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  1. A normal day would have a phenomenal ending for Tyler. Walking to work, suddenly he was struck by a viscous liquid, it dropped in him with the power of a waterfall, and it didn’t stop falling from the sky. The goo was hot and burnt his skin, causing him to suffer greatly. He screamed, but no one could listen to his pleas, quickly the sound of his voice got muffled by the primordial soup that was covering him. The more he tried to free himself, the more the goo glued to his body, he tried, but it made matters worse, until he fell on the floor and got immobilized by that thing. He thought he was going to die at any moment: the pain was excruciating, and yet, he didn’t. What’s more, he was still conscious. He kept feeling the pain, and yet he couldn’t move or scream anymore, he was powerless to prevent what happened next. The goo started to corrode his clothes, layer by layer. Feeling baffled by seeing his coat, his shirt, his pants, being reduced to ash, slowly but surely, he prayed that no one could see him in such a sorry state. Finally, his trousers were destroyed, and he was naked. And then, in free contact with his skin, the goo started another chain reaction, one that made him grow. The chemicals his body was infused in changed his composition step by step. He started to grow, his chest expanded and got more and more robust, dense, strong. His abdomen was flat before, now was starting to reveal itself more and more sculpted. As his skin kept on burning from the contact with the goo, his arms grew stronger, bigger, and so did his shoulders, that would slowly compete with space and prominence with his ever more powerful neck. His face hardened, his jaw was reformed, so were his eyes, that acquired a tough expression. His cock was awake, stimulated by the composite, and as he felt pain, he also felt an incredible pleasure. He was experimenting something indeed prodigious. He was being remodeled, his arms so veiny and thick, his skin being hardened by the formula, he could barely see beyond his strong pectorals now, when looking down, he couldn’t see the spectacle that were his abs, but he could see his cock, big as it was, dripping pre that was mixing itself with the solution. Tyler was changed, so much he wondered if he could still call himself Tyler, so muscular, so... powerful, was he even a human at this point? “Fuck, I’m huge” was the first thing he said when he could start moving again. His strength allowed him to awake, even if he was still covered in a cocoon of goo. He contorted several times, adjusting himself. Pain no more, was pure pleasure and raw male power, the goo, from an enemy, was now a dear friend, covering him like a blanket of power, that primordial soup was a soup indeed, providing him with nutrients to grow ever stronger. He forgot about his work entirely, the only thing he could think of was of how strong he was, how his muscles were hot, how he wanted to fuck. His deeply sensitive dick needed not many stimulus to arouse to its fullest, and yet the blanket was a whole new experience, he playfully shook his cock and ass, contorting, moving frenetically just to improve his momentum. He caressed his cock with his now muscular strong hands, moving his fingers in the head, growling and roaring in absolute bliss. As he roared, he noticed his voice deeper, like a growl of a monster that he now was. He was growing more and more conscious of the fact indeed he was a monster now, a creature of powerful muscles and raw primitive strength. He was not sure of his name, he could only vaguely remember his old life, his focus was on his body, his cock and the streams testosterone flowing inside him. At the end of this extraordinary process, the goo, now soaked with his seed, got absorbed by his body, making him grow even further, making his skin get a silver hue. This was his rebirth. Tyler no more.
  2. The fall of the sun stone monastery By Big-Zargo It was a great morning for me and my master Sir Rowan of mourning rise mountain. Sure, it was foggy and gloomy as we made our way to the Sunstone monastery, but we had won a great victory against the witch of the tarnish woods. She was using her file magic to corrupt children and transformed them into red caps who would server her. It was a hard fought battle but the one and were able to save the villages from her tyranny although they were few children who are too far gone to be saved we were able to save most of the children from becoming red caps. I looked at my master he was riding a white horse named Don and currently wearing a light chain mail armor brown leather boots, gloves and helmets. He carried his sword on his waist and his shield on his back his warm brown eyes were looking forward onto the road. We rode quietly for a few minutes as we made our way to the Sunstone monastery and tell Rowan’s face turned around towards me. “Tom my boy, I think it is time to talk about your knighthood. I have watched you grow from a quiet boy into a strong young man, and I think you’re ready for the vowels to the bright one,” Rowan said with a deep kind voice in a serious tone. “I don’t know if I’m ready for my vowels Rowan. I can feel the power of the bright one, but I have not heard one of his messengers speak to me,” I said with sadness in my voice. “I cannot speak for the bright one, but I believe that you’re ready. You just need some more confidence in yourself. I believe you and Theodore should travel to the mountain circle to check on those wizards for me it’s been awfully quiet up there, you two should check on them,” Rowan said with confidence.” “Why must I bring Theodore with me, Rowan? I’ve been Theodore is a nice monk of the Sunstone monastery I don’t think he can make the trip to the mountain circle,” I said with confusion and annoyance at thought talking to the wizards. “I know how you don’t like magic users but not all of them are evil. Magic, power and even our valves to the bright one can corrupt man we may be immune to magical corruption that we are not immune to moral corruption of our mind. I cannot stop you from listening to Sir Gabriel, but his dogged views of magic will lead many innocents to brand the stake of his blind crusade. Sorry about my miniature tirade Tom, I best answer your question. Theodore is needed because a priest of the local Temple to the bright one has died a mysterious death and Theodore volunteered to investigate the matter,” Rowan said. I stayed quiet pondering my master’s wards as in the air way closer to the monastery. As we got closer to our home, we knew something was wrong it was strangely quiet. Rowan had us stop and unmounted from our horses to that we may have on plate mail armor. Remounting on our horses we slowly made our way into the monastery. We heard a shout coming inside the stables. With no hesitation we made our way towards it the horse quickly galloped towards the stables but halfway there the forces began panicking and refusing to go forward. With no hesitation we got off of our horses and began moving forward towards the sound. We heard muffled sounds of it made her way closer. Eventually the fog parted like curtains revealing to us a horrible site. A huge muscular red demon with small red horns pointing up towards the heavens, big beefy arms and huge hands big enough to smother a human’s head in its grip, and his cock his huge monster of a cock… Dear bright one the demon had Thomas up against his cock forcing him to suck on it for that was just too big and meaty for Thomas mouth. With a grunt from the demon huge balls squeezed themselves shooting a load of its demonic cum down Thomas’s throat. He fell to the ground on his butt in a daze. “Speak of the angel and he show up here,” the demon said with a deep to my voice, while turning his face towards Rowan and me. His demonic golden eyes gazing at us with hunger and wrath. “How dare you enter our homes and defile are priests and brothers of the bright one,” Rowan said with such anger that has voice trembled. “What have you done with the other monks and priests,” I asked. I assume that I was not going to get answer from the demon, that he did. Pointing towards the fallen Thomas, we saw how he began to change. His skin had started turning red as curved horns started growing out of his head, both me and my master heard tearing sounds coming from Thomas as we saw his feet new monster feet pop out shoes. Then he had gotten up revealing to us his more changes, his green eyes now glowed like emeralds, his hair had grown back removing his Tonsure hairstyle, his monk’s robes look tight on his body and look now taller. He had quickly removed off his monk’s robes to reveal his new red muscular body, half naked with his pants barely holding on to his muscular thighs. He grinned at us revealing his sharp canines and gear quick flex of his giant muscles. It was if he had lifted boulders and fought off his life. “Who knew falling to evil of this demon… No, my master would be so intoxicating,” Thomas said with a demonic accent. I was in shock father Thomas was a strongly devout man blessed with the power of the bright one, how could he fall to this evil. Then I thought to myself if Thomas could fall to this evil than the other priests of the Sunstone monastery could fall as well or maybe had. Apparently both me and my master had the same thoughts as one each other. Rowan looked at me with a grave face and said. “You must leave this place go to the chapel of dusk-star tell the father Arthur of what happened here gets help get the order of light hammer take the horses and donkey and go!” He yelled out. I wanted to stay fight my master by understood implication, if this demon could corrupt father Thomas and his whole monastery of devout worshipers that might spread like a plague across the whole continent. I cannot let such a thing to happen and definitely since, my master will not allow this to happen now in a fight. I turned around and began running towards the horses, running from my home. But I found my path blocked by other muscular demons, William, Michael, Oliver, and Leo were all blocking my way. These once innocent people were transformed into muscular demons especially Leo, he was big and wider than the rest may be because he was in the blacksmith of the Sunstone monastery. Dammit, I didn’t want to fight these demons especially since they were my family. But I didn’t have to fight them I just had to get past. I brought out my sword and shield and started looking for opening for me to escape. I heard noises coming from behind me and knew that my master was fighting the 15 feet tall muscle demon. “I can’t let you leave here Young squire.” I slowly turned around making sure to keep track of the four demons around me. I saw a man holding a repair, who looked familiar looked to me. Especially with his black mustache and goatee and his Gerrish yellow and purple shirt. I tightened my grip on my sword as I said. “Asher the Bard, I knew something was off about use especially when you play summer sunshine during that girls funeral. That song way too upbeat for a funeral, it was distasteful for such an occasion.” “summer sunshine on the wind was Rose’s favorite songs know. She would’ve wanted me to play it as her funeral,” Asher said while nodding his head. With one lift of Asher’s left finger, I felt my body stiffened and become unresponsive. Against my will I was lifted off the ground and turn facing me to the battle between my master Rowan and the big demon. It looks like my master was winning. Although demon was not bleeding the bunch of slashing burn marks on his skin. That the bright one’s power and my master skills would fail this evil creature. With a burning slash mark on the demon’s hairy chest the fiend was pushed back up against of the stables. “Enough paladin I find myself growing weary of this battle and I find your fighting skills to be lacking,” the big red demon bellowed out. In a flash the demons burn marks healed before our eyes. Empty demonic hands suddenly are equipped with giant demonic sword on his right hand and a short blonde metal rod. Seeing this change from the demon my master switch stances to the warrior’s vigil preparing for the onslaught that was to come. the warrior’s vigil was a defensive posture with my master’s blessed heavy armor and shield by the bright one’s blessing he should be able to handle the big demon’s onslaught. It was a site to seeing my master shield tanking and redirecting the blows of the big demons giant sword while he parried the big demons rod with his sword. Each attack from the demon pushed Rowan back and back. Rowan was pushed to the limit by the demon and forced to use the full powers of the bright one that was bestowed to him. holy light began pouring off of him glowing angelic see-through wings sprouted out of his back, as he began to fight back. The demon switched out the rod for a big plane -looking shield with no adornments and the visible markings. Rowan started his counter with site cut, then a shield batch, then use morning rise technique, then fold up with dusk fall, then fold up with beard taker and a bunch of different types of martial techniques. The demon kept pace with Rowan’s onslaught with his shield and sword. Each attack from Rowan causes the demons shield to glow with the same light as Rowan and as it did so my master started slowing down. With one final cut from Sir Rowen’s sword the demons shield broke crumbling to pieces rather than being slashed in half, but as the shield falls apart my master fell upon the ground in defeat. “NO!!!!!!” I screamed out, in shock. The determination I tried forcing my body to move against Asher’s spell that had restrained me. “Well, that was quite impressive if Great-Z do not have a counter in mind the bright one’s power then Rowan would have had a high chance of winning big Billy. Still, he put up more fight than the other paladins of the Sunstone order. Now what to do with you…Hmmm…. Well at the kill you the bright one might know of our plans for this place, if you keep you just here as a prisoner is a chance you can escape or the bright one might find out. You’re not a paladin of the Sunstone order just the squire…Hmm... Know what I’ll ask Great-Z once I return to the mountain circle. I guess for now it’s best that you just sleep.” With the point of his finger in my word of power everything faded to black. When I woke up, I found myself in a dark smelling dungeon with very few lights in the form of dim torches next to me. When I tried to move, I discovered that was chained up to the wall by my arms. Before I could try to pray for help from the bright one, I heard her clapping sounds. “Clap… Clap… Clap” the torches began to glow brighter before turning blue in the darkness of the dungeon moved away revealing the scene before me. My master Sir Rowan, he was chained up as well with shackles on his wrists holding him up in the air and shackles on his feet preventing him from kicking and or moving and most humiliating of all he was naked. I recognize him by his muscular body his long brown hair that was skewing his face, especially that big scar on his right side of his thigh. I could only see the right side of my master. I turned my face to the right to see the big red demon. Now that was tied up I took a closer at the big red creature called Big Billy, as I thought he was 15 feet tall, extremely muscular big barrel chest he was peppered with black hair allover his red body, his big feet and hands were tipped with sharp black fingernails, he had a face of a brute, with a chin strap beard, no mustache long black hair tied up in a ponytail, two black small horns pointing up to the sky, demonic golden yellow eyes which may be feel fear and something else that couldn’t recognize… Wait… It was lust? That thought brought me down past the demon’s abs to his huge soft cock and big hairy balls. “Well, Well, Well look what we got here. The famous paladin of the bright one Sir Rowan of Sunstone order here to grace and bless us all with his presence,” Big Billy said in a deep sarcastic tone while walking up to the imprison Rowan. With his huge fingers he moved Sir Rowan’s hair away from his face before delicately moving his face up by his chin. “What do you want me, what do you want this monastery and what did you do to Thomas and the other monks of this monastery?” Rowan said with anger and hatred in his voice. “To answer your first question. to you this,” big Billy said. The magical gold ring appeared in his hand. I was barely able to see it, but it clambered in the light. I saw it float down to my master’s cock and slip around his shaft reaching his balls. A sling as the ring slipped on my master cried out in pain. “To answer your second and third question. I took over. With Asher’s help we were able to subvert the eyes of the bright one from this place long me to come in and start corrupting your family, transforming them into muscle fiends things to a combination of my power and great-Z’s. Don’t worry we didn’t corrupt everyone,” Big Billy said while snapping his fingers. More of the dungeon showed revealing the rest of the order of Sunstone, Sir, Kade the clover, Sir Armstrong the mighty, Sir Sam the Swift, and Sir Tybalt the Passionate, all shackled to the wall like me. While the rest of the other brothers and priests were in cages next to the exit. “As you see Sir Rowan, there are very few uncorrupted people left. I could of corrupted this whole monastery by the time you and your squire came back. in fact, I’ll let Thomas out so by the time you got here you can see your feet. To serve the muscle fiend trio as one of our muscle fiends. Great-Z is the most powerful, the most cleverest, wises and smartest of us, of course I would say the one you called Asher would be the more persuasion and charming of us. Well, you can say I’m the muscle of our group,” Billy said while flexing his left arm. “He’ll not be able to get away with this the bright one always finds a way to smite evil,” I said with conviction. “Please with little one, shut up.” with that decoration from the demon, I felt my mouth become numb. The Billy had an evil smile at the idea came to him. “I think I have the fun idea, a sexy idea. I was planning to break your friend first, transforming them into muscle fiends, but I think you be more interesting if I go for, he you first. You’re probably wondering whether that golden ring I clamped around your cock. The special magical item designed by Great-Z to corrupt paladins. Even now it’s subverting your defenses make you more susceptible to demonic corruption in particular to my corruption. By the time last of your friends will have succumbed you have been begging me to stuff my big cock up to your Virgin whole. It would be even funner and more delicious to break you first rather than your friends,” Billy said before giving Rowan a sloppy kiss. At first Rowan resisted the kiss, trying to thrash his head around it but Billy hold on his head was to firm. Eventually Rowan stopped struggling against Billy’s hold and stopped moving relaxing his body. Billy parted with the kiss, Rowan cock became erect. “What have you done to me, you fiend. why am I so God’s Dan horny,” Rowan said Panting out the words? “As we speak the rings power is subverting your divine protection and your strong will. It should take a couple days for the ring to corrupt your spirit but for a little boost from me it should speed up. Great-Z will be pleased at the results,” Billy said with sadistic grin on his demonic handsome face. To me, my master and others horror Billy forced Rowan to swallow his big red cock. My master Rowan struggled and choked on the big meat stick, before Billy let go. Instead of moving his head away Rowan began leaking at Billy’s cock starting from the head and tried making his way to the demon’s balls. I turned my head in discuss and closing my eyes. “Well, Well looks like it took longer than I thought three months rather than a couple of days. How annoying, still either your will is stronger than we thought or the ring is taking its sweet sexy time with you. You must love the taste of my cum by now. You must crave it, every time you see me, and every time you want to worship mine cock more than the bright one. Don’t you Rowan,” Billy said. I turned my face around to see my master and the demon. Rowan was still naked but time has passed his hair was clearly longer and had growing a beard. I realize the disturbing implications of Billy’s statement. If Billy has some form of time of manipulation powers, then we would be in trouble. His power would have to be massive to manipulate time. Clearly Billy was not some dumb brutes the demon had some are a lot of skills magical powers. Whoever this Great-Z that he and Asher mentioned must be very powerful indeed to control a demon with the great power. I pray to myself, hoping that the bright one would answer and sent us free alive or dead. Rowan was doing another round of cock sucking for Billy. I had no idea how many times Billy had force Rowan to suck on his cock but judging by the way my master is pleasing the demon they have been doing a lot. That didn’t know how long it would take for master to break but I pray for strength to him and myself. we Still had hope as long as the bright one lives in our hearts and long as we live, we will make it. “Is time for a test a final test for you Sir Rowan is quite simple I’ll let you leave here a live. It’s quite simple all you have to do is take your squire there and leave. I’ll even sweeten the deal for you if and your squire leave and passed through those stairs up through the monastery I’ll let everyone who has been transformed into a muscle fiend go. Free as a bird, butterfly on the way,” Billy said. With a snap of the demon’s fingers shackles holding me and my master released. I immediately fell to the ground and barely caught myself from hitting the ground face first, but I found that I could barely move as if preventing fall had drain all the strength, I had me. I heard steps coming closer to me. I couldn’t tell if it was my master Sir Rowan or the demon big Billy. All I could do was pray that it was Sir Rowan. I see it be this week if I had the vowels then maybe I could have gone away to get help. I felt myself being turned around and to my delight and horror I saw Sir Rowan; I could see blood red skin spreading across belly and thighs, the golden ring glimmered with demonic energy on my master’s erect red cock. I master easily lifted my body like I was a child in my father’s arm. Each step that my master took I could feel the ring pulse with demonic energy. The closer we got to the stairs the more powerful the forces from the ring became. Each step my body betrays me for my cock began to rise and harden. My master’s breath became more haggard as we got closer to the stairs and our freedom. I silently prayed to the bright one to give my master strength. On the way to the stairs, I heard the others give out encouragement to Rowan in the attempt to give him strength. As Rowan made it to the first step of the stairs in our freedom, we heard the demon make one last temptation. “Would it be fun if you and I plunged are hot cock down your squire’s virgin ass hole and make them squeal like a pig in heat,” Billy said. My master policy before turning around and saying. “No master his virgin ass is mine to take and ravage as I please,” Sir Rowan said in a deep demonic voice. He began walking back into the dungeon and as he did so the others uncorrupted began saying “No” in disbelief. I try to resist but had no strength to get out of my former master’s arms. Each step closer to the rising stone slab made my cock twitch and my ass hungry to be filled by Rowan’s cock. Rowan’s hands trembled as he placed to me on to the stone slab. It was cold as the grave, while in my master’s hands felt hot like the sun. He leaned in close to me and spoke. “You’re like a… Son to me, and I am p…p…pr…oud, proud of you son.” voice changing back and forth from his normal to the deep demonic I heard earlier. “I’m so…so sorry for failing you… You. I am sorry for failing the bri….Uw Fuck boy are you ready to become a real man a real muscle fiend, because I’m stuffing my fat cock down your virgin hole son. Prepare for your knighthood son.” Rowan’s voice completely shifts to the deep demonic tone as his brown eyes turn golden yellow. I knew that I must resist Rowan’s advances but a part of me always wants to obey him a part of the always wants to make him proud and by letting him ravage my ass it would make him happy. Besides I’m about to be knighted by my master. I knew the rings was now effectively, now that it was done with my master. My resolve my resistance broken by a master’s fall from grace. That was pretty hard to think when you Rowan stuffed his fat cock into my ass. at First there was pain then it blossomed in two pleasure as my master’s cock with in deep and the demonic dark magic passed through. In and out and in and out again my master went bringing me pleasure as he did so. We began to transform into our glorious forms. Rowan’s cock started growing inside me, as the dark magic flowing out the ring changing light inside so that I can handle my master’s girth. red began spreading out starting with my cock and where it touched, I changed becoming stronger. Before my eyes I started seeing my cock swelling grow as it turned red. Wherever the red spread to, on our body’s growth followed. Once brown hair became black as midnight on Rowan’s body. Already lean muscles grew and swelled as demonic fire passed through our veins. Starting with my master first, the red started from his belly and thighs and spread-out words. It had crept along reaching his pecs making them swell and grow as they turn red. He started becoming taller and wider as the red reached his neck. It had spread across his shoulders causing them to swell with the strength that could hold mountains. It flowed down into his arms starting with his biceps growing and filling out with strength then reaching his forearm with the veins popping demonic blood through them, reaching hands that’s swell, fingers growing to the size of sausages tipped with black fingernail like clause. Finally, the red had flowed up to his head his teeth sharpen, his face became more masculine, his ears grew point tips, and grew two small cone shape horns on his head. I was so fixated on his transformation that did up in those minds and tell my pecs grew on the tip of my vision. They even notice or know when my hands began massaging my big fat red cock. Unlike my master the red started out spread through my hands rather than shoulders. In fact, I had not even noticed the change in weight into my arms as to the demonic magic that was transforming me ran through my veins. The more had change spread through my body less of the old me remained. The light which would have will let me use the bright one’s power was now turning dark and as it did so, I reveled in it. The whole time as my body was going through these changes, I was feeling hot and tingly. Course I felt all the pain that didn’t matter to me all that did was the power that was flowing through my veins. Even as it had spread to my head. Black body hair started popping out all over my fiendish body peppering my barrel chest, huge arms, mighty back, plump ass, tree trunk thighs, thick calves, and my huge balls. Eventually we had to came and shot are load of cum and sealing our feet. We panted in our afterglow. Rowan moved backwards so that I can get up from the stone slab. I walked forward for a little bit before kneeling so that Big Billy could Knight me, with his big cock. Without even looking I had known that it had grown long as a sword. “I knight thee, Sir Tom Hell Knight of the Fiendish trio. Now suck my cock,” my new master big Billy said. I looked up and saw my master’s long cock shrink and split into two big fat cocks. “Now come my two knights taste your masters seed and rejoice your new freedom from their humanity,” mastered said. We began sucking on our masters’ delicious cocks, and as we did so he bestowed us more power in the form of knowledge and skills. The more we pleasured him the more he grew in our power. My former master Rowan had plenty experience of pleasure in your master and therefore was able to get more knowledge from him. I could’ve have sucked on his cock all day but eventually my master shot his delicious demonic load into our mouths. Rowan and I got up and began examining each other. We have become muscle fiends and we were damn sexy fiends. Rowan was 9 feet tall, big muscular body with the barrel chest, peppered with black hair all over his body a down pointing triangle shaped of further was on his chest, pointing down to a treasure trail that reached his cock and balls. His big muscular body was supported by muscular thighs. I had known without even looking that had the same type of horns as Rowan. I also knew that my body hair was more rounded and spread out like a bear. We both knew that we are stronger, faster, smarter, and more durable than humans, that the powers we once had or potentially could have had, were now enhanced by Fiendish trio’s power. We looked around for our next victims. Rowan could choose from any of the nights and squires from the sun stone order, while I got the priests and monks from the sun stone of order. Brother Theodore’s fat ass was looking nice and plump to me. I made my way to where the monk was held. I could smell the fear coming off of him as I came closer to his cell. Smiling I grabbed the fat pig of a man, his weight being no problem for my new string. Wasting no time, I had him on the floor on all fours. I opened his ass cheeks and with one spit on to his cherry from my demonic saliva he began to moan in pleasure. “I always knew you wanted some dick; you damn fat slut. Does all those vowels of abstinence really give you strength to resist your base urges. Well, it doesn’t matter little fat piggy I’m about to make you into big boar,” I said as I plunged my fat demon cock into his ass. Theodore moaned in pleasure as I was fucking him. Each thrust of my cock triggered him to turn red and grow, starting from his ass. I could feel his back muscles grow tighter getting bigger as his shoulders widening with growth. Red had quickly spread across his body flowing down from his torso to his limbs. His once light brown hair became black as it began spreading across his changing body. Through my connection to Theodore, I could feel his balls swelling growing bigger, his cock becoming fatter and longer dripping the last of his humanity through his cum. Each thrust I was giving him gave was stuffing pounds of muscles into his changing body. Each limb was just as thick as my even a little bit bigger with the fat covering it. When the red spread to his face and to Longhorns grew from his skull, I knew he was ready to come and finish his transformation into a muscle fiend. With the roar from both of us we came, me giving him one last growth spurt as we did some. The smell of sex was in the air as me and Theodore got up. I looked to see the master and Rowan spit roasting Sir Armstrong causing my mouth to water at the sight. Armstrong was turning out to be a big muscle fiend and he was almost done as well with his new massive demonic body. he was going to be 11 feet tall by my estimate and wider than Rowan and me. I decided to look for my next victim among the sun stone order. I found that they were broken or stirring to break, some of the priests and monks were starting to masturbate as our glory some even begging to join us and who am I to say no to that.
  3. Jason, not being able to have its old dormitory anymore, got a new one, next to Nik’s. He was referred as unit 02 now by his former colleagues. When questioned if he preferred to remain as a part of the lab team or join the ranks of the army, Jason chose the latter. Some would say that this was thanks to the mental conditioning of the transformation, but the truth is, Jason was finally being able to live the life he always wanted. Turning into a superhero, having all the muscles, and having a friend, a friend in Nik. They would train separately at the beginning, but thanks to Jason’s conditioning, his new abilities and military knowledge, all of them acquired in the transformation, he would soon catch up, being next to his dear friend also in his military life. Acting like a machine of war in the trainings, both of them. Nik would still wear uniform, but Jason felt more comfortable naked, wearing only his dogtags, feeling the air passing through his new overly sensitive body. Outside of training, they were both the same as before, except for having got a taste for wrestling and other displays of physical prowess. Jason and Nik were dear friends, would talk constantly and as they got to know each other further, they grew further in love. Their sex was not as frequent, they still felt awkward about it somehow, only for special moments, even if, with time, those special moments had a smaller gap. As the transformation raised their sexual desire, both were still tattering on masturbation, something none were very familiar with before. Was a new life for both, and a new reality they would explore together.
  4. They both kept on seeing each other on Wednesdays, when they could, chatting through and through, and Jason wasn’t distracted from his doings, the guy was so good at multitasking! They chatted through, Nik made himself comfortable at the control panel, a place he shouldn’t be, but he had Jason’s trust. As he chatted, he analyzed the buttons, and something that was lurking his mind started taking shape. He looked at Jason, and looked at the surroundings, talking, analyzing, thinking. One Wednesday, as they chatted, Jason went to see something at the chamber. But Nik was still around, much to Jason’s delight. ”Now, you can keep on chatting, I am listening, nice to see you, Nik, always is” Jason went to the chamber and was just doing small maintenance, just doing what was procedure. A clicking noise, the door shut. He noticed when the chamber closing, encapsulating him. He noticed Nik seating at the control panel, thinking, and yet his hands at a black button. ”Now now, I can see the chamber closed by mistake, no problems, it will just be hard for me to listen to you! Could you press this button right there, to open the door? Or are tou expecting me to tear it off with my bare hands?” Silence between them. Jason chuckled, a bit nervous. “What are you doing, friend? Aren’t you going to help me?” “I will” said Nik, after a weird pause. “I will” Before Jason could notice, Nik clicked a button, but a big, red one, and it started. The chamber announced the beginning of the procedure number 002. It hummed, heated, was getting ready to go. The new transformation. ”What is going on? Nik! NIK! There is a failure on the system! You gotta stop this!” “I’m fulfilling your dream, Jason, you can thank me later, brother.” ”What?! No!! Forget what I said that day!! No!! Please, help me, please! Don’t let this happen! PLEASE, NIK!!” The chamber started to fill with a gooey warm liquid, and Jason was desperate trying to escape it, until it reached him, and he started to scream, in panic, his clothes getting soaked in that mush of hypertrophic solution. He could barely listen to the outside now, the chamber was preparing for the procedure. Humming louder. The sound louder and louder, suddenly, a voice, an eerie voice, telling to Jason to comply. Telling to Jason he was an obedient soldier. Telling him to be a good patriot. To fulfill his duty. The chamber was filled with that liquid, and Jason felt dizzy. He barely could move anymore, all of him was completely covered in the liquid, surrounded by it, floating in it. Then, syringes got close to him, and violently injected in him their infusion. It hit him. A tube was inserted in his nose, a special gas, the Altering DNA substance was infused in the liquid, he could barely scream. It started. Knowing something was wrong, very wrong, but unable to fight against it. As much as it hurt, he couldn’t fight against it. Jason started to react to the huge amount of chemicals he was infused in, he grew. slowly but surely, he could feel his bones slowly reassembling already. He could feel his heart beating at his chest deeper, and deeper. He felt a dumb pain, like someone was taking his spine off his body by force, but there was nothing to do. Fight, he was unable to fight against it, it began. He opened his arms, and they responded, they started to grow wider. In stature, and in musculature, more and more, he could feel his chest expanding, becoming harder, thicker, stronger, like a rock, like marble, like titanium, he could feel the fibers of his abs strengthening, coming to surface, he was growing, no turning back. His clothes were starting to feel tighter, his legs, growing apart, his penis opening space in his trousers. He was feeling an indescribable pain, but he couldn’t express it, being half paralised by the formula inside him. His clothes were ripping apart in slow motion, his body was being exposed further, that lab assistant was being transformed, slowly reassembling turning to something else. He could hear the messages of the chamber inside him. Duty. Honor. Fight. Assert. Defend. He in the beginning would mumble, with every inch of strength left in him “no, no, no” until he wasnt anymore. With his bare hands, crush the enemy. So strong. Getting Bigger now. Bigger. His body reached a new rhythm of growth, still in pain, he started to experience a weird pleasure, his face contorted, his spasms became deeper and intimidating. His abs, o his abs, first just a hint, but now getting so thick, so muscular, so veiny now! Bigger, yes, bigger! His legs were growing apart, his dick tearing his trousers, reducing them to shambles. His abs and pecs, reduced his shirt to nothing. And with his strong arms, thick, indescribable. He was entirely naked on the chamber, safe for what was left of his lab coat. He opened his eyes, at last. When he could move again, when he could feel again, he was angry, he was in lust, he felt pleasure, he could barely touch his own cock, but the testosterone made his whole body sensitive, he was leaking precum, that was mixing itself with the solution, he was with his now big veiny cock hard, he roared. he was reborn. And then, Nik, finally fully embracing what he did to his friend, went a step further. Adding something else to the formula, Jason grew further, with his chest so expanded now, so glorious, so big. His bones reassembled, horns came out of his head, his eyes were deeply changed, various lenses in it, like a mighty insect. His arms grew, and were reassembled, like so much in Jason. He was growing bigger, stronger, crossing the line, he was reborn a soldier indeed, with his growing scales in his body, replacing his skin, his golden carapace surrounding and replacing his skin, deeper and deeper changes, further and further. It was done, Jason was no more, Nik fulfilled the dreams of that previous lab assistant, turning him into a mighty Herculean demigod. Stepping outside the chamber, when it was done, finally, he roared. “My brother in arms. Look what you’ve done to me! Look at the glory in which I was reborn” “We were equals before, but now we are one” Strong words. Silence. They looked at each other awkwardly at first, but realizing, how much they would do for each other. Nik would crush mountains for Jason, and Jason would swim oceans for Nik. Brotherly love, and a growing, weirdly at first, but growing, a physical love, they were mend together by the metamorphosis, they were mates now. Nik came to him and they hugged for long minutes. “You are my brother in arms now, my equal, Jason. We are one” ”Look what you’ve done. I am a beast! Tremble o world, for you’ve witnessed my glorious transformation!” They roared, and again looked at each other, now in a confident way, and again Nik put his arms on Jason’s powerful shoulders. “Not bad” ”Nik...” ”In such a small space of time you have done so much to me, I want to give it back. I have given you my gift. Make full use of your strength.” And then, slowly, they kissed, crossing the line of friendship, becoming partners. They explored each others bodies, touching its metalic nips, touching its abs, caressing their cocks with tenderness, discovering each other, further and further in love. Jason then laid down with Nik, and both played with each other’s cocks, masturbating each other as a fulfillment of their love. Later that day, after the scientists had to admit there were many breaches in security to address, Jason and Nik were at each others arms, sleeping deeply, enjoying their new power, and their love and deep care for each other. Jason hugging Nik like he could crush him. Their dogtags touching each other. They were one. —————————————————— Completely Optional: If you’d like to see more on the transformation process of my stories (which is not 100% what Jason went through, but it follows the same pattern) the link for it is Here
  5. Here we follow the transformation of Subject 0, from an average guy to a sublime soldier. I am not the best illustrator and I’m aware of that, but I want to use the best of my abilities to, step by step, portray this transformation, one that is repeated throughout my stories. I will start here and continue on the comments. 1-Infection: On this stage the transformation sets in, the pain is excruciating, the muscles grow slow, most of the action is held on the blood, where the formula spreads and reproduces itself, indeed infecting the whole body;
  6. kindertentgg

    Skate tf

    Saw this pass by: “Hey dude watch where you are walking!” One of skaters yelled at Mike when almost hit him with the skaterboard while he was performing an amazing trick. The others skater clapped their hands and started to say “him him him” Mike was afascinated and turned one by this guy. He was shirtless with long hair and a cocky grin. “Hey Bro, you are watching me deeply, do you want to try my skaterboard?” Mike was caught off guard by this question. “N-no no thank you. I’m not ab-” “C'amom dude! Let me see” The skaters come close and a strong smelly odour started to spread. It was very hard to not smell it. Mike felt a bit dizzy. He wouldn’t wanted to appared rude so he don’t moved away. “Again t-thank you but..” “Bro don’t be shy” He raised his armpits and the smell become ten times more strong. “Bro you are making things very annoying. Come near a smell my armpits I want to have anothers skater dude” Against his brain screaming to escape he went closer to his armpit and begging to take deeply breath. Which every one make his mind dizzy more and more.. His pecs started to build up: from being soft become a six packs. His arms and legs become toned and muscular. His short hair growth out and become blonde. He felt his brain melting. “Bro what the fuck is happened?” His voice was more deep and masculine. “Nothing bro. I only helped you to discover your true self. Now you are a true skater” New memories started flowing in his mind: skating everyday with his bro, partying and have sex. Every new one erased slowly his old self. Mike looked again at his bro but this time he found no interest in him. And why he should? He was a cool straight skater guy no some fags. “C'amom bro let’s go hunt some chicks!”
  7. Chapter 1: "Dusk of One Day, Dawn of Another." After a couple of failed attempts to write something half decent, I’m delighted to finally share with you the opening chapter of “The Devil By My Side”. Originally posted on another site, I decided to share it here. It's not entirely about muscle growth, but it does play a part in several chapters. It was co-written with a wonderful and talented friend of mine who; working together we've attempted to come up with a story we think is exciting, compelling and entertaining, and so, we hope you enjoy reading chapter one as much as we enjoyed writing it. All teenage characters are at the late stages of puberty, use of the word “boy” or “child” as a description is used to signify the advanced age of a demonic entity. Most of the individuals that call upon my kind often do so seeking something. A prize, a reward, a deal. They expect of us, try to make bargains and deals, but this… I could tell from the second he began reading the incantation that this was different. I suppose you could describe it as someone lightly tapping against a windowpane, not that my domain has windows; that’s how it started. But from the instant I felt him calling to me, I could feel that he wasn’t really seeking… anything. A grin crossed my face and I pondered internally: “A summoner without cause, how unusual”. Of course, many have tried to bring forth me and my brethren throughout the years - doubtless you may have read the stories told of people who succeeded, but none have ever done so with such a lack of direction; a lack of desire or need. And it was that that made me curious to answer his call; he’d barely even considered the requirements for a summoning; the rituals and pageantry, but those are the requirements we set for those who place requirements on us. This, was an unconditional invitation to the human world. The words tumbled lazily and mispronounced out of his mouth, but even if he was unable to pronounce my name correctly at the moment, I was certain that given time, it would be carved into his mind. And so, ever the courteous guest, I decided to answer the call. A blinding flash of light poured into my eyes and instinctively I held my hand above my face to shield them; within moments I adjusted to the glow of the late evening sun dappling through the trees. “What the fu… where am I?!” I heard a voice cry, I lowered my gaze to see the Mortal facing away from me. He turned in position trying to find his bearings and as he did, our eyes locked. A look of horror as he took in my visage; from the charred grass circling my feet up my sculpted body and back to my face. His breath quickened. “Are you…?” He quizzed, the words failing to leave his mouth. I remained staring at the youthful male, he seemed as confused as I was. “Why did you call me to this place” I rumbled. “Wait… what?!” He stammered. “I….. I didn’t. I was just reading. Who are you?! And where are my friends? A minute ago, I was in the basem… I didn’t summon you… I don’t even know how to…” The panic rose in his voice as he continued to speak - I took a step forward. And he instinctively took one back. “Please don’t kill me! Please… I’ll just leave…” he cried. I took another step. He jolted backwards, his back pressing against one of the towering trees surrounding us. “I won’t tell anyone.. you certainly don’t need to hurt me.” I stepped forward once more, narrowing the gap between the two of us. “Please!” He wailed, his eyes becoming glassy. “Whatever you want… I…” “Silence, child!” I roar. “Are you always so quick to cower?… it sickens me.” I sneer I take the final step towards him, leaving only inches between us. He flinches, pushing himself as far away from me as he can. Fear flushes through him; and I relish in being so fearful. I snap my fingers and behind me, the ground rumbles and groans. Grass and soil shifting upwards and hardening into a coal-black seat. Sitting down I maintain eye contact. “Seems to me, young one, we’re in an unprecedented situation.” I murmer. "Please Sir… err… Mr. Demon, Sir… don’t kill me. I don’t want to die. I’ll do anything you ask of me. Just please, spare my life!” He nervously pants. I stare at him continually, then I begin to chuckle. “You are in no position to make any demands of m…” The words catch in my mouth, it’s typical to lie when entering into a contract with a summoner. But this time, there’s no need. “Yes…” I allow myself a moment to consider the situation; my mind gleefully races. He looks at me, fear his your eyes but a look of confusion. “If there is no contract… then I am unbound.” I muse to myself. Thoughts continue to rush through my mind. Suddenly I snap my attention back to the youthful Mortal and laugh a hearty, deep sinister laugh. “You made no demands. No requests. No bargains or deals.” I summarise. “As such, I owe you nothing. And so, you are of no use to me.” My eyes flare with an infernal crimson light. I fix my focus into his eyes… my intent is to destroy him, to engulf his brain with flames inside his skull. Destroying the one witness of my arrival and only creature in this realm who might know of a way to banish me. But, the second I try I feel a shooting pain across my skull and cease immediately. ‘Wh… what just happened?!” The mortal asks, stunned. I grasp my brow and rub the surface “The pain…” I groan. Inside the mortal’s head, a thought compels him to start running. “Go you moron! Don’t just stand there! Run! Run for your life!” But as his inner voice screams at him, he finds himself moving forward. “Why am I moving forward?” He questions his actions. “Why am I not running away?” But his curiosity has taken over and he continues inching closer and closer towards me. As he nears me, I once again feel the urge to harm him, before he harms me. I sharply extend my arm and wrap my hand firmly around his neck. A smile of triumph painted onto my face. But, as I squeeze, I feel the pressure within my own throat - the harder I force myself, the less I’m able to breathe. As my lungs start to burn, I drop the boy. We both collapse to the ground, coughing and spluttering; gasping for air. I manage to choke out the words “If I were you, mortal. I would run.” The voice in his head urges him to heed the creature’s warning and go, try to save his life. But for some reason he simply didn’t want to move. He should have feared for the safety of his friends, he should have been at least a mile away by now, but he simply couldn’t ignore a second voice in his head which had been teasing him for some time now: “Why can’t he hurt me? Why does he feel what I am feeling? When he tried to squeeze the life out of me, he nearly succeeded in killing himself”. He couldn’t go. He was too… curious to go. He’d almost died on the spot when the Demon had tried to choke him, but one thing was clear to him. The Demon couldn’t harm him. "You can’t hurt me demon!” The Mortal shouted. “There’s nothing you can do to me.” “Perhaps not physically, boy.” I snapped back. “What?!” He froze “What do you mean?” I stare at him.. my healed and pain-free mind is literally racing. I have never encountered a human who can’t be harmed. Mind you, I’ve never encountered a human… in this domain. Which reminds me… there’s a whole world out there for me to explore now! And so I grin at the small mortal. “In time, you and the rest of your kind will witness precisely what I mean. But for now, you’re not worth my attention, child. So take your good fortune, flee and be thankful for it.” I turn from him and begin striding away. The soil beneath my feet a welcome reminder of my newly found freedom. But as our distance widens, I begin to feel as if I’m wading through the river of Styx. Each step becomes more and more of a vigorous effort. I look back over my shoulder and see him continuing to stare at me. With every ounce of strength in my powerful body, I take one further step and in the corner of my eye, I see him stumble forward. With each energy sapping footstep I see his body dragged across the ground in my direction. Nearing exhaustion I stop. “No.” I groan. “No it can’t be.” The realisation is dawning on me. “YOU!” I snap at the boy “What hex have you cast upon me?!” As he watches the Demon trying to leave in vain, the human heard him yelling and he thought about the situation quickly. His mind tried to rationalise: ”He can’t run away from me. He can’t harm me. I summoned him. Accidentally, yes.. but he made it out of Hell just because… I called him out. I told him to come here…” A crazy idea pops into the boy’s mind. He raises his head and locked eyes with me. “Hey you! Demon!” The boy cried. “Kneel!” A wave of anger flushes through me “I KNEEL FOR NO ONE!!!” I roar back. But, in the darkest parts of my being, as he spoke the words… I did feel a compulsion. The boy, without even thinking, opened his mouth and yelled once more: "Oh you will kneel for ME! YOUR master! I summoned YOU! You are here thanks to me!” He bawled.” Now you have to do as I command you! I know you’re unable to harm me, which means I must have some sort of power over you! So when I say kneel. YOU - WILL - KNEEL!” As he howled the last word, I felt the earth shudder beneath my feet. The idea enters my mind. Not from my own will… but I can feel it… his anger, his desire, his will pushing into me. And so I resist. I fight the overriding desire to kneel to him. But I feel my body quiver. In horror I watch as my legs fold under me. I fight again. Pushing my obvious supremacy back against his request. But I sink lower. Before I can take stock of the situation, I am on bended knee. Eyes to the ground. I raise my head and am instantly shocked at what I see. The boy was kneeling too. In that instant, we are a physical mirror of each other. And he appeared just as shocked as I was. A smile crosses my face again. “That didn’t seem to work as you intended, did it… ‘Master’?” “What is happening?!” The boy panicked internally. "Why am I kneeling? That shouldn’t be… What has he done to me?”The fear flashing across his eyes. “Seems to me, ‘Oh Glorious Master,’” I smirk, “that you and I, are bonded.” “What the hell does that mean?!” The Mortal snaps. I take a second to consider the question and the grin on my face slowly fades. “Honestly…? I don’t know.” “How can you not know?!” He blurted. “As I said earlier, young one, we are in uncharted territory here.” I begin. “When a summoner calls upon a demon, they do so with intent…. so what did you intend, boy?” The boy stops. His memory trying to recall. “When I read what was on the paper, I didn’t have any intent whatsoever.. I didn’t even know what it was!” He cried. “I simply came here tonight with my friends because the guys said this place was abandoned - I like spooky tales… I wanted to go on an adventure and explore the supernatural with the guys.” “That! There!” I realise. “That’s it.” “What’s it?!” He quizzes. “I don’t understand.” “You… desire to belong.” I ponder. “These ‘guys’, you desire to be in their company?” The boy breaks my gaze. He looks awkwardly at his feet. “Well… yes… I do… I really do… but it’s… not so simple.” I look blankly at the youthful mortal. “Calling them ‘friends’… isn’t accurate.” He continues. “They’re actually bullies - they’ve mistreated me since I started high school. Always said that I was weak, a ‘pussy’.” He grumbled. “Today, when they dared me to go there, I thought ‘well, tonight we are gonna see who’s the pussy!’ I was sure a bunch of muscle-heads like those guys were all tough on the outside, but in reality had issues and complexes as every other person on earth!” I looked at the pitiful boy, “You thought that would win their friendship?” I chuckled. “You wanted…. a friend?” “To be honest, I wanted to be more than just a friend to those guys…” He replied as I shifted from kneeling to sitting on the ground. “Go on…” “Well… you see… I have realised for sometime now that… I’m not interested in women… I’m attracted to men. Those guys played a major role in that. Since I can remember, they’ve treated me like shit, as if I was their inferior - as if I was someone who simply should worship them - for they were the prime males of their world, the top dogs, the alpha men. They have been calling me faggot for years now, humiliating me in front of everyone in the school: In front of my classmates, in front of the teachers. They have been accusing me of ogling, staring at their muscles and their… packages.” The truth poured out of the young human. “To be honest, I tried to become like them, do some sports, put on some muscle, but the coach didn’t believe in me and put me in the locker room cleaning up after his boys’ mess. And there was the first time I felt it. They were always showing off their muscled bodies, accusing me of being a faggot looking at them, desiring them, wanting to suck their cock and clean their sweaty muscles with my tongue… well… that was my world, and, if you spent year after year waking up and going to sleep having all this in your head playing over and over again, I assume even if it weren’t true, eventually it becomes your reality. And that’s how I started falling in love with them, looking at them undress in the lockers, smelling their pungent stink after every practice, seeing the sweat dripping off their shirts and compression shorts…. I wanted to be everywhere they were. After a certain point, I stopped caring about their insults, I simply didn’t care as long as I was close to them, seeing them, smelling them… And that’s how I ended up here, tonight, sitting…. wherever the hell we are…. talking to a demon.” I took a moment to look at the boy from head to toe. Most people who had disclosed what he had would do so with a sense of self-pity or shame… but in him… it was almost like he was indifferent to it. Like he had accepted his role as an inferior so entirely… and it didn’t sit well with me. “So, that’s what the whole ’kneel’ matter was about? You trying to dominate?” I pondered.“I still don’t see how that would bond us.” I mused aloud. “Perhaps I’m not supposed to.” I rose to my feet; and offered the young Mortal a hand up. “He works in mysterious ways.” I smiled. “God?” He asked. “No… the other guy.” I grinned, pointing a thumb down. The boy stared at my two softly glowing eyes as he extended his hand towards the demon. “So you don’t want to kill me now?” “Something tells me it would be best for us both for me to not.” I take a chance to breathe deep. “Besides, it might be best to have someone who knows much of the human world.” I smiled. “Especially if I’m going to claim it.” The colour seemed to drain from the boy’s face “’Claim it’?! You mean, you want to own the world?!” “Well now, see here’s the thing. As you summoned me without condition… I have no need to return… down there.” I stroke a hand tenderly down the young mortal’s face. “And I’m going to need a helping hand to make myself comfortable here. You’ve told me what you want with your ‘friends’, that’s well within the scope of possibility.” I stretch as if waking from a deep sleep. “But you’re thinking awfully small, little mortal.” “What do you mean?!” The young human asked. “A couple boys who’ve bullied you? I can look into what awaits… a whole existence of being second best; beat down, ignored and belittled.” I grasp his shoulder. “But now; the two of us… we can make this world whatever we want.” “I don’t understand. How can I, a human, help a supernatural being as you? I have no powers, no influence as a person in this world.” He speaks, panic and nervousness quickened his speech. “And why should I help you? After all you’re a demon, you say you want to ‘claim’ the world. Why should I be the one to bring damnation on the entire human race?” “You’re not getting this, are you? Little one.. you and me. We’re stuck together. Joined at the soul for the rest of eternity. And as you say - you have no power, no influence. So I guess what I’m saying is this; you’re along for the ride whether you want to be or not”. I grinned wildly.
  8. QuoteTheRaven

    Ejaaz gets Jacked Up (Finished)

    QUARY AND THE MUSCLE FAGS OF KURAI by Quote the Raven (c) JANUARY 2021 Of Quarium, all that could be shared I put forward in an ode. Chapter 1 - Desert (Sahra’) In April each year, Kurai temperatures climb to ninety degrees. They stay there and higher for half a year. - The Non-Arabs’ Guide to Kurai. A hollow concrete form in the center of the Narra al Maktoun Solar Farm 43 kilometers south of Kurai City in Kurai fills a structural role — spacing or reinforcement or something similar. The form sits invisibly amongst hundreds of acres of concrete footings and shiny black glass regiments in an otherwise barren landscape. Ejaaz Eud’laat does not know the purpose of the form, only that he has purposefully found it to shelter in its shaded interior. He swelters as he tapes reflective foil sheets to two cement openings at either end, working wall-to-wall, end-to-end, eight layers thick. The sheets block him in making it more suffocating, stifling and hot than this early July day already is. When the changes start though, the layered separation will not increase the heat, but will do the opposite and enable and protect cold. As Ejaaz endeavors at the curtaining, nerves unsteady him. They tremor his hands and intensely roil his gut. But desire pushes coveting in his veins so extreme that the rhythm of his heart pumping almost throbs aloud the needing of his efforts. He talks to himself. “You’ve done this before, Ejaaz. You’ll do this again. You can do it. You will.” When the layers of sheeting hang completed, he thinks, Get out of these clothes. Robes and keffiyeh that served his former obesity swamp off roomily and effortlessly from his coiled composition — a composition that now only strictly-dieted, intense university cricket or endurance athletics or champion swimming would have forged. He’s never done such training, though, has he. He never went for sport, fuck it, some did, but why could he never have taken to it. He does see now and feel now so palpably how worth it it would have been. He’s never put in years of those kinds of workouts — any fucking kind actually — or that disciplined, necessarily regimented, eating — The eating of the cast iron, forged iron will. He’s never cleaved himself to the half decade that would have forged this goddish muscly whippetness. Oh fuck it up, if only he had fucking done exactly that, what a jack he would have been all along, more so month by month, year by year. With the layers of sheeting and the concrete’s one-foot thickness, the space is dark now, it steams with heat. That’s too be expected — he resists the temptation to doubt how it will work. He drips with boiled sheens of fluid. The way he’s prepared the space, the change to the temperature will surely happen — won’t take long. He knows he knows that. Perspiration almost flows from his so recently chiseled jaw and rolls down his so new hard flat brown front. He takes a giant draft of ionized water. It really is the perfect environment now that it’s sealed off — what is to happen in his body will make it work — hard, foot-thick muffling and insulating walls, ultimately remote, and undiscoverable. And just how fucking remote it is, that is the key really — the ultimate reason for choosing here... oh yeah if he could be a betting man why wouldn’t he put money on that. But, fuck, he’s betting much more than money isn’t he anyway. His eyes fall to this body and he is greedy with it. It is indescribably beautiful so shredded and hard and chiseledly trim. Fuck yeah. He knows this is just the start. His eyes go also to his briefs. A snicker disrespects the member there. You’re good, baby, you really are, he thinks, I’ve been ok with you, have made you work, but really, you’re still so nothing. You’ll preen so much more, won’t you baby. Both you and muscle, when you’re both big fuck bold boys, I’ll preen you hard won’t I, fucks, you are both just part of what I’m meant for. Prior use has him to this result — improved from so pitiful, so grossly worse than average, so ignorable or really contemptible — the photo of fucking contemptible — doughy, mr full-on gigantic fat load, obese as a fucking fuck — just twenty-one days ago at 20 years old. Doses have changed him so much already haven’t they though? For sure, but changed him only because of his enduring their evil heinousness, uggghh — abiding the fucking heinous torturing violating heinousness — Allah dammit — oh well, he’s done it now — three times — but he won’t stop now — can only dream now to do it over and over and over and over and over and over again. He mouths, “I. HaVE. to.” He crouches into the wall. Remote, concrete-reduced warmth kisses the hard little sweet curvy sweat ass he has cheated himself to now. He wants it fucked right now, but thinks, Thank you. His ass is so perfectly bubbly, little, rock hard.... round. Ohh. It’s so Hard. Unnh. The location gives desolation — his torture chamber will be effectively and brutally unhearable. This jury-rigged, just-passable buffer will grow to be an ample deep freeze chamber against the outside heat, and will let cold accumulate and oh so drive the compound to work. “Fuck you,” he enunciates, knotted inside.“Fuck the fuck.” Bad language has emerged in him destroying what he was. Self-abuse, even just three doses worth, have rape-assaulted him, roughened him, made it so dirty words vulgarize the changing him — oh how they overthrow his twenty years of prissy, pussy, repressive, Arab-old-lady dictated, fucking mores. Urges ejaculate all over that fucked submissiveness, don’t they? His upper lip curls back from his teeth and his breath makes an exhaling snarl. He reaches out now and eases a vial from a cooler. “Fucker!” he spits. It is this vessel’s transforming compound that births the emerging man’s crudities. Tilting the vial, its liquid shifts between silver, green, gold, and blue. Saliva attempts to gather in his mouth, but his pouty lips crack from heat, and from both the charge and the fears. Opening it, the tube puffs a vapor cloud — a shimmering fog. “Slut,” he seethes, “I hate you,” but also he adds, “I fucking worship you, baby.” He’s so incredibly tempted to snort the Quarium, right then and there, and just have it over, just have it so that he feels...feeeEeeEeels it all here and now — euphoria, greatness, grandeur — everything. But he exerts every last tiny kernel of his too limited willpower — snorting isn’t the way. He needs what’s harder but so much more. So, instead, a syringe draws up the liquid beneath the mist. The liquid is called Quarium. “It’s go time. It is. Now is the time to go. To say go. To do it. Please! Come On. It’s go go go go go fucking go gotime to go.” The dose, Quarium loaded all behind the needle, threatens now and he points the ministration at his so alien taut trim crushingly desirable obliqued side, determined to survive and thrive, but not able to escape feeling totally in danger. He’s engaging in absolute self-deceit when he says, “This is completely safe and easy, Ejj!” What, without exaggeration, would be described as unlimited fear jarringly jitters his hand as he attempts entry and the needle jabs a slashing plunge, nothing that remotely approximates a calm, controlled pin. Nearly no part of Ejaaz’s conscious brain can register anything but anxious terror at this moment. The insertion tolerates the gross inaccuracy of his stab though and offers a still acceptable option for pushing in the dose. Just be fucking brave and do it, dammit, Ejaaz!! a shred of his will finally proffers, penetrating into the haze of his alarm. A workable command, his fingers, almost on auto-pilot, squeeze; rivulets thread continuous cold virulence into his flesh. “Yess,” he hopes to say, but more rawly what comes out is “NOOOoOOOoOoOOO!” — so emotional, so afraid at what he knows in an instant is to be intolerable excruciation. The green-silver squelches in, indifferent to any feeling — particularly the rising pulsing fear. The serum, loosened, oozes. It is irretrievable. The poison takes occupation, assumes its subject territory. Ejaaz clenches.... resistance the definition of fucking futility though. Like his prior uses, it’s possible to feel the liquid chill consuming his veins, spilling everywhere through his flesh, ignoring humanity. The blood’s additive pushes advancements depravedly into his body, pillaging, cold-raping, violating progressive landgrabs as it goes. Panic pushes Ejaaz’s stomach into his throat. Ejaaz prays if it would just spew from his mouth, oh, if only that would possibly carry this bottomless fucking fear and destruction from his body. “Oh AllAH. FUCK the great god Quarium!” he shouts. And then, because his brain is heavy already, he slurs, “You NASTY naStY nassttyt..... fu..fu...fuck-devil...” From the wall, he lists forward and then falls forward. The ripped trim body that is so very very hot — perfect long toned curved legs, cinched ripped waist, jockey shoulders, and rocking swimsuit-model arms, and all still new to him — languors out ravishingly as he smothers into the pillow of the thermic insulating sleeping bag prepared there. A deepening ice age gradually and progressively submerges him, annexing his sylvan flesh, his wiry, whippety torso and limbs, his blood, his bones, his genitals — all that had been obese, fetid, abhorrent just weeks ago. Unconsciousness claims him. **** Twenty hours pass. If unconsciousness cleft the ice shelf of his mind from the main and sank it in North Sea waters, the berg breaching the surface reawakens him. Insulated by foiled layers at the tunnels opening and the sleeping bag, while Ejaaz is gone from this world, his temperature and that in his crafted space dropped to below 0C/32F degrees. In the chamber, rime coats walls and ceiling and everything, even the foiled barrier. It’s a cold dark freezer of isolation — extreme to a degree far eclipsing even any previous shot. Brutally bare except for orange underwear, Ejaaz’s raw skinned body prostrates a heartbreaking, snowstormed, make-model purple corpse — hipbones and ribs and solidified sinews. He’s so abominalized he’s almost beyond aching — but he aches, aches gravitationally. Hoar glazes his skin and the cloth over his tantalizing pubes. Fog streams in and out of his ajar mouth. Invisible Kelvinic blades mutilate his striated flesh in the shoveling thousands. Daggering vectors spear viciously into his drop-dead skull. He can’t move, he’s so ice-tombed. “Noooo,” he whimpers, “enshallah, pleahhe.” Then he gathers his objections and yaps, “No” — A sound agonized and croaky struggles out because his vocal chords both harden in one position and because hour after hour of comatose screaming have sanded them raw. His sublime jaw mainly freezes open in place. Outside, the high unchallenged sun flames. Sand scorches about the foundations of al Maktoum, baked worse than a kiln. Concrete and steel footings sizzle. Four square miles of black glass horde sunlight then dazzle it back into the sky. How can it be so inhospitably hot when the nondescript concrete form hidden in the middle of it all shudders with the nihilation of outer space. In the tunnel, it is Quarium in Ejaaz that generates endothermic extremes, terraforming the concrete to match the exterior of McMurdo Antarctic Scientific Base upon a months-long night. Unabated by searing heat and injected instead of sniffed, Quarium molecules failed to bind to Ejaaz’s cell receptors, instead entering into his cells. Destiny now unfolds. If instead there were heat — i.e., baking direct Arabian sun — and if sniffed, it would be different. In that situation, Ejaaz’s cells’ receptors would have received the Quarium and bonded, then caused a cloning of cells to explode. A warm environment causes Quarium to make fleeting Shadowcells — desirable musculoskeletal replicas. They flourish in ratios of up to two dozen or more for each native cell. With sniffing and heat, before a Quarium user’s eyes, an Arab guy’s sweaty, perspiring body expands in girth and power with growth. Shadowcells in him proliferate as uncontrollably promiscuous as a nation’s worth of bare-assed bubbly-butted submariners occupying every square inch of a sirening 1960s erotic cartoon steamy island poster. The unbridledness of the cells’ replication rams guys’ growth — explodes them into objects of lust — sizeable, full, meaty, snorting, dripping things, like massive studs, like big bull cocks, like brimming djinns — full of libido and power — cut, jacked, huge. It happens in proportion to the Quarium and the thermic source and the guy. With extreme heat and Quarium molecules, any poxy loser becomes gorgeously muscular. Cells mass and magnificate him. They hyper masculinize him — the new found grodiness rages in a metamorphosed rippling gay or bi or even straight fagbeast who has hijacked all the trappings of ultra bodybuilding, porning masculinity while the baking heat persists. But the external heat always abates eventually and the circulatory system’s pace recalibrates, and the shadow cells subside upon loss of energy. So one ought understand: an inhaled administration of Quarium (misted up one’s nose) when done in great heat expands and then subsides. Orgasmic flexing swells into exquisite being, parades conquering raunchy triumphancy, narcisses and exhibits erectionally, ejaculates climaxingly, and then disappears as the dissipation and reabsorption of shadow cells unfold. Contemplate, a wimpy faggot sniffing Quarium with some loser friends in the dazzling Arab summer morning. See their unworked little bodies bulk up and grow fantastic before their lechery eyes. Imagine them narcissistically swept into the lording of the gigantic bodies they receive, ostentatiously wearing bikinis cut so low and so tight that they more than show off what they’ve drugged for themselves, that it reveals every aspect of what they have done on purpose — the hugening of their mountainous chests, bouldering of monumental shoulders, crowding of climbing backs and traps, rising of their incredible biceps, expansion of their enormous curving asses, and the unbelievably thick legs that stage behind awesomely transformed barely-clothed-over himbo dicks and balls. They earthquake their strength and vitality, oozing the enthrallment to feel such vast beef across their bodies, weighting them down, mountaining them up, widening them like the Ranhad T’maad span, arching them toward the sky from the great asses they have, planting them in the ground with their bridge truncheons of legs, expanding torsorally with monolithicality. They feel all these things for every minute of the Sun’s journey across the sky. And then shift to consider the late day sinking disappearance of the sun, the hot blast easing, the moisture-sparse air of an arid land not retaining the heat it has gained. Envision the gentle cooling from that. And, in conjunction, conjure the thought of thumping heart rates that release orgasms the kind of which these fuck-nothings would piss just to realize existed. They would spuge-detonate after eight or thirteen hours of oversized, so-bare-they’re-more-vulgar-than-naked raunchy foreplay. Afterward, their cumming-eased heart-rates back down from porn-horny pace. Understand that a diminished, fever-broken bloodflow brings less energy to cells, tires the hosts of those blood cells, has them doze, and know then that shadow cells in the temporary Mr. Olympians say goodbye. Over hours, the cells aerobate until a quarter day later, neither the Quarium, nor anything the Quarium dingle-servingly wrought in the sniff-poxy-pansies exists any longer. Individuals who for soul-joying hours ass-humped as gluttonous gargantuans, muscling more extremely than Grimes or Kai Greene or baby Forslin or Marcello, revert to exactly the fagstupid putrid nothing fucks they had been. But, that is not Ejaaz here, that is not him now. ———————
  9. Guest

    My gym fan

    Guys! It's my first try as a writer with absolute no experience. English is also not my first language, but I tried my best. Maybe I left mistakes here and there, sorry. Share your thoughts and leave a comment. I'mm newbie in the gym. I've started to workout because I wanted to be more confident and to look cool of course. The first steps were pretty hard, the big machines and the looking eyes. But I tried my best and after a couple of months I started to see results. My chest got bigger and I look a little bit more massive. All in all, my journey was great, except one thing. While I was working out, most of the time a guy was starring at me from the background. He was tall about 6'7, early 30s, massive like somebody who's lifting heavy since 16, brown eyes and a lots of tattoos. I don't remember a day, when he wasn't there. Did I care? Not really. I can't wait for my next session tomorrow. Tomorrow's afternoon: I was walking in the GYM, ready for a good push-day. I used my membership and went to the locker rooms. The smell of sweat and hard work, I love it. At this time, the locker room is always empty. The people who goes to work leave and the people who just got off work starts to arrive. No eyes to judge. I was walking in, when I notice somebody in the corner. Might be a left-behind businessman rushing to make money. So I make myself comfortable and change, fill my bottle and let's go. I love push-day. For start I do some bench press, always start with the compound exercises. Then some incline dumbbel flies, cable crossovers and a couple of dips. I do less, but heavy. Between sets, there is a guy behind my back. I realize, he is my mentioned fan since the start. The mirror clearly shows that he is a massive fan of my moves. He can't take his eyes of me. The same happens to me. He's chest are huge like watermelons and the nipples are in play too. Don't forget to talk about the biceps and the shoulders. Those are basically guns. He is doing deadlifts like a gorilla. I feel my crotcht slowly responding to the show, but not just mine. He likes the view too. Fortunately, I finish my last set. I wipe of my sweat and on my way to the locker room. I don't know what was that, but kinda liked it. Even tough, he is my type. I'm sure, he turned on of his own reflection, not mine. I throw down my suff on a bench and check my phone. While I'm scrolling trough Insta, somebody comes in. Here we go, the afternoon hunks. They always come in late. However, it's not the monster army. It's the guy. He is brick wall in fron of me, sweating hard. The tattoos look more defined too. I stole a moment staring at his shoulder tattoo. It's a tree, covering the whole arm. But I snap back, when he looks at me with an almost devilsih smile. -Hi
  10. Absman420

    CYCLE ONE: UNIT THREE

    “Hey everybody, this is Glenn!” “And this is Ben!” “We’re the Fortunato Brothers! And you’re watching another episode of ‘Can You Believe They Bought That Shit?’” TITLE -- THEME MUSIC “In this episode, we’re nosing in on the Storage Auction scene!” “Yeah, my brother and I took some of the profits we’ve made from our podcast this season and -- as usual -- WE BOUGHT SOME SHIT!” “What’d we get this time, Ben?” “That’s a good question, Glenn! The truth is -- I don’t know! Like everybody in the Storage Auction biz, we bought blind!” (EXTERIOR SHOT: Drone -- camera pans across the abandoned “ETERNAL STORAGE” building. There are faded egyptian pyramids painted on the storefront, symbolizing eternity -- subtly informing the viewer that they’ll own their junk forever. We can see the cracked asphalt of the old parking lot and the dilapidated condition of the building. Clearly, from the view, we’re in the middle of nowhere.) BEN (in VO): The Eternal Storage facility went out of business about a decade ago, but they never emptied it. Scheduled for demolition, “Eternal” decided to auction off the unclaimed lots, which these sorts of companies do regularly -- it’s even easier now, thanks to COVID. We bought our booty online. (INTERIOR SHOT: Hallway. Rows of storage units, resembling garage doors, run the dusty, broken down hallway. Some are open and empty, several are locked shut. The electric hall lights work by luck alone, creating a dim, prison-like atmosphere. The Buy-It Brothers are “Live” again. Glenn steps into frame.) “But you know us,” Glenn says, smiling his jowly, toothy grin at the camera. “We don’t ever buy a little shit when a lot of shit’s available!” Ben pops in frame, interrupting. “So we bought THREE of these things!” “Well, the fact is we bought an entire lot, which includes these three units, right here next to each other!” “Who knows what wonders we’ll find?” “No one till we open it. So, what do you say? Which one you wanna start with?” “Let’s start with Door Number One!” Ben says, pulling out a tagged key. As he unlocks an ancient, massive padlock that secures a chain to keep the metal “garage door” in place, his brother hogs the camera. “The fun of this style of ‘Blind Buying’ has spawned quite a few tv shows. Who knows what will be inside? Will it have value, or is it just old furniture and clothes? Is it King Tut’s tomb or Al Capone’s vault? If my brother can ever get the lock off, we’ll find out!” Smiling, Ben says, “This shit’s old!” “So’s your Momma!” Ben snorts, turning the key with great effort. “She’s your Momma, too,” he says, as the lock snaps open with a lethargic clack. “And you know she watches this show.” Ben pulls the chain out of the grating and the two of them squat down to open the sliding door. They couldn’t be less like each other, physically -- Glenn is built like a Snowman and Ben like a String Bean -- although you can see they’re related by face. And sense of humor. The hallway echoes with the sound of scraping, stubborn metal-on-metal force, as if the doorway didn’t fit correctly into its runners, as if it had been pounded out of shape. They get it up almost two feet before it won’t budge another inch. Ben, his skinny bod already used up, sighs loudly and pants. “Okay, maybe Tut’s tomb was a little easier! Want to try one of the others first?” Glenn is kneeling down, shining his flashlight into the darkness of the storage space. “No,” he says. “I can fit under this -- it doesn’t look like it’s jammed full of stuff -- lemme find the light.” “Go, Indy!” Ben mocks as Glenn slides (barely) under the stuck door. Ben gives a side-eye to the camera and whispers, “Indiana Jones was in better shape than my brother…” He harrumphs sarcastically, indicating his lean frame. “Usually, I’m the one squeezing into tight spaces, but my brother likes being the showman when the camera’s on. What’s going on in there?” he calls. “Hold on -- looking for a light. This is crazy!” “What?” Suddenly, the interior light comes on, flooding the space and leaking through the jammed metal door. “Holy crap! Get in here, Ben -- bring the camera!” (INTERIOR SHOT: Storage Unit One, about the size of a standard one-car garage, unpainted cinder-block walls with an overhead neon light. The space is full of gym equipment, not just stored willy-nilly, but set-up as if to be functional, as if someone worked out here. There’s a cable-crossover on the far end, before the mirrored wall. A squat rack on one side, a series of benches and dumbbells on the other. Dusty and cobwebbed, it hasn’t seen use in a while -- but it once did. Lots of use from its condition.) “Look at this!” Glenn says to the camera, smiling broadly. “This is someone’s gym!” Ben looks around. “Maybe some gym went out of business or something…” “No. This looks like someone used it. I mean, this stuff is set up, not stored.” He pulls a pair of 20-pound dumbbells from the rack and struggles to do some bicep curls. “Look at me,” Glenn laughs. “I’m Ah-nold!” He puts the dumbbells back on the rack with a clang that echoes through the space. His pear-shaped body couldn’t possibly look less like Schwarzenegger. Weird. “This is weird,” says Ben. “I know,” laughs Glenn. “Can You Believe We Bought That Shit?” Even Ben laughs at this. “Another mystery for the Buy-It Brothers!” he says back, smiling. “Hey, look back here! There’s a door to the next room -- we won’t have to try and open the front slider!” “Thank God,” Ben says, pulling the heavy wad of keys, chains, and rings from the pocket of his cargo shorts and dropping them on the flat bench. Behind and to the side of the cable crossover -- almost hidden to the eye -- there’s a standard gray industrial door that leads to the next unit. The knob has a keyhole, but as Glenn grabs it, the door breaks off its hinges and falls to the side, as if someone had forced their way through it and tried to put it back in place so no one would notice. “Fine construction,” Glenn jokes. “No wonder they’ve condemned this building.” “This is all very weird.” Glenn pulls the flashlight from out of his back pocket. “At least I know where the light switches are,” he says, entering the dark room. “Be careful,” Ben calls, shooting a nervous glance at the camera. He sees the light come on in the next room, but when he doesn’t hear anything more from his brother, he steps toward the door. “Glenn…?” His brother’s voice isn’t scared, exactly, but he certainly sounds concerned. “Ben,” he says, “bring the camera.” (INTERIOR SHOT: Interior of Unit Two. Ben is clumsy, so the camera is jerky as the stand is reset. This room is identical to the other in terms of construction (and lack of color), but it has a different function -- this is living quarters. At one end of the storage unit, along the wall is a simple cot with a nightstand, a lamp, and a small dresser -- a dull, circular floor rug breaks up the cement. On the other wall, a cheap recliner aimed at a crude, old-fashioned entertainment center -- a TV, a VCR and several dozen VHS tapes. Along the back end of the unit, the opposite end, a seatless toilet, a sink, and a showerhead -- there’s a centered floor drain beneath it.) Taking it all in, Ben says, “What the fuck?” Same tone from Glenn. “Can you believe we bought this shit?” “Glenn, what’s goin’ on? Do you think… someone LIVED here?” “Or was KEPT here.” There’s an uncomfortable silence, unusual between these two. To distract himself, Glenn goes to the entertainment center and picks up some of the VHS tapes. He snorts. “What?” asks Ben, turning the camera to catch Glenn. Glenn holds up the tapes to the camera. “It’s all gay porn,” he says. “And a few bodybuilding competitions.” Even Ben sighs and jokes, “Can you believe we bought that shit?” He chuckles. “Do you think any of this has any value at all?” Glenn shrugs, indicating the tapes. “They’re vintage,” he says. “And look,” he continues, turning the TV on, “TV still works!” The TV comes to life with gay porn, two muscular men in the depths of fucking. Crude and savage, the Buy-It Brothers both turn away. “Oh, Geez… turn it off, man!” But it won’t turn off -- Glenn hits the power button any number of times, but the TV keeps on keeping on. “It won’t turn off,” he says. “Looks like it’s gay porn to infinity!” Ben side-eyes the camera. “Unplug it,” he says, which Glenn acknowledges and pulls the plug from the wall -- the TV stops, mercifully. They’re spooked enough. Glenn holds up his hands like he’s won a race. “Ta-dah!” he sings. “Anything in the dresser?” he asks, nodding toward the piece. Ben seems afraid to look, but finally opens the top drawer, which he then immediately closes. “What?” Ben swallows dramatically. “Jockstraps and thongs,” he says. He opens the second drawer. “Underwear and posers,” he says, opening the third. “Spandex shorts and muscle shirts.” He grimly nods. “I am ready to cut our losses and not look in Unit Three.” “Oh, we’re so looking in Unit Three,” Glenn says, crossing to where the doorway would be. Instead, there’s literally a hole in the wall, as if someone had torn the cinderblocks away and made a doorway. Scraps of cement pieces and piles of broken cinderblocks still litter the floor. Someone had clearly meant to fix the damage -- there are a couple of loose bags of cement mix amid the rubble -- but clearly nothing had been done, just dust and destruction with a layer of time. “I mean, obviously, someone wanted in there very badly.” “Where the hell is the door?” asks Ben, moving the camera’s tripod to a new location. “What is going on around here?” “Well, it’s pretty full in here,” Glenn says from the doorway. “But I can slide down the wall and get the lights okay.” Again, after a couple of seconds, the lights come on, though this bulb isn’t quite as good, blinking and fizzing as Ben, carrying the camera, enters. (INTERIOR SHOT: Unit Three. A slightly smaller room than the other two -- maybe half the width -- filled with over a dozen wooden pallets loaded with beverage cases, wrapped tightly in heavy industrial plastic. Some are haphazardly stacked on top of others -- each pallet has six layers of product. They are dusty, resembling forgotten furniture after a hasty move or dinosaur carcasses after a meteor shower.) Ben looks into the camera. “The mystery deepens,” he says. Glenn pulls his knife from the Leatherman attached to his belt and cuts into the heavy plastic wrapping on one of the pallets. “Let’s see what they were hoarding,” he says, pulling out a plastic sports drink bottle, gray with red and gold lettering. “CYCLE ONE,” he reads, shrugging. “You ever heard of it?” “No.” Ben pulls out his phone instinctively to search it, but there’s no coverage inside. “Fucking cinderblocks,” he mumbles. Meanwhile, Glenn cracks open the plastic bottle and chugs it on down. “Glenn!” Ben hollers when he looks up. “What are you doing?” “What?” Glenn says, tossing the empty bottle away. “It’s just a sports drink! I didn’t see an expiration on it -- it was good!” He turns to the camera and adds, “Sadly, it hasn’t fermented.” “I can’t believe you just drank that!” Ben protests. “You don’t know anything about it!” “Oh, for the love of God, Ben! Give it up!” Ben shakes it off. “I’m sorry, bro,” he says. “This whole place has got me a little spooked, is all. This is very weird.” Glenn shrugs dramatically. “What? Some guy who used to own a gym loses it all and instead of being homeless and on the streets…” “...he chooses to live in a storage facility?” Ben finishes. “With his collection of porn, thongs, and sports drinks? No, that doesn’t sound weird at all.” Glenn snorts and begins counting the pallets. “Whatever,” he says. “Ready, math guy?” Ben opens his calculator app. “Ready!” he says. Glenn counts. “Each pallet has ten cases per layer and each is six layers high.” “Sixty cases!” Ben announces. “I didn’t even need the calculator for that!” Glenn laughs. “Twenty-four bottles per case means…?” “Fourteen-hundred forty bottles per pallet.” He counts quickly again. “Twenty pallets…?” “Means we own a shit-ton of this stuff.” Glenn smiles toward the camera. “I love math,” he says. “What are we gonna do with twenty-eight thousand, eight-hundred bottles of old sports drink?” “Twenty-eight thousand, seven ninety-nine,” Glenn chuckles, tossing his empty bottle dramatically over his shoulder, where it clunks emptilly around in the cinderblock space. “That’s gonna eat into our profit margins,” Ben says, shaking his head, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “Ben, even if we sell it for a buck a bottle, we still make a shit-ton more than we spent. Plus the gym equipment…” “...and the vintage porn.” Glenn smiles. “And the vintage porn -- we’ll still come out ahead. That it happens to be weird gives us a story to tell, doesn’t it? That’s why we have this camera… and the show…” They both turn to the camera and smile. “Can You Believe We Bought This Shit?” Ben asks dryly. “Okay,” Glenn says, taking charge like he usually does, “we’ll need the Pallet Jack -- we didn’t bring that, did we? -- but we have room in the Hauler to fit all this stuff.” As he talks, he steps back into the middle unit-- the living area -- Ben follows dutifully, taking the camera along. “I doubt we’re gonna want to keep much of this stuff -- I guess the TV works tho, right? And who knows? Maybe there IS a market for vintage porn.” He laughs and walks into the first unit, the one with the gym equipment. “I don’t know how we’re gonna get this stuff outta here -- maybe the guys who buy it can haul it. I don’t know…” Suddenly, he jumps up and grabs the pull-up bar mounted on the top of the cable crossover. Ben is suddenly watching his middle-aged, rugby-thick, out-of-shape brother doing pull-ups -- exercising! “What are you doing?” Ben asks, already laughing. “Pull-ups!” Glenn says breathlessly as he struggles to do a third. He drops heavily onto his feet. “We own a gym now,” he says to his skinny-fat brother. “The Fortunato Brothers Fitness Center! Maybe it’s a sign we should get these sad-ass bods back in shape?” Ben laughs. “You feelin’ okay?” “I feel great!” Glenn says. “Seriously, I feel fucking GREAT! Ever since I had that…” He stops suddenly and looks away, toward the third unit. A devilish smile crosses his face and he exits with purpose back into the other rooms. “Glenn, what are you doing? GLENN!” Ben gives a look toward the camera and is about to go after his brother when Glenn reappears in the broken doorway, holding several bottles of CYCLE ONE. “This shit…” he starts to say. Ben immediately protests, holding his hands up. “Our profit margin!” Glenn tosses a bottle with an easy lob to his brother, but Ben -- never an athlete -- bobbles and drops it. The bottle rolls under the metal gate they’d opened into the hallway beyond. “There goes our profit margin,” Glenn jokes, opening another bottle. As he speaks, he gestures with it. “Why don’t you go grab that bottle? I should’ve known better than to toss it to you.” He slugs down half his new bottle in one gulp, easily. Ben’s tone is serious. “I think you should ease up on that stuff,” he says, making his way toward the metal gate. “You don’t know what’s in it.” “It’s a sports drink.” Glenn waves him off. “It’s just sugar water.” He attempts another set of pull-ups as Ben squats down to go under the door. He’s got a little over two-feet of clearance but he’s reluctant to press his chest to the floor, all that dust and dirt he’d been able to ignore before, when the mystery had captivated him. Now there’s less enthusiasm to follow the rules -- like the game OPERATION, where you shouldn’t touch the sides… Ben’s shoulder whaps the bottom of the metal grate as he rises in the hallway. There is a grinding, loud, metallic shriek and the grate slams solidly onto the cement floor. “Oh, shit,” Ben mumbles. He hears Glenn from inside, slightly muffled. “What happened?” “I must’ve jostled it with my shoulder,” Ben says to the door, speaking a little more loudly than usual, to be heard through the closed door. “That’s why I didn’t make the Limbo Team.” No laugh. Damn. “Okay, let’s heft it back up again!” Ben grabs the handles on his side -- and he can hear Glenn trying to pull the chain on his -- but the door doesn’t budge. “Fuck -- AGAIN!” They try -- even though Ben worries about his back, he throws himself into it -- and fails. The door stays closed. “Fuck,” Ben chants. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” “Well, let’s try one of the other doors,” Glenn suggests from inside. “You have the keys, right?” Ben reaches down to his pockets -- empty? Where…? Oh, shit! He’d taken the keys out of his pocket and put them on the bench -- inside the unit! “Oh, shit!” “What?” “They’re in there!” Ben shouted, slapping the metal door. “They’re in THERE! I took them out of my pocket when I was fumbling with all the camera equipment! They’re on the bench.” He doesn’t hear Glenn’s sighing exhale, but he’s certain that’s what’s happening -- his brother is collecting his wits -- it’s what he always does when he’s angry. “Okay,” Glenn says through the grate. “Is the crowbar in the truck?” “I don’t know,” Ben answers. “I’ll have to check. I don’t think so. I think we took it out when we were emptying from that last job.” “It’s okay,” Glenn says. “We’re gonna need the Pallet Jack anyway. Okay, you head to the Workshop and get the crowbar, the Pallet Jack, any kind of hack saw we might have if we gotta cut those chains…” “Glenn, the Workshop is almost a hundred miles away!” “Well, we don’t have much choice -- unless you’re strong enough to tear through these metal grates with your bare hands, we’re gonna need tools. And the tools are in the Workshop…” “Which is a hundred miles away!” Glenn laughs. “Well, I’m not going anywhere! So you might as well get to it… unless you don’t have the truck keys?” “They’re in the truck.” He can hear Glenn sigh. “You just leave keys everywhere…” Ben doesn’t laugh. “You’re hysterical,” he says. “Look, Glenn, I feel bad enough…” “It’s not a big deal,” his brother says through the metal grate. “It’s just a couple hours. I have plenty to do -- I have games on my phone and shit -- don’t worry. Hey, I can always work out and watch vintage porn, right?” That his brother, trapped because of Ben’s own foolishness, would work so hard to make jokes shows Ben how much Glenn cares. Ben can’t help but smile. “Yeah, I guess,” he says. “I’m sorry, Glenn.” “It’s just gonna be a couple hours -- and we’ll get a good story out of it. Don’t worry, Ben, it’s all good. Now go get the tools -- I’m done talking through a garage door. Frankly, I feel like working out.” “Don’t drink any more of that shit!” “Too late!” For some reason, as much as anything else, that lights a fire in Ben’s pants. He can’t shake his uneasy feeling about that stupid sports drink -- he’s sure he’s heard of it before. On the floor against the far wall sits the bottle he’d come out here for -- without much consideration, he picks it up off the floor and puts it in the side pocket of his cargo shorts (where the keys had been). Ben hurries down the stairs and exits the building -- this time smart enough to block the door with a cinderblock, so it won’t lock by accident behind him. The keys are in the truck -- thank God for small favors! -- but the crowbar is not. There’s not a helpful tool in the bed. (They’d taken the toolbox out to create room for all the loot they were gonna haul from this Buy-It score!) Just one stupid thing after the next -- and here they are now, Glenn locked in a unit with vintage porn! So it would be REALLY stupid if something happened to me now, Ben thinks, driving a little too old-lady like. But it’s better than getting pulled over, or having an accident, or any of the other myriad horror stories he imagines happening as he drives the nearly hundred miles to their Workshop while his brother is trapped. “I just got here!” he texts when he arrives at the Workshop, nearly two hours later -- the text isn’t delivered. He tries to shrug it off, shutting the door of the truck -- the one shrink-wrapped with their Buy-It Brothers logo -- and enters their warehouse (their “Workshop”) -- the one sporting that same logo over cartoon-versions of he and Glenn. (Ben thought they looked a little too much like Laurel and Hardy, but no one knew that reference anymore.) With haste, he gathers the things he’ll need, the crowbar, the hacksaw -- he has to locate the Pallet Jack. He’s wasting so much time on it, he considers leaving it behind. Fortunately, just as he’s thinking that, he trips over it. (It’s mostly hidden beneath a hastily discarded tarp.) It takes some little effort to lift it up into the bed of the truck -- lifting stuff is more his brother’s kind of thing -- but he finally does it, breathing heavily as he rolls the jack deeper into the bed near the cab and straps it in. He’s sweating a little -- and thirsty. Without realizing it, his hand touches the bottle still stashed in his pocket. The CYCLE ONE. He can’t resist. Though he knows his priority is getting back and rescuing his brother, Ben takes a moment to fire up his desktop and do some internet snooping, to satisfy his curiosity (or his paranoia). Cycle One -- there it is -- a sports drink that was all the rage twenty years ago. Internet rumors claim it was the real deal, adding insane amounts of masculine muscle and power, but there were side effects: dangerously increased libido, loss of sexual inhibition, loss of individuality. Crazy internet bullshit -- still, there are dozens of flexing testimonials, young men eager to show off their “transformations.” All of them looking a tiny bit… zealous, perhaps? Another article links Cycle One to a Justice Club Super-Villain, a hyper-muscled bodybuilder by the punny name of King Rex. The pic that accompanies this article shows an impossibly muscled man with a beard transforming a kneeling Superion, the Earth’s most powerful superhero, and turning him into Rex’s worshipful gay slave. The article claims the “secret ingredient” in Cycle One is King Rex’s magical ejaculate. A deeper dive: coincidently, upon the disappearance of this King Rex into the Multiverse, supplies of Cycle One became limited overnight -- and precious. Several would-be cults formed around the protection -- and distribution -- of this suddenly valuable resource. People went to great lengths to horde the stuff -- vaults, fallout shelters, armed-guards at storage units… Ben surfaces from his rabbit hole with the realization of what he and his brother have stumbled upon. In this instance, knowledge hasn’t seemed to give him any power at all -- other than to realize there’s danger, which he’s already suspected. Thanks, knowledge. Hurriedly, Ben gets back to the truck -- leaving the bottle of Cycle One on his desk -- realizing he’s wasted almost twenty minutes online, and heads the ninety-some-odd miles back to the storage units. He wants to floor it and speed the entire way, but he fears getting pulled over, or getting in an accident, or any of the other myriad nightmares that would end with his brother being forever trapped. “Almost there,” he texts at a red light -- the text isn’t delivered. Damn cinder-blocks -- they give little hope. He leaves the main road for the access road, the access road for the side road, the side road for the private drive, until finally, the abandoned ETERNAL STORAGE building comes into view, across the cracked and weed-filled parking lot. Apparently, this is all to be torn down to create an Amazon Warehouse. The Amazons replace the Eternals -- sounds like a bad superhero movie -- Ben can’t help but chuckle, despite the situation. A nerd at heart. He parks next to the door he’d left jammed open with the cinderblock and hurries back inside, grabbing the crowbar out of the truck bed on his way. He bounds up the stairs to the second floor -- as fast as his skinny, awkward body can “bound” anyway -- less like a gazelle and more like a clumsy giraffe with a few extra knees -- and lopes down the hall to their lot. It’s been just a little over five-and-a-half hours, and his brother wasn’t in immediate danger -- (he certainly wasn’t gonna go thirsty) -- still, Ben is worried. From halfway down the hall he can hear it. Right up next to the stuck door it’s impossible to miss: clanging weights, grunts and groans -- his brother is working out! “Glenn?” he calls, slapping the metal door. “Glenn, you OK?” “Ben?” he hears, then the thud of a barbell being dropped. The voice is closer to the door. “You’re back already? I still gotta do deadlifts.” “You’re hysterical,” Ben says, smiling with relief -- his brother isn’t dead. “Are you OK?” He can hear Glenn’s laughter. “WAY better than OK. Bro, this stuff is AMAZING, this CYCLE ONE shit! We’ve struck gold!” “Glenn…” “A buck a bottle? Fuck that. A THOUSAND bucks a bottle! For this…? Hell yeah, they’ll pay it.” “Glenn, I’ve been doing some research on it, the Cycle One, and…” “I don’t care what the Internet says right now, Bro! Let’s just get this fucking door open.” “Um… Okay, I have the crowbar!” “Great! Let’s see if you can get the bottom up a little bit.” Ben jams the crowbar beneath the door -- he’s expecting resistance, but the flat end of the bar simply slides under. Lifting the curled end, Ben slides a piece of broken cinder block beneath to act as a fulcrum. When he attempts to raise the door, the metal dents, lifting a small section up about an inch. When Ben removes the crowbar, he sees his brother stick his fat fingers through the opening from the other side. “I’m almost free!” Glenn says and laughs. Then, he says, “Hey!” like he’s had an idea. “Make another one of those dents about two feet to your left. I got an idea!” Ben shrugs -- “Okay…” -- and slides to his left. Again, the crowbar easily goes under the metal lip. Ben uses the same piece of cinder block and creates another hand-sized dent in the base of the sliding door -- the screech of the metal is almost uncomfortable. Glenn is saying, “Perfect… perfect,” from the other side of the door. “Okay, let’s give it a try!” “What?” “Let’s try to lift it! Grab the handle out there!” “Glenn, we can’t lift this…” “I told you -- I’m fresh! I haven’t done deadlifts, yet.” Bending over rather than squatting, Ben grabs the handle in the center of the roll-up metal door. He’s indulging his brother -- there’s no way they’re moving this door -- so he doesn’t give it his all. So he’s surprised when, on his brother’s count of “Three!” the door actually jerks up a foot or so -- Ben nearly loses his balance. “That’s better,” says Ben’s brother. “I can get a better grip on it now. Hold on a sec…” Ben can hear the sounds of drinking from inside and the clink clunk of an empty plastic bottle as it’s casually tossed away. He burps. “Okay,” he says, again gripping the base of the metal -- Ben can see his sneakers beneath the door. “Let’s do this. Grab on!” Ben grabs the door handle a little more seriously this time, squatting opposite his brother. “One. Two… THREE!” They both throw energy into the movement, but the door doesn’t budge. “No!” Glenn yells. “AGAIN!” A little -- it moves a little -- but nothing that’s gonna rescue anybody anytime soon. “Fuck this… FUCK THIS!” Glenn yells, then Ben can hear him mumble. “Just need a little more. Just a little more…” Again, the sound of drinking, the empty clunk of a thrown bottle. “Fuck this. Let’s get this fucking thing!” They both heave. It moves… slightly! “MORE!” And they both strain. Then, unexpectedly and suddenly enough to surprise Ben, the door doesn’t slide up so much as it gives in to the pressure and folds, shrieking a metallic screech like a tin can collapsing. The force throws Ben off balance and he trips over the crowbar, slamming into the cinderblock wall on the opposite side of the hall. So hard, it knocks the wind from him -- and from the way his head slams back into the brick, he knows he’s about to lose consciousness, too. The image he’s left with: his brother. His brother! Not the teddy-bear, snowman-shaped sibling he’s known for forty years -- not unless his brother is the Hulk and Ben has never figured it out. Standing there in the doorway, arms over his head pushing the door up further, Glenn is massive -- his muscles are impossible! Thick and heavy, but not ripped and “cut” like a bodybuilder in competition. Glenn’s lines are curvaceous, not tight, his flabby tummy has become a “roid-gut”, big, curved lines, round muscle bellies, bloated and swollen -- he wears electric blue posing trunks and a spandex half-shirt that doesn’t reach the bottom of his bulbous pecs, exposing his thick nipples. His biceps are easily as big as his head, maybe bigger while flexed like this -- Glenn’s breathless in his joy, in his win, in his show of power. Look at the size of him! Ben can see his brother is fighting a hard-on in the tiny, shiny posers he barely wears as he flexes his triumph at ripping the door from its track -- he’s so masculine, but what he wears is so… flowery. Feminine. He flexes a most-muscular, popping his traps and his pecs -- just like the Hulk used to on the old TV show when they were kids, fantasizing about being so big. And then -- helplessly -- Ben finally passes out, lost in confusion and darkness. Only certain that he’s too late. ********************************************************************************* Chock! That’s the sound he wakes to, the heavy stone stacking of brick. Chock! Or cinderblocks… Ben opens his eyes tentatively, taking a moment to process where he is. Although he’s leaning against the wall, there are pallets of CYCLE ONE all around him -- he must be in Unit Three! Why…? Chock! What the fuck is that? As he stirs, rising to investigate, he discovers there’s a chain wrapped several times around his ankle -- padlocked on! -- connecting him to the pallet. He screams. “Glenn! GLENN!” “Oh, you’re awake,” he hears from somewhere across the unit, out of sight. “And here I was trying to be quiet…” Chock! “What the fuck is going on?” Glenn laughs. “Good tv.” “What? Glenn, I’m chained to this pallet.” “Yeah, I know -- calm down. Freakin’ out is not gonna help you, bro. It’ll be easier if you think of it as an Escape Room -- the intent IS for you to get out, after all.” Chock! “I don’t understand.” There’s a heavy sigh. “Can you stand up, at least?” his brother asks. “So we can talk face to face.” Ben stands, the chain uncomfortably tight around his ankle, his headache pounding. The pallets are just under six feet high (stacked with cases of Cycle One -- perhaps the last cases of Cycle One), and Ben can see over the top. Not that that lessens the horror. His brother -- his massively muscled brother -- Ben still can’t adjust to the change -- is resealing the hole in the cinderblock wall between units two and three, using the broken pieces from before. He spreads a sloppy layer of cement with his bare hands and then drops a cinderblock into it. Chock! He’s rebuilt the wall only a little higher than his chest, so Ben can still see Glenn’s pecs, traps and shoulders -- and of course, his arms. (He’s so big -- it’s just not possible.) “What are you doing?” Ben asks, barely keeping the fear from his voice. “Okay, again -- calm down,” Glenn said patronizingly, spreading cement. “Freaking out will just waste your time. It’s easy to get out of here -- I’m even gonna tell you how.” Chock! “Glenn, what the fuck…?” Glenn reaches through the opening with his muscular arm -- he’s holding a flashlight and a set of keys (he’s getting cement on them from his fingers). He drops them on the floor, well on the other side of the room. “These are the keys to your chains,” he says, pulling his arm back and peeking through the gap. “And my torch, which is a literary allusion -- forget it. Anyway, I figure after drinking a dozen bottles or so, you’ll be big enough to drag that pallet over here and get these keys.” “WHAT?!?” “I told ya, it’s good tv.” Chock! “See, Ben,” Glenn says as he continues re-building the wall, “I knew you wouldn’t drink it voluntarily. No doubt you ran home and researched it and found all the reasons NOT to drink it -- that’s so like you -- but I say when you come across a magic muscle potion, you drink it! That’s the difference between you and me.” Chock! “Would you please stop doing that?” Glenn doesn’t stop -- he continues. “But then I thought, what if he’s his normal smart-ass self? What if he just tears through the heavy plastic and empties the pallet? That’d make it pretty easy to drag across the room, right? So I decided to create another little obstacle for you. Even if you cheat on the pallet (and personally, I don’t think you’re strong enough to tear through the industrial plastic), you still gotta get through this wall. But I figure, after you drink a case, you’ll do it with ease. Look what I did to that fuckin’ roll-up door!” He laughs. “It’s so fucking awesome, Bro!” “Glenn… please…” Chock! “I considered simply force-feeding you, but that’s kind of an overused trope, isn’t it? This way makes more compelling drama. Did you see the camera over by the sliding door?” Ben looks to his left and sees the camera on its tripod atop a pallet of CYCLE ONE, aimed at him, filming his dilemma. Good TV... “I filmed my own transformation,” Glenn adds. “Well, not so solid at the beginning, but I have a cum-shot at the end that’ll blow you out of the water! And my Scanty Fashion Show will get us a ton of views!” “What?” “Trust me, Ben -- this stuff enhances EVERYTHING!” “Glenn, please don’t do this.” “You’ll thank me, bro. That I know -- you just need the right motivation. String bean like you… it’s what you’ve always dreamed of. Big muscles. Feels good. No work. Right up your alley.” Chock! The wall is almost complete -- just a small gap at the top. Enough to maybe get a grip on… Ben pulls on the chain -- he’s securely in place. This is all a little too melodramatic for him. Would his brother actually abandon him here and let him die? What the fuck? “For the love of God, Glenn!” he shouts as the last cinderblock wedges into place. “Stop!” “Get drinking,” he hears his brother say, his voice muffled. “You can be out in an hour! I’ll be over here working out and modeling posers -- haha!” “Glenn! GLENN!” But Glenn doesn’t answer. All Ben hears is the sounds of gay porn -- vintage gay porn -- the moaning and the raw need permeating the cement wall. Beyond that, the clang of weights in the first unit -- Glenn is at it again. Ben screams out of frustration more than anything else, knowing no one can hear him -- they’re in the middle of nowhere. He’s trapped -- TRAPPED! And completely at the mercy of his brother’s dark sense of 19th century drama. He sits against the wall in a fetal position, crying. Why does this have to be such a difficult choice? At the heart, Glenn is right -- he hates being skinny -- he hates being String Bean. Muscle Zombies searching for hidden stashes of Cycle One… Transformations. He still seems like the same Glenn. (Except maybe the chaining his brother around the ankle part…) Just a fuck-ton bigger -- more masculine. Sexier. He holds the bottle in his hand -- firm, hard plastic -- unemotional, cold. What if you held a magic muscle-growth potion in your hands? Would you drink it? Knowing what it would do? (He hears his brother’s obsessive training.) Knowing what it would change? (He hears the vintage porn.) He looks at the camera and flies it the bird. Fuck you, good TV. Finally, long minutes later, the sound of him cracking the bottle echoes around Unit Three.
  11. Muscle fog ogre’s gift CH 1 part 5 By Big-Zargo Ogres Invade the Hospital This night would be a good night to look at the stars, but Owens fog covers the sky blanketing the moon and stars in its embrace. The fog seeks and spreads finding victims to propagate Owen’s influence, turning their victims into ogres. Fat, muscular, skinny, average, gay or straight, smart or dumb, healthy or not, any man caught by Owen’s fog will succumb to his will. These ogres under Owens control had been destroying buildings of Holmes top Borough so that Owens Palace could be made and that his domain could be secured. Any humans who survived the first night of Owens takeover who were unfortunate enough to encounter Owens ogres quickly succumb joining the orgy of sex and destruction as an ogre. It has been two weeks since Owen had captured Samuel and transformed him into an ogre, and it had been a bright idea to do so. Unbeknownst to him his ogres had been degrading losing their intelligence and their memories. If it hadn’t been for the ogre-fied Samuel all of his ogres would have been degraded and he would just have to start from scratch re-teaching them all. Having a bunch of dumb ogres would have been easy to control and made them more loyal to him. But it was important that they retain their intelligence; each of their perspectives would give his town variety. Samuel’s fix for the problem is both intelligent and temporary; for by storing the memories and intelligence of his ogres he is able to stop the degrade in select few of his lieutenant ogres or even slowing it down to a crawl in others, but this leads plenty of dumb ogres, who need management to stay out of trouble. In the biggest tent in the city of tents Lord Owen sits upon his big couch like chair towering with his orange muscular body looking down at a blonde-haired man, making this man look like a child. “You’re offering to me is sufficient to attain my audience. Now tell me human what do you seek.” Owen says, while his face is hidden by shadows making the human guesses emotions. “I’ve seen the power of your gift, the strength and size it gives to the recipient and I wish to have it for myself.” The man says with trepidation in his voice. Owen’s shadowed face tilts to the side a little as he replies. “If you just wanted strength you could easily have just walked into my fog and let the transformation take hold rather than sacrificing your two friends to the fog, to make contact me.” After giving his statement, Owen gave a pause to see the man’s response. “The man- “I want to be the biggest, strongest, and the most masculine ogre of them all. But most of all I want to keep being straight. I’ve seen what happens to those who fall under your influence, I have seen how the degrade over time. I’ve noticed that some of your ogres maintain their intelligence and most of their personality. I want your strength, the powers you can offer me, I want musk that can make women go crazy for me, the same way how your ogres are able to make men do so.” Owen gave the man a toothy smile before frowning and leaning forward towards the man. “I could simply lie to you, tell you to do my bidding before turning you into a very big and strong ogre. But for me to grant your wish you must accept the possibility that you might turn out like the rest of my ogres. There is a chance that you may be able to retain that aspect of your sexuality for yourself but that requires a strong will, especially if you’re going to become a specialized ogre; For the more power I bestow upon my ogres the less their original human personality remains. I am trying to say is when I turned you into an ogre, your humanity will be gone and most likely that part of you that cares for a woman’s touch is most likely going to be leaking out of your fat Ogreish cock.” The man- “I have two questions for you my… Lord, Great, Master... How do you want to be called Owen? Owen- “That’s three questions human. But I will oblige. It would be Lord, for the first one.” The man- “Is there some way to get I want without losing my sexuality, and why do all the people you transform into ogres become Gay? Owen- “well now I think there might be a way to keep some of it, but the best I can do is make you bisexual the most. To answer your other question. It’s because I desire it and/ it is also desirable side effect of me transforming people into ogres. I give the people that I transform into ogres some of my essence, like copying and pasting a file, which overwrites some of their natural life force. It would take a probably about a year for the effects to be permanent. Hmmm.. Now I think of it that might be one of the reasons why they are deteriorating. Did I satisfy your questions?” The man- “Yes Lord Owen. What is the task you would like me to do? Owen- “All you need to do is infiltrate a hospital. It somehow is protected from my magical gaze and have some form of magical runes preventing my ogres getting nearby. I needed you to look around figuring out how it’s defended and if possible, destroy those defenses.” With a ripple of noise two ogres enter the huge tent behind the man, but he did not notice them. The man- “That’s it? It will be on my Lord.” “Indeed. I just need to give you a few things for the job.” Owen says, with a mirth in his voice. Three weeks later Deep within the hospital of Holmes Top Borough in an ideal location in the dark and musty basement two man on working air pumps sucking up all of the mysterious muscle fog. This ideal spot in the basement allows the men to work without risk of succumbing to Owens power. Like the sea, Owens fog rises and falls making it the perfect place to experiment with the fog. At the daytime is safe to go down the fog surprisingly retreats into mist or even fades away entirely; but that night the fog rises leaving only one staircase and platform safe to inhabit. These men seek to use the magical fog’s healing properties on their patients. Prof. Semih Zeki was average size man with long curly brown hair, gray eyes, average nose, and weeks cheekbones from the country of Turkey. He had spent the last five years in the USA during research, before heading to Holmes Top Borough to visit a colleague of his, at this very hospital. While Gang Jian was born in America after his parents immigrated, and unlike Prof Zeki he was athletic with lean muscle tannish skin with amber eyes, and long black hair tied up in a ponytail. Like Prof. Zeki he was visiting this hospital because his girlfriend’s mom was in the hospital. On the night of the mysterious fog’s parents all females and young children vanished. The young man latched on to Prof. Zeki like a child to candy because of Zeki willingness to study this strange phenomenon, giving gang some form of stability and hope for his girlfriend as they both investigate the properties of this fog. Prof. Zeki was nervous as they were extracting the muscle fog into an air container. For the last week someone has been attempting to destroy the runes which were protect the hospital from the muscle fog and its victims. He knew he was playing a dangerous game with the muscle fog, but there are too many patients that are to hurt to leave the hospital. With Dr. Wyatt’s help the dosage of the fogs healing property has been found one more night of extracting fog and condensing it into liquid form and they’ll have enough to start healing all the patients. Prof. Zeki hated how loud the gas collector it always makes him nervous. was if it wasn’t for Dr. Wyatt giving them a heads up and the lower floors and basement being practically empty because of the muscle fog surrounding the floors they have made been caught by now. Without Oliver’s wards, talismans and runes around the hospital the ogres would have somehow squeezed inside the hospital and started infecting them all; but at the same time Oliver’s wards do not prevent infection by the muscle fog, only slow it down and reversing the process if there’s not too far gone. Prof. Zeki and Gang knew something was wrong the minute the gas collector stopped making noise. “I’m going to assume are Semih Zeki and Gang Jian you to are not down here breaking my wards. Because if you are, I’m going to have to kill you.” The man behind Prof. Zeki and gang said. Turning around both Zeki and Gang to see Oliver. (Oliver was a middle-aged man with light brown skin and average body type but with a height of 4 feet tall made him a short person. His piercing gray eyes often distracted people from his soft round face. His dirty worn clothes and unshaven black hair gave him a homeless man look.) Prof. Zeki -“No No No I’m not breaking your wards Oliver. I am just collecting the fog for my experiments I believe with the right dosage the fogs healing properties could be used to help. It would make it easier for us to escape if did not have to abandoned anyone, especially the patients.” Oliver gave Zeki a hard look before saying. “I believe you Prof. Zeki that you guys are not breaking my wards.” Prof. Zeki gave an audible sigh of relief at those words. “But this fog collecting must end. The creature called Owen can feel any creature who comes in contact with his fog. That is why had the head Dr. Benjamin Helpmin turn your proposal down. We don’t know how much influence Owen would have a person who was healed by his fog. A person’s whose hand was healed by it may find their own hand moving on against their own volition, or for worse a man who has brain damage might strongly turned traitor on us at a key moment dooming us all into slavery by the wicked creature. That is why I had the containers of fog destroyed.” Prof. Zeki face turns red for a second before his face falls in sadness as he hears Oliver’s words. Gang couldn’t believe how easily Prof. Zeki gave up. Prof. Zeki work was helping people, it had the potential to heal anyone everyone in the hospital. Prof. Zeki research might be able to figure out a way to bring all the women and children back. Prof. Zeki and he have made too many sacrificed to turn back now. Oliver- “I know you guys have been using the patients for your experiments. I am willing to forgive you because I understand that you are trying to understand Owen’s fog; A may not agree with your methods but have enough empathy to understand but I understand why you did it. If you help me find the one who was breaking my wards and give me all your research notes on the fog, I will protect you from Dr. Helpmin and chief Carrick they’ve known what you’ve done and are willing to kill you or exile you. I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt bio have to put a magical binding upon you two as the insurance policy.” Oliver lifts his hand out as if he was going to greet the two men. “What this so-called magical binding,” Prof. Zeki asked? Oliver- “It’s like a magical promise only if you break it there would-be consequences.” The two men looked apprehensive at the thought of Oliver’s magical binding. Prof. Zeki gave a long exhausting sigh before saying. “All I want to do was help people. When I saw that one arm man transform into an ogre and his arm was fully restored. I thought that I could use the fog to heal people.” Prof. Zeki starts to cry as he continues to speak. “I got some of the first dosages wrong on the first couple of patients and the immediately transformed into ogres. I didn’t mean to turn some of them into ogres I didn’t need to turn Kenny into one of them.” Gang couldn’t believe it. Prof. Zeki a proud man was crying like a baby and confessing actions to Oliver. This behavior from Prof. Zeki was odd to Gang. Something was wrong but he couldn’t put his tongue on it. “Come you two grabs onto my hand and all will be forgiven.” Oliver says with compassion in his voice. Before Prof. Zeki’s hand could reach out towards Oliver, Gang stopped it. “How do you know of our experiments and what did you do with all the few people healed by the magical fog.” Gang with suspicion in his voice. “Because I told them.” Said the man coming behind Oliver. Both Prof. Zeki and Gang looked shocked at the site of Dr. Wyatt as he walked into the dim light. (Dr. Wyatt was a skinny man with a black curly hair, bland facial features with a slim mustache to break up the monotony, brown eyes that are surrounded by thick round glasses and dark brown skin that as dark as dark chocolate. He is currently wearing worn-out red button sleeve shirt, blue jeans, and his doctor’s shoes.) Dr. Wyatt’s face was pointed downwards in shame. Gang- “why Wyatt why?” With sadness in his voice. “Didn't you want to help your brother? we had collected enough to wake him up without turning them into an ogre.” Dr. Wyatt- “I’m sorry but chief Carrick caught me sneaking around the lower floors and I panicked when I saw him and ran; Sadly, for me, he was faster. He brought me to Oliver, and he gave me two choices tell him what I was doing down at the first floor or he would place a curse an upon me.” Something was wrong but Gang cannot put his finger on it. Prof. Zeki was giving up too easily, he had to knock him out just so he can get some sleep three days ago. Dr. Wyatt and himself had made plans just for this occasion, although he wasn’t a great liar, he was good of the subterfuge of half-truths. Something was definitely up with the situation. Looking around Gang at Prof. Zeki and Dr. Wyatt he noticed that their body language was off; it was if they were drunk, the way their bodies moved side to side in a circular motion. Backing away Gang asked. “What have you done to them Oliver? What kind of spell had the cast upon them?” Oliver - “MMMM… You seem to have a natural resistance to magic or magic of own which is defending you against my charm. Sadly, for you, I have no time to break through your defenses or to test to see if you are capable of becoming a wizard or sorcerer. My spell to secure this location is surprisingly delicate. I can’t have you accidentally messing it up by be here, neither can I allow you to escape if Owen got his hands on you, we will be doomed.” Gang- “If I’m such a wrench in your plan what about the trader? With Owen’s help he could stop whatever you’re doing.” Oliver- “I doubt that. The trader is clearly human if he had an ounce of magical power, I would’ve sensed it. I’ve been scanning all week for any magic users in the area. When the trader began destroying my wards and runes, I found you, Dr. Wyatt and Prof. Zeki through my scanning. I cannot let you and your allies jeopardize the safety of the people of this hospital, with you and your reckless experiments with the muscle fog. By you being resistant to my charm spells you can cause great trouble to me and the protection of this hospital, because of that Gang, you must die for the greater good.” With those words Oliver pointed towards Gang's chest and with a flash, a fireball hit him pushing and flipping him off the edge of the platform. His body falls onto the ground making a big flat as it does so. Oliver would have loved to simply kill all three of them and be done with it, but he needed Prof. Zeki notes, and he promised the head Doctor and the chief that he would apprehend Prof. Zeki and Dr. Wyatt for their judgment. Besides with the charm he put over them they’ll confess everything. This has been the second potential he had to kill, but it had to be done. With Gangs immunity to my charm spells and keen eye he would have found out, that I had control of the leadership of the hospital. even if you were to be executed the rumors, he would make would slow his plans down for evacuating the other potentials. Looking around he thought that this place would make a good excellent to store the other six potentials while they’re still in magical stasis on the second floor. With a wave of his hand, he compelled charmed Prof. Zeki and Dr. Wyatt to follow him. The good news or bad news for Gang when he was pushed off the platform by Oliver’s fireball, he fell directly into Owens muscle fog. If Oliver knew how powerful the fogs healing was, he would’ve aimed for the face. As it stands the fog began to work overtime to repair Gang’s broken body. Unknowingly to Owen, Oliver or any of the other guardians, Gang’s bloodline of Magic was now awakening due to the residue of Oliver’s magic and Owens magical fog. The limbs that were broken because of his fall began to reassemble themselves. The hole in his chest began to fill in, as he began to regain consciousness. The mostly dormant magic in gang body began to awaken and grow, like a plant deprived the water its greedily soaked up the magical fog. Everything felt like it was on fire to Gang as his magic transformation began. With every breath from his chest Gangs body swells with might, his arms and legs growing in the rhythm with his healed heart. Every second Gangs body grew and grew with muscle and height quickly stretching out his of clothes. Boiling magical blood flow through his body feeding his grow of his muscular body. His cock quickly hardens as it becomes erect, causing him to moans out in pleasure. With sounds of tearing and popping the remains of his clothes quickly fall to the floor as Gangs transformation kicks into high gear. Gangs fine six pack grew into a muscle gut, his biceps grew into huge bowling balls, his thighs grew into muscular tree trunks. His feet and hands became huge pads and baseball mitts with black nail like claws. Like swelling balloons his balls grew into oranges and his hard cock swells into a thick 12-inch-long monster. Two small black horns, like round triangles grow out of Gang’s head. his teeth sharpen as his lower canine grow outwards turning into tusks. His jaw turns squarish, his nose becomes more blunter, as well as his facial features. His amber eyes begin to glow a supernatural yellow, as his brow ridge grows out giving him a demonic caveman look. Wild black hair starts growing on his thick barrel chest, and spreads all over his body covering his arms, legs, back and ass and leaving a nice treasure trail to his huge cock and balls. His face quickly follows, His eyebrows thickening, as grows a wild beard and mustache and has his already long hair grows even more longer and wilder. Finally, his skin turns blue with dark patches sprinkled in. The finalization of his of his transformation causes gang to roar in pleasure as he came, shooting out all of his humanity through his fat cock. Seeing the changes to his body rekindle his lust, that he felt earlier. His fat cock rehardens, as he sets up moving his body in a sitting position. Gang’s felt his mind hazy and conscious at the same time. Like a dream gang’s body moves on its own reaching his meaty hand towards his erect cock, with no conscious control of his mind. Lightning bolts of pleasure raced through his mind as starts to pleasure himself on his fuck-stick. “My god,” Gang thought, “this feels fucking good. My whole body feels like it is on fire and it makes me so fucking horny. I feel like I can run all day and still have enough energy to fuck all night. If this is how it feels to be one of Owens ogres, then it’s no curse. Faster, stronger and a libido I don’t know why we resisted.” After any other minute of masturbating Gang came again, shooting out his poet and thicker cum all over his big hairy body. “Fuck”, Gang mound out in pleasure. After his second orgasm Gang kept finding new ways to pleasure himself. For hours he kept playing with himself finding new ways to feed his lust. Pausing his pleasure after hearing a mysterious voice in his head. “HMMMM… Well, your different, but maybe I can help you. My name is Owen.” “Help?” Gang sniffed in annoyance. “I’m so fucking horny, I can barely think straight. I’m so fucking horny, I doubt I can even save Semih and John from Oliver.” Owen- “please tell me more.” And so, Gang did. Telling Owen his story and eventually telling him everything he knew. “I think I can help you Gang, with your predicament.” Owen said with a thought of a smile. Several hours later Oliver, Kendall the head Doctor of the hospital, and Carrick the chief of police in Holmes top Borough were all standing on the roof top of the hospital, waiting on the betrayer to be delivered to them. All three leaders, two prisoners, and four guards were waiting for the betrayer to be delivered both Kendall and Carrick were staring daggers at Prof. Zeki and Dr. Wyatt, Kendall with brownish gray eyes and Carrick with the green eyes. Both Kendall and Carrick contrast each other, Kendall with his average body, brown skin, black hair, and clean-shaven face, compared to Carrick’s round body, pale white skin, reddish-brown hair, and nice bushy mustache. Carrick- “I can’t believe we found for traders among us. You think that being transformed into a huge muscle horny caveman controlled by a vengeful supernatural entity would unite us together.” Kendall- “Sex crazed ogres or zombies the results are the same. Some will rise to the challenge while others will be found wanting.” Carrick- “I guess a zombie apocalypse would be worse because we would have to kill our loved ones if they became infected.” Kendall- “HMM… It’s hard to say which ones worse, on the one hand, a zombie infection that comes from virus, would be no leader, both male and females, adults and children can all become infected; and eventually the infected would die out, because of exposure from the elements and a lack of food and water. On the other hand, Owens infection is magical, and it has a leader to direct be infected and maintain victim’s health.” Carrick- “Yeah you’re right it’s pretty was hard to say which ones worse. By the way don’t you find it’s pretty strange that Owens infection only effect men?” Kendall- “Yeah, it’s pretty strange.” Oliver- “I believe it’s what gives it the most power. As a God, devil or demigod he gains its power through worship. These deprived acts of sex and destruction must be would feel it is. It must not be able to corrupt females or it’s simply too hard to do so. What puzzles me the most is the children? They should be the most easily to corrupt.” The insightful conversation that Oliver was having with, Kendall and Carrick ended as the trader was escorted onto the top of the roof of the hospital with them. The trader was sickly pale tan skin man, with blue eyes, that had a rabid tint to them, long filthy blond hair, triangle like face, a short scruffy beard and a lean and muscular body, as if he been starving for days. In short, the man looked like a rapid animal. The man was easily carried by the two guards escorting him. Oliver thought that he would be too weak to interrogate and maybe too dangerous to use spells on; But he and the men knew what they had to do. Oliver- “you do not need to be here Kendall; you can stay near to the door of the stairwell. One the guards will grab you, if your medical services are needed.” Kendall- “thank you for the concern, but this must be done. I’ll be near just in case you need me to keep him alive. Besides I can always leave the range of your silence spell.” With a wave of his will, he cast the spell of silence around them, so that the interrogation of the prison there may begin. A dome of light appeared surrounding all the men on the roof top before disappearing. On the ground level an ogre with a pair of magical binoculars had been watching. One of Owens plan has come to pass in it was now time for its execution. The trader’s work was done Owen now had a direct line to the hospital in fact several lines for which he could pump his muscle fog inside the building. With his will Owen began pumping his fog through the air vents of the hospital, while casting his own silent spells with the help of Gang. Gang began moving his big body throughout the hospital beginning with the basement to the first floor; casting silent spells as well as laying the fogs magic abilities to bending reality. Rather than destroying the building and bring along noise the fog had transmuted the properties to be like soft sturdy rubber, like if the hospital was a fun house. They are very few people guarding on the first floor, and because of that they were the first to succumb to Owens will. With a blast of a fog ball striking a guard in the middle of his chest. He quickly starts changing into a muscular ogre; muscles quickly grew destroying his close. His facial features changed and tell he resembled a brutish caveman. The intelligence in his eyes quickly fading, being replaced with dumb horniness, and with a silent roar, he came shooting out the rest of his humanity through his new fat Ogreish cock. The newly changed ogre quickly fell into line, following Gang in converting the humans in the hospital into ogres. One then two then three and eventually all ten guards on the first floor, fell into line as big 10 feet tall ogres, each peppered with wild hair all over their bodies, each with horniness clouding their minds, each radiating fog all over their bodies, each leaking erects foot long cock scheming out muscle fog as their Ogreish cum by making contact with the air, and each ready to spread Owen’s gift. With a psychic command of their master, they split up each quickly taking the stairs in the hospital. The people on the second floor knew something was wrong, as everything became silent all at once. Quickly barging in through the hallway of the second floor. The ogres ran towards guards first and then people, spreading Owen’s gift with one touch. Young adult or old man, fat or skinny, sickly or healthy, injured or well, and any between felt Owen’s blessing passing through their bodies. One by one the victims start to transform and like guards on the first floor before they quickly grow out their clothing. Their big meaty hairy pecs popping out of There barrel chest, as shirts pop off of their growing bodies. Hands grew into mitts as, biceps became huge as bowling balls, destroying any shirt sleeves if worn. As their big feet quickly destroy their human size shoes. Pants and shorts rapidly start tearing and exploding off of them, unable to handle the big solid hairy thighs of an ogre. Undergarments dropping off of huge chests and wide waists, revealing their foot-long hard cock, huge orange size balls and their big thick hairy ass. Before anyone human on the second floor had knew what was happening they were all roaring as they shot the last humanity. Owen’s blessing had reached the second floor turning all the humans into his ogres. Their skin had taken and turned into different shades of orange if their skins weren’t dark already. Like the guards on the first floor, their faces became more brutish, the hair on their had grown wild and their minds have gone blank being replaced with sexual desires. Some if not all of the fat on their bodies transferred when they became an ogre. most of doors which remained close and/or locked now opened, with the fog spilling out, as the occupants came out. Even those who hidden inside their rooms were not safe, even those who were asleep or injured were not safe from Owens blessing. The sexual energy was now ramping up with so many ogres nearby each other some of them even beginning masturbating while others began to hump each other. Within another mental thought the ogres began moving towards the third floor to spread Owen’s blessing. Oliver felt the disturbance as a man outside in a hurry, passing through his invisible barrier of silence to reach them. The guard- “the ogres have invaded the hospital and they have already claimed the first two floors. Oliver, we need your help to ward them off. The talismans you’ve given us all working, but there’s too many of them and they’re quickly spreading. I fear the people on the third floor may be lost. If you don’t hurry the fourth and fifth floors will be consumed by the ogre’s sexual rampage.” Carrick- “Fuck! If we don’t, at least repel these ogres from the second or third floor we will be trapped, at the top floors of this hospital.” Oliver- “Kendall, Matt and you guards stay up here, on the roof top where is safe and watch the prisoners. The rest of you follow me we need to stop the ogres before the corrupt this entire hospital. Oliver, Carrick and the rest of the guards made their way downstairs to the fourth floor. Before heading down Oliver had cast a silent beacon spell intended for the other guardian but one unknown to Samuel. By the time they got to the fourth floor they discover that the third was lost. Oliver discovers that the floors were being silenced to prevent any attempt of a mountable defense and to isolate them from each other. Quickly taking of the situation, Oliver had the stairwells quickly secure to prevent further spreading to the fourth and fifth floors. Once the fourth floor was secure Oliver asked, Carrick to go and check up on the fifth floor and secure it. With complete trust in Oliver’s wisdom, Carrick made his way to the fifth floor. He began the process of securing the fifth floor making sure that the people were calm and not panicking making sure that everyone has the talismans. These talismans made by Oliver are like crosses to a vampire for the ogres pushing them back and re-pal the effects of the fog on people. Sadly, the potency of these talismans had limits eventually they would run out of power, then the ogres could go on to grab you, and make you join their sausage party. “Carrick Sir, Dr. Horton he has vital information for you and Oliver. This information so important that’s for your and Oliver’s ears only.” Said the masked guard, whose bluish green eyes glimmer in the light. Getting a few more commands to the people and guards, carrack made his way to the roof top. Making his way through the stairs and opening the door, Carrick wondered what kind of info was so important that Kendall had to tell him in person. Carrick- “What is it that you….” Splat!! A blast of hot ogres cum had fell straight into Carrick’s mouth as he was talking. He stuttered for a second gagging on the ogres cum in his mouth nearly falling into the stairwell before reflexively swallowing and gaining his balance. The sight Kendall, the guards, Prof. Zeki Dr. Wyatt as ogres had stunned him and arouse him at the same time. Carrick’s face quickly paled of the relays what happened to him and his friends. But sadly, for him these were his last thoughts, as his mind became foggy with lust. His body quickly changed into a big hairy ogre quickly bursting through his clothing with his new 10 feet tall muscular orange colored body. His once average cock transformed into a fat foot long monster, before shooting all of his humanity. Carrick now a big hairy ogre felt the call of his master as well as the others. the guards on the fifth floor, quickly found out that the talismans no longer work, as the ogres came into contact. Within several minutes the people on the fifth floor quickly succumb to Owen’s gift, each roaring in primal ecstasy, as they shot the last of their humanity through their fat Ogreish cocks. People on the four floors, after hearing the roars coming from third and fifth floors begun to panic. “Gather to me and hold strong, I have one last idea.” Oliver said with command and confidence. Oliver knew that they were doomed. He knew they cannot escape. Maybe he could have escaped on his own leaving the people to their fate, but eventually he would be cornered, captured and corrupted into Owen’s slave. The outcome he cannot allow to happen neither would he abandon these people under his protection. He knew what must be done but could he do it? As the ogres came closer to the circle of people Oliver lifted his glowing red hands up into the sky and cast one last great spell. In an instant, him, and the people around him exploded. This explosion creating a shockwave that blasted the few ogres out of hospital and collapsing the third fourth and fifth floors into each other. Leaving the hospital of Holmes top borough practically destroyed. A few days later Owen was both frustrated and happy because one more Guardian was gone; but sadly, he was not able to corrupt losing a potential asset. Still the prices he got was well worth it and discoveries he made with magical potentials he found in the wreckage. Gave him one more chance to corrupt a guardian, the last Guardian he thought. Next time he would have to make sure the Guardian would not destroy himself or his potential recruits. It was a nightmare to save the potentials and my ogres from Oliver’s explosion luckily, we ogres are quite durable. Now I send Leo to do one last task for me prefer giving his reward. One the last bastion for the people I must conquer before this town is mine.
  12. Happy Holidays from ABSMAN420! Based on Aardvark's LIFE STORE series, here's a classic absman story I found on the shelf and dusted off for you for Christmas! Enjoy a family-themed holiday muscle growth story! “Dad?!? I’m HOME!” He emerged from the upstairs bedroom, wearing only a pair of cotton pajama bottoms and a black baseball cap with the gold Iowa Hawkeyes logo on the front. Barely in his forties, he was densely muscled with the kind of powerful neck that betrayed all wrestlers. Every inch the coach, every inch the man who’d devoted his life to a sport, he’d wrestled since sixth grade, made varsity in ninth, high school national champion soon thereafter, recruited by Iowa, collegiate nationals champion his junior and senior years, now head coach at the junior college that prepped talent for UI, and first in line for the assistant’s position at the big school. He looked down on me from the top of the balcony and in his gravelly voice said, “Oh, I see Loser U is finally on Christmas break. Wait, what do you liberals call it? WINTER break, right?” He chuckled hoarsely at his own joke, running a hand over his bare, muscular torso. Even though I promised myself I wouldn’t react to his bait – the whole bus ride halfway across the country, I’d promised myself over and over – immediately I was defensive. “Dad… not everybody celebrates Christmas.” “Oh, Jesus, Brian! It was a joke – a freakin’ joke!” He descended the stairs as he bitched, his big muscles bouncing as he plodded down. “That’s the problem with you east coast intellectuals, you’re too freakin’ good for everything! Sometimes I wish your little Liberal U HAD a wrestling team – it’d be fun to come in there and kick their ass!” At the base of the stairs, we faced each other – at five-nine, we were the same height and structure, but he easily had me by forty pounds of muscle. He just seemed taller than me by the way he carried himself, by his confidence and posture, inflated by his ego. We didn’t hug. He only hugged his wrestlers – and then only when they won – never his son. No, he held his hand out for me to shake. And naturally, he seemed disappointed by the firmness of my grip. “So c’mon in and see the place,” he said, leading the way into the house. I followed, eye-level with his massive traps. This little off-campus, post-divorce house of his was a testament to his life as a single man and wrestler. A shrine, almost. Trophies and medals and photographs everywhere, posters and playbills from various events and contests, equipment and gear stashed here and there, a mishmash of obsession – maybe Mom had been right. The whole place was a disaster. Torn apart, laundry discarded, dirty dishes in stacks, this was clearly not the work of one man. He obviously had his wrestlers over often – the gigantic sectional sofa looked well-worn and comfortable beneath its wrinkled throw, and there was no belittling the entertainment center and the nearly wall-sized plasma TV. What college-aged guy wouldn’t like that? One of the coffee tables had been awkwardly cleared and a small, fake Christmas tree blinked merrily away, despite being decorated with a couple of dirty socks and someone’s jockstrap covering the face of the angel on top. Underneath was a single wrapped present, about the size of a shirt box. “That’s for you,” Dad said, handing it to me. “Well, really, it’s for BOTH of us, but, uh… I think you’ll get more out of it… initially. Open it.” “Isn’t it a little early for…?” “What?” he said impatiently – he wasn’t used to being questioned, some things never change. “It’s Christmas Eve, the sun’s almost down. What the fuck? Let’s start your homecoming right.” I’d never seen that much sentiment out of my father, so I sat awkwardly on the sofa arm and opened his gift, tearing through the paper and opening the box. “What is this…?” I asked under my breath as I looked inside. It was the strangest thing – he’d given me a singlet, an old Iowa singlet, black with gold piping and the word “IOWA” spelled across one leg, the Hawkeye logo emblazoned on the center front, where it would be directly over the heart when worn. It wasn’t even a NEW singlet. Beat up and flaking, stretched at the seams, as if the guy who’d worn it had been way too big for it – it was certainly too big for me, scarecrow that I am. Also a jockstrap in the same condition. Well-worn, stretched elastic, there was no mistaking that this jock had been worn by someone with monstrous genitalia, the cotton pouch was so distended. It may have been laundered clean, but it was still someone’s used jockstrap. He’d given me someone’s used jockstrap for Christmas. Was this his idea of a joke? He wasn’t laughing – rather, he had an anticipatory smile on his face. “Okay, now before you say something that pisses me off,” he said, sitting on the coffee table before me, pushing some dishes out of the way so he could, “let me explain it.” I made a fist and comfortably fit it in the pouch of the jock. “Absolutely,” I said. “I’d love to hear your explanation for THIS.” “Okay,” he said, nodding slightly. “But first, go put that stuff on.” “What?” “I bought it for you, Brian. Put it on.” He said that with a “coach” attitude, a man who wasn’t used to being questioned. “But…” He held up his hand for me to stop. “But nothing. Put it on. It’ll be like your Christmas present to me. Your old man wants to see you in a Hawkeyes uniform just once before he dies, okay? Indulge me?” “You’re not gonna die, are you?” “Just put the fucking thing on!” And so, in the filthy bathroom just off the kitchen, I shucked my clothes and put on the outfit Dad had given me for Christmas. The jockstrap didn’t even come close to fitting – or at least, that’s what I suspected. I’d only ever worn a jockstrap one time before that, and it’d given me a rash. Just a little too big in the waist, so that it fell and settled on my hip bones, and to make the pouch fit I’d need a balled-up pair of socks, or a grapefruit. The singlet was just as bad. Though its elasticity was better, it was still clearly two sizes too large. With my boney bod, I might as well have been a wire hanger for the way it hung on me from the shoulders. I looked ridiculous. Comical. Embarrassing. How could my Dad and I differ that much? When I went back to the living room, the smile on his face was the largest I’d ever seen on him – especially directed at me. A shark spying his evening meal. “This thing is huge on me,” I said, embarrassed by his scrutiny, humiliated by his gaze. “Yeah,” he said, like it was an unimportant detail. He reached down and adjusted his package beneath his sweats. “Is this one of your old ones?” I asked. “No,” he said quietly. “Mine would probably fit you, though you still wouldn’t fill it out as well.” He winked to indicate he was teasing – I let it go. “No, that there must’ve belonged to one of the big boys – maybe Gunter, or Johnny No-Neck.” “Well, where did you get it? Why are you giving it to me?” “First things first,” he said, standing. There was no hiding his dick as it pushed out against the loose cotton sweats he wore. Was seeing me in this singlet giving my Dad a hard-on? Ignoring it, and my unmistakable reaction to it, he reached in his pocket, pushing his big half-log to the side to retrieve a small plastic pouch. He tossed it to me. Naturally, I fumbled it instead of catching it smoothly. “Take those,” he said, crossing his hands before his package, lightly holding himself and tickling his dick with a finger. “Take those, then we’ll talk. I’ll explain everything.” It was a small, plastic pouch about the size of a business card, two pills inside. Stapled to it, a typed paper label reading, “WRESTLING MATT, 20, 215lb class, Coach’s Favorite.” “What is this?” “Take ‘em,” Dad said – I think he WAS playing with himself. “You need some water or something?” He picked a half-full bottle from the table and held it out to me. “But, what…?” He spoke sharply, inflating his ribcage and bristling his muscle. “Brian,” he said, “just do what I say. Don’t make me MAKE you take them.” And so I dry-swallowed them – but they must’ve been gel-coated, because they went down easy -- one tasted slightly metallic. “Thank you,” he said in a lighter tone. “Now sit down and I’ll tell you what this is all about.” When I plopped myself back on the arm of the sofa, my hands crossed before my crotch, he continued, hurrying through the exposition. “I was in the city not long ago on a tourney, staying at a hotel in this weird little neighborhood on the east side. I was coming back after practice, walking down this street with all these little shops and shit and I pass by this vintage clothing store. There’s a singlet in the window – catches my eye – an old-school Iowa lo-cut singlet, like we wore in the eighties, when I was there. “Anyway, I go inside, and the Man who owns the store, a little dumpy fag with this kind of know-it-all attitude sees me checkin’ out the singlet and the first thing out of his mouth – not ‘hello’, not ‘how are you?’, not ‘welcome to my store’ – no, he says, ‘Your son’s a disappointment to you. You wish he’d found the passion for wrestling that you have.’ “And what was I gonna do, Brian? It’s true. And it caught me off-guard. So, instead of questioning how he knew it, or what business of his it was, I nodded and said, ‘Yeah…’ “Because, it IS a disappointment to me, Brian. It breaks my heart that you don’t like wrestling – since before you were born, it was my dream to raise a little wrestler and be your coach.” It was so weird to hear my Dad talking like this – it was almost too much. I was feeling a little light-headed, so I slid down onto the seat of the sofa and leaned back against the soft material, my hands still covering my crotch. “I’m sorry, Dad,” I said, near tears. “I wish I could’ve been the son you wanted.” Dad smiled and barked a laugh. “That’s what HE said,” he said, “the Man at the shop. He said it was possible for me to have the son I’d always wanted. He said I could BUY that – I didn’t have to wish it, I could buy it – and he had just the thing!” “What?” I asked – I WAS feeling dizzy, clouded. I was having trouble keeping up with the narrative. I felt like I had just taken cold medicine or something. “So we’re in the back of his shop where the cash register and stuff is and we go to this filing cabinet. He tells me that this place is called THE LIFE STORE – the clothing thing is just a front – and through some unexplainable combination of alchemy and nano-technology or something, he’s able to craft complete new lives for people. He sells new lives! “Okay, NOW I think he’s crazy and I’m just indulging him. I really just want to buy the singlet and get the hell out of there, right? And he pulls out this thick file marked ‘ATHLETES,’ and it’s full of biographies and profiles of all these different jocks and all these different sports. He’s humming as he sorts through them. There’s only a few wrestlers – what a shock, right? – when he pulls one out and says, ‘This is it!’” It was still hard to follow what my Dad was talking about, but I realized that I wasn’t sick, wasn’t dizzy – no, just the opposite. I was starting to feel a buzz, like the coming wave that rides you up to drug-induced ecstasy. I was feeling kind of good. I was even starting to get a hard-on. I could feel it growing beneath the loose jockstrap. Instead of being embarrassed by it, however, I briefly thought, “Well, so does DAD…” before I dismissed it. Fuck it, let it get hard – it felt good. Besides, Dad wasn’t trying to hide his. “It was a helluva profile,” Dad continued, watching me curiously. “And I loved how the guy’s name was a pun – Wrestling Matt.” He chuckled. “Oh, Brian, you’re gonna love being him.” “What?” I asked, almost fully hard. “What do you mean?” “I’m turning you into him, into the son I’ve always wanted. I bought the profile from the Life Store and I’m turning you into Wrestling Matt, a twenty year old, two-hundred fifteen pound, cocky, nationally-ranked super-jock whose only desire is to please his coach and be like his dad, obsessed with wrestling and training hard at the gym. He loves it, he loves Iowa, he loves his teammates, he loves his jock life, and he owes it all to his Dad, his coach, and he loves to show his gratitude.” He touched his dick again and dreamily added, “It’s gonna be fuckin’ awesome to have him around instead of you....” “But… how…?” Dad shrugged, his big traps flexing and falling. “I don’t know. The Man tried to explain it to me but it didn’t make any sense. Who fuckin’ cares HOW it works? All that matters is that it does.” He looked me up and down quickly, taking his measure, then said, “And it’s obvious that’s something’s happening to you. Stand up.” I obeyed him so quickly that it surprised me. I didn’t even pause to consider any other options. He commanded and I obeyed, just like that – and it felt good to please my coach… I mean, my Dad. “You’re already bigger,” he said. “How do you feel, Matt?” Weakly, I said, “It’s Brian…” A stern look crossed his face – he didn’t like being contradicted. (How could you be Coach’s Favorite if you questioned an order, Brian?) Dad got up in my face and growled. “It’s whatever I say it is… Matt. Answer the question.” Again, without even waiting for him to finish the order, I obeyed it – and that gave me such pleasure. “I feel kind of weird,” I said, tingling, “but good. I can feel my body getting… I don’t know, THICKER almost. Inside and out. Stronger.” And before I could stop myself, I said, “But it’s nothing compared to how good it feels when I obey an order from you.” There was triumph in his smirk, even though he hadn’t won, yet. It kind of pissed me off that he thought I’d be so easy to defeat – I was starting to feel kind of aggressive, kind of angry. Masculine. I was rock hard now, and even the jockstrap wasn’t able to contain me. Turn me into some kind of super-jock, will he? Fuck, when I’m two-hundred fifteen pounds I’ll show him. I orgasmed then, facing off with my Dad. I grunted and moaned as I shot, breaking eye-contact with him – a big, wet stain immediately spreading on the singlet, but still I didn’t stop. I wasn’t even embarrassed by it – no, I fuckin’ LOVED it! It felt so GOOD! “Yeah,” Dad growled. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about…” “Fuck!” I screamed as the orgasm subsided, a few vain left-over spurts feebly making their way out of my still-hard cock. I felt so vibrant – so STRONG. “Where’s… a fuckin’… MIRROR?” I said, my voice gaining a rough edge it had never had before. That was certainly the first time I’d used the “F”-word in front of my coach… I mean, my Dad. He seemed to be taking it okay, though. He had a huge smile on his face as he led me to the full-length mirror at the end of the hallway. A light shone done from directly above where we were standing, making for kind of dramatic lighting as I saw what had begun happening to me. Mirrors had never been my friends – they always showed my flaws, my weaknesses. I would avoid my reflection as much as I could. But standing here with my Dad, I looked in the mirror and saw a whole different me. And since my dad was reflected accurately, then I must have been, too. I didn’t see the skinny, weak, loser I had always been. No, I saw a developing athlete instead, with a strong muscular base that seemed to be growing before my eyes. Damn, I looked good in this singlet, tight as it was becoming – like it was MADE for me. Made for my body. Made to show off my muscle, my power – my very generous cock. I never thought I could be so hot. So incredible. Maybe I wouldn’t mind being this Wrestling Matt after all… “Flex,” Coach said, looking at my reflection rather than me. I instantly obeyed, throwing up a double-bis, and my erection instantly returned. Look how fucking big I was getting! I went from pose to pose, Coach showing me the ones I didn’t really know – most muscular, side chest – my musculature improving and growing the more I flexed. Look at my traps, my neck – years of neck bridges showed as I flexed. “Let’s see the abs,” Coach said, putting his hands behind his own head and flexing his – no wonder he stressed core-training as much as he did. His abs were incredible, dense, thick and separated by deep, oxen-plowed grooves. I quickly pulled the straps of my singlet down, eager to see what mine looked like next to his. I wasn’t disappointed. All the hours we’d spent training together – the nearly obsessive nature of it – had clearly paid off. I remember it used to drive Mom fuckin’ crazy. No wonder she and Dad split up – she couldn’t understand men who had our priorities. My abs were actually better than Dad’s… I mean, than my Coach’s. He was thicker through the middle than me – a little middle-aged spread, I’d joke with him when I really wanted to piss him off – my waist was almost two inches smaller than the old man and my tiny little hips gave me a “V” much more sever than his. “Hard not to be envious, isn’t it?” I asked in my gravelly new voice as we fought for mirror space. Coach barked out a “Fuck you” and cocked his fist like he was gonna punch me. “Go ahead, old man,” I said, smirking, running a hand over my eight-pack. “Give it your best shot.” As soon as his fist came in contact with my muscle, I orgasmed again, this time so powerful, it brought me to my knees. My big cock just kept pumping out the jizz, soaking the material and dripping down my leg. I fuckin’ LOVED it! When I could control myself again, there on my knees in the hallway, I looked over at Coach, standing there with a triumphant smirk on his face – God damn, I loved him! After all, I owed him fucking EVERYTHING – he made me into the man I was today. He’d trained me all my life to be the best I could be – to be like HIM. His big hard dick fought the confines of his loose sweats, and as the Coach’s Favorite, I knew what my job was. Without waiting for his order or his guidance, I reached over, untied the waistband, and pulled out his thick, nine-incher. Damn, I may’ve had better abs, but I had nothing on Coach’s hot, hot cock. “You gonna stare at it,” he asked, “or are you gonna do something with it?” “Just give me the order, Coach.” That smirk – that cocky fuckin’ smirk – the one I’d inherited. Yeah, fucker, just watch what your favorite can do. Feel my talented mouth. “Suck my cock, Matt,” he said, slapping it against my face. The rush of pleasure I felt when I took it in my mouth caused me to cum again. Seeing our reflections in the mirror, this hulking college wrestler blowing his Coach, their muscle flexing, their faces locked in ecstasy, made it even hotter. I knew just what to do, just how to tickle, just when to deep-throat, and when he orgasmed, filling my mouth with his salty-sweet jism, choking me with its volume, I knew with certainty that was why I’d been created. And I’d never be satisfied. “Isn’t this better than being some pansy-ass performing arts major at Liberal U, Brian?” he asked as he leaned against the wall and I licked him clean. “What the fuck are you talking about?” I asked as I ran my tongue down the length of his impressive shaft. “My name is Matt. Don’t you remember, or did it take all the blood from your brain to fill this big dick of yours? I go to Iowa, like my dad before me. I’m on a wrestling scholarship that you helped me earn, and for which....” I kissed the head of his cock and slipped it back into his sweats. “…I will be forever grateful.” “Excellent,” he said, patting me on the head. “Let’s go hit the mats, then, Matt. I want to see what you learned at Iowa this semester.” It was our best Christmas ever – we could train, eat, and fuck without Mom breathing down our necks. Coach and I trudged through the snow to the Athletic Building on campus, opened up the wrestling room, turned up the heat, and grappled the night away. We started in our Iowa singlets, which was hot enough, then we stripped down to jocks and finally rolled naked together, sweaty. muscular and masculine. He was a tough bitch and I still couldn’t take him – but he took me, often and ferociously. Quite literally, too. He took me right there on the wrestling mats, fucking me the way a man uses his favorite sex toy, the same way he had for years. I loved it so much. As team captain, I always had my pick of the other wrestler’s tight little asses, but rarely had to give up my own – that’s how often I lost. But man, Coach could always do me, and do me right. He could fuck me hard on the soft mats and I always wanted more. I may’ve even shouted “I love you!” as he came inside me – I don’t remember, I was so lost in ecstasy. So lost in gratitude. I was Wrestling Matt, the Coach’s Favorite, a two-hundred fifteen pound state champion and fuck machine. And I loved it. Afterwards, I licked the mats clean and joined my Coach in the shower. END
  13. Trio

    Dr. Atomic

    My scientist friend was working on a secret project, and it only came to light shortly after he died, in mysterious circumstances. It was revealed to me in a note he left me, where he begged me to be who he couldn’t. The note didn’t say much, besides his plead, and a single instruction: to put the dogtag attached to the note. So I did, and so it began. My body was covered in thick metal as I screamed until the heavy cocoon hid my body from the world. I knew something massive was happening to me, for the sake of my diseased brother I didn’t want to fight it, but Fought I did, until I couldn’t, Immobilized I was. Even covered from head to toe, I was awaken the whole process, and I could experience it, the transformation. The acid metal corroded my lab coat, my shirt, my pants and trousers, until I was fully exposed, only the dogtag that started it all still pended beside me. I started to grow, slowly and massively, my muscles were developing, much was necessary to transform me into a beast, and yet this was happening, my pecs expanded and I felt my bones breaking, reassembling, changing, thickening, just like my hard muscles. My flat abdomen was utterly changed, the muscles strengthened inside me, the skin fighting to keep up with my new form. My legs grew tight in the cocoon as they transformed into colossus of meat and power, my bones reassembled and changed as my mind was bathed with thoughts and feelings I never experienced before. This transformation was changing my core. My scientific knowledge, my culture, my previous passions, all gave away to strengthen, duty, glory, war. Be a good soldier, transform for the sake of your brother in arms. Flex your arms and punch with vigor! Roar the BattleCry, and so I did, and as I did, again and again, my cocoon changed, and started to fuse into my body officially. My skin was gone, my bare muscles were in contact with the metal that now was my new cover, my natural armory. My hair was gone, and through my skull the iron merged into my bones, changing them deeply, causing me to grow powerful horns, my new symbol of virility. My cock grew beyond any natural proportion and his power as the spreader of my seed, my blood, grew. When It finished, the previously rough metal was now smooth as part of my being. I weighted tons and felt the strength of the gods above. My chest was wide, muscular, raw, my nipples pending down, dripping my seed through them, showing how much I’ve changed. My abs were powerful and I felt my new anatomy with my wide, powerful hands. I had the shoulders of the gods now, capable of supporting great weight, ability I was eager to test, as I’d like to carry those petty men in my new powerful back now. To be their eternal servant. Their bull. I had the horns, had the strength, had the vigor. I was deeply and truly changed. A different kind of testosterone flew through my veins, and I had to explore my manhood. I played with my giant cock, so hard it was, so sensitive. It was dripping precum already, as I caressed gently the powerful instrument of pleasure. I slowly roared as my movements became less kind, until finally I was fucking myself and groaning with indescribable pleasure. And then I came, jets and jets of silver came from my body, product of my powers. Sealing the pact, finally making clear I was beyond a man now. I was Dr. Atomic.
  14. Transformheaven

    Sent to the Army

    The day was there, Andrew’s 18th birthday was finally there. Andrew had seen the procedure on two of his three older brothers. David and Luke both got sent away the day they turned 18. David, Luke and Andrew were kids from his dad’s previous marriage. The three brothers had a small build. They looked twinkish; all three of them had to wear glasses, their skins were full of zits. Even on their 18th birthdays, their faces were covered in pimples. No muscles to be spotted. The first person that went away was David, his oldest brother. He was dragged away the morning of his 18th birthday. Andrew remembered the day vividly. He woke up to screaming and the sound of somebody being dragged over the floor. David resisted as much as his weak body could. Finally, they gave him an injection of some sort. Just as Andrew rounded the corner, he saw his oldest brother losing consciousness, his eyes fading away. Two bodybuilders in army clothing dragged his brother away, into an army van. Two years went by, in the beginning, his brother sent letters. They were all addressed to Andrew and Luke. Andrew still kept the first letter of his brother. The message was positive; it went on about how amazing the camp was, how good his fellow soldiers were, not a single negative thing to be spotted. Until Luke remembered that he and David used to write secret notes to each other. For the first few weeks, the two brothers wondered why the sentences had such weird structures. Then, Luke wrote down all capital letters behind each other. “HELP ME” they spelt. They told it to their dad, who laughed it off. After that, the two brothers had to make sure they checked the letterbox before anyone else, or the letters were destroyed before the boys could read it. For the first three months, all letters contained a similar message. Then the messages stopped, and the spelling of the letters deteriorated. One month later, four months after the hidden messages stopped, all letters stopped. The army must’ve found out about the secret messages, six months later, a final letter arrived. The handwriting assembled that of a child. Somebody else surely must’ve tried to write something. But this contained a message “NO HELP. ME GOOD”. After this letter, Andrew’s father and step mum seemed to start on preparing Luke to be sent away to the army. It was better for him not to resist. If he didn’t, he would be home within half a year. He wasn’t supposed to send any letters, after what happened with David. And then, on Luke’s 18th birthday, an army truck stopped in front of the door. Luke obviously chose to follow the advice. When Andrew walked out of his room to check on his brother, he saw him silently followingGeneral to the army truck outside. Before the sun shone down on Andrew’s street, his brother was gone. With his brother disappearing, all signs of him in the house disappeared as well. Andrew never heard anything from his brother again. His parents were silent about it all; all the pictures of his brothers were removed from the house. And now Andrew was here, lying in bed on his 18th birthday. He finished making up his mind about the past years without his brother, the agonizing pain of not being allowed to tell his friends that he might never see them again hit him. The distinct sound of the doorbell ended his thoughts. It was time. Andrew jumped out of bed, but on his tracksuit pants and grabbed the bags he packed the night before. Deciding also to follow the advise to be cooperative, the image of his oldest brother getting an injection still instilled in his mind. He had to to leave his bags at the door. “The army will take care of that for you, kid”,the General said. Andrew wanted to speak up, demand that he could take some personal belongings with him. Then he remembered the injection again, and he decided not to. He obediently put down the bags and walked outside to the van, not even waving his parents goodbye. The door was closed as soon as he left the house. He saw the army van for the first time up close, the first thing he noticed was that there were other people in it already. Almost all boys inside looked to be his age and one older man, who looked more like a dad himself. As Andrew entered the van, taking place on the last available seat, he saw 7 other grim faces. The older guy looked to be the most shocked. As the van began to move, Andrew could hear that the older man was saying stuff under his breath. “The guy looked like me” he put his head in his hands as he said so, “exactly like me. How will she know? They brainwashed her; they must have. I shouldn’t have resisted the offer. They brainwashed her to put me out of the house. And now, she’s with him. What about my boys?” The guy just kept on rambling completely upset with what happened. Andrew looked around the van. He could only see the people he was sitting within the back, the driver’s compartment had been sealed off, and they were unable to see anything. Finally, Andrew’s eyes rested on the blonde boy sitting next to him. He looked to be around his age, and the only question Andrew could form left his mouth: “It’s your birthday too?” The blonde gave a quick nod. Andrew immediately asked a new question: “Where, where are they taking us?”, his fear made his voice crack a little there. The boy moved his eyes to something that appeared to be a camera next to a speaker. “No speaking to each other!”, a voice commanded through the speaker. “Now that you’re all here, however, I can explain to you guys where we are going. You were selected for a special program from the military in search to create a super-soldier. You guys were lucky enough to receive warnings from your older brothers not to resist us. That’s good. We like it that way, except for Henry here. You may have noticed he’s a lot older than you guys. That’s because he has three young boys who were selected for the program when they turn 18. He decided to resist our offer, so we had to replace him with a copy of him, a copy that’s a bit more obedient to our suggestions. But don’t worry Henry, you’ll be a part of our experiments now.” After saying this, Henry started crying out loud, and the speaker shut off. Leaving the group with only the sounds of the van and Henry’s sobbing. Andrew rested in his faith, as most boys appeared to do. The road to the military facility seemed to take forever, and Andrew drifted off now and then. Just after he woke up, he guessed eight full hours had passed by now. The windows seemed to get covered by something dark. This was preventing the people in it to look at their surroundings. No idea of where they ware, the journey went on for another hour before the van finally stopped. The doors opened and the young men inside needed a minute to adjust to the sunlight flooding in. “Come out now boys!”General commanded. As the boys walked out, Andrew immediately noticed an incredibly muscled guy standing just outside of the van, looking at the boys from a little distance. Andrew’s jaw almost hit the floor when he saw the guy. The man in front of him had blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. He was wearing a tight green t-shirt and cargo pants that hugged his muscled legs very tightly. Andrew had seen some images of hyper muscled guys when he was looking for “chicks with massive tits” on the internet. This guy, however, dwarfed all the pictures he’d seen before. The front of the cargo pants looked like a turkey had been stuffed inside of them. His t-shirt hung loosely around his narrow waist, and the sleeves were straining against massive biceps. At that moment, to Andrew, a god himself had descended from heaven. The blonde guy that sat next to Andrew on their way here clearly didn’t share Andrew’s view of the guy. “Ronald! Ronald is that you? What the fuck did these guys do to you?” By the end of the sentence, the blonde was practically screaming, running towards the god-like figure a few metres away from them. “Rob, stay here! I command you.” General said mockingly, trying to stop him. Ronald didn’t react to his name at first, but he did respond to the guy running towards him. A slight grin formed on his face, and he retrieved a little injection needle from his pocket. When Rob closed the little distance in between them, Ronald stapped him straight in the neck. From where he was standing, Andrew wasn’t able to see Rob’s face. “Wha… what’s… happ…” Before he was able to finish his sentence, Rob lost consciousness and fell to the floor. Ronald picked the blonde boy from the floor and carried him out of sight for the others. “Okay boys, let this be a lesson for all of you; behave yourselves. Some people here might look familiar to you, but rest assured they won’t show any sign of recognizing you. So don’t end up like Rob. And now we’re off to the barracks, you will start your training immediately after settling in. From now on you guys will be on a tough diet and work out regimen. Welcome to the army boys.” Three days had passed. The first night the group was put through the most intense workout any member of the group had ever experienced. Everybody had struggled, eventually giving up on giving their full 100% in the workout. The trick was to make the general think that you were pushing yourself. It turned out the entire group would make for some good actors! Henry, the group’s dad, was the first that lost his façade. He just gave up, put down the weights and started sobbing again, calling for his wife and kids. After seeing this, General walked over to Henry, leaned over and whispered something in his ear. Immediately after this, Henry’s back straightened, and he got a stern look on his face. The rest of the workout, Henry put more than a 100% into his exercises. Nobody considered it possible, but after General offered him a special type of drink, Henry’s muscles seemed to grow with every rep. The general looked up to the rest of the group and noticed them staring with an intense stare. “Well, I tend to have some very forcing whispers as you guys see. If this causes you discomfort, feel free to get your earphones for the next workout and listen to some music during your workouts! But don’t forget, the special water will be mandatory from tomorrow on.” Indeed, the next day during breakfast a special purple drink was served. This was the only colourful thing most of the group had as a meal. All the meals on the army grounds seemed to consist of a grey goo. Andrew looked at Henry’s plate, and he noticed the goo was purple and he had a nice steak served with it as well. A weird type of breakfast, Andrew thought. As Andrew was finishing his grey goo, the ground started shaking a little. The doors to the cafeteria flung open, but where light should’ve been flooding in through the open doors, most of it was blocked by a giant silhouette. A figure that rivalled the other soldiers that Andrew grew accustomed of in the past day. The figure stepped inside, closing the doors behind him. When he turned his face towards the room, Andrew’s jaw hit the floor again. Standing at the entrance was somebody that looked like Rob’s twin brother. The guy had the same blonde hair and small nose as the guy that sat next to Andrew on the bus just a day before. But of course, somebody couldn’t grow that large in one day! The Rob look-a-like started walking towards Andrew’s table. He smiled a beautiful white smile and then asked with a booming voice: “Hey Andrew, is this spot still free?” Andrew found his ability to speak after a bit of a struggle: “R-R-Rob? Is that you?” “I’ll take that as a yes”; the blonde god spoke as he sat down at the table, the chair underneath him letting out a few noises in protest of the weight. Rob was eating a steak, just like Henry. He looked around franticly, and when Rob saw that no other soldiers were around, he bent over a bit to Andrew. As he turned towards Henry, Rob dropped his voice to a slight whisper. “They didn’t get my mind yet. Be sure to take some earphones to the gym session this afternoon. Meet me afterwards outside behind the main building in the north of the camp. Be careful not to show anybody a sign that you know anything. See you then.” Rob looked up as one of the soldiers marching in the cafeteria hushed them. “You two, eat!”, the guard practically yelled at them. Rob and Andrew finished their meals in silence. Immediately after drinking the purple drink, Andrew noticed his muscles aching less. His body was getting a nice pump to start the workouts that afternoon. He actually started to feel a little excited to workout, and clearly, the other guys felt similar. Most of them were chatting enthusiastically, and Andrew only remembered to take his earphones at the last minute before going out of the building to get to the gym barrack. It turned out he was the only one that remembered to take their earphones. As they were walking in the middle of the grey barracks, the sun burning on their bodies clad in army gear, multiple men referred to their forgotten earphones and music. “Oh men, don’t fear” Henry’s voice boomed through the group. “You’ll like hearing the General’s voice pushing you to the limit. YEAH LET’S GO!” That final statement ended with Henry clapping his hands together, flexing his arms in the process. The gym building was pretty close to the guys’ dormitory, and as they walked in rows of two, Andrew again was assigned to Rob. They were walking next to the blonde guy, seeing how he had hulked up. Henry’s dick went semi-hard. “weird”, thought Andrew “I never chub up around a guy.” Before Andrew could give his strange arousal another thought, the group arrived at the gym. The General immediately put them through the same intense session as the day before. Andrew secretly tried to check in the other guys. Henry was in a similar mood as the day before, hyper-focused on his training. He was screaming through his reps as his muscles kept tensing up and swelling. Everybody noticed the rapid muscle growth on the kidnapped dad. Every rep was bringing his body closer to giants like Rob or the soldiers outside of the gym. Henry wasn’t the only one throwing all of himself into the workout. Since almost all people except for Andrew forgot to take their earphones, the General was walking around. Whispering words into their ears, after a brief exchange of whispers, the eyes of the guy whispered to would get an overly focused gaze to them. After that, the guy wholeheartedly threw himself into the workout, immediately growing his muscles. As the General passed Rob, he started speaking out loud, and Andrew could hear his voice through the music from his earbuds. “Ah Rob, the boys did a good job on you, didn’t they? You look like a real good soldier now!” Upon hearing this, Rob’s eyes fogged over slightly, and he started pushing himself further into the workout. All the guys around Andrew threw themselves into their workouts vigorously, but the General left Andrew alone, just winking at him occasionally as he walked past him. At the end of the workout, Andrew stood up from the benchpress he was laying on and decided to still go to the place that he and Rob would meet up at. Andew stood behind the main building in the north of the camp. The late afternoon sun was shining down on his head. He looked around, looking whether Rob was leaving the gym building already. Finally, a figure left the gym building. Henry squinted his eyes against the sun, and as the figure came closer, he saw that it wasn’t Rob. The General had an evil grin as he approached Andrew. “Well, well, well. Look who’s here. You’re the first person I’ve seen so far that was able to remember to bring his earphones to the second workout. Amazing! We can’t use resisters in this camp, I’m afraid. As you may have noticed by now, we don’t really like people that resist. Let me show you what happened to the people that opposed the moment we tried to take them, I think one of them will be quite familiar to you.” The General concluded with a smirk in his voice. At this moment, Andrew could feel the earth move a little as he saw Rob leave the gym building. Rob walked up to the General with a guilty look in his eyes. “Sorry man, all I need is a trigger now, and he just made me…” Andrew could see Rob’s eyes go empty again as he saw the General squeeze the big bulge in Rob’s tracksuit pants as the muscled giant let out a massive groan. “Yeah, it takes a few days for our convicts to stay in their mental state permanently. Okay now, let’s go boys.” “YES, SIR!” Rob yelled as he started marching further towards the edge of the army camp. After a walk that was relatively far considering they were just inside an army camp, the threesome stood in front of a rather high building. From behind the blinded windows, Andrew could hear sucking noises and faint moans. A glance at Rob’s pants showed that at least someone was exciting to stand close to this building. Andrew just got a bad feeling from it. The General slid open some doors that made the building look more like a barn than an army building. As the General closed the doors behind them, Andrew’s eyes needed a second to get used to the lack of lighting, caused by the black paper covering up the windows. His mouth opened in shock, another door was in front of them, the moans behind it unbearably loud. In front of the door stood two guards, just as muscled as the other soldiers in the camp. Andrew focused his gaze on the guard standing on the left side of the door. While all other soldiers he had seen so far were wearing camouflage coloured pants, this one was wearing tight compression pants that reached just above the knee. His calves stood out like diamonds, and his quads were wider than Andrew’s hips. The shorts had trouble containing a throbbing dick that almost showed it’s head on the bottom of the right leg. His balls made the crotch look like two small melons were put in there. Cobblestone abs, eight in total followed the narrow waist. His pecs stood out, forming shelves under his face. His lats almost seemed to form wings behind him, causing his arms to form an angle. His traps almost entirely swallowed the giant’s neck. Now that Andrew finally raised his head to look at the guy’s face, his mouth fell to the floor. Of course, somebody gets used to seeing muscled guys everywhere if you see them all the time, but the face shocked him. The face of this giant, showed his older brother Luke, the one that got sent away directly before him. After getting over the initial shock, Andrew wanted to run towards his brother and call out his name. Just in time, he remembered what happened to Rob. He took a final glance at the soldier’s eyes, staring towards something, only the two guards could see. “Ooh, yeah that’s right. One of these guards should look quite familiar to you, Andrew!” The General said out loud. “Don’t worry. You’ll be able to spend time with him soon enough!” As the General said that, he gave a stern nod towards the guard who pressed their backs against the door, causing it to open minimally. The General slipped through the gap, as did Rob, pulling Andrew behind him. The room behind the doors had bright lights, so bright that Andrew had to cover his eyes for a second. The General clearly tried to say something, but all the background noise completely overpowered him. The first sound that stood out in the cacophony of noises were the moans. The room sounded like an orgy bigger than any porn movie Andrew had ever seen. And then there was a sucking sound, not as if somebody was sucking on something, no a machine. Andrew slowly opened his eyes and let them adjust to the lights. He thought his mouth couldn’t hit the floor any harder than it already had in the past few days, but this was a new shock for the 18-year-old. The General, Rob and Andrew stood on some sort of platform, looking over a slightly lower room. On the floor, about 4 metres below the platform, a group of musclebound people sat, feeding from tubes. The sucking noises were made by big tubes attached to the freaks’ cocks. Sucking the cum out of them, and then, the cum seemed to travel towards a big tank. It reminded Andrew of the times he visited a dairy farm in his youth. The General bent over towards Andrew. “Now, you might want to prepare for what’s next. Your eldest brother is down there.” Andrew’s stomach sank. As the threesome descended down the stairs, Andrew could see that the room continued underground. Dozens of men must’ve been in the room, sucking on tubes and getting their dicks sucked. Some had army men, the kind that Andrew got used to by now, fucking them from behind. The eyes of both cumcows and soldiers only showing utter bliss. The only difference in them was that the guys bottoming seemed to have lost their intelligence. Their mouths constantly drooling. Their dicks were enormous, reaching out well above their heads. The balls were bigger as well, the only other difference with the regular soldiers besides dicks and balls was the look in their eyes. It was hard to describe, but to Andrew, they just looked dumb. His fears turned out to be accurate, the guy in front of them, getting fucked senseless by a soldier at the moment, was his oldest brother. The guy… was David. The General started speaking again: “As I said before, and as you may have noticed by now, we don’t like resisters. We try to form a super army, and we thought we should try to form a bond between the soldiers that was as strong as possible. We were making them gay and hungry for each other. That worked pretty much straight away after the transformation is complete, only super-soldiers will make you horny. Not only that, if you don’t get fucked or get to fuck after two days, you’ll slowly go crazy. The first version of our virus made people stupid as a rock, and caused…” The General paused for a second, “some more significant dick growth than we wanted. Their balls were set to produce the serum themselves, giving them the possibility to enslave the enemy. However, in the end we found out that caused the loss in cognitive abilities, so we had to take that out of the serum. The second prototype worked like a charm! In the end the government decided to stop the funding, so we lost most of our serum. Luckily we still had some of the first serum left. A slight adjustment to that caused their inflated balls to produce the second version of the serum. It’s complicated, but it worked! So now we just mix some of that cum into your food and drinks. The subliminal messages in the gym, enhanced by my commands, activate the serum. Our Research department didn’t stop there though, to guarantee a stable supply of new recruits, we bribed parents into giving us their children. If they resist, we clone them with some more… agreeing versions of themselves. We just send the women to an island. Most men end up in this building, as our serum cows. Your brother was different, though. He decided to resist and kept on resisting even as his mind was melting away into his balls. Too bad, he shouldn’t have needed to become a cow. Unfortunately, I don’t make the rules. And now, say goodbye to your life as you know it.” The General turned towards Rob and commanded: “Rob, start fucking little David here!” “YES, SIR!”, Rob replied as he undid his pants, lowering them. His cock seemed to go on for ages, it turned out he was as hung as the guard’s at the door. Andrew had been silent all the time, completely dumbfounded. The General bent over and said: “Now, be a good jock-soldier and eat your brother's cum. And with you along, I’ll make the army pay for ever stopping our funding.” At these words, Andrew felt the enormous need to obey, and so he did. The General unhooked the tube and Andrew started sucking his older brother’s dick, while Rob fucked David into oblivion. As his brother started cumming, Andrew blacked out. --- “WAKE UP, YOU FATARSES. BREAKFAST IS SERVED SOON.” Andrew lifted his head, he was awake for quite some time. He looked down towards a guy playing around with his dick. After what happened in “the barrack”, Andrew only saw the other soldiers as his brothers. He believed, however, that this one was called Luke, and he had some special bond with him. They both looked quite alike, Andrew thought as he blew his former brother’s mouth. Quickly after they went out of bed, got dressed and walked towards the breakfast hall. In there a bigger recruit, Andrew believed his name was “Henry” or something, threw himself into an already intense pull-up session on the doorframe. He clearly tried to show the general his best. Andrew sat next to his brother in arms, a guy he at one point thought of as “Rob”. The guy was an absolute beast and Andrew loved the way he filled his ass! As he started eating his breakfast, the General started speaking. “Recruits, after months of extensive training, the time has come! This nation can no longer continue it’s crimes agains the people that should rightfully be in power. Just look at you! You are super-soldiers!” The group started cheering as the General started yelling. “You are super-soldiers and together we will move towards the capital! We will make this country ours!” To Andrew, the future looked bright.
  15. POLLINATION: The Series! – BOOK ONE, pts 1-8 (AUTHOR’S INTRO: In the tradition of TV Shows based on movies (i.e. M*A*S*H, PLANET OF THE APES, WESTWORLD), we present POLLINATION: The Series! We take this approach to allow the Original Story to remain independent and retain its original impact, structure and voice, while allowing us to play with the concept and characters introduced there. Although the Original Story is referenced within The Series, we consider that more of an “Easter Egg” than a plot necessity. The Series starts a week or so after the Original Story ends, but the “rules” for the two universes are the same. (It has always been the intent of the Author that The Series be more open-ended, as one would expect from a TV Show seeking to last for multiple seasons. If one thinks of “Book One” as “Season One” and the new material in “Book Two” as “Season Two,” this will more accurately convey the spirit the Author attempts. Also, that gives us at least three more seasons before we jump the shark. (Aside: the TV Show “Happy Days” (where the phrase “jump the shark” originated) was based on the movie AMERICAN GRAFFITI.) (Welcome to POLLINATION: The Series! If this is your first time in this weird little corner of the universe, get ready for a crazy ride. It’s not the movie, but it’s a lot of fun!) 1. When he got on the plane, there was an audible gasp from coach class. This guy was gigantic, bigger than them bodybuilders in the magazines, larger than any human most of these rural-West Virginians had ever seen. That he could even squeeze down the narrow aisle way was miraculous – he had to go sideways for the width of his shoulders. When he finally got to his row, the look on his seatmate’s face flickered between envious lust and uncomfortable fear. This massive giant slid down into his seat, barely, barely fitting in the space – his shoulders still crowded his seatmate. He apologized to the man sharing the row, his voice a deep, sexy rumble. “We didn’t think it was gonna be this difficult,” he said. Despite his size, his face looked like it belonged to a teenager, fresh and innocent. “We didn’t realize how large we’ve actually become.” He adjusted his balls as if it were no big deal, and even there he was ridiculously over-developed. The little nebbish he shared a seat with couldn’t believe the size of this monster’s cock, barely hidden beneath a too-thin layer of pants. With a member like that, it was no wonder the boy spoke in first-person plural. The big teen smiled. “Like what you see?” he asked, lightly touching himself. Even the smallest, most insignificant muscle was pumped to exaggeration – his fingers, his forearms. He was just perfect. A fantasy. His seatmate looked shyly away, stuttering. “I… I…” The muscle-giant laughed, as the plane ran the tarmac. “We know,” he said. “Feels good, too.” He kept one hand on his balls the entire time, cupping them, supporting them – almost protecting them. Maybe they were so heavy it was uncomfortable to let them hang, his seatmate reasoned, preparing the fantasy to which he’d masturbate later. And then they were taking off, G-forces pulling even this heavyweight back into his seat. He looked suddenly uncomfortable, like he was trying to “pop” his ears by yawning. Must be the altitude – “Do you need some gum?” his seatmate managed to choke out, reaching into his breast pocket, when the huge muscleteen began screaming. He tore out of his seatbelt, frantically grabbing his balls, one hand on the side of his head, and stood, his painful screams strengthening. The flight attendants ran to him, even with the difficult slope of the floor during takeoff. “Sir? Sir!” They called. “What’s the matter? What’s happening?” Then, as the pilots leveled off at their cruising altitude, this huge bodybuilder’s eyes rolled back in his head, and there was this heavy, low-pitched bursting sound, like a balloon had popped. His screaming suddenly ceased, and the ridiculously over-muscled boy fell to the floor. He was dead. As the other passengers started screaming themselves, and the attendants strove to regain order, the teen’s former seatmate looked over at the body and saw the liquid stains of blood soaking the front of the muscular kid’s pants. It looked like his balls had exploded. 2. Less than ten hours later, Wolf Murdock’s cell-phone chirped in the pocket of his black trench coat, waking the agent. Grunting deep in his throat, he wiped his face as he sat up on the edge of the bed, feeling how badly he needed a shave. “Coming,” he mumbled, as if the phone could hear him. A clumsy, stumbling little physical bit later, he fished the phone out of his coat, draped over his bedroom chair. “Murdock,” he said in a tone betraying his state. “Sounds like you had a hell of a night.” His partner, Tully. She had a way of projecting her opinions, her judgements – her hidden subtext – even over the phone. “Early morning’s never been my best time. What’s up?” “How soon can you get down here?” she asked. “I got one I think you should see.” What a way to start the day – his supposed day off, as a matter of fact – a dead body on an empty, gin-soaked stomach. Murdock walked to the bathroom and turned on the hot water in the shower. “Gimme an hour,” he said, and hung up on Tully. To rebel, he didn’t shave. 3. “Apparently, the victim had some sort of convulsion during the take-off of a small commuter plane. The airline had no idea what was going on – they assumed heart-attack – but I think from the appearance of the corpse that the cause is more like altitudinal pressure.” Murdock and Tully walked across the tile workfloor of the medical wing, the click of her heels echoing in the empty room, a staccato counterpoint to the legato squeak of his sneakers. Somehow, as always, she looked fresh and clean and perfectly manicured – exactly the opposite of him. “What do you mean?” he asked. “His heart burst?” She sighed, and swung open the door to the examination room. “Not his heart,” she said, and motioned him inside. The corpse was huge, lying there – Frankenstein’s monster, the Cardiff Giant, a brainless robot from a Bugs Bunny cartoon – Murdock flashed through all these images in a heartbeat. Naked but for a towel covering its privates, the corpse’s extreme muscular development was obvious. “Big boy,” Murdock said. “So, we’re thinking steroids?” “He doesn’t show any of the classic signs of obvious steroid use,” Tully said, circling the victim on the table, pulling a fresh set of gloves from the instrument table. “No acne on the face or body, his abdomen isn’t distended. If he’d been taking steroids,” she said, snapping the gloves on her hands, “I won’t know until I do the bloodwork.” “So then, why am I here?” Murdock raised one of the corpse’s arms, and bent it like it was flexing its biceps. Murdock flexed his own in comparison. Tully’s dry look made him lay the arm back down. “Are we thinking aliens?” She motioned him to the same side of the table where she stood, then pulled back the towel, exposing the corpse completely. He almost vomited when he saw the condition of the corpse’s genitals – like any man, it made him weak in the knees. Within the hour, he was on a hopper-flight to West Virginia to investigate. 4. Tully had stayed behind to do the autopsy – she’d call him when she had any information. In a way, that was preferable to Murdock – he enjoyed doing leg-work by himself. He could follow his hunches without needing to explain himself. His hunch here was that this guy – Robert Ray, though his friends referred to him as “Robbie Ray” – had gotten himself into some kind of weird drug, maybe something that he’d injected straight into his balls, and it’d killed him. Simple as that. Murdock suspected some kind of steroid – Robbie Ray’s driver’s license listed the guy’s weight at one seventy-five, and the license was issued less than a year ago. Tully said Robbie Ray’s corpse weighed over three-hundred and ten pounds. Somehow, Robbie Ray had gained enough muscle to almost double his body-weight in less than a year. Didn’t take an FBI investigator to figure there was an outside influence involved. At the airport, he rented a car – a sub-compact, of all things – and began the long trek to Robbie Ray’s hometown, dead in the middle of nowhere, far enough from an urban center that Murdock couldn’t imagine how a man like Robbie Ray had gotten ahold of a drug as sophisticated as what Murdock theorized. Maybe it WAS aliens… A one-light crossroads of a town, Murdock checked into the Main Street Motel because the name tickled his quaint-ness. After a shower and a quick shave, he set out to find a diner, and then the Sheriff. Fortunately, the two came together. When Murdock asked the old-gal behind the counter, whose bright red name-tag announced her as “Sharlene,” she jerked her head toward the side booths, while she filled his coffee cup. “He’s right over there, love,” she said. “Hard to miss a man as big as Sheriff Lane.” Sure enough, seated there in the corner booth, making short work of a short-stack and a side of eggs, his uniform a dead giveaway, was the Sheriff, heavily-muscled himself. Though nowhere near the size of Robbie Ray, he was big enough to make one question how natural he might be. He wore his uniform tight, stretching over his voluminous, blocky chest, showing the flatness of his abs, even sitting down, and his arms, barely – barely – a heart’s beat away from bursting through his sleeves of his tan uniform. Murdock took his coffee with him. “Is everyone in this town a bodybuilder?” he asked, standing at the Sheriff’s table. The Sheriff looked up from his plate, finishing his mouthful. “Do I know you?” he asked, after he swallowed. A strikingly handsome middle-aged man, rugged, his thinning blonde-gray hair was cut in a tight flat-top, down to the skin on the sides. Meticulously groomed, Murdock noted, he obviously took great pride in his appearance. Maybe to the point of vanity. Murdock flashed his ID, showing his badge. “Agent Murdock, FBI,” he said. “May I sit down?” “Sure,” the Sheriff said, nodding to the other seat. As Murdock settled himself, the Sheriff asked, “What brings the FBI to Bum-fuck, West Virginia this morning?” “The death of one of your local boys,” Murdock said, sipping his coffee. “Name of Ray. Robbie Ray.” The Sheriff reacted, jerking his head the tiniest bit. The news obviously surprised him. “Robbie Ray?” he asked, his eyes becoming intense in their gaze. “Where’d this happen? When?” “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you,” Murdock said. Sharlene appeared with his order, placing it in front of him and disappearing just as quickly, not even asking if he’d need anything. Both Murdock and the Sheriff were quiet while she was present. After she was back behind the counter, Murdock continued. “Last night, he boarded a flight bound for Atlanta and suffered an apparent heart-attack during takeoff.” The Sheriff was quiet, his big arms resting on the table, a look of concern and confusion mixed with disbelief on his face – Murdock was certain his reaction was genuine. The Sheriff shook his head. “That’s a damn shame,” he said. “He was barely more than a boy, just graduated high school.” “Pretty big boy,” Murdock said, cutting into his sausage. “He weighed over three-hundred pounds.” He took a mouthful. Sheriff Lane looked even more confused. “Robbie RAY?” he asked. “Agent Murdock, you got somethin’ wrong. Robbie Ray weighed a buck-fifty if he was lucky. He was one of the skinniest kids I’d ever seen.” Murdock stopped chewing. “Sheriff, when was the last time you SAW Robbie Ray?” “Three days ago,” the Sheriff said. “The day before him and that construction crew he worked with went up missing. What the hell’s goin’ on here, Mr. Murdock?” Murdock took another quick mouthful before he retrieved his briefcase. “I don’t know, Sheriff,” he said, “but I have some pictures to show you.” As the Sheriff studied the photos of Robbie Ray’s corpse, Murdock finished his eggs. 5. “So, Sheriff, mind if I ask you a personal question?” They walked along the abandoned construction site – no, not just abandoned – deserted. Jobs were left half-finished, building materials left out and untended. There were no personal tools lying around, Murdock noted. Wherever these guys had gone, they’d taken their stuff. No sign of foul play. The Sheriff peeked into different half-built buildings and even allowed Murdock to enter the company trailer, the temporary office where the foreman worked; but aside from the standard furniture, discarded paperwork, and a couple of dead potted plants, there was nothing to find. No clues about what had happened to them at all, no hints about where they’d gone, nothing. Now, they walked along the edge of the forest on the outside perimeter of the site, taking one last sweep. The Sheriff was an even larger man than Murdock had first surmised – maybe because half of him had been hidden by a table when Murdock first approached him at the diner. Over six-feet, Murdock guessed the Sheriff weighed between two-forty and two-fifty, and his large frame looked like it could handle more weight easily. He looked like a professional wrestler, or at least projected that kind of energy. He sure did like wearing his uniform tight – lucky it was polyester, he would’ve burst out of cotton. As it was, it could barely stretch over the man’s heavy muscle. Along with the black boots, sunglasses and cowboy hat, Sheriff Lane looked a little more like a porn-movie character than an officer of the law in West Virginia. “Go ahead,” the Sheriff said, a man of few words. “Ask.” They kept walking – Murdock secretly enjoyed all this open, unspoiled land, even with the blight of this dead construction site here – city-folk always did. “Well, I wouldn’t be much of an investigator if I didn’t ask the obvious question. I’m here looking into the death of a man who seems to have gained almost two-hundred pounds of muscle in a matter of days and the first person I meet when I come to town is the bodybuilder Sheriff. Tell me that’s a coincidence.” The Sheriff cracked the edge of a smile – it was the most emotion Murdock had seen from the man yet so far – he grunted instead of laughing. “It’s a coincidence,” he said in his deep voice. “And a shitty coincidence at that. I’ve been into bodybuilding since I was eighteen – that’s almost thirty years, Mr. Murdock – and some kid comes along and gains more weight in three days than I have in my whole life.” The Sheriff removed his hat and wiped his forehead. “I wouldn’t call that very fair.” Murdock nodded. “What about a gym? Is there a gym in town where Robbie Ray could’ve gotten connected with some kind of steroid?” The Sheriff shook his head and put his hat back on. “No gym,” he said. “Not within fifty miles. The only place to lift weights around here is my garage – as a matter of fact, the construction crew we’re lookin’ for did the renovations for me. They put in the skylight, the extension, laid the new floor – it’s a damn nice job. You should come by and see it.” Murdock laughed. “I’m afraid I don’t have the patience for weight-lifting.” “It’s not patience, Mr. Murdock. It’s discipline.” Murdock conceded. “Then I don’t have the discipline. I’m afraid the only way I’d ever become a bodybuilder is if there WERE some kind of magic steroid that did it instantly, some comic-book transformation that required no effort on my part. What about you?” “What about me?” Sheriff Lane asked, subtly adjusting his balls in his pants – so tight, they seemed painted on. Murdock couldn’t imagine how the Sheriff dressed the way he did – swear to God, it looked like his uniform was shrinking as time went by – and it left nothing to the imagination! Not that the Sheriff had anything to be embarrassed about there, Murdock noticed – his package was no small thing. Some men had all the luck. Murdock’s jealousy surprised him in its force. He formed his question carefully. “I guess what I’m asking is: what would YOU be willing to do to get a body like yours?” he asked. “Or a body like Robbie Ray’s?” The Sheriff stopped walking and faced him, suddenly serious. Murdock couldn’t help but be a little intimidated – the Sheriff looked even bigger when he was angry. “Mr. Murdock,” he said, his voice low, intense, “The only way something’s coming into my body is if it were grown in the earth –organic, natural – and that includes magic steroids.” Maybe he realized he was leaning in a little close, maybe he’d made his point and decided to back off, whatever. The Sheriff stood straight, then added, “Do I make myself clear?” “I don’t mean to insult you,” Murdock said. “I’m just trying to get some answers.” Sheriff Lane nodded slightly, crossing his arms, making sure Murdock saw their impressive size, making sure Murdock knew who was really in charge around here. “Well, you got one,” the Sheriff said. “And you hardly insulted me at all. Let’s get out of here, Mr. Murdock – there’s more valuable places to spend our time.” Reluctantly, Murdock agreed, and he and the muscular Sheriff drove back to town. The last thing the Sheriff said as he dropped Murdock off at the Main Street Motel was, “You should really come on over and catch a workout – at least check out my little gym. The light in the afternoon is incredible.” Then the Sheriff smiled, the first true smile Murdock had seen on the man’s face, his rugged, strong jaw – damn, that man had a heavy jaw – but then, so had Robbie Ray. “You might also find out how wrong you are about working out. See you later, Mr. Murdock. You have my number if you need it.” Murdock waived him off and went to his room, where he found a little surprise waiting. 6. Housekeeping had been in – the bed was turned down, the bathroom was clean, the towels were fresh – and someone had left a gaudy flower arrangement on the table by the window. Murdock laughed – small-town niceties. Nobody must ever visit this place. The flowers smelled kind of nasty, actually, even from a distance – it reminded him of old sex a little, stale and musty. He opened the window behind the arrangement to air the room a bit. Flopping back on the small sofa, he pulled out his cell phone and called Tully. “Hey, it’s me,” he said when she answered. “I’m hoping you’ve learned something.” “Not very much,” she said. “Bloodwork showed absolutely nothing unusual. There was a slight elevation in his testosterone level, but nothing indicative of steroid abuse. The cause of death, though, wasn’t the obvious. Aside from his testicles, his pituitary gland also burst – that was what actually killed him. I’m still suspecting atmospheric pressure, but I’ve never seen anything like this. I wish I had more to tell you.” “What’s the pituitary gland? What’s that do?” “The pituitary gland’s main function is the secretion of growth hormone, and Robbie Ray’s was clearly working overtime, but I don’t have any evidence of outside influence. Well, there is one strange thing…” “Anything, anything,” Murdock said, rolling his eyes. “Any lead on why an eighteen year old kid would gain two-hundred pounds of muscle in three days. Make that make sense to me, Tully.” “Well, I don’t think it’s terribly unusual, given that he worked in outside construction, but there was an awful lot of dust in his lungs. It looks like plant pollen – we’re analyzing it now.” “Pollen…?” Murdock suddenly looked at the flower arrangement sitting on the table by the window. All this talk today of organics, and plants… Empty flower pots in the foreman’s trailer… Murdock’s conspiracy-theory mind-set clicked into gear. “I’ll call you back,” he said to Tully and clicked his phone off, dropping it on the coffee table. Slowly, cautiously, he approached the arrangement, studying it. Potted, not fresh cut – one main plant and a lot of decorative spray accenting. It was one of the ugliest flowers Murdock had ever seen. It looked like a big cock. Flashing on “Invasion of the Body-Snatchers” and “The Outer Limits,” Murdock began theorizing. Because of his video-based paranoia, before he got too close to the plant, he went into the bathroom and grabbed a washcloth, dampening it quickly beneath the cold water. He held the washcloth over his nose and mouth as he went in for a closer look. He’d ever seen anything like it, though its long, tubular blossom reminded him of a Pitcher Plant, except it looked so much like a porn-star’s cock. The bulb that produced the blossom lay half-exposed in the dirt, itself resembling a nut-sac. As he brought his face closer to the flower, he could swear he saw the blossom move, take aim almost. Before he could react, the flower shot a cloudy wad of golden pollen directly at Murdock’s face. It was like it coughed, or burped – it just expelled the dust, hitting Murdock directly in the washcloth. He backed away from the plant quickly, actually frightened. Holding his breath, he pulled the washcloth from his face and folded it in on itself, to save the sample. In the bathroom, before he even tried to breath, he washed his face and hands thoroughly. It was some kind of PLANT that had done the boy – some kind of quasi-botanical invasion – although Murdock suspected there was some kind of human hand behind it – plants didn’t arrange themselves with decorative sprays. Was there some kind of evil, bodybuilder-florist in this town, or was the conspiracy broader than he first thought? He pocketed his cell-phone, leaving the room – leaving the plant and the pollen sample behind – and got directions to the Sheriff’s house from the man at the front desk. Only three blocks, it was easier to walk. And instead of calling Tully, he dialed Sheriff Lane. 7. “Mr. Murdock, I’m surprised to hear from you so soon. What’s up?” “Sorry to bother you, Sheriff,” Murdock said, walking at a brisk pace, panting a little, “but I’m on my way to your house right now. I think I finally understand what’s going on around here.” He crossed off of Main Street and went up the tree-lined Oak Ave. “You do? Really?” asked the Sheriff. “Excellent. We… I look forward to seeing you, then.” “Actually, Sheriff, if you look outside your window, you’ll see me approaching your house right now.” Murdock walked up the shrub-lined path that led to the side door. As meticulously groomed as the Sheriff, so too was his landscaping. Between his lawn and his body, when did the man find time for the law? His cruiser was parked in the driveway, which was how Murdock was certain the house was his, an old three-story Victorian with a wrap-around porch, bi-tone gray with white shutters. The garage sat back catty-corner from the house – “renovated” didn’t even begin to describe it. Shaped like a miniature barn – there may have been a name for this style, but Murdock didn’t know it – the top third, the part under the peak, had been replaced by glass. Several sky-lights ran down each side of the roof. It must get great light. The garage-door had been replaced by a new wall – no windows on the street-side. The only entrance was on the house-side of the garage, and that was covered by a screen door. Murdock rapped twice on the side door of the house as he turned off his phone. The Sheriff’s deep voice came from behind him. “I’m in the garage, Mr. Murdock.” He heard the screen door open as he turned toward the sound. There stood the Sheriff before him, not ten feet away. Or what had been the Sheriff. Murdock was too late. Sheriff Lane was gigantic – unbelievably gigantic. As big as Robbie Ray had been – and then some. Where Robbie Ray had been a lifeless corpse on a slab, Sheriff Lane was a living, breathing, vital being. His muscle was swollen past the point of possibility, exaggerated by his failing attempt to wear his uniform, where even the polyester was giving up the struggle. The buttons on his shirt had each popped, exposing the deep cleavage between the halves of his impossible pecs – his badge balanced on the ledge where the nipple had already lost its grip. His shoulders and back couldn’t be contained much longer – as it was, the seams were unraveling. His pants fared better – but only a bit. He stood at attention, his legs spread wide, showing the thickness of his thighs and his solid, over-blown calves. He still wore his boots and gun-belt comfortably, which meant that only his muscles had grown, not his waist or his feet. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. The tightness of the pants also displayed the size of the Sheriff’s package, on par with what Robbie Ray’s had PROBABLY looked like. His thick cock had pushed itself halfway down his left thigh, and was no doubt responsible for the split in his pant’s left seam. And his balls – unlike Robbie Ray’s – were easily the size of oranges, maybe even grapefruit, well-formed and obvious. He wasn’t wearing the cowboy hat, but it looked like he still could. As a matter of fact, his head looked almost too small for his body. But for the widening of his jaw to accommodate his bull-neck, it would’ve. The Sheriff actually looked more handsome, if rugged, working-class muscle-heads were your type. He looked content. “Holy shit,” Murdock said, taking an involuntary step back. The Sheriff smiled. “We’re finally complete,” he said, flexing his arms, tearing the sleeves. “What do you think?” Murdock was speechless – a first. “Oh, my God…” Laughing, the Sheriff said, “You were the one who said you wanted it like a comic book.” He flexed a most-muscular, and the sound of his shirt tearing up the back preceded his triumphant yell. “Well, how’s THAT for ‘The Incredible Hulk?’” He reached across his body – like Lou Ferrigno – and tore the shirt from his torso, throwing it to the ground, exposing muscles that dwarfed anything seen on campy, 70’s tele-drama or even the fanciest, high-tech CGI. All he wore now were his pants – and they were barely hanging on – his boots and his gun-belt. “You sent the plant…” The Sheriff nodded. “I’m surprised you didn’t bring it with you,” he said, adjusting those massive balls. “Most guys get very protective of…” He suddenly paused, and looked at Murdock suspiciously. “You didn’t get pollinated,” he said simply. Murdock shrugged. “In my line of work, you get suspicious of innocent gifts. I’ve seen ‘Invasion of the Body Snatchers,’ thanks.” “This isn’t like that,” the Sheriff said, with a quick flex of his pecs. “They’re plants, yes, but they don’t understand concepts like good and evil. Morality is a human attribute. They simply seek to re-populate an almost extinct species. It’s their only goal, not the subjugation of the human race. Does that make sense to you, Mr. Murdock?” “Oh sure, today it’s repopulation, but tomorrow it’s domination. An army of guys like you would be pretty formidable.” “If they controlled us, which they don’t.” Sheriff Lane began walking toward him, his massive thighs navigating effortlessly around each other – he had the grace of an athlete that matched the size of his muscles, not the bulky burden of a bodybuilder. “We work together, Mr. Murdock,” he said, touching his balls. “It’s a symbiotic relationship.” Murdock ran then – who could say why? Maybe it was years of harboring paranoid, alien-invasion fantasies that finally broke him, who knew? He just… couldn’t TAKE it anymore. So he ran. But Sheriff Lane had been transformed into something specifically designed for superior performance – he was a PROTECTOR – his body was now capable of feats that would’ve seemed impossible before the symbiosis. With only two steps for prep, he literally leapt over his cruiser, somersaulting in mid-air and landing gracefully on his feet, right in front of the panicked Murdock. Smiling at his own accomplishment, he caught the fleeing investigator with one gigantic arm. “Going somewhere, Mr. Murdock?” he asked, walking back to the garage, carrying the struggling Murdock with him. “Stop it!” screamed Murdock – where the hell were the neighbors? “I don’t want it! I don’t want it!!” The Sheriff chuckled. “Yes, you do,” he said. “You said so, yourself. Your words now are just your fear.” “No!” Murdock continued, helpless against the iron-strength of the Sheriff’s physique. He could see the Sheriff’s pistol, inches from his face. “NO!!!” “We need intelligent men, Mr. Murdock,” the Sheriff said, opening the screen door and tossing Murdock into the garage, “not just construction-crew yokels with no ambition beyond their own sexual satisfaction. You’ll understand better in a few minutes.” He shut the main door then, and locked it, standing guard outside the screen. Murdock could see him through the glass. He banged on the door for a couple of seconds, already realizing the futility in it. “Damn it,” he mumbled, then remembered the cell-phone in his pocket –he fished it out. A weak signal, but at least something. He pressed Tully’s number. When her service answered, Murdock muttered a swear and turned around. “Tully, I need you to…” Then he saw it – them. Everywhere – on every bench, every weight-rack, every shelf, every clear inch of the floor – anyplace that might’ve offered a horizontal resting space. Dozens – hundreds of pots: clay, plastic, and metal, coffee cans too, anything that could hold dirt, bowls and tin-foil broilers, everywhere Murdock looked. The plants. Dozens. Hundreds. Sheriff Lane’s converted gym was the perfect greenhouse – the skylights caught the afternoon sun and reflected it warmly throughout the space, a golden yellow incubator for the row after row, pot after pot of cock-shaped flowers. Flowers that now took aim. “Holy shit,” groaned Murdock, dropping the phone, which broke when it hit the ground, snapping plastically. A burst of pollen hit him square in the forehead, golf-ball sized, but with the consistency of loosely-packed dirt. He snapped his head back in reaction and chuckled nervously. “Missed me,” he said to them, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm. Then he was hit in the shoulder, from another angle, then another, in his lower abdomen. And then the barrage started. One after another they pummeled him, like a batting cage gone awry. Murdock might’ve opened his mouth to scream, but sound probably couldn’t get out, the layer of pollen became so thick so quickly. The front half of his body was coated with a good inch of the stuff, making him look like he was struggling with his footing against a yellow-orange blizzard, like frosting on a living snack cake. He finally collapsed, falling over backwards. A couple of last minute volleys hit him in the face, but by then it didn’t matter. He’d stopped holding his breath a while ago. 8. The train pulled into the station with none of the ceremony that would’ve greeted it only a century ago. Everybody flew these days – always in a hurry – and nobody appreciated the Romantic atmosphere provided by a train. He’d forgotten himself – it’d been a long time since he’d traveled for pleasure and not business, this case or that. And flying was out of the question for them now, anyway. Like the others, he’d felt an urge to play Johnny Appleseed, to spread out, to take root. They’d learned their lesson from Robbie Ray, now traveling only by ground or water. Several had just driven off in their trucks, packed up their trailers and their mobile-homes and left for parts unknown, which for a couple of the guys was just outside their own county. They had much more confidence now that they weren’t traveling alone. Sheriff Lane had at least had the foresight to arm them all with cell-phones before they left, so they had some way of keeping track of each other. In person, they could sense when a man harbored a Symbiote – and a Symbiote could sense another from quite a distance away – the outer limit seemed to be about twenty miles. But the Sheriff had little confidence in their success. “You can’t blame the Symbiotes for taking advantage of an opportunity,” he’d said, “but now we have the chance to be a little more particular. The smartest move those guys made was giving a plant to me – to us.” He’d chuckled. “We still have trouble thinking in first-person plural.” He’d stood guard outside his converted garage during Murdock’s entire transformation, enjoying the deep colors of sunset. When the neighbors would walk by, he’d wave congenially. They’d wave back – remembering that the Sheriff was a big man, but not realizing quite HOW big. Many had never seen him without a shirt – he was almost always in uniform – so they had nothing to compare him to. It was possible that he’d ALWAYS been that big. Like most small-town people, they didn’t talk about it until they were behind closed doors. He’d heard Murdock’s struggle, his moans of resistance. Incomprehensible to Sheriff Lane – even more so now – but he’d resisted the impulse to peek through the small window on the door, even when he’d heard the sounds of tearing material – the “Incredible Hulk” fantasy more common than anyone had realized. It would be good to have someone of Murdock’s intelligence with them. He would know better than the Sheriff how to deflect the government, the army, and many of the threats that would greet them at later stages of re-population. Robbie Ray had been a costly mistake this early, bringing attention when they’d least needed it. True enough, it had brought them Murdock, but that was the only silver-lining. At its worst, it had given evidence to a possible adversary. From inside the garage, when Murdock had moaned again, a little more lustful than the last, Sheriff Lane had been able to sense the symbiosis, the acceptance. He’d smiled, but still didn’t look. He’d felt safe about unlocking the door, though. He’d heard Murdock’s orgasm, and hoped Murdock wasn’t wasting the seed, but was distracted suddenly by the beginning of his OWN erection, his sense of discipline failing him slightly. He’d thought those construction-bozos had simply been weak, but if this was how they’d felt when the Symbiotes were in close proximity to each other, it was no wonder that the guys had been having sex constantly. It would be hard to resist. Murdock had stepped out of the garage only a minute or so later. Much improved, though the agent had had a quirky handsomeness before with his lanky, unreliable physique. Not that looks had mattered to Sheriff Lane, or to the Symbiotes themselves – they required their Protectors to be heavily-muscled warriors, not handsome ones – but, as they said in cartoons, “it didn’t HOIT.” Murdock had grown significantly, close in size to the Sheriff himself, maybe twenty pounds lighter – Sheriff Lane still wanted to believe that his years of bodybuilding hadn’t been in vain, and had given him some sort of advantage with the Symbiote. Still lightly dusted in a fine powder, heavier around his mouth and nose, Murdock had been wearing only his boxer shorts when he’d stepped out of the garage, decorated with little spaceships. Only because his fly had been buttoned had they offered any support at all. Like all of the guys, Murdock kept one hand on his package to offer comfort to the Symbiote. He was going to need a different kind of underwear. The Sheriff himself was going to have to start wearing a cup under his uniform if he’d wanted to continue going about his duty – more likely, given his current size, he’d need a cod-piece. For the moment, the two of them stood there facing each other, each in the same pose – one hand offering support to one’s balls – two huge musclemen caught in the act of mutual appreciation. “How do you feel?” the Sheriff had asked. Murdock had smiled. “For the first time in my life, the idea of an alien invasion excites me.” Their coupling had felt even better than their initial symbiosis. Murdock hadn’t considered himself homosexual, but the closer he’d gotten to the Sheriff – or, really, the closer their Symbiotes had gotten to one another – the greater the feelings of pleasure, of growing lust that they’d felt. Attraction and physical pleasure had been alien to the Symbiotes, but they’d noted the effects it’d had on their Protectors. As the Symbiote fed him more testosterone, more adrenaline, more hormonal stimulation, Murdock knew he’d only want other Protectors as partners from there on. No other coupling would ever offer this impact. As he and the Sheriff had pressed their packages together, getting the Symbiotes as close as they possibly could without crushing them, their massive erections rolling against each other’s torsos like logs on a flume, as they had held each other’s hips and gently thrust against each other, the Symbiotes allowed them their orgasms. The flood of their cum had erupted between them like a muscular volcano, like a geyser shooting up between the shelves of their chests, mixing together until it had become one liquid – one single seed. They’d caught it together, cupping it carefully in their hands and then carried it to the backyard garden. After planting it there wordlessly, they’d gone into the house and plotted Murdock’s necessary disappearance, and formulated their first actual plan. Though they both felt the desire, it had been important to the Sheriff to deny the impulse for sex – he’d seemed to define denial as discipline, determined not to succumb to the same fate as “lesser men.” Murdock couldn’t have agreed more, if for slightly different reasons. He’d known that his new-found sexuality was a manipulation of the Symbiote, and he’d wanted to believe that the creature had no influence over him if he hadn’t allowed it. (None of their human failings seemed to affect the Symbiotes at all, who seemed patient enough to wait-out their Protectors’ rationalizations.) Still, Murdock and the Sheriff gave in twice, and Murdock learned a new love of being fucked up the ass by a dominant top. By the next morning, the product of their initial coupling had taken root in the garden. Neither of them had been surprised to discover that something different was growing there – different than what either of them could’ve produced separately. Clearly the same species, but what must have been the next evolutionary step up. What Murdock and the Sheriff had faced in the garden that morning was the obvious drone to their worker bees, royalty to their peasantry, something simply greater than them both. The same sort-of plant, but half-again as tall as the ones in the Sheriff’s garage – a cock of such size and girth that even transformed men such as the Sheriff and Murdock thought it impossible. The bud would easily come up to a normal man’s knee, and be about as thick as his leg. The base of the flower was a dark-bluish purple, which veined up the sides until it reached the soft lilac head – even its bulb had been bigger – a fantasy man’s fantasy cock. It would take the right man to Host this. With great care, in the light of the rising sun, they’d re-potted it in a plastic, traveling pot – a little wider at the base – and made the decision about what to do with it. Using a roll of stiff butcher’s paper that the Sheriff had in his kitchen – though God only knew why – they wrapped it, put a bow on it, and stapled it at the top, making it look like it had just come from the florist’s – a gift for some long-absent mother or girlfriend. It sat on the floor in front of the train-seat next to Murdock now. He was one of only three people in this car – maybe he’d scared the others away. On the other hand, he WAS traveling AWAY from civilization rather than toward it, no doubt more people rode in the other direction. This was the last stop before his destination – a small town in Kansas called “Garden City.” He picked the name because it tickled his quaint-ness – he did that a lot. They needed land, somewhere in the farm-belt, where they could plant and grow and go unnoticed. The name of the town couldn’t matter less to the Symbiote, so Murdock got to assert his own sense of humor. “Cimarron!” the conductor shouted, sticking his head in the door. He looked at Murdock, as he had done so many times on the trip, sort of lusty, but afraid. It was obvious to Murdock that the man had never seen anyone with a build like his – lots of people stared at him, even dressed in baggies as he was. He hated to admit he liked it – vanity was so not him – but he also recognized the need for anonymity at this stage. It was hard to hide with a body like this. “We’ll be stopped for about ten minutes at Cimarron, sir,” the conductor said to him. “If you want to step off the train again. Get some air. Maybe stretch a little…” Murdock smiled – the conductor HAD been watching him, keeping track of him. Maybe he’d even seen what Murdock did. Kept doing. “Thanks,” Murdock said in his low, sexy voice, winking. He stood then so the conductor could get a good look at his incredible mass, then stretched his back, flexing ever-so discreetly. He was starting to like being a flirt. The conductor probably had an erection when he ducked his head out of the doorway – Murdock sure hoped so – at least he was flustered. That was a nice reward, too. Murdock chuckled, surprised at how much he enjoyed his new body – it was like a teenaged, comic-book fantasy. Although maybe the Symbiote was controlling that, too. Oh, it didn’t matter. He stepped off the train into the bright, Kansas sunshine. Though the Symbiote loved the light, Murdock wore heavy sunglasses because it bothered his eyes. He wasn’t used to the midwest. The train station was built close to the Arkansas River, and with his athletic ability, Murdock easily jumped the twenty feet down to the base of the trestle. His feet landed lightly, gracefully, the muscle of his legs supporting his massive upper body. Stepping to an overgrown area, he quickly lowered his pants and pulled out his gigantic cock. The Symbiote allowed him orgasm immediately, and he shot his seed all over the ground, turning around and hitting as much land as he could. He’d done the same thing at every stop along his journey – Dodge City, Kinsley, even Osawatomie – left his seed behind in some out of the way place near each train-yard. Maybe the new flowers would be found, maybe they wouldn’t. If so, well then, all the better. It might also serve as a distraction from what he and Sheriff Lane were really up to. If not, it didn’t matter. They’d have their army soon enough. Two leaps, and a tuck-flip, and Murdock was standing on the platform again. Through the window of the train, he could see the Great Plant was safe, and that was all that mattered. He’d been given the responsibility to find the Host, though he didn’t think his chances of finding one would be very good in Back-water, Kansas – but Sheriff Lane would be under too much scrutiny soon to keep it secure. Tully alone would dog the Sheriff until he went crazy. Fortunately, Murdock had planted several distracting leads to keep her busy. By the time she found him, it would be far too late. “All aboard!” the conductor shouted, and Murdock headed for the train. “Next stop, Garden City! Garden City, all aboard!” That he could even squeeze down the narrow aisle way was miraculous – Murdock actually had to go sideways for the width of his shoulders. When he finally got to his row, this massive giant slid down into his seat, fitting much more comfortably here than he would’ve on a plane. He checked on the well-being of the Great Plant again, and went over his thoughts again about what kind of farmer he needed to find. With his strong hands, he reached down and lovingly supported his balls.
  16. This is the beginning of a story, that’s taken quite a bit of work. It’s one of the first I’ve written, so it may have a lot of quirk. It seems I write pretentiously, so I could look like a burke. What you’re about to read is my tale. Of a muscle-obsessed man on his trail. With twists and turns beyond the pale. After all these words, I hope you enjoy. Or else another’s work you’ll have to deploy. Chapter 1- The Fantasy The towering pillars of stone stood clustered around the brand centre of York. They began as traditional buildings made over the centuries in the old capital, then built to the sky in increasing style, at the cost of great pain and price. At the base of these looming towers, the square of the city, winding rivers of shoppers and socialites snaked through every street and corner. Every man, woman, and child were dressed in the latest fashion of the day with hair pushed and shoved and washed and blown and dried and arranged into a meticulous style. The gentlemen in their pressed suits, the ladies in their vibrant dresses (as featured in every magazine), and the children barely looked like children at all in clothes strikingly like the adults that lead them. However, the thing that most united them was their bodies; stick-arms protruding from thin shoulders sat on legs that looked unable to support anything. Even the gentlemen fit this trend, with even the thinnest of suits hanging from their limbs, and soft facial features below pretty-boy hair styles. Every cobble they walked on was perfectly in place, the gilded statues were polished to a shine and each branch of the trees that decorated the streets had been expertly pruned, as anything less would have been an insult. In one of the highest rooms in one of the most mountainous towers sat one of these people; skinny as a pencil with hair freshly cut that day and what used to be a neatly pressed suit before he'd collapsed onto the wide bed. Richard had no use for a bed this wide, he'd never shared it with a soul, and the art around his walls was miles away from what he liked, but he imagined the fuss if he didn't need to keep up appearances. He was just lying there in the place he often spent time but could never be found, his fantasy. Miles away from this place were the brownfields and greenfields; in these far-away lands were the people of Richard's dreams. He saw them when driving through the greenfields with his parents, he could barely take his eyes off them while his parents chuckled and scoffed. The workers in the fields toiled for hours, and in the summer months the men wore only their boots and shorts to counteract the heat. Their hair was shaggy and unkept, what clothes they had on were torn, and their skin was tanned from days in the elements. But what intrigued Richard was the bodies of the male workers; the countless hours of work left the marks that the people in the upper classes tried so hard to avoid. Their arms bulged out with biceps that rose like the hills of the Yorkshire countryside around them, with veins popping from their forearms as they grasped their mighty farming tools. Their shoulders seemed broad enough to carry the most impressive boulders that decorated this land, and they were the perfect headers to the winding rows of back muscles that shifted and dived as the workers tilled or planted. Their chests ballooned out with imposing pectorals that seemed to challenge the boulders themselves, looking just as large and solid from the car window. Their cores were not targeted by their labour, yet some still had grown perfect columns of muscles, Richard often counted them and couldn't help but smile with glee when he saw sets of six or eight. The trunks of the trees in the distance appeared to be twigs compared to their thighs, with deep valleys between muscles that could be seen on the men brave or warm enough to wear the shortest of shorts. There was a noticeable range of body hair among them, from enough fur to look like one of the animals of the woods, to perfectly smooth chests that accentuated every muscle and masculine contour. Even their faces were enchanting, many with square jaws like bricks that were decorated by stubble, while others had full beards that would have shocked those of high society to their cores. In Richard's mind, they were the most beautiful jewels of the dales, putting the emerald hills, opalite skies, and fields of crops that were spun from gold to shame. Richard's fantasy was to be just like them; he dreamt of putting down his tools and pushing the hair from his eyes while he shielded himself from the sun with a powerful arm so large it cast a shadow over his face. His perfect body would glow as the sunlight hit the sweat he'd made from his honest work. He would then take a cloth from his pocket to dry himself, making sure to reach the gaps between his washboard of core muscles and between his mountainous pectorals. He would breathe a sigh of relief as he was free of the expectations and rules on who he could be that so plagued him when he was at the top of the social ladder. Richard had heard stories of the open nature of the greenfields and brownfields. How sex was not just for making more people, but often an activity of raw sexual attraction between whoever lusted after each other. Muscle and strength were valued here, with the most powerful adonises having first pick of the lot, but almost everyone could find a willing partner if they looked. This information was passed to him through splutters of pure disgust and mockery, but it was heaven to Richard. He dreamt of worshipping the imposing muscles of another man, a body so large it was greater than any he would have himself, running his fingers over every inch and trying but failing to squeeze the muscles that filled his hands. He even pictured receiving this perfect man's throbbing erection as it filled him; it felt so wrong yet so good at the same time. A sudden knock at the door awoke Richard. Then, in an instant, his fantasy had faced once again, but he was happy in the knowledge it would return. As he scrambled to pull his tie back up and buckle his belt, he felt crushing shame at the body that was so desired in his world. As he walked to open the door, the opulence that surrounded him was only a reminder of how far he was from his dream. However, as he pulled the door open on that perfectly average evening, it was the first step in his journey to make the impossible fantasy a reality. But, if you wish to know what (or rather who) stood behind this door, you must wait until the next instalment of The Adonis of York, coming in due course.
  17. Absman420

    POLLINATION

    (Hello, friends! I'm posting this CLASSIC ABSMAN story in anticipation of posting the erotic novel that grew out of it. POLLINATION has inspired two comic book adaptations and a slew of fanfic! If this is your first time in the Garden, take your time to stop and smell the flowers...) POLLINATION by absman420 If you expected dumb ol' Mike Milliano to explain the growth-rate of local real estate or the sudden value of property in this traditionally rural area -- you know, the BIG picture -- you were expecting far too much. All Mike Milliano understood was that he had work framing houses for the next twenty weeks, and that it paid enough for him to live through the construction worker's off-season. Other than that, all Mike Milliano cared about was his pick-up truck, his next beer, and what little pussy he could find in this shit-ass flyspeck of a town. He knew this area well, where he grew up. As a boy, Mike and his buddies used to come up here and ride their dirt bikes. It'd been unspoiled land then, lightly forested. If anybody'd actually owned it, he didn't know who -- maybe one of the few farmers that had dotted the landscape in those days -- didn't matter. Now here he was as an adult, clearing that same land, building houses for snotty rich folks who had no history, no connection at all. He tried to pretend he wasn't feeling nostalgia when he slipped away during his lunch hour to walk through the nearby woods. Real men controlled their emotions. Now, sitting at the base of an old oak tree that overlooked a steep, forested slope, Mike Milliano smoked a cigarette and reflected. He wasn't a big man, although he wasn't in bad shape -- working construction kept him fit enough, if he'd hadn't been losing his battle with beer -- but nothing like when he'd played ball in high school. Now, a soft gut rolled over the top of his jeans, and though it bothered him, he did nothing to change it. He still had good, thick arms, and showed them off when he could, but he'd definitely lost his edge. He'd kept his attitude, though. A gruff, unforgiving, obstinate man, he fought as often as he fucked. And he got the same peculiar satisfaction from each. Smirking, Mike removed his well-worn baseball cap and wiped his forehead with the back of one heavily callused hand. Nothing in this old forest but memories, he thought. Time to head back to work. As he was about to stand, a particular flower caught his eye. Now, Mike Milliano was not the type of guy that normally noticed plants -- to him, flowers were just another tool to get into some chick's pants -- but this was like nothing he'd ever seen before. The way it was shaped, it looked like a big dick stickin' up out of the ground. Tube-shaped, like a Venus Flytrap a little, but with the gentle curve of its blossom, it looked exactly like a half-erect cock. A big cock, no less -- the flower was about a foot long. The base was a deep red, which veined its way up until it reached the soft pink "head" -- which was really just a little fold of petal over the end of the bud. When he got close enough, he noticed the half-exposed bulb in the ground, appearing as the flower's swollen ball-sac. He snorted a simple laugh. It's a shame he didn't have a camera -- none of the guys would believe this -- a flower that looks like a dick. He could probably make something off a picture like that. He caught the fragrance in a couple of steps -- frankly, it smelled like old sex, sort of pungent and spicy. All that did was increase his amusement -- it didn't just look like a big ol' dick, it smelled like one, too. Squatting down next to the plant, careful that his workboots didn't accidentally crush it, Mike Milliano leaned in. Certainly, he'd never been this close to a real dick -- and hopefully never would be -- but he almost couldn't help thinking of the image. Suppressing the slightest bit of a gag, Mike brought his mustachioed face close to the bud. It moved -- twitched -- he'd swear it. How could...? Suddenly, the flower before him seemed to burst -- no, actually, to burp -- to cum? -- and a good amount of pollen dusted Mike Milliano's nose, mouth, and mustache. He couldn't help but breathe it in, to taste it, dry and powdery, coating the inside of his mouth and nose. His first instinct was to gasp, which made him breath a little more of it in; he pulled his head back a bit, and brought his hand to his mouth. Brushing the pollen out of his mustache with his thick fingers, he mumbled, "Fucking plants." This close to crushing the stupid flower with his boot, he thought better of it. He could still come up tomorrow and take a picture of it -- a picture of a plant that looks like a guy's package would be worth somethin' -- THEN he could crush the shit out of it. Besides, it wasn't like the silly thing hurt him -- it just launched pollen in his face. Mike Milliano laughed only because no one else was around. His pride was hardly on the line over a fucking flower. Still brushing the last of the shit from his face, he hiked out of the forest and went back to work. ********************************************************************************** "I'm tellin' ya, Smitty, I feel fuckin' awesome! I ain't felt this good since I played ball in high school!" Smitty gave a non-committal grunt and took another swig of beer. Sitting there on the tailgate of his truck, he'd watched Mike Milliano put up an entire lower floor of a house by himself in less time than it took a crew of four. Impressive, but why work that hard, especially now, well after five o'clock, after the rest of the crew had gone home? Mike Milliano stepped off the foundation and walked toward Smitty's truck. There was something different about him, but Smitty wasn't sure what. He looked... well, he looked BIGGER than normal. Heavier. He looked like he'd packed on about ten pounds of muscle since lunch. The thought was so stupid that Smitty put it out of his head. "I don't know what the fuck it is," Mike said, unconsciously adjusting his balls. "I mean, I feel fuckin' great!" Smitty tossed him a beer from the cooler which he caught with a casual ease. He DID look bigger. His arms hadn't been that dense, had they? Mike Milliano popped the top of his beer and took a healthy swig. When he brought the can down, he studied his foreman, as if he debated telling Smitty some heavy shit. "Do you think I look bigger?" he asked, flexing his muscles to illustrate. "I think I've gotten bigger, Smitty." Smitty grunted again. "I was just thinkin' the same thing," he said. "It's weird," Mike continued, rubbing his free hand over his torso. "I don't know why, but it's like, all afternoon I could FEEL myself growing, getting stronger, gaining energy. I can't describe it -- it just feels so fuckin' great!" "What do you think caused it?" Smitty asked. "Have you come into contact with anything unusual?" Mike Milliano paused. Literally, he stopped feeling himself mid-stroke. The look on his face was confused, contemplative -- which was not an often-used adjective to describe Mike Milliano. "You know, come to think of it," he said, "I did." He touched his fingers to his mustache, pinching his lip. Smitty leaned forward. "What?" Mike Milliano was broken from his thought. He looked at Smitty and smiled. "You'll never believe it if I just tell you," he said, suddenly walking toward the forest behind the building project. "C'mon, I'll show ya!" Smitty snorted a laugh, but followed, not forgetting to take an extra beer with him. ***************************************************************************************************** "It looks like a big cock." Mike Milliano laughed. "That's what I thought." He squatted down on one side of the flower -- Smitty did the same on the other. "And the way that root there is exposed?" Mike continued, pointing it out. "It looks like the thing's balls." The two of them laughed together, in that juvenile humor kind of way that men share. Smitty took a swig of beer. "So, what's that got to do with you lookin' bigger?" Mike Milliano was quiet, but intense, like he was exposing his secret -- like he was confessing a great sin. He even leaned in toward Smitty, as if someone were eavesdropping in the middle of the forest -- as if the flower could hear them. "Buddy," he said, "I think I'm having a reaction to this thing's pollen." "What?" "Seriously, man," Mike continued, rubbing his hands together. "I was lookin' at this plant at lunch today, and it spit all this pollen in my face. I think this," he said, flexing his left biceps, "is what happened because of it." Smitty snorted. "That's crazy, man." "Maybe," Mike Milliano muttered. "But you asked me if I'd come in contact with anything unusual, and this is the only thing. Look, there's one way to find out for sure. You sniff it." "What?" "Sniff it," Mike said. "If it happens to you, then we know it's the plant. If not, then it's somethin' else -- but I think it's the plant. It's gotta be. So, sniff it. What's the worst that could happen? This?" He flexed his upper-body in a quick Most-Muscular shot -- he HAD gotten bigger. Maybe even bigger in the fifteen minutes since Smitty'd first noticed it. "It feels fuckin' great, Smitty." Smitty rolled his eyes. "This is stupid," he said, but it didn't stop him from leaning in to smell the flower. On the off-chance that Mike Milliano wasn't kidding, Smitty wanted to cover his bet. No man would mind havin' a build like that, especially if he didn't have to work for it. He put his face right up next to the flower's "cock-head" -- the fold of petal over the tip -- and breathed deeply. Nothing. The plant sat there, inanimate, unconcerned. If it could show less interest, Smitty couldn't imagine how. Worse, its fragrance was hardly pleasant. Frankly, it smelled like stale cum. "Okay," Smitty said, sitting up. "What's the joke?" Mike Milliano shook his head. "It's not a joke," he said earnestly. "I swear to you, man. I just leaned in like this..." Then, as Mike Milliano pushed his cap back and brought his head close to the blossom, the thing reacted. The flower seemed to shift toward him, as if it recognized him. Just as Smitty saw the movement, but before he could speak a warning, the flower shot a huge wad of dusty pollen right into Mike Milliano's face. "Mike!" But Mike Milliano's reaction was exactly the opposite of what Smitty was expecting. Instead of coughing and trying to expel the pollen, Mike Milliano was trying to get all of it inside -- he snorted the dust caked in his mustache, licked it off his upper lip and the fingers that he used for brushing. He was trying not to waste a bit. Smitty thought he looked like one of them heroin addicts handling their fix. What the fuck...? "Yes!" Mike Milliano shouted, standing, holding his arms out at his sides and flexing his back. "Oh, YES!" Smitty bent down at the plant. This time, when he leaned in close, the blossom seemed to turn away, as if it were snubbing him. When he looked back up, watching his crewman and buddy go from pose to pose, he realized -- with no small amount of homophobic horror -- that Mike Milliano had an erection. Smitty could see its outline plainly beneath Mike's tightening jeans. Obvious. When he flexed his abs, hands behind his head, Mike Milliano's eyes rolled back and his hips bucked uncontrollably. When he groaned, a growing wet spot appeared in the crotch of his jeans, proof of his orgasm. Mike Milliano smiled. "Oh, yeah," he purred, his voice relaxed. "Feels fuckin' great." He reached down and adjusted his package, touching the soaking stain in his pants. Mike Milliano didn't seem embarrassed at all. He just looked at Smitty, squatting there next to the plant, and kept on smiling. Ironically, it was the seams tearing open in Mike Milliano's jeans that broke the moment. "I better get the fuck home before I'm drivin' naked," he said, fingering the tear, studying it as if proud instead of amazed. The mass was becoming more and more evident in his thighs. He walked over to Smitty, adjusting his gait to accommodate his new size, and offered a hand. Smitty was speechless. There was now no denying that Mike Milliano had changed. Still in the same grungy baseball cap, but now his t-shirt was too tight, too form-fitting for even a guy in construction, showing a body normally produced through military obsession -- rock-solid abs and bulbous chest, round, wide deltoids and sloping traps. Listen, his pants were still tearing from the growth in his legs -- each step, each flex, opened them a little further -- the seams couldn't contain the mass. From Smitty's angle, squatting there looking up at Mike Milliano, there was no way to avoid seeing Mike's package, either. It seemed to Smitty that even THAT was growing -- a thought he would've considered ridiculous only a few minutes ago. How long before the fly gave out? Or before Mike Milliano spontaneously orgasmed again? The thought horrified Smitty. Mike Milliano's balls were the size of eggs. Even as Smitty reluctantly took the offered hand and allowed Mike Milliano to pull him to his feet, he briefly toyed with the idea of destroying the plant -- stamping it into the ground -- just a fleeting thought that he might be actually SAVING his friend from something, though he couldn't imagine what. Instead, he asked, his voice a little shaky, "Are you okay?" Mike Milliano hadn't released Smitty's hand after helping him up -- the moment was becoming uncomfortably long for two straight men -- then Mike Milliano put his free hand on Smitty's neck, intimate, like he was getting ready for a kiss. He had that look in his eye. "I'm sorry the plant doesn't like you," he said. "But I still do." He winked, then Mike Milliano released his grip and started to walk out of the forest, leaving Smitty standing there stunned, unable to move. Smitty said, "Mike?" and Milliano spun around, still smirking, clearly enjoying the affect he was having on poor Smitty. "Are you okay?" Smitty asked again slowly, a little more deliberately. Mike Milliano laughed, and flexed his upper-body, straining the already-burdened t-shirt. "Never been better," he said, and motioned with his head. "C'mon." Smitty tried not to look at Mike Milliano's thickening ass as he followed him out of the forest, but the sound of the tearing material kept drawing his focus. ********************************************************************************************************** Okay, he didn't have a great body -- he never had, not even at his peak -- and he wasn't particularly handsome, either. Frankly, he'd heard a few too many jokes about his hairline recently. As Smitty stood in front of his bathroom mirror, all he could see were faults and weaknesses. Why didn't the fucking flower want him? It didn't make any sense -- well, NONE of it made any sense -- but the idea that a plant could somehow be particular, that was ridiculous. That the flower would react to one person alone, the idea that the flower could know the difference between one person and the next was baffling. That it could make a guy more muscular was laughable in itself. But what did Smitty know about botany? He couldn't even keep a houseplant alive. He was content to simply drink his beer and watch his collection of adult video -- not that he found much comfort in either at the moment. He couldn't stop thinking about that damn plant! It'd SNUBBED him. How could that have been? As Smitty stared in the mirror after his shower, assessing his physical weaknesses for the millionth time, he began the comforting process of rationalization. Skipping ahead -- there's no need to bore anyone with Smitty's leaps of logic -- here's where he finally arrived: it wasn't that the plant didn't want him. No. What happened was, he'd sniffed the plant, or brought his head into proximity, whatever begins the process, and Mike Milliano just happened to have his face in the way when the plant expelled its pollen. If Smitty had just kept his head there a little longer, HE would've gotten the pollen. HE would've been the one growing more muscular. It wasn't that the plant was particular. No. Smitty just hadn't shown enough patience. What he needed was another chance. He needed to go alone, without Mike Milliano tagging along. He needed to give the plant the proper amount of time. A fair chance. For sure, if he sniffed the plant again, and waited long enough, he'd get the pollen. He'd get the growth. So then, at the first hint of light in the sky, Smitty headed toward the site. Purposely, he wore loose-fitting clothes -- he wanted to make sure his jeans stayed ON through his growth. Not like the way Mike Milliano's had exploded just as they'd reached Mike's truck, exposing his gross size and obscene new package. Worse, the way he seemed to revel in it -- Mike Milliano had hardly been shy about showing his erection when it'd happened. Maybe Smitty couldn't admit it outloud, but in truth, he was jealous. He couldn't believe how jealous he was. It kept him awake throughout the night -- it motivated him now. When he pulled into the building site, he was surprised to discover that he had a partial erection himself. The sky was pink, the forest a dark silhouette before it. Smitty impatiently smoked a cigarette as he waited for the sun to crest the horizon, to give him enough light to see. He didn't know these woods as well as Mike Milliano did -- he'd grown up in the next town over. Finally, Smitty flicked his butt to the ground and crushed it beneath his workboot. He could see well enough, certainly well enough to find a flower. He hiked into the woods the same way he and Mike Milliano had yesterday afternoon. He stayed to the path, even if it was a little dark. The shadows of the forest heightened the sense of mystery and excitement. Smitty couldn't believe the power of his erection. Because of the lack of light, he heard the scene before he saw it. It sounded like a man's low moan, like the approach of orgasm. What the hell...? Smitty was careful, hiding behind a great tree and taking a safe peek. The sun had risen enough to cast light into the small glade where the plant grew, so he could see all too easily. And what he saw horrified him. And because he could so easily see, the image was all too clear. Burned in his eyes, it would stay with him forever. There by the flower, naked but for workboots and baggy gym pants down around his ankles, knelt Mike Milliano. He was gigantic. Bigger than the bodybuilders in the magazines, more virile than the wrestlers on TV, Mike Milliano must've weighed three-hundred pounds, his musculature grown to unbelievable proportion, thick and heavy. But what stunned Smitty was what Mike Milliano was doing. He was kneeling before the plant, his massive legs on either side of it, with his cock buried deeply in the blossom. He wasn't fucking it -- that probably would've killed Smitty -- but it seemed like the plant was giving him head. It looked like Mike Milliano's cock fit perfectly in the foot-long, curving flower, and the moans coming from lips sounded like a man getting the best blow-job he'd ever had. His huge chest heaved. He rolled his head, his eyes closed, his mouth slightly open, lost in apparent ecstasy. His muscles still grew, and he softly flexed them in turn, his pecs, his biceps, his wide, wide back. Smitty couldn't move -- couldn't react -- all he could do was watch, try to process what he was seeing. It was almost too much. He watched helplessly as Mike Milliano's tempo increased. But when Mike Milliano suddenly stood, holding his arms out to his sides and flexing his entire body, every single over-grown muscle at once, when Mike Milliano threw his head back and suddenly orgasmed, screaming, shooting rope after rope of cum from his huge foot-long cock, coating the forest floor, Smitty found the strength to run. He didn't stop until he was back in town, at the local diner, where, because of the look of absolute horror on his face, the withered old waitress Sharlene gave him a shot of whiskey from her personal stash below the counter. He had to have two more before he had the nerve to face going back. ******************************************************************************************************* Mike Milliano knew what he had to do -- the thing had a funny way of communicating with him, like with pictures and feelings -- images. He couldn't describe it -- he certainly couldn't understand it. But he didn't need to. All he had to do was protect it, not understand it. He adjusted the pouch of his boxer-briefs to give better support to his balls, pulled up his baggy gym-pants and headed back to his truck -- Home Depot would be open soon enough. Stepping over the wilted flower, flattened and dead, unnecessary, Mike Milliano left the forest. Some of the other workmen were arriving on the site as he drove away. He waved to them with a much more muscular arm than he'd had yesterday -- he'd be back, and they'd get a clearer understanding of what had happened to him. He hadn't slept last night, either. Between the muscle-growth and the spontaneous orgasms and the cocaine-like buzz that had flooded his entire being, Mike Milliano had no time for sleep. The buzz had kept him from being concerned -- instead, it had been more like an exciting, wild ride -- the fulfillment of an adolescent dream. A comic-book transformation turned real. He'd had no fear. Why should he? He'd continued to grow throughout the evening, able to feel himself thickening, gaining mass. Look at him! Thank God he'd found that flower! Around midnight, the growth-spurt slowed, and finally let off. By that time, he'd weighed over two-hundred fifty pounds, and if he'd been paunchy before, there was no evidence of bodyfat on him now. His abs were incredible, drawing the eye to his narrow hips, which in turn lead to his dominant package, his unbelievable cock, his huge balls. That'd been when he'd noticed the shape of his new semi-erect cock, the slope -- it had been exactly the same as the plant. As a matter of fact, his cock could probably slip perfectly inside the blossom... He couldn't stop thinking about the plant. As his buzz had faded, he'd thought about it more and more. "Third time's the charm," he'd thought, beginning his own process of rationalization. He hadn't felt the need to be any bigger -- not that he would mind -- but what he really wanted had been the fuckin' buzz the thing had given him. It had been so strong, it'd reminded him of the crash after doing too much coke -- the impossible desire for more. Finally, Mike Milliano hadn't been able to take it. At four o'clock in the morning, after endless posing and modeling and hand-jobs to pass the time, he threw on his baggy gym-pants and workboots, grabbed a flashlight, and left for the forest. The moon had offered a surprising amount of light, so Mike Milliano had found his way through the construction site easily, the frames of half-built houses rising like prehistoric skeletons in the dark. He'd parked a little way further down the road than normal -- he hadn't wanted anyone to see his truck if they'd driven by. He hadn't even used the flashlight until he was well into the forest -- he hadn't wanted anyone calling the police because they'd seen someone lurking around up here. That would've been an unnecessary complication. He'd found the flower effortlessly -- he hadn't even needed the flashlight -- he'd known exactly where to go. There, waiting for the pre-dawn light, the dew had already begun to form on its bud -- that huge and beautiful cock, as perfect as the one Mike Milliano now had. He'd walked toward it as if hypnotized, with a stupid grin on his face, a loving and adoring look in his eye, his gratitude as powerful as his erection. He'd left the flashlight on the ground, spotlighting the plant like the star of some Broadway show. On his hands and knees, Mike Milliano had opened his mouth wide and took the blossom in. He hadn't cared what it looked like, a grown man taking what looked like a cock in his mouth, because he hadn't wanted to miss a bit of pollen. He'd wanted the whole hit. If he'd looked like a fag doin' it, then he did. And the plant had responded. In time with Mike Milliano's breathing, it'd launched its pollen. Every bit had gone into his lungs -- the blow job-like position had been a good idea. A cock in his mouth had seemed surprisingly natural. If he'd thought the buzz was intense before, it'd been nothing compared to what he felt at that moment, when the growth had begun. The feeling of gaining mass -- of thickening -- had overwhelmed him. He'd sat up on his haunches, enjoying it. Looking down at the flower, and at his semi-erect dick hanging almost next to it, he'd realized that he WOULD fit exactly inside the blossom -- his dick had gotten that big. The idea had seemed so right that, before his buzz-addled brain could stop him, he'd instinctively followed it. He'd slipped his cock into the velvety softness of the plant. Mike Milliano had been right, his cock had fit perfectly. He could feel the flower's stamen tickle his piss-slit. He could feel it slip inside. He could feel it growing up into his cock -- into his balls -- but he'd shown no concern. It'd felt so fucking good. And then, it'd come into him -- the Symbiote, the creature itself, the whatever-it-was that had been living in the bulb. Mike Milliano had been able to feel it come up through his cock, slippery like a snake, and make its way down, settling in the base of his balls, curling around his nuts, somehow connecting to him. And he'd understood. Images -- feelings -- a history had unfolded in his mind. It'd shown an explosion, massive, on a planetary scale -- spores in ice, hurtling through space -- hibernation, a deep, long, empty sleep -- a hundred years, a thousand, immeasurable -- cold -- then, entering THIS planet's atmosphere, the re-awakening -- taking root, beginning to search for a host, a Protector. It had all come into Mike Milliano's mind in an instant -- the Symbiote had spoken to him. A defenseless creature, the Symbiote would find a host organism willing to serve as the its Protector, keeping the delicate Symbiote safe. In exchange, the Symbiote would advance the Protector to his genetic limit, maximizing his abilities, his strength, and his sexual potency as well. Mike Milliano had seen the trade-off as more than fair -- he'd been only too glad to accept the Symbiote completely -- and so they'd joined together. The Symbiote had given him the best orgasm of his life, then -- Mike Milliano shot his seed all over the forest floor. Hopefully, he thought, they thought together, it would take root. Now, in his truck driving to Home Depot, gently cupping his balls so the Symbiote would be more comfortable, Mike Milliano ran over the list of things he had to buy to give the Symbiote what it wanted. Mike Milliano knew that great rewards were coming. ********************************************************************************************************* Finally the sun was completely up, so Smitty couldn't put it off any longer. He was the foreman -- he HAD to go to work. Whatever he'd seen, whatever he'd thought he'd seen, it was only one man, and Smitty had a responsibility to the REST of the crew. It didn't stop him from calling the lead carpenter on his cell. No, Jonas hadn't seen Mike Milliano at all that morning, though some of the other guys said they'd seen him driving off earlier. Smitty said he was on his way and hung up, surprised at his level of relief. He'd wanted a better body, true, but what he'd seen in the forest that morning thoroughly horrified him -- and not just the homophobic part. He didn't want anything at that price. It took Smitty about fifteen minutes to drive to the site. He spent that time debating whether he was glad or not that the plant hadn't picked him in the first place. What had it done to Mike Milliano? And where had he gone? He parked his truck next to the trailer that served as their make-shift office -- the crew, at work on various buildings, waved or hollered "Morning!" -- everyone greeted the foreman. And everybody was busy -- they were working awfully hard this morning, Smitty noted -- someone must've seen him coming and gave the word. Nobody on this team busted their ass until the coffee was gone or the boss was present, and maybe not even then. Then he saw it, back by the edge of the forest, Mike Milliano's pickup, black and shining like new in the morning sunshine. Where was...? Smitty approached the truck cautiously, looking around the site -- the only movement were the men working. The only sound... "Smitty!" A deep, heavy bass. A voice he'd heard but never heard. Smitty turned around, as saw him coming out of the forest. It was Mike Milliano, for sure -- or it had been Mike Milliano once. Smitty had never seen a man as large, as muscular as the beast that walked toward him. Mike Milliano's face, yes, but heavier, the jaw so much wider -- he still wore that stupid baseball cap, which meant his head hadn't grown, but that was the only thing. His neck and traps were so swollen that he looked almost cartoony. Even in the baggy gympants, the size of his legs was obvious, as well as the size of his genitalia. Yet even with the difficulty of getting his thighs around each other, Mike Milliano moved with an athletic gait, like a warrior. He wore a sleeveless t-shirt that didn't begin to cover his abs, that could barely contain his mountainous pecs. And his arms -- good Lord God, his arms! Bowling balls for biceps, hocks of hams for forearms -- his hands, his thick fingers were filthy, as if he'd been digging in the dirt. Smitty hoarsely whispered, "Mike?" Milliano smiled, cupping his balls through the thin cotton material of his gympants. "And more," he said, his voice deep -- his neck was so big, no wonder it had dropped in pitch. "What's that thing done to you?" Mike Milliano went from pose to pose, displaying those ridiculous muscles. "Completed me," he said, again adjusting his package. "What do ya think, Smitty? We're fuckin' amazing, aren't we?" Smitty motioned to Mike Milliano's dirty hands. "What are you doing, Mike?" he asked. "What's going on?" Mike Milliano gestured for Smitty to come closer. "C'mere," he said, then sighed impatiently. "We're not gonna hurt ya, Smitty. We just wanna show ya." He cupped his balls one more time. "We promise." Smitty tentatively stepped toward the giant and his pickup truck. Mike Milliano brushed the excess dirt from his hands as he waited, then gestured for Smitty to look in the bed. Smitty sighed, and finally did. "Our seed took root," Mike Milliano said proudly. There, in the bed of the truck, were almost a dozen clay pots, each of them filled with a plant exactly like the one that Mike Milliano had shown him yesterday in the forest. "Oh my God," Smitty said, as the panic of realization started in the pit of his stomach. But before he could even really react, one of the plants -- not the one closest to him, he noticed, a strange detail to remember -- which he would, for the rest of his life -- one turned toward him, literally, as if taking aim, and then shot a load of dust and pollen that hit Smitty square in the face. No! "Yes!" shouted Mike Milliano. He would scream -- Smitty breathed in to scream -- but coated his throat with even more of the stuff. Oh, shit! Oh, shit! "We just want to re-populate," said Mike Milliano simply. "We're not gonna hurt anyone." Panicked, Smitty ran. And as he ran, he tried to wipe the shit off his unshaven face. But it proved impossible -- it was gritty. It stuck. Trying to get it off just got more of it in. Smitty went to the first person he could find: Jonas. The nearly-obese head carpenter was working on the foundation of House Six, the one nearest the forest. Smitty called to him. "Jonas!" Jonas turned, and Smitty's horror rose a notch. Jonas had the remnants of pollen in his thick black beard. He smiled, and licked a little more of it off his upper lip, from beneath his mustache. "Morning, Smitty!" he said amiably. "Hey, you wanted to know. Milliano got here about fifteen minutes ago, right after you called. But I see you've already found him." "Oh my God..." Jonas smiled again, unconsciously adjusting his balls beneath his overalls. "Yeah, I know," he said. "I'm really startin' to feel it now, Smitty. And Milliano's right. It's pretty fuckin' amazing!" Smitty almost cried. He ran from guy to guy, searched out the whole crew, all eight of them, but Mike Milliano had gotten them first. Every single one of them had been blasted by that damn pollen -- and not one of them seemed the slightest bit concerned. And the thing of it was, after about a half hour, Smitty wasn't concerned, either. As a matter of fact, by the end of the day, he was feeling so good that he was more than happy to take the potted plant home with him. He actually felt kind of protective of it. He let it ride in his lap to keep it safe.
  18. THE PARAGON PORN QUARANTINE by absman420 “Congratulations, Domenic! You have successfully logged onto the Paragon Porn Employee Reference Site! Please take a moment to fill out your profile page, then we will pair your headset with your bluetooth connection. Please click HERE.” I do. It brings up a page for personal information, regular stuff: address, phone number, payroll forms, social security, the whole routine. I’ve filled out enough of this sort of thing through the years -- business is business, after all -- even in porn companies, you have to pay taxes, it seems. That I’ve even come this far is comical in itself. When my buddy Austin approached me at the gym, I thought he was kidding. I mean, I knew he was a “porn star” -- I guess I shouldn’t use sarcastic quotes there, he’s a legit star, not some guy who’s filmed a couple scenes and uses the title. In that world, Austin was a celebrity -- his name alone could sell millions of units of merch -- he won awards (there are awards!) -- and all the little twinks loved him. (And he loved them -- often.) We worked out at the same gym, we worked out at the same time, we had nearly identical physiques, but we weren’t partners. He preferred entertaining some different fan-obsessed boy daily and I preferred to train alone. 2020 was the year I turned forty and I’d just done my first official contest -- I’d placed second in “Masters” physique, so I was flying high on myself. I’d performed well on stage, mask and all, probably from having been an actor/dancer in my 20’s, and my stage-savvy helped me. And then Austin approached me in the gym and asked me if I’d be into doing some porn? What ego doesn’t need that stroke? I mean, I’d been an actor most of my life -- I knew how to work an audience -- and I’d always been curious about porn. Like… how do you motivate yourself? How do you fuck in front of a crew? Is there any intimacy or is it all business? Is there a script or can you improvise? What do you tell your mom? “Serious?” I asked Austin. “Yeah, sure, why not?” he said, adjusting his mask. “You got the bod for it. And I think you got the cock…” He glanced purposefully down at my crotch -- I adjusted myself self-consciously -- he smirked. It wasn’t the best cock, but it did okay. Was it a porn-star cock? Doubtful. “No one complains,” I said. He winked and said, “I sure wouldn’t.” I chuckled. “Tease,” I said. “You like the twinky boys.” He smiled professionally (seductively). “I like everybody.” I smiled -- the joke was easy but I didn’t take it. “Listen,” he said, “I’m exclusive with Paragon -- they’re great! Best house I’ve ever worked for. They really care about the talent, they provide opportunity for growth, investment, marketing and stuff to help you build your brand.” “That sounds... surprisingly great! I’ve heard that porn kind of chews guys up and spits them out.” He shrugged. “Some studios do,” he said. “It’s a shame. It’s a great way to make a living -- you just can’t let yourself get treated like shit.” I laughed. “You sound like a salesman, not an actor!” “I’m a testimonial. Four years ago, I was just a physique model trying to bust out of the pack on IG -- now I’m a freakin’ celebrity! And I owe it all to Paragon. And they’re looking for muscle tops right now, preferably mature, level-headed guys without sexual hang-ups. I thought of you right away.” I was genuinely flattered. “You did? Thank you,” I said. “I’ve always been curious about porn, honestly… as an actor, I mean. I know that sounds weird…” “No, not weird at all -- we’re not robots. It’s all about creativity -- dude, it’s fun. Give the guy a call and do the initial interview -- everything’s on facetime now… you know, cuz of the COVID, so it’s even easier. I mean, in my day, I had to strip naked and blow the guy…. Kidding, kidding!” He gave me a card -- I thanked him and we elbow-bumped. “Let me know how it goes,” he said, indicating the card. “My number’s on there -- shoot me a text.” “I will, thanks!” I pocketed the card and resumed my set -- he left with his pretty partner, no doubt to fuck. Maybe porn wouldn’t be so bad... ***************************************************************************** “Please select your Virtual Training Coordinator.” There are five different profile pictures to choose from, each a different type -- a lean black guy with mind-blowing abs; a twinky bottom with an impossible bubble butt; a professorial type, all nerdy and neat; a bad boy in his leathers. I pick the one most like me -- a middle-aged, well-muscled bearded guy with a slight roid-gut wearing workout tights that do nothing to hide his prodigious manhood. His blurb reads: “COACH ROD -- great for Jocks and Sports-Gear Fetishes. From straight guys who’ve never sucked a dick to muscle daddies looking to be young again, COACH ROD is for you.” I select “COACH ROD” and a download begins -- I have to give it permission -- finally a pop-up appears with what looks like a FaceTime window with the Coach, a CGI character that seems impressively complex. He’s sitting on the edge of a desk in a locker room/ office -- the place just exudes organized chaos. He picks up a whiteboard and writes on it, then holds it to the camera. “PUT ON THE HEADSET.” “Oh,” I say. I quickly slip the headset on my head and adjust the microphone while I say, “Got it.” “Great,” he replies, his AI voice smooth and rich -- a baritone. “Can you hear me okay? Do I sound clear?” “Yes, I hear you fine -- the volume’s okay.” “Great. Give me a second -- I’m downloading your profile information. We’ll finish filling out your paperwork together and we’ll let my algorithm get to know you a little better, then we’ll work our way through the employee training program. It’ll give us something to do during your two-week quarantine period, right?” “Sure,” I say -- dictating was better than typing anyday. “Seems like kind of a big set-up…” “...for a porn company?” Coach Rod finishes. “Yeah, maybe. I think you’ll find Paragon is the premier studio for a reason -- we treat our people well. Our performers aren’t just assets -- they’re family. It’s too easy in this business to find low self-esteem, drug abuse, burn out, a real use ‘em up and throw ‘em out mentality. Paragon doesn’t have that.” He pauses for just a second, holding up a finger in a “wait a minute” pose. “Okay, I’ve just finished downloading the results of your physical this morning and I’m going to put together a diet/ training program that will better address your needs. You’re in good shape, Dom -- especially for your age -- but you can be significantly better.” When I don’t respond, he looks up into the camera and says, “Problem?” I smile. “I guess I’m just blown away by this technology,” I say. He smiles and touches his muscular body. “Yeah, I’m pretty real, aren’t I? Listen, I’m just an instruction program -- I can be whatever you think you learn best from. Do you want me to change race? Age? Costume? More muscle? Big, shameless cock? Anything that’ll keep you focused. As I get to know you better, I’ll probably refine myself, both in looks and motivational approach, to get the best out of you. We want to launch a successful career for you with Paragon -- that’s always the goal.” “Thanks, Coach,” I say. He laughs. “See? You’re gonna do just fine. Now, let’s start with some basics. I’m gonna ask you a bunch of random questions to get to know you better. Answer honestly -- I’m not going to judge you -- I can’t, I’m just an algorithm right? -- but your truthfulness will matter, so don’t be embarrassed or ashamed, no matter how weird the answer might seem. Okay?” “Go ahead -- shoot!” “You’re gay, right? 100% gay/ 0% straight? Or is there some pussy love in you someplace?” “Well, I fucked my high school girlfriend -- does that count for something? Of course, that was decades ago and I haven’t been with a woman since. So, 100%, yeah.” Coach smiles -- it looks so real. “Top or Bottom?” “Top.” That smile again, as if he knows something. “Percentage?” “If I say a hundred, it doesn’t sound like you’ll believe me, but it pretty much is. I’ve bottomed a couple times but it’s never worked out well.” He hmphs -- a computer hmphs! “Is that because it hurt too much or because it didn’t feel natural?” “Both, I guess. And don’t tell me it’s cuz I haven’t met the right dick, because I assure you, I have! I’m just… not a bottom.” “Okay,” he says, matter of factly. “Being vers will get you more gigs, but maybe if you have other skills. Do you suck cock?” “Uh… yeah, sometimes.” “Do you like it?” “Yeah, it’s okay.” “Are you good?” “Uh… I think I’m okay.” He looks up from his notes into the camera. “Have you ever made a guy cum?” “From a blowjob? No.” “From lacking technique or desire?” “Jesus… these questions.” He smiles a tight smile. “Don’t evade. Answer it -- honestly.” I shake my head as if I’m searching for something to say. “Um… I don’t know.” He nods. “Fair enough. Would you like to watch a training video?” “Excuse me, what? A training video? Are you kidding?” “Of course. Why not? It’s a skill -- and skills can be learned. You learned to ride a bike, right?” “Yeah,” I say, trying to find some way of arguing it. “I guess. It just seems… I’ve never considered...?” A link pops up in a text window below him. “Click on the link,” he says. “We’ll make fun of the acting together afterward!” “Ok, what the hell? I got nothin’ better to do.” “Good man!” I click the link. ******************************************************************************************* You’re in a classroom -- no, it’s a movie set of a classroom -- it appears functional but it’s not real. The teacher sits on the edge of the desk, except he’s clearly not a teacher -- he’s too muscular and tan. Even in his short sleeve dress shirt, his neck ink and forearm tats give him away. Gruffly handsome, his hair and beard are the same shaggy buzz. As he leans against the front of the desk, you see his pants are unzipped and open, revealing his sizeable erection. Aside from you, there are two other boys in the shot. Both are young and handsome, a blond and a brunette in schoolboy uniforms. You are all three on your knees at the feet of the teacher, looking up at him. The brunette is sucking the teacher’s cock while you and the blond look on. You’re in a porn movie, you realize. That makes sense -- just follow the script. “Okay, that’s not bad,” the teacher says. “Work around the base of the glans a little more. Good, good. Like that, yes.” The brunette, confident, attempts to deep throat the “teacher’s” huge cock, but ends up choking and gagging. He backs off immediately, sitting back on his heels. “That’s okay,” the teacher says. “Your eyes are bigger than your throat. That’s why we’re here, to learn. Who’s next? Who wants to give it a try?” He waggles his hard dick. “You?” He looks at you, and you don’t need anything more of an invitation -- his cock is magnificent. (Well, all cocks are magnificent in your eyes -- cockslut!) -- so you shuffle on your knees into a more advantageous position for the camera and you get to work. The script calls for you to be hesitant at first, maybe intimidated -- it’s hard for you to play that when this cock is so clearly suckable -- but you’re an actor, so you do what the director tells you. The “teacher” develops a nice dollop of pre-cum at the tip of his dick as you play with his balls -- he told you right before filming that he’d heard how amazing your mouth was and how much he was looking forward to this scene -- looking into his eyes, you gently lap it off with the tip of your tongue, teasing the slit of his cock for more. Fuck, that’s good! Sweet and slick, it fires you up for more. You grip the base of his shaft with your left hand and begin to roll your tongue around his mushrooming head. “Yes,” he moans. “Very nice.” He begins “instructing” you -- that’s the point of this video, remember -- techniques to stimulate the glans, using the tongue to tickle the very spot where the ends of the glans merge, how to create just enough suction -- this is a swirl, this is a tease, this is how to stimulate the nerve endings -- you demonstrate as he discusses. The whole thing feels very sophomoric to you, you who’s born to suck cock, you who’s such a natural. Without waiting, you plunge deep, taking this spectacular cock into your throat, past your naturally suppressed gag-reflex. You hold your breath and constrict your throat slightly, letting his head run along the soft tissue of your throat. Your tongue is magic. He moans -- loudly. “Yes,” he says. “Very good -- you’re a natural.” You start bobbing your head in a rhythm that grips him, countering that by pulling on his balls. You can tell he’s close -- you’re connected -- it’s a gift you have -- so you decide instead of teasing him and passing him to the blond boy, you’re going to finish him off yourself, this beautiful man and his tasty cock. Who could blame you? You got into porn to show off your skills, after all -- show them! You deep-throat him again and you can actually feel his balls churn. Your mouth races his cum to the tip of his cock -- you pull your head away just in time to have him shoot two long white ropes across your face, then you take his cock back in your mouth and swallow the rest -- your reward. Your drug of choice. You continue sucking him, draining him until there’s no more to get -- what a hunger you have! Little slut. “What a mouth you have!” the teacher praised. “That’s the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten from a Freshman!” You smile, still gripping the base of his dick, and lovingly kiss the head, never breaking eye contact. “I wanna see what he does that’s so great,” the brunette says, standing and revealing his own erection. “Suck my dick!” “No!” complains the blond. “I want him to show me -- I haven’t gotten to do anything yet.” “Don’t worry, boys,” you say, taking one of their cocks in each hand. “I can do this all day!” You suck the knob on one, then switch to the other. They both taste good. “See, boys?” said the teacher, “that’s the kind of cockslut you should aspire to be! You just gotta love it…” And you do -- big cocks, little cocks, thick cocks, bent cocks, heavy cocks, knobby cocks, uncut cocks, hairy cocks, pierced cocks, leaky cocks, old cocks -- you love cocks! Not just having them in your mouth, but pleasing them, pleasuring them, getting them to cum in your mouth… This is an instructional video -- here’s how you get two guys off at the same time. Getting a guy to cum is powerful enough -- getting two guys at once shows you’re a master of technique and desire. When the blond and the brunette are simultaneously shooting their loads across your face, you know what a cockslut you are -- how much you truly love it. The teacher brings your cum-covered face in for a deep, loving kiss. You’re Teacher’s Pet. Fade Out -- End Scene ************************************************************************************************** I wake in the morning to the sun streaming in the window, pleasant and warm, even the cinderblock dorm rooms don’t seem so stark in this light. I’m excited to work out -- my quarantine gym time is from 8-10am, giving me a half hour to have some coffee and smoke a bowl before I have to head down. I do hate working out alone, but it’s way better than not working out at all. (If I had to go through a two-week quarantine with no gym, I think I’d go out of my mind!) As I sip and puff, I scan through my emails. There’s one from Coach Rod -- I’m tickled that my virtual trainer is reaching out to me virtually! (Stoner…) “Hey, Dom,” the email reads, “Check outside your door -- your meal-prep should’ve been delivered by now. I want to bump your training a notch and clean you up a bit before your big film debut! The meals are all labeled -- you’ll have six today -- you’ll see the consumption times on there, too! All good stuff -- I made it myself (haha). “Reply to this email to let me know it’s received and understood and I’ll see you at your Noon Training Session with me. In the meantime, enjoy the gym! Coach Rod.” This is so weird -- I respond so. Outside the door is a cooler with a stack of prepped meal containers. I bring it in the room and transfer the meals to my mini-fridge (but for the one I’m scheduled to eat) and then put the cooler back in the hallway. I continue to be surprised at the budget of Paragon -- this seems a long way to go just to film some pornography. Don’t people make that stuff on their iphones? Whatever -- I’ll enjoy the pampering when it’s offered. I could really use a cock. This quarantine has gotten me horny -- it’s been too long since I’ve had a cock in my mouth. (Hard to believe about a little cockslut like me! I can’t fucking WAIT to finally film and get some fucking relief!) I’d suck on a dildo, I want one in my mouth so bad, but I don’t own one. Fuck! Great time to be a top with an oral fixation. I eat my boring meal of egg-whites and oatmeal and then dress quickly for the gym, baggy shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt. It’s a nice gym and I have an intense workout -- I think of all the people in quarantine without access to a gym -- I’m pumped and gently flexing in the mirrors when I notice someone in the pool on the other side of the glass wall. It’s the first time I’ve seen a live person in three days… ...and already I’m aching to suck his dick. He’s doing laps in the pool, lean and athletic, smooth and practiced. His back and arms are muscular and well-defined, strong but not big. I’m watching him swim back and forth and I’m gently touching myself. Shameful -- but I'm isolation-level horny, so it’s understandable. I watch him for a good five minutes before he finally finishes and pulls himself out of the water, his back to me. A scruffy-bearded redhead, wearing a neon green speedo, his ass is beyond spectacular. As he walks down the deck, he has to reach in his suit and adjust himself -- he’s not hurting in the front, either. What a beautiful, lithe body, not an ounce of fat on him! Is he a fellow actor? Dear God, let him be a fellow actor!!! As he disappears into the locker room, I bring myself back to reality. Damn, I’m horny -- I’m fucking hard watching a guy swim, wishing once again that I’d been on the swim team in high school. Anyway, enough regrets, time for my Training Session. ****************************************************************************** “How’d your workout go?” “Great! I must say, I was feeling kind of bad about having this incredible gym available while the rest of the country’s on lockdown.” The coach coaxes. “But…” “But then I get these great pumps and I get over it.” “You like showing off.” I laugh. “I’m not sure I’d make it a statement like that -- I mean, I like getting looked at. It took me a long time to get up the nerve to compete, though.” “But you’ve been an actor for years -- you’re comfortable on stage.” “Oh, I think that’s what helped my win, don’t get me wrong. But when you’re an actor, you’re playing a role. When you’re onstage in a tiny little poser in a bodybuilding, you’re you, as emotionally naked as you are physically -- it’s way different.” “Would you do it again?” “I don’t know. I mean, the dieting is hell and the shaving is endless… I mean, maybe. I don’t know.” Coach Rod smiles. “What if you had a really big dick that barely fit in your posers?” I laugh. “Everything’s a porn movie to you AI-generated training programs, isn’t it?” “And you evade answers by making jokes.” I think for a second -- how to phrase this? “What man wouldn’t?” I ask. “What man wouldn’t want a really big dick that barely fits in his posers?” “How big?” I laugh. “Porn-star big!” “That’s limited,” Coach Rod says. “Free associate. How big?” “I don’t know -- hyper-masculine, Tom-of-Finland big, ridiculous and seductive, impossible yet challenging, tempting but worrisome -- every teenage boy’s transformation-fantasy big! That’s what I mean. Or do you need numbers?” “No, no. You’ve given me plenty to work with. Let’s communicate with the medical staff and see what’s possible…” “Excuse me, what?” I sit up in my desk chair, nearly choking on my protein shake. “‘What’s possible?’ Did I hear you correctly? They can… do that?” Coach Rod laughs. “You’re asking that of an AI program.” “Which means?” “Which means they can do lots of stuff that used to not be possible.” “A porn company?” “A worldwide adult entertainment juggernaut with a reputation for incredible men with incredible abilities with which you’re entering an exclusive contract. They -- via me -- will drive you to be the best product you can be. Stick with it and I promise you’ll be very well taken care of. All you need to do is look good and fuck guys -- there are worse jobs.” “True...” “Do you have any idea how many men would kill for this opportunity? Do you know how lucky you are, to be entering off the street with no experience into this field at this level?” “I wonder if that’s what my high school guidance counselor would say?” He holds up a finger in a “wait a minute” gesture. “Your high school guidance counselor was Jonathan Witek -- he retired in 2018. By tracing his credit information, I see he has purchased Paragon’s online content for the last six years. He responds to movies about young twinks who turn the tables on and top their authority figures.” “Oh my God…” “With this in mind, we can surmise that he’d approve of your career choice. Perhaps he’ll even be a fan?” “This just gets weirder and weirder.” “Or better and better. Now, you’re scheduled to check in with the medic at 1pm -- you remember where that is, right?” (A facility map appears on the screen with an animated trail that leads from your dorm room to the medical center in the basement.) “I got it.” Coach reappears on screen and blows me a kiss. “Go get ‘em!” he says, smiling. “We’ll talk about doing a video when you get back.” “Okay -- peace.” The box goes blank -- Coach has “signed off”. ************************************************************************************ The medic is dressed in a blue Hazmat suit, which seems a little overboard for me -- his face is shielded and he’s masked beneath. I can only see his eyes, so I wouldn’t be able to identify him if I saw him naked. (I wonder what kind of dick he has?) He’s pleasant enough, but nowhere near the conversationalist my AI-generated Coach is. I try to engage him in conversation as he swabs my nose. “I think you scraped my brain,” I joke as he removes the swab. I can’t tell if he’s amused or not through his mask. “A lot of guys say that,” he responds. “I have to do it that hard.” I smile. “That’s what guys always say.” Nothing. I’m sitting in a chair that reminds me more of the dentist than a medic, but it’s comfortable. The medic sets up an IV for me, puts the needle in my forearm and tapes it in place. As he’s satisfied with the drip, he returns to my chart and reads it over. “Oh,” he says as he spots something he hadn’t seen before. “Says here you’re scheduled for some gential enhancements. Wanna get that started now?” I’m not sure how to take that information -- I’d barely mentioned it to Coach Rod a half an hour ago and here I am. “Sure,” I say, shrugging, not really believing him. “Why not? What have I got going on?” He goes to a cabinet and removes a device that’s connected to a bunch of tubes. It reminds me of a cock-pump, except it’s significantly larger, like it would hold everything. “You’re not wearing underwear, are you?” “Beneath my paper gown? What kind of porn star would I be?” I’m right, the whole of my genitals go inside the tube -- it really has a shape more like a swollen package, not just a cock -- lifting my paper examination gown, he begins sliding the pump on me without asking permission. It creates a seal around the base of my groin like a cock ring -- he then connects the hoses and power cords to a small USB port next to the examination chair. He pulls a pre-loaded syringe from a drawer and injects the contents into my IV. “This is gonna take about an hour or so to run the complete program,” he says in a way that sounds almost bored, like he’s done it a thousand times. “Would you like to watch a video?” “Oh, sure!” I say as he pulls out a VR-headset front he cabinet. “What you got?” He helps me put the headset on and insert the ear plugs. “You’ll like this,” he says as he presses a key on his pad. Just as the video starts, I can feel the suction begin on my groin. Oh damn, I think. This is gonna be good. ****************************************************************************************** You’re onstage at a bodybuilding contest -- no, it’s the set of a movie -- there’s no audience (they use cutaway shots and SFX for audience reactions), only a camera crew. You’re pumped and primed and crammed into your posers, the tiny pouch barely holds all of you, stretched as it is -- the root of your cock is plainly visible. You’re in the final posedown with the other men of your weight-class. The guy on your right is trouble, a big Russian with a back as wide as the Asian continent -- he’s blocky, though -- thick. He doesn’t have your natural aesthetic, your height. Or your huge package. You can’t help your genetics. When you were in high school, going through puberty, having a dick the size of yours made you feel self-conscious -- none of the other boys had dicks as big as yours. It made you feel a little freakish -- especially on the swim team! Perhaps because your balls were so oversized -- goose eggs at 14 -- you put on muscle easily. You started working with a coach and trainer because the owner of the gym saw your potential and you did your first contest at 19 -- you took the Open and the Teen Class! That posing would cause you to get hard was the challenge. Flexing would always get you hard. Your posing coach laughed it off at first -- “You get off on showing off!” he’d say, patting your shoulder as the two of you looked in the mirror and tried to ignore your rod. “You just can’t hide it as easy as some guys!” Even now, all these years later, flexing for others has the same effect on you -- it’s one of the reasons you stopped competing so much. Difficult enough to get past the “does he stuff his posers” memes online -- which secretly turn you on -- but as you got into the muscle worship scene (and started making some serious bank from it), you realized your flexing fetish got you bookings by the score! And sponsors (mostly underwear companies)! And now… movies! You and the big Russian with the acne-scarred back start the posedown. The third guy in the lineup -- the guy on your left -- he’s not even show-worthy, bulky, but with a thick, round ass that can’t be contained in his posers. So you start flexing for the “audience”, for each other, for yourself, and you feel your cock start to come to life, as it always does. Double-bis, to get attention, then you start flexing your legs. You shake your relaxed quad muscle then slap it and flex it hard at the same time, but this is just an excuse for the camera to get your growing cock in the shot and you know it. The big Russian plays along, jamming his leg up against yours and doing the same bit. You can see him checking you out -- his little dick gives him away. He runs his hands down the front of your flexed quad and he makes an “impressed” face. You flex your bicep and let him feel that, too. Meanwhile, your cock grows harder, already testing the limits of its spandex container. The other guy tries to jump in front and do some squat poses, low to the ground, aching for some camera time, some audience recognition. Both you and the Russian ignore him and turn around to do lat spreads. Going from that pose to back double-bi is what causes your cock to pop out of your trunks, the one thing you’ve always worried would happen in actual competition. It’s strangely liberating, letting it go, not able to stop it. You can still feel your balls contained by the strap, but your cock is free, bouncing up as you hold your pose -- when you turn around, the audience screams, -- or maybe you just hear that in your head (it’s a movie, isn’t it?). It doesn’t matter -- you continue your show, fluidly moving from pose to pose as your cock rises to full mast, its head just above your belly-button. The big Russian is hard as well, though his dick is contained in his strained posers. He faces you and, with a smirk on his face, begins punching your pecs. The other guy is on his knees, running his tongue up the grooves in your thigh, nuzzling your bull ball-sac. From your position, you can see his lower back tattoo -- above that magnificent ass -- of two powerful wings. The Russian is behind you, reaching around, running his hand down your cobbled abs, purposefully -- teasingly -- avoiding your huge cock. He pinches your nipples as you continue to flex. And that’s what makes you cum! You don’t even touch your cock -- your arms are up in a double-bis -- but you shoot a massive load anyway. So hard and far it hits the camera lens -- stripes of it coat the face of the guy on his knees and you can tell he’s loving it (and aching to get some of it in his hot hole). The big Russian is standing there pounding his cock. You flex a “Most Muscular” in his face and he shoots his load, which the other guy is more than eager to lap up. You and the Russian make out, feeling each other’s bodies as the other guy kneels there and shoots his load for the camera -- he doesn’t matter. Your cock is the star. ************************************************************************************* Another fantastic workout -- I’m gonna have to be careful or I’m gonna become a regular morning gym guy, even when my contract is up here. What am I now? Eight days into a fourteen day quarantine? Certainly no one could look at me and think me in any way unhealthy. My body is amazing! The training regime, the dietary control, and whatever they’re giving me supplementally in those IV’s is taking my physique to a whole different level. I look so good right now that I hate that no one is seeing me. I haven’t announced what I’m doing on IG yet, but I have put up some thirsty shots after my last few workouts. I’m getting a fuck-ton of hits, not to mention all the people trying to slide into my DM’s. I admit to feeling the slightest bit guilty about my gym access with everyone else on lockdown, so I don’t post videos of workouts like I’d like. For the sake of ease, I pretend I’m working out at home like everyone else. For my chest training today, I’m wearing a red stringer that scoops so low as to show off the entirety of my deep cleavage and a pair of spandex short-shorts, which barely -- BARELY -- cover my oversized package. It looks as though any second my gigantic cock is going to pop out, or flop out, or just wear the material down and tear out. I love being a tease with it -- I know what cockhounds guys are. (At least, I know what a cockhound I am -- and if I saw someone with a cock as hot as mine, I’d be all over him, too. I can’t blame them.) I’ve been dealing with it since being on the high school swim team, learning how to keep it in my Speedos. My gigantic cock -- my gorgeous, gigantic cock. And my swollen bull balls. That’s what got me here to Paragon, right? Austin saw me in my contest and thought, the way my package crammed my posers, I should be in porn! How right he is! Squeezing out the last few reps of cable crossovers, in the reflection of the mirror I can see the glass wall that separates the gym from the pool. I know he’s over there -- I’ve seen him doing laps in the corner of my eye -- that beautiful red-haired boy. So I waddle over to the glass wall and watch him swim. I can see myself in the reflection of the glass, so I practice posing -- my chest looks amazing! It doesn’t take more than a few poses for my dick to start to come to life. Whatever -- I fuckin’ love posing! As my erection starts to get obvious, the red-haired boy gets out of the pool. This time exiting on the side facing the glass wall, so I can see his front, which is just as spectacular as his back. He’s probably 5’10” 190 or so, rips so sharp his abs could cut someone. He wears a pair of black jammers so low on his tight hips that they expose his entire deeply grooved iliac furrow -- called the Adonis Belt -- and rest just above his cock, across his groomed pubis. Other than that and his scruffy beard, he’s completely hairless. Pulling himself up out of the pool, he doesn’t see me until he’s standing, shaking the water from his head. We make eye contact and he smiles an easy, genuine smile. Gorgeous. I smile back, knowing he’s seeing the erection he’s given me -- with my cock (in spandex) it’s a little more than obvious. I salute and wave -- he waves back. We can’t hear each other, so after a few awkward moments of staring, he points to his eyes, then points to me, then waves, heading off toward the locker room -- allowing me to see that ass again. Fuck that guy’s hot. Please, please, please, gods of pornography, let him be my scene-partner. Fucking six more days!!! ************************************************************************************************ Over the last few days, I’ve noticed that Coach Rod has gained some size, especially through his chest and traps (and some big, obvious nipples) -- he’s also dressed more provocatively lately, as if he’s purposefully exploiting my spandex fetish. He’s an AI program, I think. He’s clearly adapting to me -- right? “Coach,” I ask, “who picks what you’re wearing?” He smiles. “You can if you want. Click on this link…” (one appears in the text box) “...and you can pick specific items, or you can just tell me a genre or style and I can work from there. You respond best when I’m wearing spandex.” I laugh. “I know. Feel free to wear as many singlets or posers as you want.” “You got it!” “Tell me something,” I say as I act casual about getting my meal ready, “there’s a hot redhead who’s been swimming laps while I’m training. Do you know who that is?” Coach smiles -- if I didn’t know better, I’d say a knowing smile -- and he says, “Hold on -- let me check the schedule… oh, yeah! Eddie -- Eddie Ginger.” “Eddie GINGER…?” “His stage name. Which reminds me, we need to finalize YOUR stage name…” “Yeah, yeah. Tell me about Eddie Ginger instead.” Coach can’t stop smiling. “Do you like him?” “Of course I like him,” I say. “He’s fucking hot as fuck and I’m horny as a motherfucker! I’m so over this quarantine right now -- you have no idea! I swear to God I’m gonna stick my cock in the first hole I come across and pound on it like I’ve never fucked before!” “Then you’ll be happy to know Eddie’s your first scene partner.” I’m shocked. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I ask. “That beautiful boy? That beautiful, twenty-something boy is my first scene partner? Oh, fuck, look at this… my cock is already getting hard. I’m never gonna make five more days…” “Eddie’s a really nice guy -- and one of our top-sellers! He moves more units than the next three featured bottoms put together -- you’re very lucky, Dom. Working with him, you’re bound to get exposure.” “How did I win this golden ticket?” I ask. “I’ve always heard the porn industry chews ‘em up and spits ‘em out. As an actor, that’s what’s kept me AWAY from porn all these years! If I thought this were possible…” “Working your way up from the bottom is very hard,” Coach says. “That’s where there’s likely to be use and abuse -- guys who are desperate or addicted or lost -- very few make it out of that. Some are lucky -- they know the right people or they manage their online presence well enough -- but most blossom and die without rising to the level of Porn Star. In some ways, it’s just like Hollywood, right? And you? You got a feature film on a referral -- and that’s gonna piss so many people off. This guy appears out of nowhere and becomes a huge star -- it’s the American Porn Dream come true! It’s just perfect! If only we could finagle you into having been straight before we hired you… that’d be the Porn Hat Trick!” He laughs at his own joke -- how odd that AI can entertain itself. I shrug. “Sorry,” I say. “Can’t help it -- I like cock too much.” “Especially your own!” I laugh with my usual confidence. “Of course -- you know what I’m packing! And you know I love showing it off! You should’ve seen me in the locker rooms in high school -- stupid straight boys standing there with their jaws agape as I wagged my cock out of my Speedo. Do you have any idea how many teenage circle-jerk cock-worshipping scenes I started? Paragon should’ve filmed those!” “Speaking of which, shall we work on a masturbation video today? The one you did yesterday -- the one where you were standing there spinning your cock around like a tassel? -- the producers LOVED that!” “They did?” I ask excitedly. “They saw it? I thought we were just playing around?” Coach Rod was matter-of-fact. “It was good,” he said. “Part of my programming is to alert the producers to content that stands out. Especially from the newbies. They’ve invested a lot in you -- there’s no harm in showing them their money’s not wasted.” I shrug. “I suppose not. I just… I wasn’t being serious.” “That’s what they liked about it -- it had personality. It was obvious how much you enjoy your cock -- that came across very clearly. So let’s make another. I think we should do a seated one this time, so we can really focus on it. What do you think?” “I’m totally in,” I say, flopping down in the chair in front of the camera. “When do we start?” ************************************************************************************** As the video opens, you’re sitting back in a chair -- the camera is at a high angle, looking down, probably not a laptop -- you barely fit in frame, the focus is so tight, your muscles are so pumped. You wear a black baseball cap and a tan-colored thong that could easily be mistaken for nothing if seen out of the side of someone’s eye at the beach. You prefer thongs to jocks -- hung as you are, you prefer the freedom of a thong rather than the tight compression of a jockstrap. You’ll wear whatever the client wants, of course, but you prefer the aesthetic of a thong if given a choice. As you sit back in the chair, you give the audience a chance to appreciate your body, your size, your cuts, your ridiculous abs and obliques. The angle in which you sit, leaning back like this keeps your abs flexed without any effort at all -- you reach your arms above your head and stretch -- so seductive. You know the audience’s eyes are sliding down your torso and focusing on your insane dick -- you’ve done that move before. You flex your pecs, bouncing them slowly back and forth while staring at the camera -- your expression says “come get ‘em” -- but when you play with your bare, pink nipples, pinching them just slightly, your cock comes to life. That’s what everyone’s here to see, anyway -- heck, you’re just the co-star and you know it -- so you allow your cock to grow, quickly filling the confines of the lycra pouch. Keeping one hand on your nipple, you allow the other to trace down the heavy grooves of your abs -- the look on your face, amazed at your own development -- until your fingers land on the top edge of your smooth pubis, slipping along the band of your thong, which itself barely covers the root of your cock. A cock that keeps hardening, seeking escape. Palm down, you slip your fingers under the band of your thong, two on one side of your cock, two on the other, and you waggle the pouch back and forth, slipping the front down the lengthening shaft. Your cock seems to inflate as it’s exposed, like yeast in dough, until the only thing keeping it from springing out to its full glory is the head, still trapped in the pouch of the thong. You put your arms back behind your head, again flexing your impossible abs and weaving your hips back and forth, which makes your trapped cock’s struggle obvious as it aches for freedom. The look on your face seems to expect the viewer to jump through the screen and do just that -- set that beautiful cock loose! Finally, the material loses the battle and your cock pops out, arcs up and over, and slaps loudly on your tight abs, just above your navel, thick and full and near fully erect -- your balls are still in the pouch, so you pull the band down with one hand, pull your goose-eggs out with the other, and let the band slip behind them, the elastic helping to elevate and keep them in frame (for their fans)! You play with your nips again, which causes your cock to thrash about, seeking attention -- it’s nearly twelve inches long, coke-can thick, gorgeous and intimidating at the same time. A pearl white dollop of pre-cum forms at the tip -- you push your cock to the camera, offering it to the audience, then you bend down and actually lick it off yourself. You can put your own cock in your mouth! You start jacking it then, showing us how one hand can barely reach around the root of the thing. It takes both: one to stroke the upper cock, to encompass the head, and the other to work the thick root. It’s a technique you’ve mastered through the years and it’s somewhat hypnotic to watch, the same way a snake charmer tames a cobra. You’ve been jerking this bad boy off for an audience since the locker room on the high school swim team, getting off on the cheering when you’d cum, much less the endless college frat parties where you discovered real big-dick energy, where you learned a cock like you had could get you what you wanted. All you had to do was know how to use it. And you learned how to use it. Happily, it’s never made you cynical, or contemptuous -- you love cock too much. And even if everyone isn’t as lucky as you, a cock is a thing of beauty -- and they all deserve a little love -- big cocks, little cocks, thick cocks, bent cocks, heavy cocks, knobby cocks, uncut cocks, hairy cocks, pierced cocks, leaky cocks, old cocks. And now your cock, the grandest of them all, which is about to shoot. If their volume is up, they can hear the change in your breathing, as your body tries to get enough oxygen to power this explosion. Just as you’re about to shoot, you pull your hands away, revealing the magnificence of your fully erect unit, and the audience can see your balls churn just before two huge ropes of cum blow out of your cock, leaving streaks across your face. You get your mouth open for the third one, catching a great lot of it on your tongue -- you roll your eyes as if you’ve tasted meade. With your right hand, you slowly stroke the base again, allowing the burbling lava that is your cum to continue to spew from the head, coating itself in its own volume, running down the grooves of your abs to gather via the cum gutters of your adonis belt. Once again, you look in the camera, as if the audience is challenging you, and you lean over and flat tongue the tip of your cock, licking an ice cream cone’s amount of cum and swallowing in bliss. You wipe the rest off with the two fingers of your right hand, kiss those fingers, then use them to flash a peace-sign to the audience. The video fades out. ***************************************************************************************** Finally, I wake on the day my quarantine ends! The heavy focus on training and diet have me in incredible condition -- especially for a guy who’s forty -- I look amazing, better than when I’d competed! I’m not as tan as I’d like to be, but my cuts are totally visible and obvious, so I’m not stressed. On the bed, I’ve spread out a bunch of posers and jocks and a couple singlets -- I don’t know what the director’s going to want for the shoot today, so I figure I’ll bring options. Maybe Coach’ll have an opinion -- an AI opinion.... I open my laptop and Coach’s window pops up. He’s a monster now, a freak -- his muscles are so swollen, his body would be barely functional if it existed in real life. Still, he’s managed to squeeze that bulk into the barest of singlets -- an old-school 80’s low-cut, revealing nearly everything. He’s also a redhead, but I choose to ignore that. “Good morning, Dom!” he says with a smile, adjusting his substantial package. “You must be excited to shoot today!” “I am!” I say, mirroring him. “I’m trying to decide what I’ll bring to wear.” “I wouldn’t worry,” he says. “I’m pretty sure for most of it, you’ll be naked.” I smile indulgently. “I gotta start somewhere.” “This is casual -- jeans and a loose t-shirt. This is a ‘buddy-shoot’ -- they’re just testing for chemistry, experience, awareness. It’s not a ‘scene’ -- that usually has a script, or an intent. This is just two guys getting to know each other. It’s easy!” “Easy for you to say,” I say. “I’m horny as fuck. I’m liable to blow the minute we shake hands!” “I doubt it,” he says confidently. “You’ll remember your training.” “So what if I suck or something -- what if I can’t cum or I’m terrible? Will they ship me out? After all this?” He laughs indulgently. “That won’t happen. Believe me, you’re ready. I’ve had two weeks with you -- normally, I get one long Saturday to do it all. The quarantine has been great for us in that regard. You’re here in our bubble for the next six weeks to shoot a shit-ton of content. After that, we’ll reevaluate your contract and go from there -- to be transparent, most of our models choose to stay here in the bubble and continue to shoot. I mean, why not? Unlike the rest of California, you get access to a gym during lockdown.” I chuckle. “That would piss a lot of people off.” He pinches his nipple. “All the more reason.” Ultimately, we settle on my blue posers (just cuz I don’t like the look of my cock down the leg of my pants -- too obvious) under jeans. I prefer a big bulge. On top, I wear a loose, scoop-neck t-shirt, which does display my cleavage, but whatever. My scruff is trimmed and my pump is obvious as I proceed to the studio in the basement. We’re filming in studio 2B, one of the smaller, more “intimate” studios -- I can see a gym set and a dungeon set as I walk along -- I’m so excited! As I enter, there are three people already present -- it’s been two weeks since I’ve seen live people, even longer since I’ve seen people without masks within six feet of each other -- the cameraman is obvious as he tinkers with equipment, setting lights, and running cables. He looks to be about my age, though in nowhere near as good condition, wearing a backwards baseball cap. The other two are talking quietly together. One is the gorgeous redhead from the pool, now wearing jeans and a tank top, and the other is who I assume is the Director. He’s a handsome man in his mid-thirties, slightly stout but not chubby in his tight black jeans and his loose flowered top. When I enter, they both turn and see me -- smiles break out on their faces. “Big Daddy!” the guy I assume is the director says. “You found us!” I smile -- I was loving my stage name: Big Daddy Domenic -- or Big Daddy Dom. (C’mon -- that’s damn funny. And isn’t porn built on puns?) “Yeah,” I laugh. “I followed the breadcrumbs.” The redhead smirks and adds, “No surprise -- they were coated with pheromones.” We all laugh together -- I’m instantly at ease, even if I’m crushing harder than ever. “I’m Michael McFly,” the Director says, extending his hand to shake. (“Why wouldn’t the director have a stupid stage name in porn like everyone else?” I think, shaking it.) “I’m so excited to be talking to human beings!” I say, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. “For the last few weeks, I’ve just been spying on people through glass walls.” The redhead laughs, knowing I mean the joke for him. “And this is Eddie Ginger,” the Director says, indicating what I already knew. I hold out my hand to Eddie and instead of shaking it, he hugs me, a warm and genuine gesture. He’s firm but gentle and he smells of clean soap and freshness -- my cock plumps immediately -- I know he can feel it. “Nice to finally meet,” he says quietly in my ear. “I’m excited to film with you.” “So am I,” I whisper back, inadvertently pressing my package against him. “Obviously.” He laughs and slaps my ass as he steps back. “We’re gonna have fun, Dom,” he says, smiling. “It won’t even feel like your first time.” The Director McFly jumps in. “You’re not nervous?” he asks me, gripping my arm around the tricep. “There’s no need for that -- Eddie’s a pro!” “No, no,” I say, holding up my hands in surrender. “I’m excited, not nervous. Excited.” McFly glanced at my package. “So we see,” he says, flicking his eyebrows. I may’ve reddened, a little embarrassed, but Eddie seems to find that adorable! Aside from the camera equipment, there’s only a sectional sofa with a daybed, flat and clean and decorated with a few throws. The walls are industrial gray and bare -- nothing to pull the eye -- but the lights are warm, pink and soft. The Director has us sit on the sectional while he and the cameraman adjust lights and sound. Eddie makes small talk with me about my quarantine and how he finds it funny that we spied each other through the wall -- he says he went back to his room and jerked off. I’m starting to get hard again when the Director says, “All right, looks like we’re ready to get rolling. You guys ready?” “Yeah!” Eddie says excitedly. “Sure am!” I say, ready for anything. “All right, gentlemen, let’s have some fun -- and… ACTION!” And the moment he says “ACTION” I feel dizzy… something deep... ************************************************************************************************* You’re on the set of a porn movie -- there’s only a sectional sofa in frame. You share this sofa with an incredibly hot redhead, sleek and muscular, with cream-colored skin and the small remains of the tan freckles of his youth. He wears comfortable jeans and a red tank top with a unicorn printed on it -- you’re in jeans and a loose low-cut t-shirt, humble-bragging on your ample cleavage. DIRECTOR’S VOICE (off-camera): Hey, everybody! Welcome to another Paragon Porn First Timer Video. We have the always incredible Eddie Ginger with us today as our experienced model. Eddie waves to the camera. “Hi!” he says, smiling. “Been a hot minute since we’ve filmed.” DIRECTOR’S VOICE: And he’s joined today by our newbie, Big Daddy Dom, right? You laugh. “Yeah,” you say. “Domenic Luger. Just Dom is fine.” “Oh, but I like Big Daddy,” says Eddie, punching you in the arm. You smile at him. DIRECTOR’S VOICE: And Dom, this is your first time doing something like this? You look around nervously, glancing into the camera. “Yeah,” you say, with a bit of an enigmatic smile. “But I’m looking forward to it.” “Me, too!” Eddie chimes in, patting your knee. DIRECTOR’S VOICE: So you’ve never sucked a dick before? You act embarrassed. “No,” you lie. “I mean, guys have sucked mine -- guys have BEGGED to suck mine -- but I’ve never…” DIRECTOR’S VOICE: But you’re gonna try today? You look at Eddie enthusiastically -- VERY enthusiastically. “Oh, yeah,” you say, trying not to smile. “Looking forward to it.” DIRECTOR’S VOICE: Well, maybe you guys should do your first kiss. The two of you glance at each other like you approve the idea -- small, teasing smiles -- he slides across the sofa to be closer to you. You wrap your upstage hand around his neck and gently pull him in -- he allows this, already submitting to you. His lips are soft, gentle but confident -- his kiss is more tender than you expect, a little playful, too -- surprisingly intimate. You kiss lightly a few more times, then you finally go in for something a little more serious. Already you feel a connection. As you pull apart, you both mumble “Wow!” and then laugh -- he falls into your arms and you begin kissing a little more seriously. “Take this off,” you say, pulling his tank slightly. He strips it off, exposing his defined torso and his puffy pink nipples -- his abs are so cut and sweet, small little veins evident across his thin skin. “Damn,” you say, running your hand up along his strong core until it ends up cupping his pec and squeezing his nipple -- he gasps. “Look at you and your hot body…” DIRECTOR’S VOICE: Yeah, but Dom, show him YOUR abs! “But I just got off a show,” you say, raising your arms so Eddie could remove your shirt. “So it’s not completely fair…” “Holy shit,” Eddie says as he reveals your abs. “Holy shit -- you praise ME? Dude, LOOK at these abs -- eight pack?” You smirk. “Very early in the morning, before I’ve eaten, yes.” He removes the shirt and you flex for him (which always turns you on.) You bounce your pecs, which makes him flat-palm your chest -- he’s smiling a gleeful grin, clearly enjoying himself touching you. DIRECTOR’S VOICE: You said you just came off a show? A bodybuilding contest? “Yeah,” you say, continuing to flex for Eddie. He’s feeling the peak of your bicep right now. “I compete in what’s called ‘Classic Bodybuilding’ -- we don’t go as big as the freaks.” DIRECTOR’S VOICE: You look very big. “Everything’s very big,” you tease, winking obviously. You indicate your jeans to Eddie. “Help me get these things off.” You both stand, you and Eddie kissing as he unbuttons the waist and fly of your jeans. You keep your hands behind your head and your abs flexed as he opens the waist, revealing the blue poser you’re wearing beneath. “Sexy,” he says, gently pulling the waistband of the posers, then getting back to work on the jeans. He has a hard time getting them down over your thighs -- and you don’t help him by keeping them flexed so he has to struggle. You love to tease. “Damn,” he says, smiling. “You weren’t kidding everything’s big!” “Big thighs is why I’m a bodybuilder, not a physique competitor. Pull ‘em like you mean it!” His tugging makes your package flop around, which you love. Finally, he gets them down to your ankles and you step out of them -- he remains kneeling. “Holy shit,” Eddie says, eye-level with your pouch. DIRECTOR’S VOICE: Do you have to have those specially made? You smirk, adjusting yourself. “Yeah, I can barely squeeze myself into the standard ones -- though I like trying! I worry that one day I’m gonna be onstage and pop right out.” Eddie strokes your thighs and gently grips your hamstrings as he nuzzles into your package. He then licks his tongue up your spandex-fighting cock until he gets to the root, itself barely covered by the waistband of the poser. DIRECTOR’S VOICE: That would make a good movie. Would you mind flexing for us? “Not at all,” you say, and you begin your routine. Flexing has always turned you on -- it’s your favorite part of the sport, certainly not the training! No, it’s listening to the audience screaming, seeing the disbelief and awe in their faces, the desire, the envy. Of course you get hard when you flex. And Eddie is right there, worshipping away, stroking and punching and feeling everything he can, imprinting it onto his fantasies. Facing him, you do an ab/thigh pose, so he can see your half-hard monster straining, yearning for escape. He takes the bait, gripping the waistband with both hands and slowly pulling it down, revealing the entirety of your beautiful cock. When the head pops out, it swings up and swats him on his fuzzy chin. He grins broadly and kisses the head, as you step out of your posers. “Oh, yeah,” Eddie mumbles as he takes it in his mouth -- or as much as he can, which is a surprising amount (more than half). He pulls back and spits to help lube it, then wraps a hand around the base to stroke while he sucks. He’s got a good mouth -- well, he should. (He’s a professional.) More, he’s not afraid of your balls, big as they are. He squeezes and strokes and gently pulls on them, accenting the pleasure he gives to your cock. Adding to your enjoyment, you begin to pinch your ample nipples. You expected to lose track of the camera, to forget it’s there and just focus on your technique. But it’s just the opposite, you’re very aware of the camera -- it’s like you’re showing off for it, opening up angles for better views, making love to it. You know the camera loves your flexed abs as you lean slightly back to make a better picture, the swollen cum-gutters taking the focus right to your magnificent cock, which Eddie slaves away on. He’s got you on the edge and he knows it -- you can see the glint in this eye -- but it’s way too early to cum, horny as you are. No, you want a taste of him first. As he pulls off your cock to catch his breath, you pull him up into a kiss. He wraps his arms around your neck, allowing you both hands free to open his pants. Turning his back to the camera, you slide your hands down over the cakes of his ass and bring his jeans with them, giving a clear shot of his spectacular bubble butt. Spinning him around, you seat him on the sectional and pull his jeans off him -- he leans back, straightening his legs and flexing his own fine abs. He’s got a beautiful cock, uncut, maybe eight-and-a-half inches, pretty pink head -- he leaks precum. You kneel between his legs and kiss him deeply -- it’s hard for him to resist the urge to wrap his legs around your torso, but he does make a show of embracing you with them, gorgeous muscular limbs. You bite his fuzzy little chin, then kiss his neck, working your way down his beautiful body, his pale skin and bright pink nipples (which you make a show of working), then you’re licking HIS abs, defined and obvious, even if not as developed as your own. Finally, you’re at the trimmed little patch of auburn pubes and you can feel his hard cock stroking your cheek as you kiss the base of it. As an actor, you’d like to continue the charade of having never sucked a cock before, but your own internal horniness casts that aside quickly. You’re on his cock like a whore on crack, the sweet taste of precum your drug of choice. It’s no small cock -- Eddie’s a porn-star, remember -- and whether a bottom or not, it’s a nice piece. You’ve been dying for a cock, much less a nice cock, much less THIS fantasy cock for a while now! You’re conflicted about taking your time and savoring the moment or just banging out a desperate load then going for the slow cook on the second. But then you remember teasing the camera is your job, so you make a show of it. It’s possible that Eddie’s that good an actor, but his reactions seem very real, as if he’s legitimately turned on by what you’re doing. You’ve no reason to doubt it -- you are. Fuck, you’re so turned on, living this fantasy cum true, that you never want to step out of your filming bubble. You’ll stay here forever fucking hot guys for fun and profit. (You already want a scene with Austin to thank him.) And then you’re just deep-throating him and going to town, bobbing your head effortlessly on his beautiful dick -- how happy you are to have a cock in your mouth again! The sheer joy of that drowns out any thought of pacing for the camera or making the moment last -- you’re too eager to make this beauty cum! For his part, Eddie moans and rolls his head. He’s up on his elbows, leaning back, so he can look down across his flexed abs at your effort -- he’s supposed to be the “experienced” guy, remember? “I’m gonna shoot,” he moans, as you tug his balls. “Oh, Big Daddy, I’m gonna shoot!” You pull your mouth off his cock, still stroking the base, just in time for him to orgasm, the first volley hitting you right on your tongue. You deep-throat him and he screams, thrusting into your mouth. You flat-tongue his big dick, showing the camera how much cum he produced, and just swallow it all. “Oh, fuck, Big Daddy,” he mumbles. “Oh, fuck…” You advance onto the sectional and kiss him, sharing his taste. Then, in a semi-push-up position, you continue to slide up his body, until he’s face to face with your monster cock. He takes the head of yours in his mouth and you begin doing push-ups, slowly dipping your cock into his mouth, then rising back up. The camera loves your muscular back. You sit back onto his torso, putting his arms under your knees in a wrestling school-boy pin. The tip of your erect cock rests on his chin -- he only has to slightly lift his head to get it in his mouth, which he does. “You want it, pretty boy?” you ask, tapping the head of your cock on his lush pink lips. “You want Daddy’s big load?” “Yes,” he answers, trying to lick your cock with the tip of his tongue. “Please, gimme it! Please!” It takes little more than a few tugs and you can feel your big balls churn. “Here you go, Eddie,” you say as you release your cock and flex a double-bis just as you begin your orgasm. Your first shot crosses his entire face, but he gets his mouth open for the second one. But you don’t stop -- it’s been too long. You just keep shooting and shooting, volleys that just coat the redhead’s pretty face. You’re panting as your finish, releasing him from your hold. As he sits up, the two of you kiss, your cum running down his face -- you snowball it back and forth, as you wipe the rest of him clean with your hand. The two of you are laughing about the amount. DIRECTOR’S VOICE: A-a-a-a-and CUT! The moment he says “CUT”, you feel dizzy… something deep… ******************************************************************************************************* Eddie and I are standing in each other’s arms, soaked in cum, giggling like schoolgirls. Someone throws us towels and we begin wiping each other down. (It’s a lot of cum!) The Director is still talking to us. It’s clearly a Post Show -- the camera’s still rolling. “That was great you guys!” he says. Eddie laughs, wiping his face. “Dude shoots some big loads!” he says. I shrug. “I do everything big!” I laugh. Eddie is playing for the camera -- he points to your cock and brings his hand to the side of his face in an “astonishment” pose. In the same spirit,I spin him around and show the camera his perky bubble butt, smacking it with my open palm. He laughs. “All right, thank you guys,” the Director says. “Great shoot!” “It was a lot of fun,” Eddie says, playfully kissing me. “It was,” I agree, kissing him back and glancing at the camera. “That was just… easy. I could do it all fuckin’ day!” He chuckles. “Don’t say that too loud or they’ll make you!” He slides into his jeans. “I guess you’re coming out of quarantine, right?” “Yeah!” I say. “Finally…” “Well, then maybe I’ll see you at the gym and stuff?” I smile, sliding my jeans up over my ample quads. “I hope so!” I say enthusiastically. He strolls up to me seductively. “I’m sure of it,” he says. “I’m gonna put in to do a full-scene with you.” “What?” I ask. “Are you kidding? That would be fuckin’ AWESOME!” He indicates my bountiful cock as I tuck it into my jeans (I didn’t put the posers back on). “Big Daddy, I want to get fucked by that log -- it’s fuckin’ hot as fuck.” “Anytime.” He smirks. “How about a shower scene right now on my OnlyFans page?” “Let’s go!” ************************************************************************************************ Outside the bubble, the virus continues to run unchecked, gyms are still closed, lockdowns still enforced, Americans still feeling like masks infringe their freedom -- it’s just unbelievable. Naturally, desperate to stave off boredom, people are seeking content, entertainment, anything to fill the time. And nothing fills time better than porn. Most of the major entertainment companies set up their own production bubbles, but Paragon was far-and-away better prepared than their major competitors, creating what the industry has been calling Paragon’s “Porn World” where all the biggest names live and film as if it were still the Before Time. My first six weeks are up today and I’m hoping my contract will get renewed. I’ve been filming almost daily, mixing and matching with the other studs in the bubble -- it’s honestly been some of the best times of my life, professionally. Well, socially, too -- I’ve made some good friends and fuck-buddies. I open my laptop to see Coach’s Tab blinking. I open it and link up with the program. “Good morning, Dom!” “Morning, Coach! What’s the word?” “Your number’s are great!” he said. “They’re offering you a contract extension. Would you like to pull another twelve weeks?” I don’t even have to think about it. “Hell. Yes.” I love this job so much -- seriously, they can use me until I’m dried up and dead. I don’t care. “Great!” he says. “I’ll forward the contract to your email and we can get it done. There’s a couple of perks we can talk about, but it’s an improvement over what you were getting. Of course, they’d like you to start performing private services for clients…” “Private services?” I ask, suspiciously. “I don’t know, Coach. It’s one thing to be a porn star, it’s another to be a whore.” He laughs indulgently. “It’s not being a whore,” he says. “Here, let me show you a video…”
  19. Trio

    Awakening

    I wake up. I stand there tied to a block of steel. My arms are stung by wires. It hurts, I scream in pain. I barely remember the events that lead to this moment, I can only remember being tied to this block, siringes being injected in my arms, the pain making me unconscious. Now I wake up, I feel pain, and in the mist of it, warmth spreading all over me. I can feel my blood being infected with what they're injecting in me through the wires, it hurts so bad, I scream in pain. As I scream, my whole body flex, as if I'm trying to embrace myself, bracing for something beyond my comprehension. I flex, once more, harder, and I beg them to stop, byt they don't, instead, more pain. I struggle to remember how did I end up here, how did I tied to this block. "UNGH" "AHH" It hurts, deeply, I feel it infecting my organs and brain... Something is about to happen, something big. As the pain surges once again, I feel my clothes tighter, I feel, as I flex, my arms tougher, my chest wider. Something is happening with me, something big. I scream, I do my best to release myself, I can't, and the more I try, the more I feel the infection spreading. I am growing bigger, wider, and my clothes start to feel uncomfortable, I scream in pain, I don't know what is happening still, but I don't want this, I don't want this pain, this liquid, this infection. I desperately try to remember. I am growing bigger, wider, my clothes start ripping apart, my body is now washed in sweat, the ripping fabric is glued to my blody by the thick layer of foul sweat that covers me now. I scream, I want ti to stop. As my clothes rip itself apart, glued to my body even further, I feel the chain of my dogtag stretching across my back, neck and chest, as they grow thicker, wider, stronger. It happens, I feel the energy of a thousand suns within me. My screams transform into deep roars, slowly but surely, my voice is bellowing octaves, I don't know how. It happens, I feel my legs thickening, stretching, ripping my trousers. Ripping my boxers. I feel my penis hard with the pressure. My shirt is slowly reduced to shambles as my pecs widen, my abs grow within me, hard and powerful, capable of many feats. My shoulders, oh, my shoulders get stronger by the minute. I try to remember why this is happening to me, but I feel my brain changing, too, I feel the pain slowly turn to pleasure, I feel my suffering facial expression turning into a grin, my eyes are frowning and my eyes are filled with power and anger. I am losing my innocence, I am transforming, transforming into a beast, and I want more. Slowly but surely, this desire consumes me. "Yes, please, more!" "Oh yea! Oh my cock! My fucking cock! Bigger!" "More, I want more!" "MORE, I WANT MORE" "GAHHHHHH" My voice turn into loud and angry grunts, the transformation capture me fully, and is determined to change me completely, from a regular man into a fighting beast. A powerful muscular monster. I feel my whole body changes as I'm getting naked, My cock is standing like a pilar in my front, trembling with blood and the formula that is now part of my being, part of my genes. My pecs expand larger and larger, I like how my skin stretches, desperate to catch up with my delicious and tremendous transformation. The modified testosterone of my body fills the air, this is the aroma of my thick sweat, this is who I am, a beast, more than a man, the figure of pure raw masculine power. And I want more, I demand for more. I am able to release myself from the block, some of the wires fall in the floor, but I'm still transforming, I feel immense pleasure as I release myself, my feat of strenght, causing me to cum, jets and jets of my thick seed mix with my sweat, the strong smell of it fills the air, and it hits me, finally. How I ended up turning to a beast of pure raw deep power. My previous self, so curious, got caught in a secret project from a powerful organization, and this is my punishment, to lose my humanity, to become the first test subject of their ambitions. I don't mind, and then my mind blanks as I keep spurting my seed. I roar a deep roar of satisfaction, I am who I want to be, I embrace my change, I am what they want me to become. They asked, they received. I feel more power within me by the second. And it hits me, this power, needs to be shared. I know what my next move is.
  20. Hola, esta es mi primer historia aquí; me inspiré en un video que vi en YouTube; así que si hay similitudes es por eso. También quisiera aportar algo a la comunidad en español que adoran los músculos y el muscle growth. Capítulo uno Un día viernes, finales de primavera e inicio de verano. Yo soy Henrry un científico que se dedica a desarrollar nuevas formas de crecimiento en seres vivos, aunque solo se pueda probar en plantas. Vivo en los suburbios con mi novio, Ben; él es un maestro de parvulario, le encanta cocinar y comer pastelillos, y sí, es obeso. Mi cuerpo es uno más saludable que el de él, soy más alto y soy el activo de la relación; él es un poco más bajo y más gordo que yo, pero aún así lo amo, es mi osito Teddie y el es muy tierno conmigo y todos los niños lo aman, lo conocen como el profesor Teddie o profesor osito, muy tierno la verdad. Ben siempre intenta hacerme feliz cocinando ricas comidas; aunque a veces suelen pasarse un poco de calorías; es por eso que el tiene "un poco" de sobrepeso, yo en cambio tengo un buen cuerpo, delgado y de 1.77, cuido mi dieta un poco más y como menos que él ya que no tendría el corazón para despreciar su comida. En serio lo amo; pero hay algo que me hace querer cambiar; él se estaba poniendo un poco más obeso, lo cuál era normal con su dieta; pero vi un video sobre un muchacho que se veía como Ben y terminó viéndose como una morsa gracias a que nunca cambió su dieta e incluso no podía levantarse de su cama, tenía miedo de que esto le pasara a mi osito, además veía cómo las parejas solían salir a ejercitarse y tenían cuerpos saludables, realmente quería que Ben y yo hiciéramos eso; además que se acercaba la reunión de ex alumnos de preparatoria y varios de mis ex novios y amigos estarán allí y aunque lo ame, muchas personas hablarán de su físico... Ese mismo día en la noche decidí preguntarle si podría dejar de poner demasiadas especias y hacer otra cosa diferente para comer. -Oye, amor. ¿Qué te parece si haces otra cosa que comer? Hemos comido mucho filete y ya estoy aburrido. -Eh? Pero ya casi está todo listo... *decía con su dulce voz* -Sí, pero no sé quiero probar algo diferente a lo que cocinas... -¿No te gusta mi comida? *preguntaba decepcionadamente* -Sí, me gusta pero no sé, quizá algo un poco más saludable, quizá. -Pues... Es que ya preparé todo y no sé qué hacer... -Agh, sabes qué? Vamos a comer (No podía decirle que no, es tan tierno y fue mi culpa por no haberle dicho antes; aunque en el fondo no me sentía a gusto ya que sólo hacía que comiera menos sano) -¡Está bien, a comer! Lo hice con mucho cariño para ti, como todas mis comidas la verdad, já. -Sí, jejé... Decidimos ir a ver televisión un rato, estábamos abrazados y justo pasaron un comercial sobre un gimnasio nuevo. -Oye, mira un gimnasio, ¿interesante, no? -Sí, si tú lo dices... -Vaya, mira sus cuerpos delgados y tonificados, es impresionante. -Hmmp... -Ah, y mira como se divierten usando las máquinas, ¡eso si que es una vida en movimiento! El comercial terminó y Ben me veía un poco descorcentado y decepcionado al mismo tiempo. -Oye, una pregunta... ¿Te gustan más ellos que yo? -Qué? N-no... Solo me parecía interesante. -Pero decías lo bien que se veían y yo pienso que quizás a ti no te gusta como soy... -No, para nada, solo me parecía interesante como eran capaces para moverse así y tener la energía para eso; tú eres perfecto así como estás, eres lo mejor que me ha pasado en la vida, así con tus muchos kilos...estás...bien... -En serio? G-gracias, te amo Henrry. Toma, te compré un pastelillo, es de mi pastelería favorita, fui a comer hoy allí. -Gracias... Así que fuiste allí otra vez, eh? -Sí, me encantan sus pasteles. -He de admitir que también a mi, pero me gustan muchos más los que haces tú. -Ah, sí. Toma, tu pastelillo que te hice esta tarde, olvidé que también te hice uno. -¡Gracias! La verdad no puedo resistirme a sus pastelillos, son tan deliciosos y siempre me recibe con uno y un regalo demás, en serio se nota que me ama, y aunque todos los días me coma un pastelillo, siempre bajo esas calorías cuando corro en las mañanas; hablando de correr; sí, he intentado que se una a mi pero no quiere ir, le da un poco de vergüenza ya que se cansaría más rápido que yo, y no puedo obligarlo... El siguiente día, un nuevo científico llega a la ciudad y se une a los laboratorios donde yo trabajo. Él era conocido por haber hecho investigaciones sobre los cambios del cuerpo humano y sus diferentes tipos, él tenía un cuerpo parecido al mío, solo que con 2cm menos de estatura. Me acerqué a él para saludarlo ya que su trabajo me parecía muy interesante. -Hola, Dr. Magnus, quiero decirle que amo su trabajo e investigaciones. -Hola, tú debes ser el Dr. Henrry, he oído mucho de ti, creo que tú trabajo será muy útil para lo que tengo en mente. -¡Vaya! Eso es genial, estaré dispuesto a lo que sea, con tal de trabajar con usted. -Me alegro mucho. Ven a mi laboratorio luego de la reunión de bienvenida por favor. -Ahí estaré. -Ah! Y por favor no le digas a nadie que te cité. Estaba emocionado, esto podría darme un gran reconocimiento. Me pregunto qué querrá hablar conmigo... Llegué lo más rápido que pude al nuevo laboratorio del Dr. Magnus, era un laboratorio enorme y tenía un gran tanque de agua, enorme en realidad, al parecer él lo había mandado a hacer; quizá haría experimentaciones con el agua y eso. -Ya estoy aquí Dr. -Muy bien, es hora de que hablemos de un proyecto que tengo en mente; pero primero que nada he de decir que he leído tu trabajo y me alegra que hayas tenido buenos resultados. -¡Sí, muchas gracias! Estuve trabajando como loco, aunque es una pena que solo funcione en plantas, esto beneficiará mucho al mundo, espero probar esto en otros seres vivos como peces u otros animales para saciar la producción de comida en el mundo. Para el que no sepa, mi trabajo fue sobre el crecimiento acelerado de plantas y su beneficio para la agricultura; fue exitoso y me parece genial que le haya gustado al Dr. Magnus. -Sí Henrry, espero que funcione en animales; pero ¿y en humanos? -Podría también, pero eso es arriesgarse mucho. -Pues para eso estoy yo, y es por eso que te he traído hasta acá para que trabajemos juntos en esto. -¿y qué es? -Pues verás, existen diferentes tipos de cuerpos humanos; pero ¿Qué tal si todos tuvieran un cuerpo delgado? Sería beneficioso para evitar los casos de diabetes, hipertensión, etc. -A qué se refiere? -Me refiero a que con tu método de aceleración de crecimiento, ¡podríamos acelerar la pérdida de peso en muchos seres humanos! -Vaya... Eso suena realmente bien. -¡Sí! Pero el problema es que no me dieron el permiso de llevarlo a cabo, ya que no les parece bien experimentar en humanos y blah blah blah. Por eso quiero que no le digas a nadie, ser nuestro secreto... -¡Pero eso sería ilegal y para nada ético!.. No lo sé. -A ver, tu experimento fue un éxito y yo he investigado mucho y me he preparado para esto durante toda mi vida; creo que seriamos capaces de llevarlo a cabo y ser exitosos. Además te pagaría muy bien, eh. -Mmm... -Vamos, ¿no quieres arriesgarte y salir victorioso? O prefieres estar conforme y no volver a tener otro éxito... Recuerda que yo pondré la cara por este experimento si algo sale mal, aunque lo dudo mucho; cómo dije me he leído y probado tus experimentos y he estudiado mucho, esto sería el experimento del siglo. -Yo... mmm... Acepto.... -¡Eso es! Me alegra que aceptaras, verás que no te decepcionaré. -Eso espero. Veía como el Dr. Magnus sonreía confiado, la verdad me hacía sentir un poco mejor, es decir, por algo es uno de los científicos más exitosos del siglo. Llegué a casa a las 2:00pm, Ben ya se encontraba dentro ya que hoy no trabajaba. -Hola... -¡Hola!... ¿Estás bien? Te noto algo triste. -No, solo estoy pensativo... Es algo de un experimento importante en los laboratorios y tengo que trabajar mucho. -Oh, bueno, espero que te vaya bien *Se dirijió y dio un beso a Henrry* Te compré algo, espero que te anime. *saca una camiseta para Henrry* Recuerdo que me dijiste que te gustó una camisa y te la compré. -¡Vaya! Gracias amor. *Le da un beso en la frente a Ben* eres el mejor... Eres tan tierno y dulce... -Gracias, jé... Me compré una yo también, aunque me queda algo apretada...y eso que es grande... -Que lindo, jé (Recuerdo que el Dr. Magnus dijo que este experimento volverá a las personas obesas delgadas y les quitara muchos problemas de encima, quisiera ayudar a Ben, en serio...) Oye, ¿tienes tiempo para salir esta noche? -Sip, ¿vamos a salir a comer? O ¿a dónde? -Te gustaría ir al laboratorio conmigo? Me gustaría que fueras, es algo importante... -¿Hay algo importante? Sí es así voy, no quiero decepcionarte... -No, no es demasiado importante, solo quiero que me ayudes con algo, eso es todo. -Pero yo no sé sobre ciencia y eso, no sé en qué podría ayudar... -No te preocupes, irás para ver algo impresionante que he preparado, será fantástico. -E-está bien, iré para ver, me pregunto que será, aunque seguro que es impresionante como todo lo demás que hace *Se dirije a darle un abrazo a Henrry* sabes que te apoyaré en todo. -Gracias, eres muy especial para mi, te amo... (no sé si deba, pero es por su bien) Me dirijí hacia mi habitación para llamar al Dr. Magnus. -Hola? Dr. Magnus creo que tengo al candidato indicado para este experimento. -En serio!? Genial! ¿Quién es? ¿Podrías enviarme una foto? -Es mi novio Ben, es un chico obeso y es perfecto para el experimento... (En serio iba a hacerle esto?) -Vaya, si que es lindo pero veo que lleva un camino hacia la obesidad mórbida, uyuyuy. -En serio!? Usted cree? -La verdad sí, pero no te preocupes, con este experimento todos sus problemas se acabarán y estarás feliz con tu novio, quien sabe quizá hasta sea favorable para cuando realizas relaciones sexuales con él. -La verdad, es un poco difícil tener relaciones sexuales con Ben, no lo puedo levantar al momento de penetración, no siquiera puedo probar muchas otras posiciones ya que suele cansarse rápido por su peso, y hay tanto que quisiera probar... -(Por qué me dice eso?) Sí, es una pena; ya verás que con esto tendrás relaciones como si estuvieras en una escena porno con el mejor pasivo del mundo, jé... -Sí, no puedo esperar y verlo más saludable y más lindo de lo que ya es. -Yo sé que no Henrry, así que te espero a ti y a tu compañero para el experimento. -Ahí estaré. Adiós. -(Agh, realmente espero que salga bien... Hablar de porno me calentó demasiado, pensando en como disfrutaré con mi nuevo Ben, pequeño y delgado, siendo un power botton total... Pero no es tiempo para dejarse ir, tengo que preparar las cosas) Llego el momento esperado, me llevé a Ben a los laboratorios, en su mirada podía ver lo intrigado que estaba, y lo inocente que era; lo que iba a hacer va a cambiar su vida por completo, pero seguro que le hará bien y puede que su autoestima mejore un poco. Entramos al laboratorio lo más rápido y naturalmente que pudimos, dejé a Henrry fuera de el para que esperara a que prepare el experimento. -Hola Dr. El candidato está afuera esperando, hay que preparar las cosas. -Estupendo, todo está saliendo cómo debería *decía mientras veía a Ben sentado afuera por medio de la ventana* Se ve que necesita tu ayuda, a simple vista puedo decir que tiene una baja autoestima y es muy tímido, esto le ayudará a sentirse mejor. -Sí, la verdad se siente un poco incómodo con su cuerpo; cuando iba a la universidad algunos chicos se burlaban de él y aunque no era nada grave lo hacían sentir mal... Pero usted como sabe que tiene una baja autoestima? -A parte de científico también soy Psicólogo y se mucho sobre las personas con solo ver su comportamiento. -Oh, tiene sentido... ¿Y qué hacemos primero? -¿Trajiste todas tus sustancias? -Sí, incluso las que no usaremos, já, como la de crecimiento muscular y testosterona, y la de crecimiento de estatura. *Dice mientras las muestra y las pone sin percatarse en el escritorio de el doctor* -Perfecto, dame las que aceleran el cambio corporal y las que ayudan a quemar grasa. -Tome *Da las sustancias pedidas a el doctor* (Vaya, si que quiero ir al bañó, debería haber ido hace rato) -Okey, primero vierto las que yo traje a este enorme tanque, y luego las tuyas. *Dice mientras vierte sus propias sustancias para acelerar el metabolismo y el maximizador vitaminico, que brinda las vitaminas necesarias al cuerpo humano* -Mmng.... Por favor.... Tengo que ir al baño, Agh. *Dice mientras da varios saltitos* -JAJA, bien ve. Yo estaré aquí. -Gracias. *Sale corriendo hacia el baño* -Muy bien, vamos a verter las sustancias del Dr. Henry y listo.... *Ay, olvidé conectar la manguera para llenar el tanque con agua, lo saldré para que pase por la ventana y llegue hasta acá. -Uff, ya estoy aquí Dr. Magnus... Hmm parece que salió... Oh, no ha vertido las demás sustancias aún *Dice mientras observa las sustancias que se encontraban en la mesa y sin saberlo puso ahí* muy bien, las verteré yo y nos ahorramos tiempo. *Vertió las sustancias completamente y tiró los tubos a la basura* Oh, parece que el profesor está intentando meter la manguera por la ventana, le iré a ayudar. -Gracias Henrry, solo llenamos el tanque y terminamos. -De nada, al parecer esto tardará un poco... -Sí, hay que distraernos mientras se llena, calculo que será media hora para que lo haga por completo... Y bien? ¿Qué le dijiste al paciente? -No le he dicho para que venía, le dije que quería que viera algo conmigo, no creo que le guste que le diga que vengo a cambiar su cuerpo, además le dije ayer que él era perfecto, soy un mal novio... -Bueno, esto lo haces por su bien, así que no pasa nada. Además, imagínate el buen sexo que tendrías si Ben fuer delgado como esos que salen en los videos porno, haciendo diferente pocisiones más atrevidas y ser más flexible para abrirse; también podrías cargarlo y darle todo lo que tienes ahí abajo... Oír esas palabras hacían que mi verga se pusiera muy dura, estoy seguro que después de esto iré a probar el nuevo cuerpo de Ben y sé que me encantará; verlo pequeño, delgado y sano me hace muy feliz. No tendría que preocuparse por su obesidad y sus camisas le quedarían bien. -S-sí, no puedo esperar para ver al Nuevo Ben, Dr. Magnus. -Yo tampoco; además esto hará que tenga más confianza en sí mismo y estoy seguro que eso te hará feliz. -Sí, el merece ser feliz, es muy tierno y amable pero eso hace que muchas personas quieran aprovecharse de él, pero yo lo protegeré de eso, después de todo es y será mi pequeño osito, solo que más delgado. -Oh, mira el tanque ya se llenó. Trae a el candidato por favor. -Voy *Se dirijió a traer a Ben* Oye Ben, ya está todo listo entra. Ben yacía dormido con sus brazos cruzados encima de su barriga que estaba a punto de desaparecer, aunque él no lo sabía. Y aquí termina el primer capítulo, para no hacerlo tan largo, el segundo capítulo saldrá pronto, esperenlo y lo siento si cometo muchos errores o si voy muy lento, no soy muy bueno escribiendo; pero espero que les haya gustado.
  21. Hello yall! First time I post a story here I believe! For Halloween, this year, I've been working on making a transformation/growth-mystery story (based on the murder-mystery genre) and thought I could post it here if some of yall are into that! This series will have show multiple takes on masculinization, mostly about making huge, beefy and muscled bearish guys. If that's your thing and you like some story plot around the meat, here's something for you! I think I will add the next chapters on this thread, so you won't have to look around the forums for the previous instalment if needed. Without further ado, here's the prologue to the story! ***Disclaimer: the prologue does not contain sex scenes or physical changes yet, but serves as an introduction to the ten characters and to set the story context. Synopsis: Ten young, homophobic adults gather for Halloween. At 10 PM, lights shut off, phones fry up, game starts and none can leave. What’s more, it seems there is one imposter among them. Can they make it out until morning? What is this “game” all about anyway? ~ One of Us ~ Prologue ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Saturday, October 31st, 2020 — 7:00 PM ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ The full moon forecasted on Halloween, a Saturday, promised a memorable night… if it was not for the whole pandemic thing. Halloween couldn’t just be cancelled. There could have been a tornado or an earthquake and the festivities would have still happened. Who cared for a stupid invisible virus! It was a mild evening by the Wrights’ house on the outskirts of Austin Town. Dimitri, a tall twenty-year-old who lifted weights daily had invited a couple of buddies for Halloween. He didn’t care for the pandemic and had the mansion by himself since his parents were out of town — he forgot exactly where. But all he cared for, in the moment, was throwing the party with his friends. He put on a cowboy hat, a checkered vest and a pair of faded jeans to look the part. The only boots he found around his home were his father’s 13s, which felt tight on the sides for his big boy ones. After all, he was two inches taller than his six-foot dad. The mansion hall was grandiose, looking as if it came from a movie or catalogue. A big staircase sculpted into rich oak wood crept the left wall of the hall and led to the upper rooms. On the right wall, a more discreet yet still impressive staircase led down to the basement, where the theatre room and the home bar would receive the guests later during the night. Next to the last staircase, wide double doors opened on a spacious living room. A fireplace took place on the left wall, right next to a sturdy door, and under a big plasma TV. Two long couches surrounded a glass table at the centre of the room, onto which half a dozen big bowls were filled with candies and chips. Against the farther wall, a tennis table had been set up by the garage door, onto which red plastic cups had been piled. Right next to the table, Dimitri’s best friend Asher was sitting on a stool with a beer can in hand. The 5′9″ man did not wait for other guests to show up before cracking up a beer and taking a handful of chips. He was dressed up in camo clothes and a war helmet — which consisted of a grotesquely painted bicycle helmet. The man scrolled through the song playlist in his phone, plugged into the speakers, hanging in the high corners of the room. He had created a selection of spooky and Halloween-themed song to play, but had somehow managed to either lose or erase it. To his feet under the table, Dimitri had a cooler which contained the few six-packs of beers he’s brought along for the night — probably the only six-pack thing about the bulky guy. Whereas Asher did not have abdominals to show, the bearded redhead had his own share of strength. Asher was telling his friend the latest conquest he’s had when a loud booming car entered the driveway. The two men looked through the wide windows of the living room, noticing how more of the guests arrived. Two more men and their girlfriends walked out of the car. The two girls were the first to get out, a short yet curvy dirty blond and a tall svelte latina with jet black hair. A short man on the passenger side joined the girl of similar height while the driver, a giant although quite lanky young man, turned the ignition off and joined with the crew. “Yo! Is that the double Js!” Asher called out through the window with a tipsy laugh, before following the host back in the hall to greet the guests. “In the flesh and the hair!” The taller man — Sebastian Joseph — replied with a wide grin over his stubbly face, ruffling his head full of shaggy chestnut hair for effect. The other shorter guy — Theodore James — walked with a crate full of beers, letting out an enthusiastic “got the booze” to the host. Albeit not dressed in their costumes yet, the quartet had a few bags with them, giving the impression they would change once inside. “Need help with something, boys?” The raven-haired girl asked with a giggle. “I do, Mathy, but I doubt your ‘tall-boi’ here would agree to share ya with me.” Asher chuckled before receiving a playful blow from giga-Seb on the shoulder. The girls jiggled between each other at the display of rough masculinity between the guys. Theo made himself silent as he brought the beer and his backpack inside. “Perhaps Theo might be more compliant on the deal with Jenny, though.” The womanizer grinned as he sized up the short blond. “Don’t you dare touching my girl, bro!” Theodore shouted from the inside. “Bro, just keep your dick in your pants.” Dimitri slapped his best friend teasingly on the back as he was taking a sip of beer, resulting in him spitting some down. “Dude, bro! Don’t do that! You can’t waste that shit!” Asher dramatized as booze also leaked into his beard and camo vest. In the middle of laughs, the short girl asked if there was a room where they could get changed. “Yeah, there’s a bathroom in the corridor behind the stairs.” Dimitri pointed at the staircase. “First door to your left, girls.” “Need some assistance, girls?” Asher joked again. “We’ll be fine, dickhead.” Jenny rolled her eyes, although still amused. “Come on, Mathilda.” “You’ll see, boys. Once we’ll be out, you’ll be the ones asking for our help!” The latina giggled, winking at them before following her bossy little friend. “I’ll be waiting for that!” Asher exclaimed, grabbing his crotch for emphasis. “Dude, have you gotten laid recently?” Sebastian elbowed the bulky womanizer. “I did, but that pandemic thing right now is really killing my strike. Can’t believe there’s so many scared pussies around. It’s terrifying for the male race, dude.” “Unless you’re a fag, bro!” Sebastian chuckled. “Aww, fuck off, dude!” Asher smirked before finishing his beer. “Hmm… let me get myself another one. Or just come in and get one yourself.” The three guys went into the living room, where Theodore was missing. “Theo? Buddy? Where’re you at?” Dimitri called the little guy. “I think he went for the kitchen.” Sebastian said, pulling a furry toque from the bag in his hands. “Alright, I’m gonna check on him if he needs anything.” Dimitri left his two friends going in the living room and went for the double doors leading to the left of the hall. He entered a large dining room with a long table that could welcome a dozen people to eat. He remembered how his mother, a judge in the federal court, used to make parties with her colleagues years ago. The expanse of the furniture in the room proved to be useful when his brother or himself invited friends over. The host walked past a second fireplace in the dining room until he reached a broad door leading into the kitchen. Right by the counter, Theodore was looking as if he was texting someone. “Hey, dude, what are you doing?” Theo startled at the question, not realizing someone had walked in on him. He turned around with a blush on his face and a nervous laugh. “Hey! I… didn’t hear you walking in.” “Bro… I know this face! Who were you talking to?” Dimitri asked with a coy grin, lowering his voice. “No one!” Theo brushed off, storing his phone back into his pocket and proceeding to store some food and booze in the fridge for later tonight. “Your call, dude!” Dimitri lifted his hands in acceptance. “C’mon and get your ass in the room with the boys! Let’s get this party going!” Right on cue, Asher’s spooky music started blowing through the speakers of the living room. As they joined Asher and Seb, the two men were just starting a beer pong game. Seb had put on the toque on his head and a plaid jacket on top of his now naked chest. The lanky giant had a few sparse chest hair and a meagre treasure trail, but little to no definition whatsoever. To complement the look, he even had an axe which he let by the couch for the moment. “Hope you don’t mind the view, guys!” Sebastian mocked by faking a striptease. “You’re such a dork, Seb!” Theo guffawed at the ridicule of his friend. “Hey, not my fault if no one can resist me! Remember that gay dude in High School, guys?” “That was fucking hilarious!” The short guy laughed at the memory. “SUP, BITCHES!” A voice echoed from the hall. The crew turned around and greeted with enthusiasm the arrival of a new party member. Already wearing his costume, Wesley entered the place like he owned it. The man was wearing old ratty and torn clothes as well as a puffy hat. His face looked even paler than usual and large dark circles surrounded his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in ages. “What are you dressed as, my old Wes?” Sebastian asked with a toothy grin, welcoming him with an arm around the shoulders. “A tramp?” “Funny one, Seb! Nah, I’m more like an undead or zombie kinda thing. Or a Frankenstein, whatever.” “Actually, Frankenstein is the scientist and not the monster.” Theodore intervened. “I doubt you meant the—…” “Ahh shut up, nerd. You know who I’m talkin’ about.” Wes spited in annoyance. “Hey, play cool, guys.” Dimitri chuckled. “Say, how about we play some beer pong?” “Well, I think I’m gonna take a shit while you’re debating what you’re gonna do.” Asher said. “That’s fucking nasty, dude!” Seb grimaced and chuckled at the same time. “Guess you’ll have to take the downstairs one, dude. The bitches are taking their sweet fucking time here.” Dimitri said, just loud enough so that the girls in question could hear his comment. “Tie a knot with your dicks if you can’t wait, fuckers!” They heard back from the bathroom, probably from Jennifer. “Are we having some single ladies tonight?” Wes asked with a devious grin plastered on his face, idly rubbing his crotch. “Apparently not, bro.” Asher sympathized with a shoulder pat as he walked past him. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Saturday, October 31st, 2020 — 7:30 PM ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ It was pretty annoying how, despite the good insulation of the house, Larry could still hear the noise of his big brother’s party upstairs. With the pandemic stuff going on, he would have thought he could just spend a nice calming night playing videogames just as he always does. Oh well. The six-foot eighteen years old stretched into his gaming chair, dropping his Xbox controller on his lap. While he used to be a regular gym goer, the pandemic had benefited him and his brother with buying gym equipment. Well, it was their parents who actually paid, but that was beside the point. Between gaming and working out, Larry had grown a more athletic shape without even needing to leave the house. Sure, he wanted to eventually achieve thick proportions like Dimitri, who could almost pass for a bodybuilder now, but he believed he’d get there sooner or later. “Yo! Lar!” A voice boomed into the room as the door barged opened. The young man jumped with surprise at the sudden outburst. He turned around, mostly nude except from an old stained pair of boxer shorts covering his junk. There, in the entrance, stood Asher, booze in hand, laughing. “Phew! Glad I didn’t barge into you whacking off again!” The trickster exclaimed. “Get the fuck out!” Larry snapped, beet red. Larry grabbed onto the first object he didn’t value much — an empty beer can — and threw it at his brother’s friend, who closed the door just in time. The gamer heard the man step away, still laughing. His heartbeat was still high, but Larry was calming down. He turned back to his station and tried changing games, only to remember his account had been suspended from Fortdey. “Guess I’ll just play some Olah Reach.” The teen shrugged, scratching at the rough stubble he had not shaved in days. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Saturday, October 31st, 2020 — 7:45 PM ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ “How do I look?” Mathilda asked to her friend as she applied the makeup. “You’re looking like a queen.” Jennifer complimented, finally stepping and showing her the result. The Latina beamed with joy at her display in the mirror. She looked just like Cleopatra. As for her shorter pal, she had disguised herself with a little white dress and brought her hair into a green flowery bulb on top of her head. Pink heels, transparent wings and a rooty wand complemented her appearance as a forest fairy. “Ready to show off to the boys?” Jennifer enticed. “You bet your ass, girl!” “Let’s get a round of salute!” “Heeeere we coooome!” Mathilda announced to the guys as they walked out into the lobby. Crossing the hall into the living room, the chicks were greeted with a series of wolf whistles and acclamations. Since the moment they entered the bathroom, a few more guests had joined the party. In addition to Wes, two more men had arrived. One of them was Braxton, an ex-neighbour of Dimitri, who moved before High School. Tall and wide-shouldered, he was almost matching Dimitri’s body builder size at about 250 pounds. Member of the football team back then, and again in college, Braxton had decided against all originality to disguise himself as a footballer for Halloween. “Talk about original, huh, Brax?” Jennifer snarked. “That’s because you’ve not seen anything yet, little girl.” He chuckled, removing his helmet. Right under the headwear, the sportsman had apparently covered his face in makeup to look like some werewolf. He had even added pointy ears and fake fangs to complement the disguise. “Wow! I must say I’m surprised you actually put some effort in your costume.” Mathilda nodded. “Hmm, yeah, I agree.” Her friend approved. “Now, does any of you wants to play with the big wolf on campus? Grrrr!” The jock joked as he acted the part. “Only if you want me to turn you into a cute puppy!” Jennifer said with a smile, raising her wand to playfully poke the footballer’s nose. “Oh! Turn him into a cat! It would look great with my costume!” The Cleopatra giggled along. “You girls are helpless!” The last guest spoke, disguised as Captain America. With his blond hair and chiselled jaw, devoid of any, the man actually looked like the Steve Rogers from the Marvel comics. Albeit a little shorter than the canon superhero, the second jock was still taller than average at 5′11″ and he depicted a stature that testified countless hours dedicated to the gym. “Victor! It’s been so long since I last saw you!” The short fairy exclaimed. “Victor?! Damn, dude, what are you on?! Tell me that’s part of the costume!” Mathilda gasped, putting a hand on her chest as she observed the massive bulk threatening the sleeves to tear. “That’s all me, ladies!” Victor laughed with his loud rich voice, flexing a bicep for evidence. The girls could almost hear in their head the seams about to rip as he tensed the enormous arm, unfortunately inaudible through the booming music. “I’ve been hitting the gym pretty hard, you see, babes?” “You can show off all you want, bro, but you ain’t got nothing on these guns!” Braxton chimed in, pushing his longtime friend aside to flex. “At least I’ve still got abs, bro!” Victor scoffed at him by shaking the soft midsection. “Put your faggy hands away, bro! It’s padding for the field!” “Sure, bro. Sure. Just be careful so that I don’t mistake you for a bear next time we go hunting, bro!” The two teasing jocks gave each other a few hits before erupting with laughter. However, when they turned around to see the girls, they had since long left them to their silly talk. They had joined in with Dimitri to play beer pong — their boyfriends nowhere to be found. The two meatheads exchanged a wolfish grin and went after the two women, intent on playing a few drinking ones with them. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Saturday, October 31st, 2020 — 9:15 PM ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Settled in the study, Sebastian and Wesley had been smoking and relaxing aside from the main events of the party, taking some time to catch up. Ever since Wesley has moved district with his parents as a teen, the two of them hadn’t seen each other as much as they used to in elementary school. They ended growing up in quite different neighbours. While Sebastian had lived in a middle-class environment, Wesley had been subjected to a rather lower one. Sebastian never really knew why Wes’s folks relocated there, but suspected they might have struggled financially. The roughness of these new surroundings perhaps contributed to Wes becoming reckless and carefree in the last couple weeks, such as starting taking and exchanging drugs and booze. Nonetheless, he was still Sebastian’s old friend and the tall lad just simply couldn’t forget the strong bond they’ve built up many years ago. The two men were chilling peacefully when the door to the study opened by Theodore, dressed as a wizard with a blue robe and hat. The short pal had put on a ridiculous fake white beard, but had it off in his hands, the material itching him after a while. Even if he wasn’t fond of having his glasses daily — usually opting for contacts — Theo had decided to put on the nerdy eyewear his parents shamefully bought him a couple months ago, before the pandemic happened. “There you are, guys!” Theo blurted out. “We were looking for you everywhere! Well, technically, I was the one who… whatever. Anyway, what are you doing here?” “Whether you in or out, just close the damn door!” Wes grumbled. Theo blushed red and shut it after stepping inside. Already, the strong aroma of weed hit his nose. The smell didn’t disgust him, but he couldn’t help being rational about it. “Guys, you know that thing fries your brain cells, right?” “Doesn’t take any to say you’re an annoying little twat.” The drug addict chimed. “Hey, hey…” Seb spoke before the tension arose — he pulled the handmade fag from his mouth and offered it to his standing pal by the door. “Take it and sit down with us, bro.” Imitating an obedient puppy, Theo bowed his head down slightly in submission and listened to Seb’s command like an order. After Theo sat and brought the joint to his lips, taking a puff. Wesley glared at his childhood friend, unhappy with Seb’s decision to hand out his weed stash to anyone. “There, buddy. Chill a bit with us, alright, pal?” Seb smirked as he rolled himself another fag on the old walnut desk. “Dude! Don’t you go giving my stuff to everyone here tonight, bro!” Wesley vocalized. “Calm down, Wes. That’s my little buddy Theo and I love him to death! No homo, tho, bro!” Seb chuckled as he lighted the new cig. “You’re so gay, dude.” Theo rolled his eyes. “Good thing Dimi’s a cowboy tonight.” Wesley added, setting back in the leather chair behind the computer desk. “If we’ve got a fag slipping in, that gun might have some use.” “Dude, that’s not a bit radical?” Theo frowned. “Don’t get me wrong — I don’t approve of their lifestyle choice, but we kinda need these guys in society too.” Wesley gave him a dark eye. He aggressively took his beer can on the expansive desk. “Name me one thing this garbage is good for.” He spitted out of spite. “Well… I kinda need someone to make my coffee at McDonald’s.” Theo sniggered. “And that means more girls for us.” The scorn on the drug addict’s face shifted into a scary smile as he burst into laughter. “Dude! Seb, is that the Theo guy you talked about?” “In the flesh!” Sebastian gestured like a show master. “I guess you were right. Even nerds can be funny sometimes. Maybe there’s hope for the male race after all!” ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Saturday, October 31st, 2020 — 9:45 PM ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ A party wouldn’t just be one without playing flip-the-cup. Braxton and Victor had both removed their headwear to facilitate the downing of their beer cups against the two girls with whom the competed. Mathilda now used her majestic faux-golden staff more like a cane rather than an artifact for her costume — she barely could stand anymore. Jennifer, on the other hand, had better alcohol retention, but she kept jiggling and spilling beer on the sticky table and floor. The hair she had earlier shaped into a beautiful flower bulb had lost it dynamism and now looked like a greenish muffin top. While the girls were winning another round against the jocks, Asher and Dimitri just arrived on the first floor, having dragged up a foosball table from the home bar downstairs. The guys walked across the hall into the living room where the heart of the party was beating full mast. “Foosball time!” Dimitri and Asher shouted in chorus before bursting into laughter like a buffoon duo. The call was hyping the guests enough that even the smoking trio in the study left their cave to join in the fun. The games started as teams of two, until Mathilda had the brightest idea in the world and everyone held on to only one rotator, making sides of four instead. It was crowded and people kept bickering and shoving each other out of the way, but it provided a lot of fun nonetheless. As a good host, Dimitri gave his place to his eight guests until Wesley grew bored with the game and lie back on one of the couches. Mathilda was questioning herself about her idea when a repetitive soft tug in her hair starting annoying her. She thought her hair had tangled into her costume, but when she turned around, she met with a white ghostly face screaming at her. Her shriek made everyone look for her and begin to laugh as the Latina slipped on the wet floor and fell on her ass. Right behind her stood a tall person dressed in robes as dark as night, with the mask of Ghostface, holding in a knife in its hand. The figure was soon grabbed into a headlock by Dimitri, then Braxton, the three of them slipping on the ground as well. The two brutes had the stalker under control until they also heard the laughs coming from underneath the costume. “You should have seen her face!” The voice guffawed. “Larry? What the fuck, bro!” Dimitri exclaimed in shock, but soon after joined in the laugh. The two men on top of him moved and the host took his little brother’s hand to help him back up. Mathilda, embarrassed to no end, snapped with anger, failing to stand by keeping on slipping on the beer-covered floor. “You’re such a creep!” She pestered at him, red with humiliation. Jennifer tried pulling her back up via the Egyptian staff — while her boyfriend was laughing out loud — but the two girls ended falling on top of each other. “Jenny — ouch! Seb — DO SOMETHING! You, fucker! I’m gonna kill you! I’m gonna kill you ALL! All of you!” “Alright, alright.” Sebastian complied, walking to help his lover up. “That was a good one, bro!” Dimitri approved, giving Larry a brotherly slap on the back. “Though you should run away while you can!” “I was just coming to get a few snacks before my raid.” Larry pulled his mask off, beaming a content smile. “Well, you—…” Lights went off abruptly. Music faded into nothingness. Total darkness invaded the space. The surprised cries and exclamations were absorbed into the thick void surrounding the party members. Dimitri tried to bring back the attention to him when, out of a sudden, the fireplace lightened by itself, diffusing a dimmed orange hue to the vast living room. “What the fuck is going on?!” Dimitri blurted out in confusion. “HELLO.” A distorted voice echoed from the corners of the room and from within each present individual. The first one to take his phone out was Theo, who attempted to use its flashlight. Only then did he realize his screen looked glitched out — the alien sound came from its small speakers. “What… guys! My phone’s bugged!” “Fucking hell?! Mine too!” Braxton added before the distorted voice spoke again. “Tonight is not like any others. The ten of you gathered here is no mere coincidence. Each of you, to an extent depicted examples of homophobic bigotry against people, which lead to the self-destruction and suffering of poor, weaker-minded individuals.” “Where the fuck are you?” Seb asked aloud, taking in his hands the axe he’s left by the couch earlier. “Show yourself!” The voice continued: “Braxton Bellman — your jealousy against Richard Biggs making the football team only fuelled your homophobic bigotry to kick him out. But the school wouldn’t let him out because he was the best player. So, you made sure to ‘accidentally’ have his leg broken so that he couldn’t play on the team anymore. Did that bitter win in your hollow head made up for all the further matches your team lost? Victor Fortune — whilst you confidently say you are a handsome fuck machine, you had often pushed back the advances of numerous people because of their skin colour or orientation. You never miss a chance to proudly display your confederation flag to show much of a white suprematist you are. You used your straight white cis male privileges to influence many peers as the representative student in school, disrespecting whoever didn’t share the same traits as yours. Theodore James — you do not exert physical violence to assert your intolerance, but you rather attack psychologically your victims. The shameful names and stereotypes you call them instead of the proper ones make them all the more vulnerable to others who would act brutally. Sebastian Joseph — in any room you go, you attract anyone’s eyes. You are the tall, charismatic, person any man or woman would love to spend a good time with. However, this handsome shell of yours hides a dark soul. In pure malice, you used your good looks to flirt with Henri Thompson, just to play him out as a whole joke in front of the school. That man still is afraid to date anyone today. Mathilda Lopez — instead of sympathizing with your ex-boyfriend Greg when he confided you with his bisexuality, you acted like the worst bitch ever. Not only you broke up with him, but you leaked multiple personal pics of him on social media, shaming him for his sexual orientation as well, resulting in having him brutalized and sent to the ER. He is still in the coma to this day. Wesley Peterson — you are a dropout and a thug who doesn’t give a damn about anyone other than himself. You vandalized Oliver McClay’s car and locker with graffiti in High School, showing the world that he was homosexual. Know that Oliver McClay took his own life a month after changing school. Asher Ship — your homophobic bigotry against your younger brother Ken has led him into clinical depression. This led him to grow overweight and develop paranoia. He even tried to take his own life numerous times, almost succeeding more than once. It’s a miracle of sorts if he is still alive today. Jennifer Taylor — nobody can confide you anything. When Roger Mayer shared you his biggest secret that he was a homosexual, you betrayed him and told others. No longer a mystery, Roger’s parents eventually heard about it, making his life as miserable at home as he’s had it at school. Say, when was the last time you talked with Roger? Were you even his friend? Dimitri Wright — host of the night, you clearly selected your guests carefully. Your fingers probably don’t make up for the number of wedgies you’ve given those homosexuals and intellectuals in school. You’re a leader, but you used your diplomatic gifts to bully others rather than implementing justice. Perhaps it’s time to turn the tables? Finally, Larry Wright — just like your brother Dimitri, you have deeply rooted homophobia. If you come across a gay guy in your Fortdey servers, you don’t hesitate to shame and tag them, taking mischievous pleasure in bashing and blackmailing them. Sucks when the servers suspend your account for inappropriate actions, does it?” A hard-felt silence weighed on the ten young adults, to which Wes blurted out: “So fuckin’ what?!” before being hushed at. “Now that your facets are displayed on the table, let’s play a little game, shall we? If you can make it intact by six in the morning, I will let you go. Oh, but we can’t allow cheater, don’t we? No one can leave the house grounds. No electricity, no data. Cheating or sleeping through the night will immediately result in a person losing. Also, let’s spice things up a bit. Anyone who loses can make others lose as well. Among the ten of you, there is one who knows what’s going on — an imposter of sorts. Will you find who fakes this out? Finding it out might make you win earlier than sunrise, but a wrong answer will result in another loss. Good luck.” The speakers shut, and so did all their phones — batteries fried up.
  22. Muscle fog ogre’s gift Ch 1 part four by Big Zargo Every Ogre Lord needs his court wizard When Samuel woke up, He thought he was in a stinky locker room, for all he can smell was musk; But then the memories hit. All Samuel can do was moan in exhaustion. “By the beard of my master I have failed.” He moaned in exhaustion. In all of Samuel’s life he thought being a guardian for some old forgotten entity, would be an easy career choice. No wizard politics, no demons, no Eldridge abomination and, no agent God’s just him, his wife, his three children, and one bumbling apprentice. Now more than half the people in town are missing. The town is covered by a mysterious fog generated by the entity and, his apprentice is off taking his magical exam. All that he can remember was leaving his house and he tries to remember how he got into this dark room. “Fuck! My bag he thought with donning horror.” Samuel’s bag is where he holds all magical supplies. On instinct he tries to recall it, only to moan in pain as he feels his pool of magic was near empty. Samuel would have tried to draw in the surrounding magic, but it was contaminated with something. He remembers how one of his allies to demon contaminated magic and got possessed by it. He feels that all the magic being used up trying to protect him and 2 others from the contaminated magic he guessed. All Samuel knows is that he erases some of his own mind with his own spell on purpose. Getting his bearings while in the room he discovers that, he is trapped in a magic cage with two other people. The contaminated magic forming an outline on the cage, thanks to his magic site letting him know. In order for Samuel to escape he would have to remove spell protecting the other two with him, but it will most certainly lead to their deaths if he do so. “That smell again,” he thought to himself. Samuel stops his thinking as the small musk became stronger and as he starting to hear some noises coming outside of his cloth cage. With no ceremony the cloth covering the case have been removed form Samuel’s and the two other men’s cages. “Time to wake up some sunshine’s,” deep mysteriously voice said. The light blinding Samuel as he regains his site. He and the other two men found themselves brought to a clearing filled with huge gray camping tents. It’s village of gray tents was next to the main library of Holmes top Borough letting Samuel know that they must be somewhere downtown, in the early morning. Samuel was disturbed site of huge hairy muscular caveman to round 10 feet tall like creatures; Most if not all were bare chested and they were wearing kilts, thong, loincloth, and some were just completely naked. Smell of sex is permeating the air as Samuel could literally see some of the creatures having sex. There have been place next to the largest tent among the village of tents; this large had a golden symbol of circle with two wavelike passing through it and one line passing vertically. Then Samuel noticed the creatures in leather arm and among them was the entity named Owen sitting on a huge chair reading a book with his huge hands. Samuel just knew that Owen was the one sitting on the chair he also discovered that he, for he was naked. Like the other caveman like creatures Owen had a pelt of black body hair, a 11 feet tall body with refilling muscle that reminded Samuel of the incredible hulk, a big cock, with a pair of huge hairy balls. As Samuel got closer, he could see that Owen had a strong square jaw, a bushy black mustache, a big round nose, a sideburn, brown eyes under a pronounce eyebrow ridge, with thick bushy eyebrows, a bald orange head. Owen marked and closest to the book he was reading. Owen smiles at the site of his three prisoners. the wizard was a fat middle-age short white man with black graying hair, grayish blue eyes and a round nose. One of other man had average body type and an average height tan skin, short graying hair black, sternum brown eyes, hawkish nose, a mustache, and a triangle face. While the other man had an average body type as well but was little bit taller than all three of them and had white skin, short hair black, thin mustache, green eyes, and the average nose. “It was a shame that the fourth person died he would have the made a great ogre. Still though why in the world would this wizard try to kill his allies, he didn’t know? Maybe the wizard thought that he was a powerful demon so decided to give his friends a swift death rather than being tortured by a demon. Still it took a lot of power to capture all three of them, he would have to send a couple ogres to pick up the body and all the other dead humans in Holmes top Borough. A few hours does wonders for him and his magic. With this pool of power being nearly full he should be to turn this Guardian into his ogres; Especially sense the wizard pool power was low to nonexistent. He must subconsciously had protected the other two men from my muscle fog with his magic,” Owen thought. “Now having his prize, a guardian Owen just have to locate the other Two guardians before he can be completely free from his magical shackles. He could have gone with making the wizard watch as he turns his two friends into ogres, but he might be able to escape while he was distracted. No, the wizard must be the first to receive his blessing, he will make a fine court mage.” Owen thought to himself. “Grabbed the wizard and hold them down on his back.” Owen commanded. With the snap of his fingers the part of cage holding the wizard vanish before re-appearing around the other two prisoners, as the wizard fall on his fat ass. Owen - “Let me see the key on you.” Before the wizard could try anything, Samuel was quickly grabbed by one of the Owens ogres in leather armor, before he can escape. With no prompting from Owen another ogre quickly stripped off the wizard’s clothes leaving him butt naked. “There is no key my Lord.” The other ogres said. “Seems I misplaced my key.” the wizard said. Lesson learned Owen thought secure the key first then attempt to corrupt them after. Owen smile did not waver at the news of the key’s disappearance. “You still going to tell me where it is, even if your dead. Once you die the protections on this key slack in and I could track where is, am I’m correct with this assumption?” All that Owen got for an answer for was a grunt from the wizard. “Of course, I’m not planning to kill you. Otherwise you would already be dead.” He says with a toothy grain. Owen got up from his chair, walking towards the restrained wizard. The ogre who had stripped the wizard of his clothes having begun to move back giving his lord plenty of room. “You may kill me or break me for your sick purposes, but the Council will seal you monster and banish all your friends back to whatever dimension they came from.” The wizard said with hatred. Owen - “Those are tough words coming from a fat powerless wizard. Although now you have my curiosity about this Council. When I’m done with you, you’ll tell me everything you know about this Council of yours.” Owen Places his huge hand on to the wizard’s fat belly and said. “Nice to meet you Samuel.” Samuel’s face pales as he felt Owen’s mind break through his defenses; Like a burglar breaking through his house breaking and stealing Samuel’s stuff. Samuel’s throat quickly became rough from screaming. “Don’t worry Samuel this won’t take long, you’ll be good as new when I’m done with you, no! even better than your old self.” Owen said in delight. If Samuel had his pool of magic filled, he would be able to resist Owen’s power. But as it stands now the absence of power in Samuel’s body allows Owen’s corruption to seeped through. Samuel could literally feel his humanity being washed away by Owen primal magic. Richard and Joseph slowed woke up because of Samuel screaming. “What the hell is all that noise?” The short black hair man said, whose name was Joseph. “When the world hit me.” The man with short grayish hair with some black in it said whose name was Richard. Both of them quickly woke up with the noise of Samuel screams. Each of them getting up and turning their faces to Samuel’s location. “Dear God.” Richard whispered in horror. At the site of Samuel’s apparent torture. Eventually Samuel stopped screaming and just lay there with his blank gray blue eyes and his mouth hanging open and saliva leaking out of it. The man known as Samuel was now a blank vessel for Owen to fill with power and manipulation. “Like breaking old chair to make the new stool. Now here’s the fun part.” Owen said. Owen starts to fill Samuel’s body with primal power. Forcing his once less than average pool of magic to grow. Samuel’s broken mind starting to repair at Owen’s direction. With Courage he did not know he had Richard said. “What in hell are you doing to Samuel, you giant Beefed up roid monster.” “I'm remaking him into a sexy ogre.” Owen said. Owen looks at Richard for a second then his gaze moves towards Joseph where he meets Joseph’s eyes and where he quickly loses the contest of wills. Samuel’s fat body grew wider and taller, right in front of Richard’s and Joseph’s eyes. His arms and legs grew with huge muscle. His hands grew into huge mitts with sausage like fingers. His biceps grew into huge bowling balls. His shoulders grew into huge boulders. His back grew muscle as his neck swelling up giving him a bull’s neck and deeper voice. His pecs grew into beefy pillows. His sagging belly grew straighter until it became tough gut. His ass grew into two huge soccer balls. His thighs grew larger than tree trunk. His calves grew into huge cannonballs, as his feet grew into huge pads with thick toes. His cock grew into a fat 12-inch-long monster, as his balls grew into huge oranges. His round jaw became a square jaw, his pointed nose having swells and rounds out. His eyebrows ridge became more pronounce giving them a caveman look. His slightly hairy body grew more hair as his face grew a huge-long beard going down to is now hairy pecs. Seeing that Samuel’s rebirth, it’s now complete Owen lifts his hand off of Samuel’s big tough gut. Backing off to see Samuel the ogre. Owen -“That a Hot daddy, you turn out well. With your slightly peppered long beard, a mustache and bald head.” The ogre that was still holding Samuel’s help lifted Samuel’s 10 feet tall orange ogreish body off the ground. Owen sat back in his chair looking a little bit drained. While the other ogres around him had hard dicks at the site of Samuel’s rebirth. “Come suck off daddies’ cock.” Samuel said to the ogre who stripped his clothes off. The ogre kneeled down and starts licking and sucking Samuel’s thick cock, while the other one who was holding him starts rubbing his cock near Samuel big ass. “This fat ass is your reward,” Samuel says in hunger. “Serving Owen is my reward daddy wizard. Besides your ass just looks so lonely and I figured my cock could keep it company.” The ogre behind him said. “You’re a good-looking cub. You’re welcome it in my ass.” Samuel said. “Thank you, sir, but don’t call me cub.” the ogre behind Samuel said. With those words the ogre behind Samuel plunges his fat cock into Samuel’s ass and starts moving his hips back and forth. Both Richard and Joseph stood there in shock, seeing Samuel a wizard be broken then turn into a sex crazed daddy ogre, filled them with dread. “Joseph, we need to find a way out here and a need to find it quickly. We need one of the other guardians and tell what happened here. Look for a weak spot in his cage while they’re all distracted.” Richard said. “Damn that ogres pounding Samuel’s ass real hard. I wonder if I can have sloppy seconds on Samuel’s plump ass.” Joseph said while rubbing his crotch. Joseph’s mind already succumbing to Owens influence. Richard slowly turns towards Joseph and whispers. “No.” Joseph is starting to look taller and a little bit wider, his white skin beginning to turn oranges. Richard see that Joseph muscle on body starts to grow while his clothes starts to become tighter. “No, no, no,” Richard repeated as he backed away from the changing Joseph. As he begins moving away to a corner of the cage Richard tries looking for an exit. The Smell of sex was in the air as the guard ogres start to masturbate when ogre Samuel starts is three-way with the two other ogres. The familiar smell of sex having been making Joseph feel a live. His cock and balls for the first to grow; they serve out slowly but as they grew so did his body. This feeling of primal energy going through his body was intoxicating to Joseph. so, he was himself go. Letting the power of Owen’s gift pass right through. His memories of his wife fade away as he changes into an ogre. He knew as an ogre that he would be strong that his libido would be fire that would help Ignite his soul burning away his humanity. Joseph was a man ruled by his libido, making Owens gifts so in resistible to him. Some part of his very soul urine for Owen’s touch. Joseph grew and grew stretching out his clothes with his growing muscles. His pants and shirt gain tears before falling off his growing body. “Oh yeah.” Joseph moaned out as his body grew. His now big bodybuilding’s body starts to rumble with ogreish might, as once human skin tone completely turning orange. “Fuck Yeah!” Joseph yelled out, while rubbing his growing cock. Joseph’s body grew taller and wider as his head eventually reach the ceiling of the cage. “This is getting too tight.” Joseph said while forcing to hunch his head. Now feeling the cage was being too small he stopped his masturbating with his growing body he began destroying the confining cage with his growing arms. With a mighty roar from Joseph, the top of the cage was forced out words as it was smashed to pieces. The once straight bars that were holding the cage now bands like metal hangers against Joseph’s growing ogreish body Cage that was hold them. The now 10 feet tall Joseph resumed his masturbating as he got out of the remains of the destroyed cage. His once clean-shaven face, with thin black mustache and short black hair was now covered with a 5 o’clock shadow with a big bushy mustache and wild black hair. His once average body was now like the other ogres big, wide, and tall, brimming with muscle and sharing the caveman look with hair peppering his huge body. Joseph masturbation began to pick up pace as well the other ogres, because of Samuel’s three-way sex was near its climax. Unscathed by the destruction of cage and seeing the ogres were distracted by Samuel’s three-way sex, Richard tried to escape. Richard was in a forest of huge giant man, each masturbating to site of Samuel’s three-way sex, but one the master of these creatures Owen. Sadly, for Richard he made the mistake of gazing at Owen’s eyes. “Oh yeah that’s hot,” one ogre said. “Fuck I’m about to bust my nuts,” another ogres said. With a single glance of Owens piercing brown eyes Richard froze like a deer in headlights. Within that second of eye to eye contact Owen challenge Richard to a contest of wills, Owens will be being like a tidal wave of lust and domination, compared to Richards Sandcastle of will. Richard’s mouth starts to drool, his cock becomes erect and his mind becomes foggy with lust. All that he can see is Owen’s fat juicy erect cock, beckoning to him to come and taste it. Owen- “Come take of my seed.” Samuel had never felt this good in his life. The primal magic flowing through his veins was making his three-way feel extremely good. “FUUUUCK!” Each thrust of the ogre that was behind Samuel gave a jolt of energy and pleasure to him. He felt the magic power inside him swell and swell with each thrust. Knowing that the excess energy is being sent to Owen, gave Samuel great joy. The ogres around Samuel starts to pick up their pace with their masturbating, as they felt Samuel’s climax coming near, some even coming early with a roar of pleasure, starting a chain reaction of coming. One by one each ogre offers their tribute to master and tell eventually Samuel and his two partners came. Each of the ogres drenches their seed across the clearing pelting the ground with their come. None of this ogreish rain spills upon Owen, but sadly for Richard he is soaking with the stuff. Each drop of white ogreish cum stains Richards skin oranges, like a bad chemical reaction to his skin, as he makes his way towards Owen. Slowly stretching his clothes to the breaking point by the time his tongue starts licking at Owen’s meat. One taste of Owen’s cock is enough for Richard to lose it. Licking and slipping at Owen’s cock, he starts to swell like a muscle balloon. From slightly standing to kneeling on all fours Richard body grew bigger and hairier as his became an ogre. His humanity fell as quickly as his clothes fell off his growing body. Richard Quickly grew into a huge 10 feet tall monster with freakishly huge well proportion muscles and his skin quickly and completely turns to an orange hue. Within the first minutes of sucking off Owen’s fat cock Richard became a musclebound ogre, With a caveman look with his hairy body, cum drenched graying black beard, wild hair and his big hairy ass up in the air just begging to be plowed. Richard’s fat cock is leaking out the remains of his humanity. Padding and rubbing Richard’s head Owen took great delight at Richard’s blow job. Owen thought, how easily they fall when the leader succumbs to my power. I must admit that that possums spell that Samuel cast was pretty clever for a ritual type mage. If I just had killed them instead of making them into ogres, he may have gotten away with it. Now that key that Samuel had will begin to deteriorate because of his transformation. Now that Samuel is mine, he will lead me to Noah and other two guardians, and when I turned them into ogres this prison, this town will become my sanctuary, my fortress. Looking down at Richard, Owen said, “you’re good cock sucker aren’t you? Let me reunite you with your son.” In answer he knew and felt Richard come, shooting out the rest of his humanity and signify the of his transformation into an ogre. A couple of seconds later after Richard came, Owen felt his climax coming as well. Closing his eyes Owen enjoys Richard’s work on his fat cock. Eventually Owen came shooting down ogreish cum through Richard’s throat. Unexpectedly Richard’s body grew with a nether growth spurt as if turning into an ogre again. He got up revealing to Owen his now 11feet tall ogreish body. “Did I please you, my Lord?” Richard said with cum and slobber drooling from his mouth. Richards once kind stern brown eyes now became a harsh glowing gray. He was much bigger than the average ogre, and much more loyal. His hawkish nose was blunted down, his triangle chin was smashed into a square jaw and he was now mist leaked from his body as if he were constantly sweating. With a nod of Owen’s head, the huge hulking Richard left Owens site; following his will Richard went to Owen’s tent. “Come to me Samuel we must talk.” Owen commanded. Walking towards Owen with Joseph behind his heels, Samuel bowed at Owen’s huge feet, a good sign of loyalty Owen thought. Owen -“First we need to find the other guardians as soon as possible. When that task is complete come and find me and tell me where they are. Joseph, I have a task you as well. You will find Jacob tell him to find the specialists as soon as possible, I can feel the deterioration of your brother’s minds. You two are dismissed.” I’m was looking for ways to improve my work. Feel free to leave your opinion down below. Constructive criticism is always welcome.
  23. Here's the discord link in order to ACCESS ALL OF THEM: https://discord.gg/4xSqQwD
  24. Trio

    Solidifying

    Before we begin with the new story, Id like to thank Hialmar for all his contribution to it and for all the great conversations. You are great! ... "Test Subject 1505 waited inside the Chamber. He couldn't remember ... couldn't remember his own name. Who he was ... before he was recruited to the experiment ..." I suddenly don’t feel so good, barely can stay erect. The pain spreads all over my body, the pain, why God. I get on my knees and extend my arms shaking, begging for mercy. I cry for help. My muscles are contorting, I feel taller now, why are my clothes getting so tighter? I am... growing! Ow! What is happening with my arms? My chest, is it getting bigger? It appear it is! My legs grow inside my trousers, I feel that. My dogtag trembles in my expanding pecs, my expanding pecs! How is that possible! O Lord! I am growing... Muscular.. Stronger.. My expanding pecs My heart beat intensifies, I feel my penis awakening thinking about my growing body. How is it possible that I’m enjoying this? My body is, changing, transforming. My shirt starts to tear itself apart, revealing my body covered in a thick musky sweat. My pecs are growing faster now, but I can still see bellow them, and I see my abdomen transforming, I see my abs being sculpted, surging bellow my skin, hard as steel. Hard as steel. My... cock, ugh fuck, my cock is so hard now I can see it too, it’s breaking free from my trousers, hard as steel, trembling with blood. I roar, my voice is deeper now, thicker. I roar louder, Fuck, it feels good. I want more. I am transforming, being blessed with the body of a warrior. My arms, so big, so... strong, yes... bigger! Bigger! My shoulders, it’s getting hard to move my head. Ugah, my jaw is being reformed, feels better now, stronger. Yes, Stronger. Why am I still dressed? I tore my clothes apart and get on my feet once more. My trousers are the next to go: I stay naked, my cock throbbing precum on my body. I need to release it, my hands, I can barely touch my own fucking cock, but I do it, and I jerk off, and while I do, wow, what is happening now? Yes! Bigger! War... defend! Serve! I am a soldier now, I live to fight, to glory. Fuck, my voice, so deep now, feels good, more, I jerk off faster now, and I release jets of cum. They cover my body and solidify, changing my skin. The heat of pleasure changes me further, fuck! More! I demand more! Transforming so good! Fuck so good! So strong. Bigger, yes, Bigger! I'm turning into a God, power surges through me. A War God! I live to fight, to glory! Fuck, I demand more! So strong now, I can barely look bellow my huge pecs. Fuck! I touch my abs, covered in sweat and solidified cum, I feel the body of the warrior. This is the new beginning This is the rebirth.
  25. I am transforming, it begins, my clothes are ripping apart, my body is being exposed, my pectorals are violently exposed, a dog tag is pending in my chest. I am embracing this change, I transform. My arms are expanding and becoming immensely powerful, my shoulders are broader and ever more defined, the chain of the dogtag is being stretched, as my back broadened. My abs, the 6 plates of stone become steel, and I feel them with my hands, as my body is remade. I am remade. I transform, the testosterone flows on my body freely, I feel my fucking cock growing fast, throbbing pre-cum, it is erect, and I delicately play with it with my ever changing hands, roaring with the pleasure that the gestures bring me. My heart beats strongly, and my muscles expand. I transform, I am remade, my mind is dominated by war, duty, but also the hormones make me a sex beast. I play with my cock, delicately caressing it as it grows with the rest of my fucking body. I transform, I am remade, I swear to fight for the sake of my brother in arms, I swear to destroy my enemies with my bare, muscular hands. My ever growing hands. I am naked, hard and strong, a God is born, a soldier ready to serve. I no longer play with my cock, as my instincts overwhelm me, I grab the meat with my both hands and I stroke fast, I grunt and bellow, almost forgetting how to talk, lost the track of my thoughts, I cant express myself with words, I just stroke, grunt, roar, explore my body, feel every inch of the monster I became. I transform, and as I do I am reformed. I transform. My glorious muscles covered in cum and sweat, the strong scent of testo in the air, the dogtag washed by the sweat. My whole being washed. I am reborn.
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