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  1. Chilis

    Pirate Adventures

    Hello everyone! This story will take a different twist after part 1. Oliver is 18 years old. Marcus is 39. The Captain is 20. This story takes place in an old time when pirates were still a thing. Hope you all like it! Feel free to leave suggestions and comments! ------------------ Part 1 The sky was clear, the tides appeared to be calm and the temperature was… well, bearable. Oliver thought that luck was finally on their side. He had boarded this ship weeks ago, and since then only disaster had followed him and the crew. Terrible storms, huge waves, assaulting rival pirates, killing mermaids and even a giant kraken. It had been days of tiring work and lots of dead, but it looked like he could finally have a break from disaster and relax. The boy pulled out a small mirror from his bag and tried to fix his hair. He had messy blonde hair, freckles and a small nose. His green eyes glanced over his face, satisfied with being somewhat adorable looking. He then looked down through the reflection and sighed. Regardless of his attractive facade, Oliver was very disappointed with his body. He was slightly athletic thanks to his sailing job, yet he still felt very skinny. If he wasn’t wearing any clothes, he could’ve seen his thin arms, his flat chest, and his rib bones showing a little. At least he had some decent abs… “What ya doin’, pretty eyes?” Oliver blinked and lost the attention on his mirror. His pal Marcus had showed up out of nowhere, putting an arm around his shoulders. The man was middle aged, ugly as they come. He was missing several teeth, had a dirty beard, and a belly so inflated that Oliver thought it would pop like a bubble at any moment. But despite his disgusting looks, the blonde boy and the hideous pirate had become friends even before boarding the ship. Marcus was fun to be around, and he had a gentle heart, always willing to help his smaller companion. “Looks like our problems are finally over, eh?” Marcus said, extending his arm towards the vast ocean. Oliver chuckled “We shouldn’t let our hopes get too high. I bet another disaster is about to hit us. This is just the sea making fun of us before it does”. “Eerr… aren’t ya a positive one” Marcus went serious all the sudden, observing the horizon “The tide Gods haven’t been generous with us this trip. But I assure you, we will reach the new lands in no time now. The Captain is making sure of it”. The blonde boy frowned “The Captain…”. Oliver had mixed feelings about the Captain. The guy was only a few years older than him, and both of them were younger than everybody in the ship. Still, Oliver was treated like a subordinate, while everyone respected the Captain in an almost religious manner. The blonde boy could see why though… The Captain’s only presence imposed respect and fear. The young man was two heads taller than Oliver, and his body was built with gigantic muscle able to crush anybody that opposed him. The Captain’s frame was lean, yet large enough to stretch out his clothes. He had long dark hair, and piercing blue eyes that sent shivers down your spine whenever you looked at them directly. One large scar went across his nose, while a smaller one decorated his chin. He was a gorgeous, yet terrifying person. Oliver had admired the Captain at first. However, as time passed in the sea, the blonde boy began to envy him. Whenever they were in trouble, the muscular man would save everyone with his powerful body. The Captain was the one that defeated all of their invading enemy pirates with merely his fists. He was the one that wrestled the kraken down. And the one that made the mermaids forget about eating them by making them fall in love with him. Meanwhile, Oliver was sent to clean and cook, unable to defend himself from all the threats, or to help his dying crew friends. “He is a brave man, that one..” said Marcus all the sudden, burping before continuing talking “I have to admit, when I met him I doubted someone so young would be able to navigate the seas. I didn’t even think he could control a whole crew!” “Well, he hasn’t gotten us to the new lands yet…” said Oliver in a low tone, but Marcus didn’t listen to him. “But I am telling ya! After seeing how heroic and strong the Captain is, I have no more doubts about him! I would follow him to the end of the world, ya know! We could all learn more from him…” Marcus seemed to be daydreaming about the young man, and that made Oliver uncomfortable. “Are you in love with him or something?” the blonde guy said, teasing his friend. Instead of being offended, Marcus bursted out laughing “HAH! Aren’t we all on this ship!? Some are saying he is even a demigod, I’m telling ya!” Oliver didn’t expect that answer. He rolled his eyes and walked away. “Yeah, whatever. I’ll see you later, I am not done mopping the main deck” More weeks passed without anything eventful happening. Oliver cleaned, mopped, and cooked as always. He felt relieved that there were no more life threatening things going on, but a new problem was starting to arise. The crew was feeling uneasy; they should've been approaching the new lands by now. However, the ship was still sailing across the vast open ocean, with no shore to be seen anytime soon. Oliver’s friends began to fear that they were going in the wrong direction, but everybody respected (or feared) the Captain too much to demand answers. Besides, the Captain was not seen around the ship much anymore, as he stayed in his cabin most of the time, unless he came out to give orders. Oliver mostly felt unbothered by the situation. Or that was until one night the crew organized a meeting to see who would go ask the Captain about the trajectory of the ship. The filthy pirates started to discuss what to do calmly at first, yet the conversation quickly turned into a heated discussion. “I am not going over there! Have you seen the arm of that man!? It’s bigger than my leg!” someone said. “You are a coward! He is our Captain, he wouldn’t hurt us for a simple question” someone else argued. “Then why don’t you go ask him!?” a third one demanded. “Anyone know if we have more whisky?” added Marcus, clearly drunk. “He deserves respect, he is a demigod! Didn’t you see how he beated up that kraken!?” another one yelled. People kept screaming and pointing fingers. Oliver was just sitting in the corner, cleaning his tiny mirror with some cloth. He listened for a while and tried to ignore the noise. The accusations and demands kept getting louder, and Oliver was feeling more frustrated by the second. The boy clenched his teeth. “Be quiet!” he said, but he was so small that nobody noticed him. He grunted in rage and stood up. “SHUT UP!” he yelled “You are all pathetic! I’ll go talk to him!!!”. This time the crew heard him, and they went silent. All eyes were on Oliver, and he immediately felt embarrassed. Then everyone started laughing. “You!? The Captain will crush you with his finger alone” one person said. “Hah! The Captain is three times your size!” another mentioned. “Seriously guys, where is the whisky?” Marcus commented, scratching his head. “Go back to the kitchen, boy!” someone yelled. Oliver’s face turned red and he clenched his fists in rage. He gave the crew a defiant expression, and stormed out. The crew just kept laughing behind him, thinking that the blonde boy had gone to cry in his room. But Oliver felt a bright flame inside him, and he headed to the Captain’s cabin. “Stupid pirates, you’ll see” Oliver stood in front of the cabin’s door for a moment. He raised his fist with hesitation, doubting if he should do this after all. Then he remembered the crew laughing at him, and he knocked the door with rage. No answer. He knocked again, and again. Only the sound of the waves against the ship could be heard. Oliver was about to knock a fourth time when the door opened. The blond boy almost fell down on his butt as the huge frame appeared in front of him. “C-captain. A-ahoy!” Oliver managed to stutter. The Captain was so tall that his wide chest was facing Oliver’s face. The young man was wearing elegant sailor clothes, but he had ripped his shirt’s sleeves off to reveal his enormous arms. He looked down at the blonde boy, and Oliver felt some kind of hatred and admiration towards him. The Captain had a youthful face, almost the same as Oliver, but that was the only similar aspect between the two. The large pirate had a prominent beard that was trimmed short with a knife. His hair was bushy and heroic looking. He was bigger, stronger, and more attractive than anyone on the ship. Oliver frowned, frustrated with the idea that this guy was almost his same age, yet more of a man he would ever be. The Captain tilted his head without saying anything, awaiting for Oliver to speak. His chest was raising up and down, his breath clearly displaying the power his body possessed. Oliver swallowed, and then stood firmly “T-t-the- c-c-rew...” He shut his mouth, enraged that he was too nervous to talk. The Captain simply chuckled and turned his back to him. “Come in” Oliver looked at the back of the Captain, twice his own torso. He walked inside and observed the cabin. The place was filled with mirrors, way too many for a normal room. The desk was full of maps and other sailing objects. From the window, the moonlight sprayed it’s brightness over the frame of the large Captain. The man was looking at one of the many reflective glasses, his blue eyes locked on his own body. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” said the Captain. Oliver raised an eyebrow, unsure of what he was talking about. “What is?” The Captain raised his arm and flexed. His biceps rose up like a mountain, muscle stretching his skin thin. The blonde boy couldn’t stop staring, amazed by how hard and strong the muscle looked. “My body, of course…” commented the Captain. Oliver narrowed his eyes, confused. He looked away and pretended that he was not drooling over the sculpted body of the Captain. “S-sure…” Oliver answered “Um… s-sir. The crew has b-been wondering…” Suddenly Oliver felt a stream of courage running through his being “The crew… The crew has been wondering if we are going in the right direction! We should be arriving in the new land by now, but there is nothing out there except for the ocean! We are starting to question if you are actually capable of navigating this ship. After all, you are just a boy like me” Oliver spoke so quickly he felt almost out of breath when he finished. He looked at the Captain with an exhilarating smile, and instantly felt regret as the man turned to face him. “We are not going to the new land” said the Captain blandly. “W-what?” Oliver felt even smaller while the muscular man approached him. The Captain snatched him by the neck and lifted up his body. He wasn’t choking him, but he was still grabbing him firmly like a puppet. “Was I not clear? We are not going to the new land” the Captain smiled. His smirk would’ve looked terrifying, if his face wasn’t so perfectly handsome... “I have other goals in mind... I might be stronger than anyone in this pathetic ship, but I still can’t navigate a ship on my own. You silly pirates were a great help to get me across the sea though. Thank you” The man flexed the arm he was holding Oliver with, muscle bulging out everywhere. He grinned more “I suppose there is no need to pretend I care about you all anymore, as we are approaching our destination” Oliver started shaking, trying to set himself free “W-what are you doing!? The crew respects you, why are you betraying them like that!? Where are we even going!” The blonde boy grabbed the Captain’s arm, trying to push away. It was like holding a pillar of rock, and Oliver wasn’t sure if he was aroused or scared. He was envious, for sure. He also felt so helpless. The Captain chuckled. He moved Oliver, pulling him towards him. He was now carrying him in his arms. The blonde boy could feel all the hard muscle around him, while the Captain hugged him with his mighty arms like a baby. “Don’t worry, I do not intend to hurt any of you” he locked his blue eyes with Oliver’s “Aren’t you pretty? I might keep you around... I bet you’d like it” Then he walked to one large mirror and smashed Oliver against it. The Captain pushed his frame against his, and started thrusting with his whole figure. Oliver felt like a beast was smashing him, muscle pressing against his own body, pure raw strength overpowering him. The Captain was simply looking at himself flexing, almost making out with his reflection, while Oliver was getting squished. “I am such perfection. Look at my muscles, so strong, so powerful. You are feeling the full power of a perfect being!” Oliver tried to push him away or escape, but it was useless. The Captain’s body was too large and muscular for him to do anything. Nevertheless, the blonde boy soon was now longer scared; he was moaning, his hand grabbing and touching every part of the muscular man. Oliver felt so much admiration, and so much rage and envy… “That 's right. You know your place now” said the Captain, still observing himself instead of the blonde boy “I’ve been watching you, you know? You are the only pretty thing in this hideous ship. Except for me, obviously. You’ll be a great pet” The Captain started thrusting harder, his huge bulge rubbing against Oliver, evidently hard. The mirror started to crack, unable to contain the muscle strength “We are going to a place where I will obtain all the power I deserve. A forgotten place by many, but not me. I will take what’s mine” “I-I… I will not let you get away with his” Oliver managed to yell “I’ll tell the crew. They won’t accept this” The Captain laughed out loud. He then began kissing his reflection, flexing his muscles all over Oliver, pushing him harder and harder against the surface. The mirror finally gave in and broke in pieces. The blonde boy let out a scream of pain, arousal and surprise. The Captain stepped back with a proud grin, breathing intensely, and with his sweaty muscle shining under the moonlight. Oliver just dropped to his knees, and noticed that his crotch was wet. He looked up to the captain, feeling pathetic and defeated. The Captain was still full of energy, and he continued flexing his big muscles while watching them bulge up and harden. Without even bothering to look at Oliver, he said “What is the crew going to do about it? They think I am a demigod! And to be honest, they might be right…” The muscle man grabbed the blonde boy by the shirt and lifted him up. Without warning, he kissed him softly “You and everyone in this ship will keep doing what I say. And you are staying here, with me. There’s nothing you can do about it, my pet” Oliver wanted to run away, to punch him, to scream for help. But he felt so tired, so weak. His vision got blurry, and before he could say anything, he passed out.
  2. lasergaser14

    CREO Pt. 1

    Hi, all! This is my first real story post on this forum. I posted a few stories in the old forum, but never finished them: This is actually one of those, but edited and modified, and hopefully a little bit more interesting (and eventually, aligned with my interests as they are now, rather than...ten years ago). I admire everyone who posts so regularly--I'll do my best to keep this up, provided y'all like it. Comments, of course, welcome! Jimmy plodded through the door of his shabby bedroom, threw his schoolbag on the faded bedspread, collapsed into his rickety desk chair with a sigh, and buried his face in his hands. “I'm sick of this,” he muttered into his palms. Jimmy was sick of all of it. Sick of having to work his way through school for minimum wage. Sick of being skinny and malnourished. Sick of sharing a shitty apartment with his shitty roommate, who was always trying to loop him into a get-rich-quick scheme (which inevitably failed). Sick of looking like he was fourteen even though he was nineteen. Sick of getting beaten up for being so small, and having to keep his head down at his convenience store job for fear of getting jumped. Sick of feeling like he had to hide most of the details of his life from his friends so that he wouldn't get made fun of. Take today, for instance—it was his birthday, and when his friend Danny had asked if he was doing anything (he insinuated that he had a cake and a gift he'd like to bring over), Jimmy had had to say no, that he had to work late, and that his birthday celebration would be that weekend with family that lived out of town. Jimmy had no family out of town—and while it was true that he often worked late, he wasn’t scheduled to work that night. He just didn't want to face the sad reality of his life with a friend. Jimmy looked at his watch—it was barely four in the afternoon. He’d just had his mind-numbingly boring Econ 101 lecture, and knew he had a mountain of homework and reading to get to--but after pulling a book out of his bag and sitting with it at his desk, he just couldn’t bring himself to open it. Sighing, he stood up from his desk and wandered into the kitchen, searching for a bag of chips, when his eyes fell on a package resting on the counter. “J--Happy Birthday. Hope this works. I owe you one if it’s broken.” It was his roommate’s handwriting. Jimmy’s eyebrows went up in disbelief. Had shitty Kyle really gotten him a birthday gift? That was unexpected--and weirdly sweet of him. He tore off the brown paper, revealing a smooth white box of thin cardboard with crisp creases and sharp edges. His eyebrows went up even higher. Had his roommate gotten him a new phone? Jimmy opened the box with nervous excitement. Could it be? Was it possible? Inside, nestled amongst a few folds of tissue paper, was a small, solid, shiny black rectangle—something that, at first glance, could be mistaken for a new iPhone. “Shit, he must’ve seen me complaining the other week!” he grinned. Jimmy’s phone was an antiquated iPhone that he’d gotten used. This one didn’t look used--maybe refurbished?--but it also didn’t actually look like a real iPhone: there was something suspiciously sleek and shiny about the metal casing, something almost liquid about the glass cover. Jimmy pressed the button to power it on, and the screen flashed the Apple logo for a moment before showing the main interface. In the second that the Apple logo flashed, Jimmy could have sworn that instead of the classic apple with a bite out of it, the screen showed a whole apple—but this was an off-brand, so who cared? Hauling his old brick-like phone out of his pocket, Jimmy got to work figuring out of he could move his shitty plan over. It was surprisingly easy, and later that night, Jimmy was still sitting up in his room, playing with the features of his new phone, waiting for his roommate to come home so he could thank him. It was basically the same as an iPhone, and Jimmy had begun to make an excited call to Danny before realizing that he didn't know what he would say. Reluctantly, he pressed the “Cancel Call” button, sending Danny a text instead. “Hey, sorry I was shitty earlier. Let’s chill tomorrow.” Jimmy touched the icon on the screen for “Apps,” curious about what apps an off-brand iPhone came with. Aside from settings, messages, weather, a clock, and the like, there was only one app already on the phone, entitled “CREO.” Thinking that it must be a freebie, he tapped it, not sure what to expect. The screen went black, then an odd silvery color, like the reflective tint that underlies the negative space in a mirror. Jimmy waited, looking at his reflection in the screen. “Great, a mirror app,” he thought. “Just what I need—another reminder of how ugly I am.” He sighed and almost turned the phone off, but noticed that the uneaten apple had appeared in the silvery screen again. Jimmy paused, and as he stared, the word “CREO” appeared underneath it. The screen went blank again. “Must be an advertisement. That silvery background is pretty cool, though.” Just then, a black box appeared in the middle of a white screen with the instructions “Place thumb on sensor for security recognition.” Almost in a dream, Jimmy pressed his right thumb against the small round sensor below the screen. The phone made a small beep, and the screen cleared itself to read “CREOmode engaged. Press thumb again to end.” The screen went silvery again, and Jimmy was looking at his own, squinty face again. “CREOmode? I wonder that that means? But here's that silvery screen again—this has to be a fancy ad, or mirror app.” Jimmy sighed—he had gotten excited for a few seconds, about what, he didn't know. Looking at himself in the screen—it gave a much clearer reflection of his face than the warped mirror in his room—he studied his facial features. In addition to being short and small for his age (he was barely five feet, weighing in at about a hundred pounds) malnutrition and other circumstances had left Jimmy with a rather unfortunate face. He was pockmarked, his eyes were forever squinting, and his mousy hair was ratty and strawlike, always a bit too long or too short. Puberty hadn't brought on the acne-hiding stubble he had hoped it would—the best he got was an unfortunate unibrow. It was the unibrow that Jimmy focused on now, staring at it resentfully in his reflection and wishing it away. “I wish I didn’t have a unibrow,” he sighed. Within a moment, there was a gentle chime from the phone, and without another noise or a tickle, his unibrow was gone. Jimmy started backwards, almost falling out of his old desk chair. He shot his hand up to his forehead to feel—there was no unibrow any longer. He scrambled out of the chair and over to his mirror for a closer look, but the evidence was the same: without being shaved, waxed, or plucked, the dense cluster of hairs between Jimmy's eyebrows had just completely disappeared. Immediately suspicious, he dropped the iPhone onto his desk and stared at it, breathing heavily to calm himself. “What the fuck just happened?” he murmured, moving closer, looking into the silvery screen again. “You’ve activated CREOmode,” a pleasant voice said from his phone. “Would you like to activate voice help?” The voice was close to Apple’s Siri, but not quite--in fact, it was difficult to tell if it was supposed to be masculine or feminine. That was probably on purpose. “Yes, please,” Jimmy said, his heart pounding. “What does this app do?” “CREO is currently in Beta. We are a consensual reality-alteration app, focused primarily on personal circumstance. Our goal is to help create a better world, one person at a time.” Jimmy gulped, his mind racing. “So how do I use it?” “There are different modes, but you are currently using voice mode. The AI is equipped to walk you through a personal transformation through vocal command.” Not super helpful. “How does it work?” “There are different modes, but…” Jimmy cut the voice off. “No, no. You’re just repeating yourself. How does the app change reality?” There was silence for a moment. “I’m not authorized to explain that, and you are not authorized to possess that information.” Jimmy looked at his reflection in the phone screen, feeling the space where his unibrow had been. If he hadn’t been positive that something miraculous had already happened, he probably would have tossed the phone away and gone to sleep--but instead, with his heart thumping, he decided to go for it. Jimmy looked at his reflection again, focusing this time on his squinty, muddy brown eyes. “Okay,” he said. “Can you change my eyes? Like...make them more attractive?” As he looked at them and concentrated, there was another chime. They seemed to open, going from small, watery slits to wide, almond shaped eyes, expressive and beautiful. The muddy brown slowly disappeared, lightening to an icy blue, then deepening to an intense blue-green that Jimmy somehow knew could change color depending on the light. A quick glance in the bedroom mirror again told Jimmy that the phone wasn't playing tricks on him—either he was imagining things, or this was strangely, oddly, wonderfully real. “Holy shit.” “You weren’t specific, so I changed your eyes to a configuration that most people surveyed found attractive. If you would like to change specific aspects, please do not hesitate to vocalize that request.” Jimmy shook his head. “No...they’re...wow.” Even if he was dreaming, Jimmy decided, he may as well have fun while he could. “Now do my whole face. Make it have like...the hottest, most masculine features. Whatever the most people like.” Another chime. Continuing to look at his face in the screen, he watched his pug nose become longer and straighter, his cheekbones higher and wider, and his forehead smoother. The acne and pockmarks disappeared in a moment, leaving behind luminous skin pulled tightly over his face. His jaw widened, becoming square and so sharp it looked stony. A cleft appeared as his chin moved outwards, changing from a receding jawline to a lantern jaw. His ears moved into his head, and his lips, so thin and small, became wider and poutier, coloring themselves with just the slightest blush of pink, and finishing off with a gentle Cupid's bow. The planes of his face grew strong and defined, and within a moment, rich brown stubble had covered Jimmy's neck and chin. A set of sideburns crept down his face, and his hair, once so matted and mousy, became a lustrous brown that Jimmy knew would shine red and gold in the sun. The length changed, becoming longer on top and tightly faded at the back and sides. When Jimmy could handle the heartwrenching beauty of his face no longer, he turned to the mirror and put his hands up to feel it, and ran his fingertips over his soft lips, his taut skin, his jutting cheekbones. And snorted with laughter again at the vision of this angelic face on his tiny, scrawny, barely-five-foot body. It wouldn’t be correct to say that he didn’t feel anything as it was happening: there was a definite pressure in his face, and the bizarre sensation of his skin stretching, tightening, and toning over his skull as his appearance changed. It didn’t hurt, exactly--it sort of felt like it might have hurt in the past, but no longer. There was a gentle hum, or a buzz, under his skin. It was hard to put into words, exactly. “Oh, wow,” he breathed, unable to take his hands off his face. “Okay...ummm...what should I call you?” “You can call me Creo,” said the app in a pleasant voice. “Okay, Creo. Can I be six feet tall? He experienced a crushing wave of vertigo. When it passed, he realized that the room was different—it seemed smaller, somehow. He knew he was six feet tall--but since he hadn’t requested a weight change, or proportional growth, he was even more skeletally thin than before. Jimmy peeled off his shirt, almost losing his balance as he did: his arms were much longer now, and his center of gravity higher. He took a few steps as he peeled off his shirt, then sank down onto his bed with a thud: walking was a different game now that he was tall. His shirt off, he looked down at his body, distressed to see just how skinny he was, and how absolutely lacking in any form of muscle tone whatsoever. “Creo, can you make me more muscular?” he asked, his heart pounding. “Of course. How much more muscular would you like to be?” “Shit, I don’t know.” He trailed off, staring at the phone screen, which was changing. “Anything is possible, but we have several pre-loaded templates. Feel free to pick one.” Jimmy flipped through the images on the phone screen. They were computer renders of male bodies, already proportional, with listed details, to his six foot height. His dick, small and stunted, was harder than it had ever been as he felt the possibilities. He gulped, landing on an image, and then spoke into the air. “Creo, can I be a muscular athlete?” Looking back in his bedroom mirror as he held the phone in his left hand, Jimmy's beautiful lips stretched into a smirk. Now it was time for the good stuff. Starting with his neck, Jimmy watched as the app slowly added muscle to his body, tightening and toning the skin as it did so, moving down, down, down. Onto the frame of a six foot beanpole with a gaunt yet stunning face, he watched as he gained pound after pound of hard, solid muscle, watching his body expand as he did so. His shoulders widened as his delts ballooned, his biceps lengthening, expanding, contracting even as veins snaked up his forearms. Jimmy watched as Creo gave him a set of triceps that were a little larger than usual, grinning with glee as the horseshoe shaped muscle bulged out when he straightened his now impressive arms. His pecs slowly ballooned out, creating a beautiful crevasse down the middle as his nipples pointed further away and down. His waist, of course, gained almost no inches at all, and his lats flared into a glorious cobra hood as he placed his hands on his waist and spread them. Six-no, eight shredded abdominals slowly came into focus in Jimmy's midsection even as a host of intercostals and inguinal curves made themselves visible as well (owing, of course, to the fact that it never even occurred to Jimmy to have anything remotely resembling body fat: the app’s template kept his body fat well below five percent). Veins snaked down into his pants, and Jimmy ran his thumb up and down the crevice between his abs, marveling at a short brown treasure trail. Jimmy looked down at his legs next, surprised to see that his khaki pants had disappeared, only to be replaced by a pair of elastic-waisted grey gym shorts. His skinny, sticklike legs slowly became thicker and thicker, his quadriceps showing well developed teardrop shaped muscles even as his calves began to look like footballs carved from diamond. His feet grew to keep up with his legs, completing his beautiful, lithe form. Jimmy stepped back, taking stock of himself. A lithe form it was, like a fitness/fashion model. His waist was narrow and his chest wide, and his body fat was low—he looked as if he had played sports all his life, and hit the gym to sculpt, not bulk. As he checked himself out, left hand roving over his new body, he realized something was missing. With another mischievous grin, he pulled off the gym shorts, leaving him naked, staring down at a comically small (yet completely erect) cock. Still smiling, Jimmy began to play with it, watching it to get harder and harder. “Creo, can you...can you make my dick and balls grow? But like, slowly? I’ll tell you when to stop.” “Of course.” Jimmy’s cock began growing, from a measly two inches erect to a slightly more acceptable five. At that point, he stopped jacking himself, and placed the phone where he could still look into it. Still fondling his dick with his left hand, he moved his right around to his ass. “Creo, make my ass bigger, too. Like, serious bubble butt territory.” As his dick grew, his ass also become larger and rounder, and higher and higher. As both continued to grow, he slowly slipped one of his new, masculine fingers into his crack, relishing how tightly his glutes closed around it. After a few more moments, and when Jimmy felt like he was at the peak of orgasm, he stopped and looked into the mirror to take stock of himself. His eyes, for the second time that night, began to water—he was looking at the vision of what he had always wanted to be, what he felt he had always deserved to be. “That’s good, Creo,” he said softly. The face of a teenage heartthrob model rested on the body of an athlete-cum fitness model, while the long, thick cock of a pornstar stood at attention, throbbing gently and dripping precum. His balls hung low in a golden sac, the size of chicken eggs. Jimmy turned to the side to admire his ass, and almost gasped when he saw how round and pert it was, his cock involuntarily growing another few quarters of an inch as he did so. “Damn, I wish I knew what my stats were,” he thought to himself. The screen of the phone was flashing. On it was a list of stats. Jimmy read: Height: 6'0'' Weight: 190 Neck: 18.25'' Chest: 47'' Biceps: 18'' Waist: 27.5'' Quads: 24'' Calves: 18'' Penis length: 9.75'' Penis circumference: 7'' Jimmy looked up from the screen and at his reflection in the mirror again. “Fuuuuuuuck.” In no time at all, his hands were all over his body, feeling every hard, swollen muscle, and relishing each vein, each bump, each perfect combination of flesh, muscle, and bone. His hands were back on his ass and his dick in a flash, and it didn’t take long before he was fingering his hole and jacking his cock, realizing with pleasure that his hand barely made it around the circumference of his shaft anymore. Soon, his hand was out of his ass, and was jacking off with both--then he was feeling himself up with one hand, tweaking a nipple, watching his reflection in the mirror, and aiming his dick directly at his reflection, releasing a geyser of cum onto the flat, shiny surface. His phone had fallen to the floor, forgotten, and his moans echoed through the small, crappy apartment. Jimmy didn’t think he was going to get a lot of sleep that night: this was the best birthday present ever.
  3. 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. ———————
  4. So this is a story I decided to write on a whim as an excuse to procrastinate from coursework I'm supposed to be doing that is very very loosely connected in some way to this, which is how I justified to myself wasting a couple of hours on it. In any case, I hope you enjoy it and I hope I don't offend any Potterheads on the forum (seriously, please don't execute me, I just thought the magical premise lent itself well for muscle growth stories) and instead I hope you appreciate the nods and references here and there. As always, feedback is always welcomed. HARRY POTTER & THE DRAUGHT OF VIGOUR Harry: Longbottom! Neville: Hello Harry *He says in an unamused yet friendly tone* Harry: ah it’s good to see you mate *Harry replies while patting Neville’s back* Harry: well come on, come in, it’s chilly outside isn’t it? It’s been 2 years since the Battle of Hogwarts, and former Hogwarts colleagues Harry and Neville had gone on to start the following chapter in their adult lives. They had remained friends after Hogwarts and Harry had invited Neville over for a Saturday night of eating terrible food and indulging in the stories of their lives. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Harry: hahahahaha. Neville: you don’t have to be such knob. Harry: *laughter trailing off* well you are correct that it wasn’t the nicest gesture, however, I honestly wasn’t aware that it took till the following morning for someone to find you on the common room floor. Neville: well it’s not as if I could undo Hermione’s curse on my own. Harry: at the very least that act of bravery is what won Gryffindor the House Cup during our first year, so cheers to you sir. *raises his wine glass* Neville: it does feel quite nice being acknowledged by the ‘chosen one’. *he says in a sarcastic tone* Harry: sod off. Neville: what a time to be alive though, despite the second wizarding war. Harry: a lot of things have changed, a lot of people have changed, I was taken aback when I came across Luna again the other day, she’s still quintessentially Luna though. Oh! *Harry half-jogs to another room* Neville: what are you doing? *hears rummaging* Harry: digging this out *Harry appears back in the room with a shoebox* Neville: what do you have in there? Harry: all kinds of stuff from back in Hogwarts *Harry says while sticking his arm further and further into the shoebox* Neville: where is your hand going? *Neville said, perplexed* Harry: oh this? I asked Hermione to put an extension charm on this box to store a lot of my old things. Incredibly handy, but why can’t I find those photographs? I have a couple of albums from our time at Hogwarts. Neville: maybe you have too much stuff in there, let’s take some of them out. Harry: Alright, here *Harry said as he started passing items off to Neville* After a number of things had been pulled out. Neville: okay let’s take a break, now. You really ought to clean that thing once in a while, this all can’t be absolutely necessary anymore. Harry: they are memories, some great, others torturous, but memories nonetheless. Neville: really, this is a memory worth keeping? *He says while holding up a 6th-year Herbology textbook* Did you ever even use this? Harry: I don’t believe so, it was around the time everything started falling apart. Neville: why is it so tattered already then? Harry: I’m not sure... *Harry says while taking the book from Neville and turning open the cover* ‘This Book is the Property of the Half-Blood Prince’ *Harry read out* Neville: The Half-Blood Prince? Harry: it was Snape’s pseudonym, I used his copy of Advanced Potion-Making during my 6th year as well and it had all sorts of changes to potions and spells he developed on his own in them that improved upon the ones in the book. Neville: You arse, so that’s how you did so incredibly well in that class. You could have passed the knowledge along. Harry: well not every spell in there was for good. I am very curious to see what he came up with in Herbology however *Harry said as he started to skim through the pages of the book as Neville leaned in as well to see* Neville: wow there are so many notes written in the margins. Harry: it was the same with his Advanced Potion-Making textbook, the man was a bloody genius. Neville: ‘draught of vigour, enhances exponentially the physical strength of the person who consumes it, a single sip causes.....e..t.......opp......i....ex....t....e’ *Neville read on a page they came across while going through the book* I can’t read this part, it’s smudged. ‘...sulting in magnified male physical traits’ Harry: well I believe the rest is rather clear, I think that bit simply went into more detail as to how it happens. Neville: magnified physical traits and enhanced strength, rubbish, it sounds too good to be true. Harry: this is one of Snape’s potions though, THE Severus Snape, it must be real. Neville: how come Snape never fit the description of someone who drank this potion then? Harry: it was Snape, do you really see him walking around resembling Hercules considering his personality? Neville: you’re not wrong. Harry: it’s most likely also temporary. Neville: what makes you think that? Harry: the ingredients, I know some of them are used in brewing Polyjuice potion, and that only lasts a couple of hours. It might be a variation on a transformation potion? Neville: isn’t Polyjuice brewing restricted? Harry: I have plenty of stories to tell *Harry says with a smug look* Neville: well that’s apparent. Harry: should we try it? Neville: are you sure about this? Trust a potions recipe a random student came up with? Harry: it’s a potion Snape came up with, the potions master Severus Snape. Neville: are you sure this Half-Blood Prince character was Snape? Harry: how do you think I won that bottle of Liquid Luck back in the day? Neville: blimey Harry, that’s how you bested the mighty Hermione? Harry: I’m telling you, his notes would make Slughorn green with envy. Neville: so... enhanced strength you say.... Harry just smirked in response. Neville, luckily for Harry, excelled at Herbology, and had the ingredients at his disposal, he loved to collect samples of even the rarest plants and fungi he could get his hands on, so they locked up and made way for Neville’s apartment for a night neither is sure to forget. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Neville: leave your coat wherever you like, could you start a fire and prepare my cauldron for me? Harry: certainly *he said as he lit a fire and reached for the cauldron* Wow, an Induro 1816, this is a high-quality cast bronze cauldron, with lion head handles and custom engraving. Neville: keen eye. I inherited it from my great- great- grandparents. Catch Harry. Harry: got it *Harry said, catch the jar Neville had tossed him* Got everything we need? Neville: yes, are you sure we should do his? Harry: just imagine the possibilities. Neville: very well. And so Neville undertook to brew the potion while Harry read him the instructions and recipe: Add 4 leeches to a bubbling cauldron..... ........... ....... stir counter-clockwise exactly 55,5 times without............ Shred the...... Then pour in spoonfuls of ground tuberose until the potion turns a pale.... ..................... ....occasionally.......... ......... Add 3 drops of Mandrake sap and wave your wand to....... ........... while adding.... ...... Let boil for an hour and proceed to add a bundle of knotgrass..... .................thus allowing the mixture to............... Add a Devil’s Snare vine with...... .................... Finally, stir 6 times clockwise and twice counter-clockwise while simultaneously waving your wand until the mixture ceases to bubble and add 10 leaves from a Whomping Willow, one at a time. The resulting draught should be white in colour, having the consistency of troll mucus and an aroma reminiscent of damp mossy forest and tanned leather. Neville: *sighs out in relief* It’s finally done. Harry: *sniffs over the cauldron* What a very specific smell, mossy forest and tanned leather. Neville: I don’t have a problem with the smell as much as I do with the way it looks.... doesn’t it remind you of.... Harry: I thought best not to mention it *Harry quickly interjected* But I’m glad to hear I wasn’t the only one with it in mind. Neville: are we sure we want to try this? *Neville said with a dubious look on his face as Harry poured them both a cup of the potion they had just brewed* Harry: cheers! *Harry clanks his cup against Neville’s as they both down the concoction* Neville: wow *he coughs a bit* Harry: that’s bloody awful, it’s like a stale minge Neville started to feel the effects of the potion first, he felt a dizzy spell coming on, he struggled to breathe and felt really agitated and disoriented. At the same time Harry was starting to feel tingling all over and broke out in a cold sweat, his heart was racing, he felt as if a bout of nausea was about to overcome him. Feeling ill distracted them from noticing some of the other effects of the potion that were becoming more noticeable; their veins were engorging, becoming fatter and more prominent on their skin as main veins spread into countless branches all over their bodies. Then their hearts started to pound, harder and harder, reverberating in their heads, their veins pulsing in unison with the heart beats. Harry: fuck, fuck, FUUuUCK *Harry screamed as the growth kicked in* With each pulse through his veins, his muscles started to swell. First only a bit at a time, slowly filling his sweater, causing it to fit his body in a much more complimenting way. Then suddenly his left arm jerked into the air and starting from his deltoid down to his biceps and triceps, then finally his forearms his muscles swelled, growing twice their size in an instant, tearing the sweater sleeve apart. As the feeling rocked Harry down to his core and drool ran from his mouth in absent-minded ecstasy, the growth started to spread to his right side, his left pec, trap, neck and lat swelling bigger, and bigger with each breath until another violent jerk made them and his entire right size explode in size in a wave that raced towards his fingertips, catching up to his left arm, destroying the remaining sleeve and neck of the sweater, the leftovers falling down to the floor revealing his (currently) disproportioned body. At the same time, Neville was undergoing the same transformation, he grabbed his head with both his hands as his body pulsed and grew until his shirt and trousers were taught. Then as the growth rocked through his lower body, first through his right glute, then his quad, and finally his calf, ripping his pant leg to pieces and forcing him to lean onto his underdeveloped left leg until the growth targeted that one as well, the sudden growth on that side now causing him to lurch and collapse on to his knees, when his already muscular legs doubled in size once again, forcing him to use his hands on the floor to steady himself while his trousers left this world behind, and revealing a pair of boxers that were desperately trying to contain something very large that was growing thicker and stiffer. Harry’s growth meanwhile had started to make haste travelling downwards, his abs and obliques bulging one by one, and a deep Apollo’s belt forming on top of his hips giving him a thick and meaty core, this was followed by his glutes bulging outwards, blowing the middle seam of his jeans right open. Neville in the meantime was screaming to high heaven as the growth spread through him much more violently, rushing upwards making his entire upper body bulge in size, then again, then again, then one more time tripling in size in a wave of growth that knocked the air right out of his lungs, his upper body becoming ridiculously wide while maintaining a relatively trim waist, that spread into his massive legs when your gaze travelled further downwards. At the same time, his cock, fully erect and poking out the top of his boxer’s waistband and his oversized balls which stretched the rest of the fabric to its max, were growing with each wave of growth that rocked him as well, his cock grew purple and the veins became grotesquely engorged, and then one wave and the cock stretch longer and swelled thicker, and his balls swelled larger causing tears to come from his boxers, then again even larger, then once again, when Neville’s underwear finally gave out and he moaned in ecstasy, his cock lodging itself between his enormous pecs, eliciting an obscene moan from him as it swelled one last time becoming menacingly thick and squirting out a large glob of precum. At the sight of his ridiculously muscled and well-endowed friend arousal overcame Harry like a feral animal’s instincts, the tear in his jeans’ rear spreading towards the front of the pair of pants as his growth sped up, his cock tearing right through everything bursting forwards in all of its glory, freakishly large and as thick around as a bodybuilder’s arm, although even then not as thick as Neville’s. It smacked hard against his abdomen with a loud and wet *THWACK*, drooling precum like a river. The growth continuing down his legs, destroying what little denim had remained desperately hanging onto his frame. When it seemed as if any more stimuli would fry their young brains, the effects of the potion finally started to subside. The profuse sweating stopped, and they slowly started to regain their bearings. Neville: Christ *Neville said as he began to stand up* Harry: bugger, that was a wild ride. Neville: you can say that again.... holy shit Harry... *Neville said as the sight of his newly enhanced friend finally registered in his brain* Harry: Looks good huh? *he said as he strikes a double bicep* Although I can’t say I dislike my view. Neville: what are you talking abou.... *Neville’s words trailed off as he took in his own physique, exploring all his new glistening muscles, flexing here and there* Wow Harry: I don’t think it’s quite fair that you got to have this thing though *Harry says, lust and envy tinging his words and coming through in his eyes as he grabs Neville’s bigger cock* Neville: FUCK! Harry what the... SHIIiiiiIT *Neville tries to get out as Harry swallows his cockhead in one fell swoop, Neville instinctively pushing Harry’s head down further, forcing his monster cock down his friend’s throat with his newfound strength* yes yes yes, fuck YEAH! Harry: *cough cough cough* down boy, that thing can kill now, although I know of another hole that’s up to the challenge *Harry says as he bends down, laying his chest on the table nearby, presenting his rear to Neville* Neville without saying another word walks over and ploughs his cock into Harry’s ass down to the hilt prompting a guttural roar from Harry that quickly transitioned into a lascivious moan as Neville pulled out halfway and plough back in again this time with a tad more care into his actions. In and out, again and again and again, he rammed his massive cock into Harry. Flipping Harry halfway on to his back, Neville pulled out all the way then rapidly ploughed halfway into Harry making him grunt, he pulled out again, then rammed it in again halfway, repeating this a few more times before getting back to fucking Harry like he wanted to kill him. As he came closer and closer to his climax Neville picked up the pace and the strength with which he rammed Harry, he fucked faster and harder, and harder and harder and even harder, pushing Harry to the edge himself until they both yelled out in unison when Neville rammed him one last time, him coming into Harry and Harry shooting his load into the air where it then came down pouring like torrential rain unto them and the table. As they came down from their stupor they started to slowly shrink back. Neville: oh man, it’s not permanent? No! I wanted to stay like this. Harry: haha well then it really would be too good to be true if it were permanent. Besides, there is only so much of your animal fucking that I can take before I die. Neville: that’s not really my problem now is it *Neville said trying to be smug, his façade slipping just a bit as his cheeks blush pink* Harry: look at him, all that hot air filling your muscles went to your head? After about half an hour of slowly shrinking down, they stopped shrinking at a good 8kg (18lbs) heavier than they were prior to drinking from the draught. Harry: hmm I guess there is some carryover from the potion after all, or it just takes longer for the last bits to leave our systems. Neville: well I did enjoy being the hulking beast, but I suppose I can live with this much *he says while flexing his arm and admiring his new above-average bicep* Harry: well.... as you are aware, we did brew a whole lot of the draught of vigour, there is always more experimentation to be had, we should figure out if this amount of extra size will be left over after every use don’t you think? *Harry says in a sensible tone* Neville: as true men of the magical sciences we should be methodical shouldn’t we now? *replies Neville in the same tone* Harry: you always were a very reasonable man *says Harry as a smirk appears on his lips* -- The End --
  5. "Hulk up!" It was a very chilly cold day today as I was sitting in the small military plane in the sky, I was all alone in the huge plane and wrapped with a simple white tarp over me. I still remembered the very painful sting in my spine as the doctor pushed the syringe very deep into my spinal chord, I had worked so hard for this position as I was finally going to be a hero! It's going to be so cool to beat those commie bastards and spread freedom across the world! I could hear the announcement soon explain how I needed to jump soon, "Subject Alpha, please prepare for the jump" they announced as I would eagerly hop over to the door as they opened the door. I would look at the early morning dawn as I felt the chilly korean winds, I would soon jump over as the pilot said "Now!", I jumped as hard as I could as I only smiled out of excitement. I would fall down hundreds of meters as I transformed in the mid-air, huge intense flash covered me as new muscles and bones grew out of nowhere, the flesh would cover me entirely as new organs and genitals even formed...my Hulk's face also resembled mine's as our hairs looked similar too! My entire body would gain beautiful blue skin as the flesh itself was blue too...How lucky! Blue was my favorite color! Being sucked into the Hulk I would naturally bend down to a fetal position as huge stretches of flesh would burrow under my eyes and attach themselves into my brain, not long after I would open my new Hulk eyes and see the ground approaching, I was tasked to destroy an important communist munitions factory that looked very heavily guarded. However I would soon find myself in a dark room full of dead corpses as I saw my body was bloody and my face was bloody too..."W-What's going on?!" I said out loud with my deep voice as I looked around and tried to find a door but to no avail...I felt like the walls were falling down as they were coming closer, I tried to smash them but it didn't help out as I could begin to hear loud screaming coming from the corpses...I held my ears as I fell down to my knees and began weeping as I said "I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I'm sorry" with my scared tearful voice. Suddendly I woke up to loud cheering for some reason...I opened my eyes and saw the sun as well as huge crowds cheering me on as this must be a military parade, was that just a dream? who cares I just have to man up. I began to wave at the audience as I soon noticed my huge bloody hand, I tried to wipe it away but soon noticed my other hand was bloody too...in fact my whole ceremonial uniform was covered in blood as my red, white and blue skin-tight jumpsuit was covered in blood and metals. I looked at the ground and saw the entire road being covered in huge puddles of blood as bodyparts littered the flooded streets, "Please welcome our special hero! ALPHA HULK!" I heard a loud cheery announcer say as the audience only clapped harder and began tossing flowers at me, "NO!..I-I'm not a hero!" I tried to shout as I noticed my legs and arms had been tied to chains, "Alpha Hulk! you are our eternal hero!" I could hear the announcer say as I stood on top of a small bloody and rusted stage that seemed to move on itself. I would begin to tear up as I began to see the audience being replaced by dead soldiers as the sunny sky was being replaced by bloody red crowds...the normal suburbia turned into a battlefield as I heard the screams of thousands of soldiers "MONSTER!", "BEAST", "DEVIL"...while also hearing the announcer say "HERO!", "SAVIOR", "ANGEL!". "NO!...I'M NOT A HERO, PLEASE LET ME OUT!" I said as I began to cry and tried to pull my human self out of this Hulk, soon enough I could wake up in a small flesh bubble as my entire body was covered with the Hulk flesh with my eyes being connected to the walls through huge pieces of Hulk flesh that were attached under my eyes. "Let me out!" I tried to scream as the blue fleshy walls would approach closer and closer before suffocating me... "AAH!" I said out loud as I found myself in my room once again, I sat on my bed naked as I looked at my arms and wiped my sweaty forehead..."I-It was just a dream...I-I gotta man up" I said as I would hazily walk over to my small private bathroom and stare into my mirror...into my blue Hulk marks, huge pecs and abs I have gained, I still remembered the day when I became a Hulk...the intense sting in my spinal chord, I didn't even read the contract as I was just a stupid kid back in the day...god I was so stupid. I looked into the mirror and jumped back as I saw my face being briefly that of my Hulk forms...grinning and smirking at me with it's bloody mouth, "Calm down it's just a dream...it's just a dream" I reminded myself as my face returned to normal, I would open my small medicine cabinet and take a few bottles of pills, quickly taking few anti-depressants as well as few benzos too before sitting down on the bathroom floor. I sat there for few hours before noticing the sun rise as I quickly began to make my bed and just forgetting about my dream, I would put on my normal human army uniform as I would have to inform the rest of the Hulks, "Wake up everyone!" I yelled out as I was responsible of the rest of the team. I was still tired due to those nightmares but I just had to man up...I was a soldier after all! (Hope you like my second chapter!)
  6. Hey guys, it was my second try to write something, because I absolutely love this site and I want to be part of it. I wrote this story very fast so maybe I made some mistakes here and there so excuse me for them. I hope its not too short. My idea is to make it into a series, but its just a plan for now. Enjoy, and let me know, If I should continue. I hope nobody is here-thought Billy as he walked in the team’s locker room Monday Billy was a scrawny little nerd and most of the time he got picked on by the rugby team. He couldn’t do anything at all because the members of the rugby teams were huge guys. Huge is not even the best word, humongous throbbing muscle guys. They were close to pro bodybuilders; the gym was their territory. Other schools always tried to keep up with them but it was impossible. So Billy just tried to live through high school, but the rugby dudes always bullied him. He was bullied because of his nerd Star Wars t-shirts, glasses and shyness. In the afternoon, he was walking down the hallway when one of the big guys, Zero, pushed him and as he lost his balance, the new Hulk comic just fell out his bag. -Oh look, scrawny little Billy is into big green guys, such a little pussy. -Said Zero as he took a quick look at the comic -Give me back. -Shout Billy and tried to take it back -Oh no no little guy, I'm keeping this. You don’t need some magazine about big jacked guys. U can always worship me. - Zero flexed his big chest and put on a double bicep pose. Unfortunately, his t-shirt couldn’t bear the pressure and it ripped, revealing his chiseled abs.-OOPPSS, looks like u got a free show pussyboy.- -Zero, please give me back the comic, I didn’t do anything. - Billy was close to tearing up. -Maybe I will tomorrow, -he grinned- after I cleaned up my jizz with it. - and walked away laughing. Billy was extremely sad, he just bought that fresh comic and Hulk was his favorite superhero. Hulk was big, powerful, an alpha, everything what Billy isn’t. Billy sometimes dreamed about waking up one day and being able to transform into a big powerful muscle God and show his bullies the way. But it's impossible. Billy walked to his locker and changed books, put on his jacket and started to walk out from the building, when suddenly his only friend Mark stopped him. -I heard what happened Billy, I'm so sorry. You can borrow mine if u want? -Smiled at him Mark with his crooked teeth. -Thanks Mark but I just buy another one. -Billy looked at him with a sad smile. -Well...you don’t know from me, but Zero put your issue in his locker. -He did what!? Oh my God it will smell awful. -But today the team will go and practice on the big court so you could go and took it back. Zero is pretty dumb, he won't even notice that it disappeared and the big court is 20 minutes from here so you have plenty of time. - explained the plan Mark. -Mark, thank you. See u tomorrow. -Smiled at him Billy and started running. The plan was easy, he goes home, puts down his stuff and comes back later tonight. It was the easiest plan ever. So Billy slowly walked home, put down his stuff and went up in his room. Billy’s room was the nerdiest room ever. Marvel posters on the wall, card and little figures everywhere. Even his computer was full of with comic content. But in one secret folder he hid videos about bodybuilders and big guys jerk off. He took a quick look if somebody tried to find them, but nothing. Later that day -I hope nobody is here.-thought Billy as he walked in the team’s locker room. The room was filled with the smell of sweat and jizz. Billy immediately got a little hard on. -OH COME ON, NOT RIGHT NOW. - screamed in his head. The lockers were all the same, old white iron lockers but each and every one had a name on it. Billy was scrolling down the hallway with his eyes trying to find the name. Dan, Derek,…....Harry,…..Liam,.....Peter,......ZERO. Billy stepped closer to the locker. -Geeee......should I open it? But what if Zero finds me and beats me up? Ohhh...let's do it! - The lock slowly opened and the door just opened itself. -Oh wow.-Billy’s mouth just dropped. The locker was full of dirty jockstraps, hoodies, rugby gear and next to a little bottle, there was his book. -Okay, it was easy, I take it and just leave. Billy slowly pulled out the book, but the little bottle almost fell down with it so he dropped the book and jumped for the bottle. Fortunately, he got it. -Uhhh I almost fucked it up, what is it anyways? - He read the paper on it, “ONE DROP IN EVERY YEAR”. -Drugs? Steroids? Maybe the whole team is on some kind of illegal supplement? Billy was on the way to put the bottle back, but a little feeling came over him. So he held the bottle and asked himself. -Do I want to try it or just leave it there? Maybe this could help...hmmmm....well, we live once soo.- with that power Billy opened the bottle and drink 2 big drop. -Hmm...it has a nice taste...but I feel nothing. - Billy put the bottle on the bench and looked at his phone, okay still 10 minutes to leave. But suddenly Billy felt dizzy. -Okay, now I feel something, aghhhhhhhh.-Billy felt pain in his chest and he saw it slowly growing and pulsing in his S sized t-shirt. *RIIIIIPPPPPP* the t-shirt teared apart and his chest just kept growing but with veins on it. Now he felt the pain in his back, his back slowly started to expand to a huge perfect V shape, -OHHH GOOOD WHATS HAPPENING????- Billy screamed and he grew taller, now he was 7 feet.-OHHH ohhhh this is niceeeeee- as the feeling became pleasure and realized that he is becoming a real life Hulk. His calves and thighs grew and became huge almost the size of 2 tree trunk. -OHHHH NOW MY SHOULDERSSSSSS- Billy shoulders blew up with muscles.-MOOREE MORRREEEEEE-screamed and his abs became visible then 2,6, an 8-pack appeared. His clothes completely ripped apart. Now he stood at 7 feet, with muscles of Hulk, in a tiny boxer. -Oh my God, ohmygod my voice. - his voice was now deep and pleasuring to hear. -IM A MUSCLE GODDDDDD, I CAN'T BELIEVE IT.- Billy ran to the mirror and put on a hell of a flex show.-I look hot but I think my dick didn’t grew. - when Billy said it, he felt a deep pain on his bulge that became pleasure as his dick started become longer and longer and longer. His balls grew to be golf balls then tennis balls then huge oranges. The boxer now was unusable, the penis of his stood now 15 inch long. -Zero found his competition. - grinned Billy and jerked his cock slowly and watched himself flexing in the mirror, he did a double biceps pose and some other pro poses. But he got scared when he heard a noise from the hallway. -Guys we crushed it today, we were unstoppable- said the team not so far away. -I need to disappear-. Billy quickly put on a used jockstrap from Zero’s locker and another used dirty t-shirt and started running to the door in the back, but before leaving he took the bottle and the book. Billy was walking home now as a real alpha thinking about the future and the potential use of the bottle.....
  7. Muscle Fog Ogre’s Gift Chapter 1 part Eight By Big-Zargo The Last Wizards Ass Logan and his companions ran all through the night as a tidal wave of fog slowly crept up on them swallowing them up one by one. Their protections breaking as the fog magic consumes them. Their bodies quickly grow in height and muscle; There skin turns darker or becomes a shade of orange as it thickens, as body hair begins to grow allover. There cocks and ball grew extremely large but proportional to the new 10 feet tall bodies and finally their minds begin to change as they shoot the last of their humanity from their ogre size cock. The hunted becomes the hunter in this sick game of tag; they to grab new victims and drag them into the fog to transform as well, all in accordance with Owen’s will. Logan panted as he was making his way to the gate. His middle-aged body was not handling the journey well. He needed to warn the Wizards counsel of Owens escape. He needed to get help for these poor people who had lost their humanity, to that creature. He had no idea what Owen was planning in the grand scheme of things, but it was probably not good. He could literally feel the tainted magic push against his own trying to get into his body and corrupted. He grabbed at his cock moaning as pleasure ran through it. With his strong will he stopped touching his cock. “If I stay here any longer, I’ll eventually transform into a horny ogre” he thought to himself. Logan’s eyes got wider as burgeoning hope blossoms in his chest. To the eyes of any mortal the gates look like two tall trees in a clearing, it probably looks a little strange and weird to normal people, but to anyone who can use magic and have the knowledge about it, can use it to fast travel to another gate. “The gate at last,” Logan says out loud while moving his hand across his uncut shoulder length brown hair. As he walks closer to his salvation a voice calls out. “How does it feel to be so close and yet so far away. How does it feel wizard to be the last human in this small, lonely town?” Deep As the mountain, smooth as the wind; the voice came, Power laces every word and through the fog parting for its master Owen appears like a haunted ship through the sea. No tremors no feel of weight only a shadow slowly solidifying coming into focus as he crosses the path for Logan blocking him from the gate and his hope of escaping. The fog parts to reveal a mountain of a beast. Thick skin like leather, but fair as any maiden’s, orange like the sun, hairy as a bear, a huge fat cock, and hairy balls the size of huge grapefruit in-between size bigger than tree trunks attached to thick calves and big feet. A big round belly firm as a bolder with big pillow size pecs on a huge barrel chest twice as wide as a human, mountain-like shoulders with arms so big that a skinny man could hide in them. Brown intelligent eyes underneath hairy eyebrows on a brutish but fair chiseled face with a black fluffy mustache under a big round nose and to sideburns link to his shaved head and smooth square like chin. “Speechless wizard, or is it that you are surprised to see me? A course introduction is an ogre my name is his Owen, and I am in demigod of magic, fog, mists, clouds, illusions, transformations and alterations.” He says while giving him a malicious grin. “So, you’ve come for me,” Logan asked? “Yes, I have, but I’m not cruel, and I am willing to let you go if you relinquish your guardianship of my bindings,” Owen says while holding his hand out in an open Palm. “What will you do with the people you have turned into ogres will you let them go,” Logan asked? “They are my children now I will protect them, and I will not let them go,” Owen calmly says with finality. Logan looks into Owen’s eyes and knows that there would be no argument on the matter. Logan is not sure if he should trust Owen, every time he looks at the big sexy beast, his cock twitches in pleasure. it seems that Owen is exuding a corrupting force that is influencing him. His offer can be a trap; he cannot take that chance if it is so. “I will not give up my guardianship, I can’t trust you to keep your word.” Logan answers. “Then you have chosen battle. If you put up a good fight then I will not turn you into a toilet,” Owen says. Logan starts the fight by making a fireball and throwing it straight at Owen; In response to the attack, a hand shoots out from the fog form from its very essence and catches it, smothering it like fire drowning in water. “Good old reliable fireball it is such a shame that it is such a common spell for wizards, you would think I wouldn’t have found a way to counter that spell,” Owen says sarcastically while moving his head side to side. “Tsk… tsk …tsk.” Logan forms and throws a fireball once more against Owen. As the fog intercepts it spells changes becoming a big flash of light, blinding Owen temporarily. Logan quickly teleports for a short distance away behind a tree, in hopes that Owen would not be able to find him, but the mist surrounds him quickly condenses into the fog as it slowly circles him. “Clever but not good enough. You have gone up from becoming an inanimate toilet to a living toilet you’ll be drinking piss of my ogres for all eternity,” Owen says with a grin. With a clap of Logan’s two-hand, some of the fog parts as a wave of air pushes it. Owen turns around only to get a firebolt to the face momentarily re-blinding him. “Baaa. Cheap parlor tricks won’t save you,” he says as his slowly sight returns to him. Using the distraction to his advantage Logan teleports again. If he did not do anything decisive to win this battle quickly, he would eventually run out of energy and he needs a certain amount of energy to open the gate. This is the point where Logan will have to pull out all the stops if he wants to have a chance to win this fight. Beginning with a bolt of lightning that strikes through Owen’s defenses with its speed and strength. Owen’s roar of pain quickly stops as his muscles lock into place. Continuing with his on-slot Logan switches out lightning for ice shards, shooting his deadly projectiles against Owen’s skin before switching back to lightning because ice shards were not very effective against Owen’s thick skin. Logan keeps moving back and back slowly making his way towards the gate as he shot out lightning after lightning hoping to do lasting damage. Owen begins adapting to Logan’s lightning by redirecting it towards the ground as he starts moving closer towards Logan. With one last lightning bolt, Logan begins to gather his strength; if he can keep on slot going, he would a chance to escape. Wind and lightning form in each hand as he combines them both forming a huge electrical tornado that starts sucking up all the fog nearby leaving the forest temporarily clear from Owen’s influence. Wishing for more time Logan blasts Owen with his attack, knowing that the longer the battle got the more likely it that Owen will adapt to his attacks and overwhelm him with his brute strength. Owen stood his ground for a few seconds before being pushed away by the attack and being knocked on his ass. Logan quickly uses one last teleport to get close as possible to the gate, its mystical properties preventing him from teleporting even closer. With great wisdom and caution Logan starts magically checking for any last-minute traps from Owen. There were a few traps he can see but he quickly got past them on his way to the gate. Before getting any closer to his goal Logan heard whistling as three darts pierce his neck. Grabbing the foreign objects from his neck he discovers three sleeping darts. Logan starts to panic as he falls onto the ground as everything starts fading to black. Logan opens his eyes to find himself in a cave that he recognizes, Owens’s prison underneath Mrs. Parsley’s house. He tries moving his hands only to find them being stopped by some force of magic. A shadow lingers before him blocking the light of the eerily blue flame; Owens’s form appears before him company with his giant sausage-size cock. “Don’t bother speaking wizard, I have you magically silenced. The wizards’ counsel will not know what will happen here, not for a long time anyway, I have made sure of it. Richard shall be reunited with his son soon,” Owen says with a wicked smile. Owen places his big hand on top of Logan’s belly as Owen began pouring power into him. Owen takes his time pouring power into Logan’s body. Logan silently screams in both pain and pleasure as the power slowly spreads through him. Days, weeks, or months of simmering in corrupting magic, all pass in a blur for Logan as he slowly succumbs to Owen’s corrupting power. In and out of consciousness Logan’s body slowly betrays him as his cock becomes painfully hard while it slowly grows and swells with Ogreish girth. Logan is not sure if he is awake or asleep, all he knows is that the voices telling him to submit are getting harder to resist. Sexual Thoughts of beautiful women slowly twist into big hairy men. As he begins moving his hips back and forth in a daze of sexual pleasure. As his swelling balls are demanding attention, and he decides to give it what it wants. No longer shackled by the altars’ magic, Logan grabs his huge fat hard cock and begins rubbing it. Waves of pleasure pass through him as he masturbates; as he squeezes his needy balls, he begins to leak out his humanity through his seed. As he continues his masturbation a huge cock appears before his head casting a shadow on. “F…Fu…. Fuck Ow F…Fu…Fuck me please,” Logan begs as slobber leaks from his lips his nearly vacant eyes looking at Owen. “Partake of my dick and offer your ass to me,” Owen says. Logan leaps upon Owen’s monstrous cock and begins licking at the tip of it. he closes his eyes as he savors the taste of Owen’s cock and the smell of his musk. His leaking cock twitches as he moves towards the shaft of the monster’s cock, at it is so big he cannot swallow it all. He Takes his jolly time as he slowly licks his way to the balls of the beast. One more minute Owen thinks to himself soon Logan will be ready, I can feel the power building up inside. “ooooooowww…...” Owen moans out loud interrupting his thoughts as Logan found the sweet spot while licking and sucking at his balls. Logan’s body begins to shake and tremble with a powerful need for a Big Cock in his ass. Owens’s sensing Logan’s hunger lifts him onto the altar with his Ass facing the heavens, as Owen begins licking it. A Moan quickly turns to a fuck! as Logan comes, shooting out more of his precious humanity through his big fat cock as his skin slowly turns more orange. Owen growls in annoyance and smacks Logan’s ass for coming too soon. Logan cries out in both pain and pleasure from the attack and cries out even louder when Owen stuffs his huge ogre size cock into Logan’s human virgin ass hole. Logan roars like a beast, his canines sharpen, as his ass is being destroyed by Owens’s monster of a cock. Owen starts moving his hips back and forth slowly picking up speed as time passes on. Each thrust from Owen slowly ravages Logan’s internal organs, the Ogreish magic keeping him alive throughout the process. With the roar, Owen came inside of Logan’s destroyed body, bones, muscles, and internal organs mending and changing. Owen took a breath letting the magic heal Logan’s changing body before resuming the fucking. Each re-fucking Logan’s body became bigger and stronger, skin darkening until it became tan-orange color, each timeless and less human cum came out of his orgasm. His body shakes with power as Owen gave one last thrust into Logan’s ass before coming one last time. Logan’s bodybuilder size body explodes with growth and muscles. As his brown hair slowly turns gray while spreading across his body as head hair falls off and his beard grows long. Arms and legs grow massive with huge muscles as they stretch out to compensate for his new Ogreish size. His cock grows into 2 feet long fuck monster as his big ass grows even more until they are like two basketballs trying to break free from his tree trunk size thighs. His waist widens and his belly grows big, round, and jolly muscle gut with white hair peppering it. His chest size quickly swelling and tell it like a barrel, his big hairy pecs grow even further until they are like to condense pillows with big plump nipples the are begging to be squeezed and suckled. Logan’s facial features change becoming more caveman-like as his eyebrow ridges became more pronounced and his eyebrows became thicker and hairier. His eyes turn gray glowing with an ephemeral glow as His nose grew rounder and a little bit redder. Getting up from the altar with his big baseball mitt size hands and slamming the ground with his big feet, he begins to flex his huge biceps. “Fuck Yeah!” Logan says while lightning starts flying around his human head-size biceps. “That’s the Fucking Power!” Logan felt too huge hands around his hairy boulder-like shoulders and looks around to see his master Owen behind him massaging his heavily muscular back. “That’s the spirit my battle mage. Now that all the Guardians are dead or corrupted, I am free to travel the Eons to spreading my gift and gaining more power,” Owen says. Logan turns his face around and smiles. “I am ready to serve you, master,” Logan says. The end of chapter 1 Epilogue A year later on a bright summer’s day two agents in black suits each having a different color tie, knock on a blue door. It is open by a huge man who is panting and sweating his huge hairy chest shines on his half-naked body. The smell of sex permeates the huge man. “Hello there. What can I help you with, Gentleman?” The huge man says. “We would like to ask a couple of questions of you,” one man in a black suit says whose tie is red. “May we come inside?” the other man asks, whose tie is blue. “Come on in,” the huge man says while opening the door wider for his guests to come through. All three men get comfortable in the living room of the huge man’s house. “I think the introduction is in order, you may call me Mr. Red,” the man with the red tie says. “You may also call me Mr. Blue,” the man with the blue tie says. “My name is Pete. I’m sorry for looking so disgruntled, I was just in the middle of some hard work,” The huge man says. Mr. Red and blue look at Pete through their sunglasses on the twin-looking faces. “I shall go first.” Mr. Red says. “You were living at Holmes top borough between…./…/… and …/…./…. date, right?” “Yeah, what of it,” Pete says? “Are you aware that the town was overrun by some sorcery,” Mr. red asked? Yeah, I heard the rumors,” Pete said “why do you ask? It has come to our attention that you move out the town the two weeks before the mysterious fog appeared.” Mr. Blue said. “Thank god, I was able to get out of there in time,” Pete says. “Indeed,” both Mr. Red and blue say in unison. Mr. blue takes something out of his pocket and speaks. “Look Pete’s I think you’re a nice guy, but I have to give you a C….” “Is there a problem Pete,” says the deep voice. A huge Ogreish cock moves in between Mr. red and blue, caring a powerful musk with it. Both men’s eyes widen underneath their sunglasses as both men start drooling as their cocks became erect. “Thanks for the help, at least I now have plausible deniability now,” Pete says. “No problem Pete. What are we going to do with these agents of the Wizards Council,” the ogre asks? “I don’t know. I guess we can hand them over to Owen. His hunger for spell-casters is quite deep,” says with a grin.
  8. 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;
  9. Muscle fog ogre’s gift Chapter 1, part 7 By Big-Zargo House Trap The blue sky was clear, and the sun light was shining upon the land of Holmes top borough dispelling the curse of fog that had ensnared it. In a neighborhood full of empty houses three men are making their way towards an empty looking house, hoping to hide from the ogres. With The fog gone the ogre are in high alert their patrols to be increased to discourage from trying to run out of Holmes top borough. Most of humans seek to leave the town heading towards the woods believing it to be their salvation, but Owen knows where the people are running to, and he has a surprise for them. The door opened slowly and quietly as three men enter the seemingly vacant house. sunlight was passing through the windows bringing light to the dim house revealing a living room and kitchen attached to it, in a twilight of light and shadows. It both smell stale and sweet and had a layer of dust everywhere. Martin was the first one to enter the house checking to see if it was clear; not being complacent like the groups last leader who led most of the men in his charge into becoming ogres. Martin was the skinniest of the group, his live pale skin and short blonde hair giving people the impression he had Nordic ancestry. Cluster was the second coming his bulky fat, short black curly hair and dark brown skin was a sharp contrast to martin, and finally there was Darian whose heavily build olive skin body pass through the door. Sweat had spilled all over his own skin body creating wet spots on his T shirt. Cluster quickly sat placing his fat ass onto the dust covered couch and remove his backpack placing it on the ground next to his leg for quick reach in case of an emergency, before yawning in exhaustion. “You shouldn’t get too comfortable Cluster; we rest here for an hour or two. The sun has cleared most of the fog from the town. We cannot let this opportunity go to waste. Most of the people who have been transformed into ogres are dumb and horny; they’ll soon move on, when they get bored or they begin to start fucking each other giving us the opportunity to pass through them,” Darian said. “I know Darian, it will just take us four more hours to reach the forest and another day in theory to reach the gate,” Cluster said with exhaustion tinting his voice. “Hey guys I found a glass of brandy and it hasn’t been opened,” Martin said with excitement. Both men turned around to see Martin holding the glass of brandy it’s golden amber colored content clear to see through its glass container. All three men had gathered into the kitchen next to the counter. Each man mouth had begun to moisten at the sight of the brandy. Darian quickly finds 3 empty cups in the kitchen cabinets. He places the surprisingly clean cups on the kitchen counter, while Martin opens the bottle of brandy. With a clicking sound coming from the glass bottle the smell of apple brandy permeates the air. The three men all close their eyes letting nostalgic memories pass through their heads as the sweet smell of the apple flavored alcohol permeates the air. Cluster eyebrows narrow for a moment before saying. “Our luck can’t be this good. Maybe we should not drink it,” he says with concern. “Don’t worry about it, Cluster. You’re just being paranoid. How would the dumb horny brutes be able to open the bottle with their big burly hands, let along be able to close without one of us noticing it.” Martin says with belief in his words. “Look Cluster, we do not have all day for you to decide if you’re going to have some brandy with us or not. This is a delicacy that should not go to waste,” Darian says. Martin begins filling the cups with Apple flavored brandy. Before anyone could drink Cluster says. “Martin if you believe that brandy is safe to drink then you should go first.” “I think I will,” Martin says with a smile. With that statement all three men say their cheers as they clink their cups together. Martin took the first sip when nothing happened the others begin drinking their glass. “Thank god,” Darian says with pleasure. Days of drinking water had made the taste of the apple brandy like nectar, like a gift from God. “Poor me another one,” Darian says. All 3 cups were refilled and emptied again as time passed eventually finishing off the apple brandy. Each of the three men had faces of contentment as they finished drinking the apple brandy. “It’s been so long since I have some brandy. I wish we had some ice to cool it down,” Darian said with longing for a cool drink. With their thirst satisfied they began checking and clearing out the rooms of the house for anything useful to them; They had suddenly found themselves back on the first floor, drinking apple brandy again. “Didn’t we already have some apple brandy,” Darian says, while looking confused. “I…I think we did not,” Martin says well looking confused. “Something is not right here, this seems disturbingly familiar,” Cluster says before eating an apple. “Where did you get the apple, Cluster,” Darian asked? With a nonchalant shrug, he points at a basket on one of the counters tops. This basket is filled with different types of fruits and berries like bananas, apples, blueberries, cherries, strawberries and pineapples. The Three men begin devouring the fruits in the basket like starving animals. As they did so their bellies start swelling out specially for Darian and Martin whose bellies became more pronounced. “I…I think something’s wrong. I’m still hungry and…and I want more,” Darian says while rubbing his belly. Suddenly they hear the back door opening and see a huge ogre making his way in. “Come young cubs your dinner is ready,” the mysterious ogre says. This huge ogre was wearing a white apron, had woodish brown skin covered in a peppering green hair, with long hair on his head and a short goats beard, green eyes and the usual Ogreish features like big round nose, strong square jaw, a pronounced eyebrow ridge on a cave man like face, big round nipples, a 9 feet to a 11 feet tall body, complemented with a wide body barrel chest, huge muscular limbs, with big feet and huge hands big enough to grab a whole man’s face and cover it. At first all three men had scared looks on their faces; there in front of them was an ogre. “What the Fu….” All three men said before their eyes came blank. There, Perception of the world changed for the three men. A clever illusion was placed on all three men. Gone was the living nightmare they were in, instead a nostalgic dream. It was if they are all kids again and their big strong daddy was going to protect them from the world. “Aren’t you guys hungry? we have grilled food in the back your,” the green haired ogre says. In a daze all three of them nods their heads in response and speaks “Yes, sir daddy” Each man walks into the backyard of the house and quickly sits down on the grass. The green haired ogre hands out plates full of fruits and vegetables to the three men. Unnoticed by the three men but known by the green haired ogre were two big-bellied ogres’ butt naked sleeping on the ground. With a yawn the two ogres began to wake up and get up. One was dark skinned with black curly hair while the other one was pale orange with red hair. Their big bellies jiggled as they got up. When they got up on their two big feet that is when their big bellies began to rumble, like deflating balloon their bellies began to recede, both ogres belching out air through their mouths as their bellies began to recede. When the black-haired ogre belly receded, it revealed that he had abs under his once big belly. While the red-haired ogre on the other hand had a muscle gut when his big belly receded. The ogres had the glazed look of those who were recently turned, as they stood there waiting for commands from the variance ogre with the green hair. “Good, you guys are awake. go into the basement and get Oz. We have three more people to turn,” the green haired ogre says. The two ogres quickly obey, heading into the house to finish their task. Green haired ogre smiles as is the three men have already started eating the food he gave them. Before the ogres very eyes the men belly begins spending and two out of the three were now rocking jelly bellies while the other one already big belly became more pronounced. “What’s going on here? Why do I feel so full and yeah I feel so hungry?” Cluster moans out. Looking at the clean plate the green haired ogre says. “That was fast. You really must be the pig of your group.” Cluster turns his head around and spots the green haired ogre. He tries to scream but what comes out is a moan of pleasure. “Don’t bother, it’s too late you’ve already had some of our food and now that you done with your first plate it’s now time for second,” the green haired ogre says with a grin. He quickly pulls out another plate full of exotic fruits and vegetables of the Ogreish variety from a ridiculously big box. It didn’t take long for the other two men to break out of their trans. All three trying to get up and run away only to find out that they cannot because their bodies will not get up from the ground. They can move their arms and they can move their legs, but they can’t let off the ground and neither can they crawl away. “They must be really hungry to eat your food so fast. Bacopa,” Oz says with smile. Oz was standing next to the sliding door with the two other ogres behind him. Oz had a white pale skin for an ogre, baby blue eyes that would make the men and women swoon, long curly pink hair with pink body hair peppering his body, a sweet-smelling body odor and the usual Ogreish features. “I wonder if they’ll be thirsty after they are done eating,” Oz asked with a smile. “I believe if there anything like last the two men they’ll be insatiable. I hope you’re up to the task milk maker,” Bacopa says with a smile. Oz’s face turns into a grimace as he says. “I’m tired of making milk.” He says while rubbing his huge pecs. “But don’t worry I found the way to make some more without milking myself dry. Bacopa hand me the two Hydro pills. There is a cool trick I want to show you.” With the confuse face Bacopa switched out plate he was holding for a big pill bottle. Oz made a full jester before saying. “Okay let me show you, my trick. As you know one of my powers are that I can make supernatural milk from my pecs, and I recently discovered that I could make other ogres do the same. I love humans and ogres sucking on my nipples, but I can’t do this all day, I eventually get tired, and my nipples become sore.” Oz turns around placing his hands on the pecs the two ogres behind him. He starts rubbing his hands over the two ogre’s pecs, both ogres starting moan as pink light makes contact. When the two ogres start becoming aroused, he stops and remove his hands from their pecs. “Now hand me the two pills,” Oz says. Bacopa quickly gave Oz the pills so that he can feed the two ogres then. Both mindless ogres swallowing the pills that Oz had gave them. “Now watch,” Oz said with a grin. Before their very eyes two erect ogre’s pecs begin expanding and swelling, both ogres moaning as the process was happening. The two ogre’s pecs had triple in size. “Damn that’s awesome did you give them a flavor,” Bacopa asked? “For this demonstration no, but we can try on the new three recruits for tomorrows entertainment,” Oz said with a grin. Each of the two variants ogres grabs a bunch of oversize cups and with the flick of each swollen nipples from the two mindless ogres, milk begin to lactate out of their nipples like soda coming out of a dispenser; placing each filled up cup back onto the bench. Now happy with the number of beverages they had the two ogres began grabbing a bunch of magical plates and placing food on it. “Are you guys preparing food without me how rude of you,” a voice says coming from the door of the backyard. “Nick,” both variants’ ogres yell out in excitement.” “What is Fucking adapt doing out here,” Bacopa asked? “Well, my job here is done. By midnight, all humans left in the town will transform into ogres, Like a silent nuclear explosion. By the time that wizard find out we’ve done it be too late he will have no more allies to turn to and if were even lucky still be caught by the spell’s radius, crippling him at worst and totally transforming at best. Who do we have here three more humans?” Nick says. Jack walked into the backyard. He had the usual Ogreish features in skin color. He had black hair shaved into a mohawk and a mutton chops that were connected to his mustache, Gorgeous Amber eyes, and had tattoos circling around his wrists and feet like shackles and he moved his body with swagger like he was owning the place. Jack looks at the two variants’ ogres and asks. “What are you guys planning?” “Well, we were going to place the food in front of them and just watch them eat and fat up before the change,” Bacopa says. “Magically infused food and drink are more energy-efficient for Lord Owen at this time,” Oz says. “Is that so,” Jack replied. “Interesting I know right. Now come closer and let me explain my plan. It’s going to make your mouth water. The three ogres quickly huddled up, has Oz explains the plan to them. The three conscious ogres begin huddling around the three humans, bringing plates of food and drinks. “Look at these pesky human clothes, let’s us remove these,” Oz says with a smile. Is ogres strips their human partners before laying there by his next to them, making humans look like small children to them while they were sitting lap, ass next to hard ogre cocks. The humans moan at the contact with the ogres. “You guys can make a show of fucking for us.” Bacopa says. With those words that to the standing ogres begin fucking. As the three men watch the two ogres start fucking, their cocks became hard as steel. Resisting the temptation to eat the curse Ogreish food was the hardest thing the humans have ever done. “We neeeedd to resiiists the ogres. Wwwee need to escape.” Darrian says. “I eat, I grow big and strong. I eat, I grow big and strong. I eat, I grow big and strong,” Martin says in between bites of food. In front of the two men’s eyes, Martin’s skinny body minus his new jelly belly that is now starting to grow. Each bite and each sip of his drink causing him to grow with fat starting with his belly. Within three minute the ones skinny twig became a round fat plump. When his plate became empty, still wanting more the magic plate refills itself, to fulfill its owner’s gluttonous desires. Three more times the two men watch this cycle, each time Martin became more faster each time hair grew on his fat body. Hair became more wilder and longer as his fat body grew body hair allover starting out as stubble than before long becoming carpet like. His fat clean-shaven chin slowly grew a bushy beard. The two men watching this scene have been slowly eating the Ogreish food and have been becoming fat as well. “This one is eager,” Jack says while playfully smacking Martin’s ass. Martin was now so fat he could not walk, was now ready for Jack’s big cock. “Are you ready to become an ogre, are you ready for my cock,” Jack asked Martin. “Me become ogre. Me want cock,” Martin says in a slow and dumb voice. first Jack starts rubbing Martin’s whole with his cock before plunging it in; causing moans to come from both human and ogre as their rough sex begin, backwards and forwards with each thrust causing Martin’s skin to start turning orange. Starting from his fat ass, the orange quickly spread across his body, turning semi smooth pinkish human skin into rough leathery orange colored ogre skin. Jack can feel the human taking his cock, so close to transcending into an ogre, that he can smell the Ogreish musk on him. With every thrust the human’s ass felt more firmer and tighter. Martin’s cock and balls having been grown twice its size and now beginning to finally seep the last of his human seed. A building pressure and his huge balls made him moan as he begins shaking. The fat all over Martin’s body begins deflating and is quickly replaces with muscle as he starts growing taller. His Shoulders grow out words as much he grew taller. His chest grew into the size of a barrel. His abs grew even with a layer of fat on his hairy stomach. Pecs growing so big that the fat nipples were pointing downwards. Arms and legs grew into the size of huge tree trunks huge hands and feet to go with it. Martin’s facial features quickly succumb to the Ogreish transformation, gaining their facial features in the process. With a final roar from Martin, he came shooting the last of his humanity onto the grass, but he still wants more. “Harder pounded harder,” the ogre Martin yelled out enjoy. Jack grabs Martin’s muscular back for a better grip, as he is obliging him by starting to pound the new ogre’s ass even harder. Darian’s eyes having begun watering at the sight of his friend’s transformation. looking towards his friend Cluster for strength to help resist his corruption; Only to discover his is being spit roasted by the one called Oz and the dark skin ogre with a black curly hair. His blank eyes over his ridiculously obese body that shock and shakes with an energy as the first and final sign, the point of no return as he become an ogre. Then shadow covers his sight the redhaired ogre with a large container filled with unknown liquid and a tube connected to the container. Darian’s mouth opens against his will as the redhead ogre places a tubelike straw next to his mouth. He begins slurping down the contents of the container as he rediscovers the taste of the cursed apple brandy. Each chug of the alcohol makes Darian’s resistance shrink and whether as his mind slowly succumbs to intoxication and pleasure. Eventually the container and plate of food becomes empty and yet he still wants more. Darian’s drooling mouth blank eyes and red blushing face shows off how helpless he is, especially with his now morbidly obese body lays on the grass ready for any ogre to come and stuff his cock into his hungry ass. Cluster roars as he orgasms shooting the last of his humanity. With his newly Ogreish body he gets up from the two ogres spit roasting him. He starts rubbing his newly sensitive nipples as milk leaks from them, as he watches Bacopa making his way towards the back of Darian, causing Cluster’s cock to re-hardening in anticipation to what is to come. With a lick to the back of his neck Bacopa spoke to him. “I hope you’re ready for it, big boy.” Darian spits out the tube and says drunkenly. “Fuck. Fuck you all. Fuck you monsters for taking my town. Fuck for stealing my friends and family humanity. Fuuuucckk,” Darian yells out as Bacopa’s plunges dick into his ass. A single thrust from Bacopa causing orange and hair to start spreading across Darian’s entire fat body. Bacopa takes his tantalizing time as he pounds Darian’s ass. The Ogreish food and drink making Darian belly turn and jiggle as it begins to react to the ogre’s seed. Some of the ogres like Cluster, Oz and the redhead ogre starts or had begun masturbating as they watch Darian start his transformation into an ogre while the rest continue fucking each other. The fat on Darian’s body starts melting away as fuel for his changing body. First his hard cock grows and doubles in size in length and circumference then his balls swell to the huge size of grapefruit. Then his fat on his belly is quickly eaten up by his growing abs, as his flab pecs firm up and swell with hard muscle over his big hairy stomach. His Biceps swell in sizes reaching the girth of huge bowling balls as thighs reach the size of tree trunks. Fingers growing as large as sausages, hands becoming the size of baseball mitts. Back muscles grew until they can be felt by Bacopa’s hands. Facial features shifting and turning as they became more Ogreish and parent giving him a caveman especially with his beard. With another thrust from Bacopa on to Darian’s Ogreish fat ass, he came and shot the last of his humanity. Darian felt so much pleasure as Bacopa kept pounding his Ogreish ass and tell Bacopa eventually came. When they were both done with their sex they got up, Darian wobbles a little bit as he does so, not used to his new body. Then he notices Cluster masturbating next to him. Darian makes his way towards Cluster and begins licking and sucking on Cluster’s nipples, tasting the milk that comes out. Cluster moans in pleasure liking the way that Darian is teasing his nipples. Then Martin grabs Cluster’s shoulder and give him a big sloppy kiss before they all three restarts having sex with each other. In a house across the street, an ogre in a room of his house, watches and masturbate at the sight of the orgy, with his torn-up clothes strewn across the floor while a changing man sits on his lap masturbating as well, clothes starting ripping and tearing at the scene of his growing body. “Once you’re done changing, I think we should join the party,” the ogre says with a smile at the changing man. Underneath the house of partying of ogres. In the basement strange symbols of magic glow, a femoral blue. On a mat on the floor of the basement laid two ogres in the act of sex from which they have been doing it for hours. These actions feeling the corrupting powers of the house trawling humans and spitting out ogres. As the ogre’s orgy of sex and destruction spread around the city the foggy guy starts turning into clouds as they to stir.
  10. I’d like to thank my friend for developing this story with me. Love you bro. ——————— It is important to look for a safe place when lost. Those two guys knew that. That day, they went hiking in the woods for too long, and got lost, and the night was coming. Fortune was kind to them, there was a cave nearby, and they went there with hopes of resting, so they could return home the next day. The cave was wet and hot, it smelled like thick sweat, and there was a weird miasma on the place. All was too quiet, they decided to look the place around, to be sure it was safe. After walking just some steps, it happened. Fortune deceived them. A huge stream of a weird, gooey substance fell over them, and it kept on falling until they were soaked, filthy. It had a strong smell. They were coated all over with the goo. They tried to get rid of it, but was impossible, the substance was sticky, it covered their whole bodies, and even if they could take some off, the goo was still heavily dripping over them. They try to help each other out, and end up stuck together, a gooey, fetid mess. It gets worse. The goo starts to solidify around them, quickly trapping them together, and to bring it to the next level, a shell was quickly formed, they got trapped together. In panic, they hold each other up, trying to calm themselves down. The hug works, and they rest. They don’t know yet, but the goo is far from a passive substance. It enter their bodies, slowly changing them. As their skin burns, the bros hug tighter, trying to survive the pain. They try to stay strong, and start to realize they are changing, even if they can’t understand fully what is happening. Their clothes start to be corroded by the goo, and they oddly start to feel stronger than before, the fabric that resists starts growing tighter. Their arms start to grow thicker. They still hug, but as their bodies expand, it pushes them apart. One of them extend his arms and with a flex, its sleeves get reduced to shreds. Their shirts grow uncomfortably tighter, and their expanding pecs and ever more defined abs are shown. Both covered in veins, their muscles expand deeply. They increasingly grow strong and well defined, in size and in muscle mass. Shoulders getting ever so strong and thick, as also are their necks. Their faces change, being both sculpted, ever more strong and masculine, raw. As they grow, they hold each other tighter and in a deeper way, as they were discovering how one means to the other. Comforting each other, another growing spurt hits them, and their clothes are no more, nothing separating the goo from their growing naked bodies. They realize they are in this together. No more fear, they allow the goo to cover them, and rejoice in feeling the substance enveloping them. As they hold each other, their skin burns deeper, something ever more strange is happening with their bodies, something big, but that they can’t identify. As it happens, one of the men decide to do something he never thought on doing before. As they became aroused during the change, their cocks are fully awake, and growing, even. “We are in this together” he thinks, realizing even more how he cares about his mate. “Those muscles, my bro, are to protect you”. With that in mind, he caress the cock of the other, and also explores the defined body of him. His friend follows, and they both explore their new changed bodies. First, putting their hands on each other timidly, but then, more vigorously. Feeling an indescribable wave of deep pleasure from being touched. They are too busy discovering new sensations to notice their hair is retrieving, something is coming out of their skins, and there are weird protuberances oddly timidly going out of their skulls. They keep on exploring each other, feeling like they are one. Their cocks drip pre, that mixes itself with the goo. The transformation intensifies, they grow ever more muscular, taller, their skins replaced by scales, their eyes being covered in layers of new lenses, improving their vision, they become even more sensitive to the touch. Their bodies explode in deep orgasm, and they aren’t over yet. One put his cock on the ass of the other, the apex is reached. As the other man enjoys a huge wave of pleasure, they both roar and bellow, deeply bonding with each other. Finally, after a long fuck, the goo get absorbed by their transformed bodies and becomes part of their scales. It is done. But they barely notice, locked in the pleasure. After a while, they finally let go of each other, and admire their profound changes “Fuck” they say together, both are with deep voices, like a growl. “What this cave have done to us, brother” “It made us into beasts, that we are primed to be” “Fuck, bro, I never felt better.. look, look at my arms, look at those fuckin guns” “You look good... and fuck good too” “You don’t look bad yourself.. fuck so good...” They start to stroke each other’s pecs. “This goo, this cocoon changed us” “Hmmm it looks for the better” “Fuck, I love you, bro” They again masturbate each other, one playing with the helmet of the cock of the other. “Even your cock is different, bro” “It is bigger and thicker like yours” The cocks ejaculate a modified cum, yellow and thick, with a very strong smell. They roar in ecstasy. Playing with each other’s cocks more strongly now. They laid down for a while, one holdin the cock of the other. “We are one, bro. My life, I devote to protect you.” They kiss passionately. And one of the men decides it needs to mark this moment, seeing a sharp stone on the floor, he grabs it and draws a spiral on his left chest, letting out roars of pain. Modified blood is spilled, but it was a necessary move. “This is our mark now”. The other does the same. Then they both hold each other’s chest and kiss, cuddling on the floor, holding each other tight, like they were doing in the cocoon. Bonded together, enjoying their new powerful forms.
  11. Absman420

    PHOLUS REBORN

    PHOLUS REBORN by absman420 When I got the call that my Grandfather had passed, I had an odd mixture of disappointment and relief. I’d just seen him a few weeks ago, when he’d turned 92, still as spry and troublesome as ever. He’d been a landscaper and gardener since coming to America in his youth -- he claimed it a tie to the old country, the old ways. He knew plants and he knew how to love them -- his garden lush and inviting, alive and ready-to-burst, even up to the end, when HIS heart had burst. (I’d inherited that from him -- not the bad heart, the green thumb -- though I only grew marijuana in the basement of my house.) They’d found him in the garden, dead. It was the Executive Manager of the Home who felt the need to inform me -- but still with his disapproving attitude -- that my Grandfather had been masturbating when he’d died. “And in the garden, of all places!” he’d said with mock indignity. I shrugged -- what should my reaction have been? It was the Home’s Resident Mortician who’d pulled me aside and informed me quietly that my Grandfather had been “remarkably blessed” with “prodigious equipment” and that the erection he’d had when he’d died hadn’t gone down. (Sadly, I’d not inherited that from him -- mine was more pint-sized than prodigious.) It was no secret that my Grandfather was the bane of the old folk’s home -- the sexually-forward, inappropriate old man who wouldn’t leave the ladies alone. Or the nurses. Or the staff. Although they had a soft spot in their hearts for him -- everything else was about his hard spot, the one he was constantly playing with. All in all, they were not sorry to see him go. While in his room, gathering his few personal effects -- the things worth anything -- another old man came in, one of his fellow gardeners, and presented me with a towel-wrapped object, saying, “Big Red wanted you to have this.” I’d never felt like I’d connected with my Grandfather -- “Big Red” -- we both shared the red hair, but that was all. I’d always assumed it was because I was gay -- his generation had their old-school outlooks -- and he believed in big, hearty masculine expressions. Potency with him, above all -- fertility. His garden had been a reflection of that. But he wanted me to have something! See? He’d thought of me! Even in death, there’s hope! Rolling back the towel, I was surprised to discover a clay garden gnome, about ten/ twelve inches long -- but at least not the cheap, Disney-fied version with the goofy red hat and cheeky smile. (That would’ve probably made me leave it behind.) This was significantly older, a hand-painted terracotta statuette of a disheveled old man dressed in rags with a lusty half-smile on his face -- the only other noticeable detail about the sculpt was that the gnome had an obvious bulge. (Like the kind you don’t see that on the modern-day Wal-Mart gnomes!) “He wanted me to have this?” I ask the other old guy, trying not to sound ungrateful, like I wasn’t suspicious of a joke. “A garden gnome?” “Gnomes are powerful symbols of fertility,” the old guy said -- just my luck, my Grandfather was pals with a professor — then he added, “Look it up. You’ve got The Google” and I felt a lot better about my Grandfather’s associates. “It’s been in the garden long as I can remember. Your Grandpappy said he’d had it his whole life!” I took the Gnome -- “Thank you,” I said. “I have the perfect place for it.” -- (Ironically, I did!) -- and after I’d gotten all the business and paperwork and payments at the Home complete -- my Grandfather safely in a box being shipped to the family site -- I headed back to my house, a few hours away, the Gnome resting in a box in the back seat. I DID have the perfect place for it -- my little basement grow. I put it down at the head of a row of a hybrid I was developing -- I aimed its little bulge at the marijuana plants. “Let ‘er rip,” I laughed. “Show me the fertility!” And for the next year, it did just that -- my yield increasing by over 65% -- until I carelessly knocked the little Gnome off the shelf and broke it. And that’s where the story really starts. **************************************** According to “The Google”: Act surprised, the Ancient Greeks had a God for it -- a God of Fertility: Priapus. Apparently his power was manifested in his oversized genitals -- but with the Christian invasion (and forbidden sexuality that accompanied that religion), Priapus and his cock became a demon, or represented as a withered old man with an uncontrollable erection, often pushing his giant cock before himself on a cart. Religion made genitals and their symbology a punishment, a curse -- act surprised. So… Gnomes. Little old men with massive genitals -- a European ode to the Ancients. Little clay gods of fertility for your garden -- Priapus through the ages. (They didn’t become “cutesy” until the release of “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs” at the beginning of the 20th century -- Priapus becomes Dopey.) I find stuff like that fascinating. ******************************************** Ultimately, it didn’t matter because the Gnome was just a delivery device. I mean, literally. Just as I was about to buy into the idea that a fertility icon in your garden increases yield, I go and knock the fucking thing off the shelf while tranferring a tray of younglings. Fucking stoner thing to do, honestly. I mean, I tried to “catch” it with my foot -- or at least soften the impact. All I managed to do was scratch myself as it bounced off my sandal -- don’t laugh! It drew blood -- and then shattered on the cement, missing the floor mat because of my interference. Fucking idiot. And I was hoping, you know, maybe some glue? But doesn’t destroying it wreck the mojo? Doesn’t breaking it stop the voodoo that it do so well? Isn’t that the folklore? Immediately I thought of my Grandfather -- now a year in his grave -- he managed to get through his whole life without breaking it! Maybe some glue….? Idiot. So I knelt down next to it and gingerly lifted it up -- the front wasn’t cracked, but collapsed from age, barely more than dust -- glue wasn’t going to help. Fuck. And then the discovery. Something inside the hollowed-out middle, wrapped in what seemed to be very old cheesecloth -- very, very old, like great-grandma’s linen that never came out of the box, faded and brittle and delicate beyond possibility -- someone had planted something INSIDE the Ancient Gnome. Eagerly -- nervously -- I carried the whole mess to my work-table and clicked on the bright, overhead light. I was more afraid of ruining whatever was inside -- especially if it was some sort of message or something. (This was why I wasn’t an archeologist -- it couldn’t possibly be this romantic in real life!) Should I be wearing gloves? I had to break the Gnome a little further to get the package to come out freely. I was a nervous wreck, suppositioning all over the place -- had my Grandfather known about this? Was it my Grandfather who’d planted it? Was this why he wanted me to have the Gnome in the first place? What could it possibly be? The rag or cheesecloth or whatever the hell it was that wrapped it nearly dissolved away, turning to dirty dust even as I tugged on it. Pieces of it came off intact, but it was nothing more than wrapping, no message or clues. Just old -- insanely old -- hundreds of years old. If my Grandfather had known about this, he hadn’t changed anything -- he hadn’t wrapped it in anything new. It was two objects wrapped together. One was an icon, about four inches long, a crude stone carving of an overly muscular man with an enormous phallus -- his dick went practically to his chest -- his eyes dark jewels. The other was a tiny, dark bottle, like a perfume bottle, dark glass, deep blue, a small stopper with a wax seal. Holding it to the light, I couldn’t see through the thick glass, but I could feel it’s age. I spent a few seconds cleaning the bottle, dusting it off and wiping it down gently. Even if there was nothing inside it, the bottle itself was spectacular -- I’d never seen anything like it. I picked up the statue and did the same, wiped it down, cleaned it up, blew off the dust. I was looking in his jeweled eyes when -- I swear -- they lit up, bright red. Not just “caught the light”, not just “sparkled”, they LIT UP and -- I’m not kidding. I’m not making this up -- I had a vision. I heard it speak to me. It said, “PHOLUS” I dropped the little muscular stone like a scorpion -- like a venomous fang. I looked at it in horror as it balanced on its side by its big penis, staring helplessly at the table. What in the name of God? “Name of God!” That’s IT! I pulled out my phone. ********************************************** From The Google: In Greek mythology, Pholus (Greek: Φόλος) was a wise centaur who lived in a cave on or near Mount Pelion. Are you kidding? Pholus is really a thing? A centaur? Weren’t they half-horse? Well, I guess that little statue there is partially-horse, at least. But there was something else. In astronomical terms, Pholus (from Φόλος) is an eccentric centaur (an object classified somewhere between an asteroid and a minor planet) in the outer Solar System, approximately 180 kilometers (110 miles) in diameter, that crosses the orbit of both Saturn and Neptune. It was discovered on 9 January 1992… Wait. What? -- I was born on 9 January, 1992. Pholus and I were twins… which wasn’t funny. It was getting weird. Nicknamed “Big Red,” it’s orbit around the sun takes 92 years and one month… 92 years and one month… my Grandfather -- Big Red’s exact age when he died! Okay, I was fucking freaking out by this time! Too many coincidences. A centaur -- an eccentric centaur -- my birthday -- my grandfather’s orbit -- but that still wasn’t everything. There was one more. When Pholus (from Φόλος) appears in an astrological reading, it represents a spark, a start, grand events set in motion from something small, like shooting oneself in one’s foot, the butterfly effect. When Pholus appears, an unexpected adventure follows. Fuck you, the Google. ****************************************** I leaned against the wall and stared at the work-table for a while, at the askew little icon and the blue-glass bottle. I sat on a stool, smoked a joint, and stared at the stone man, released from his prison, forever erect. How did he talk to me? How had that happened? I’d never heard of “Pholus” before -- I couldn’t have made that up. And even if I had -- there were too many coincidences… there were three different versions of “Pholus” and all of them applied to me! I couldn’t have known about that and “forgotten” -- I didn’t smoke that much weed. No. I’d had a vision -- the icon had spoken to me. Assuming that to be true, I thought, I shouldn’t fear it. If this icon was meant for me -- and it seemed like that was the only conclusion -- then I had no reason for fear. One shouldn’t fear destiny, especially when one knows what it is. Sadly, by the time I worked up enough brave-energy to touch the icon again, nothing happened -- it was just a piece of cold stone. No more flare -- no more sparkle -- no more insight. The little stone dude had a pretty amazing cock… and he seemed so proud… but he’d stopped talking. So, the bottle then. What could it possibly be? Perfume? Wine? Magic Potion? Poison? I mean, it’s ridiculous. I should have it analyzed -- I should find out what it is -- I should know before I unleash some disease, some demon, some genie in a bottle. Maybe ingesting whatever was inside would transform me into a centaur -- well, being gay, maybe a unicorn? I couldn’t see through the deep blue glass, so I didn’t even know if anything was inside at all. I was so busy playing mind-games with myself that I hadn’t realized how much time had passed, even. Sigh. Another joint. Anyway, when I finally got around to opening the stupid thing, it was nearly midnight. The stopper, which was also glass, was sealed with what appeared to be a thick wax. I used a tiny screwdriver to flake it off. It took a little back-and-forth to completely break the seal, but once I did, the little stopper eased out quickly. The Scent. The Scent alone. My cock was rock hard immediately, just on the scent alone -- sex and leather and sweat and metal, the smells of masculinity, from the playful snips and snails and puppy-dog tails of youth to the moment of adult dominance, to the rut of the thrust, the spreading of the seed, it was fertility, the deep, moist earth. It was the Essence of Man. I was compelled to taste it -- I didn’t think twice about it -- it wasn’t until long after the moment that I thought there may have been danger. In the moment, there wasn’t any thought at all, just need -- driving masculine need. Whatever was in that bottle I needed in me. A drop was all -- and barely enough to qualify for the word “drop” -- it rolled lazily out of the bottle like a thick, congealed syrup -- but when it hit my tongue… Orgasm! Immediately, my cock shot -- overwhelming! Like this huge, savage, I’ve-never-felt-it-like-this-before orgasm! Like, so incredibly all-encompassing that every cell of my body was my cock and they were all shooting at once. And then I was able to taste this syrup as it spread across my tongue -- battle and strength and muscle and sweaty maleness mixed with earth and flavored with fire, the taste of heroes and prowess and sweet, hard-won victory. Horse flanks, battle songs and flasks of wine, wrestling for sport and the tight, sweet holes of olive-skinned apprentices -- it was everything dark and earthy, meat and marrow, savagery and strength. It was gloriously masculine. And the aftertaste was dirty, and sexual, and rutted, the nasty, shit-flecked maw of the satisfied fornicator -- the flavor of lust. I was oh, so horny -- I needed to fuck, cock-driven, unapologetic, just lay-in and pound kind of fuck. Not love-making, no gentleness -- playfulness, yes; powerful, definitely -- fucking male on MALE sex! Then came the mental run-down of my fuck-buddy list, too few and too far between, the usual Grindr stall, the seedy bar -- any option. All options. Need to fuck. It was a stranger whose name I sort of remember -- I didn’t care -- all that mattered was the hole. By that time, crazy, stupid needy lust. My little cock was flared and strong, flexing beyond its norm -- serve it, suck it, take it, fuck it. Pholus started the adventure! ************************************************** I woke the next morning in a stranger’s bed, crusty and sweaty, the smell of sex on my breath -- glorious! My cock immediately hardened. He slept on his side, my unknown partner, his back to me, a little blond thing -- his hole was red, swollen, smeared with my dried cum and his ass juices. It smelled glorious -- earthy, sexy -- raw. It was impossible to resist, so I didn’t, licking his hole, loving the taste, digging in and eating. Gripping around his balls, I felt his cock harden with his morning’s piss. Fuck, I wanted that, too. All of it. He woke moaning. “Ohhh, man… stop. I can’t… I’m sore and I gotta pee…” “You taste so fuckin’ good,” I mumbled, slurping his hole. “Lemme just eat it awhile…” “That’s gross,” he said, pulling himself away. “I’m gonna pee -- you should be gone when I get done.” I was laying there with this big hard-on -- I showed it to him. “Aw, c’mon, baby, you can’t leave me like this…” “You got a nice dick,” he said, pulling himself out of bed, “and you sure know how to use it. You fucked me every which way sideways last night and I’m sore as hell right now. But you should be gone when I get done.” “Aw, fuck,” I said, with this impossible hard-on, and these blue-ass balls. Cold little bitch. Where the fuck were my shoes? ******************************************** The Uber driver could smell me -- I could tell. And I know it made him uncomfortable -- he shifted himself in his seat several times. After a while, I realized it was because he had a hard-on, too. That was fucking hot. Cocks were fucking hot. With my fingers, I squeezed mine through the material of my pants while we drove. I knew he saw me -- I didn’t care. It felt too good. Everything felt good. In the shower, I noticed it more in my balls than in my cock -- the growth, I mean -- but also from the undeniable rush of testosterone. The way it felt. I was a man -- all man. I felt like a man -- and I fucking loved it! I gave very little thought to the idea that whatever was in that bottle had adversely affected me -- just the opposite. Whatever was in that bottle had changed me for the better! Somehow, it had awakened something in me -- it had connected me to something greater than myself -- MY masculine essence. I shot off a load in the shower, praising Priapus and Pholus (and Phallus, too!) -- I could phuck them all! Who could deny the power of the cock? Who wouldn’t want this? ********************************************** From “The Google”: Priapism is a condition in which a penis remains erect for hours in the absence of stimulation or after stimulation has ended. Most cases are ischemic. Ischemic priapism is generally painful while nonischemic priapism is not. In ischemic priapism, most of the penis is hard. In nonischemic priapism, the entire penis is only somewhat hard. Aw, fuck man -- that was me in one bold sentence -- nonischemic priapism. My dick hadn’t been flaccid in over two weeks. The only reason it didn’t concern me was because it didn’t hurt -- so why shouldn’t it show itself off? It was a damn nice cock -- it was just putting itself out there. As a matter of fact, it was kind of hot Fucking EVERYTHING was kind of hot! That my sex drive was stuck in high gear was kind of hot -- finding out I have nonischemic priapism was kind of hot. But hottest of all? My dick was getting bigger. My dick, my balls -- bigger. It didn’t help that my cock was semi-hard all the time, it just kept me from noticing it right away. But in the last two weeks, my hard cock had shot up to eight inches! And not in Grindr inches, either -- ACTUAL measurement! And my testosterone production was up, too, like a thousand percent, thanks to my growing balls, over-producing to make up for their past. My workouts had been fucking crazy -- they would just go on and on and I’d never lose energy -- two, three hours. The harder I trained, the hornier I felt, my big cock jutting out before me, struggling against the compression-anything I wore. I swear, I was shooing the guys off like flies -- I think my smell attracted them. I think my sweat was becoming some kind of pheromone or something. I was fucking them in the steam room, the shower, one guy in the janitor’s closet -- I was a fucking beast! A beast with big, low-hanging balls. I thought about going to the doctor, but then I thought, why? What’s WRONG with me? For the first time in my life, it felt like everything was right! I was getting muscular -- not huge, not like one of those muscle-heads -- but BIG, you know? Commanding. Six months after I’d been blessed by the gods, I weighed a solid 235, carrying almost no body-fat. I learned (from The Google) that testosterone was a natural leaning agent, one of the reasons teenage boys (at the peak of testosterone production) looked the way they did -- the more I produced, the leaner I got. So, at 235, I looked fucking awesome, even bigger than I really was! I started getting hairier, too. At first, a thicker pelt on the chest, a scruffier beard -- sexy -- but then my shoulders, my back -- I began having to trim back my bush or it would’ve taken over. I became the King of Manscaping. I ended up with a rough beard -- I gave in on that, otherwise I was shaving two or three times a day. But apparently, the boys liked the way it felt on their holes, so I didn’t sweat it. The hair grew thicker in the grooves of my abs, emphasizing them even more. I was so… fucking… manly! By then my cock was nearly 11 inches long in its constant semi-erect state, displaying itself proudly before me. People REACTED to it -- no matter how I tried to hide it at first, once someone saw it, they couldn’t stop looking. (I do believe it’s hypnotic -- but that’s a point for later.) And to be honest, I loved the attention. I thought I would’ve been freaked or embarrassed by having such an obvious member, but it was the opposite -- the bigger it got, the greater my pride and eagerness to show it off. ********************************************* From “The Google”: Erect penises have appeared in erotic (sexually exciting) art for a very long time. Pictures of men with erections appear on ancient objects and in paintings. In the past, the erect penis was also a symbol or sign of health and fertility (the ability to give life). Ancient Egyptians, Greeks and Romans believed in gods that had erect penises. Men with larger penises are often thought to be more handsome, manly and powerful. I became a Brand. There was little else I could do, actually. I mean, why WASN’T I in porn? Why wasn’t I sharing my blessing with everyone? I created the “Pholus” Brand -- and I adopted my Grandfather’s nickname, “Big Red” -- Big Red Pholus, that was who I became. My OnlyFans page… I swear, I put up a video of me commando beneath a pair of loose gym shorts, jumping rope in slow motion, and within two days… money was no longer an issue in my life. I set a record for followers within a week and became an “Influencer” on IG so fast I had to look it up on The Google to find out what an Influencer was. Clothing designers -- I had a guy specifically for underwear and jockstraps -- assistants, an entourage, the works! And this was the weird thing: the worship… empowered me. I mean, it… it made me… more than I was. As I did cam shows and live shows and as my audience grew, I grew, too. Not just muscularly (where I was steadily improving), or scrotally (where I was pushing boundaries), I mean spiritually. Can you imagine what it does to your psyche to have guys pay you obscene amounts of money just to touch your cock? To have them beg you to suck it? To love it the way you do? I accepted it -- I welcomed it. I had been blessed by the gods -- I was something more-than-man. A demi-god -- a demi with a semi. A demi-semi-god! I had a destiny. Sex was easy, constant -- I was either seducing or fucking. Wherever I was, whatever I was doing, it was a prelude to sex. I couldn’t have enough -- there was never a moment when I was satisfied, when I wasn’t eager for more. And men fell under my spell -- whether it was my smell, or my aura, or the obvious swell of my cock -- they all gave it up for me, they all became my bottom. There was nothing I enjoyed more than finding the Big Alpha straight-guy at a strange gym and watching him turn into a weak-willed bitch when he’d ultimately yield to my superior cock. The look on his face when he’d first see it beneath my gym clothes, or more regularly, my compression pants -- shock and awe -- the way he’d try to befriend me, like we could be the cocks-of-the-walk together, buddies -- and finally him on his knees in the locker room, in the posing room, wherever, pounding his own cock while he gave in and worshipped mine. It was the way of men to worship gods. And all men worshipped the god of the phallus -- and now Pholus, who seemed the god made flesh. **************************************** More from “The Google”: In Greek mythology, a satyr (Greek: σάτυρος sátyros, pronounced [sátyros]), also known as a silenos (Greek: σειληνός seilēnós), is a male nature spirit with ears and a tail resembling those of a horse, as well as a permanent, exaggerated erection. Early artistic representations sometimes include horse-like legs, but, by the sixth century BC, they were more often represented with human legs. Like satyrs, centaurs were notorious for being wild, lusty, overly indulgent drinkers and carousers, violent when intoxicated, and generally uncultured delinquents. I gained the ability to make others like myself. It began to happen late in the second or third year since my blessing from the gods, my rebirth. My cock was over a foot long by that point, meaty and thick, my pendulous nads nearly the size of oranges -- even at 6’4” 245, they were out of proportion (I didn’t look anywhere near as freakish as I would’ve if I’d remained 5’9”, but I’d grown steadily since my blessing, so I looked like a really big guy with a REALLY big cock. Who knew where, or if it would end.) I was hairy and gruff, balding from too much testosterone, bearded and beautiful. And naked, I was spectacular. I would watch videos of myself having sex because it was so hot, my big, hairy muscle destroying some boy’s sweet pink hole. My favorites were the little tops who thought they were gonna top me. I mean, imagine having a cock like mine and the guy still wants to fuck me? Like, I’d made some of the biggest Alpha males submit to me, reveled in turning them into big muscle bottoms, but there were particular guys -- usually wrestler/ MMA-grappler types -- who wouldn’t fall under the spell of my cock, whose sweat smelled manly, too, and just went forward with the foreplay as if I were some meaty bottom. The first time it happened, it was this hot little Jersey boy, muscular and sexy with some sweet abs, probably 5’8” or 5’9”, tattoos, steroid scars on his back, skinny legs but a dick to die for. It tasted as pretty as it looked. “You gotta let me fuck you,” he growled. “With that cock, you probably never get fucked as good as you should. Lemme show you, baby…” Eating my hole, he won me over -- fuck, I had to reward an enthusiast -- especially the way he buried his face in my hairy, sweaty crack, like he couldn’t get enough. I’d forgotten how good a dick up inside me felt -- I hadn’t bottomed since my blessing -- and I gotta say, Jersey-boy wasn’t as selfish with it as I thought he’d be. He knew how to fuck. On my back, my huge legs spread wide, he stood next to the bed and pounded my hole, my own hard cock resting between the halves of my chest, inches from my chin, fairly leaking my pheromone-laden pre-cum -- even I was under my own spell. “God damn, you tight,” Jersey-boy muttered. “Not damned,” I panted. “Blessed.” “Gonna cum in your blessed hole…” “Yes,” I moaned, placing my hands on either side of his head. “Yes. Give your offering…” When he shot, driving his dick deep into me, his eyes rolled back in his head. In that moment, I felt -- not only my own orgasm -- I felt this energy leave me through my hands and enter him. I wish I could describe it better. It wasn’t like he took something from me -- it wasn’t like I gave him power -- it was more like I awakened something in him. Yet I felt that change in energy -- I was the cause of it. The catalyst. When he opened his eyes, there was something there that hadn’t been before -- a glint, a lust. The corner of his mouth curled into a devilish smile and I felt his cock re-harden inside me, even harder than it had been, and he just started lust-fucking me. What an incredible fuck that was -- the sudden power, the masculinity, the determination -- we were sweaty and breathless and oh, so hungry. I couldn’t even tell you how many times we came, how many moments of utter bliss we experienced -- how much energy we expelled and exchanged. The cock he pulled out of me was nearly twelve inches long, with heavy, obvious balls to match. Twice as big as it had been before -- nowhere near as big as it would get -- it looked magnificently out-of-proportion with the rest of him. He loved it! The next few weeks were a blurry fuck-fest. He matched me for sexual energy and desire -- his sweat was as irresistible, his personality as seductive -- everything we did, everywhere we went ended up an orgy. At the gym, working out together, watching the big straight bodybuilders fall under our spell, envying our big, gorgeous cocks. At the bars, dancing on the bars, they worshipped us, watching us strut and flex. At the bath-houses, where parties could extend into days, they gave us a never-ending supply of holes to fuck. But after a few months, Jersey-boy began to bore me. He was nothing but fucking. No thought, no drive, no interest, no appreciation -- all he cared about was how to put his cock in some guy’s hole. He didn’t need me -- he had his own circle of worshippers, of devotees -- his entourage. I still loved him -- I was bonded to him, my brother and my son; I could feel him wherever he was -- I just needed my freedom. But it wasn’t long before I created others. The same basic type: the cocky, unrelenting top -- the guy who would insist on trying to fuck me, even after seeing my hypnotic cock. Through the years, I’d created about twenty of them -- same way, they’d fuck me and at the moment of their orgasm, I would give them the energy to open themselves to the Primal Force, their Masculine Power. Like me, they grew -- muscularly, scrotally -- all their lusty appetites, but unlike me, they lost their reason, their love for anything but sex. They became this hyper-masculine, hyper-endowed, sexually-driven fraternity -- a herd of hairy, horse-hung men. Modern Day Centaurs. They fucked with me -- around me -- the world became one never-ending sex party. I loved it, every moment of it, my constant libido, my unsatisfied hunger for sex -- to express sex -- to BE sex! With every fuck, with every orgasm, with every of my centaur’s orgasms, I became stronger. Worshipping the act of sex meant worshipping me. For years it grew -- for years I reigned, continuing to grow. I weighed around 270 by my 40th birthday (52 left, I’d joke) and my cock was a magnificent thirty-inches long, half-hard and hanging like a heavy branch from a sturdy tree. My balls dangled like melons, their weight stimulating me more, producing so much testosterone that I just reeked of it. Huge rings hung from my nipples -- another of the same size pierced my septum. (Many of the centaurs had pierced theirs -- cheap horse-symbolism, but still sexy.) I was magnificent. There was not a man who could resist me, not an enemy I couldn’t dominate -- I had the most powerful men in the world begging to serve me, willing to do anything to kneel before me -- the richest men in the world as my benefactors. And all they wanted was sex. Me. I was sex. ********************************* Again, The Google: Apotheosis (from Greek ἀποθέωσις from ἀποθεόω/ἀποθεῶ, apotheoo/apotheo "to deify"; in Latin deificatio "making divine"; also called divinization and deification) is the glorification of a subject to divine level and, most commonly, the treatment of a human like a god. In theology, apotheosis refers to the idea that an individual has been raised to godlike stature. It is the way of the gods to be apart from humanity, but desire to be a part of it. As I got older -- and bigger -- it became more and more difficult to move about in public. The year I turned 54 -- which coincidentally was the year I’d been elevated for as long as I’d been human, 27 years -- I was 6’5”, 290 muscular pounds, still as lean as a teen, with a cock that was nearly forty inches long and balls that hung nearly to my knee. I was graying, sure, but didn’t look my age in the face -- I looked like my Grandfather at the same age. The Daddy-thing worked in my favor. I separated myself from the others. They never stopped -- they never expressed interest in anything other than carousing and fucking around. It was exhausting. There was no appreciation of arts or literature or the expression of creative thought -- everything was directed at sex. Everything. After a while, I found myself bored, seeking more -- though what more could there be? I desired to travel, but travel was nearly impossible. Wherever I went, sex happened. My smell, my aura, whatever it was about me that men couldn’t resist, it didn’t stop -- I couldn’t turn it off. Obviously, I couldn’t fly -- ultimately, the pilot would be unable to resist the inevitable orgy that would happen and the plane would crash. Maybe if the pilot flew with an air mask? Who knows? To me, it wasn’t worth the try. Fortunately, several of my benefactors had yachts -- massive, sprawling things that they were more than happy to offer me. In that way, I saw much of the world, spreading my seed all around the globe. We were anchored off the shore of Mykonos and I was busy fucking my way through the height of the high season -- oh, the gorgeous gay men who summered in Mykonos -- when I heard rumor of another like me. One of the local boys, whose English was far better than my Greek -- together, we spoke the language of Lust -- told me that I reminded him of the stories he’d heard about a reclusive sex god who was said to live up the coast, on Mt. Pelion. An old man with a giant cock -- the stories said he pushed his cock around before himself on a cart -- his smell, like mine, was said to drive men wild with lust, enough to make them impale themselves on his huge penis until they were dead. It was a story locals told for generations, perhaps in an effort to keep the young men from playing in the many caves along the coast. The boy told me this while impaling himself on my huge penis, so I wasn’t sure how much of it was porn-fantasy on his part. But I heard several corroborating stories over the next few weeks, so with little better to do, I had the captain sail us up the East Coast of Greece toward the Pelion Peninsula. And there was someone -- I could feel him. The closer we got, passing the spectacular cliffs and inlets of this ancient coast, the more I became aware of him. This feeling reminded me of the bond between myself and the ones I’d created, the Modern Day Centaurs -- it had the same longingful pull. The call of sex. I followed this call. Going ashore, dressed in linen pants and loafers, shirtless, my hairy beauty exposed to the world, I unerringly led myself up the mountain to the hidden door of a house nearly invisible in the mountainside of Mt. Pelion, as if someone had taken a cave and had Andrew Lloyd Wright develop it into a residence -- the old and the new melded seamlessly together. An olive-skinned beauty opened the door, dressed only in a short linen skirt and sandals. He was spectacular, young and hairless, his pink, puffy nipples sitting atop his tight, muscular chest -- his pink, pouty lips ready to pleasure my cock. But he wasn’t the scent I sought. “Geiá sou,” I said in my sorry Greek. “Eínai o kýrios sas?” The boy smiled -- probably because of the way I butchered his language. “He is expecting you,” he said in perfect English, opening the door to bid me enter. Again, walking through the house was like walking through a cave that had been made into a house, all the stone and slate, with the sleek, LCD lighting and hidden speakers piping in some old folk music -- it was the kind of place one saw on the Rich & Famous Real Estate shows, a little too over-the-top to be believed. NOTHING could’ve been this nice. How much money had this taken? How many years? The boy walked before me, allowing me to view his spectacular ass -- it was hard to decide exactly what to look at, the house or the boy. We descended a short stairs and emerged into a grotto. It reminded me of the Ancient Public Baths, a large pool dominating the space, with several types of hot tubs adorning the circumference and a magnificent, raised dais on one end, almost like a pulpit, where a massive bed sat ready for use. This was the biggest-budget porn-set I’d ever seen -- as if Spielberg were shooting a Greek fuck-flick. As we entered, the boy’s Master stood from the hot tub, his back to us, as two other olive-skinned beauties dressed him in a white, terry-cloth robe. He was nearly eight feet tall, massively muscular, though in proportion with his height, as if someone had taken a super-heavyweight bodybuilder and blew him up to 150%. An older man -- I would put him somewhere in his early sixties -- with salt-and-pepper hair that favored the salt, but long on top and shaved short on the sides -- his grooming was as meticulous as his house. He sported a beard that was a bit longer than mine, but oiled and maintained with an attention mine had never known. The robe didn’t hide the fact that he was hairy, but why wouldn’t he be? He was the perfect man. The robe made no secret of his cock, either. Like mine, it jutted before him like an extra limb, continuously hard and heavy, ready for more. It had to be over three feet long, but the way the boys had placed it in the material, it was hard to be sure. I’d hoped to find out. Hardly the image of a withered old man with his cock on a cart. When we made eye-contact, he smiled -- and in that moment, I recognized him. I didn’t know how -- not then -- but I knew who he was. I’d known him for thousands of years. “Oh my god,” I said. “Chiron!” “Hello, Pholus,” he said in English, with a glorious accent, opening his muscular arms for a hug. “Welcome home!” **************************************** You know the gag by now: In Greek mythology, Chiron (/ˈkaɪrən/ KY-rən; also Cheiron or Kheiron; Greek: Χείρων "hand") was held to be the superlative centaur amongst his brethren, as he was called as the "wisest and justest of all the centaurs". Chiron was notable throughout Greek mythology for his youth-nurturing nature. His personal skills tend to match those of his foster father Apollo, who taught the young centaur the art of medicine, herbs, music, archery, hunting, gymnastics and prophecy, and made him rise above his beastly nature. Centaurs were notorious for being wild, lusty, overly indulgent drinkers and carousers, violent when intoxicated, and generally uncultured delinquents. Chiron, by contrast, was intelligent, civilized and kind, because he was not related directly to the other centaurs due to his parentage. I couldn’t even tell you how long we fucked before we had a chance to talk. It felt like that sexual communication was almost as valuable as the verbal would be. His age was buffered by his confidence and his ability, his skillful love-making knew no bounds. Our cocks were big enough to be inside each other as we faced one another, each fucking the other while we deeply kissed. “I’ve missed you,” he moaned as he shot yet another load into me. “It’s been too long…” “I don’t understand,” I said while he thrusted himself on my hard pole. “This all feels so familiar.” “There will be plenty of time for talk,” he said, bringing me to orgasm. “But first, we must be what we are.” That first sexual coupling lasted nearly a full week. We fucked in the grotto, we fucked in the pool, we fucked in his bed, we fucked in a sling that was hung deep in the cavernous depths of the mountain. He showed me more ways to stimulate someone than I’d ever known -- or experienced! He was a master at pleasure. “Well, I should be,” he said later, sitting upright against a massive pile of cushions. I sat with my back against him, in the crook of his arm -- we were smoking some of my best bud. “After all, I’ve been having sex for thousands of years. I’ve picked up a thing or two.” “Thousands of years,” I mumbled, taking my hit. Then, upon exhalation I said, “So are you immortal?” “Gods exist as long as people worship them,” he replied, taking the joint from me. “And fortunately, we’re gods of rutty, physical sex -- men will ALWAYS believe in that.” He kissed me deeply, sharing the hit he’d taken. Of course, he was a good kisser, too. He had a staff of the most beautiful men, stunning examples all -- they bathed us and catered to us and fed us. I could feel their adoration and pride and… worship. I let it empower me. The myths held some truths: Chiron was a teacher at heart. He told me everything. “Surely you’ve done some research,” he said, indicating the computer screen before us -- (when I made a joke about the Batcave, he didn’t get my reference, so he didn’t know EVERYTHING). “From the myth of Pholus, we get the phrase ‘shooting yourself in the foot’ -- did you know that?” I shook my head and smiled. “After Heracles finished his fourth labor, he was tasked with wiping out the centaurs. Their drunken, sexual carousing was proving too much for the local populace, so he came to Pholus’ cave here in Mt. Pelion — this very cave — to seek a special Dionysian wine to lure the centaurs out into the open. Ultimately, Heracles slew them all with arrows poisoned by the blood of the hydra. After the battle, Pholus, marvelling at the idea that so small a thing as an arrow could kill something as magnificent as a centaur, dropped the poison arrow on his foot, where it pierced his skin and killed him.” “That’s what happened?” I asked. “That’s the MYTH,” he said, taking another hit. “I love this stuff, marijuana. It’s rare that I have any -- I’ve lost my taste for what passes for wine nowadays.” He exhaled and passed back to me. After taking a moment to adjust his huge balls, he continued. “In fact, it wasn’t Heracles, it was a small armada fighting in Heracles’ name that wiped us out — again, time and telling change the story. And it was understandable -- we’d created too many. We got a little… trigger happy in our play -- there needs to be a balance.” “Centaurs…?” “Right! Well, obviously not men with the bodies of horses -- but you’ve seen what they become, what their COCKS become when we change them. Is it any surprise that they became known as ‘horse-men’ or ‘half-man/ half-horse’ to the people who are left to describe them? Mythology has a wonderful way of literalizing the traits of the gods. We are spirits of nature, sexual spirits, not animals -- organized religion has used that metaphor to death. They took our form and made it into their Satan! Yet still, our ways persist -- men still worship us -- religion or not, they put gnomes in their gardens, wards in their crops, they know that fertility IS sex, Nature’s sex -- when the gods are fertile, the land prospers -- we are linked. “No, Heracles’ Armada wiped them out -- nearly all. I’d been hit in the battle and spent the next few months curing myself with herbs and medicines.” He showed me a scar on his thigh, barely evident after all this time. “Rumor had it I’d died -- that’s what the myth said, too -- but that wasn’t the case. I’d just gone into hiding. I WAS too late to help you, though,” he continued, rubbing my pec with the arm he had draped over my shoulder. “You were nearly gone by the time I got to you, so I… did what I could and preserved your essence.” “Excuse me?” He shrugged. “I don’t know how to explain it without getting all technical and metaphysical -- I don’t know if you’ll understand it, even then. Suffice it to say that through physics and arcane sorcery, I captured your essence in a form not unlike your favorite thing: Dionysian wine!” He chuckled then, kissing my head. “I was the one who bottled it and guarded it for several thousand years, waiting for the right man, until it was spirited away from me during one of the many wars of the former century. I didn’t know anything more about it until I heard about you on the internet -- my Pholus, come back to me!” Kissing, kissing, always kissing. “Someone sealed it inside a garden gnome,” I said. “It was in my grandfather’s garden. I honestly think it was meant for him -- his build, his attitude (maybe he was a centaur?) -- he had to have known about it. After his death, it was passed to me, where it Lorded over a bunch of marijuana plants until I broke it… and discovered…’ “Your destiny,” he said, grabbing my cock. I stayed with him after that -- he claimed the cave was mine to begin with -- and allowed myself to be his apprentice, his pupil, his son, and his lover. He was trained in all the fine arts -- music, literature, theatre (he adored musicals!), the sciences, herbs, art. “This is what sets us apart from the beasts we make,” he said. “They cannot appreciate the finer things.” He taught me the art of sex, techniques from people long-forgotten. We played daily with each other, the staff, the local boys, visitors who came just to worship -- it was a scene from the great erotic writers, sexual energy providing the energy for everything, from the ideas to the art to the power for life. On my 92nd birthday, the same age as my grandfather when he’d passed, I was just-over seven feet tall -- still a foot shorter than Chiron -- but with a spectacular body and an unbelievable cock. I was vital, vigorous, and very horny. Chiron had re-grown the hair on my head -- he’d concocted some kind of (very) smelly salve, but it worked! After having been bald for most of my adult life, it was fun to have hair again as an “old” man. I certainly wasn’t was some kind of dried-up prune of a thing pushing my oversized cock before me on a cart, no matter what the stories said. I found Chiron in the hot-tub, soaking in the bubbling water with his arms along the edge of the tub -- even from here, I could smell his scent. “There’s the birthday boy!” he said when he saw me. I laughed. “Your favorite eccentric centaur has made his first complete lap around the sun,” I said, standing in the waist-deep water so my giant cock floated just below the surface, like a small shark. “Then you’re really just a one year old, right?” he asked. “That sounds like a good average -- one year for you equals ninety-two for everyone else. So you’ll be around 8,400 when you’re REALLY 92.” I laughed. “And they say I’M the eccentric one,” I said, leaning forward to kiss him. “I’m saying immortality requires a different mindset.” He began to rub the tip of my cock, right beneath the glans -- of course it started to harden. Horny old fuck. I bent forward and kissed him. “So, what’s next?” I asked. “Travel, I think. I should like to see the world! I’ve never been to the Americas, your former home -- and we should see how your centaurs are getting along. I’m curious.” “You’re just horny,” I said, toying with his cock as he teased mine. He chuckled in our kiss. “Eternally,” he said. We began our normal day -- we fucked -- and we made our plans. *********************************************** We leave tomorrow and have been fucking our goodbyes through the local populace. Our personal staff will travel with us and we have people to watch the cave (not that we expect any trouble -- even the worshippers are dedicated and respectful) and of course everything is connected to everything now, so communication is hardly in the Age of Homer, trying desperately to reach Ithaca. I plan to visit my grandfather’s grave and bury the little stone icon of the muscular man with the giant penis there to honor him. He watched over it for so many years in life, I’d like it to watch over him in death. I will thank him too, properly, for the gift he gave me. That’s the purpose of this story, I suppose -- to honor my grandfather. I’ve taken much of the last week writing it -- to help organize my thoughts -- and I’ve struggled with its theme. Chiron has read it and thinks it’s just fine as it is. “Let it speak for itself,” he said. “You Americans and your obsession with plot. It’s a symbolic piece -- it requires more thought than what’s happening in the plot. Let it be.” And so I do. This is my story -- this is what happened when Pholus was reborn. Thank you, Big Red.
  12. DPump

    A Thing Called Curiosity

    Hi, this will be my first story posted on here, this is my story called 'A Thing Called Curiosity' which i had originally posted on metabods.com a couple of years ago It involves forced muscle growth and absorption, the story also contains a few images in order to help with the visualisation, please tell me if the images add or take away from the story. I hope you guys like it and any feedback would be appreciated! - A Thing Called Curiosity - It was a late Autumn day, and it was a particularly cool day, about 27 degrees Celsius, and quite dry wind a lot of wind so it felt like 24 degrees, Cameron liked going out on jogs in the morning, and it was a perfect day for it with this nice cool weather, so he put on a hoodie and just compression shorts and headed out, since it was still 4am he guessed there wouldn’t be many people on the street so he could wear whatever he wanted, especially on a holiday and in the weekend, everyone would be sleeping in anyways. Cameron was a 19 year old young man from a town called Citadel in the Kingdom of Two Suns, it was a very small country, only about 150.000 inhabitants, and it was a generally hot and a very humid place since it was an island surrounded by water, but during the Autumn and Winter seasons it would rain a great amount and it would make the island a generally quite cool place. Cameron was still in High School, he was an average boy in every sense, average grades, average at sports, had normal friends, but he was quite a handsome lad, he was mixed race from having both side of the mother and father coming from already mixed lineages, which gave him a very unique look, he looked Iranian but with golden tanned skin, jet black semi-wavy hair, great eyebrows and grey coloured eyes, he had those naturally pink full lips. He had no facial hair whatsoever, but he did have medium/long hair with a slight wave, it was jet black but with a few patches that grew brown naturally and he kept it in a simple pompadour hairstyle, he also had a generally hairy body, but it looked good, he had long thin soft jet black hairs on his arms and between his pecs, the rest of his pecs were hairless naturally, he also has a treasure trail that started just above belly button and went down to his crotch, and his legs were covered with long semi-wavy long black hair that was thicker on the lower legs and thinned out as it went up to the crotch area. His body was athletic, nothing too special but he certainly didn’t need it, he was tone and was 175cm tall (5’7”) and weighed a decent 68,9kg (152lbs) so he was quite the eye candy but he was humble so he never became the arrogant type of dreamboat in High School although it didn’t stop girls (and a few guys) from wanting him. One thing he was always fascinated by were the physique of world class body builders though, he wanted to be one, or meet one and be able to touch those incredible muscles but he didn’t know why, he didn’t have a particular desire to be one except he just felt like he needed to, but with school, family, job and etc. he didn’t have the luxury to invest time in body building, besides he was content with body as it was, or so he told himself, with the images of body builder physiques always in the back of his mind at all times. Back on the jog, it was 4:59am, you could barely start seeing the sky on the horizon turning orange/red as the sunrise was approaching, he had been jogging for almost an hour, when he decided it was time to start heading back, he quite sweaty and his hoodie and compression shorts were soaked, so he decided to take off the hoodie to try and dry off a bit. He decided to take a short cut through the wilderness, he was by the beach and going up back through the jogging path would take too long, so he just cut through the wood to get home faster. As he was walking through the plants after about 20 minutes the sun was almost out and the light made everything much clearer when he noticed a tiled rooftop over the plants to his right, he was a curious boy who liked exploring so he couldn’t resist and decided to go check out the old building. As he approached the little house he could clearly see it was 17th century house, Citadel had many old colonial buildings and some smaller ruins were still in the wild lost and forgotten to time, but this one seemed in decent shape but the doorway was bricked up. “Strange,” he thought, “if it’s bricked up, then someone used it not too long ago.” That only sparked his curiosity even more, so he looked for a way in, the windows were also sealed shut except for one where it seemed to have given away, so jumped on the ledge and then stepped inside the little house. It was dusty and smelled like it had been closed off for a while but with the little light that entered through the window he could see a bit of furniture, and a bookcase filled with books, he saw a kitchen but not pans and dishes but beakers, so he thought, “Maybe a doctor lived here.” It certainly looked old, at least 30 years, so he grabbed one of the books from the bookshelf, and read, it was about genes, hormones, tissue transplants and drugs. “Hmm, it seems more like a biochemist then a medical doctor,” he thought to himself when he heard some creaking and the rotted old bookcase he took the book from sank into the floor on the right side, it surprised him since the floor seemed like it was made from concrete covered with tiles, but he noticed that only under the bookcase it was a wooden plank floor “so there’s something more under the house?” again curiosity got the best of Cameron and pulled the bookshelf out the hole and moved it to one side. “If i take out 3 more planks I should be able to fit through there,” he thought to himself as he shined a light from his phone down the hole. After taking out the needed planks before he jumped in the whole he heard some voices, it were people and they were near, he didn’t want someone to find him and ruin his fun since he doubted he should be in the, so he jumped in the hole where a staircase awaited him to his surprise, he shined with phone and the staircase seemed to go down a few more steps, he couldn’t see far since the phone’s screen isn’t as bright as a flashlight would be, then he turned back and peaked out the hole and he heard the voices of the other morning joggers and decided to just drag the small cabinet against the wall over the hole, the cabinet was bigger and hid the entire hole so if someone also got curious of the house they wouldn’t find this secret passageway. He then turned his attention to where he was, it seemed the little house had a basement, so he walked down the stairs, it was about 16 steps which lead him to steal door. “This door doesn’t look 30 years old, it’s dusty but must be 15 years old at best,” he said out loud as he examined the door with his phone. “The plot thickens,” he said as he found the 2 latches that held the door closed, he pulled one back and then the other, and he opened the door so a very dark room, the room felt hot, about 29 degrees but very humid so it felt like 31 degrees or a summer day. “Good thing I took off my hoodie,” he said. He couldn’t see anything and he guessed the room was quite expansive since he couldn’t shine at anything with lights except an industrial looking steel pathway that lead forwards, so he touched around the sides of the door looking for a switch but couldn’t find one, so he decided to walk forward on the pathway, albeit carefully, which after a few steps he found a stand with switches on it from what he could make out and he could barely see something a little more ahead, so he went for and said, “What the hell, hope this is it,” and flicked 1 switch then the second one, and third, and fourth and fifth switches up, he heard the flicker of an old light then one grid of lights from behind him turned on then another over his head and so on towards the front, and he saw what he had discovered. “this is incredible!” he yelled out with a grin on his face. The lights showed the pathway that lead to a central octagonal shaped part which looked like a research or control station for something, and there was a bundle of pipes that lead to it and then a huge amount of different wires and pipes then lead out of it so another part further in front which he could somewhat see but it was still in the only dark part of the room. He walked over to the control station where there was a ring of monitors that turned on in the inner circumference of the octagon, and in the middle and tower where all the pipes and wires lead in and the back out. The screens slowly booted up one by one. He looked at the largest monitor and saw different buttons and controls. “I guess this one controls other things,” and he looked at one that read ‘illuminate tanks’ he couldn’t guess what that could mean so he pressed it because the only places still needing illumination was the dark unclear part further back from the octagon. What he saw made his jaw drop, it was an area a staircase down from the octagonal platform where he was standing, and there is where he saw 5 large glass vessels filled with a transparent liquid, they were each illuminated by individual internal lights and a central large overhead lighting system over the central floor area with the glass vessels in a circular array around it. But the truly shocking thing he saw was the contents of the glass vessels, it was 5 enormous men, it was 5 men with the physiques he always admired and craved, it was 5 body builders with incredible muscle size, one in each tank. Cameron was awestruck and walked down the steel stairs that lead to the tank area, he managed to get his head to come back to earth as he started to analyse the area where the tanks were situated. There were large wire bundles and various tubes that lead from the control platform over to the tank are which split overhead and came down over each of tanks. “I guess they feed power and that liquid to the tanks and I guess transport information to, and from the tanks to the computers up there,” he said speaking out loud. But there were other wires and tubes that lead other places, like from each of the tanks a tube went overhead and converged into a single pipeline which lead overhead to the middle of the area and then had a different tube that came down and it had an oddly shaped nozzle. There were also tubes that come from under the floor and up to 2 stands, one had 1 tube and the other held 2 tubes about 3meters (10ft) apart from each other and in between them on the floor there was a part of the floor made from metal and was an odd shape, kind of like the silhouette of a dolphin seen from above or the reclining dentist chairs but this was just flat so just the contour. And there were 3 little openings on the metal plate on the floor, one at the top, and two, one on each side about halfway down. His attention shifted to the men in the tanks so he approached the first one to the right, he read what a plate on the glass read “Subject number 5  –  NEN code: 300977  –  Height: 179cm (5’10”  –  Weight: 106,2kg (234lbs)  –  BF percentage: 11%  –  Age: 31” “Wow that is enormous, and so heavy.” Cameron found it even more appealing when a body builder wasn’t just big but also quite heavy for their size. He further examined the man in the tank, he was naked and suspended in the liquid in a limp posture like he was just floating under water, and he had two tubes probing his body, a thin one went inside his mouth which he guess provided life support, a very large one just laid on the bottom of the tank, and there was one that came down his back and went into his anus, the tube was transparent and rather thick, the diameter must have been about 4cm (1.5inches) or 14cm circumference (5inches), Cameron didn’t know why but looking at the huge pipe enter the body builder anus made him feel warmer and his heart started racing, and he also got quite the hard on and since he was wear compression shorts, the hard on was quite evident, Cameron never really felt any attraction to other men, but then again not much towards a woman either, the only that made his heart race was thinking about muscled physiques, he confused as to what he was feeling and how to interpret it but one he was sure about is that he liked it. Still with a hard on Cameron looked around him to see that all the men also had the same tubes probing them in them in the same places and the one at the bottom of the tanks, and all of them had information plates describing their weight, age, size etc. He really wanted to know what this place was so turned around and went back up the stairs to the control platform. He researched and looked, he went to books, papers and file after file on the monitors, he saw formulas, designs for machines, plans, schematics, theories and read document after document. He figured out that this place was built by a doctor L. J. Andrews privately and he was obsessed with ever larger muscular physiques, and he was designing a machine that could take muscles from one person and give it to another person, namely himself, and he went through a lot of research and development to design the method to achieve his goal, but ultimately although he finished successfully his research a couple of years ago he had to abandon it, even though the machine and formulas were done and correct, and he had “acquired” the donators for the muscle (acquired here meaning he kidnapped the 5 body builders) there was a major downside to the experiment, no matter how much he crunched the data and recalculated, there was only a 0.7% chance a subject could survive the muscle impregnation “there is less then 1% chance of survival?” Cameron muttered, a chill running down his spine. “There is more than 99% chance of dying if someone used this machine, no wonder the doctor abandoned it, I guess I should leave this buried away as I found it.” With that Cameron decided to leave that place. As he put the books and papers back into their places and closed the files on the various monitors, as he was closing the last file on the monitor next to the staircase that lead to down to the tanks, he accidently opened a control panel as he looked down at the tanks and pondered what it would be like to have a physique like that. Then as he was turning around he slipped on a patch of grease on the floor that he didn’t notice before, lunged his had forward to grab anything to keep him from falling down the stair, and he grabbed the screen he was working on but his hand slipped off of it and he tumbled down the stairs and rolled onto the floor below, he was dazed and disoriented from the bumps his head took and he didn’t notice he was laid out over the metal plate on the floor, as he was recollecting his thoughts and trying to figure out what happen he heard an audible *beep* and he felt a cold band stretch over his forehead and adjust tightly, he didn’t understand what was happening, suddenly two other cold bands also stretched over both his wrists and tightening down holding his arms in place just as the forehead band held his head down. As this was happening he finally came back to his senses, and then it hit him “fuck!! I must have pressed something when I grabbed the monitor!!”. He realised he might have turned on the machine with a less then 1% survival rate, and now he was stuck in it with no way to escaped! As he came to this morbid conclusion he felt something else happening which he directed his attention to. The plate on the floor he was strapped to started rising from the ground, it stopped at about 1m (about 3ft) above the floor, then one of the two tubes in the direction his feet were, started moving, it was the slender tube and it had a needle attachment, Cameron was scared but there was nothing he could do, he struggled and struggle and fought with the bands restraining him as the needle got closer to his body, but they wouldn’t come loose, so he had no choice but to resign himself to the situation and hope that he somehow makes it out alive as he laid on the cold examination table-like thing he was strapped to. The tube and needle reached up to about halfway to the side of his right thigh and pricked him and inject a small amount of a liquid with a blue hue to it and then receded back to its original position, the prick didn’t hurt too much and he was feeling drowsy or drugged Cameron wondered “well what is it going to do?” just as he finished that sentenced he felt the bands on wrists and head loosen up, and then they receded as well into the table. “Maybe the process takes place in stages, maybe I’ll be okay if I leave right now,” but after saying that and trying to get off the table he found himself unable to move his limbs. “What the fuck is going on here? Move. Move!” he yelled at his body but it didn’t he could only move his neck freely, his extremities seem to have been numbed by the injection, they felt normal in every way except they felt incredibly weak, like when your muscles are fatigued after you have worked them out extensively and you can’t even lift them up afterwards, that’s how they felt, and so he started worrying again and he remembered. “I forsake myself to it, guess I was just too happy that it stopped but I guess it’s not done yet with me yet,” he laid there for about a minute before something else happened. The second tube that was next to the one with the needle started moving, it was a much bigger tube, it was a dark grey colour, and it was as thick as the ones in the tanks that went in the anus of the body builders, and it had a strange attachment, and as it got closer he could make out what that attachment was, it was in the shape of a penis head, and the rest of the tube was ribbed with lines and bumps, making the whole length of the tube resemble the shaft of a penis, as it got closer to his body Cameron felt the table shifting, it moved his legs up from under the calves, into a position that resemble the position of sitting on a chair but on his back, and he realised the tube really was meant for his anus, he was scared just like before for the needle but a little voice in the back of his mind told him he wanted to try and know what it felt like, and his penis became erect in a second as he remembered what he felt when he saw it inside the bodybuilder, he was afraid but he wanted to feel it, the desire to experience it grew and grew, and before he knew he felt the cold tube shaped like a penis touch the outside of his anus, it was cold and sent shivers down his body. When the tube reached the outside of the anus it secreted a little bit of liquid that felt like gel so Cameron assumed it was lubrication, and then it really started, the machine started apply more pressure to open up the sphincter muscle, and it did, it finally reached the point where the anus couldn’t stay closed and the head popped right in and Cameron felt like something he never knew he could feel, it hurt a lot as it worked its way inside but it felt so good at the same time, it pried open his hole because of how wide the tube was but Cameron was enjoying and for a moment even thought, “Maybe this isn’t so bad,” a thought that quickly vanished as he felt the tube go deeper and deeper, it only hurt at the anus but he certainly felt it in his insides as it straightened the curves in his colon onto it until he was shocked to see it start to show as it protruded through his abs, and it protruded more and more till it finally stopped, it was pushing out onto his skin a full inch if not a little bit more, it didn’t hurt or feel like it hurt him in any ways but it was very incredible, Cameron sighed a sigh of relief since he thought the worst was over, but how wrong he was. A few minutes went by and nothing happened, but then out of nowhere he heard a machine start to make sound, it sounded like a pump to be exact, and he felt a little vibration inside from the tube he had in his abdomen, he knew something else was going to happen. And that’s when it really started. He saw body builder number 2 to his left side twitch slightly, and then the calf of the man suddenly shrunk down to just skin and bones! He gasped, it was unbelievable, the man’s huge left calf muscle, which looked to be at least 54cm (21inches) suddenly deflated, but then he noticed the tube that went into the man’s anus engorge at the anus, it was carrying a lump and transported it up until he couldn’t see it anymore, after a few seconds suddenly a lump appeared at the base of the tube that went inside Cameron “what is that?….” he thought to himself and the lump moved up the tube and it went inside him and he saw it then come the head that he could clearly see through his abdomen and the lump moved down his left leg and where his calf was and then suddenly engorged to four times the size of the lump in an very painful wave which made him cringe but he noticed suddenly he had developed calves that were about 41cm big (6 inches) and that’s when it hit him, the lump was the man’s calf and it transported it to his own body, albeit some of the size is lost in the process, then he noticed 4 other lumps consecutively show up moving up the tube and into his ass, which aroused him more as each one penetrated him, then he saw them come out the head of the tube into his abdomen and he watched as they started moving towards his left leg again under his skin, when he raised his head and looked at the legs of the other body builders he noticed they had all lost all the muscle mass in their left lower legs, and when he turned his view back to his left leg it was just as the 4 lumps merged and with a wave of pain started fusing and becoming his own muscle, the pain was like that of having a bone broken but localised to where the muscle was being absorbed only while at the same time feeling like having multiple orgasms one after another. It made Cameron grind his teeth and arch back with a tear flowing out of his eye, and his cock so hard and going wild ripped right through his compression shorts to full mast! And as the wave of pain and arousal subsided after about 6 seconds (the longest of his entire life) he was left breathing heavily and sweating profusely, then he looked down to be amazed at what happened, there was his left lower leg, with a 76cm (30inch) mass of muscle, he was amazed, awestruck by the sheer size, the striated muscle fibres visible through the skin, and the large bulging pumped up veins that covered it, it made his cock rage like a wild animal. It was beautiful. But as he was preoccupied admiring the beauty that had become part of his body the machine seemed to pick up the pace and started working faster. The sound of the machine working faster finally got Cam’s attention, as he looked up at the men he saw body builder 1 through 4 had deflated left upper legs, and as he reached body builder 5 he saw his left upper leg suddenly deflate too, all his thigh muscles just disappeared and he noticed the lump again exit his body through the tube, then he saw it start happening to the man’s right lower leg, then upper leg, and as he turned around it had happened to the other men as well, he knew what was coming next and he feared it yet desperately wanted to go through with it, the voice in his head that told him he wanted it had grown louder and louder and was overpowering the fear. Then the lumps started appearing, 4 of them in a file came up the tube and flowed into his asshole, arousing him and making his cock jerk, he saw them then protrude through his abdomen and start making their way to his left upper leg where they merged and again a surge of pain and pleasure flooded his system driving him wild as the muscle expanded and became part of his body, but Cam’s desire for the muscle was making him bare the pain so he could watch the wonderful thing that was happening to his body, his fear almost entirely subdued by the erotic desire to have those muscles. Cameron’s eyes were marvelled at what he saw, the muscle expanded and became his now 109cm (43 inch) left thigh, the sight made him reach orgasm and he cummed all over himself with more cum the he had ever seen before, then even though still partially lost in the pleasure more lumps appeared and started making their way to his right lower legs, then more lumps and at a faster rate started appearing, going to his upper legs, lower legs, left glute, right glute, each of his 8 individual abs, Apollo’s belt, left then his right pec, forearms, biceps, triceps, lats, delts, traps, each time making the muscle, or arms or legs contract with the expanding muscles. Every single individual muscle group, one after another, he saw as the muscles disappeared off of the bodies of the once body builders around him and come into his body and start being absorbed by him, every surge of unbelievable pain, every wave of erotic pleasure, he came again, and again, and again as the pleasure was unbearable as he saw his body parts engorge with monstrous mass, the muscle inflating like balloons, the muscle fibres showing through the paper-thin stretched skin, the veins growing, engorging and spreading all over his muscles, thickening with blood and testosterone from those 5 men, it was a sight to behold. When Cameron finally managed to came back to his senses after the thrill ride of pleasure he took, he was, needless to say, overjoyed by his body, muscles with size beyond what any mister Olympia could ever dream of achieving, veins as thick as ropes spread all over his muscles protruding and pulsating with blood, feeding them, all glistening from all the cum he shot over himself which only made his body more attractive, and the compression shorts you ask? Nowhere to be seen, they had exploded off of his engorging muscled body with only a few tatters stuck under his enormous glutes. Cameron was more than amazed and he was especially enjoying the huge veins that appear all over his muscles, he was covered in them, and they were massive and pulsated with testosterone, and the clearly visible muscle fibres that were clear as day to the eye, he loved it with all his might, but the ride wasn’t over just yet….. While Cam appreciated his new given body he noticed something weird start happening, the five tanks holding the now anorexic looking men that were once beautiful examples of muscle at its best. The five men started dissolving into the liquid and the liquid changed from transparent to a really thick-looking white almost gel-like substance. Then he heard an automated sounding voice from the computer say ‘DNA impregnation complete, beginning stage 2’ “WHAT? I’ve only gone through stage one yet, after all of this?!” he exclaimed, when he saw two much larger bulges move up the pipe that went inside of him, they were coming together in a pair, one next to each other and he felt them stop right at his anus, he then turned his attention up above his head where he heard rattling and as he turned his eyes upwards he saw the pipe dangling from above with the weird attachment, which was just like the cock head attachment the one inside him has, start moving down. He was again afraid yet again uncertain of what might happen next, his heart racing, and him body sweating profusely yet again. He tried to move his head since the pipe was coming straight down at his face when the band which had previously retracted appeared again and held his forehead firmly down, there was no avoiding it. The cockhead shaped nozzle of the tube touched Cam’s lips after it made its way down next to Cam’s head then up again to meet his mouth which he refused to open and allow it to enter, so the pressure increased more and more and his lips finally gave way, the long, thick, rubbery tube made its way into his mouth, reach the back of his throat, but before his gag reflects could even kick in it made its way down his throat and it kept going down, more and more as he saw more of it disappear in front of him into his mouth, he guessed he had swallowed about 30cm (1 foot) of it before it stopped, then like in unison both machines started doing something…… The one that had violated his now rock hard bubble ass and protruded through his now steel cut solid 8-pack abs started retreating from his ass, he was relieved thinking the approximately 40cm (16 inches) of tube that was inside of him was finally leaving his body, but as the head was just about to leave his hole, the machine re-adjusted itself to a more pronounced 90° angle and started making its way back inside, until it reached the base of Cam’s hard cock with a painful pressure, then the pressure increased and it hurt more and more, then he felt a really hot sensation in his crotch like he was in a hot bath, and although in pain he saw something amazing, the tube’s cockhead started expanding and entering the base of his cock, his eyes couldn’t believe it, as he bit his lips from the pain, but he wouldn’t stop looking at what was happening, it made its way painfully up the shaft stretching it to the 14cm (5 inch) circumference of the tube, and he saw the thicker and wider head leading the way, stretching and engorging it until it reach and stretched the 7inch cockhead of Cam’s penis, then the pain increased as it started stretched longer, and longer, it went on and on but it did so while sending waves of pleasure to Cam’s brain, it was delicious, it stretched to a full rock hard, massive length of 40cm (16inches) then stopped when the two large bulges, each about the size of an orange, were absorbed into the ball sack, and as it was absorbed, ropes of veins grew onto them and he started feeling the breeze on his stiff hot dick, it had become part of his body as well Cameron realised in a disbelieving yet still joyous shock. This huge, thick, hot, hard piece of man meat, was all his, he jerked it to see if it was true and it jerked, it was more than he ever dreamed off. The rest of the tube that was behind the huge bulges that became his balls, retreated outside to their original position next to the needle. That’s when a different noise caught Cam’s attention “There is still more?” he thought to himself, but without any fear now, he was now determined to see this through, this accident had given him the muscles and the cock he could only ever dream off, he wants it all now and he going to thoroughly enjoy it. It seems the muscles and cock not only enhanced his body but also his ego had been boosted up, and he liked it. Then he noticed the white liquid that formed from the men who were once in the tanks starting draining, the level was going down inside the tanks, when he felt the tube that went down his throat start vibrating a little and so he looked up. He saw through the transparent tube a white liquid moved downwards in the tube and it went into his mouth and he felt the flow of the liquid through his throat and as it pumped out into his chest, and he felt something strange, but in his pecs, so he looked at them and saw them swelling and pulsating and it plunge him into an orgasmic thrill ride of pleasure, it was a magnificent sensation, and he arched back from how erotic it felt while his mammoth dick jerked up and down. The tube kept pumping the liquid inside of him and into his pecs and the pecs swelled to twice their size then stop swelling but kept contracting with every massive pump into them, and Cam’s from the corner of his eye even though he was barely able to think from the pleasure he was in could see the tanks slowly drain empty, which took he could only guess was around half an hour, half an hour of toe curling, orgasmic bliss, when it started to subside he was surprised he managed to stay sane after en experience like that, and slowly the pleasure started dying down and the pumps became less intense, which is when he finally noticed that his pecs did not shrink down, but stayed at the doubled size, and looked gorgeously tight and hard, but his nipples had grown to almost triple their thickness and protruded more than 2 cm (1 inch) now and were as stiff as a hot cock. As he admired them he felt the tube retreating from him and as the head left his mouth the last bit of the liquid that was left in the tube, about a litre, pour into his mouth filling it up and then pour all over his face, and it tasted like warm, deliciously sweet and salty honey as he swallowed it down, and he recognised the smell and knew it right away that it was steamy cum, he never tasted it before or anything that tasted as delicious, it was all over his rosy lips and felt good on his face. At the same time the part of the table holding his legs up in the air lowered back down, and as it did he was regaining the feeling back in his legs and arms, and he tried to move, and he did, he managed to get off of the table and the first thing he could bring himself to do was touch himself, touch himself all over, feel the muscles up, grasp his beastly pecs and dig his fingers into the solid flesh, slide his fingers over the striations on his legs, to pas his hand over his marble abs, to feel up the ropes of veins on his 40 cm (16 inch) cock, to grope his massive balls bigger than a baseball each. All of this massively aroused him which is when he felt his chest and abs start getting wet and he looked down at his shelf-like pecs and saw something fantastic, cum was coming out of his nipples in a stream, and grabbed his left pec and squeezed and a long squirt came out of it, more than 10 times as cum in that squirt then in a regular man’s ejaculation. He squeezed again this time catching the cum and he doesn’t know why but an almost euphoric hunger came from within him for that cum and licked it all clean off of his hand, and it was delicious, so he squeezed again, and again, and again, licking it up each time, and each time the quantity increased until every squirt released about half a cup of cum, yet his pecs didn’t shrink down, nor did it feel like it was running out of cum, it just kept producing more until it satisfied his hunger. As he finished up his meal Cameron looked to the stairs for a way out, to go out into the world as a new man, and enjoy every moment of his new life. His new life of monstrous muscles, that no man would ever be able to match or surpass again, and to be the epitome of lust, beauty and strength. The End........ ?
  13. He was minding his own business. Private Roger, just finished his meal, and was preparing to retire to his dormitory. Crossing a path, he was struck by some drops of rain, I better hurry inside, he thought. Arriving at his destination, and about to take off his uniform, it happened. He didn’t know, then, but it weren’t drops of rain who have fallen into him. Something special was spilled in his skin, and it triggered something massive. He started to contort in pain, and with his arms pending, he shouted in pain. It was happening. No turning back. Roger felt a terrible feeling in his guts, and desperately prayed to be spared from whatever was going on with his body. With tears in his eyes, he started to grow. Growing faster by the minute, Roger wanted it all to be over, but his transformation was only beginning. His uniform, who fitted him very well, already started to tighten around him, his muscles were growing, he couldn’t notice, as he was focused in the pain that his body was immersed in. As he screamed, his voice started to get deeper. The change on his tone was but one small change on the metamorphosis happening in him. His uniform was tearing apart now, revealing more and more of his ever more muscular body. He was covered in sweat, and the artificial lights were being reflected on his skin. His pectoralis got thicker, stronger, more robust, more incredibly powerful as seconds ran by, and his abs were thickening also, deep ravines between each one, at the end, this strong piece of muscle got fully exposed. And as he got more muscular, with ever thicker, ever more muscular arms and shoulders, tearing his clothes apart, something internal was happening. He started to feel a strange sort of pleasure with the pain. Strange and in massive waves. His cock awoke and was now expanding fast, tearing through his already shredded trousers. He tried to keep himself together, but his face was deformed by pain, and also by pleasure, he groaned and roared, uncertain what to feel, as his manhood dropped precum on the floor. After waves of strong transformation, it momentarily stopped. He could see the changes in his body more attentively now. He saw his dogtags glued to his left chest by a thick cover of sweat, with a strong smell of testosterone. He saw his pec ravines, his nips pending down in such a powerful, even sexual way. He saw his face, remodeled, a deep strong jaw he had, all his muscles developed to the max. His arms, so big, so veiny, so elegant yet so brute. His shoulders, that were now pressing his equally thick neck, competing for space, his abs, his legs, his... cock, yes, even his fucking cock was developed to levels he only dreamt of. ”Fuck. Roger is... I mean... I’m huge.” Before he could think, his strong sexual urges spoke louder, and he had to relieve himself. He played with his cock, caressing the exposed helmet, the body of it, hard as stone, his sensitive veins about to blow up. He played with his whole body, caressing himself, licking the sweat, touching his strong nips, so big, so beautiful, so sensitive! His whole body was a machine of pleasure, and he fucking loved it, was the only thing he could think about. Finally, after this frenzy, he came, jets and jets of cum hit the walls, the ceiling, formed gooey puddles on the floor. It seemed like things were done for him. But they weren’t. Claiming the strength of the Gods to himself, he teared what was left of his uniform and stroke his dick even further. As he was embedded by pleasure, his changes deepened. He got horns in his head, that got passed his skull. He got strong spikes of bone going through his back. His eyes turned red and black, and his voice devolved to a growl. Grunting, roaring, begging for more. The creature once known as Roger was ready to claim his place with the Gods. And still, he could only say in the end. ”Fuck. Roger so Big.”
  14. musclefreak95

    Satan’s tattoo shop part 1

    This is my first story on here so with me luck James was small for his age, he was 20 but at a height of 5’5 and with a weight of 100lb he looked younger than he actually was. He had been reading in a men’s magazine that many men get tattoos as they make them more manly. So building up the courage he had booked a session at a small local tattoo shop. The day of the appointment had came and he was nervous. “Why did I think this was a good idea” he muttered to himself as he walking along the pavement head to the floor. James stopped and looked up he had arrived a small store front lay in front of him as black as the night sky with red ascents. With a neon sign saying Satan’s tattoo shop hanging above him James grabbed the handle and pushed it opening the door as he opened it he was wafted with a smell of tattoo ink, sweat and something else James couldn’t quite name the smell. James made his way to a black leather sofa and took a seat around him on the walls lay photos and designs of tattoos of different types some Asian, black and white, some mystical in nature but most with a demonic tone to them. In the back ground there was a strong buzzing sound as some one was getting a tattoo. Looking up from his phone James notices a shadow even in the dimly lit room of the reception area, he looked up to see a 7 foot tall muscle beast of a man with thighs as big as red wood trees and muscles bigger than any man. “Hi my name is Derek “ he booms in a deep voice “Hi my names James “ he squeals sinking further into the leather sofa ”nice to meet you James, I saw your name on our list” Derek reaches his muscled arm out to shake James is hand flexing is gigantic arm without meaning to. Reaching out his hand Jame’s is hand is swamped by the baseball mitt sized hands of Derek “ yea it’s my first session today I’m quite nervous actually “ he says in a high pitched voice “There’s no need to be nervous “ boomed the muscle beast as he showed James to the tattoo chair “ here we go, take a seat” said Derek in a calm voice James sits on the chair as Derek brings up a stool “So what are you looking to get?” That is the end of part 1
  15. 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.
  16. LJackson

    MaxandharryandmaX: A serial (?)

    Okay, here's the start of something new. Let me know if you want me to carry on! What you need to understand is that Harry and I had been friends all our lives, or nearly. When we were in playgroup, I chewed on his toy car. When we went to school together, we taught one another to read. If a teacher asked me what my name was, I’d say: “Max and Harry.” For years, right up till we went to university, people would call us Maxandharry or Harryandmax. Even at Uni, him studying Biological Sciences and me doing Business Studies, we texted nearly every day. For a while, after celebrating our Friendversary, we even changed our Faceboook names to MaxandharryandharryandmaX, till he pointed out it looked a bit gay. I felt a bit sad changing it, but my girlfriend of the time told me he was right. In the years since then, of course, we drifted apart a bit. We were both in London but we would only meet for a drink every couple of months. I guess he slowly started noticing a change in me about summer 2019 when I had made a special effort to get #BeachBodyReady. ‘Shit, mate, you really do have a gym membership, don’t you?’ he said. ‘When are Men’s Health ringing you for a cover feature?’ I was in a short sleeved shirt and I was feeling pretty good about myself back then, but still I knew he was talking shit. ‘Bro, have you seen the guys on Love Island? All I’ve done so far is lose a bit weight really.’ ‘Impressive though,’ he said, sinking the last of his pint. ‘I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘Not yet.’ ‘Well, I reckon Niamh would think so,’ he said. I cuffed his shoulder. ‘She’s not superficial like other ho’s,’ I said. ‘Girls like that sort of thing, though,’ he said. He looked down at himself. ‘They can’t help themselves.’ ‘They like to see we’re taking care of ourselves,’ I told him. ‘Anyway, you’re far from overweight, dude.’ ‘Underweight, if anything,’ he said. ‘I do my heavy lifting with this.’ He tapped his brow, and we both laughed. ‘Mind you don’t go impairing it with two many hipster beers, then,’ I said, getting up to fetch another round. ‘If you promise not to go crazy with this gym stuff,’ he said. ‘You’re fine as you are.’ But I knew he was wrong. By the time we met to toast Christmas, he couldn’t resist squeezing my arm. ‘Holy shit!’ he said, eyes wide. ‘I thought you just had a big jumper on under that coat. You’re huge!’ ‘Not as big as I’d like,’ I couldn’t help saying, blushing. ‘Still a way to go.’ ‘What do you weight though…?’ ‘About 70kg,’ I said, automatically. ‘Roughly 150lbs.’ ‘Whoa,’ he said, ‘I didn’t expect you to actually know. You must be taking this seriously.’ I shrugged. ‘It’s fun too.’ ‘Bet you’re not drinking tonight.’ ‘Maybe just the one. My body fat’s down to 7%.’ I sipped my orange juice. ‘It feels great, though. I’m so alive, so capable. And, bro, let me tell you, the girls are hanging round me like flies around shit.’ God, it felt good.. Harry didn’t seem to feel so, though. ‘Mate, I didn’t need to have another reason to feel inferior,’ he sighed. His mouth was proper down-turned. ‘Niamh,’ I said, testingly. He nodded glumly. ‘I wasn't enough for her, it seems.’ ‘You were too good for her, anyway,’ I said, although I wasn’t sure how true it was. There he sat, a weedy little guy with glasses, maybe half my size. He couldn’t have lifted a weight above his head, let alone bench-pressed what I was doing. He looked pretty pathetic. ‘Maybe you should join my gym. Just to cheer yourself up.’ ‘Can’t think of anything worse,’ he said. ‘Come off it, mate,’ I said. ‘Build a bit of muscle and you’ll feel amazing. Imagine if Niamh sees you on the beach next summer with your shirt off, biceps bulging, pecs rippling…’ I tailed off, thinking how ridiculous this sounded. Even if I could persuade him to take some exercise, I thought, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea for him to take his shirt off on camera. He was still as lean and hairless as when we both set off for University. I wondered, was I naturally superior to him? Niamh would certainly have picked me over him for a mate: law of the jungle. I’ve have shown her a better time, as well. I didn’t like to think how embarrassing Harry must have been in bed. I shook my head to clear it. Harry had been talking to me and all the time I’d been thinking about banging his girlfriend, cucking him in his own bed. Crazy thinking. I interrupted him: ‘I don’t want to hear any shit, mate, you’re coming with me to the gym tomorrow and that’s that.’ He sat back in surprise, held up his hands. ‘Fine. Fine!’ There was a long pause. Finally he laughed and got up to go to the bar. ‘Better get a round in while I’m still allowed, then!’ ‘Skip the crisps this time, okay,’ I laughed back. ‘2020’s going to be your year.’ And to be fair to him, he turned up. He obeyed me, as if I was in control of him. He did the exercises I told him to do. He changed his diet. It became quite fun, turning up to see him at the gym – maybe not as often as I would be there, but at least a couple of times a week. He didn’t enjoy it but he worked hard. At the end of January, he had actually lost a bit of weight – but sadly, he hadn’t put on a single shred of muscle. We stood looking at one another in the mirror. ‘I can’t fucking believe it,’ he said. ‘I’m actually smaller than before.’ ‘I’ve just grown bigger,’ I said, ‘that’s all, mate.’ ‘Bullshit,’ he said. ‘Yes, you’re bigger but look at me. I’m a shrimp. Nobody would guess we were the same age.’ ‘You’re a week younger,’ I told him, shrugging off my sweaty vest. ‘Maybe you’ll always be…’ Again, I didn’t want to say the truth. ‘What?’ he demanded. ‘What were you going to say? Weaker? Smaller? Inferior?’ ‘But only to me,’ I told him. ‘You might put on some muscle by summer. You won’t be strong but you’ll be fit.’ ‘That’s really what you think of me,’ he said, eyes wide. Furious. He looked like he wanted to pick a fight with me, but something rational was stopping him. He’d be mullered in a second. Instead, he ran away. Just grabbed his bag and stormed out. I should have run after him, but I was meeting this girl for dinner. He had told me on Tinder that she wanted me to fuck her like an animal, and I was still wondering how best to do that. I was too distracted. That was half my trouble. MaxandharryandharryandmaX was in trouble for the first time in history. An unshakeable bond, broken by the gym. Or maybe more, I thought. Maybe by masculinity and testosterone. Maybe by alpha male power. It could never be equal again now that I had begun to dominate. February slipped past, and I thought about him every day. I dreamt about him. I dreamt he was watching while I effortlessly fucked Niamh. I was pumped and bigger than ever while I worked at her tight snatch, and he got smaller while he watched me. In March, I finally sent him a message. ‘Miss lifting weights with you. Miss lifting pints even more.’ He replied almost straight away. ‘Maybe we should resume one of those activities. Guess which one.’ ‘Gym’s open longer hours,’ I replied, with a emoji to show I wasn’t serious. ‘Mate,’ he texted back, ‘I wouldn’t go there right now.’ ‘Why?’ I asked, expecting a joke. And so, Harry was the first person to tell me about coronavirus. I thought it was just him making an excuse about not exercising. I don’t follow the news, don’t really do social media; in fact, I was pretty buried in work and working out. I suppose, I also didn’t want it to be true. I was in full denial. And so, inevitably, I caught it. I’m strong. I’m healthy. I don’t even take roids, so no strain on my heart. So I guess I was well prepared for it. Even so, it knocked me out for longer than I expected. Those were some crazy weeks. Maybe the weeks that followed were even stranger. Apart from work, Harry was the main person I was in contact with during lockdown. At first we talked a bit about fitness: my gym had closed. I tried to buy gym equipment online, but there was none available. ‘I must have got the last set,’ Harry told me. He told me it was the one good thing in his life now. It was hard for him - he was still so weak - so I sent him tips over email, links to videos and online advice. He asked me questions about diets and supplements and steroids. I told him to do it all clean, which disappointed him, being the biology scientist – he wanted to make himself into his own experiment. But it was a good thing. It was like we were the same person after all, just slightly out of phase. Except I couldn’t work out, not properly. I did some bodyweight stuff and started running. The muscle just melted away. I ended up looking as lean as a stick of celery. ‘You’re going to end up as my trainer,’ he said, when we talked about it. I didn’t like that. What if he caught me up? So we didn’t talk about it. And the lockdown rolled by. The lockdown was raised. Life began to return to normal. It was September when we arranged to meet again. A few drinks in the same old pub we used to frequent – but first, we would work out together, side by side. It struck me, as I walked towards the bench press: we were equals at last. MaxandharryandharryandmaX had been brought closer together by the quarantine. We had both realised something: his innate power, my humility. At last, we would be best friends once again. The only problem was, he didn’t appear to have showed up. The gym was pretty much empty, and the only person hanging around our agreed meeting spot was a big guy. Proper monster. Shaved head. Lats out to here, waist in here, a real triangle. He looked nearly a foot taller than me and I was worried for a second. In an empty gym, it’s pretty bad etiquette to stand waiting for a piece of equipment. I didn’t want him to think I was trying anything on; he could have ripped me apart. He turned around and the light glinted off his glasses. He smiled. ‘Hey, Max, you made it!’ ‘Harry?!’ I couldn’t believe it. I thought it was a wind-up. He opened his arms inviting me for a hug. Each arm was as big as both of mine put together. The muscle was thick and pumped as if he had just completed a workout, not spent months in quarantine. ‘Harry,’ I said, looking up at him. ‘This is insane. You’re a fucking beast.’ ‘I used the lockdown well,’ he said seriously. His voice had grown deeper. It was like talking to a different man with my friend’s face, one who towered over me. ‘All this came from working out?’ ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I see you went the other way.’ I looked down at myself, blushing. ‘Yes, I’m pretty small these days.’ ‘How big were you before the lockdown?’ he asked me. ‘Let’s not talk about it,’ I said. ‘Maybe we should –’ ‘Cut the crap,’ he said. ‘I asked you a question.’ ‘About 75kg,’ I told him. ‘165lbs.’ He shook his head in disbelief. ‘You used to seem so big,’ he said. He ran his hands over the huge globes of his chest and the hard, thick ripples of his abdominals, lightly brushing his fingers across the giant vascular boulders of his biceps and the vast shoulder-muscles that framed his firm chin. ‘I’m about 270lbs. 125kg.’ ‘It’s not possible,’ I said. ‘Feel it,’ he said. ‘Then you’ll know how possible it is.’ I laughed and held up my hands. ‘That’s fine, I’ll believe you.’ ‘What is the problem with you?’ he said. He didn’t raise his voice but the authority was clear. ‘I told you to feel it, you little bitch.’ ‘Are you okay?’ I asked him. He shook his head for a second. ‘Sorry, bro. It’s the testosterone. Sometimes I lose control. I mean, it’s true that you’re little. And you’re being a bitch.’ He put a hand over his mouth and blushed. The redness spread down his huge neck where it got lost at the tops of his pecs. ‘Jesus. Just bants, mate. Just bants!’ ‘Will it help you if I – if I feel your muscle?’ I said, putting my hands on his physique. ‘Be careful,’ he said. ‘I’m like a loaded gun nowadays.’ ‘More like a cannon,’ I said, feeling his might. ‘The Incredible Hulk has nothing on you. So you went for the steroids after all?’ ‘No way, you little cunt,’ he said, breathing heavily. ‘Ah, I’m sorry, Max. But no – not steroids, exactly. I did some research. With some friends online. Other biology academics into weightlifting. I was looking for short cuts, and they were looking for ways to build size and strength. I think between us we tapped into something that did both. Workouts combined with certain hormones and particular herbs. It’s all perfectly safe, just a few side-effects.’ ‘Like the anger management issues,’ I suggested. ‘And all this fur.’ I ran a hand through the pelt on his monstrous chest. ‘You really are becoming a beast.’ ‘Fuck!’ he gasped. ‘You touched it! I should have warned you – but I thought it would sound gay.’ ‘Touched what?’ I snatched my hand away but he caught it in a giant fist. ‘You touched my nipple. Fucking sensitive nowadays.’ ‘So what – what does that mean?’ ‘It means,’ he said, ‘either I need to fuck a woman in the next ten minutes or…’ ‘Or what?’ Harry looked toward the changing room door. ‘Or, old friend, you’ll have to milk the cum from my big swinging balls…’ TO BE CONTINUED…
  17. 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.
  18. 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.
  19. 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
  20. Trent considered himself to be an average guy. At his 26 years old, he wouldn’t expect much else to happen in his life for some time. He was a gifted gardener and worked diligently on his craft. One day, getting to bed after a day of work, he saw something that drew his attention. By his desk, there was a dog tag, that wasn't there before. That ornament was so unlike him, he thought, yet he looked to it, and, in curiosity, picked the iron necklace, analyzed it with his careful hands, and in the end decided to adorn himself with it, he passed the dog tag through his head and let the cold metal land on his neck and chest. Then, he went to sleep. That was his intention when he laid in bed. But destiny had other plans for that man. After a while of nothingness, suddenly his whole body shuddered, he squirmed and groaned of pain. He endured this for a while, until finally woke up on an urge to get rid of it, the poor man had no idea where it did come from, was washed by sweat, with his clothes glued by his body with it. He had to shower, no way returning to sleep on such way, so he carefully took off everything and went on straight to get it done. But as he distractedly glazed on the mirror, he noticed himself... or was something of his head... He appeared to be somewhat more muscular. Probably was a sign of madness, he did look good with the dogtag though, he looked so manly. And in a jokingly way, started to flex and hit his chest like an ape, feeling masculine, feeling like a mighty soldier. He then remembered of the shower, and went to it. Was pleasant, to feel the water run free through his chest, abdomen, liquid going softly through his dog tags, that he was still wearing. He then dried up, got new clothes. As he was reaching bed, he fell on the ground on his knees. The pain returned stronger, he roared out of pain and suffering, and extended his arms. Something extraordinary began to happen, he started to grow, slowly, but steadily. His cries of pain echoed, as his body grew in size, and in muscle. That man started to become more and more muscular on a painful and slow proccess, was still roaring of pain, crying and begging for mercy. He had no idea what was happening to him. His shirt slowly started to get tighter, as his body was reformulating, the shirt being squeezed by the ever stronger body, with his expanding muscles claiming space. He only got a clue of what was going on when it started to rip apart. ”Oh shit, I’m growing” Tearing apart, the shirt was, revealing his widening chest, that was getting broader and harder at every passing minute. “This... muscles... shit, gah... I’m... growing!" Ripping apart, revealing more of his pecs. It was a glorious view. His dogtag was glued to his left chest now with sweat, that had a very intense smell, it was thick and was covering all his body. "UGH!" He emited a primal sound now. His body was transforming, in slow motion, the shirt was reduced to nothing, revealing his abs that were carefully being sculpted, carefully, but looking more savage and glorious at each passing moment, it was like he was turning to Herakles from ancient Greece, he thought, and it was a turning point for his mind. As his transformation slowed a bit, he muttered to himself, without realizing that his voice too was changing, becoming deeper and thicker. "How ... can... this be? I am... changing... transforming! I never wanted this!... GRAH!.. Ugh... I am getting muscular, stronger... look at my chest, this is unreal! I... want it... to... stop!" The savage transforming kept going. The pain was there, but he started to feel pleasure with it, as something good was being liberated in him, a rage, deep down him, he always wanted this, just never admited to himself! He wanted to be a muscular man! Yes! A powerful man! Yes! A beast! A.... a God! Inside his head, his changes became dramatic, thoughts of war, glory, being naked slaying his enemies as he needed no shield or armor, he was his own armour, like a mighty cyclops, he wanted to work out in the boiling sun, work like cattle that he was becoming, he wanted to punch, serve, act, plow land just to test his new force that was flooding him like a tsunami, he noticed something else, he wanted to fuck. He wanted to masturbate, and to masturbate his fellow soldiers, exchange powers, his life is war now, war and glory, invaded his mind, making him become a beast inside and out. "GROAR" "ROAR" RAAAHH" "UGH UGAH!" He was bellowing while transforming! "UH UH" He couldn’t talk anymore. His mind was being transformed, reformed. As the flood become stronger, he rose up stronger than his transformation, and with his powerful arms in the air, he screamed. "I AM TRANSFORMING! I AM BECOMING A SAVAGE SOLDIER! A HERO! TREMBLE BEFORE ME! All of this... is being provided by this dogtag, it freed me! Saved my soul! YES! UGAH! my mind is rushing, and the animal inside of me is growing! I am both man and animal, primitive force and... something more is coming! I CAN FEEL IT! MIGHTY GODS, TRANSFORM ME, I EMBRACE YOU METAMORPHOSIS, I RENOUNCE TO MY HUMAN FORM... I BECOME A HERO! TRANSFORM ME! MAKE ME A MONSTER, MAKE ME A PREHISTORIC BEAST!" Now, his body was covered in flames, his whole being was being molden with his new glorious form, roaring, growling, and now crying out of joy and enthusiasm. His clothes long gone, naked, his cock was hard and growing with his body, his balls growing too, his arms and legs getting thicker and thicker, his hair fell down until he was with a tamed short buzzcut. Everything was coming together, the beast within, the soldier he was, gardener no more, being shaped to fit a true sublime soldier that he was primed to be, and to celebrate that, in flames, his skin was being covered in boiling hot metal, that was erupting from his own body, specially from his cock. As his sexual desire grew beyond measure, and while everything else described was happening, gallons and gallons of precum and then cum came out of his nips and cock and his semen became metal that was covering his body now. Stronger and stronger, he was on the last part of his change. This was inside and out, he was turning into a machine beast, his organs were melting down inside his body and were being reconstructed, his heart was washed in metal, new organs produced the nutrients his newly body desperately needed, his eyes became unrecognizable, becoming like the ones of insects, Horns erupted from his head and shoulders, his so much hardened shoulders. Tattoos were starting to erupt in his new skin, and in the end, he growled, on the most unhuman and glorious voice ever to be listened by the ear. "IT IS DONE! I AM THE SUBLIME SOLDIER NOW, PRIMED TO SERVE MANKIND! I RENOUNCE MY HUMAN CONDITION TO BECOME THE SUBLIME SOLDIER, THE DOGTAG GLORIFIES ME, I AM THE REBORN IMAGE OF ZEUS, BUT I AM SERVANT, I CHOOSE TO FIGHT FOR MANKIND, TO SERVE! IN EXCHANGE MANKIND WILL ACCEPT ME! I RENOUNCE CLOTHING, NOTHING IS WORTHY OF HIDING MY GLORIOUS IMAGE! I AM A FREAK, A BEAST, THE MONSTER. Even if I never see a battle, this is my purpose now! Trent! How you evolved! Rejoice with your new life!" Saying that, he looked at his new body, his extraordinary extremely hardened chest, hard as stone, his 8 abs amazingly being exposed, with every vein carved inside them, veins that don't transport blood anymore, but transparent liquid known as the elixir. He could transform every mortal he saw as worthy now, just by letting the liquid rush through their skin. He had a primal urge to spread his seed, but he knew he had to contain himself, and should always astrive to master the art he was now equiped for perfecting: the art of war. His shoulders, hardened and with the powerful horns, were glorious, his dogtag, the special dogtag, pending on his chests, the chain flowing through his chest and thick neck and shoulders like a river. His arms, capable of so much now, of erecting monuments of stone and marble. He was the hero now, the sublime soldier, and he aspired for glory. He looked around his house, he didn't need any of the things he needed before, a job, his job was to serve and fight, food, his body was providing the food, even breath became unecessary, he was almighty. he had a powerful mind, that he controled. He was the sublime soldier. He left the house. And went to present himself to the authorities. He was ready for his new life as the beast.
  21. 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!”
  22. TravRamsey

    Travis Ramsey's One-Shots and Collabs

    Grow Up! A collaboration between myself and Aardvark. This story was altered from its original form and updated. – “Porter!” Silence. “Porter!!!” Silence. “HEY!!! PORTER!!!!!!” “WHAT?!” Porter appeared at the top of the stairs, staring down in anger at his little brother Bode at the foot of them. “WHAT, BODE? The house better be on fire!!!” “I wanna play the Playstation.” “You have seen me set it up for you ten. Thousand. Times. Why can’t you do it yourself?” Porter said with a huge amount of annoyance as he trudged down the steps. “I always mix up the cables,” Bode shrugged, completely without remorse. The family entertainment center was a bit out of date. The amount of cording behind the television was enough to confuse even the most adept of techies. In the bedroom, Freddie rolled his eyes and set his phone on the bed. He and Porter hadn’t really been doing anything. Just laying back and shooting the shit about what they wanted to do over their last summer before senior year. So far, the only exciting thing was Harry Greco’s big party this Saturday. Because of Bode, they couldn’t just do whatever – he couldn’t be left home alone. Seriously, if the kid could just be a tiny bit older, Freddie and Porter’s lives could be so much easier. Walking into the living room, Freddie saw Porter wrestling with the entertainment center. Freddie arched a blonde brow as he assessed everything. “Your family does know that HDMI cords have been invented, right?” Porter snorted. “You think my father knows anything about technology other than Microsoft Word and Internet Explorer? He’d look at this and say, ‘Oh, it’s not that bad, Port! Get in there and help your little brother!’” “He’s right!” Bode chirped from his position on the La-Z-Boy near the television. “When are they coming back?” The venom exuding Porter’s face could have dissolved solid stone. “They told you literally yesterday. You seriously don’t remember?” Bode shrugged. “Nope.” Freddie facepalmed. “Two weeks. They said two weeks.” “Oh. ‘Kay. Are you done, Porter?” Before Porter could answer, there was a loud crack and a shower of sparks and the brunette leapt back from the television. Bode yelped. Porter hissed and made sure he was uninjured while Freddie checked the television. “This,” he announced, “is dead. Looks like your dad’s modernizing whether he likes it or not, bro.” “I’m telling mom!” Bode announced, hopping off the La-Z-Boy and making for the phone. Freddie ran after him. Porter groaned and put his head in his hands. “I’m in so much trouble now.” “Bode, put the phone down,” Freddie commanded as the younger teen approached the family cell phone. “Porter broke the TV and I want them to buy me a new one so I can play games while they’re gone! I can’t use the one in their bedroom, you can’t plug anything in cause it’s on the wall!” Bode reached for the phone but Freddie batted it away. “Ow! You shocked me!” “It’s your fault he had to tinker with it in the first place!” Freddie snapped. “You have a laptop, play games on that! Stop trying to just fuck up Porter’s life for no-” “That’s a bad word!” Bode gasped. How could anyone be so innocent at this age? Probably because his mother babied him so much. “-FOR NO REASON,” Freddie continued. He gave Bode a light nudge as he held the phone up out of the other boy’s grasp. “Grow up!” “No! I wanna play games!” “GROW UP, BODE!” Freddie said again with another light nudge, except this time Bode went sailing across the room as if he’d been shot out of a cannon. “Holy…” Freddie said, jogging over to the younger boy on the floor. Porter showed up then and saw his friend crouching over his little brother. “What’d you do?!” “Nothing!” “It was… it was nothing…” Bode said, sitting up and giving his head a shake. “I was being rude.” He looked up at Porter. “Sorry, P. I know you were just trying to help me out. I won’t tell on you.” “Uh… thanks.” “Maybe I…” Bode stood up and smoothed down his rumpled sweatpants. “Maybe I should buy us a new TV.” “You? You don’t have that kind of money, Bode, TVs are expensive.” “I have… some money…” Bode said, in a vacant voice. “Yeah… I’ll go upstairs and look at some TVs online.” Porter and Freddie watched Bode walk back up the stairs and to his room. “That was weird,” Freddie murmured. “Least he’s out of our hair for now.” Upstairs, Bode shut the door to his room and groaned, running a hand over his forehead. “Weird… I didn’t… didn’t feel sick when I… uh… oof…!” He put a hand over his stomach, which let loose a rumbling growl. “Unnnh…” he moaned, grimacing. He staggered for his bed, flopping onto it and idly pawing around for his laptop. His hand felt weird. Like it was too big… What was going on here? This was bizarre. “I… I need to get…” What? Get what? His mind grasped for the end to the statement, but found nothing except… workout techniques? What the-? The feeling of too-bigness crept up his arm, and he groaned. This wasn’t right. He rolled over and grunted, as his crotch began to feel tight. He tried to loosen his sweatpants, but the bulge was already there, growing larger and lewder by the minute. “F-Fuck,” Bode murmured, now unconcerned whether it was a bad word or not. He tried to put it out of his mind, though he kept absently pawing at his cock, which ached inside his underwear. To distract himself, true to his word, he opened up his laptop and went to the Best Buy website to search for TVs. Some of them were pretty expensive, but Bode was excited to see a 4K one at a holiday discount with all the trimmings, including everything he needed for gaming. It was $800 – Bode knew that was a lot of money for a TV, but it was worth it. He rummaged through his backpack… why did this darn thing have so many pockets? Finally, he found a Velcro wallet with Bart Simpson on it. It had once been Porter’s when he was Bode’s age, and had gotten passed down. Their mom didn’t like Bart Simpson because he was rebellious, which made Bode like the wallet more. He pulled out his school lunch card, an unused movie pass he was saving for the next Spider-Man movie, and finally found what he wanted: his American Express Platinum card. He wondered if he had enough reward points stored up to get the TV for free. And how to get it? In-store pickup? Bode wasn’t sure if he could drive. He didn’t have a license. Did Porter have a license? Nah, he’d just have it delivered. With a few more clicks and a number typed in, the TV was headed their way. Bode smiled to himself and sat up. His stomach still ached and gurgled with a ferocity the likes of which he’d never experienced before. Maybe he needed some Coke. The carbonation would settle his stomach. So Bode went downstairs, calling out “TV’s on its way” as he turned to go into the kitchen. In the living room, Porter called back, “Thanks, kid.” Kid? Bode didn’t like that. He wasn’t a kid, was he…? Well, yeah, he was kind of a kid. So why did he feel so much older? Ugh, this made his head hurt. He opened the fridge, grabbing for a beer… Wait, beer? No, a Coke. Red can, swoopy-swirly logo. Can in hand, he headed into the living room. “So what are we doing?” he asked. Freddie and Porter regarded him as if his appearance – a teenager with the arms and hands of a seasoned stevedore – wasn’t unusual. A collective “nothing” met his question. “Hmm. We could… I dunno, play charades until the TV gets here?” Bode suggested. Freddie and Porter stared at each other for a moment. There wasn’t anything else to do, they figured, so why not? “I’ll go first,” Bode said, hopping up in front of the entertainment center. He thought for a moment. Scratched his chin. Then he raised both his arms out to the sides and slightly above his head, flashing a double peace sign and a big fake smile. “Arnold Schwarzenegger!” “Popeye!” “Hulk Hogan!” “Um… uh… Gaston!” Bode’s brow furrowed. He’d thought it was super obvious. “John Cena!” “Hercules!” “The Rock!” “No!” Bode said, dropping his arms in annoyance. “Richard Nixon! The V-sign! He made it when the Vietnam War ended!” Porter and Freddie stared up blankly at him. “Sheesh, you guys have never heard of Nixon?” “Was he a bodybuilder?” “No, he was the president!” Bode grew more exasperated. “A bodybuilder? Why on Earth were you guessing wrestlers and Hercules?” “We thought you were flexing.” “I just have big arms,” Bode shrugged, and it was an understatement to say the least. Biceps as big as cannonballs had wedged his sleeves up under his arms. His upper arms – massive, veiny – looked to have roughly the same circumference as his waist. It looked freakish. “You go, I guess I’m not good at this,” Bode barked to Freddie. Freddie leapt up immediately and Bode smiled, reaching up to rub the older teen’s hair. An odd gesture, but no one mentioned it as Bode sat down cross-legged on the floor and folded his gargantuan arms over his chest. Freddie went, almost bending in half and moving his legs to make a sprinting motion. Bode grunted and adjusted his legs a bit “An ice skater!” “A sheep!” Freddie looked at Porter like he’d grown a second head and signaled a “no.” Porter kept shouting out increasingly outlandish answers while Bode grunted, pushing out his legs. They pulsed and throbbed, and the feeling of too-bigness crept down them until there was a tearing noise. His sweatpants had burst! And yet Freddie and Porter didn’t notice! Bode looked down to see two redwoods jutting from his pelvis. Enormous thighs, swollen with fat, meaty muscles which would have been rubbing together if his enormous package wasn’t separating them. It strained against his undies, which looked like they’d give way at any moment. Bode idly massaged it as he flexed his enormous calves. After a minute, making sure not to pop a boner in front of the boys, he looked up. “Usain Bolt,” he called out. Freddie hopped into a normal stance, grinning. “That’s right!” He returned to his seat. Porter stewed as Bode strode up. “Alright, you go, sport,” Bode said, noticing Porter’s irritation. He chuckled fondly and shook his head. No one noted the “sport” comment, and Bode plopped down next to Freddie. He looked the other one over and took in just how fit Freddie was. It looked good. Really good, in fact… Bode had never noticed how handsome Freddie had become. Freddie and Porter had been friends for years, thick as thieves, so Bode saw Freddie almost daily, which had made Freddie’s puberty seem less abrupt. But the boy next door had grown up beautifully. He had a strong chin, a broad chest that Bode knew would eventually get a lot thicker, wide shoulders, and a nice deep voice. Bode imagined an older, bearded Freddie wearing a suit and tie and reading the news. He’d be good at that. And when that tie came off, the neck muscles underneath… the top of that muscular chest on view… Out of Porter’s view, Bode’s hand wandered up to the middle of Freddie’s back and began rubbing. He felt Freddie’s sharp intake of breath, and the neighbor boy’s blue eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t pull away or look over. Bode’s fingers were stretching across Freddie’s back, his palm widening, his knuckles popping as big as quarters. More muscled bulged its way out of his arms, spreading up into his shoulders, and the crew neck of his t-shirt started to pull apart as Bode’s collarbone began extending, eventually bumping him into Freddie. Freddie didn’t move as Bode’s shoulders forced them to snuggle together, growing massively broad, twice as wide as Freddie’s. Bode slid his huge hand down to Freddie’s lower back, and his pinkie rubbed along waistband of Freddie’s underwear. He smirked. “Are you guys paying attention?!” Porter snipped. “Sorry P!” Bode said, his voice cracking. “We’re lookin’.” Bode grunted, adjusting his stance some more. He felt broad and kinda heavy, but not especially thick. Mm, he’d have to fix that… He took a deep breath and turned to watch Porter, who was standing bow-legged and had his hands out before him like he was trying to hold a large gut. Hmmm. “The Fatman?” “The what?” they asked. “Oh, I guess neither of you were around for Jake and the Fatman, were ya,” Bode muttered, not even sure he was around for that show. “Keep going.” Another deep breath and he found himself groaning as his shirt was pulled out. He tugged at it to no avail and grunted again, only succeeding in tearing the shirt off. Muscles bulged underneath his just-short-of-ponderous gut. Abs formed, and he rubbed it. All solid muscle. This was so strange… “A sumo wrestler?” Freddie called. “Right!” Porter called out. Bode clapped a hand to Freddie’s back. “Good job, son!” he enthused. Freddie blushed. “Thanks, Mister Arnell,” he said, getting up to take his turn. ‘Mister Arnell’? Since when did Brode qualify as a mister anything? He wasn’t… he wasn’t old enough, was he? Brode frowned as Freddie began to pose and flex before the TV. The teenage muscles bulged and Brode grunted uncomfortably as his loins responded perhaps a bit too favorably. Freddie had been held back, so he was 18. He was legal. But… this was his son’s best friend. They were practically brothers. And wouldn't getting with Freddie be unfaithful to Alan? Wait. His son? Alan? What the hell was he thinking? His frown deepened as he looked back up to Freddie, who was now doing a pec bounce. Brode belched, feeling Coca-Cola bubbles simmering in his throat. Brode arched his back, his mouth dropping open. His chest felt so tight. He rolled his shoulders back, extended his arms a little, trying to stretch it out. But the muscles didn’t feel like they fit correctly under his skin. He could see little stretch marks forming around his shoulders and under his nipples. He hiccuped, and his chest heaved up, but it stayed raised and began to swell. His view of his lap and stomach vanished. Brode looked down agog at his pecs as they inflated, and suddenly they began bouncing in rhythm with Freddie’s. But now they were much bigger than Freddie’s, and growing still, stretching out enormous and thick like a couple of car tires. “It’s uh-” he said, staring at Freddie. He cupped his hands under his pecs, their weight now so ponderous that he was irrationally scared they were going to fall off. Freddie was making some odd gesture around his neck, little flicks with his fingers. “He’s, uhhh, wearing a necklace?” Porter asked. Freddie shook his head no. Brode felt a tickle and looked down to see hair suddenly flowering out over his pecs. He grinned. Long curls erupted through his skin, covering it in a healthy coating of fluff, just enough to poke through all his collars. He liked being hairy. Freddie raised his arms high above his head. “I think,” Brode said, easing up onto his feet, “that you’re impersonating me!” And as he announced it, his body began stretching upward, muscle exploding out of his mountainous frame, until his chest was eye-level for Freddie – no mean feat, seeing that Freddie was six feet tall. He stared down at the neighbor boy with a grin. “Pretty good, kid. I liked the chest hair bit.” He scratched at his furry pecs and bounced them for Freddie, who stared hungrily. “I love your-” Freddie started to say, before realizing what he had almost admitted in front of Porter. He went crimson and sat down, leaving Brode towering over the two older teens. He looked down at them – but couldn’t see them. All he saw was his chest. Unsure of how to continue, Brode tried to tap his chin as he pondered, but as he did, his lats exploded out, and his arms couldn’t quite move to meet his face. He grunted in irritation and stepped back a bit. Freddie was staring up at him adoringly. Brode grinned at him salaciously before his face fell. A tearing noise stopped everything else dead and he felt his big, fat dick slap his thighs. “Dude!” Porter yelped as Freddie moaned. Brode didn’t stick around to find out what he was moaning about, and beat a hasty retreat upstairs. His cock grew the whole way, hardening and snaking up to fit the underside of his musclegut. Thick, prominent veins snaked along its length and even fully hard the foreskin clung to the swollen head. It stopped around his bellybutton and as soon as Brode entered his room and plopped onto his bed, it exploded, shooting cum all over his tremendous ball gut. He bellowed in pleasure, tweaking one of his prominent nipples and leaning back, one hand furiously jerking his meat. Good God, this felt divine! After almost a minute of unloading, Brode fell back, panting and chuckling as he felt the cum on his hairy gut. Incredibly thick, sticky, and piping hot. God, he was a virile sonuvabitch. But… something felt wrong. This all felt wrong. The more he thought about it, the more wrong it felt, and his mind was soon reeling. He tried to marshal his thoughts. His name was… Brodae. No…? Wait… maybe? It might be Brady… He decided he’d come back to that. Age. Right, that was easy: he was, uh… 20? 30? No, wait! He was 45, definitely. Had his kid at 28. Wait, kid? Since when did he have a- oh, right, Porter! Good kid, made his old man proud in and out of the gym. But why couldn’t he shake the feeling Porter was his older brother? Shit… why was he so sure Porter was from his ex-wife Sheila? He tried to remember, and all that came to mind was a hard-fought custody battle, winning sole parental rights when Porter turned six… then Porter, himself, and his then-boyfriend Alan going out for a celebratory pizza. Porter had eaten until he’d gotten a tummy ache and Alan had held him all night long. Brodae chuckled at the memory, and gasped when he realized how deep his voice was. Loud and booming like a foghorn. It felt wrong. But why? WHY!? “Nothing makes sense anymore!” Brodae snarled, rubbing his bald head. Wait, when did he lose his hair? He had a full head of it… well, wait, he did, up until two years ago when Alan… oh. Oh, god, how could he forget his husband getting cancer? Brodae had shaved his head in solidarity once the chemo started, and kept doing it even after… after Alan had passed away. He and Porter still had nightmares about it sometimes… Brodae sat back, rubbing his eyes as they watered. It still hurt. It still didn’t feel entirely real. Had it really happened? He shook his head. Even if it wasn’t real, which he was sure it was, he couldn’t waste anymore tears on it. Moving forward. That’s what he had to do. No doubt he’d meet someone with as good as he looked! Wait, how did he look? The titan staggered to the mirror and gaped at his reflection in shock. Why did he have some kid’s face!? He moved his hands back up to run them over his smooth head. This gesture pushed his pecs up against his chin, smushed his deltoids against his cheeks, and exposed his furry pits. Another shot of cum splattered over the mirror and onto the floor. He had two voices in his head and both told him he wasn’t supposed to look like this. One was talking about his body – the hundreds of pounds of muscle – and the other was talking about the smooth baby face on top of that mountain of virility. He and Porter had both gotten so much bigger after Alan died. They’d taken their grief out on the gym. They still cried together, sometimes – Porter had come into Brodae’s bedroom just last week in the middle of the night, his handsome face wet with tears like a child’s, and he’d spent the night in Brodae’s embrace. They hadn’t mentioned it since. Brodae knew his boy wanted to be a strong man, but even strong men just needed to let it out now and then. “M-Mister Arnell?” Freddie’s voice was on the other side of the door. “The TV’s here…” Brodae opened the door, his naked body on full display. Freddie took a nervous step back. “I’m sorry, sir-” “Don’t apologize, son. Does Porter need me?” “I don’t think so,” Freddie said, walking into the room and shutting the door behind him. “I think he’s got… everything under control…” Freddie’s nose was almost buried between Brodae’s hairy pecs. He began kissing them. Brodae rubbed his head. “Thanks.” “I wanna… I wanna be just like you…” Freddie gurgled between kisses. He wrapped his lips around Brodae’s nipple and sucked as the big stud guided him over to the bed. Brodae stroked his dick and felt a rubbery texture. A condom. He pulled on Freddie’s shorts and yanked them off, and the teen fell back on the bed with a gasp, spreading his legs wide, staring up at Brodae’s angelic face, moaning and mewling with desire. Brodae groaned back, his jaw cracking. “Fuckin’ Christ!” he swore, rubbing it. It was now comically square, and it didn’t quite fit his face at all. He began to thrust into Freddie’s hole, and the teenager moaned his appreciation. Brodae’s face continued to change. His nose was wide and thick, jutting out and bending in the middle. Most would call it a hawk’s beak nose, but Brodae always thought of it more like an eagle’s beak. Big, majestic, and possessing impressively broad wings – just like Brodae (well, he had impressively broad lats, but the principle was similar). His lower lip plumped up a bit more than his upper one and his lower jaw jutted out a bit more, too. Combined with his heavy new brow and thick eyebrows, he’d look classically brutish if it wasn’t for his jaw and newly clefted chin. He looked downright superheroic. His thrusting was picking up speed, and both he and Freddie were moaning and hollering fit to bring the house down. It was a wonder Porter hadn’t run in with all the noise. Finally, with a roar that would make a gorilla duck for cover, Brodae came hard into Freddie’s tight hole. He shot rope after rope of thick cum deep inside his younger lover, then collapsed onto him, bringing him in for a kiss, his thicker stubble rubbing against Freddie’s. “This is wrong,” he rumbled, running a hand over Freddie’s hair. “Then I don’t wanna be right,” Freddie replied. It was cheesy, and they both grinned. “I just wanna be yours, Brodan.” “Son, you’ve been mine for a long time,” Brodan growled back, cupping the back of Freddie’s head with one hand and kissing him again. They laid like that for a little while, just cuddling and kissing with Brodan’s enormous prick lodged in Freddie’s hole, until Porter walked in. “Dad, I- WHAT THE FUCK!?” Brodan leapt up in surprise, pulling his dick out of Freddie so fast that the blond teen yelped. “Port!” he grunted. He’d… he’d forgotten… he was stark fucking naked… Brodan grabbed around for something to cover himself with. He found the only piece of fabric in the room big enough to cover him – a bedsheet. As soon as he swung it around his hulking form, it tightened around him like a cocoon, stitching itself together until it had become a men’s dress shirt, the same navy blue Brodan’s sheets had been. The buttons over Brodan’s chest fell open, displaying his hairy chest, while they pulled too tight over his bulging stomach. The shirt was tucked into a pair of gray trousers with a higher waist than any pants Brodan had worn before, but since he was a man now, this was how he would dress from now on. He was even sporting a nice pair of brown wingtip shoes all of a sudden. As lines webbed out around his eyes and a pair of trendy eyeglasses fell onto his nose, he looked every inch the superheroic dad he had molded himself to be. Porter blinked at his new father. Hadn’t he been… naked a second before? But no, that was silly… what had he and Freddie been doing…? He’d felt so embarrassed, but now that was only because he’d barged in. “Sorry, guys,” Porter said, “I should’ve knocked.” “S’fine. I just, uh, needed advice about something,” Freddie said, still feeling confusion over his newfound homosexuality. All he could think about was standing up and unbuttoning Mr. Arnell’s shirt and kissing him, worshiping him, sucking his enormous, porn star cock… And he looked at Porter, and Porter had that same chin, that same beefy chest that made his shirts too tight… fuck, Porter was so hot. Had he always looked like that? “You okay, buddy?” Brodan asked his son, with a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “The – the TV is here, they’ve set it up, you just have to sign for it.” Porter said. “No problem,” Brodan said, walking down the stairs, opening another button on his shirt and wiping some sweat off his gleaming bald head. “You Mister Arnell?” the deliveryman asked, dwarfed by Brodan’s immense size. “Call me Brogan,” the bodybuilder said, his pecs vibrating a bit bigger. He took the clipboard the deliveryman offered and signed. Another button popped off of Brogan’s shirt. The titan chuckled. “Sorry about that, brother! I lose more good shirts that way.” The deliveryman muttered something about a “freak” and ducked out. Brogan smirked at that. Yeah, he was a freak, and he loved every minute of it. Freddie and Porter entered as the door shut. “Niiice!” Porter declared, gazing at the television like it was his new best friend. Brogan laughed, but was cut off by his text jingle before he could reply. After a quick glance, he clapped a hand to Porter’s back. “I gotta run,” he grunted. “Work needs me. You be good while I’m gone, alright, big guy?” “Aren’t I always?” Porter replied, before hastily adding: “Don’t answer that. Have fun at work, pops.” “I always do. And don’t stay up all night watchin’ TV. You’ll rot your brain.” Brogan kissed his son’s forehead as Porter made token protests, then wrapped an arm around Freddie’s shoulder. “C’mon, kid.” “Wait, what?” Freddie asked as Porter did the same. “You wanted to be just like me, right? Well, you can start now. Besides, we should spend some quality time together, sport,” Brogan replied with a significant look, and Freddie picked up what he meant, nodding. He fell into step with Brogan and they were out the door before Porter could say any more. They hopped into the huge emerald green F-250 in the driveway – the same color as Brogan and Porter’s eyes – and roared off. The massive DILF glanced over to Freddie as they drove. “About what happened in the bedroom…” “It feels like a dream,” Freddie murmured. “One of the best dreams I’ve ever had. Whatever it was, I’m happy with it happening a lot more often,” Brogan rumbled. Seeing Freddie’s face light up, he laughed. “On a couple conditions, son.” “Name ‘em.” “We keep it secret until next summer and you make good on becoming just like me.” “Deal!” Freddie agreed. “I’m so excited! Like, you don’t even know, sir!” “Simmer down, sport,” Brogan chuckled, turning out of town. Freddie looked confused and Brogan’s smile broadened. “You thought we were going to the gym, right?” “Uh, yeah…” “Well, tough luck. Actually, we’re starting on my other job.” The F-250 pulled into the parking lot of a brick building bearing a pink neon sign. It read “Poker in the Rear” and a man’s hand poking a woman’s shapely rear end. Below that read: “Saturday: Gay Night! Sunday: Lesbian Night!” Freddie blinked a few times before turning to Brogan with a broad grin. “Oh, hell yeah!” Brogan laughed and gave Freddie a deep kiss. “That’s what I like to hear, my love. Now c’mon, I’m on in 20 and you got a front row seat.” “Sweet. Can I maybe get a private lap dance later?” Brogan smirked at Freddie. “You have to ask?” – Well, with Tumblr deciding it knows better than consenting adults a few years ago, I figure it was high time I posted all my stories from there – and some new ones! – over here on MG. I do plan on continuing my Sean series as well, if only for the novelty of fanfiction about other series in the community. Well, that, and I have had that planned out with varying levels of detail for years now. That said, if you enjoyed this story then like it, upvote it, or gimme some thanks. If you wanna be in my good books, maybe even give me some feedback! Also… remember the name Harry Greco. This isn’t the last you’ll be hearing of that party. - Trav
  23. 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.
  24. 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.
  25. 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.
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