and he liked to find and dominate other big men. He’d used Zack’s tight ass, and despite it all he sensed a challenge to himself in Zack. Plus he wanted the secret of Zack’s power for himself too. Zack could see craving in Matt’s eyes. Although he mistook it all for desire. But there was desire there too, and that desire was written on the big man’s face like an open book. Zack realized that the tables were turning. Matt was no longer the big man after all. Zack was easily on par with Matt’s proportions and he swung his arm back up to flex it for emphasis. “Why don’t we go back to your place?” asked Zack, “We had a good time there before. And maybe a little later we can talk about this?” As he said it he emphasized his twenty plus inch arm by licking it. Matt had seen enough, he was already putting plans into motion. “C’mon,” he said, “I’ll meet you there.” “Okay dude,” agreed Zack, with a wicked grin, as they took off for their cars in separate directions. As they walked away neither of them noticed the tall broad man leaning against a post over by one of the tents not to far from where they’d been talking. This man had a way of blending into his surroundings despite the fact that he was wearing a leather jacket in the warm weather. His eyes were masked by designer sunglasses and the big frame beneath the jacket spoke of untested strength. Yet when Zack and Matt’s eyes had passed over him, something about him had caused them to completely discount his presence and pay him no mind. Like he hadn’t even been there. He watched them walk away as he pulled a lighter out of his leather jacket and lit up a smoke as he considered the conversation he’d just heard. Zack looked back momentarily at the departing figure of Matt with real longing. He’d never felt that way about anyone before. That and he wanted to lick every drop of sweat off the other man’s body before using his ass like a private pussy. He walked over to where his car was parked, still pumped and powerful. He had parked at one of the far lots away from most everyone else. The ray’s of the afternoon sun glinted off his bronzed body and accentuated the powerful curves of each full-bodied muscle, flexing as he walked. But he was surprised to see his former opponent and two of his buddies waiting for him at his car. Leaning against his car actually. That made Zack mad. “I figured this one had to be yours,” smirked the former champion, looking cockier since his defeat shortly before by the arm of Zack’s newly buffed bod. He was carrying a water bottle and he unscrewed the top of it as he watched Zack walk up. “You waiting for me to whip your ass again?” asked Zack, “And you brought your girlfriends over to watch this time?” The former champion laughed at him. He didn’t look intimidated by Zack in the least. “No one does that to me,” he told Zack, “Especially not some little punk like you neither.” He tilted the water bottle to his lips and downed it all in one long chug. “Not after I’ve had a dose of juice anyway,” he said, throwing the water bottle away and wiping his mouth with his hands. The way he said it brought something to Zack’s mind. What juice? But before he had an answer the former champion demonstrated for him. His arms went up in a double biceps pose to show Zack what he meant and Zack knew a moment of real fear. Whatever had happened to the former champion in the last couple seconds, he began taking on an incredible amount of size and power. His guns swelled to nearly twice their size in the competition. His chest seemed thicker and more pumped too, and as he flexed, now in a most muscular pose, his pecs began looking like a massive shelf. It was freaky. The two minions stood a few feet away, watching. Neither looked surprised. Each man was a powerful bodybuilder in his own right. Their shirtless bodies showed off their time and hard work spent in the gym. However, neither was as big as the former champion had been even before his sudden increase in size. “I didn’t want to take no more of the juice,” the former champion said, sighing, “At least not for a while. I like building these muscles up naturally. But I just can’t let some little pussy like you show me up like that. I just ain’t having it.” “What the fuck?” asked Zack dumbfounded as he watched the former champion continue to swell with new power, “How’re you doing this?” “The power and size doesn’t last unfortunately,” said the former champion, “But if I go down to the gym and use some of this newfound strength, I can retain some of it before it wears off. And it doesn’t matter, cause there’s always more.” He laughed again. This time though there was no amusement in the laughter, only the sharp cruelty of a man who is about to inflict pain without consequence. “Hold him down boys,” he told the minions. They were on Zack in a second. Even though the increased strength offered by the serum had worked through Zack’s muscles by now, he was still powerful and the two goons struggled to hold him. Given a minute Zack knew he could have easily broken their grips. But he didn’t have a minute. The former champion was on him in seconds. He put a big hand on Zack’s shoulder, and another balled into a fist. Zack knew what was coming and tensed his abs as the big man’s powerful fist sailed sharply in the air to connect with Zack’s stomach. He would have gone sailing back in the air if the former champion’s hand wasn’t on his lats holding him in place. Zack felt like he’d had a sledge hammer driven through him. The pain was so intense. More intense than anything he’d ever felt before. If the goons hadn’t been holding him up he would have collapsed. “If the right one don’t get you,” intoned the former champion, “Then the left one will.” Zack didn’t have time to wonder what he meant. The former champion switched hands quickly and repeated the punch with his left hand at lightning speed. This time the punch did drive Zack back. In fact it was so powerful that Zack was torn from the goons’ grip and sent flying ten feet or so through the air and down into a ditch away from the car, landing face up. Zack tried to take a breath, but it hurt too much. The sun overhead blinded his eyes as he lay there looking up at it, but he still managed to see stars as he tried to recover. And then there was an eclipse as the massive frame of the former champion’s newly enlarged physique blotted out the life giving rays of the sun. “Don’t ever fuck with me again boy,” he instructed Zack gruffly, “Or I will do more than teach you a lesson in humility. I will end you. Got that?” “Better hurry up Leo,” Zack barely heard one of the minions say, “And get down to the Snake before it wears off.” “Right,” said Leo, “I hope man that I never see your sorry ass again in this lifetime." "Nighty night,” he said as he easily picked up Zack by his broad shoulder and then clocked him hard, just once more, and with his right fist. The punch was so powerful that Zack’s head spun. And then the lights went out. * * * Zack didn’t know how long he lay there as he slowly came to, but as he pulled himself up off the ground he could see that a lot of the cars from the competition were gone. In the distance he could hear the raucous noise of a drunken party going on with those of the people who had stayed. And the darkening sky indicated that afternoon was quickly becoming evening. Zack guessed he hadn’t been out too long. Maybe an hour? Maybe two? His body ached in every bone, and he felt dizzy as he staggered over to his car. He guessed that most people would have missed his prone form laying in the ditch if they hadn’t actually been looking for it. That coupled with the fact that he’d parked to the side and away from everyone else was probably the only reason his keys and car hadn’t been stolen. He got in behind the wheel, and realized that the arrangement was tighter than it had been before. He adjusted the seat and checked out his reflection in the mirror. Zack could move his jaw, but just barely. The left side of his face where Leo had punched him was black and swollen. It was a miracle his jaw wasn’t broken. Zack felt a sudden rage roar up within him like a dragon. No one treated him like this, no one. He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out the waiting syringe. His body wasn’t demanding another hit, but he needed it to pull himself together. As soon as the serum hit his bloodstream, he felt the power returning. He felt a million times better. Even some of the pain eased a bit from his jaw, and as he watched it looked like some of the bruising was starting to go down too. That’s when he thought of Matt. The big guy was probably wondering what had happened to Zack. But he lived far enough away he wasn’t likely to turn around and come back here looking for him. That pissed Zack off even more. That Leo had made him late for Matt. Well, he’d take care of Leo later. First he needed to see Matt. To be continued....

Hello all. Found this story on an old computer. If I remember correctly, it was inspired by a story about the wrestler Scott Steiner taking on a bodybuilder from the 80’s. I can picture the bodybuilder, but for the life of me I can’t remember his name. Anyway, here’s my story inspired by the theme. It’s way over the top and fantastical. It’s unfinished so feel free to add (and share) your own ending. Wrestler vs. Bodybuilder Scott Samson made his way to the ring with his trademarked air of utter confidence. Standing in the ring, shaking himself out, the renowned professional wrestler glared at the entryway, awaiting his opponent as he removed his robe to reveal skin tight, mid thigh length black lycra shorts. The man was massive. His fans roared their approval when he unveiled his hugely muscular physique. They could hardly wait for the spectacle of this huge man flexing and posing. His signature post introduction routine always drove his fans into a frenzy. This special exhibition match was going to be unique. Samson, arguably the greatest wrestler ever to prowl the squared circle, would be taking on one Matthew Robert Horn. Horn was bodybuilding's current Mister Olympia and had won that title consecutively more than any man in history. To make things even more interesting, The massive Mr. Horn was fresh off winning one of the year's major grand champion titles in Mixed Martial Arts, the first professional bodybuilder ever to do so. Horn appeared and a stunning sight he was. He appeared to be in the best shape a human specimen could be in, even bigger than most fans remembered. He wore black and yellow striped, square-cut posers and nothing else aside from a black, rubber wrist band with the slogan “No such thing as too big!” printed in yellow letters. Almost as wide as he was tall, the first thing that dropped jaws was the size of his upper arms. He had an enormous overall build, but his arms stuck out in particular, the triceps and biceps bulging out without even flexing them. His signature single biceps pose was so awe inspiring that it had earned him the nickname “Matterhorn” in the elite professional bodybuilding circles. Horn stepped into the ring and the two opponents glared at each other as the ring announcer made the introductions. Samson raised both his arms in a double biceps pose and as he’d expected, the fans roared their approval as the two guns peaked into their full physical majesty. Horn didn't flinch. He slowly raised his right arm and flexed his own massive biceps. A hush came over the crowd as the mass of his biceps and the thickness of the triceps combined to make an unbelievable sight. Horn smirked at Samson for having the nerve to keep flexing in the face of such sheer muscle size and power. Horn moved his forearm back and forth, accentuating his muscle and turning his wrist to add to the definition, expanding that massive forearm in the process. Samson continued flexing and the ref appeared in the ring, a tape measure trailing behind him. "Looks like these two have something to prove.” The fans loved this and roared with approval, the prospect of these two behemoths engaged in a flex off prodded them out of the stupor that the shock of Horn’s sheer size had put them into. The ref placed the tape measure around Horn's right bicep. The big bodybuilder steadied his flex at maximum so that the ref could get an accurate reading. The referee’s eyes went wide with shock. After a moment of being struck speechless, he managed to read the measurement aloud: “Twenty-four inches”. These were wrestling fans. Samson was their guy, but the sheer mass of Horn’s biceps stunned the crowed. Many were shaking their heads in disbelief. The silence was broken by Samson. He said nothing, merely clapping his hands slowly in mock applause as he smirked at Horn. The big blond wrestler then raised his left arm but rather than flex that massive biceps right away, he merely snapped his fingers to get the ref’s attention. Tearing his attention from Horn, the ref moved to measure Samson's left biceps which loomed huge even relaxed. Samson turned his wrist in and his forearm bulged huge with thick veins everywhere. He brought his wrist out straight and then flexed that muscle up high and huge. The ref wrapped the tape around the wrestler’s bulging upper arm and carefully took its measure. “I don’t believe it Ladies and gentlemen, Twenty-four huge inches!”, the referee shouted. “The Matterhorn has met his match!”. The crowd erupted in a frenzy of cheers and applause! Samson merely raised an eyebrow as he directed his gaze from his flexing biceps to Horn who was gaping at Samson's arm, then back at his own. “I-It’s as big as mine?!” Horn stammered, clearly shocked that a mere wrestler had been able to match him. “A tie”. He said, absolutely stunned. Samson’s expression changed to a slight knowing grin. “Nah, ties are boring.” Bearing down, Samson forced his biceps to bulge still larger. The tape measure slipped in the ref’s fingers from twenty-four to twenty-four and one quarter! Twenty-four and one half! Twenty-four and three quarters! When that awesome arm reached Twenty-five massive inches, Horn's jaw dropped. He slowly lowered his own arm, no longer eager to see the enormous muscle he’d spent years sweating for in the gym get ever more dwarfed in comparison to Samson’s As the wrestler’s biceps just continued to bulge larger, Horn shook his head in abject disbelief. “You’re...HUGE!” Blurted the big bodybuilder. He then glanced around, embarrassed that in his shock he’d exclaimed his awe aloud. Samson smirked at Horn’s dumbfounded remark and brought his right arm up, going into a double biceps pose. “Matterhorn, say hello to a couple of Mount Everests.” He laughed with smug satisfaction as he continued pumping those mountainous muscles larger, the tape measure reading inexorably increasing as Samson flexed. Twenty-five and one quarter! Twenty-five and one half! Twenty-five and three quarters! Twenty-six! Samson’s mighty arm was utterly dwarfing that of an Olympia class bodybuilder! Its sheer mass was making Horn feel queasy. He felt himself sway unsteadily on his feet. He had to concentrate to maintain his balance as he wiped at the cold sweat that had broken out on his brow. Samson smiled as he surveyed the massive peak that was straining the referee’s measuring tape . “Think I’ll stop right there. Looks like I'm making the muscleman go a little bit green around the gills, wouldn't want to make him faint dead away before the match even starts”. Deafening cheers drowned out the announcer who was attempting to call the measurements. The announcer moved for the mic. "And your winner, Scott Samson with 26 inches!” The crowd went wild as the announcer continued, "We know who's bigger now, how's about we find out who’s stronger”. Through his astonishment, an explanation for Samson’s impossible mass suddenly occurred to Horn. He'd seen it all in his career, the myriad of ways unscrupulous competitors used artificial shortcuts to achieve fake gains. Samson must have cheated his way to such implausible massiveness. Whether it was implants or some kind of injectable, Horn didn't know. The technique might have been flawless but faking size was one thing, strength was a different story. Horn was determined to crush Samson’s superficial bulk, arm to arm. He'd show this preening faker the power within true, hard earned muscle. The crowd roared their approval. The ref had an armwrestling table brought into the ring. As soon as it was set up the two muscle gods charged the table and crashed their mighty guns together. Samson pressed ahead three inches and Horn pushed him back to center. Horn tried an offensive thrust but Samson didn't budge, a big smile on his face as he held Horn, at bay. Horn sneered. “Get ready to have that stupid smile wiped off your face. I'm gonna give you until the count of three, then I’m going to snap this puny, puffed up arm of yours like the little twig it really is!” Samson smirked. “Not sure a muscle-head like you can count that high, so allow me.” Samson began to count aloud. "One", he called and he pressed Horn’s gigantic arm four inches past the neutral position. Horn’s mighty arm flexed to new heights as he struggled to regain lost ground but he couldn’t budge Samson’s enormous arm. "Two", Samson took Horn down 4 more inches, four inches closer to defeat, like the other man wasn’t even there, even as he increased his mighty effort to resist Samson’s powerful onslaught. Horn’s arm began to tremble, every vein and fiber of muscle present on the big bodybuilder’s arm was visibly straining in an all out effort to resist Samson. At that instant, Horn’s biceps seemed beyond the size that any human muscle should be able to attain. But Samson’s big, rock-steady, mountain of a muscle totally absorbed all the incredible power Horn’s massive, straining biceps could muster. Samson grinned cooly. Then, he flexed his mighty biceps up to new heights. The sheer size of it was astounding and the move demonstrated that he had been able to drive Horn to the verge of defeat with only a fraction of his biceps true power. Horn’s biceps quivered and quaked with strain as it was utterly dwarfed by Samson’s even larger muscle. Eyes wide, Horn could only shake his head in disbelief. In all his years of bodybuilding, he had never seen an arm so huge. He'd been sure such size couldn't be real. But the wrestler’s strength was all too real. He knew what was coming. “Three.” Samson declared and with almost casual ease, he finished Horn off, slamming his arm to the table with a loud thud that seemed to reverberate throughout the stadium. Samson’s huge biceps had put Matt`s massive peak down for the count, literally. "Your winner…..Scott Samson!" The ref lifted Samson's arm in Victory for the crowd’s approval. Humiliated, Horn hurled the table aside and charged. He was going to enjoy taking this smug bastard apart with his peerless MMA abilities. The two opponents started trading blows. And not just any blows. These were mountain crushing roundhouse rights that came fast and furious, each opponent alternately delivering one to the other. First Samson’s massive, balled fist plowed into Horn’s thick chest with a resounding thump. Then Horn let fly in return with his own haymaker that landed against Samson’s chiseled abs with a teeth rattling thud. A huge one from Samson pummeled Horn’s abs in return. Horn shook it off with a grunt and his careening fist pounded Samson’s bulging pecs with a sound like a sonic boom. Feeling his battle lust rise, Samson laughed heartily as his powerful body shrugged off Horn’s punches. He focused attention on that perfectly developed bodybuilder chest of Horn’s, wanting to pit himself against the muscleman’s strongest attribute. The two titans continued to take each other’s measures with probing punches, testing for weaknesses that could be exploited. Horn decided that it was time to take the wind out of Samson’s sails. Clasping both hands together into a club-like double-fist, he brought down a devastating blow just above Samson’s solar plexus. The plan was to stagger his opponent with the devastating hit, then follow up by pounding his vulnerable midsection, reducing him to a breathless sitting duck to be finished off at Horn’s leisure. Instead, Horn’s opening punch merely bounced off Samson’s chest as the wrestler anticipated Horn, flexing his pecs into the incoming punch. Those granite-hard muscles deflected Horn’s fists, the recoil causing the bodybuilder to stagger backwards. Horn struggled and managed to recover his balance enough to follow up with his planned assault on Samson’s exposed eight-pack but the way all his power had just bounced off Samson’s thick pecs unsettled Horn. The wrestler had to be putting up a front. No one could absorb such a blow without feeling it. Horn roared with fury as his powerful right found its mark, pounding Samson’s abs. Still roaring, Horn pressed his assault, landing one devastating punch after another against Samson’s gut. It was like punching a brick wall, but given enough time, Horn knew that even a brick wall would crumble before the titanic muscular power he’d worked so hard in the gym to acquire. Horn looked up to make sure Samson didn’t slip in a lucky punch and interrupt the rhythm of his onslaught. Horn expected to see Samson’s face contorted with pain, his limbs flailing uncontrollably as he was battered so relentlessly. To his shock, he was met by a big grin of amusement as Samson stood tall, bouncing massive pecs that made even Horn’s renowned chest development suffer by comparison. “Careful there Matt. Ya never know when I might decide to flex the old beer gut. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.” Horn struggled not to show his shock at Samson’s imperviousness to his punches. ‘Beer gut?’ Samson was mocking him, he may have been a mere wrestler but the man had abs that could hold their own on any bodybuilding contest stage in the world. And what did he mean ‘might decide to flex’, Horn wondered as he reluctantly marveled at Samson’s mid-section. Those abs...those obliques, the way his fists were beginning to throb with pain as his mightiest punches bounced impotently off them....Samson had to be at full flex. “Not...gonna psych me out. No way you can take much more of this.” Horn growled as he intensified his attack, strengthening his punches and increasing the speed with which they came. Samson's face changed, the grin was gone, replaced by cold glare. “Not calling me a liar now, are ya Matt?” When Horn drew back for his next punch, Samson put both massive arms behind his head and with a sneer of contempt at Horn’s puny punches, he crunched down hard, flexing his abs into super-defined columns of muscle that looked like a wall of cinder blocks. But cinder blocks would have yielded more beneath Horn’s fist. Horn’s battle roar transmuted to a howl of pain as his hand nearly shattered against Samson’s abs. Horn clutched his battered fist as Samson held his pose, flexing his impervious abs. The cocky wrestler even gyrated his hips, taunting Horn. “Why are you stopping muscleman? Thought you said this ole boy’s Bud belly couldn't take it. Surely you’re not gonna wimp out just because of a few bruised knuckles.” Horn gulped at the diamond hard cuts of muscle undulating powerfully over every inch of Samson’s midsection. He fumed at the patronizing way Samson kept using phrases like beer gut and Bud belly to describe abs that put Horn’s own to shame. “Or maybe you’re just mulling over some advice to give me; help me whip this gut into shape like you muscle show boys do.” The bodybuilder’s face burned red at the wrestler’s condescension. Even though Horn was currently in peak contest condition, his hyper-trained abs looked soft and barely defined compared to Samson’s astoundingly ripped abdominal display. Horn was becoming almost mesmerized by the wrestler’s undulating abs and obliques. The crowd was going wild. Samson seemed as though the cheers were a charge of electricity. He landed one of his own punches and Horn flailed back. “Snap out of it, boy, you're starting to drool.” Horn drew back to retaliate but Samson swatted away the punch with ease. His name was being shouted from the entire arena. He landed two quick, easy jabs, one to the right side of Horn’s square jaw and followed up by a left, the perfectly executed hits whipped Horn's head from one side to the other. Horn's arms fell to his sides. “Down goes your guard.” Samson narrated with a smirk and two more jabs that left Horn's body swaying unsteadily. “And there goes your balance.” Samson’s precise jabs seemed effortless, as though designed only to demonstrate his precision. But their power devastated Horn. “I could knock you out cold with these little love taps but I'm guessing this crowd wants me to show off a little.” Samson decided to put more raw power into a punch. “Let’s see how them mighty pecs stand up to a punch with a little more oomph.” Stomping the canvas like an enraged bull might paw at the dirt, he charged at Horn and let him have a haymaker of a right directly to the bodybuilder’s muscular, prize winning chest. The sheer power of it lifted Horn off his feet, catapulting his big frame into the ropes. The big bodybuilder struggled not to pass out from the devastating concussive force. He had never imagined that his mightily muscled body could be hurled through the air with such ease by one single blow. How could this buffoonish wrestler turn out to be so impossibly powerful. In perfectly timed anticipation, as if to confirm Horn’s fear of being out of his league, Samson planted his feet, put his hands behind his back and flexed his chest and abs into a wall of rippling muscle. The ropes had slingshotted the hapless Horn back toward the waiting wrestler and the big bodybuilder thumped into Samson’s muscles as he flexed them. Incredibly, Horn bounced off that wall of flexing muscles and back toward the ropes. His ears ringing and his vision blurring from the force of the impact. Samson charged closer and when the helpless, disoriented Horn careened off the ropes once more, he was again driven into Samson, who again flexed his pecs, bouncing Horn back into the ropes. Samson now stood toe to toe with Horn hemming him in against the ropes and with nothing more than the flexing of his mighty pecs and an expert sense of timing, Samson was pec-bouncing Horn senseless, hammering the bodybuilder into the ropes only to have them rebound Horn back against his flexing pecs over and over. Complete chaos erupted in the stands as the huge muscleman was bounced back and forth with each of Samson’s flexes like Horn was little more than a plastic ping pong ball. Being pummeled helpless by the immense power generated by the mere flexing of Samson’s thick pulsating pecs broke Horn’s will. “H-how can he be doing this to me? He’s gonna pound me to pulp...just by f-flexing”. There could be no doubt. The wrestler had him powerfully, even frighteningly outmanned, overpowered and outmuscled. Horn knew he had to get the ref’s attention, he had to concede before Samson killed him. But he was at the mercy of the wrestler’s mighty flexing pecs. Samson was watching Horn’s eyes closely as he effortlessly and repeatedly bounced the big bodybuilder off his pecs. When he saw the look of defeat there, Samson clamped a bearhug onto Horn on his next impact. He stepped back toward center ring with the dazed muscleman as he spoke close to his ear in order to be heard over the crowd. “Thinking about tapping out, muscleman? You wimp out on me and I’m gonna find you after the bout and I’m gonna stretch out on my back and instead of bouncing you off the ropes I'm gonna bounce you into the stratosphere, then into orbit.” As if to prove he could do it, Samson performed a slowly building flex of his pecs as he spoke that made Horn’s eyes go huge with disbelief. “Y-yer pecs…” Horn wheezed. “...crushing...me.” “Aw, I’m barely flexing, runt. Now man up and pay attention. Stay in the match and you stay alive. Got it? Otherwise I show you what happens when I flex these pecs for real.” Eyes wide with fear and awe, Horn nodded his obedience. “J-just please...stop f-flexing.” “Good boy.” Samson grinned and as a reward he briefly relaxed those dominating pecs. “Now, where were we? You made me lose count.” He released Horn but immediately pulse flexed his pecs, hurling the stunned bodybuilder across the ring into the ropes yet again, then bolted after him. The ropes stretched to an an almost cartoonish degree as the sheer power of Samson’s flexing chest drove Horn’s body into them with such force that the turnbuckles groaned with the strain. Unfortunately for Horn, the ring held together and the ropes snapped back, whipping him violently back toward center ring. He could see Samson sprint to a stop, halting his hugely muscled frame on a dime at the edge of the ring with a frightening degree of controlled athleticism for such a massive man. Clasping his hands behind his waist, Samson arched his back and presented those massive pecs as he waited for the impact of the hapless bodybuilder against them, a devilish smirk on his face just barely visible over the huge muscular display. “NO!” Pleaded the world renowned bodybuilder in the split second before, with practiced precision, Samson flexed into Horn’s impact. The thick torsos of the two men slammed together. Horn’s pecs slammed into Samson’s, flattening against the wrestler’s thicker, broader chest muscles which were expanding toward him. That explosive muscular expansion hammered Horn through the air like a baseball being blasted off the bat of a hall of fame slugger. Grinning, Samson alternately flexed each pec in an intimidating, rapid fire display as he watched the terrified, barely conscious bodybuilder ricochet off the ropes and hurtle back toward him. Samson bounced the Multiple Olympia title winner until Horn began to lose consciousness. "Gotta say Matt, I'm a little disappointed here." Samson sighed, as the repeated impacts of Horn against his unyielding pecs failed to even register as perturbations in his voice. "Didn't think I would have you this out-manned." Samson stopped bouncing his pecs, then with a big grin, flexed into a double biceps pose as Horn thudded to a stop against his chest and then crashed to the mat in front of him like a collapsing building. "Ohhhh!" groaned the announcer as he vicariously absorbed the punishment that Horn was receiving. You couldn't hear anything in that arena because of the sonic boom roar from the crowd and Samson's name being called out from every corner. The announcer tried to shout a commentary over the pandemonium but failing to be amplified over the thunderous ovation, gave up. Fans were even posing in a mock-Samson pose in the stands as well as giving Samson the applause of his life. Horn, meanwhile, breathed in the grit of the canvas as his face was ground into the mat from his massive frame crashing down. He couldn’t believe the power of Samson. Horn was arguably the most muscular bodybuilder on the planet, but Samson had pummeled him senseless just by flexing. As if to confirm his muscular superiority, Samson was hitting a flawless side-biceps pose as the ref ran around the ring pushing photographers away who had climbed up on the ring apron. Horn manage to sit up. Samson noticed and decided that he’d had enough posing. He moved to Horn and reached down for a handful of Horn's hair which he used as a handle to raise his dazed opponent to his feet. Horn returned his gaze with an open mouth and glassy eyes. “You’re tougher than I thought.” Releasing his hair, Samson held Horn’s eyes with a confident glare as the bodybuilder swayed unsteadily on his feet. Samson bounced the pecs he’d just used to devastate the big bodybuilder. “What I just did to you by bouncing these big boys was just a warm up, though. Ready for the main event?” Samson struck that unmatchable double biceps pose he was famous for. Horn swooned as those biceps towered over him. His eyes rolled back and his trembling body crashed back to the mat, his face eating dust again. Samson turned to the audience, giving them the best possible view of his unmatchable guns. “Guess I got too much muscle for the muscleman, huh.” He flashed a white-toothed grin as the crowd roared anew. The ref took to the center ring with his mic, trying to restore order. "I think Horn has had it, ladies and gentleman. Samson has, so far, out-muscled and out-gunned Horn!", shouted the announcer, relieved at being heard again over the din. "I've never seen Horn look like that! Samson is just too much for him!" The fans were in agreement as they shouted in approval. Samson agreed as well, and he continued flexing for the cheering crowd. Horn was showing signs of consciousness again. Again, Samson assisted the groggy Horn to his feet wasting no time, he sent him careening into the ropes. Planting his feet squarely in the center of the ring as he’d done when bouncing the muscleman off his pecs earlier, he waited as Horn rebounded. This time Samson raised his thick 26" gun, flexed quickly, then charged the oncoming Horn. The massive Samson arm clotheslined Horn and he flipped him into the air where he spun through 360 degrees! Samson kept his arm in the clothesline position and Horn fell from the air to land, draped across it with the giant biceps peak driving into his gut. Samson bent his arm at the elbow and flexed. In defense, Horn flexed his abdomen against the motion, abs against biceps. Biceps won. As his overmatched abs collapsed, Horn feared he was about to be snapped in half by Samson’s bulging arm. But Samson whipped the gasping man around into a bearhug. As he’d done with his abs, Horn desperately flexed his pecs against Samson’s chest to defend against their crushing mass. Samson smirked at Horn’s puny effort. He slowly increased the flexing of his unstoppable pecs as he spoke. “We already know you don’t stand a chance against a real man’s chest, don’t we runt?” Samson’s point was reinforced by the relentless way his bulging pecs were flattening Horn’s chest, considered one of the greatest in the sport of bodybuilding, but totally outclassed by the mighty wrestler. “I said ‘don’t we runt’!” Samson shouted, ramping up the bulging expansion of his pecs. Horn felt his torso being deformed painfully as it conformed to the rock-hard curves of Samson’s burgeoning chest. “Y-yes,” gurgled Horn. “please...y-your chest. Can’t...breath…” Samson laughed. “Well, well, well. I guess it’s time for the best chest in bodybuilding, to say hi to the best biceps in wrestling.” Relaxing his mighty flexing pecs, the wrestler rotated the bodybuilder in his bearhug so that Samson’s right biceps was bulging directly against the center of Horn’s battered pecs. “Flex ‘em up, boy.” Samson goaded as he began to tense his right biceps against Horn’s chest. “But your b-biceps, I...I can’t win.” Duval virtually groveled. “You're...too much…” But he flexed down as hard as he ever had in his life, afraid of defying Samson’s command. His thick pecs bunched up into a rock-hard shield against the slowly flexing peak of Samson’s impossibly massive right biceps. “Tell ya what, wimp, I’m gonna give you a fighting chance here. Not gonna squeeze ya, just gonna drive my fist into my palm and flex. All you gotta do is contend with a little bit of bulging from the flexing of my biceps.” Horn gulped with something like relief as he felt Samson’s bearhug go slack. With a glimmer of hope, he flexed his chest even harder, maybe he could still show Samson what a world class bodybuilder was made of. Neither the relief nor the hope lasted very long. Samson tensed both biceps and Horn’s eyes opened wide in sheer awe. The wrestler’s left biceps expanded at his back. It felt like being pressed against a giant unyielding anvil. The hammer was Samson’s massively peaked right biceps. The iron of Horn’s desperately flexing pecs was overwhelmed instantly. Horn managed a desperate, breathless groan of pain as he was slowly crushed between those impossibly hard, huge biceps. “What’s the matter Matt? Stuck between a rock…” Somehow Samson flexed his guns even larger, “...and a hard place?” Horn felt his ribs all but fracture, but he couldn’t make a sound at this point. As Horn began to pass out, Samson relented. “Yeah! Biceps win, huh, Matt?” He cradled the swooning bodybuilder in his left arm as he flexed up his right in a single biceps pose. He then draped Horn over his flexing arm again and began to pulse flex the giant muscle up and down. Horn’s entire body rose and fell along with Samson’s flexes. Samson noted Horn’s silence. “What, not convinced? You wanna try again?” The idea of that terrified the gasping bodybuilder. He shook his head desperately and finally managed to speak. “Buh-Biceps...w-win.” He concurred. “Biceps...win.” He repeated to make absolutely sure his surrender was understood. “YEAH they do.” Samson crowed, nodding his head. He seemed to be saying "Oh, I’m not through toying with this wimp." Plucking Horn From his flexing biceps, he slung the huge man over his shoulder and then pressed him overhead, using the massive bodybuilder like an exercise barbell, Samson pumped him up and down with absolute ease. Manhandling Horn’s mass with no sign of strain, Samson brought the bodybuilding champion around in front of his chest and, maintaining his grips at Horn’s left knee joint and neck, Samson started curling him for rep after rep. Samson never showed the slightest sign of slowing or tiring, but the motion alone was enough to make his 26 inch biceps pump up to their unbelievable max. Samson seemed to grow frustrated with the lack of challenge presented by curling Horn like an oversized dumbbell. “C’mon Matt, you need to put on some real muscle. It’s like curling with a toothpick .” Samson hoisted Horn high overhead with one arm and then slammed him bodily to the mat like a discarded paper cup. The impact bounced the ref off the canvas. He managed to come down on his feet but he had to steady himself on the ropes. Samson scooped up Horn like a ragdoll. He wedged the struggling man’s head between his left biceps and forearm, then climbed to the second rope at one corner of the ring. Samson stood balancing against the top rope and suspended Horn over the crowd by hitting a single biceps pose and dangling the muscleman with his head still trapped by that flexing biceps. Horn clawed at Samsons steely arm, trying to free his head as his feet flailed in the air. “Aww, that big mean ole muscle too hard on your poor noggin?” Samson teased. He grabbed Horn by the neck and held the man high, showing him off like a trophy. When the cheering this induced died down, the wrestler flexed his mighty right biceps once again. The crowd cheered more. They never seemed to get enough of those god-like arms. Then Samson folded Horn almost gently over his flexed arm. With a mighty grunt of effort he flexed his right biceps with such speed and power that the explosively expanding muscle catapulted the defeated bodybuilder high into the air. Laughing, Samson watched Horn fall back toward him. He flexed up his left biceps and twisted at the waist so that Horn crashed back down onto that mass of bulging muscle. “Gotcha!” Samson called out as Horn’s big frame slammed into the even bigger muscle, where the bodybuilder once again lay limp, folded over the wrestlers arm. The feat stunned the crowd to silence. It didn’t seem possible to be so far above other men in sheer size and strength. There was a single sound that could be heard in the awed silence. “No...m-more.” Pleaded Horn as he slapped weakly at the wrestler’s huge biceps. “S-someone...someone...help me.” Samson laughed. “Who’s gonna help you, runt? One of yer muscleman pals?” The wrestler flexed his left biceps again with unimaginable speed and force. The bodybuilder was hurled high again almost to the ceiling of the facility before plummeting back down to thump bodily against the wrestlers insanely powerful flexing right biceps. “Bring ‘em on, I say. The more the merrier.” They watched in awe as Samson flexed again and again, bouncing an Olympia worthy bodybuilder from one mighty biceps to the other like a child toying with a rubber ball. “Might be fun pumpin’ these big ole biceps like this, only juggling you and Priest and Wheeler and Yates. HAW HAW, now THAT might even be a challenge. See how many of you Olympia types I can keep in the air at once.” At this point the crowd was actually starting to flee the arena out of fear. The ref was watching Horn bounce off Samson’s biceps repeatedly in a stunned trance, oblivious to the pleading, half conscious looks the helpless bodybuilder managed to affect after each impact with one of those omnipotent muscles just before being heaved skyward to new heights by the next unstoppable flex. Finally, Horn slammed into the multi story high roof of the arena after one of Samson’s phenomenal biceps flexes. “Oops.” said Samson with an almost sheepish grin. “As tempting as blasting you through the roof might be,” Samson explained as Horn’s huge but limp body slammed back down onto his massively peaked left biceps. “the owner is a pal of mine.” “P-please…” Horn managed, gasping for breath. “I’ll do...anything. Just...no more.” Samson laughed, flexing his left biceps larger and sending Horn higher. “I think it’s safe to say that I got the muscle to make you do what I want, with or without your cooperation.” He reached with his free arm and grabbed Horn, wrapping a thick, powerful hand around the traumatized bodybuilder’s neck and lifting him off that mountainous biceps. Samson wrapped his arms around Horn and pulled him against his bulging chest. “So your offer don't mean much, does it?” Horn was in no position to argue the point. At his back, forearms like sequoia pinned him against the impossibly huge, muscular expanse that was Samson’s pecs, while on either side of him, like massive planets poised to collide, the wrestler’s gargantuan biceps threatened to pulp him between them with the merest flex. “Please.” Horn pleaded, gasping. He was aware of his powerfully developed chest rising and falling as he struggled to catch his breath. The mere sight of this never failed to elicit slack-jawed stares of awe in the gym after an intense session. But against Samson’s vastly thicker, denser pecs, his frantically heaving chest was like the beating of butterfly wings against the steel hull of a battleship. “Your muscles...you’re super...human. I never...had a chance.” Samson tensed his pecs ever so slightly. Horn’s body was compressed between those two burgeoning slabs of muscle. “Guess you shouldn’t have challenged me then, huh muscleboy?” Horn struggled futilely to free himself, but Samson responded to the big bodybuilder’s efforts by flexing those awesome pecs to such massive proportions that Horn’s entire torso began to be wedged into the cleavage between them. “NO! God no! I'm...stuck between...you gotta stop.” Horn pounded futilely against the surging, titanic slabs of muscle that were Samson’s unstoppable pecs. “You...can’t keep flexing bigger...you’ll flatten me!” Laughing, Samson released the bearhug and placed his hands on his hips, holding Horn in place between his pecs with nothing more than the crushing force of his flexing chest. “Flatten you? Such a drama queen for one of the mightiest pro muscle dudes on the planet.” Samson grinned wickedly as he continued flexing those mountainous pecs slowly larger. “

You Can Stop - Part Two (with a big thanks to ShreddedFreaksLover and FitnessBel for their assistance in the couple of statements I needed in Spanish. And to Phoenix27 who also offered to help.) by F_R_Eaky Part One: Part Two [rattle rattle rattle crattle rattle POP hsssssssssssssss] "No... no no no no no no nooooo NO!..... DAMN IT!" Ted pulled his car over to the side of the road but let it coast for as long as it could, including a turn off onto a slightly smaller street. "Why... WHY?! Why didn't I take a flight? Why did I decide that a two week trip across the U.S. would be a relaxing vacation?" It was the middle of June, just before summer started, and Ted was taking a couple of week's worth of vacation to celebrate his birthday, abroad on a scenic car trip of the United States. Truth be told, however, he was actually taking it to avoid contact with Cris, his best friend in the whole world. Over the last couple of years his friend has gone through some physical changes. Radical changes to say the least: a drop of 150 pounds of fat that his body seemed to then turn and inflate into more and more muscle that just seems to keep piling on and swelling ever thicker and harder, he's become just over two feet taller, his feet have grown up twenty-eight and half sizes, and he has a cock that appears to be growing out of him like some kind of natural, flesh made fire hose. "Awww fuck!" Said Ted exasperated. Shakily one hand went to his forehead while the other went to the waistband of his pants. He needed to undo them quickly to allow some room as just the quick thought of Cris made him spring wood as hard as the petrified forest. "I'm a top.... how can I be a top when I know someone who's almost two feet taller than me and is growing into the hulk?!? And how is it happening to him? Even late bloomers just don't suddenly grow two feet...OVER two feet in just over two years. It's not done.... it can't happen that way. It's medically impossible! His organs can't develop fast enough. He should've collapsed. The human heart doesn't function well anymore once you get past a certain large size. He was my best friend... my little best friend. I enjoyed being his protector....his guardian.... his close fantasy. I know I was. I was the closest thing he had to a really big...BIG! MAN!..... When we had friendly good-bye hugs, I could feel him twist and squirm so I wouldn't feel his growing erection in his pants. He was Cris.... he was Crisito! I was the big man. I WAS THE BIG MAN!" Ted shook even more violently. He was dealing with conditions and emotions he didn't like, he didn't want to face, and his plan to run away for his birthday, he now realized backfired completely. "Oh....SHIT!" Looking around, he realized the little stretch of road he was on, he vaguely recognized. His car's check engine light having come on, he got off the highway at the nearest exit and hoped that problem would be a quick fix. But now, now something as popped and he could smell the radiator fluid leaking out. Where was it he pulled off and into? He originally wasn't sure. He wasn't exactly paying attention. Recognizing the street and area he's on, however, made him understand he's pulled off near Cris' town. Getting out of the car, he popped the hood open , looked, and confirmed at least one of his fears, He'd blown a hose and possible the cap to the radiator. Even if he could get replacement fluid, there's probably a good guarantee that it will leak and he'll need to replace the radiator, if not something else as well. Leaving the hood open, Ted opened the car door and sat back down inside, after rolling the windows down. Pulling out his Android he started to look up local towing and repair shops. [toof toof toof... toof toof toof.....toof toof toof....] Ted began to hear a sound. He wasn't sure what it was at first. In fact, he shook his phone and cursed at it, thinking it might be trying to go out on him like his car was. [Toom Toom Toom.....Toom Toom Toom....Toom Toom Toom...] "What the hell is that noise?" [THUMP THUMP THUMP!] This time the sound was not only right upon Ted, but went right past him, and suddenly, as he turned his head around to look out the back window, the hood came slamming down, his car's front end rose up, and poor Ted was nearly tossed into the back seat. "Auuuuuh!.... Not quite the right grip!" a somewhat deep and sexy voice said. Ted looked out the front window as the car went back down, only to see the backside and bubbled ass of a giant bodybuilder, power lifter, or some such. The man's back and shoulders stretched out wider and wider than his tiny string tank top. His traps threatened to pull the straps off and away from the main fabric of the shirt. The sides were stretched out and pushed down by a thick flaring set of lats which were pushing a pair of arms sporting the largest tricep muscles Ted had ever seen. Those tris were above a massive set of forearms that looked as big as most men's upper arm. Well, that would be if the man attempting to hoist up the car was the size of an average man. Framing the lower back, the forearms only served to accentuate how tiny the man's waist came down to from that expanse of back and then back out wide again from the two granite boulders that made his ass, and the columns of pure tightly strung power that were his thighs, the pair of which stretched and strained the nearly paper thin workout shorts hidden underneath a very large pair of basketball shorts that would probably be pants on average sized men. This giant squatted down and grabbed the front of the car once again and then stood up, every muscle of his arms, shoulders, traps, back, butt and legs, moving in harmony, bulging in use, becoming larger by the second as the veins that fed them became engorged with blood. The bellies getting bigger and bloated, beefier and harder, defined and denser. Letting out a primal kind of scream as he got the front of the car raise up off the ground, the man's neck suddenly flared out thicker and wider, threatening to become as wide as and take over his head, and pushed his traps, delts, and back, even wider out. Turning his head to the side in order to call out behind him the giant stated hushed in deep rumbling tones, "It's okay, sir. My name is Cris. Put your car into neutral and I'll pull it down and off the road to my house. Then I can offer you the use of a directory, phone, and something to drink, if you've been out here for a while." It took Ted a couple of fumbling tries to get the car out of gear and he was erupting in his pants. The sound, the registering of Cris' rich, honey coated, but firm and strong voice into his ears sent a jolt from them down his spine, around his ass, and drove straight into his balls, the touch of which took his breath away and caused him to fill his underwear to capacity. It took about fifteen minutes to jog the car down the road, turn onto the next, and then into the driveway of Cris' home. Along the way, Ted marveled at how easily this seemed to be for Cris. There were a couple of small breaks, some heavy breathing to be sure, but still, no other man could do this without popping a vein or snapping his back. What's more the amount of speed Cris could generate while towing this car. As they were now in his driveway, Cris squatted down and put the front of the car onto the ground, and then turned around to address the driver. "There we go. Now you can rest in a shaded and air conditioned pla....Oh my Gawd! Ted! How are you?" Ted got out of the car and then turned to face Cris, his jaw going slack as he did so. Looking straight on, Ted knew he was looking about where the second row of abs would be. This meant that his head, the head that topped his six foot three inch frame, only came up to somewhere between that second row of abs and the bottom of Cris' chest, which was hanging, rounder, wider, fuller, thicker than ever. Ted slowly raised his head up and up in order to his friend's face, but it was becoming slightly blocked by his friend's own pectoral muscles. "It so good to see you! What a surprise!" and Cris pulled Ted into a big old bear hug, engulfing Ted in his oversized arms and planting Ted's face into the valley crevice of his chest. Ted began to fight back, to kind of punch Cris' arms and obliques trying to break free. "OH....MY....GAWD!" "TED! TED? Ted, it's me.... it's Cris." Ted backed off a moment and stared at Cris. Then he shook his head as though to clear his vision. "Cris..... CRIS! Oh my gawd.... this... this you!?" "Yeah.... are you okay? You seemed to be fighting for your life there and all I was doing was giving you a hug." "Just I didn't physically recognize you....right off the bat that is. You've....it.....growth..... Happened again did it?" "Uhm... haha.... yeah. I'm getting huge... HUGE!" "Uhhhhh." "Ted, are you okay?" and Cris stepped forward to catch his best friend. "Yeah... must be...the heat." "Out there a while were you?" "Yeah, you could say that. And uhm, sorry... part of recognizing you now is by voice and...." "I KNOW, RIGHT?!" "OOhhhhh" "Whoa! Better get you inside, you're looking very faint." "....that voice...." "Yeah, I know. A few more steps down and I'm going to be wallowing in the depths like James Earl Jones, Alan Rickman, Benedict Cumberbatch, and Sam Elliot." and Cris laughed deeply. "Oh auuugh huh huh huh auuuuugh huh huh huh huh...." "Ted? Ted?" Cris slightly bent over and with ease picked up Ted, two handed, and draped him over his shoulder and held him like one would a small child. After carrying him into the guest bedroom, Cris went and got a wash cloth, ran it under cold water, and applied it to Ted's forehead. This brought Ted too almost immediately, albeit a bit groggily. As his vision cleared from coming to, he looked up and could see the great torso and head of Cris' body looming over him from the side of the bed. He knew part of it was due to the angle of his vision from laying on the bed, but still, even taking that into consideration, Cris looked absolutely huge. He filled the room, with sheer presence if not physical actuality. "so....friggin'....big...." "I know, right?!? I'm getting huge, Quick rundown of the usual stats so you have an idea of where I am right now. So.... prepare yoursel.... well, that's kind of stupid as you're already laying down. Alright.. whoooooooo..... okay, so get this..... I am.... eight feet five inches tall. My upper arm measures twenty-nine inches around, which if I was your height would be twenty-one and half inches. Can you believe that? I mean look at these arms...." and Cris stood up and did a front double bi pose. "I'm becoming like an Olympian! My arms both in real numbers and ratio wise have gone over the twenty inch mark! It's fucking incredible! And with the rest of my muscles as strong and developed as my upper arms, it means that I weigh in at a 636 and a fourth pounds, or just over 260 pounds if I was only 6' 3" tall." "You're too...." "I know, Ted. I know I've grown absolutely huge and all, and there is a lot to be worried and scared about, but I keep coming back from every test healthier and healthier, bigger, broader, thicker, denser, harder, taller, stronger.... I'm feeling better and looking more defined and cut as well as larger every day. Seriously, what's wrong with this?" Cris did a most muscular pose this time. "Too big... Cris you're...." "And get this... things were becoming too small for me at work. Neither a desk nor chair to fit my frame. Hell, even the cubical was becoming too small, so I had to quit that job. I wondered what I was going to do to earn money, and then I get approached by of all people, the manager for the Harlem Globetrotters. They're the ones who gave me my latest height measurement. I'm going to be working as one of the giants on the team. And get this, they wanted to come up with something better for me as a nickname, because when Paul Sturgess was playing for them he was known as 'Tiny.' I'm nine inches taller than he was. Can you believe that? Just the other day I was only an inch taller than him and now I'm nine inches taller." "Just an inch...taller..." Ted hoarsely whispered. "What's that? Well, at any rate since, I'm nine inches taller than 'Tiny' was so my name had to be worse so to speak, so as part of the Globetrotter's roster I'm now Cristóbal 'Mini' Espino Maclérigo, Cris Espino for short. They're the reason why I was out jogging on the road. I'm in training. I needed it. They couldn't believe someone my size had no basketball experience. When I told them what was happening, they explained they had good insurance and would help me get connected to the world's leading authority on growth issues. As long as I'm with them, they're helping me find doctors, furniture, clothes.... SHOES! Shoes, because a twenty-two inch long, nine and a fourth inch wide foot needs a size US Men's 44 shoe. And I get to hang around a bunch of guys that doesn't quite seem like ants to me. Plus I get to train. I get to work out and lift and train my body to maybe even get bigger. Think about it? With my voice lowering, and my body developing thicker hair and hair in more places than I had it, they think I'm going to stop growing soon, but it is possible I could match Robert Wadlow or at least come in at a close second." Those last few words rang in Ted's ears and head. He'd be a close second almost as tall as or as tall as Robert Wadlow, the world's ever tallest man recorded. "You can stop. YOU CAN STOP!" Cris got that tingly feeling all over his body again, twice, but he took no notice as he was wondering about his friend's reaction. Ted was now sitting up on the side of the bed, then standing up to approach Cris, only a step away. "You should stop! You keep thinking this is great and wonderful but you're doing it all wrong. You're still with doctors who told you one, two, three spurts ago you were almost done. Now you're almost three feet taller than what you were. THREE FEET TALLER, CRIS! Your internal organs can't be developing fast enough for this to support your ginormous body, yet, but you decided to go out and do work outs and running, cardio exercise when your heart could be too small to support your body doing things like just waking up, let alone a work out." "Ted! What the fuck?! Where is this coming from?" "I'm just worried about you and you don't seem to be taking true care of yourself. Look, I don't mind you getting all huge and powerful on me here, but you can't go out and start flexing all that muscle until you're sure you're done growing. It's great being the big guy, the strong man. I get it. I understand. It's also one of your biggest fantasies. But if you don't really think about what you're doing, it could all be just an instant, a flash of a life that's taken away forever." "Dios mio, Ted!" "Cris...Cris.... .....ito" whispered Ted under his breath. "Look, what I'm saying is just slow down a bit. You don't know if you're done growing outwardly or inwardly yet and you need to be cautious until you do. For the now, relax, take supplements, do light workouts, save the super human, super-hulk acts until you know your insides have caught up to support this body. Don't cause it to burn out so quickly after becoming this. Let yourself slowly develop into it so you not only get all this size you like, but can enjoy it for many, many years." "Oh!...oh..oh...hahahahahahaha...Ted...." and Cris reached out and bear hugged Ted again and held him, cradling him. Ted's body pressed against his torso and between his mammoth thighs and super boat feet. "Ted....Ted....mi amigo...hermano....my Tedito. Are you this scared for me?" Ted breathed a heavy sigh. Cris just called him Tedito. Diminutive suffix. He appears small to Cris now. Yet, as he is engulfed in the arms, chest, and legs of this giant man, as much as it makes his blood boil that to Cris he is the small and ever shrinking man, part of him, is becoming more aroused towards Cris. The bigger Cris gets, the hornier Ted becomes and the deeper his desire is developing for his once short, small framed, high school friend. He knew he'd need to act the part right now, his car needing to be repaired. He'd tell Cris his reaction was due partially to the heat, partially to being exhausted from the drive. He would tell him that his company realized they made an error and allowed him the time off to be with either family or friends. He would then leave when the car was finished, saying he needed to leave to ensure he was able to get home and back to work on time. **************************************************************************** Six months later Ted was sitting in the living room of his family's home in Spain for Christmas. He was having problems sleeping so he got up and went to his Grandfather's study and turned on the television to see if he could catch the broadcast of some US late night show from the night previous. Finally he settled down upon one. [applause] "Alright, welcome back, welcome back. So if you weren't with us before the break, you missed seeing a small demonstration of regular and comedic basketball skills by the world famous Harlem Globetrotters. They have freshened back up a little and changed and we'd like to welcome them back now. Please welcome, Cristóbal 'Mini' Espino, Alishia 'Jupiter' Joiner, Stephan 'Slapshot' Terrence, and Eirik 'Velocity' Van Laren." [applause] Ted sat up in the couch a little upon hearing his best friend's name. He was quickly placed into shock however as soon as the team members came out, receiving not only applause but cat calls and whistles from the audience members as well. And it was no wonder why. Although they were in their public speech or interview uniforms, the fact of it was they were all not only tall and good looking, but Cris' shirt barely came over any part of his shoulders and the hem stopped half way down his abs. Even without that visual done on purpose to help strike up conversation, Ted could clearly tell Cris was not only taller, but even bigger and buffer than before. The quartet of players allow Alishia to sit in the chair closest to the host while the other three sat on the couch, Cris actually squatting down upon the arm rest, which had the audience members oohing, awing, and laughing. Even sitting up on the raised arm of the couch, it was still low enough that his knees were up and away from the couch about twice as much as any of his teammates, his tights bent upward. The audience, now, also got a glimpse of Cris' pants, not only nearly looking painted on, but coming up short, stopping at mid calves. If that wasn't bad enough, one look at him and one could tell his back and him could take up about three fourths of the couch width himself. His thighs pushed one another and made him sit in an exceptionally wide stance. His lats were taking on a w appearance and pushed his upper arms, which looked like bowling balls, up and out at an angle almost parallel to the floor. "Welcome, players, welcome. I guess the first thing I should help state and explain is that you four are just representatives to the program here this evening. That is, you do indeed play for the team, but that there are many more of you than just you four." The players looked at one another before Eirik smiled and said, "You take it Alicia." "Uhm... that's right. The roster for the Harlem Globe Trotters is actually enough to field about three teams so that we can cover and show support for more events across the country and the world." "And with just you four we have not only a tremendous amount of diversity of athletic prowess and skill, but also of various backgrounds. Within you four there is Caucasian, African-descent, and Hispanic-Latino race, there is not only male but female players, and not only American born players but African and Dutch players as well." "That's right. Obviously of course, I am one of the female players." [OOOOW!] "Yeah! GIRL POWER!... hahahaha.... and Cris here, despite his looks and what folks think Hispanics and Latino's look like, he's one of the Hispanic-Latino American players we have, and he and I are from America, while Stephan is from Trinidad, Eirik is from the Netherlands. And our larger roster for the three teams are all just a diverse. The organization originally started to help out and encourage minorities to get out and be active, take pride and part of the community, strive to do something, and we still do. The roster has grown and changed over the years to reflect the various things and statements we stand for. The Globe Trotters men and women of all races, country of origin, language spoken. We recognize the game is being played and watched by humanity, not just a few select or chosen people." [applause] "So you go around the world and you play, you entertain, you give speeches, why? What after all these years are the Globetrotters trying to achieve?" "Well, the Globetrotters over the years have sponsored and supported several outstanding charities and camps for children and families. It's all about one having a good, clean, fun filled time of entertainment, and two, bringing various causes to the front of society's mind to support and help them. One of the newest one's is the B.I.G. campaign, B.I.G. standing for Battling Inaccurate Growth patterns." "And how did you guys come to support that organization?" "Well... " and Alishia looked towards Cris, "I would again think that obvious." [hahahahahahahahahahaha] "I'm thinking there might be a tie in here. First let me ask you, it's said that the Guinness Book of Records is helping sponsor and promote the upcoming year's worth of scheduled events. How come they're doing that?" "I think that should be state by my teammate down there, Cris." "Alright, Cris, can you tell us about this sponsorship? And I should mention at home for some of the folks that some of you player's nicknames are meant to be oxymoron's, such as is the case here with Cris whose nickname is 'Mini.' Why is that, Cris?" "Ah haaaa.... well I'm kind of the answer to all three of the questions. My nickname is mini because I'm not only the tallest player on the current roster of the Globetrotters, but I'm also the tallest player of all time in the Harlem Globetrotters." "That's right the tallest was Paul Sturgess, and you are nine inches taller than him. How tall was he." "He was seven foot- eight inches tall." [whoooooa, wow, oooooh, aaaaaahhh] "But I should say that fact about me being nine inches taller isn't true any longer." "Isn't true, what did you grow?" "Yes." "You've grown since you joined the Globetrotters?" "Yes." "How old are you?" "I just turned twenty-five last June." "And so you're now how much taller than seven foot-eight inch Paul?" "I'm one-foot three and a half inches taller than Paul now." "One foot.... woha ha how.....That makes you..." "It makes me Eight feet - eleven and half inches tall." "Wow that's half a foot since you joined!" "Right, and that's why we're supporting B.I.G. and Guinness Book of World Records is supporting most of our events this up coming year. I originally started out three years ago at five-foot eight inches tall and have grown three feet three and half inches since then. I've had doctors looking at me, testing me, doing research, but they've not come up with a reason as to why I'm just growing and growing. I just happen to be lucky that everything is growing at a decent, constant, and proportionate rate." "I...let me tell you, I'm not sure about proportionate there. Your feet are huge. What size.... you know, they joke and say people with big feet have boats for shoes but yours would have to be..." "They'd pretty much be equivalent to the world's largest cruise ships." [hahahahahahahahahahaha] "So do you know if you've broken that record?" "Yes... At the start of the year they're going to take my measurements, confirm, and present me with certificates for breaking the world's tallest man in history, because I beat Robert Wadlow by .4 of an inch, the world's biggest hands, feet, and shoes, and I'm also going for the world's largest arms." "Wow....Your whole body is just busting out and breaking all kinds of records. Are you getting used to all the attention your height and size brings?" "It was a little difficult at first, but uhm....OOOOOoooooooomphhhhhha!" and raised his left arm in front of his teammate Eirik's head and did a biceps pose. "I'm getting used to it." "Good gawd! Look at that! I think... can we get a play back on that? I think your arm just obliterated your teammate, Eirik's head from view! You look freakin' incredibly built, for a tall man, of any height of tall. How large are those upper arms of yours and how much do you weigh?" "Well to answer your previous question, first, my shoes are a size 46 quintuple D which means my feet are twenty-two and two thirds inches long by just over nine and half inches wide." "Good knight! It must be murder finding shoes!" "They're all custom made. As for my weight and arms.... my arms are thirty-three and fourth inches around, which to put that in perspective, if I was only six foot three inches tall, my arms would be just over twenty-three inches." "Good....gawd....Why aren't you competing in bodybuilding? I bet you'd take that title as well." "Actually I am, but I'm announcing that on a separate program than the Globetrotters." "And what was your weight?" "Eight-hundred eighty-three and a half pounds." "WHOA! I could just ask questions of you all night, but I need to head to commercial break. Anything you and the rest of the teammates would like to say? Alishia?" "Shout out to my lil' girl, Tanya. Merry Christmas and Momma loves you, now mind your daddy and go to bed!" "Stephan." "I'd like to say hello to my fiancée, Rhonda. Love ya, baby. See ya soon. Happy Hanukah" "Eirik?" "Hello to mum & dad and the whole family as well as everyone in the Netherlands, especially Amsterdam! PROOST!" "Finally Cris...haha aka hahahaha 'Mini'." "I'll shout out to all my family in Puerto Rico and Spain - Quiero mandar un gran saludo a toda mi familia en Puerto Rico y España. A mis abuelas y abuelos, mi madre, mi padre, mi hermano mayor, Mateo, que cada vez está más pequeño y pequeño , y a mi hermana Catalina. Os quiero, ¡Feliz Navidad! And one more shout out to mi amigo mejor, Ted. Hermano, que esta cada vez más pequeños, tambien. Saludos!" "Ok! What he said. We'll be right back with the band, Madrigal!" Ted sat there breathing deeply, shaking, trembling. Cris' voice was lower. He was even bigger and bigger built. Cris just told him via television that Cris' brother was getting smaller and he was getting smaller, as well. His vision started to white out. His hand holding a glass began to shake and spasm. His cock sprang up and down, inflating and deflating, becoming hard and soft. His free hand quickly grabbed the remote control and began flipping through the stations looking for something to calm him down. "......and welcome back to the Howard Stern show. So if you're just joining us in the last spare minutes of our program... SHAME ON YOU! You're too fuckin' late. Or perhaps not. We had a big guest on the show today, a very big guest, in fact in about a week's time he's going to be declared the biggest fucking man of all time by the Guinness Book of World Records. It's Crystalball..." "haahahahahah Howard!" "I can't say it all. It's your name. Introduce yourself, and you know what, if you don't mind go ahead and throw your middle name in. For Christ's sake, the American government is so dense with all its forms and ignorance of other name practices in the world it's not like your people even have the chance to actually put your entire name down without having some unworldly senator looking at you like your some kind of freak, so go ahead, say it all and say it proud!" "Cristóbal Eduardo Espino Maclérigo." "My gawd! What a name. I couldn't get that all out. I'd sprain my tongue. Wouldn't I, Robin." "Hmmm that's right. True that." "But let me tell you, it sounds so fuckin' sexy. Almost all Latino names are like that. They sound so exotic...so....... hawt! I tell ya, if I had a name like .... Espiritus Sancta there...." "Howard! ahahahahahah!" "Well whatever it was, my plain Anglo tongue can't wrap around it, but I tell ya, if I had a name like his, my tongue would've have wrapped around four times as many women in my life as it did." "So a total of four then. hahahaa!" "Robin! Ouch.... do you feel the love, Cristóbal. Do you see what I have to put up with every day at work? And she's not just a coworker, she's a friend! But any rate before we wrap up the program... I warned you I was going to do this, Cris. You're getting honored for your body breaking several records: world's tallest man, world's tallest bodybuilder, world's biggest feet, world's biggest hands, which if you didn't catch earlier, Cris is eight feet eleven and half inches tall - that's .4 of an inch taller than Robert Wadlow whose record height was recorded the same year as his death, 1940, so subtract that from this year and that's how long this record has been held by Robert and not broken. Anyhow he's 8' 11.5" tall, he wears a size 46 quintuple E because he feet are absolutely fuckin' huge 22.66" long by like 9.25" wide. His upper arms are 33..25" thick, as in big around. That means his upper arm is as large as most average height men in America, or in other terms it's only two and three fourths inches shy of being exactly three feet thick. Because of this incredible super human build on him he weighs and astounding 883.5 pounds! But we've got one more tale of the tape to do. One that the people of Guinness World Records won't touch..." "Oh nooo..... nooo.... Howard...." "No... no... I warned you I was going to do this. I've asked this of all the men who taller and bigger than I am and you are the biggest out of all of them. I've seen pictures of you, your outline of IT, running down your pants or shorts leg...." "aaaauuuugh, come on...." "No... no... you're the biggest man in the world, soon to be proclaimed, and I want to know, American wants to know." "Not all, America...." "Oh come on, Robin. You know they are. You are!" "I'm different... I'm a woman." "Yeah? Well I know something about Crystalball here that you don't. It won't matter how much woman you are because Cris swings the other way. But the question is, 'Exactly how much IS he swinging the other way?' Americans are perverts at heart. They want to know deformity either for intellectual, curiosity, or shock factor. So we've got the people who officially measured Jonas Falcon's penis here, as well as Mr. Falcon himself, wave hi, Jonas..." "Hey..." " and we want to know, World's Tallest Man, World's Tallest Bodybuilder, World's Tallest Homo... are you also the World's Biggest Man Down Under?" "Auuuugh...." "Are you willing to let these people measure your dip stick?" "I...I don't ...." "I'll haunt you forever. No matter where we are, where you go, and you're going to be a hard man to hide, you know this, I will hound you and ask you until you reveal all. My listeners want to know." "Alright...alright I'll do it, but to paraphrase Susan from the TV show Coupling, 'I present this penis as a protest.'" "HAHAHAAAAAAA Presents his penis a protest! Nowhere else in the Radio world will you hear a proud and sanctimonious penile statement like that, folks." "It makes a great tongue twister for warm up before you go to work on one too.... present penis in protest...present penis in protest...present..." "HHAAHAHAHAHA ROBIN! AW GAWD! We're all goin' to Hell as soon as the broadcast is done folks. Into the basket, press down, no passing go, no two-hundred dollars. Ok... so, Cris... if you step right over here. This'll stop anyone from seeing it if they walk in. And can you give us an idea of what we're going to see? Do you have a teeny average size penis on an giant body, do you have a fairly large sized cock on a giant body or do you have a giant cock on an average size body?" "Uhm.... I kind of have a cock that's almost the percentage bigger of the average penis as my body is bigger than the average body." "Really? You're not shittin' me?" "Nope." "You're that fuckin' hung?" "I'll let your experts measure and see." "Ok...first... are you completely soft? Totally flaccid?" "Yep." "Ok... then if you're willing, drop trou!" "Hmmmm ok...get my shorts over my bubble butt.... and ....." "OH MY GAWD! JESIS H.... The man is the first bipedal donkey folks. You....well.... I we'll need to see what it is in a second here.... team what you got for Mr. Softy?" "Thirteen and one fourth inches long." "Good...night....Cris! Cris! Do you have any boyfriends who live to tell others what you're like in bed? I mean you only have to grow during erection one fourth of an inch before you tie Jonas Falcon in size! Jonas, I think you're goin' to have to pass the crown over. Ok...Cris, now I want you to put on those headphones there. Yep..... ok thumbs up if you can hear the things playing on the computer monitor in front of you." "Sure I can....OH MY!" "I hope they're the kind of guys you like, Cris." "Oh...no...not here in pu....OH!....OH! OH! OH!..." "We've got something on all monitors, Cris. Just sit back and enjoy the show.... Because we're goin'.... holy shit! Robin, are you seeing this?" "How can you not help but see this." "Folks his penis is stretching and inflating rapidly to a much larger size. Cris, how the hell do you not pass out during sex? Still rising...still growing..... Someone needs to go back to the timer controls on the recording and playback to see how long it takes to stiffen up. Wow. That is just... out there! It'd be a third leg when it gets done, folks. It's so fuckin' long and thick. It's tryin' so hard to rise up, but the length of it and the weight of it is causing it to instead just stick straight out and hover and bob in the air like some kind of flesh made crane arm. Ok... I think that's it... good night the amount of blood needed for this..... Even before I hear the results I must stand and give you and mother nature an ovation for this DNA combination. Team do we have the results?" "Yes...21.25" "Good night... twenty-one and a fourth inches long! He's just shy of having a two foot penis! What the hell would that be if he were my height?" "About fifteen and a fourth." "Fifteen and a fourth inches! And what if I were as tall a Jonas there. How much more would he be packing than his thirteen and a half if he was hung like Cris?" "He'd be just under thirteen and three-fourths." "Just under... well Jonas it seems like even proportionately Cris has got you beat by almost a fourth of an inch. And what if he still is growing? Good gawd, Cris. You make love, you're going to kill someone with that thing. You have a boyfriend?" "Not right now, no." "Well, if you did, I wouldn't know to say if he was a lucky or an unlucky son-of- a bitch. HAHAAHA... anyway, thanks for sharing, and over sharing per my request. Good luck to you with your time with the Harlem Globetrotters and in finding clothes and everything that fits. Speaking of... God Bless in you finding a partner that can handle THAT thing. It'd be like that horror movie Anaconda right there in your own bed! Alright, alright, we need to get out of here for today. Thanks for listening to the Howard Stern show we'll....." [CLICK.... ..... ...... ..... .....Crrrrrrack crash!] The glass Ted was holding in his right, shaking hand began to crack and fracture and finally shattered in his hand. He remained there almost all night, his vision blanking out to white noise, his hand bleeding into what was left of the cup and milk he was drinking, his penis going back and forth between extremely limp and flaccid and exceptionally hard and spewing cum. ************************************************************************** It's June. It has been just past a year since the last time Cris and Ted have seen each other, which was suiting Ted perfectly. Despite Cris having once been his best friend, it was becoming far too confusing whenever he was around him. It was too confusing with just the sight of him. The crash of emotions ripping through Ted's mind he simply couldn't handle in his life right now. Fear and worry over what was happening to his best friend of so long. Would Cris be alright physically or would these growth spurts suddenly turn on him? Jealousy over the fact that Cris was becoming far taller, stronger than he could ever hope to become, which then lead to feelings of inadequacy about his masculinity, his able to protect, his dominance. He's never wanted to dominate Cris before though. Why did it seem so important now that he should be on top? It was because despite the fact of them never showing an interest in each other beyond friendship before, despite having had tons of relationships with other men, it meant within Ted there was a yearning to be with Cris for every part of the day. A passion to be with him that keeps growing as much as Cris was physically growing and more the bigger, the stronger, the more virile Cris gets. A lust to feel that power whether it would be being able to take it for himself, or feel himself physically over come and engulfed by it. Too many new emotions. Too many old emotions changing. Ted has keep his head buried in work all this time, only being out and about now because he won a competition without meaning too. The corporate heads not only gave him the vacation trip, they ordered him to take it. Luckily for him his flight to Las Vegas was already arranged with the trip, there would be no need to drive through the Midwest where Cris lived. He spent the first couple of days exploring a few of the various casinos, actually managed to win one-thousand dollars at one table. Today however he decided to make a day of shows and this afternoon's fare was going to be Cirque du Soleil's new show, Variations (Toutes Choses Grandes et Petites), Variations (All Things Great and Small). The show was a wonderful display of acrobatics, trapezee, rope, and silk artistry, as well as fantastic side show acts, songs, and dance. It occurred to Ted that the title and theme for the show, Variations, had to be because the settings of each act took the audience all over the world: Japan, the United States, Ireland, Italy, Norway,... However he soon realized, the names of the places were all connected to fictitious or mythological stories from Lilliput and the Pryor Mountains to Brobdingrag and Jötunheimr. Ted's heart began to race. They had everything separated into little people: gnomes, fairies, leprechauns, and big people: giants, Cyclopes, and the like. He began to get the shakes. "No!" Thought Ted to himself. "He is not here, and even if he is, I will keep control. I will remain composed. He won't know that I'm here. No need to be near him." He breathed much easier when Cris didn't show up through the whole program. Traveling back to his hotel, Ted managed to spy a sign advertising a charity wrestling event to support cancer prevention research, being held by and between the American, Wrestling International Foundation and the Mexican, Loco Lucha Libre, in which a team from each group would fight over a charity belt and title. Ted thought "What the hell. why not?" to himself and when he got back to his hotel called the number on the posters to see if there were any tickets left. There were and he ordered one and even placed a bet for the Loco Lucha Libre team when asked if he cared to place one. "This should be interesting." Ted chuckled to himself. "These things are more drama than a soap opera than athletic competition." After dinner, Ted made his way to the Arena and waited in his seat surrounded by rowdy, raucous, people who were chanting and screaming for their teams. Soon the arena lights dimmed except for the center, the spot lights came on, the loud, blaring into music came on, and the announcer came down from the ceiling with microphone in hand. "ARE WE READY TO THRASH AND BASH?!" The crowd roared extremely loud in high anticipation. "The let's welcome, first, the American team, The American Eagles!" Again the crowd roared such as to nearly drown out the announcer's words. "Member number one standing six foot one inch tall and weighing in at two-hundred and fifty one pounds.....Jack Necca!" [RAAAAAAAAAAAAAW!] "Member number two, standing six feet four inches tall and weighing in at two-hundred and sixty-seven pounds..... Jameson!" [RAAAAAAAAAAAAAW!] "Member number three, standing at seven feet even and weighing in at three-hundred and fifty pounds.......Joe Nathaniels!" [RAAAAAAAAAAAAAW!] "Member number four, standing at six feet four inches tall and weighing in at two-hundred sixty-five pounds....... Reg Romany!" [RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAW!] "And now let us welcome to arena, the team for Loco Lucha Libre....but before I introduce, I should let everyone and the American team know.... as this is a charity event, the boards of both organizations decided to make it a challenging and special event. The four man American team will be fighting a one man Lucha Libre team. Worry not, those of you who have placed bets, it will not be as one sided as it may seem. Introducing to the ring, standing at a towering nine feet six inches tall and weighing in at a staggering one-thousand fifty-three pounds, El Oso Masivo, The World's Tallest Man and World's Tallest Body Builder ...Cristóbal... Eduardo... Espino Maclérigo!" Ted suddenly sat up and forward in his seat. The audience became a mixture of laughter, boos, and chatter of disbelief over the stats listed by the announcer, but then Cris came walking in ducking everything used to make the contestant archway as he stood at least head and chest above it, and the crowd fell silent. Striding in wearing black wrestling briefs that did nothing to hide his enormous bulge, so it was assisted to cover by a Roman gladiator skirt of leather straps, his feet were covered in a modern twist of the Roman sandal and a boot. He was popping and bouncing his exceptionally hairy, mounding pectorals as he walked down the aisle, occasionally doing crab shot poses and growling loudly. Walking up the ring steps sideways so his huge feet could fit on the steps he hit the top and then without thought simply stepped over the ropes of the ring. No assist, no push down or pull down by him or any other person. At his height he could simply step over them as though they were toy size to him. As the American team balked and stammered, Ted could hear the ring side announcers begin commentary. "I don't think the American team is liking this, and why not? Look at the size of this guy! He had to turn sideways for his feet to be able to go up those stairs." "True, but the real question is why didn't he just step from floor to ring top? I'm pretty sure this guy can do it. He's a giant!" "And imagine if he does a kick to one of the other guys? I've just been handed some other stats on him... his shoe size is a US size 46 quintuple E, which means his feet are twenty-two and two thirds inches long. That's almost a two foot, foot!" "And not just the size of his feet, but remember and imagine it being powered by those legs.... I mean the man's thighs, no a single thigh, looks like it is bigger around than any of his competitor's waists, maybe even their chest!" "Those thighs are apparently fifty-two and half inches around. That is just slightly bigger than Necca's chest measurement. Ungodly!" "And just think about getting arm slammed or picked up or choke held by the arms of that man. Those upper arms are almost thirty-seven and three-fourths inches around!" "That...that... is hard to put one's mind around." "Well let's bring him down to our level, so to speak. If he was say a moderately tall guy, say six foot three inches tall, his upper arm would be just over twenty-four inches around. He's got the build of Mr. Olympia competitors." The match started and it was clear that the American team was going to have to gang up on Cris in order to have any chance at winning. This was made apparent when as seven footer Joe Nathaniels squared up and off against Cris he only came half way up Cris' abs! Jack, Jameson, and Reg all hovered around Cris' navel. What an odd show. Joe bounces off the ropes to perform a clothes line to the front of Cris' things and just goes bouncing and flipping off as Cris' thighs were immoveable. Two of the guys jumped Cris' arms who then stood up to full height and proceeded to flex his massive guns as high as he could form the peaks. Between the increase in muscle/arm size of the peaks and the hair on his arms wicking off sweat, it didn't take too long before each wrestler had to break their hand or arm hold on Cris' arms and drop to the floor. There were a couple of times where it looked like numbers might have the advantage. Joe and Jack providing a distraction, Jameson and Reg clasped wrists and bounced off the ropes to deliver a two man clothes line to the abs of Cris. It knocked the wind out of him, a little, but didn't really stop him. Joe turned at one point and kicked the back of Cris' knees bringing him down on one knee. However things soon turned back in favor of Cris, who showed he could easily throw off the four men, even if all were on top of him. In fact, a couple of times it almost looked as though the breakaway shrug had sent one or two of the American team over the ropes. The crowd was thoroughly entertained and spent a lot on donations, food, drink, programs, anything they could get their hands on for this most excellent match. After an hour and a half, with an intermission, of roaming and bouncing around that ring, the team signaled Cris it was time to end it, and they agreed to end it with him as the crowd was just going wild over him. Cris managed to let them know he'd studied some wrestling moves and could do this spectacularly, if they let him. Agreeing, Cris had them fly off of him after a four man pile up that came to a possible pin and count of two. Then one by one Cris got them to bounce off the ropes, take a clothes line from him, which practically knocked them out cold, but then he picked them up, hoisted them above his head, and body slammed the first one onto the floor, the other three on top of the first guy and then each other. One hand however remained under the American member's back so it took the brunt and shock of the slam, not the member's back. The crowd going wild after Cris placed a finger tip onto the chest of Jack Necca and held him and the other three under him down for the count and the ring of the bell, they began to shout out "OSO! OSO! OSO!", "CRIS! CRIS! CRIS!" or a combination shout of "CRIS...TÓBAL.... CRIS...TÓBAL.... CRIS...TÓBAL...." The ring announcer pulled up a ladder and stood on it to help raise Cris' hand in victory and was still pulled off of it by Cris' hand. The four American members left by various means: Joe was carried off in a stretcher with an oxygen mask, Reg was supported and quasi carried by his usual two teammates in regular wrestling matches as he stumble-walked out of the arena, while Jameson and Jack were assisted to walk off by their wrestling wives. They had waited for Cris after all had left the arena, but due to what happened next, contacted him later to thank him for a great match and show, as well as blush and nervously exclaim how wild and thrilling it was to actually be picked up by someone, without having to do a choreographed jump assist, and flipped over to their back. They were mind blown to say the least. But the reason why this happened days later was because the broadcasting company had an idea that went slightly askew. They decided to pull out a supporter of Cris' from the audience and interview him while bringing Cris up from behind to stand for pictures and sign autographs for the fan. Fate decided to throw in an irritating ripple into this part of the event for the fan supporting Cris that they chose, was Ted. Actually Ted had taken bets on and was originally only supporting the "lucha libre" team, but as the switch was made, he wound up thus supporting Cris. An unaware Ted was pushed towards an interview area, interview holding his back, while stuffing a microphone into his face. "This is Mandy Kinpata here at the epic Wrestling International Federation and Loco Lucha Libre's charity event where we've just seen that massive giant, Cristóbal Eduardo Espino Maclérigo, who chose the ring side name of El Oso Masivo, take on four men to win this champion charity title. We're here with one of his fans. Tell me, sir, what is your name and why did you support Cristóbal this evening?" "My name is Ted, and I didn't support Cris this evening." "But we have your winning ticket stub for betting on him to win the fight." "No, I was betting on what I thought was going to be a representative, Latino-Hispanic team for Loco Lucha Libre." "Well, aha...even though the team turned out to be only one man, Cris, it was still a spectacular match, and him coming down here to help support such a great cause, that has to make you a great fan of hi....." "Nothing has to make me a fan of his, Mandy. Look he has a big heart for charity causes, but in real life he doesn't look out for the important things, he's irresponsible with his health, and he doesn't think abou....." Before he could finish what was probably going to be a long tirade against Cris, Cris had come from behind and hearing him, reached out with an arm, grabbed Ted, and hip carried him back to the locker room. "Well.... apparently Cris has an enemy of some kind and the world's tallest man didn't take kindly to it. He's drug the non-fan off to the back. We'll see if we can get in and cover what's happening." Most of the fan crowd and then the arena administration crowd made space and made it quickly as Cris stormed through with Ted on his hip. He stopped briefly to open one of two double doors to his room, which was a grand viewing box hurriedly turned into a dressing room as the regular dressing rooms were all too small for Cris. Shoving Ted inside, Cris the unhitched the other door, twisted, bent, and turned to get his massive frame through the double doorway before standing up to full height, puffing his chest up, and addressing Ted while closing the doors behind him. "What the hell was that about?" "About you. About all ... all this! What the hell are you doing? It's obvious that you've still been growing and you need to be careful how much exercise and exertion you put on your body until they stop your growth or can ensure you're healthy enough to compete regardless thereof." "Oh come off it! There has got to be so much more to it than you're worried about my welfare, health, and safety. You were fuckin' giving me a character assassination out there!" "No.... not really.... I'm talking to abs here. Do you realize I'm talking to abs? YOUR abs? I used to talk to the top of your head. A few more inches I'll be able to do that again, except it's going to be your lower head not your upper one." "Dios Mio! Lay off about my cock..." "No! You fucking looked obscene out there in those trunks, and those strips of leather only highlighted that you're packing a five foot soft cock! What kind of message is that to send to kids?" "I don't have a five foot cock. It's only three feet." "THREE FEET!?!" "Well, thirty-six and half inches, but only when fully erect. It's a bit smaller when soft. Proportionately, I'd only have a two foot long cock if I was your size." "ONLY A TWO FOOT..... FUCK YOU, CRIS! You just don't see.... you're so blind at how you're body is growing and morphing into a freak of nature! At my height or at your height, who the hell are you going to fuck with a two foot cock?!" "Ted!" "You've not taken this seriously. You're not being cautious. Hell you've thrown caution to the wind. And you don't even think of the safety of others. What would've happened if your heart wasn't able to support this gigantic body while doing all those moves? Forget you dying alone, what if you died while falling on top and pinning one of the other wrestlers? One thousand pounds of dead weight resting on top of him. People can't survive under that, Cris. You could kill a man without wanting to like they did in old days to torture confessions out of them by being pressed under weight." "For fuck's sake, Ted...." "You should go to the doctors and tell them they needed to remove your pituitary gland or something. There should be hundreds of treatments but you really haven't sought them have you. Now you're so big, you really can't live in this world. You're a foot and half taller than most rooms, you're like two-thirds the maximum amount of weight most elevators can carry, not like you could stand up in them. Your toes can't even navigate steps your feet are so big. And these muscles.... getting ripped is one thing.... achieving a trainer's or gymnast's type of build is great, but this.... any more muscle mass and you won't be able to bend your arms. You won't be able to jack off that giant flesh tube of yours. You just don't seem..." Cris interrupted Ted suddenly by stepping in his way. Flexing his left arm slowly right in front of Ted's face, Cris made sure to cause his bicep to rise and peak very slowly, showing off its definition, its size, its hardness and density, its squirming veins. "Madre de...!" "You like it don't you?" "Grow up, Cris!" "I am. I am growing up. Bigger... Hmmmmmph....Stronger.....rrrrrrrrrrrrr.....taller.... oooooooooh......and more hung every day. And it's killing you, isn't it?" "Shut up!" "You just can't take it that I grew up to match you and then surpass you. That your once small, weak friend, is now suddenly so big he can not only take on a man your size, but take on two...three....four.....five.....maybe six or ten.... AT THE SAME TIME! HOOOOOOOOMMMMMMPH!" Cris was performing a series of classic bodybuilding poses as he said this. It made Ted blush and flush hot, so he turned away, but not before there was the sound of fabric lightly tearing and then fully ripping and suddenly from under the leather straps of the gladiator skirt shot out Cris' three foot cock. "MY GAWD!" "You can't take it that I've become more virile than you. That with one load I've probably got enough cum to impregnate a town...... a metropolis!" and Cris flexed and bobbed his erect cock. "I've got enough cum to blow up a man's ass and make it spew out his mouth! .... ..... ..... And you actually....secretly want it....don't you?" "You...." "I what? Say it..... SAY IT! It's what you've wanted me to do, supposedly, all this time since I first grew two inches! You don't really care about me and my health, otherwise you'd be hearing what I've told you. I'm getting checked out by doctors. They've tried several treatment options. They can't tell why I'm growing or what will stop it. They only know that I am growing and that everything, despite what medical knowledge and examples and testimony says, is working fine and normal on me. No deformations....no break downs....I'm healthy as a horse...." "A TROJAN HORSE! YOU'RE TOO FUCKING BIG! DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND!?!" "Yeah.... I'm a Trojan horse...a big huge vessel with no real substance inside me. You want me... you know you want me.... You're own fucking cocks gives you away. It's tenting your pants, right now. As we scream at each other. I'm going through something I can't explain. It's scaring the hell out of me. It really is. As I watch the world around me get shorter and shorter, smaller and smaller, tinier and tinier and then I realize, it's not getting smaller, I'm getting bigger. But then the question becomes will I become too big for most of it...any of it....all of it? Am I doomed to become this man that eventually grows off the face of the earth and my force winds up pushing it off its axis and orbit? "I could've used a friend during this time. Someone to stand beside me and tell me things would be alright. And if that friend of so many years found himself attracted to me...he could've told me. Let me know, so that maybe.... just maybe....I would've told him I had been falling for him. Falling for him years ago. And even if there were problems trying to figure out the physics of how to make love between a now supposed six-foot three inch runt and whatever I became.... .... ....I could've had the chance of having a love during this time. A love to support me. A love that once was and could still be at the same time my best friend. Be he couldn't admit that could he. He couldn't submit to being the smaller guy, even though he could still act the top with me." "You....can....." "Knock it off, Ted!" "NO! YOU CAN STOP! YOU.....YOU CAN.....stop..... you just need to listen to yourself, hear what you're saying. You need to take care of yourself better. You need to visit the doctor's more. Quit telling me I'm on a binge here. You can get your feet bound... there are drugs for your bones, shots for your organs and muscles, to get this under control... you just need to..." "Ted...." "YOU CAN STOP! YOU CAN STOP! YOU CAN STOP! YOU CAN STAHHHAHAHAOP!" "You're right Ted. ... ... ... I can stop. I can stop trying to deal with you. I can stop trying to get you to accept me. I'm just trying to live my life while they figure this out. You don't want me to do that. As such... I can't live my life with you involved in it." Cris felt that odd tingling sensation he frequently got around Ted the last few times they met and hung out. This time however the sensation felt about six times stronger and as it coursed through his body he turned with a primal yell and kicked the metal double doors open and off to his make shift dressing room. "rrrrRRRRRRRRRAUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH!" SLAM - CRASH! "You can stop, Ted. I don't want to hear any more of your denials and bullshit. As a friend I've prevented the door from hittin' ya where good Lord split ya. There will be no photo opportunity, no autographed pair of trunks for you. Get out, and if you ever find yourself somehow in my moving circles...keep quiet and don't let me know you're there. You've shrunk while I've grown, in more ways than just physical size, and you've become too small for my attention." With that Cris took out his android phone and very easily snapped it two, symbolizing that he was getting rid of Ted's phone number and contact information. Ted shook and trembled for several minutes and finally exploded. "YOU ASSHOLE!" WHAP! Cris' hand flew out backwards and smacked Ted not only across the face but face down through chest as well, Up he sailed a few feet into the air, across the room, and out the open doorway. It took him a couple of minutes to regain his composure. Everyone in the hall, the reporters, the camera men, the other wrestlers waited allowing him to do so while they shook off the shock of the bursting door and then Cris' anger. Then, Ted got up, stumbled, regained balance, and quietly left the building. The reporters' nose for news kicked in and they began to attempt coming through the empty doorway and bombard Cris with questions. He turned rose to his full straight as could be height, puffed out his chest and lowly and slowly commented. "Ladies and Gentlemen, of the press and otherwise, despite my breaking the door down, that was a private moment. If you really feel the need to find out about it, you will have to ask later. You can see where this is a good idea because right now...." He picked up the metal bar that was originally between the two double doors and bent its ends as though tying the bar into a bow. "I don't feel like discussion right now." And he dropped the metal bow in the doorway. **************************************************************************** "Awwww cmon' man. Itsh the middle of the night...und itsh gotten fuck-(hic) cold here in Orlando." "It's not the middle of the night, ya bum. It's cold here because it's February, and this ain't Orlando. Closest fucking metropolis is across the river, St. Louis. Get out of here. You're stinking up the place and pissing off my customers." "But I need shomethin'...jush a little d'nashion to get shomething t' eat?" "I know what you'll eat. I know why you sound the way you do. Because Martha two doors down has pity on you like she always does and gave you twenty to go get a hot meal and instead you walked into Sparrow's Liquor and bought a bottle. For Pete's sake, man. It's only noon!" "Well shen, I could ushe shome lunsh." "That's it... I'm done. Gary! Walk him out of here." A man that was about six foot five, three hundred pounds, filling out a t-shirt and black suit jacket beyond capacity, walked over to the man, stated, "C'mon buddy. It's not happy hour as of yet, and even if it was, you're not making the boss happy.", and pushed the man out the back door and into the alley. The man stumbled and fell, then picked himself up and walked right up to the back door, put his face on it and yelled, "BASHTARDO!" He walked away mumbling to himself, "Esh moo...moo...moouy grande bashtardo.....no....bashtarda...." and then sung in a high pitched voice, "My llamo es Gary y soy una bashtardita! hmmmmaaaa fucks you!" This was Theodore James Wentworth the Fifth. A man of great renown and respect, via his fancy sounding name only, now. After his last encounter with his best friend, Cris, things did not go well. He still couldn't wrap his mind around what had happened to Cris, how Cris was going to live, what his place could ever possibly be in Cris' life, and how it would fit in with his desire to be like he was in most of his relationships, a dominant top. He still couldn't accept his growing feelings for his friend. He couldn't accept the humiliation he received from Cris at their last meeting, especially the fact that the beginning and ending of that story was caught on digital recorders and broadcast all over t.v., cable, and the internet. It cause his mind to wander, his work to suffer, and thus his life to degrade. Eventually he lost his job, any money he had saved, his house, his car. He took to begging and wandering here and there, hoping he could once again make it if he hung around where his old job was in Orlando. Problem was he took to drinking and being in such a constant state of inebriation was prone to pranks of high school and college boys who played the practical joke of getting him snookered and then driving him to a town two hours away. Thus began his life of traveling across the United States. Only one group had some pity on him and did him one slightly good favor. Knowing his mind and life was pretty much gone, and that perhaps family lived where he once was based, after finding he did have his ID in a coat pocket, they took him to an all night tattoo parlor and got that ID information tattooed on his left shoulder. Was a good thing too, as he lost the ID two pranks after. Now he was somewhere in the Midwest, although his mind told him that he was still in Orlando. But the town he was in had a wonderful park that contained several structures for extreme biking and skateboarding, as well as miniature golf. Finding that the door to the windmill was unlocked and that the inside of the windmill was large enough for storage, he crawled in for his evening nap, praying that the structure would keep him warm enough to survive the night at least. ... .... .... ..... ..... The next morning Ted woke up in a luxurious, four post bed with satin and silk sheets. The sun light streaming through the window not only blinded his eyes but made his head feel as though a street jackhammer was working inside his skull. His head began to bob as his stomach began to complain and gurgle and soon he was over the side of the bed and puking directly into a prearranged, plastic bag lined, waste basket. Within minutes of the dispelling of the last amount of liquor in his system, a butler came striding through the door, looked down with his eyes only, at the waste baskets, and then stated in an eloquent, perfect pronunciation, Southern drawl, "Ah.... I see sir is up." He then walked briskly and floating like, as if he were being dragged on wheels, to a wardrobe where he got out a bathrobe and some clean clothes. Holding the bathrobe out to Ted he announced, "His Honor, the Mayor of Fallen Brooke, will be with you for lunch. He is currently in his study working off several items of business before he will see you. Until then, you are to make yourself available for use of this bathroom here, and then you may change into these clothes. We had them tailor made for you. ... ... .... As well as one can for such an emaciated form." "Were are my clothes?" "Those rags were properly disposed of; burned faster than Sherman did Atlanta." "I want my clothes!" "You can wear them again come Ash Wednesday! You are to go take a bath right now." Ted said in exasperation under his breath, ""Escucha, bastardo. En mi ropa estaba mi credencial, así que tráemela antes de que te rompa la cara, capullo!" The butler looked at Ted and cocked his right eyebrow at him. "I said, 'I need to have my clothes searched for my I.D. and I would prefer to choose my own replacement clothes, please.' For those who don't understand Spanish.'" Turning and opening the door to the bathroom, the butler looked sternly at Ted and replied, "Entiendo perfectamente español : mexicano, puertorriqueño, panameño, y español en ambas formas formales y coloquiales. Mis padres estaban casados en el momento de mi nacimiento, por lo que no soy un bastardo. Conozco varias formas de artes marciales, manejo de armas , y mi último trabajo fue en el servicio secreto, por lo que definitivamente no se vas a romper la cara. Puede que sea un agujero de culo, pero usted es todo un culo." "That last phrase doesn't make any sense in Spanish." "No, but it makes perfect sense if you speak English." "But I do and that makes no..." "I might be an ass hole, but you are a whole ass. As in all, total, completely encompassing...ass. Você compreende? Comprenez-vous? Ti comprendere? Vy ponimayete? Begrijp je dat? ¿Comprendes? ” Ted said, looking down at his feet. "Yes..." "Y en español." "Sí,... ... ... totalmente." "Es muy bueno. And might I suggest, sir, that when you pick up the soap to wash, you begin with your mouth. Any language is best spoken...cleanly." Ted took the towels from the butler very red faced and proceeded to walk into the bathroom. "Well... aren't you a knowledgeable...." "I have no problems in punching you in the mouth and addressing you as 'Señorita Puta' during your stay here." "...person...." Ted walked into the bathroom and shut the door. After about two hours in the tub, the first hour used to soak all the dirt and grime off, Ted put on the set of clothes. It is amazing how much an attitude can change after washing a couple years of dirt and grime off of one's body, and the booze out of one's system. Opening the door the bedroom called out to the butler. "Uhm....Butler? Sorry, I don't know what to call you as I was kind of mouthy and didn't allow you to tell me. ... ... ... Hello?" Looking around the suite he saw no one was there and so he went to the door he saw the butler come through and opened it up. "Hello?.... Mr. Butler....whatever your name is? I'm all clean and done....and uhm a little less sassy right now. Hello? Jeeves? .... well, okay, maybe a little bit of sass left." Stepping out he saw a magnificent foyer that was probably two maybe three stories high. It was interesting architecture. Sure there were columns and such but there were so tall, so big, for a home foyer, but the thing that drew most attention was the odd front door entrance. There were two double doors the opened in to show off the front porch, but the area they were built in looked like another giant set of double doors. The bottom two inside corners we made up on the real doors people use. At the top of the wall that was made to look like the two smaller doors were a set a big huge windows that mimicked the shape of the windows in the proper doors. The difference was the small windows in the proper doors were heavily frosted while the replicated ones above were crystal clear letting in as much sunlight as possible. Being the afternoon now, the windows flooded the foyer with sunlight. Ted stood there basking in the warmth, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply. "I don't know who this mayor is..." thought Ted, "But I need to thank him greatly. It has been a long time, too long, since I have been sober. This is all like I'm waking up from some nightmare and into a golden world. HUH!" Ted opened his eyes for just a moment thinking maybe he had died and this was Heaven. Growling from his stomach let him know this was still Earth and that he was not dead. He wasn't sure where to go from here and figured he'd wait for the butler to come get him. Closing his eyes again, he bathed in the light of the sun beam and continued to breathe deeply. PAD PAD PAD PAD PAD PAD "hmmmm" thought Ted. "Something is making a decent thump. Must be some kind of machine going off somewhere." THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP Ted swore he might have felt vibrations that time with whatever the noise was. The instinct of fight or flight was beginning to well up in him. He made the decision he should make a break for it and run back to the bedroom. DOOM! DOOM! DOOM! DOOM! DOOM! DOOM! It was too late. Whatever it was had come up behind him, almost right behind him. It was close enough the vibrations through the floor nearly knocked poor Ted down. He was glad he was still standing in case he needed to make a break for it, but for now fear held him and he closed his eyes tightly and thought to himself, "Perhaps if I stay still, whatever it is will not see me or will mistake me for statuary." The next thing Ted heard was a laugh and a voice that was so deep, yet full and mellow, it sent ripples of vibrations running over his brain, down his neck, and into his chest and lungs where they continued to bounce for a few minutes after he stopped talking. The tone of this voice just dripped masculinity, virility, sex appeal and poor Ted's cock, despite his malnourishment as of late, sprung a full, rock hard, woody in his new pants. "Ted?!... Ted is that you? Dios mio, Ted you look so freakin' thin! I'd say I should get you some water, but I think you should have a soda of some kind, help add the pounds back on you. Well, compared how I'd look to you know, you'd probably expect me to hand you a Pepsi." Ted turned around slowly and his straight on gaze was met with nothing but thigh on either side. These thighs just bulged out massively from the knees, their size and weight making it impossible to walk straight. The legs would have to be kicked out to the sides, damn near split walking from how Ted figured it. Each tear drop shape of the front of these thighs were large enough that Ted could place his hand on one of them and it wouldn't be large enough. The cuts of definition were so large and deep Ted though he could stick his hand into them like an actual crevice on a granite mountain. Hell, the striations looked nearly that deep. And then running over them, all these mighty tubes just under the skin. "My gawd!" Thought Ted. "The sculptor of this statue got so detailed. The work on these veins is breathtaking." But then Ted had to shake and quiver a bit, remembering as he followed a plumping vein down the thighs, across a cable car strand for hamstring and down into hard diamond shaped calves that this wasn't a statue, it was a person that had walked into the room. He lingered on the calves because they were so big they nearly looked the same size as the thighs... perhaps. Then he saw the feet at the bottom... the huge, massive, meaty, thick, strong and slightly hairy feet. Realizing the shins, calves, and thighs were hairy as well, Ted, began to follow that trail back up stopping and taking a quick breath when he realized, near the knees, floating just above them, but hanging in between like the pendulum of some giant clock, was the head of a penis that was ginormous, and it was connected to a shaft that was just as impossibly huge - and it was soft! It curved slightly at the top, or more correctly its base as the colossal cock had to hang over and ample set of balls, the size of which Ted thought for sure he could bowl with and might give a strong man trouble to lift. Continuing to arch his head and neck backwards, he saw the thick yet feathery bush of hair that covered the crotch area and spread up and out over the swelling eight pack of abs that looked like it was so stacked and hard that it could actually serve as an old fashioned cobblestoned road with horses trotting on it. The obliques of this giant man were the same, and together with the abs they would provide a surface for a quartet of ladies to scrub wash clothes on. Up and up this stacked column of cobblestones Ted looked until his vision was blocked by two excessively large and round capstones that blocked out all view of the ceiling. Damn, did these fuckers still out and past the abs. Like it might be an actual foot or more from ab wall to the edge of the chest. It was so thick and full, so broad and wide, it barreled so large and heavy, for a moment Ted thought it might cause the man to topple, or that again, perhaps this was a sculpture and the chest part of the torso had broken way and rolling off the top of the abs. But there they stayed swelling just a little and then receding, in and out, in and out, as Ted took very large and long deep breaths. Ted could see something that looked like small stalactites, one each hanging off of one or the other pectoral, nearly pointing down and enticing him to come suckle and drink. Attempting to bend to the side to look around the great chest precise, Ted found his vision blocked on either side by the thick, massive lats that now had the appearance together of creating not a v, not a triangle or an inverted pyramid, but something more akin to a w, trapezoid, or a bracket. Combining with the man's back and shoulders, they made his mega man's backside a wall, literally a fuckin' walking, moveable solid wall. But it wasn't these thing that impeded Ted's vision as much as it was what they held up. Pushing them up and out at angles that were more parallel to the floor than hanging and pointing down to it, the lats held up the giant guys arms making them practically stick straight out. "If this was a statue...the structural support need to hold those arms in the air would need to be...." So full, so tight, so dense and large were the bellies of the biceps and the triceps that they weren't the simple curve of something ball or oval like. No they were more like an elongated and squared circle or oval or a rounded cornered rectangle. Until the giant flexed them. Whenever he moved his hand inward, that bicep popped with power and began to rise and rise and rise, so high Ted thought that when fully flexed and held the biceps peak could surely have snow form upon it. But no, those rivers of hot blood crossing here and there, making the biceps look like sacks of basilisks or great sand worms, would create too much heat and melt that snow away. The veins snaked and extended their way down into forearms that Ted was certain was larger round than his waist...his chest! Both his thighs put together! Who was this man? Who was the person who drug him while asleep out of the golf windmill? Who was this god like being that was so muscular Hercules himself would cry in fear upon meeting him? This giant, hairy, muscular, manly, musky, hung, virile, alpha supreme male... "Oh gawd... I'm too close for you to see me." said this mega mayor and the form began to move and pad his freaky feet in order to back up a few feet. Ted looked up and up and up and waited and waited. Slowly, eventually, cresting over the chiseled chest with the forest of hair, came the man's face and then Ted saw...Ted knew.... the face was, the mammoth man was his former best friend Cris. "AH! AH!" Cried out Ted as suddenly his body began to spasm and shake uncontrollably. "Ted? Are you alright?" Cris said as he bent down to be closer and more eye level to Ted. Once there Cris could see that in almost one split second, Ted had not only become aroused, not only achieve full, maximum stiff, erection, but that he was already spewing copious amounts of cum in his new pants. The sudden rush of arousal and climax at nearly the same instant moment was a little too much for Ted and he dropped to his knees and into the waiting hands of Cris. Looking up at Cris he hoarsely whispered, "Cri....Cris.... Crisón,... mi Crisito..." and then passed out. ************************************************************************** It was several hours before Ted woke up, and he didn't want to when he did. Dreaming he was out on a beautiful sunny day, he was laying down in semi-tall grass and he was enjoying the smell of it and the feel of it on his face, in his fingers, surrounding his torso and through his feet. He was running his hands through this grass and inhaling deeply when he came too. There was a bright light as he actually opened his eyes and his vision adjusted from sleep to awake. Looking out he could see a couch just on the other side of very odd coffee table. It looked more like a set of two tiered steps, except they were made of glass and iron metal. The higher side is what faced him, while the lower side was on the side closest to the couch. The couch also appeared odd, or at least it did to point of view. The couch he was on was huge...really huge, especially compared to the couch across the way. Ted couldn't even feel the end of the couch, which at six-foot three inches tall he was usually used to feeling if laying stretched out on one. After closing his eyes again, Ted rolled over onto his back and ran his fingers across the couch cloth. Again, there was the feeling of being able to run his fingers through something. "Hmmmm must be a couch covered in shag rug material." Thought Ted to himself and he laughed as he ran his fingers through it and rubbed his arms up and down and then rubbed his feet over it. Opening his eyes to look down at his own feet, Ted suddenly took in a sharp intake of breath. He saw his own feet, but there...several feet away from his own feet was another pair of feet that looked nearly gigantic. As his depth perception changed focus he realized looked down, the middle of his vision was blocked by something tubular and mounding , like a fairly large pipe, rising out of the shag fur of the couch and heavily flopping over an end. It was then that Ted realized he wasn't lying on a couch, but on the torso of a man. Another gasp and Cris sat up and then turned around to look up towards the head. He immediately fell forward and propped himself up on one elbow firmly planted in the rich deep brown "grass" he had been lying on. "Easy," said Cris. "Don't sit up too fast. You're still a little too weak and you may pull your I.V. out. You were really quite malnourished. They've been giving you loads of I.V.'s with vitamins and other nutrients in them." Ted looked across towards the fairly large face of Cris and began to quiver. Finally tears welling up in his eyes he buried his face into the crevice of Cris' protruding pectorals while attempting to hug them and hug Cris. "I am so sorry...Cris... I've been.... I've been...." "Estúpido?" "Yeah...." The two lay there for a moment with Ted looking up several times, mouth open, attempting to say something, before grunting in frustration and looking down or away again. Finally he just began to blurt out. "Cris.... I am so sorry. I've been the world's biggest jerk. I... I had begun to develop feelings for you, my friend....my brother. I've had them for a while and I didn't know how to tell you. And then you started growing and growing....and growing. I was so scared for you, but at the same time I kept picturing us being an item as slipping away. I'm a top man. You know I am. I love to take the lead and to be rough, but with you getting bigger and bigger, taller and stronger, I just could be the top to you. I couldn't dominate you. The bigger you got the more distant I figured you would be relationship wise. It was even worse given the fact that you were developing a cross between donkey and horse genes down there." Cris laughed a small, low chuckle. "At the same time, the bigger and larger you got, the more it turned me on. I can't hardly look at you right now without blowing a load. You are just so mind blowingly huge! So fucking sexy! I wanted to be with you, but I also still wanted to dominate you. And then I also had to try and balance out those emotions with the fact that my friend was growing and growing without any knowledge why. I knew you needed support, but your body was changing so fast I thought I was losing my best friend, you just looked so different after each growth spurt. And I was so scared for you, but I didn't know how to show support, because I didn't know how to handle it. Then you were becoming more confident, more aggressive, more out there personality wise, the man I fell in love with seemed to be disappearing personality wise as well. "All these emotions thrashing inside me, all the changes you were going through. I was just in panic mode. It doesn't give me an excuse for how I was acting. I was an ultimate jerk. I should call my own self a pendejo. I needed to be there for you, as your best friend, whether I ever expressed my love to you or not. You needed me and I failed." The two sat there for about another fifteen minutes in silence, staring but not actually staring at each other. Finally Ted began to speak again. "I nearly died when you threw away my phone number and kicked me out, but I don't blame you. I don't know how you found me, and I don't deserve this treatment, but I will find a job and pay you back. I.... I really appreciate this." Another poignant pause occurred before Cris spoke. "As the mayor of Fallen Brooke, I have quite a few connections. When the mini-golf owner called for the police to come in and remove you from his windmill, I was called by the police chief. They identified you by a tattoo on your left shoulder and I told them to bring you to my house." "I don't have a tattoo on my left..." "You have been out of it a while. ... You have one of all your personal information ." "Oh my gawd." "You've really been messed up, haven't you." Cris wrapped his arms around Ted and pressed him into his chest for a huge bear hug. "So....obviously you're still growing. Hopefully, despite all my negative predictions otherwise, everything is growing normally, just extremely large?" "Yes. Everything about me is huge, but functioning normally, and I am no longer growing. I stopped growing about six months ago and the last check up shown the plates fused, so there is no more growth. I have stopped at this tiny, short, little height." and Cris laughed. "Short little height. You do realize I only come up a fourth of the way up your thighs when we both stand up. So... out with it.... how big has my friend.... we are still friends aren't we?" "Tedito.... we're still best friends. I wouldn't have told the police to drop you off here and paid for doctor's and medicine if we weren't." "I'm glad. So how big has my friend grown? Do you fit in anything anywhere anymore?" Cris belly laughed. "No.... no, not really. Let's see.... I'm twelve feet six inches tall." "Twelve!..." "Yep. I am exactly twice as tall as you are. My monstrous dogs down there are almost three feet long, thirty inches to be exact and twelve and one-third inches wide, so I now wear a US men's size 68 6E shoe. I weigh three-thousand six-hundred pounds, which if you make proportionate for comprehension, if I had the same build at your height, I'd weigh four-hundred fifty pounds. I weigh this much because my muscles have grown as though I have the muscle disorder where their growth and development isn't inhibited. My upper arm for example is Seventy-four and one fourth inches around. That is my upper arm is almost as big around as you are tall." Cris raised up one arm and slowly flexed it causing the extremely full and flat belly of his biceps grow and rise up higher and higher until it filled Ted's vision. Ted quickly developed a raging hard on seeing an upper arm that was roughly like three feet tall. "If I was your height, it would mean that my upper arm would be just over thirty-seven inches around." Ted swallowed hard. "Dios mio.... and... how..... how big is.... is... is your?" "If I was your height my cock would be three feet long." "Three feet long?!" "Yes but on me that means it is six feet long." Ted leaned forward again, his hands out to support himself on Cris, but he began to absent mindedly run his fingers through the thick and fluffy hair over Cris' chest. "I see you're really liking the hair." Ted smirked. "You've become like a god, my friend. So big, so strong, so dense, so tall, so hung, so hairy, you're just the ultimate man. The prime alpha male. That alone turns me on beyond all belief. Add to it that I know you... your personality... and it just....I want you so bad right now. I'm burning inside with so much desire for you, I feel like I'm going to explode. I know... we can only be friends." "No... not friends." "Yeah... I know.... my brother from another mother. Mi hermano." "No...." "No?..." said Ted looking up with a look of fear in his eyes and panic on his face. "Mi amor." Ted flushed hot and was starting to shake a little and to faint upon hearing those words, but he kept himself awake. "All this time we've dated other people because we thought since we grew up together we were too much like brothers to have a relationship. The truth though is that I've been falling in love with you for years. It killed me to snap my android and throw away any chance of recalling your phone number when I kicked you out. I took a trip out to Orlando to call upon you, but you had lost your job, your house by then and I'm guessing was already in a drunken stupor, because I put out a notice to look for you, to have you contact me, but no answer came." "Yeah... I had a really rough patch with a lot of travel apparently. ... ... ... But.... how can we even try this? Even if I decide to compromise and be your 'bitch bottom', hahahaha... how are you going to make love to me? I'm only three inches taller than your cock is?" Cris thought about this for a moment. "Maybe we don't have to compromise your favorite roll?" "How?" "Well....if my cock is only three inches shorter than you are tall, my cock head should be as big as someone's ass to you. Why don't you fuck my cock?" "You're pulling my leg." "No... I'm serious. Here...get up." Cris had Ted hop off of him and he stood up next to the couch. "Go ahead and grab it. Work the head. You can ride it up as it becomes erect." Ted marveled as he began to stroke and pat and smack Cris' penis head as though it were some guy's ass in front of him. A penis that already looked so huge and gigantic to Ted began to swell and lurch and grow in length and girth. Ted moaned as he could feel the blood pumping up into the shaft, the heat rising through it all. He felt the life sized anaconda grow thicker and thicker, swelling harder and harder in his hands while it's length increased and kept pushing him further and further back. Grabbing a hold around the shaft, Ted rode Cris' cock as it rose up and up until it hoisted Ted up off the couch and surprisingly he pulled himself on top to set on the head. After catching his breath, Ted balance himself and stood up on Cris' cock and proceeded to take his pants and shirt off and throw them to the floor. He then walked down to the base where he held onto Cris' abs and obliques as though he were rock climbing and attached his mouth to Cris' right nip. "OOOH!" Cris cried in surprise, but adjusted his stance to stand firm. After performing that action, along with kissing every little muscle belly of the obliques Ted could find, he then sat back down at the cock base, his feet dangling over the sides and resting upon Cris' goodly sized balls. Rubbing as sensually as he could muster, Ted drug his hands up and down Cris' prick's shaft and base, while his feet rubbed across and over Cris' nuts. "Oooooh wow....that's nice..." moaned Cris. Several minutes later, Ted turned and lay down length wise down Cris' cock, head facing into Cris' thick bush of crotch hair. He then shimmied his way out to the head and once there began to balance himself and get himself ready to enter Cris' slit with his own throbbing member. Ted caused the schlong to droop down so he could get his feet onto the couch, then grabbing behind the head as though it was someone's waist, Ted pushed Cris' member down and then slowly and gently pushed his way into the slit. "hoo HOOO!" gasped Cris in excitement as he staggered back a step. "Yeah.... you like that, doncha? My big fat cock going into your slit." Ted began to buck his hips while making his hands caress the helmet all over. He shuddered all over for surprisingly the piss slit was just as tight for him as any hole would normally be. Cris on the other hand was having a problem with the sensations that was travelling up his shaft through his crotch up and over his abs, chest, neck, chin and lower lip, or down through his balls, down his thighs, over his knees, past in his calves, into his feet and curling his toes. "oh OH! OH! OH!... .... .." he gasped several quick breaths. "The sen-SA-tion...huh huh..... all those nerve endings being stroked like.... oooughhh! stroked.... gawd! Stop.... STOP!" "Hmmmfff.... NO! You're tight slit feels too good. So wonderful! Take it! Take my cock! Non stop! Humping like a fuckin' bunny!" Ted doubled his efforts and began to plow double time in and out of Cris' slit. "AAAAAUGK! OH! OH! YOU HUH HUH HUH YOU HAVE GOT TO STOP! OH OH!...." "NO! Take it! TAKE IT!" Cris began to shake uncontrolably. His footing began to give and stumble stood back and forth. He kept trying to push his cock forward and herky-jerk his groin and cock from Ted or cause it to yank Ted off the couch. "Ted TEAAAUUUUUUUUHFFFFFFFFFFFUCK! HUH HUH HUH STOP! STOP!" On either side of the giant couch were two huge metal sculptures. Cris reached out and individually pulled them closer in between convulsions created by Ted's mad non-stop drilling into his piss slit. When they were finally only arms length on either side of him, he used them to help support himself and keep from buckling whenever the sensation of Ted' cock rubbing shot across his body. "YEAH....C'MON! MY GIANT BITCH! MY LOVER! EXPLODE! EXPLODE FOR ME..EE...EEEEE AH! AH! AH!" "OH! AI! AI AIAIAAIAIAIAIAAI HUH HUH HUH GRRRRRRRRRRRRRNNNN O! NO! NO NO NO! NOT HUHUH HUH YET!" The next growl Cris made he brought his arms down in front of him making the most muscular of crab shots of all time. His neck swelling, his traps rising, his delts flaring, his biceps popping, his fore arms swelling, his abs and obliques contracting, and his chest barreling and tightening. Problem was Cris was still holding onto the statues at his side and with a great sound of stressing and stretching metal he bent them down. Eventually there were pats and smacks of flesh upon metal as Cris' violent tremors began to become more violent and he was forced to relieve his shaking by smacking the ruined metal sculptures with his hands when the energy hit his finger tips. His hips were gyrating and bucking, his thighs were swelling and straining, his calves were becoming swollen with blood as the balls of his feet began to be in charge of his balance and keeping him standing. His head was snapped back and his face was contorted in ecstasy. He cried out and he pleaded with Ted. "OH! ooooh gawd...stop...please.... stop I can't .... I can't take it.... Ted.... TED!" But Ted who was also beginning to lose his sense of balance and control, looked up to see the giant twelve and half foot tall, supremely muscled body of Cris straining, flexing, rolling, popping to keep balance, to keep stance, becoming covered and drenched in sweat like some competitor upon the Mr. Olympia stage. Ted reached out with one hand and began to stroke up the hard under ridge of Cris' penis. This in turn made Cris scream out in pleasure and kick one leg out to the side and slam the foot down onto the floor for extra stability, causing the marble in the floor to crack and crumble. "you fuckaaaaauuuuugh YOU FUCKER! OH! BASTARDO! HNNNNNNNNNNGGGFFFF" Ted now began to caress the ridge of the helmet from the underside where the sides come together out and around to the top. Start and the slit and down and around. Slit and then down and around. All while still pumping, humping, and fucking away at the new hole that was his favorite. "You're gonna cum... and you're gonna cum....NOW!" Ted rammed his cock in slowly this time, while taking the thumbs of his head to press in at the slit and the firmly rub out to the head ridge at the same time. "OH OH OH OH OH OH OH OH NO OH NO OH NO NO NO OH OH AI AI AAAAAAACK UUUUUUUUUUH AI?!" With a sudden most guttural sound, Cris' body shook like he was having a grand mal seizure, then his left knee gave out and he dropped to it as his head and back snapped back, his colossal chest and muscle gut extended forward and his super schlong thrust Ted into the back of the giant couch. "AAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!" The sound was said to be heard a few miles away. Cris' chest caused his arms to contract and the metal statutes groaned and snapped in two. He fell back, his taught bubble butt landing on his left foot. And then the stream came.... Ted could hear it. Feel it. Like the sound of a torrent of water gushing out of a much smaller pipe it filled Cris' dynamic dong and suddenly spewed forth like a geyser. The blast was so powerful it knocked back into the couch and then kept him pinned down as several volleys that would've been a couple hundred feet long, had there been room, struck him, and splattered against his chest. One couldn't tell that Ted was having his own orgasm. One wasn't sure it his face was contorted in pleasure or if pain from the blast of his lovers orgasm hitting him in the chest. And even though he had an ample amount of cum himself, it lost in the massive pool left by Cris' rapids of spunk. Cris grabbed Ted, and then flipped himself over, butt on the floor, back resting against the giant couch. He placed Ted onto his chest. Trying to gasp out something to say in between several extremely powerful after shudders and minor orgasms, Cris finally passed out, not noticing that Ted had already done the same. It was said that it took nearly an thirty minute soak in a tub to be able to release Ted from Cris' cum soaked chest hair. The cleanup of the living room took a number of hours, of which the butler complained and threatened to quit his job if he wasn't invited to at least watch the next time Cris and Ted chose to go at it one of the more public rooms of the house. Ted managed to heal up and regain some weight, muscle weight under Cris' tutelage. He eventually found work, in the area local to Cris' home and the two have been insaparable. They have celebrated more and more anniversaries together, and Ted has remained the top by jumping up and clinging to Cris' cock whenever he wants it, or by staring hard at Cris and his muscles and whispering at him "You can stop." Cris has never started growing again, but the phrase now causes him to nearly rip out any underwear whenever he is wearing a pair. In fact, Ted will tease and drive Cris so nuts with the phrase, making him so horny, the public now has to cry out and remind Cris of his mayoral duties, "You can stop!"

(I realize this might not be everyone's cup of tea, but stay with it - you might enjoy the ending.) He had his brutish face next to mine – close enough that the rough whiskers of his day-old beard were scratching my neck as he whispered in my ear. Stiff bristles scraping in a way that made the hair on my arms tingle and my toes curl. “The sound of bones breaking makes me cum every time. It’s such an incredible turn-on – destroying someone with my bare hands. Care to find out, squirt?” He squeezed my body tighter and I let out a muffled cry – partly because of pain, but mostly because he crushed the sound out of me. Two of his thick fingers were shoved down my throat and it prevented me from breathing normally - that and the fact that his other huge arm was wrapped around my mid-section compressing my body like I was nothing more than a tube of toothpaste. It felt like my spine was about to snap in two, but he didn’t care and his arm drew in harder, like a giant belt tightening around a tiny delicate waist. “God, I’d love to hear your backbone pop like a heavy two-by-four being broken apart between my big hands. I bet your own cock would gush real hard even as your body sent messages of intense pain to your brain. You’d have the best orgasm of your life and then your body would go limp – unable to ever feel anything again. I could break you so easily, little man.” The apelike power-lifter flexed his huge biceps harder against my ribcage and it immediately felt like I was pinned against the wall that was his chest by the front end of a big truck. To add more insult to his unyielding domination he bit at my neck with his teeth, making sure to clamp down hard enough to leave marks that would surely stay for days. I thought about how crazy it would be to be snapped in two, unable to move afterwards, and have intense teeth indentions up and down your neck. Whoever found me would probably attribute my demise to some powerful vampire who had lost his fangs. “Listen to you gasp for breath, puny one. That makes my balls churn out tons more hot jizz than normal, which pumps hard into my growing cock like lava swelling up from deep inside the earth. Yeah, feel how your tight little ass twitches at the idea that the big fat log pressing up against you right now hasn’t even reached its full size. I doubt that cock of yours will actually be able to outlast your spine. I bet your bones shatter before you even get a chance to spew, but my own dick will unload so much he-man cum inside your body that you’ll gain five pounds on the spot. I wonder if I shoved my rod far enough up into you that I’d actually feel my giant arm squeezing the bulbous tip as I break you in two. That would add a little more umph to my eruption – knowing I speared you like a human shish-kabob!” I figured if the big man didn’t actually end up cracking me to pieces I would definitely require the help of a chiropractor over many visits to get my back into some semblance of its original alignment. I was like a flimsy toothpick on the verge of splintering in this man’s thickly muscled arm and he knew it. Dark spots were starting to form in my eyes and I accepted that everything would be going completely black pretty soon – either from unconsciousness or death. I tried to suck in some air, but his arm was just too powerful. He was applying pressure on my body that you’d usually reserve for bulldozers, a herd of elephants ramming into a small tree, or those machines that smash cars into little boxes. One pleasurable part of being compressed like a discarded crumpled Kleenex was that the guy’s enormous hard cock was slammed against my ass crack so tightly that I got a glimpse of what it would be like to be plowed by his huge member. That was truly keeping me alert for a lot longer than either of us expected – the feeling of his huge tool prying my cheeks apart as his powerful gun pull so tightly that my torso was beginning to feel almost paper thin. “I should so finish you, dweeb, but I’m not done having fun with your little body. There are so many other bones that could be broken before snapping your back.” Suddenly, the big arm released me and my oxygen-deprived frame fell to the ground – a blob of gasping frailty. It was good to be alive, but I immediately missed his powerful arm showing off its strength and his huge teasing cock ramming into me. I couldn’t move – at all. At first I thought it was because I was paralyzed – that he had actually broken my spine - but then I realized it was actually because his giant foot was pressing against my lower back and ass. An equally impressive size-16 shoe had replaced his huge piece of meat and I loved the feeling it gave, just as much. I couldn’t have pushed my body up from the floor for anything in the world. The pressure from his humongous leg pushing down through his foot was ten times greater than that of his enormous arm. I suddenly realized I’d be a goner in mere minutes – his foot easily smashing my body to smithereens. “Oh god . . . fuck yeah . . . feel how my giant foot squishes your pathetic body against the floor. I’m barely putting any pressure on you and you couldn’t move to save your life. You’re nothing but a little cheaply made toy ready for me to destroy it with no effort at all. Oh fuck . . . that . . . gets me . . . so . . . hot.” I didn’t understand his staccato patterned speech until I felt the giant foot rocking back and forth roughly against my back and ass. It suddenly dawned on me that the big man was busy pounding his meat. I could hear his fist flying up and down on his hard shaft – the guy was intensely turned on simply because his massive foot was stomping me like a bug. His breathing was now so hard that I could actually feel wafts of what seemed like hot air blowing against my back as he exhaled – and his head was over six feet from my body. He was a bull blowing steam while it charged. The pressure from his foot was beyond unbearable. I could feel my body starting to be compressed into something that would eventually be unrecognizable. Pain seemed to be taking over every part of my being – even the pieces that weren’t under being crushed. “I . . . unh . . . unh . . . could so . . . oh fuck . . . squish you . . . unh . . . unh . . . like a . . . fucking . . . ant!” My back began to make crackling sounds like some kind of children’s cereal. I was ready for total submission – the dreaded ending - and then the intense pressure suddenly stopped. My body still ached unbelievably but I could tell that something important had caused the big man to pull his foot slightly away. That’s when I heard and felt the spattering of something thick and warm hitting my back, neck, ass, and head. The huge dude was shooting off like some large gaudy fountain in a Roman piazza. I felt like I was caught in a torrential thunderstorm where huge hot raindrops were smacking hard – everywhere - around me and on me. The loud howl released from the giant beast, coupled with the waterfall of cum, caused me to suddenly shoot off like a cannon, as well. My weakened body was not too destroyed to blast out an eruption to match that of the dominator above me. My ass shot up off the floor as my stomach sucked powerfully inward so my cock could spew forth a tsunami of thick juice. I cried out forcefully, as well, but my animalistic growl sounded like a purring kitten compared to the big man’s ear-splitting orgasmic moan. Pellets of his dense-as-a-milkshake cum continued to whack down around me long after my body finished ejaculating. It seemed that even this man’s semen was much more robust than mine – as if orgasms were proof of our size difference, as well. Finally, the bull’s breathing returned to something close to normal – for a beast as big as him, that is - and his giant foot nudged my side roughly. “Go get yourself cleaned up, punk. It’s your lucky day. I spared your weak little bones the fate of being crushed into fine dust. I’m feeling generous.” I kind of painfully half-slithered half-crawled to the bathroom down the hall – and washed off my abused body, amazed at the amount of dried he-man paste that plastered my back. The semen seemed hard as cement as I tried to scrub it off – another bizarre testimony to the man’s virility. I could see bruises starting to form across my chest, ribcage, and back. I also knew I’d be sore for a few weeks. When I came back into the living room the big dude was already chugging down his third beer – still standing huge and nude at the bar, which snaked proudly from a corner of the room. He was one of the biggest and thickest thugs I’d ever seen – with arms that resembled beer kegs and a chest with enough hard meat that I was only able to get my arms halfway around his body when we hugged. He turned his face toward me as I walked in and I was again struck by the fact that the guy was brutishly handsome – in the same way some people found pit bulls cute. When he spoke it was louder than he needed to be – as if he couldn’t control his voice the same way he couldn’t control his muscles. “How much do I owe you?” “A thousand.” “You are worth every penny, dude. You’re simply amazing.” “I told you you’d like the foot thing, big man. I knew it would get you off.” “How do you know me so well?” “It’s my job to know what makes my clients happy.” “I wish you’d let me be your only client. You know I don’t like sharing you.” “Not this again, bruiser. You know I hate it when you start talking this way.” I was over by the chair now – using it for balancing as I put on my shoes. He was staring at me in that puppy dog way I knew so well and was absent-mindedly stroking his still semi-hard cock, probably re-living the intense fun we had just had in this very room. “Can I see you again tomorrow, honey?” “I don’t know, big man. I’m starting to think you’re getting obsessed.” Suddenly, he was on the floor in front of me – down on his knees with his big hands latched around my now loafered feet and he was kissing both shoes wildly. I rolled my eyes at what had come to be a regular post-ejaculation plea. “Oh please. I’ll do anything. I’ll pay anything. I’ve never gotten off this much in my entire life. You make me the happiest guy in the world. I need you, man. I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t see you. If I’m obsessed it’s only because you’re the hottest thing ever. Please say yes to tomorrow night. We can go to dinner anywhere you want. I’ll even send the car to pick you up. I need you so much.” The beast at my feet was one of the strongest men in the world. It was official. He had trophies along one wall of this room in his penthouse to prove it. I’d watched him lift cars and big round stones, pull big trucks, hoist huge logs above his head, and a lot more on television numerous times. He’d always text me to let me know when he would be ‘performing just for me’ – as he liked to put it - and then he’d sign off by sending five or six smiling faces blowing kisses. He also told me to watch for when he’d reach down and blatantly adjust his big package – that was his secret message just for me and he did it every time he competed. This was his way of saying hello. I usually got quizzed about it after the show had aired – as if he were checking to make sure I had been watching. Some of the announcers on sports channels had started calling this particular moment ‘The Grab’ and many bloggers had started posting gifs of the big guy doing it over and over. This action seemed to make him more popular than any other strongman in history. “Get up off the floor. It’s unflattering. You’re acting like a love-struck elementary schoolgirl. You can pull sixteen wheelers the length of football fields, for goodness sake. We’ve talked about how unbecoming this is. If you want me to keep coming over, big man, you’ve got to get ahold of yourself. You need to act like the huge man you are.” “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m so scared of losing you.” He stood up and towered over me. His thick body oozed strength and masculinity and, yet, he was head-over-heels in love with me and that fact seemed to zap every ounce of testosterone that existed in bulging muscles. I had been able to get him to play a certain part when we were roleplaying during sex – and he had gotten really good at it – but most of the time he frantically worried that I might stop caring for him. I had tried to get him to act like the back breaking, foot stomping dominator all the time, but he couldn’t do it. He wanted to be that guy who opened doors for me, showered me with gifts, held my hand in public, and even begged me to wear matching shirts. It was a little disconcerting seeing such a behemoth cowering at your feet. I needed his attitude to match the outside package – even if just for a few minutes. “Flex for me.” He shot his huge arms immediately into a double biceps pose. My wilted cock rocketed hard in my jeans as quickly as his thick guns sprang upward with what could only be called menacing power. The dude was simply huge behind comprehension. Even his hands were massive to the point where people always said they were morphed in pictures – and yet there had been absolutely no alteration. I took him through a litany of memorized esteem boosters – a praxis of muscledom, if you will, to help him be the man I wanted him to be. “Who are you?” “I’m your colossal beast.” “And what do you do?” “Anything I want to.” “And who am I?” “My plaything.” These statements were not emitted in the bone-chilling growl he used mere minutes ago when he showered me with his cum – an eruption produced simply because he could have destroyed me with one foot. No, these answers were spoken as if he were a child trying to please a teacher. The tone of his voice and his internal demeanor was in direct conflict to the enormous guns flexing powerfully beside his much-higher-than-my head. I marveled for a few seconds at the disconnect – here was a man that could snap me in two with little effort, actually break my bones into little pieces, but his eyes and his aura were groveling for my affirmation. He was desperate for my approval - my love. I stared at his gorgeous massive body and was tempted to entice him back into a brief sexual scene where he’d dutifully play the role of a pornographic Hercules ready to rip me apart with no more energy than what is used for an afterthought. It was so tempting to have him become monster again – just to please me. There were, however, other tricks to be had that evening. There was more money to be made. “At ease, beast, at ease. I’ll let you know about tomorrow night. Maybe I can squeeze a couple of hours in with you – that is, if you promise to not throw down all this wimpy ‘I need you’ crap. Can’t you try to be the beast even when we’re not roleplaying?” “I . . . I want to . . . for you, man, but . . . it’s just too difficult. I really do need you. I . . . I love you.” “Whoa, whoa, whoa! What have I told you about letting that phrase flow across your lips so easily? You’d have us checking out china patterns tomorrow morning if it was your decision. That phrase is a sure sign it’s time for me to go. I’ll text you tomorrow afternoon, big guy. And do not – I repeat – do not start sending me love messages the second I step out of this condo. I mean it. You wait for me to text you tomorrow afternoon. That will be your sign that I am awake and ready to respond to all your bullshit. You understand me, beast?” “Yes . . . sir. Can I . . . ask . . . uh . . . one favor, though. Will you . . . um, please text me that you’ve gotten home safely?” I stood there dumbfounded by the fact that a guy who could probably smash through thin concrete walls if he really wanted to would be sheepishly asking me to let him know I had driven a short fifteen minutes on one-in-the-morning empty streets. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I’d probably see two more guys before the sun came up, so I did what I always did. I placated the guy. “Okay, I’ll text you when I’m home – but you’re only allowed one ‘sweet dreams’ reply after that. I mean it. You hear me, beast?” He nodded his head. I was at the door but he beat me opening it – as he always did. His need to please me, to take care of me was even more powerful than all of his huge muscles combined. He had now fallen into a ‘what will I do without you for the next twenty hours’ silence, which I had gotten used to. I stepped into the hallway and turned to look toward him. I needed my last image to be that of the Beast, not the love-sick puppy.. “Right arm” He immediately flexed the humongous gun hard – as if his life depended on it. It was a magnificent display of masculinity and strength. I shook my head a little. I was baffled by the fact that someone who could toss my entire body around as easily as most people bounced a beach ball in their hand could be so desperate for my affection. His arm clearly looked like it should – like it possessed the power I knew it did. It was wild to know that his strong gun could easily break my bones into tiny fragments and, yet, it would never ever cross this guy’s mind to actually hurt me. He simply played a role because I ordered it, because I knew it would help him get off. I turned and walked toward the elevator, knowing the massive beast-puppy was following – like a giant shadow thrown behind me by the bright lamp in the hallway.